“Dragons.” He muttered as he ran, jumping over shrubbery. “Always freaking dragons. What happened to mazes? Traps?!” He ducked as a jet of blue fire hurtled past his head. “I even miss witches.”
“You know, sir. You could pick an easier quest.”
Prince Bastian looked at his companion, an eyebrow raised, “oh, yes. I can return with just any girl.”
“I heard there was a girl taken by a sea –” Milo was cut off as Bastian pulled him behind a stone wall. Fire breath soon followed and slammed into the stone, heating their backs.
“– witch,” he finished, gently resting his head against the stone.
“I’m heir to the throne, Milo. I must prove my mettle.”
In unison they shimmied down the wall, watching fire punch the air above them.
“It’s almost pretty,” Milo remarked, “its not all one colour. Blues and reds and oranges. A sunset of destruction.”
“I don’t think you can woo a dragon, Milo. Even you.” Bastian smirked.
“One doesn’t know their capabilities until one –” he blanched as a roar echoed around them, the very air shuddering.
“Is roasted and eaten.” The prince finished for him. He sighed, laying back with his head on his elbows. “I think this one has me beat.”
“I could…” Milo began, wiggling his fingers, “no one said magic was against the rules. Just can’t use it as the final blow.”
“I need to meet her eyes. All the quest scrolls say that once a prince beholds his love, all shall fall before him. No door will remain locked. He will see her as his destiny and curse all others.”
“And this is the girl you’ve picked? The one with a dragon for a pet?”
“Guardian.”
Milo shrugged with a “same thing” attitude.
The dragon continued to roar, stomping about with great dramatic thumps of his feet. Bastian slowly raised his head to peek at his foe. The beast had black scales crisscrossing over his body. They shimmered, creating the illusion of swirling inky pools. On his forehead he had the swirling design of his clan and heritage. It curled like a sleeping dragon, a black thorny rose with winding leaves.
Bastian frowned thoughtfully, shuffling back down to meet the anxious eyes of his companion.
“… that clan mark… I feel like I’ve seen it before?”
“Oh no.” Milo said, “please don’t make me –”
“Can you take a look?”
Releasing a very dramatic sigh, Milo looked beseechingly at his lord. Seeing nothing but amusement in those glittering blue eyes he repeated his sigh.
Very slowly Milo curled with his feet under him. He raised his head mere moments to look at the dragon and quickly ducked under again. He paused, raising his head again to ponder the mark.
“… Rose Quartz Clan. I thought…”
Bastian pulled his friend down beside him as the golden eye of the dragon raked over their location.
“I have a thought.” Milo whispered. “In fact, I’m almost certain. But I want to know if my hand gets singed off my body, you’ll pay to have it healed.”
“On my honor.” Bastain promised.
Whispering all kinds of curses involving pits of hell, Milo began to hum an incantation. As he hummed, he pulled from his belt a small hand mirror with carved incantation marks along the rim and handle.
Gentle sparks coated Milo’s hand, and he smiled. There was no bravado for magic. Milo loved it more than he loved his own mother. It sang a melody only magic-blessed could hear. They spent their whole lives following the sound, writing down the music of spells and discovering more ways to hear the magic more clearly.
He began to sing in a low, pleasant voice, mage song coating the air in a shimmer. Fascinated, the prince watched the air vibrate and then sink into the mirror.
A pointed face with narrow, golden eyes glared back at Milo. Her jet-black hair was braided with gold thread, drop earing with rose quartz gemstones glinted in her ears.
“Professor,” Milo whispered, bobbing his head in respect.
“Oh, Milo. Have you found something beautiful to add to my collection?”
“Ah…” Milo’s eyes darted to Bastian as he moved to join in the conversation.
“Your taste in fine things proceeds you, my Lady.”
“Princeling,” she replied smoothly, “good to see you in good health.”
“Yes, about that.” Milo interjected, “would you happen to know of this dragon? He bears your esteemed family’s crest. We’re on a damsel quest, and he seems most ferocious.”
Milo then slowly raised the mirror above the wall, eyes squeezed shut. The mirror pulsed, Milo stifling a cry and dropping it beside him.
When they turned it over to see what had caused it, the magic professor was gone. Leaving a picturesque view of her office filled with gemstones, hanging golden wind chimes and a beautiful mahogany desk.
“Your professor is a dragon.”
“Ahhh, yes.” Milo said, wiping the mirror with his shirt and returning it to his belt.
“So that makes this dragon…?”
“Family.”
“And she could be here in?”
“By wing? Fifteen minutes.”
“It took us three days to get here!”
“No forest in the sky,” Milo pointed out, reaching for a mushroom growing by his ankle. A pretty tune later he had turned the fungus into an apple. He handed the apple to Bastian and went about reaching for another mushroom growing along the base of the wall.
Bastian smiled, helping Milo quietly gather various growing things around them. They had spent many forest adventures gathering random forest offerings to turn into fruit. It was Milo’s favorite spell.
They got so distracted they missed the looming snout of their foe looking over the wall. The back dragon looked down, his eyes narrowing on his prey.
Bastian dropped the apple from his lips, instinctively throwing his knife at the large eye. They scrambled to their feet as the dragon reeled back in surprise. They jumped the wall towards the entry gate of the castle.
The enraged dragon swiftly chased them, returning to their game of cat and mouse.
“SHE BETTER BE BLOODY BEAUTIFUL!” Milo screamed, jumping a tree root, “BECAUSE I HATE THIS!”
“I JUST WANT HER TO BE RELATIVELY FUNNY.” Bastian yelled back, seeing the gate meters away from him.
Milo began singing a very complicated wind incantation, hurtling towards the door as Bastian skidded in his tracks to distract the dragon almost on top of them.
Just as a claw swipe was about to snatch the prince, sword and all, a very loud roar echoed through the forest. The black dragon’s head whipped up to the sky just as an enormous black dragon spiraled into view.
“THIS IS WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN?!” The beautiful dragon growled, landing behind the prince. “TEN MONTHS OF PRINCESS BABY-SITTING?!”
Milo finished his spell, forcing the old rusty gates to swing open. He raced back to see two dragons face each other off with his Prince between them.
“I NEEDED A JOB, MUM.”
“THEN GET A CIVILIZED JOB. YOU ARE A ROSE DRAGON. ACT LIKE IT!”
“YOU CAN’T MAKE ALL MY CHOICES FOR ME! I’M NOT FIVE HUNDERED YEARS OLD ANYMORE!”
Smoke leaked out the mother’s nostrils, a rather pretty pink for such an intimidating creature. “YOU MIGHT AS WELL WEAR A COLLAR AT THIS POINT, SON! ARE YOU NOW A HUMAN’S PET?”
“HER PARENTS PAY REALLY WELL!!”
Milo creeped around the mother dragon, silently walking towards Bastian. The prince knelt on the ground with his hands clapped over his ears under the booming voices.
Milo dragged Bastian out, letting the prince shake him off so they could jog towards the castle.
Mother and son were still arguing, pounding their feet on the ground in frustration.
“And I thought I had problems.” Milo remarked before gesturing grandly at his work. “Open sesame!”
“Very nice.” Bastian smiled at him, padding into the courtyard.
He jogged on the spot and stretched his arms, getting ready to climb endless stairs.
But he stopped.
He looked.
And there she watched him from the alcove of the bottom stair.
Her hair was long and butternut brown, running freely down her shoulders. She wore riding leathers and a half smirk that told him she was indeed, going to be very funny.
His lips curved upwards as he walked towards her, stopping to fall to his knees before her. Her eyes were blue and full of mirth and warmth, watching him curiously.
“My lady,” Bastian said, “My name is Sebastian Maxwell Minchinbury, Heir to the Thornbury throne. Would you consider coming with me?”
She looked beyond him at Milo who grinned boyishly at her, and the dragons still bickering like two storms crashing into eachother outside the castle.
“I am Alyse Lorena Renaud.” She stepped forward so he could kiss her hand, “Yes, I think we suit eachother’s tastes quite well, Prince Sebastian.”
He moved smoothly to his feet, taking her hand on his arm. “Please, My lady, call me Bastian.”
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