Chapter Seven
Varis
Another day, another boring nap, another listless passing of hours waiting for—Varis wasn’t certain anymore.
Certainly he could swim better than his shipmates, and watching them die or flee one by one into the lacemaker-beast-laden waters had been hard, but the superstitions of sailors was such that if they saw how the creatures reacted to him—he’d be called a witch.
And witches were thrown overboard, murdered, held captive, burned, or worse.
Being sold piece by piece as alchemy ingredients—likely what his homeland had planned for him, or being used to power unknown machinations wasn’t his plan in life.
But nothing was the plan, was it? He didn’t plan on landing there. He didn’t plan on waiting as long as he had; he just wanted to escape, and on his private island of wreckage—he could do just that.
In the heat of the late morning, he lay about in the captain’s old quarters, snuggled up in the mildewed bed to avoid the rain he could swear was coming.
His skin prickled like it did before a storm.
And with the frequent rains that time of year, getting clean water was a priority.
He unfurled the sails, angled the bottom, and placed barrels in a ring with another barrel on top to fill and overflow to fill the others.
But he’d always wait an hour or so into the rain before collecting.
It was important to clean the sails. Even still, he boiled the water before drinking it.
But rain hadn’t come.
That prickling anxious sensation made for storms made his entire body shudder at times, and he did what he could to restlessly toss about and sleep.
So, when the flap of beating wings distinguished itself from his dry sails fluttering, he flailed and snorted himself awake at the cry of a rather distinguished voice, fluent in the Eland tongue, called out to him in trader’s pidgin.
“Get out here and jab with me!” he’d said, and Varis wondered if, since his diction was so sweet, if he knew what it was he’d said so informally—not that pidgin had formality.
Varis squinted out of the captain’s window and drew back at the sight of gold, bright and beautiful, obscuring his vision—but amid it all, he was certain of one thing. Before him stood a dragon.
Varis decided that he’d best speak the male’s Elander to ensure their conversation went smoothly. After all, Varis was educated. And so he stepped into the sun’s brightness to greet the male. “I speak common Elander.”
“Good afternoon. I am Ghreiden, a prince of Sauria, acting regent.” Noble softness coiled in his voice.
A depth that Varis was unfamiliar with, a voice obtained only from growing up in high altitudes, thin air and cold.
Gold horns, chained with glorious strands, tinkled as a head canted.
Equally golden hair fluttered about his neck in a light breeze, bringing with it the scent of raw, powerful male.
Varis could only announce his name. A soft thing that made the dragon stare with dark eyes lit from bottomless pits, gold glittering like pools of molten wealth. “I am Varis.”
“Varis…” Ghreiden stepped forward.
The dreams that Varis had. Prophethetic. “Was it you?”
He dared not say the subject of the dream lest it wasn’t reciprocated, but he’d heard of twin souls meeting in dreams, a fairy tale, a myth.
Gods had ordained love in certain ways, and while his country was accepting, as the Monsmountians weren’t known to be, they spoke little of true love.
Varis’s father had two wives and took his fair share of male lovers.
It was not an uncommon thing or anything to bear shame for.
“The dream called to you, too.” Not a question, a statement, certainty deep in his throat.
He took a step forward, golden warm skin calling to him, soft and somehow strong in a way that he never would be.
Varis was not built for that breadth, to hold that kind of muscle.
It was why he was selected to climb the rigging more often than not.
Another step, and this time, Varis didn’t know whose it was. Varis or Ghreid? They were closer.
“Why are you here?” Ghreid extended a hand, fingers uncurling as if to beckon him closer. Varis took the bait and did; another step pulling him in as a moth to a flame.
“I cannot come ashore.” The words fell lamely from his lips. “I do not wish to be conscripted, trafficked, or sent back to my home country.”
“I will do no such thing. You will stay with me.” Incense caught in the breeze, a hint of perfume, woody and dark, came from Ghreid. A soap rich with oils. Fragrant herbs.
Their fingers laced, and Varis’s heart thundered in his chest. “Why would a dragon seek me?”
Ghreid tilted his head and extended his other hand, gesturing toward Varis’s shoulders, closing the distance to touch them when the smaller male leaned in.
His fingertips traversed the patterned freckles, studying them one by one as he had in their dream.
“This marks you as the consort of a dragon.”
“What?” Varis froze, fawning at the new information. His heart doubled over itself. “These are… I am cursed.”
“What lies have you been told? These are the marks of an ashen one.” Varis traced the freckles once more. “It means that upon my lips, in my bed, and under the light of a full moon, you will be a dragon.”
Varis blinked at the information. “I am human. You are saying I will be treated as a dragon?”
“They say that the ashen are born from mankind to remind dragons that from the least of you come great things. Dragon blood runs in tiny ways through so many people—a drop or a dram. And when a soul of a dragon rests in the heart of a man—an ashen will be born. And like a seed, the blood grows until a dragon allows your flower to bloom.” Ghreid pulled Varis to him, bare chests touching.
It made him so aware of how rough his skin had gotten in the salt and sun without care.
Ghreid didn’t seem to mind, though. He leaned down and their lips connected.
The passion in their dreams came with unavoidable hunger, a lack of inhibition, and an urgency demanding their completion.
Whatever it was when they touched? It was more and less.
Varis needed to be in Ghreid’s arms. “I need to make sure the cargo on this ship makes it to the royal house. Are you truly a prince?”
“I am prince and sovereign of the portnation. We’re a territory of Sauria as of a month ago.
The king of Monsmount ceded the territory to my brother, the king of Sauria, in exchange for debt forgiveness.
” Ghreid traced fingernails with sharp tips through Varis’s shaggy mane, his dark eyes almost glowing gold from the irises as he touched and studied him.
“What is in my power to do for you, I will do.”
Varis sagged in a near faint. Truly, there was nothing he’d wanted to hear more. “There is cargo on this ship! I have been guarding it for years. I—”
Ghreid sank with him and drew the male into his arms, shushing softly as tears welled and poured.
Varis didn’t know how miserable he’d been.
His every day was survival, boredom, fear, and when they kissed again, the salt of tears and sea passed between them.
Ghreid leaned into him, his horns casting a shadow from the high sun, as if Varis had horns of his own. “What is this cargo?”
“It is a jealously guarded type of silk only royalty is allowed to possess.” Varis shuddered. “A skein of it is worth more than my life.”
“Show me.” Ghreid gestured for Varis to stand, and together they moved. Varis nimbly hopping down into the cargo hold, stepping over broken boards and strategically stacked crates, keeping a pathway leading to the highest part of the ship where the lead casket lay.
Ghreid stared at it with hard thought in his eyes, fingers traversing the lid before he dug his strong nails into the material and tapped a few odd places. “Sealed.”
He studied the inscription on the lid, the wooden frame of the lead meant to help it be hauled up by a crane. “Definitely appears to be Draynarian.”
“If this gets to the king, I can organize a pardon for myself. I can escape the call back to my homeland. A new identity.” Varis rested a hand on Ghreid’s forearm and the dragon chuckled.
“You are a prince’s mate. You have your pardon in my word alone.
We will get this to the king, though. I highly suspect that the contents of this belong to you now.
It’s been written as lost.” Ghreid glanced about and hefted the impossibly heavy casket into his sinewy arms. Wasting no time, he marched his way back through murky water, climbed atop groaning crates suffering under the added weight, and with considerable effort, he flung the casket up through the cargo port and jumped, flitting his wings to land by the buckled floor of the ship, groaning under the weight.
“We fly home. You will be bathed and clothed. I wish for you to rest, and I will handle everything to do with your cargo.”
Varis nodded dumbly as he climbed up and out of the port on unsteady legs.
“I need rope.” Ghreid glanced around and Varis dove into the captain’s cabin, hefting out a generous spool over his shoulder. Ghreid tested the fibers and found them satisfactory before he lashed it around the crate.
“How are you going to get this to your home? It will sink.” Varis twisted his fingers, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood.
“Lav will carry it, but it’s too much for him to carry with you or I on his back.” Ghreid continued his work with the rope and halted when Varis stepped in, undoing Ghreid’s work to make more secure knots in the arrangement he needed.
Ghreid nodded once before whistling sharply. “Lav!”
That awful whipping crack like a loose sail broke the breeze, and gentle creak of hulls echoed about as a wyvern dove, not the beautiful silvery-white beast Varis had seen before.
This one bore patches like wild Wyverncrest mounts but listened like a Saurian.
“Crate, stables!” Ghreid slapped the top of the casket, the dull sound of his hand against the lead ringing out easily.
The beast wasted no time in snatching the ropes Varis had aided Ghreid in tying off, and faltered, his laboring wing-beats slowing as he huffed and hauled away.
Varis swallowed hard. “I’ve been waiting so long…”
“What’s the first thing you want?” Ghreid welcomed Varis into his arms, wrapping him gently.
“Real food. If I ever see fish again, it will be too soon.” Varis sighed, sinking into the warm embrace of his hero. “Who is coming for u—”
Ghreid scooped Varis into his arms and unleashed his wings in a fierce flick, spreading them in a golden display.
Varis flinched upon takeoff and stiffened in Ghreid’s arms. The clattering hulls and barnacle-laden ropes that had kept him company for so long became smaller and smaller as they sailed toward the shore.
As Varis stared at the ground below at the murky bay’s waters, he had the urge to leap from Ghreid’s arms and into the salty flow.
The greater the height, the more thrill he had when jumping down.
So often, he’d volunteered to go into the waters for one thing or another, at home in the water more so than he could ever recall on land.
So, as the wind tore at his uneven hair, shaggy and unshorn, he breathed in cleaner air so high up and thin.
The world had graced him with another chance, a new life, and everything would be fine, he was certain as he watched the wyvern ahead of them bank and sail toward the lighthouse, the one that had relit and been a beacon to him.
The flight was remarkably short, and Varis laughed as Ghreid angled his wings and brought them in to the shore. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he found himself wanting to stretch his arms out and sink into the flow of air that Ghreid made seem so easy.
The wyvern landed first, the bulk of the casket thundering as it came down.
Wood splintered upon its fall, but no damage came to the structure or sealed points that Varis could see.
In any case, the journey was almost over.
“So, Monsmount says anything on those ships is fit for our seizure. I should call my brother. He’s a textile expert. ”
“Hopefully it’s still fine after all this time.” Varis gasped as Ghreid swept over the lighthouse and banked to swing them down.
“We’ll see, but it’ll stay sealed until we have Lapryda.” Ghreid came down for a landing, his legs taking the brunt of the impact with immovable grace, but he didn’t let Varis down right away. “Easy. You’re bound to feel a little unsteady after being seabound for so long.”
Varis scoffed and slid free, bare feet hitting worn cobbles an instant before the ground rippled and he windmilled his arms. “Fuck!”
Ghreid laughed as Varis gripped his waist. “Told you so.”
“Tell me less.” Varis huffed and gasped when Ghreid plucked him into his strong arms.
“Bathe. Food will be waiting for you. And then, I wish to show you my nest.” The way his voice cracked as he said the last part, gravel in his throat, Varis prayed to all the gods that his cock stayed down—until time to perform. At least.