The Tales of Two Seers

by R. Cooper

  “Don’t,” the man insisted, voice low, cheeks dark. But then he glanced over. “Though I think maybe you mean well.”

  Zarrin had never been paid such a compliment. He basked in it for the rest of the afternoon.

  DURING THEIR DINNER, the man surprised him again. “What is your name?” he asked, eyes on his food. “Or should I keep calling you ‘Dragon’ in my mind?”

  “Zarrin,” Zarrin informed him with pleasure, and waited for another piece of delicious bread to be offered to him. But no bread was forthcoming.

  “Zarrin?” The man slowly raised his head. “The Prince? The one who summoned me?” He put his bowl down with a bit too much force. “You should have told me.”

  “What other dragon would come looking for you?” Zarrin pleaded immediately as no prince or dragon should, except with someone so special. “I already told you I would tell them the truth when I returned. And it gave me relief, coming here. I got away from them all. My family as well as the schemers and the weeping sweethearts thinking I was going to separate them—or eat one of them.” Zarrin shook his head. “According to the ancient stories, humans don’t even taste good. They are also so much more interesting when they are not dead.”

  The man opened and shut his mouth, then opened it again. “You should have told me.”

  He was insistent, but not as mad as Zarrin had imagined he might be.

  “I didn’t think I would be here this long.” Zarrin nudged the plate of bread hopefully, pleased when, angry though he was, the man still fed him from his very hand. Zarrin accepted the food delicately, then swallowed it whole. “I also assumed you guessed at first… though I said nothing when you didn’t.” He ducked his head. “Am I still permitted to stay? Shall I sleep outside? In the cold?”

  “Crafty, sly dragon,” the man muttered, and continued to watch Zarrin with wary eyes.

  Zarrin did not like being watched in that way. “You didn’t tell me your name, either.”

  He didn’t mind at all when the wariness turned to a glare. “Joseph.”

  “Joseph,” Zarrin pronounced this name with pleasure, too. “It will be a long evening, if you don’t speak to me. Do you have dice or cards or music? Something to do? I know a great many things, but very few human tales. Though perhaps you would like to tell some?”

  Joseph fed Zarrin the last of the bread. After a small silence, he said, “I have no instruments. But I know some stories.”

  Zarrin instantly wriggled forward, his tail already curling around Joseph, although Zarrin was careful not to touch him.

  Joseph glanced down at Zarrin’s encroaching tail. “Is it companionship, then?” He seemed puzzled again, although Zarrin was quite obvious. “What dragons want from humans?”

  “A friend sounds very nice,” Zarrin agreed. “But I am to have a husband, as humans would call it. A spouse, and it seems, a male one. Well, if I am lucky. If not, I shall continue to be alone and directionless.” He lowered his head to the floor and gazed upward. “Tomorrow, before I leave, I will do something to repay you for your kindnesses. Perhaps even find a way for you to go back to your village, or somewhere else, if you wish it. There is no cost to this, Joseph. No price. It’s my pleasure to give it.”

  He waited, expecting disbelief, or an argument, but there was only silence for a long time, and then Joseph cleared his throat to begin telling a story, something painful and pretty about a princess and a dress of stars.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Zarrin was stiff from sleeping on the floor and anxious to show Joseph that he was not a bother. He blew on the fire to make it hotter, and then puttered around the house to neaten it. When it became apparent that his limited efforts were not good enough, he sighed and closed his eyes and gathered his magic around him like a selkie put on their sealskin.

  When he opened his eyes, he was taller, and lighter, and aware of the chilled morning air. Holding out a hand, Zarrin stared at it in satisfaction and amazement, the way he always did at first when shaped like a human.

  He had no way to view his face, but his human appearance was much like his dragon one, although he had to glance down to be sure he had the human parts that felt the most natural for him. Zarrin was still little, soft, and slender, with a slight curve to his hips, but he liked the weight of a human cock and testicles between his legs, and the occasional scratch of stubble at his chin, though he had yet to grow a full beard, even with magic.

  He tousled his hair with his fingers, lost for a moment in all the sensations that came with a human body, fingertips and hungry skin, a less sensitive nose, long, awkward legs.

  Someone gasped.

  Zarrin turned and nearly toppled over like a clumsy fawn.

  Joseph was at the door, eyes wide as they dropped to Zarrin’s body. Zarrin was shivery and prickly with gooseflesh, but hot inside because he was still dragon, and because Joseph was slow to drag his gaze away. Zarrin put a hand to his bare backside, his thighs. Joseph, who appeared to be glaring at the floor but must not have been, made a strangled noise.

  “It’s me. Zarrin,” Zarrin told Joseph breathlessly, running his hands over the funny little nipples that human bodies came with.

  “Yes, I—your skin is bronze. I know it’s you.” Joseph choked out. “You can do this? You can be this and you didn’t tell me?” He abruptly raised his head and narrowed his eyes. “You lied to me. Again.”

  “I did not!” Zarrin lifted his chin, insulted. “Everyone knows this about dragons!”

  “Maybe those who live around the towers! Not the rest of us!”

  “It’s in the stories!” Zarrin huffed, not understanding how this of all things should upset Joseph. “Why else would my family decide I needed a human spouse?”

  Joseph closed his mouth with a snap. His gaze dipped down the length of Zarrin’s body. He took a breath, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “That’s why I was…” He left that thought unfinished. “Why not find your own husband?”

  “I was directionless and therefore weak,” Zarrin explained. “As I said, no dragon powerful enough to please my family would want me. And… and I had no interest in a powerful dragon. I will do what I please.” He crossed his arms the way Joseph often did.

  “Except be forced into marriage,” Joseph reminded him, a hint of ire still in his tone.

  “Forced into considering it,” Zarrin corrected. “Which I have.”

  “And?” Joseph’s frown was forbidding, as if somehow Zarrin considering marriage was the biggest offense.

  “Marriage seems a lovely thing.” Zarrin addressed the floor, his human face stinging with a blush. “A friendship with passion—and there would be passion, from me, at least. Devotion as only a dragon can show. I would not mind a companion, you understand. It’s more than I expect, if I am honest. But a husband who loves me? I would like that, very much. Have you ever imagined such a thing? Oh, yes, you have. I’m sorry. I should not have said that.”

  Joseph turned around, toward the door, then sighed. “Do you need clothes? I know it’s warm in here, but you ought to have… something.”

  “Warm?” Zarrin lifted an arm to show off his goosebumps. “Human bodies need more fur. Although yours is currently wearing too much. If you are overly warm, Joseph, you might remove your big coat.”

  Joseph shot him a sharp look, then faced the door again. Zarrin assumed he was frowning. But, importantly, he wasn’t arguing.

  Zarrin gentled his voice. “If you think I will be more swept away by your body than your face, then know that is already impossible.” Joseph stiffened. Zarrin clucked his tongue. “If you prefer the coat on, then leave it on. But I would rather you be comfortable than worry I will try to seduce you.”

  Joseph shot him another look, his brow a thundercloud, and disappeared out the door.

  ZARRIN FRETTED over leaving without seeing Joseph again, straightened the pile of blankets, then made a pot of tea that was hot, if not good. He poured it out and tried it again, this time adding more leaves. Around wha
t he thought was midday, Joseph returned.

  Without a word, Joseph stepped inside the house and turned to remove his giant coat of fur and spikes. He hung it by the door, where the helmet and claw gloves already waited for whenever Joseph might need them. He took his time hanging the coat, giving Zarrin time to look, perhaps, before he faced Zarrin again.

  Zarrin saw a young human man, with a body used to hard work, in brown pants and boots, and a white shirt that had not been laced completely at the front.

  He smiled.

  “I need to check your hands,” Joseph said gruffly, not acknowledging what he had done, or how Zarrin’s smile had made him exhale in relief. Zarrin held his hands out without rising from Joseph’s blankets. Joseph sat down in front of Zarrin and frowned heavily. “You can wear some of my clothes.”

  Zarrin did not currently need clothes. “How do you think I would look in your fur coat?” he wondered, staring at nothing else but his hands as they were held carefully in Joseph’s.

  “Ridiculous.” Joseph said it the way some people might have said adorable, then cleared his throat and turned Zarrin’s hands this way and that.

  Zarrin’s hands did not have even the faintest scratch and yet Joseph said not a word about it.

  “What is it like in the towers?” Joseph asked, his thumbs at Zarrin’s wrists. “Since us humans have forgotten. Are there other human companions… other husbands there? Brides? Spouses?”

  “There used to be.” Zarrin could not speak above a whisper. “If I complained too much that humans have forgotten us, know that we have forgotten you, too. I… ah my skin is so sensitive now.”

  Joseph stilled his hands but kept them where they were. He glanced up. “Do you miss your palace?”

  “I miss my sister,” Zarrin confessed. “I miss my pillows and the mountain skyline. Do you miss the town?”

  Joseph shook his head, then gave a curt nod. “Some parts of it.”

  “You could go back,” Zarrin suggested. “I will speak to my family. Whatever else the townspeople might do to you, they will no longer be able to threaten you with dragons. If they threaten you in any other way, I would ask you to tell me. Send me a message, once I am gone, and I will give you whatever you need.”

  He should have been gone already. He had only asked to stay one more night.

  But Zarrin was no longer directionless. His chest was hot with fire. He spoke again. “If you are lonely here, you might find someone to join you.”

  “A companion?” Joseph asked. Zarrin did not think he was teasing, though he may have been. “Shall I summon candidates like dragons do?”

  “It’s within your power,” Zarrin answered honestly, looking up. “You brought me here.”

  He expected Joseph to frown again, or growl his name, embarrassed.

  Joseph regarded him steadily, though with a flush darkening his face. “You said you had no direction.”

  Zarrin studied him in confusion, and then with dawning wonder. “You brought me here,” he said again, because the fuel for a dragon’s fires was in Joseph’s changing expressions. “I braved thorns for you, and it was not for your face, pretty though it is.”

  “To solve my problem.” Despite his slight frown, Joseph was not angry. He released a shuddering breath as he added, “Not to kidnap me. Not to try to seduce me.”

  Zarrin leaned forward. “Did you want me to kidnap you? Or at least seduce you? It sounds as if you did, just a little. How confusing for you to feel that when I did not look like this.” His smile began to peek through despite his efforts, but he still did not believe it was anger that had Joseph so quiet. Fear, almost definitely, along with worry and embarrassment. But not anger. “Is that what you wanted at first? To be loved fiercely and deeply, but to also be able to pretend it was not your idea or desire? To have your heart safe, so no one could hold your feelings against you the way someone once did? Oh, Joseph. I would never. You must believe that, or, hopefully, you will in time. But the first part? I could do that, although I do not think you would like life in the palace. I would have to keep you here, instead. As mine.”

  Joseph’s lips parted.

  Zarrin nodded with decision, a little flushed himself. “We will get to that,” he promised, and tugged Joseph’s hands up so he could breathe against the knuckles and then press a kiss to them. “Because I saw them first,” he said tenderly, “and they are so gentle.”

  Joseph made a noise in his throat but did not stop him. Zarrin considered Joseph’s wide eyes and soft mouth before pulling on Joseph’s hands to bring Joseph that much nearer.

  Joseph was not a beast; he was a lonely, scared man.

  “I was lonely, too,” Zarrin confessed, moving one hand to Joseph’s cheek, trailing his fingertips along one uncertain eyebrow.

  “This isn’t what I need,” Joseph insisted shakily, his face warm as he leaned into Zarrin’s touch.

  Zarrin stretched closer to kiss the tip of Joseph’s nose, the edge of his jaw.

  “Zarrin,” Joseph said weakly after nothing but that, “please.”

  “We can wait for the rest. There will be time,” Zarrin purred, and slid naked into Joseph’s lap. The only barrier between them now was Joseph’s clothes, and Zarrin was content to leave them there while he cupped Joseph’s lovely face and bestowed one kiss upon his lips. “That you trust me makes me the most powerful dragon alive,” he explained dreamily, though Joseph would not understand, not yet.

  Zarrin only kissed him again, until Joseph’s hands were on him, and Joseph sighed Zarrin’s name with a need he would not yet put words to.

  ZARRIN SURFACED from a pleasant, drowsy dream to nuzzle the back of Joseph’s neck.

  “Are you planning to leave now?” Joseph asked without turning, as if he could no longer hold the words inside. “There are creatures in the woods after dark. It’s safer to wait until morning.”

  Zarrin hesitated, then reminded himself that he was dragon, and a prince royal, and that Joseph was in his arms. He nuzzled Joseph’s nape again, which was flushed and warm. Joseph’s chest and stomach were hot under Zarrin’s palm, clean save for a few spots they had missed. Zarrin would have to do better next time, no matter how tempting it was to curl up next to a sleepy Joseph who was wearing nothing but the marks of Zarrin’s hands and teeth and drops of their mingled seed.

  He had thought pulling Joseph into this embrace might soothe some of his worries, but it seemed Joseph could worry in any situation.

  “I am not the sort to live in a tower,” Joseph said next, still without turning. “You might find a husband if you keep trying. One who doesn’t hide away. One valued enough that others might have wanted to marry him.”

  Joseph’s skin was soft and thin over the knob of his spine. Zarrin kissed it. “Do you want me to leave?”

  Joseph stiffened. But he was a stubborn creature. “If you tell the others, and I am finally left alone, I might tear down the wall. I didn’t like that the thorns made you bleed.”

  Zarrin paused, not sure how to interpret that. “The thorns fulfilled their purpose. I healed. And… and I realized that you did not know enough about dragons to be aware that I would have healed that first day once the thorns were gone.”

  Joseph tensed and pulled away from Zarrin’s mouth. “I saw your wounds myself.”

  “You needed me to stay,” Zarrin explained as timidly as he was able. But there was pride in his voice that Joseph would hear. “That is how my magic works.”

  “Need again,” Joseph said. Zarrin couldn’t read his tone.

  “You removed your armor for me.” Zarrin studied a bare shoulder. “You are more than welcome to mine. A dragon is better protection than a fence, even a little, inconsequential dragon.”

  “The most powerful dragon alive, you said,” Joseph whispered, then rolled over.

  “Am I still?” Zarrin demanded breathlessly, bursting with heat at the uncertainty and yearning in Joseph’s eyes. It had been one of Joseph’s first wishes, after all, to be overp
owered by Zarrin. Zarrin should have noticed sooner. “I will be your beast, if you like. I will stay here with you. The Quaking Palace has too many dragons as it is, and I can be a husband just as well here.”

  Joseph exhaled, and stared at Zarrin with his expression soft and open. Perhaps more open than he would have liked.

  “That was your wish, was it not?” Zarrin asked quietly, wanting to be absolutely certain of his welcome before he straddled Joseph’s body and held him down with a dragon’s full weight; Zarrin only appeared slight.

  Joseph was breathing harder.

  Zarrin leaned down, put his hands carefully over Joseph’s wrists, then settled the rest of his body between Joseph’s thighs. Joseph parted them for him without a word.

  “More?” Zarrin asked, as if Joseph’s longing wasn’t stoking his fires. “Do I need to tell you the stories of the ancient dragons? What they would do with one such as you?” Claim him, exactly as Joseph wanted. “You would know what it means that I can feel your need so keenly, and you would be proud to be mine. That is…” for a moment, Zarrin was uncertain again, “that is what I wanted when I was alone in the palace, and it is what I want now. But once you know the stories—know me, you might not want that anymore.”

  Joseph met Zarrin’s eyes. Zarrin thought Joseph would speak when he opened his mouth, but then Joseph closed it and continued to watch him without fighting Zarrin’s hold. Joseph’s skin shimmered in the firelight, dotted with sweat from their earlier exertions and the heat of Zarrin’s body. Reddened patches on his collarbone and throat marked when Zarrin had spent a long time kissing him and whispering praise into his skin. Joseph had been the one to plead for more after that, the one to beg softly for Zarrin to take him and then, afterward, sigh as Zarrin cleaned him and pulled him back into his arms.

  Zarrin shivered, his odd human form momentarily shocked by a new surge of heat. Joseph still permitted himself to be held. To be kept, Zarrin thought with unabashed hunger.