“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, a chagrined smile crossing his face, the image of innocence. “Sorry I woke you.”
“You were gone for hours,” Volkmar said, looking unmoved as he took a few more steps down.
“I went for a walk.”
“For hours?” Volkmar pressed, openly scowling now. “Where did you go for hours in the middle of the night?”
“Volkmar,” Adrissu said, pressing his lips together. “What are you trying to say?”
“You—” he started, then looked away. Even from the distance that separated them, Adrissu could see his eyes glimmering with tears. “You know what I’m trying to say.”
Silently, Adrissu approached where he stood on the last step.
“Do you truly think I would do something like that?” he said softly, brows furrowing. He reached out to the human, slow enough that he could pull away if he did not want to be touched, but Volkmar did not pull away. He remained stiff and kept his gaze averted, but allowed Adrissu to wrap his arms around his waist. “I love you. I was feeling restless and went for a long walk. I’m sorry I made you worry, but truly, I promise that’s all it was.”
Volkmar nodded stiffly, but his expression didn’t change. Adrissu’s heart started to quicken now, unsure of what else he could say that might convince him. He had not expected resistance.
“Volkmar,” he repeated, voice still low, as he tilted his head slightly to try and peer into the human’s eyes. “Why would I ever do such a thing?”
“Because,” the human replied, his voice sounding strained. “Because I’m old and fat now, and you’re—you’re always going to be beautiful.”
Adrissu stilled, taken aback, then despite himself he laughed once. It made sense now that Volkmar said it, but the idea that the human might be feeling insecure, of all things, had truly not occurred to him.
“Old and fat?” he repeated, shaking his head. “I have never, ever thought either of those things in regard to you, love. And even if you were old and fat, I would still want no one else. You know who’s truly old and fat? Flint the fishmonger, and I can promise you, you look nothing like that man.”
“I—I—” Volkmar stammered, then let out a noise of frustration as he pressed his hands to his eyes. “You’re right, of course. I’m... I’m sorry. I just heard you leave and couldn’t find you and I suppose I just felt... paranoid. That you decided you wanted something better.”
“There is nothing better than you,” Adrissu said, shaking his head, and this time as he leaned in, he kissed Volkmar softly on his cheek. “I have always known that my time with you would be limited, that you would... get older faster than I will. I came to terms with it a long time ago, I promise you. But I’m sorry that I didn’t realize you were still struggling with it.”
Slowly, he felt Volkmar smile against his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he answered, a watery smile on his face, as he finally met Adrissu’s gaze. “I trust you. Really. I’m sorry I even said it.”
“I’m sorry I worried you,” Adrissu said, shaking his head. “Now. Have you had lunch yet? We can have whatever you like.”
The matter passed and nothing else came of it, at least not at first.
Several weeks later, Adrissu and Volkmar were returning from the market, coming up the worn path to Saltspire Tower and talking amicably about a new wineseller who had just opened a stall in the town square, when every hair on the back of Adrissu’s neck stood on end. He fell abruptly silent, stopping in his tracks—the presence of another dragon was unmistakable.
Why would another dragon come so close? Polimnos was his territory—any dragon would be able to sense his presence as acutely as he felt theirs now, but the feeling persisted. Whoever it was, they weren’t turning away.
“Adrissu?” Volkmar asked, turning back to look at him where he’d stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
He first looked up, eyes scanning the horizon in half-dread and half-anger. But the sky was empty, clear and cloudless in the heat of the summer afternoon.
“I...” he started uncertainly, looking back to Volkmar. The human was looking at him, then his eyes flicked to a point behind Adrissu.
He could feel it behind him. Slowly he turned, keeping his face as blank as possible. Walking up the path marked with worn stepping-stones was a lithe human figure, androgynous and nearly as tall as him, with dark hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail, but barely extended past their shoulders. They were dressed in fine traveling clothes, a light and loose cotton tunic over darker pants, leather boots, and topped with a hooded cloak that looked too thick to be comfortable in the heat.
Their eyes met Adrissu’s gaze, and he knew immediately that this was the dragon he was sensing.
“Hail, traveler,” he called out, his tone short and clipped. The figure raised their hand in a lazy wave, still walking toward them. “You must be lost. There is nothing up this path except for my home.” He stressed the last word, smiling, but letting the feral cruelness of his teeth show as he did.
“Luckily, it’s you I’m seeking,” the traveler replied. Even their voice was hard to place, low in tenor for a woman, but high and nasal for a man.
Something in their demeanor was familiar—he thought of the lazy wave given to him by the last dragon he’d seen in person: Heriel, who had given him the dwarven beryl bowl, over forty years prior in Robruolor.They’re more likely to wander than I, she had said of her mate. He would have bet the five thousand gold he’d given her that this was the very dragon whom she had mentioned, her mate, Naydruun the Blue.
“Volkmar,” he said, finally tearing his gaze away from the intruder to look back up at the human, curiosity plain on his face as he watched their stilted interaction. “Go inside, please.”
