I&L Part 5: The End

        They say good things come to those who wait. For me, the wait was finally over when I received my own personal invitation to the wedding of Sir Nathan and Princess Adelaide. The greatest part was being invited not in my official capacity, as that of a scribe, but as an actual guest. It meant one whole day of not scratching away at parchment, one whole day of not asking question after question, and, most importantly, one whole day of speaking to whomever I wished to speak to at the wedding. Granted, the invitation did say The Scribe, though it hardly matters.

          Some people want all the frivolous details of this wedding. For example, what was Princess Adelaide wearing? Well, she was wearing white, as brides often do. Interesting fact: the jewels on this gown were not diamonds, but recently shed dragon scales. If you want to know what style of dress it was, or the kind of bouquet she had, go ask a scribe who was there to actually scribe, because I most certainly wasn’t, and who cares about what her dress looked like anyway? She was the one getting married, not her clothes. Honestly.

          No one thinks to ask what Fafnir was doing: he was sneezing just outside the hall where the wedding was going on. A large balcony afforded him the view, along with Princess Adelaide’s dragon. Unfortunately for him, and some guests situated near said balcony, Fafnir is extremely allergic to a specific kind of ivy that tumbled off this balcony down the side of the castle. He kept sneezing throughout the wedding. Some of them were baby sneezes, hardly noticeable at all. Others, however, were enormous. The first of these enormous sneezes happened just as Princess Adelaide walked down the aisle. The flame’s reflection caught all the mirrors and glass in the room and lit up the bride in a brilliant flash of glowing white splendor. It was quite a moment. (I’m told that the castle steward actually passed out because he thought the castle was on fire.) Sir Nathan could have cared less. Everyone else was blinking quite a bit, but Sir Nathan kept looking at Princess Adelaide, completely unfazed. He may have winked at her too, but it was hard to tell, what with Fafnir sneezing so much.

           The rest of the ceremony was a blur of tradition and some large flashes of light. Seated in the front row, I had a perfect view of the whole thing, although I was sandwiched between two bothersome court officials, both rather young, who kept glancing sideways and down at my ink stained hands. “How did she end up here with us?” they said to one another wordlessly. I could hardly have cared less. (Side note: At the reception, when they found out I was the messenger at a certain battle, they tripped over each other in their hurry to ask me for a dance.)

           Afterwards, in the grand ballroom packed with guests, a beautiful string quartet played in a corner, while Sir Nathan and Princess Adelaide received their guests.

          I hugged each of them, pausing to whisper in Adelaide’s ear, “Dessa and I are running away to find more stories,” I told her. Might as well tell someone.

“I’ve had the red riding hood packed up for you,” she whispered back.

I drew back a little so I could look at her. “Are you sure?” The red riding hood was a sacred article of clothing, worn in every battle by one of Izzy’s most trusted scouts, Princess Karina. When she died, Adelaide and Izzy took turns wearing it into battle. 

Adelaide smiled at me. “Of course I’m sure. That hood isn’t meant for the in doors, and with the war over Izzy and I both want you to have it. It’s in your room,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. Where was Izzy, anyway? And Liam? I didn’t see either in the receiving line. Turning to Sir Nathan, I gestured to the string quartet in the opposite corner of the ballroom. “I like the musicians. Where did you find them?” 

“They’re friends of mine: gypsies from the Sulfur Lake by Jaboo,” Sir Nathan replied, glancing towards them.  

“What a fine beard that violinist has,” I commented.

“Yes, indeed. I must confess to being rather jealous of it,” Sir Nathan said. I smiled and turned to leave. Sir Nathan called after me, “Do make sure to try all the pastries.”

Ah yes, the pastries. There was a veritable mountain of them on tables lining a portion of a wall. I have no doubt they had to push the wedding forward simply to make sure they could make all of them in time. There were scones, of all shapes and sizes, with crocks of butter and jam alongside them. There were pies in every possible flavor; apple, pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan, strawberry rhubarb, and several peach cobblers, each with intricate lattices. The cakes were all three layers or more, topped with fondant frosting and delectable shavings of chocolate. And the muffins! The blueberry ones topped with sugar were the best, of course, but there were others too: apple cinnamon, cranberry white chocolate, raspberry, chocolate, banana, coffee, and, my favorite, lemon poppy-seed.

“Careful there. You don’t want to appear unladylike,” someone said behind me. I turned, frantically trying to swallow the bite of poppy-seed muffin in my mouth. It was Liam, looking like he normally did, relaxed and completely confident, though perhaps a bit more handsome in his formal attire.

I bobbed a little curtsy for him and he bowed in response. “How do you do, Liam?”

“Very well, Scribe. Very well,” he said. We were both practicing our formal mode of speaking which consisted of looking down one’s nose a great deal and seeming congenially disinterested in everything.

“The ceremony was lovely, don’t you think?” he said casually. 

“Ah yes, quite charming,” I said, fanning myself with a little fan Adelaide had given me. I honestly didn’t know how to use it at first. I think it was supposed to be used as flirtation device of sorts, but I just used it to keep the air about my face moving when I got too hot. It was also very useful for hiding behind whenever I saw people I had scribed for before the war, whom I wanted to avoid speaking to. 

“This hall is very pleasant,” Liam said, gesturing with his hand, while placing the other on his hip. This was a gesture we had both seen a lot of the court officials do. I think they thought it made them seem relaxed. In all honesty, it looked ridiculous.

“Indeed,” I agreed, nodding my head and pursing my lips as though in thought.

“I do hope the weather holds for the happy couple on their journey south,” Liam said, holding his chin in one hand, the better to contemplate the clouds we could see through one of the large windows above.

“Ah yes, indeed. Such an interesting choice of a honeymoon,” I said, smiling a fake, courtly sort of smile.

Liam dropped his voice and spoke to me behind his hand. “How many of the little muffins have you had?”

Moving my fan in front of my mouth, I whispered, “Six. Blueberry is the best, apple cinnamon is overrated, and lemon poppy-seed are the most buttery.”

“Good work, Scribe,” Liam said, straightening. “By the way, have you seen any quiet corners? I’m getting a bit claustrophobic with all this posturing.”

“Up the main stairs, go past a statue of a man and woman holding axes, hang a left, find the tapestry that depicts seven small men and a woman with an apple, and there’s a secret alcove with a bit of a balcony and a curtain to your right,” I rattled off.

Liam looked at me in amazement. “How did you do that?”

“Well, I’ve been here for three days,” I said. “More than enough time to find all their secret passageways.”

Liam laughed. “Well done, Scribe. Thank you.”

I nodded and whispered to him behind my fan, “The curtain doubles as a part of the tapestry. Don’t let it fool you.”

Liam nodded his thanks and casually began working his way through the crowd. I could see the receiving line beginning to dwindle, and wondered what would happen next. As nonchalantly as possible in that ridiculous gown I was wearing, I turned back to the pastry table. 

Suddenly, there was a hush in the room behind me, and the crowd parted to allow the passage of a petite figure with brown hair. Her deep purple gown caught the light in a unique way, and, judging from the way all the women whispered to one another, dragon scales were going to be “all the rage” in the next fashion season. Next. Hmmm. Six months before, it was uncertain whether there would ever be a next anything, and yet here these women were, conspiring about fashion in their cliques again. I had hoped the war might change that, make them more compassionate, more aware of life outside these castle walls, away from all this finery. And yet-

“Scribe? Hello!” Izzy said as she came closer, reaching out with her arms to embrace me. People watched us with interest, wondering who I was, no doubt, and why Izzy would talk to me.  

I hugged Izzy, happy to be near her again. Up close I could see how weak she still was. Her hair had begun to grow back in, and some of the scars on her face were fading. The only skin visible was her face and a little of her throat where the thin, upper line of a larger scar was visible. Her dress was floor length, her sleeves long, and she wore gloves, all in an effort to protect her still tender skin.

            Izzy pulled away, taking account of me in a single glance. “Look at you, all beautiful and healthy again. What’s this you’re wearing? Is that a dress?”

            “Yes, I felt it best to yield to tradition just this once,” I said.

            “Well done. You had a frown on your face just now when I came up. Why was that?”

“I was just thinking,” I said.

            “Yes? And what were you thinking about?” she inquired, leaning in close to me, her eyebrows raised mischievously. Not even all these courtiers watching us seemed to deter her.

            Despite myself, I smiled, then said; “I was just wondering if the war changed anything for anyone.”

            Izzy nodded, glancing about the room. People pretended they had not been watching us, glancing away hurriedly. Izzy smiled to herself and told me, “After a crisis, people often don’t know how to respond to the everyday things. They have to build a new normal. More often than not, they try to go back to the way things were before the crisis, even if it doesn’t make sense.”

            “Yes, I know. But is this what we were fighting for? All this posturing and silly courtly manners? All this nonsense about bowing and fashion? None of these people care about anyone but themselves,” I said.

            Izzy smiled to herself again. Her skirt glimmered purple and iridescent in the light as she moved into the crowd, saying over her shoulder “Come with me.”

We slipped through knots of people munching on pastries and chatting. I caught the after effects of Izzy’s passing: faces turned with smiles and greetings, as though she was the one they had all been waiting to see, the one friend they wished was there. Their unspoken love overwhelmed me.

Izzy led me past the receiving line, and up to the top of the wide staircase where we leaned against a balustrade. Below, the receiving line was dwindling. Sir Nathan and Princess Adelaide would be dancing soon.

“Look,” Izzy said. I did. “What do you see?” she asked.

“A whole lot of finery and silly people who only care about their dresses and suit coats. “

Izzy shook her head. “Listen to you. The war has made you cynical. Look again,” she said. I did, but nothing changed. Beside me, Izzy gestured with a gloved hand. “Over there, that chubby fellow in the black robe talking to Sir Sean and Sir Isaac, he used to be one the Head Knights at the castle where-

“The castle the Three Knights left when they went on their first adventure?”

Izzy nodded. “Yes, exactly. That’s Sir Chuckles down there, and there are several more of the Head Knights as well.” I looked down again and saw more of the black robed men who were really not that hard to spot, given the shininess of their robes.

Izzy continued, “Being a knight was a soft profession before the war. The three knights have helped change that through their leadership and example. Now, that castle is becoming a place where men of valor are trained to act, not just think and wear robes. And it never would have happened if it weren’t for that first misadventure Sir Sean, Sir Isaac, and Sir Nathan undertook.”

She gestured towards another part of the hall. “And look at Eric. Before the war, he was struggling to get that dragon and royalty exchange program to be anything more than an idea he had when he was younger. Princes and princesses who joined it were seen as rebellious. Now, because of how the dragons helped us during the war, everyone is much more supportive. Royal parents are begging Eric to find living situations for their children so that they can ‘learn about dragons properly’.”

            I watched as Eric walked over to one of the balconies and caught a glimpse of several different colors of dragon scales outside. No doubt, there was some sort of grand surprise coming at the end of the evening. Another man, tall and fair, came striding from the balcony just then, and a cheer went up from several of the war veterans gathered in the hall. My palms started sweating.

            “And then, of course, there’s Fred,” Izzy said.

            “As if even a war could change that pirate,” I said sarcastically.

            “I never thought it could,” Izzy agreed, laughing. “But it has. Haven’t you heard about what he’s done with that island of his? How he’s taken all those wounded men and given them a place to fully recover, away from distractions and threat of illness? My goodness, he has the best surgeons money can buy on that island. He’s become quite the hero. And before the war, he had hardly a serious bone in his body. He was just a silly boy then.”

            “No,” I said. Izzy glanced at me for an explanation. I kept watching Fred, who was practically jumping from one group to another, shaking hands, slapping backs, and offering words of welcome everywhere he went. “He has always had this potential in him. He only needed the opportunity to show it.” Despite all our disagreements, I never lost sight of one thing: Fred was worth arguing with because he cared and had opinions, no matter how ridiculous they might have seemed to me at times. I suddenly felt bad for using that old nickname “pirate” for him. He was better than that.

            “Hmmmm. Well, I didn’t see it, I guess,” Izzy said.

            “What about you, Izzy?” I said.

            “What about me?”

            “Did the war do anything for you?”

            Izzy gestured to her whole body, as though to show me all of her unfading scars and the pain behind them at the same time. I shook my head. “That’s something the war did to you, not for you. Does everyone else get something good out of this except for you?”

            “I still have Fafnir,” she murmured.

            “ I think you have something else, too. Maybe you just need to be told what it is,” I said. Izzy frowned at me. I cupped my hand and whispered the secret in her ear, even though we were alone and no one could hear us. It felt like the sort of thing one should whisper to a friend. Her face changed, going from surprise to confusion to joy in the span of seconds.

            The dragon scales on Izzy’s dress shimmered again as she walked down the hall at my urging, glancing back once to see me smiling in encouragement. She hesitated, then turned and walked purposefully past the statue of a man and woman holding axes. As she turned left, she looked back again, and I waved at her to keep going. The rest would be up to her, and Liam, of course. I imagined they would have a lot to say to one another. Or, on the other hand, there might not be any talking at all.

            “And what are you doing up here, Scribe?” a familiar voice asked. It was Fred.

            I rolled my eyes deliberately. “Observing the general populace, as usual. And what are you doing?”

            “I have come to fetch you and Izzy for dancing. Where has she gone?” Fred said glancing down the hallway.

            “She and Liam had something they needed to discuss,” I said.

            “About time, too. Were you responsible for that?” he asked.

            I shrugged. “I simply helped both parties realize their desires.”

            “Which means yes. You meddling paparazzi,” Fred said, shaking his head.

            “It’s no worse than what you used to do during the war, bringing Liam into strategy meetings that he did not need to attend, or asking Izzy to meet you at the medical tent so that she would see a certain person more often.”

            “People don’t always know a good thing when they see it the first time, so I helped them see it again-

            “Again in this case means everyday?”

            “Well, yes, of course it does,” Fred said. We both laughed, and it felt good to be joking and not arguing with him. Below, the floor was being cleared for Sir Nathan’s first dance with Princess Adelaide. Fred pushed away from the balcony, ready to head back down the stairs.

            “Wait,” I said, stopping him. “Too many people down there. The view’s better from up here, anyway.”

            Fred smiled and walked back to stand next to me. “Right you are, Scribe. Right you are.” Below, Sir Nathan and his bride danced their first dance as the string quartet played a traditional wedding song. I was glad to be above the crowd. All those people would have made the moment too claustrophobic.

            Watching Sir Nathan and Adelaide dance, a barrage of memories from the war swept over me: Eric and Izzy planning strategy late into the night, their faces intent in the flickering candlelight as they called out messages for me to transcribe; Fafnir leaning over me and Dessa to growl out another awful dragon joke, his long purple neck smudged with smoke, his talons smeared with blood and dirt; Sir Isaac and Sir Sean helping me fight off a group of trolls one day, both of them still smiling and gallant at the end of it; Sir Nathan and Adelaide carrying children to safety during an unexpected raid, calm and collected in spite of the battle around them; Liam toiling away at the burn salve, making Izzy and everyone else laugh with his and Cyrek’s antics; Dessa keeping me warm during a night behind enemy lines, shielding me with her wings so that my world became a nest of white-grey feathers; and Fred, yelling at me as I flew by his ship that he would “beat me to the battle” if he had anything to say about it. I suddenly realized that Izzy was right: I was being cynical. And I wanted to change that.

            “Scribe?” Fred said to me. Below, the dance had finished and other couples had joined Sir Nathan and Princess Adelaide. The string quartet started a waltz.

            “Yes?”

            “I think that we should dance,” he said.

             I smiled. “Yes, we should.”

            We walked towards the stairs and Fred took my hand.

            “Now, before we dance, I do have a question,” Fred said. We were at the bottom of the stairs.

            “Yes?”

            “What’s your real name, Scribe?” Fred said. “It’s not a good policy to dance with someone when you don’t at least know their name.”

            No one had ever asked me this question. I stood on tiptoe and said it in his ear, trying to stop blushing. Fred smiled and said it back to me. It was strange hearing someone else say it. 

            “Thank goodness,” he said. “That’s so much better than Gertrude.” 

            I suppose I could go on and try to describe the rest of that night, how full of light and laughter it was, how the dragons performed an incredible fire filled flight in the sky, how Izzy and Liam finally came back from that hidden alcove holding hands and whispering with starry eyes, how Sir Nathan and his bride left for the honeymoon in a very round carriage drawn by six horses that was supposedly a gift from someone’s fairy godmother (as if those still existed), how Sir Sean and Sir Isaac started a very large pillow fight just before bed, or how Fafnir winked at me through the window as I fell asleep. Granted, all of that happened and it was important. For me, though the most important moment was that first minute after Fred pulled me out onto the dance floor with a flourish and a shy smile. That was when I realized we were getting along, probably not for the last time.

            And that, dear reader is all I have to tell you. For the moment, anyway.