(This is a story that has been stuck in my head all week, and the only way for me to get it out is just to get it on paper. I freely admit that this is out of my comfort zone, but just have to do it. Be gentle with the comments.)
*
Tastol Kydaer gave a soft yet heavy sigh as he looked over the cliff. He could see so much from this vantage point, one of his favorites. It was a place he always came to think and reflect, two things he found himself doing a lot lately.
It wasn't too hard to understand why he did such things though, for Tastol was far from ordinary, and even among the extraordinary he was a rare breed.
Tastol was a chosen of the gods, marked so by Bahamut, the god of the good dragons. The fact that he was a chosen was usually good enough to stand out in any crowd, but to be a human, chosen by Bahamut, that was a true rarity. The deity was known to have dragons as his greatest champions and chosen, and only on very rare occasions did he ever choose a member of another race to champion his cause.
Being chosen came with a gift, though some considered it a curse. Every being that was chosen and marked by their god was naturally immortal. They would age to their prime, but never beyond that. They were and would always be eternally young until they were slain.
Tastol bowed his head as he reflected for what must have been the thousandth time on his life and his past. As he always did when he got thinking about such things, he rose to his feet and turned around and walked towards the opening before him. He wasn't even really looking where he was going as he walked confidently through the large passageway.
As always happened when he walked this path though, Tastol stopped when he came to the main chamber, a small smile coming to his face as he saw her. Silvara was doing what she normally did when the pair weren't on this adventure or that, lounging upon her hoard.
Silvara was the reason why Tastol was considered so exceptional. Not only was he a human chosen by Bahamut, as shown by the crescent moon birthmark that spanned the full of his back, but he was also a dragon rider.
Tastol had finished the initiation rights a few moons before his twentieth birthday, and as part of the final ritual, he was brought into the hatchery, for there was but one thing left to see, which dragon hatched on his birthday, thus being his first mount.
It had been two hundred years since that day, the day Tastol watched Silvara hatch from her egg. That fact alone was another oddity about the pair. For Tastol, unlike so many riders, never made the mistake of forgetting who the true master of the relationship was. Too many dragons thought themselves the masters of their dragons, and when their dragon grew old enough, it simply left it's rider, forcing him to start anew with another hatchling.
Among dragons, Silvara was an adult, had been for eighty years. She was stronger, faster, and smarter than Tastol, yet the pair treated each other as equals. Tastol respected her want for a lair, the place he was currently staying. He also respected her desire for a hoard, and ensured that she was given half, if not more, of every reward or treasure trove they came across.
Tastol's violet eyes almost seemed to glaze over as he simply leaned against the wall, admiring her as she rested so.
"Copper for your thoughts?"
The words, softly spoken in his head brought Tastol's gaze up. "Come again?" He asked using the same telepathy she had, one of the many gifts granted by the bond between a dragon and it's rider.
"You only look at me like that when something is on your mind."
Tastol let a soft chuckle slip from his lips as he moved forward, watching as Silvara's head lifted and turned to him, fixing her violet gaze upon his.
A long moment passed between the pair as Tastol approached, showing no fear of his closest friend as he moved to stand beside her, lifting a hand to gently pat her side. He noticed that she was a bit warmer than usual, but he simply shook it off as he turned to look into her eyes.
"I don't know how you do it, all of you." Tastol began, a small smile coming to his lips as he looked into the eyes that were the same shade of violet as his own. "You live for so long. How do you remember it all?"
It was Silvara's turn to laugh, though it was more a snort of something close to derision.
"Bigger heads."
Silvara said in his mind, lifting her tail to graze lightly over his temple as he laughed at her joke.
Without hesitating at all, Tastol turned and sat down, leaning against the pile of gold that she rested upon.
"Two hundred years Silv...I've been alive for over two hundred years." Tastol shook his head as he tried once more to remember some of the finger details. He could recall the big events of course, but the smaller one's eluded him more often than not.
Silvara looked at Tastol for the longest time, just studying him before she finally spoke.
"We spend a lot of time in solitude. Dragons only fight when they have to, to hunt, to protect, or to expand our territories."
Tastol simply nodded, knowing that even though he was older than she was, Silvara was by far the smarter of the two. She could comprehend things that he could barely fathom, and the passage of such time was one of them. He was human, not even meant to live a century, let alone two.
"Thanks Silv." Tastol said softly, pushing himself to his feet once more. His head bowed as he headed back the way he'd come, moving towards the entrance of the lair.
As he exited the lair, he moved to where he'd been before, sitting at the edge of landing. Tastol let his gaze turn to the west, watching as the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon. How long he sat there, silently reflecting, he didn't know.
Though he felt her coming, Tastol didn't move from his seat, didn't even turn.
"The moon will be full tonight. Good night for flying if you're interested."
As he heard the words in his mind, Tastol felt Silvara's head move to rest upon his shoulder. He lifted his arm, encircling her neck as she moved a bit forward, clearly having anticipated the action. "I'd love to Silv." He said softly once more as he leaned his head against the soft scales of her neck.
The pair remained like that for a few moments before Tastol backed away from the edge, feeling Silvara move away to give him room to do so. He turned to her, noticing her turning and tucking her wings back and down, even propping her leg just so. He moved towards her, lifting his hands up to her back as he boot one booted foot on her leg. A quick push from each of them lifted him onto her back, and as was second nature, he scooted himself high on her back, right to the base of her neck. His arms moved to wrap around her neck.
No sooner did his arms secure his seat, than Tastol felt Silvara give a single beat of her powerful wings, pushing them into the air.
As the pair flew, almost gliding lazily in the sky over the mountain that served as their home, Tastol felt at peace. Something about flying with Silvara almost helped put his mind at ease, and he didn't doubt for a second that it was why she'd suggested the flight in the first place.
The only downside of the flight though, came in the motion itself. Every beat of her powerful wings jostled his position just slightly, and the motion caused his crotch to slide against the base of her neck. The motion caused his manhood to swell, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. He was sure that Silvara could feel it, feel the hardness against her scales, but she never mentioned it, and this time was no exception.
When at long last Silvara decided to head back to the ground, for Tastol never commanded it of her if she felt the need to fly, he slipped slowly from her back, turning towards the cave entrance once more.
The pair didn't speak much after their flight, and Tastol was heading towards the bed that they'd set up for him in a corner of her lair, thinking about turning in early.
"Have you ever given any thought to taking a mate?
The question caught Tastol by surprise and actually stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to her, expecting to see the gesture on her face that was as close as a dragon could come to a smile. What he saw though, was a seriousness that surprised him.
"Many a time Silv." Tastol said at last. "And I even tried for a while when you were still a hatchling." As he spoke, Tastol started to walk towards her. The look in her violet eyes showed a curiosity of sorts, and Tastol continued. "There was always a problem though, a problem with every woman I tried with." Tastol actually scoffed as his head bowed briefly.
"They were all jealous of you Silv. They said I spent too much time with you, and that I didn't pay enough attention to them." Tastol shrugged then and moved to sit before her, his eyes finding hers as he continued. "That and the fact that I knew I would probably outlive them. I don't know if I could bear the thought of watching somebody else grow old and die like that, while I stayed so young."
"What about you Silv? You ever think about taking a mate of your own?"
Silvara's gaze seemed to soften as he inquired of her the same thing she'd asked him. In the end though, she simply shook her head.
"Dragons bound to a rider never take mates.
"And do you regret that bond?" Tastol asked without even thinking. The moment he said it, but what he saw in her eyes helped ease his fears, especially when her large head shook once more.
"Some think us weaker for it, but we know different don't we?
Silvara's words brought a big smile to Tastol's face, a smile accompanied by a full bellied laugh. "Yeah Silv, yeah we do."
As he laughed, Tastol saw as Silvara lifted herself off of her hoard, watched as she moved towards him and stepped over him. He wondered briefly what she had in mind until she laid down behind him, one of her front feet on either side of him. He realized what she had in mind as he leaned back, leaning against her chest, sighing softly. He noticed once more how warm she was.
"You feel warm Silv. Is everything alright?" Tastol asked softly, lifting his head to see hers as she looked down at him.
