“Weak! The empire has grown weak!” “We are plagued by famine! Please do something!” “One dragon torments the Emperor!” “Please help my sick child!” “One beast hoards the gold while the Emperor fritters our taxes away!” “The taxes are too high! We can’t live like this!” “Kill! Kill the Emperor!”

  Much of the vision is the same as it was before, with the voices of protest crying out. As with all Dawnseeing, small details change from vision to vision, the future changing with even the smallest decisions.

  She sees the tower and the eyes, surely representative of Larven’s perceived figure as the world at large sees him.

  She sees the princess, the cause of the turmoil and none other than herself, torn by her duties to the Empire, her quest for freedom, and her fear of a fate she narrowly avoided, not only for herself, but the whole of the Empire. She knows in her heart that the suffering of the citizens isn’t directly related to her ‘kidnapping’, but it still hurts to know that suffering is taking place, and she is leisurely spending her days in a perfectly safe and comfortable tower.

  She never tried to run away from being a princess, she was only running away from her fear of an untimely death. She only learned later that she inadvertently saved the Empire, if her very first Dawnsight is to be believed. It seems the future of her becoming Empress is becoming more and more certain.

  The illumination of the moons arises, and the Princess transforms into an Empress, descending from the heavens with her husband. She no longer has the youthful naivete of the girl, but the wisdom of a woman, which shows in every aspect of her being.

  Just as before, she is the Holy Empress that will save the Empire, both as she desires and as the Empire needs. She knows it’s dangerous to be the one prophesying her own ascension to the throne, because no one of sound mind would simply buy it.

  But, few can simply dismiss the divine arrival of a graceful pair.

  Especially because that Empress presents to the Empire the very dragon that plagued them for so long, and which the greed of her own Father drove him to bankrupt the Empire just to try to buy territory from the very man he’ll never know intends to betray him.

  She can hardly stand to look. Larven is a very large dragon, and voices cheer, “Feast! The Empress has decreed a feast!” “The demon dragon is dead! Long live the Empress!”

  It gets harder and harder to bear with every single cheer.

  But, she promised, so she keeps observing. She, the Empress, whose eyes she is sharing with her past self now, looks to her left, where her husband is.

  When she looks at the dragon again, his eye, that only the two of them can see on their side, opens and looks up at them. His lip twitches slightly, and it all falls into place.

  ~~~

  “Ha… Haha… Hahahahahaha!” What starts as a disbelieving scoff becomes a rising and hysterical laughter as it all bursts forth from Princess Meliarte. Relief pours out of her like a bucket of water turned on its side, and she grips Larven’s hands all the tighter as tears return to her eyes, pouring from them as she leans back. She keeps laughing for a long time, unable to contain herself.

  “Mmm. Yes, I figured as much,” muses the dragon. “You’re a fool if you think I would let your husband kill me just so he can become Emp-…”

  Larven is cut off with surprise when Meliarte yanks herself forward, latching onto his neck with her arms as her lips find his. She kisses him passionately with every drop of her heart still pouring from her eyes. The dragon is unable to react, simply continuing to keep her balanced, but unable to respond to her kiss.

  When she does break lip contact, she holds his cheeks firmly and presses her forehead to his, keeping him close as she pants a little. Her laughter is still tapering off, and she adds breathlessly, “It was you. It was always you. I can’t believe I was such a fool. You were right. You’re always right!”

  “Meliarte…” cautions the dragon, since she’s clearly certain of her own feelings, but he has not and can not change his mind.

  “I know,” replies Meliarte lovingly, still holding his cheeks. She kisses him once more, saying, “I won’t be able to claim your heart, but I finally understand the visions, now. It has only become clearer and clearer the more desperately I wanted to protect you…” She smiles, saying softly, “I need your help a little longer. Will you promise to do everything I say?”

  “Within reason,” replies the dragon.

  “Then, I need you to accept me as your wife.”

  “Mel-...” She interrupts him to press a finger to his lips.

  “Shh, I know. But, for my plan to work, I need to be ‘tainted’, such that Father can no longer sell me, but also ‘divine’ so that I can swiftly overpower him and my siblings for the throne. You and I will become the only ‘correct’ choice for the crown heirs. And, once I’m firmly established as Empress, you may take your leave and continue on your journey.” She kisses him once more, adding with happy tears streaming from her eyes. “But, after all of this, I do hope you’ll someday bring your sister to meet me.”

  Larven chuckles as she sits in his lap, holding him at her ‘mercy’. “I… suppose that’s a reasonable request… If I can make it happen.”

  “Good. And, the wife?”

  “If it’ll help hasten your safety,...”

  “It will,” reaffirms the princess. “And, as promised, I will give you every book you desire, and if it’s treasure you want…”

  This time, Larven stops her with a finger to her lips. “We agreed on books, Meliarte. Until the Empire returns to power, there isn’t much else you’ll be able to afford.”

  She gives a soft smile, knowing he’s right. Half of their plan to weaken the Imperial grip on her, and hopefully deter Lord Bahla, was to sow discord through the Empire via rumors, some of which reflected reality, and others which were lies. Regardless, it’s rather common knowledge that the Empire wasted a great deal of resources trying to assault the ‘Demon Tower’, only to be driven back and lose virtually all of the most legendary dragonslayers in the world. Most of them still live, but had to go into hiding to avoid Imperial conscription on subsequent campaigns against Larven and avoid the humiliation attached to their name.

  Regardless, Meliarte is deeply in love with Larven, and she can’t help but feel like her heart is going to explode with joy.

  She cleans her face as the last of her sniffles calm down, and she asks from atop Larven’s lap, “Sh-Shall we do it here?” She is suddenly embarrassed and bashful, but she would have to brace herself with any other husband.

  “Do what?” asks the dragon, suddenly confused.

  Meliarte is dumbfounded. She genuinely can’t believe he expects her to say it out loud. Who’s the fool now!? You just agreed to it not a moment ago! Larven, you brute!

  Her stunned silence seems to confuse him more, and he remarks, “I… don’t really think we can conquer the tower from here… And, I’ll need to prepare a fake…”

  “Not that!” yelps the Princess.

  Jinca peeks into the room, asking, “Everything okay, your Highness?”

  “Get out, Jinca!” cries Meliarte as she hides her face. “Take the rest of the night off!”

  “Understood, your Highness!” says the chipper maid, and she immediately retreats from the room.

  “I am wholly confused,” starts Larven. “If you’d like, I’ll start…” Her arms wrap around him, and she uses her legs to push the floor on either side of him. If he gave any resistance, there’s no way it would work at all, but she manages to pull him to the floor over top of her, and she refuses to let go of his shoulders as he stops them from hitting the floor too hard.

  “M-Meliarte?”

  “... You promised, Larven…”

  “What? I…”

  “You said… you would take me as your wife…”

  “This? This is what you meant?” asks the dragon. He’s not overly emotional, but he is a bit surprised.

  His question only causes her to squeeze harder. “Y-Yes…”

  Larven gently extracts himself so he can look at her properly, and he eases her down onto her cushion from earlier. “Meliarte… We can play the part…”

  “No!” She blushes as she adds, “No, I… I need to know. I need to… know a man, or I’ll never be able to convince anyone…”

  “What?”

  “I… In my vision, I saw myself, but… I had the air… of a woman who was no longer a maiden.”

  “Meliarte…”

  “It has to be with you, Sir Larven. I’ll have no one else. I trust no one else with this task. Please…”

  The dragon is torn. He remains silent for a long time, trapped in both her gaze and her arms. He could easily escape, but it’s not a matter of ‘can’ or ‘could’. It’s a matter of what the best course of action should be.

  ***

  Neith realizes he has been talking for quite some time at this point. He asks, “Your Grace?”

  “Well?” asks Sundenelle. She is staring intently at him as if to peer down to the very moment of every second. Walliskah is a bit more concerned, since the direction of the story was exactly the kind of thing he is meant to prevent in order to avoid scandals, which Sundenelle is all but entangled in now in regards to Daniel.

  Larven sighs. “What would you like to know?” asks the dragon knight.

  “The obvious,” retorts Sundenelle.

  “Your Majesty,...” cautions Walliskah.

  “I am not Meliarte, Walliskah. I am not smitten with Sir Neith. Though, I do have plenty of admiration for him, he will be my brother by law, not my scandalous lover.” She then locks her ruby-red gaze back on the dragon in question. “What I want to know is the story that you have so patiently shared up to this point. You can’t deny a woman the actual spice of such a romantic tale.”

  The knight laughs lightly with a shake of his head. “My Liege…”

  “Well, Sir Larven? Did you do it or not? Did you grant your starcrossed lover her earnest request?”

  Larven smiles cryptically.

  “Now, then, the actual plan…”

  “Sir Larven-...!” exclaims Sundenelle.

  “The actual plan played out rather smoothly, all things considered,” repeats the dragon without answering her.

  “I’ll remember this!” snarls Sundenelle.

  “Of course, my Liege,” taunts the dragon, proving he’s not suddenly deaf. “We waited until the triple moon…”

  ***

  Meliarte looks out over the Imperial capital for the first time in over a year. It is the time of the Holy Festival, when the three moons of the sky shine overhead. It is the brightest night of the year, nearly as bright at full moon rise as an early morning, thanks to the impressive divine goddesses sharing their blessings with the world.

  It was a night much like this one when she met her destiny at the eve of her own final sunset, and that fateful meeting changed the course of her life forever.

  The man she loves steps up beside her on the simple grassy hilltop, saying gently, “Not as lively as last year…”

  “It’s as you said,” murmurs the princess. “The Empire’s coffers are dangerously empty. This is merely the last gasps of power displayed by a dying animal. I… I can’t believe my father let it get like this.”

  “Such is the curse of all civilizations, even of long-lived races. Eventually, there is a fall, either driven by conquerors or driven corruption. There will always be someone that wants what others have, even if they had plenty of their own to begin with.”

  “But… Must it be that way? Or, must I destroy the throne altogether?”

  “I think… the only possible way you might see a civilization never fall is if it found the right evergreen state; a good ruler that lives forever doesn’t exist, though. So, there is always a chance of the change in hands leading to destruction. The more times you take that chance, the more likely you will fail. Take me for example; every time I take flight, there is a chance I will fall from the sky. Since I’m relatively young and healthy now, that chance is unlikely, but it’s never truly zero. As I age, though, there will come a time when my wings give out, or my magic falters, and I will be nothing but a giant target stuck on the ground; no more than a drake.”

  “I hope you will continue to tell me stories as we settle this,” replies Meliarte lovingly. She holds his hand firmly, since he is her true and greatest treasure. Even the dress she is wearing now, which has been custom ordered by Larven during their preparation stages, is far more valuable than the ‘treasured’ betrothal dress she was wearing the day he kidnapped her so effortlessly from the castle. It is made of only the truly rarest of materials from Larven’s only secret magic bag; materials that cannot be obtained on this continent, as far as Meliarte knows. It possesses its own magic glow, with artistic patterns that are actually just the draconic language from Larven’s homeland, but sized up.

  That said, at her request, the words that would be spelled out if they could be seen all at once read rather simply, “Cherished Dragon Wife”. Likewise, Larven’s exotic outfit, which matches hers, has similar patterns that would read, “Cherished Dragon Husband”. It’s a little memory for her, Jinca, and Larven alone.

  Larven points out, since his eyesight is far better than her mere human eyes, “The ceremony is beginning. They’re gathered in the ritual yard.”

  Meliarte nods. The time is upon them.

  Jinca says affectionately from her position a few yards behind them, “You both look perfect together, your Highness.” She playfully covers her mouth, saying teasingly, “Or, should I say, your Majesty?” She grins broadly.

  Meliarte isn’t truly after the crown, but she knows she must take it in order to restore the Empire. Her eldest brother was always like their father, meaning he will likely frivolously waste away the Empire. Her second brother might have been a good Emperor, but he is of weak health. And, like Meliarte herself, her elder sisters were all married off already for hefty sums.

  Meliarte jokes in reply to Jinca, more to relieve her own nerves above anything else, “You say that, Jinca, but don’t forget, what we’re about to do can easily be seen as treason.”

  Treason. The hidden cost of any one of the marriages to any of the Princesses is the prospect of an attempt to seize the throne through the Princess’s birthright once ‘obstacles’ are removed.

  Obstacles that Lord Bahla would have slowly removed and eventually poised himself as the Crown Prince. The plan today is to spearhead their way in as peacefully as possible and force an unprecedented change.

  No pressure…

  Meliarte squeezes Larven’s hand, and the dragon patiently asks, “Are you ready, Meliarte? Once we begin, all you have to do is hold my hand and do what it is you’ve spent the last year preparing for. I won’t let go, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She looks up at him with glimmering eyes, resisting the urge to cry loving tears of joy. She wishes he could love her the way she loves him, but she knows his heart is deeply committed to his revenge, and though he cares a bit about Meliarte, this whole plan is a means to an end for him. “A kiss for good luck?” asks the Princess.

  Larven leans over and kisses her, and she makes it last as long as he'll give her, which is very long indeed. She whispers, “I love you, my husband.”

  “My wife,” replies the dragon equally softly.

  She grins. It’s the closest she’ll get, but it’ll certainly give her strength and then some for what she has to do.

  “I’m ready. Let’s save my homeland.”

  Larven nods, and he looks to Jinca. “Miss Jinca, will you be alright on your own for now?”

  The maid pumps her arm in a muscle, replying, “Yes, sir, your future Highness and/or Majesty! Take good care of her! I’ll learn how to fight you myself if you don’t!”

  The dragon grins. “Though I don’t intend to fail, I would be honored, Miss Jinca.” They all share a laugh, and then, in the bright silvery glow of the divine moons, two fated lovers ascend towards the sky on magic itself.

  ***

  “I told you we should have held off on the festival this year,” remarks the Empress bitterly.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Though there are many within the secure district who have come to celebrate, angry eyes glare at them from outside of the gates. Some people are shouting, but the Emperor ordered various orchestras around the ritual venue to drown them out if they get too noisy. The public facing event is brief, and afterwards, the Imperial Family is free to retreat into the Palace.

  “Ungrateful curs,” growls the Emperor. “If they knew what we lost in failing to retrieve that little fool, they would have made greater efforts to ensure we could retrieve her.”

  The Empress looks to her second eldest daughter, who is the only Princess present, and her husband is seated next to him. The Empress asks quietly while the young woman cradles her firstborn child, “If we had acted quickly, we could have arranged for Kloedelle to take her place.”

  “Trust me, I have regretted that ever since she announced she was with child…” growls the Emperor under his breath. Meanwhile, both he and the Empress smile and obey the rituals being orchestrated by the head priest. Their eldest son, the Crown Prince and his Princess, stand behind them, waiting for their step.

  The ritual involves bathing a ‘goddess fruit”, which grows a triple orb as if ordained by the moon goddesses themselves, in holy water bathed in the moonlight, and then sharing it together. Afterwards, the seeds are planted in a ceremonial pot, to be later taken out into the orchard and planted. It represents the cycle of life that begins in the day and ends at night, watched over by the moons, even when they are not visible in the sky.

  “Y-Your Majesty…” calls out a young man’s voice. The Emperor looks over his shoulder at his eldest son, the Crown Prince, he is pointing at the sky.

  In the area that he’s pointing, as if descending from the moons themselves, is a terrifying sight.

  It is the distinct, and unmistakable form of a dragon. But, this dragon is dangling in the sky by its tail, not moving at all, while a pair of comparatively tiny figures descends on steps of silvery moonlight themselves.

  It takes a long time, but the whole Empire seems to have come to a stop to watch the procession, not believing their eyes.

  The one holding the dragon by the tail is a petite woman that defies all reasoning, since the Emperor was finally forced to give up the campaign to retrieve her after losing virtually all of the dragonslayers of the Empire and wasting years worth of resources and taxes only to meet crippling defeat time after time.

  He’ll never, ever forget that treacherous beast that stole away his chance to buy the Empire out of its faltering status. It was larger and more distinctly glowing than any other dragon he has ever seen, and he easily dispatched as many dragons as he did dragon slayers, leaving few within the Imperial Palace.

  The young woman, dressed in clothing money could never buy, is none other than Princess Meliarte, his youngest daughter and the one stolen away by the dragon. Alongside her, holding her left hand, is a man with glowing silver hair and a radiant aura of divine energy the likes of which only the moons themselves could grant.

  The two descend low enough towards the festival yard, where people have instinctively cleared a massive area beneath the dragon, and Meliarte releases the dragon.

  It hits with a thunderous boom, even with its nose starting inches from the ground itself. It shakes the entire festival yard with the tremors, and people gasp in shock.

  The Princess and her male escort descend to the platform effortlessly, stepping off of their moonlight stairs and onto the pedestal where the Emperor and Empress still need to prepare their ritual.

  Stepping ahead of them, Meliarte takes the goddess fruit from the priest, who is too stunned to object, and she dips it in the water, turning to feed it to the man. He takes a bite with a gentle smile, and then receives the fruit to allow her to do the same, which she gladly does, her eyes lovingly lingering on his face.

  “Wh-What is the meaning of this!?” snaps the Emperor, finally coming out of his daze. “Meliarte!? What do you think you’re doing!?”

  “Saving the Empire,” replies Meliarte bluntly. “As you can see.” She gestures at the dragon on the ground; the unmistakable Morthybargaron that plagued the Empire for the last year.

  “You’ve lost your mind!” shouts the Empress. “You’ll tied to a bed post and flogged until you can’t-...” While she tried to keep her voice quiet to avoid being overheard, her tone was truly vitriolic. Larven simply places a single index finger to his own lips, whispering, “Shh…”

  Instantly, the Empress gags and then mouths, grasping at her throat. She can breathe, but not a single sound escapes her lips. The Emperor, likewise, tries to shout for the guards, but no sounds escape his lips.

  Meliarte says seriously, “I have been on quite the journey since you let the dragon take me, Mother, Father. I have seen parts of the world I never knew existed, titans from the very depths of the sea and conquerors of the sky our dragons would tremble to behold. Things far worse than Morthybargaron, the demon dragon. And, during my captivity in the dragon’s clutches, I prayed every day to the great moons. I prayed for the safety of the Empire above all else, because I knew we were faltering. I knew that Morthybargaron was a blight upon our Empire; a plague.” She turns and faces the populace, and as if by magic –because it is–, her voice projects across the entire capital. “My beloved citizens, I am Princess Meliarte, the youngest princess. Last year, I was taken by the dragon you see before, Morthybargaron. And, because of this evil beast, I have failed to protect you when you needed me. I had no power, and I watched from my captivity as the people starved, as the waters ran dry, and as pests consumed our land. Morthybargaron brought pestilence and curses down upon our Empire, and the old ways could not stop him. I could do nothing to stop these terrible things from plaguing you, my people! Not until the goddesses granted me their blessings! They have sent me their precious messenger, as well as divine strength, in order that we might vanquish the evil dragon. The goddesses have heard our prayers! They condensed them into the strength I now wield in order to protect you, my citizens! I will not stand by and let the Empire suffer a moment longer!” She takes the man’s hand, introducing him, “I have chosen to make the Divine Messenger, with the goddesses blessing, into my beloved husband, Prince Consort Larvenmaouchoul, and together, we swear to make this Empire the prosperous nation it was always supposed to be!”

  Cheers erupt from all across the capital, from those who can see the dragon’s corpse, to the innkeepers and ditch diggers at the far edges of the capital city.

  The Emperor and Empress are incensed, but their voices won’t come out, and everyone else is too speechless to confront them. Larvenmaouchoul kneels before the young woman, kissing the back of her hand in fealty, which is shown for the whole capital via their mystical projection.

  Everyone is left speechless, and she hugs his head to her belly for a moment. She adds, “You, my precious citizens, bless us with your hope. I shall not fail you! This I swear!”

  A new chant starts to rise from the crowd, growing in volume and making the blood of the current sovereigns run cold.

  “Empress Meliarte! Empress Meliarte! Empress Meliarte!”

  Mixed in with that, cries of, “Saint Meliarte! Saint Meliarte!” start to blend together. And, before too long, “Long live the Saint Empress Meliarte! Long live his Highness Larvenmaouchoul!”

  It’s visible only to those closest to them, but Meliarte’s eyes are watering, touched to hear such praise. She turns to Larvenmaouchoul with a passionately tender expression, and she takes his head in her hands, pressing her lips to his. This momentarily halts the chanting, only to be met with a second wave of thunderous cheers.

  On that day, the history of the Lorih’nimbael Empire changed forever.

  ***

  Over the promised couple of years that Larven remained by her side, Meliarte worked tirelessly with her beloved husband, stamping out any forms of resistance or invasion, purging monsters from the Empire, and focusing on reconstruction efforts to restore agriculture, mining, and even fishing efforts for the Empire.

  Forced into a corner by their display, as well as the grand feast of dragon meat provided by the prodigal Princess, the Emperor and Empress had to make the difficult decision to step down, naming Meliarte the rightful Empress by divine right, since there could be no discrediting her sudden increase in power.

  They had no way of knowing that she was trained by the very dragon that continues to deceive them even now to be one of the most powerful mages the Empire has ever seen, and likely will never see the likes of again. Under the new Saint Empress Meliarte, the dragons were given proper citizenship, though on the condition that they remain loyal subjects to the Empire, lest they end up like ‘Morthybargaron’. Likewise, she worked to improve relations with demi-human races, especially the tribes near the borders that generally avoided Imperial interference before simply by remoteness. But, with their help, uniting the Empire as a whole, the Lorih’nimbael Empire became an impenetrable land of prosperity, wisdom, and acceptance that Meliarte’s forefathers could never have hoped to see.

  As for her siblings, who bore a greater birthright under the traditional Imperial laws, Meliarte struck a deal with them that they quietly govern territories on her behalf, lest she and Larven descend upon them without mercy. Only her eldest brother, the Former Crown Prince, protested and tried to duel Meliarte, only to be soundly defeated with her very first move; a sleep spell spoken in the draconic language of her husband’s homeland.

  Her next elder brother was named Crown Prince in the absence of an heir, and he served as her prime minister, his talents put to good use and shining for the first time in his own life.

  Meliarte’s sisters were already married, with her eldest sister returning only because of Meliarte’s ascension to congratulate her, since she has lived a happy marriage in the far north ever since, and wanted nothing more to do with their parents. Likewise, the others agreed with their husbands to take Meliarte’s offer. For those who already had their own territory, they annexed into the Empire through diplomatic agreements with their sovereigns, and for Kloedelle, she became a Duchess of a core territory nearby, spending tea time with Empress Meliarte on regular occasions.

  All was as it should be, and the Empire swiftly recovered well beyond even its peaks of glory. Though he was enraged by everything that happened, Lord Bahla had nothing more to give the Empire, and Meliarte threatened that if he tried anything, she would happily add his mines to the Empire the old fashioned way.

  This was enough to silence all further letters of “violated betrothals” and contracts. Since the people who made those agreements were deposed and sent to live in a remote villa under strict and loyal guards to Meliarte, he had no more power in the Empire and became a neutral trading partner at best.

  Lastly, Jinca, who faithfully served Meliarte all by herself for the entire year of ‘captivity’, she was made the Meliarte’s formal lady-in-waiting, ascending far above the ranks of anyone else in the Palace could regularly hope to dream, becoming the right hand of the Empress herself.

  And a little after two and a half years had passed, the day had finally come…

  ***

  It starts with a sudden, cataclysmic clap of thunder, followed by the cry of a departed soul as a concentrated point of magic evaporates into the fabric of the world. Then, an uncontrollable wave of terror grips the souls of many. A veritable titan of the world, the mightiest of living beings, glimmering orange in the sunlight, has been struck down in a single terrifying blow. Behind this thunder lingers a fiend of dark hair and dark eyes and a demonic presence of pitch black -the bringer of death-. With him stands a much smaller individual, but one radiating with impossible levels of power. The piercing gaze of the Couple of Death touches her, and at once, she knows the truth.

  A powerful arrival has just descended upon their world. And, though it has little to do with her part of the world, these two, along with others, will reshape the entire world.

  Knowing that a vision as intense as this means a great deal, she delves a little deeper, searching for one specific presence.

  And, there, she finds him. She sees glimpses of an all too familiar grey dragon, gazing upon the form of his precious sister, her scales burning orange with a fiery intensity like the sun itself.

  And, amidst the turmoil, Larvenmaouchoul’s life flickers…

  ~~~

  Meliarte finds Larven sitting on the banister of the balcony just outside of their shared bedroom. The Empire couldn’t be much more stable at this point, though they’re years away from true, unshakable ground. That said, the promise is done. Even without Larven, Meliarte has become strong enough in magic, wise enough in diplomacy and political maneuvering, and brave enough in all situations to remain as safe as anyone could possibly be. And, with the restored dragonslayers having been recruited back into service, her royal guard are the most formidable on the continent, since three people know the whole truth; the dragon slayers were never weak. Larven is simply impossibly strong for their continent, middling in strength for his own homeland, if he is to be believed.

  And, it is because he is sitting on the banister, staring off into the distance, that Meliarte knows everything she needs to know.

  She places her hand gently on his tail, which draws his attention.

  “Hey… Did I wake you?” asks Larven.

  She teases softly, “I was afraid my snoring woke you.”

  He lets out a soft chuckle, and she commits every tone to memory, etching it into her heart. He replies tenderly, “If I wanted to, I could have slept through your entire Palace panicking when they found you and your flower pot, Meliarte.”

  She smiles. If she were to run out of room for anything else, she would give all she has to be able to keep his voice saying her name for the rest of her life. She would be content hearing it in her memories every day.

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” replies the Empress affectionately, leaning her head against his ribs. He moves his arm and hugs her to his side, which makes her happy. But, it’s a bittersweet happiness, because she knows what he’s thinking.

  “It’s… time… isn’t it?” asks Meliarte, not wanting to beat around the bush.

  Larven is silent for a moment, and she asks, “Your sister… she’s… orange, isn’t she?”

  This prompts the dragon in human form to snap his gaze to her, recoiling for a moment to see if she’s serious.

  She is.

  She starts to crawl up onto the banister, but it will be precarious at best for her to be there. She’s relying on one thing, saying as she places her life once more in his hands. “If you hold me, I’ll tell you what I saw, my love.”

  Larven smiles gently, and he helps her crawl up onto his lap. His powerful legs and tail, as well as his magic to levitate effortlessly, might as well be a throne made of stone build into the banister as a fixture, given how steady he is. She gets comfortable in his lap and leans against his chest, listening to his heart beat. She remembers hearing it that day he silenced the whole audience chamber with his audacity and strength, and his powerful heart thrummed quietly, peacefully, and steadily. For just shy of four years in total, Larven has been her absolute, reliable rock of safety. “I feel confident I saw her, because shortly after, I saw you with her…”

  Larven is quiet. “I… felt it in the air. Something big is coming, isn’t it?”

  “Yes… Though, I don’t quite understand what I saw.” She explains the vision to him, not leaving out any part of it. Larven proved years ago that he is reliable, even if she sees his death in the visions. If the future can be changed, his sister can be saved.

  “I… don’t know if I have the spells I need… I… I wanted…”

  “There is still time,” replies Meliarte sadly. She cups his cheek while looking up at his face. “I believe… this is the world giving you a warning. A blessing of sorts. It… It is time… And…” Tears start to find her face, and she looks down as she clutches his simple robes meant for sleeping. She whimpers softly, “I don’t… want you to go…”

  Larven is quiet as he pets her shoulder. “A… small part of me doesn’t want to have to go.”

  “Then…?”

  “But,” adds the dragon before she can make her plea. “She’s counting on me. Even if I didn’t trust your vision, which I absolutely do, I need to return. I need to rescue her from the real Morthybargaron.”

  “But… the magic you still seek… It’s a… a last resort, isn’t it?”

  “If it manages to kill Morthybargaron and his allies, then so be it. I have only one thing left to lose, and I’ve left her alone for too long already…”

  Meliarte looks down, but a strong hand takes her chin and angles her face upwards once more. Larven’s lips press to hers, and for one of the rarest of moments, Larven is the one going out of the way to kiss her. Her heart races, and she pulls on his robes and ‘climbs’ her hands upwards, wrapping them around his head to linger in their passionate embrace for as long as she is allowed.

  It could be the very last time.

  When they part, they linger a hair’s breadth away. “Thank you, Meliarte, for telling me.”

  She forces a smile, even through tear-soaked cheeks. “A few books was never going to be enough to repay you, Larven, my one true love. Nothing I can give you will ever reach the height of what you have given me.”

  He smiles softly, kissing her once more, and she happily lingers in this loving moment, wishing time could just stop forever and leave the two of them together, just like this. If anything, she wishes she could go with him, but even with her magical prowess bolstered by her dragon husband’s training, she is still a fraction as strong as him and would likely only slow him down when he’ll need speed the most. And, if it’s a dragon he’s afraid he can’t beat, let alone multiples of them, then Meliarte at her best would be little more than dead weight.

  “I will… never love anyone but you, Larven.”

  He doesn’t reply. He can’t reply, because although he gave so much of himself to her, his heart was the only thing he never gave away, lest he not be able to leave.

  He murmurs softly, “I know… if circumstances were different… I would likely have no trouble falling in love with you, Meliarte.”

  She puffs a breath of a near-nervous laugh or a release or something of the like, since it’s the closest she’ll ever get to an “I love you, too”. She mumbles with a choking voice, “Y-You could lie to me… J-Just once… I-I would forgive you.”

  Larven hugs her and rocks their bodies together, and in spite of the drop below them, she doesn’t feel even a moment of fear. He chuckles softly to her retort, adding his own frustratingly truthful answer, “I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not lying to you all this time, Meliarte.”

  She scoffs, turning to face him more directly as she hugs his face with tearful eyes. “I know… And, that’s what’s so frustrating.” This time, she kisses him, and she slumps onto his shoulders to hug him for a long time.

  When she is finally ready to move, he helps her climb down onto the balcony, and he steadies her when her legs have fallen asleep. As he helps her stumble back into the bedroom, he says as irritatingly bluntly as he can always manage, even with the heaviest of topics, “Since I’m a ‘divine messenger’ and all, it’s probably an easy sell if I disappear in the night under moonlight, and you reveal it in the morning that I was summoned on a divine errand, right?”

  She scoffs and shakes her head. “Completely callous until the bitter end.”

  “I obviously would have ensured to say goodbye to you. But, I think it’s the easiest explanation…”

  The ‘easiest explanation’ is it? thinks the young Empress bitterly. You’re asking the woman whose heart you’re ripping out to lie for you, Larven.

  She looks up at him with the same loving hurt in her eyes, unable to be angry at him or hate him, because he truly did go above and beyond to give her far more than she deserved. He found many spells in the hidden parts of the library that he hopes to make use of, but it was the discovery of some kind of forbidden necromancy magic, which is only mentioned in the most elaborate Imperial archives, that stoked the fires of his revenge.

  If I burned all the books in the Palace the day we conquered this place, would you have been stuck here? No… No, definitely not. You were always free, unlike me. It was you that showed me a taste of freedom and gave me strength.

  “Sir Larven, my dear, sweet husband…”

  “Yes, my dear, sweet wife?” asks the dragon, matching her facetious start to her reply after loathing the very idea he just suggested, but loving him too much to simply reject it, since he’s ultimately right, at least for the sudden, believable exit for a mythological Prince Consort who was always planning to leave.

  She smiles up at him. “I will cooperate with you and let you go without further fuss on one, and only one, condition.”

  “And, what’s that?”

  “Since it is our final night together, you will take me as your wife.”

  ***

  Once more, Sundenelle stares at Larven with a burning intensity that even dragon fire could scarcely match. She nods when a moment of silence fills the air.

  “After that, I left,” states the grey dragon knight with finality.

  “After what specifically?” asks the Empress, not letting it go.

  “My Liege, it’s hardly important…”

  “It is to me! I have to know if her unrequited love was ever requited! How often do you think I get to sit down and read a romance novel!”

  “There is a reason for that, your Majesty,” growls Walliskah. He clears his throat, saying, “But, I must say, Sir Larven, you went on quite the journey, and have had more of a journey still. From drifter to ‘Sir Larven’ the first time around, to Prince Consort, and now brother to an Emperor and Empress… You have quite a way of finding your way to the top.”

  “Hahaha, I assure you, for all my best luck, I’ve had plenty of bad as well.”

  “Neith, I am ordering you…” starts Sundenelle.

  “Your Grace, it truly is unimportant. That was almost two hundred years ago, now. As an Empress, there’s almost no chance she didn’t find a proper husband to give her an heir, lest her Empire turn over to her brother on her passing. While I regret that I stole her heart, I did not hinder her sense of duty in the slightest, so I have no doubt she will do what needs to be done, regardless of anything else. And, besides that, there’s little chance she’s still alive.”

  “Yes,... But, what if there’s a little ‘Neith the Second’, or, I guess, ‘Larven the Second’ running around that you’ve spent all this time not knowing!?”

  “That’s impossible,” replies Larven. “At the time, I was also inflicted with Morthybargaron’s curse, making it impossible for me to have had viable children.”

  “R-Really?”

  The dragon nods once. “That is why it is truly unimportant”

  Sundenelle sighs in disappointment, flopping back a little indignantly in her seat. Walliskah scowls at this slightly, since it’s a breach of her noble etiquette, but they are essentially having a secret gathering, so it’s more forgivable.

  Instead, the Duke asks, “So, the last premonition, if you don’t mind my asking… Is there a reason it sounded familiar?”

  Sundenelle nods, answering as she sits back up, “It should. It’s the one that foretold of Daniel’s arrival and the slaying of the creature known as the ‘Devourer’.”

  “But, two hundred years ago?” asks the aging gentleman. “How would anyone have made any sense of that?”

  “I know not,” replies the grey dragon. “I have heard that powerful distortions in the world’s mana, like Daniel’s most powerful weapon used to strike down the Devourer, can send ripples further back in time. I had very little at all to do with that moment, so I don’t know if the world chose me, or it was just by chance because she was always searching on my behalf.”

  “You need to go back in time and kiss her right now,” growls Sundenelle.

  “I thought I said I did,” replies Neith. “Several times.”

  She realizes this is true, and stops for a moment, while Walliskah growls, “Your Majesty…”

  “Wait, so, if you left to find one spell and return to kill Morthybargaron, why did it take you two hundred years? That sounds impractically dumb.”

  Neith looks to the side and is silent for a long time. “As I’ve said, I have many regrets. I… fell into a trap… one that, by the time I was able to awaken from it and escape, over two hundred years had passed. I was distraught, and I still hadn’t mastered the magic I needed. I finally did find it, but not long after that, I had… the dream.”

  “Mm…” hums Sundenelle, knowing exactly which dream it was.

  Many people across the Empire, and later to be learned, across the whole continent, reported having shared a similar dream, a common portent to disaster. In this dream, The sun turned black in the sky, and the whole world fell dark. In its wake, the shadow of a titanic mushroom lingered, but no one could make sense of the mushroom. Many scholars scoured the archives, and adventurers searched high and low for any sort of ominous fungus. But, because Dawnsights are reliably unreliable when they are leaned on too much, daily functions had to continue.

  And, the dream, to Neith, meant he was absolutely running out of time.

  But, as the story came to pass, by the time Neith learned he was already too late, it wasn’t despair that he felt, but relief.

  Because on that day, when he finally learned the fate of those he cared about, he met Daniel, a very strange human from a whole other world.

  ***