"You have to go live with the dragons."

He would always remember his brother's words, said in a moment of anger when John had broken his favourite toy. Francis had been thirteen when he had left and John had not cried, even then. He remembered thinking, "I shall show you Francis, I will go and live with the dragons but I shall not be scared of them."

Of course, deep down he had been petrified. He left his family home when he was so young, a mere week after his brother Emlyn had left to serve in the militia alongside their Uncle. But Emlyn had been four years older than him. Seven was the youngest a covert would accept, so off he went when he was seven. He had enquired once why he could not be in the army too, but his Father had merely told him that they could not impose another son in such a way.

He had been trying his whole life to not feel like an imposition, without much success. Even at the Edinburgh covert he had felt it as soon as he had arrived. He was the youngest by around two years of any of the other boys and girls and was often put upon or excluded for being small. He had always had to fight for his place, but he knew his place was here. He belonged with the dragons. Even though he had been scared at first, he loved his life here. As the youngest he had been at a disadvantage, but that had only made him more determined and he had made Ensign by the time he was ten, before most of the others in his class. And he had grown tall, which helped a great deal.

He knew his mother had not wanted him to go and join the Aerial Corps, that she had fought it every turn. But when his father died of pneumonia she had had no choice. A widow in her position could not hope of supporting him. Francis had taken over at the business, but was only fourteen himself and a lot of the company had to be sold off and a Board appointed to govern his father's legacy.

Mother did not have any choice and she sent both him and Emlyn off, within a week of each other, no longer able to financially support them all. She would have to look after Francis until he could claim back some of the coal supply business and she also had his two sisters to support until they married. But for his part he had always been intended for the Corps. Although his mother had said over and over that she did not want him to go and have this life, Francis' words had always rang true. In a way, he felt as though it had always been his destiny.

He observed his reflection critically in the mirror. He was only seventeen and he had already made third lieutenant aboard Fluitare. A wonderful opportunity for someone so young. He had turned his fortunes around himself, though. From the runt of the litter he had grown tall and strong and was now considered particularly talented. He was well liked by his peers and superiors alike and enjoyed covert life as well as serving aboard dragons. He would probably never make Captain himself, not having anyone to pave his way, but he hoped that he would claim enough renown to help out his own children and even some of his nephews in ascending through the ranks of the Corps if they so wished.

Then why did he always feel so out of place?

He had tried so hard to turn his fortunes around and make something of himself, and he felt this he had achieved or at least was about to achieve But he could not shake the feeling that he still did not belong.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Granby," Lieutenant Merrick greeted him as he embarked. Fluitare was a great Checkered Nettle with around thirty years flying experience and his Captain (his second) was well-seasoned and greying. But Captain Anstell was a good man and all the officers Granby knew who had served under him spoke very highly of his intelligence and kindness.

"Thank you," he replied to the First Lieutenant, before being directed to his official posting. It was an honour to serve as an Officer aboard a heavyweight beast and he was excited to get started, even if they were only on coastal patrol duty, Fluitare still recovering from a cold. He was also glad they were to be stationed at Loch Laggan. He would miss Edinburgh, but it would be nice to have a change.

It didn't go unnoticed that he stayed behind once they had landed to check over Fluitare's harness with the Ground Crew. He had found it useful in the past to make friends with the harnessmen, who were the biggest gossips, and he would readily find any of them willing for company.

"So did you enjoy your first flight aboard the old fellow?" Merrick asked him, surprising him from behind. He wouldn't have expected the First Lieutenant to stick around unless the dragon had been injured.

"Is that my new Third Lieutenant Merrick?" Fluitare asked, his deep voice rumbling as he craned his head down to peer at Granby.

"Lieutenant John Granby at your service," he told the beast and gave a short bow.

"He has excellent manners, Merrick," Fluitare said in approval. "Be sure to show him around."

"Of course," Merrick enthused and gave the dragon a pat on his nose affectionately. "What would you like to see first?"

"I have to admit this is not my first time here – I visited as an Ensign aboard Actionis. But I always enjoyed the baths and was thinking of heading there."

"How old were you at your last visit?" Merrick asked him as they walked off in each other's company. It was a strange question and he took a while to answer, trying to figure out the dates in his head.

"Why, I must have been around twelve at my last visit," he answered nevertheless.

"Ah, then the baths is not where we are headed," Merrick said as he slapped him heartily across his back and walked off exuberantly, leaving him to stay and scratch his head a moment before running to keep up with the First Lieutenant.

They headed instead to the perimeter of the covert, where a group of other young officers stood around, apparently waiting for them.

"There you are!" One dark-haired boy, probably only a few years older than himself called out and Merrick gave a wave in recognition.

"This is Granby – the new Third on Fluitare," Merrick introduced him to the others. "Are we waiting for anyone else?" he asked as he was handed a dark cloak and shrugged it over his shoulders. Then he was handed a cloak too by a podgy sandy-haired youth. He accepted the cloak but looked over to Merrick in puzzlement.

"No, nobody else," the dark-haired boy replied to Merrick. "Hullo, believe we met before. It's Collins – we served aboard Actionis together."

He remembered him and shook his hand gratefully. It had been a number of years and he remembered Allistair Collins as an energetic and boisterous boy and his toothy grin indicated he had not changed too much. He was three years older, but he remembered they had had a good few games of football together as Ensigns.

"Come on lads!" Merrick announced and led their group out of the covert.

They made their way across the craggy land that surrounded their covert as the light and headed towards a small ball of light in the distance – the local Village. The day was fading fast and the village looked to burn brightly from afar.

"So is anyone going to tell me why we are off to the village at this hour?" Granby asked loudly, directing the question in Collins' direction.

"We're going to Molly's of course!" another of their party, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties responded chirpily and a cheer went up from the group.

It was quite clear when they arrived at their destination, a small rickety detached cottage on the western edge of the village that 'Molly' was in fact the Madam of the local brothel. Granby balked at the idea and almost stumbled over in surprise, but Merrick slapped him on the back.

"What's wrong Granby?" Collins asked jovially when he spied his expression.

"Ah come on Collins don't be such a clod, it's his first time!" Merrick roared, which again initiated many whoops and cheers from the rest of the party. He was very much taken aback and slightly mortified. Before he knew it he had been bundled inside with the rest of them and was sat in a corner drinking strong cheap whiskey. Merrick was sat opposite him with a young girl on his lap and laughing raucously. All of the other officers were either sat around and drinking and in similar positions to Merrick, surrounded by young girls wearing next to nothing, or had disappeared entirely.

"Carla!" Merrick yelled out and a small, petite girl with yellow hair smiled back from across the room, in the midst of pouring out some more whiskey into beakers. She finished what she was doing and then came over.

"This here is Granby."

He almost choked on his drink.

"How do you like Carla?" he asked, his face ruddy from the drink. Granby gulped some air nervously.

"A green one is it George?" she asked in a thick Inverness-shire accent. The other girl sat on Merrick's lap downed her beaker of whiskey and belched loudly.

"Aye – he's young but I bet he's spirited!" Merrick enthused to Carla.

"It's half a crown for a go love," she told him with a smile.

"No, thank you," Granby responded almost automatically.

"Never fear, consider it a welcome gift!" Merrick told him enthusiastically.

He was about to protest, manners be damned, but the girl was up and pulling him by his arm before he was able to get out a single syllable. He stuttered as she led him out of the room and down a dark corridor.

"What's wrong? You afflicted or something?" she asked with a giggle.

"No," he answered petulantly as she led him through a thick wooden door banded with iron and shut it behind her with a heave. The room was poorly lit by only a couple of candles and he squinted to see anything, but just about managed to make out the shape of a cot in the corner, to which Carla went and laid herself down.

"Well come on then," she called out to him through the darkness. "I don't have all night." Her voice was high-pitched and had a whistling quality to it that was really starting to grate on him. He went and sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her with curiosity.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"It's just that I've never done this before," he confided softly, though his body was screaming for him to run away as fast as he could.

"Don't worry dearie, I'll show you where to put it," Clara told him in what he supposed was meant to be a comforting tone. He barked a laugh at her crassness but then jumped a mile when her hand appeared suddenly on his crotch.

"What's wrong?" she enquired automatically.

He honestly didn't know what to tell her, but she sat there looking expectantly at him with her dirty face and he had to say something.

"I guess I'm just not ready," he told her. Rather than dissuading her, she then began to fondle him through his trousers and he shut his eyes and tried to think of something else. It wasn't until she began kissing his neck, her soft and grimy skin up against his own and her thin yellow hair dangling in his eyes that he leapt up.

"Come back dear, I didn't mean to scare you," she purred at him and then unlaced her dress, her white breasts spilling out. He looked away.

"No, I'd really rather not," he said, panic rising in his throat.

"What? Are you an invert or something? Lord, I knew you was afflicted," she said, sinking back onto the bed. "Well, you won't get a refund."

"I – I am NOT an invert!" he told her indignantly.

"Well then what's wrong with you? It's all settled – why won't you fuck me?"

To that, Granby did not have an answer. Unless he let himself agree to her accusation he really had no choice but to go through with it, even though the very thought revolted him.

He threw stones into the puddle and watched forlornly as they splashed in the muddy water.

"There you are Granby!" Merrick greeted him. "We're headed back now – here's your cloak. You left it inside."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"Now that does not sound like a lad who just enjoyed my Welcome present," Merrick observed and sat on the rough log beside him. "Did you not like Carla?"

"Oh, yes, of course I did. Um, thank you?" he returned. He could hardly admit what actually happened.

"You're a terrible liar," Merrick told him. Granby looked into his mirthful face, his eyes widened in protest as he stammered out non-coherent words, trying to find an excuse.

"Was she not your 'type'?" he enquired and arched an eyebrow. Merrick had light brown hair that curled at the ends and glassy blue eyes and, in that moment, he couldn't help but see the resemblance between his and Carla's colouring. He tried to push the perverted thoughts he suddenly had to the back of his mind and breathe.

"Well, if you are an invert it don't matter too much here," Merrick said with a shrug.

"I never said…"

"I know, but it's written all over your face."

It was highly illegal to be an invert and Granby would deny the term applying to him vehemently, but he could not deny to himself that he had suspected he might be for a while. He had no intention of acting on such impulses.

However, he saw Merrick sway with inebriation and couldn't help his curiosity.

"Are there many inverts in the Corps?"

"Fair few I know of. Probably more who I don't know of." He hiccupped.

Granby will never know what exactly came over him but it was as though his body was acting involuntarily, like his brain had been left behind somewhere and forgotten and he leant over and kissed Merrick on the lips.

His heart practically stopped when he realised what he was doing and he went to pull away but Merrick grabbed the back of his head and crushed them together further, returning the kiss passionately. His body was hot and cold all at the same time. He felt like he had just been plunged into an icy pool, every inch of his skin alive and stinging.

There was a yell from around the front of the cottage and Merrick broke apart suddenly and staggered to his feet.

"Just coming lads!" he yelled out and stumbled away to re-join the group without even a look back.

Granby had to run to catch them, his cloak billowing behind him. When he had caught up the group gave another cheer.

"Clearly you enjoyed yourself!" Collins said. He and another young officer were currently supporting Merrick, one under each arm. He was blind drunk and all Granby could think of was "Thank God". At least he could deny the event around the back of the cottage with reasonable temerity and expect to get away with it. But it had been close. He sighed in relief.

"Wow. That good?" another of the group enquired and slapped him across his back.

He didn't sleep well that night. Images of Merrick flooded his mind. Part of him was thankful and relieved that nothing more had happened and that the First Lieutenant was unlikely to remember it in the morning, but another part of him was still clinging onto some absurd hope that Merrick may be interested in returning these dangerous sentiments.

It was ludicrous not to mention highly dangerous.