by Meg Ripley
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 23rd 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 sil
ent 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.
****
“Okay, who ordered the cappuccino, the drink that we all love but can’t even begin to spell? Oh, you, all the way down there at the end? Okay then, catch! Just kidding. It would not be becoming of a seasoned, dignified barista to actually throw scalding coffee in the direction of her customers. And, for that matter, I wouldn’t do it either.”
Carrying the frothy cappuccino to the tail end of her coffee bar, Sarah delivered the brew with an amused smirk to the hands of her laughing customer—a smirk that dissolved abruptly as she stared into the eyes of this particularly jovial patron, immediately losing herself in their crystalline depths as a sharp sliver of icy recognition went sailing up her spine.
Standing stock still at the end of the bar, she watched with amazed eyes as the man before her sipped calmly at his coffee, seeming totally unaware of the fact that he was the living and walking embodiment of her deepest and most intense fantasy.
Or one of them, at least.
With flowing golden hair, bronzed skin and a tall muscled frame—adorned in a tight ivory muscle shirt and sculpting blue jeans—the gentleman before her looked just like the living, three-dimensional version of the golden-haired dragon man who visited her dreams.
“Hello, Sarah,” he spoke finally, his deep, sonorous voice sending tingles down her spine.
Sarah froze.
“How did you know my name?” she asked, voice low and disbelieving.
The man chuckled, taking a long deep sip of his rich cappuccino as he considered her question.
“I just read your nametag,” he explained.
Sarah guffawed outright.
“Well, that would explain it,” she exclaimed, her shoulders relaxing as she offered him her hand, “And what, may I ask, would your name be?”
It was the stranger’s turn to smile, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss.
“My name is Gabriel,” he introduced himself.
Somehow, though, he didn’t even need to give her that particular nugget of information. In the instant that their fingers touched, an unseen spark flared wildly between them as they stared deep into one another’s eyes. With certainty, Sarah realized that this was not her first meeting with the golden-haired stranger before her; it simply was the first meeting to be properly conducted in this plain of reality.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Gabriel kept hold of her hand as he revealed, “I know that this sou
nds completely insane, Sarah, but I’ve been a customer here for quite some time and have been altogether too bashful to approach you—until today.”
Sarah smiled.
“Well, I knew I had seen you somewhere before,” she revealed, her tone friendly but cryptic.
Gabriel nodded.
“Well would you, by any chance, like to see me again—perhaps in a quieter and more relaxed setting?” he proposed, inclining his golden head sharply in her direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”
****
Once again, Sarah found herself lost in a dream; only this time, she realized with a thrill, she was fully and completely awake.
Dressed in a flowing kaftan of sleek ivory silk that flowed gracefully to her feet, Sarah left her coffee bar behind and escaped into the night. Once she was seated at the edge of the lace covered table—one situated at the center of Le Jardin, an elite French restaurant she counted among her favorites—she sipped chamomile tea from a floral print cup and basked happily in the attentions of her dashing young dinner date.
Dressed for the occasion in a black silk dinner suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, the ethereal Gabriel insisted on spoon feeding her every bite of the filet mignon, escargot and fluffy chocolate mousse that comprised their elegant dinner.
“I must tell you, Gabriel, this meal is delicious,” she praised, adding with a casual shrug, “No match for the ramen noodles and cheese puffs that this college girl consumes on a regular basis, of course—but it’ll do.”
Pitching his bronzed head back, her dinner date let loose with a deep melodic laugh; the long strands of his silky gold hair falling gracefully across his broad shoulders as he took her hand in his.
“You, Madame, are an absolute delight,” he praised her, squeezing her fingers tight between his own. “And speaking of your studies, I am most intrigued to know, why is it that you happen to favor Renaissance literature?”