Work Text:
All his life, he had looked up to the sky and seen them. Patrolling the vastness of the great Realm in the King's name, keeping his peace and defending the weak and helpless. He adored the dragon-riders on their great mounts, magnificent creatures of superior intelligence and skill, only tamed to assist the king by their connection to their specific rider.
He had heard the old tales, back when no human would “sacrifice” to be a dragon rider, and those beasts would run wild and devastate whole cities. Times, when the people threw unprepared virgins to the dragons to appease them, which only ever worked for so long.
All his life he had wondered, all his life he had dreamed. One day he would be a dragon rider, and though he had never seen a man doing it, it couldn't be too hard. Women could do it after all, could tame the great beasts of the sky, even when they were easily subdued by men, whenever necessary.
Of course there had to be a trick to it. It was obvious that something was going on, but it had to be simple. He would do just fine.
Finally his time came to leave his parents and find an apprenticeship, and he came well-prepared. His backpack was filled with good clothing, rations for days and things he might need, and his pockets were lined with savings built over years, as much as his parents could spare. They had advised, almost begged him to take the offer of the potter a few doors down the street, but he wouldn't relent. A potter's life would never be enough, when instead he could be in the sky on the back of the mightiest creature known to and tamed by man.
----
It took him almost three weeks to reach the next outpost, where the dragon-riders recruited, and it diminished his supplies considerably but he was not fazed. Being a dragon-rider was regarded as a sacrifice. He was here, they wouldn't turn him away, and he didn't need any more to sustain himself.
Confidently he walked towards the barracks with the distinct large posts above them, made from the best wood, for they had to carry great beasts. The door stood right open, and he passed through into the candle-lit darkness of the building, heading toward the single heavy desk that was placed to block most of the walkway into the building.
Behind it were two people, a heavy woman more muscular and scarred than he had ever seen before and a young man of almost terrifying beauty. The latter, for reasons he could not pinpoint, made his hackles rise and made him want to head right back out of the building, but that was not going to happen. He would prevail, he just had to hold on.
Steeling himself, he coughed and announced to the building at large: “I have come to sacrifice and be a dragon-rider.”
He hadn't noticed all the people around him, until they fell utterly silent; the old women in the corner drinking their tea, the younger women ahead carrying unknown things back and forth, the very pregnant woman, sitting half hidden beyond the desk – what was someone like her doing here?
The heavy woman clearly meant to do the recruiting looked up at him, measured him from top to bottom and laughed. “Sure. Go back to where you belong. We aren't joking around here.”
Angrily he folded his arms and straightened his back.
He was about to start into a whole tirade on this treatment of someone willing, when her face changed into something like... pity. “Oh... you are from one of the settlements far out, yes?”
He could see nothing bad about it, but still nodded a bit more aggressively than he thought he would.
The woman wove a gesture around the room. “What do you see, boy?”
He didn't understand and didn't want to. She wasn't taking him seriously and that made him angry. “Nothing of importance.”
“No? I see that all the riders and even the personnel are female. You can't be a rider and a man. It doesn't work like that.”
He didn't accept that. Didn't want to. “I'll make it work.”
“Go back home, boy. It's for the best.” The woman's worried look made it even worse, he was no child!
“What about him?” He pointed at the young man who had very innocently avoided the confrontation, but didn't look the least ashamed.
“He...” The woman looked a bit helpless at that, her eyes wandering around the room in search of support. “Is not up for discussion, I guess. You... lack all necessities for his position.” More than one woman in the room chuckled, some nervously, some in amusement.
Finally the young man himself chimed in. “Let him try.”
“How?”
“A dragon who lost their rider might...work.”
The faces around him ranged from incredulous to curious, but no one disagreed. It seemed the young man had a high rank here. That was a hopeful prospect.
With a sigh the recruiter nodded. “Fine, looks like we have a new recruit.” She waved towards one of the young women behind her and instructed her to lead him to a room to freshen up and leave his things, before his future would be discussed.
Happily he nodded along, ready to leave, just as a group of watchmen with their typical sashes of yellow and blue walked in, dragging along a young woman between them. “We have a new one for you.”
“How often do I have to state that only volunteers will be accepted?” the recruiter asked, deeply tired.
“She's a thief.” The guard grinned with disturbing joy. “It's that or losing her precious hands... Thought we'd give her the choice.”
The prisoner, caught between the guards, tried to pull away, though she already sported some hefty swelling and bruises. “Bastards.”
“Leave her with us,” the recruiter caved, just as the young man from before slowly neared the thief.
Like him, she too felt there was something off about the too perfect body and too understanding eyes and recoiled, but so did the guards, pushing her forward until she was face to face with him. “Don't be scared.” He reached out and ran his knuckles over the fabric of her thin tunic without ever touching her. “We don't believe in corporal punishment here.”
For a moment breathless silence spread, then the woman spit, spit right into his face. Any normal man would have backhanded her for such lack of respect but the youngster just wiped it away. “You'd rather lose your hand and maybe die than give it a try? Even when I promise, no one will do anything to you?” He looked sad. “What a rider you would have made.”
He stepped back and the guards took the thief away.
After that he was happy to leave them all behind, the unsettling young man, the recruiter and all the women.
----
The first days went well. He only ever saw women, but they were respectful, sometimes even nice. They handed him new clothing that was a bit too thin and breezy for his liking and gave him a training routine. They showed him around the premise, where he would eat, sleep and wash, and where all important things were stored.
He asked if that was wise, given, how easily things could get stolen, but they laughed it off. “No one steals from dragons.” Maybe they were right. Facing the king's justice or an angry beast didn't seem ideal.
He found it unsettling that he really only ever met women. There were some men, but he only saw them from afar and was strangely relieved about it, for they shared the same inhuman beauty, even when not all of them were young. What he didn't see were dragons, and he figured that maybe they were on patrol and would return soon, but as day after day went by without that happening he began to wonder.
When it finally did, when the posts outside were filled, it was breathtaking. Dragons up in the sky were like flying gems or beautiful birds, flitting across the endless space so far away, but dragons on the ground were terrifying. Their scales were still intensely colored, their bodies still built to perfection, but they were also huge, with fire in their bellies, sharp teeth in their mouths and long claws on each toe. In addition their eyes – though definitely reptilian – looked deceptively human and terribly knowing. One could forget they were still senseless beasts and their intelligence merely superficial.
For now he found them unsettling and could only hope it would be different with his own dragon, one day, though for the time being no one seemed to even plan to show him any. That was disappointing, he had hoped to get into the air soon, but maybe he needed to pass some test for that first.
For now his days consisted of good meals, physical training, basic weapon drills and, much to his surprise, meditations and mental exercises.
----
He woke up one early morning, when a man of maybe thirty came into the room he had to himself. As all men here he was without blemish, of astounding beauty and terrible serenity. He watched in silence, as if it was the most normal thing to see a recruit scramble out of his bed half naked and take guarding position. He didn't seem to mind that the stand was wobbly and the position of arms and legs needed correction.
Instead of scolding the recruit, he just sat on the bed and patted beside him, waiting until his request was met.
It made the recruit's hackles rise and he sat as far away as possible, even under the scrutiny of the stranger's stare.
“Do you still want to be a dragon-rider?” It was a quiet question, gentle and warm.
He nodded, very much convinced that finally, finally things were moving ahead. “Much so.”
“Even when there is... a price you clearly don't know and haven't... anticipated?”
He barely could hold back a dismissive huff, but it wouldn't pay to treat a superior like that. “I am here to dedicate my life to this.”
“What about your body, your dignity, your very mind?” The stranger didn't raise his voice, even when the question asked for it. “What are you willing to give for a companion?” It should have been a test, he should have looked curious or grave, instead he looked sorry.
“What it takes.”
The stranger nodded with thin lips and sad eyes. “Do you know why all other dragon-riders are women?”
“Aren't you...?”
The stranger laughed noiselessly. “Not exactly.”
“Then what are you?”
“Are you even ready to know?”
He was very sure of it, and the stranger accepted it.
Then suddenly the scene shifted. His bed groaned under sudden weight and while the stranger's eyes grew yellowish and hard, they never lost their gentleness, not even when scales appeared on the skin around them and a visible snout rose from the face. It stopped then, and the stranger, no...the dragon, shifted back to his human form. So that was where all the dragons went when they weren’t working, and that was why all the riders treated them so differently from everyone else.
He stared at the dragon and almost didn't hear, when the creature, fully human again started to speak to him.
“All dragons are male. Once our only option to procreate was violence. But our ancestors were wise creatures, who didn't like to hurt others. They watched and learned, how to nurture, how to communicate.”
The dragon waited for some revelation, but it wouldn't come. He was helpless against this puzzle.
With a sigh the dragon spoke again, his eyes still gently sparkling. “The riders are our mates. The mothers of our children, the bearers of our future. We don't help your kingdom. We protect what is ours.”
He stared. It didn't process. “What of me?”
“Yes...” The dragon hummed eerily. “What of you.” He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He looked so normal like that, so human. “I lost my mate last year. It was a terrible incident, but it has been dealt with. I have fathered children, so that's not the issue, and I am willing to try a bond with you. I don't know if it will work. But... if you are taking the risk, so will I.”
Looking down on the dragon, he couldn't help but see a vulnerable man, so unlike all those he had known in his childhood. Weak enough to show feelings, but strong enough no one dared ridicule him for it. “What would that mean... bond?”
The dragon only stared, and the longer he did that, the more insane the option became. “No.”
“You don't have to make the decision now. Once you made up your mind... have the courtesy to tell someone before you leave.”
“What if I don't?” He could be nothing if not stubborn.
“Then you tell them to tell me. My name is Tura.”
He stared on, as the man rose, his hand resting against the bedsheet – so close – just a moment.
“At least as much of my name as humans can speak.”
The Dragon rose with a click of his tongue and left. Now he was alone with his thoughts and the one big doubt hanging over him like a threat. Sacrifice. He had heard the stories of old. He should have known. He should have understood, but since the dragons could not exactly eat their riders... he had never thought of it.
----
For days he ruminated to come to any decision, any compromise, but none was possible. It was giving up his dreams or doing something so unspeakable, he didn't even have words for it. Something he didn't even know existed until now. It didn't let him sleep. He didn't find peace in the exhausting hours of daily training nor serenity in the mind exercises. He couldn't sit still and he couldn't dismiss the thought.
Most of the other recruits, few as they were, acted annoyed about his unrest. He wondered if they knew what was awaiting them, and they had come to accept their fate. Likely they did. Everyone seemed to know here, everyone but him. It was like he had stumbled into a madhouse, drenched in the smoke of drugs, and he was the only sane person there, the only one seeing all the inherent wrongness of it.
Yet. Flying still posed a temptation. Riding one of those great... well, clearly not beasts, as they seemed to call the shots here, not humans, and Tura... there was something about the dragon that pulled him in. Every moment he remembered Tura had been gentle and wise. He had never pressed the matter, had given him every possible way out. He found that the possibility to flee, the open door presented to him, right there, made the panic cease just enough so he didn't actually want or need to escape.
Some part of him was even curious. How Tura would feel, what it would be like, and what would be the consequences. He needed to talk about it with someone, he really needed to, and the other recruits, who hadn't been with a dragon yet either, clearly weren't the right people to ask. Maybe one of the crones who always seemed to have time, when they weren't gossiping or caring for the mothers, was the right person to speak to. However, it felt like asking your grandmother about such things, and...no, that just felt wrong. Instead one day he approached his weaponry teacher, a short-haired woman with a sharp scar across her face and a limp. She felt just...manly enough, he might not be completely flustered.
“I have…questions.”
She only gave him a nod, but acted as if she hadn't heard him, otherwise for the rest of their lesson. His mood fluctuated badly between annoyance, disappointment and sheer embarrassment, but he didn't dare ask her again when she so clearly dismissed him, but he had gotten it wrong. Once she had finished her lesson and turned to leave, she once more checked him over. “Are you coming? Or would you rather discuss your problems in front of everyone?”
That was quite a point, and he shuffled to her side and followed her into the room where she stored all the weapons they had used. “I... don't even know how to ask...”
“You will have to figure it out,” she laughed, finishing her task and sitting down at one of the chests in the room, and putting her feet up to rest them. “I cannot read your thoughts.”
“What... what is it like to be... with a dragon?”
A smile jolted into her face like a flash of light, melancholic but full of warmth. “It's like nothing you know. I've been told it's not like normal... relationships either, though none of us can tell. The bond only works with virgins.”
He stared at her with impolite intensity, but was so engulfed in the question, he barely noticed and couldn't bring himself to stop.
“Dragon's are... careful. Generous. But even in human form... they are... big. And different from men. You'll need magic to endure it. We'll provide it of course. It's both the most terrifying and wonderful experience one could have.”
It didn't make a lot of sense to him, but he struggled to put this into words himself, so maybe she had the same problem. He turned towards a different question, if only to beat the awkwardness. “And...what does it do, this...bond?”
Her smile only grew deeper and sadder. “It's hard to explain. Two become one. It's not exactly empathy or telepathy, though you can feel some of your mate's feelings, hear some of his thoughts. You remain yourself, just...embedded in something greater than its parts.”
It was a conundrum and no matter what he asked, it only seemed to get worse. “Do you... regret it?” It was the only question that really mattered. The only one that might at least start to help him get a grip.
For a moment the woman considered. “I might be the best to ask, given that... given that I went through the worst that can happen to a rider: my mate is no more…but no. Even now, alone and left behind, I don't regret it. What I had...was too good to dismiss, just because it's over.”
He hadn't known. So many things he hadn't known. Yet in the face of the woman's grief all curiosity died. “I...don't know if I could...”
“Tura is alone too, but...continuing as if nothing happened, as if his mate never were, doesn't fit him. You could be his salvation, if you choose so.”
“Are you...asking me to...”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It's your decision, of course, and you are in a very unique position, but it is worth a try – and a dragon's loyalty is unbreakable.”
He let go of a shivering breath, and though he wanted to sound angry and harsh, it came out quite differently. “You tell me that it hurts, that we are not made to pair with them, and that you are now terribly alone, and yet, you advise me to do it?”
The sadness retreated as the woman chuckled. “It does hurt, for a while, but it won't forever – and we are made to pair with them. It has always been like this, only now they ask for permission. When it comes to me...I am not alone. My mate is dead, which could happen to a human just as well, but I have sisters, I have children, and every other dragon would defend me as if I were his own. Yes. I advise you to do it, if you can find the strength.”
“If I...” How dare she imply he lacked the strength ? This had nothing to do with strength and everything with weakness. With...allowing things to happen that couldn't, bowing to another, with…
Unfortunately, after all he went through here, after all he knew now he couldn't quite make himself believe all of that any more. There was strength in grass just as much as in oaks. Sure, the grass bowed, but it would stand up again, while the oak, once broken, could never grow to its old height again. Unhappily he shook his head and excused himself to think some more. Not that it would lead to any better result than he already had...
----
Time flew so fast, but without any conclusion everything he did seemed pointless and irrelevant. What use was training and mental discipline when he never got to use them? What good did it do to count his coins, when he didn't even know where to turn next? Being a dragon-rider hadn't just been his plan A. It had been his only plan. What good was a life, where he spared himself only on the price of burying his dreams forever? What dull existence would replace the joy and desperation, the love and fear?
That thought at last tipped the scales. He had risked everything to come here. He was willing to risk everything once more. He didn't know whom to ask, but as if it had been jinxed, the day after he made his decision after all, his weapon trainer asked him about Tura.
“I'd like to meet him, talk to him,” he admitted. “There are things I don't know, but I am willing to listen.”
It was like magic. Her face lit up in joy, and she ended their work early, just to leave them behind and go wherever someone like her would to spread the word.
He had expected something to happen soon after, but that wasn't the case. For days his routine stayed the same, back and forth, back and forth, as if he had never said anything. He almost thought he had dreamed it, or was caught in a nightmare, a constant limbo, where he would never get anywhere. After a week he was about to give up hope, when after all, Tura waited for him in the mess hall. The dragon had two dishes at his table and pushed one over, just a bit, to prompt him.
Torn between eagerness and awkward insecurity he followed, sitting next to the dragon, who looked... older – so very tired. When worried curiosity spread on his face, the dragon gave him a smile. “It was a long way. But I am glad I made it.”
The next question was an obvious one. “Where have you been?” He stopped into startled silence immediately after, well aware he had overstepped. He had no right to ask questions like that.
Where his parents would have scolded him, the dragon just smiled. “Only three dragons are stationed here, regularly. The realm is vast, and dragons few.” Tura seemed so confident most of the time, and yet, now the dragon's hand dared not touch his, just hovered nearby. “If you want to stay here, after...I would request a transfer.”
“No... that's not...” He hesitated. “I am a long way from home too.” Still... he was terribly anxious, not less but more so because the dragon remained gentle, understanding and kind. Was he hiding something? Or was Tura genuinely like this and it fell on him to mess this up for the dragon? Either way, there were far too many things that could go wrong for him to feel relaxed about it. “I...know it isn't fair that I make this about me, but... I cannot let my dream of flying die.”
“It is all about you.” Tura smiled. “You don't know me and yet, have to...get closer than most humans can even imagine. Consent is essential.”
“Would it fail without?”
“No. Not because of that.” The dragon looked away and a pained expression curved his mouth. “We...forced humans for longer than they remember.” With a nervous cough he continued: “The combination of dragons and virgin sacrifice is so deeply ingrained into legend that you don't even question it.” A nervous tick went over the dragon's fingers and he withdrew them. “So make this as much about you as you need. I will accept only what is given deliberately.”
It was the sweetest and most disturbing thing he had ever heard and it made him press his hands into his face and massage vigorously. “What am I getting myself into?”
“Is...” Tura hesitated. “Is that a yes?”
When he nodded, if reluctantly, the dragon's smile became truly radiant. “Thank you. You don't know what it means to me.” Now he did reach out. “I think I will name you Sol, because you are beautiful like the sun.”
“Sol...” he tried the word, the first name he had ever received, truly because of himself. Not Child, not the cobbler's son, not pupil or recruit or whatever else his function. Only lovers gave each other names, and only the names of exceptional people became known.
Tura seemed to understand his wonder, though he didn't share it. Dragons were probably by default exceptional.
“Does your name mean something?”
“Courier. Messenger. I grew up to be a strong flier, fast and nimble. I outgrew the name though. I rarely carry messages these days.” It was a bit of a disappointment. Even dragons were only referred to by function? Before he could withdraw, Tura laughed it off. “I still like it, though. My father and mother went to great lengths to ensure it was both fitting and a pleasant sound. Such an ancient language.”
“They named you?” It was another concept that he couldn't grasp.
“All dragon's are named. My mate of course called me different, and you may too, once...” He fell silent again, so as not to jinx it.
“How do we proceed then?”
“If you are still up to it, wait at the gate by morning. I will take you for a flight...and then...” The dragon nodded, unsure what to say.
He nodded too. It was scary to think of it, of how suddenly the future had come to a focal point, where things would go one way or the other, and he couldn't turn back any more. Then again, he had made up his mind, hadn't he? Furthermore, he was going to fly. “I'll be there.”
Tura gave a relieved chuckle and left him alone, once he finished his meal. “Sleep well, Sol. I’ll see you in the morning.”
----
It had been wishful thinking to expect a good night. For hours Sol had tossed and turned, fearful to miss the moment and to oversleep. Fearful what would come after. After only a few fitful hours he gave up at the very crack of dawn, deciding to do something good with his time. He cleaned himself up properly, shaved as he had been taught, made the best of himself he could, though he still felt scruffy and insufficient. Then he went to the gates, a place where recruits weren't usually supposed to be.
But the guards, two seasoned women with sharp weapons but gentle smiles, only nodded at him encouragingly and pointed him forward, as if they knew – because they did. Only a single pole above the gate was occupied, carrying a truly magnificent dragon. Even in the pale morning light his body seemed alight with the shine of turquoise scales, and the horns on his head, made for a pointed halo.
When Sol stumbled out of the gates, the huge creature turned towards him with a questioning tilt of the head, but it couldn't exactly speak.
“Tura?” Sol felt ridiculous, asking that. Even if the dragon was him, he couldn't exactly answer, after all.
But he could, if not by words. With an elegant hop the dragon left the pole and came down to the ground, bowing the long neck towards Sol and puffing hot air at him. That could have just as easily been fire, but it only warmed him, instead of burning.
The next thing Sol knew, the dragon nudged him to his side, carefully measuring his undoubtedly great strength, so Sol barely stumbled forward instead of crashing into a wall of scales. He got the hint though and pressed against the huge, elegant body, that was both surprisingly soft and warm. Surrounded by that huge body he found he didn't feel threatened, but snug.
The dragon wasn't satisfied yet, though, and nudged him further and up. Sol felt terribly stupid for needing that second hint. Tura had told him he would take Sol for a flight. Testing the scales carefully he made his way up the back of the great dragon and found his place right behind the shoulders. He had always wondered why there was no saddle, but now the question resurfaced. The scales were so smooth his grip easily slipped off and on top of that he was scared to hurt the dragon, if he pulled at the wrong thing. Worse though, he was still on the ground... How would it be, once he was up in the air?
That very moment Tura’s wings started to pump and he scrambled to find anything to hold on to. Sol was scared beyond reason, which was the best excuse, why it took him so long to identify the deep, deep rumble below him as a voice. “Don't worry,” it sounded, a sound comparable only to what mountains would sound like, if they could speak. “You'll feel like falling, but I won’t drop you, as if my life depends on it.”
That was strangely reassuring and sweet, even when the sentence lasted so long that they were already above the height of the poles, when it ended. Sol still held on to whatever part of the dragon below him he could find and only slowly relaxed when he found himself cradled gently by the movements of the wings around him. It took a long time to no longer focus on the scales directly in front of him out of fear that he’d lose his grip, but once he did, it took his breath away.
Tura was by then high in the sky, houses shrinking to mere toys and humans to stick figures. He could see so far from Tura's back that it seemed to him that all his travels, his whole life could fit into that vista, and there would be room left to spare. He had never seen the ocean, but its vastness filled the horizon to their left; he had never seen mountains either, but that was where they were headed.
He wondered where they were going, but the wind up here was so strong that it ripped the words right from his lips, and so he had no way of asking. He wondered how dragon-riders managed to communicate with their dragons. Without reins and saddle, words and signs, it seemed pretty difficult to him.
That was a question for later. For now he wanted to bask in the feeling of his first flight, no matter how scary. It was too perfect to miss.
----
When they arrived at the end of their journey, Sol slipped off bow-legged and a bit wobbly, but still taken by the experience of actually flying. It had been scary, but true to his word Tura had taken great care to keep him safe.
Now the great dragon folded his wings and rolled his strong muscles, giving them time to relax again after the long flight.
Sol was still awed at how he could be so close and never in any danger, but stumbled away a bit anyway to give Tura some room.
The dragon used it, shifting into human form, a thing Sol had never seen him do before. It was a strange thing to watch him shrink, for the wings to fold neatly back into his head and the snout and claws and horns to retreat into the body. He seemed a bit embarrassed to be seen doing it, judging by the red tint of his face, but didn't comment. Instead he reached out, offering Sol his hand. “Come on. Let's freshen up a bit. No need to rush.”
Sol was grateful for the delay, though at the same time it worried him. He wasn't sure how long his conviction was going to last him. Here, so high up the mountains where anything but flying would likely result in a broken neck, Tura felt like an entirely different being, so powerful and energetic that Sol couldn't fathom how he could ever assume that dragons were subservient.
He did however definitely need a wash, and so he followed the dragon into the cave that opened up, when they headed off the plateau where they landed. Once inside, though, Sol stopped dead. He hadn't known what to expect, but this was not it. The central cave was lit by a single skylight, which also provided the source for the water that gathered in the central dip. It was icy cold, when Sol pulled some of it up with a bucket that was waiting at the edge of the water for that purpose. Tura had no difficulties warming it up just by blowing air into it.
Quickly Sol undressed down to his loincloth and washed himself thoroughly to avoid the chafing of dust. He was done quickly and only then realized, Tura had done the same. He had turned his back to him for the moment, but at some point Sol would be able to catch a glimpse at what he was about to experience... and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted that. Maybe it was better not to know ahead?
He couldn't quite figure it out and busied himself, very much not looking, when he felt Tura's hand on his shoulder. “You are scared.”
Sol turned and nodded sheepishly. “Some.” He hated how his voice went silent and completely unimpressive whenever he was in emotional turmoil.
Tura didn't shame him for it. Instead he went quiet himself. “It doesn't have to be like this. We can still turn back. I will only take what you are willing to give.”
“What about all this? No one knows. It's a secret, right?”
“It is...” Tura's hand now gently massaged Sol's shoulder. “But we can keep it in other ways. It should not be your reason. You are not in danger.”
Sol turned to him only slowly, carefully keeping his eyes high above the waistline. His breath escaped in small shivering puffs, and made it hard to speak. “It's not... I want to fly. I sacrificed everything for it. I won't turn back now.”
Tura looked sad, even as he smiled. “Thank you for the honesty.” He ran a thumb over Sol's cheek and then turned away, waving for Sol to follow. He headed for one of the many different exits lining the edge of the great cave and stepped in, lighting a torch with just his breath. It lit up a smaller cave, but a very different one. The walls were covered in wall hangings and pictures, the ground covered in heavy rugs. On every nook and cranny a personal item or trinket waited to be used or cherished, and in the middle there was a strange frame, strung with pelt, to form a comfortable surface. It was big enough to hold several trolls, or – likely – a single dragon in his beastly form. For their current form it was thrice too big, at the very least.
Tura led Sol there, prompting him to lie down, and producing blankets and pillows from underneath. He laid them out to get Sol comfortable, then slipped onto the bed with him. “Are you...”
Sol had enough. He wasn't some fragile little maiden. He had made his point clear. “Yes, and if you ask me one more time I am going to really make a scene.”
Tura laughed, but still picked up his fingers with such delicate care, it was almost painful. One after the other he kissed each of them, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. In a way it was just another question for Sol, just posed differently.
Sol had enough. Rolling all his frustration, courage and daring into one tight ball and using it as help, he swooped forward and kissed...yes, kissed Tura's lips. He had never kissed someone before and it was clumsy and strange, but also good. “You gave me a name, you gave me a purpose. Stop doubting.”
At first Tura was startled into petrification, but then a smile slowly spread on his face. When he finally snapped out of his surprise, his hands found Sol's face and then his lips as well. He kissed like he spoke, gently, but with some inherent power that filled Sol's mind.
He was startled, when he felt, how different Tura's tongue was from his own, longer and more flexible even in this human form, but he didn't question it, when the dragon asked for and gained entrance into his mouth. Helplessly he experienced it for the first time and found it more pleasant than he ever imagined. It wasn't sloppy, as he had imagined, nor did it taste bad. There was some spice in this kiss, some fiery burn, but Sol liked it. It was good.
He felt a little light-headed soon, but that was nothing to worry for him. He had expected feelings like this, with how thoroughly his mouth was plundered. But Tura thought differently.
“I fear I am poisoning you, right now. Dragon fluids are...not exactly healthy for the unprepared human.” He looked a bit worried while he said it, and checked Sol over. When the result wasn't entirely to his satisfaction, he produced a vial and handed it to Sol. “You'll need to drink that anyway. Helps with the poisoning, until your body adjusts and makes it easier to take me, too.”
“To...” Sol still was drawn back and forth between the excitement of his potential future and the price. Somehow the constant worry of the dragon was contagious and made his anxiety spike. It didn't help that the contents of the vial were so terribly bitter he gagged.
Luckily Tura knew a cure to that. He kissed Sol again and with his taste in Sol's mouth the bitterness quickly faded. One could get lost in those kisses, Sol thought. Just kiss and kiss, until the world fell into ashes around them. Tura was patient with him too, although Sol could tell of his unrest now. He was constantly checking on Sol's pulse, if inconspicuously, and tilted his head as if he was listening to his breathing.
Sol didn't know if he should find it relaxing and endearing or annoying and anxiety-inducing. Either way, he decided to push forward. Tura, despite all his checking, seemed unable to do that, too occupied with what Sol needed. He deepened the kiss and came closer. He flinched, when something hard pressed against his thigh, very clearly what he was thinking, though gratefully hidden below a blanket. It was not going to stop him though.
Finally Tura caught up on his attempts and smiled. “You really are up to it?”
“We have this one chance to get it right.”
“It might not work...”
Sol smiled too, by now, falling for this gentleness and patience. “Only one way to find out.”
“Yes...” Tura grinned with relief. “I need to get you ready though.” He sounded a bit breathless from excitement and that appeased Sol even more. He was less appeased, when the dragon dipped under the blanket and behind him. He really hadn't thought this through. The whole logistics of it had been a big fuzzy nothing to him, and he wasn't prepared for it to take form.
Fortunately what came next was as astounding as it was surprising. He had already appreciated Tura's tongue in his mouth, but when he parted his buttocks and slipped it between, it was a whole new experience. He could hear Tura whisper something, and then felt a strange buzzing sensation inside him, but it was immediately overrun by soft warm wetness sliding around his privates and making him gasp and buckle.
At first Tura was insecure, seemed not to know how to approach this, but he had at least some experience and he learned quicker than Sol could even imagine, driving him right up the wall.
Never in his life had he felt so aroused, so ready, and he didn't even know what to do about it, because just pleasuring himself was out of question in this particular situation. All he could do was lie and take it, the tongue slipping around his balls and the base of his cock and then back into the crack. He jerked, when Tura pushed it against his sphincter, though it wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar.
Sol had no idea what the dragon's tongue looked like, but what it felt was a small wonder, if a very forbidden one. He relaxed against its push and all of a sudden it was inside him, slick and wet and much warmer than he had expected. “Gods, what... what are you doing...” he whimpered, barely getting out the words against the overwhelming sensations inside him.
“Open you up carefully.” A hot puff of air tickled Sol's tail-bone and then Tura dove back in, finding something he hadn't before. Sol saw stars and screamed in surprise and bliss.
Tura jerked back in fear to have hurt him, but at this point Sol wanted more not less. “Please, Tura, please.” He had difficulties finding the right words so a simple “more” had to suffice.
Gladly the dragon was smart. He figured it out fast, and realized it wasn't pain that made Sol cry out, but pleasure. After that very soon Sol felt like flying, like he was up in the air again, while still remaining solidly on the ground. His mind was going incoherent and he didn't even fully realize how Tura worked him open.
Only when the Dragon came up again, kissing his nape gently, it became obvious.
Sol froze, but then very deliberately forced himself to relax again. This was it. This was the moment of fate. If they could create a bond, he would fly. He would become a dragon-rider like he had dreamt for all his life and he would never be alone again. If they failed, it was over. The dream was broken and all for naught. Somehow this was more important, more catching than any fear of pain or humiliation or whatever else.
At this point Sol wanted to have clarity, he wanted this to be over. He turned and smiled back at the dragon, his dragon and nodded encouragingly. “Let's go.”
Tura stared at him with much the same awe he had exhibited, when he first encountered the dragon and shook his head, smiling in disbelief, before kissing him deeply. He didn't break the kiss to position himself either, though it was hard to do that. The feeling was... different from what Sol expected. Somehow harder, less likely to yield, sharper too. What entered him, wasn't blunt like his own cock, but spiked and with a clear tip. It hurt gently, but hurt it did. Sol gasped and suppressed anything more, because Tura would stop then, would give in to worry again, when it wasn't exactly necessary. Whatever the dragon had given him, it worked. It made him soft enough to let the intrusion happen and yet tough enough to bear it. Even when it went deep, so much deeper than he thought it would, even when it stretched him more than he thought possible – or comfortable. It worked though.. and it touched him inside again, making him see even more stars, feeling even more floating than before.
Sol couldn't help it, he pushed back, again and again. It was glorious. Better even with Tura's tongue in his mouth and his hand snaking over the hip and against his cock. He needed a moment to figure out how a human cock worked, but it was no special magic, just simple understanding, and he was very clever indeed.
From there he couldn't tell top from bottom, smell from touch, reality from imagination. He raced towards a height he had never really reached on his own, and then tumbled into the vastness of an earth-shattering orgasm. He was vaguely aware that Tura hadn't even sped up until now, but couldn't really find it in him to care. It was just too good, too special and new. What was also new, but much less appreciated, was the feeling of exhaustion and then something akin to pain. Everything was so sensitive, so overwhelmed that he wanted it to stop, right there and then. But Tura went on, couldn't just do that now, sunken into a state of incoherence of his own.
Sol came to mind just enough to realize it wasn't his fault. Tura was just as caught in the whole matter as him, and completing the bond was no small thing. Sol wanted it to stop, but he wanted this more . He breathed through the pain, through the panic, through all the negative emotions crashing down on him, and suddenly... hell, suddenly it was good again, better than good. Perfect, indescribable. He wanted, he needed. Even his cock swelled again, though hesitantly.
By sheer luck it coincided with Tura speeding up, becoming frantic and eager, snapping his hips back and forth in one mesmerizing, fast rhythm. Sol could only hold on for dear life, allowing the dragon to take him fully and completely.
Tura climaxed, and started to fill him with something much hotter than semen should be, something like liquid fire, only that it didn't burn, but heal, that it tore him open in ways that had seemed impossible before. Suddenly he floated in a cloud of affection and felt kept in a blanket of adoration. He could feel dark, blood-red flowers of worry sprouting just below the surface of utter bliss, but at this point, he could reach out for them, carefully nipping each one at the bud, so they wouldn't come to bloom.
Tura could feel that and gasped in joyful disbelief. “Oh darn... you are so good... my last mate... took much longer for this.”
“Your last...”
“You are my mate now, Sol, and you are perfect.” The words were accompanied by a last wave of warmth inside him and the intense feeling of care. Tura closed his arms around him and carefully slipped out, even when a wave of slippery wet cum followed him and spilled onto the bed. He mumbled: “We will clean that up later,” and endearingly almost sounded asleep already.
Sol could settle with that. It was wonderful just now and he could worry about consequences later. He was Tura's mate, they would be one and they would be flying. They wouldn't be alone ever again, and if that meant going down in a blaze of glory, because neither would leave the other behind.
His life had come full circle, and his bond became completed. All his life he had doubted all this sacrifice sermon, only to be taught better... and yet, and yet. He had been right. This was no sacrifice. It was... becoming something more than yourself, than the bare sum of its parts.
----
Sol woke up in an unexpected place, but at this point it didn't bother him any more. It was the safest place in the world, lying on scales curved just right to hold a human body, and within the hold of the dragon's body curled around him. It was comfortable too. Even when the scales were only slightly yielding, it was like they were made for him, and warmth radiated from the body below, enough to let him rest, even naked.
He looked around and was surprised by the sheer number of different tones of light and colour. A whole rainbow of turquoises, gemstone clear and with a glassy shine.
Just then Tura hummed below him. “Go back to sleep.” It wasn't quite the low rumble of his first attempt to communicate in dragon form. The words weren't even words as such. It was like the noise avoided the ears completely and instead formed into words directly inside his mind. No... not words. Concepts.
If that was what dragon speech was like, it was no wonder they could communicate mid-air. It was impressive, but the thoughts woke him up even more and suddenly his whole mind was filled with questions and confusion.
Tura seemed to notice it too, and with a sigh, deep enough to contain a continent he raised his big, horned head. “Sol.” Despite the scaly appearance his eyelids were still drooping and a deep glow of satisfaction curled the reptile mouth. “I know you have questions. I'd prefer if they could wait, but... go ahead.”
It was difficult for Sol to clear his thoughts enough to even phrase his questions, but clearly it was worth it. “So... this is how you mate?”
“Yeah.” Tura seemed flustered, even when there was no human reaction underlining that. “Usually... it results in children. If not by the first time then pretty soon after.”
“Well... that's unlikely here,” Sol teased, but fell silent, when he saw the sorrowful shine in his mate's eyes. “What...”
“It's why I chose you. My first mate... she died. Because of this.” Even when Tura made no move to accuse him of being insensible and callous, Sol still felt the weird need to apologize.
“I didn't know.”
“Sol, you knew next to nothing. I was worried.” The biggest paw Sol had seen in his life came down to cover his body in almost impossible tenderness, given the size of his mate and the power he had. “The day we learned how to ask for acceptance, we abandoned force. No dragon will take what's not given, or suffer becoming an outcast among his own kind.” His mouth curved into a smile, but the eyes remained in their sad tilt. “Not that this is the point. I was afraid to hurt you. So innocent, so determined. Not knowing what you got yourself into.”
“I know now.” Sol rose as far as the claws around him allowed and ran his fingers over and between the scales. At first Tura didn't seem to notice, or at least not react, but then he noticed the almost purring hum deep in the dragon's belly and was hit by the wave of contentment that went with it. Tura liked it – and he liked Tura. Which reminded him. Tura just didn't seem the right name anymore. “You named me... can I give you a name back?”
The dragon chuckled in deep satisfaction. “I would be honoured.”
That was not exactly how Sol would put it, but he appreciated the sentiment. He then listened deeply inside him. Names were so important, carried such weight, that he wanted to get it right the first time, and he didn't have any practice. No one he knew had a name. “Coraz.”
“Heart... a wise choice...” His mate moved and the scales below Sol shifted. “Sun and Heart. Yes... I like it.”
“How are we going to work, where are we going to serve?”
“The king will ask – mind: ask, not command. He is well aware that we cannot be forced or humiliated, and neither can our mates, or we will lay to ashes all the culprit held dear.”
Sol had never been particularly fond of violence, and yet a strange warmth bloomed in his heart. A sense of belonging, a pride he hadn't known before. “We will help those in need?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“I knew I chose right, when I first saw you.” It should have been scary when the dragon's head bowed down over him, showering him in warm air, until it felt almost like a kiss. It wasn't. It felt like home.
----
When the conversation came to that one male dragon rider, somewhere out at the very edge of the kingdom, the Lord-Commander of the King's Guard always felt his mood darken, mostly because he could do nothing about it. The dragon had put his foot down and no human in his right mind would dare disagree openly.
Alas, had he gotten his will that abomination would have been erased from the face of the earth. A man lowering himself to such unspeakable acts, willing to bow before a mere beast and worse. A man leaving behind all responsibility to create a family and provide for them, fleeing instead into the questionable protection of the great beasts. A man that could barely be called a man at all.
Even if he claimed to have a name, claimed to be someone: every man in the realm knew better. He was just a woman in disguise, and if they ever got hold of him: they would put him into skirts and use him like one.