13.9

It was the third day after the dawn of a new year.

Jewel was nineteen winters old now.

A Countess, A Lady and a Wife to a Husband she was pleased to know and have to support her.

She was now even a mother in a strange and confusingly wyrmish way. A Woman of quite some regard, a mistress of a city and a Demesne. But also undeniably a powerful dragon. Jewel had cursed a thousand men in a fit of anger and frustration she could not take back. She had somehow found mercy and forgiveness for an empty husk of a corpse that had once been a woman.

She had faced Guildmasters, Vassals, Nobles, Captains, Gods and High Kings and in many real ways she had to accept she had been victorious against each.

But now she was out in what was becoming her family’s traditional winter ride. Not really a hunt although even all these years later Alexander, nearly as tall as their father had brought his hunting bow.

For the first time in so many years her entire family could be together for this day.

Blizzardwrath and Zephyrvam were both warily eyeing one another as the small party made their way through the fresh snow. But the bond and scent of their riders kept the posturing between the beasts to a minimum.

Gwenn was riding with Mother mostly bundled and held rather than actually supporting herself.

She didn't much like the cold despite her heavy winter coat and coverings.

Gem was settled despite her size fully astride the saddle in front of Smithson. The fire caught in a fibrous weaving through her flesh, skin and bone warmed her substantially. Not enough to claim the imperviousness to winter’s bite Jewel enjoyed.

But it dulled the teeth considerably.

Paul was in a heavy black woolen cloak. Jewel had spun its thread herself and she was pleased how well it shielded him from the bracing chill of the day.

Her husband was mostly quiet, looking through the woods and considering the ice that hung from the branches, shining in bright hues within the morning sun’s radiance. He occasionally would offer compliments for the stewardship of her father but didn't dive deeply into the subject.

The rest of her family more than filled in the clean air with jovial words.

Jewel was interchangeably discussing Gwenn’s trials as a young child and sharing pointers and anecdotes with her father and Alexander regarding the nature of aerial combat.

As Gem she was also helping to teach Smithson the proper Valasect hand signs for the things they passed in their ride. Gwenn and her mother were also included when either paid attention. There was not much to really point out, Deer preferred to stay deeper into the woods in Rochford winter.

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But the small number of subjects seemed to help them learn rather than hinder them.

Winter sky in Rochford was as seasonably clear as ever. The familiar intensity of the sun soaking into Jewel’s wings. The crisp break of a night’s frost beneath her toes and fingers punctuating the gentle conversations.

Words and gestures passed between close confidants and family.

The black charger her husband rode was nervous.

Unfamiliar with these woods.

Definitely not a foal reared in Rochford then.

Paul remained quiet, although he contributed the few signs he knew.

By the time the sun had climbed just past its zenith and they were having to turn back to home Gwenn, Smithson and Gem were trading turns playing the scouting game Jewel had passed her time with on the march.

The vocabulary shared between them was small but Smithson and Jewel’s mother both made enough mistaken ‘pronunciations’ to keep it humorous.

By the time they were almost out of the woods Alexander and her father had joined in the game.

Which strained the comprehension of Smithson but Jewel was able to keep the Gryphon riders to the easier or more obvious gestures shared between Valasect and Flight Cant.

By the time they were indoors and everyone else (including Gem) was exulting in the warmth of the keep there was laughter between the family that Jewel could not have explained to anyone ignorant of the way one sign could look like another.

There was sadly no wool or thread free for spinning or weaving, She had unfortunately cleared out all the Rochford wool available earlier that winter.

But she was able to settle in with her sister, mother and daughter to fuss over the stitching on the wyrm spawn’s finery. Wear from the road and the feasts in the capital had pulled stitches loose and some of the places it rubbed often against Gem’s scales were already going thin.

Between the four of them and their various skills in women’s work portions were either padded underneath, frays closed and seams and thread that had come loose pulled gently out and then redone.

Jewel knew she could have paid the guilds to do this work.

But then what would she do with her family today?

They spoke softly and gently with one another in the impromptu sewing circle. Enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Working dutifully on the tiny little bit of delicate fabric between them.

Supper came some hours later and though they didn't even really begin to make progress on all the repairs needed Jewel thought much had been accomplished.

They of course had a very hearty and delicious Stew made by Dariusz. At her own insistence she asked his family to join hers for this night. Jewel’s size required the use of a substantial space within the Rochford keep anyway.

Why not fill it with both their households?

That of course brought the rest of the Rochford staff together as well. And while it was now a far larger and more crowded affair than her usual family dinner for that day Jewel felt none of the stiffness and propriety that had stifled meals with her family prior to this.

Jewel smiled over all the friendly faces.

On reflection she thought it had been a good celebration.

She was happy.

It was Jewel’s hatching day.