Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Andrea Sachs was, by all counts, a lucky girl. In line with convention, the arrival of a girl-child ought to have been an event for mourning. But Andrea - perhaps henceforth afforded the male diminutive of Andy in deference to her elevated status - was an only child, a miracle made manifest after fifteen barren years. And so her first screams were greeted not by tears of sadness but of joy.
A young girl of eight was typically skilled in little more than needlework, equestrian pursuits, languages and singing. But Andy was born to Richard Sachs, the chief advisor of King Ravitz, and thus an exception was made for her to be educated in the manner befitting a boy of noble birth. Her childhood was one of swordsmanship, of stargazing and intellectual pursuit, fuelled less by food and more by the endless thick tomes lining her father's library.
The books spanned nigh on every topic imaginable. Her favourites were those which dealt in myth and legend, of witches and sorcery, griffins and dragons. The latter was a particular fascination of hers, given their undoubted existence in the mountains and woods lining the far-flung borders of the kingdom. The King’s sworn enemies, and thus that of the people too. She would never admit it, but more than once Andy had wished upon the moon full in the sky that she might be so fortunate as to lay eyes on one a single time in her life.
And so her childhood’s heady combination of the literary, the noble and fantastical - it swelled to a sparkling peak. The flare of trumpets signalled General Thompson’s return from the hinterland, and her father gripped her nine year old hand as he swept her from the library with a forceful whisper.
“The General has captured a dragon egg!”
The Sachs arrived in the royal trophy room of the castle just as the hard-faced General made his triumphant entrance, six burly soldiers bearing an iron box trailing behind him.
The King surged forth, greed lining the hollows of his sun-roughened face. The lid was unbolted and lifted away with a flourish, and a shining white oval hoisted into the air for all the court to behold. Andy could not tear her eyes away from the object, as large as her head and seemingly twice as sturdy.
The King crowed with glee, and decreed that the egg would be ensconced in the trophy room until it hatched. The spawn would be held in the castle catacombs until it reached adulthood. Thereafter its hide would sheath the nation’s army in indestructible uniforms, and its blood would lead medicinal advancement into a new era of enlightenment. The head would be mounted on the wall above the monarchical throne.
The court roared. Andy clutched her father’s hand a little tighter.
It was five days since. Sleep was as evasive as daylight, and her small head could think of little else save the egg five floors below her bedchamber. Andy had previously scarce cause to venture outside of her quarters after sunset. Yet it took a matter of minutes for her slipper-shod feet to carry her down the back-stairs to the trophy room, guided by nothing save an indecipherable drive for which she had no name.
The soldiers outside had long lost the battle with unconsciousness, and before she knew it Andy stood face to face with the re-sealed iron cage. Fraction by fraction she drew the heavy bolts across, having to lean her entire frame backwards to wrench the slabs free.
With bated breath, she lifted the lid. The egg sat silently in front of her. What possessed her, she did not know, but she stretched out her right hand. She watched it tremble its descent down to just brush the surface.
Cold, smooth, alive. Her thoughts slowed to the singular. Her movements were hypnotic but grew in curious confidence. As she continued to delicately stroke the surface of the egg, the sense that she was not alone became unbearable, but there was no one in the room.
Andy did not know how long she had stood in situ, but was jerked out of her reverie by a tiny crack. At first she presumed she had been discovered, and her mind raced to produce a reasonable explanation for her current position. But the crack was followed by another, and another, and then the entire globe split in two.
Blood rushed to her head and her heartbeat rushed to her ears. Nowhere in the books had immobilisation been mentioned as a product of close proximity to a dragon. And yet Andy could not move. All she could do was stare at the wriggling little mass of fiery scales curled amidst the shards of white shell. Perhaps it was her gasp which alerted the newborn to her presence, but a tiny head rose up like a ship from the seas, slitted eyelids crinkled and then enormous blue eyes met brown.
Everything she had read, heard, been told - it all should have produced the effect of consummate terror, induced her to scream and flee. It did not. Instead, Andy was overcome by the distinct, overwhelming sense that this helpless creature was not the inimical deadly predator of ancient lore and modern fable, but rather merely a baby in rather odd shape.
“Hello.” Andy’s voice was that of the child she was normally, but even to her own ears she sounded unquestionably young in that moment.
She was answered with a quiet, fluid-soaked squeak. No one had ever told her that dragons could be adorable. All of a sudden, the King’s earlier words hit her with all the force of a sledgehammer. Andy had never been one for senseless disobedience, let alone outright treason, but it became blazingly apparent that she was not going to - could not - leave the baby dragon to the fate determined for it prior to its very emergence into the world.
So she lowered her hands into the box, and felt her jaw unhinge itself as the tiny animal unsteadily crawled into her two cupped palms. She had no experience with human babies, let alone a dragon one, but instinctively drew it to her chest in a rather clumsy makeshift cradle as she hastened from the room.
Fifteen minutes later - after an impulsive diversion to the kitchen - she emerged into the icy moonlight. Thirty minutes later, she had reached the perimeter of the castle, stopping at the boundary which demarcated royal grounds from the start of the woods.
“Right. What am I supposed to do with you?” She addressed the baby dragon as she would a human, and was surprised when she received a slow blink as a means of reply. The possibility of hiding it under her bed completely nonsensical even to her sleep-deprived nine year old mind, she decided to attempt to train it in the manner she had witnessed taking place in the castle’s aviary.
She gently lowered the dragon to the ground, feeling slightly guilty at the whine of protest emitted upon being removed from her arms.
Feeling rather silly, but aware of the lack of alternative options available to her, Andy started to run and jump around in a circle, the flapping of her arms mirrored by the flapping of the nightgown around her ankles. Slowing to a halt, she pointed first at herself, then at her audience of one, then resumed running and flapping.
She felt rather less silly when the dragon lifted itself into the air, and cheered - then leaped forward to awkwardly catch it as it wobbled and fell.
“Ow! That hurt!”
An angry red scratch, blood welling about her wrist. Two blue globes sheepishly looked up at her.
“Sorry, mini dragon. I know you didn’t mean it.”
While she had no doubt it was ignorant of English, the sentiment appeared to cross the barrier of communication. A small pink tongue darted out and licked over the wound. Andy watched, transfixed in amazement as the laceration seemed to knot itself out of existence, until it was scarcely visible to the naked eye. Carefully lodging the culprit into the crook of her left hand, she crouched down, reached into the knapsack she had stolen from the kitchen, and produced the paper-wrapped rabbit heart. The frisson of pride that ran through her at the grateful chirrup from the recipient of the innards outweighed anything she had felt on account of particularly good marksmanship in the past, or indeed any other activity worth self-congratulations.
The pride only increased over the next half-hour or so, as she watched as the repeated flights grew steadier and more confident, until the small creature soared around her as smoothly as one who had flown for years might.
“Okay, I think you need to go now. You can’t stay here. They’ll find you.”
A white puff of smoke denoted the dragon’s agreement. Not that she understood Andy. Andy knew that. Even if it was difficult to believe as she received a fond farewell lick over the scratch on her wrist one last time before watching the glimmer of scarlet disappear further and further into the sky, as if inexorably drawn to a faraway place.
Andy could not sleep that night, and when she eventually closed her eyes in the small hours of the morning, she dreamed of dragons. Upon waking, she wondered if it had all been a dream. She would have been convinced of this hypothesis, had it not been for the slight flash spotted in the midst of her daily ablutions, and the subsequent discovery of a thin silver scar decorating the inside of her right wrist, like a bracelet. Fortunately, neither the scar nor the cause of it were ever discovered by the horde of soldiers who ransacked the castle and surrounding grounds for the next three weeks straight in search of the missing hatchling.
ELEVEN YEARS LATER
Andrea Sachs was, by all counts, a lucky girl. However, with the advent of womanhood such luck sharply dissipated. On her twentieth birthday, she was summoned to her father’s study and informed of her future nuptials to the widowed King. Her fervent pleas to continue occupying the space meant for her father’s nonexistent son fell on deaf ears, and when she returned to her quarters her fighting-clothes had been replaced with corsetry and stays.
The castle had never felt so small, and the walls of her room - once her sanctuary - seemed to be closing in on her. The eve of her wedding, she found herself in the midst of the first bout of insomnia she had experienced since she was nine years old. She stared out of the tall windows at the moon. Her brow furrowed as she noted the full globe appeared to be surrounded by a thin rim of colour that at once appeared both red and blue.
A soft knock at her door sounded, and when she opened it, it was to see Doug, the stable-hand, and perhaps her only true friend. He enquired if she was alright, but it was a pleasantry, for he knew she was not. He, too, had heard of the King's cruelty, had beheld his unsightly visage - all the more unsightly for the many, many years separating him and Andy herself.
So when he quietly informed her that he had a stray horse prepared and laden with provisions for her to flee from the castle on, acceptance came as naturally to her as breathing.
***
She galloped through the forest for what seemed like miles and miles, through unfamiliar foliage and dark, dark night. As far as she could get away from the castle, the better, the less likely her capture would be. But eventually she tired, and the horse, too, as all living things were wont to do. It was a matter of small fortune that the wave of unbearable exhaustion hit them when they had reached a clearing, ominous and eerily silent though it was.
Perhaps it was the sheer degree of tiredness which caused her to be careless when tying the horse to the tree she sat down and leaned against to sleep. Either way, when she woke, the stallion was gone.
But she was by no means alone.
***
Vivid blue eyes stared into her own - vivid blue eyes surrounded by scarlet scales, tendrils of smoke curling in the air. Andy tried very, very hard not to scream.
Her efforts were tremendous. This was to be expected, after all, when one was face to face with what could only be described as a fully-fledged adolescent dragon.
Her shoulders stiffened, her breath hitching. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of flame that would surely consume her, and threw up her hands in an approximation of surrender, feeling her sleeves slip down to her elbows as she did so.
Yet no fiery death came. And when she gingerly cracked open her eyelids, the dragon's eyes were no longer fixated on her own, but rather were glued to her left wrist - specifically, the site of the scar which had never gone away, yet which no one save herself had ever been able to see.
Then the dragon scooted back on its haunches and tilted its head. Its demeanour did not seem aggressive now, but rather curious. It emitted a puff of white smoke. The motion was so absurdly similar to the sight of eleven years previously that Andy was immediately transported back to what she had almost become convinced was nothing but a fever dream, an endeavor of youthful imagination.
“Baby dragon?” she breathed. "Is…is that you?"
It leaned forward and sniffed her, much in the manner of an excitable dog. Then a forked tongue - longer now - darted out and licked over her wrist, quickly and gently. The scar turned a brilliant silver. Seemingly satisfied, it flopped onto the floor, ungainly rolling onto its back to display its belly. Again, Andy was reminded of a puppy.
"Fancy seeing you again," Andy murmured. And for no reason at all aside from the fact she feels the same inexorable compulsion to explain her presence as she had once felt to rescue the younger incarnation of the beast opposite her, she began to speak, the words pouring out as if a torrent of water bursting free from an almighty dam.
“I think we’re in the opposite position now. You clearly know where you are, and I have no idea. You’re in your natural habitat. And I’m running from my father. He wants to marry me to the King. I hate him. He’s older than my own father! They’ve stopped me reading, and fighting, and taken away all my comfortable clothes. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. You probably don’t even understand me.”
At her last comment, the dragon harrumphed, as if mortally offended by the assumption. Yet in tandem with the unimpressed snort, Andy noticed its eyes had widened and taken on a sheen remarkably close to sympathy.
Her shoulders slumped - and then froze. For with no preamble whatsoever - or, indeed, any hint at warning - it flipped back to a crouching position, extended one broad, strong wing and scooped her clean up, summarily depositing her on its back. Were Andy capable of screaming in that moment, she would have, but found herself unable to make a single sound - not even a squeak.
***
She had little choice other than to surrender to the dragon's authority, clinging for dear life around its thick neck. Soaring God knows how many miles high in the sky, were she to attempt any form of escape it would surely be suicidal. Her only consolation was that she was all but certain that the intended (and as yet to be determined) destination would not be anywhere near the location she had originally escaped from.
Her instincts were proven correct when after what seemed like forever they began to descend. Glancing down, Andy gulped as she saw a vast range of mountainous caverns blink into view, looming ominously in the darkness of night.
As considerate as the dragon had previously been, the landing was nonetheless rocky. It was with incredibly shaky legs that she slid off its back - legs which promptly gave out beneath her, sending her slumping to the floor in an embarrassingly graceless lump.
She had scarcely managed to catch her breath before her hair - all her hair, on her head, the back of her neck, her arms, her legs, elsewhere- stood on end. It was a reasonable response to the indisputably sinister rumbling growls which shot through the air, after all.
And the source? Two other dragons - one remarkably shiny and eerily skin-colored, one a violent shade of red - clearly adults, and, equally clearly, very, very aggressive.
Well, damn. Perhaps she had relaxed too soon, perhaps the smaller dragon had simply brought her here to roast, perhaps she had been totally wrong in her tentative hope for a residual connection -
A large wing swept over her once again. Through the small crack of light at the edge, Andy could discern that she was being functionally shielded, that the adolescent was refusing to move. The body she was pressed up against let loose an earth-shattering rumble, and Andy quivered in tow.
The two adults fell silent, wisps of smoke escaping their nostrils. Then the shiny one glanced to its left, and following its gaze, Andy saw another adolescent - virtually identical to the first - emerge from one of the caves. This one did not appear quite so aggressive as the adults, but wary nonetheless. Yet the sounds her (when had she started thinking of the not so baby dragon as 'hers?') dragon promptly emitted were more like friendly chirps than anything else. She had no rational reason for thinking so, but there appeared to exist a firm trust between the two juveniles, a suspicion which seemed confirmed when the other one cautiously made its way to sit besides the first.
The situation, Andy thought, had reached something of a stalemate. It was evident the two adults were waiting for any moment to attack her, and it was evident that the two younger ones had little intention of encouraging such a circumstance. But just as she had finally managed to regulate her breathing to a tempo approaching normal and sustainable:
Another growl, deeper and indisputably more powerful. The very earth itself seemed to shake on account of it. Whatever it was, Andy had no desire to find out.
But find out she did.
Another dragon, larger than even the adults by quite some way, scales an iridescent mix of silver and white, eyes of vicious sapphire. And if she had believed the peach and crimson ones to be aggressive - well.
Andy had no doubt that were even a sliver of skin to be exposed to this one's range, she would become toast quicker than she could pronounce the word itself.
While the other adults all but cowered in this one's presence, it was with no uncertain degree of surprise that Andy noted the younger ones displayed no fear whatsoever. On the contrary, they responded to the growl with twin chirps, as if totally familiar to the point of naked affection.
The leader - for it must be - narrowed its eyes, and then in the blink of an eye, four identical flashes assailed Andy's own vision, forcing her to clamp her eyelids down to avoid being blinded. A few seconds later, there were no dragons in sight save for the one who had brought Andy to this place, but four humans instead - who, of course, were not really humans at all, dressed in strange silky clothing, almost glittery in character, and most curiously of all, all of a drape and cut only seen on men. Whoever heard of a woman wearing trousers?
A bald man, a sharp-featured redheaded woman, a softer flame-haired young girl of no older than eleven or twelve, and - and -
The most beautiful yet terrifying woman Andy had ever seen, ostensibly around forty or fifty, but in actual fact likely far older. The scales were gone, but her hair - short and silky - was of an identical coloring, and her eyes had changed not one jot save for assuming a humanoid rather than impossibly slitted shape.
She wanted to cry when the wing - for her dragon was the only one yet to transform - lifted high into the air above her, leaving her totally exposed to the four pairs of eyes which immediately lasered in on her.
It was a miracle she was able to get the words out, so rapid was the rate of her breath.
"I…I…mean no harm. I promise!"
The first one to speak was the last one she desired to hear from.
"And just why on earth," the silver-haired woman sneered in a voice impossibly soft yet impossibly threatening, "would we believe that?"
Andy opened her mouth to reply, to plead, to beg, something, anything - and then the final dragon transformed, revealing a girl identical to that which Andy realised must be her twin. As soon as she did so, she grabbed Andy's left wrist - with a strength no human child of eleven had any right to possess - and brandished it in the air like a talisman.
"Mom," she said. "Mom, look at it. It's her!"
Silence. Andy shivered, making no move to escape the iron grasp - not that she believed she could have, even if she'd tried.
"Her?" The older woman - the twins' mother - repeated, as if she could not be quite sure she had heard correctly. "Her, Caroline?"
"Yes! Just - look!"
Andy's heart reached genuinely unsustainable proportions of hammering away as she was dragged closer.
The woman's gaze bored into her wrist with a ferocious intensity, and it was terribly odd, for the mark seemed to prickle under it. Then she hissed. It was clearly a method of speech unintelligible to the human ear, for it prompted responsive growling from her own daughter. Finally, as if determining on a course of action, blue eyes returned to meet brown.
"You will come with me." Never had a clearer order been dispatched.
***
Even if the rocks had not been jagged, Andy would have still been the most uncomfortable she had ever felt in her life. Naturally, this had very little to do with her seating arrangements, and everything to do with the knowledge that should the woman opposite her wish to end her life, such a task would be accomplished in mere seconds.
"I am going to ask you two questions, to which I expect two fulsome answers. If these are not forthcoming…"
There was scarce need to complete the sentence. Her presence was sufficiently threatening enough. Andy nodded weakly.
"Firstly, why are you here? What on earth would possess a young woman of some notable rank, if your clothing - bespoiled and unflattering though it may be - is anything to go by, to venture into the forest at night?"
Andy twisted her hands in her lap, working up the courage to speak. It seemed incredibly important that she express herself clearly, for if she made a mistake she would surely receive no mercy, no second chance.
"I was fleeing, ma'am."
"What?"
Andy blinked. "Um…"
"What did you say? Ma'am?"
Oh. Yes. Not-human in human shape.
"Sorry. That's, ah, a formal way of addressing someone when you don't know their name."
The woman rolled her eyes. "I have no time for your quirks of vocabulary. Call me Miranda."
"Yes, Miranda."
"Do continue. Fleeing from what, precisely? What on earth could be so terrible that you decide wandering into the land of dragons is a preferable alternative?"
Andy gulped. "Men, ma - Miranda."
This was either the very much right or very much wrong thing to say. Miranda's eyes narrowed until they eerily resembled the look they assumed in her dragon form.
"How so?"
"I was betrothed to the King. I had no say in it, and no desire to wed at all. Let alone someone twice my father's age, and one known to be terribly cruel."
"The King?" Miranda's voice became impossibly softer, and Andy had no doubt that this was not something to be reassured by.
"Yes."
"I see." Andy garnered the distinct impression that Miranda saw something she herself was not privy to. But no further elaboration on the matter was requested.
"And my second question. Again, I remind you that it is in your best interests that you answer truthfully."
Andy prepared herself.
"Why did you return my daughter to where she belongs?"
If she'd thought the first question was rife with stumbling-blocks…again, Andy determined on honesty as the only viable strategy. She had little idea of what she might say otherwise, after all.
"I used to read fairy-tales about dragons growing up. When a - an egg was captured - " she winced at the stiffening of Miranda's shoulders - "I couldn't resist going to look at it. I was only a child myself."
"And you did find her."
"Yes. I did. I was alone, and then she hatched. She was so small. I saw her and - well. She was just a baby. She needed someone to protect her."
If she wasn't mistaken, the blue eyes had grown a smidgeon less hard. Andy continued:
"I couldn't leave her. Not with what they had planned."
Not only had the hardness returned, it had brought with it smoke, and it was twice as terrifying to witness such tendrils curling out of ostensibly human nostrils than it had been draconic ones.
"And just what was planned for my child?"
Miranda's words were so quietly pronounced that Andy had to read her lips to comprehend the question.
The fact she was trembling was entirely rational.
"Um," Andy squeaked, "um. I didn't agree, I swear!"
"That is not what I asked. Evidently, you did not agree, because she is here. Remarkably, given your inane quivering, thanks to you. Now. Tell me what was to be done to Caroline had you not intervened."
Despite Miranda's pointed acknowledgement that Andy was not at fault for and had no part in the information she was about to disclose, it still felt like volunteering for death to be visited upon her.
She had been right to be wary. For upon her strangled whisper of, "imprisonment until adulthood, then hide harvested for uniforms and blood for experiments, and - and - the head atop King Irv's throne," Miranda turned stiller than a statue carved of sturdiest marble.
Then the ground shook. Andy could not speak - the air had grown so thick and cold she could hardly breathe - as literal cracks appeared in the stones beneath the other woman's feet.
The other woman, whose face and clenched fists had turned a violent shade of white. Her eyes were closed, but when they opened, they were no longer blue but red.
Or at least, that was what Andy thought they were. Summarily fainting put a stop to any further observation.
***
When she came to, her vision was occupied not by Miranda, but the bald-headed man. Mercifully, he did not appear intent on assuming a similar demeanour to his leader, but rather…concerned?
"You're awake now, I see, " he muttered.
Andy suppressed a groan, and brought her palm to her head, throbbing from where it had made contact with the harsh stones.
"Oh," she muttered.
"Yes," Nigel replied impatiently. "Oh. We are all terribly surprised."
"By…"
"By the fact that Caroline found you, that she brought you here, and above all, that Miranda has bestowed on you a very rare thing indeed."
Andy waited patiently. He sighed. "An apology, or the closest she gets to one. She's decreed that you may seek shelter here for as long as you please, and, much to Emily's distress - she's the other one you met earlier - no one is to harm you."
She blinked dumbly.
"And given I'm the poor soul sent to tell you all of this, I might as well tell you that under no circumstances are you to speak the human King's name again. He killed the twins' father, you see - Miranda's mate. I suspect it is only because the man himself intended to harm you that she refrained from setting you alight. Along with what you did for Caroline, of course."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "you can call me Nigel. Your name?"
"Andy."
His nose crinkled. "Miranda's not going to like that, I can tell you that much. Better find something else."
"What's wrong with my name?" For the first time, she allowed herself to sound indignant.
Nigel looked faintly amused. "Wonderful. It appears you're not completely devoid of a spark. Nurture it. Things work differently around here, you'll learn. We have little use for the meek and cowering."
***
What they did have use for, it turned out, was someone who may not have possessed any of their strengths, but also shared none of their weaknesses. Specifically, iron. She had never really comprehended why there was so much of it about the kingdom, but it transpired that the dragons could only semi-melt it with their flame, and if they touched it in any form it delivered a burn.
Cassidy had been the one to inform her of this, having followed her twin's lead in extending a tentative trust as opposed to their mother's reluctant tolerance. Andy had determined that she would demonstrate herself worthy of such a rare gift. The first time she had soared above the skies on Caroline's back under the cover of darkness, seeking out the farms whose perimeters were invariably covered in the stuff, only to return with three goats and a cow atop her - well. It had also been the first time MIranda had deigned to give her a look resembling approving, and Emily surprised,
She also came to understand just how true Nigel's proclamation of difference was, as she tried fruitlessly to explain the concept of cutlery. But, again, perhaps she had misunderstood Miranda, who seemed the only one strangely receptive to the idea instead of sceptical. Andy herself learned that it hardly made a difference to the taste of the freshly flamed goat meat, and contented herself with retreating to the nearest river to wash the grease from her hands.
As time progressed - if the scratches on the tree were anything to go by, it had been a few weeks - Andy began to realise she was growing to prefer the manner in which they lived. Their way of life involved no particular expectation of roles distinguishing Nigel from the women, and while it had been a shock to witness the return of Emily's very female mate from a spying mission on the humans, she found she could conjure little objection to the fondness displayed between the redhead and golden-scaled Serena.
The central tenets of freedom and absolute loyalty were nothing short of admirable. The latter she had not just merely observed, but had been a running theme throughout the lore she was regaled with around the fireside at night. At first the stories had been narrated by the twins, but with time the adults joined in, detailing tales with such vividity those of her childhood appeared positively monochromatic by comparison..
Except for Miranda, of course, who stood sentry on the ledge above them with such a degree of religiosity any saint would have been put to shame, gazing steadily out over the surrounding landscape.
***
"Andrea," came the low purr one morning. "Why do you insist on donning that impractical wad of cloth everywhere you go?"
Andy looked down self-consciously at her now thoroughly worn dress, once a vivid cerulean but now a dull blue, bedraggled by the multiple washes in river-water it had valiantly suffered.
"I, um -" how was she to explain human customs of modesty? For while the dragons donned their own clothing in human form in general, they displayed no qualms about bathing without it in each other's vicinity. Andy herself had preferred to find moments to do so alone, and had still not recovered from the strange curdling in her gut after laying eyes on Miranda's bare form stretched out over a rock to dry in the sun.
"I don't have anything else, Miranda. And I know it's not really a thing here, but it's hard to just unlearn years of teachings saying you mustn't expose yourself to others' viewing."
"Hmm," the older woman sniffed. "How primitive. Ask Nigel to find you a suitable alternative, then. This -" she waved a dismissive hand over Andy's figure - "is most displeasing."
If Andy set off at twice her usual pace to seek out the man in question, she paid little heed as to why that might be. As to why she felt so desperate to gain Miranda's approval…
It was fear. That had to be it. She contemplated it no further.
***
"Much better," Nigel said, roving a satisfied eye over her. She had to admit, the jet-black sparkling shirt-and-trousers set was far more comfortable to move in than anything which had previously graced her form, if a little roomy on her. Her height - unusually tall for a woman - had always been a point of insecurity for her, yet now it seemed a relief. Whoever had donned the garments she now wore before her had evidently been of similar.
Although perhaps she ought to have afforded greater consideration to the reason for her determination to behold the pleased expression that lit up Miranda's face as she beheld Andy in her new attire.
"Acceptable."
She might as well have said "exquisite," such was the force of the intense blush Andy could tell adorned her own features.
***
"Miranda let you wear that?" Emily spluttered.
"Um, yes," Andy replied. "She said it was acceptable, which seems to be her way of expressing approval?"
The redhead blinked, eyes the size of the King's dinner-plates.
"She - she - she said she'd never let anyone wear…not unless…" Emily clapped a hand over her mouth, as if she fancied herself able to retract the words from the air and stuff them back in.
Which, of course, she patently could not.
"Not unless?" Andy prompted.
"Nothing," was the sharp reply she received. "Nothing at all. Forget I said anything."
Andy did not forget. But out of courtesy to Emily, she did not reference it again, nor seek further explanation.
***
As the weeks went on, she attributed her further acclimatisation to the clothes, and the abilities they afforded her. The development of notable muscle on her biceps, the emergence of a firmer abdomen, the progressively heavier loads of firewood she was able to lift, the distances she was able to cover (and in such a short time, too!) - it was remarkable, and incredibly pleasing. Other changes - she had grown to require less sleep, and her eyesight in darkness had markedly improved - must have simply been a response to the different rhythm of life. Even their language, which, at Miranda's stern command, was only used when she was not an explicit party to the conversation, seemed more comprehensible. Not beyond 'yes', 'no', and chirps which denoted each dragon's name, mind, but it was progress.
So it was with a steadily diminishing fear of getting burned that one day Andy made an offering. Specifically, she had spent enough time in close proximity to Miranda to realise that the scales at the tips and on the undersides of her wings were notably duller than those of the other dragons - almost more cracked, as if burned by fire. She had raised this to Emily, and received the sole explanation that 'it's your kind's fault'. While it had seemed impolite at best and offensive at first to enquire further, Andy subsequently resolved to put her education in herbology to good use.
She approached Miranda by firelight, the matriarch of the colony perched alone by a nearby rock formation. Then she smiled, and proffered her concoction. The dragon peered at her before transforming.
"What is that?" Miranda asked.
"It's a mixture of beeswax, almond oil and beetroot extract," Andy replied. "I gathered it from the woods."
"And you are presenting me with this marvellous product, why, exactly?"
"Well…" Andy gulped, but soldiered on regardless. "Nigel told me that your scales are made from a similar chemical found in human hair. This" - she held the bowl she had fashioned from a hollowed-out rock aloft - "is a herbal remedy used to treat breakage and damage to hair like mine."
Miranda arched an eyebrow. "You are calling me damaged, Andrea?"
"No!" She squeaked. "No! I just, um, noticed that, ah, the tips of your wings…"
The other woman's eyes narrowed. "I see. And you propose to…administer this yourself? To my person?"
"Only if you agreed," she said hurriedly. "I just thought I'd offer."
"Are you aware that the wings of a dragon are the most…sensitive part of their body? That their ability to fly is exclusively contingent on them remaining unharmed?"
Andy blinked. Miranda pronounced 'sensitive' in such a way that she could not help but sense there was a subtext she was ignorant of contained within, but it seemed a terribly bad idea to ask for further clarification, given how 'sensitive' the conversation was itself..
"You've been nothing but hospitable to me, and I hope you know I mean you no harm. Anyway, if it's any reassurance, I'm fairly sure I'd be fried four ways if I even left a scratch."
Something which looked remarkably like amusement curled at the corners of Miranda's lips.
"Challenge accepted," she husked - Andy shivered, for some reason - and then the enormous dragon stood before her once more. She considered herself lucky that she wasn't swept clean off her feet by the force of the gust of wind produced by Miranda's wings extending.
She drew the piece of tree-moss from her pocket, dipped it in the mixture, and reached up to begin massaging Miranda's wingtip in slow, gentle circles. Of all the reactions she had been expecting, a frisson of…something…was not one of them. But whatever it was rippled over the dragon's body like a wave. But Miranda made no obvious moves which could have been interpreted as a command to stop, so Andy continued. Round and round, light at first but every so often she'd deepen the pressure, tracing the moss over the ridges, dipping into the small valleys separating each scale. This seemed to go down well with Miranda, in any case, given how the dragon would emit low, rolling rumblings of satisfaction whenever Andy applied a little more force.
***
"You did what?" Emily gasped, aghast. Had it only been the redhead bearing such an expression of shock, Andy might not have thought much of it, but Emily's expression was mirrored on Nigel and Serena's. She wondered what she'd done wrong. All she'd done was offer them the polish, and when they asked further, (as a form of reassurance as to its safety) she'd elaborated on the fact that Miranda had already permitted her to use it on her.
"Miranda…" Nigel said slowly, "allowed you to groom her?"
"I mean, yes? Groom, like a horse?" Andy asked, feeling incredibly stupid. She was clearly missing something, but she had no idea what.
Serena was patently on the edge of laughter. "No, no. Not like a horse."
"Then like what?" Andy said, impatient now. "Tell me."
A look passed between the three others; a silent form of telepathy.
"I'm afraid that's for Miranda herself to tell you," Nigel said, and his tone was equal parts gentle and incredulous.
"Un-be-lievable," Emily muttered. "Unbelievable."
As Andy turned away in frustration and made to positively stomp back inside the caves, she caught the start of what was clearly an exchange not meant for her own ears.
"Serena," Emily said quietly, "I take it you'd have no objections to me polishing you?"
"Oh, none at all. At least you know the principles behind stimulating erogenous zones."
Huh, Andy thought. You learn new words every day. What on earth were 'erogenous zones'? And why was it relevant to what she'd done to Miranda?
***
No answers proved forthcoming, but then again she could not seem to quite work up the courage to solicit them. Nor did she have the energy, as while the weather was no real reason, she soon fell prey to a definitive chill. Mercifully no one else was affected, but less mercifully, no one else was particularly knowledgeable about or skilled in tending to human ills. That was not to say they did not try. Emily took to flinging wild berries at her as if she was a caged animal in a menagerie, and only conceded to place them down in front of her after the twins fixated identical glares - near replicas of those mastered by their mother - toward her. Nigel and Serena took it in turns to hold a cool cloth to her head, and while it did not cure her, it at least let her sleep.
And as for their mother, she reacted the queerest of all. Andy had curled up miserably in the corner of the cave when Miranda's eyes loomed out of the darkness.
"You feel no better, I take it."
Andy whimpered. Miranda huffed - and then proceeded to shift. This was not unusual. What was unusual was her unceremoniously slumping down around Andy, using one strong arm to fold the young woman into her chest. Curiously, the body heat was not uncomfortable, nor unwelcome. Rather, the steady pulsing thump of Miranda's heartbeat acted as the most comforting lullaby Andy had ever known, the steam issuing from the dragon's nostrils enveloping her head.
She slept more steadily than ever before that night, her mind blissfully free of dreams.
When she awoke, Miranda remained curled around her, and Andy felt as good as new.
***
"Miranda!" Emily gasped. "Miranda!"
"What is it, Emily?"
"Nigel - he says he's captured a human!"
"A human?" Miranda rose to her feet, and Andy trembled at the resurgent aggressive demeanour which had all but vanished over the time she had spent in the woman's company.
"Yes. But this one is claiming to know her" - Emily pointed a finger in Andy's direction - "and that he helped her escape. He says he has information for her."
"And where is this marvellous human now?"
"Outside," Emily panted.
"Go and make sure he is being held properly captive."
As she turned to follow the redhead's path, Miranda caught sight of Andy's confused gaze.
"Nigel," Miranda muttered tiredly, as a means of explanation, "has an unfortunate penchant for coupling with human males. Nothing else, of course. And he fries them afterwards. Mostly."
***
"Why," Miranda asked imperiously, "have you not skewered this delightful specimen yet?"
"He's worth hearing out, I think," Nigel replied, standing so that the specimen in question was concealed from view. "Threw down his weapons into the river and everything. Might as well see what he has to say before you make him dinner."
Then he stepped aside to reveal an evidently petrified Doug.
"Doug!" Andy cried, and without hesitation rushed forward to envelop him in a hug.
"God, Andy," he gasped, wheezing. "You're strong."
They extracted themselves, and Andy took Miranda's silence as permission to initiate the line of questioning.
"What on earth are you doing here, Doug? Nigel said you had - information?
His face, which had lit up upon initially seeing her, fell. He exhaled heavily.
"Yes. The King's ransacking the entire kingdom looking for you. He's dispatched two battalions to try and find you, and issued an order that anyone who succeeds - um - gets to marry a woman of their choice, however high-born."
"I sense there is something you are leaving out." It was not a question from Miranda, but rather a statement.
Doug's eyes fluttered shut, as if blocking out sight would protect him from the consequences of whatever it was he was going to say next.
"By succeeds, he didn't just mean bringing Andy back. He's given a direct command to, uh, kill. Um. The dragons."
His words were met by a cacophony of hisses, and while Andy did not instinctively cower as Doug did, a frisson of fear nonetheless ran through her.
"How far have his men reached?" Nigel was the first to speak. Doug inhaled and exhaled heavily.
"They've covered the majority of the Kingdom. I accompanied the first battalion with the intention of absconding and finding Andy to warn her. I didn't know how, but then I found Nigel. When I left, they were a few days' ride from here."
A brief, thick silence fell over the caves.
"Well, then," Miranda said calmly - too calmly, like the cessation of wind and rain before an almighty storm. "There is but one course of action to be taken."
Four heads swivelled to face her - nay, seven, for the twins and Serena had emerged from a nearby rockfall.
"We prepare to eviscerate them. Under no circumstances will they be permitted to capture Andrea. If that requires a fight, so be it."
***
That night, Doug having been granted clemency (for the crime of being human, Andy supposed) for his favor in dispatching the information, the group once again gathered around the fireside. Eventually, one by one they left, until it remained only Andy and Miranda watching over the flames.
"Can I ask a question?" the former ventured cautiously.
"That you just did. I suppose it would be acceptable for you to pose another."
"Why are you so intent on preventing them from taking me? Not that I'm grateful. I am. Deeply. Truly. But I assumed your debt to me - not that I think of it like that, but you know what I mean - was surely paid when you offered me shelter? It seems quite a different matter to prepare to fight on my behalf. To put yourself in harms' way."
Miranda's face assumed a profoundly contemplative expression, as if she was considering the nature of her reply in great detail. Then she turned to steadily appraise Andy with those tremendously blue eyes.
"Protecting you from them is a form of retribution for me."
"Retribution?"
"I believe Nigel told you who was responsible for the death of my mate."
"...Yes. He did," Andy replied softly, wondering what on earth Miranda might be leading up to.
"Perhaps you thought it odd that you never heard about it before?"
"I hadn't thought about that, but now I do, you're right."
"I usually if not always am. The reason you did not hear about it is that your King - the King, I apologise, he is in no way yours, not anymore - dispatched him while he was in human form. An act of supreme disrespect. If one is to slay a dragon, the least they could do is to mount such an attack against us while we are in our true form. Whatever we perish as, we stay, you see. The King could not reasonably hold his slaughtered head aloft and claim a dragon as a prize. Either way, it was a barbaric thing. But such cowardice. Such cowardice. That I truly could never forgive."
"Of course you couldn't," Andy whispered. "That's awful. I'm so sorry, Miranda."
"Yes. Well. That was eleven years ago. And while it was a…shattering loss, it could have been worse. It almost was."
Andy kept silent, sensing it incredibly important that she not interrupt.
"You see," Miranda continued, "he had ventured out to seek the egg, the night after Caroline was spirited away from our nest. There were a few days - a few terrible, long days - where I thought I had lost both of them."
The younger woman's eyes widened - then widened further when Miranda laid a cool hand over her own, fingers moving to trail up over the back of it, over her wrist, pinching the black fabric between index and thumb.
"Thanks to you, I did not," came the murmur, feather-light and so softly spoken Andy ought not to have been able to hear it. "Caroline was returned to me. And the pain…it dulls, after a while."
Andy smiled weakly. "At least you have your daughters to remember him by."
"That I do. And - " she inhaled, then stared away steadily into the distance, as if she could not quite bring herself to look directly at the woman next to her - "I have his clothes, too."
"Oh?"
Miranda's fingers grasped the material Andy wore a little tighter.
***
Unfortunately, it appeared the advancing army moved at a substantially quicker pace than anticipated.
The first sign of any hostile presence did not come in the form of the expected mass of specks advancing over the horizon, to be captured by the eager eyes of whoever was serving as sentry at the time.
No, it came in the form of an earth-shattering roar, imbued with a desperate, shriek-like quality and sufficiently higher-pitched that it could only have originated from one of the twins.
Miranda's head snapped around, immediately fixating on Caroline. Which could only mean -
" - Cassidy," she breathed.
***
It had not taken long to find her, even on foot rather than by air. The scream had been followed by a hideous cacophony of jeering, punctuated by the ominous clunk of metal, and it was this which led the dragons, Doug, and Andy to find their way through the forest. The dragons all bar Caroline, that was, for Miranda had insisted she remain sequestered in the caves. They approached a clearing, the contents of which were initially hidden from view by dense bushes and trees.
But then they approached sufficiently close to make it out, only to see -
Cassidy, in dragon form, tied down inside a cage which was indisputably made of iron. And the two men - for there were many, fifty at least - nearest to her? General Thompson and King Ravitz.
A low, violent growl escaped Miranda, and the second it did her eyes widened in clear recognition of her mistake. Heads swivelled in their direction. Out of the periphery of her vision, Andy saw Nigel shove Doug into the recesses of a nearby bush. Then:
"Stay behind this tree. When we shift, you run back to the caves."
Andy blinked. "But -"
"You saved my daughter from a lonely death when you were but a child yourself. I ask - I implore you. Protect her once more." Miranda swallowed with visible difficulty. "Will you?"
"Yes, Miranda," Andy whispered. "Yes." But as the gravity of what Miranda was about to do sunk in, she opened her mouth to protest -
She was never given the chance to formulate them. Miranda did not stop to hear a word more - rather, she made eye contact with Nigel and nodded.
Miranda, Nigel, Emily and Serena stepped out into full view - and were immediately surrounded by the men in all directions save the once from which the quartet had come.
"If you're looking for the girl," Miranda said silkily, "don't bother. We burned her long ago."
And with that - for it seemed to constitute some sort of signal - the four transformed. Andy knew she was supposed to move, to run, but found herself unable to do anything but stare in horror. Such horror was only compounded when the King pulled roughly on one of the thick chains wrapped around Cassidy's neck, prompting a screech of pain, and General Thompson wrenched open the door to the cage with one hand, holding a truly vicious-looking sword with the other over a point on her torso where the scales separated. .
"Get in now, all of you," the King shouted, "or get in after we've slaughtered this one!"
It was abundantly clear that letting loose with flame was simply not an option - not with the blade so perfectly positioned to puncture Cassidy's abdomen in one fatal thrust. So it was with a devastating grief that Andy watched the slow, silent movement of the dragons towards the metal prison. So overwhelming was her distress that she contemplated the possibility of bargaining herself for the dragons' lives - or, at least, serving as a distraction long enough for the sword to loosen in the General's grip.
It seemed not just a practical idea in a wilderness of alternatives, but an outright obligation, an act in service of those who she had been raised to view as monsters, and yet had treated her as good as adopted family.
She prepared to rise to her feet, to shout, to alert the men to her presence. As she began to push herself up, a thought struck her. More than a thought, actually. A bolt of clarity so violent it was as if she had been punched in the gut.
When Miranda had spoken to her not two minutes before, she had not done so via the medium of human language. No, the imploration to shield Caroline from further harm had been delivered in a decidedly draconic string of hisses and growls.
And Andy had understood.
More than that - she'd replied in kind. A few short words, certainly, but it did not detract from the wider principle at hand.
Her head snapped to catch Doug's eye, to communicate her discovery, only to find him already staring at her. He gestured frantically towards her neck. Andy blinked, raising a hand up to meet smooth skin.
Or what she had anticipated would be smooth skin. Instead, her fingertips brushed over something hard and notably…scaly. As if conscious recognition sped up whatever was happening to her, her skin en masse began to flare and prickle, as if she was being consumed by internal fire..
She was drawn out of her observations by yet another yell from King Ravitz, who had triumphantly closed the cage, firmly sealing all five dragons inside.
"You took what was rightfully mine. If I can't have her, you will not see the light of day again. I'll kill you all!"
No.
No.
No -
Andy let out a furious scream, entirely involuntary and equally entirely irrepressible - except it was not a scream. What issued out into the air, ear-splittingly loud and so violent the tops of the trees trembled was an almighty roar.
A roar fit for a dragon, apparently. For in the ensuing ten seconds - if the rate of the others' transformations was anything to go by, as it felt like forever - that was exactly what she became. She felt her body lengthening, shooting up and out, the fire spreading across her skin, the world growing brighter and her muscles far, far stronger.
Even without the remarkably acute hearing that it transpired came along with such a form, she could have heard a pin drop. Nigel or Doug, Miranda or Irv or Emily or the General - all bore eyes as wide as saucers.
Not for long, however. Feral protectiveness shot through her veins as surely as oxygen; her next move seemed not only obvious, but entirely justified.
It did not matter that she had never breathed fire before. She unhinged her jaw and let all she had stream free.
***
"Christ, Andy!" Doug spluttered, rapidly fanning himself to clear the smoke from his vision. "That's" - he coughed - "incredibly strong."
Andy blinked rather stupidly. She had not quite finished taking in the absolute carnage of her own creation which lay before her. Fortunately, Doug was rather more in possession of his wits, springing forward and running over to the cage, prancing gingerly over charred remains as he went.
The cage, where the notoriously fireproof dragon captives blinked back at her in equally flabbergasted silence.
Doug wrenched the door free, throwing it clean off its hinges and setting them free. Emily and Serena immediately stretched, while Nigel squeezed himself out and made no move to stray from Doug's side. Cassidy stumbled out towards Andy, but was quickly overtaken by Miranda.
Miranda, who bolted out in a blur of silver and proceeded to fling herself bodily at Andy, sending the latter tumbling back onto the forest floor in an ungainly heap. Miranda did not appear to mind this, and let out a choked muffled rumble into Andy's chest that appeared to be the draconic equivalent of crying.
Emily, Serena and Cassidy politely averted their gaze. Nigel shifted back onto two legs, and surveyed Doug with a hopeful gaze.
"Doug," he ventured, "given dear Andy's now allergic, I don't suppose there's any chance you'd be interested in taking up the mantle of breaking-into-farms-for-goats in chief? For now, at least. So long as you remain unaffected. Which, I admit, I hope someday will no longer be the case."
The younger man grinned. "Oh, alright. Go on, then."
***
"...Over time, the legend of Dragons expanded, and it became a given that the silver dragon was never seen without the chocolate one, and very often two scarlet ones in tow."
Andy leaned back against the wall of the cave, snuggling further into Miranda's embrace. The two looked fondly upon Caroline and Cassidy, now firmly lost to slumber.
"So much for being too old for bedtime stories," Miranda murmured.
"They're more exciting when the story's true." Andy punctuated her reply with a light kiss to the tip of Miranda's nose.
"That they are, my darling. That they are."
FIN