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From the moment they arrived, the two dragons were the center of attention in Miuna’s ballroom. Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned in their direction, and neither so much as blinked, strutting in as if the attention wasn’t just warranted, but expected, and they reveled in it.
The first one was Princess Jennifyr, easily distinguished by the blue scales that framed her face. She was a striking woman, tall in stature, and dressed in a shimmering blue material that Leon could sense was infused with magic. Sapphires had been woven into her long, dark brown hair with sparkling gold chains, while she walked in sandals made from solid pieces of dark blue crystal. The training regimen she endured was made evident by the tightness of her dress, showing off her lithe figure shaped by both functional and aesthetic muscle. A glance at her hands as they swung gracefully at her sides showed the callouses that Leon would expect of a warrior, giving him the impression of a woman who valued martial talents, even if she drifted over the sea green tiles like a dancer rather than like a warrior. And at the twelfth-tier, she was undoubtedly a powerful enough warrior that, even if he were inclined to, Leon found himself reluctant to challenge her to any kind of fight.
Walking at her side, her companion struck a resonant chord; a man with youthful, almost feminine features, so pretty that Leon almost mistook him for a woman. His eyes were pale green flecked with gold, and his green hair spilled over his shoulders and down his back like a velvet mantle. As with Jennifyr, he was dressed in shimmering finery, though his tunic was sleeveless, allowing all to see his arms and the green scales that peppered them. His otherwise fairly tan skin was smooth and unblemished, but Leon recognized muscle built from training and battle, and judged him much as he did Jennifyr, with whom he shared a tier.
A tentative brush on Leon’s defenses had his eyes momentarily flit in Miuna’s direction, and he allowed the silent request. [Jennifyr, Princess of the Great Blue Dragons,] Miuna whispered into Leon’s mind. [And beside her is Varon, second eldest child of Horus, Patriarch of the Great Green Dragons.]
Picking up on the surprise in her tone, Leon asked, [Not expecting him?]
[Certainly not,] Miuna hurried to confirm. [The Great Dragon Clans don’t treat much with the wider universe, but the Green Dragons are almost as isolationist as the Black Dragons! I only managed to chance upon Prince Varon’s visage when reviewing reports of notables who were attending these Games; I’ve never seen him in person before!]
[Then why’s he out here now?] Leon asked as the two dragons walked without a concern through the ballroom, never stopping to exchange words with anyone, and with no one trying to stop them so that they could initiate such an exchange. Some whispered amongst themselves about the sudden arrival, and nearly every eye continued to track their every movement, but the two remained utterly unconcerned with this state of affairs.
[You’ll have to ask him,] Miuna stated. [I can try and strike up a conversation, though?]
[I can’t ask you to go out of your way for me,] replied Leon humbly.
[It’s no great effort,] Miuna replied, her shadow in her palanquin hardly moving despite her animated tone. [They’ll visit me, and I’ll recommend that they speak with you, too.]
[… In that case, I welcome your assistance. But… don’t get too pushy, I’m not trying to poison the well here…]
[I am a Princess; I know how to handle introductions, Leon!]
Leon smirked with amusement, but any further exchange had to be tabled as several Lords jumped on the chance to introduce themselves—the stunning effect that the dragons’ arrival had on the ballroom having faded. Through these introductions, Leon maintained an eye on the dragons and another on Triton, leaving so little of his attention on the other Lords that he was forced to heavily rely on his ladies for help on that front.
Triton, it seemed, was quite the social butterfly, speaking with a large number of Lords, but he gave few of them much time or attention, even as higher-tiered Lords started arriving. Only one particular Lord—a woman with severe features and a mouth that looked permanently settled into a hard line—captured his time for any appreciable length of time. Though curiosity burned at him, Leon didn’t immediately attempt to identify this woman, as almost as soon as the possibility of asking Miuna who she was entered his mind, the dragons turned their eyes upon him.
It was easy enough to feel their attention; they certainly didn’t make it subtle. Still, as dragons, Leon assumed that they were too prideful to approach him themselves, and so they settled for briefly and silently acknowledging him, a way to let him know that he wouldn’t be turned away if he were to approach.
“Let’s go,” Leon said to his wives and Anzu, turning to face the two dragons who were, as yet, still on their own, absent even guards or attendants. “They just invited me over.”
“Did they?” Cassandra asked as they started a slow movement in the dragons’ direction, hampered by several Lords who’d introduced themselves, nodding or giving brief acknowledgments as they passed, all of which necessitated appropriate responses. “They’ve been content to be seen and not conversed with so far…”
“It was clear enough to me,” Leon replied, wondering if they decided to only let him know and not anyone else, not wanting to tarnish their appearance by showing favoritism, or some other reasoning that he wasn’t culturally draconic enough to understand.
It had been nearly an hour since their arrival, and despite being undoubtedly the stars of the subdued ball so far, they had barely acknowledged anyone who’d approached them.
“We’ll follow you,” Elise said, relinquishing his arm so that he could walk a full step ahead of the rest of his family.
Crossing the ballroom felt rather like marching to war; a mere two dozen paces felt like advancing ten thousand feet under enemy arrow volleys as eyes began turning in Leon’s direction once more, everyone curious to see how the dragons would treat him. Their answer came after an eternity that lasted only a few seconds.
“Hello there,” Leon said as he approached the two. Their lips remained motionless, but they each displayed the kind of small micro movements that betrayed silent speech.
Expectations that Jennifyr would speak first were immediately shattered as the Green Dragon took a step forward and inspected Leon closely. He stood a few inches taller than Leon, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to tower over him; rather, he seemed more like he was inspecting Leon like a rancher would a cow he was looking to buy.
“What are you, Leon of House Raime?” he asked, his voice as pretty as his face.
“A curious thing,” Jennifyr said as she joined Varon in closely examining him. “I sense something familiar in your aura, but for the life of me, I can’t identify it. I would’ve remembered if we met before, and I’m hardly so old as to remember the Thunderbird Clan…”
“Like a flake of onion on a firthir haunch; subtle, but all I can taste,” Varon added, his nostrils flaring as if trying to smell Leon, too.
It wasn’t easy not to let it show how flustered he was, but Leon thought he managed well enough. “Well,” he said, only a hint of a waver in his voice, “that’s promising to hear. We may not know each other yet, but I hope to fix that soon. How about we start with introductions? I’m Leon, a pleasure to meet you.”
An amused smile spread across Jennifyr’s face as she stepped back to a more respectful distance, while Varon simply cocked his head.
“Has our reputation fallen so low?” the Green Dragon asked the Blue. “When has a dragon ever needed to introduce himself?”
“Since it became polite,” Leon cut in before Jennifyr could reply. “I was made aware that your name is Varon, and that yours is Jennifyr. But introductions tell us more than names, don’t they?”
“Everything we care for others to know has already been shared,” Varon stated. His words were provocative, but he said them in such a matter-of-fact fashion that Leon wondered how malicious they actually were.
“You know our names,” Jennifyr said more diplomatically. “That is enough, wouldn’t you say?”
Leon matched her smile. “I would. And now that we know each other, we can speak as equals.”
“A dragon has no equals,” Varon said, his voice still just as flat as before, lacking any traces of arrogance or malice—to him, he was merely stating fact, not making some braggadocious claim.
“But there are benefits to speaking with others in a more… relaxed manner, isn’t there?” Jennifyr asked as she smiled at Leon. “And for you… I think we can relax, can’t we, brother?”
“If that is my sister’s will, then I can relax,” said Varon good-naturedly. Finally, he stepped out of Leon’s space, Leon having not moved a single step back since the Green Dragon first stepped forward. “A dragon may have no equals, but he can have friends. And friends with the Thunderbird can be valuable.”
“Is that all friendship is?” Leon asked. “Something to extract value from?”
“That is all anyone ever wants from dragons,” Varon stated. “In our magnanimity, we share what we please with those we consider friends.”
“And who might those friends be? Any names or Clans I might recognize?”
“Pushing for information so soon after meeting us?” Jennifyr interjected. “Shouldn’t you be asking us how we’re liking this party first?”
“How are you liking this party, Jennifyr?” Leon asked with only a hint of smarminess.
“Rather droll,” she responded. “Until you, no one has seen the plight of our loneliness and came to rescue us! And we came all the way here, too, yet still we are left alone, to be looked at but not approached!”
“You seem to have turned away those who tried,” Leon pointed out.
“They didn’t try hard enough,” Jennifyr smilingly retorted.
A soft chuckle rumbled in Leon’s throat. “Is that what I should be doing instead? Trying harder?”
“You seem to have business with us,” Varon said. “Of all the mages here, the daughter of the Ocean King recommended you to us, and no others. And since we arrived, you have watched us like a hawk watches a rabbit. Were we not as amiable as we are, we might’ve taken offense, and you’d have had to deal with two irate dragons hunting you…”
“I’ve hunted many a beast before,” Leon retorted. “I think I can take you two just fine.”
Varon began to laugh while Jennifyr smiled, her hand coming up to cup her face as unrestrained delight illuminated her soft features. “Why, Leon,” the Blue Dragon said, “don’t promise a girl something you can’t deliver!”
“I’m a man of my word; when I say something, I mean it.” Leon paused, his lips scrunching up for a moment in thought. “Except when I don’t. I reserve the right to be inconsistent.”
Tension had risen rapidly with his earlier words, but with his final statement, it popped like a bubble.
Laughing, Jennifyr said, “I’m starting to like you, but it doesn’t change anything, Leon; you still haven’t answered any of our questions! You have been watching us like you have business with us, and there’s something familiar in your aura!” She invaded his personal space again and leaned her head closer to his to whisper, even though just about everyone in the room could still hear them, “It’s unwise to test a dragon’s patience, Leon…”
Snorting through his nose, Leon replied, “I suppose I do have some business with you.”
“As we do with you,” Varon said as he, too, stepped forward, joining Jennifyr in the invasion of his personal space. Despite such aggressive moves, Leon’s feet were practically rooted to the floor; even the auras of the two dragons, which had already forced his wives and Anzu back a couple steps, were unable to move him.
“Nyra visited you recently,” Jennifyr said. “She was… disturbed when I spoke to her later that day. She had much to say about you. Care to imagine what her words were?”
Smoothly, Leon answered, “Nothing complimentary, I’m sure. We sparred for several hours, and despite the disparity in our powers, she thought she had a chance. I showed her otherwise.”
“Our dear Golden sister has a habit of challenging everyone who catches her eye,” Varon said as he started slowly pacing around Leon. “Defeat is nothing new to her, not when her older brother Lyros keeps her humble.”
“If it were as simple as a spar gone poorly for her,” Jennifyr added, “it would hardly have inspired such vitriol from her. When we spoke, she was personally insulted.”
Seeing the chance to change the topic to what he wanted, he said, “I was hoping for an introduction to Princess Serana.”
Varon halted in his circular pacing while Jennifyr’s expression momentarily froze. For the longest moment of the night, tension built and built, then seemed to explode as both dragons threw their heads back and began laughing.
Ignoring their reactions, Leon said, “I imagine she wasn’t thrilled by my request, having been utterly and completely smitten with me from the moment we locked eyes. Alas, she’s at least a hundred years too young for my tastes, and took great offense when I told her so.”
He spoke jokingly, his tone, he hoped, making that clear. Jennifyr, however, in between bouts of laughter, seemed to take him seriously.
“You turned her down… and then asked about the most… eligible woman… in all of the Great Dragon Clans?” After a deep breath, Jennifyr steadied herself, though it took Varon another couple of breaths to accomplish the same feat. “Do you have a death wish? Angering even a young dragon will always have dire consequences…”
Varon responded with amusement dripping from every syllable, “What consequences can a man like this fear? A man so immune to logic and reason that, even with wives of his own behind him, he seeks to court a dragon? And Serana no less! Someone so separated from reality can hardly be frightened by reality’s harsh truths…”
“Maybe,” Jennifyr said as she took her turn to start circularly pacing around Leon. “You play a dangerous game, Leon. My dear sister Serana, whom I love most fervently, is the subject of admiration from every man of means in the universe—and every man without means! But no suitors darken the door of our reclusive brother Clan! Do you know why, Leon?”
Leon shook his head, the smile on his face rapidly thinning. Answering her question was a duty thus left to Varon.
“There are only a few suitors that interest our everdark uncle, and of them, only one has the truest pedigree that can match our dearest sister. And he doesn’t appreciate competition…”
As if planned, heat washed over the ballroom like a tsunami crashing upon the shore. It wasn’t strong enough to harm any of the mages present, but it was a demand for attention that refused to be ignored.
“Birds,” Jennifyr lightly scoffed. “Never miss an opportunity to show off your feathers and preen for an audience, do you?”
A young man entered the ballroom, so handsome that even Varon seemed inferior. His skin was so fair that he seemed to glow, his medium-length red hair almost reflecting matching red light off his face. A noble smile, one that seemed fixed on his face and not spurred on by anything in particular, rested beneath a long, slightly hooked nose, and a pair of yellow-gold eyes that nearly matched Leon’s, being slightly duller. His face was smooth and perfectly shaven, giving the impression of eternal youth that stood in stark contrast to his aura, which was at least of the thirteenth-tier, if not higher. He wore red feather-like robes speckled with gold, while on his arm was a woman of exquisite beauty.
The woman demanded attention, too, her white robes shining like they had been woven with the light of a thousand stars, while her white hair, shining with equal brightness, had been tied up into a high bun. Her skin was fairer even than the red-robed man whose arm she lightly held, as was her beauty. Her features were the embodiment of conventional beauty, enhanced by the unabashed smile of a woman trained to look perfectly attractive at all times when in public.
Her aura was only eleventh-tier, which was still quite robust. Even combined with her red-robed companion, however, it wasn’t enough to obscure the young man behind her, holding the hem of her robes so that they wouldn’t drag on the floor. He was dressed quite simply and had a silken collar around his pale neck. His hair was long and braided, but that was the only decoration he seemed to wear, and despite having a reasonable eight-tier aura, he kept his eyes down at all times, not making eye contact with anyone who now stared in the direction of the other two—which was everyone in the ballroom.
“Bennu-of-the-Flaming-Wind,” Jennifyr identified. “Heir of the Phoenix Clan, and the man who declared before all of the universe that he, and he alone, would win our dear sister’s hand. The Thunderbird… is an old bloodline, and venerable enough, but if you wish to pass him and take Serana for your own, then you will have to defeat him.”
“A greedy prospect,” Varon said with great amusement. “No dragon will ever allow herself to come fifth.”
“What if I say that I’m not a suitor?” Leon mildly inquired, his thin-lipped smile consciously turning into something more akin to a mysterious grin.
“Then I’d say that you’re a poor liar,” Jennifyr replied.
With a quiet laugh, Leon asked, “Might we continue this conversation another time? There is much I’m curious about that I wish to ask you—both of you, if you’d indulge me.”
“And why should a dragon indulge the whims of others?” Varon asked.
“To satisfy our own curiosity,” Jennifyr said. “There… is something in you, something hidden, Leon. I’m interested in peeling away your layers until all of your secrets are laid bare…”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Leon,” Varon warned. “Few survive a dragon’s undivided attention…”
“A warning to take to heart,” Leon replied, his golden eyes narrowing. Varon, who had not shied away from meeting his gaze before, blinked as Leon fixed him in a tight glare and went silent.
Ignorant of what had just happened, Jennifyr said with only a hint of haughtiness, “I will allow you to meet with me in five days. A dragon does not make time that often, so if you’re late, you will know my enduring wrath.”
“Only two days from the opening ceremony?” Leon asked. “Won’t the preparations for the Games demand more of your time?”
“My father handles most of that,” Jennifyr responded. “Fielding the few guests who muster the courage to come to the dragon’s lair is left to me. Five days, Leon; prepare your explanations. They’d better be satisfying…”
With that, Jennifyr turned around and walked away, while Varon lingered for just a moment, his eyes scanning Leon up and down, his mouth pursed in thought. When the moment was over, he turned and followed Jennifyr as they walked back to the ballroom door, the pair apparently deciding that they’d had enough of the ball.
Leon’s family returned to his side, but before they could even silently discuss what had just happened, Miuna’s furious voice resounded in Leon’s head, [That bitch Deianira is here! Leon! Can… I need you! Please?]
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