When one was at a disadvantage, it was imperative not to show it. Visible cracks within a defence, or an opposition alike, made for easy victories and soundless defeats. This lesson had been hounded into Virion from the moment he could crawl, and it was one he’d never failed to adhere to— not until now.

Virion stared at Zirkhlon. Blatantly.

If any in attendance were watching him— and surely a number were after his spectacle with his glass— they surely spotted a potential weakness within his fixation with the chieftain. With Zirkhlon. 

His glamour remained in place, but the manner in which he strained to do so was visible to all those with too-sharp eyes. He was revealing his hand in a room filled with predators. Virion reminded himself of this while he strained against his own body, willing himself to look away from the stoic dragon who had long since culled his initial wide-eyed stare.

But despite his very best efforts, the prince could not compose himself.

Virion floundered.

The dragon beside Zirkhlon spoke once more, adding to whatever else he had said since he’d first arrived with the Chieftan and subsequently induced the prince’s mania. Like all the rest of it, Virion missed the context of these words. He only realised that it had been some indication that they were changing their settings when everyone began to move.

Virion’s purpled eyes darted around with disgraceful ineptness as he searched for a moor to see him through this, but the only elf he’d approached now avoided his seeking gaze as she fastened her steps away from him. 

Virion could not find it in himself to blame Syloce, not after how he’d almost stained her shawl with his wine.

His humiliation threatened to overwhelm him as he followed the rest, but he was quick to swat the unfamiliar feeling down. The situation was not a pleasant one, but he was a prince, and he would act like it. He did not need to find another to help him navigate this, for he would and could provide all the aid he could ever need.

Pushing his shoulders back, Virion straightened to his full height and dressed himself with the confidence he’d held his entire life. With each step, he affirmed a compulsion over himself to at least act the part of who he was. If he did not feel it, he could, at the very least, pretend to do so— that Virion could do.

At the rear of the pack, Virion surveyed his fellow attendees, doing what he should have done from the moment he’d landed on this island. He noted every possible detail of who they were, including what they chose to present and what they tried not to. He matched faces to the names he’d learned at the start of this excursion, and curated a careful list of potential allies and foes, depending on the purpose of this meeting. 

They’d said it was a matter of expanding their lands, but one could never be too prepared. If there had been a change, it might have already been announced, and he had foolishly missed it while he was gawking at the dragon leading them all.

Virion did not look at him again— not until there was no one left to assess other than the stranger he’d thought he was beginning to know.

Zirkhlon strode down the decadent halls like a royal and a warrior all in one. His steps were heavy yet smooth, and he somehow stalked and glided. There was also an underlying current of alertness that opposed the air of detachment that wafted from him. He looked powerful.

It was nothing like how he’d stalked through the woods surrounding his hut, stomping over dirt and rocks with little care or poise. The dragon did not guide those at his back with silent acknowledgement of their stations without rendering his own as he did now. Rather, he’d staggered on with the entitled expectation that all who dared to approach would follow— that Virion would follow. And Virion had, at first.

Embarrassment licked along his spine as he recalled it.

The entitlement made sense now, as did a large number of things that squashed Virion’s initial shock and replaced it with vexing embarrassment as his mind hastily uncovered them.

The reason why Zirkhlon had not used his title until forced to do so, and why, when he did, he said it as if it were an unwelcomed chore. The random pieces of finery littered within an otherwise mundane collection of items— the chalices, the borrowed clothing, his boots. The tight-lipped responses concerning personal matters, like his age and his history. The constant prodding of his character to uncover what was beneath the ‘polished’ ‘coat’ of Virion’s manners.

Virion’s rage churned beneath his glamour as he stared at the back of the deceiver’s head. What a fool he had been. While he’d thought Zirkhlon an unkempt beast, the dragon had played him from the very start. He had swindled him, knowing that they were to end up in this very situation where Virion would appear quite the twit when he saw who he truly was.

The only matter that did not make sense to him was why the dragon had seemed shocked to see him as well. It was his game— he knew Virion was coming after he had surely pieced together that the important meeting he’d been desperate to attend was this very one. But if he knew, why had he looked as if he’d taken an arrow when he’d seen Virion?

Virion’s mind unkindly reminded him of how the inflamed red around Zirkhlon’s eyes had seemed to ebb when he’d told him he had to leave this morning. It returned with it, memories of the dragon above him, whispering his name, groaning his pleasure as he found his release and ensured that Virion did the very same.

The hinges of his jaw ached as he ousted the memories along with the complicated feelings that lingered alongside them. Whatever the reason was for the dragon’s reaction, it did not matter. It was a failed pursuit to try and uncover the truth now when it was clearly encircled by deceitful thorns.

Who Virion had met was not who stood before him now. It had been a ruse. Virion did not know this man. No, Virion did not know him at all.

By the time they found their final stop, Virion was no longer a floundering mess. He had full control over himself, his glamour and his wits. He was Virion Kethlana, the first prince of the Anael Faction, and he would see himself through this as he was trained to do.

One by one, the attendees streamed into the room while Zirkhlon and his right-hand man waited at the door to properly greet them all in turn. It was nothing more than practised pleasantries in the form suited to each clan and faction.

When it was Virion’s turn, he did not shy away from the dragon’s searching gaze, nor did he read into the imploring intent within them. He stepped forward, stared the charlatan right in his eyes, and bowed his head as he was meant to.

Zirkhlon stared at him, seeming to forget to return the gesture until the dragon beside him did so first. His movements were stiff and rushed as he hastily straightened to lay his gaze upon Virion once again.

The light inside of Virion surged, but he did not allow himself to fall within the entrapment of that gaze, or to appreciate the liar’s appearance when it was unencumbered by scruff.

Zirkhlon did not deserve his appreciation or his attentions. Zirkhlon might look good and strong and unfairly handsome, but Virion refused to acknowledge that. Though, he could not help but appreciate the fine detailing along the collar of the obsidian black uniform the dragon wore.

Virion kept himself poised as he waited for the Zirkhlon to make the first greeting, as he was supposed to, not that it came. Zirkhlon seemed to forget his manners entirely again as he stared at Virion, his eyes blinking wide as they tracked over his appearance.

It was then that Virion realised that just as he was seeing Zirkhlon truly for the first time, the dragon was doing the same.

A nudge came to Zirkhlon’s waist, jolting him out of his stupor just as Virion’s skin began to heat beneath his glamour.

“Virion— Prince Virion,” Zirkhlon corrected with a cough while his companion issued him with a horrified glare. Zirkhlon did not notice. He seemed not to notice anything beyond the elf before him. “The dragons of Colony are most honoured to have you… as am I.”

Virion’s insides tried to flutter, but he stamped down on the traitorous infatuation before they could multiply. Nodding, he quickly secured the pleasant smile he crafted well for interactions such as these.

“As I am deeply honoured to be here,” he added another, smaller dip of his head as a gesture of respect and goodwill. His core repelled the action, but he maintained his pretence with practised grace.

When Virion met Zirkhlon’s gaze again, confusion riddled the dragon’s features. He looked shocked again, almost alarmed, but Virion ignored it as he shifted his smile onto Zirkhlon’s companion before he stepped inside.

“Virion—” Zirkhlon called again, only to cut himself short once he recalled the error. Virion ignored it all the same as he carried on, walking smoothly into the meeting room with his head held high. Several gazes followed after him, some curious, others surprised, but most were appreciative, including those who tried to mask it beneath their disdain.

Virion settled comfortably within the attention as he gracefully seated himself within his named chair. This Virion knew, this Virion could navigate and use to reaffirm his teetering mind.

Once they were all seated, Zirkhlon and the dragon, whom Zirkhlon introduced as Gyulen, did the same, with Zirkhlon posted at the head of the table. All eyes fell onto him, but Zirkhlon’s eyes fell solely on Virion.

Virion’s glamour disguised how he stiffened beneath the attention ,just as the table hid how his left hand clamped tightly around his thigh.

Blinking furiously, Zirkhlon dragged his gaze onto another before he spoke, “Once more, I welcome you all and thank you for your attendance.” Zirkhlon’s voice carried itself across the table, filling the room with his power. “The storm has forced us all to expend many more feens than initially intended, so I will aim to keep this meeting brief. Each of you has been provided with reading tablets which outline the situation, our plan to resolve it and how we believe it will affect you all in turn.”

Virion, like many others, lifted their tab to consume the information as quickly as they could. The prince worked his way through the hefty document from the first page while he spied the elf on his left, seeking out how the plans were to affect his people.

“There are few of us dragons in number on Colony, but our numbers have grown,” Zirkhlon continued while Virion noted as much through his reading. There had been a tiny, yet impactful surge in their numbers as of late, with a predicted trend of maintaining the uptick. “We require additional land, enough that we won’t need to address this matter again for another millennium.”

“A blink of an eye for you,” a winged elf commented.

“Yes, but far longer for the rest of you,” Zirkhlon replied, his words clipped enough to discourage any more uninvited commentary. Virion felt the dragon’s gaze on him again, but refused to meet it. Zirkhlon breathed deeply before he spoke again. “Thirty islands— fifteen on either side of the tear. The additional land will affect us all, but Tilno and Kaniu will feel the shift the most. It is my belief that we’ve harboured great relations with Tilno thus far, so I hope to do the same with those of the Kaniu faction.”

As Zirkhlon focused his attention on the Kaniu representation, the spry woman dipped her chin with silent acknowledgement. As one of the furthest from where the dragons sought to sprout their additional lands to their chain of islands, Virion had little reason to worry over this matter, but he remained attentive. He listened, read, observed and consumed all he could, but the situation was not a worrisome one. For him, this was more a chance for his faction to remain aware of the going-ons of Colony, and that in itself was a blessing. It meant that he did not have to contribute— that he did not have to speak to Zirkhlon.

Though Virion conducted himself as he should, he did not know if he’d be able to maintain the farce if he were forced to speak to the dragon. The longer he sat within reach of the dragon, the more his anger simmered, slowly consuming his embarrassment and confusion, leaving behind only his ire. Zirkhlon’s attention did not help the matter either. His constant, seeking glances only served to infuriate him.

Virion willed time to move faster. He willed all those with questions to uncover their answers quickly and for the proceedings to maintain their smooth journey to the end. The sooner this concluded, the sooner he could ascertain freedom and put distance between himself and Zirkhlon at last.

While Ythene had ignored his prayers to abate the storm, she headed them now.

The dragons had done their research, extensively so, and all seemed pleased with their plan to raise earth from the core of their oceans, in accordance with those living within the seas and along its shores. They would raise them one at a time and support in hindering any overflow of water to seaside cities.

For resources migrated, they would pay the wounded factions triple their worth and continue a luhely penance until they were re-established. Another meeting would be held after the first five new islands were established to discuss their effects and reassess the plans if needed, but until then, they were free to disperse.

Virion resisted the urge to leave first as they all stood after sharing their light with Ythene. It was a shameful, telling thing to be the first out the door, so he reluctantly did the opposite. He spoke amicably with those around him, ensuring that he, as well as his faction, was a sweeter memory of the meeting while he inconspicuously made his way to the door.

Once he was out, an escape— exit— would be easy. He just needed to leave this blasted room and hall and return to the safe womb of his home.

“Prince Virion.”

Virion halted, barely managing to swallow a curse. He was so close. So close. Only five steps stood between him and his freedom, but they remained unattainable as he turned to face the dragon approaching him. Virion’s heart leapt as he watched Zirkhlon stalk over, his magic responding in ways it shouldn’t to the staggering dragon. When Zirkhlon stopped before him, Virion struggled to find his breath.

By Ythene, he did not only look divine. He smelt it too. Zirkhlon’s natural musk was complemented now by something darker, something richer. It smelt of sandalwood and burnt oak. It was as exquisite as the ornate shawl stretched across his chest and draped over his shoulder. Burgundy was a colour that suited the dragon very well, and he clearly knew it.

“A moment of your time,” he requested politely, though the anticipation hidden within his gaze was anything but. “If you can spare it, it would be deeply appreciated.”

Curse him. Curse this man.
As if he could deny him when he was within his lands, with others watching on. His name would be scorned and Virion had allowed his name to be tarnished enough as it was today.

“Of course,” he replied with the careful smile he’d paid him before.

Zirkhlon shifted his gaze to those remaining within the room. No more was needed. The elves saw themselves out, the last of whom was Gyulen, who paid them both a curious glance before closing the door behind him.

Virion waited for the magic surrounding the room to reinforce its shields before immediately stepping away from the dragon. He put space between them— lots of space, and kept his glamour firmly in place like a shield he hoisted high.

“You wished to speak to me,” Virion ascertained with feigned curiosity.

Zirkhlon watched him behind narrowed eyes while the red rim around them burned. Before this, Virion would think he looked confused. Now, he did not trust his assessment of the man before him.

“I hope it is not a matter that should worry my faction,” he continued diplomatically.

“Virion,” Zirkhlon began as he pinned him with a look that was no longer from the imposing chieftain that had led the Assembly but the brutish dragon he’d spent several feens with. “You are upset. I understand that, but allow me the chance to explain myself.”

Virion resisted the urge to laugh.

“Upset?” He echoed, aiming for cluelessness, but only delivering callousness. “What reason could I find to be upset?”

Virion dragged his finger along the divine silver that made the table to distract himself, but the finery only stoked his anger. His lips pulled into a less than pleasant smile, “‘Zirkhlon, the Fierce’. You must have done something grand to receive a title.”

Zirkhlon bypassed the comment with determination. “I did not know you would be here.” This time, Virion could not help it. He laughed. “I am being truthful.”

“Then you must be the most idiotic being Ythene has ever crafted,” Virion spat as his anger sprouted free from his cracks. Zirkhlon’s jaw tightened, but Virion ignored it. “How could you not? All the signs were there— at least for you.” Again, Virion laughed bitterly as he was reminded of his own stupidity. “I was the blinded one.”

“I did not know,” Zirkhlon repeated as he claimed a step in the prince’s direction. Virion fixed him with a scolding glare before he dared to take another. “You did not share where you were heading, only that you were going to ‘an event’. I expected Aiasthyln to attend. When I met you, I assumed you might have been accompanying him for the travels, but that the event you spoke of was a party or something of that accordance, given your reputation—”

“You knew who I was,” Virion said the words as he came to realise them. Zirkhlon winced, but it was already too late. “You acted as if you did not, but you knew.”

This revelation felt somehow more scolding than the rest.

Zirkhlon had known who he was and yet pretended otherwise.

Fire cast by fresh embarrassment flared within Virion once again, boiling the blood in his veins and heating the skin to his cheeks and ears. He hid that shame behind his glamour as he did the nonsensical sting of such betrayal.

“You knew,” the words scolded on his tongue like coal as he stared at the dragon.

Zirkhlon took a deep breath, his gaze becoming somewhat frantic as he faced Virion’s anger, “I had heard of you before, yes. Prince Virion, with purple eyes and a penchant for the extravagant. But from what I understood, you were not one for politics, so my last assumption had been that you would be attending the Assembly.”

Had Virion done something to upset Ythene? He had to, otherwise, why was she so insistent on lashing him so frequently?

‘Not one for politics’.
It was true, but Zirkhlon made the claim as his Queen mother had. As if he were a spoiled brat princling who shunned all responsibilities when that in fact was all he had been left with.

“At a point, I did think you might be here,” the dragon admitted within the continued silence. “But I could no better ask than you could’ve said it yourself. You yourself know the rules.”

“Yes, I know the rules,” Virion bit out while he pinned the dragon with a venomous glare. “But if I had assumed there to be a chance that you might have been in attendance, I would not have bedded you. Furthermore, I would not have pretended not to know you,” Virion snapped. “Though I suppose pretences are where you find your amusement.”

Zirkhlon stiffened, his muscled frame tensing as his eyes narrowed with familiar annoyance. Virion was happy for it; he much preferred that to whatever this feigned regret was, but Zirkhlon squashed it as quickly as it appeared.

“I should have been more forthcoming,” Zirkhlon admitted. Virion rolled his eyes. “I should have handled the entire matter with more care, but I was poorly prepared for it.”

“Poorly prepared to be a liar?” Virion accused with another scolding glare. “I see. You need more time to conduct such farces.”

Zirkhlon’s scared eye twitched, “I was not expecting company, if you would remember. I was enjoying the solitude of my nest before you showed up.”

Virion scoffed, “And I am supposed to believe that that hut is your nest? Zirkhlon, the fierce.”

“It is,” Zirkhlon gritted out, the room warming in a reflection of his displeasure. “I know it does not meet your standards as a prince, but it is more than fine for me.”

Virion resisted the jab to fasten his mind around his ire instead, “I find that hard to believe, chieftain.”

Zirkhlon cursed as his irritation withered again. With a great sigh, the dragon passed a hand over his sleek hair before he looked upon Virion. “I understand how you might view this to be something malicious, but it was not.”

“It could only be malicious! You acted as someone else, poked at me for your amusement and then lay with me when I softened to you. And to think I felt wrong to leave for even a moment.”

Virion regretted the words the moment he said them.

He regretted them even more when they caused the dragon to do the very same— to soften as his gaze became mournful, and he took another step forward.

“Virion—”

“No,” he snapped, taking two more to maintain distance. “I do not need that. I do not need more fabrications.”

“Nothing was fabricated,” Zirkhlon insisted, his gaze unfairly imploring.

“It all was!” Virion exclaimed, his voice rising in ways he would never allow another to witness but this dragon had already seen him at his worst as well as his most vulnerable. “You pretended to be uninformed, you played as if you’d never learned what occurred between stations, and all the while, you knew exactly who I was.” Virion shook his head, marvelling once again at his own undoing while misery tore his chest apart. “And then here you appear, an entirely new version of yourself, and I am to believe that you did not think I would be here as well?” Virion huffed as he looked up at the dragon, “I will not be so foolish as to believe your lies again.”

Zirkhlon’s gaze searched Virion’s for a desperate moment before he allowed his shoulders to drop. They fell heavily with what the prince wanted to believe was shame, but he did not dare to. Virion could not trust the man, could not trust what he thought of him to be true.

Zirkhlon made a fool of him once, but he would not allow it again.

“I am leaving,” Virion announced, prompting the dragon’s eyes to flood red. “I will see you at our next meeting, that is ,if one of my brood who is actually ‘for politics’ does not take my place.”

Virion made it only one step before Zirkhlon overwhelmed his space. He sucked in a steep breath as he tried to step back, but the dragon did not allow him room. He stalked after him, following closely until Virion could not escape the breath of his presence. Only his glamour stood between them and it felt perilously thin as he stared at the dragon with a heaving chest.

“I am sorry, Virion.” Zirkhlon’s whispered words fell heavily upon Virion’s ears. They were steepled with his shame and regret, and they filled his heart. He tried to look away, but the dragon ensured it was impossible as he made himself all Virion could see. “You have my deepest regrets and my most honest apologies. My reasonings do not justify my actions. I am sorry.”

Virion’s heart tumbled over itself as the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach from this morning returned in spades. “Apologies do not fix this.”

“I know,” he replied mournfully. “…I know.” Virion watched as Zirkhlon’s hand rose. It traced the edges of the glamour, the space that separated the pair. Virion refused to let it fall to this man again. “But I am sorry.”

Virion’s heart hammered within his chest, pounding with the longing to touch, to feel and be held, to find the comforts he’d found with this dragon and only this dragon. Never had he experienced anything like what he had with Zirkhlon, but never had he experienced such hurt either. The wound flared again, forcing him to swallow his desires.

“I wish to leave.”

Zirkhlon hung his head low as he sucked in an audible breath, “You… You hate me now.”

“I wish to leave,” Virion repeated while his heart tightened uncomfortably.

“Can we not resolve this first?” The dragon asked with uncharacteristic desperation.

“What do you want from me?” Virion groaned as he looked up at the dragon. Virion’s eyes searched his, seeming incapable of ignoring them, even when he was miserable. “You’ve taken it all already! You have had your fun with me, you played your games. Now, I wish to leave!”

“I did not mean to play games with you, Virion. I did not mean to take what was not granted,” Zirkhlon replied as he pressed against his wavering glamour, seeking to console, but no—

“It doesn’t matter what you intended. You did it all the same.”

“Please, Virion.” He begged, only that was not right because dragons never begged.

“Why bother? To absolve yourself of your guilt? To avoid another interaction with me like this one? There is no need to go to such lengths.” Virion stepped back, from Zirkhlon, from them. “Our paths weren’t meant to cross and they will not do so again unless forced to.”

“What if I want them to?”

Virion stilled. He had not heard that right. He could not have.

He stared up at the dragon, who blinked back at him, appearing almost stunned to hear his own words. The fire within Zirkhlon’s eyes danced, flickering as his claim strengthened between them, until he took hold of it. Zirkhlon straightened, his large chest filling as his warmth seemed to encircle Virion’s body.

“What if I wanted our paths to cross again?”

Virion stared at the dragon as he felt stunned at first, followed quickly by trepidation, and then… his stomach squirmed.

Hadn’t that been what he’d wanted to this morning? The chance to see him again? Against all odds, it had been what he had yearned for, what he hadn’t been able to speak aloud. But that had been before all this, before the lies were uncovered, and he realised that the man he somehow had begun to want, was far more than he’d presented himself to be.

“Then you’d be alone in that,” Virion forced himself to say as he pushed the dragon back with what magic he could muster. It forced him back only by three steps, but it was enough. “I don’t want to see you again, Zirkhlon. I hope I never see you again.”

Zirkhlon’s gaze turned wounded and Virion’s heart clenched at being the one to deliver the blow, but he ignored the pain as he finally took his leave.

“Virion.”

“Enough, Zirkhlon,” he whispered over his shoulder. He was tired and hurt and on the edge of breaking, and that he would not let the dragon see. “You have done enough. Let me be… please.”

The distance between them remained, filled only by silence. Zirkhlon’s fire grew, lashing at his back, but the dragon himself halted his pursuit, and with the granted grace, Virion left him behind once again.

———————-

Ughhhhh my poor Virion baby!!!!!!!!!! Don’t be sad I can’t take it!!!!

Thoughts??????

Thoughts on the reveal??? On their conversation????? Virion’s reaction?????

Second time round and I still feel really bad for him, like he really feels like he’s been swindled and I can’t blame him cause what the fuck???? still hurts though!!!!!

I can’t wait for the new readers to see what comes next but please leave all thoughts and comment if you enjoyed!!!!!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeee Humansssssss