At the tippy-top of the Southern Quadrant, where no other living being dared go, Kreska settled in and made herself comfortable. It was her favorite little nook, a piece of equipment that was probably vital to station function and which she probably should not have been sitting on, with a view of the whole gas giant in front of her. There was a chance that her cigarette could cause a catastrophic explosion.

    She tried to start up her favorite racing game on her tablet, and frowned when it didn't load.

    What loaded instead was some kind of cutscene from a completely different game, involving a lot of two-dimensional femme-faced men.

    "Th' fuck?"

    She exited out, and tried again. Same thing.

    She tried a different game. Same thing.

    She tried a different application altogether, tried restarting her tablet entirely, but everything she did brought her back to the same thing.

    » Would you like to play a game?

    Familiar text popped up in a notification she couldn't respond to, and she snarled.

    "Y'listenin'?" she asked, because her earpiece was still in, the way it was almost always in. "Fix it," she added, assuming that he was.

    » That's no fun.
    » All you have to do is win.
    » I thought you liked winning.

    "This's some kinda stupid bullshit game," she informed him. "I ain't playin'."

    » Oh fine.
    » Then just say "I surrender"
    » or maybe "Fate wins"
    » or "Fate really is the best"
    » or all of those.
    » I'm not picky.
    » Loud, please.
    » Huskiness optional but encouraged.

    She huffed, and tapped the screen rather than acknowledge him. Which was when she discovered the awful truth: this was a game that involved a lot of reading. Her futile attempts to tap through all the words to get to the actual gameplay soon gave way to the realization that the words were the gameplay.

    » Oh, come on.
    » You're not even trying.
    » At least -pretend- to read it.

    She could feel her face getting hot. She tried to tell herself that he was just a moron, that he wasn't deliberately trying to humiliate her.

    "You read it," she said suddenly.

    » I'm -trying-.

    "Out loud," she added.

    » What?

    "Y'want me t'play this stupid thing, then... make't interestin'. Do th'voices an' stuff."

    "You're kidding," he said as he opened the voice channel.

    "Y'can fix m'shit if ya don' wanna do it," she reminded him.

    "I'm just amazed," he said, "that in this game about kissing boys–"

    "What!"

    "–where you win by getting one of the boys to kiss you–"

    "What!" Having not read any of the introductory text, she had not realized that this was the goal of the game.

    "–you – Kreska Ido – want me to do the voices of the kissboys."

    Her entire face was now a dark shade of green. "Y'didn' hafta make't weird," she said. She no longer liked this plan. This was not the clever plan she'd thought it was. But the alternative was surrender, or else... trying to read through the game herself. With Fate secretly watching the whole time, probably. Even just some of the time.

    That was unacceptable.

    "Alright," Fate said, "so are you going to read your part, then?"

    "... no. Ya gotta read th' girl parts, too."

    "Oh, well, of course. I should have realized. How foolish of me." She heard him clear his throat, before adopting a breathy falsetto. "Boy, it sure is hard to be a girl–"

    She cackled.

    "If you're not going to take this seriously," he warned.

    "Naw," she said, "I can tell y'take a lotta pride'n your work's an actor."

    It was not a good game. She thought perhaps he'd picked it deliberately for that reason. The main character's primary traits seemed to be 'clumsy moron', and overall she reminded Kreska unflatteringly of Xotll.

    As the boys she was intended to seduce were introduced, Kreska's feelings about the game's quality did not improve.

    "Fuck me, lookit this asshole," she said, making Fate laugh as a man whose outfit consisted of fifty percent belts came onto the screen. "Give 'im a real dumb asshole voice."

    "That's been all the voices so far," he reminded her.

    "Dumber!"

    What he adopted was some kind of half-Scottish, faintly Cockney brogue that had never been used by anyone in any corner of Allied Space. "I don't need to be wasting my time babysitting some spoiled brat," he read, and Kreska cackled again.

    "Oh, I hate 'im. Can we kill 'im? Izzat in th'game?"

    "I don't think it has a yandere mode."

    "Th'fuck's that?"

    "Nothing. I don't know that word. I didn't say anything. What? Let's see more kissboys."

    She'd been about to say something clever, she thought, when the next screen gave her pause. This character...

    ... was pretty.

    They were all pretty. Obviously. That was the point of the stupid game. But this one was actually pretty. With long, elegant hair, and a very fancy sort of a suit. Just a general air of elegant fanciness to him that meant he was surely, obviously, the objectively most attractive character in the game. The kind of elegant fanciness that did not exist in real life, except as attached to enormous assholes with superiority complexes.

    "Please," Fate began, in a faux-Spanish accent with a lisp.

    "No!" she snapped immediately.

    "What?"

    "Give him a good voice."

    "What?"

    She was starting to blush again. "I just – whoever I try t' kiss's th'one 'm gonna talk to most. I just realized. One of 'em's gotta have a good voice't won't bug th'shit outta me. An' that's thissun."

    "Why don't I just change belt-guy's voice?" he suggested.

    "No!" She slammed her mouth shut when she realized how high-pitched it had gotten. "'S too late," she lied. "'S gotta be this guy."

    "I don't want to spoil anything for you," he said, "but I've looked at a walkthrough, and this guy's route takes about twice as long as belt-guy. You go for belt-guy and we can get this done before bedtime."

    "Just do the voice!"

    That was entirely too vehement.

    "I'll try," Fate said dubiously. Finally, he just made his voice kind of deep, and maybe husky. "Please try to watch your attitude in front of the lady."

    The dialogue was exactly as stilted and terrible as it was for every other character.

    He'd called her a lady. He was being chivalrous.

    Kreska giggled.

    "Did you just giggle?"

    "No!"

Beggars Can't Be
Gareth & Avi
The Kingdom of Aeris

Gareth gripped the reins of Princess Cordelia's horse. She sat blindfolded in the saddle. The King seemed to think that would make things easier—whether for her or for him, Gareth couldn't say.

Cordelia sniffled.

"You'll be fine," King Leopold said dismissively. "It'll keep you in a tower somewhere for a while. Some prince will save you. If anything, this has helped your marriage prospects."

She sniffled again. Gareth's sword felt heavy on his hip.

They had no army, no knights, no Honor Guard. Just a single member of the King's Guard. The King had said there was no point wasting bodies on a dragon, from whom no one could protect him if it decided to turn. Gareth didn't know if he'd been brought because demonspawn was especially disposable, or if it was a deliberate cruelty.

"Here," the King said, pulling his horse up short. Gareth automatically moved to help him dismount, King Leopold stepping on his shoulder. Then he helped Cordelia, careful not to touch her more than necessary. He'd never been this close to her before. He kept his tail close to his legs.

She seemed small, and she was shaking. Her blonde ringlets were all neatly arranged under her circlet, the color of wheat. She smelled like rose water. She couldn't see him, blindfolded as she was, but he knew that her eyes were green.

Gareth would put up with a lot. He had put up with a lot. He had bruises and blood enough to speak to it. But his mind had rebelled against this since the King had first announced this, his willingness to sacrifice his only daughter. Had been rebelling, screaming somewhere inside him.

They were outside the city, and they had horses. A dragon would as likely kill them all as not. He could. He could. There was no one to hear his thoughts, but he still didn't think it. He couldn't think it. If he didn't think it, he couldn't talk himself out of it.

He had a chance.

King Leopold was squinting at the sky. "It had better not be late."

Gareth slid his sword out of its scabbard, and slid it into the King.

It was easier than he had thought it would be. The tip of his sword had emerged through his ribs. Blood bloomed along his robes. The King made a sound like he was drowning. Gareth pulled his sword back, and the body fell.

It should have been harder.

The reality of what he'd done hit him all at once. He felt panicked, he felt free. It was happening, this was happening. He'd done it.

He grabbed Cordelia by the hand again. "We have to go," he said, trying to sound authoritative and not at all frightened.

She frowned. "What?"

"The dragon isn't here yet, if we hurry we can make it to the forest."

Cordelia pulled off her blindfold. She saw her father's corpse, and she screamed.

"We need to go," Gareth insisted, but this wasn't going the way he thought it would. She hated her father. Everyone hated her father. He wouldn't have known it to see the look on her face.

"What have you done?" she demanded.

"Princess—"

"What have you done?"

He heard the beating of wings, and he felt the blood leave his face. He turned in time to see a dragon just beginning to land, larger and grander than he'd thought. Scales white and shimmering, black horns and broad wings.

"I fucked up. I fucked up. I really fucked up." He accepted it the way he accepted that he was about to die, he was very surely about to die. This, in retrospect, was inevitable. The horses fled into the empty field.

"You killed him!" the Princess screamed, not deterred by the dragon.

There were hoofbeats down the road. Gareth turned his head, and could see immediately that Prince Ranulf had disobeyed his father. Prince Ranulf usually disobeyed his father. He had been speaking at length, since the dragon had first arrived, about how badly he wanted to slay a dragon. He would never do it, because he was a coward, but he was also an idiot.

If the King were alive, the Prince would have taken one look at the dragon, and pretended he only wanted to see it. Instead, Gareth was going to hang for regicide.

The dragon fixed a blue eye on Gareth, who moved to stand in front of the Princess, holding his sword ready with a shaky hand. That was the whole point of this, after all. That he'd save Cordelia. He'd rapidly lost control of the situation, and gave up on everything but this one small thing. It was the only thing he could bear to process.

The dragon looked at the sobbing Princess, and down the road at the approaching horses.

Then he lifted the King in his jaws, and started eating him.

Cordelia screamed and covered her ears with both hands, jamming her eyes shut tight. Gareth watched in horrified fascination. Leopold's bones crunched as they shattered between the dragon's teeth, and there were the wet sounds of chewed flesh and torn organs.

The horses stopped short, and their riders struggled to control them. The color had all left Ranulf's face, though he'd never had much to begin with. The spears his men held looked comically feeble. "What has happened here?" Ranulf demanded.

The dragon opened his mouth, and a battered ruby-studded crown fell into the grass. "I have eaten your king," he said, his voice like an earthquake. He shaped his words differently from any man, and sounded like no one but himself.

The King was dead. Gareth would hang. Ranulf would be king. Ranulf, Ranulf, worse even than Leopold. He found himself suddenly wishing, desperately, that the dragon would eat Ranulf. Anything but for Ranulf to be King.

"Why?" Ranulf asked, his voice cracking. "Why have you done this?"

"It was a challenge," Gareth said, the words escaping him just as quickly as the idea had entered his head. "He challenged the King's right to rule, and he accepted."

An obscure law from the days of warrior-kings that had never been stricken from the books. It simply wasn't relevant. Anyone who tried it would surely be killed long before they could ever present their challenge.

Gareth had been doing a lot of research on how to get rid of a king. Just... because.

"My father would never accept such a challenge," Ranulf said.

Gareth finally thought to sheathe his sword. "I—I was witness. I will swear to it."

"I insulted his honor," the dragon said, "and gave him no choice but to accept."

"Wait," said Sir Colin. "Are you suggesting that the dragon has a right to the throne?"

"He... he won the challenge," Gareth said lamely.

"I did," agreed the dragon.

"Isn't there a law that a dragon can't be king?" asked Sir Troy.

"Why would that be a law?" Sir Colin snapped, hitting him with the back of an armored hand. "Why would it ever occur to anyone that we would need a law for that? It's implied."

"Can't we make a law?"

"It's too late now."

"Sister," Ranulf said, speaking over his squabbling knights. Gareth looked at Cordelia, her tear-stained face. "Is this true?"

Cordelia looked at Gareth. He realized, in that instant, that she was afraid of him. She wasn't grateful for his attempted rescue, did not see that he was trying—in his way—to protect her from her brother. He felt acutely the color of his skin, the size of his shoulders, the sharpness of his teeth. That he had horns at all.

This was never going to have a happy ending for him, and looking at her, he couldn't imagine why he'd thought that it might.

"I—I was frightened," she said, her eyes darting between Gareth and her brother and the dragon that loomed above them all. "It all happened so fast, I don't—I don't know what happened."

The dragon flared his wings. "Do you dispute my claim?" he asked.

Ranulf turned green as he considered the implications of insulting a dragon. Of trying to hold a dragon to the law. Of trying to do anything in the face of a dragon now claiming a right the the throne of Aeris. "No," he said. "I was only... confirming."

Ranulf looked at Gareth with pure venom, and Gareth knew that he'd have Gareth killed just as soon as he saw his chance.

"We will need to consult with scholars, of course," Ranulf said. He, too, was stalling. "To be sure that everything is in order." He held out his hand. "Come, Cordelia."

Gareth nearly told her that she didn't have to go. That he would stay with her, if she wanted. But she ran to her brother as if he'd never hurt her, and his heart felt like a stone.

"And you, Gareth," he added. Gareth clenched his fists.

"You are a knight?" the dragon asked, and he realized the question was directed at him.

"No," he said flatly. "I am a member of the King's Guard."

"Ah," the dragon said. "Then, as I am your King, you must guard me." He seemed quite pleased with this.

Gareth stared at him.

"Yes," Ranulf sneered, "I suppose you should, shouldn't you?"

He thought this was a coup. He thought Gareth had planned this. He though Gareth had somehow met and conspired with a dragon to steal the throne.

It was a much more flattering interpretation of events than the reality, which was that he had panicked and still wasn't sure what was happening to his life.

Gareth watched the horses retreat, Princess Cordelia riding with her brother.

"What an interesting day," the dragon said.

Gareth doubled over, and heaved into the grass.

"Gross," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Why do you want me to be king?" the dragon wondered.

"I don't," Gareth admitted, hands on his knees. "No offense. I just—he was a bad king. Leopold. Ranulf is worse. I thought... I wanted to create a bureacratic problem. Give myself time to figure something out."

Why was he talking to the dragon.

"Could you not have challenged him?"

Gareth snorted. "They'd kill me. They only care about the law now because they can't kill you."

"I am very strong," the dragon agreed.

"Why did you..." Everything. Anything. All of the things that the dragon had done since landing, since seeing the King dead on the ground and hearing Gareth's obvious lie.

"It was interesting," the dragon said. "I wanted to see what you would do. You seemed to have a plan."

"I didn't," Gareth admitted dully. "The... the plan was to rescue Cordelia. I'd kill the evil king and then she'd run away with me. I guess."

"It was a bad plan."

"Yeah." Gareth stood. "Why did you want the Princess?"

"I wanted to find a particular knight," the dragon said. "I thought that he might save a princess, if I stole one." He'd come to the edge of the city, and demanded audience with the King. When the King sent a messenger, he threw the messenger back. He was a powerful dragon, after all. He demanded a certain amount of respect.

"Oh." Gareth looked back toward the castle. "That's—sorry." He doubled over again, and retched bile.

"Gross," the dragon said.

"Yeah," Gareth coughed. "A hero, then? A hero knight?" The dragon nodded.

The King of Aeris had never done much, as far as Gareth had seen. He consulted with advisors, who told him about decisions, and then he pretended to make the decisions. He was mostly a figurehead, wasn't he? A king who did nothing would almost be better than a bad king.

"Being king—that would get his attention," Gareth suggested.

"Would it?"

"Everyone's heard of dragons kidnapping princesses," he said. "No one's ever heard of a dragon killing a king and ruling a kingdom." He swallowed. "All you'd really have to do is choose an heir, and then you can leave."

The dragon seemed to be thinking about it.

"Do you have a name?" Gareth asked. He didn't know how dragons worked.

The dragon sat taller. "I am the Scourge Above the Skies of Seven Kingdoms," he declared, "Demon of the Winter Winds." He paused. "I am the snow that falls from the mountain, destroying all in its path with a smothering embrace."

"Avalanche," Gareth said. "We have a word for that last bit. It's an avalanche."

"Avalanche," the dragon repeated with relish, standing and flaring his wing. "A fine name," he said, preening.

"It loses something in translation," Gareth admitted.

The dragon sat back down. "Does it?"

"Might want to stick with the other ones."

"Hm." Avalanche lowered his head, and darted his enormous tongue at Gareth. "You are bleeding," he observed.

"Yeah," Gareth said. "That's normal."

"Is it?"

He rubbed his hand over his face. "No. I just say that." This was stupid. Everything about this was stupid. If he had any sense at all, he'd leave this kingdom and tell this dragon to do whatever struck his fancy.

His whole life was in the castle. He'd grown up in it. He knew all the servants and all the members of the court. He knew who Ranulf would most target for his misfortune.

"I need to get back to the castle," Gareth said.

"My castle," Avalanche said.

Gareth was deeply uneasy about how quickly the dragon was catching on to the idea of being a king. He hadn't really thought it would go along with this at all, if he was honest. Dragons surely had better things to do than being kings in castles too small for them? They could fly.

"Yes," Gareth said, because even if he'd been so far friendly with the dragon, it felt like he shouldn't push his luck. "I'll just—maybe you can come back. Tomorrow." He picked the chewed crown up from the grass. There was blood in the divots bitten into the gold. "You... you really just have to declare an heir." He tucked the crown into the bag on his hip. "You might not like being king."

Avalanche reached out, and wrapped his claws around Gareth's waist. Gareth automatically started trying to push them away and free himself, but the dragon's wings were already beating. They took off, and Gareth might have vomited if he hadn't already cleared himself out. He stopped flailing and started clinging to the claws instead. Avalanche's hold on him put pressure on his bruised ribs, scraped at his scabs. Everything hurt, and he couldn't appreciate the view for the certainty that he would be dropped to break on the ground.

When Avalanche landed in the garden, Gareth collapsed immediately to the ground. The dragon contemplated the hedges. "I do not like these," he decided.

"Great," Gareth said, facedown in the manicured grass.

There was a great rush of flame, and Gareth looked up to see that Avalanche had burnt some of the hedges. They weren't dry enough to burn well.

"I do not like this, either," Avalanche decided, scratching his claws through the carefully seeded lawn.

"Don't burn it," Gareth said. Avalanche continued to rake like he was plowing. Gareth staggered to his feet. "I need... I need to go to my room."

Avalanche considered the doors into the castle, all much too small for him. "You must stay," he decided, "and guard your king."

"That's—that isn't what the King's Guard is."

"Is it not?"

"That's the Honor Guard. The Honor Guard protects the King. The King's Guard belongs to the King. We give him our lives to do with as he pleases. We do the dishonorable things."

The dragon considered this, sitting himself down in the grass. "Your life is mine," he said finally.

Gareth found that he did not like it when a dragon said that. He did not like how he seemed to be turning the idea over in his head. He had not liked belonging to a man, and he did not want to belong to a dragon. He pulled the blood-spattered crown from his bag, and set it in the grass. He didn't want to carry it. Someone else could retrieve it, the Prince or one of his Honor Guard. "Yes, Your Majesty," Gareth said, though there had not yet been a coronation.

"You must stay," he said this time, "because I will it to be so."

Gareth rubbed at his eyes. "You can't just—you—you're drawing too much attention to me. People will think—please don't do this to me."

The hedges were still smoldering.

Avalanche looked carefully around the garden, and at all the parts of the castle he could see. He finally spotted a maid peering down from a balcony. "You," he said. "I am your new King."

"What?" She looked down over the railing. "Gareth?"

"He issued a challenge," he said wearily. "King Leopold is dead. I saw it."

"Clouds above."

"Yes," Avalanche said. "I order you to bring to me many servants."

The maid looked horrified.

"She thinks you're going to eat them," Gareth muttered.

"I will not eat you," the dragon reassured her, "if you are well-behaved."

The maid was not reassured.

"I will need to be served," the dragon explained patiently. "I am in the garden. The servants will need to come to the garden. I would like to meet them."

"It's... it's fine, Lily," Gareth called up to her. "It seems fine. I—I don't think you want to be in there." Better to be out here with the dragon than in there with the Prince, surely. It was working out better for Gareth, so far.

Lily still looked uncertain, but she was willing to trust Gareth. She bobbed a curtsy toward Avalanche. "I will spread word, my lord," she said.

"Good girl," the dragon said. He turned his attention back to Gareth. "Now you will not be special," he said, "because there will be many servants."

"Thanks," Gareth said. His head was starting to throb. "That's... that's great. This is... great."

"Yes," the dragon agreed, flexing his wings. "This will be fun."

Chosen
NSFW
Gareth x Avi
The Kingdom of Aeris

Caralee Augustina Eudoxia of the House of Lisea kept her head up as she was lead into the garden. So far, she was actually enjoying the trip into the Capitol. Everyone was very nice to her, and no one had looked twice at any of her dresses. She was even excited to see the dragon. It had eaten her father, sure, but she wasn't going to hold that against it.

"If it pleases Your Majesty," they were announced, "Overlord of the Northern Mountains, Scourge of the Skies Above Seven Kingdoms, Demon of the Winter Winds, Slayer of Tyrants and Merciful King of Aeris—one of your knights brings news from the House of Lisea, whose Count you have recently deposed."

The garden... was a mess. Dirt all clawed up into irregular piles, barely any lawn to speak of. There were stacks of burnt detritus, and woody twigs jutting out of the ground. Amidst it all was a dragon, massive in size, white with black horns and curled wings.

Cara gave her best curtsy as her escort bowed. "Your Majesty," the knight said. Cara continued looking at the dragon. It was too big to give a proper sense of scale, and looked unreal. "I'm afraid the Count of Lisea left a daughter." He gestured to Cara, who curtsied again.

A great blue eye fixed onto her, pupil a black line.

"The Count of Lisea was a widower," the knight continued. "He left no other family."

"I am Caralee Augustina Eudoxia," Cara recited with yet another curtsy. "It is an honor to meet you." She stood, and pushed her glasses higher.

"Hmm." The great head bowed down to sniff at her. She smothered a giggle as it fluttered her skirts. Then the dragon sat back up. "There are many rooms in this castle," the King decided. "You may stay here. Does this satisfy you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cara said with another curtsy.

---

Cara was dissatisfied.

Now that the novelty was wearing off, she was getting bored of wandering freely around the castle. The servants were nice, and so was the library. The King let her have as many dresses as she wanted.

Still. This didn't feel right.

"If it pleases Your Majesty," she was announced into the garden, "Overlord of the Northern Mountains, Scourge of the Skies Above Seven Kingdoms, Demon of the Winter Winds, Slayer of Tyrants and Merciful King of Aeris—the Lady Caralee Augustina Eudoxia begs an audience."

The King had dug a hole in the garden large enough that he could fit inside of it. The dirt looked slightly more landscaped as rain smoothed out the edges, but there still wasn't much growing. There was a single lonely tree that had clearly been picked up, full-grown, and moved there.

The King was sitting in his hole.

Cara curtsied. "Your Majesty," she said, "I need school."

"School," he repeated.

"I'm little," she said. "I'm supposed to be in school, learning things."

"What would you like to learn?"

"I don't know," she said, annoyed. "I haven't learned it."

"There are books," he offered.

"I don't know which ones I'm supposed to read." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Whichever ones you would like?"

"That's not how learning works," she insisted.

He tilted his head to the side, but she would not be moved. Even if it made him look like a confused dog.

"I will consider your petition," he said.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

---

"If it pleases Your Majesty—"

Cara pushed past the man announcing her entry into the throne room. "I made you a cake," she declared, holding a silver tray.

The King had been curled up and sleeping on a proverbial mountain of gold, piled high where the throne had once been. He blinked at her.

"You have to try it," she said, carefully walking closer with the cake.

"Do I?"

"It's my first one," she said. "You have to tell me if it's good."

The King came slinking down off the hoard of gold, doing her the kindness of meeting her halfway instead of waiting for her small legs to carry her the whole length of the room. She set the tray onto the floor. She knew the cake was a bit lopsided, but she didn't think he'd be able to tell from up there. As long as it tasted good, it didn't matter, anyway. The raw batter had been good. She'd eaten a lot of it.

The King dragged a claw along the edge of the cake, and licked it.

"Bad," he declared.

"You're supposed to lie!" Cara complained. "You have to tell me I did good so I don't get discouraged."

"It is bad," he said again. The tip of his claw pushed the tray closer to her. "You will make a better one, next time."

9

Cara burst in the door, her hand over her eyes. There was a high-pitched scream.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!" she shouted into the room. She separated her fingers enough to see through them.

"Cara," the man in the bed said, "that was very rude." He was, fortunately, underneath the blanket. She squinted, because she recognized his voice.

"Your Majesty," she scolded.

"Yes?"

"I'm a growing girl! I need my sleep, to grow! You need to use a different room."

"What a disrespectful child," he sniffed.

"I'm going back to bed," she said. "If I have nightmares, it's going to be all your fault." She stomped back out of the room, and into her own, slamming the door behind her and climbing under the comforter. She was fully prepared to put a pillow over her head, but the yelling did not resume. She drowsed.

She woke again when light came streaming in through her door, pressing against her eyelids before disappearing. When she opened her eyes, there were eyes looking back at her in the dark, glowing in the moonlight.

"Did you have a nightmare?" the King asked matter-of-factly.

"Not yet," she scowled.

Her bed moved as he sat down at the edge of it. "I'll wait here, then," he said.

"That won't help."

"It will," he said. "I'm a dragon." His skin was as pale as his scales, and he was wearing a crown on his head.

"So?"

"We eat dreams."

"Bad dreams?"

"Whatever dreams we want."

She wrapped herself tighter in her blanket. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but he only did it back. Eventually, finally, she managed to sleep.

---

"Gareth," Cara called, grabbing onto his arm. Gareth didn't stop walking, and instead carried her along, looking up from his book.

"Yes, Lady Eudoxia?"

"Are you coming to my birthday party?"

"Am I invited?"

"Obviously."

"Then of course I'm coming," he said.

"Tell Grilka ey has to come, too."

"Why not tell em yourself?"

"Ey's avoiding me because I kept climbing on em and ey's not allowed to bite me."

"Aaah." Gareth nodded. "I'll let em know."

---

The King took a suspicious bite of cake. Cara watched him intently as he chewed.

"Acceptable," he said finally.

"Good," she said, taking a slice of the cake Gareth had made her instead. The King watched her with narrowed eyes. "Am I still going to be a countess someday?" she asked. "Or am I already a countess, because you ate the Count? Or am I a princess, because you're my dad now?"

He froze.

"That's how it works, right? If your dad is the King, that makes you a princess? Or is it different because I'm adopted?"

"If you were a princess," he said slowly, "I think that I would have to put you in a tower." She nodded sagely, licking her fork. "You are of my nest, then?"

She didn't know what that meant, but assumed he was just phrasing things weird because he was a dragon again. "Yes," she said.

"Should there not be a ritual, or a ceremony?"

She frowned. She didn't actually know what adoption entailed, aside from her deciding that the King was her new dad. Tentatively, she held out her pinky. After a brief delay, the King did the same. She curled her pinky around his, and pulled a little until he curled his finger also. She tried to think of some good adoption ceremony words.

"You're my dad now," she said.

He nodded seriously.

The end of the King's snout poked into the tree where Cara was hiding. "Who will I eat?" he asked.

She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. "No one," she snapped. "It's stupid."

He turned his head to look through the leaves, but clearly wasn't going to let her be. "I will fix it."

"You can't fix it."

"I am a dragon."

This was not the clever rebuttal he seemed to think it was. She gnawed on her lip. "I'm cursed," she said finally.

"When was this?"

"When I was born. It was an evil sorcerer. He cursed me, so on my thirteenth birthday I'm going to turn into a boy."

"Hmm." He thought this over while she stared at her skirt. "I can break a curse."

She flushed. "It's not that kind of curse," she said. "It's the kind that just... makes it seem like I'm a boy already."

The King sat down beside her tree as he mulled this over.

"Insidious," he said finally.

"Yeah," she said. "It was a really evil sorcerer."

"I can break a curse," he said. "I am a dragon."

---

The King burst into Gareth's workshop. "Gareth!" he said. "You're a half-wizard!"

"That's... not really how that works," Gareth said, sliding his goggles up onto his forehead. His charge had moved to put the table between himself and the King.

"I need your wizard blood."

"What."

"If I had a human girl," he said, gesturing as he spoke, "and I wanted to make it into a human boy, is there a spell for that?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"I am the King of Aeris, and my word is law," he reminded him impatiently. "Give me your skill as a half-wizard."

"That's really not how that works," he said.

---

The King burst into Cara's room without knocking. She was fretting over a math textbook. He dropped a box on top of it.

"Your Majesty," Gareth said wearily from the door.

"I have broken your curse," the King announced. "He helped."

Cara looked warily at the box. The King opened it eagerly for her, revealing a massive set of small glowing vials.

"Explain to her how it works," the King said, because he didn't know how it worked.

"Take the first one at the next full moon," he said, stifling a yawn. "Then another every day after that, at the same time. Take the last one at the following full moon, and then you're done."

She stared. "That's it?"

"It's not perfect," Gareth warned. "It's not a transformation spell, it won't—you won't shapeshift, any more than you would normally... you know how puberty works."

"Oh, clouds, yes, don't explain it to me, yuck."

"Okay, good," Gareth sighed. "It will change how your body grows, it won't change anything you already have. Right?"

"Right."

"We can figure out other spells for that, if you want," Gareth said. "For now, this will take care of your... curse."

She blushed, staring at the vials.

"I told you I could fix it," the King preened.

She hugged him suddenly around the waist. "Thank you, Dad."

He patted awkwardly at her hair.