tygati | The Dragon Isles: Silver Dragon 2

... this was so not supposed to turn into smut. >.> I'm blaming

alice_montrose :P

End of Silver Dragon. Now to start plotting the sequel. ^_^

Part 1 here.

---

The sea rushed by at such a dizzying speed the waves all seemed to blur together beneath the sliver of crescent moonlight. No ship he'd ever sailed on nor horse he'd ever ridden on had moved at even a fraction of this speed, and were it anyone but Aeynanyi beneath him now Mirofal knew he'd be in a state of panic. Men were not meant to fly, even astride a beautiful silver dragon.

There had been an outcry when Aeynanyi had first offered, all of the dragons taking offense at the notion of a mere human riding their beloved Wind Lord. Not nearly as strong as the protests had been when Aeynanyi had announced he was going along in the first place, Mirofal was still trying to recover his hearing from that one, but still vehement. And as usual, Aeynanyi had merely waited until they'd started running out of complaints to make and calmly overruled them all.

For which Mirofal was exceptionally grateful. If he'd had to attempt this journey on Ruadh, or gods-forbid Deyllgo, he suspected he'd have soundly embarrassed himself long before now. With Aeynanyi it was, while not exactly pleasant, at least tolerable.

And he'd gotten to see Aeynanyi's dragon form at last. That was a sight he wasn't likely to forget any time soon. He'd thought the sight of Aeynanyi as a dragon would be strange, eerie. Instead the man turned dragon was just as beautiful, just as breathtaking. He was still Aeynanyi, just a lot bigger and with more scales.

Mirofal wanted badly to be able to stroke those shimmering scales that were so close - beneath his thighs, just a breath away from his arms - but if he let go of the thick spine scale he was clinging to he was fairly certain he'd fall off. And yet the thought was still tempting. He wanted so badly to know if those glittering scales were as soft and warm as they were on Aeynanyi's human form. Surely he could manage to free just one hand to touch.

But the air was shifting, the wind slowing, and he reluctantly brought his mind back to the task at hand as the ocean underneath gave way to land. Forests, then mountains and more forest, and in the distance a cluster of glimmering lights that had to be the main city of Temnia. They were descending swiftly, almost perilously close to the treetops, and yet not quite touching. Aeynanyi's glorious silver wings stretched out wide as he glided soundlessly through the night, backwinging at last and settling down in a clearing.

Sliding down off Aeynanyi's neck, Mirofal felt his feet touch the earth and caught himself, straightening and turning to find that Aeynanyi had already resumed his human shape. A moment later there was a whoosh of air, then another, and Ruadh and Deyllgo had joined them.

Mirofal slipped his pack off his back, wordlessly passing out the plain, unremarkable clothing to the nude dragons. He himself was wearing more of the same, to call less attention to himself should he be seen. There was still a royal order out for his death, after all, even if they did all currently assume he'd been lost at sea. No sense tempting the tides of fate.

Once the dragons were dressed they began the long and tedious walk to the city. It would have been difficult enough in the daylight, but walking through a forest at night was sheer torture. For Mirofal at least. The three dragons seemed to be having no difficulty whatsoever, and indeed Aeynanyi carefully steered him away from obstacles on more than one occasion. He silently added 'see well in the dark' to his growing list of dragon abilities.

The first light of false dawn was showing on the horizon by the time they reached the city; without any encouragement all four sped up as they wound their way through the city streets. It wouldn't be a good idea for anyone to look too closely at the dragons' inhuman characteristics, particularly their nails and Aeynanyi's hair. The scales were hidden, but they were all barefoot. Human boots, as it turned out, were sheer torture on the uniquely-shaped dragon feet.

They'd almost made it to the back gate, the one with the loose brick that meant the latch never caught right, when a voice hailed them with authority.

"Ho, who goes there?"

Swallowing, Mirofal turned toward the guard that had called out. "Good morning..."

The man squinted, holding his lantern up higher, then his eyes widened dramatically. "Prince Mir-" He didn't get a chance to finish, however, as Deyllgo had taken the opportunity to slip up behind him and render him unconscious with a sharp blow to the head. The black dragon calmly blew out the man's light and shoved his insensate body behind a crate.

Equal parts relieved and disturbed, Mirofal resumed his leadership role and jiggled the gate just right, feeling the lock on the other side slip. They all slid inside, closing it behind them, then making their way across the steadily-lightening courtyard to the outer palace wall. Beneath his breath Mirofal began counting stones, stopping at one that looked just like all the others. A sharp touch on the stone caused an entire section of the wall to swing outward. Beyond it was a very narrow, unlit corridor.

"Someone else will need to go first," Mirofal said apologetically. "I can't see in the dark without a lantern..."

Chuckling softly, Aeynanyi slipped his hand into Mirofal's and stepped fearlessly into the dark. Ruadh followed, and Deyllgo lingered a few moments to pull the heavy door closed behind them, cutting off all the light completely. Mirofal fought down panic, knowing how foolish it was to fear something he'd played in as a child, yet he could not entirely stifle the feeling.

Aeynanyi stopped, almost making Mirofal run into him. "The path splits." He spoke softly, almost inaudibly. "Which way?"

The question jarred him into thinking about something other than the dark. "Left." He knew the path, went over it in his head. Next they turned left again, then right. The narrow passage would dead-end at the rear wall of the Royal Suite. There was a catch, small and easily overlooked if you did not already know where it was. Very few did. This had been the refuge of two young princes desperate to get away from their tutors and guards and steal a few hours of play all for themselves.

The sudden pain that raced through him nearly left him breathless; he could feel Aeynanyi's comforting touch through where their hands were still clasped together, where Aeynanyi's free hand came to rest upon his arm. "Mirofal."

Drawing in a deep breath, Mirofal straightened. "Let... let me try to talk to him? Maybe I can convince him... to change his mind."

There was a low growl, that would be Deyllgo, but Aeynanyi's hands only squeezed once in reassurance. "We will wait." Aeynanyi understood. This would be his last chance to reason with the brother he'd loved as a child, and still loved even as that child turned cold and ruthless.

Steeling himself, Mirofal reached through the darkness and found the catch with the ease of long practice, pushing open the hidden door and stepping out into the room that had once belonged to their parents. Not long ago it had been the domain of Cuethac and his wife. Now, it belonged only to Cuethac.

Mirofal crept silently across the ornate bedroom to the large bed and the single figure contained within. He felt a curious sort of duality within him as he looked down upon his brother, seeing at once both the crazed king who had murdered first his wife then all those with any possible claim to the crown, and the nervous, shy little boy who had allowed his brother to drag him off on the wildest of adventures. Cuethac had never been quite right, but not in his darkest dreams would Mirofal ever have imagined things would turn out like this.

"Cuethac..." he whispered. "Cuethac... Wake up, brother."

It hadn't used to be disorienting, to watch Cuethac wake. When they'd been young, it had been fascinating. The slow, gradual shift from sleep to grogginess to full, guarded wakefulness. He'd always liked Cuethac best when he wasn't quite awake. When, just for a moment, he actually seemed happy.

"Mirofal." And just like that all the happiness was gone, replaced with poison-laced words and an icy coldness. "You were supposed to die."

It still hurt, to have Cuethac's hatred directed at him, though it seemed to have faded into more of a resigned hurt than the sharp pain it had been the first time Cuethac had turned on him. Then, Cuethac had been his brother, his king, and his world. Cuethac had been all that he had. Now, there was another.

"Cuethac, please, cease the bloodshed," Mirofal pleaded, careful to keep out of range of his brother's touch. "You know me. I'm your brother. I've supported you all my life."

Cuethac threw back the bedcoverings, sliding out of bed and advancing on Mirofal in only his dressing gown. "Yes, whispers in the darkness, comforting, reassuring... trying to make me dependant on you!" he spat, eyes flashing dangerously. "Too bad, brother. I don't need you anymore. I don't need any of you!" He smiled, but it was a cold smile, and Mirofal could see the madness lurking behind that blue-grey gaze. "They all obey me now. They fear me. But you, you never feared me, did you Mirofal? Instead, you pitied me!" He snarled, lashing out and knocking over a small table, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

It took all of Mirofal's military training not to run from the look in his brother's eyes. There was no sanity left there. The beloved brother he'd tried to protect for so many years was gone, consumed by hatred and paranoia. Somewhere deep inside he'd known for years, closer to Cuethac than anyone as he'd been, but he'd tried so hard not to see. Perhaps it was a measure of what they'd once had that Cuethac had left him for last, for surely if anyone could ever be a threat to his throne, it would be Cuethac's identical twin brother.

Not that he'd ever had any interest in being king. He'd been content merely with what was expected of him. Lead his brother's armies, have a voice on the council, protect the kingdom of Temnia. And now that final duty meant protecting his people from their king. From his brother.

"Cuethac, you can't continue doing this," he tried, still backing away as Cuethac advanced. "Your people, the neighboring kingdoms, they won't let you keep up this bloodshed. Please-"

"No one will stop me," Cuethac hissed. "No one will come near me. They all know what I can do. They fear me, as they should. You're the only one who doesn't - but not for much longer!"

Too late he realized he'd been backed into a corner, the heavy tables being low and out of his immediate range of vision. His thighs bumped into a table's edge and he paled as Cuethac closed the distance between them. There were hands around his throat before he could make a move to defend himself, and then only searing, burning agony as his brother's magic flooded through his body, seeking to unmake him at the deepest level.

Unbidden, he screamed.

Suddenly the burn was gone, though the lingering pain remained, making him weak and dizzy. There was something strong supporting him at the waist, keeping him pinned against something solid, something warm. Something familiar.

A soft gurgle reached his ears and he forced his eyes to open, everything swimming before his vision until he managed to focus, going stiff and still at the sight before him. His brother stood there, staring in disbelief, his hands raised futilely in an attempt to stop the blood that was gushing from his throat. Their eyes met; Cuethac's flickered briefly to something behind Mirofal and he smiled, then his eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood.

Red. Red blood everywhere. Mirofal tore his gaze away with effort, looking down at the arm holding him. Silver nails. Silver nails stained with crimson blood. Aeyn's nails. Aeynanyi had killed his brother.

No, that wasn't right. Cuethac was a healer. A powerful healer. A wound like that would have been simple for him to mend. It should have taken much more...

He felt the world slipping away, felt the ache of what his brother had done to him before Aeynanyi had appeared. The arms around him tightened, holding him close, and that was all he knew before the darkness claimed him once again.

When the darkness finally released its claim upon him, Mirofal's eyes felt like they were leaded, so heavy were they. His body felt even heavier, though after a moment's struggle he realized that was because something was holding him down rather than any true lingering weakness. When he finally got his eyes to open and focus properly to take in his surroundings, his heart promptly skipped a beat.

Silver hair. Silver hair cascading all across his chest, tangling in his fingers, spilling out across the dark brown bedspread he distantly recognized as his own. Therefore, he was in his personal rooms in the Temnia royal palace and Aeynanyi was sleeping on him.

Heat suffused his face as he stared down at the beautiful man, unable to see Aeynanyi's face due to the tilt of his head, but quite able to see the smooth lines of his body beneath the fall of hair, then there was no hair at all to get in the way of all that sleek skin and the silvery scales that danced and twined in impossible patterns down his back and legs, coiling about and disappearing into the curve of his very bare ass.

Aeynanyi was sleeping on him and he was nude. Mirofal shifted a bit, peeking underneath some of Aeynanyi's concealing hair and discerning that the dragon wasn't the only one whose clothes had gone missing. His face felt like it was on fire, and his hot blush was not the only reaction his body was having.

Over the hammering of his own heart he heard - and felt - Aeynanyi stir. He held perfectly still as the dragon slowly lifted his head, blinking, then swiftly turned to stare at him. Their eyes met, and Mirofal felt like he was drowning in a sea of silver. "Aeyn..."

"You're awake." The relief in the dragon's voice was unmistakable. "I wasn't sure..."

Mirofal licked his lips. "How long...?"

"Four days," Aeynanyi said softly. "I've never tried to heal a human before. I wasn't sure if it was working... if you'd ever wake up..."

"Cuethac...?"

"Dead." The dragon's voice was so quiet, so sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Mirofal."

Mirofal closed his eyes, feeling hot tears prick them, unaware of his arms encircling the slender body lying atop him and holding it tight. It was better this way. His people were safe, the dragons were safe, and Cuethac... Cuethac had smiled. At Aeynanyi.

"He... he could have healed himself," Mirofal heard himself say. "Somehow whatever power I should have had he got instead... too much power. It drove him mad, no matter what we tried to do to help. But he still... there was so much he could do. Why did he let you kill him?"

Gentle fingers touched his face; a gentle coolness where the backs of long nails brushed against his skin. "I did not know your brother, but perhaps he recognized the madness within himself. If this power he held was such a burden to him, perhaps it was a relief that it was finally gone."

It made sense, in some manner, and it helped to think that in some way Cuethac was happier now, though there were still so many repercussions to deal with.

"I don't want to be king."

Aeynanyi was silent a moment, gentle fingers tracing across his jaw, up his face. "There is no one else. The child is too young to lead."

Mirofal's eyes flew open, seeing the surprise in Aeynanyi's. "My brother's child... where is he?"

"Buidhe and Ruadh are guarding him," Aeynanyi replied. "He is safe."

He relaxed a little, though worry still flooded him. He'd never wanted the throne. He knew, abstractedly, how to rule, but it was not something he'd ever wanted. His role was to aid, to support. Not to rule.

"I will help you," Aeynanyi said softly. "We will keep the kingdom safe for when your brother's child comes of age." He hesitated, and his voice fell even softer. "If you will permit it..."

Silver eyes. Silver hair. That beautiful, exotic face creased with worry. Mirofal didn't really notice what he was doing until his own hand was cupping Aeynanyi's cheek, thumb stroking gently. "Humans and dragons together... you said it had been done once before..."

"Yes," Aeynanyi confirmed, so softly. "Once, long ago, our two peoples were allies. Friends, even."

Friends. No, friends was not what he wanted. Friends were not enough to touch, to taste...

"Just friends?" he asked; it came out as a whisper.

Aeynanyi's breath caught, drew in sharply. His silvery gaze studied Mirofal's face for what seemed a lifetime, then he slowly lowered his head to brush a feather-soft caress of lips over Mirofal's own. It made his entire body tremble, shivers of desire streaking through his blood. He wrapped his arms around Aeynanyi's back and waist, pulling him closer, then the kiss suddenly exploded in heat and passion and the swirl of tongues as they met and tasted. The dragon's mouth held the flavours of fish and fruit, and something spicy that defied identification. Dragon magic, perhaps.

Need for air forced them apart, though they did not go far. Their breaths mingled together, warm and tingling as they brushed across kiss-swollen lips. This close, without even so much as a stitch of clothing, it was impossible to hide the effect it had on either of them. Aeynanyi noticed just as Mirofal did, his silver eyes gleaming with mischief and desire as he twisted his hips sharply, grinding himself against Mirofal and making them both cry out.

"Aeyn..." he breathed, unable to resist the play of sleek muscle beneath smooth skin as he ran his hands down Aeynanyi's back, exploring the contrast between skin and scales, flushing again as he realized how low his wandering fingers had gone.

Aeynanyi writhed beneath his touch, alternately pressing back against Mirofal's hands and grinding down against his groin. The dragon made a low keening sound before claiming Mirofal's lips again, hard and demanding before backing off suddenly to nibble on Mirofal's lip, the points of his teeth coming dangerously close to breaking skin on more than one occasion. He waited until Aeynanyi's kisses had gentled again before twisting his hips upward, shivering at the sensations that evoked and at the sudden sharp pain in his arms as Aeynanyi dug his nails in in surprise.

"Mirofal..." Aeynanyi was panting; he seemed wild and untamed, looking more like a dragon than he ever had before. "Let me..."

He nodded, having no idea what he was agreeing to, and not really caring. Whatever Aeynanyi wanted, he could have. As long as Mirofal could have Aeynanyi.

The tips of silver nails traced his skin as Aeynanyi slid down him, licking here and there, biting sharply at one of his nipples and making him shudder as the dragon's tongue soothed the ache he'd caused. The slow slide of skin across his groin certainly wasn't helping, unless the point was to drive him completely out of his mind. Certainly Aeynanyi was doing a good idea of that, with his fleeting touches and soft caresses, so much so that when the dragon's tongue dipped into his bellybutton he nearly arched straight off the bed. "Aeyn!"

Aeynanyi chuckled softly and did it again, the action sending a jolt straight to his throbbing cock. He moaned quietly and grasped blindly for Aeynanyi's hair, trying to pull the dragon back up and away from his far too sensitive stomach, but instead Aeynanyi only slid lower, his face nuzzling the heat of Mirofal's erection for a moment before that wicked tongue darted out again to trace along the weeping slit.

"Aeyn!" He jerked, drowning in a sea of silver desire, then suddenly there was a wet heat all around and he very nearly thought he might pass out at the sight of Aeynanyi with his mouth stretched wide around Mirofal's cock, those long nails tracing up and down along his length and driving away the thought of anything but Aeynanyi and the sensations he was evoking.

It was the light, teasing scrape of teeth that did him in, drawing a startled shout from his throat as the building tenseness in his body released, flooding him instead with a low, sated heat. That skilled tongue swirled around him twice more, sending residual shivers up his spine, then Aeynanyi was crawling back up his body and kissing him. It tasted odd, salty. He felt himself turning scarlet again as he realized just what it was he could taste in the dragon's mouth, and Aeynanyi chuckled.

"So easily flustered, my fine prince," the dragon murmured, nails tracing a wide pattern around the still-bleeding furrows in Mirofal's arm. "I think I have much to teach you..."

"You... ah..." Mirofal blinked, then paled. "Deyllgo is going to kill me."

Aeynanyi snorted and kissed him again, greedy and demanding, until he was forced to relax. "Deyllgo will do no such thing. I have claimed you, and he will simply have to deal with it." He actually looked rather proud. "I imagine he will be far more upset when I announce that I will be staying here with you until such time as your brother's child is grown."

Mirofal smiled. "Then can we return to your island?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as wistful as he felt.

"Of course," Aeynanyi murmured, tongue darting out to flick across Mirofal's lips. "Easier to ravish you when I do not have to worry about pushy humans trying to walk in on us to the point where I have to set guards outside your door."

"Guards? Really?" Mirofal blinked.

"Mmm, you are their king now, or at least, temporary king... what is the human term... regent? Yes. You are their leader. They were understandably worried when you did not wake..."

"Cuethac was trying to kill me." It was barely a whisper.

"He did not." Aeynanyi was firm. "And I would not let you die. You are not a dragon, but my power is not completely useless upon you. It simply required more prolonged contact."

Mirofal blinked, then chuckled quietly. "Is that why you were laying on me?" he asked.

Aeynanyi grinned. "That, and you're comfortable."

"I see," Mirofal retorted, though he was smiling as he combed his fingers through Aeynanyi's glittering hair. He was quiet a long moment, then admitted softly, "I wish he was already grown. My brother's child." He frowned. "I shall have to ask his nurses what his name is..."

The lithe body draped across his tensed slightly. "You do not know? We asked, and all assumed that you..."

Mirofal's eyes widened. "Cuethac didn't tell them his name?"

Aeynanyi shook his head slowly. "He called the child 'my heir,' according to those responsible for caring for him."

Mirofal fell silent, trying to decide what he was to do now. The boy's parents were both dead; Mirofal himself was his only living relative. He didn't want that responsibility, any more than he wanted responsibility for the kingdom.

"If I may," Aeynanyi said softly, "Perhaps... Teynaise?"

"What does it mean?" Mirofal queried.

Aeynanyi smiled. "Promise. Hope for the future."

Tension once more drained out of his shoulders and Mirofal found himself smiling again. "Yes. That is exactly what this kingdom needs," he agreed.

"It is what all beings need, be they human or dragon," Aeynanyi corrected, and leaned down to kiss him.

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From:

animeartistjo.livejournal.com

Arguably one of the THE best conclusions I've ever read. We never really got any physical descriptions of Mirofal, did we? But, whatev, shape-shifting dragons!

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~ Tales of an Incurable Slasher ~

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