Lyre

It did not matter how or why a night of drinking started for Bron, it always ended in the back alley. “The Back Alley” was an aptly named tavern that did not care who you were, what species you belonged to, or what you did for a living as long as you paid your tab. Today was no different. Mel had accompanied him, as usual. The large, noisy human had been his friend and drinking buddy for years.

Bron was only one bowl deep before contemplating his life choices. As a dragon and strong drinker, he usually needed at least three to do that. “Maybe she was the one, and I did something wrong.” Bron barely raised his voice over the background noise.

Mel snipped with his fingers. “My buddy here needs another bowl of ale,” he yelled, far too audibly, grabbed his own wooden mug and emptied it in one go. “On second thought,” he yelled even louder, “Gimme a new one too.”

He turned back to face Bron, his usual stupidly wide grin painted all over his face. “Come on, man, you are Metia. I thought you knew when it works out and when to cut your losses with that whole bond nonsense.”

“If only it was that easy.” The Metia bond was as special as it was painful. Even thinking about her name brought back the stinging, empty, broken, flailing pain inside his chest where his heart ought to be. “Maybe it is better that she cut it early. I now understand why we can die if a full bond is broken.” Like many other young Metia, he had thought it a myth spouted by those holding onto tradition, those that also preferred to live up in a forest instead of a town.

Bron watched the waiter set down his foaming bowl of ale. He raised it with one paw and took a big gulp. It tasted as bland as always. “But ale heals all wounds, tastes as bad as medicine, too.” He forced himself to smile.

“That just means you are single and available again. Time to hunt, as you’d say,” Mel gestured with his mug.

“I would never say that.”

The lightglobes up above lost intensity and bathed the room in a soft yellow. All attention turned to the small stage at the back. “Nearly forgot there was a live performance today,” Mel said. “What poor sod is trying his luck today?”

A slender Aer took the stage. Her delicate and smooth movements drew Bron’s attention immediately. She was in her mid-twenties, slightly smaller than Bron, and almost glowed in an azure blue under the lighting. A white lily wrapped around one of her curved horns, peeking forwards with curiosity.

The pub held its breath as she hummed and an electric shiver crawled all the way from Bron’s neck down towards the tip of his tail. Her hum had his attention, but her singing stole his heart:

Lovers entwined up high

Rising far above the clouds, mountain peaks side by side,

Two made one, like thunder they cry

Below, in the trees

A nest of twigs and powerful stems

Two made one, joy lost to the breeze

Fates, forever unleashed

Carrying the mountains and stems and their warmth within

Two made one, their power released

“Her voice is beautiful,” Bron mumbled in a haze.

“Agree with that,” Mel said. “She’s got a pleasant voice. Lyre was it?” He rummaged through the empty mugs and picked up a soggy pamphlet.

“Lyre,” Bron tasted the name. It rolled off the tongue as silky smooth as her voice through the room.

“My eyes certainly like what they see behind her,” Mel continued, and nodded to a woman at the back of the stage. “She’s filled in all the right places. And I like her guitar.”

“She’s playing bass.” Bron examined her. She was on the smaller side of human’s and seemed very concentrated and tense. Her long dress did nothing to hide her rather large torso. “I’ll never get your kind’s obsession with breasts. That’s just flabby fat.”

“Would be weird if you did.” Mel raised his mug as if to deliver a grand speech. “Small, large, it doesn’t matter. They hold our hopes and dreams like the softest feather-filled pillow never could.”

Lyre struck up the next song, and Bron’s attention flipped back to the stage. A smack to the shoulder broke him out of his trance and back to the grubby pub.

“You are totally into her, aren’t you?”

“Her voice caught my eyes.”

“Voices don’t catch eyes. You are catching something else with those. I wonder what does for you. Thighs? Horns? Eyes? Legs maybe, cause you all got four of them.”

Bron could not quite pinpoint why. Everything matched up so perfectly, the soft but powerful voice to her body, the way she moved, the ripple of her wings intact with the twangs of bass.

“Aer looks so frail compared to you, almost like they’d break if you were to do anything,” Mel noted. The two of them watched Lyre retire to a table in the back, along with the rest of the band. Mel jumped up. “Alright, let’s go meet them.”

Bron stopped him with his tail. “We can’t just do that!” But Bron knew Mel made up his mind and now nothing would change that until he gave in. Mel grabbed the side of his wing to persuade and tried to pull him up from his mat. “I will say it.”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’ll be your wingman.”

“We can’t just go there and-”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Shush, yes we can. I’ll take the lead, introduce you to Lyre, and then I’ll have the cute bassist to myself.”

Bron didn’t want to go. He wanted to talk to her, to get to know her, but he didn’t want to go there and actually do it. The fear of disappointing her and failing himself was far too large. But Mel continued to drag and push and his legs moved all of their own over the sticky floor. One by one until all four were marching towards the back.

Their approach was hard to miss. It was more like a stumble through the mess of tails and legs between the tables. Lyre eyed Bron with a healthy dose of suspicion or curiosity.

Mel talked first. “Hello there, me and my large buddy here, we wanted to thank you.” Mel bowed. “We come here far too often and you are the first to quiet the crowd with nothing but your voice. But, my buddy is the music expert,” he patted Bron’s side, “I was all ears for that brilliant bass. What can I get you to drink?”

Mel turned towards the bassist and left Bron to deal with Lyre alone. Her tail snapped to her side. “A music expert?” The way she used her voice, it was not a question, it was an interrogation.

His throat cramped. Mel had set him up to fail and embarrass himself. “I- I am not. I am not a music expert. My friend has more heart than brain and I was in awe of your voice.” Heat rose to his face. “That’s all. You have a really beautiful voice.”

Her expression softened to a smile. “Thank you.” She slid a little to the side, making space on her mat. “I hate dragons that lie to impress.” She flicked his leg with the fin at the very end of her tail. “Come, sit down.”

Something stirred deep inside of him, pricked his mind like a fiery needle and threaded a burning line down the length of his body as he sat down. “My name is Bron. Nice to meet you.”

“I am Lyre. As seen on these-” she picked up a dripping pamphlet, “soggy pieces of paper.” Lyre grunted a swallowed laugh.

“You are not from Halfhill, am I right?”

She shook her head. “I’m from the west, but Lisa here,” she nodded towards the bassist, “she’s from here. She got us this performance. Wasn’t our first but, this place is a real- experience.” Lyre took a glance around the room, then focused entirely on Bron. Few people appeared to be as enamored with her performance compared to him. They barely left tips.

“People come here to drink bad ale and drop unconscious behind the outhouse,” he laughed. “Don’t think too much about it.”

“It’s not a great opera hall filled with loving patrons, that much is true.” Her tail brushed against his, slowly twining around. She eyed her empty bowl. “Can’t say much about the quality of ale, as an Aer it all tastes like piss. Well, but only lukewarm.” She faced him with a playful smile and gaze as the fins of her tail teasingly tickled his side. “So what do you suggest to feel a real tingle in my mouth?”

“A drink?”

“You had something else in mind?” She laughed.

Bron shook his head. “No, the twice burned Sol is pretty damn strong.”

They got caught up in conversation, and it turned out that they had a lot in common. They both left their small islands to try their luck in a larger city. Their meeting in a place like The Back Alley wasn’t a grand sign of success. Seconds became minutes as they talked, minutes became hours, and hours went by like seconds. Mel and Lisa had long left, as had most other patrons. As the sun rose from its nightly slumber and peeked through the foggy windows, the bartender decided they had to rise from their table.

“As luck would have it, I rented a room close by,” Lyre mused and pushed Bron in the right direction. Her wings hung sloppily down the side, draping over him as he supported her slender frame. Her warm body against his made his heart jump and judging by her grin, she knew.

******************

It took only a few minutes to reach the inn. Various written fragments of songs lay sprawled all over the floor and small side-table. He had little time to appreciate it in the darkness. The gravity of desire pulled them towards the bed right away. Her heart beat heavy against him as they forced themselves through the door frame, side by side.

They landed sideways on the bed and she immediately rolled him onto his back. Their tails entwined at the tips. “You are so tense, relax.” Lyre’s voice remained as powerful and passionate as her singing, albeit now more forceful.

His gaze caught in hers as she slid upward, nudging his throat with the top of her snout. She flicked his ear with the tip of her tongue and he let himself sink into the moment, enjoying the pleasant weight of her body pushing down on his own. Her hot breath tickled his neck, then his stomach, and then he felt the teasing touch of her slim and slick tongue run down the length of both.

Something inside stirred as the stray ribbon of a new bond made itself know with a rising warmth that spread through his body like the sun on the first day in spring. A bond should not happen in a night. It was too fast, or was it? He really liked Lyre, so it seemed alright to want to connect with her.

She stopped her movements, and he felt the weight shift on the feather mattress as she propped herself up. Her pfod weighted heavy on his shoulders and he opened his eyes. Bron sobered up in record time as glimpsed downward. “I-” he stammered.

“No need to be nervous.”

Bron had expected certain things, but not that singular thing. He blankly turned his gaze upwards at Lyre’s face and her coy grin.

“I am careful. I promise.”

Bron continued to stare. His mind had crashed like a first juvenile attempt at flight. “I-” he started again.

Realization set in across Lyre’s face. “Oh, oh my,” Lyre giggled, and his smile widened. “You thought I was a dragoness, didn’t you?” He shifted some of his weight from Bron’s shoulders. “I can be if you want to.”

“I- I need a moment.” Bron wiggled free of Lyre’s grip, rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the washroom.

Once inside, he drew a deep breath and collapsed against the metal tub. Lyre was a dragon. He did not notice at all. They said Aer looked all the same, but Lyre was so slim, so feminine. This wasn’t right. The image of Lyre next room came to mind, and he felt his face grow hot, as did his chest and the fresh bond deep inside him. His body and mind seemed to be out of touch in this case.

The door opened. Mel jumped backwards in surprise before catching himself on the frame. “I should’ve expected this,” he said.

Bron jumped and hit his leg on the tub, resulting in a deep thud. “Why are you here?” Bron had to stop himself from yelling out in sheer surprise.

“You know how little musicians make? Lyre and Lisa are roommates.” Mel eyed him for a long second. “Something wrong?”

“She is, well, she is a, he is,” Bron stumbled over his words.

Mel put a hand on his shoulder. “Lisa told me. Door is on the right. I never saw you here.” Mel turned around and left.

“I, I am not sure what to do now,” Bron mumbled to himself.

“Do you really think this changes the evening we spent together?” Lyre’s voice echoed from the bedroom, as entrancing as it had always been. Aer had exceptional ears. He must’ve heard everything.

Did it change? Bron wasn’t sure. He liked her, not him, but she was him and has always been him, but- “Stop being confused.”

“Bron,” Lyre’s voice was soft, as though he could understand his thoughts from the next room. “Dragons, dragonesses, who really cares? It’s personalities that excite us, bodies that excite us, voices that excite us, smells that excite us. You like me, don’t you? But for what do you like me? I know this may be a very Aer look on things, but aren’t we all the same? Don’t we all long to be with the people that like and appreciate us?”

He had a point. Bron took another deep breath. He really enjoyed the evening at the pub. Getting closer had been a wish back then. Maybe he was drunk, and this decision rode on the wings of several bowls of ale and spirits. The growing bond between him and Lyre wanted him to continue. It longed to grow closer.

Bron returned to the bed and laid down right next to Lyre. He bent forward and nudged his side with his head. “I am really glad you stayed.”

Bron simply rested his head on Lyre’s chest, feeling the slowing heartbeat and heat radiating from him. Lyre’s smooth, silk-like wing draped over them both like a blanket. “We can stay like this if you want to. I like this”

The feeling of the bond hadn’t changed. It remained like a fiery thread that sought to reach out to another, and he realized it was exactly what he had missed before, a genuine connection to someone else. Maybe this would form a bond in time, maybe it wouldn’t. All he could do was try to see what happened.