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The prince did not return before Liolyn did. Sirtas opened the great marble doors of his lab for her, and she entered small like a rodent in a house of cats. By now her knowledge of the lab made it easy to navigate. There was the antechamber into Sirtas' workshop. The workshop that smelled of oxidized air, lit by alchemical lanterns with arrays of powerful artifacts sealed in standing, translucent vaults. She had no clue what material they were made out of, but they were cold and left her palm tingling when she touched them. A small, crystalline dragon, half the size of Liolyn, rested on a quartz slab, and at a command the creature would rouse awake and begin to clean the shop. It tidied tables and shelves with alchemical reagents, used a white fire breath to remove stains on the floor.

A hall extended from the workshop that led to another, smaller one where several large attenuators made of various gems might help focus a spell and enchant things. Neighboring it was the bathing room, Rothishel's room past that, and opposite the smaller workshop was the hall into the planetarium.

That is not where she found Rothishel. Instead, she found him sleeping in his bed. The Finn curled up like a scaly boulder. Liolyn approached the bed, her talons clicking on the stone enough to make Rothishel's finned ears flick. He lifted his head right before Liolyn mounted the bed. "Ah, Lily. I'm..."

"Rothishel?" she knew something wrong with him, though Sirtas remained elusive on the details. "Out of respect for his privacy," the prince had said. She climbed onto the bed and crawled to his side, hugging him and wrapping a wing around his side. He nuzzled her face and purred ever so slightly.

"Thank you... I apologize for my sorry state."

"Nonsense," Liolyn said, stroking his cheek. "What happened while I was away?"

"I..." he studied her, eyes begging her to understand something he did not wish to utter. "I think we should sever our connection."

The words punched her in the gut, but she swallowed down her immediate reaction. She could tell it hurt him to even suggest it, so she tried her best to remain diplomatic. "Why is that?"

He sighed. "Sirtas did not tell you, then?"

"No," Liolyn said. "What happened between the two of you?"

Rothishel shook his head. "I'm not sure. He... he came onto me? Flirted with me and flustered me, and I was confused. Not because I didn't find him attractive in his own way, but--" his wings, already hugged tight to his back, clenched tighter and he turned his head, failing to hide his grimace. "Why me?" The words came stung with a dryness Liolyn never heard from him before.

Between his encounter with Sirtas and now, Rothishel had spent his time puzzling that question over. Liolyn at least it made sense. Forces outside their control drew them together, but no Finn had ever taken an interest in him. The young dragon had not even attempted to pursue love before Liolyn, for he saw no point, and then suddenly there was her then Sirtas making advances...

Liolyn remained silent, which Rothishel found unbearable. He did not want to see her face, so he continued speaking to a bookcase, "Why me? We were fighting each other not long ago. Not long ago he scarred my hide. I've still not forgiven him for that, but when he made advances I was just so taken with... I wanted to be wanted by him. I wanted him, but it still felt monstrous and cruel."

"Rothishel..."

Eyes watering, Rothishel faced her and said, "It's monstrous to ask anyone to love a Finn. Lily, I'm a poison in your life, and it makes me sick. So sick that you and Sirtas--"

"Stop," Liolyn snapped. She was trembling--felt the urge to retreat and collect her thoughts but knew better than to leave him now. "How long have you felt this way?"

Rothishel looked down at his foreclaws, which clenched in and out the sheets, opening furrows in them. He said, "Sometime now. Months, but it's worsened lately."

She sighed and sat back on her haunches. They no longer touched, which made Liolyn ache, but the distance seemed necessary to speak, to think. She could not avoid this topic any more than him. She said, "You know I am doing this for myself, too. I want the freedom to love you openly as much as I want you to have your freedom."

"I know, but..." a grumble in Rothishel's throat, "Haven't you thought about how much easier things would be without me? I'm certain you'd be happy if you could just live here with Sirtas..."

Liolyn laughed bitterly. "Of course I'd be happy!" He cringed at that statement, so she leaned forward and rested a hand on his forepaw, stopping his clenching. "But a life with you would also make me happy, and I've made my choice."

"Lily, I'm... I don't know if I can accept that."

She understood. "That's why you want to sever our soul bond."

Rothishel nodded. "If you still choose this path, I'll accept it. I don't know if I will agree with it, but I won't fight you. I just... _you_should not throw your life away because of some spell."

She offered him a smile. "Think we'll miss it?"

"I'm certain we will," Rothishel said. Between them both, an ache opened in their chests. A weight like a double-ended anchor binding the pair. Parts of them revolted, but neither budged, neither tried to talk the other out of it. They shared a quiet silence, Liolyn leaned back against Rothishel, both feeling like a keystone of an archway--weight of the world pressing in from all sides.

An untold amount of time passed before Liolyn whispered, "You think the sex will be as good?"

Rothishel smiled, still sad but happy she asked such a silly question to break their melancholy. "If anything, it'll prove just how good it's always been."

***

Liolyn relayed their joined wishes, and Sirtas prepared the ritual they needed with all the grimness of making funeral arrangements. In some ways, he did perform just that. Normally, as Sirtas told them, souls moved onto their next life with memories of past lives fading. They yielded, like mountains to wind, ice, and time, until the new life replaced the old soul. Vestigial traces of previous lives might remain: a taste for shellfish, a natural inclination to music, a fear of the dark. Occasionally, even memories, fragile as the memories of dreams.

Souls bonded became silent guides in the next life. Liolyn's natural attraction to all things draconic came because of her soul's previous life. The bond kept said soul rooted more firmly in the present. By severing the bond, not only would she lose that connection, Rothishel his, but Sirtas ensured he would lose all trace of the prince he loved.

That alone almost prompted Rothishel to call it off. It was one thing for Lily and he to lose something, but the prince?

Oh the prince...

Rothishel still did not know where they stood. He watched his previous master work in the lab, Lily at his side. Sirtas, with magic, had etched a complex set of draconic runes into the floor. Their web worked in a haphazard spread, columns of phrases extended wall to wall, others in zig-zag patterns through columns. On top of this, at a breath, he unfurled a small rug made of feathers. It floated to the center of the room while Sirtas paced, reading the runes under his breath. Everything in the workshop had been removed or shoved against the wall. Sirtas went to an errant cupboard and took out several jars. He set them on the floor, each one big as Lily's head. He popped them open with finger and thumb (a testament to the size of his forepaws), and a smell like pickled fish filled the room. Lily almost gagged.

"Eugh, what is that?" she asked.

"Preserved fox foot."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, they were donations from cadavers," Sirtas said as he picked one of the four jars up. He carried each one to a certain part of the room, careful to place precisely. One he nudged left and right several times before being satisfied.

"What do they do?" Rothishel asked, blinking back tears.

"Magical conductors. Quite useful, though, they are a onetime use."

"Hence why you didn't levitate them in place," Lily said.

"Precisely," Sirtas said as he dug through a chest. He wrenched free a large steel rod with a brass ball at its end. Sirtas grunted, hefting it on his shoulder. The haft must have been thick as Lily's thigh, the ball the size of a small boulder to her. "Now, both of you lie flat on your backs, wings splayed and heads resting on the rug." Both moved to the rug, and, as their wings unfurled, Sirtas gently reprimanded, "No no, lie on opposite ends of each other."

They did as told, Sirtas making some final adjustments with their bodies and hefting the rod. He said, "Once the spell is started there will be no turning back. Are you both ready?"

"Yes," Rothishel said.

"Thank you for doing this, Sirtas," Lily said, smiling at him.

He tried but failed to return it. "Eyes up towards the ceiling, dear."

"Right, sorry."

"Now, remember, you must persuade your past self to break the bond. Once you are in the spirit realm do not take no for an answer. They will yield so long as you are persistent."

"Will it hurt?" Rothishel asked.

"In the end, it doesn't matter either way," Sirtas said.

He rested the brass ball in the center of the rug, inhaled slowly, deliberately. He held the breath. Moments passed with nothing but the smell of the jars, the stiffness of the floor on their backs, a prickling in the sinuses. On his exhale, Sirtas' maw erupted in a gout of white flame. Fire consumed the ball, the rug, them, the floor, blinding light that made Rothishel wince. He wondered how it all felt for Lily--for him even the light show wasn't so bad. His eyes adjusted in time to catch explosions in his peripheral vision. The jars burst in bilious clouds of violet smoke, white flames dancing in their core, tongues of blue fire rising from all the runes in the floor, and in the midst of all this chaos Sirtas incanted some sort of spell. Fragments of it Rothishel understood, as all those fires rose around them, lifting to the ceiling.

"Lye... Quartz... Bind... Marrow... Carbon... Passerine... Cobalt..."

It came out nonsense to Rothishel, but Sirtas kept chanting even as he lifted the rod into the air. A chaotic vortex of fire swirled in around the brass orb, Sirtas' voice raising, bellowing the final word, "Reflect!" He brought the rod down with all his might, and when it smashed into the floor between Lily and Rothishel, it was like a trapdoor opened in his skull.

Rothishel plummeted into darkness.

***

"Ah, I do love a good display of magic. Did you know such a ritual without breath magic would take three other dragons to do? I must say I could not be more proud of him."

Liolyn's world spun, like she got turned head over heels in the air by a fierce gale. She fell to her knees, touching dark? A soft carpet of iridescent black--obsidian. It was grass. A lawn. The smell of crushed berries added to her disorientation. She looked up, and--

"There must be some mistake," Liolyn said. Standing a dozen paces away, a great banyan tree, bigger than any she had seen back at the Crown, towered over the flat landscape. It's canopy was an amber color, casting light in every direction, and from its trunk sprouted--like a ship's figurehead--the body of a dragon. A very large one with a rack of horns sweeping back in an arc reminiscent of a ram's. The horns born by the dragons of House Stratus.

His body of bark moved with the expressive ease of any dragon. He tipped his head in a mock bow and said, "No mistake, dear, I assure you."

"But... I thought... your lover was--"

"You gleaned the wrong details from your previous, brief flight to the spirit realm, dear," Prince Rothishel said. "We are I, you and I. Now come closer, I want to have a look at you."

***

"I see," Rothishel said, a little lost for words. He sat under a similar tree, next to his counterpart. "I..." he chuckled and said, "Sirtas will be sorely disappointed when he learns he put all that work in for nothing."

"Hush!" the Finn chided. Except for her bark skin, she looked exactly like Rothishel--same slicked back horns, same diminutive size. "I will not stand to have you disparage us both."

Rothishel, wings and neck and tail, cringed inward. "Alright, I will not. I am just... I am not sure what to think."

"You haven't thought," she said. "For instance, you didn't think it polite to ask for my name?"

"But Finn don't share their name with just any--"

"We are dragons, not Finn!"

Rothishel's mouth hung open. He shook his head and asked, "How are we the same soul?"

"Frankly, I'm asking myself that very question."

He sighed. "Let's start over. I'm Rothishel, and you are?"

"Leshwynn," she dipped her head. "A pleasure."

***

"You could never have been Leshwynn," Prince Rothishel told her.

Liolyn and Prince Rothishel moved together in some approximation of walking. His forepaws trod across the ground, but it was more as if the earth turned beneath their feet, spinning this strange world along. They traveled along the lip of a volcanic crater similar to the one of Kor's Stairway, only everything remained silhouetted in the iridescent obsidian film that coated this realm.

Liolyn asked, "Is it because she is a Finn?"

"Exactly why. With the exception of our soul, which was cast out to punish me, the souls within the royal families are bound to the palace in a cycle of reincarnation. With them there are two hundred more souls bound to the royal houses. As you know, fifty for each house."

"And that is why their numbers are so closely managed?"

"Any more than that two hundred and the surplus aren't born Finn. Any less and the magical prowess of the houses begins to wane."

Liolyn stopped in place. "The Finn are connected to the magic the princes wield."

"Of course they are!" Prince Rothishel placed a paw on the back of Liolyn's back and urged her along. "Why else keep them as slaves? You'd think with the magic at their beck and call there would be no need for such workers in the palace, but we use them anyways."

"To keep up appearances--to make it seem like they serve some kind of other purpose," Liolyn said. "But--" a flickering of anger coursed through her. "Does Sirtas know?"

"He does," Prince Rothishel said. "When a prince is sworn in, certain knowledges are ritually imparted and magically sealed. He knows, but to communicate the secret is impossible without someone first breaking the spell that binds his tongue."

"How would someone do that?" Liolyn asked.

"Killing him would be the simplest way," Prince Rothishel joked. "Worked for me, at least."

"I doubt regicide would improve our situation."

"Not in this one case, at least," Prince Rothishel said, a little too wistfully for Liolyn's taste. He added, "The Ritual of Swearing is a complex, day long spell. The three other princes impart and bind certain knowledges to the new prince, they tie his bodymind to his house's conduit and--"

"You do realize I know as much about magic as a Finn, right?"

"Sadly, yes. I was able to pass on your aptitude for things draconic, but I cannot transfer my knowledge, and I suppose we do not have time to get into the metaphysics of all that is going on," Prince Rothishel said. Their perspective turned, and they soon looked out over the crater. The palace materialized over it. "See the domed tops of each tower?"

Liolyn nodded. "Those are... I've never seen them before."

"That's because they never existed in the material realm."

"More magic," Liolyn said. She supposed if Sirtas could make a dimension for her Rothishel to frolic in, it was possible to hide away secrets in such places, too.

"Inside each dome is a conduit, with which a house's power comes from. Each conduit acts as a leash, binding the souls of royalty and Finn alike to the palace. They are born, not magically dead, but robbed of it. Their bodies are not capable of producing or exchanging energy because every ounce of their magical being is channeled into the conduit and through the family of the house. The prince being the point from which the magic flows to their family."

"And their proximity matters," Liolyn said, her feathers bristling. "That's why the princes never leave the palace for long."

Rothishel gave her a pleased growl. "Sharp as ever, Lady Alabaster."

Liolyn looked at her counterpart and said, "You undermined so much when you took Leshwynn as your mate."

"I wanted to undermine so much more."

***

"Why are you running?" Leshwynn asked him. Rothishel noticed the tree hanging over him warped inward a little. A massive hand closing on him. It emphasized the threat in Leshwynn's voice.

"What else can I do?" Rothishel asked.

"What about your sister? Your mother? I suppose you want to condemn them to a life of abuse and bondage?"

"Of course not," Rothishel snapped. His claws dug into the ground and he demanded, "Should I die like you did?"

"It would at least be braver."

"I'm not going to throw away Lily's life just to martyr us both," Rothishel said. He fanned out his wings, trying to make himself as big as possible.

Leshwynn actually threw her head back and laughed. The canopy overhead rustled as if tossed in the wind, sharing her mirth. Leshwynn said, "Now there is something familiar! You see Rothishel, we are alike. We fight for the ones we love."

Rothishel snorted. "Is that why you decided to bed our family's oppressor?"

"Yes!" Leshwynn exclaimed, much to Rothishel's surprise. She laughed at him again. "Don't give me that look. I was not some bawdy whore lifting my tail every time Prince Rothishel passed by."

"But... you did seduce him?"

"Not with my charming looks mind you, but my nerve," Leshwynn said. She sighed and between them an orb of golden light flickered to life. In it, the silhouette of dragons acted out Leshwynn's story: "I went to him one night in the middle of his dinner. I barged into his rooms in a rage because we'd been working extra-long hours to prepare for Founder's Day. Everyone in my family was exhausted but too cowed to say anything, and it infuriated me to see them suffer. I'd always been hotheaded on their behalf, and one night they weren't able to stop me from confronting our overlord. I yelled and cursed at him and Prince Rothishel just stared mouth agape. When I finished venting my furry I said, 'I don't care of you kill me, just give my people a break!' And you know what he had the gall to say to me?"

Rothishel stared at the two figures in the orb. The larger one sat at a table while the second had hopped on top of it, kicking off a platter of smoked meats and a goblet of wine. He mumbled, "What did he say?"

Leshwynn, and by extension the whole tree, seemed to preen at Rothishel's reaction. "He told me, 'If you tell me your name, I will do what you ask.' I of course told him Finn don't have names, to which he responded that any dragon as fiery as myself would have a name. So I gave it to him, and he, in turn, asked me to stay by his side as his personal servant."

"Becoming his personal slave is not exactly a romantic gesture."

Leshwynn said, "No, it never was. I was very young at the time--younger than you. He told me later he did it to protect me, because if I were to mouth off to anyone in the house they'd have cut out my tongue. He never asked me for much, only keeping up appearances when others were around. The rest of our days we were just dragon and dragoness, coming to know each other better and better."

"Who courted who then?"

"I did, of course," Leshwynn said, the orb disappearing with a flick of her forepaw. "He had harbored feelings longer but was afraid if he pursued me that I would not be able to refuse his advances."

Rothishel said, "I imagine it scared him a great deal."

"What scared him was hurting me," Leshwynn said.

"I understand that feeling, at least."

"All four of us do--you and I, he and Lily."

Rothishel nodded, thoughts racing, with what Leshwynn seemed to know.

"Rothishel, you cannot let fear make your decisions. You and Lily deserve a happy life together."

Rothishel cocked his head. "But you told me I shouldn't run."

"You shouldn't," Leshwynn said flatly. "Kor is your home, it is the home of your mates, your family. You must fight for all of them."

"Mates?"

"Don't pretend like you haven't thought of having a romp with that antlered prince," Leshwynn teased. "I never understood what Prince Rothishel saw in his young apprentice, but perhaps he has bettered with age."

"I... I don't--" Rothishel huffed and stamped his foot. "We're not getting anywhere with this. What do you mean fight for Kor?"

***

"So you see, Lily, Leshwynn and I will not break our bond until the Finn are restored to the dragons they once were," Prince Rothishel said.

Liolyn sighed and faced the crater again. "I understand what you mean. I... knowing what I know now... I don't want to break the soul bond, either." Should she and Rothishel fail, should they be killed, the soul bond would ensure her reincarnation would find some way back to the palace, back to whatever Finn Rothishel reincarnated into, and they would try again. In one life and the next, till they succeeded in freeing the Finn.

"But what do we do?"

Once asked, Liolyn felt herself pulled, as if her being flung backwards to where it began its journey. She stood before the tree again, but this time Prince Rothishel stood with Leshwynn, and beside her--

"Lily," Rothishel pulled her into his embrace. She hugged him tight, her nails digging into his scales.

Leshwynn said, "You both have spent enough time here. You must go."

"But how do we change things?" Liolyn insisted. "Surely the two of you had a plan?"

Prince Rothishel shook his head. "This was as far as our plan got, but you two have the advantage of our hindsight and an ally in Prince Sirtas."

"That does not inspire much confidence," Rothishel told them.

Leshwynn snorted. "Don't start, nephew. You have this. Remember, fight for the things you love, and that will be enough."

Quietly, Rothishel kept to himself that it had not been enough for Leshwynn.

They exchanged no more words with their past lives, but shared a moment of intimate connection and understanding. Their thoughts blended to one--exchanging all the things they felt and perhaps withheld. Liolyn came to understand Rothishel's fears, his doubts. Those quiet insecurities that became raging storms during his times of isolation. And he saw Liolyn's devotion, determination--the strong sense that something must be done. Not just for him, but all Finn. It put Rothishel at ease, in a manner, for he knew he did need to doubt her, doubt his own self-worth.

Liolyn cupped his cheek and whispered, "We will do what we can with this life." He nuzzled her, briefly, her touch and scent the last thing he knew before coming awake.

If their descent into their souls was a fall, the return to their bodies felt like the landing. Rothishel jolted awake--stomach tossing, he ached and rolled onto his side with a groan. Nearby he heard Lily vomiting onto the floor. The rug they laid on had burnt to nothing. Sirtas, standing nearby, crouched beside Lily, forepaws delicately running up and down her back as she quivered and wretched. She coughed and asked, "Why does coming back always feel so awful?"

"I'm afraid these trips to your soul are far from gentle, dear," Sirtas quietly whispered. "It is a journey I would not recommend making more than once in a lifetime."

"And I, ugh, have done two so far," she shivered. Rothishel got his paws under him, managing to stand and turn in time to see Sirtas exhale pearlescent flames that cleansed the floor of Lily's bile. She had not eaten that morning with the expectation this might happen.

Sirtas' eyes flicked up to Rothishel and the prince reluctantly backed away. "I will get you a glass of water, Lily. I'm sure you would both like a chance to talk alone now that--"

"Stay," Rothishel said. He offered Lily his head, and she grabbed his horn so he might hoist her up onto her feet.

"Thank you," Lily muttered, leaning against him for support. She said to Sirtas, "Things were not what we thought they were, so our plans are changing."

A flicker of fear passed Sirtas' features. "They are?"

Why fear? Rothishel said, "Things are different now. How about we go back to my room and discuss it there?"

***

Liolyn walked out the lab with Sirtas beside her. "Will you be heading back to the consulate?" he asked quietly. He, this great big being beside her, sounded like a timid child. She might have stayed with Rothishel longer, but evening neared and spending too much time in a prince's lab only drew the noose tighter around all their necks. Besides, Rothishel needed time alone to process his own revelations from their past lives.

Liolyn stepped close and leaned against his foreleg and shoulder. Buttercup scales sharply contrasted her black and blue feathers, the maroon dress she wore today. She whispered, "I think we have more to discuss, don't we?"

"I'm not sure it's safe to--"

"I don't mean those things," Liolyn said. She reached up and touched his face, running her fingers along his jawline. "After we told you what happened you never once brought up that it was me--"

Sirtas laughed, but it came out brittle, touched with hissing. He shook his head and stepped away. "I'm, ah, still trying to process it."

He moved not for the stairs but outside to a balcony ledge. Liolyn joined him. Out in the open they saw the horizon raptured in twilight. Light still danced on the tops of far western mountain peaks, and the sky carried tendrils of rose unzipping into the deeper blues and violets of night. The view from the towers, even at times like these, managed to make her breath catch.

Sirtas had walked to the ledge, wings unfurled to leap off into flight.

"Can we take a moment?" Liolyn called out.

Sirtas looked over his shoulder but did not speak. In this light his scales almost became silver, and only added to the beauty of the view.

"Stay a moment up here with me," Liolyn whispered.

Sirtas closed his wings and faced her, dropping onto his haunches, tail hanging lazily off the ledge. "It scares me," he admitted.

It baffled her so much she laughed. "Scares you? I thought you'd be overjoyed?"

Sirtas snorted. "Hmmph, perhaps I'm more complicated than that."

Liolyn closed the distance between them, hugging herself against the cold. "You? Complicated?"

"You're cold--let me--"

"No magic," Liolyn warned with a raised hand. Still hugging herself, she leaned against his front and he wrapped an arm around her. "You can keep me warm," she said.

"Mmmm, I never asked how you felt."

"About once being a Prince?"

"About being my Prince," Sirtas corrected, nuzzling into her nape. His nostrils flared against her neck. "Lily," he whispered. His voice had a pained note, like Rothishel's did when they used to wait weeks on end for a chance to touch. "At first, I thought my father and the others had cast Prince Rothishel's soul into the same pool as the Finn. Now I know the truth, and it's like everything has changed and nothing has changed."

She nuzzled into his chest, enjoying his scent much as he enjoyed hers.

"He wore the same perfume, you know," Sirtas whispered.

"He did?" She backed up so she could look him in the eyes. "You never mentioned it before."

"I chalked it up to coincidence--I suppose he wore it for her, Leshwynn, didn't he?"

Liolyn nodded. "It seems that was the case."

Sirtas sighed. "I never minded being second, you know. I knew he had his heart elsewhere I just--"

"Sirtas," she touched his cheek and guided him down so their faces might touch, beak to snout. "There is no second or first. I love you, much as I do Rothishel, even if I don't share that connection." They nuzzled each other. That great big dragon trembling, on the verge of tears. "Rothishel thinks I'm better off without him, you think you will never be as important. Both of you are great, big fools."

Sirtas chuckled and licked her cheek. Voice a little shaky, he asked, "What does that make you?"

"The lover of fools, I suppose," Liolyn said. "Why don't we return to your rooms? We can take dinner there and perhaps you can convince me to stay in your bed tonight."

Sirtas gave her a fanged smirk. "Will it take much convincing?"

She shoved his head away. "It will if you keep pressing your luck!"

***

Lily,

You are not him, not the long years

at his side, not the gentle light

guiding my heart along, not the teeth

blossoming over my throat

during my first time, not the heat

and tender touch of his tongue,

not the taste of a dragon undone,

not the spill of seed on my sunflower scales.

You are not the loss, either, Lily.

Not the crater I carry in my chest.

You are you. Your love what's new.

You do not fill what I have lost,

you show how much more I have,

your scent, your feathers, your sighs

and quivers, your taste ambrosia,

your body a city to get lost exploring.

You are you. To have you, to taste you,

you are more than love can bear,

you rush over me and make me more loving still.

For you, anything, I will, I will, I will...

Sirtas finished the recitation and sighed. He had looked out the window of the observatory, now turning to face Rothishel. "What do you think?"

Rothishel said, "I think she will like it a lot. Do you plan to recite it to her like you did just now?" He relaxed on his haunches while Sirtas stood a little more alert, wings and tail perked up. It amused Rothishel that Sirtas could be so insecure about his writing.

"I want to leave it as a letter for her. A little surprise and, well, homage to the first time I told her I loved her."

"You did it in writing?"

Sirtas dipped his head a little. "I was feeling very strongly, but she had been sleeping in my bed and I didn't want to wake her."

Rothishel snickered, which for him was a set of hisses. He accused, "You were afraid how'd she react."

"Of course I was!" Sirtas reared up and touched his chest with his forepaws. "Look at me! I am so big compared to her and didn't want her to be scared of being honest in the moment."

Rothishel barked laughter now, head tossing back, chortling.

Sirtas slammed back onto the ground. "I don't see what's so funny!"

Rothishel knew better by now. Sirtas merely acted melodramatic to get more of a reaction from him, but it worked. He laughed harder, a forepaw clutching at his gut. It just seemed so silly, for a prince like him to resort to the courting gestures of adolescents.

"I, one of the four princes, demand your respect! Grovel I say! Grovel and tell me my poetry is a revelation!"

The groveling got a little under Rothishel's scales. His laughter came to a sudden stop, and he took a moment to wipe the tears from his muzzle with his tail.

"Too much?" Sirtas asked.

"Your sister has told me to grovel before."

"Ah, I'm sorry, then." Sirtas hung his head low, wings bowed a little in apology.

Rothishel said, "It's fine. And the poem is good, you could maybe stand to put some more imagery in the second half, but I think she will be touched by it."

Sirtas' bow deepened, wings sweeping out, "Thank you for conspiring with me on this."

"Anything to get her back for this," Rothishel tipped his head to the observatory door. It was silhouetted in white light, the spell to the pocket dimension already active.

"I'll be sure she knows you helped," Sirtas said before adding, "You sure you don't mind me coming to you about this sort of thing?"

Rothishel rolled his wings in a shrug. "When I first got here I might have resented you, but..." Rothishel paused, thinking how to say it.

"We aren't at each other's throats or competing anymore?" Sirtas suggested.

Rothishel shook his head. "More than that. I trust you both. I know you both care about me, that you're no more plotting to replace me than she is."

Sirtas crossed the room to him, giving his cheek an affectionate nudge with his snout. In a low growl, Sirtas said, "That penultimate line was not just for show, you know."

"Penultimate..." Rothishel practically yipped and scrambled back when he realized what the bigger dragon meant. Sirtas did not pursue, but his wings dropped slightly in a show of disappointment. "Sorry, I just..." It had been three days since his meeting with his past life, and this was the first real moment he had alone with the prince since then. He assumed that by now they would have sorted everything out but... shaking his head, Rothishel just said what he had assumed, "I thought you wouldn't be interested in me anymore now that we know I share nothing but a name with your mentor."

"Is it hard to believe I've come to appreciate you for you?" Sirtas asked. "Certainly I'm not ready to write you any love poems, but I've grown fond of you, and if you ever wanted to explore what it is like to be with a dragon..." Sirtas' shifted, moving so he could present Rothishel with his flank. "I wouldn't mind exploring with you."

Sirtas' athletic figure made it hard not to stare. Those strong legs, buttercup scales making him appear soft to the touch, the way he stood now so his spine curled down and up, butt lifted in the air. Just a little view of it, tail raised to make sure Rothishel could almost see...

Ever since Sirtas' initial advances, he had been stealing glances of the prince, trying to understand his first stirrings of draconic attraction. He was no adolescent, but it felt like Lily had opened a seal, let him see the beauty and pleasure other bodies had in them.

His maw must have been hanging open, for Sirtas snickered and went to the observatory door. He pushed it open and suggested, "How about we practice flying, then we can talk about this again, hmm?"

Flying lessons still bore no fruit. Rothishel had been sure to still exercise. In fact it became a welcome way to clear his thoughts, but muscle development took time. Without magic, a Finn had no easy fixes.

Sirtas took this all in stride, never once growing impatient with him. They did squats to tone his legs, made circuits around the edges of the field, Sirtas' bigger body making it so Rothishel needed to almost run to keep up with the prince's trot, and they performed all manner of wing exercises. Rothishel got used to swimming with his wings, for submerged in water was one of the few ways he might propel himself with just those limbs.

It was while doing a set of wing strokes that Sirtas called to him, "Rothishel! Come here will you?"

Rothishel righted himself in the water, shaking water from his muzzle before facing the prince. "What is it?"

"I want to try something," Sirtas said from the pond's edge. "That's enough laps for now."

"Alright." He paddled, then waded out of the water, kicking mud from his paws. With a gout of fire, Sirtas dried him off. Normally such a thing might harm another dragon, but the magical flames did nothing to his scales, just the water on them. "Thank you," Rothishel said, "Now what did you want to try?"

Sirtas began walking away from the pond, and Rothishel followed while he explained, "Normally, younglings have their first flight much like birds. They drop into the air, and their wings carry them. Mind you, no youngling is doing graceful twirls or flips on their first flight, typically they aren't doing more than gliding to the ground. It is later they develop the muscles in their legs and wings to take flight without a ledge."

"Makes sense," Rothishel said. "I admit, the fact I've not gotten off the ground makes me worried what I'll do when in the air."

"Yes, and unlike what my father did for me, I can't toss you off the tower," Sirtas said before he came to a stop. "This should do." Sirtas rolled onto his back, a position Rothishel never expected to see him in.

He turned his head away. "Uh--what does this have to do with flying?"

"What does--oh!" Sirtas laughed, which got Rothishel to relax. This was not some sudden invitation to... what? Mount a prince? "Come now, indulge me will you?" Sirtas said when Rothishel still faced away. "It's fine for you to ogle, but I promise that was not what I had in mind."

Rothishel faced him. The sweet grass made a soft bed for those buttercup scales. Lying on his back, Sirtas felt vulnerable in a way Rothishel had trouble comprehending. Dragons typically only got on their backs for one reason, and he'd never seen any of his kind like this. He could not help but notice the prince's genital slit, and further down the soft opening of his rim, the scales around it fading from yellow to white.

Perhaps with some amount of mercy, Sirtas ignored Rothishel's ogling and said, "Now, I cannot magically hoist you in the air, but I thought I can use magic to aid myself in throwing you into the air. I'm not entirely sure it will work--"

"If it doesn't?" Rothishel asked, suddenly back in the present.

"I'll weave a spell on whatever you land on to catch you, of course," Sirtas said nonchalantly. "Now, this will be somewhat awkward, but I want you to climb onto and stand on my paws. Then I'll toss you in the air, at which point just let instinct take over."

"Instinct?"

"What else? We are creatures of flight, Rothishel. Your body will know what to do when you're up there."

"Al-alright," Rothishel said.

"I promise to keep you safe," Sirtas reassured, and Rothishel chose to let the prince think his nerves had anything to do with flight. "Just climb on top of me. You're so much smaller you don't need to worry about hurting me."

A true assessment of their size difference. Sirtas' paws were twice the size of Rothishel's, so it would be easy to stand on them. Ignoring the tightness in his slit, the Finn gingerly clambered up those buttercup scales. Rothishel's wings and tail lifted, swinging to-and-fro for balance, as he stepped over Sirtas who had the palms of his forepaws waiting at his chest. Rothishel managed to join his paws there, aware of the prince's warmth as the digits closed around his. Because Rothishel was smaller, Sirtas needed to curl his body up so Rothishel might stand on his rear paws, but, after a lot more wobbling, Rothishel managed to stand on Sirtas' paws.

"Ready?" Sirtas asked.

Rothishel still felt unbalanced and uncertain and too bashful to look down at Sirtas, so he said to the pond in the distance, "No? I don't think--"

"Just let instinct take over," Sirtas said before bunching up.

"No no no," but Sirtas already took a deep breath, "Please don't--"

Rothishel did not know how Sirtas managed to turn himself into a trebuchet, but he'd not prepared to be launched with such force. Wings lurched out of place, limbs in disarray, the only thing he managed by the time he reached the apex of his flight was to not vomit. Only then did he recognize his height, yowling and flailing. Any talks about flight and what to do when in the air gone from his mind. He plummeted, wings catching the air with all the effectiveness of fish nets.

"Wings out! Paws tucked!" Sirtas barked from the ground, now back on all fours.

Rothishel realized he'd not extended his wings entirely, all his reflexes telling his body to curl up in on itself. He forced himself to extend the limbs, feeling a tug in the muscles on his back as he began to glide. The wind slipped around his wings' membranes, less dense than water, and he arced. He still fell, but now he controlled where, banking his wings in an experimental turn. The whole of him pitched leftward, and another noise jumped from his maw.

Laughter.

He spun and spiraled, unsure how to break his turn as he quickly hit the ground, hard. As Sirtas promised, the grass bubbled up dense beneath him, catching him a bed far too thick to be grown naturally. He still landed in a heap of limbs, shoulder aching from falling on top of it. Dazed, he'd not stopped laughing. His heart remained in the air, soaring.

"Well done!" Sirtas called as he trotted over. "You managed not to kill yourself." Rothishel got his paws under him and managed to stand by the time Sirtas reached him. The bigger dragon crouched before him, grabbing Rothishel's head in his forepaws. "You don't look hurt. How are you feeling?"

Sirtas, head so close to Rothishel's, it was easy to wriggle from the prince's grip and bump his snout, which turned into a more insistent peck of Sirtas' lips. "Bold," Rothishel growled.

Sirtas gave a pleased rumble and kissed Rothishel back. They turned their heads and locked muzzles. Rothishel's claws extended and dug into the grass as he tasted his prince. He'd shared many kisses with Lily, but this was different, must have been what Lily went through with Sirtas: his head was twice the size as Rothishel's, so that royal maw overwhelmed his, his whole palate abducted by Sirtas. Pebbly tastebuds rubbed against his, Sirtas' saliva filling Rothishel's mouth enough he needed to swallow every few breaths. The prince tasted good, laced with tannins from a recent glass of wine, his breath, touched with magic he breathed into life, was sweet and pungent like garden soil basking after a summer shower. What Rothishel initiated became a complete submission to Sirtas. He moaned gently into the kiss as Sirtas moved closer, forepaws stroking the base of his throat. The prince's claws brushed some sensitive spot that made Rothishel suck in a gasping breath.

He'd have let Sirtas continue, but Sirtas retreated shortly after that touch. Panting, dazed again, Rothishel did not even look up until Sirtas cleared his throat. "Yes, I see we need to talk about some things."

Rothishel blinked, coming back into his body, he straightened up and resisted the urge to go in for another kiss. "What is there to talk about?"

"I..." Sirtas ears folded backwards, and he turned his head away, "The obvious? You are a Finn. I'm a Prince."

Rothishel actually snorted. "That didn't stop my aunt from--"

"No no," Sirtas waved his forepaws in a placating gesture, wings fanned out to echo that. "You misunderstand. Obviously I have no problem being with you, but, where do I even start this conversation?"

Now Rothishel simply cocked his head.

"I am much bigger than you!" Sirtas said, exasperated. "And unlike Lily, I cannot use magic to make your body more compatible with my own."

"Oh."

"Exactly," Sirtas said with a little huff. "I did not want to interrupt what we were doing. Frankly, I'd have mounted you if I was as excited as your flight seems to have left you."

Rothishel hid his face behind a wing before grumbling, "I really did just kiss you out of the blue, didn't it?"

A tail, Sirtas', nudged the wing away before the prince gently said, "The kiss I liked. Dragons are creatures of magic, magic is tied to life, so we are easily swept up in moments like that." Sirtas leaned back and sat on his haunches. "Besides, I made advances on you, so it's not like you acted on a whim. The main thing is, we need to be upfront with what we want from each other and how we will go about it, because we won't be able to use magic to breeze past our differences, and the last thing I want is to hurt you."

"Uh," Rothishel pointed at his snout with his tail, "So what do you want from me?"

"I want everything, but I think we should start with you."

"What I want?" Rothishel asked only for Sirtas to nod. Rothishel stared at the bigger dragon. Rothishel could see his attraction, see places he felt so obviously drawn toward, but... "I've never been with a dragon before."

"Ah," Sirtas eyes widened and asked, "You've only been with Lily?"

"Yes," Rothishel answered to the grass.

"There's no reason to feel shame," Sirtas said before craning his neck to nuzzle Rothishel's cheek. Just a quick, simple affection before he pulled away again and said, "I am happy to help you explore and teach you everything I can about loving dragons. How about we return to your chamber and we can learn together? I had some silly dinner to attend, but I'd much rather spend the night with you than putting on airs."

Still very flustered, Rothishel more heard himself utter, "I would like that."

***

"Are you even listening, Lily?"

Liolyn looked up from the soup bowl in front of her. She sat at a long dining table for bipeds, the cutlery gilded in gold, the china with touches of red and gold to match the family colors of House Stratus. She was sitting at a dinner with the other ambassadors of the consulate at a table for bipeds while several similarly shaped and decorated tables sized for dragons were arranged in a great semi-circle. They ate in the first floor of House Stratus, which, much like House Cirrus, had a bas relief depicting the House's history wrapped around its walls. Several floating lanterns brightly lit the floor in golden light, and Finn in pairs stood next to each table to refill glasses and serve food as it was brought out.

The chatter of the hall had created a comforting buzz that let Lily to sink into her thoughts. Mavin squeezed her thigh and asked, "You alright?"

Lily nodded.

"Is it Sirtas?" Mavin prodded. The table set out for House Cirrus had a noticeable amount of space with Sirtas being absent.

Liolyn knew Sirtas would be in his lab if not here. So she did not worry about him, but told Mavin, "Just when I got used to sitting with the dragons I'm back here."

Mavin's ear flicked. "We're not all bad, you know."

Mavin managed to get a giggle from Liolyn with that. "I know, I know. I'm not bothered by him missing."

"I figured he'd have you in his sights more than ever," Mavin said. "Especially after that nasty business with the Finn."

Liolyn had stopped sharing details with Mavin. It was simply too dangerous. Every ambassador at this point had been asked about her relationship to Sirtas. Mavin called it "subtle for dragons," but an air of suspicion still dogged Liolyn. The other dragons of the palace did not believe her motives of simple love after she spent so much time in Sirtas' lab.

"Fortunately, when I'm not alone at the palace I don't have to worry about any Finn," Liolyn coldly said, feeling a little sick at the lie she told Mavin. Like everyone else, she believed Rothishel executed, believing that compelled by the soul bond, Rothishel ravaged her in a moment of uncontrolled urges. That was the worst part about that little lie, acting like a victim when the Finn were the ones in need.

"That is true, and you've got me to protect you. Just look at these fangs!" Mavin's lips curled up in a snarl to show off her teeth. This time Liolyn only offered a smile at the older woman's antics. "That's my girl. You know, if you weren't charmed by dragons you could certainly have some of us at the consulate wrapped around your finger with that smile."

"Are ambassadors drawn to avians, or is it just the horny old women?"

"Old!" Mavin scoffed. She slapped the table, shaking what had to be her third glass of wine, "I'll have you know I have no trouble keeping up with girls like you."

"Hehe, truly?"

"Yes! Just don't go flying anywhere because that's cheating."

Smile now earnest, Liolyn promised, "I'll try my best to stay grounded. Now what were you saying?"

"I was sharing the gossip with you, dear. Aren't you at least curious who Zelzan knocked up?"

Zelzan, Gelvain's son and heir to House Stratus. Gelvain had been her past life's brother, and had taken part in Prince Rothishel's execution. All these thoughts swirling in the background just made the dinner, her duties as ambassador--all of it felt so small.

"I mean, was it a biped?" Liolyn asked. "That's the only way I can imagine it making it gossip worthy to--"

"It was a gryphon!"

That broke through her apathy. "You're joking?"

Mavin bunched up in her chair, turning it a little to better face Liolyn and lean in. "Oh, yes, Lunara told me."

Liolyn's brow furrowed. "I thought she wasn't close to the palace?"

"She's not, but I was taking dinner with her and she told me about this gryphon who came into her shop wanting his parts changed. He didn't speak the best draconic but--"

"Parts changed?" Liolyn asked.

"Oh, you know, magic. They whisk away your egg breeders for egg layers," Mavin said with a dismissive wave.

"Alright, and Lunara somehow thinks this gryphon got knocked up by a prince?" Liolyn asked. If she let Mavin just tell the story the vixen would start describing the appetizers she had with Lunara that night.

"She know! She was summoned here and asked about the gryphon. He had some weird tribal name... it was something avian... what's your word for clutch or something?" Liolyn gave it, but Mavin shook her head, "No no, but anyways, Lunara got taken here and asked about the gryphon. They wanted to make sure the changes she made to the gryphon took, and were vetting her about her qualifications. There are rumors of Zelzan taking a biped home so who else could it be?"

Mavin spoke with an excitement that Liolyn simply could not match. She asked, "So are you hoping for some scandal?"

"I mean, if that's the case it's good for you and Sirtas, isn't it? Gelvain won't have a leg to stand on when his heir is siring the next generation of the house through bipeds."

Liolyn ears perked up at the thought. "That would be a relief, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly! You can thank me later."

Liolyn grinned. "Oh, are you the one hooking us gryphons up with royalty, then?"

Before Mavin might respond a shadow was cast over the table, and conversation around it died down. A Finn, who bowed his head and said, "Lady Alabaster, Prince Stratus has requested you join him at his table."

Mavin and Liolyn exchanged a look.

Liolyn stood, feeling a little more self-conscious in her dress. The violet gown shimmered with sequins and split at the thigh, exposing plenty of leg. She wore it expecting to see Sirtas tonight, but now walked from the upper right tip of the semi-circle of tables to the table in the center. The Finn did not lead her around, but straight through the center of the chamber, so everyone had the opportunity to notice her being brought to the Stratus' table. Gelvain and his wife sat on large crimson cushions lined with more gold. Gelvain's scales were a bronze polished to shining, ram horns chocolate brown, eyes an ambivalent red.

The Finn slipped away soon as Liolyn was within twenty paces to the table. Gelvain sat at one end of the table, with family members scattered across it, and a final open space waited at the other end for Zelzan and his partner Typpont. Liolyn also noticed a chair, cushioned and finely carved as Liolyn's, but raised several feet off the ground so it could stand at height with the dragon's table. Liolyn disliked furniture like this. Dragons didn't need such high tables, but did it to make sure bipeds felt small when dining with them.

Noting the seat for the biped only gave more evidence to Mavin's claim. A similar chair waited for Liolyn next to Gelvain and the prince's daughter. When she sat with Sirtas at these dinners, he would hold up his wings as a screen for privacy for her. The two often ignored the going-ons and attended to each other.

She doubted Gelvain would offer similar attentions. As she approached him, he said, "I was surprised and frankly offended when I learned Prince Sirtas would not be joining us." Gelvain motioned to the chair, "Then I thought, why the Lady Alabaster must be even more distraught, and thought we could both use each other for company tonight."

Gelvain's daughter, Zelzyll, offered Liolyn a polite nod before returning to some conversation with the dragon on her left. Zelzyll and Zelzan were a rare pair of fraternal twins, with Zelzyll being the better company in Liolyn's experience. Her seat faced away from the semi-circle, leaving her back exposed in ways that left the feathers on her nape standing on end.

She settled into the chair and said to Gelvain, "My Prince is most generous." She didn't know what to say to Gelvain. She barely looked up at the large dragon as she spoke, noting wine and another bowl of soup had been set out for her. Next to the prince's own arrangements, hers might as well been a dolls.

"Please, with how much gossip Sirtas has shared about our House, you do not need to default to formalities."

"Habit, my lord," Liolyn said with a clearing of her throat. She wanted to ask why they brought her over and be done with it, but knew better than to be that direct. The Crown relied on House Stratus for favorable weather during the winter, and good relations made those trades to Kor fair as one could hope.

That turn of thought suddenly stung. All the world begged Kor for handouts, the Princes with magical prowess so great they could shape seasons like gods, and all that overwhelming power came at the cost of the Finn. Liolyn never considered how saving two hundred souls wouldn't just change Kor, it would change the world.

"You seem lost, Liolyn," Gelvain said. "What's on your mind?"

Lies. The first one that sprung to mind came out her beak: "Rumor has it Zelzan's consort is a biped."

"Ah, yes, you've no doubt noted the chair on the other end of the table?"

"I have," Liolyn said, not being to see it past all the dragons between her now.

"Yes, I won't try to play coy. We were, admittedly, taken aback, but we could not deny our son once we learned the truth."

"Truth?" Liolyn asked, but as she asked it Gelvain's head drifted up to look down the other side of the chamber. At the stairway stood Zelzan, same bronze scales as his sire. He walked with a biped at his side, and the fiery red dragon Typpont behind him.

Gelvain said, "A moment, Lady Alabaster." He got up from the table and moved onto the floor. His voice boomed through the chamber even as the din of conversation already died down, "Honored guests, fellow Princes, I introduce you to my son Zelzan Stratus and his soul bonded mates Typpont Tegor and Litter-of-Smashed-Eggs, of the Crooked Talon tribe, who carries the future of House Stratus in his belly."

"Kenna's cunt," Liolyn quietly cursed as Gelvain continued speaking, but the words became meaningless pontification. That other gryphon, from the vulture tribes that refused to join the Crown, he walked with nothing more than the beaded skirt his tribe wore. Back straight, standing taller than most bipeds but still small next to his mate. Not a consort. For all intents and purposes, Litter would be one of the few bipeds in history recognized as a member of a royal house.

Idly, some politically bent part of her brain considered it bad news for the kingdom she served, but mostly her stomach turned at what it took to bend the codes of the palace.

Of all the nights for Sirtas to shirk his duties, why did it have to be tonight?

***

"Where do you want to begin?" Sirtas asked as they reached Rothishel's room. They stood before the bed, its empty mattress daunting to Rothishel. Sirtas lifted his head and exhaled. Smoke filled and filtered through the room, vaporizing soon as it spread across the bookcases, bed, and floor.

"What was that?" Rothishel asked.

Sirtas nodded to the bed. "This room wasn't exactly made for a romp between two dragons. I wanted to make sure nothing gets knocked over should we get carried away." Sirtas leaned in close and caressed Rothishel's jaw. "You have not answered my question, though."

Rothishel shrank back and admitted, "I think... I think you should take the lead? I know you're concerned about hurting me, but I will let you know if something is too much."

"Fair enough." Nonchalantly, the Prince of House Cirrus climbed onto the bed, rested on his front, lifted his rear and hiked his tail.

Rothishel gawked.

"What are you waiting for? Explore to your heart's content."

Rothishel shook his head. "You want me to mount you?"

Sirtas snorted. "Well not yet!" His tail tip batted Rothishel's snout. "Did Lily not teach you a thing about foreplay?"

"I know foreplay!" Rothishel snarled. "Just not with a dragon..."

Sirtas waved his rear end back and forth. "Then by all means, explore. If you are doing something wrong I'll tell you."

Rothishel hesitated for a few more breaths, staring at that buttercup backside. Sirtas had strong, muscular glutes, the scales looking so enticing to touch. His pucker was a depression of wrinkled flesh, where his yellow coloring paled to off-white. And lower still, his slit waited. The pouting, lips of his sex remained a little inflamed. The scales there also paled enough that they blushed when aroused. Rothishel's own loins stirred so furiously he felt his length already threatening to leave his slit. He wanted Sirtas so badly it felt like a dream to just be offered this chance. A beautiful dragon offering himself to a Finn, a prince no less. Rothishel wondered if Leshwynn experienced something similar with her first time.

"I can't hold my tail up forever, you know."

"Uh, right, sorry," Rothishel muttered, moving closer. "Y-you're just so beautiful and--"

Sirtas actually laughed. Rothishel fumbled some more, not sure what to do or think. "Hehe, forgive me. You just remind me of my first time. I was just like you with Prince Rothishel."

"Is that, um, a good thing?"

"If it is anything to go by, we have a lot to look forward to together." Sirtas growled, "Now get that pretty little muzzle of yours under my tail."

The order made a pleased little shiver go through the Finn. Something about submitting did feel comforting and appealing, but unlike in the past, Rothishel knew he could say no if he needed to. He stood on his hind legs, tail braced on the floor for extra balance as he finally got his claws on the prince's rear. Because of their size difference, Rothishel's forepaws were so small against his butt that it made it feel even lewder. Those soft scales dimpled so sweetly when he squeezed. "That's it," Sirtas whispered, leaning back into the touch. "Now drink in my scent."

With that proximity, Rothishel's nostrils twitched at the hints of it. A male dragon's scent glands... a pungent earthy smell with notes of spice. Pheromonal, alluring in a way that made Rothishel's muzzle draw closer even before Sirtas ordered him some more. His snout came to rest on Sirtas' taint. He inhaled, deeply, and groaned. Rothishel's cock dropped from its slit, blooming with blood and life, that turgid length growing fast as it could. He whimpered while Sirtas urged, "That's it..." He ground taint against Rothishel's face, "Let your instincts take over."

Rothishel purred. He nuzzled up that taint to Sirtas' rim. He spread the prince's cheeks, their size difference making that tight little entrance the perfect match for Rothishel's lips. He kissed the wrinkled bud, Sirtas' scent even stronger here, flushing Rothishel with so much heat. His cock throbbed and ached between his legs, everything about the prince's scent telling Rothishel this body would be warm and tight and perfect for mounting.

Did all male dragon's carry these scents? No wonder some dragons exclusively pursued males.

He tongued that entrance, a low rumble in his chest. His claws dug a little deeper into Sirtas' scales. He growled and nuzzled harder, as if he might burrow deeper into the bigger dragon's rear. He tongued the rim till it shined with his spit, kissing and sucking that hole to get it slick for him.

Sirtas began to purr for Rothishel's efforts, the prince's slit becoming engorged as well. Rothishel whined like a needy babe, cock dripping precum onto the floor. Those pungent pheromones had completely fogged the younger male's head over. Overwhelmed by his inexperience, Rothishel was even less prepared when Sirtas' entrance finally yielded. His tongue speared inside, and those soft, supple walls clenched around him.

Whether Sirtas used some manner of magic to clean himself or just was naturally clean, his hole was immaculate but for his arousal. The scent glands of a dragon, once properly stimulated, created lubricant here drenched in more of that scent. It covered Rothishel's palate and made him see white. He moaned, freezing up as the tip of Sirtas' tail curled around his cock. He humped into it, thoughtless as a feral animal.

"Keep going," Sirtas said while wagging his hips. Rothishel protested the movement with a snarl, trying to hold that magnificent backside still while also dealing with Sirtas' tail coiling up his cock. The Finn's tongue worshipped his prince's asshole, muscle wriggling in and out, tasting more of that pungent flavor. The spice sharper, the earthiness subdued. It was heat, arousal, Sirtas' body getting primed so another male could rut him. Meanwhile, the scales on his tail were slick with Rothishel's precum, and so each thrust brought more pleasure.

Rothishel became utterly lost; he barely heard Sirtas observe, "You must be getting close. Your cock is drooling all over my tail."

He was. His internal testes wound tighter and tighter with tension, the rubbing along his cock so slight yet sharp and heightened by Sirtas' scent and taste. It amazed Rothishel how simply rimming and prepping another male would get his knot to inflate, his balls ready to burst.

"Let go," Sirtas urged. "Cum for me, Rothishel."

Sirtas' clenching rear muffled Rothishel's moan as he found it impossible not to obey. He came with a shaking groan. Edged over by Sirtas' tail, his dick jumped and started spilling seed all across the bed. "That's it... such a good dragon," Sirtas purred as his tail became sticky with hot dragon cum. He twisted and moved his tail up and down that ebon spire, heightening the orgasm even after Rothishel stopped humping. Pleasure so sharp it almost hurt nearly made Rothishel pull away, but it just felt so good at the same time, submitting to Sirtas like this.

Even after Sirtas' tail released him, Rothishel's tip drooled thick globs of seed on the floor. His orgasm filled the small room with the scent of a dragon's rut, but all Rothishel cared about were Sirtas' pheromones. The prince needed to shove Rothishel back with his hind leg to break his stupor. The younger dragon stumbled backwards, catching himself only to see Sirtas had rolled over.

His tail hung off the bed, resting in the pool of Rothishel's cum while he spread his legs. Sirtas' cock was a spire of pink flesh, matched in shape to Rothishel's darker black dick: ridges along its underside, a spade tip with a fat, drooling urethra, and a wide base not yet inflated with its knot. Eyes half-lidded, Sirtas' tongue teased out his maw, tasting the air. He purred. "It's been so long since I've been with a male this needy."

"Needy for you, Sirtas," Rothishel growled, moving back to him and mounting the bed. His cum-slicked cock slid against Sirtas' slit and scales, smearing films of viscous seed across the prince. Rothishel, by no means a small endowment, still only amounted to roughly half the size of the much bigger prince's cock, but perhaps that's why, when Rothishel guided his tip to Sirtas' rear, that the prince grabbed his face in both paws.

"Wait."

Rothishel whimpered, still unable to stop himself from dry humping there.

Sirtas chuckled. "Such a needy boy. I remember when I was young as you." He reached down, forepaw grabbing Rothishel's tip, gently guiding it further up his body. "Prince Rothishel taught me this, something younger males like you can do to please older dragons like me." Rothishel's spade came to rest between the base of Sirtas' cock and the engorged lips of his slit. Sirtas nuzzled Rothishel and teased, "I've always wanted to know what it was like to be on the receiving end."

"You..." Rothishel stared in shock. "You want me to fuck your slit?"

"In this moment, Rothishel," Sirtas paws came to rest on his shoulder, pulling them closer before whispering in his ear, "I want nothing more than you inside me."

"Sirtas..." Rothishel said his name like a prayer. He buried his cock inside Sirtas' sex, finding it warm, tight, and slick as Liolyn's cunt. The similarity surprised him. Slit fluids flushed out around his knot as he bottomed out in the bigger male's folds. Sirtas hugged Rothishel tight, groaning. Squeezed between their stomachs, Sirtas' fat cock fired a jet of precum across their scales. His hind legs locked around Rothishel's waist, slit contracting a little tighter.

"N-Netrikor's nuts!" Sirtas cursed, trembling against Rothishel. "No wonder he, ah, always asked for this." "He" could only be Rothishel's namesake. Lily had played with Rothishel's slit before, but never did more than finger it. This outright penetration had both males gasping. Sirtas' foreclaws dug into Rothishel's back and he urged, "Keep going." Gasping for air, Rothishel pulled back only to thrust his hips forward. Sirtas' baritone voice was reduced to near yowling moans that lit a fire in Rothishel.

"R-right there! Fuck!" Sirtas barked while Rothishel worked his hips faster. He bit down on Sirtas' collarbone, fangs punching through scales and ribbons of blood spilling across the buttercup hide. Despite his smaller tail, he wrapped his around Sirtas' longer one, the coil like the bite: an assertion of dominance. Sirtas seemed to melt into it, crying out, begging for more, his tail whipping back and forth but not trying to break Rothishel's grip.

The smaller dragon's knot pummeled Sirtas nether lips with a _plap plap plap_that became wetter with each thrust. The dark, defined ridges of his cock scooped out slit fluid and his precum alike, sticky filaments of arousal connecting their crotches and cocks with each gyration. The smear of arousal dripped all over both dragons' hides, and this mess without Sirtas' cock, which was rubbed up and down by their soft underbellies on each thrust, forcing out jets of precum that spilled all over their scales and dripped down into the mattress. The thick, pungent scent of two males' rut filled their heads. Rothishel's whole body pounded with life. His heart raced as he grit his jaw hard enough to snap a lesser dragon's clavicle.

The pain seemed to spur Sirtas onward. "Br-breed me! Rothishel! Please!" the prince screamed, reduced to begging by a Finn. It turned Rothishel on to no end to suddenly take this dominance. He felt Sirtas' knot begin to inflate, and that sex just got tighter. Rothishel needed to slow his thrusts, humping and grinding, his hips now mashed to Sirtas', quivering as those soft, supple scales finally yielded. Tight, warm, folds of a prince wrapped around Rothishel's knot. The pressure of the vent grew as Sirtas' knot reached its apex. Rothishel felt his internal testes begin to clench, felt the clench of Sirtas' orgasm.

The Finn released his bite and forced his prince into a kiss. Sirtas whimpered, tongue stuffing his mouth as he came. Unlike before, where Sirtas took control, he submitted to Rothishel's kiss, letting the Finn force feed him the strong flavor of the pheromones still staining his tastebuds. Sirtas wrapped his tongue around Rothishel's smaller one and obediently sucked while cum spilled all across their scales. The prince's massive endowment throbbed and pulsed, coating them and the bed in the ripe scented seed. Even as Rothishel claimed Sirtas' slit, flooding it with thick gouts of cum, trying to breed the other male's slutty sex. Rothishel's young, virile nuts dumped almost as much seed as Sirtas', matching each pump and dump of sperm until the overstuffed slit began leaking cum all around that bright pink knot. Sirtas' slit lifted and clenched with each jerk of Rothishel's cock, feeding cum into that sex only for Sirtas to spit more across their stomachs and chests.

And each male, totally lost in their shared pleasure, were purring as they entered the afterglow, exchanging kiss after kiss until their balls finally stopped churning. Only then did Sirtas break the kiss, head and neck falling backwards into a bookcase, which remained unmoved thanks to his spell. Rothishel, still purring, kept his tail coiled around Sirtas' as he licked away the blood that still wept from his bite.

"Fuck. I knew... but I, hah, didn't know, you know?"

Rothishel looked up from his grooming. "Know what?"

"The reason males do such things, whether with tails, a biped's arm, or a smaller male's cock," Sirtas said, still lying back. He'd relaxed, but Rothishel still held tight. "You were basically pummeling my prostate and frotting me with every thrust." He growled and sat up, nuzzling Rothishel. "How was it for you?"

Rothishel kissed him again. "Wonderful. I feel stupid for not doing this sooner."

"Heh, we can both count ourselves wiser now, Rothishel."

"Mmm, I like when you say my name," Rothishel purred before licking again at Sirtas' bite.

"Let me take care of that." Sirtas exhaled magical flames across his chest, and the bleeding stopped, but...

Rothishel blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping myself from bleeding out."

"But what about the bite mark?" The gouges of Rothishel's fangs remained in the scales, which were puffy and discolored: scar tissue.

"I marked you, unjustly. I will wear your mark as a reminder of that." Rothishel opened his mouth to protest, but Sirtas rested a foreclaw on his snout. "I will weave an illusion spell to hide the mark from others. Only you and Lily will know."

"Something for the three of us," Rothishel whispered. He relaxed against Sirtas, allowing himself to just bask in the bigger males soft warmth. He felt his knot begin to deflate, but still he held tight to Sirtas' tail. His cock would slip back into its slit soon enough, but he would stay as close as he could for as long as he could.

"The three of us. Heh, I imagine Lily will be annoyed we did not let her join us tonight."

Rothishel said, "I'm sure she'll be fine if I get you all to myself for now."

"Mmm, a night alone together does sound quite nice doesn't it?" Sirtas kissed Rothishel's brow and rested his neck across the smaller Finn's, head on his shoulder. "The future may be uncertain, but I know no matter what happens I'm ready to share it with the both of you."

Rothishel smiled and answered with Sirtas' own lyric, "Thank you, for making me more loving still."

Sirtas came as close as a dragon could to a giggle. "For you," he vowed, "anything."

***

"I suppose you must be quite frustrated with us," Gelvain said. After a great deal of ceremony discussing the lineages of Zelzan and his soul bonded mates, Gelvain had returned to his seat. Food, brought out in large trays, were carted around the chamber and served by the Finn attending to each table. Liolyn barely had the appetite to look at the glazed game served with a roasted medley of vegetables.

Still, she forced herself to slice into the wedge of meat on her plate, pretending to concentrate on that as she stiffly said, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"All this trouble we've caused for your relationship with Sirtas," Gelvain said nonchalantly. He lifted the whole haunch of the same beast served to Liolyn, ripping out a chunk from the glazed and roasted meat. It made his breath sweet and spiced with cumin when he swallowed and said to her, "Here you are, trying to be Prince Sirtas' consort and getting pushback from every member of the palace, and we're letting another biped in as a member of the family."

Liolyn tossed back, rather ungracefully, a large gulp of wine from the glass by her plate. She said after setting it down, "If I understand it correctly, a soul bond means a great deal."

"I would assume you would know that very intimately."

Liolyn's wings clenched to her back even as her feathers stood on end. She looked up at Gelvain and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Prince Gelvain?"

The great dragon took a sip from his much larger goblet of wine, holding the cup by fine claws sheathed in gold. He grinned and said while looking down the table at his son. "When Zelzan brought his biped home, we of course submitted him to all manner of inspection. Allowing a biped into the family is a delicate process, especially when the biped is responsible for producing the future of our line. So naturally we looked into the mage who plied her trade to Litter's reproductive organs. Lunara is her name." Gelvain, with a light shining in his eyes, asked, "You remember her, don't you?"

Swallowing the urge to simply run, Liolyn quietly said, "I did see her about a personal matter shortly after arriving at Kor."

He knew. He knew and took advantage of Sirtas' absence just to make her squirm.

Gelvain swung his head close to hers, quietly growling for only the two of them to hear, "Must you act so coy, Lady Alabaster?"

"Simply plying my trade, Prince Stratus."

"Hmmph," he snorted and moved his head away. Liolyn released the breath she held. Gelvain took another drink of his wine, set the glass down and told her, "Lunara allowed us to go through her case files. Since she had no affiliations with the palace, we needed to be sure her spells would last more than a few weeks. She kept very professional notes of her appointments. Imagine my surprise when I saw your name among her list of patients in the last year."

Liolyn could not bite back all the coldness in her voice as she said, "You looked over them? Not a servant or secretary? And here I thought princes were supposed to busy themselves with matters of state."

Gelvain's head tossed back in a laugh so loud it turned several heads around them. "Hah! You would know better than any biped how much free time a prince can have!"

Liolyn's wings and tail were trembling. She fought to keep any sense of composure as Gelvain's head snaked closer again. "I know of your soul bond, Lady Alabaster. A very unique form of magic that rarely leaves House Stratus."

"So I should throw myself at members of your table instead of House Cirrus?" Liolyn snapped, holding onto this cold core of anger like a lifeline. That anger was the only thing keeping her from becoming washed away in the tumult of fear raging through her.

"I'm saying that if you had a soul bond with Prince Sirtas, you both would have gladly announced it and avoided all the scandal. No one would question your love or afternoons spent in his lab if we knew the soul of a dragon drew you here to serve your prince."

"Now who's being coy? You wish to know who the bond is with, don't you?" Liolyn snapped. She could not take it anymore, consequences be damned. She stood on the high chair, facing Gelvain with her wings fanned out. "You wish to know all the shame and terror I felt having my body swept up in things I couldn't control? You could not even fathom it, spoiled as you are. Prince Sirtas saved me from a bond I didn't choose and gave me the right to choose, and he's earned my love and respect. He's kept my affairs private when he had no reason to, and here you are trying to humiliate me in front of your whole little world. I don't care what power you wield, Prince Gelvain, I won't grovel to remain in your good graces, and I'm ashamed House Stratus is now ruled by dragons who expect others to grovel for them."

Liolyn finally ran out of words, panting, huffing and puffing. She'd raised her voice with every sentence, tears welling in the corners of her amethyst eyes. All of the dragons of House Stratus watched her, along with Finn and other dragons of neighboring tables. It felt good to stand up to Gelvain, to speak her peace. She planned to leave this place with head held high, but then, quietly, Gelvain asked:

"Why in Kor's name would you be ashamed of how House Stratus has come to be ruled?"

He knew.

That thought knocked the wind out of her. Her beak opened and closed and she stuttered, "T-tell... The Crown congratulates Zelzan on his new mate." She leapt off the chair, kicking it backwards as she beat her wings, flying right over the heads of the dragons sitting across from her and gliding towards the nearest exit. She landed in jog then fast paced walk, passing through the door and into the night air. Her wings flared out, and, without thinking, Liolyn beat her way back into the air, flying straight for House Cirrus, for the balcony that led into Sirtas' rooms.

Normally, magical barriers would bar any entry, but the ring she wore granted her passage. She passed through the thick curtains closing off the balcony and found Sirtas' chamber empty. If he remained in his lab, she had no way of reaching him.

Liolyn, quaking, dragged herself into the prince's bed, crawling into its center. It made her feel so stupidly small, reminded her how powerless she became against any dragon who wished to exercise power over her. She curled up around Sirtas' sheets, wings hugged around herself, and let go of all the tension she dammed up at that dinner. Her body, a smudge of blue and black feathers and violet dress on the massive bed, shuddered and shook as she cried herself to sleep.