[[A finished fantasy story. Contains plot, a reasonable panic attack, lewdness, nobles being stuck up degenerates, a man that just wants to work in his shed, and a thicc dragoness. Comes in at just under 32k words. There will be random stealth edits for basic quality.]]

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Gil descended the mains stairs of his family's manor. A long night of tinkering by lamplight in his workshop had him late for breakfast. With luck the new lord, his older brother Alphonse, would understand. Gil had finally reached a breakthrough on the lock design he'd been tinkering with for the last few weeks. After he finished prototyping and testing then it could passed on to the Crown as one of the Anonymous Source's more useful creations.

That, Gil hoped, would earn him a few months of reprieve from his family nagging him about marriage and other 'proper' pursuits for a noble. His last contribution under his pseudonym had earned him three months of peace so far, and that had been nothing but a novel wind up clock. Hardly worth the time he'd been given considering a magical mechanism could keep time better, but Gil hadn't argued with the lack of nagging.

Had to pass through the bust room on his way to the dining room. A dozen stern, stony gazes of previous Count Wilmyr's stared at him. Gil ignored them as he always did, especially the stern marble gazes of his father and brother.

Past the bust room and through a hall with open doors, Gil reached the main dining room. His older brother Alphonse sat at the head of the grand table, looking dignified in his dark red tunic with silver buttons and the ruby brooch of their family's shielded crest sitting over his heart. Their parents sat beside each other, their father Osmund's creased brow looking years younger than normal as he whispered something into mother's ear. Eileen Wilmyr laughed, affecting offense that didn't actually show in her wrinkled smile.

"Good of you to join us for breakfast, brother. Sit, please," Alphonse said, waving for Gil to take the seat opposite their parents.

Bowing respectfully to his brother, manners ingrained into his very flesh and blood, Gil took the offered seat. Then he noticed the conspicuous lack of servants in the room. Thinking on it he hadn't seen many of the servants the last few days, but he rarely had need to bother them. The continued absence struck him as concerning. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he realized something could be very wrong.

Alphonse folded his hands on the table, their parents sat up straight and ceased their quiet private conversation. Something, Gil realized from the placid politeness falling onto his mother's wrinkled face, was indeed very wrong. The sluggishness of a long night tinkering faded quickly. Gil braced himself for what was likely to be a lecture about how he needed to get married already, or put his intellect to tasks more befitting his noble blood.

Only the lecture never came. 

Alphonse merely looked over his shoulder, to the cleverly hidden servant's entrance, and called, "We are ready for the meal."

Moments later two maids bustled out, a dish balanced on each furred hand. They were two of the four catkin maids currently employed by the Wilmyr estate. All four sisters looked alike, and even after living around them for six years Gil couldn't tell them apart if they didn't say anything. Which was rarely, unlike his older brother who they fawned over even now. The two maids greeted Count Wilmyr with smiles and warm words. After placing a dish of eggs, potatoes, and fresh bread in front of everyone, the maids didn't hide their fondness for Alphonse, brushing against him and lingering unnecessarily close. 

The previous lord and lady and of Wilmyr pretended not to see as their oldest son smiled scandalously at the maids, who were in truth his mistresses, as they tidied up his tunic. Alphonse stopped short of touching them inappropriately, but otherwise he made no effort to hide his fondness of the pair. He and his wife, a real tart of a woman in Gil's opinion, had an agreement in place to spend only the necessary amount of time with one another and keep their dalliances hidden from view. Even with the lady of Wilmyr in the capital with their children to attend to her sick father, Alphonse pushed it by flaunting who his real lovers where, much to Gil's disgust.

Uneasy as ever about his brother's marriage, and the idea that he might end up in a similarly loveless situation, Gil looked at the food and prayed for leave to start the meal. Unfortunately, his brother shared a few quiet words with the maids, leaving Gil to seethe at nature of nobility.

Even in his frustration and dread, Gil knew why political marriages allowed such dalliances. His mother and father accepted Alphonse's impropriety because he'd married a Duchess and was meticulously careful about not siring bastards. So long as the family's were connected and a sufficient number of heirs produced, it didn't matter what transpired where rumors couldn't spread.

While Gil stared a hole into the table, hating expectation that he marry like Alphonse for the family's status, a third maid emerged with a pitcher of watered down wine. She served everyone, her tail playing with Alphonse's leg while she filled Gil's mug, and then she left with her sisters. Alphonse didn't hide the longing look he gave the exiting cat maids, but they at least had the decency to focus on their duties.

Once his catkin lovers were gone, Alphonse turned around and waved at the food. "Eat, everyone, eat. No need to delay things with proper manners when we have long day of formality ahead of us." 

That sounded too much like there would be noble schmoozing for Gil's comfort. Thankfully he had a way out, as there was always work to be done. "Brother, do I have your leave to visit town for a week? I had a breakthrough last night on that lock design. I need to visit the smithy and get their help in testing it, so it makes a good impression when presented to the crown."

"I am afraid that will have to wait, Gilbert. Today is very important," Alphonse said before filling his mouth with food, brokering no further argument.

Worried he might have forgotten his birthday again, Gil ran through the days in his head. To his relief he realized that wouldn't happen for another month. Plenty of time to conveniently 'forget' and create a scheduling conflict that had him working on something vital all day. But that didn't help him figure out what had to be done today.

Since he couldn't figure out why he needed to stay, Gil chose to ignore his brother's indication the conversation was over. "Are there plans I should be aware of?"

Alphonse chewed his food with a thoughtful expression, clearly in no rush to answer.

"You still haven't told him?" their father cut in, frustration creasing his lined forehead and tilting his wispy eyebrows as he glared at Alphonse.

The current Count Wilmyr set his knife down and wiped his mouth. "Father. You agreed to let me handle this when you abdicated the family duties to me."

Their father grunted in irritation. "He can't get out of the marriage now, so at least tell him about it."

Gil sputtered, nearly choking on his food. Hastily setting down his knife, Gil wiped his mouth and coughed, taking his time to think. So that's why he'd gotten such a long stretch of peace. There had been planning of some sort behind his back. Gil wondered how he could get out of it this time, now that Alphonse seemed to be the one behind it. Their father had always put his efforts into it, but being an honor bound creature their father always let Gil know well ahead of time. And neither had their father used Gil's status as the Anonymous Source, an apparently popular figure in the capital, to leverage a marriage, having long ago agreed to leave that piece of information up to Gil's discretion.

But Alphonse, while he didn't lie often, he knew how to control information and had no qualms about doing so. There was no way he'd act in the same manner as their father, Gil thought, coughing a few more times into his napkin.

"Easy now brother," Alphonse said. "It's not so bad you need to give up on breathing."

"I didn't expect to learn first thing that you're trying to marry me off," Gil coughed, not bothering to play up how he almost breathed in a chunk of fried egg.

"Now, now little brother. I'm not so indifferent to that I'm having you married off to a rosy cheeked capital woman with no interest in your talents," Alphonse assured.

Their father scowled, but a light pat on the back of his head from their mother stopped him from saying anything. The last time their father tried to marry Gil off had been with the daughter of an exceptionally successful spice merchant with contacts in the Empire, a large step down on the social ladder for a son of the Wilmyr family. Their father, far from a fool, had intended for Gil to takeover the merchant's trade and bring it into the family; enough of a boon for the Wilmyr coffers and connections to overlook certain social details. Except after a single trip through his workshop the makeup caked daughter of the merchant had been so disgusted that Gil dared to work with his hands like a common man, she'd said many harsh things about him and his work.

Gil decided not to tell her that he was the Anonymous Source that delighted the crown, and turned all of his efforts into stopping the marriage.

Once he learned one of her lovers was the personal guard she brought, it had been rather easy to ruin things. The hardest part had been secretly bribing the driver to their carriage, but sabotaging their cart so it would spill them out into the street while they were in half dressed and in the middle of making love had been all too easy. That the driver managed to make it happen outside of the nearby town's temple after morning prayers and in front of all the temple goers, that had been worth the five gold he'd demanded for the risk. A woman set to wed entangled in the arms of her foppish catkin valet, that had been quite the scandal.

Gil got out of the marriage, the carriage driver got an extra three gold, the snobby woman didn't have to marry a 'filthy smith soiling his family's name', and the merchant had been so embarrassed about his daughter's dalliances he paid the Wilmyr's a significant amount to have the wedding called off. The pay off by the merchant's hadn't been what Gil expected, but father had taken it and left him alone about marriage for many months after that.

"Do not worry yourself Gilbert," Alphonse said once Gil had collected himself from nearly choking. "You are being paired with a woman who is excited about your work continuing unimpeded. In fact she sought you before she even knew you were a Wilmyr."

Gil shook his head. He didn't doubt his brother's sincerity, Alphonse only made small lies to him after all, but his brother's belief and reality didn't always align.

"At least we know your father could keep it a secret for this long," their mother huffed, no doubt giving their father Osmund a withering look. "I suppose we had to tell him on the day of the wedding anyway."

Wide eyed, Gil looked between his parents and brother. The way they avoided his gaze told him it was true, the wedding was set for today.

There had always been time to prepare an escape from marriage. But learning about the it the day of wedding? How could he possibly get out of this short of running away from home and abandoning his family? They could be annoying certainly, but he didn't doubt their love or care for him. They'd let him go so long as a bachelor with only occasional lectures but no punishments, it was obvious to him they only hounded him about marriage because it truly mattered to them. Not because they wanted him to be miserable, they simply thought it best for him and the family.

Alphonse cleared his throat, Gil's panicked gaze turning to his brother. "I know it's sudden Gil, but your betrothed is like no one before. Sofina Everbright. She's an accomplished wizard that has recently taken up residence in a town several days from the capital, after being gifted land for her constant services to the crown. For matters of privacy she's kept a low profile, but I have the utmost assurances from the Crown that she's an invaluable asset to the realm." Alphonse took a drink of his watered down wine before continuing. "And Prince Hubert himself has been arranging everything after she expressed interest in you, so there's really no need to worry."

Gil's stomach rose up into his throat. "Why is Prince Hubert involved?"

"He's a friend of this Sofina," Alphonse explained. "He's been handling all the correspondence."

Another thing to worry about just dropped in Gil's lap. Prince Hubert was the one Gil sent things to as the Anonymous Source. The Prince had cleverly hidden his identity as an inventor and craftsman with a silly pseudonym and a cleverly crafted air of intentional mystery. Hubert had always worked hard to keep Gil's secret, they'd been friends since childhood after all. They even shared secrets with each other and even agreed that political marriage was a wretched thing. So Hubert betraying Gil like this meant only trouble.

"Prince Hubert didn't break his agreement to keep quiet about who I am, did he?" Gil asked, hoping his friend had stayed true.

"I'm afraid he did," Alphonse said, and Gil felt the blood drain from his face. "Try to understand brother," Alphonse quickly continued, "Prince Hubert swore to me that he only told Sofina only because the wizard had become so fascinated by your works that she started looking into the man behind your pseudonym. The Prince judged it better to let her in on the secret than risk creating a trail to you, as he claims she is clever and persistent enough to figure the truth out given time."

Rubbing his knuckles, silently cursing his luck, Gil knew he'd have to have a long, hard talk with Hubert next time they met.

"Prince Hubert also informed me the wizard extended an offer of marriage, as she has apparently fallen for you. Or rather, the man that is the Anonymous Source. Hubert and I worked out all the details these last two months, leading up to the big day today." Gil also decided he would have to find a way to get his brother back for this. "Unfortunately," Alphonse said, adjusting his brooch, "Or perhaps fortunately for you brother, there won't be many guests, not even our guests, at the wedding since it is on such short notice. Nor will the ceremony be complicated, as per her request. But we have all the assurances of the Prince and King that Sofina is a wonderful woman."

If the crown was involved in his marriage prospects now, then Gil would have to flee the kingdom to get out of this. Desperation seized him, and he looked to his parents, hoping they might take pity upon him at the last moment. The situation was too irregular and mad for them not to have doubts.

"Mother, father, do you really approve of me being married off to a wizard? Of a Wilmyr being married to a woman he's never even met?"

Mouth a tight line and eyes resigned, their father nodded. "It is your brother's decision to make."

Their mother sighed. "Your father means he gave his approval for Alphonse to pick your bride when he stepped down as Count. The timing is unusual, but she's a woman who is endeared by you because of your eccentricities and not in spite of them. Why Gilbert, you should be thankful for such an opportunity."

The glint in his mother eyes brokered no argument. Gil sat back in his seat and thought.

More than the betrayal of his family keeping this a secret and his mother's grating attempt to be diplomatic, it hit Gil hard how old his parents had become. Gone were the energetic mother and father from his youth, or even ten years ago. Now they were graying, slowing, and fading into miserable leisure. More and more lines around their eyes every year, their skin turning thin and papery, increasing Gil's fear that they wouldn't be around a lot longer.

He looked down at this meal, and put his parents out of his mind. Incensed as he was that proved easy, his mind turning to the crown prince. Hubert had always been good to the Wilmyr family, and a friend to Gil and all his brothers since they were all children. Gil wasn't even sure of everything he'd given to the prince as the Anonymous Source, but if their history wasn't enough then all of his contributions should have been enough to avoid such a betrayal. The Crown and Wilmyr family saw plenty of profit from selling off his more useful creations after all.

Ideas and options mashed against each other in Gil's head while his family gave him space to stew in his thoughts. They carried on with their meal while he stared down at his plate, not actually seeing or smelling the food.

He had more than enough money to bribe a carriage and buy the supplies necessary to get out of the kingdom. The Empire to the east, they respected men with practical talent and skills. He'd no doubt be destitute, and if he wasn't careful he'd end up a slave for a few years, but would that be any worse than being married off to some woman he'd never met? Who had no clue as to whether she was human or beastkin of some sort? Not that Gil cared much, women were women in his eyes, but for now this Sofina Everbright wasn't even a person to him. Only a looming threat to the simple existence he wanted.

"You seem to not have much of an appetite, little brother," Alphonse said, interrupting Gil's thoughts. "If you are done with breakfast we have much to do in order to make you presentable for when the bride's entourage arrives."

Mulling his options, Gil saw the reality of the situation. They had cornered him masterfully. Running appealed to him, even now, but he didn't want to hurt his family like that. He reached for the diluted wine and took a long drink, before nodding to his brother. "I expect you'll give me an explanation, Count."

"If there is time," Alphonse said, wiping his mouth and standing up. "Much may have to wait until after the ceremony."

A thousand questions on his mind, Gil silently followed his brother without so much as a goodbye to his parents. They were disgustingly understanding and kept quiet, leaving Gil with only his thoughts as he followed his brother.

---

First came the bath, with two of Alphonse's catkin maids assisting in scrubbing and washing Gil. All while Alphonse watched, using his status as lord of the manor to silently impose himself in the private bath chambers. No doubt to keep Gil from escaping, not that he could have gotten away from the long legged maids if he wanted to. He was certain they had orders to restrain him if he tried to bolt. So he suffered through the washing and fancying up with scented soaps and oils.

One of them even started brushing his hair once he had dried off and gotten into underclothes, an endeavor she must not have known was futile. No comb or brush could ever hope to tame his hair, but he let her try.

Alphonse, sitting on a stool brought for him, clapped his hands. A moment later the curtain separate the servant entrance swung up as two catkin maids bustled in, a set of clothes in hand. "Help my brother dress," he ordered, patting both cats on the rear.

Gil, disgusted with his brother, closed his eyes and lifted his arms, letting the cat maids fulfill their duty their way, complying where he needed to. He didn't want to look at this brother's lovers while they helped him into clothes he hated. To his dismay, everything still fit well. On the upside the cats finished quickly so he could open his eyes again.

They'd stuffed him into the clothes he'd avoided wearing for the last ten years. A bright red tunic with gold thread at the neck and hem, trousers and boots with more of the same gold highlighting, and an absurd cloak with a neck lined with fox fur. The clothes meant to send him off into marriage. Horrendous, but better than what Alphonse had been made to wear during his wedding, seeing as there was no hat or gem encrusted vest. 

Gil's dark hair got tugged back tight by the maid who had tried brushing it. She got handed a disgustingly expensive looking black satin ribbon and tied his hair back into something remotely manageable. If it were fashionable to go bald he would, but the one time he'd mentioned it he thought his mother's heart had actually stopped she'd been so mortified. Instead he got to suffer through the indignity of his hair being worked into submission by claws and the careful use of ribbons.

"Excellent," Alphonse clapped once the maids finished. He stood up and smiled right at Gil. "Now come brother."

"Where to?" Gil asked, resisting an urge to pick at the gold thread in hem of his tunic.

"To my study, to see if you remember how the hand tying ceremony works. Once we're done there then we go to the front garden where the guests should be assembling." 

"This is really happening? Today?"

"I'm afraid so brother," Alphonse said, coming over to pat his brother on the back, "But do not fret. I'll explain everything after the ceremony, when we are not so pressed for time.

"Swear on your life?" he asked, looking his brother dead in the eye.

"Of course. I'm not doing this to hurt you Gilbert. I don't care if this Sofina can bring riches or fame to the family, I set this up because she asked for you even after Hubert told her about you," his brother replied, serious set of his jaw showing his honesty. "Now come, you should already know what the ceremony entails but I need to be certain you do while we have time."

Surrendering to his oldest brother, Gil let himself be led out. He could scarcely believe it was happening so fast, or that his family had managed to ambush him so effectively. Defeat tasted bitter, and left his stomach rolling itself over in anxiety and dread.

---

Worn down by his brother's refresher in how to properly go through the hand tying ceremony, Gil was lead out to the front garden of the manor by his lord brother. They crossed the cobbled front yard, then aimed toward the neatly manicured and trimmed flower garden where several people had already gathered. Man-servants all busied themselves in setting up the last of the necessary decorations, including a white arch with the symbols of all ten gods in the empty space of the lattice. They had it in front of the bubbling fountain, no doubt to the delight of the guests already gathered.

A desperate need to be anywhere else pressed down on Gil. He looked around for a reasonable avenue of escape, but all he saw were a few carriages on the tree lined road leading to the open yardage of the manor. None of those drivers would be idiotic enough to take the groom away from his wedding, so Gil turned his attention to the crowd. His heart sank. No one he talked with regularly from town seemed to be there or showing up, a blessing and a curse. While he wouldn't have to see his friends from the smithy and carpentry shops offer their condolences in somber looks, their absence meant Gil had no one to leverage an escape attempt out of. Alphonse, still ever so close, must have planned invitations around that thought, not that it wouldn't also please the more well to do guests to have no craftsmen in attendance.

With how the mayor's wolfkin wife would have complained if she had to be within a dozen paces of smiths and carpenters, Gil wasn't sure he blamed Alphonse if his only intention was to keep the peace. Gil certainly wouldn't have wanted to subject his friends to that misery.

Led to the arch before the large, softly flowing fountain cascading water from one bowl to another, Gil was positioned so his back facing one of the arch posts. He glanced at the fountain, that he'd designed and helped build, but was distracted when the head priest of the town walked up. He took a position right in front of the fountain, his severe face and sagging jowls nowhere near as frightening as the two strips of cloth in his hand. One black and the other the same red as the tunic that had Gil been forced to wear. One strip to represent the gods, one from his wedding shirt, and soon there would be a third from the bride's dress.

Alphonse took a position by the priest, near Gil, since as Count Wilmyr he was responsible for speaking for the family and giving Gil to marriage. Aside from exchanging vows or answering questions from the priest, Gil and his soon to be bride were expected to remain silent during the ceremony.

The guests were being sorted into position by Gil's mother, and the few faces he recognized he shied away from. They were all minor nobles from nearby towns or officials appointed by the crown. All of them looked far too pleased with the situation for his liking, and he didn't think making himself ill from fright and frustration would get him out of the ceremony.

Kept in place by the shackles of expectation and manners, Gil shifted from foot to foot and looked back at the fountain he'd built. This might be the last time he could see the fruits of his labor, and the thought sank his roiling stomach. He was utterly, completely trapped this time and he knew it.

"Cheer up Gil," Alphonse whispered. "Your bride is most interested in your knowledge of crafts and building, so I'm sure she'll want to hear all about it. In fact, Hubert said she was delighted by the idea of you showing her your workshop."

"You know father told me white lies like that the first, and you know how it always turned out," Gil whispered back, unafraid to talk plainly with his brother around so many guests.

If there was offense, well his family deserved it right now.

Alphonse chuckled. "Then it's a good thing that I'm not father, now isn't it? Relax, and trust Hubert. He's never done us wrong, has he?"

"I could always renounce my status and sever my ties to the Wilmyr family," Gil mused quietly, wondering if he revealed he was the Anonymous Source if he could seek patronage from some merchant or noble from a neighboring land.

There were certainly enough kingdoms in this part of continent for him to find someone interested in a man of his talents.

"Could you really do that to your family?" Alphonse patted his brother and back, then squeezed his shoulder. "Please, brother. Knowing you, there is a good reason you kept avoiding marriage, but we all have a duty to the Wilmyr name to get married. And if that isn't enough then you have to know it means the world to mother. She'll finally be able to say all of her sons have gotten married in her lifetime."

Gil grit his teeth, and looked at his feet. Damn Alphonse to the greys, why did his brother have to mention mother? Alphonse surely believed this marriage would work out, Gil didn't doubt his brother's belief. Even if his brother had a loveless marriage to a tart with more makeup than wits, he was no cruel tyrant. But mentioning mother like that, after she'd fallen ill last year and they'd all had horrible scare? It didn't help with the fear and anger that kept flipping places in Gil's gut.

The thought of his mother, old and decrepit, weeping in bed because she felt she failed her duties as a lady of Wilmyr, that broke the stubborn resistance in Gil. His shoulders slumped, the weight of that mental image too much to bear. He looked Alphonse in the eye and whispered, "If I have your word as Count Wilmyr that you'll save me if this one is awful, then I'll do it."

"You have my word as Count Wilmyr, and as your brother," Alphonse assured. "I've looked out for you this long, haven't I?"

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Gil sighed, looking back at his fountain.

Alphonse patted his brother's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, little brother. And I'm sorry for springing this trap on you."

"Alphonse," called their father, interrupting the brotherly moment as the elder Wilmyr ambled toward them, "Were the bride and her two guests to arrive by horse or carriage?"

"The last letter promised they would be here by noon," Alphonse murmured, looking down the cobbled road leading to the estate. "Nothing beyond that, I'm afraid."

"No one from town saw them. So do they come from the main road, perhaps?" their father asked, clearly anxious to get the ceremony started.

Gil kept a groan to himself and stared at the clouds. This might be the last time he could enjoy staring up at the sky as a free man, so he decided to try and enjoy it. 

A flock of small, chattering birds flew overhead from the west, swirling and moving as if they were a cloud of living smoke. Each bird seemed determined to be faster than the one beside or above it, the swarm moving quickly. It struck him as strange that they flew in one direction, normally the mass would bob and weave aimlessly as they moved across the sky.

Looking to the west where the birds came from, he saw a possible reason for their hurry. Three large birds flew in formation high up in the sky, little more than dark spots against the clouds. Predators, without a doubt. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Gil thought they seemed faintly off. The distance was too great to judge, but he thought they might be massive. Bigger than any eagle or falcon.

"Should we send a runner, perhaps?" their mother asked, coming over now that she had finished sorting guests. "To see if there was trouble?"

While Gil would have loved to volunteer himself, he knew they wouldn't let him go. Even if he swore he wouldn't run off, there was no way they'd take the chance. Instead he squinted and tried to make out more detail on the trio of birds as banked overhead into a turn.

"It's only just noon, mother. Give them time," Alphonse said, while looking toward the road.

"A runner wouldn't hurt," their father argued. "You could send one of your long legged maids."

While Alphonse must be giving father an unhappy look because one of his lover maids had been brought up around others, and their parents argued, Gil's mouth dropped open. The three dark shapes he thought were birds started to descend, and as he started to make out more details it stunned him.

One had a strange tail and great, gray feathered wings edged with black. The other two had unmistakable tails, long and lashing in the air, and wings shaped nothing like a bird's. Membranous like a bat's, but the motions and colors were all wrong, and their bodies lacked any hint of feathers. His eyes widened as he realized what those two were, memories of a trip to the capital where he saw wings like that high up in the sky.

"Dragons," Gil gawked, stunned by the sight.

"What? Our family has no connection to dragons," his father said, turning to look at him in confusion.

Gil pointed up at the descending trio. They were close enough to make out in distressing detail. The lead wasn't a dragon, and smaller than the others, the feathered wings marking it as a birdkin. But the other two fliers were unmistakably the near legendary creatures of scale and fire. A dark gray dragon and another a dark and light purple. The sound of huge wings disturbed the air, and the assembly readied for the wedding looked up.

Stunned, all watched as the feathered flier ahead of the dragons landed lightly on the cobblestones. Its talons clicked against the stone and it strode forward in the same motion it landed, wings folding against its back. It walked forward on two birdlike legs, and at the distance it seemed to indeed be a birdkin of some sort. Mostly. Gil had never heard of a birdkin with a true tail, let alone a long tail that looked to have smooth, fin like protrusions. What little Gil could see of the appendage reminded him of a beast he'd seen illustrations of, what seafarers called sharks. Dark silks hugged the birdkin's odd body, completely obscuring their torso and arms, and it wore a red veil over its beak, but as it got within a dozen paces of the assembled guests Gil realized the bird was a woman. A woman so tall she stood above even the wolfkin manservant, who was easily half a head taller than Gil, that had gone to intercept her. He had to glance up to meet her dark eyes, and when her head twitched to regard him he took a few steps back.

Gil didn't blame the wolf. Something about the bird seemed off. She stood too still after moving so smoothly, and the faint breeze didn't disturb the silks hugging her feminine body. Gil offered a panicked prayer to any god listening that she wasn't his betrothed.

Wing beats grew louder, and the two dragons landed in the yard of the manor at the same time but different angles. They touched down only a stone's throw from the collected wedding assembly. The wind from their wings ruffled the flowers of the garden, but other than that they landed with hardly a sound. Not as huge as some legends told, from snout to tail tip Gil guessed they were at least twenty paces. In a strange way, he thought they utterly magnificent, creatures who looked every bit as noble as they did dangerous. Illustrations and glimpses at a great distance didn't do them any justice.

The dark one was angular and wiry, looking every bit as graceful and deadly as the stories made dragons out to be. It had scales colored like soot, claws and swept back horns blacker than night, and bright, vicious red eyes that could outshine rubies. Sharp, spike like scales crowned the side of its head, thicker scales lining the top of its snout. The other dragon was stockier, thicker in bones and flesh, and nowhere near as long or deadly looking. Its scales were the rich color of a dark lavender flower, the underside of its neck and chest a paler, more muted purple. It had white claws and a pair of horns that curled forward, both looking like fine, polished ivory. A short, fin like crest ran down from the crown of its head to the base of its neck. Head held high, the purple dragon's intelligent blue eyes observed the wedding crowd, taking a sweeping look at everyone gathered.

"We apologize for being a tad late, Count Wilmyr," the dark dragon said with a silken voice as it stepped forward and dipped its head, as if curtsying or bowing.

That motion drew Gil's attention to the leather bags strapped to the dragon's lower neck, near its torso, and his eyes flicked toward lavender dragon. He saw it too had bags on its neck, but they seemed much more finely made than the first's.

Alphonse stepped forward, skin pale with fright, but he didn't let that stop him from acting as lord of the land. The guards were nervously approaching from their hidden position, but a raised hand from the Count stopped them from getting to close. "Who are you three, landing upon my domain?" he demanded, voice surprisingly firm and collected considering the situation.

The birdkin broke its stillness, waving a silk draped arm to the dark dragon. "This is Kyvilia the Crimson, my disciple," the bird said, opaque veil over her beak fluttering. "I am Shanshir. We are here as family and speaker for the betrothed of Gilbert Wilmyr, Sofina Everbright."

The bird motioned to the purple dragon.

"My warmest greetings, house Wilmyr and guests," the lavender colored dragon said, head bobbing in a strange imitation of a curtsy.

No one assembled for the wedding said anything. Gil blinked, suddenly unsure of whether he was in a delirious dream or actually awake. He looked to at his mother, who was so pale she seemed ready to faint, and then his father and his slack jaw. Glancing around, he noticed the priest looked ready to run, as did about half of the guests. The rest stood in stunned awe.

So no one knew that Gilbert had been set to marry a dragon? That boded ill. He couldn't even be happy to see his brother so uncomfortable.

"There must be some sort of misunderstanding," Alphonse said, walking toward the bird. "Those are indeed the names Prince Hubert mentioned in his letters, except he said nothing about a... a..." Alphonse must have realized how tall the bird was, needing to tilt faintly tilt his neck to meet its dark eyes once he was within arms length. "D-dragon," he finished, top of his head only coming up to the bird's shoulder.

The bird's head twitched to look at the two dragons. Then snapped back distressingly quick to regard Alphonse. "The prince did not inform you?"

"No," Alphonse said, composure regained swiftly. "I am afraid he did not."

The bird Shanshir looked around slowly, taking in the everyone assembled for the wedding. "I see. We were told all the arrangements had been agreed upon. Those looks say otherwise."

"We were told everything had been arranged as well," Alphonse said, looking back at everyone assembled for the wedding. "But I begin to think details were neglected."

Gil caught his eye, and not knowing what else to do, he shrugged back at his brother. A glance at his mother and father, and he saw that they both nodded, albeit with hesitation. 

Alphonse visibly let out a sigh, his broad shoulders flexing before he turned back to the bird. "Shanshir, was it? Do you speak for the bride?"

Shanshir nodded, veil bobbing. "I do."

"Forgive my manners. I am Alphonse Wilmyr, lord Count of these lands, brother to Gilbert, and his speaker for the wedding."

She dipped her beak ever so slightly. "Well met, Count Wilmyr."

Shanshir said nothing else, either oblivious to the etiquette of formal introductions or uncaring. 

"Would you come talk with me, in a bit more privacy?" Alphonse asked, taking a hesitant step away from the bird.

She nodded and followed. The two of them went out of earshot, standing in the cobbled road leading to the manor while the men at arms milled about cautiously. Whatever the two talked about had the bird twitch her head around several times, and Alphonse give an apologetic bow.

Gil blinked, and realized that look had been Alphonse asking if the wedding should proceed. Cursing his family under his breath, Gil looked at the lavender dragon that was meant to be his betrothed.

Of the three, she seemed the least frightening, her colors happier and shape smoother, plumper perhaps. A smile seemed to sit on her draconic snout, her fin like ear protrusions twitching as she glanced around, and in a way he thought she looked cute. Even so it was hard for him to think of a such an awe inspiring creature as his potential bride to be. Though she wasn't as long or tall at the shoulder as the black dragon, the lavender's body was far larger than any horse, but the shape was one that spoke of power. While Gil had read that dragons could take a smaller, bipedal shape through an unknown magic, he wasn't certain of anything anymore.

Back sweaty from the cloak and only getting worse from his rattled nerves, Gil had a horrifying thought. If the marriage went through how would he seal the marriage with a dragon? Barring all of the physical complications of positioning, could he even get himself aroused enough to bed a four legged, winged creature? Would she feel anything or would it be nothing but obligation from them both, just as it seemed to be between Alphonse and his tart of a wife? Would there be a scandal about it, or horrible rumors against his family?

He looked back to the dragons. The lavender dragon Sofina seemed to notice him staring in her direction, and turned her head toward him. He got a look at those blue eyes. His eyes locked with hers and the world grayed at the edges, his head growing light and sight seeming to float away as if in a dream. The wedding, the guests, even the dragons - soon Gil saw none of it as a rush of unfamiliar sensations took him.

He saw and felt things, as if he were in two places at once.
/His shaking hand found solace against her scales, fingers touching the gold wrought necklace he'd made for her on their wedding. Two trees intertwining, their branches looping together in a knot while the roots spread and mingled. Hardly his best work, but she adored it so much he always kept quiet about the flaws./
/She spoke words he couldn't understand, but her love enveloped his being just as her tail cradled him. He understood what she meant. They'd see each other again. That was enough for him to finally close his eyes and let go./
/Resting against her scales and soothed by her warmth he let himself finally slip away, his breath ceasing as she fought back tears./

The vision shattered when the lavender dragon's gaze flicked quickly away. While she whispered something to the dark dragon with her, Gil stumbled back and put his hand on the fountain to steady himself. 

He breathed heavily, palms sweating as he tried to understand what just happened. He'd never been religious, but that hallucination had felt distressingly real. Almost like a vision. The warmth and texture of scales lingered against his skin, but as his lungs dragged in fresh air it started to fade. The world around him gained back color and he questioned the very integrity of his mind over what just happened.

"Gilbert," the head priest said, turning to Gil, "Are you okay, son? You blanked out."

Letting of the fountain and flexing his fingers, the memory of warm and familiar scales against his hand no longer so real it lingered, Gil shook his head. "Just nerves," he said, wiping his palms on his leg, uncaring of what it might do to his expensive trousers.

"It will all work out Gilbert," the priest assured. "Trials and tribulations make us better people, as Anvil has conveyed to his followers."

Nodding, not wanting to get into it with a priest, Gil looked down and tried to gather himself. 

Gil didn't get nearly enough for time to sort himself out before the chattering picked up, forcing him to look away from his boots.

"Everyone," Alphonse shouted, walking back with Shanshir trailing a step behind him, "We have cleared up an apparent misunderstanding. The wedding will continue, but the bride needs a few moments to get ready. If you will all wait there, we will continue as planned shortly."

Alphonse glanced at the two dragons, and bade they follow him toward the back of the manor. The lavender dragon, Sofina, went behind him, followed by the dark scaled one and then Shanshir. It was astounding their claws didn't leave gouges in the grass, but Gil had other concerns. Like why he'd just hallucinated utter nonsense. More worryingly, a swarm of wedding guests, half of whom he could recognize but not put a name to, and his parents starting to whisper among themselves. People looked at him then away, and a din of hushed voices filling the air.

They must have seen him stumble earlier. Did they think he'd run? Or were they trying to guess if he knew what was going on? Was it assumed he only had wedding jitters?

Gil turned his back on the guests and stared at the fountain, his mind a mess and heart pounding. He'd rather be in his workshop right now, or better yet making a desperate run to the Empire, but he had promised his brother. A sidelong glance at the back of his mother's head, granting him an eyeful of her gray, thinning hair, was reason enough to keep that promise. With that hallucination of what felt like his own death fresh on his mind, Gil had a new appreciation for how important settling regrets and making things easier for the soon to be departed.

Grateful no one talked to him as he collected himself, Gil watched the water smoothly cascade from bowl to bowl in the fountain. He didn't want to think too hard about the meaning of that hallucination, but it did cross his mind that it might have been a vision from the gods. It scared him a lot less to think he was going crazy than ponder the gods or soul, in fact.

The murmuring of the guests grew more agitated as time passed, but everyone still left Gil alone. Even the priest kept his thoughts to himself, which was relief. Gil wasn't sure he could stay on his feet if he had to talk to someone. 

Every beat of his heart felt like a hammer blow and his fingers trembled. Whatever that vision had been, the fact it happened scared the hell out of him. Pondering any possible meaning to what happened scared him nearly as much as waiting for a wedding he hadn't wanted.

"Ah," the priest said, the crowd going quiet as Gil tried to keep himself together. "Your brother and bride have returned."

Giving a last fond look at the fountain and sky, breathing in deep to collect as much of his nerve as he had left, Gil turned to look where the priest did. To face the shackles and terror of an inevitable future.

Alphonse walked side by side with Shanshir, and he did his best to hide how uneasy she clearly made him. Something about that bird was utterly wrong, aside from the tail, and it set the hair on the back of Gil's neck standing straight. What walked behind the speakers for the bride and groom drew the most attention, and even caused some murmuring from the crowd.

The dragons walked on two legs as a man or beastkin would, and looked much smaller than when they'd arrived. The dark one, Kyvilia, was maybe half a head shorter than Shanshir's, and dressed in the same dark silks and red veil as the bird. Gil thought the dark dragon looked feminine, but when he saw the lavender scaled Sofina there was no doubt as to her femininity. An ample bust and wide hips filled out her dress, a modestly cut affair of blue satin and silk that couldn't suppress her pleasantly plump shape. A gossamer veil of white, attached to the frill on her head and her forward curved horns, did nothing to hide the clever blue eyes beneath. 

With a mind harassed by the day's events and surprises to the point it was barely holding together, Gil found himself thinking Sofina didn't look bad. On two legs she seemed much softer and friendly than the four she arrived upon, but the smile she had was gone. And unless he had indeed lost his mind, Gil thought she looked nervous.

Alphonse took his position by the priest, being handed a piece of cloth by the priest. Shanshir took her spot opposite, a strip of blue cloth in her silk covered hand. The dark scaled dragon took a position of honor nearby, in a mirror of the position held by Gil's mother, and stood so still she might as well have been made of stone. That left only Sofina, who stepped up to be opposite of Gil.

Up close he could see the two patterns of scales on the side of her neck, and a part of him marveled at how close and regular they were. Most were like the finest mail possible, every scale locking perfectly over one another. The more muted scales on her throat were wide bands and looked far more supple, reminding Gil faintly of the underbelly of a snake.

Gil tore his eyes away before anyone got the wrong idea, looked at the priest, and started trembling as he realized it was happening. He was getting married. To a dragon he didn't know.

"Friends, family, guests. I thank you for coming," intoned the priest, and Gil stopped hearing him.

He'd heard a similar speech during the weddings of his brothers. All he needed to do was pay attention to when his name was called and not screw up the hand tying ceremony, and then everyone would be happy. Except him, but at least he could end a worry for his mother and uphold the family honor by not collapsing during his own wedding.

"... now I ask you the same, Alphonse Wilmyr," the priest said, Gil snapping back to the ceremony with a flood of fright. "Do you freely give your brother, Gilbert Wilmyr, to the marriage of Sofina Everbright? Not to diminish your familial bonds but to increase them, so the Everbright and Wilmyr might be united."

"I wholeheartedly do give my brother," Alphonse replied.

"Do you freely accept that your brother shall, upon tying of the knot, henceforth bear the name Gilbert Everbright?"

Gil's eyes went wide. No one had told him he was going to be taking the dragon's name. That seemed like something his family should have told him, since it meant they were giving him away to her family instead of receiving the dragon into the Wilmyr's.

"I gladly accept," said his brother.

Alphonse obviously knew about that part of the arrangements managed by Hubert. And he hadn't told Gil? Why?

Heart hammering against his ribs, Gil tried not to bite his tongue as the ceremony meandered on and the priest's speech continued. Gil shifted from foot to foot and tried to keep breathing, lest he lose it completely.

"Now, if the bride and groom will present their hands," the priest said, making Gil realize he'd missed most of the ceremony in his silent panic.

Sofina held up her left hand, and just as he'd been instructed Gil lifted his right. 

"Now that your speakers have given their consent that your families be joined, it is up to you to unite hands and say your vows."

Gil could get away still, yet tempting as it was he knew he couldn't do that. Alphonse had promised to help him out of this if it turned out horrible, and his brother had decided to continue with the marriage. Angry and frustrated as Gil was with his family, he had to trust them.

Fighting his own trembling muscles, Gil moved his hand toward the dragon's. Her ivory claws and blue scales were less frightening than the simple fact her hand could have covered his with ease. She didn't hurt him as their hands met, in fact the scales of her palm felt nothing like the roughness he expected. She was soft, smooth, and warm enough to blank his mind of all but one thought. Her touch felt familiar, threatening his mind with thoughts about his earlier hallucination.

Cloth draped over their hands and snapped Gil from his thoughts. First Alphonse placed the red strip, and then Shanshir set a strip of blue atop that. The priest said something about each piece of cloth meaning something different, how it was a symbol of families joining, but Gil couldn't focus on anything but the dragon's hand touching his. Frightened to the point of shaking again, he actually felt feel her tremble faintly as well. He dared a glance at her, and saw her gossamer veiled face looked anxious.

Looking away before she realized he was staring, he tried to breathe steadily.

Gil only go the gist of what the priest instructed him to say next. Love and cherish, support and love, stand by and guard no matter what. He heard Sofina say the same, but aside from the sweet pitch of her voice, he couldn't remember anything. Everything blinked by as he struggled to breathe calmly.

"Now," the priest said, laying a strip of black cloth over the cloth already upon their hands, then manipulating it with skilled hands, "If you two truly wish to be one in marriage, pull the cloth taut and you shall henceforth be man and wife."

Looking at the complete stranger that was Sofina, meeting her blue eyes, Gil's scrambled mind realized something. He still had an out. She looked at him, waiting for him to assent, and all he had to do was let go of the cloth that somehow ended up in his hand. That was the loophole of the ceremony. One of them just had to let go of the cloth and it wouldn't be completed.

But Gil couldn't break the promise to his brother, even though he hated Alphonse at the moment. Gil just couldn't hurt his mother or father by getting so close to marriage and then giving up at the last moment.

He squeezed the cloth and pulled his hand away. She did the same, copying him. The three strips, laid in just the right way, tangled up and tugged into a knot as they tugged. Three pieces, bound into one. He sealed his fate, bound himself to a dragon he just met and hadn't spoken a word to. Gil's head started to swim and his vision blur.

"With the knot tied before the gods and your guests, I pronounce you husband and wife. Kiss," the priest said, as Shanshir reached over to life the gossamer veil off of Sofina's draconic, snouted face, "That your union might be witnessed by all gathered."

Sofina bent slightly, her neck snaking to ease things, and Gil forced himself to stretch up and meet her. His lips touched the scales around her mouth, the congratulatory clapping starting up the second he did. There was nothing exciting about the kiss, being little more than his dry lips against scales, and it ended as quick as it began. Yet it marked the last public symbol of their union.

It was over. He had gotten married, to a dragon of all things, and everyone was okay with it. Even his parents were clapping, his mother clearly fighting back tears of relief while his father whispered something to her. They all clapped cheerfully as his sight started to gray.

Gil's felt faint and his legs gave out, everything fading to a pleasant black.

---

Someone stroked Gil's head, sweeping back his loose hair. Wondering who could be waking him up from a strange dream like this, his eyes fluttered open. He looked up at the soft purple face of the dragon Sofina. 

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Heart skipping a few beats, Gil realized none of it had been a bad dream. He sat right up, head leaving the dragon's lap, and he saw they were in a guest room at the manor. The one with the oversized bed and garish, laced curtains at the shuttered window. Mouth dry and tongue stiff, he stared back at the dragon who's lap he had been laying in.

"Do you feel well?" Sofina asked. "Can I get you anything?"

He blinked, unsure of what to do. Her veil was gone, but otherwise Sofina was in the same dress as the wedding. Looking down at himself, he saw the only thing he didn't have on from the wedding was that miserable cloak.

"I think I'm fine," he said, having to force the words through his lips. He looked anywhere that wasn't her, settling a shelf on the wall behind her. "What happened? Where is everyone?"

"They were headed to the ballroom, last I heard. As for what happened, you suddenly collapsed at the conclusion of the ceremony. I managed to catch you, but there must have been half a dozen people ready to grab you. Now, are you certain you are well?" she pleaded, touching his hand with a scaled palm that had no right being so soft. "Is there anything I can do? You still look horribly pale."

Gil's mouth flapped, tongue limp from how straight forward Sofina was. "I'm fine."

"I apologize for any anxiety I caused," she said, not letting go of him. In fact she only got closer, and as she did he noticed how complicated the patterns in her blue eyes were, making him stare harder at the simple shelf behind her. "I heard the truth from your brother after you collapsed. That you were entirely unaware of my proposal, how he forced you into this, and how Prince Hubert seems to have left out a great deal of information. After that I made it clear I wanted to talk to you alone, and he couldn't refuse me."

"I wasn't entirely unaware. I learned about it this morning," he said, resisting an urge to look into her eyes.

"Then why go through with the ceremony?" she asked. "You would not have offended me in the slightest. I would even have supported your protests."

Gil thought about what to say. What was the point in lying to her after he'd tied the marriage knot? So he told her the truth he wouldn't have told even Alphonse. "Because my brother made a compelling argument, our mother would be disappointed if I didn't marry. After illness nearly took her last year, I realized I couldn't cause her anymore regrets than I already have."

The edges of the dragon's mouth turned down into a slight frown. "You only went through with this for family, then?"

To that, he could only shrug. "I couldn't go through with the thought of escaping after Alphonse pointed out what I didn't want to see. And he promised to help me if you were like any of the women my father tried foisting onto me, but he never said anything so I had to trust him."

"If you wish to annul, I will see to it immediately," she offered.

He shook his head, partly in disbelief at what she offered so easily, and at himself for the fact he didn't immediately accept. Why did she sound so greys damned reasonable?

"I willingly tied that knot with you," he sighed, rubbing the side of his head and mussing his hair.

"Prince Hubert deceived everyone, as your brother deceived you. You were clearly coerced. If I must bring this matter before the King I will. He already knows how persuasive," she said, flashing a few pearly, pointed teeth, "Dragons can be. So when I bring my sister and Shanshir along, he'll have to listen."

"Why would you do that after seeking me out?" he asked, unable to understand. Sofina seemed reasonable enough so far, so he took the chance and pushed his luck. "No, before that. Why did you even want to marry me?"

She sighed and glanced away, a smile warring with a serious expression for control of her mouth. "Prince Hubert showed me a treatise you had written for him," she said, as if that explained everything.

"What?" He stared incredulously at the dragon. "Reading something I wrote in a few frenzied nights? That can't be the reason you'd go through all of the trouble to have this marriage."

Sofina looked back at him, whimsical hint of a grin on her draconic snout. "My interest sprouted from reading your writing, as it gave me a fascinating look into your character," she explained. "The prince spoke highly of you after I inquired, and was eager to show me the many curious items you've made. Like that goblet that leaks if it isn't drunk from at a specific angle, it tricked even me." She shook her head, as if to focus. "And I sympathized with your situation when Hubert explained it. Wishing to avoid a political marriage that might take you away from your passions and sheer talent is commendable. Since I had fallen into fascination with you from your works, as if I already knew you, so I thought the least I could offer would be a way out of your difficult situation. And satiate my greed and curiosity by getting to know you."

"However," she said, the dragon's soft look hardening, a frown narrowing her eyes and showing her back teeth, "I didn't think the prince or your family would hide my intentions. I am deceived yet I can forgive that, but I cannot abide by the machinations that forced you into this. I was lead to believe you had accepted my offer until after you collapsed."

Gil couldn't fathom the mind of the dragon woman before him. She had decided she wanted him, based off a treatise he had written in three frenzied nights, and from Hubert talking about him? Yet she respected his wants enough that she'd offer to annul a marriage she seemed to want, right away no less? He couldn't help but wonder if all dragons were this complicated of mind.

"Exactly how were you deceived?" he asked, still trying to digest the thought of a dragon being interested in him.

"I set out to get your assent to partnership. Either marriage in name only so that I might act as your patron, or if our feelings aligned then a true bond. I did not seek your hand at the cost of your choice," she said. "Hubert assured me you agreed, that all matters were taken care of and you were consenting to my offer." Sofina sighed, her breath hot and scentless. "I most certainly surely got ahead of myself in excitement, and trusted him far too deeply and swiftly."

She let go of him, and only from the sudden cold spot did Gil realized her hand had been on him the entire time. 

"This is a lot to think over," Gil said, looking at his arm. "But I've been friends with Prince Hubert since we were children. I really do not understand why he'd do all of this."

"I have not known him for long, but I speculate he thought it was a favor to us both. Yet," she drew that word out, "If I'd known of any of this deception and conspiring I would have come to meet you myself. And made my offer in person, even if it would've been impolite."

He rubbed the spot she had touched his arm, and wondered why he had grown used to her touch so quickly.

"You're here now," Gil sighed. "But I still don't understand why you'd offer. How does fascination lead someone to wanting to marry someone they don't know?" 

"I truly am enthralled with the bits of your spirit and character that shine through your work," Sofina mused. "Saying more than that would be inappropriate, seeing how there is good enough cause to annul this disastrous wedding. You've been wronged and I desire to set that right."

A chance to escape right before him, and Gil couldn't allow himself to take it. He didn't understand enough about the situation to just accept an annulment the moment it dangled before him, not when it would hurt his family and cause untold upset with the crown. A marriage undone as soon as it began? There would be talk for years, and mother would be devastated.

"With all the secrecy and planning behind my back, I'd like to understand you, Sofina. What would drive you to find out that I'm the Anonymous Source, let alone seek to marry me into your house?"

"Dreadfully fair," the dragon huffed, looking to the door and then back at Gil. "If you wish to know, I had only begun to seek out the man behind the pseudonym Anonymous Source when Hubert stopped me. He offered an explanation if I swore myself to secrecy, and so I did. From his stories about you thereafter, I got to know you piece by piece. Until a suspicion turned to of mine turned into a hunch, and a hunch to a belief."

"But why?" Gil asked. "Why go through the effort to find me?"

The dragon considered her words, head swaying side to side slightly as a frown replaced her smile. Finally she stopped and sighed. "I do not want to frighten you with the reason."

"If I collapse again at least I'm sitting on the floor."

She chuckled mildly. "I'm certain I would catch you again before you did. However, jesting aside," she said, sobering, "I warn you that my reason might make little sense, considering you are not a dragon."

"You've roused my curiosity. Please, I'd like to know what would drive a dragon to seek me out, let alone seek me out for marriage only on the basis of my works."

"Not just your works. I got Hubert to tell me nearly everything he knows about you," she said, adjusting her dress. "Apologies. I am avoiding your question."

"If you don't want to answer then don't, you're under no obligation."

She shook her head, and said, "I felt we were kindred souls."

He waited for her to explain further. Only she didn't. It took her several long moments, as she seemed intent on smoothing out and straightening her dress to perfection. Eventually he had to ask the obvious.

"What are kindred souls?"

She relented her quest to perfect her dress and let out a puff of breath, in a most unladylike manner. "A difficult question. What do you know about the gods, religion, and the soul?" Sofina asked.

He didn't think he liked where this was headed. "About as much as anyone who half sleeps through trips to the temples. But as I understand it that's good enough for most gods, they care more for what you do in life than any devotion you lavish them with. At least the gods I'm fond of, like Anvil and Stareyes."

"What do you believe happens after death?"

Mouth flapping like a fish at the odd question, he shrugged. "Depends on the god, right? Stareyes lets his most devout followers join him at his table for debate and discussion eternal. Anvil gives his followers a choice to set aside their memories and be born again, so that if they do come back to him they'll have yet another lifetime of experience to use in aiding with his crafts whenever they finally choose to stay at his forge. Those," he rubbed the back of his head, "Were the only two I paid enough attention to to remember."

"Reincarnation is what I'd call Anvil's method," she said, nodding her head. "Living one life, then being born again after that one ends. That's similar enough to a dragon's belief about the lasting cycle."

She looked at Gil, her mouth opening hesitantly. The raw determination in her eyes won out. "Kindred souls," she began, "Are souls that are drawn to each other because of commitment and a promise. It is not the romantic idea of soulmates that you'd find in a novel in some lady's lounge, however. You do not start out this way. It is an act of faith, one that dragons often take with a friend or lover so they might meet again. That impressions are etched so deeply into the soul not even a god can remove them."

Gears didn't line up in Gil's head, as he never was one for philosophy. He hadn't exaggerated, he really had slept through most of his visits to the temple as a child. "And what does that have to do with this?"

"Did you," she said, shifting to sit up straight with her hands in her lap, "Feel anything when our eyes first met? Back when we first saw each other?"

The hallucination rushed back into Gil's mind. The suppleness of warm scales, certainty of the loving embrace, a golden necklace imperfectly made. All more real than his memory of standing, waiting for the ceremony to begin. It frightened him just as it had back then, making him wipe his palms on his trousers. "No," he said. "I had a fit of insanity from all the stress around that time, seeing and feeling things that weren't real."

"What was this vision of?" she asked, ignoring his denial.

Sweat beaded on the back of Gil's neck. "It was only momentary madness, not a vision."

"Did you see the end of your life, hear a promise being made while held close in gentle, scaled embrace?"

He didn't answer. Souls, gods, visions - he couldn't understand any of it. Simple, real things Gil could touch made sense, they had predictability. Mystical things, they obeyed rules and laws that defied the simple movements of levers and springs and wheels. But Gil couldn't put aside how real the hallucination had felt, from the texture of smooth scales to the nudge of a gold necklace against fingers that were and weren't his. 

"I won't say I believe any of this," he said, feeling half outside of his body, "But today has been nothing but upsets to the course of my life. Say I did experience something like that. What does it mean?"

She spoke in a different language, the unfamiliar words beat for beat what Gil had heard during his small fit at the wedding. Eyes widening, mind churning and moving too rapid for it to be called thinking, he scrabbled to his feet. He rushed to the small desk beside the window, hands shaking as he flung drawers open to find paper.

"Are you okay, Gilbert?" the dragon asked, but he didn't spare her a glance as she stood up.

There was paper but no ink. He checked every nook and cranny of the desk, his frantic haste flinging a drawer onto the floor.

"Please, take a moment to breathe," Sofina said, approaching Gil from the side. "I did not mean to frighten you."

"I did see something," he said, eyes flicking around the room for anything that could be used to draw with. The idea using his blood crossed his mind, but since he wanted the dragon to draw it he doubted she'd accept using his blood as substitute for ink. "Intricate, golden. A necklace. There's a chance, narrow as a knife's edge, that I'm not crazy. That it was some kind vision from a past life like you seem to say."

"Then why are you tearing apart a desk?" she asked, conspicuously blocking the window with her body.

"Ink. Or charcoal," he said, head whipping around as he searched for anything to use. "Blood if I can't find it. Something to draw with. So I can know if I'm crazy or you're the first person to be openly honest with me today."

Large, clawed hands rested on his shoulders. The stillness of her hands made him realize he quivered with nervous energy. "Breathe," she encouraged.

Right. He didn't need to be mad to prove he wasn't insane. Closing his eyes, he could only see that necklace in his mind's eye. Every twist and turn, every imperfect bend and how it was supposed to be finished with tiny gems. To make it two fruit trees entwined, as two lives had become. He reached up and took the dragon's hands off of his shoulders, his heart beating fast as he focused in on her claws. They weren't particularly sharp looking, but he bet they could still gouge wood if she tried.

"No time," he said, trying to urge her hand toward the desk. "Forget about ink or blood. Scratch out a sketch. The necklace, if you know what it looks like. If that was you, if that was me, you know what it is."

Eyeing Gil worriedly, Sofina turned her blue gaze to the desk. "I can write without ink," she said, taking her hands from Gil's weak grasp. "Just stay calm."

Holding the sheet of paper in place, she held out a single claw from her other hand. Mumbling a few words made the very tip of her ivory claw glow orange like the wick of a lamp, and when she brought it to the paper Gil saw the paper darken as if held near flame. Her fingers swirled and looped over the page, dark burn lines swirling out and crossing over each other. The initial shape felt wrong, but as more and more came together Gil found himself holding his breath. Twists turned in on each other and she started swiping out the twisting roots. 

Soon a drawn copy of the necklace that had been burned into his mind sat on the sheet of paper, and he didn't need to look down to see it. She held up the paper for him to see. He held his head and leaned on the desk, legs wobbling.

"I'm going to need a lot of explanation," he said, waving off the dragon's attempt to reach over and comfort him.

"Can you withstand that right now?"

"Some of it," he said, rubbing his temples as the crazed energy drained from his limbs. "Tell me plain as you can. When you say we're kindred souls, you mean we knew each other in a past life and made some sort of pledge to meet again?"

"I would call it an oath, but yes that much is correct," she said. "However, you are incorrect. I know what we might call your soul from, loosely, a previous life of yours. I have lived on since."

Gil lowered himself to the ground before his legs gave. "What in the greys," he muttered, rubbing his face as he leaned against the desk. "I think I understand why you didn't want to tell me."

"Do you find it hard to believe?"

"Who wouldn't?" he murmured, hiding his face from the light as he tried to put thoughts of that necklace out of his mind. Yet it lingered perfectly in his mind's eye, so vivid he could probably recreate it given enough time. "I just found out I'm getting married off, that my friend manipulated everyone to make it happen and broke me trust, and now I learn a dragon wizard I don't know believes I'm something like her reborn lover. My entire day sounds like a fevered dream spun up by a madman."

"You are not obliged to continue with our marriage," she said, the desk creaking under her sudden weight. "Nor is what you were in another life what you must be in this one. But know that no matter what, I am glad to have met you Gilbert Wilmyr. This has been a dream of mine for many, many years."

"I don't hate you Sofina, but I don't know you. You don't me. And I do not share your belief in this talk of souls reborn."

"I regret not coming to visit you," she sighed. "I naively thought you felt the same draw upon hearing about me and thus accepted. Worse, I trusted a prince to not scheme."

Gil rubbed his temples fruitlessly. "None of this makes any sense."

"I am sorry, Gilbert. My naivety has made a mess of everything."

"I can't think about the past right now. Which leaves the present." Clutching his hair, Gil let out an exasperated groan. He made himself glance up at the dragon, sitting on the edge of the desk and staring regretfully down at him. "Before we think about undoing this marriage and potentially making a bigger mess, can I show you my workshop?"

A thin, translucent membrane blinked over Sofina's eyes, giving her draconic visage an even greater reptilian feel. She stared at Gil for several seconds, then nodded. "I would be delighted to, the idea of seeing where you work has captivated me for some time now. But might I know why? Wouldn't you rather corner your brother and sort this out?"

"Everyone my father tried to marry me off to, I showed them my workshop," he said, putting hand on the desk's corner and pulling himself up. "Maybe my mind has shattered from today, but if I'm going to make any decisions about this marriage then I want to show you as I have others." He breathed out, determined not to let himself fall into a fit. "I can pretend I have measure of control over my fate this way."

"I would be honored to be shown around," she said, blinking yet again with her inner eyelids. "I've been honest, Gilbert. Your work has captivated me."

Gil nodded, and started toward the door. His legs wobbled and he nearly tripped over his own feet, Sofina rushing to his side to catch him. She looked down at him, concern burning in her blue eyes. "Are you certain you wish to do this now?"

"Today is catching up to me," he murmured, looking down at how she supported his arm. It unnerved him how the close contact felt so natural, but more so that he couldn't find the strength to pull away. "I didn't sleep much, and then today happened."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I had a few bites of breakfast," he said.

"Your brother left a maid outside, I can have her bring you something to regain your energy."

"Greys damned," he groaned. "My brother is going to know everything we said if one of his catkin lovers is out there."

Sofina didn't so much as raise a scaled brow at his slip. "Do not worry about eavesdropping. I put a temporary muffling spell on the door, at most she'll think we were whispering even if she had an ear to the wood."

Having a hard time trusting magic or disbelieving in it after seeing Sofina write by burning paper, Gil forced himself to shake his head. "I'd rather take something from the kitchens and send my brother a message," he said.

"Then please take a few moments to regain your strength," she urged.

Reluctant to agree, he did so after a moment of thought. She guided him to the bed and let him sit on the edge, then took a stop back and crossed hands in front of her. For the first time, Gil found himself really looking at the dragon.

Sofina stood taller than him, and the folded wings on her back peaked above her inwardly curling horns, but she didn't loom intimidatingly. Her dress hugged her plump but not quite fat figure pleasingly, helping to smooth out the shape of her distracting womanly hips and large bosom. Dark lavender scales covered everything but her throat, where the color became softer and more muted. Behind her lurked a heavy, smooth tail that she rested partly on the floor. And her neck, long and faintly serpentine in how it moved, distracted him whenever she changed what she looked at.

She smiled at him, and he realized he must have been staring. Thankfully she said nothing as he looked away, but he noticed she shifted her arms so that her bust was put on better display. As if she wanted his attention back.

He bit his tongue, just to make sure this wasn't all a fevered dream like he'd said. It hurt enough to make him wince, and it answered whether any of this was real. The revelation gave him a burst of energy, so he stood up and went to the door, while Sofina respectfully stood aside.

He opened the door and leaned on the frame to peek out into the hall. He didn't have to look hard to spot the maid pretending to dust a vase right by the door. The white cat's head smoothly turned to him and she respectfully dipped her head.

"Young master," she said, her trilling voice marking her as Susana. "Are you feeling well? Might I be able to get you anything?"

Looking back and seeing that the door to the guest bedchamber was still open, Gil turned back to the maid. "Go tell your lover, sorry I mean my lord brother the Count," he drawled, not hiding the fact the fact that slip had been entirely intentional, "That I will be in my workshop with Sofina. We wish to spend some time getting to know each other before mingling."

"Y-yes," Susana squeaked, her tail stiff and fluffed out as she realized the danger of Gil's words. "Will that be all, young master?"

"It is, Susana." Her eyes went wide at her name. "You may go," he said, waving his hand when she didn't leave.

The catkin curtsied, turned, and tried to hide her fear as she hurried off. He sighed, hating acting that way, and stepped out into the hall and a few moments later Sofina joined him. 

"What was that for?" she asked, looking down the hall where the catkin had fled

"A gift to you. Leverage against my brother in case things don't work out between us," Gil answered.

"I do not get why he cares," the dragon sighed. "Alphonse's spouse makes no effort to hide the men she sees, as I had the misfortune of witnessing."

"Almost every noble is sleeping with someone that they aren't married to," Gil said. "What's so much more scandalous than normal is that he's sleeping with four sisters, and they are all hired help."

Sofina looked down curiously at Gil. "I see. Well I thank you for the gift. I promise I won't abuse it, as he'll know it came from you."

"It is mostly to put him on edge after what he did," Gil said, motioning for her to follow him. "I must apologize in advance, you'll need to duck a lot since we'll be going through the servant passages to the kitchen."

"I'm used to doing that, do not worry," she chuckled.

As he said, Sofina had to practically crouch through the first servant's door. But as she had said, the dragon appeared to be familiar with walking with her knees bent and neck lowered. Gil kept a close eye on her anyway as he led them through the hidden, cramped hallways spared any thought of decoration. This way was better, in his opinion, than going down the main stairs and being near anyone who would congratulate them on their wedding.

They stopped at the kitchen, where every cook and several hands hired from town toiled. A veritable feast was being prepared. Most eye catching was the skinned, headless fangdeer hanging from a hook and the kitchen hands working to remove the best cuts. The head chef, a human with several ragged scars under his eyes, took one look and Gil and Sofina before glancing back down at the bowl he whisked something in. "Do you need anything, young master Gilbert?"

Gil nodded. "If you would have someone bring light refreshment to my workshop, I'd be most appreciative, Chef."

"I will see that it is done. Now if you'll excuse me, unless you need me for anything else I have to finish final preparations for your banquet," he said, adding a dash of cream to the dark mixture he whisked.

"Do not let us disturb you," Gil said, urging Sofina toward the kitchen door to the outside before they got in anyone's way.

She seemed to have no trouble navigating through the busy kitchen, her tail and wings deftly avoiding knocking anything over, and smiled at Gil as he held the door for her. Outside, in the mid afternoon sun, he lead her toward one of the outbuildings. Across from the stables stood a boxy building, with a latched wooden door bearing the marks of many repairs. Gil reached the door, taking two steps up. 

"Are those patches from the crossbow incident I heard about?" Sofina asked.

"Yes," Gil said, remembering vividly what caused the dozen wood patches in the door. 

He had stepped out for a moment to inspect something in the daylight, leaving Prince Hubert alone inside, and the next thing he knew there was screaming and dozen crossbow bolts sticking through the door. Once he'd barged back in, Gil had seen that the crown prince not only loaded all the crossbows rigged up to test their simultaneous firing mechanism, but for some reason Hubert had decided it was a good idea to pull the firing lever.

"That was a mess to explain and clean up," Gil muttered, shaking his head. "Now my father and Alphonse use it as a conversation piece whenever they bring someone new out to the stables." 

"I understand you patched everything yourself," she said, neck craned to the side to look at the door.

"I'm more proud of building most of the work tables inside," he said, opening the door.

Out of the manners ingrained into him since birth, offered the dragon his hand up despite her being taller than him. Two steps up and he was only at eye height with her, making him feel the gesture was pointless and perhaps insulting. She smiled lightly and took his hand anyway, her claws completely covering his palm, and she went up the stairs daintily, pulling up her dress a bit to keep her foot claws from catching. She put no real weight on his hand as she ducked into the workshop, the strength of her legs surely no joke.

Once she stepped in, he saw a look of unbridled wonder loosen her jaw and nearly set her eyes glimmering. When he looked out among the tools and half finished projects strewn about a dozen tables, the forge set up in the corner, and the myriad of completed trinkets of bronze and steel handing from the rafters, he felt much the same wonder. This was where he belonged, not inside the manor among fancy parties. And unless he was horribly wrong, when he looked back at Sofina she seemed to fit right in. Even if she had to duck her head to avoid hitting an empty iron hook handing from the rafters, and her tail wouldn't work in the tight space, Gil got the immediate impression the dragon understood the quirks of his space.

"What is this?" she asked, taking half a step toward one of the tables before stopping and looking to him for permission.

Gil smiled, and went to lock design he had sketched out and partly tested the principle of last night. "Parts of a new type of lock, where the key would need to engage pins from several different angles. But the bolt housing is the truly impressive part, it should be a lot harder to chisel open."

"Money lenders and merchants would be glad to know about this," she mumbled. "What about the key? How do you plan to make that?"

"A lot of meticulous filing. I've got everything modeled. I only need to get to a smithy so I can get help in putting it all together and get started on my tests," he shrugged.

"You have it that far along?" she asked, focused on the dissembled pieces of metal.

"It's not a finalized design, but the final parts came together last night."

"Would you be able to put it together now?" she asked, looking into the back corner of the workshop, at the forge. Her blue eyes turned to him, and they couldn't contain the raw focus she had. "I've helped with smithing work before, and would be delighted to assist."

This was not a reaction Gil had ever gotten from taking a woman into his workshop. Insults, disgust, blatant disinterest - that's what he'd grown used to. But he wasn't going to turn her down just because it was a new reaction. The best way he had to know someone quickly was to work with them after all, that and he wasn't going to turn down the chance to calm down with some work. "It will take a while to heat up the forge, but if you're willing to help I only need someone to hold it together while I put in some rivets."

Nodding vigorously, Sofina's excitement was interrupted by a knock on the workshop door. 

"Master Gilbert," a manservant called, "The refreshments you requested are here."

"We'll do that after a snack," Gil said, going to the door.

---

After sharing a small meal together, neither Gil nor Sofina paying much attention to the bread, sausage, and small cherry pie brought to them, they immediately set out to working on assembling the lock. Gil put in the first few rivets while Sofina held it it steady, her grip with the tongs sure enough he stopped worrying after finishing the second rivet. She watched him intently, following his every move and asking him questions about the design. She listened intently as he told her about it, as each rivet took time and patience to pound down.

The ring of metal and steady tempo of hammer strikes put Gil's spirit at ease. All the designs in his head were taking shape, and even if the bolt rattled too much for his liking it still brought him satisfaction to see the many metal pieces come together. The sheer act of making caused him to delight in the rightness of the moment. This was where he belonged, it was what he was meant to do.

Even though he caught the dragon glancing at him curiously now and again, she seemed content to watch as the parts came together. The slight smile on her face appeared natural and relaxed, not a single complaint leaving her scaled lips as he worked near silently with her.

Time seemed to fly by, and before Gil knew it they were down to the last rivet. The lock looked complete. Although its parts were too inferior to keep a determined thief out, the model alone proved the concept. He took the last rivet pin, slid it into the last open hole on the lock, and risked offering Sofina the hammer and pointed chisel he'd been using on the rivets. "Why don't you try the last one?"

"Are you certain?" she asked, staring down at the tools.

A moment of doubt crossed his mind. So far her wonder and interest had struck him as genuine, but what if it had been an act? What if she only humored him? "It's not difficult," he said, remembering the last time he offered a woman a hammer, the scowl that had over taken her face. "I can guide you. Just take it slow and gently."

Sofina stared at him, her ear frills dipping. "I am a touch worried about ruining your work, certainly. But there is a custom," she said, practically staring a hole through him, "About how a dragon and her mate craft something together to seal their bond. Holding it is one thing, but if I add work to it now... Well we wouldn't be mated, but I'd feel I had deceived you greatly." She shook her head sadly. "And you have already been deceived too much."

"Oh," Gil said, looking between his tools and the dragon. 

He realized the implication might be that he was offering to accept the marriage they'd already performed. He'd forgotten all about the complicated, hard to believe things while working with her, but now it all came back. Fingers squeezing the handle of his hammer, he wondered if maybe things could work out. The reincarnation stuff, the deception that got them married, her strange fascination with him - did it matter? She was the first woman who'd wanted to come into his workshop and not put on a disgusted face seeing his fascination with 'sordid sciences' and 'filthy crafts'. More importantly, he'd felt at ease working with her.

What if he accepted that custom, her, and this marriage he'd been forced into? Would he ever find a woman, dragon or not, that wanted to see him work on crafts not fit for his noble birth, let alone offer to help him with it?

Someone cleared their throat, Gil jumping where he stood and Sofina whipping aroudn. Tiny, leaping sparks crackled at the tips of her claws as she raised them defensively. But when they saw who it was Gil just put his hand over his heart and leaned against a nearby table, while Sofina lowered her claws, whatever magic she prepared fizzling.

"I see," Alphonse said, shutting the workshop door behind himself and stepping in, "That you two are indeed getting to know each other."

Sofina crossed hands in front of her dress, which was only partially covered by the leather apron Gil had loaned her. Now that he thought about it he wasn't quite sure how she got it on, he just saw her with it after pointing out where the aprons were. "Is there a problem," she asked Alphonse, "With us getting to know each other, Count Wilmyr?"

"None at all," he said, shaking his head. "I am merely stunned that my brother hasn't run away."

"Lady Sofina and I appear to get along," Gil said, to which the dragon nodded in agreement. "Which makes me wonder why no one told me about her or her offer."

Alphonse's smile held only tense politeness. "You have every right to be angry with me, brother. But you dodged marriage for ten years. And is she not a woman who enjoys what you do? My part in deceiving you was out of familial love and concern, nothing more."

"I think, Count Wilmyr," Sofina said, carefully stretching her neck up, "That Gilbert and I both have a right to be angry with you, as well as with Prince Hubert."

"That you do," Alphonse said, pushing one of the bronze trinkets hanging from the rafters with his finger and watching it swing back and forth. "Yet here you both are, skipping your wedding celebration to talk over iron work. You truly are a woman after Gil's heart."

Gil, mostly recovered from his startle, took his hand away from his chest. If it weren't for his apron there would be a smudge on his fine tunic, not that he wanted to be in the restrictive clothing to begin with. "Are you here for a reason, brother?"

"Sofina," Alphonse said, ignoring his younger brother, "What little Prince Hubert said about you was true. You're the first would be betrothed to my brother here who hasn't left his workshop in one state of disgust or another."

She smiled, showing all of her teeth. "I do hope you are not trying to distract me, Count Wilmyr, or delegate to the prince your own responsibility for lying," she said with false sweetness.

Gil felt glad she seemed to be on his side.

Alphonse shook his head, unmoved by the dragon. "Perish the thought. I am merely here to see if you and my brother are going to continue with the marriage, or if I should appeal to the crown to annul."

Sofina turned to Gil, who met her intelligent blue eyes. The question didn't need to be said aloud, she'd already asked it before. He had no idea why he did it, or if it was the right idea, but he went to Sofina's side.

Heart beating fearfully, aware he might be making a horrible mistake trusting her, he put his hand on the dragon's back, under one of her wings. She didn't shy away, in fact she didn't move beyond twisting her neck to look at him curiously. 

Meeting her gaze, he spoke. "Kindred souls, was that what you said we were?"

"That's what I believe, although there's one more test for it," she said, one of her clawed hands placing itself on his back. "But I presume you have reached your answer?"

Gil nodded. "I have no idea about the kindred souls stuff, that's all beyond my understanding. But I'm willing to risk accepting our marriage and seeing where we end up. If you'll accept it, that is."

Her smile softly curled her mouth up, her teeth hidden. "I would like to, but if you will delay that, I think you should know what is expected of you if you accept our marriage." He nodded so she continued. "I won't make you do anything, but I do ask you help me keep my house as I refuse to retain servants. I'll also give you space for your workshop, and moderate funds for your projects. But you'll have to leave your family's home and a measure of the luxury you are accustomed to, and I must ask you join me on any long trips I must make."

Glancing at Alphonse, Gil looked the dragon in the eye and nodded. "I was ready to run to the Empire and risk slavery when I heard I was getting married today. Your offer is a lot better than staying here and facing whatever else my brother tries," he said, leaving out that his plan still involved running to the Empire if Sofina turned out to be crazy.

She gently urged Gil closer, and didn't seem to care they both wore nice clothes underneath soot smeared aprons. Pushed up to her, and able to feel the surprisingly pleasant plumpness of her hip, he found himself strangely comforted. Even so, the closeness to the womanly dragon turned his cheeks red.

"I am certain everything will work out," she said, voice practically humming with pleasure.

"To think all Hubert needed to do was introduce you two to one another," Alphonse grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose and dropping any pretense of his station. "But you're married," he sighed, looking up from his hand. "That saves us all the trouble."

Sofina turned her smile to Alphonse, and added more teeth to her grin. "About that. If you see to all the expenses and logistics in the transportation of Gilbert-"

"Call me Gil, please."

"Gil's workshop," she continued, smile widening, "And whatever else he wishes to bring to my home, then I will ignore all the deceit from you and the crown prince."

"Done," Alphonse said, without a scrap of hesitation. "Anything else? Or can I invite you two to your banquet now?"

"I've no objections," she said, casting a glance at Gil.

Jaw clenching from a rush of anxiety, the thought of being around people he hardly knew or scarcely liked a deeply unpleasant one, Gil nodded despite himself. He'd accepted the marriage to an extent, so that meant he had to deal with this banquet.

"Then if you two will lose those aprons, mother would lose her mind if she saw either of you in them," Alphonse said.

Gil pulled away from Sofina and dealt with their aprons, the dragon swiping hers off and handing it over, as if the knots hadn't been tied. After getting the sooty leather hung back up he offered her his hand, the height difference making things somewhat awkward as he had to hold his arm up somewhat. She took it with a smile, and they maneuvered through his workshop. The lavender dragon ducked under the tools and half finished projects hanging from the ceilings, and wove past tables with her tail carefully swaying. Somehow she avoided knocking anything over, and matched his pace as they made it to the doorway.

"If I'd thought you two would be this well coordinated I'd have scheduled a dance," Alphonse quipped, getting the door as Gil stared daggers at his brother.

---

Count Wilmyr led the pair through the manor, going the circuitous, proper route instead of cutting through servant passages. Gil nervously walked in time with Sofina, their arms hooked together like a proper husband and wife. The lavender dragon comported herself with grace, but Gil noticed her blue eyes twitching towards every new vase, painting, and knickknack displayed. Her distraction didn't seem natural, leading him to wonder if she felt anxious as well.

"Here we are," Alphonse said, stopping at the shut door to the dining room, murmur of conversation leaking out. He turned to the two he led and adjusted his collar and ruby brooch. "I presume you remember what to do, Gilbert?"

Despite attending more weddings than he could count, nothing about the proper etiquette came to Gil's mind. More often than not he stopped paying attention once the formal dinner banquet came. "General table manners?" he replied halfheartedly, feeling no sympathy for his brother when Alphonse shot him an exasperated look.

"You two will sit at the head of the table, side by side," the Count began. "You next to her family, her next to ours. I will start a toast, one or both of you will give a small speech, and you are both expected to quietly leave somewhere between the third course and dessert. After the both of you are gone all the guests will try to drink our cellars dry."

That last part sounded nice to Gil. Getting away from a room full of his drunk family and annoying acquaintances would be one of the few upsides to the day.

"When you say banquet, do you mean we will be mingling or sitting?" Sofina asked. "Apologies, I've heard the word used both ways in this kingdom."

"We will be seated, of course," Alphonse explained. "For my brother's sake we forwent a dance beforehand, I hope you do not mind lady Everbright."

"That is very considerate of you, thinking of your brother like that," she said with such false sweetness Gil felt bitterness on his tongue, and he wasn't even the target of her barb.

Mouth working silently, Alphonse found his verbal footing faster than Gil expected. "If you wish to dance with him, lady Everbright, our ballroom will always be open to you both. As will our home."

"Be wary of what you say to wizards and dragons, Count Wilmyr. That aside," she said, looking down at Gil with a softening expression, "I will not impose upon you or your family unnecessarily."

That assurance eased more tension that Gil wanted to admit. She seemed so serious he had to believe her. "Thank you, Sofina. But I won't mind if you impose on my brother Count."

Turning toward the ornate, gilded doors, Alphonse chuckled. "You are lucky I like you, Gilbert. Now, hold there while I prepare the room."

Pushing the doors inward and striding into the murmuring conversation of a two dozen people, Alphonse clapped his hands. His voice boomed with confidence, "Merry gentlemen and dear ladies, if I might have your attention?"

An obvious cue to get ready. Gil shuffled his feet. Trying to compose himself as best he could with Sofina beside him, he spared her a nervous look. Draconic face sporting a soft smile, she leaned closer to him to whisper over some sort of speech by Alphonse. "It is not too late to flee, if you wish," she muttered. "I'd even help you."

"You've been nothing but kind and fair to me, lady Everbright," he replied, straining to comport himself as a proper noble. Pretending to be what he wasn't helped him speak through the heart pounding anxiety gripping his chest, and he also admitted, "But I want to see where this goes."

A warm chuckle rumbled through her. "Curiosity, now that is a wonderful reason. One I share with you," she said, casually moving closer to him, pressing his arm into her plush side and curvy hip.

Embarrassment burning his cheeks, his head dangerously close to her breast, Gil floundered on what to say. He didn't come up with anything by the time he heard his brother announce, "I believe we are ready for the bride and groom!"

Sofina started toward the door, Gil following along in a haze as he held the dragon's arm. The dining room's grand table, devoid of any food but laid out in preparation with candles and silver utensils,  sat a mix of human, catkin, and wolfkin that all stared at the newly married pair. The unblinking eyes of the strange bird Shanshir and the ruby like gaze of the dark scaled dragon Kyvilia stood out, a smile on the dragon's unveiled snout while the bird's veiled beak was unreadable. Those two Gil focused on as the room gave a reserved cheer, clapping and congratulation filling the crowded room as Alphonse guided Sofina and Gil to the head of the table where two high backed chairs sat side by side.

Moving on ingrained manners, Gil let go of Sofina and moved her chair out for. Her tail barely fit through the back and her wings meant she had to sit forward slightly, but somehow she made it look graceful. Gil took his place by her, and realized belatedly Shanshir sat to his left.

The hair on the back of Gil's neck stood up, the birdkin looking at him with absolute focus. She dipped her veiled beak but didn't say anything.

Alphonse sat across from the bird, to the right of Sofina and beside his parents, and made a signal to the servants at the fringes of the room. Small, isolated conversations sprung up around the table and wine was brought to fill silver goblets. When the servants poured Gil's and Sofina's cups, he saw their goblets had gold filigree flowers adorning the sides. The excess reminded him of his vision at the ceremony, and brought his thoughts to what she'd said in his workshop about making something together. Gil burned with embarrassment and worry, his toes curling painfully in his boots as he looked at his dragon bride.

Sofina turned an eye toward him, only for her gaze to flick past him. He turned to see what caught her attention and saw Shanshir holding a hand over her goblet.

"Forgive me," she said, head twitching toward Alphonse and then Gil. "I cannot drink."

"Is there a problem?" Alphonse smiled, putting on his politest expression.

"My apologies," Sofina said, her tail shaking Gil's seat as it curled around one of the legs. "I forgot to mention that Shanshir's modesty does not allow her to remove her veil around unfamiliar company."

Gil's eyes darted to his parents. He knew Alphonse was keeping an eye on them as well, but he was sure to miss how their mother practically bristled at the bird's implications. And how their father sat back a touch, taking himself out of what was about to happen. 

Even though she was an old woman, their mother, Eileen Wilmyr, suddenly seemed to look down at the dragons and unnerving bird. "Shanshir," she said, her frailty nowhere to be found as she sent a withering glance to the servant behind Shanshir, silently telling him not to move. "Weren't you telling me you raised Sofina and Kyvilia? Surely you can take your veil off for your daughter's wedding."

"I wear my veil and silken gloves out of respect," Shanshir answered, unmoved by the pressure of noble disappointment even as more eyes fell upon her.

"You don't have to hide yourself so much dear. We're family now."

Before Shanshir could say anything, Sofina spoke up. "It is okay, mother-in-law. Shanshir doesn't mean any offense, she's simply ill at ease around so many people and in such a refined setting."

The dark scaled Kyvilia leaned forward. "Shanshir doesn't like saying it, but that is why she has me," she said, red eyes twitching to the bird. The dark dragon leaned forward and quietly said, "It is difficult for her to drink politely with her beak. She wishes to save everyone embarrassment, not insult anyone."

Shanshir twitched an affirmative nod, her veil trembling with the movement.

"It's hardly a wedding banquet if both speakers don't toast," Eileen declared.

Every male born a Wilmyr at the table knew she wasn't going to let this go, even if it devolved into a scene.

Alphonse, pained smile on his face, turned toward his mother. "We've already made alterations, mother. What's one more adjustment?"

"Alphonse, it's precisely because we've altered so much that we shouldn't change this. A toast from the speakers is an important part of ceremony, it's their acknowledgment of the wedding's validity." Eileen turned her attention to Shanshir, a dangerously polite smile creasing the old woman's face. "Shanshir, surely you drink a few drops for Sofina and Gil?"

The bird's attention twitched to the elderly Wilmyr, then to Gil and Sofina. The dark stare didn't linger on him for long, the bird quickly looking away, but it left the hair all over Gil's body trying to stand straight.

"I will gladly raise a cup." Her beak clicked sharply, veil fluttering. "But if I try to drink it will only horrify."

"Everyone will understand Shanshir," Eileen assured. "Why, if they don't I'll make them."

Osmund had taken himself out of the situation, knowing better than to get in his wife's way. Gil paled, as did Alphonse. The brothers shared a furtive glance, knowing their mother was only moments away from making a proclamation to the entire table.

"Perhaps," Alphonse began, taking the initiative, "We should allow her to toast an empty cup? We can't be causing the speaker of the bride embarrassment, now can we?"

"We haven't even asked her if she's embarrassed," Eileen said with polite defiance.

Kyvilia shifted in her seat, clearly unhappy what she'd said in Shanshir's defense was being ignored.

"Shanshir," Eileen continued, "Please, will you drink for the toast? If you're really embarrassed, well what's a bit of that when it comes to your child's happiness?"

Bitterness filled Gil's mouth. He went through with this marriage so his mother wouldn't be embarrassed and regretful, and now she had the gall to say something like that? 

The birdlike Shanshir, however, appeared unmoved. "Shouldn't we ask the bride and groom?"

All the bitter resentment Gil felt withered under everyone at his end of the table suddenly looking his way. Knowing he had to say something before his mother came up with a more compelling argument, Gil shakily put his hand on Sofina's. She didn't seem to mind, thankfully, but if she knew he only did it to add weight to what he was about to say she might have cared. 

"Mother," Gil said, trying not to flinch when she focused intently upon him, "It's fine with me if Shanshir toasts an empty cup. We should be considerate of my wife and her family, after all."

"I of course defer to my husband's opinion on this," Sofina added.

Gil hoped the lavender dragon said that only because she understood what he intended.

"I should live by my own words, shouldn't I?" An invisible crack threatened to break his mother's noble sensibilities. Gil gave her more than she must've thought she'd get out of today, as Eileen Wilmyr nodded gravely, releasing the servant behind Shanshir from his frozen state of worry. "If we've deviated this much from tradition then I suppose it won't hurt to allow this much more."

Shanshir dipped her beak. "Thank you for understanding, Gilbert. And for your motherly concern Eileen."

"Everything for our children, dear," the old woman smiled, dangerous look easing out of her eyes.

The bird nodded in apparent agreement.

Crisis seemingly averted, Gil breathed out. He might have said something to the bird in his haze, and he knew he took his hand off of Sofina's at some point. If he did say anything to the dangerous bird she didn't respond, instead her attention twitched toward the other end of the table where the servants continued to pour wine. She looked away quickly. Gil found himself unable to look away from the slow countdown of filled goblets. Even if he had already gone past the point of no return with this wedding, willingly being in the room and waiting for the toast set him on edge.

Once all the vessels were filled, Alphonse rose with goblet in hand, Shanshir silently mirroring him. 

"Friends, guests, and family," he began, silencing the last vestige of hushed conversation, "Thank you all for being here today, and on such short notice. We all appreciate your attendance and understanding as we forgo much of the traditional celebrations. But as many of you already know my little brother Gilbert is the kind of man who does not like to waste time, so with leave of my fellow speaker," Shanshir nodded silently, "Let us toast! To the good health and fortune of Lady Sofina Everbright and her husband Sir Gilbert Everbright!"

"May they live happily ever after," Shanshir added, lifting her empty cup.

Goblets rose, held by dozen different hands. From silken covered Shanshir, scaled Kyvilia, to the strained effort of the elderly Eileen Wilmyr and her husband, Osmund Wilmyr. Gil watched his parents as their vessels clinked, feelings of abandonment conflicting with relief within him. 

"To their happiness, health, and good fortune!" cheered the room, tipping back their wine, save for Shanshir tipped an empty goblet up near the end of her veiled beak.

Gil wanted to groan. All of that worry from his mother, all for a speech and toast where nothing happened. 

When everyone set their goblets back down, Shanshir and Alphonse sat back down, the Count making a show out of something so simple as taking his seat.  He looked to Sofina and Gil, charming smile on his face. "Would either of you like to say a few words to our guests?" he asked, as all eyes fell upon the newly weds.

Hands starting to sweat, feeling himself under the scrutiny of everyone in the dining room, Gil's throat clenched in terror. The dragon's blue eyes turned to him, distracting him slightly, the question on her mind obvious. 

He leaned closer to her, whispering unsteadily, "If you want to. I can't."

"You only need to join me," she whispered back.

Swallowing, his mouth dry, he gave a faint nod. "No promises my voice won't crack and legs won't buckle."

"I won't let you fall or make you speak," she assured, standing up.

Manners won over Gil's terror. Next thing he knew his arm and Sofina's were laced together, the both of them standing side by side. Like a proper married couple. His head swam and knees wobbled as a moment of stark reality hit. Sofina's arm kept him from falling face first into the table, the absurd irony keeping him from graying out. The dragon that sparked off this nightmare gave him more strength and support than his own family at a time like this.

"Are you okay?" Sofina murmured, as Gil realized he leaned against her plush side.

Rosy cheeked, he tried to stand without support but found his knees refused to cooperate. With so many people focused on the both of them, Gil gave up. Nothing he did would stop rumors or assumptions now that he was leaning against her so openly. "Let's just get this over with," he groaned under his breath.

The dragon nodded her lavender hued head, and turned a soft smile to the assembled guests. "It has been a tiring day for Gilbert and I, he is so worn down he doesn't have it in him to give a speech I'm afraid. With that in mind and with how eager we all must be to sample the wonders produced by the Wilmyr kitchen, I won't drag this on. We thank you all for making this possible and being here on this auspicious day. And Count Wilmyr, I must thank you and the absent Prince Hubert for arranging everything, and ensuring Gilbert and I could meet at last."

Alphonse nodded graciously, not showing any reaction to the barb. Disappointed as that made Gil, he still couldn't find the energy to push away from Sofina's soft, warm side.

"Count Alphonse Wilmyr, Osmund and Eileen Wilmyr, I give you my sincerest gratitude for allowing Gilbert to take the Everbright name. Most of all I thank you for raising Gilbert to be the man he is. So with that in mind," Sofina's eyes swept the room as she picked up her goblet, "A toast to the Wilmyr family!"

Gil, unsure of what to do considering he'd been a Wilmyr only a few hours earlier, got a hint when Sofina nudged him with her elbow. While cheers of agreement went up, he lifted his goblet like everyone else. Glad his arm worked unlike his knees, he lightly clinked his vessel with Sofina's, the dragon winking at him before drinking lightly. Careful to not quaff down all his wine in anxiety, Gil tried maintain pace with the celebratory crowd.

Once it finished he and Sofina sat back down, the dragon conspicuously easing him back into his seat. No sooner had she sat down did Gil's father, Osmund Wilmyr, stand up with his goblet. While Gil groaned quiet as he could, the elder Wilmyr cleared his throat in preparation for yet another toast. 

This, Gil decided, was one of the worst parts of being a noble: the torturous process of sitting through toast after toast as overly polite, halfhearted pretty words left increasingly drunk mouths.

"I'd be remiss to not speak at my son's wedding, but I promise I'll be short in addressing my son and his bride," Osmund declared, sweeping his gaze to Gil. For a moment he saw his father of fifteen years ago, but the fond illusion of memory shattered when a smile creased the old man's wrinkled face. "First of all, Lady Everbright, I am delighted to welcome you into our family. Do not be a stranger, please."

"And Gilbert, my son," Osmund smiled, his eyes twinkling,  "I'm proud of you. We may not have always understood you, but your mother and I have always loved you. You're Gilbert Everbright now, but you'll always be our son no matter what name you go by."

Blinking as if fighting back tears, Osmund lifted his cup. "A toast, to my son and his bride!"

Once more a cheer rumbled through the dining room, goblets half emptied as they clinked back to the table.

Gil, mulling over his father's words and trying to hide his embarrassment and sentimentality by staring at his goblet, wondered if he should speak. But what could he say? His family had practically thrown him into this marriage. Even if Sofina treated him kindly, he couldn't say he loved her. And he wasn't going to tell everyone he was the Anonymous Source, that secret he wanted to keep.

The blunt edge of a claw bumped against his hand. "Are you feeling well?" Sofina whispered.

He sneaked a look at her blue eyes, but the edge of his vision caught bustle of movement behind him. Servants carrying platters of fragrant food filled into the room. That saved him from giving a speech in response, so he turned back to Sofina. "I'm fine," he whispered to the dragon as dishes were set in front of them both. "But I'm looking forward to this being over."

She nodded almost imperceptibly before turning to look at Alphonse. "Count, I am so sorry to ask, but how many courses will there be?"

Gil saw a few people who must have heard that turn and whisper to each other. That didn't seem good to him. What kind of rumors were going to spread by the time those repeated words reached the end of the table?

"We wanted to keep things simple," Alphonse explained, oblivious to his brother's worry, "There will only be four courses, including dessert."

Sofina might not have been ignorant to Gil's concern, as she shot him a sympathetic look before turning back to his brother. "And what is this soup we're starting with?"

Tuning out the small talk, Gil looked down at the dish before him. He could smell spices coming from the light broth, but when it came time for him and Sofina to start the meal he didn't taste anything. A single thought dominated his mind. He'd forgotten what it meant for the newlyweds to leave before dessert. That they were expected to go off and get to know each in the most intimate of ways, sealing the marriage physically.

Before Gil knew it his bowl sat empty. He couldn't even taste his wine when he drank it. Servants took away the empty dishes, leaving Gil to stare at the table. Small talk surrounded him, yet he felt utterly alone. The dragon he sat beside was trapped in a conversation with his mother, while the birdlike Shanshir sat motionless as statue before an empty spot on the table. It left Gil to wallow in his fear of obligations and expectations. However, a noble banquet waited for no one. As he sank deep into his own thoughts a plate was put before him. A fillet of fish atop garden fresh greens and layered in a sauce made from oranges imported from the Empire. He tasted none of it as he forced himself to eat at the proper times.

Small talk consumed the table. Gil heard his name uttered and he looked up from his half-empty plate in response. The black eyes of the bird Shanshir stared down her veil beak at him. The impenetrable, indifferent depths of her gaze sent a chill down his spine. "We haven't spoken yet," she said.

"We have not, lady Shanshir," he replied, trying to smile instead of shrink away.

"Only Shanshir, please. I am no lady."

A lifetime of forcing himself to have manners strained at the thought. "Are you sure? I don't want to demean the mother of the bride."

"I raised her," she said plainly. Her head tilted, dark gaze shifting with it. "Yet I am not her mother."

"You may not be of the same blood, but if you were there for her throughout her childhood doesn't that make you her mother in a way?"

"No," she flatly answered, head leveling. 

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your relationship with Sofina?" Gil asked, grasping for anything to say.

"I do not mind. Sofina, Kyvilia, and I are family."

"And you raised them?" Gil asked.

Shanshir nodded. 

"But you aren't their mother."

She twitched her head up and down again. "Correct," she said once her veil settled.

Before his head started to hurt, Gil struggled to find a way to shift the conversation. As he did, Sofina chose that that moment to wrap her tail around his chair leg, the tip of her appendage ruffling against his boot. He looked from Shanshir's dark, foreboding eyes to Sofina's bright, inviting blues. A bemused smile adorned her draconic face. "Gil, don't listen to her on that. She's just being shy about Eileen calling her a mother."

"Sofina," Shanshir said, voice stern.

The lavender dragon's smile grew wider. "See?"

Going still as a statue, the bird and dragon stared each other down. Sofina gave first and looked away, but not without an amused giggle. Her tail quite intentionally played with the back of Gil's leg, distracting him from the bird for a moment.

"Gilbert," Shanshir said, earning his full attention despite the dragon teasing his calf. "Are you content with Sofina?"

Put on the spot like that, with the subject right next to him, Gil strained to smile at the impossible to read bird. "She's been good to me," he answered, the honesty much easier than his smile. "And I believe we get along."

Shanshir's beak dipped, giving Gil a better look at her dark eyes than he wanted. There was the barest hint of charred brown at the edges of the sea of black that bored into him. "She was right about you, wasn't she?"

The tail on Gil's calf stopped moving. Sofina didn't look over, but he got the impression she had stopped listening to Alphonse. Though he hardly noticed that over Shanshir's overbearing stare and the likely meaning of her question. 

"I don't think I understand, Shanshir," he said, not counting it as a lie since he didn't understand any of this mess about reincarnation or kindred souls.

"It does not matter," the bird declared, head moving back. "You two look right side by side. Try to enjoy yourselves."

Confused, Gil opened his mouth to ask what she meant. He stopped when a servant's arm reached past him, startling him as the hired help picked up his mostly empty plate. He understood all too well what Shanshir must've meant when the third course appeared moments later. Servant hands adjusted the setting in front of him, and then single a large platter was placed before Gil and Sofina. The centerpiece was a fangdeer tenderloin, cut into medallion sized pieces, glazed with a blackberry sauce. All surrounded by colorful, leafy garnishments.

More and more plates were set down around the table. Once everyone had their fangdeer main course, every pair of eyes fell upon Gil. His parents and brother, the stodgy mayor, his bored son, the priest with nervous expression, even Shanshir and the aloof Kyvilia stared in Gil's direction.

He'd forgotten something very important, and he didn't have a clue what it was. Only that it mattered enough for everyone to look at him.

Sofina's tail poked his calf, her clawed hand delicately holding a fork. Reality caught up to Gil, the meaning of the single, large plate so obvious he wanted to curl in on himself. They were expected to share from the same plate as husband and wife, and in front of all these guests feed each other a few bites. Hands trembling he picked up his fork, and looked at the lavender dragon. Scared out of his mind, her patient expression eased him somewhat.

He'd already married her. Agreed to go and live with her. This was all just ceremony, he told himself as he jabbed his fork at a slice of meat. She speared a slice as well, and they lifted their morsels up. She smiled and reached toward him, her maw opening to accept what he offered. Such a large target was hard for even his unsteady hand to miss, while she easily guided food toward his numb mouth. He tasted nothing and just nodded politely to her as he accepted it and started chewing. The look on her face told him the cooking was good, though.

For some reason that dropped the tension in his back down a notch. He was too terrified and stressed to taste a damn thing, but seeing her enjoy this helped.

Nothing about being fed by and feeding a dragon felt playful, though as they continued to go through the motions Gil felt less terror. Sofina smiled at him and the watching eyes left them, polite murmurings and congratulations rippling around the table.

"Do you care to continue, sir Everbright?" Sofina asked, offering him another morsel.

"Can I ask something first?"

"Of course."

"Are you teasing me by calling me that?"

She grinned, but only showed a sliver of her back teeth. "I wanted to try it out. Would you rather I call you something else?"

"I prefer to go by Gil with friends and family. And we're married so..." he went quiet, heart hammering in his chest and head as what he said sunk in.

"Gil does roll off the tongue pleasantly," she said. "Does my name please you, or would you rather try something else?"

Floundering, Gil took a deep breath before he repeated the afternoon. "Sofina is wonderful name."

"Even if that is simple flattery, I'll gladly accept it."

"I mean it. A pretty and gentle name like that suits you perfectly," he quietly admitted, unable to look her in the eye and staring her horns instead.

The end of her tail laid against his calf. "I know you meant it. My apologies for teasing you Gil, it is rude of me after how rough today has been on you." Sofina leaned toward him until she was eye level with him, her neck moving in serpent like manner as she leaned toward him. "If you want to finally retire from the all this pomp and ceremony I believe no one will stop us."

Wanting to trust she was on his side, Gil forced himself to look away from her ridged horns and meet her blue gaze. "Retire to what, exactly?" he asked, voice little more than an uncertain whisper.

"To bed, a bath, your workshop, wherever you desire."

Trying to read her draconic, almost reptilian eyes, Gil couldn't sense any deception. Beyond that he could decipher nothing. "Washing up before laying down sounds nice," he finally muttered.

"Together?" she asked, head tilting.

Gil could manage only a dull, "Uh."

"Is there anything wrong with bathing or laying together? We will be living under the same roof soon enough."

Risking a glance down the table, Gil saw the guests were all busy with their meals and conversations. None of them seemed to be paying attention to him or Sofina, so quickly turned his gaze back to her before that changed. "I suppose there is nothing wrong with it? We are," he swallowed anxiously, hesitating to say the inevitable, "Husband and wife."

"You need not force yourself," she assured, tail tip patting his leg. "You're practically shaking as it is."

"I just need to get out of here."

She nodded, but looked down curiously at him. "So are we supposed to excuse ourselves, or do we just leave? I'm not familiar with your family's particular customs."

Put on the spot, and having been to bored at his brother's wedding to pay much attention, Gil lacked an answer. He refused to ask Alphonse and risk his parent's overhearing, so he went with the next best option.

"Alphonse said to leave quietly," Gil said, putting his hands on the table and squeezing the polished wood to muster his willpower, "So if anyone complains about us walking out I'm going to throw the blame on him."

Forcing himself onto his feet, Gil's manners caused him to unthinkingly offer Sofina a hand. She graciously took it, her clawed hand engulfing his as she delicately rose from the chair. People had to be staring now but Gil ignored them. Arm in arm with the wife he'd only met that afternoon, he feigned confidence as they left the dining room without a word to the guests. No one interrupted or spoke up to stop them, despite leaving unexcused being a horrid breach of etiquette.

Almost as if they all expected it.

---

Leading Sofina toward the baths on the first floor, but on the opposite side of the manor, Gil found one of his brother's catkin maids polishing a bust. Drawing himself up in an attempt to not look harried and exhausted, he got her attention by clearing his throat. "If you would see to it that enough water is drawn in the downstairs bath for us to wash off with."

The white furred cat nodded respectfully, her eyes twitching between him and the dragon. The maid's pupils were so wide she probably couldn't speak.

"And," Sofina added, "Do not bother heating the water up. I will take care of that."

Nodding vigorously, the maid fumbled through a curtsy before she hurried off down the hall, vanishing around a corner.

"I almost think she's scared of me," Sofina mused.

Ignoring that, Gil lead her the rest of the way to the baths. Once there, they had to walk through a white tiled room meant for undressing in, before reaching the baths themselves. Fine marble tiles lined the floors, several polished copper tubs sat at the far end, one corner held two marble benches in front of a grate in the floor, and the walls were a mosaic of bright tiles that livened up the room. Near the entrance were comfortable chairs and a table to put clothes on. Curtains hung in several places, held up by rods of polished and ornately wrought brass. 

Sofina's gaze swept the room, taking in the decorations. Gil stood there dumbly, but he relaxed a little when a trio of servants hurried in from behind a curtain. Gil recognized them as the human servants that usually tended to his parents. Each carried two heavy pails of water, and one catkin maid emerged behind them with two buckets. One filled with imported, dried sea sponges to scrub off with, while the other surely held various soaps and scented washes. The human servants, at a stern glance by the maid, set the water by the benches before hurrying out the way they entered. The catkin set her buckets nearby, but stayed near the wall, silently waiting for direction.

"Sofina," Gil said, drawing her complete attention, "Do you want me to step out while you go first?"

"I'd prefer we bathe together," she smiled. "But if you wish to bathe privately I do not mind at all."

Faced with what he knew would be a fateful decision, Gil's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "Together is fine," he bumbled.

"Then," she looked to the maid, "If you would give us some privacy? And fetch my husband some more comfortable clothes."

Wondering if he made the right choice, not having expected Sofina to direct the maid like that, Gil watched as the cat complied wordlessly. Only once the catkin disappeared behind the hidden, did Gil think to ask Sofina, "What about clothes for you?"

"I've already seen to that, do not worry. Now, if you would help me with the back, I can't reach the knots keeping this dress on," she said, turning around.

Dumbfounded, Gil stared at the dragon's back as she shifted her folded wings slightly. Several straps from her dress converged on her back, holding her dress on while delicately avoiding where her wing limbs connected to her back. He couldn't tell exactly how large the appendages were, with how compactly they seemed to be folded up they could have been massive for all he knew. The muscles on the limbs coming from her back certainly suggested that she could fly, even in this bipedal shape.

Gil breathed out and told himself to stop wasting time.

Before she questioned why he delayed, and things got awkward, he stepped closer. Her tail swept out of his way, allowing him to get frighteningly close. With nervous fingers he undid the middle strap, just below her wings. The scales he brushed against were hard and smooth, reminding him of warmed glass. But when she shifted to look back at him, a smile on her face, he felt the muscle beneath those scales shift. "There's one over my tail," she said, looking away. "You'll need to flip up part of it. Then undo the left one first."

Seeing what she meant, two hand widths of cloth laying over her tail, Gil had to stoke his own confidence before he could lift that up. Her wide hips and plump rear were hard to ignore, and it felt downright naughty being so close to her thick tail. Lifting the cloth up, seeing the fine, armor-like scales on top of her tail, Gil focused in on the straps she mentioned.  One hid underneath the cloth over her tail, which undoing revealed another just to the left of her tail. Once that was undone it left on the top two. 

He hesitated on the last one, knowing her dress would come off. He thought about asking her if they could bathe privately, but as he shifted from foot to foot and felt how tight his pants felt over his groin, he was finally forced to admit something to himself. He found Sofina attractive, from her shapely body to the consideration and kindness she'd shown him all day. She was a woman without compare, if had be brutally honest with himself.

Breathing deeply, reminding himself he was clever enough to find a way to escape if this marriage turned out to be a trap, Gil fought the last knot holding her dress on. It came undone faster than he expected. Cloth slipped off her scales, falling to a pile around her feet. Curvy, double bent legs, closely mirroring what he remembered of her four legged shape, stepped over her dress. Sofina's taloned feet made no sound as she turned around on the marble floor.

She faced him, her prodigious breasts jiggling freely. He looked away in frightful embarrassment, but the image had already burned into his mind. "My apologies Sofina, I didn't expect you to turn around," he blurted out, trying to block out the hazy, two toned shape in the edge of his vision with his hand.

"Do not apologize Gil," she soothed. "I don't have any hesitation or shame about my body. Now, why don't I return the favor and help you out of your clothes?"

Embarrassment, shameful lust, and a day's worth of stress made his stomach clench. "I can manage on my own," he said, putting his back to the dragon.

"There is no need to be embarrassed," she said, as cloth hissed off the ground. The claws on her feet clicked on the tile as she took two steps closer to him. "What better way is there for a husband and wife to get to know each other than sharing a bath?"

"Sofina," he croaked, voice breaking and words failing.

"I fell for you before we formally met," she said, clawed hands resting on his shoulders. "Before I even suspected we might be kindred souls, the dry wit and clever mind that showed through your works as the Anonymous Source had me enraptured. Even if I can only love you by supporting your work then I'll be content, but if you want more I'll gladly give it."

His fingers dug into his arm. Gil stood there, wondering why he didn't shrink away from her touch. Wondering how she could love someone she'd never met, and whether or not it was true that her belief they were kindred souls had nothing to do with it. 

"You," he began, struggling to regain his voice, "Don't know that's who I really am."

"Perhaps you aren't as I have imagined, true," she said, gently kneading his shoulders. "Yet the truth is far more fascinating than the idea that lead you to seek it, and beyond each horizon lies new discoveries and questions to seek."

"That's-"

"A quote from the first treatise you wrote," she admitted. "Or the one I was told you wrote first."

"You're trying to appeal to my curiosity, aren't you?" he asked, speaking becoming easier the more his shoulder relaxed.

"And assuage your fears with the truth." She kept rubbing his shoulders, her head snaking lower so her hot breath ruffled his hair. "Dragons are greedy, covetous creatures, and I crave the search for knowledge. The successes and failures of putting ideas through practical tests. That spark of the same spirit I saw in you through your works and written words, it shone brighter than the sun when we were in your workshop."

"All of this is hard to believe," he muttered, thinking back to the vision of that golden necklace.

Kindred souls? Reincarnation? Gil couldn't get his head around anything like magic, mysticism, or religion - all of it was beyond his realm of study. Yet, if he turned his attention toward those fields then perhaps he'd find answers, or even be able to share in her apparent belief that he'd met her in a previous life.

"You do not have to return my love," she assured. "Nor indulge my selfish request to see if you can. I will find contentment in simply knowing you, Gil. You are uniquely you, and that is what I desire to see."

Gil closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, the smell of spices from the dinner banquet filling his nose as Sofina breathed close to him. She didn't scare him, if anything she seemed to relax him. And she seemed to greatly enjoy that his passions lie in making new things. What were the chances he'd ever find a woman like her again? 

Even finding a new spark of resolution, his mouth worked anxiously for several moments before he could finally speak. "I'm willing to try."

Her palms faintly tightened on his shoulders, her clawed fingers staying relaxed. "What is it you're willing to try?"

"Being what a husband and wife should be, not what nobles turn it into."

One of Sofina's hands went from rubbing his shoulder to stroking down his arm. "I will gladly accept. But if you cannot find it in yourself to continue trying, then you just need to tell me."

"The same goes for you," he shakily said, unsure if he was in control of his life again or not. "No point in either of us being miserable."

"I have faith it will work out," she replied, her forked tongue caressing his ear. Gil shivered at the contact, surprise and confusing pleasure causing his heartbeat to rise. "Now, would you like help getting out of these clothes?"

Feeling like a coiled spring because of that affectionate lick, Gil focused on the situation at hand. But not too much, or else he'd look back at the naked dragon lingering behind him. "That's..."

"Too quick?" she breathed, her mouth close to his ear. She withdrew a bit, and spoke more normally. "I'll give you some space, and warm up the water." 

A scaled arm reached past Gil and Sofina placed her dress on the table. Then the claws on her feet clicked against the marble tiles, leaving Gil a measure of privacy. He undressed starting with his boots, and before he knew it he was down only the braies tied to his waist. After several moments hesitation he stripped out of that as well, exposing his dangling maleness to the cool air. He felt it a mercy the earlier source of pressure in his pants had shrunk, so forcing himself to wear a false confidence he turned around. She bared herself without shame before him, he could at least try to do the same.

Sofina sat on one of the stone benches, a single wing drawn across her front to hide her feminine shape, with just enough of a gap for one of her hands to be free. All but one of the pails of water steamed, while the bucket with the soaps and sponges sat on the bench beside her. She smiled at Gil, maintaining eye contact as she patted the empty space on the bench. He appreciated how polite she was to not say a thing about how red his cheeks were. Expecting the stone seat to be cold, bracing himself for the discomfort, Gil instead found it pleasantly warm against his skin.

"The bench took the longest to heat up," she said, making eye contact with him instead of letting her eyes wander his bare skin.

"Is that because you're a dragon?" he dumbly asked.

"I'm more than a dragon," she smiled, "I'm a wizard. Now," she held up a sponge nestled between her claws, "Since we're trying to get to know each other, why don't I wash your back?"

"Or," he swallowed, nerves working against the determination he tried to hold on to, "Maybe I should start with your back?"

Sofina smiled slyly and leaned close enough to whisper. "I believe I should start with your back, but once we're in private we can see how adventurous we feel."

They weren't private right now? Gil put aside thinking about any other meaning to Sofina's words, and spared a glance toward the entrance and then the servant's passage hidden behind a curtain. Nothing seemed out of place to him, so he looked back curiously at the dragon.

"I mistrust the privacy of any room without a proper door is all," she explained, gaze flitting toward the entrance for a moment.

"I see," he said. "Then if we're both uncomfortable we should get out of here quickly."

"We're already starting to understand each other," the dragon chuckled. "Now, you turn around and focus on your front and I'll get your back."

His cheeks flustered, Gil bent over to get some soap and sponge from the bucket. As he did Sofina shifted to straddle the bench, her wings retracting. Unintentional as it was on his part, he got a good look at her large, scaled breasts and stomach. A nipple on each breast caught his attention, causing his cheeks to flush. The smooth horizontal bands of her lighter underbelly scales drew Gil's attention to her curvy figure. Her wings folded all the way back, exposing the flare of her hips and thighs entirely, the smile on her face suggesting she wanted him to look. He swallowed and turned around, mind reeling as he guessed at exactly how large her plump breasts were. Definitely beyond the realm a single hand to properly heft.

He purposefully used some of the unheated water on his front, the shock keeping him from dwelling on what he saw. Water and soap started lathering on his back, smooth claws faintly tracing his shoulders as Sofina started scrubbing. More familiar with being helped to bathe than he liked, Gil easily shut out what the dragon did as he tended to himself.

"In the spirit of getting to know each other, how does a question for a question sound to you?" Sofina asked, pouring water over his back to rinse away lather.

"Fair enough," he said, keenly aware the dragon's hands as she worked on his lower back, "But I'd rather do that some other time."

"Eager to be alone with me, are we?" she whispered, head near his ear.

He leaned over, picked up a pail of cool water and dumped it over his head instead of answer that. He shuddered as the water sluiced off of him and drops clung to his messy hair. "I don't know what I want, Sofina," he said, the slight chill turning his mood toward somber. "I'm still adjusting to a lot of things, such as no longer being a Wilmyr."

"If you're so uncertain I can always show you what I'd like," she offered, still diligently working on his back. She must not have been splashed, that or she didn't care about the water with all her scales. "Teasing you aside, I am eager to be alone with you again, even if we only converse."

Gil risked a glance back at the dragon. The soft smile on her face stuck stuck with him, but he looked away before any other details made an impression upon him. "I'm willing to see what it is you'd like," he said.

"Without even asking what it is I have in mind?"

His life had already been completely upset and the course irrevocably changed in a single day. At this point, he considered it a worthwhile risk to trust that Sofina actually wanted to respect his wishes. She'd done so all day, after all. So why not see what it was the alluring dragon who sought him out for marriage wanted? "I think I have an idea."

"Really?" she murmured into his ear. A scaled hand glided from his shoulderblade, down his side, before coming to rest in his lap. Sofina's large, clawed hand sat dangerously close to his manhood. She kept her clawed fingers to herself, but the way she stroked his thigh her intentions were obvious. "Was your idea correct?"

Mouth flapping like a fish for a few moments, Gil grateful he faced away from the dragon, he eventually managed to find his voice. "Yes."

"Is that so?" she began, her voice in his other ear as a clawed hand engulfed his shoulder. He felt something large and yielding pressing against his back, mashing against him enough he could feel the softness of the horizontal scales the gap between of her fleshy nipples. "Then you don't need to look away from me so nervously next time. I haven't had the attention of a man I liked since you."

"That's, uh," he muttered, so distracted by the two large breasts mushed against him he couldn't spare time to think about anything else, "Are you certain about this, Sofina?"

"Do you really doubt me when I have come this far?" she practically hummed. "Or are you anxious I mean to entrap you, Gilbert? Because I've no such intentions. I only want you to know what I desire out of marriage with you. And if it is not to your liking then there will be no offense." 

She leaned closer, her head snaking out past his far enough that he could see one of her blue eyes. Her breasts pressed harder against his back, and he became keenly aware of two things. They were large enough he could get smothered in them if she did this from the front, and her nipples weren't as soft as they'd been a few moments ago. "But if you wish," she grinned, looking seductively at him, "I'd be glad to see if we work together more intimately."

Wishing he could dump a well's worth of cold water over himself, his face burning, Gil shakily nodded. He distantly wondered if he was even thinking correctly, but with a pair of dragon tits mashed against him and the owner looking at him like that, Gil's curiosity raged. She might not be entrapping him but by the all gods, she certainly meant to entice. 

"Okay," he said, that one word moving the course of his life.

But he didn't look away from single blue eye looking at him, or flinch when Sofina's grin widened.

"Then we should finish up here," Sofina said, lifting her hand off of Gil's lap. 

She balled her fist and warmth washed over them, a strange vibration dancing across the surface of Gil's skin. The water sticking to him splashed to the floor all at once, and a sensation like warm linen swaddling him made his eyes widen. The dragon pulled away, her breasts leaving his back, and not a spot on him was still wet. He even felt somewhat refreshed, but that he suspected had little to do with the dragon's magic. What with his manhood half risen because of the dragon's closeness.

"Magic seems more useful than I thought," Gil said, trying to distract himself.

"It has its uses, but there's a grand pleasure in working with the hands," she whispered, mouth near his ear again as she stroked the back of her claws along his spine.

Gulping, Gil awkwardly stood up before this went anywhere too quickly. He wasn't sure he could withstand much more teasing, and decided he wouldn't wait any longer for the maid to return with a change of clothes.

He went to get dressed in his wedding outfit, Sofina's claws clicking on the tile behind him. He turned his back to her, embarrassed by his half risen manhood, and pulled on his braies. He could feel her stare, anxiety filling his chest. It only got worse when he remembered she had needed his help to get her dress off. When he got his trousers back on he swallowed and looked back, expecting to see Sofina standing patiently.

She was. Only instead of the dragon standing in the nude or even with her wings covering her body, her dress hung off her shoulders as if it had never been removed. "Shall we?" she chuckled, offering him her arm.

---

Arm in arm with Sofina, Gil stopped at the door to his room. With his clothes as mussed as his hair, he feared passing any of the lingering wedding guests, but the only person he'd seen was one of his brother's catkin maid. Upon leaving the baths, he passed her in the hall, a bundle of his clothes in her arms. He'd dismissed her silently, both the cat and himself too terrified of the other to press the issue of his disheveled clothes or her unfinished errand. 

Gil didn't know why he cared about rumors of what happened in private when he was arm in arm with Sofina. The dragon even made sure to be close enough that he felt the curve of her eye catching hips on every step they'd taken toward his room.

"We're not going to the same room they had me bring you to?" she asked, neck twisting so she could better look down at him.

Staring up at the dragon's horned, frilled face, Gil tried to smile away his nerves. "That was a guest room we were in before. This is my private room," he said, turning the polished brass handle, that he'd designed but his father hadn't let him make or install. "Which I suppose makes it our room for our stay here."

The hinges swung inward silent and smoothly, revealing his personal domain and doing nothing for the tightness in his stomach. Half his room looked normal, his large bed and necessary furniture arranged near the shuttered window while the rest of the space consisted of bookcases and his loosely organized desks. The lamps and magic infused candles around his room were all lit, telling him servants or maids had been in to prepare the room. The servants had left the scattered papers and an ink stained desktop exactly how he'd left it, to his relief. But he realized that mess was not the best thing to have a woman see.

Sofina's eyes swept the room before settling back on Gil. One corner of her mouth grinned wider than the other. "Our room?" she asked, head tilting and a scaled brow raising.

"I said I'd like to see what becomes of us. Besides, you've..." he glanced at her body, the dragon suddenly pressing into him. She certainly had a marvelous figure in his eyes. Before he started leering he looked at her face again, his gaze nervously shifting from her blue eyes to her ivory horns. "You've roused my curiosity in a lot of ways, Sofina."

Her toothy smile softened, but her fondness didn't wane. Her eyes seemed to swirl with deep wells of complicated emotion. "As a woman, even?" she asked, a hint of weakness creeping into otherwise sultry her voice.

"Especially as a woman," he said. Before he lost his nerve, standing out in the hall with her like this, he continued. "And as someone who's eyes lit up when they were in my workshop tinkering with me, and because I feel at ease beside you."

"Then can I show you something, Gil? Something that words will not do justice, not for a man such as yourself. Something I have wanted to show you."

He nodded, cautiously curious about what she had in mind.

Sofina released his arm, and bent toward him. One of her arms braced against his shoulder, her other quickly scooping his legs out from under him. Heart leaping in his chest, Gil let out a tiny yelp as he suddenly found himself held in the dragon's arms and pressed against her prodigious bosom. Instinct had him throw an arm behind her neck for stability, bringing him close to her scaled face. His fingers bumped against the end of the frill that started between her horns and ran down the back of her neck, the membrane and quills supporting it easily laying flat where he touched.

"Steady?" she asked, holding him under the knees and cradling his shoulders.

Some men might have been embarrassed to be held in such a manner, but Gil found the position didn't bother him. He got an up close look at her eyes and truly saw them for the first time. A blue so deep and clear not even sapphires could compare stared back at him from behind her snout, facing him without judgment or ill measure. She seemed content, and her ear frills raised pleasantly. 

"I don't think I'll fall," he said, forcing himself to look at her forward curving horns before his entire face turned red. "But is this necessary?"

"You will not fall while I have you. As for necessary, I merely thought it fair to sweep you off your feet now that you have tentatively taken my name," she happily hummed, moving into his room.

Every languid step she took made Gil distressingly aware of the plumpness of her bosom cushioning his side. "Is this initiative what you wanted to show me?" he asked, needing to distract himself from the situation.

"Not quite," she smiled, her tail catching the door and closing it as she went into his room.

She reached his bed and turned around. Her tail flipped back the blankets before snaking their way underneath, the dragon sitting down with Gil still in her arms. The bed's frame creaked, but the thick wood withstood their combined weight. She scooted back, her wings unfurling slightly, before setting Gil into her lap, one of her arms keeping him stable. The other reached behind her back and, without shame, released the straps on the top of her dress.

Gil flushed red as raspberry when the dragon's dress slipped down, freeing her scaled breasts. With no idea what she planned he sat in her lap frozen, observing the situation and trying not to stare at her nipples that were most un-lizardlike. 

"This," Sofina said, taking his hand with hers and putting his palm in the valley between her breasts, "Is what I wanted to show you."

His heart beating loudly in his head, Gil found himself looking between her cleavage and face. Warm, smooth scales smothered his hand and arm on either side. Despite the strength of the supple scales, the flesh against his arm was pleasantly plush. Against his palm her scale had a reliable firmness to it. Since she wanted him to see or experience something he didn't pull away, but without a clue as to her intent he shot her a confused and nervous glance.

"Close your eyes," she urged, putting her hand on his chest, directly over his heart. "Let yourself feel what is beneath, not what you touch."

Embarrassed as he was, that hint was enough for him. Shutting his eyes, trying to ignore his frantic heartbeat pounding in his head or the clawed hand spread out on his chest, Gil tried to feel as she requested. A steady up and down pressure moved his hand, in time with the warm breath that moved closer to his hair. Beyond her breath a deep, steady ba-bump coursed. Slower than his heart, her pulse felt strong and sturdy, befitting of a dragon. Sitting in her lap, hands over each other's hearts, a wave of intimacy overtook his being. 

To be this close to such a powerful life, for her to want him to feel hers while she felt his, calmed his rapid heartbeat. It was so simple, yet it soothed him deeply. His heartbeat slowed, creeping closer to her serene tempo. Until their heartbeats melded together, the difference between her pulse and his fading. Tension from a terrifying day chipped away with each thump within her chest, easing him into her lap and arm. His rational mind knew this made no sense, but faced with his body and spirit relaxing he didn't doubt the existence of some force at work. Muscles relaxed as he let the calming sensation course over and through his being. If Sofina didn't have a hold on him he would've right to floor. Just like she'd said, she wouldn't let him fall. 

An itch of concern teased the peace that swallowed him, threatening his newfound peace with cold, rational doubt. How was something so profound possible? Magic, trickery, or something that went beyond the understanding of mortals? The sturdy ba-bump underneath his palm and gentle, reassuring presence of Sofina's life made Gil think this situation was the latter. And if it wasn't, then the only way he could ever learn more was to be near her like this. His breath and pulse fell back into the same soft pattern as hers, letting him exist within the moment with her.

"What do you feel?" she asked, whisper of a voice stirring Gil from nearly meditative state.

He didn't want to open his eyes. He just wanted to feel her heartbeat and to keep this closeness. "I..." he hesitated, the immediate thoughts in his head sounding ridiculous to him. Then again, what good would lying to her or himself do now? "The only time I ever felt so at peace was when I was making something," he admitted, "Hearing the sound of metal or stone clink and mold to my thoughts. But this is different, stronger. I nearly wonder if I've been chasing this feeling and didn't know it until now."

"This is a long awaited reunion," she muttered, nuzzling the bottom of her jaw against his scalp. "I do not want to scare you, but not even the gods could deny it now. Our souls remember each other, remember our promise."

A prickle of concern stung at the edge of his thoughts, a swirl of questions sorting themselves out. But between her presence and the beat of her heart, Gil found it impossible to truly worry, even as he recalled his vision from earlier in the day. There were many questions for them to ask and answer for each other. If he had any say in the matter, there would be plenty of time for most of that on another day.

"I believe you," he said, leaning his head into her breast. Beneath his palm her heart actually skipped, and her hands briefly pulled him closer. The adjustment to how he sat on her thighs didn't bother him, not while he could feel her body act so honestly. "I don't understand much of this, but I believe you in a way that words would've never achieved."

Strong fingers stretched on his back, blunt claws bunching up his tunic. "Take all the time you need to figure it out. But I beg you," she breathes, her snout in his hair, "Let me enjoy this a few moments longer."

Warm contentment, like laying under warm blankets next to a fire in the cold of winter, seemed to envelop Gil. "You'd have to push me off for me to end this," he muttered, tongue and wit starting to ease up.

"That will never happen," she said, her conviction as absolute as the pulse under Gil's hand.

Now struck him as a good moment to ask one of his many questions. "You've wanted to do this all day, haven't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, nuzzling against his hair. "I've waited for..." she paused to blow a strand of his hair out of her mouth, her pulse quickening. "It has been a long time, Gil. Since I last felt this with you. You but not yet you, I suppose," she sighed, ruffling his hair. "I cannot imagine I make any sense, but know I'm not lying. You would feel it if I tried to deceive."

"And you could feel if I lied like this, couldn't you?" he asked, working off of intuition.

A faint tension built in the dragon, only to break back into peace when she opened her mouth. "I would indeed."

"Then you should relax. I'm still sorting out my thoughts, but my vision of that necklace and you perfectly copying what I saw were already strong proof of some sort of connection. This feeling of..." he trailed off, no word in his lexicon sufficient for the comfort and completeness that suffused them both.

"Wholeness?" Sofina suggested.

"Not an ideal word, but it will do." His hand pressed between her breasts flexed, seeking a better position against her broad, flat scales, suddenly reminding him of the lewdness of their position. But he didn't care, not with his eyes still shut. "This has me convinced there's some sort of intangible connection or link between us. Kindred souls, as you said."

"I feared it would not work," she whispered. "Faith alone sustained me, but that wait was worth it now that I have you here in my arms again."

That would have terrified him an hour ago, but now he thought he understood somewhat. If she'd felt anything like this before with Gil in a previous life, he couldn't begin to fathom the desperation that must've built up. If she knew him before he lived this life, it had to have been an incredibly long wait.

"I love you, Gil," she said suddenly. "You don't have to love me back or acknowledge it, but I will not hide what I feel. Not after waiting so long and coming so far."

That was good, because he didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, he spoke his mind. "Sofina, I'd like to know you more. Much more."

"Be careful," she warned, squeezing him closer and making his cheek slip up her breast, "We might have different ideas there."

"Perhaps I want to know your idea," he replied, stroking the back of her fingers.

She stayed silent. Her heart thumped faster, yet she still said nothing. 

"Sofina?" he asked, starting to worry about her.

"Lover," she muttered, throat rumbling on top of his head. "I want to become lovers, here and now. Even if it is but one night."

Action seemed far more prudent than thinking things through, not when he felt so enchantingly connected to another being. Gil opened his eyes and reached up above himself. His fingers touched horn, then curled around the banded protrusions. He gently tugged, hoping it wouldn't offend Sofina. At the same time he leaned back, trying to get her to look him in the eye. The angle was awkward, his neck craned back while she looked down at him with an openly concerned expression, but it was good enough for him to release her horn.

With no clue how to make it work but enough interest to try, he reached up and kissed the front of her snout. Fine, smooth scales rubbed against his lips. Her breath hitched in her throat, blue eyes widening. Gil pulled back, hoping he got the point across. "I've got next to no experience, but growing up with so many brothers I know roughly how this is supposed to work."

Her inner eyelids blinked, a look of shock plastered on her face. She blinked again, inner eyelids then outer, jaw opening slightly. A forked tongue darted out, nearly licking his lips before retreating. "Are you serious?" she murmured, as if unable to believe the situation while her body clearly started to yearn for it.

He kissed at her again, this time feeling up one of her large breasts. The faint bumps between each large scale band ruffled his hand, and gave way to the soft flesh at the edge of her nipple. "Yes," he said, pulling back from his attempt at a kiss. "You said you'd know if I was lying, so hopefully I'm not making an idiot out of myself for no good reason."

She blinked a few times, so he self-consciously started to pull his hands away from her breasts. Perhaps he'd been wrong?

Sofina lifted him with one arm, licking his lips and grabbing at one of his retreating hands. "Please," she whispered desperately, pressing his hand against the yielding flesh of her tit, "Don't stop. I want you, I want you so badly it hurts. I don't even care if this is a dream, just don't stop."

"It's no dream," he promised.

Both hands going for her bosom, Gil worked his palms over her scales. He explored as much of her breasts as possible with touch alone. Whenever he rubbed the outermost ring of her nipples it made her shudder and moan, so he took care to return there often as he explored the firmness and curves. Sofina nuzzled his face, her tongue licking at his lips as he awkwardly tried kissing her, the time for words over. As if a dam had burst, she moaned and hummed pleasantly as he pawed at her breasts, her hot breath mixing with Gil's surging enthusiasm.

He'd had some women show interest in him that he halfheartedly returned when much younger, before he feared being married off, but that felt a lifetime ago. Awkward kisses in the back room of a tavern or a glade in the woods couldn't compare to the heady feeling he got from the dragon. She moved to encourage his exploration of her chest, her tongue slowly working to adjust to his kisses along her scaled mouth. It must have been a long time searching indeed if she reacted so vocally to his stroking, kneading, and kissing. Every pleasant sound and whispered murmur of approval built up Gil's confidence, urging him to start kissing and nibbling at her jaw.

She tilted her head to the side, giving him unfettered access to her neck and as she shuddered in submissive delight.

"Lower," she pleaded.

He trailed his nibbling kisses down her neck, the scales beneath his teeth tough varying in texture. The soft bands on the front of her throat had a leather like suppleness, while the finer, overlapping scales had an unyielding firmness. He had little doubt she felt every bit of his slow trail down her neck, the clawed hand cradling his shoulder flexing approvingly every time brushed over the thumping artery in her neck. When he reached her collarbone, she suddenly placed a hand on his stomach, one of her clawed fingers urging the fabric up.

"I want to feel you against me," she breathed, neck snaking as her head bent to look down into his eyes.

The sultry, smoldering gaze she stared at the human with made his pulse quicken. Her horn and frill framed face promised pleasure for pleasure. He was too caught up in the moment to deny her, or his own wants.

"Feel me like this?" he asked, putting his palm over one of her nipples and pushing her breast up, her exposed flesh stiffening even more.

"Yes," she hissed with a shivering breath. "And no," she said, trying to control her moan of a voice. "I want to be skin to scale, so I can properly show you my love."

"Then I'll be quick to undress," he said, starting to pull away.

Her gentle, cradling grip on his shoulder turned to an immovable iron hook. Curious instead of worried, Gil looked up at her. A grin adorned her ravishing visage, showing the edges of her teeth. "You've looked quit uncomfortable in those clothes," she smiled, "How about I make sure they cannot be worn again?"

A tiny part of him thought this would be a bad idea. They were wretchedly expensive clothes, some of the finest he'd ever worn, and not entirely his. But too much of him adored the idea of ruining the stuffy wedding garments forever, as well as idea of having Sofina show him how much she wanted him. "Go right ahead, Lady Everbright," he said, kissing her throat to dispel his fear of how he wanted her.

"We're only Sofina and Gil right now," she whispered. Her claws slipped down the back of his tunic, their tips blunt and doing no more than teasing him as she curled her fingers. "I'll be gentle," she promised.

He backed away from lavishing attention on her neck. "Don't be gentle to the clothes, I loathe them."

"A simple fix," she smiled, a fire in her blue eyes. 

Expensive cloth ripped. Her claws shredded through the fabric with hardly any resistance, Sofina slicing his tunic before yanking it off of him. Gil shuddered, bare chest suddenly in contact with her breasts and their warm scales.

The dragon wasn't done. Scaled arms laid against his back, pushing him into her bosom until his head was between the plush mounds, and she grabbed at this belt from behind. That put pressure on the bulge Gil hadn't noticed in the seat of his pants, his face burning as he realized how turned on he'd gotten from the dragon. Looking into her eyes, he saw he wasn't the only one excited. Sofina's blue eyes all but glimmered as she snapped his belt with her claws and tore open the back of his trousers. Her tail snaked around, flexible tip tickling his stomach as she lifted him up with her arms, her tail tugging his trousers away. Gil aided by worming his legs and lifting them out, his arms wrapped around Sofina's chest and squishing her breasts.

Down to his braies alone, his wedding clothes shredded and tossed aside, and held up by the dragon, Gil struggled with a rush of second thoughts. There could be trouble from what he just consented to, his family's finery now shredded on the floor of his room. His worry only increased as she tugged apart knot holding his underclothes on. Sofina must've something in his eyes, as she quit working on his clothes. She reached her head down and nuzzled his forehead, her tongue flitting out against his skin. "Would you like to tear my dress off?" she asked, resting her nose against his as she stared deep into his eyes. "Or cut it off, teasing me out of it one slow strip at a time?"

"Depends. Do you despise it?"

"No," she chuckled, before her eyes narrowed salaciously. "But I will happily let you rip it off of me if it gets you lavishing me with kisses again."

Gil swallowed, and nodded. "How about we just get undressed before I lose my nerve?"

"We cannot have that," she smiled, holding him up with one arm while her other reached behind her back, "Not when you excite me so much."

When her arm tugged back, her dress yanked away and she set Gil back down on her thighs. One less layer of cloth brought him even closer to her enchanting warmth. 

"You just wanted me to look at your backside in the bath, didn't you?" he asked, trying to use wit to suppress a wave of nervousness that made his stomach flutter.

"Yes. And no," she admitted, licking at him, her forked tongue teasing each of his lips separately. Her lopsided grin returned. "I did want you to see me, and I needed your help with mundane knots."

"Your dress wasn't tied on, was it?"

"Magic, and the last of it for the night. Everything else," she smiled, pushing him from between her breasts, her hand starting to trail down his chest, "Is just you and me." The delicate scales of her palm glided effortlessly over his skin, her smile brightening and ear fins raising when she reached the bulge in his braies. "And I think we are both eager for that," she teased, claws dancing over his restrained manhood.

He squirmed and sucked in a breath, her careful teasing and tracing causing his braies to feel far too small and ill fitting. Her sly smile and half lidded eyes battered down the last few walls of restraint and embarrassment as she kept playing with his constrained maleness. The look in her eyes said everything important: she wanted him. To the greys with his worries. He wasn't about to deny her, or himself, any longer. 

"Why don't we get more comfortable?" he asked, groping her breast as he tried to shift in her lap. 

His choice of hand rest turned out to be a mild mistake, her teasing rubbing turning to engulfing his length in her palm. "Get out of these," she cooed, lightly stroking him through the fabric, "And I'll get comfortable."

Nodding vigorously, too addled by surging desire and pressure in his veins, Gil stumbled out of the dragon's lap. She didn't let him go without another stroke and lick at his forehead, Sofina arching her back once Gil was on his feet. 

If she wanted to distract him by making her large breasts perk up and wobble, she succeeded masterfully. He stared at the voluptuous dragon as she posed like a statue of raw, fertile beauty. A thick tail to gather up pillows and the blankets, where she arranged them in a sort of nest at the top of the bed. Her wings unfurled slightly as she moved to lay against the pile, the bed creaking from the unfamiliar occupant. She rested with her legs crossed and hands stretched to the wall, showing off every last plush curve and facet of her front. From below her jaw to her inner thighs, the light lavender of her scales were illuminated gorgeously in the glow of the lamps.

"As much as I love you staring," she smiled, her tail tip patting an empty spot by her hips, "I'm eager to feel you against my scales."

Freeing himself from the confines of his braies took an eternity, but once Gil had the string loosened all the way he dropped the underclothing. Freed, his erect manhood stood hard as it had ever been. The way Sofina stared at his lower parts and drew her tongue against purple lips boosted his primal confidence as a man. A come hither look and curl of her clawed finger brought him to the bed, instinct and her body's cues guiding him.

She uncrossed her legs, spreading them as she groped one of her ponderous breasts. A pat on her thighs brought Gil's attention to her intimate regions, her hand tracing toward a glistening slit in the scales between her legs. Blue eyes boring into him, he shuffled over a strong, plump thigh and came to rest on his knees in the gap of her legs. Her claws pulled at each side of her slit, spreading a flower slick with dragon dew. A scent, heady and with a twinge of strange sweetness, assailed his senses. The sight and scent made him want her all the more.

"Take me," she breathed, "Take me like this."

Drunk on the moment Gil brought himself closer and leaned forward, one hand angling his tip toward her willing slit. She watched him unblinkingly, her breathing heavy with anticipation and her bosom quivering, as he came into contact with her wet heat. A surge of excitement ran up from the tip of his maleness and up his spine as he eased forward into her. 

"Yes," she hissed, her entrance parting to accept him. Her hands landed on his shoulders as he braced his palms against the bed and kept push forward. "Keep going," she urged breathlessly, wings stretching, "Slip it all inside."

Inviting warmth wrapped around him, his tool burying to the hilt in Sofina as she let out a moan. His hips rested against her scaled thighs, the muscly slickness he'd plunged into making his head spin. Committed to the act, working on nothing but old memories and the passion that burned in Sofina's eyes, Gil eased his body against hers. He laid against her scales, his head coming between her breasts, every small separation between the scales on her belly making his skin prickle as he felt the dragon. Her slick entranced squeezed him tightly as her legs shifted, as if demanding he stay deep within her heat.

"Please," she huffed, looking down at him as her hands twitched on his back, "Take me however you want. Let me feel that I am your dragon."

If he was drunk with emotion and lust, she was intoxicated. Thoughts only on the now and the dragon who held him so intimately, Gil let eased his hips back. He hardly had any leverage laying on her, but he could rock in and out. Moans dripped out of her mouth, Sofina's hands slipping off of her back to tease her chest. Her hips worked side to side, causing him to push into what felt like a new set of dragon muscles trying to massage his tool every time his hips reconnected with her scales.

She stared at him the entire time, mouth half open to let out sounds of pleasure. Pants and moans, huffs and hitched breaths, the pattern of her sounds followed whatever he did. When he nibbled at the scales on her breasts, a throaty groan of bliss rolled out of her. He trailed tiny love bites up to her nipples, her voice growing louder with pleasure until it vibrated in his chest. Afraid of her hurting her sensitive, exposed flesh he circled her stiff bud with his tongue, her taste faintly reminding him of the scent that permeated the air. A heady, faintly sweet tingle with a twinge of raw earthiness blended in. It filled his heart and head with pleasure, but it all paled compared to the sense of rightness filling him.

Her heart raced, and he could feel every beat of it. His pulse quickened as the peaceful connection they shared before returned, this time blurred with the raw lust and passion they shared. Her flower squeezed him, tried to keep him in the deepest parts of her hot tunnel whenever he pulled back for a thrust. Tonguing her nipple he suddenly engulfed it in a kiss, his teeth teasing at her sensitive nubs. Sofina went wild, the desperate noises coming out of her as he played with her nipple confirming to him how sensitive her chest was.

Anyone out in the hall could've heard her, but Gil didn't give a damn. This moment, her heat, the soft slide of her scales against his skin, only that mattered.

He was making her squirm and squeal. His touch, his teeth, his maleness burying itself to the hilt with each short thrust caused her to leak around him. Speeding up, he fell into the same intoxication that gripped her from the start. This ravishing dragon wanted him in his entirety, and he wanted all she offered. Switching to her other breast, teasing the edges of the fleshy peak on her mound, Gil lost himself in her. 

The thrum of her excited pulse matched his own, the rhythmic squeezing of her inviting flower, the warmth that engulfed them both, it was nearly too much. There was no way he could last much longer, the greediest part of his being slowing his hips so he could torment the dragon's chest more. That drove her mad. Her tail flailed, wings fluttered, as she writhed and moaned, trying to press her teat against his face. Scaled legs wrapped around his hips, barely giving him any space to work with, and making the tension in his gut and dangling jewels buzz.

"Gil," she gasped, eyes glassy and her ear frills twitching. She took hold of his shoulders, her walls tightening around him maddeningly. "Oh, Gil!" she hollered.

Hugged against the dragon, he felt her passion explode. Thrusting became impossible, her legs holding him tightly against her as her flower quaked and milked at his buried length. Sofina squealed, her head throwing back, but not before Gil got a glimpse of her blue eyes rolling up. The bead creaked as the dragon writhed and squealed his name in her orgasmic throes, her tail curling around Gil's legs and entrapping him further as he teetered on the edge.

"You're too..." he gasped, words failing as he tried to hold back the pressure and enjoy the moment for an eternity more. There was no way she could hear him, but had to try. "Sofina, I'm about to-"

"Yes," she huffed breathless, head whipping down as her body kept suffering through the sensations. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, her words slurring as she stared at him with lust maddened eyes, rational thought clearly not driving her. "Make me yours Gilbert. Fill your dragon!"

With no way out of the dragon's orgasmic embrace, he gave her what she wanted. His hips slapped against her scales with renewed vigor, using the scant scant space they could move, slick dragon dew coating his lower body. The pressure and tension within his groin snapped, her walls squeezing around him as he released slammed in. White essence flowed from him and into her depths. Stars filled his vision as delirious pleasure filled him, Sofina's eyes and ear frills fluttering as he poured his essence into the sodden dragon flower trying to wring every drop out of him.

He ran dry yet the high lingered, their eyes locked as they both panted. Sofina stared with naked adoration and lust at Gil, while the dragon was the most enchanting woman and creature he'd ever seen.

Still buried deep within her sodden slit, unable to pull out with her legs holding him, Gil laid his head between her scaled breasts. He breathed heavily as the titillating beat of her heart filled his senses, while she leaned her head back and rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Eventually her insides stopped trying to suck and squeeze on Gil's spent rod, a sigh billowing out of the dragon.

Her legs released their hold on him, flopping limply to the bed. She panted to catch her breath, possessively rubbing her hands on his back, her dull claws stroking against his spine before settling in place. Her thick tail loosened on his legs, going from coiled to laying against the back of his calves. Even if he had the energy to move there was no way out of her grasp. Not that he wanted to leave the dragon's embrace any time soon, his arms squeezing her chest and wobbling the breasts he rested between.

They laid there basking in the afterglow and each other's presence, the gentle peace of their unusual connection washing over them both. The passage of time had no meaning to either dragon or man as peace and warmth overtook them.

"That was intense," he said, not wanting to move his head from her pillow mounds.

"You definitely remember me," she happily sighed, her climax finally over. "And now that I've finally had you, I want you even more," Sofina breathed, her warm breath ruffling Gil's hair.

He looked up between the valley of her bosom, meeting the blue gaze tilted toward him. To the greys with thinking about tomorrow, he only had a mind and eyes for her right now. "A few more moments of rest and I can go again."

"Pace yourself," she smiled, reaching up to tussle his hair. "I do not want you wearing out."

"You know," Gil said, shifting in her grasp so her could more comfortably look at her, "I believe my family will understand if we have our meals brought to us tomorrow."

The edges of her mouth rose into a toothy grin. "Are you sure you want to be alone with a greedy dragon that long?"

"I'm only spending time with my wife. What we do the day after our wedding isn't of anyone's concern but ours."

"Careful," she murmured, petting his head. "You sound like you have already accepted what is only supposed to be a trial."

"It's possible I'm an idiot and doing just that," he said, "But I'm at ease in your arms. And I've been trusting you all day, so what's a little more trust? You've done nothing but look out for what I want, even now."

"I am honored by your trust," she practically hummed, "And thrilled to hear you are soothed as I am right now. Yet I must correct you: if I was only looking out for only what you wanted I would not have teased you into laying with me."

Gil stroked the dragon's side, the finer, armor like scales pebble smooth and almost hot to the touch. "With how beautiful you are, how easy it's been to talk to you, and this kindred soul business or whatever is behind our strange connection? I'm glad you got me here."

Her ear frills twitched up and he felt her heart skip a beat. She put on a lopsided smile. "Are you saying you want to be husband and wife after all?"

"Maybe. That or I'm drunk on amazing sex," he admitted. "Give me a few days, two weeks at the most, and I'll give you the proper answer. I even know exactly how to show you I've accepted."

"Oh? What do you plan?" she asked, head tilting to the side.

"You said dragons sealed their commitments by making something together, right?" Sofina nodded, so Gil continued. "Then once I'm certain, I'll ask you to help me make something nearly as beautiful as you."

She laughed merrily. "I'm beautiful, am I?"

"Ravishingly so," he said, impulsively kissing the scales of her right breast. 

"Hm," she hummed pleasantly, the sound making her chest, and Gil, vibrate. "I will wait however long it takes for you decide, Gil. Until then, if you wish to show me how beautiful I am," her inner walls squeezed rhythmically, pulling on Gil's softened manhood still within her inner folds, "I would be happy to let you."

Blue eyes stared seductively at him, the dragon's neck tilted at just the right angle to get Gil's heart beating faster. He'd never thought a dragon or woman would inflame his passions so wildly. Yet with the two of them already married in the eyes of the law and their families, and already joined in the most intimate of manners, he had no reason to deny their mutual interests. With his manhood already stiffening again, enticed by her warm, slick folds tugging at him with gentle muscles, he put off any thoughts that weren't Sofina.

He reached up and worked at her breasts, her scaled flesh plump and giving. "If you'll let go I can show you exactly how beautiful you are," he said, in between kissing at the space her underbelly scales met.

Her tail loosened, slinking away from his legs, but her hands stayed on his back. She leaned her neck forward, her forked tongue licking at his forehead. "Ready when you are, lover."

Taking her earlier advice, Gil decided to rest a few moments longer. They had all night, after all. And he wanted to use it well.