The Refugee

Matthias was running. His feet pounding the gravel path, his arms pumping, even though his thighs were constricting and lungs were screaming for air. He was no runner on the best of days, but with a rueful smirk he concluded that it was the bad day that made the runner. At least out of him.

And this was definitely a bad day. Probably even the worst day of his almost three decades long, generally rather uneventful and boring life.

His side stinging on both sides – one from the exertion, the other from the knife wound pumping out blood on every painful step – Matthias felt his body giving up, his adrenaline giving way to the shock trying to take over his battered body. He heard shouts somewhere behind him, getting closer as his stride slowed, but he dared not look back as he pushed his legs on, despite the pain creeping up to paralyze him, finally. He knew his body would catch up on the situation eventually. Seems eventually was crashing on him, fast.

Peering out of his one seeing eye - his left eye was blinded by the blood flowing from a gash in his forehead, dripping down his torn tee – he tried to find a place to hide, knowing his body would not, could not, keep on running for much longer. Already, his legs were getting stiffer, his breaths shallower and strained, his speed slowing down to a labored jog. Soon, he mused, he could be taken over by an old lady with a walker.

An arrow whizzed by his head, the nock grazing his right ear, just before another one plunged deep into his right shoulder, missing his shoulder blade only just. This is it, he though, this is how I go down. A boring fucking life, a nobody who was in the wrong place at the wrong time on one fateful night, taken down by an arrow. Who shoots arrows anymore anyway? Outside of a shooting range, that is, not to mention in an urban park.

Right when his strength waned down, when the shouting behind him seemed no more than a second away, Matthias spied a large tree that seemed glow with beckoning. Its lowest branches created a sheltered cavern at its base, its lush foliage creating what looked like it could contain a world of its own in its embrace, its top reaching high into the sky, like trying to touch the moon.

How have I never noticed this before, he thought fleetingly, before he dove under the branches in a last frantic effort to hide from his pursuers, who must have seen him dive into the foliage, as close as they seemed to be, but a desperate mind does not do logic. Matthias crawled into the space under the tree, collapsing in a nook between partially exposed roots. He heard confused shouting and men searching around his hideout, right before his world went black.

***

Fevered whispers and sounds of scurrying feet brough Matthias slowly back to consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt heavy, oh so heavy! He tried to shake the fog from his head, to remember what happened, to figure out where he was. Not home, for sure, since he lived alone. He pushed his mind some more, and slowly the memories of the chase came trickling back. He started with a gasp, ready to run some more, eliciting alarmed cries from the still bodiless voices. He still couldn’t open his eyes. Come to think of it, he wasn’t really able to move his body at all, either.

Fear took over his mind and he tried thrashing around, trying to break free of whatever bound him to whatever he was lying on. I’m gonna die, his mind was screaming at him, I’m gonna die in the hands of some arrow-shooting, knife-wielding motherfuckers, and I don’t even know why! Though why he wasn’t dead already, was beyond him. Why keep him alive when they’d seemed to have no qualms about killing him earlier?

“Stay still or you break your stitches, you nincompoop!” came a high-pitched cry somewhere close to his ear. “Stay still, you hear me!”

Matthias thrashed some more, until the words penetrated his terrified brain one by one. Stitches? Nincompoop? And that high-pitched voice. Unless somebody just kicked the speaker in his nuts, real hard, it sure didn’t sound like a man to him. Tentatively he calmed down, thinking someone – someone not one of his pursuers – must have intervened, and he must be in a hospital then. But what kind of nurse (or doctor) calls their patient a nincompoop?

Through cracked lips he croaked: “Where am I? Am I not dead, then?” And, when no immediate answer was delivered, “Why can’t I see?”

Still no one answered him, but a cold glass of water (he hoped it was water, anyway) was pushed against his parched lips, with a hushed: “Drink. You’ll be fine.” The glass was tipped carefully to allow small sips to trickle into his mouth, and gratefully he drank all he was allowed to; all too soon the glass was retracted, with a gentle: “Not too much at a time, you were out for quite some time. Let your body adjust.”

With a sigh, Matthias relaxed in his hospital (must be, right?) bed, and somewhere in the distance he heard shouts: “He’s awake! Get the High Lady, he’s awake and asking questions!” High lady? Nincompoop and a high lady? Or rather High Lady, since it quite obviously was capitalized, a title rather than description. His curiosity piqued, he waited, hoping this High Lady would be at his bedside soon, since it seemed she was the one who would answer his questions.

Soon enough, just as he was starting to drift off again, Matthias heard a buzz like a huge insect was hovering beside his head, and then a small thump, and the buzz retreated. “How is he? Awake, you said?” demanded an authoritative voice, with a musical lilt, making the sound not unpleasant at all, despite the unquestionable command in it. Matthias fought the pull of sleep, determined to stay awake and conscious for this encounter. At least he hoped it would be an encounter. He wanted some answers!

He heard the high-pitch voice from earlier recite his condition to the High Lady: “…then we extracted the arrow and cleaned and stitched it, as well as the knife wound and the gash on his head. That gash runs so close to his left eye that we had to cover his eyes with the bandage, to prevent any movement that might tear the stitches…” Ah, that’s why he couldn’t see! Not blind, then. Hopefully.

“…and then he woke up and I gave him some healing draught. Well, when he calmed down, he was in quite a panic when he first woke,” the voice concluded. Ha! Yeah, panic is right! “Understandable, considering the condition he was in. Is this the first time he’s regained consciousness?” countered the commanding voice.

“Yes, except for brief moments where he moaned and asked for water, only to fall back into oblivion before water could be given. Which is why we haven’t been able to properly administer any draughts to him until now. Only what healing ointments were infused in his poultices,” explained the high-pitch voice.

Matthias was getting more confused by the minute. He’d never heard nurses or doctors refer to medicine as draughts and healing ointments. And poultices? Bandages, probably? Where the hell was he? With some homeopathy quacks who might do more harm than good? Why wasn’t he on intravenous antibiotics and morphine and nutrients and whatever the hospitals used? He’d been strapped to a hospital bed before, with needles sticking from his arms and hands, but as far as he could tell, there was none of that now. No beeping of any machines, either, come to think of it.

He came out of his thoughts to a cool hand touching his hairline briefly, likely checking his temperature. He felt a presence looming above him, and fleetingly wondered if that was how blind people perceived the world, with a fully different set of senses. He could feel the scrutiny, even when he could not see it, the one scrutinizing.

“So, you’re awake, are you?” came the commanding voice, though gentled down a touch. Matthias didn’t have time to decide whether she was expecting and answer or simply stating a fact (even when it did sound like a question) before the voice continued: “You’ve been through quite a bit, from the looks of it, and while we will need to get to the bottom of that, now is not the time. You need to sleep some more first, to heal properly before we can talk.”

“But…” Matthias tried croaking, only to be hushed by cool fingers on his lips. “I understand you have questions about your… situation… and whereabouts, and I promise we’ll talk about that too, later, but for now, suffice it to say that you are safe and on your way to healing. You can think of this place as a hospital of sorts, though not the kind you are used to. You’re better off here, anyway, for reasons we will discuss later.”

With that, the High Lady turned and let out a sharp whistle. The buzzing sound returned, faint at first, but getting closer alarmingly fast. “Give him more of the draught and make sure he sleeps until the wounds are healed enough to go without the poultices,” she instructed the presumed nurse. Then, with a breezy: “Sleep and heal, beautiful stranger, we will talk later” the High Lady was off in a buzz of… wings? Matthias felt a headache coming, and it had nothing to do with his wounds.

“Here, have some more and then sleep,” the high-pitch voice gently demanded, as the glass of cool liquid was pushed against his lips again. Dutifully Matthias drank, being allowed more now, pushing aside the thought that he was being drugged with some unknown substance. He was promised healing, so surely he wasn’t being poisoned? Clinging to that thought, he drank his fill, and promptly drifted into a healing sleep.

***

The next time Matthias came to, he woke up to a set of hands – at least three pairs of them – fussing with his bandages (poultices?), removing them from the feel of it, and smothering something cool and soothing on the wounds. The hands moved with practiced efficiency, a precoordinated choreography, each pair knowing their job, no words needed.

Matthias lie still for some time, waiting for a lull in the action, but when a pair suddenly removed the bandage from his head, freeing his eyes, they shot open of their own volition, alerting the nurses to his wakefulness. Not that the face staring back at him seemed surprised in any way. They must have somehow noticed the change in his vitals, despite the lack of machinery, he surmised.

“Water, please,” he croaked, his throat parched, again, the please barely more than a breath. Gentle hands helped him up to a halfway sitting position, propping him up with colorful pillows, while another pair of hands offered a glass of clear liquid to him. He stared at the glass, confused, the being nudging it forward suggestively, until he realized his arms weren’t bound anymore. Slowly, he reached out to grasp the glass with both of his shaking hands, and bringing it to his lips, he drank greedily.

“Thank you,” he rasped, voice working only slight better. “More? Please?” His glass was refilled and he drank some more, offering the glass back when it was empty again. “Will it put me back to sleep again?” he asked, not sure if that was what he desired or not.

“No, not this time. You’re wounds are healed enough now,” a gruff voice informed him from somewhere behind his bed. “I will send for the High Lady. She will want to talk with you.”

Matthias closed his eyes for a moment, already knowing it was useless to ask questions until the High Lady made her appearance. He opened his eyes again when something was set in his lap. A tray of food, offered by an anxious looking young woman (or a girl?) in a gauzy gown cinched at her waist in a style he’d never seen before (except in fairytale illustrations – so a cult of some sort?).

“Here, have some food while you wait,” she suggested, in that high-pitch voice Matthias recognized from before. A face to match the pitch, for sure. Fresh and sweet, somehow ethereal, not quite human, but unmistakenly female.

Tearing his eyes away, Matthias took stock of the food piled on the tray. Wedges of fruits, though nothing he could recognize, a bowl of something looking like yoghurt sprinkled with seeds, a crisp golden roll, still steaming, and a small pot of honey (he guessed). It all smelled divine, though in all honesty, anything would have at this point! Matthias found himself starving, as he dug into the food without further ado.

“Do you want to know what you’re eating?” came a curious voice next to him, huskier than the other voices he’d heard so far. Matthias looked up from his meal, chewing on, well, something. This new voice belonged to an androgynous looking being, beautiful in a stark way, with arresting golden-green eyes. Mouth full, Matthias nodded, realizing he was, indeed, curious about the delicious tastes he was devouring.

The beholder of the voice made to sit on the edge of the bed, then thought better of it, straightening themselves again abruptly. “Please, sit,” Matthias managed, swallowing hastily. He waved his hand in emphasis, flinging yoghurt-y droplets on the blanket in the process. Not that he noticed, his gaze never leaving those mesmerizing eyes.

Those eyes came level with Matthias, as the being sat down, carefully perching on the very edge. They lowered to the tray, where despite his best efforts, at least half of the food offered still sat untouched. “Oh, I’m Harmon,” the eyes suddenly snapped back up, going wide with sudden trepidation. Of what, exactly Matthias could not discern, but it bothered him so he tried to put them to ease with a smile and a nod.

“Hi Harmon, I’m Matthias,” he replied after a beat, once his brain had unscrambled enough to form a response. He felt a bit breathless with those arresting eyes on his, but at least the dread had left them, replaced by shy curiosity. “Pleased to meet you. You’re one of my nurses, then?” he continued, wanting to hear that husky, smoky voice again. It was like whiskey on ice, like a cigarette on a cold morning.

Harmon seemed equally taken by Matthias’ eyes, gaze not leaving his as they attempted an answer: “Not nurse, really, there’s no nurses here, at least not the way you know nurses to be. I mean, I was one of the three of us nursing you to health, though,” they waved vaguely towards the other two in the room, who had effectively faded into the periphery during their exchange. At least if felt like they were the only two people in the room, maybe even the world, but a glance to his right brought the rest of the world tumbling back in and he blushed.

Blushed! Since when did he ever blush!

Harmon cleared their throat, also snapping back into reality, and began pointing at the food items on the tray. “That deep maroon fruit is a driscol, a sweet fruit kind of like you plums, I think? They grow only in the forests deep in Driscalia, thus the name. And the yellow one, maybe like a melon to you? That’s a bunhop. Pretty common kind of fruit here, gets its name from the pattern of its seed pods, resembling a bunny hop track. Then there’s peachils, which are a cousin to your peaches, yes. And that stuff dripping all over your blanket is called bahmal, with roasted bunhop seeds on top,” Harmon concluded with a snicker that immediately died with a small gasp, when they lifted their eyes back to Matthias.

Chagrined, Matthias set the bahmal spoon back in the bowl, having fully forgotten the spoon and the dripping bahmal while Harmon’s sultry voice had washed over him like a soothing blanket. Absently, he wondered if it was possible to physically feel another person’s voice, deciding it totally was. How else was he to explain the gently brushing sensation of Harmon’s voice on his skin?

“High Lady’s here, snap out of it you two!” ordered the deep and resonant voice of the male nurse, or what should you call them, the nurses, not nurses. Harmon jumped to attention, while Matthias was a bit slower to burst out of the bubble they’d somehow conjured around them.

Sure enough, that buzzing sound he remembered from before was getting louder, coming closer. Harmon had stood up in their haste to pull out of the bubble, but turned their attention back to Matthias once more, while the High Lady was making her way towards them. “The High Lady will want to talk with you in private, I’m sure, but Glindy, Brock and I will be back when your talk is over,” Harmon told him, pointing at the two other nurses-not-nurses, who indeed were moving towards the doorway of the chamber.

Through the open doorway Matthias could see a large cavern-like space with no solid wall on the far end of it. Instead, there was a translucent, glimmering, shimmering curtain of sorts, through which he could see the blurry outlines of something appearing to fly towards the cavern. Squinting his eyes, he tried to see better through the haze, but the form remained obscured until it plunged through the shimmering wall and landed gracefully in the cavern, filling it with color and shine.

Matthias gasped as he recognized the flying form as a dragonfly, a huge dragonfly with a person sitting on its back. Could’ve been that the person was tiny instead, but he immediately rejected that idea, because that would’ve meant that he himself was suddenly tiny too, as massive as that dragonfly seemed to be. Besides, Glindy, Brock, and Harmon were already scurrying to meet the beast and the lady – High Lady she must be? – riding it, looking small next to the dragonfly, though they decidedly were the human size. Right?

Silently Matthias watched the High Lady dismount the dragonfly and make her way towards his bedchamber. The other three stayed with the ride, grooming it (him? her? them?) with easy familiarity. The door closed behind the High Lady and Matthias was suddenly alone with the High Lady, who practically radiated gentle authority. Suddenly shy, Matthias looked at his hands, waiting for the lady to speak first.

“Hello, Matthias. I am Melina, though I rarely hear that name anymore since becoming the High Lady some years back,” Melina said with a warm smile, extending her hand to lift Matthias’ chin up so she could look at him properly. Up close, he noticed the High Lady wasn’t as young as he’d perceived from afar and by her voice only. Her black hair was streaked with silver strands and her face showed lines around the eyes and the mouth, telling a tale of years of smiles and scowls, maybe in equal measure.

Matthias pushed down his awe and forced out a reply: “Pleased to meet you, Melina, I mean High Lady, ma’am.” Unsure about the greeting protocols, he didn’t offer his hand, but gave a small bow with his head, as he’d seen the other do upon greeting her, their obvious leader. Obvious, even without the high title.

Melina let out a tinkle of a laugh, and with a dismissive wave told Matthias to forego the title and the bows – he was their guest, not part of their community. “I don’t really subscribe to all this bowing and hierarchy, anyway, since this is no high court or anything, but someone needs to lead our group of renegades and who better than me?” she noted with no false modesty, as if Matthias was supposed to know exactly why she was the designated (and best) leader, of these what? Renegades? As she called them.

Deciding not to follow that line, figuring he’d learn the reasons soon enough if it even mattered to him. At this point, all he wanted was to get back home, not get entangled with this not-court (again with these odd notions! Court, like royals, or what?) anymore than he already had. Though somehow the thought stung a bit, deep down, the notion of going home and never seeing those gold-green eyes paired with the whiskey-on-ice voice that had so mesmerized him.

He was grateful for their healing efforts (which were quite impressive, really, he admitted, realizing he was in no pain whatsoever anymore!) and their hospitality in general, but now that he was starting to feel more like himself, with a full stomach and all, he figured he’d have a quick chat with this High Lady Melina and be on his merry way. Gold-green eyes be damned.

“So, um, you’re some sort of cult? Of homeopaths? Rebelling against traditional medicine?” Matthias gave an awkward chuckle turned into a grimace, as he acknowledged that his attempt at wit fell totally short, or actually was downright cringy. He was not the sort of person to make bad jokes, especially not as blatantly as this, but his brain was furiously trying to find some purchase in this admittedly otherworldly situation.

Melina didn’t seem offended in the least, nor did she cringe, at least not visibly. Props to Melina, Matthias thought, embarrassed. “No, not a cult, and definitely not what you refer to as homeopaths, that is a fully human concept and would require us to be humans in the human world,” Melina replied in her way of explaining by using concepts that really just invoked more questions.

What did she mean, humans and human world and not? Matthias was certainly human in a human world, thank you very much! He must have hit his head bad when collapsing under the tree and was inside a fever dream and not awake and healed at all. Maybe he was still sprawled there, on the ground, bleeding to death, while dreaming up healing beings and strange fruits and mesmerizing gold-green eyes! Yes, those eyes were definitely too beautiful to be real!

Melina watched Matthias closely, practically seeing the thoughts flying in his head. Finally, she started again: “Let’s start again, shall we. I realize I have only puzzled you more, so I will try again. But first, tell me how you ended up fatally wounded in the roots of our tree, with a Sagano arrow in your shoulder?”

“Saga-whatnow?” Matthias spluttered. “Oh, never mind, I don’t care. I crawled into the space below the tree to hide from my pursuers. They were close enough that I was sure they saw me, so I don’t know why I even bothered, but somehow the tree seemed to, um call to me? It glowed? I just thought… just had the illogical notion that there was safety. Then again…” he raised his arms with a shrug in the universal “but here I am, so what do I know” gesture.

“So,” Melina prompted slowly when Matthias didn’t seem to continue, “why were you hunted?” Matthias shrugged again, but went on to give an account of the events resulting in the chase (hunt?) when Melina looked at him expectantly, indicating she wouldn’t let it go.

Matthias had been on his way home from work (“what work?” “designer stuff, designing game scapes” “what game?” “this video game called ‘Conquest of Dragonara’” “Dragonara! But, it’s. Not a game!” “um, it certainly is, and I design the landscapes and costumes and dragons for work” “ok, get on with your story then, we’ll get back to Dragonara later”) when just off the bus stop on the other side of the park, he saw these mean looking guys mugging a smaller dude. He’d taken out his phone, ready dial the emergency number, and yelled at the mob to let go of the dude, he’s calling the police.

That’s as far as he’d got, before he was ambushed from behind, his phone flying into the pavement, a big boot coming down to crush it while thick arms pinned his to his body, a hand covering his mouth. Apparently the mob had placed some sentries for this purpose exactly, and he was well immobilized, but refused to be taken down, so he fought. Wriggling his hand into his pocket, he managed to grab his keys – no better weapons on him, not then, not ever – and proceeded to take a blind swing up where he figured the attacker’s face was, hoping to hit an eye, but settling on anything that could give him a break.

He managed a hit on the chin – the guy was huge! – as he discovered when he managed to turn around when the grip on him loosened just a touch due to surprise. Not that it did him much good, for the next thing he knew, he had a knife in his gut and a gash on the forehead, from some sharp rings the guy apparently wore on his fingers. He would’ve fallen down if it wasn’t for his attacker hold him up. He tried shouting again, but the hand flew back up to his mouth. This time, though, he was prepared, and when the hand came up, he bit down with all his might.

Turned out that was enough even for that tough guy, to let go for that half a second at least, giving Matthias, who was running high on adrenaline by then, an out and off he went, sprinting down the path into the park and towards his home. Nobody pursued him immediately, and he thought he’d dodged the bullet (or knife, as it was), but he kept on running to get to a safe distance from the melee. Just as he was about to slow down he heard shouting behind him, the unmistakable sound of boots on gravel, gaining.

“So I sped up again, got hit by that saganaki or what was it arrow and the rest of the story I already told you,” he concluded.

Melina’s face had gone pensive. They sat in silence for a while, until she drew a deep breath and with a new sort of respect, told Matthias that he’d survived a fight with Dragonara thugs. Unlike most probably the other dude, “who must’ve been someone called Yuni, for he’d apparently gone missing from a mission not long before you stumbled upon our tree”.

Matthias looked at Melina like she had suddenly grown an extra head. “Now you’re just making stuff up! I mean, I just told you I design for a game of Dragonara and now you’re telling me those thugs were, what? From the game?” he exclaimed.

“Matthias. Dragonara is a real place. Your game must be modeled after it, by someone who very likely knows about it, about the actual conquest of it. I told you we are a group of renegades. Well, we are refugees of Dragonara, a rebel group, if you wish, trying to turn the tide and take Dragonara back from the, what did you call them? A mob? The mob who conquered it some time ago, killing my family – the royal family – and forcing us out. I survived only because I was out of the palace at the time, and these people here, my now family, helped me escape with them.”

“So,” Matthias started slowly, in turn, closing his gaping mouth. “Where are we now, again? I mean, I thought I was under a tree like, fifty meters from my home, but this sure don’t look like my backyard. And… how? Why…? I mean, if you’re for real, and it’s a lot to take in, mind you! If you’re for real and some thugs from a video game, sorry, your, um, home? I mean, how and what were they doing in my neighborhood?” Matthias was stumbling over his words, unable to wrap his head around, well, anything anymore.

Melina watched him with sympathy, laying her hand on top of his. Something flickered in her eyes at the touch, a realization that made her draw a sharp breath. “You have fae blood, Matthias. Perhaps not one of your parents, but one of your grandparents, for sure. I can feel it now that you’re healed. It would explain why you could see those Dragonara soldiers, why the tree beckoned to you, how you were able to find solace below its branches.”

“You see, our realms overlap. They exist within and next to each other. Some parts are fully elsewhere, like what lies beyond that portal I came through. Some parts are simply layers of reality, existing in the same space while separated. We stay hidden from the human eye simply because their brain is not wired to our realm, it is not capable of seeing our layer of reality, even when we coinhabit the same place. Some parts, while overlaying your world, are an entirely different universe, like this tree we’re in.”

“Wait. This tree? You’re saying I’m in the tree? Inside the tree? I really must’ve hit my head hard,” Matthias mumbled.

“Yes, in fact, we are inside the tree. The tree contains an entire world, a realm called Aspen. We, our renegade group, are essentially also refugees here. The Aspenians are one of many tree-dwelling fae races, each tree a realm of its own, connected to each other only through the ether realm you can see through the portal,” Melina went on to explain. “But I see you’re getting tired. I’ll let you sleep some more. You may be healed, but you don’t have your full strength back yet, and I know this is a lot.”

“Yeah, never mind the fact that somehow I, a grown man, am inside of a tree, talking to a, fairy? Fae? Who actually rides a dragonfly. Not mind-boggling at all. Nah-ah,” Matthias muttered as he settled back into his pillows, admitting to himself that right now, all he wanted was to sleep. Maybe he’d wake up at home, next time.

***

When he opened his eyes again, he most definitely was not at home. It was the same bed chamber he’d fallen asleep in, with the same hard wood walls, ceiling and floor. He found himself alone, so he took some time to look around, noticing his surroundings properly for the first time. What he’d assumed was some elaborate wood work, was, in fact, seamless and quite obviously a trunk of a tree. The room was a hole in the tree, quite literally.

As he was wrapping his mind around this and slowly recalling everything High Lady Melina had told him, he heard the door open. In walked the high-pitch nurse-not-nurse, Glindy, she was? On Glindy’s heels was Gold-Green Eyes, and suddenly Matthias felt the need to fidget. He was not a fidgeter! Somehow Harmon had already got him to blush, to stutter, and now fidget, and Matthias was getting quite irritated. With Harmon or himself, he did not know.

“You’re awake again, good!” squealed Glindy. “Brock, bring some food, Matt’s awake!”

Feeling slightly indignant about the nickname – he did not like to be called Matt – Matthias bristled and opened his mouth to correct Glindy, but Harmon beat him to it. “I don’t think Matthias likes to be called Matt,” they noted, eyes never leaving Matthias, tapping Glindy’s arm lightly.

“Oh, pooh, he’ll get used to it!” Glindy waved it off, busying herself with Matthias’ pillows. Harmon shrugged a bit, as if to say Glindy is, well Glindy, what can you do, and Matthias rolled his eyes, which also was totally unlike him. What had gotten into him?

Brock emerged with a tray of food for Matthias. This time there was delicious smelling broth (“from vegetables, we don’t eat much meat here”) and more of those steaming rolls. It all smelled wonderful, spicy and rich.

While he ate, Harmon sat on the bed again, telling Matthias more about the food he was eating, the rebellion they were leading, the realm they were hiding in, and the Dragonaran thugs. “I mean, we’re Dragonaran’s too, from the Dragonia area, the original ruling race of the realm. Those thugs are from a remote area of the realm, a dark race called Wyvera – because they breed and ride Wyverns. They’re a soldier race, and many of the soldiers now serving Caspar, I mean High Lord Caspar, used to serve the family of our High Lady,” Harmon was making air quotes when mentioning Caspar, their voice giving off their obvious disgust.

Matthias listened with quiet interest (well, his mouth was mostly occupied with eating), but when he was done, he asked if he could get up and dressed (he was wearing a tee and what appeared to be shorts, which he didn’t deem proper clothing) and maybe walk around a bit? Surely he was well enough already!

He looked around for his clothes, and frowned when he didn’t see them, nor anything else to change into. “I’ll get you some,” Harmon said in their low, almost whispery voice, as they disappeared through the doorway.

Matthias immediately felt their absence, which again irritated him immensely. He was supposed to get well, and get home, but somehow in a short time, he’d become attached to the sultry-voiced Harmon to the extent that he missed them when they so much as disappeared from his sights. Our earshot. That voice… He sighed.

Harmon reappeared shortly, carrying a bundle of what looked like leather and, well leather. Shyly they set the pile on the bed, instructing Matthias to get dressed behind a separating wall he hadn’t even noticed before. “You can wash a bit there too, there’s a shower in the corner,” they instructed before turning towards the door, pulling Glindy with them. “We’ll wait in the hall for you!” she hollered as they left.

Taking his bundle of clothes behind the wall with him, Matthias heard Harmon usher Glindy out, and close the door. He inspected the area, finding the shower, and decided to take advantage of it given the chance. He found floral scented soaps lined up on a shelf, and the impossible shower and drain, inside the tree. Turning the faucet on, he marveled at the conundrum his life had become. Fae and realms and showers in trees. Hell, himself in a tree! How it worked exactly, he’d probably never fully grasp.

Having scrubbed himself thoroughly, he inspected his wounds, or what was left of them, in the mirror hanging on wall opposite to the shower. The exit wound of the arrow was a small star-shaped scar, barely there. The knife wound not much more than a line in his abdomen, the scar above his left eye ironically the worst of them all, puckering his eyebrow ever so slightly, giving him a perpetual lopsided frown. Well, not too much of a frown, really. All in all, what could have been bad, had healed to almost nothing at all. In not time at all. Maybe. How long had he been sleeping anyway?

Having thus inspected his scars, he made a mental note to ask about the time and when he could return home, as he started pulling on his loaner-clothes. He found a pair of leather pants, a silky feeling shirt and a leather jacket, all of which smelled faintly of something he could not exactly identify, other than as the scent paired with gold-green eyes and a sultry voice. Suddenly he realized he was about to pull on some of Harmon’s clothes and it felt so intimate that he found himself blushing. Again.

Stepping out of the shower partition, he found a pair of socks and leather boots next to his bed. Sitting down on the bed to pull on the boots – that fit oddly perfectly, just like the supple leather pants and every other item too – he wondered about his own clothes.

“We had to throw them away, they were too ruined,” came Harmon’s whiskey-on-ice voice from the doorway, like they had read his mind. “All our clothes are enchanted to fit perfectly, in case you wondered,” they continued shyly, likely conscientious of the fact that Matthias was now wearing their clothes. Or was he actually? For all he knew, they were a commune where everything was shared, which would be made possible by such an enchantment.

“Anyway, I figured my clothes were more your style than Brock’s,” they declared more boldly, giving Matthias a once (or twice, or maybe five times, who was counting anyway?) over when he finally stood up. “And I was right, you look gorgeous in them.” This was followed by a turned head, and suddenly Matthias didn’t like it at all, them turning their eyes away from him and his sights.

Emboldened by the declaration, he strode up to Harmon and gently turned their head back towards him cupping their cheek with his palm. Their skin was soft and cool to the touch, and Matthias swore he never wanted to let go. Reluctantly, he dropped his hand anyway, having locked his eyes with theirs, sure of having their attention. “So do you. Look gorgeous, I mean. Thanks for loaning me clothes.” It was his turn to avert his eyes, the gold-green gaze becoming too much to bear.

“Come on, let’s go! Even I am starting to feel sticky with all the sap, and that’s saying something, as sweet as I am,” Glindy called from the doorway. Clearing their throats, Harmon and Matthias turned to walk to the waiting Glindy, and if their arms brushed a bit accidentally, well.

Glindy took the lead on their tour of the tree realm, pointing out all the animals and insects (though calling insects huge enough to fly on insects seemed somehow wrong). Turned out dragonflies were not the only flying rides for Aspenians, though they were the preferred ones. While there were stairs and hallways all up and down the insides and outsides of the trunk and branches of the tree, many were flying around and about on bumble bees and butterflies, and of course dragonflies.

Harmon kept pace next to Matthias on their rounds, offering commentary here and there, while Glindy took care of most of the talking. Matthias felt comfortable just being in the vicinity of Harmon, sensing their presence next to him, as much as seeing them there. And every time they talked, the voice felt like a caress, no matter what they said. Yes, Matthias was very content, indeed.

***

On his tenth morning in Aspen – for that’s what he’d gleaned from his nurses-not-nurses the previous day – Matthias woke up to Brock bringing him breakfast. He rarely spoke, but as he set the tray on a small table for Matthias, he grunted: “You’re well enough now, you can have your meals with the rest of us from now on. Glindy showed you the dining room, right?” He turned without waiting for a response.

He wasn’t unfriendly, he just didn’t seem like a people-person, and Matthias was ok with that. He now had a basic understanding of the realm, or at least the part of it he inhabited, so after having his breakfast he got dressed and was preparing to go look for his friends (Harmon, he wanted to find Harmon), when there was a knock on his door and in stepped Harmon, as if summoned them by his longing.

“I’ve come to take you to the council room. The High Lady is holding a final strategy meeting before we strike tomorrow,” they rasped, leaning on the doorframe. “Tomorrow!” Matthias exclaimed. “And… why am I invited to the council?” he asked though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. An answer he didn’t like. At all.

“You know that already,” Glindy singsonged as she slithered past Harmon, “but I’ll spell it for you: we need you to recount everything you remember of their weapons and attack in general, but also need to determine your role in our plan!”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Matthias mumbled, polishing off the last bits of bahmal from his bowl. “Look, I’ll be happy to tell everyone whatever I can remember, but I’m no fighter! I’m also not Dragonaran, I’m a human.”

“PART human, or part fae, driscol driscole,” corrected Glindy in her breezy way. “Anyhoo, our High Lady is certain you are needed in the battle. Something about a prophesy.” “Yes, she mentioned that. There’s always a prophesy buried somewhere in these things, isn’t there,” Matthias grumbled. “What ‘these things’?” asked Glindy, puzzled. “These, you know, stories like this. Like mine.” “I don’t think you’re making much sense now.” “I’m not making sense? Nothing is, really.”

Matthias decided to leave it at that. He rose from his breakfast, looking up to see Harmon scrutinizing him from the doorway. “What?” he asked. “Do I have bahmal on my shirt?” “Oh, don’t mind them,” piped up Glindy, already turning to go. “They’re just trying to figure out what it is about you.” “About me what?” “About you that makes them feel shy and blush and fidget!”

“Yeah, same same,” Matthias said under his breath, but judging by the spark in Harmon’s eyes and slight twitch of their lips, they heard him well enough anyway. “Ok, let’s boogie then,” he said, collecting himself and striding towards the door. And straight into Harmon’s chest.

Harmon’s arms came up to steady Matthias who staggered from the collision. “Wha… what?” he asked again, like an idiot. Harmon just shrugged, steering him to the hallway and the stairs leading up to the council room, walking next to Matthias, close enough for their shoulders to press together. Matthias wondered what exactly happened in the doorway; surely he’d steered toward the space next to Harmon, to pass them? Hadn’t he? Had Harmon moved, on purpose? Or had he really been so out of it that he deliberately crashed into his crush.

***

The council room was crowded with people shouting above each other, flapping their arms in frustration, everyone trying to get their opinion heard. The space was not big, so the dozen or so fae already in the room seemed to take up all the space, their voices echoing in the hard polished wood walls and vaulted ceiling.

Matthias stopped in the doorway, causing Harmon to bump straight into him, while Glindy was already shimmying here way into the chaos. “What is it?” asked Harmon, placing a steadying hand on Matthias’ shoulder (which of them they were trying to steady, remains a mystery, even to them). “Just, they’re so loud… It reminds me of the time our game server died for 30 minutes, last year. My ears were ringing for a week after the panic finally died.”

Taking a deep breath, Matthias took a step forward, stopping again to assess the chaos and determine the best route to the furthest corner possible. Electricity jolted through him when he felt a warm hand curling into his, squeezing it gently. He froze for a moment, but when the hand didn’t let go, he adjusted their hands, entwining their fingers together. He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the fabulous being next to him, only to be caught in those golden-green eyes once more.

Time seemed to stop, the melee of the council room fade into oblivion, they were the only ones in the world for second, minutes, days, he didn’t know, didn’t care. He was lost in gold and green and bliss, to hell with everything else!

At least until the world came crashing in, following a loud fake cough behind them. “Maybe continue your gaze contest in private, after we’ve saved our realm from Caspar, hmm?” suggested an amused voice belonging to none other than High Lady Melina. “At the very least, take it inside. You’re blocking the entrance.”

The spell broken, Harmon pulled Matthias into the room, never letting go of his hand. Matthias would’ve liked to hide in a corner, but Harmon guided them into the seats right next to the High Lady at the end of the large table, across from Glindy and a tall dude looking like a warrior straight out of Matthias’ Dragonara game, leaving Matthias gawping at the sight until he remembered his manners and snapped his chin up.

“Can’t really hide in a corner when you’re the second in command to the High Lady,” Harmon whispered while everyone scrambled to find their seats around the table. The melee had died down, chaos rapidly turning to order as the seats were filled. “You… the… second? Why… why didn’t anyone tell me before?” Matthias sputtered, still holding the hand of said second in command.

“Didn’t come up, does it matter?” Harmon shrugged. “Well, no, I suppose not, but, just… I dunno… surprised?” Matthias was still having trouble finding his words. He felt like an alien snagged from his home, thrown into a scenario straight from his dream. Or rather work. From the game he himself was designing. And not just into the game (world), but to the very heart of it, where the second in command nursed him back from the brink of death and had mesmerizing eyes and a voice to die for (pun totally intended).

For with this thought Matthias realized he totally would die for the voice currently whispering obscenities into his ear (“you know, you’re absolutely delicious when you are discombobulated” “maybe after council we could finally have some time alone, just you and me” “I want to run my fingers through that hair of yours”), for the thumb stroking circles on his hand, for those gold-green eyes and the silky silver hair and everything that came with them.

Utterly confounded, Matthias squirmed in his seat, trying to make sense of this new situation he found himself in. Not only was he in a fae realm (and part fae, apparently!), he was about to be launching off into a war he kinda just accidentally stumbled upon (“no such thing as accident, this is your fate”, had the High Lady retorted), and on top of that he had this newfound need to keep another person alive while hopefully staying alive himself (not such and effort in his normal everyday life, though it seemed that was about to change drastically), for he really really really wanted to stay alive long enough to explore every inch of Harmon (body and soul and all) once all was said and done (the rebellion or war or what you wanna call it).

“…anyone have any questions so far? Matthias, what’s your take?” Matthias was pulled from his thoughts rather abruptly, realizing he’d missed the entire plan (or was it only a part of the plan, so far?), distracted by his thoughts and Harmon’s had that had let go of his and was now settled on his thigh, fingers moving ever so slightly. What had gotten into them?

“Um… sounds good so far?” his reply came out as a question, and he tried to keep his cringe off his face. Melina didn’t seem to notice, or chose not to notice, instead launching back into the plan, conjuring a glimmering map on the wall behind her. “Good, then, we shall continue to the details of our attack. Harmon, take over, please.”

With a last squeeze of Matthias’ thigh Harmon got up and moved to the map, suddenly all business and full of confidence Matthias hadn’t yet witnessed (albeit he had to admit, that business confidence seemed to have somehow seeped into the… whatever it was between them, given the touching and whispering that made him blush in a room full of strangers. In awe he watched Harmon lay out the strategy on the map, using their fingers to zap pins and depict movements on the map.

When he was done, they stood glaring at the gathered council, daring anyone to disagree with their plans. Nobody did. “Thank you, Harmon,” the High Lady concluded, and Harmon sat back down next to Matthias, brushing their arm against his, not by accident. “We’ll use dragonfly messages during the attack, as they are not easily detected and intercepted.”

Melina let her gaze roam the room for a moment before continuing: “Now, to the last business of this final war council before our heyday tonight. I’m sure you all have noticed our guest here, and likely heard some rumors about his identity and role here. Let me introduce Matthias, who fought and survived a bunch of Caspar’s Dragonara thugs, gaining some important intel during the scuffle, and who I believe is the final piece of our resistance: the gamekeeper of our prophesy.”

Immediately the room started to buzz as everyone started whispering and questioning and wondering in groups of twos and threes, until someone raised their hand at the back. “Yes, Anina?” “Krhm, you say gamekeeper, so where’s the animals? And how will they help us?”

“Thank you Anina, for voicing everyone’s question. It seems our interpretation, or shall I say understanding, of the prophesy was a bit off, as it often is. That’s the nature of prophesies. He is not the gamekeeper of game animals. In his world, he is the designer of a game called Conquest of Dragonara – a game apparently created about our people, about the conquest of Dragonara by Caspar, but also the rebellion that takes the land back from him, returning it to us, the rightful leaders of Dragonara.

Thus, his insight and his input has been invaluable for putting together our plan, way beyond what we could have hoped for. He will accompany us to Dragonara, participating in our attack as the strategic consultant in the field. He will pair up with Harmon (as if they already haven’t, said the look she cast on the two of them) and they will steer the attack from the rear. I will be with you in the frontlines, communicating with them through a telepathy link.”

She started to sit, but jumped back up when Glindy muttered from her other side “We’re doomed,” noticeably flicking her eyes toward the pair who was, once again, staring at each other adoringly, a goofy smile playing on their lips. “Oh, and Harmon and Matthias, do please try not to get distracted while we’re getting ourselves killed out there,” she said with pleading in her eyes, then plopped back to her seat.

***

Council meeting over, Harmon dragged Matthias into the corridor and up a set of stairs before anyone could stop them, even they themselves. How Harmon had suddenly become the assertive one, taking the lead, was beyond Matthias’ comprehension – not so much that Harmon had (though that too, given the previous days’ fumbling and jittering), but more so that he hadn’t.

Not that he had had too many romantic encounters, shy as he was, an introverted game designer, but what little times he HAD been interested in anyone, he had been straightforward enough. None of this stupid second-guessing and shying away from touch and losing his ability to speak, for the love of, eh, Harmon!

He would’ve liked to blame it on the newness of his environment, of the near-death experience, of his world going topsy-turvy with High Lady Melina’s revelations, and that was part of it surely. Probably even a big part. But if he was being totally honest, most of it was simply Harmon. Even with everything he knew about himself and his world falling apart (or more like being revealed but a morsel in the grand scheme of things), it was Harmon with their husky voice and gold-green eyes and silky silver hair and cool to the touch skin, soft as the wings of a butterfly.

Oh gods, now he was waxing poetic about skin he’d only graced in passing (not counting the hand-holding) and hair he’d yet to touch!

Crush, he’d called it just the other day. Love, more like, whispered his burning heart, as he followed the recipient of those feelings up another flight of stairs and onto a balcony close to the very top of the Aspen tree.

Matthias had every intention to seize the moment once they finally stopped, and grab that gorgeous beautiful being by their lapels and kiss them silly, but he didn’t take into account the awe of seeing a foreign world shimmer in all colors of the rainbow beyond the balcony, up so high it was almost impossible to see the ground, while colorful dragonflies and butterflies twittered and twisted around below them with and without riders on their backs. The sun was high above the blue hued mountains in the far distance (since when were there mountains in his neighborhood? Oh, right, since when was he standing on a balcony at the top of a tree?) and the sight took his breath away.

“Beautiful!” he sighed, eyes wide, a sweet floral scent wafting in his nose. Though that must be Harmon, came the stray thought from somewhere. “Indeed,” whispered Harmon next to him, but a glance their way implied that they weren’t talking about the scenery. Matthias blushed deeply, turning to face them properly. “Indeed,” he retorted with a smile, wonder in his eyes.

For a beat they stood there just staring at each other, then suddenly moved at the same time, noses nearly colliding, so close they were to being with. “Harmon…” Matthias started. “Oh, do shut it,” rasped Harmon, crushing their lips against his.

Matthias had the brief thought that he really should not have been caught off guard by the kiss, before it evaporated along with the rest of the world and everything was just Harmon’s lips. Harmon’s hair, that was silkier than he ever could imagine, as he wound his fingers into the strands of silver falling softly to their shoulders. Harmon’s hand behind his head, and the other one at the small of his back, pulling him close, so close that not an ant could have fit between them. All he could sense anymore was Harmon.

Pulling apart ever so slightly, just enough to catch a breath, their foreheads resting against each other, their noses doing a dance of their own, Matthias breathed Harmon in. He felt like for the first time in his life he was fully alive. Every cell of his body jumping with glee, dancing to the tune that was Harmon. “Matthias…” Harmon breathed, as if sensing his thoughts, his sensations. They pulled back just a bit more, wanting to see Matthias’ eyes. Silvery blue to Harmon’s  golden green, “Like a water pools in moonlight,” they whispered. “One could easily drown in their depths.”

Matthias gave a small smile, noting that he wasn’t the only one going all poetic suddenly. Not that he knew if Harmon was poetic by nature or not, but somehow he figured not. That thought alone brought another wave of elation sweeping through him. He was not alone with his overflowing emotions.

Speaking of which. His lips were overflowing with the need to taste Harmon’s again, so it was Matthias who pulled Harmon into the second kiss, not that he was counting (but so far, he was, and hoping he’d soon loose count). They started soft, taking time to explore each other’s lips, until Matthias licked Harmon’s upper lip tentative, causing sparks to fly and tongues to collide and suddenly there was nothing soft about the kiss anymore.

“Matthias…” started Harmon again, when they next came up for some air. “Matthias, we’re going into battle tonight.” They left the thought just hanging there, their eyes suddenly serious. “Yeah,” Matthias sighed in response, pulling his fingers through his thoroughly mussed short chocolate brown curls, turning his gaze to the distant horizon. “Hey…” Harmon murmured, his whiskey on ice voice thick with emotion, “It’ll be ok. We’ll be ok. We’re prepared.” “Yeah…”

“Look at me, Matthias, please,” they pleaded, cupping Matthias’ face with their delicate hand, turning it gently back to face them. It was request he couldn’t have denied if he’d wanted to and he sure as hell didn’t. Want to deny Harmon, not this request, not probably anything ever anymore. “Come with me, be with me. We have a few hours before we need to get ready.” Matthias just nodded, letting Harmon take the lead again, pull him inside and down the stairs.

Proof of concept.

***

Later, as the sun was sending its last rays down on them, Harmon, Matthias, and Glindy stood next to High Lady Melina, in full Dragonara (the original) armor, waiting for the last troops to arrive. Matthias felt awkward with a knife hanging from his belt, like a kid going to a gang fight with a toothpick for a weapon. Not that he was any good with any weapon more complicated than a knife, so it was just as well. Really, he wasn’t any good with a knife either, but he was sure he’d be able to at least stab with it if needed (unlike a, say sword, like the ones Harmon and Glindy were sporting; he could barely lift them with his nerd-arms), so knife it was.

Dragonflies buzzed above them and the gathering troops, waiting to be called down to be mounted. “How does it work, this size thing, exactly? I mean, right now we’re the size of ants, small enough to fit a thousand in a tree and ride dragonflies, but out there the Dragonara-thugs were normal human size, just like me. Well, way bigger than me, but you get the point? So, anyway, do we just sneakily suddenly grow when we fly over some threshold or what? And, um, will the dragonflies grow then too?” Matthias asked his companions while letting his eyes trace the flight of the beasts.

“We’ll need to disembark before we cross the border of Dragonara. Size is relative in realms like Aspen, where a size-accommodation enchantment is woven into the very tapestry of the realm. For fae anyway, not any of the other creatures, as you see, making it possible to ride dragonflies like they were the dragons of Dragonara,” Harmon explained.

Matthias turned to look at them in alarm. “Dragons? There actually are dragons in Dragonara?” “I mean, where do you think it got its name?” Glindy piped in. “Um, yeah, sure. So, you ride them? Or, rode them, before…” Matthias let his question wither out. “Before the damned Caspar attack, you mean? Yeah, we rode them and soon we’ll ride them again! I mean, we ARE here, about to take our land back!” Glindy exclaimed.

“They’re tame, as tame as beasts like dragon and dragonflies get, anyway. They flew off the their mountain hide-outs, those who didn’t get killed in Caspar’s coup. His lot rides their wyverns, and would’ve just killed all dragons, had they had the chance. We’re hoping the dragons will hear our call and come to our assistance when the time is right tonight. I mean, the High Lady did explain this part in the council room today,” Harmon smirked, touching Matthias’ cheek lightly with the hand that wasn’t entwined in his.

“Eh… I was a bit, um, distracted there…” Matthias mumbled, catching Harmon’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips, kissing his fingertips. “You don’t say,” Melina, who apparently had been listening to the exchange, noted flatly at the same time as Glindy grunted, her nose crunched up in mock disgust: “Uch, you two are disgusting! Hope it doesn’t rain tonight or you’ll both just melt away.” “Nah, you just jealous.” “Damn right I am! At least you’ve got someone to hold your hand tonight if you die!”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d like to continue what we started, after all. There’s way many things I’d still like to do… to you… with you…” Harmon whispered to Matthias, who promptly blushed, again. “I know. Me too,” was all he managed for an answer before a horn blew on the other side of High Lady Melina, signaling the dragonflies and troops alike that it was time.

The dragonflies landed, and the gathered troops started mounting them in a surprisingly organized manner, in twos and threes, orchestrated by the fae Matthias recognized from the council room. As rowdy and loud as they had been before the meeting, they obviously were more than fit for their job as leaders of the renegade task force. There were maybe a hundred of them altogether, which was not much, considering, but what they lacked in numbers, they made up in cunning. They were about to strike in deep, straight to the heart of the matter.

Harmon helped Matthias onto their designated dragonfly, as Glindy settled in front of the High Lady on theirs. Glindy was the third in command and as bubbly as she was, looking young and soft with her fresh face and wheat blonde curly bob, Matthias already seen that she was steely leader when needed, with a sharp wit and apparently a firm sword arm too. He found himself hoping he wouldn’t lose her, either. Not just when he’d found friends who felt more like family to him than anyone before.

Pulling his wistful thoughts back together (the mention of family the last distraction he needed now, for there were reasons he hadn’t seen either of his parents in years, nor his older sister, but no need to hash out those reasons, especially not right now), he leaned into Harmon’s back, wrapping his arms tight around their waist, as Harmon steered the dragonfly into the air, following the High Lady and Glindy.

They were off.

***

The attack was a success. Couldn’t say everything when exactly according to the plan, but with Harmon’s fast and efficient decision making, helped by Matthias’ inside-out knowledge of the game and every cheat code it contained (no, they did not all work in the real Dragonara realm, but Harmon was pretty good at discerning which ones did and which ones didn’t). They never saw the battle up close, being the designated strategists keeping watch and issuing instructions from their hidey-hole command center.

High Lady Melina, Glindy, and a handful of Melina’s Dragonian elite forces infiltrated the palace. They had previously served her parents in the palace, having survived mostly because they were the ones accompanying Melina on the night of the coup, being responsible for getting her and a lot of the other survivors to safety. They all knew the palace inside out, better than any of the treasonous Wyveran soldiers still occupying the place.

With stealth and cunning and the knowledge of every hidden passage way, the hit group made its way to the chambers of Caspar, who was enjoying a massage, just like their informant had told them.

Passing wards was easy for the rightful ruler of the palace – a detail Caspar in his arrogance had not taken into consideration – that the palace recognized its own and dismantled wards as Melina passed. It was a secret well kept, so most likely Caspar didn’t even know about it. Wyveran soldiers and guards had not been trusted (for a reason, as it came to be seen). They were employed mostly only for their strength and prowess.

What is strength, though, to a surprise attack of enchantments, poisoned arrows, and unseen knives through the heart? Nothing, nothing at all, and so the little group made its way to the massage chamber unstopped, with no alarms sounding, and delivered the death blow to Caspar’s rule by sending him to the afterlife with one swift blow of a sword. His head was caught by another silent assailant, the unfortunate but necessary trophy to ensure the retreat of the Wyverans.

Outside, the battle had commenced, High Lady Melina having sent the signal as they passed the last bit of guards. Now she stepped onto the balcony of Caspar’s (her father’s, actually, but she might need to burn the rooms to cleanse them now) sitting room, holding his head up high as she gave a series of sharp whistles before addressing the battling forces.

“Tonight, we have ended the terror rule of Lord Caspar of Wyvera, returning Dragonara to its rightful rulers, the people of Dragonara, with me to lead them. Dragonara was a peaceful place, where its people were heard and respected, where the High Lord and Lady were no tyrants, but rather the necessary leaders of a body of representatives. Tonight, this order is restored, and we will begin to rebuild what was taken from us. Honoring my parents, honoring their legacy, honoring every Dragonaran who lost their life defending the realm from greed and evil.

Wyveran soldiers! Go peacefully back to your lands, to your wyverns! If you surrender, you will not be hunted. If you put up a fight, it is a fight to death. We wish for peace, but will crush any rebellion we encounter.”

A hushed silence fell to the courtyard below as the High Lady turned her face to the mountains where a steady beat of wings was approaching. Slowly everyone had turned to see the majestic vision of a dozen massive dragons of all different colors fly in formation, glittering in the moonlight. They opened their maws to let out a loud bellow, announcing their arrival. Circling the courtyard twice, they all found their perches along the courtyard walls.

The Wyverans came out of their stupor and started skittering this way and that, trying to decide what was the fastest way out without getting blowtorched to ashes in the process. All notion of a fight had dissipated with the appearance of Caspar’s head hanging from Melina’s hand, and now all they wanted was to get away.

Melina grimaced on the balcony, realizing she was still holding that disgusting head, and turned to hand it over to whoever was closest; it had served its purpose and was no longer needed. Glindy stepped back in haste, no way was she going to touch that vile thing! One of the assailants – or guards, again? – took the head.

When Glindy and Melina turned to go back inside, there was no sign of the head, nor the body, of Caspar anymore. Which was a relief. Neither one was particularly fond of the gore, or the process of producing it. It was simply a necessary evil when necessary.

Harmon and Matthias had witnessed the scene in the palace grounds, though they were too far to hear Melina’s speech. They did hear the sharp whistles, though, and with that, Harmon let out one of their own. It didn’t take long before a white dragon with purple and emerald highlights emerged from the mountains, landing as close to their hide-out as it could, bellowing joyfully.

Harmon jumped a railing and ran down to the beast who lowered to the ground to let Harmon reach it. Matthias followed cautiously, but stopped at a respectful distance, watching Harmon cuddle the enormous head of the most regal beast he’d ever seen. Truly, his designs fell short by miles, compared to the real deal!

“You can approach,” Harmon beckoned Matthias to come closer. Slowly, Matthias took one step at a time, starting when the dragon gave a huff and a snort, and Harmon blushed. “Um, she can kind of detect… my emotions… and it noticed… the, um, change in my heartbeat when you came closer,” they explained. Hunh. “Oh, and I think she can smell you. On me, I mean. Now that she can smell you, she can smell you on me too…”

Now it was Matthias who blushed, but he soldiered on until he was standing next to Harmon, grasping their hand. “Matthias, meet Ciala, my bonded dragon. Ciala, meet my, I mean, meet Matthias,” they stuttered the introductions. Matthias carefully lifted his free hand to stroke Ciala’s nose that was subtly inspecting him, too. Seeming satisfies, she settled her head back on the ground to enjoy the administrations of her bonded fae and their bonded mate. She knew, even if they didn’t, yet. People could be thick like that.

“Let’s head to the palace,” Harmon straightened up, offering their hand to Matthias who was still crouched in front of Ciela. “Let’s…” Matthias let the word drift off as he took the offered hand, getting up in front of those amazing gold-green eyes, not letting go of the hand.

For hours they were working side by side, hoping to stay hidden, hoping their guidance and spur of the moment decisions were enough to help the others through. They had a small group of guards at their back, scouting and securing their hide-out, in case some passing Dragonaran (Caspar’s Wyveran) patrols happened upon them.

There had been some scuffles, but their guards were prepared, so despite them being bigger and stronger (and, in cases, more in numbers), the enemy patrols had all been silenced without them having time to alert Caspar or the forces closer to the palace.

Still, they had ridden high on adrenaline, not daring to be distracted, but now, now it was over, the High Lady had won, and relief was burning in Matthias’ heart, begging for a release. Taking a step closer to Harmon, he gave a slight crooked smile, never letting his gaze waver from those eyes. “But first…” he murmured, pulling Harmon to him, bringing their lips to his to a searing kiss that Harmon returned ever so eagerly.

Ciela gave a high-pitch keening when the two seemed to be lost in each other for longer than she deemed suitable, given the time and the situation. With a chuckle, Harmon pulled away from Matthias. “I guess it’s time to go. Ciela says so and she knows.”

They climbed on the back of the regal beast. “Hold on tight! Ciela is a smooth flyer, but flying without a saddle and harness is always a bit precarious,” Harmon yelled over the whoosh of air as Ciela took of to the sky with the two on her back. Matthias was too concentrated on keeping his death grip of Harmon’s waist to answer, his face pressed to their back and his face buried in their neck. He gritted his teeth to keep a scream inside as they ascended.

They were not that far from the palace, so soon enough (or maybe not soon enough for Matthias who was, decidedly feeling a little green on the gills) they started descending to the courtyard that had now cleared of all Wyveran soldiers, only a few Dragonaran renegades milling about anymore. With a loop around the yard, Ciela touched down, settling in a spot close to the open double doors.

As soon as Harmon and Matthias had slid of her back, the first with the grace of a seasoned dragon-rider, the latter with more of a lumping stumble, she lifted off again, finding a perch next to a shining onyx dragon (“that black one’s Nyx, High Lady Melina’s dragon”) and a slightly smaller one with night blue scales and bright yellow highlights up its wings and tail (“the blue one is Solis, he’s Glindy’s ride”).

Harmon and Matthias watched Ciela settle down to nap, then made their way to the beckoning doors, finding Glindy hurrying down a wide stairway to greet them. “Come on, heroes!” she hollered with a big smile, “High Lady Melina and the council are already waiting for you! I’m not even going to ask what took you so long, because I don’t want to hear it.”

***

There was a celebration. An elaborate festival throughout the realm and a huge party in the palace, the next day. Festivities started with the official appointment of High Lady Melina as the new legal leader of Dragonara and its council. The renegade council was appointed as ruling council for now – there would be new elections later, after the realm was stabilized.

There was a dinner party in the palace and dancing in the gardens, live music provided by the palace musicians who had come out of hiding in the mountains, riding their pink and ruby red dragons. The festivities went on for the whole night, and Matthias found himself wishing the night would never end. It felt good to be carefree, surrounded by music and laughter, held close by the being who filled his every sense with joy and awe, his heart with love overflowing.

They danced in the moonlight, holding each other tight, sometimes lost in each other’s eyes, sometimes in kisses both warm and demanding, but always in each other's arms.

When the first rays of the sun started escaping above the horizon, Harmon took Matthias’ hand and started pulling him through the garden, climbing a rocky hill, finally coming to a stop on a cliff with the perfect view of the impending sunrise. They sat on the rocky surface, pulling Matthias gently down between their legs, holding him in their embrace as the sun made its way up, up, up, lighting a new day.

“You know, this has always been one of my very favorite places in the world. I never thought I’d get to share it with anyone, not like this. Especially when I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again myself. I’m not often up with the sun, but the best part about this cliff is that it rounds the hill in a way that the sunset is equally visible, equally beautiful here,” Harmon murmured into Matthias’ ear, sending waves of their husky voice running down his spine, causing his entire body suddenly burn with the desire that had been brimming right under the surface all night long.

Hungrily, he turned in Harmon’s embrace, pressing his lips to theirs. Hands moved of their own accord, exploring, suddenly everywhere and yet not touching nearly enough. Matthias pushed Harmon on their back, looming over them fever in his eyes.

“You are breathtaking,” he breathed, letting his eyes roam, before returning them to the gold-green eyes he never seemed to get enough of. Those eyes, lids now hooded, twirled with smoke and amber, waiting. They didn’t need to wait for long. Matthias lowered himself next to Harmon, pulling them back to a kiss so deep he felt like he was devouring Harmon. Or maybe Harmon was devouring him? No matter, it wasn’t nearly enough!

They moaned into his mouth when Matthias slipped his morning cool hand below their shirt, a flowy, showy one that was in dire danger of getting destroyed, but Matthias held back just enough to gently pull it over Harmon’s head, revealing their olive brown delicate skin, shining in the morning sun, just waiting to be worshipped.

And worship Matthias did, every inch of them. With his hands, with his tongue, with his, well, everything. Harmon returned the favor, taking their time exploring again every plane, every nook, every groove of what was Matthias. Intoxicated from each other, they lay naked in the glorious morning sun, after. Side by side, holding hands, letting the world wash over them.

***

Later, when they trudged back to the palace hand in hand, hair mussed, lips swollen, a shining gleam in their eyes, they found Glindy waiting for them in the entrance hall, hands on her hips, foot tapping on the marble floor, looking royally pissed off.

“WHERE in the REALMS have you too been? No, don’t answer that, I don’t care, I don’t wanna know,” she covered her eyes after taking one look at them, flapping her other hand in a shoo-motion. “Jus go get washed and changed, the High Lady is waiting for you in the council room. HAS been waiting for you for, I don’t know, six hours?”

“No one told us about a meeting,” Harmon defended them. “Well, we would have, only you had already disappeared! Chambers unslept, no one saw you at breakfast, no one has seen hide nor tale of you all day! Even the dragonfly messengers failed to find you! “Erm, sorry, that would be because of the privacy bubble I cast around us when we, um, you know,” Harmon blushed averting their eyes.

“Yeah, I know alright. Off with you now, I’ll tell the High Lady you’ll be down in thirteen minutes and not a second later, you hear?” “Yeah, we hear,” they mumbled as they sprinted up the stairs to their chambers. “As much as I would love to shower with you, I think that’s gonna have to wait. I’ll see you out here in ten,” Harmon quipped as he darted through his door, Matthias already slipping through his, right next to theirs.

The council room was empty except for Glindy and the High Lady when they arrived, exactly twelve minutes and 57 seconds later (according to Glindy, who decidedly was not wearing a watch, but then, who knew about these fae and their quirky powers?). The High Lady greeted them with a warm smile, no sign of irritation left, if there ever was any on her part.

“Good, you’re back. Sorry we had the council meeting without you, but really, we couldn’t wait when you were nowhere to be found.” “Um, yeah, no worries, sorry about that,” Matthew spoke for the both of them, Harmon nodding in emphasis from his side, as they ambled inside, taking their seats next the High Lady in the window nook with a few comfortable seats arranged around a tea table set for four.

The High Lady made a gesture towards the drinks and food spread on the table. “Have some fruits and pastries, you must be starving. Matthias, I know you asked for coffee while in Aspen, so I made an effort to have some brought from your realm earlier. I hope it’s not stale and cold, Brock did cast a preservation spell on it. So help yourself, and Harmon, there’s some peachil brew for you.”

Matthias reached out to the steaming mug of coffee, taking a sip before voicing the questions buzzing in his head. “How did Brock manage to get me an actual coconut latte from Coffee Cart, here? I mean, is there a portal somewhere? How do you actually travel between realms anyway? How did I travel between realms when I stumbled upon those thugs, and Aspen?”

“Dragonara is layered mostly overlapping the human realm, and our palace is more or less in the same space as the mall next to your bus stop. So it really wasn’t more than a flick of his wrist for Brock to switch realms. No need for portals when realms are overlayed. Usually crossing requires intent and fae magic, but sometimes it may happen accidentally, triggered by something external. You have enough fae magic to switch realms, even if you don’t know how to do it intentionally, yet,” the High Lady explained, giving Matthias a crooked smile.

“So, in essence, fae can exist in two, or multiple? realms at the same time, if they wish? Crossing, or switching as needed?” Matthias tried to set his thoughts straight. “Correct. Which is likely how you didn’t know of your fae blood. I looked into it this morning, and your paternal grandmother is indeed Dragonian, the daughter of one of my parents’ trusted councilors. I believe she survived Caspar’s coup solely because she lived mostly in the human realm anymore, visiting her family only occasionally.”

“But… she’s old. You’re not old,” Matthias noted, puzzled. “Fae don’t age the same as humans, or rather, no one ages in the fae realm the same as everyone does in the human realm. She has spent most of her life in the human realm, thus she has aged as one does there.” “So, if I would stay here, at least mostly, I wouldn’t age like I used to, anymore?” “You wouldn’t, which might cause some issues if you mean to maintain some life with the humans over the years. You might want to consider an aging glamour.”

Harmon had been watching the exchange in silence, brows furrowed slightly. As much as they had spent time together in the recent days, they had never really talked about the future, but now it sounded like Matthias had actually talked about his already with the High Lady, albeit not in real detail. Actually, it sounded like Matthias had been planning on staying, just not sure about his human life and leaving it behind.

Matthias felt Harmon’s eyes on him, saw the questions and realizations in their eyes, and reached out to squeeze their hand. “Of course I have thought about staying, you doofus! You think I have any other options after falling head over heels with you!” “Oh, now who’s the mind reader?” Matthias gave a short chuckle, gently caressing Harmon’s hand with his thumb.

“I, I really didn’t know what to think, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask you to stay, for me,” Harmon whispered in his husky voice that made Matthias want to take them in his arms again, kiss them senseless, again, right there. It took every effort to simply give their hand another squeeze and turn to the High Lady again, to ask one last question.

“So, if I want, I can continue my work with the game, but I wouldn’t need my apartment anymore; I could live here. But if I left my job too, I could basically disappear here – it’s not like I have too many people on the other side who would miss me, whom I would miss – and live my life here without the strains of everyday work for a meager paycheck?”

“My offer stands. You can take your place in my inner circle, this circle here, and help stabilize and lead Dragonara. You have more than proven yourself.” The High Lady nodded with a reassuring smile, gesturing for Glindy to open a door to the side of the room. In stepped a man, looking to be about Matthias’ age, somehow familiar but he didn’t know how.

“If you miss your old job, I think some sort of occasional consultancy could be arranged. This gentleman appeared here today from the human realm, turns out he’s the mind behind your game. He was elated to hear that his game had served the purpose he created it for. Said he had a hunch about the gamekeeper when you first started in the game company.

Anton here has been living in a secluded area in the mountains, scouting out Dragonara in secret to feed actual data into the game he oversees in the human realm, making sure your game design was as accurate as possible, and the most crucial information concealed as cheat codes, preferably only known by you, at least initially.”

“Anton? Gods, man, I didn’t recognize you!” exclaimed Matthias, hurrying to shake the hand of his mentor and supervisor, who extended his hand but pulled him into a bear hug instead of a handshake, chuckling. “Good to see you, boy!” “Boy! You don’t look a day older than me!” “Trust me, I am multiple times older than you.”

This brought home the aging fact, prompting Matthias to scrutinize Harmon more closely. “So, are you like ancient then, too, in reality?” Harmon quirked a crooked smile and drawled: “Weeelll, I’m not as young as you are, but ancient, hardly. We do age relatively same as humans, or anyone in the human realm, until we’re twenty or so. After that, it slows down. I’ve got perhaps a few human decades on you, but does it matter?” “Yes! No. Not in the least. I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything, again.” “Understandable.”

Matthias had returned to his seat, grabbing Harmon’s hand again, taking another long pull of coffee before speaking again. “I think I’d like to stay here, take up on your offer,” he looked at the High Lady, “and maybe do some game consulting now and then? To keep up the game and the cheat codes, just in case.” “I’d like that, son,” Anton confirmed, sealing the deal.

 The High Lady was beaming, Harmon was actually glowing, and Matthias simply felt relieved. Perhaps everything wasn’t quite settled yet, he did have all the mundane details of his apartment and job and whatnot to take care of, but maybe Anton could help with that. The important thing was that he got to stay, got to build a life with Harmon, if they would have him, and he had actually no doubts that they would. Maybe he even could…

“Could I maybe visit my Gran, sometime? I’m not exactly in speaking terms with my parents and sister, don’t ask, but I’d like to see my Gran, tell her her home realm is safe and that I have found my roots. I have some questions…” Matthias requested as soon as the thought popped into his head.

Harmon was the one to respond immediately, bouncing up from their seat, pulling Matthias with them. “Sure thing! Let’s go, ain’t no time like now!” he declared. Matthias gave the High Lady a questioning look, receiving a shooing hand-gesture in response, and off they went, the two of them.

Harmon dragged Matthias to the palace courtyard and gave a sharp whistle, the same as he had up in their hiding place. Ciela soon appeared from somewhere behind the courtyard walls, landing gracefully close to them. A dragon groom appeared from the far end of the yard, carrying a saddle and harness for the dragon. “Don’t want you to fall to your death if I can help it,” Harmon murmured as the groom approached.

“We’re riding Ciela? But, what if it’s close enough to walk? You don’t even know where we’re going!” “Then we’ll just take a joyride first,” Harmon said, nibbling Matthias ear and cuddling him close while the groom saddled and harnessed Ciela. “Where are we going anyway? Nethers, I think I want a joyride anyway and you need to get used to riding her. One day you might even have your own dragon.” Harmon did not see Matthias eyes go wide.

Seated on Ciela’s back, secured to the saddle, Matthias felt a little bit safer than on the flight to the palace. They took off, Ciela making a circle above the palace, then a bigger one around the city, before she settled into the current, riding the wind towards the southern corner of Dragonara, where the realm overlay the small town Matthias’ Gran and Gramp lived in.

Matthias leaned his head on Harmon’s back, not from fear this time but from pure joy and content. He sighed happily, the wind mussing his hair despite being sheltered by Harmon. “Harmon. I love you,” he whispered into Harmon’s ear. They leaned their head back to rest it on Matthias’s shoulder, turning to whisper back: “I know. And I love you, forever and ever and then some more.”

Author’s note:

When I started writing this story, I didn’t know what was going on, how things were going to unravel, or even what those things were. I knew where the story began, just not why, or what had happened to Matthias. I knew there was going to be romance, but I didn’t know who his love interest was going to be. I knew the events and fates of Matthias and the Dragonarans were entwined, because of course, but I didn’t know how. And I sure as hell didn’t want both Matthias and Harmon to be so awkward, but what can I do? They both were. So I really didn’t know how they would ever get beyond gaping and shy hand brushes, or if they really ever would.

It was a fun trip, the characters having a life of their own, me seemingly just along for the ride, acting as Matthias’ scribe, discovering the story as I wrote it. Oh, and the inspiration for the story was a tree just like Aspen, which by the is not an aspen, standing bold and majestic, just like the tree of this story, in the park where we take our dogs every evening. It was on one of those dog walks, when I looked at the tree and though: “What if…?” Then this happened.