The Shining Wyrm

4.9

Jewel had to drag herself to her bed.

That is where you were supposed to sleep.

And sleep and rest is the thing she wanted most of all.

She’d tried not to over do it.

But everyone was so eager to frolic and leap and bound and she had danced with them that it had all just been a blur of revelry, wine, bread, sweets and fire.

She took breaks, but never broke her dance.

Wine and bread swallowed and eaten in pace with the revelry and clap and stamp and music of throats joined together in song.

They had danced until the bonfire had burned down to dull coals.

They danced until most of them collapsed in a heap in the courtyard.

Mother, Father and Alexander all retired before she was done.

And then when the dawning light was coloring the sky from black night to the silver clouds of overcast that threatened rain she realized that she had to stop.

“Whoo! Lady Jewel.”

That cheer came from some young man that had stayed dancing alongside her for the entire night, only stopping to drink when she had.

He and her last few partners all collapsed with her into a heap among those that had fallen to sleep or their own flagging vigor earlier in the evening.

She can’t say she minded them flopping over her despite knowing it was improper for a lady to be flounced onto like a mattress.

It was hard to feel much of anything regarding impropriety against the still buzzing rush of dancing all night long with her subjects and family.

Well, her family had retired before the night was half over, but she had enjoyed the rest.

The light of the sun drove down on her happiness. She was aching in every muscle and fiber of her coils and in that foggy joy, a sudden mote of darkness loomed.

She tried to ignore it, but once the thought had wormed into her head it would not leave.

Jewel had come to the awful realization that she had not slept at all.

That it was already dawn.

She was supposed to be in bed and preparing to wake for breakfast.

She had not even taken a proper bath and was covered in dirt, grime, spilled wine and the reek of thunderstorms.

And none of her limbs could even feign supporting her.

Nevermind actually carry her on the journey needed to accomplish any of those obligations.

Every appendage and joint in her yards upon yards of scaled flesh were limp as damp clothes hung out to dry.

At least she was not alone in the delighted, exhausted, groaning.

So she had spoken words that she only half thought were right.

Weakly she tried and failed to raise her head to address her subjects, but soon gave up and just spoke from where she had let her head fall.

“A-as daughter of Lord Rochford I hereby call thi-this this celebration closed.”

Her voice sounded funny since someone was laying sprawled across her neck.

But her declaration got a few weak cheers from those that were still conscious and not addled from drink, food and dance.

“I think perhaps I should set myself to bed?”

Which got chortles and noncommittal groans from all aware and present.

One peasant weakly called out.

“Could you take me with you?”

Which was scandalous, but given the revelry they all had shared, she could not bring any heat to her tone.

“No, I can barely lift myself. Find someone else to take you home.”

Which got weak commiserating chuckles.

She tried to heave her neck up but found the weight of whoever was splayed over her throat an insurmountable totality on top of the near limitless heaviness that seemed to be holding down every other bit of her body.

“Could some of you get off of me?”

Which led to spastic strains and light hearted groans as various masses and pressures on her scales tried to lift or slide off her.

All but two of them failed to even muster that strength, and collapsed back onto her with seemingly more weight than before.

One of the suddenly increased weights murmured into her scales a muffled “m’sorry m’lady”

Well!

At least Jewel was not alone in her predicament. Laid out in a manner that might be described as boneless were she not intimately familiar with how that actually felt.

Maybe this was not so bad?

After all it was not only her.

In fact there sure were an awful lot of people laid out in the courtyard this year.

Which was not strange for the Harvest Festival certainly; it happened every year.

They normally ended up with a few that the footmen would gently take home to bed but considering at least twelve of those laid out were the footmen themselves and that was not even half?

Jewel did not fancy the odds high that they would clear the manor of indisposed revelers till midday at best.

Maybe late evening, even?

In fact if Jewel did not manage to lift herself by her own power, she was not sure if they could get her to bed.

Not without a few carts and more oxen or draft horses to pull them.

She tried reaching for her Wyrmfire to lift herself.

It thrummed happily through all of her flesh and even woke a few of the people snoring into her belly and shoulder briefly at the rising heat and tingling presence beneath her scales.

But Jewel found that, although she had thrummed with it all through the song, her Wyrmfire was also feeling quite tired and just a bit limp to the prospect of going anywhere.

“Hmm, it would seem, my dear subjects, that I’m a bit indisposed...”

Which again got a few lazy cheers.

Considering how incoherent they were, Jewel was not entirely sure they had even heard a thing she said since dawn broke.

Or possibly since midnight come to think of it.

Well, the courtyard had good solid dirt to lie on and she did not even really mind that some people had collapsed on top of her.

She recalled Mother had been found passed out in a cellar once, so it was not entirely scandalous to sleep outside one’s bedroom.

In fact that was a good enough reason for her.

“I believe I will join you in enjoying my father’s very comfortable courtyard. Fair morning to you all.”

And with that she gave up even the minute strength she could muster to keep her eyes open.

The dirt was welcoming, her everything was tired and Jewel was sleepy.