Red Scales, White Snow (FFC)

For a fanfiction contest. Beauty and The Beast + The Snow Queen + Wings of Fire. Featuring lesbian princesses. Also, the IceWings have their own language. 
== 1: The Message ==
The SkyWing royal court was radiant. Great braziers and torches cast light that illuminated the vast hall of the throne room. Countless dragons were gathered, bedecked in their finest ornaments. Gold glimmered, jewels sparkled, and scales shone in a hundred different shades of red and orange. All told, it was truly a dazzling sight. 
The pale blue IceWing who stood in the centre of all this seemed distinctly un-dazzled, Queen Shrike noticed.
Looking at him, she felt a tightness in her chest, a stone in her throat, a smouldering rage hidden beneath the facade she presented, only slightly less serene then his own.
The IceWing had come to the palace, he said, to deliver a message. A message from his dread mistress who, from her fortress at the end of the world, cast a long shadow across the Sky Kingdom. His mistress, against whom the mighty SkyWing army were no more then leaves at the mercy of the wind. Princess Snow, the dragon who held the heart of the tribe in her silver talons.
The silence that had started when the messenger entered the hall dragged on. The only sound that pierced it was the crackling of flames. At last, Shrike let out a low growl.
"State your business, ice dragon."
The IceWing cleared his throat loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. Then he spoke, in practiced Pyrrhian. "My Lady wishes to make you an offer, your grace."
Shrike heard gasps of shock at the IceWing using an honorific far below her station. She herself was far beyond being offended by such a thing. 
"What kind of offer?" 
"A trade."
"For what?" Shrike asked coldly. 
"My Lady desires a bride. You are asked to provide her with one. In return, she will free your husband from her spell." 
Countless feelings wrestled inside Shrike. There were dozens of things she wanted to say, angry and grateful and disbelieving. Instead, she said, "I thought your tribe forbade such matches."
A frown briefly crossed the messenger's face, like ripples disturbing a pond. "That is mostly correct. But my Lady is not subject to the laws of any tribe. She does as she wishes, for hers is the power of the Animus-Queens of old." 
Of course. And the words tumbled out of her mouth, far to eager to be dignified, but she had precious little dignity left: "It will be done." 
"I brings me joy to hear you say so, your grace. My Lady is expecting her bride fourteen days from this day. If you have no objection?"
A formality only. She could refuse the princess nothing. "No. No objections." 
== 2: The Bride == 
Her cousin's words still lingered in her ears. You're a fool, Red. I'm sorry.
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Content (WanderingRaven)