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Behind padding paws, the wheels of the stagecoach rolled on cobblestone, the levelish surface a relief from the pockmarked dirt paths that were preceded by those of the mountainside--snow laden gorges trampled clear by bears--and Ariss looked forward to the colder temperatures and formalities to come; they were nearing the vicinity of the Royal Residence, its eight spires soaring over the horizon, dragons flying to and fro their balconies, reds, blues, golds, and oranges flitting across the white ashlar shimmering in the midday sun, fewer flying near the top, far below which, outwards from the spires' bases, sprawled the capital, the mostly human city of Devnar, its patchwork farmland and dotting cottages by and by turning to townhouses lining up across the plains on the left, along the slopes climbing towards the cordillera leagues ahead past the city proper and its walls, and pressing against the Rhael river to the right, threatening to spill into the waters there. She never grasped the humans' disposition to building both low and dense.

With reluctance that would be great if not blunted by the promise of respite from the heat, Ariss tore herself away from Felsa--who continued to sleep beside her, stretched across the better half of the seating, under a blanket in spite of the heat, for she was accustomed to the lower climates--to straighten and listen, as one of her servants, the kobold Hyia, sitting opposite to them, had gathered the courage to read aloud the missive from the Queen; this missive they received via hawk only recently near the coming end of their journey, a journey begotten by the urgent and stupendously vague first letter sent; that had stated a sensitive matter of upmost import called for Ariss's presence and said scant else save pleasantries, which was unusual for the Queen: she was a circuitous, albeit comprehensive, speaker in all but times of war.

"...and ye, Ariss, resplendent Duchess of Valin, are hereby summoned for a private audience, required retinue permitted"--such as whom she had, on the spur-of-the-moment, appointed as her bodyguard, Felsa--"with her illustrious majesty, the Slayer of Sandrajo and the ruler of High and Low Avindor: Queen Telil the Third," Hyia finished enunciating while slowly clicking a black claw on her satchel. A nervous tick of hers.

"Thank you, Hyia. You may return to your compartment, or stay a while if you desire," Ariss said, and then silently cursed herself for misleading wording; it had taken an hour to persuade Hyia to part from her bookkeeping in the small compartment at the coach's rear and then another to read the missive, and now a single word might frighten her off.

"Oh, thank you, Your Grace. I shall tend to our--your records."

"Ours. The effort is shar..." Ariss said with curved maw corners, but it was too late; Hyia had already fled through the roof slider and closed it afore Ariss would have finished speaking.

She sighed. Hyia was by no means an orator, rather demure instead, albeit endearingly so, and nor did Ariss have her letters read to herself (unlike those dragons becoming boulders in their plantations outside this city), but the shy 'bold spoke so rarely that giving her the chance to read aloud with her elegant, lilting voice was one Ariss would not ignore. She reclined and watched the countryside tidy.

Outside, by the wayside, purled rills feeding into a brook that plashed; just like when she and Princess Yensa ran across the gardens streams, playing like adolescents...Ariss steadied her claws and recomposed herself. She would meet the Queen soon. A private audience. Mayhap an opportunity for--no, Ariss had long since discarded her sycophancy of those years of yore she wished were olden; although indeed, foregone sweet talk had waned for the Princess, whom she served a decade ago, that service ending, and friendship shortly whereafter due to a growing distance in shared interests, when the title of duchess was bequothen apon her by that which the reaper dealt. She still missed her Grandfather.

Alas, he died as he lived, flying 'gainst the wings of the Fritshriker, the corroded clan beast that she hoped met an ignominious fate in that long spiral. It never did recover from the loss of its fore talons; a good favour, for not even Felsa would best such a beast at its full measure, nor likely the Queen, the many tales regarding the latter's impressive stature notwithstanding.

Ah, yes, a monarch renowned for her skills at warfare, duelling less so, both of which Ariss knew naught. Nonetheless, to be summoned was an honour, no doubt, though for what was it? The Queen did share her private tastes, as Princess Yensa once mentioned, but she would not summon a mere duchess for a dalliance. Whatever her reasons were, she would learn them soon.

Whereas the clans having not replied to Ariss's letter, which told of the general's death, troubled her. She writ that frostbite had slain him; nevertheless, it was possible that they ascertained elsewi--

"I prefer flying," Felsa said (despite her wings having yet to heal full), startling Ariss. Always a quiet riser.

"As do I, but the formalities are to be as the Queen wishes; imagine our own reactions should a dragon eschew the easy sightability of a stagecoach and suddenly alight afore our home."

" 'Our' home?"

Ariss's posture stiffened, her neck becoming as iron while her eyes flittered. "I--you see--I had planned, but I was intending to ask. I would never, I--"

"Ris." Felsa placed a claw atop hers. "I'd love to live with you. But I can't abandon my family homestead."

Ariss clutched Felsa's claw. "I should provide you an ample deed for a demesne of your own; I know of a tranquil plot with a beautiful vista a small league north of the--Felsa?"

She was staring through the window, facing away from Ariss. "It's not about money. I may live there alone, now. But they gave it their all there for decades so I could live with security if I put my wings into it, without having to"--she twitched--"link with another family."

"They were good people, Fels. I wish I'd met them."

"Me too."

A few hours' ride brought them to the eastern outer gate, the footfall and other wheels of wagons masking the quiet until a bugle blared not once--footfall treading, paws slowing--not twice, but quarce.

"This is driving me mad," Felsa said afore she opened the door nearest, not bothering to slide the ramp out, instead long-stepping down and turning to face the gate, forgetting or neglecting to don or even take her mask. Then she stilled.

Concerned, Ariss donned her own mask--white with a red trim--grabbed Felsa's, slid out the ramp, and exited.

By the stars.

Thin, solid lines made of gems trimmed the gleaming, all-enclosing armour of the six dragons--three dames and three knights distinguished by their chestplate emblazoned nameplates--all of whom Ariss had heard, standing in a narrow wedge afore the stagecoach, wings furled. Save for wing membranes, horns, and variously coloured eyes peering through thin visor slits (some staring at Felsa's bare face), steel plate shielded every part of their bodies, which were smaller than Felsa's and a little larger than that of Ariss. Embossed above each nameplate was a painted black feather, carried aloft by a claw. The Eyrie Liberators.

Griffon Slaughterers.

Passing humans and dragons alike kept to the waysides and quickened.

The one at the front of the wedge marched forth towards them, the clank of steel quiet, consistent, even.

Eyes as red as her own bore into the same.

They who burned forests. Clink. They who stole cubs in the dark of night. Clink.

They who debeaked the griffon High King.

Clink.

The leader had reached them, and they bent a forelimb up their own chest, across bowing their head slight. "Greetings, your Grace, Duchess Ariss of Valin." His voice was crisp. "We have come to escort you to the Royal Palace. Please, stand inside our ranks. Knight Clihal will shepherd your retinue to the palace stables."

Kyree started to growl, standing above them all on the driver's seat; rather than allow the wolves to act on his wrath and respond to this affront, Ariss raised a hand with the stupor dredging strength she had managed to muster against the presence of these interkingdom, council accredited murderers, and Kyree sat back down and vocalised, calming the wolves; she would speak of this knight's tongue to the Queen. "Of course; however, my bodyguard will accompany me," Ariss said as she all but shoved the unworn mask into Felsa, eliciting a grunt.

"Bodyguard? Is not she your...?" The leader trailed, then abruptly nodded. "I understand. We are glad to accommodate, your Grace."

As Ariss, Felsa (now masked), and the knights and dames walked to behind Ariss's stagecoach, where the leader cleared space, with Ariss and Felsa encircled, each dragon a chain length apart, Knight Clihal and Kyree exchanged words, yet as the former group took off skywards, a dame and a knight moving above to cover them, Ariss caught the faintest murmur of agreement betwixt Kyree and Clihal.

Ariss's nictating membranes closed as they glid upwards into a zephyr, and sunrays danced across the knights and dames, abeat wings made orange by the light. A gap in the formation lay under them whence to escape should she and Felsa need.

While they flew, one of the dames kept verging somewhat near Felsa, half a wings breadth betwixt; were they planning to harm her in some way?

"Felsa, keep your wits about you," Ariss whispered. But the wind stole her words.

The palace comprised eight widely spaced grand spires: six stood in a circle, linked by immense bridges whereover they began to pass; at the fore and in the centre, rising, through the brume, to where it convoked the very clouds themselves, towered the largest, the Royspir (the Royal Spire); and afore that stood the last, the Adspir (the Admittance Spire), which reached half the way up the Royspir. Thereat, the Adspir flattened into a parapet-walled alightment plateau that connected unto the Royspir's entrance--the Great Hall, the main door whereof, standing so tall that it could only be opened by machinery, was reserved for celebrations and military processions. On either side of it were two doors, both twice Felsa's height.

They alit atop the plateau, the stone sunbathed yet temperate against their paws and hands--a result of thaumaturgy wrought into being by sages. The 'Liberators' escorted them across to the Royspir and to the door on the right and then up numerous uncomfortably steep stairs--the footfall of the innumerable palace staff quieting--telling them to, 'ascend,' and naught else afore departing by leaping from the nearest balcony.

Here, the wall stones were smoothed seamless, and black and white diagonal tiles clad the floors. Ahead rose two sets of stairs comprising four flights separated by landings, at the outer sides of each of which jutted out massive, pillar-framed balconies cordoned off by indigo grand drapes trimmed white. The long treading made it a slow but easy ascent.

"Should we suffer their presence again, be on guard; one of them was observing you," Ariss said.

"Always am on guard. Chalk falls are no less coarse than patricians."

"They are not nobles, but murderers, griffon killers." They quitted to take a breath at the second landing.

Felsa's eyes widened for a moment, then relaxed. "Worry for them, no?"

Her confidence, strong albeit disturbing, yet but confused Ariss; afore she asked aught, Felsa failed to resist the allure of the potential balcony view and approached the drapery.

Ariss shook her head. "It would be best to"--Felsa began drawing the drape--"avoid disturbing the..."

In front of Felsa stood a dragon, forequarters and all a full foot above her, scales shimmering the same blue as the grand drapes, maw corners curved up, enwrapped by a frock coat and adorned by white shining jewellery: a necklace, two bracelets on her forelimbs, and, above an ebon mask, a crown with two gem slots--an imperial topaz in one, the other without any gem yet naturally so. Telil the Third.

And the Queen started giggling.

"Ye have found I who had hidden myself: such is most excellent. Follow me thither." Her deep, booming voice oscillated, and she sauntered past Felsa and then began striding up the final flight, her walk so confident she moved whilst glancing at them and not looking at her steps at all. Had she been playing a game of hide and seek?

They kept quiet as they followed, unsure of Queen Telil's temperament. Aft the flight of stairs, they reached the throne room, wherein six marble pillars held the vaulted ceiling, and a massive, open balcony lay projecting from the right under sunrays streaming between the pillars. To the end of the room Queen Telil finished striding, and she reposed apon the throne, a wide stone divan inlaid with cushions and padding. With one forelimb and her tail, she gestured towards two smaller, yet still adequately spacious, upholstered divans sat afore her throne; Felsa and Ariss lay down on them.

"Welcome, Ariss," said Queen Telil. "I should be delighted to learn of whom ye have brought with ye unto this meeting."

Felsa rose and bowed, as Ariss had shown her: forelimb to dipped chest with head held high. "Felsa of the Sedra homestead, at your service, Your Majesty."

"A farmer? That of which ye speak is, from my perspective, clearly preposterous; for a person of your physicality could be no meagre--"

"She is my lo--bodyguard. Felsa is my bodyguard," Ariss said. "Your Majesty."

"I see. Quite the protectress." The attention of the Queen missed Ariss's addressorial delay as well as her near slip (it would be offensive to bring an uninvited and technically unnecessary person to afore the Queen). "My greetings, Felsa, bodyguard of Ariss." A kobold poured them cleansed beverages, his feet so light that his presence was unnoticed hitherto. "Now, on to wherefore I summoned you, Ariss. I shan't talk in circles; I propose that ye, Duchess Ariss of Valin, marry my daughter, Princess Yensa; thence I offer her foreclaw and wing in marriage to you. Will you accept?"

Afore Ariss could even open her maw, Felsa said, with barred teeth, "Duchess Ariss refuses your offer."

The Queen leered at Felsa. "Ariss, does your lovely bodyguard speak for you?"

"Yes, absolutely, she does," Ariss said, turning her gaze to meet Felsa's, the two holding eye contact. Queen Telil leaned forwards.

"Mm, I do believe I comprehend now; ye two are more than client and bodyguard, correct?"

"Yes, yes, we are," Ariss said; her wings stiffened, but she did not hesitate. "Felsa is my lover, and I hers. I apologise, for I will not marry Princess Yensa, and thus I reject your proffer."

Silence followed. Queen Telil sipped her drink.

Finally, she said, "This...this saddens me. Greatly. Ye have not seen my daughter in so many years, and yet ye refuse her."

Ariss opened her maw to speak then stilled as the Queen raised her unoccupied hand, her other rubbing the brow ridges of her mask. "Is it love?"

"Yes."

"Very well." She sighed and raised her head. "I shall not disquiet you with this topic again. Fortunately, I did not summon you only for the aforesaid, although I could have instructed you on the following matter from afar; that is not to say that your presences are bothersome." She took another sip. Perhaps Ariss would have a chance to mention the affront made by the Eyrie Liberator's leader. "Regardless, I have an imperative duty wherewith to burden you; I trust that ye are aware of the clans that neighbour your duchy." Or perhaps not.

Ariss suppressed a gulp. "Yes, I am, Your Majesty."

***

"Oh, I hope that big, beautiful dragoness realises the duchess is far too diminutive for her," said Dame Nixani. She tossed aside two frilled cushions from the plethora whereapon she rested. As was the case for the many other guest chambers in the palace, the room would have been stuffy, except that vents had been bored through the stone above the drapes of each room's balcony, the air fresh on her green scales. Howbeit if it were otherwise, she'd still take here over the bare and at best functional billets of the Eyries: even the ones of the capital had thitherto had little to ward off the chill.

She didn't like how the commander had solved the coldness there.

"I'm sure she'd prefer being called Felsa to 'big, beautiful dragoness'," said (with a chuckle) Knight Clihal, tall and armoured, who, a yard away from the end of her long bed, paced across the room, his tail swaying. As usual, his words belied his anxiety. "And the duchess, Ariss, was anything but. Besides, I recall you fled the first time you met the commander, which I say with no ill-intent; I ran when he found me as well. Size alone wins battles not."

"Hmph, true." Even so, Felsa looked capable of taking on the world's best. She almost foolishly bumped into her while flying afore. "Stature limits natheless." Two dragonesses, one lithe and golden scaled, the other slim and red, both enrobed in several layers of colourful chiffon, strode into the room. "Ah, of the Queen's own. I ask you take your leave, Clihal."

Clihal nodded to her, then the dragonesses, and left, closing the laureated double doors as he did the latter. His clinking echoed from the hall; like the commander, he, too, wore his armour until the moon faded away at midnight. The similarities ended there, though.

"I am shocked and honoured that the Queen has sent two from her lei to me," Nixani said. "Particularly after the polite no Clihal received." A no that he had taken well, laying out no anger, curses, or insults. He was a dragon dignified in all things, really.

"I am Eloise," said the golden dragoness.

"And I am Athir," said the red dragoness, who continued, "We are as free as any dragon; this Clihal of whom you speak is a kind, strong dragon, and Eloise and I know he will please a different dragoness or dragonesses, but we did write that 'no', for male persons are not to our tastes in matters of intimacies."

"Well, they are to his half the time," Nixani blurted. "Sorry, I should not spill such private details."

"Yes, it sounds as if you should not," Athir said. "Especially not details for which the close minded would shame him." The two dragonesses glared at her as they began walking to either side of the bed.

"Ah, he's open. Yes," Nixani said.

"We hope so. Now, to bed you will be most pleasant; have you readied yourself?" Eloise asked.

"Yes, definitely." She furled her wings to her chest.

Eloise lay on the left side of the bed, Athir on its right, the pair's wings tucked; they rolled inwards so that their fronts pressed up against her sides; the layers of chiffon slid over and covered her. As they skimmed her wings, she turned her head to lick one's snout, but they nuzzled her neck in a spot that led to her instead purring.

"For now, relax," Eloise whispered. "After we have pampered you, please, pleasure us."

Her wings spread somewhat, allowing for long languid strokes to move down her chest and along the ridges of her scales, the other dragoness whispering softly. Their fingers trailed till they found a sensitive plate at her mid; she moaned, and she thrust her chest when her wings were gently splayed, a hand stroking each wingtip, tracing the waves, while the silk tingled her membranes.

"Such strong wings," Eloise said. "You could carry the Queen."

"Oh, thank you." That image laid Nixani into a gentle torpor; she relaxed her head onto the pillows, looking up at the muralled ceiling, which paid respect to the erstwhile forests wherefrom the city boomed, and careful hind paws caressed the base of her tail, then stroked up its length, cupping it to feel it flex, afore sweeping down to return, ebbing and flowing.

"I want to touch you," Athir whispered while hers and Eloise's hind paws circled Nixani's sex.

"Your movements are so precise, so delicate, I...please, do."

The time was right; both hind paws curled to circle her clit with their pads, placing ever-so light touches.

She gasped. "That, is exquisite."

Her wingtips were nudged further apart as she purred and cooed, them doing the same, the sounds so soft in her ears, and soon she was raising and lowering her hips.

Eloise flicked her tongue at her snout and whispered sweet nothings, and Nixani opened her own maw; their two tongues slid across each other, smooth, easy, while Athir rolled half to on top of her, laying her own slit against that of Nixani, Eloise following suit aft one last dance.

Their hips slowly joined again and again, their clits touching as they moaned. As their movements sped, their hearts in tune, their tongues connected, interwove, saliva sweet and intoxicating, till their muscles tensed and they all met as one and climaxed, fluids flowing across their embraced slits.

And a moment passed, and they lowered themselves to her, and withal the occasional twitch and toe curl, plus one or two cooling down cuddles, they began to drowse, then doze, and after uncountable snuggles, fell asleep.

When dawn's beams graced her lids, she yawned, then curved her tail inwards, sliding it up between her and the dragonesses atop her, and pushed, rolling them off with ease, so much so that had it not been for the cushions, the force would have awoken the two.

She could scarcely wait to show Felsa her strength. Felsa. Someone finally bigger than she.

Yensa would listen to her adjustments, surely.