Authors: Jade Allen
Only in flight did they discover
true freedom.
Although the brothers Lachan and
Gabriel reigned as the crown princes of Vertania, they gladly exchanged their
royal silks and lofty gold jeweled crowns for the regal beauty and divine
strength of their nature made forms.
As often as possible the brothers
abandoned their daily duties and took leave of their home palace; a sparkling,
towering structure of mint hued domes, towers and turrets, bordered and
encircled by sprawling balconies and porches and topped with a royal flag that
depicted a mighty dragon king in all its mystical glory.
Assuming their form in a single
smooth flourish, the brothers launched their newly morphed bodies—enchanted
concoctions of majestic wings, long contoured tails, lengthy noses and gleaming
eyes, and claws that cut the air before them—high into the air, looking down
upon the crystalline kingdom that they called home.
The world was theirs and they
knew as much; their green second skin fitting much like a king’s coat as they
raced with a whisper soft bank of billowing clouds beneath a glowing golden
sun.
Yet as much as the brothers
savored their freedom and reveled in their singular strength, they never did
lose sight of the fact that they did not rule and reign as the kings of their
land. Indeed, that title belonged only to the man who occupied the throne room
of their lustrous home castle.
No matter how high they ventured
to fly, their mighty forms traversing the vast expanse of
a pure
gem green
sky, they knew that the call of a single bugle could send
them careening in a downward spiral in the direction of the ground beneath
them, landing finally before the gold double doors that fronted their emerald
castle.
Returning with frustrated sighs
to their more conventional, more manageable human forms, the brothers slipped
on the long bejewelled tunics and sleek black leather pantaloons that comprised
their earthbound wardrobe.
Wincing as the tenor of their
father’s calling bugle grew louder and louder by the moment, the brothers
rushed inward into the vast tiled entryway of their grand childhood home,
rushing headfirst down the long winding corridors that would take them to their
father’s throne room.
Soon they found themselves
crossing the arched entryway that would take them to the glowing centerpiece of
their shining regal residence; a room whose walls glowed with a layer of
bejeweled forest green tapestries, exquisite artworks overseen by a lush
vaulted ceiling and a glimmering bank of candle-lined chandeliers.
Forming the head of this
illustrious room was a velvet-cushioned golden throne, the sitting place of a
stoic silver-haired man who looked down upon his two sons with grave, concerned
eyes.
“My sons,” the good King Dracor
spoke finally, his loud booming voice filling the room as his sons stood just a
bit straighter in response. “You missed our meeting of council this morn, an
important and relevant event that passes just once per moon on the Vertanian
calendar.” He paused here, leaning forward on his high seat as he continued,
“Where, may I ask, were you?”
Gabriel, the golden-haired dragon,
shuffled his feet beneath him as he considered this question.
“Well, dear Father,” he began,
raising his golden head to look his father straight in the eyes. “We each
respect and acknowledge your role as the head of this kingdom. And we trust
your judgment in overseeing and administrating any and all matters of state. As
such, we do not see it as our place to claim seats on the royal council,
permitting our youth and inexperience to taint the font of your endless wisdom.”
Lachan had heard enough.
“We were flying!” the
sable-haired prince interrupted his brother, making a broad gesture between
them as he continued, “We’re nothing more than young dragons, Father, enjoying
our lives and kingdom in the guise of our most natural form.”
Dracor sighed.
“As a nature made dragon myself,
my sons, I know all too well the pull of the magic, the manner in which our
true and natural forms constantly call out to us,” he acknowledged, stroking
the strands of his long grey beard to reflective effect. “I know also, however,
that I myself am no longer a dragon of youth and virility—and I am certainly
not immortal. All too soon for any of our liking, dear boys, I shall be forced
to retire from my place on the throne, leaving it to the two of you to rule our
world and kingdom.”
The king paused here, his old
withered hand gripping his forehead as he considered this most unsettling, even
petrifying possibility.
“You two must prepare yourselves
for the massive responsibility that awaits you on your thrones,” he informed
them. “You must attend every session of our royal council, as well as our full
schedule of intergalactic conferences and diplomatic ceremonies and events.”
The brothers looked at one
another, then nodded.
“Yay,” they agreed as one.
The king nodded.
“Very good,” he allowed, adding
quickly, “Of course, I also will expect you to study and formulate opinions
about the rules and laws that govern our land. I require your thoughts on
existing matters of state, as well as your plans and ideas for new programs and
enterprises that could benefit our people.”
The brothers again looked at one
another, then nodded.
“Yay,” they agreed as one.
The king nodded.
“Very good,” he allowed. “Of
course, I also feel that the time has come for the two of you to find and wed
your respective predestined mates.”
The brothers looked at one
another, then shook their heads. Hard.
“Nay, Father, you must grant us
more time to enjoy our youth,” Lachan insisted, his muscled arms making near
desperate gestures in the air before him. “Our freedom! Oh, of course we both
wish to marry and have children—to raise future kings and queens. First,
however, we have so much of this world, and other worlds, to explore and
discover.”
The king had heard enough.
“Lachan, just last month we
celebrated the passing of your 23
rd
summer—and your brother, he is
two years older,” he reminded them both. “It is time for both of you to
commence and embrace your intended roles as the future kings of Vertania.” He
paused here, adding as he pointed an authoritative finger straight in the
direction of his scowling sons, “And as such, you each must find your queen.”
****
Later that day, the brothers once
again found themselves ensconced in the regal confines of their father’s grand
throne room; this time standing alone as they stared into the sparkling panes
of a mystical crystalline orb.
Known as the Soothsayer, this
inanimate object was, in reality, anything but; this owing to the currents of
whirring emerald energy that radiated free and strong from its surface.
Situated as it was on a bejeweled
golden stand, the luminous orb inspired awe and admiration in all that beheld
its dazzling majesty.
Or, more accurately,
most
that
beheld its dazzling majesty.
“I simply cannot believe this,”
Lachan sniffed, shaking his head from side to side. “Our father insists that we
employ the Soothsayer to find our destined queens; ladies that, or so said Soothsayer
has told him already, just happen to reside on the Planet Earth. Yet in lieu of
actually sending us to Earth, a place that we always have yearned to visit and
explore and he well knows it, our father insists that we identify these women
with the use of this blasted orb.” The prince paused here, adding in a
confidential mumble, “Cheapskate.”
“I well heard that!” announced a
regal—and, for that matter, royally ticked—voice that resounded mightily from
an adjoining room.
Gabriel grinned.
“In all actuality, Lachan, I can
well understand as to why our father has directed us to seek the aid of the
Soothsayer in finding our mates,” he reasoned. “If we were to travel the
universe in search of our intended wives, then we would find ourselves gone too
long from the duties and responsibilities that bind us to this kingdom.”
Lachan shrugged.
“I suppose you’re right. And, for
my part, I am most eager to see my future bride and queen,” he admitted, adding
as he waved a sturdy hand in the direction of the orb, “Soothsayer, work your
magic. Show us the location of our full and destined queen.”
Immediately the orb before them
came alive with a certain energy, suddenly luminous with a lovely kaleidoscope
of brilliant rainbow-patterned light.
Emerging from this beautiful
spectrum was a sharp, defined three-dimensional image that portrayed the vision
of a castle, an impressive three-tiered structure whose towers and turrets
shone a surreal shade of lavender gold.
“Ah! So our princesses hail from
a mystical kingdom?” Gabriel asked, tone impressed. “Somewhere in the
universe?”
Lachan shook his head.
“Wait a moment,” he bid his brother,
squinting confused as he strained to read the sign posted just outside the
castle’s arched entrance. “This sign reads, ‘The Coffee Castle.’ And look—there
seems to be a whole line of people gathering around the front entrance,
entering the castle at will with no intervention from guard nor hound.”
The brothers watched in wonder as
the image before them dissolved gradually from their vision, soon replaced with
an aerial view of what seemed for all intents and purposes to be a grand royal
dining room.
Emblazoned along its stone walls
with vividly illustrated pennants that depicted steaming cups of coffee, of all
things, along with more mysterious potions called cappuccinos.
Standing at the center of this
clean-tiled eating space was a short, curvaceous woman who still somehow
managed to stand tall behind a shiny railed bar, tossing her disheveled mane of
curly brown hair free from her round, fair-skinned face.
“Okay, who here ordered the Royal
Roast black coffee?” she bellowed out in a near shriek, adding with a snide
smirk, “The very same beverage that I’ve apparently consumed just a bit too
much of this morning?”
The brothers laughed, both
falling abruptly silent as they froze in their places, their eyes flying wide
as they focused on the face and figure of the woman before them.
Although not a slender wraith or
any sort of conventional beauty, the woman emitted a current of energy that
seemed to catch them both by surprise; a warm wave of magnetic feeling that
seemed reinforced by her keen sense of humor and boundless energy.
Her energy reached forth, in fact,
to grab them by the heart, flowing free through their beings as their eyes
narrowed and their pulses pounded in a single accord.
“My queen.”
These words proclaimed themselves
on the wings of a dulcet echo, one that arose from the brothers’ throats in the
form of a simultaneous declaration.
A deathly silence fell upon the
chamber as Gabriel and Lachan stared at one another, shaking their heads from
side to side as both seemed struck by an uncomfortable truth.
“I am sorry, brother, but this
woman is the one for me,” Lachan clarified, pinning his brother with a sideways
glance. “For when I beheld her, Gabriel, the pounding of my heart and the
racing of my pulse told me in full the truth of the tale.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I felt the same thing, and at
exactly the same moment,” he claimed, continuing in a low hushed tone, “Could
it be, dear brother, that we will be forced to compete for the hand of our one
intended queen?”
Lachan sighed.
“Nay, I know not,” he demurred
with a shrug. “The Soothsayer has shown us both this image, and we each near
exploded the moment we saw her face.” He paused here, adding as he fixed his
brother with a grim, near apologetic look, “So it appears, dear brother, that
we may just have to compete for the lady’s favor.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Well, unfortunately, this may be
true,” he admitted, adding as he made a broad gesture between them, “Yet how
are we to curry her favor at all, when we are thousands of light years away
from Earth?”
Lachan smiled, a slow, downright
devilish smile that his brother knew meant trouble.
“Brother,” he admonished Gabriel
in a slow languid tone. “You well know the answer to that question. I mean
really, who better than a mystical dragon prince to woo a fair lady?”
****
She saw dragons in her dreams.
These mystical emerald dragons,
in fact, seemed to stand and exist as the only proof that she still held within
her the capacity to dream.
As a graduate student majoring in
Renaissance era literature, Sarah Coleman often lost herself in the myths and
legends of days gone by; timeless tales of princes and dragons, wizards and
queens, that never failed to intrigue and captivate her.
They did not, however, inspire
her to dream; not lately, anyway.
Between her rigorous schedule of
morning and afternoon classes and regular night shifts at The Coffee Castle, a
bustling bistro located just minutes away from her modest loft apartment in the
heart of Lexington, Florida, Sarah rarely found time to sleep—let alone dream.
And when she did at times manage to catch a few winks in the wake of her
cumbersome shift, her slumber tended to launch her psyche into the realm of a
sprawling black void; one devoid of the dreams and the flights of fancy that
had so enchanted her as a carefree youth.
And just then, the dreams began.
These mysterious but nonetheless
pleasurable nocturnal visions always commenced innocently enough, with visions
of massive but graceful winged creatures crossing the threshold of her ethereal
dreamscape.
She identified them immediately
as dragons of fantasy, noting their reptilian bodies, their gleaming eyes,
their long stately noses and serpentine tongues, not to mention the coating of
sleekly made scales that they wore like silken robes.
Fast and graceful they flew above
her head, gliding and soaring with wings outstretched as they dazzled her with
what seemed a choreographed show of stunning aerial artistry.
She always experienced a flash of
dismay as their majestic bodies dissolved before her, both erupting in a flash
of emerald light that seemed to consume them whole.
Soon the light itself dissolved
to reveal a duo of even more beautiful creatures; beings that, for all intents
and purposes, took the form of mortal males.
Both standing tall and statuesque
above her in the realm of their own mysterious haven, both of the dragon men
boasted bronzed sculpted features and toned muscular physiques.
Yet while one of her fantasy
heroes had long, flowing midnight black hair and wide dark eyes, the other bore
a luxurious mane of gold and eyes of ocean blue.
Although she never ventured to
learn their names—indeed, she knew little about them—Sarah always opened her
arms to them wantonly and willingly, savoring their kisses, their embraces, the
firm but tender press of their hard masculine bodies tight against her own as
they declared her over and over again to be their queen.
I don’t even know their names;
but every night I surrender myself to them, fully and willingly
, she mused,
adding in a dreamy tone,
These two dream lovers of mine are so handsome and
alluring, they leave me breathless.
Nearly every night they visited
her dreams, seducing and loving her in many ways. And every morning she awoke
in a pool of her own sweat, her heart and pulse pounding in a single divine
accord as her more private, feminine body parts screamed out for the attentions
of two men who—in truth—didn’t even exist.
Or do they?
she
often queried, reflecting on the detail and sheer intensity that brought each
and every forbidden dream alive in her mind.
This
is
Sarah Coleman’s
life we’re talking about here. Weirder things have happened.