Chapter Nine

Walking through the halls I easily find Gwen's chambers. I do not spend too much time in front of the door before I slam it open with a bang. At first, I am taken aback by the strong jasmine and cherry blossom perfume wafting in the room. I cover my nose, cringing at the smell. Looking into the room, I see a small dark-haired girl jump with fright, making a squeaking noise. She sounds just like a little mouse.

     "Calm down, little mouse, I am not here to hurt you,” I tease.

    When the girl turns around, I am met with two scared green eyes, wide as saucers. Looking deep into her eyes, I see more than fear, there is something else there. Something dark, that I just cannot quite put my finger on.

    "W-Who are you? What could you possibly be doing barging into my room?" She quakes. Her words come out meek and defenseless, but there is fire burning in her eyes. She is not as weak as she is making herself out to be. So why is she pretending?

     "If you are my lady in waiting, then there is no reason that I should be waiting for you," I respond cocking an eyebrow.

    The little mouse puts a hand over her mouth to hide her gasp. “I am so very sorry, your highness. I was not expecting you so soon, please forgive me." She curtsies, then continues, "I am Gwen Evergreen, I am here to serve you whenever you need me."

    "You may call me Eleonora’,” I tell her.

     "Very well, it is nice to meet you, princess Eleonora,” she responds.

     Her face looks soft, but her eyes are fierce. There is just something about this girl. Something that makes her different from the others here, I am determined to figure out what it is.

     I leave Gwen's room shortly after arriving there. She is not exactly the company I am looking for.

    I set out exploring the halls once more, again trying to find something to occupy my time. I hear the castle has a grand ballroom where ladies of the court go to practice dancing. I am curious to see what the humans refer to as formal dancing. Finding nothing, I head for the other end of the castle once again, finding that I am deeply impressed with all the artwork. Rather than landscape paintings, this side of the castle has several paintings of magical beasts, many of which I have yet to see in person. I admire all the paintings, but there is one in particular that catches my attention.

    It is a painting of a deep blue dragon flying over a mountain during a raging thunderstorm, a mountain I know all too well. I am surprised that out of all the paintings of magical beasts, they have one of a dragon considering we rarely show ourselves to humans. But what really catches my eye is the long-jagged scar running across the right side of the dragon's chest, and its deep violet eyes. This dragon looks familiar. Much too familiar. Reaching out, I run my fingertips across the dragon in the painting. My eyes begin to blur with tears. It is almost an exact replica of Fafnir, dynamic and glorious as he was in life, his eyes gleaming in the piercing artificial light of the painting.

    "It is beautiful, is it not,” a deep voice says from behind me.

     I jump at the sudden voice. Turning around, I am met with Gregory's molten brown eyes. He walks to the painting, placing a hand on it his long snowy hair swaying back and forth.

     "I bought this piece from a traveling painter about nine years ago. The painter talked about how when he saw the beast, he could not help but marvel at its beauty,” Gregory tells me.

    This painting was done a year before my brother died. It has to be him, there is no way it is not.

    "Yes, it is very beautiful. Actually, I believe this painting was done near my home judging from the mountain terrain." I pause, looking softly at the painting. "And the dragon in the painting... I am certain I know him." The words come out choked, thinking about Fafnir always makes me upset.

    I do not know why, but since the moment I have begun to know Gregory, I have felt comfortable talking with him. He has this gentle fatherly aura about him.

    Looking into my eyes Gregory lifts a hand, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. I did not even realize I was crying until he did that. I step away from him, wiping under my eyes, and taking a deep breath to compose myself. After blinking away my tears, I smile, taking a step back from him.

     "I am sorry, I did not mean to get emotional,” I croak.

    His deep brown eyes filled with a gentle kindness gaze into mine. My heart clenches with embarrassment.

    Walking up closer to me, he cups my face warmth spreads across my face at the simple gesture. His movement remind me of a father comforting his child. My heart once again clenches with a strange emotion. I feel myself start to pull away from his touch. While the warmth is comforting, I have never had such interactions before.

    "Come my dear let us talk somewhere more private, away from prying eyes,” he says glancing at some maids standing feet away from us.

    As we turn walking down the hall, he places a comforting hand on my back. Reaching the end of the hall he pushes open a large oak door.

    Stepping into the room I see that it is a small study. The walls are painted a light beige color and surprisingly there is nothing decorating them. On the left side of the room, there is a large wooden desk with many bookcases behind it. On the other side of the room, there are lounge chairs surrounding a red brick fireplace with a small table in the middle.

    He leads me over to the fireplace and we sit down.  I sink into the soft cushion of the chair. My embarrassment once again comes to the surface. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I look at Gregory.

    "I am sorry I do not mean to be emotional; it is just that the dragon in that painting looks so much like my brother. In fact, I am certain it is him,” I murmur the last part.

    Gregory places a comforting hand on my shoulder, “May I ask what happened to your brother?"