Dragons of the North - BECOMING A DRAGON

From my vantage point on the castle battlements, the uncharacteristic bustle below was a jarring sight.

The whole affair irritated me to no end. At breakfast this morning, Father had informed everyone present—which amounted to just my sister and me—of an impending visit from the Duke of Broncastle, the Lord Regent of the Kingdom.

My plans for the day lay in ruins. There would be no boar hunt today, and my customary evening retreat in the library was canceled.

Instead, I was condemned to wash my hair and squeeze into the stifling confines of formal attire. The boar, naturally, would be served up to the Duke and his pack of sycophants. I had spent a week preparing for this hunt, only for the prime tusker to be handed over to some pompous fool—a man I personally wouldn’t have allowed past the castle gates.

Down in the courtyard, the maids, Belly and Shell, were loudly scouring a massive copper skillet. Mother Suzon, our cook, would occasionally poke her head out the kitchen door, barking orders to hasten their work.

The girls gossiped and giggled, though from my perch on the wall, I couldn’t make out the subject of their amusement. Just the usual girlish nonsense, no doubt. They had tucked their skirts up high and rolled back their sleeves, their pale, untanned arms and legs flashing in the light as they scrubbed.

Why was it that whenever two or more girls gathered, they transformed into a snide, giggling gaggle? It was insufferable even to approach them—they would mock and torment you with endless teasing. Yet, catch any one of them alone, and she’d be as meek as a lamb.

The old wing of the stables had been thrown open, and the stablehands were busy chasing out dust, cobwebs, and spiders with their brooms.

To my memory, it was the first time those doors had ever been unsealed. It would certainly be worth exploring later, once the dust had settled.

The shadow of the tower offered a brisk chill, and I was already beginning to regret not bringing my doublet or a hunting jacket. Still, it was worth the cold; so long as I didn’t stand up, I remained completely hidden from the chaos.

The girls’ bare legs, peeking out from beneath their tucked skirts, were drawing more eyes than just mine. Simon and John, the young stablehands, kept stealing glances at them. But the head groom, Serrey, stood sentinel right behind them, and he wasn’t one to allow any slacking. That red-haired brute had fists the size of hams; one wrong move, and the boys would swiftly catch a blow to the ear.

And so, they kept their brooms moving briskly, offering the maids nothing more than furtive, hungry looks.

Within the castle walls, the hustle was just as relentless—silver services were being polished to a high sheen, cords of firewood hauled in for the great hearths, and the guest chambers meticulously set to rights.

The guards at the gatehouse already gleamed in their steel breastplates. They stood with hands proudly on their hips, striking poses deliberately designed to show off the slashed, puffed sleeves of their gold-braided burgundy doublets. Like a flock of preening roosters!

The Duke had chosen to arrive this very evening. Why, to what end, and in whose company—Father hadn’t bothered to explain.

Gods above, I am going to freeze solid up here!

The distant mountain range, crowned in eternal ice, breathed a bitter, freezing wind across the battlements. Our stronghold sits at the foot of impassable, sheer cliffs that stretch all the way to the great main ridge. The frost-crowned peaks are usually veiled in a distant mist, but today they stood out in stark, perfect clarity. The Twins, the Giant, the Fat Lady—my sister and I had long ago given the peaks our own names. What did we care for the titles invented by the highlanders? We used to dream of how magnificent it would be to scale just one of those sleeping giants—the Dragon’s Tooth, perhaps. From such a vantage point, one could surely see to the very ends of the earth, taking in the shimmering sea and every city in the kingdom!

Ducking low, I slipped through the heavy tower door and hurried down the spiraling steps. I darted through a shadowed corridor, making for the armory, only to run squarely into the butler.

“My lord, Jake has been looking for you. It is time for your fitting.”

“Parris, tell him you couldn’t find me.”

“That is impossible, my lord. It is the lord’s strict command, and you must obey.”

A flicker of grim satisfaction crossed the old man’s weathered face. The stubborn old goat.

There was no escaping this wretched ordeal now! Defeated, I trudged gloomily toward my chambers.

My sister, on the other hand, must be thrilled. Guests meant young cavaliers and ladies-in-waiting; an audience to dress up for. Poor Sue—this castle was little more than a prison to her. Father never traveled and rarely entertained, making new faces an agonizingly scarce commodity.

The thought of my sister sparked a gentle warmth in my chest, comforting as a small, fluffy kitten curling up and purring against my heart.

Jake, my valet, was practically glowing with delight. His stubby fingers lovingly smoothed the fabric of my embroidered doublet.

“I look like a peacock draped in a horse blanket!”

“My lord, you look magnificent! Simply divine! Please, do take a look in the glass.”

A standing mirror, dragged in from some forgotten wing of the castle, reflected my sour expression back at me, my face ludicrously framed by a voluminous lace collar.

“My lord, you must show yourself to my lady! She will surely share my admiration.”

Puffed sleeves, a cinched waist, ridiculous slashed breeches, and stockings pulled up over the knees. Dripping with gold braid and lace... O, Great Erhard! What did I look like?!

“You really think I should show myself to my sister?”

“Without a doubt, my lord!”

I leaned closer to the silvered glass and stared intently into my own eyes—amber-gold, exactly like my father’s...

The door to my sister’s chambers was locked from the inside. I knocked, and a girlish squeak sounded in response.

“Who is it?” came a flustered voice—Lucy, her maid, by the sound of it.

“It is I, Gregory. I must see my lady.”

Furious whispering erupted behind the heavy oak, accompanied by the frantic rustling of fabric.

“Just a moment, Brother!” my sister finally called out.

I settled into a chair in the corridor. Were they not dressed? Provocative images suddenly blossomed in my mind: my sister and her maid, bare save for their stockings and garters, standing on tiptoe by the door, the dark crests of their full breasts brazenly exposed...

The thought brought an immediate, uncomfortable tightness to my breeches.

“Do not think of the white ape, do not think of the white ape,” I muttered the familiar mantra. Instantly, a white ape—as fluffy as Cook Susan’s cat—materialized in my mind’s eye, banishing the naked girls. The creature bared its teeth and stuck its tongue out at me.

Once, in a rare fit of good spirits, Father had smiled and taught me the trick of the white ape.

“It is an excellent method for diverting the mind from unwanted thoughts,” he had said. “Command yourself not to think of a white ape, and within seconds, you will be utterly incapable of thinking of anything else.”

The wretched white beast occupied my thoughts for another ten minutes.

Finally, the lock clicked, and the heavy door opened a crack.

“My lord, you may enter.”

Lucy stood by the doorway. She offered a smile, and deep dimples immediately bloomed on her cheeks. She was a mouthwatering little thing, this Lucy—a plump, brown-eyed brunette who barely reached my shoulder. Her modest, high-collared dress did its best to hide her generous curves from indiscreet gazes, my own included.

My sister, clad in a long white gown, rose from the bed to greet me.

“My lord brother...”

“Sister, you look magnificent in that snowy white gown. Why would you ever need another?”

I swept my hand toward the mountains of clothing draped and scattered across the room. It looked as though the wardrobes had been entirely gutted. Bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, the heaped silks and velvets shimmered in every color found in nature—save for black, naturally.

She laughed, throwing her head back so far I caught a glimpse of the soft, tender pink roof of her mouth.

“And what of this?”

With a swift, mischievous motion, she hitched up her hem. First, I saw her slippers, and then two enchanting legs sheathed up to the knees in delicate, white lace stockings.

“He’s blushing! Look, he’s blushing!”

The girls dissolved into peals of laughter. Blood rushed hot to my face, and I stubbornly shook my head. The direct, impish gleam in my sister’s amber eyes didn’t bother me, but a gaggle of laughing girls mocking you is a terribly difficult thing to endure with any shred of dignity.

“Lucy!”

The maid was already handing me a goblet filled with a golden liquid. Taking a sip of the wine, I suddenly understood the source of their high spirits.

“Where did you get this?”

“Steve was helping Parris down in the wine cellars, and he brought us a little bottle!”

Steve, the thieving assistant to our butler, had been courting Lucy, though without much success thus far. But to my knowledge, the lad hadn’t given up hope.

“Next time, Steve will nick something from Father’s treasury, and they’ll nail his hide to the gates,” I muttered, leaning closer to my sister. It was a running joke between us; no one but Father knew the actual location of the treasury.

“Steve is elusive!” she laughed.

Her amber eyes, mischievously narrowed and expertly painted, locked onto mine. Heavens, the scent of her! Great Erhard—I adored her!

Her hand squeezed my forearm.

“Lucy, fetch my brother and me some tea... and take your time.”

Lucy offered a knowing smile and slipped out of the room. My sister quickly stepped to the door and turned the key in the lock.

“Does she know?”

“What does it matter to us?” my sister scoffed.

With fluid, effortless movements, she undid the lacing at her chest, and the dress cascaded to her feet. She was left wearing nothing but her stockings and garters. Before I could even admire the view, she threw herself into my arms.

The kiss was as dizzying as the very first time; the taste of wine on her lips gave it a rich, intoxicating flavor. We drank in each other’s breaths, the rushing rhythm of blood pounding in my ears.

My left hand caressed the firm curve of her hips, while my right brushed against her breast, the peak hardening instantly under my touch. Her hands proved bolder and far more decisive. Those ridiculous slashed breeches were undone in an instant, and my fiercely roused flesh was met with a skilled, tender caress. My belt and dagger clattered onto the rug.

The kiss carried us to the bed, where I collapsed backward into the tangled heap of discarded garments. The divine fragrance of her skin and perfume now surrounded me entirely.

My sister quickly licked her swollen lips.

“You are so tense, so on edge!” she smiled. “But that will pass in a moment.”

Her kisses burned a trail down my chest and stomach, until her lips finally claimed the very place I had been aching for them to be. A groan tore involuntarily from my throat. She quickened her pace. All I could see was the swift bobbing of her head—everything else was veiled beneath a cascade of golden hair, catching fire in the shafts of sunlight.

And then, a shuddering wave of pleasure wiped my mind blank, forcing my eyes shut. I must have cried out, for when I came to my senses, a hot, slender palm was clamped firmly over my mouth.

“Magnificent...” she whispered. “But do keep it down...”

“My turn now?”

“Yes, yes... hurry, before I burst...”

We traded places.

My head dipped between her thighs, and exquisitely soft skin brushed against my ears. Now I was kissing her nether lips—they held no scent of wine, of course, but they drove me to absolute madness. Fine golden hairs tickled my mouth... A sweet taste on my tongue... on my lips... I buried my mouth in her hot, damp core... O, Great Erhard!

My hand, reaching down to partake in this magnificence, was swiftly intercepted by her gentle but unyielding grip. It left only lips pressed against lips, driven by the eager, relentless strokes of my tongue.

Then, crying out in pure ecstasy, she thrashed against me, her hips bucking a full foot off the mattress...

We lay side by side, sated and tranquil, hovering on the edge of sleep. The fine golden down on her stomach gleamed in the shafts of sunlight.

“I love you!” we breathed in unison, before laughing and melting into another kiss. Twins do everything together, and at the exact same moment—such is our fate.

Later, Lucy returned with the tea. With my stifling formal attire finally restored to rights, we sat sipping the tart, unsweetened brew, looking out over the commotion in the courtyard below.

The golden sun glittered in our matching amber eyes.