13.
10 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

Under Mr. Henri Treebald's care, for the first time in her short life, Lotte felt herself growing.

Even so, there were some things she didn't really care for.

Like the dresses.

Lotte was outfitted with dozens of dresses, each one with more bows and frills than the next. Each dress came with a matching hat. She had hordes of gloves and stockings and petticoats and soft white undergarments. There was a precise and surgical order for everything to be put on.

Dressing every morning, then underdressing before bed was a horrendous chore.

Mr. Henri employed a trusted woman named Miss Yudo as Lotte's nanny. Her job mostly revolved around making sure Lotte looked to be a precise replica of one of those porcelain dolls she'd often seen in the windows of toy shops.

Miss Yudo was very clever with Lotte's hair, making sure it never slipped to reveal the points of her ears.

The effect this whole mess had on other people made Lotte uncomfortable.

Up until those days, she had spent her life carefully slipping away from people's notice. When it came to her artwork, praise and love from others made her heart swell with contentment. But when it came to herself, it made her skin crawl.

Anywhere she went, people would gawk and exclaim.

What a beautiful child, they would all say. She looks just like an angel.
If she showed them her teeth, if she removed her gloves and exposed the points of her nails that just couldn't be filed down anymore, if they saw her ears, or her blood, or saw the glow of her eyes in the dark, would they think her still beautiful?

Lotte knew the answer already.

Mr. Henri's wife, Sera Treebald, who had been so kind to her the first time they'd met, before she knew what Lotte was, now bristled every time they had to be in a room together.

Lotte's ears were very keen, so she'd heard Mrs. Treebald gossiping about her. She'd used that bad word—monster.

But these were small things. Insignificant bothers.

The dressing up, the prancing about 'society' was just a tiny portion of what was happening. Lotte could put up with it because there was something else, something spectacular, taking place.

It all happened in a magical room called The Studio where all she had to do was draw and paint.

When she painted, she could wear whatever she pleased. Lotte soon moved on from watercolours to more serious mediums. Mr. Henri was keen that she'd try something called 'acrylic', but Lotte just couldn't communicate with those. They were bright colours, highly saturated, in brilliant hues, but they just didn't have enough of a soul for Lotte.

So the next thing they tried were oils.

Lotte didn't care for their smell. They made her head spin. But there was nothing really wrong with a spinning head once she met paint with canvas.

She loved them. Even the preparation that went in ahead of drawing was a romantic ritual. There was something unrelenting about the practice. With water paint she'd skimmed only the surface of the lake of her desires.

But oil...oh, oil...it was uncompromising, demanding, compassionate. A vast land of exploration and discovery.
She'd started out small, making mistakes and learning from them. Even those drawing that were clearly, to Lotte's eyes, wrong, Mr. Henri adored.

"Everything you make is magnificent," he kept saying.
She shook her head insistently, but he went on and sold those painting anyway.

The city of Raidox was abuzz with little Poppin's spectacular paintings. Her photo was plastered on the front page of all the papers. MUTE OPHAN PRODIGY SURPASSES THE GREAT GAVALIER the headlines screamed. Art traders from all around the country scrambled to grab hold of her works. Even the Lord General himself came to greet her.

And then, some months later, during one of the art showcases that Lotte performed to show that it was really she who was doing the painting, in front of one hundred people who had nothing better to do than watch a child draw, Lotte dropped a paintbrush.

"Oh," she said.

And froze.

She put her hand to her throat. Was that...?

"Oh..." she tried again and began to shake, her skin prickling all over.

"Oh!" It was her voice.

Everything began to sway. The crowd murmured. Isn't Poppin mute? It's an act! No, it's definitely real. Unbelievable! What's happening?
She looked up at these strangers who were invading the most intimate moment of her life.

"Aaaah... aaah," she sounded her voice, her ears warm with the pleasure of hearing herself. "Mmmm..."

Mr. Henri rushed forward, going down on one knee with a theatrical flourish. "Poppy. Little princess," he said, eyes twinkling with tears.

Lotte hummed in reply.

"It's a miracle!" Mr. Henri cried, arms spread out, all for the crowd's sake. "Our little Poppin has finally found her voice."

***
PRESENT DAY
Lotte screamed voicelessly in Maloru's arms. She remembered only too well what it had been like to be mute, the unbearable pressure of all the things she just couldn't say.

When her lungs burned from silent screams, she dissolved into tears. She couldn't be like this. Not again.
Was she going to be mute forever now?

Lotte couldn't remember falling asleep, but she realised she had when she found herself in the stone tower.

"Lotte? Is that you?"

The gold chain appeared in front of her, and she grabbed it with one hand while wiping away her tears with the other. Even here she couldn't stop crying.

This time she didn't crash into him coming up. She lightly landed on the floor of his circular prison and let go of the chain. It scurried back towards him and disappeared somewhere about his form.

She'd not seen him from afar last time. She hadn't managed to fully appreciate the alabaster wings coming out of his back. They were quite obviously dragon wings.
Even now, he was magnificent. Although her heart hurt terribly, seeing him pulled at it regardless.
She knew instantly, from the way he looked at her, that he knew what had happened. Somehow, he could see her even when she wasn't here. Was it what he said before? Could he hear her from wherever he physically dwelled in the world?

"It will be alright," he said.

"I'm fine," she lied and then exclaimed, tears filling her eyes again. She could speak here. Of course she could. This was all happening in a dream, inside her mind. She had never lost the ability to speak in her thoughts.

There appeared to be a chair right beside her. She collapsed into it, burying her face in her hands to catch her tears.

He moved with the grace of a feather through the air and drew her into his arms, against his chest.

"Will I ever be able to speak again?" she asking in a trembling whisper.

"I don't know," was his answer.

He let her cry into his shoulder for as long as she wanted. She'd never cried in anyone's arms before. She'd never cried this much, even when alone. She had never before felt so completely severed. Even before, when she was small, when she couldn't make a sound, it hadn't felt this terrible because she didn't know anything else.

"It might come back, once you've recovered," he said, pulling back to look at her face. "You went too far tonight."

"Maybe I can enchant my voice to come back."

"Maybe." He sounded like he knew what she suspected, that this wasn't an issue she could solve with magic.

"I'll be fine," she declared weakly. She was still in the circle of his arms, and it wasn't as strange as she thought such a thing would be. After all, hadn't she already wandered deep into his soul only the night before?

"So you don't need anymore comforting?"

"I'll be fine," she repeated, trying to sound reassured.

"Very well..." He made to move away. She debated whether to tell him that a little bit more comfort couldn't hurt. Then he cocked an eyebrow. "Now I'm going to hug you for me." He drew her back in. "I need comforting too."

"If you can't tell me your name," she said into his shoulder. "What should I call you?"

He fall back, sitting on his heels. Even such a small movement was impossibly graceful. Lotte had known elves, who were so light and fluid they made her feel awkward, but even they couldn't compare with him.

His every angle was perfect, every expression a composition. "You can call me..." He looked up thoughtfully, his lips curling with humour. "My prince? Beloved? Darling? Honey? Whichever works."

The more he spoke, the hotter Lotte's face became. "Are you always such a flirt?"

He deflated. "I used to be. Some of me still is—" His body jerked suddenly and a violet forks of lightning danced around his neck. He groaned. "Always have to test the limits."

"Does it hurt when that happens?"

He gave her a wry smile. "Not when you're next to me."

She tried to pretend her heart didn't flutter. If he was a flirt, she shouldn't take his comments too seriously. "But what do I call you?"

"My sister always called me Blue," he said. "You can try that."

"Why Blue?"

"Because I was grumpy and shy."

"Blue," Lotte tried.

"Yes?" Blue said with a grin.

"Looks like the name works."

"What about you? Any names?"

In an instant she remembered that she couldn't speak because she was what she was. She sighed. "I'm just Lotte."

"You know in Serades," he said. "Where I'm from, I've met a lot of Lotte, and all of them had actual names."

So he was from Serades. Did that mean he was one of those half-dragons Maloru spoke about? "It's illegal for Lotte to have names where I'm from."

"Did all the Lotte keep that law?"

"No. They all gave themselves names."

"What about you?"

There was something intense about his gaze, as if he wasn't only looking at her, he was watching her, waiting to see her reaction.

"So you've never even had a nickname? Not even when you were little?"

She had been Poppin, Pips, Pops and Poppy for a while, but that part of her life was buried where no one could find. "No," she said.

"I find that hard to believe." He crossed his arms. He was still on the floor in front of her, but he had that type of looming presence that lacked even a smidgeon of humility. "Seeing how beautiful you are now, you must've been maddeningly adorable as a child."

"I guess no one loved me enough."

"Who told you to never have a name?"

"My Poe..." She shook her head. "The elf that raised me since I was eight."

"Good." If this line of questioning was a test, it seemed Lotte had passed. "Your Poe's right. He did good by you. Lotte, never have a name, especially not in Serades."

"Why's it so important?"

"Because no matter what they'll try, you can always slip away from them. You need to have the upper hand and you need to keep it."

"You'll have me survive Serades?"

He nodded once.

"So I can free you?"

"That could prove to be impossible," he said, eyes cast down. "I want to help you because...I want you to find what you're looking for."

"What do you mean? I'm not looking for anything."

He drew up to her and, quite naturally, as if he'd done so many times before, and slid his hand over her cheek. "I think you are," he said, he's face so close she could clearly see the way light broke inside the beautiful jewel-liked scales on his cheeks. "I think you're looking for a place to be, a place to rest your heart, where you could be who you were always meant to be."

"I'm not looking for that," she said, completely distracted by how his nearness overwhelmed her senses. "Because such a place doesn't exist."

"No," he said. "We'll have to create it for you." He passed his fingers through her hair, making her shiver.

"Why're you like this?"

"Because, Lotte," he edged closer, looking left and right as if he were about to whisper a secret. "I've decided to love you."

Something between a disbelieving gasp and a chortle escaped Lotte. "You can't decide to love someone."

"Really?"

Lotte opened her mouth to argue. But she really didn't know much about love. The love she'd received in her life thus far had failed to make a coherent impact. "They always say that you...they say that you have to basically fall into it..." she said without much conviction.

He laughed. It was the first time she'd heard that sound. Her chest was uncomfortably tight, as if she'd just grown a second heart. "I've already done that part. Falling is fast. But loving is slower."

Lotte really was speechless, but he didn't expect a reply. He was looking at her, yes. But not expectantly. He was looking at her, well, lovingly. "Shall I decide to love you back, Blue?" she asked in a whisper.

What was she even saying? She didn't even know what species he was. All she knew was that he was cursed, and that he was beautiful. That he wanted to help her survive. And how did a person even love to begin with?

"Did you do the falling part?" he asked. That question should've been cheesy, but everything was upside down.

"I think I—"

Bright winter afternoon sunlight shone in Lotte's eyes, overhead a lone raven cawed. She groaned noiselessly, a painful longing in her belly. What was she even thinking? She sat up, head spinning. She couldn't fall in love with someone who she could meet only in her dreams. Then she'd want to be asleep all the time.

She already wanted to be asleep again. She wanted to see him.
Maloru was sitting next to her, hugging his knees that were pressed to his chest. "I heard you screaming," he said miserably. "I heard you screaming and screaming inside my head and there was nothing I could do."