Page 1 of The Dragon Warlord
PROLOGUE
Tristan
Perhaps I could be a dragon for maybe many years—maybe until I expire—and live out my life as that. In this form, I don’t feel the venom burning me from the inside out. Only power and rage and magnificence. Had I known this to begin with, I would have become a dragon and stayed dragon. Dragons live for many years. Thousands of years. We only became extinct because of foolish wizards who feared our superior everything.
Those wizards are all dead. Dragons can return. Maybe that’s what I’ll do when I tire of flying.
I assumed I wouldn’t be able to shift into Elf form again once I took dragon form, which means the Elf known as Tristan would be dead and I would be a dragon forever until I died. I now understand that’s not true. Icouldshift into my Elf form again. I just don’t want to. That could be interpreted in the same way. If I never want to shift to Elf again, then where is the Elf known as Tristan?
Nowhere. He is gone.
All that’s left is a dragon.
Flying for a long time, deep into the mountains, I enter new parts of the Earth. Places that have never seen humans or Elves. Only other flying creatures. I sustain myself on them. I stop for water in pools within caves.
I’m attacked. The emperor sends his best flying creatures to kill me, but it’s useless. Dragons possess varieties of magic, and I can kill them all. It’s merely a training exercise for me. I yawn as I set the dark beasts aflame and have fun tumbling with the larger ones he sends for a little while before I kill them too.
He’s going to need a lot more to defeat me. So long as I’m here, where it’s hard to reach me, I’m safe and can have a good time playing with the limited kinds of beasts he can send. I understand why he wants to kill me. I pose a serious threat. Me fighting with Elves as an Elf who is also a dragon is bad news for him.
None of it’s my problem anymore. Though I can’t remember why. My life as a human and as an Elf is foggy. Flashes come and I push them away. I don’t want to remember. Remembering brings pain to my heart I have no use for. I only know that I must eat three times a day. Drink nothing but water or medicinal teas. Behave myself—though I have no idea what that means. Why shouldn’t I have fun? There’s no one to stop me doing whatever I like.
It gets boring after a while. I keep flying farther and higher.
It’s late and I think I should find somewhere to sleep for the evening. As the sky pinkens and purples with nighttime in this strange place, I tumble and turn through the sky, scouting for a cave to rest my head.
Off in the distance, there’s a castle. No, a tower. Two towers. They rise proud off the side of a mountain—one taller than the other—and it’s the largest mountain I’ve ever seen. They reach the gauzy clouds. They’re white and glittery and as magnificent as I am.
That place. It should be mine.
Whoever lives there can either bow to me or die. I will live there and rule this part of the sky. That is what dragons do. We rule. We dominate. We only bow to other dragons, but since there are no other dragons, everyone can bow to me.
There’s a glimmer of incandescent white and gold. The creature appears as if from nowhere. It knows exactly where to go to gain my submission. My neck. The underside. On the right.
It doesn’t waste time. It’s embarrassing and infuriating how quickly it takes me out.
After the short tussle—and I’m being generous calling it a tussle—I am bonded to it, following it into The Tower without any fight at all.
Because it’s another dragon. A large white and gold dragon.
And now it’s my alpha.
* * *
River
The dragon Warlord is going to choose his omega today. He’ll have his pick of Father’s children and that includes me. This is the first choosing I’ve been part of that I’ve actually given a fuck. I want to belong to the Warlord. I’ve never wanted anything like I’ve wanted that single thing.
I am Father’s favorite and so I am often spoiled. I was the one he read bedtime stories to and sometimes they were of the great Dragon Warlord that would someday create beautiful havoc in our peaceful towers. He spoke of the fated Warlord so highly that his affection might have passed on to me. He would be born of Markaytia and possess enough dragon’s blood to one day manifest his dragon as the prophecies said he would.
After nearly a week of anticipation, I’m in line, waiting for him with all my alphaless brothers and sisters.
I’ve been in similar lineups before. Dragons are not born “alpha” or “omega”, but we are born with tendencies toward alpha or omega traits. We can even possess variations of these traits and be split down the middle or exist on a spectrum of them.
The dragon lord and his husbands—my father and my other fathers—make up the majority of the Council and they decide who mates. A dragon can choose a mate, but it must be approved by the Council. The dragon lord can decide that someone needs a mate, and you can be called upon for a mating arrangement, which is like an arranged marriage. A dragon can also request a mating arrangement.
In my case, I was always going to have a mating arrangement. Father told me when I was young not to bother finding a mate. He would be helping me choose. The “help” comes in because while an arrangement might be set up, dragon nature is still taken into consideration. There is always a selection and the one who is to be the alpha in the arrangement chooses via his or her instincts. Even if a dragon desiring to be the omega in the bond requests the arrangement, they are placed among a selection.
It was just as well that I was forbidden to have an object of affection. No boyfriends, no lovers, no mates of any kind. I wasn’t horribly interested, and after some hundred years, I accepted that I must be an asexual creature. If anything, it makes my life easier. I’m a warrior. It’s what I live for. Having a partner would complicate that.
