• Nighttime had fallen on the mountain’s peak ages ago, the clouds from that afternoon’s dredging of rain at last cleared away to expose the moon that eve. It was a stray moonbeam that roused the beast in the basement of his tower, the groaning animal in his lustrous chamber. The chiffon canopy that enveloped his bed offered no protection from light, which now streamed across the tangle of skin and twisted muscle like a broad white ribbon. Not until it met his exposed eyelid did the creature finally utter a deep noise and lift himself up, limbs stretching and back arching catlike. He pushed his curtain of silken black hair out of his face and exhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering reluctantly as he woke.

    At long last the pale figure slid from the bed of animal skins he slept on, thick fur of various colors and patterns teasing his skin, and moved to the floor-length mirror leaning close to his door. It was a few moments before he recognized his own slouching, naked form before him, with its angles and shadows and the veil of hair that brushed his heels, parting like water around the thick ribbed horns that curled from his skull. He stared at his reflection sleepily, then gave a great yawn and moved to light the candles around his room.

    It was not long before the male had dressed himself in simple red silk robes that dragged on the flagstone floor and threatened to slip from his broad shoulders. He cinched them barely closed, gave another yawn, and inspected himself again. He didn’t need much in the way of formality tonight. There was no reason to impress or be fancy. Perhaps he should have worn black, he thought sullenly. After all, he may as well be in mourning. With this musing he sighed and threw wide the door to his room, starting the grueling climb up the stone staircase that lie beyond.

    It was to be an ordinary visit this evening, or at least as he so desperately wished it were. He wished he had only to see his beloved little one as he did every night, coddling and playing as always. Alas, this night his heart was heavy. Sixteen years it had been, sixteen long, happy years! He found himself hoping that the trip up the stairs to the top of the tower would take forever now, that he might never have to let this night end… Too quickly he found himself already at the little door with its gold filigree and jeweled embellishments, and, sighing, traced his long fingers over them. He would never open this door again. Reluctantly, finally, he turned the gold handle and ushered himself inside.

    The tiny room was smaller than the one so far down below, crammed with colorful adornments and treasures that lit one’s eyes immediately. Bookcases and shelves lining the curved walls were filled with gold-embossed leather tomes and glittering toys and fat stuffed animals that all seemed well-loved, all the ones with mouths offering grins that seemed nearly genuine. The stone floor here was hidden under a thick white fur pelt that stretched to each wall, one segment crushed beneath the carved wooden feet of an elegant canopy bed draped with multicolored silk. It was from here that, seated on jeweled cushions and heaps of brocaded bedding, a child sat beaming at the man who had entered his bedchamber.

    “Shen-Ra,” the boy breathed.

    The man named Shen-Ra returned the boy’s smile, his deep indigo eyes sparkling. “Hello, Prince Rory,” he purred, shutting the door behind him with a snap.

    It was easy to see the boy’s enthusiasm, on his knees and leaning forward precariously from his bed as Shen-Ra approached him, clear blue eyes glimmering from beneath his shock of white-blond hair. The purple silk dressing-gown he wore for bed hung off his minute frame and clung to his curvaceous hips, stopping just short of his bare and downy thighs; and this was the creature that threw himself into Shen-Ra’s arms as he gracefully sat on the edge of the bed. Shen-Ra found himself groaning internally as the young prince pressed the length of his body against the older man’s, slender arms locking around his neck. Every curve was so very obvious, every tiny detail of the prince’s shape displayed through skin and silk and the soft flesh of his legs molding to the other’s lap. Unable to restrain himself, Shen-Ra enfolded the boy in his arms, letting his head fall into the warmth of his throat. A tiny pulse throbbed against the man’s cheek, delicate fingers stroking the rigid curling horns.

    “Did you sleep well, Shen-Ra?” Prince Rory asked, his little fingers now combing the man’s silken hair. “It’s really late, even for you.”

    Shen-Ra chuckled throatily and lifted his face from the child’s neck. “It is,” he replied in his slow, deep voice. “I meant to wake myself. Perhaps you should do it for me from now on, my lovely. I should very much like to awake to see you smiling at me every night.” He planted a tiny kiss on the prince’s forehead and laughed softly. “Perhaps wake me with kisses like a little fairy of the night. And I shall then drag you into my bed and smother you with adoration as I so long to do. Every night you will do this. I’d much like that.”

    The young prince giggled and lay against Shen-Ra’s chest, his eyes closing lazily. “But I can’t do that now, Shen-Ra,” he said. “After tomorrow I won’t be here anymore.”

    “Ah, and here I hoped you’d forgotten,” Shen-Ra sighed. “I thought to myself, perhaps the boy has long forgotten the tale and resigned himself to a happy life here with me at last, and I shall never have to release him.” And with this he wrapped his arms all the more tightly around his prize and cradled him.

    Prince Rory only smiled and pressed his soft lips to the man’s high cheekbone. He was used to this, Shen-Ra’s jealous guarding of him, his showering of love and the constant alluring voice in which he spoke of them both together. Not that it had ever bothered him, oh no. Shen-Ra was sanctuary to him, beauty and pleasure and kindness such as both mother and lover could never give him. As much as Shen-Ra spoke of never allowing him to leave the tower, Rory almost didn’t mind. Only that was not the way things were.

    “And now, my lovely, you should be getting ready for bed,” Shen-Ra said reprovingly, shifting the boy into his cushions and drawing the thick violet duvet over him. He stroked the thick blond fringe over the prince’s forehead. “And if you so desire, as I know I desire, I will remain here and watch you sleeping.”

    “O please,” said Prince Rory imploringly, “It’s the last time I’ll get to stay up with you.”

    “That is not guaranteed if someone should fail tomorrow,” the man smirked. It was a thought that often occurred to him; yes, perhaps the horrid criminal will fail to seize his prize tomorrow and he, Shen-Ra, may keep it all to himself.

    But Prince Rory only clung fast to Shen-Ra’s side and gave him a pleading look, his grasping fingers almost pulling the man’s robes off. At last the man gave in.

    “All right,” he sighed deeply, wrapping his arms tightly around the lithe little figure. “Then tell me, my little one, what it is you so desire, and I shall give it to you. Do you wish to be bathed in kisses again? Or just roll in bed with me and succumb to our usual pillow talk? Or maybe I shall simply devour you, trap you within my body so you may never be apart from me again.”

    “Scary,” Prince Rory giggled. “But no thank you… I want to hear the story of the Princess and the Dragon again.”

    “Again, nymphet? You are so obsessed with this tale.”

    But the little prince’s eyes were sparkling and his stare entreating, and at last Shen-Ra sighed and drew himself up, the tips of his horns nearly scraping the low ceiling as he moved about the tiny room in search of the book. He slid an ancient volume from between its dusty brothers and returned to the side of his prince, the silver lettering almost worn clean from the indigo-dyed leather. He gave the boy a reproachful look.

    “You have heard this story so many times,” he sighed, “at least once a week. Surely you’ve memorized it by now?”

    Prince Rory smiled and snuggled deeper in his nest of cushions and bedding. “It sounds better when you tell it,” he said admiringly. “Shen-Ra’s voice is so beautiful.”

    The man seemed mollified and gave the prince a swat at his backside through the bedding, which made him erupt in scant laughter. At last the book was spread open on his lap, giving the other a clear view of the intricate illustrations within.

    “’Once there lay a grand and prosperous kingdom in a broad and beautiful valley,’” Shen-Ra began. “’And all within its walls were happy, and none were wanting.’”

    “But overlooking the kingdom…” said the prince softly, his eyes wide.

    Shen-Ra smiled at him. “’But overlooking the kingdom, at the peak of a high mountain, a great black tower of stone stood among the ruins of a castle long since forgotten. And it was here within this tower that a dragon slept.’”

    The young prince’s eyes were glimmering as he listened, little hands gathered at his breast and blond hair lying in curls beneath his upturned face.

    “’The kingdom knew of this beast and feared it, but not because it was a dragon,’” the other continued. “’It was because they knew from legends that it was a shape-shifter who slept within the tower, a powerful and fearsome creature who took the shape of beasts in the forest within the valley. There were tales of this beast who lured innocents and travelers into the tower and consumed their flesh and bone.’

    “’The dragon rarely ventured out of his tower, in fact, and became a creature of great ennui and sadness, for so far away from the kingdom he grew lonely. He would look out from the top of the tower and watch the people of the kingdom in all their happiness, lamenting that he could not join them. “What a pitiful creature I am!” he cried, “And what horrid curse I bear that I may not become like them, beautiful and pure.”’

    “But…” whispered Prince Rory, his eyes almost glowing.

    “’But one night the dragon looked out from his tower and saw a most beautiful sight. He spied through a window in the castle a pretty young Princess brushing her golden hair and singing softly, and the dragon watched her for hours until she at last fell into slumber each night. This he did every day, and longed to be with her.’

    “’It came to pass one day as the dragon watched her that he could not bear to be apart from her any longer. Examining himself in a grand mirror in the old castle, he changed his shape to that of a beautiful young man in silver garments and traveled to the kingdom in the valley. It was there, at the festival celebrating the young Princess’s birthday, that they met, and he danced and laughed and talked with her until deep into the night. And she fell in love with him for all his charms and graces, and he with her.’

    “’But her father the King discovered them and, furious with them both for their affair, had the dragon banished from his kingdom, forbidden to ever see his Princess again. And the dragon was saddened, and his Princess as much as he, and that very night he plotted with her to escape to his tower in the mountains. This she agreed to, and at dawn when the stars began to sleep and the sun to awaken, they fled from the valley together.’”

    Shen-Ra sighed and turned a page lazily, his free hand caressing the young prince’s slim shoulder. “’They lived in peace in the tower, immersed in their love for each other, and wanted for nothing but each other.’”

    “But all was not well in the kingdom,” Prince Rory recited.

    “No, it was not. ‘For the King knew of their escape and thought the dragon kidnapped his daughter, and that very day he called forth a number of brave knights to rescue her. He said unto them, “Whosoever is able to best the dragon and rescue the Princess may have her hand in marriage.” And they set forth to rescue her, to claim their prize from the fearful beast.’

    “’And it was a dragon that protected her in the top of the tower, coiling his great black serpentine body around the stone and fighting back the warriors with fire from his mouth. Three brave knights fought against him and lost, but the fourth was victorious and, leaving the dragon heavily wounded from battle, he took the Princess back to her kingdom.’

    “’The dragon wept angry tears, upset that he had not been able to protect his bride. For three days and three nights he rested for his wounds, and on the fourth day, unwilling to let her go so easily, he went back to the kingdom in the shape of the beautiful young man from the festival. But all was not so easy, for he found his Princess with her new Prince, laughing and smiling with him as she had with the dragon, and the sound of his heart breaking made the entire kingdom stir.’

    “’His sadness drove him to fury, and he then approached the Princess and her Prince, and laid a curse upon them. “You will not have peace from me, Princess,” he cried. “I will blight your children and your children’s children after them, for each first daughter born into your family will bear my mark, and she will be stolen away to the tower in the mountain for sixteen years where she cannot be found. This I swear to you.” And he transformed into the great black dragon and fled to his tower.’”

    Shen-Ra exhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment as if resting, his head falling back slightly. At last Prince Rory reached forward and turned the page in the indigo book, and the older man snapped to attention again, looking blearily over the words. “’And the dragon’s warning came true,’” he sighed. “’For within a few years the new Queen bore a daughter who was marked with a black emblem on her belly, and the dragon came in the form of a beautiful young man and took her. And after sixteen years the new King sent out his best knight to rescue the young princess, and gave her hand in marriage to him. This has become tradition, and the kingdom is still plagued by the dragon’s curse to this day.’
    At this the older man turned himself to the young prince and closed the book. “And do you remember what I told you after I read you this story for the first time, Prince Rory?” he inquired softly.

    The prince lifted himself a little and gazed up at him in awe. “The dragon’s name was Shen-Ra,” he murmured.

    “That’s right,” said Shen-Ra solemnly, drawing the covers up over the boy again. “The people of your kingdom tell the story differently than I do, of course. Variations always exist in legends, true or not.”

    “But I don’t understand,” the prince said. “In the story, those taken to the tower were Princesses.”

    Shen-Ra tucked the duvet around his prince’s slim body, choosing a gilt stuffed kitten from a shelf to place beside his pillows. “And you wonder why you were born with the mark instead?”

    The prince nodded and submitted to the tucking of blankets, curling up beneath the brocade covering. The older man reached out to stroke the boy’s hair slowly, his fingertips reveling in the softness of tender locks that brushed his cheeks. “That is very unclear,” he said finally. “But it was fate that brought you to me, Rory, and never once have I regretted it.” He stretched out and lay sprawled beside the boy’s figure, draping an arm over where his stomach was. “You have made me very happy, my prince.”

    Prince Rory smiled sleepily and wriggled his arms free of the duvet, one sliding down the man’s back and the other wrapping around to cradle his head to the warm hollow of his throat, tiny fingers tangling in the thick black locks. “You’ve made me happy too, Shen-Ra,” he whispered. “I will miss you.” And he gently kissed the twisting horns.

    Shen-Ra let out a plaintive moan and clutched the prince’s body to his own, his grip tight around the slim waist and hard shoulders he loved so much. He could not let this go, not the treasure he’d kept safe for sixteen years… But it was over now, their hourglass emptied. The few grains left were spent on this night, ensnared in each other’s arms, the way he wished it could be for the rest of his too long life.