Dragon's Consort

A/N: The chapter in which the romance begins to bloom. (?)

Steven

"How are you feeling, Lord Steven?"

Steven inwardly winced when he heard her voice. The shrill woman from the orientation whose name he still hadn't bother to learn came to visit several hours since the king left. Even though Steven didn't really like her, he welcomed her presence in that quite, boring room.

"Better," he replied. "When will they let me return to my room?"

"As soon as the healer declares that you are healthy," she said. "And until that time arrives, you are to stay here and follow the healer's order. You have to be grateful to the King, he has ordered for the best healer in the Kingdom to be brought here to heal you. I must say, you are one very lucky young lord. The lords and ladies in the court would have done anything if it means getting to be right where you were when his son assaulted you."

Steven couldn't help but stare, until the gears in his head finally turned again and he remembered that it was the King who had saved him.

"You have jumped ahead into the game, Lord Steven," the shrill woman said with knowing smile. "You are now the object of envy of every bachelors and bachelorettes. You are going to have to watch your back much more carefully from now on."

Steven quickly realized what she was implying. With a look of horror on his face, he turned to look at her and said, "Oh, no." If the incident earlier didn't scream 'I have a likely chance with the King' right at the faces of those young lords and ladies, then he didn't know what else will.

The woman's smile got wider, "For someone who comes from the most isolated Province, you are quite ambitious, aren't you?"

"It's not my intention to-"

"Your intention doesn't matter, Lord Steven. This is the Court, and this year, the King is going to choose a Consort. Being a Consort to the King means being the second most powerful person in all the realms. The competition is not only going to be fierce, it's going to be bloody as well. If you cannot handle it, then I suggest you go home." She paused, before her face softened, "Intentional or not, you have caught the attention of the King. The others are going to treat you as their rival. You need to be careful from now on. I do not want to have to explain to your brother how we found your lifeless body."

"Thanks you," Steven managed to say, even though he suddenly felt sick to the stomach. He didn't want this. He didn't want to catch the King's attention. All he wanted was to explore Blackthorn and all its secret places, and maybe indulge himself in carnal pleasures once or twice, before heading home. How did he get tangled into this Court politic matter?

He sighed as he gazed out of the window across his bed. Outside, the sky is getting darker, but the silhouettes of dragons can still be seen. They were black against the violet sky, majestically flying over the Blackthorn Kingdom without a care in the world.

What am I getting myself into?

Steven couldn't sleep. It was dark outside, but he had been sleeping through the day, and hadn't done anything else aside from staring at the ceiling, and sleeping again. The chill in his chest was still there, but he felt a bit better than before. Finally, after several minutes of restless tossing and turning, he decided that orders from the King be damned, he needed to get out. And so he grabbed his coat, and got out of the room.

The hallway outside was carpeted in royal red and the walls were decorated with ferocious paintings of dragons and wyverns. He gazed into each one of them in awe, appreciating the vividness and details. One painting showed a huge ice dragon roaring into the bright blue sky, another showed two wyverns fighting in the air. There was also one which depicted a gigantic fire dragon, with its whole body wrapped in flames , hurtling towards an ancient castle.

The Palace of Dragons indeed, Steven mused as he saw more and more paintings of dragons, each of them no less captivating than the others. Just how many are there? Who painted them?

Wait, the most important question here is... Where am I?

Even though he had an suspicion that the King had brought him into the royal wing, his mind was still struggling to confront that suspicion. Sure, it was his son who injured him, but was it really necessary to bring him into the royal wing? An answer to that question stubbornly tried to surface, but he pushed it down with reasons and denials.

He wandered through the halls, trying to look for any stairs that could lead him out of there. The hallways sloped up and down, curved left and right, branched into two, sometimes three, and Steven was rendered so confused that he began thinking he would never be able to find a way out of that cursed place. Finally, after what felt like hours, Steven caught sight of an archway that seemed to lead outside. A bubble of relieve rose within him as he walked towards it and recognized the black night sky and the stars.

The archway led him to an open vast garden, filled with green shrubs and colorful flowers. A giant willow tree grew in the middle of the garden, huge and ancient, glowing with an unearthly light. Curious, Steven walked down the white marble path which led him straight towards the willow tree. The closer he got, the more he realized that the tree was beyond massive. It was gigantic. It stood as tall as a tower, and wider than the gates of the biggest palace he had ever seen. Its roots grew out of the ground it was planted in, thick and sturdy, curved in such a way that made the tree looked as if it was trying to push itself out of the ground it was rooted in. Its leaves were lush green, but they glowed with a light that felt magical. It was not an ordinary tree, anyone could tell.

Steven gazed up in amazement; he had never seen anything like this before. He closed his eyes, and inhaled the earthly scent, and it was so soothing that he forgot all about his worries almost immediately. He felt a strong reverence towards this tree, as if it was a part of something so mystical and mysterious that he couldn't possibly comprehend.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice snapped Steven out of his trance. He turned to look, and saw a young boy standing not too far away from him by the tree. He was probably around eight, with flaming red hair and golden eyes that strongly reminded him of...

"Prince Keith?" The name escaped his lips, even though he wasn't really sure if the boy was supposed to be Keith or Kyle. He had heard of the names given to the young princes when they were born from the mouths of many. The birth of twin princes was thought to be a sign of good fortune, and so it was practically impossible not to have heard of their names. Steven had never seen them before; they were just mere names, nobody important that had anything to do with him. Now he was looking at one of the two, and he was nonetheless struck by the strong resemblance that boy had with his father; not identical, but still a strong resemblance.

"Only father and we can come in here," the boy spoke, and he glared, but coming from someone so young, it was barely threatening. "You don't belong here."

Steven wondered if Prince Keith was the one who had assaulted him earlier. If that was the case, then Steven had a reason to be worried. He observed the boy, trying to measure him, but the thought that such a young boy could cast such a deadly spell was still hard for him to accept.

"Remove yourself from this place at once," the boy raised his voice. "Or else-"

"Keith, wait," a softer child voice interrupted. Steven turned his attention to the source of that softer voice, and was nonetheless surprised when he saw the exact same copy of the young boy that stood before him. He was standing behind a huge protruding root, peeking almost sheepishly at them. Kyle? Or is it Keith? Steven was confused.

"You know him?" the first of the two asked, his voice braver and louder compared to the other.

The second one nodded, "That man... He is... The one who I..." his voice trailed off, before his head quickly disappeared behind the tree again.

As if understanding what his twin brother was trying to say, the first boy turned his gaze at Steven again, this time, the glare missing from his eyes. "You were the one Kyle hurt earlier?"

Steven glanced in the direction where Kyle was hiding, and nodded, "You don't have to feel so guilty, Prince Kyle, I understand that it was just an accident."

"Why didn't you dodge?" Prince Keith, the one who was standing before him, demanded.

Steven blinked, unprepared for such question, "I..." Could he really be honest and tell the boy that he was daydreaming?

"Keith, stop it," the soft voice rescued Steven from having to answer the question. "He didn't do anything wrong... It was my fault." Kyle sounded so heart-broken that Steven immediately realized why he was hiding from him. The boy was crying.

Now, a lot of people he knew have soft spots for children. They, when faced with a crying child, always knew the right words to say to comfort them and bring a smile to their faces. Steven wasn't one of them. He was unaccustomed to children at his best.

"It wasn't your fault! It was his for not paying attention!" Keith insisted as he turned towards the direction of his twin brother.

"Great granny told me not to use that spell, but I used it anyway, it was my fault! I'm a bad child and now papa hates me!" Kyle then began crying loud enough for Steven to hear.

"No, no, your father doesn't hate you," Steven said, though his voice didn't sound as sure as he wanted it to be. What did he know about their father anyway? From their previous interaction in the bedroom, the King had sounded like a strict father, but somehow that trait didn't seem to fit in well with the person Steven had talked to on his first night in Blackthorn.

"If papa hates you, then we'll look for a new papa!" Keith told his brother.

"I don't think that's necessary, Prince Keith," Steven said, feeling weirdly amused by this ridiculous conversation. A conversation that somehow made him thought of his own deceased father. "Your father may be strict, and sometimes his words may be harsh, but deep inside, he still loves you. There's no way a father can hate his own children."

"But... but..." Kyle's sob resounded, softer this time. "Papa was so mad at me..."

How do I answer that? Steven knew that he had no reason to comfort them, but somehow, he felt rather obliged. Well, it was partly his fault that this kind of misunderstanding existed in the first place. But, by the dragons, how was he supposed to answer that? How mad was the King anyway?

"Maybe... if you apologize and promise him that you won't use that spell again... Umm, he won't be so mad anymore?" he was making things up, but it was better than saying nothing.

For a moment, there was silence, but then Kyle peeked out shyly from his hiding place. He looked at Steven and asked, "You really think so?"

"I really think so." To be honest, he wasn't even sure what he was doing, but the boy wasn't crying anymore, so he must have done something right.

"Alright…" Kyle sniffed as he wiped the tears away from his eyes, "I'll talk to papa…"

Children are really simple, aren't they? Steven was nonetheless amused. He thought back to his own father, and all those years he had spent refusing to apologize to him. I wish I was that simple-minded… His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, when he heard the leaves above rustling loudly. He turned his gaze upward, and saw dark shadows moving among the strong branches. He froze. Why hadn't he notice before?

"They don't want you here…" Keith told him, and there was a hint of darkness in his voice that Steven didn't like at all. "They don't like you…"

Steven took a step back, and realized with a mix of confusion and horror that those dark figures up there were Wyverns; Wyverns that didn't want him there. He glanced at Keith and Kyle, who were both staring at the wyverns up there. Suddenly, Keith stepped up and said, "Do not harm him. He will leave now."

With gaze still fixed on the wyverns above, Steven took a careful step back, just to demonstrate his willingness to leave. The wyverns let out a threatening growl. I should have stayed in that room, he thought regretfully as he took another step backward, this time much more slowly.

"Leave him alone!" Kyle suddenly shouted at them.

"If you hurt him, father will get very mad!" Keith added.

The wyverns moved from branch to branch, getting lower and lower. Steven was very tempted to just bolt out of that place, but he knew that giving his back to these creatures simply meant suicide. He took another step back, not taking his eyes off them for even a second.

"Behind you!" Kyle's voice rang out in warning.

Steven glanced over his shoulder, and immediately, his heart leapt up to his throat, for towering twice his height behind him is a huge, scary, black dragon with teeth sharper than any razor Steven had ever seen. The dragon looked down on him with its golden eyes, threatening and dangerous. Its wings were outstretched, and its tail swished from side to side lazily and yet powerfully. Its arm was as big as Steven himself, and he was pretty sure one strike from that powerful arm could kill him.

Steven's heart drummed rapidly against his chest, and cold sweat damped his palms and forehead.

For the second time that day, he thought, I can't possibly die like this.

Lance

When his wife, the Queen, died two years ago, Lance had made a vow to himself that he would raise his children with the passion and wisdom of a true father. He tried hard, he very well did. Every single day, he spared time to play with them, every night before bed, he kissed them good night. He tried to be reasonable and understanding, strict and kind, wise and gentle. However, for some reason, he couldn't control himself earlier, and the guilt that haunted him at that moment was real and troubling. He remembered how he had lost it, how he threw those words at Kyle, and how his son had cried as he walked away so uncaringly. What had gotten into him?

He sipped his wine as he gazed out of the window. It was getting dark outside, and the wyverns were slowly disappearing into the far horizon. Deep inside, he longed to be on the back of one of those wyverns, speeding away through the skies, leaving all his burdens and worry behind. He longed to be free like he once used to be. Yet, he knew that he couldn't be so irresponsible. The peace of all the realms depended on him.

Lance sighed as he gulped down the content of his glass.

Besides, running away from his problem wasn't the solution. He needed to talk to Kyle and apologize. He needed to tell the boy that he disapproved the use of that spell. He needed to be a good King, and also a good father for his children. With that thought, he rose from his seat, straightened his coat, and walked out of his room. Before he went to look for his son though, he directed his steps to the room next to his own; the room in which the young Lord Steven was resting in.

When he opened the door, he was nonetheless shocked when he found out that the bed was unoccupied. A thousand scenarios ran through his mind, most of them ending with Steven dead. The fear he felt earlier gripped his heart again, icy cold and venomous. "Koga!" He called out as he slammed the door behind him, "Koga! Come here at once!"

Almost immediately, a figure clad in black drop down from the ceiling. "Perfect timing," he said, "I just got news that your young lord is in the Sanctuary at the moment, dealing with a very pissed off Sorengard."

"What?" Lance couldn't believe what he just heard. Lord Steven had wandered off to the Sanctuary? And he had encountered Sorengard? "By the Dragons!" he shouted as he raced down the hall towards the Sanctuary.

It seemed as if it took him forever just to get there, and once he arrived, he was quickly greeted by the sight of Steven and Sorengard standing by the Tree of Birth. Immediately, he stopped and stared. It was nonetheless a curious sight to witness, for Sorengard never looked so comfortable with a stranger before. It lowered its head submissively and let Steven stroked him, letting out a good-natured rumble that brought a smile to Steven's face. Lance had to blink twice.

"How…?" That word escaped his lips. How was it possible? Lance couldn't help but wonder. Sorengard is the self-proclaimed guardian of the Sanctuary, and had been one for the last three hundred years ever since it was born. Other than Clair, Lance, and his children, he had never seen Sorengard let anyone else stand in the Sanctuary, let alone touch him. Lance had tried introducing Sorengard to the his wife when they first got married, but Sorengard had snapped and roared at her, treating her like an intruder no matter how many methods Lance had tried to get them to get along.

Just then, Steven caught sight of him. The young lord stared at him for a moment, before he smiled. Lance didn't know what had gotten into him, but the sight of that smile was enough to make his chest flutter. All the fear and anger melted away, and there was only a light feeling in his chest that pulled him closer towards the young lord.

When he got close enough, Sorengard turned to him and began affectionately rumbling. Lance stroked its spiky snout, before saying, "Go. I need to talk with him." And just like that, Sorengard complied. As soon as Sorengard left, he turned his gaze to Steven, who was staring at him in awe.

"I've never seen anyone ordering around a dragon like that," Steven said, his eyes bright and wide with amazement, and at that moment, he looked so precious that Lance felt like touching that face and kissing those lips. His beauty was tempting him like sins, and Lance wasn't sure if he was winning the battle.

"You…" he hesitated, are beautiful. He was struck with a need that he had never felt before; the need to own, to possess, to claim this man before him as his own. He reached out for his face, wanting to touch that skin, to feel his warmth, to run his fingers along his jaw. However, he stopped himself short when he noticed that they were not alone there. Looking to his side, he noticed Keith and Kyle, who were both watching him with an unreadable expression on their faces. Only then did he remember what he sets out to do in the first place. "Keith, Kyle," he called them as he pulled back his hand.

The boys hesitated, but they came over anyway. When they got close enough, Kyle spoke, "Papa…" his voice was dispirited, "I… I'm sorry about earlier… It… It was an accident… I didn't mean to do it… I promise… I won't do it ever again… So…" he sniveled, "Don't hate me…"

The regret for scolding his child so heartlessly came crashing back. Out of the two, Kyle was the more sensitive; he shouldn't have been so harsh on him. He was only eight, and he had lost his mother only two years ago. The guilt pulled him to his knee, and he gently stroked Kyle's head, "I don't hate you, Kyle. I never will." Instinctively, he pulled Kyle into an embrace, and quickly, the boy hugged him back and cried. Kyle was so small, and yet he was so full of sincere emotions. In his arms, he was holding the epitome of innocence, and he wanted to do nothing more than to protect him. He glanced at Keith, and then he was struck with the realization as to why Keith dreamed of being a knight. The realization brought a smile to his face, he was proud of how Keith was turning out to be.

With Kyle still in his arms, he rose and said, "Come on, it's getting late. We should go back inside." Keith nodded obediently. He then turned his attention to Steven and said, "Lord Steven, please, join us for dinner."

There was no way Steven could refuse an invitation from the King.