“Good morning, Commander,” Kaln said to the empty air as soon as he’d stepped outside the corridor from his chamber into the great central vault.
With the usual flow of luminous mist coalescing out of thin air, the ghostly commander of the Phantom Legion materialized at attention before him, saluting.
“Anything to report?”
The Commander saluted again. Kaln had learned that no news was good news; if there actually was something the ghost needed to communicate, he would hold up his report book and Kaln would have to get Pheneraxa to translate. He had found primers on the Darashi language in Emeralaphine’s library, but was still in the process of memorizing the alphabet.
“Very good. How’s morale?”
The Commander saluted.
“Okay. I realize this is an unconventional…deployment, but make sure to let me know if there’s anything your people need.”
The Commander saluted.
“Thank you, Commander. As you were.”
The ghost saluted and dissipated into the air, and Kaln proceeded on to the first stop on his rounds.
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“Good morning, husband,” Izayaroa greeted him, raising her head from where she had been curled up on the largest treasure pile.
Kaln had been amused and rather surprised to find that of all the dragons here, she alone kept her hoard chamber in the “classical” or at least stereotypical draconic fashion, with actual piles of coins and jewels. Even that had the aspect of a front; there was nothing else of particular value displayed where it could be seen, and he knew that any dragon of her age possessed treasures whose worth dwarfed any amount of currency. Also, the disorderly heaps were neatly contained within specific sections of the room delineated by stone walls, and there were other areas comfortably furnished for human-sized activities. It seemed she just kept the traditional treasure piles because it pleased her. That, and she liked to sleep on them in her greater form.
“Good morning, wife,” he replied with a warm smile. “Morning, Vanimax.”
“Hmf.” The young dragon’s disinterested grunt was, at least, not openly hostile. Vanimax had his own alcove in Izayaroa’s apartments, complete with his own treasure pile. Kaln suspected it consisted of what he’d been able to gather in his own scant century of life; it was comparatively paltry both in size, and in the predominance of silver and bronze coins with only a scattering of gold and very few jewels. Still a fortune, but even by human standards a small one.
“This is an early visit,” Izayaroa observed. “Shall I send Vanimax out of the room?”
“Ah, I only wish that was why I’d come,” Kaln said, grinning up at her. “No, I have more work to do today. Emeralaphine was right about the need to move fast on outstanding business. I’ll be leaving shortly, but I couldn’t bear to be here and gone again without at least seeing you. Also, I brought you a little something.”
“Oh, did you?” She uncoiled herself, standing and stretching her wings. “You’ve lost no time in acclimating yourself to the ways of dragons, Kaln.”
“I’m afraid it’s no gift befitting a dragon! Shepherding Percy and Pheneraxa didn’t leave me with time to shop for proper souvenirs, but we did happen across an experience I wanted to share with you.”
Kaln produced a meat skewer from his bag of holding, the tender mutton and crisp vegetables still steaming and fragrant after being kept in magical suspension all night.
“Ah, you remembered my weakness for street food!” Izayaroa shifted and strode toward him in her smaller form, pausing to lean forward and nuzzle at his face momentarily as she accepted the skewer.
“Here, Vanimax, I brought you one as well.”
“What? You did? Why?” The dragon squinted suspiciously at him.
“Would’ve been kind of rude not to, don’t you think? Here.” Kaln held out a second skewer.
After staring at him in apparent bemusement for a few moment, Vanimax grunted and shifted his head forward, opening his jaws wide.
“I am not going to toss it in there,” Kaln said patiently. “Come on, the point of street food is the flavor, the texture, the experience. I know you can barely taste in that form—this would just be an amount of nutrition too tiny to be worth swallowing.”
“Oh, you’d like to see me smaller and vulnerable, wouldn’t you?” Vanimax snarled, scrabbling to his feet.
There were just so many responses to that, each more glib than the last and most variations on a theme of how little Kaln needed to make him vulnerable had his intentions been hostile. He voiced none of them. Kaln had made some progress in befriending Vanimax, but the prickly century-old adolescent was still grappling with the enormity of the sudden changes in his life; he would take more than a couple of weeks to really warm up.
“All right,” Kaln said in a mild tone, tucking the skewer away again. “The bag’ll keep it fresh essentially forever, so, whenever you feel comfortable enough. Izayaroa, I also wanted to mention that Percy might come talk to you soon. I suggested it, anyway.”
“Oh?” She had polished off her skewer rapidly, and now shifted her focus from the wry stare she’d been giving her son to a more serious one at Kaln.
“There was…well, she had a bit of an incident in Shima Vaat. She’s fine, but… I think Percy may be a variant. I told her you knew quite a bit more about that and would be the person to ask.”
“Yes, she clearly is,” Izayaroa replied, nodding. “The signs were there from her earliest appearance here. I was planning to give her a few weeks to settle in before approaching her—people like Percy need some routine and familiarity to be comfortable, and her life has been nothing but upheaval lately.”
“Ah,” he winced. “So I’ve stepped in it already.”
“You’ve done no harm, husband, don’t worry,” she assured him with an amused little smile. “I know you would not have pressured her. All this does is give Percy the initiative—something which has been taken from her, recently, so the opportunity will only do her good. She will approach me whenever she feels ready, then.”
Off to the side, Vanimax had lowered his head and was staring glumly at the wall now. Izayaroa didn’t even have to shoot him any pointed looks. Kaln couldn’t take any pleasure in his discomfiture, but it was definitely for the best that he felt the weight of his actions.
“Then, as always, it seems I can leave everything in your more than capable claws,” Kaln said, lifting one of those claws to lightly kiss her palm.
Smiling, Izayaroa leaned in to nuzzle him again. She didn’t kiss him, out of consideration—even that close, the Missari spice on her breath was strong. “Good fortune on your quest, husband. I shall await your return with great anticipation.”
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“He brings me snacks! All right, mother, I guess you can keep him.”
Tiavathyris didn’t bother to stop munching on her meat skewer, simply reaching out to swat the back of Vadaralshi’s head. Naturally, Vadaralshi ducked out of the way; perhaps just as naturally, her mother deftly compensated, in fact seemed to have made her initial attack anticipating that move. Her claws connected, sending Vadaralshi staggering a couple of steps.
“I think what impresses me most is neither of you choked, or dropped the food,” Kaln observed.
“Please, what do you take us for?” Vadaralshi scoffed.
“The greatest warrior alive and her incompetent reprobate offspring?”
“I am going to let you get away with that one, Pants,” she said severely, pointing her already-empty skewer stick at him, “because of how obviously I set you up for it, and I’m a big enough dragon to own my mistakes. Next time you may not be so lucky.”
“Child, you aren’t a big enough dragon for anything,” Tiavathyris informed her. “I advise you to cease your quest for the limits of Kaln’s tolerance. We have already seen he does not lack spine; gentle-natured people are exactly those you do not want to push too far.”
“Oh, please, Pants isn’t gonna lose his temper over some harmless joshing.” The look Vadaralshi gave him was more contemplative than he was accustomed to seeing on her. “Frankly, I don’t see him flipping his lid over anything I would actually be willing to do. I don’t wanna meet the asshole who could push him too far.”
“Let’s hope it’s a while before you, do,” said Kaln, “and hopefully not today. I’ll be counting on you, Vadaralshi.”
“Yeah, it’s not every day you get to ride a new dragon!” she said with a broad smirk. “Already got tired of Pheneraxa, huh? She still have trouble flying in a straight line?”
“She certainly doesn’t give me as much lip as you. Pheneraxa doesn’t know anything about the Hiiri, otherwise I might be bringing her instead. So far, the only real advantage you’ve displayed is that you can handle Missari pepper sauce better.”
“Ooh, low blow. But don’t worry, Pants—it’s been a few decades, but the Hiiri are sociable little guys. I’ll walk you through it, but making friends with them won’t be hard for a people person like you.”
Suddenly, right there under her mother’s ironic stare, Vadaralshi sidled in closer—uncomfortably close. Her smirk was laden with a new layer of meaning Kaln had not seen from her, nor expected to.
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“And I can definitely promise you a smooth, satisfying ride, Kaln. I’ll be outside—just whistle when you’re ready to go.”
Vadaralshi stepped back, practically sliding off him, and let her warm stare linger on his own startled expression for a moment before she turned and sashayed all the way out of Tiavathyris’s chamber, not bothering to shift into her larger form until she was outside. He had not realized she knew how to sway her hips like that.
“Oh…kay,” Kaln said slowly. “Yep. She won that round, all right. At some point does Vadaralshi get used enough to a person to level off, or is it just gonna be constant escalation forever?”
He turned back to his wife, finding her regarding him steadily, without a smile.
“I advise you not to dismiss that as a joke, husband.”
“I—wait, she couldn’t’ve been serious. You were right there! She isn’t—”
“My sire’s harem included my mother and one of my aunts, their mother, and two of my elder sisters by a different male. Such arrangements are normal for us, husband. They are normal for most species which pursue a harem breeding strategy, sapient or otherwise. Dragons have a degree of inherent protection against the effects of inbreeding; no dragon would mate with their own parent, offspring, or sibling. All else is on the table.”
Kaln stared at her. “But… Wait. Don’t tell me you approve of that!”
“You would be a good choice of first mate for my daughter. In my personal opinion, it would be healthier for both she and you to cultivate an entirely different kind of relationship. If you two decide to pursue it, however, there will be no interference from me.”
“But… It’s just… She’s a kid.”
Tiavathyris smiled faintly. “She was a kid when your grandparents were born, Kaln.”
“Yes, and she’s still one now. The family thing aside, and I don’t even know where to start processing that, I can’t make myself see Vadaralshi as…as adult enough for that kind of thing. I mean… Well, obviously I must seem somewhat immature from your perspective, but there’s a fundamental, qualitative difference there! Or am I wrong?”
“No…you are not. I agree, Kaln.” She sighed, shaking her head. “You are a man who has lived a life, formed an identity through both hardship and blessing; built values and perspective, and carved out a place for yourself in the world. None of that can be said of…of not only my daughter, but any of the three drakes living here. Maturity is the result of experiences, and the processing thereof. Even after a century of life, a person may still be in many respects a child if all they have done with that century is hunt mammoths, read books, and hide beneath their mother’s wings.”
“That’s a relief, anyway,” he said, frowning at the door through which Vadaralshi had disappeared. “I just…I simply can’t make myself see her that way. Which…oh, this is going to become a problem, isn’t it.”
“A lesser one than you fear, I think,” she said with a smile, stepping closer. Tiavathyris reached out to lightly stroke the back of his head once—a small gesture of affection, but more than he was accustomed to from her, and appreciated. “Vadaralshi is not in love with you. Frankly, I don’t think that is even a crush. I know my daughter, and in these antics I see youthful pride, not youthful lust. Very little is more important to dragons than our pride, husband. She is demanding your attention because she feels she has been denied it.”
“Wh—how? We spar during your training sessions. It’s not as if Vadaralshi has tried to do anything else with me except play pranks and tell jokes.”
“Pride, husband, is not always logical—not even often. You have invested comparatively much greater effort into your relationship with Pheneraxa. Even Vanimax has received more of your direct focus, if only because he keeps creating disturbances you have to address.”
“I assure you I don’t have that kind of relationship with Pheneraxa, either.”
“I know,” she said with a smile, petting his back again. “But you value Pheneraxa. You go to her for advice, and take her on adventures. I think relying on Vadaralshi to help you on this mission will do a great deal to cut off any drama at the knees. Just be sure to respect and rely on her skills, take her seriously and let her prove her merit. I do believe that’s all she really wants. Any other…complications which arise, husband, I trust in your ability to resolve. In the realm of social skills, you outmatch Vadaralshi considerably.”
She paused, then tilted her head slightly downward. Her tone did not become warning, exactly, but firmed subtly.
“In whatever way you judge it best to proceed, husband, be good to my daughter.”
“You have my word I will go to great lengths to avoid hurting her. Frankly, I handle her more gently than you do. Sometimes we can’t avoid emotional injuries, but we can work to soothe them when they happen. That’s what a family does.”
Seeming satisfied with that, Tiavathyris nodded, and smiled. “And in that realm, I do trust your skill. I have seen and benefited from it firsthand. Safety and success on your mission, then, husband.”
“I will eagerly anticipate rejoining you, my lady wife.” Kaln took her claw in his hand and kissed her palm, holding eye contact. Tiavathyris just regarded with with a patient smile. “Mm. You don’t exactly care for courtly gestures such as this, do you?”
“It is not bothersome, but… It does not particularly do anything for me, no.”
“Well, that’s all right. I enjoy it, and let’s not forget the all-important truth here.”
Still holding her claw, Kaln suddenly moved toward her—moved through the air, holding himself off the ground by will and magic and her draconic proximity. He surged up, wrapping his other arm around her waist to pull her close and looked down into her startled expression from above.
“You belong to me,” he murmured heatedly, “and I’ll do with you as I please.”
That close, attuning as he was to every aspect of her being, he keenly sensed the warm, welcoming roar of her desire—but didn’t even need to, with her face so near his own. He could plainly see the sudden dilation of her pupils, the startled parting of her lips, the dark flush that showed through even the deep bronze of her skin.
“Ah…” she said breathlessly. “You are a deviously fast learner, husband. We are going to explore so many frontiers together. But…another day. Now, get out of here before I make you late.”
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“So that little tidbit of dragon trivia at least added some context for me,” he said minutes later in the library. “Is that why you got so heated up when I made a joke about you being my daughter?”
“Well done, you figured it out,” Pheneraxa said condescendingly, looking down her long nose at him from her customary perch alongside the reference section. “I have read far more about human sexuality than you have experienced, or will for some years yet, and in that… Well, I foresaw that heading in a direction which does not do it for me. I do not have daddy issues, not in any way you would think of it. Granted, I loathed and feared my father, but…we’re dragons. That’s normal.”
“Right, well… Just to be clear, Pheneraxa, and with no disrespect intended…I mean, it’s not that you aren’t pretty—”
“Oh, you can stop,” she said, grinning. “I know, Kaln. It’s been long enough now. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to make a move on me, and it’s quite plain the prospect never crossed your mind. So much the better. To be frank, if you did decide to claim me sexually, I think I would submit without a struggle. I confess I’ve been rather curious what you’ve been doing to Izayaroa that makes her yowl like that; I never thought anything could induce such a loss of composure in the old wyrm. But…it’s a passive sort of curiosity, not something I feel an actual need to satisfy. What we have established is comfortable. Companionable. Let us not rock the boat.”
“Firmly agreed,” he said. “Well, I’ll be heading out shortly. Percy was still asleep last I checked, and I wasn’t about to disturb her—yesterday was a lot more emotions and more walking than she’s used to. Can I leave her in your care for the next few days?”
“She’s not a puppy,” Pheneraxa noted wryly. “Percy seems admirably able to look after herself.”
“Yes, but she’s about to be the only human in this place, and it’s not as if she’s friends with any of the rest of the family. It’d be awfully lonely by herself all the time. Besides, she actually will need some help—it was too late to set up her house when we got back last night, remember? I left all the furniture we bought in the middle of the chamber, including her books and telescopes. The other stuff she considered sensitive is in a trunk by the side door to her house. She’ll need a strong pair of claws to help set everything up. Just leave Atraximos’s old junk out in the middle when you remove it, and I’ll put it away in the vaults when I get back.”
“Hmph. Very well.” Pheneraxa lifted her nose, putting on an exaggeratedly offhanded tone. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time with her. I do enjoy Percy’s company, after all.”
“You’re a kind soul, Pheneraxa,” he said gravely. “Please also let her know that I put all the prepared meals from our trip in the food box. There’s also plenty of fruit and bread, plus butter and jam, so she should have plenty to eat—and might actually be happier not having to rely on what passes for my cooking. And I set aside a meat skewer for you, it’s on the top shelf at the front. I knew you’d just snap at me if I brought it into the library.”
“Correct, and rightly so. Also, Kaln, did you forget I was there in Shima Vaat? I’ve already sampled all the food.”
“Yes, but I gave meat skewers to everyone else in the family, and I’m not about to come home to you pitching a fit about being left out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with your mother, and then I’m off.”
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Emeralaphine was disdainful of street food, Missari or otherwise, but that proved no great problem. Kaln had other means of making her feel special.
When the two of them emerged directly from her chamber into the central vault, she was in her smaller form, wearing a haughty expression, nose high in the air and lips pinched in disapproval. She was still also flushed pink, her snowy hair slightly disheveled and her customary blue gown slipping off one shoulder.
Kaln still hadn’t succeeded in getting it off her entirely—not that there was time today anyhow—but that was fine. An enjoyable journey was only lessened if rushed.
Vadaralshi was full-sized and waiting for him; she looked at Emeralaphine and grinned, and for just a moment Kaln thought things were about to become very uncomfortable, but for once the green drake chose not to create an unnecessary problem.
“Finally. What, you had to go around and say goodbye to everyone individually, including the ghosts?”
“Yes, Vadaralshi, that is precisely what I did. I am so terribly sorry to make you late, I know how many pressing appointments you have.”
“I’m a busy girl, Pants! Places to see, people to do!”
“I would advise you to follow the brat’s nose at first,” said Emeralaphine, still outwardly dignified. “There are a few sites sacred to Hii-Amat in the plains, and given your previous interaction with her she would likely not take offense if you approached directly. However, there is a certain pageantry that is commonly accepted among the gods, and our goal is after all to avoid an adversarial relationship. It will be safest to do the standard thing and approach one of the Hiiri groups first, and have whatever passes for their priesthood make an introduction. I can’t imagine they would deny you. Vadaralshi knows…well, she used to know several of them.”
“Hah! She knew their grandparents, maybe.”
Vanimax had emerged into the chamber, looking performatively disdainful.
“Max is as usual being a butthead, but he’s not completely without a point for once,” said Vadaralshi. “It’s very unlikely I still have any living friends out there. It’s probably fine, the Hiiri are very easygoing folks. Shouldn’t be too hard to make introductions once we find some. I know some places they have permanent encampments, but nearly all of them live in nomadic groups, so we might meet those first.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure they won’t be at all terrified by the sight of a dragon descending on them,” Vanimax scoffed. Kaln noted with amusement that he had surreptitiously crept closer. “I’m almost sorry I’ll miss that.”
“If there is one thing I trust Ar-Kaln to manage to do,” said Emeralaphine, “it is befriend a group of pre-agricultural tribals even while they are cowering in terror from a dragon. It’s not as if she’s much of a dragon, anyway.”
“That’s true enough,” Vanimax agreed, smirking at his sister. She just tilted her head, watching him with mild curiosity.
Kaln glanced quickly back and forth at each of them—reading between the lines, remembering some things he’d seen and been told recently, and had a sudden idea. Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone, here.
“Hey, Vanimax,” he said lightly, “would you like to come along?”
“Hah! Well, I suppose it would be best if someone was there to keep an eye on you two. I can only imagine what a mess your last trip turned into, between Pheneraxa and that girl.”
Vadaralshi rolled her eyes so hard her entire head lifted.
“Yes, this should make it all go much more smoothly,” Emeralaphine sighed. “I hope you know what you are doing, husband. Good fortune on your quest. Please refrain from making us any more divine enemies.”
“I vow I shall come back alive or perish in the attempt, my lady love,” he said solemnly, then concentrated and flashed across the space to Vadaralshi, landing astride her neck.
“Whoah! Hey!” She spun in a full circle in startlement. “A little warning! Hells, buy a girl dinner first.”
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, Vanimax. Let’s get this circus on the road.”