Sylvia awoke in the morning, feeling well-rested & relaxed. Maybe it was the serenity of the cabin in the middle of nowhere, or the fact that she had a bit of distance between her & Aranhil to be alone with her thoughts. Roland was just as quiet as the day before, only speaking when he was instructing Sylvia how to stir the breakfast porridge, or tell her to fetch something. There was something quiet about his every action that Sylvia had yet to see in a dragon, a slow deliberateness in his every action. Was it because he lived out here in the forest?
"Why don't you ask questions?" Sylvia mumbled curiously as the two finally set down at the table, "Don't you want to know who I am? Or where I'm from?"
There was an uncomfortable, drawn out silence as Roland continued to eat slowly & watched Sylvia from his chair. She couldn't tell if he was ignoring her question, or if he was simply thinking, but as everything else, he took his slow, quiet time to respond to her at all.
"I can tell that you were lost in the woods," Roland finally replied, "& by the lack of calluses or muscle in any part of your body, I feel it's pretty safe to assume that you are fairly harmless, & need protection until someone comes to fetch you. Do I need to know anything else that you won't tell me on your own?"
Sylvia felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment & moved her spoon around in her bowl, unsure of how to respond. Roland was very clear in his statements, getting right to the point. He didn't dance around his words like the aristocracy she was constantly surrounded by did. There was something... refreshing about his words, though, an honesty few people offered her.
"I wish my husband was as honest as you," Sylvia blurted out before she could stop herself, "He simply sees me as a doll to be left on the shelf, I am expected to be docile & pretty until he comes back to fetch me."
Roland looked bewildered for a moment, but his expression relaxed soon, instead being replaced with understanding. Sylvia still couldn't believe that she told a stranger about her current problems with Aranhil. But she didn't dare admit that he was responsible for the small cut on her cheek, lest Roland think she was even more defenseless than before.
"Then leave him," Roland finally replied, his tone flat, "I am assuming that if you are married to a dragon, you are that princess who recently came from the Elven country. In this land, men are mostly considered superior, but women still hold the final say in a marriage. If your mate is unsatisfactory & cannot please you, you are allowed to leave him, no matter the circumstances of your arrangement. It is a great dishonor for a dragon to be left by his mate, probably even moreso since your mate is crown prince; you leaving him would make his subjects question his ability, you could take his very pride from him."
Sylvia felt her stomach flop at Roland's explanation, feeling a physical pain at the thought of hurting Aranhil so badly. But how was that so different from how he treated her now? Sylvia would never hurt Aranhil out of spite, but she knew that she couldn't be with him if he couldn't at least respect her. The comments of her fragility, the assumptions that she couldn't make up her own mind, it was all cutting blows, & without Emera there to side with her, Sylvia was afraid to stand up for herself.
"You're... right," Sylvia replied sullenly. She couldn't think of another thing to say. It was even worse that Aranhil had never once told her of this law, as though she wasn't even sound of mind enough to know that she had power in their relationship.
..._..._...
River carefully admired Emera's handiwork & took a seat beside Emera, feeling himself bristle up once more as the woman from before refused to give up. Now he could understand why Aranhil warned him that elven women could be frustrating in a sense, they were certainly much more outspoken than dragon women. Even after being promptly turned away, this woman was going out of her way to drag Emera down with her. Certainly she didn't see this pettiness as noble?
"I think you would be shocked at what I can do, Miss," River drawled out as she carefully handed Emera back her kerchief, "& I happen to be far more acquainted with her mother's plight than you, thanks to public record. Emera's mother was the victim of a sleezy man's lust, & when she brought him to trial for reparations, it was thrown out because he was of high standing; one is even supposed to feel as though she was done a great service that her child was practically taken away from her, & shipped to a boarding school, "to avoid further scandal," I believe."
Quietly, River took to his feet, his body easily towering over the vindictive woman. He didn't like trying to scare the fairer sex usually, but he wasn't going to stand for someone bullying the woman he was to marry over something she had absolutely no control over. At the end of River's attack, the maid was deathly pale, & even better, perfectly silent. River dared her to say another word, because whether Emera, or his brother, wanted it, he would take her right back home & marry her then & there.
"In my country, a man is held accountable for his sins," River announced, "& the woman he assaulted is properly taken care of, even protected by law enforcement if need be. Lady Emera has done not a thing to be ashamed of, & her mother would be a celebrated woman for trying to raise the child her rapist forced upon her."
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