Once A Tale (MXM, BXB)

A Short Aside - Malt and the Thunder Dragon

A fair-haired man sat, frowning, his head cradled in his hands as he stared at documents. He'd been staring at them for so long that they were starting to blend together, until he was half-certain he should take a break because the words were forming waves and psychedelic ripples

Malt, second prince and number one overworked prince, shut his eyes for a long moment and wheezed irritably into his empty office.

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork! He was so sick of paperwork! Why must a castle have so many things to see to? Employment, pay, cleaning, supplies, the lists and orders never seemed to end.

Worse yet, everyone except Pembrook was absolute garbage at these tasks. Malt took one day off once and Herth sheepishly came skulking up to him the following day, wringing his hands and starting a sentence with, "Now, brother, don't be mad, but—"

Ah, it was the one sentence in life that had become the bane of his existence.

Kneading his brows with his thumbs, he irritably shook his head, opened his eyes, and gazed toward the large windowed doors that opened up onto his office's veranda. It was a dim, overcast day, and Malt frowned slightly as he saw the dark clouds in the distance, inevitably coming toward their kingdom.

"Thunderstorm," he muttered, and then his eyebrow twitched in realisation.

At the same time, a knock came several times on one of the windowed doors.

Shoulders subtly jerking, Malt narrowed his eyes as the figure seemingly melted from the air itself. He saw a handsome young man's face, ridged with golden scales along the cheekbones, long and dark hair interspersed with strands of gold, and a pair of amused, half-lidded eyes observing him.

"Of course," Malt muttered to himself.

Nevertheless, he walked over and opened up one door for the thunder dragon, Cao Guanyu.

"Blessed tidings, my prince," Cao Guanyu said, sketching a playful bow, and Malt rolled his eyes. "I've brought you quite the gift."

"You've brought me more work is what you've brought me." Malt stared out at the approaching thunderstorm, then stared, unimpressed, as Cao Guanyu straightened up. He never looked apologetic, of course—work was work. But when Malt thought about ruined fields and overflowing rivers and complaining citizens, his temples started to throb all over again.

The thunder dragon observed him thoughtfully and then, with one of his usual amused smiles, took Malt by the arm and guided him to the armchair in his office, ill-used except by dust bunnies. "Sit," he said, "and put up your feet for a moment." He nudged the nearby ottoman over and Malt, exhausted, just listened to him obediently without putting up his usual fuss to save face.

Cao Guanyu tied up his long hair at the nape of his neck with a deft twist of his hands and set the kettle on the nearby fireplace, humming to himself as he prepared coffee. Malt just let him. The first few times this strange, otherworldly stranger had appeared, he'd made him leave or—after Cao Guanyu refused—been the one to make coffee. Now, the roles had thoroughly switched.

He'd never let Herth see. He'd never live it down.

The smell of coffee wafted in his office soon enough, and then he heard the rustle of Cao Guanyu's approach.

"I haven't seen you so dragged out in a while," Guanyu said, this time with a hint of sympathy. "Your brothers haven't calmed down at all, I see."

"Don't start," Malt grumbled, accepting the cup of coffee without opening his eyes. "Pembrook was always my crutch, you know! Now that he's preoccupied, squeezing work out of him is impossible unless Esque is literally anywhere else doing something. Do you have any idea what it's like to arrange schemes to keep Esque busy just so Pembrook won't slack off? Ugh!"

Guanyu chuckled and Malt, encouraged, continued:

"And Wester! He's improved, but what's with his handwriting? How am I supposed to read anything he turns over to me? What's more, his teaching is almost incomprehensible! What does it mean, 'swish it and poke it this way with ten times the strength', how am I supposed to explain that to the knights? Ugh!"

"Of course, of course," Guanyu said, deep voice soothing as he walked around Malt's chair. Hands fell on his shoulders and, so incensed by his daily life, Malt didn't even notice it at first.

"Herth is the same as always. Heir to the throne my ass. Oh, good, he can talk politics and soothe the masses but once in a while he has to read the papers they give him! How many times have we almost plunged straight into anarchy because he hasn't read the fine prin—hhhhgh."

Cao Guanyu effectively shut him up, happily kneading into Malt's shoulders with an eye-watering strength. He tried to flee, but the hands gripping him were unyielding and gradually the agony faded. His eyes had opened during the process and he tilted his head back, staring up at the dragon man's cheerful countenance.

"Do go on," he encouraged.

"Can't concentrate now—ow ow ow ow."

Guanyu peered at him, lifting one picture-perfectly shaped brow. "Quan said this was rather romantic," he said, with the first hints of doubt, "but he never warned me you would be in terrible agony."

Malt just groaned something incomprehensible, not at all happy, but gradually his tense shoulders loosened and he just sat there limply. The pain had receded, but Guanyu still kneaded his shoulders like a curious and persistent tiger.

"Okay, okay, enough," Malt muttered, waving him away feebly and, with a sigh, Guanyu circled around him. He cupped his chin with his hand and frowned gently down at Malt. Some of his human guise had come undone and a long, dark tail patterned with golden scales swished behind him, his horns like tree branches, sharp and as bright as the flash of lightning that lit up the sky outside.

"I apologise," Guanyu said, unusually troubled. "Did I harm you?"

"...No," Malt muttered, ever weak to sincerity and concern. "I just don't take any breaks, I suppose. And one forgets proper posture when attempting to solve all problems of the kingdom."

Guanyu's features relaxed and then, to Malt's surprise, he knelt before him in the chair. His ornate robes, patterns moving with a life of their own, pooled around him as the dragon observed him solemnly. "Shall I steal you away for a while?" he proposed, after a moment of studying him. "Kidnap you to a tower, or whatever the dragons on this side of the world do?"

Malt blinked. "And, why would you do that?"

"Of course, to make you take a break," Guanyu said, eyes twinkling. "I'm certain I can keep you preoccupied enough to keep you from worrying about the state of the kingdom."

Now, at last, Malt felt himself blushing and cursed himself for ever opening his window in curiosity on that one fateful day, that one fateful thunderstorm. "I've got too much to do," he muttered, though the thought of a vacation away from his dumb brothers and their dumb castle with their dumb citizens sounded heavenly.

"Alas," Guanyu said, spreading his arms apart. "I suppose I'll have to kidnap you after all."

"Wait, what?"

Suddenly, he was gone.

An enormous black, clawed and scaled dragon's hand reached out, scooping him up in a second. Malt squeaked as the dragon smoothly exited through the window he'd entered, huge and serpentine body rippling with the thunder that boomed in the sky.

"I didn't think you'd actually kidnap me!" Malt roared over the sound of wind. "Let me leave a note, damn it!"

The black dragon roared with laughter, sparks dancing around his whiskered muzzle, around the sharp spikes of black, the accents of yellow. He was the colour of a looming thundercloud, but his body rippled with electric light and power. When Cao Guanyu laughed, the clouds above laughed with him in booming echoes.

"I think," said Cao Guanyu in a cheerful voice, "it will be far more interesting this way, my prince."

"I think the hell not!"

The story of how Prince Malt's vacation (and the many subsequent "rescue" attempts) went is a story for another day...