Private Tales The Storm With No End

[Mylo]

When she touched his face, his eyes fluttered open, wide, awed, boyish again. Her thumb against his cheekbone made his breath hitch.

Dreamer, she called him, Her dreamer. He’d never been called anything so soft in his life. Had never been claimed by words either. Hers. Gods... if only.

“And dream I shall. Every night, for as long as I live..” he whispered, gravelly as though he'd just been woken from the most comfortable of sleeps.

And still, when she offered one more, his lips curved in a helpless, crooked grin. “I’d be a fool to refuse.”

He met her halfway, slower, deeper, his hand kneading gently at the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw as if to memorise the shape of her. The kiss lingered longer than it should have, a tangle of soft sighs and unspoken need before he finally pulled away, breath unsteady.

He smiled faintly. “You’ve gone and ruined me, Angel.. Something for your notes."

 

[Stasya]

Stasya laughed, returning to her seat but still kept to leaning on the side of his bed. "Tell me more about yourself, Mylo. I want to know all I can of you."

He was not entirely innocent, but Stasya was confident she could make a case be heard before the Princess... the only thing was she needed Nadya's word to back up her plea. Stasya knew her sister would give a lecture, and if not her, Cullen would. Everyone seemed to have their minds made up about Mylo, but Stasya was a firm believer in her guy about knowing who was a truly genuine person.

"Your full name... maybe about where you grew up?" What was a younger Mylo like?

She smiled at him, for he had called her an angel once again. Her lips still tingled from their shared kisses, but she did not wish to be caught kissing a patient while on duty. Even if the halls were quiet, the medics all knew who her sister was.

 

[Mylo]

He was in a dream, drifting somewhere between waking and the soft haze she’d left behind on his lips. The world beyond her felt unreal, the faint lamplight, the smell of linen and medicinal herbs and lilac perfume.. but she was real. Her hand, warm and delicate, fit perfectly in his as he took it and drew it gently against his chest.

“Oh… well,” he began, his voice a low murmur. “My full name is Mylo James Penrose.” A small, self deprecating smile tugged at his mouth. “Both my parents are gone now. You’ve already met my brothers, sorry about that, and I had a little sister once.” His gaze drifted to the ceiling, his tone quieting. “After our mother died, my father gave her away. Said he couldn’t feed us all and daughters were a mother's job.” He swallowed, forcing the next breath.

He paused, his thumb absently brushing along her knuckles. “My family are part of the Stille. We were travellers, long before the city walls were built, some say even before Thanasis itself. The old tales claim we had magic in our blood, once, before the dragons took it from us. When they bound us here, we couldn’t leave, so we stayed. Became the Stille - the still ones.”

A faint smile returned to his face, wistful and proud all at once. “We still keep our painted caravans, we live in the forest hills, just beyond the city. Our fires still burn at night, the songs are still sung. We remember who we were.”

His eyes flicked back to her, soft and curious. “Now you,” he murmured, that lazy grin curling at his lips..

 

[Stasya]

Something familiar about what he said came forth, but she was glad for his explanation, for it helped her understand what she remembered. They lived in communities usually, and celebrated a close knit bond between their people. At least, in her books, they all knew how to dance and sing to express their happiness.

Stasya could inagine him dancing, his smile lighting uo the world as he laughed. She suddenly grew jealous of any girl that danced with him before.

"I never knew what about the Stille... magic... imagine how different life would be if your people still held that..." she pondered aloud. Her brush with magic was the dragons, and more specifically Faye's blind dragon, Cathán. As a white dragon, they were more susceptible to possessing magic, and he was able to heal others by calming them enough to accept the assistance.

"Did you live by the forest your entire life? Did you visit Thanasis many times before now?"

 

[Mylo]

Mylo smiled faintly at her words, though there was a wistfulness in it, a quiet kind of ache that lingered behind his eyes. A lust for power, when he'd always felt so powerless, perhaps. “Hm…” he murmured, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. “Maybe it’s better we lost it. We’d only have found ways to ruin ourselves with it.”

Her question drew him back. “Oh, I visited the city often,” he said lightly, though the faint wince that flickered across his features betrayed more than he intended. He didn’t elaborate, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him slipping through crowded markets, hands light as shadows as they picked through pockets and market stalls. “But yes,” he added quietly, “I’ve lived by the forests all my life..”

Then he glanced back at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What was it like, growing up a Lady of Thanasis? All silks and tutors and... dragon galas, I imagine?” His tone was teasing, but there was a gentle curiosity beneath it, a yearning to see the world she came from , a world so far from his own.

 

[Stasya]

Her cheeks warmed, that he noticed she had not answered a question when she had been so enraptured by him. She wanted to tell him to not be afraid and tell her everything of his life. Stasya would not judge him for it.

Leaning forward a little, Stasya found his eyes and met them with serenity. "I had more of a focus on myself growing up. Nadya was bonded to the last remaining Storm Dragon in Thanasis, and so that made all look at me to see if I would follow in her footsteps. Participate in the Rising perhaps, find myself a dragon... instead, I liked the comfort of silk and dances." Her hand flexed in his as worry set in between her brows. "Dragons terrified me. Seeing Kalyss up close the first time, I cried!" Stasya let out a burst of laughter, for she could laugh about it now. "And the same with Cullen's dragon, Meala. I have come to learn not to fear them. I only need to learn how they act, become familiar with them."

Stasya got caught in his stare. His eyes were flecks and flickers of colour; the green caught in various shades captivated her a moment. Mylo certainly possessed eyes of a dreamer. "I am to be the next in line for the title, as Nadya stepped down as heir to pursue her goal of reaching the high ranks within the Thunder. Suitors and friends came and went, but my father told us to choose whoever we wanted. Our mother has the final say, of course. The title is handed down to the women in House Caliar. An old curse, one that saw the original Great House come to end." She crinkled her nose, realising that she was going off topic.

"I have not spoken this much in a long while." She admitted, but she liked sharing all of this with someone of interest.

 

[Mylo]

Mylo listened as if every word she spoke was a thread weaving him deeper into her world. His thumb stroked slowly across her knuckles. Not consciously, but in that soft, dazed way of someone who didn’t quite realise how mesmerised they were.

A quiet smile tugged at his lips when she laughed about crying at the dragons. “Hm… well, that’s alright,” he murmured gently. “They’re pretty damned terrifying.” His gaze dipped for a moment. “Especially when they try to rip you in two…” The ache in his wounds seemed to echo the memory, and he shifted slightly, but the smile returned soon enough.

When she spoke of titles and suitors, something in him tightened. The smile faltered, just a little, like a candle touched by a draft. But he didn’t interrupt, didn’t let the discomfort show beyond that fleeting dimness.

“I hope,” he said quietly, “whoever your mother agrees upon knows how lucky he is.” The words came out steady, but the thought of anyone else beside her settled like a boulder in his chest.

Then he exhaled, soft and warm. “I would hear you speak all day, every day,” he confessed, a hint of wonder threading through his voice. “You have a very soothing voice.." He smiled up at her, tired and smitten all at once.

 

[Stasya]

How could she resist when he possessed a smile that lit up worlds and emotions within her? He drew her closer, his own voice pulling her back in. "Mother listens to Nadya..." The two were one and the same, but Nadia held more authority by having bonded Kalyss.

Stasya pulled his hand to lips and pressed a kiss gently on the back of his thumb. "No one has ever caught my eye quite like you, Mylo James Penrose." Her eyes noted the exhaustion creeping in on him, and she gave him one last smile.

She stood, leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead. "You need rest. Your body has been through a lot in it's recovery. I myself need to get home and rest for I have not slept like you have." A sheepish smile, and she lingered close to his face before her eyes glanced to his lips.

"I will visit you every day you are here, and I will see you where ever they keep you before the trial." Before she could hesitate, Stasya pressed her lips to his and drew out the moment until she needed to breathe. When she pulled away, she lifted a finger to his lips absently. They still tingled, and would for a few hours more, but it filled her with a giddiness. "It may be insanity, but I wish to see you free Mylo. I wish to not steal moments in between to get to know you better... maybe court each other."

She did not see him below her in station. Not when her sister fought for a life not bound by ancient traditions. Stasya wanted the same, wanted her younger sisters to grow up and choose their own lives.

 

[Mylo]

No one has ever caught my eye quite like you, Mylo James Penrose.

His breath caught in his lungs. It hit him with the force of a physical blow. For a moment, he forgot the ache in his ribs, the burning in his back, the weight of iron around his wrist. All he could do was stare at her as though she had just spoken some impossible dream into existence. His heart stuttered, kicked, soared.

Her.

The most beautiful creature he had ever seen; gentle in ways he had never known, brave in ways she didn’t even realise. Her smile could warm the frost from his bones. And she had eyes for him? His lips parted on a soft, shaky inhale, his pulse drumming unevenly.

He must have died. Truly. Died and the gods were playing a cruel or blessed trick on him.

The brush of her mouth against his forehead, had his lashes fluttering shut and a fragile, wordless sound leaving him; the kind of sound a man makes when he’s being touched with tenderness for the first time in his life and doesn’t know how to hold it.

As she leaned in, he lifted his free hand, fingers brushing a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear. His eyes drank her in with open adoration, utterly besotted. “So beautif—”

Her lips silenced the word. And fuck, he melted into them. His hand slid to cradle the back of her head, holding her gently, kissing her back with a deep sigh. His heart hammered hard enough that he swore she could feel it.. Something in him something old, lonely, wounded, reached for her as though it knew her.

When she pulled away, he was smiling helplessly, dimples deep in his cheeks, dazed and glowing. Then she mentioned courting and he froze.

“Me?…” his brows rose.

The flush of heat crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks. “I.. I don’t know much about ‘courting’, M-milady, or… or if that’s even allowed, I mean I’m…” He glanced down at himself, at the chains, at the bruises, the battered remains of a man who had scraped his way through life.

How could he ever measure up to her? Her society would never allow it. But, fuck society, if she wanted to walk beside him then who was he to say otherwise?

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her eyes again, and the wonder there softened him. “It would be a dream, to spend any amount of time with you, Anastasia.” he whispered.

His smile curved tiredly but warmly as he relaxed back into the pillows. “Go. Rest. And come back to me.”
He lifted his manacled wrist with a wry smirk, the metal clinking softly. “I’ll be… here.”

 

[Stasya]

She wished all her time working and being with her family had been cut short, so that she could steal more moments to see him. Those moments had been fleeting, enough to only check in on his health and wellbeing before she had been whisked away. Stasya spent a lot of time appealing to the Princess, and even convinced Nadya to accompany and talk about her account also. Princess Orissa had given her word she would see if a lighter sentence could be brought to the table...

And the trial began.

Not something she would like to witness ever again, sitting in the same seat for hours on end, day after day. She was helpless to him once the trial started, but the Princess was true to her word. She stated his case, left it all for the people to hear and determine his fate.

She never had felt so sick in her life, waiting for the deliberation come to an end.

---

"He has arrived." Lord Eryx Caliar stood up from his seat, one that always positioned itself towards the window. He ran his hands down his jacket, as he always did before meeting anyone. Stasya had been watching him and the window for the past hour now, ever since she came down from her bath after breakfast.

Mylo was coming here.

It was no visit. This was his punishment. His service to the Crown for taking from them. The Princes, and Stasya knew which two horrendous ones, had tried to overthrow their sister and have him Marked and exiled, but the Princess was firm in her decision. She had two of her personal guard protect Mylo around the clock, until he was settled here.

The dragons roost was half an hour walk from the family estate, abandoned for the past few decades. It was up to Mylo and another hatchery worker to get it back into shape and ready for Esdyr to make a home here. Nadya had even said she may even take up residence back home just to keep Kalyss happy to be near his mate.

When Nadya had warned Stasya to keep her distance from Esdyr, she listened.

Stasya knew the dragon looked to her many times since they came back to Thanasis almost three weeks ago. A Storm Dragon knocked down their bonded rider, and burned their skin to claim. She remembered when it happened to Nadya. On the underside of her arm, it could barely be seen, but it had been an angry shade of red for many years before it faded to pink, until it was just a shade lighter than her own skin.

If Esdyr intended to bond to her... Stasya wondered where she would bear the dragon's mark.

"Oh, he is a handsome fellow." Eryx grinned, finding Stasya's gaze straight away. "I see why he has stolen your affections."

Stasya groaned, just as Nadya and their mother came through the door of the front sitting room.

"He is here to work, and tend to the dragon he stole from. Not to make eyes to Stassie." The Lady Caliar, Vika, looked around the room with her calculated smile. Stasya was reminded of Nadya and the strong resemblance between the eldest daughter and the matriarch of he Caliars. "Best not distract him from his work, you two."

Stasya looked to her father, who answered her with a conspirational smile. "Come now, Anastasia. Let us go greet the newcomers." He then winked to the other women in the room and he escorted Stas towards the front doors.

 

[Mylo]

He had searched for her every day. And every day, she showed up.

Sometimes only for minutes, a quick check of bandages, a murmured question about pain, a fleeting smile or discreet kiss on the cheek before her duties called her away, but she came. At the trial, she was unreachable across the hall, too far to touch or speak to, yet there. A tether to hope. In the dark of the holding cell, he clung to the memory of her. She was the reason he fought back. The reason others fought for him. And she would never know the depth of that debt.

When the day finally came and the verdict was read, he thought he’d misheard.

Mylo Penrose will pay his debt in service to House Caliar.
Not chains. Not exile. Not death. Not even a mark.

His brothers made certain the courtroom shook with their outrage. Mark him. Kill him. Let him rot.

Accusations of murder were spat from their mouths, that he and the marked one should both hang for the death of their father. Mylo stood silent, jaw locked, the words lacerating. Their hatred followed him as guards led him away, their glares and insults like venom, causing a pain he doubted he'd forget..

The Princes had wanted him marked. Most Houses demanded it. Even his own kin sang for his blood. Yet he left the trial alive, unbranded and closely guarded, claimed by the Princess and by the Caliars.

The carriage ride to their estate was a long churn of nerves and hollow hunger. His wrists felt naked without iron. He rubbed them without thinking, the echo of chains like phantom pain. What if the Caliars despised him? What if they barred him from Stasya entirely? He could already imagine himself sneaking through halls and gardens for even a glimpse of her. And if he was caught, would they send him back?

Dimitri rapped a knuckle against the carriage frame as they arrived. “Out you get, kid., Let’s hope they feed you up a bit.” the guard who was double his size grinned.

Mylo huffed at the jab, though the guard wasn’t wrong. He was thin. Pale. In need of food and sleep and sunlight, of a bath and clean clothes that didn’t hang off his bones. Still, he ran shaking fingers through his unruly hair, as though it might make any difference.

Gods, how did one greet nobility?
“I don’t know how to talk to these people..” he admitted to the guards as they led him toward the house. “Do I bow? Shake hands? What do I call them?”

Both guards snorted, amused.“Just bow and say ‘Greetings, Milord and Milady.’ You’ll be fine.”

The door swung open. Warm torchlight spilled across polished floors, and there she was.. Stasya.

He forgot every practiced word. Forgot that there was anyone else there at all. Forgot that staring was improper and that his lungs needed air.

Her presence arrested him, and he stared until it hurt, until one of the guards cleared their throat to fill the awkward silence, then dragged his gaze reluctantly to her parents. His throat tightened, and he bowed too quickly, pain flaring along his tender scars.

“Uh.. Greetings, Milord and Milady, you’ll be fine.” He said, word for word what he’d been told.

The guards snorted behind him.But Mylo barely noticed. Because she was there, and nothing in his life had ever mattered more.

“I am uh… At your service.” He said, straightening, and trying his very best to stop looking at her.

 

[Stasya]

Stasya was too still, too stunned to do or say anything the moment she saw him be led into the entrance hall.

It was her father that laughed aloud, earning him curt smiles from Lady Caliar and Nadya as they came to join the first greeting.

"Ah, he is nervous! Forget about the expectations, boy. This is all new territory for even us. Never did we think we would need the roost to be freshened up. Kalyss being a male did not mean he needed one... nor did we ever think our House would be blessed with a female and one with a new clutch of eggs to some soon." He smiled, and stepped forward. Eryx held out a hand to shake hands with the newcomers.

"I will also be in attendance while we rebuild this roost." Nadya spoke up, her smile warming a fraction now. She had been cross with Stasya for a while, but once the trial came to an end, Nadya had something new to worry about her sister. A boy was nothing in comparison to a dragon intending to bond. Stasya was not made for bravery for the skies nor to don leathers. She was at ease in a dress, or fashionable trousers not at all suitable for riding horse, drake, or dragon. "Both new dragon hands will receive an education of the history and what to expect of Storm Dragons."

"Storm Dragons have been known to divert a lightning's strike a different direction by using their tails to flick it..." Stasya piped up.

Nadya snorted as she came to step beside her, her elbow nudging her. "And the older beasts are capable of spitting not only dragon fire, but lightning from their mouths."

 

[Mylo]

Lord Caliar’s laughter broke through the thick tension in the hall and Mylo felt something in his own chest loosen, exhaling a sharp breath. His answering smile was small and sheepish, but genuine.

He tried to keep his focus on the Lord who spoke so warmly to him, but his eyes betrayed him, glancing back toward Stasya again… and again… and again.

Gods, she was beautiful. More than beautiful. How was this real? How had he survived this to end up in her home as ‘penance’?

She stood only a few paces away, radiant, the picture of grace in her family’s grand house. And he was here. Welcomed, even. It all felt like a dream too fragile to touch.

He stepped forward when Lord Caliar offered his hand, and Mylo’s grip was firm despite the confusion flickering across his face. He had prepared himself for suspicion. For disapproval. For the cold shoulder of nobility guarding their own. But not this, this open, startling kindness.

Roost… Eggs… His mind scrambled to assemble the words he’d barely heard into meaning. Right, he was to help rebuild the roost… for Storm Dragons. And it seemed Nadya would oversee the work. Nadya. A single glance at her cool poise was enough to remind him he would need to mind every step he took under her watch.

Then came talk of lightning-tipped tails and dragons spitting storms, and unease pricked at him like icy rain. His hand drifted to his chest subconsciously, the spot where the worst of his newest scars still knitted beneath his shirt, still tender, still too fresh to forget.

“Uh… dragon hands, Milady?”
His voice was quiet, careful. Eyes flickering between Nadya, her parents, and then, helplessly, back to Stasya.

“You mean… me?”

 

[Nadya]

Nadya met his wide-eyed stare, and she knew by his very gaze he was not capable of becoming anything like his father or his brothers that were Marked and put to work at the Wall. This young man looked a part of that family, but his face held onto his innocence and goodness even after all he went through. She did not want to admit it, but he reminded her of Stasya.

Even with the trial and this new sentence Mylo had to serve, Nadya still held him at a distance. It was cautionary, to ensure she got a full measure of working with him before she could ease up.

"Yes. That is your title within our House." She moved to cross her arms over her chest, and even though she was not adorning riding leathers, her attire still held an authority to her casualty. Stasya cut her a look, and Nadya smiled in return. Message received, she thought. Clearing her throat, she adopted a gentler expression. "Don't worry. The dragons won't harm you. They feed themselves also... it's more of a job of seeing to them. Ensuring the roost is clean."

"It is seen to be honorable work to see to the dragons. Goes back to the early days of Thanasis being established. Those that were not chosen to be sacrifices to ensure of this bond between dragon and humans decided to worship the gods in other ways. Keeping a home tidy for them was seen to be the most holy of rituals." Lord Caliar piped in, standing beside the two men and the guards. He faced his family, smiling dearly to his wife and the matriarch of the Caliars. "And a notable honour for this house, is it not, my dear?"

Nadya and Stasya turned to their mother. Vika Caliar stared at Mylo, perhaps a little longer than needed. He was not of noble birth nor had means to support Stasya... but her will and want was beginning to thaw, a fact she would not make known. "Storm Dragons have not had dragon handlers or tamers since the days of our ancestors, House Calearys. This indeed is a momentous time of note in our House's history." She looked to Nadya, where her face did not soften. "You and Kalyss may just be remembered for bringing back a female Storm Dragon and clutches of eggs to rebuild one of the most important bloodlines of dragons Thanasis has seen."

Nadya nodded, as if she were receiving word from a higher up within the Thunder.

 

[Stasya]

"Despite all that has happened... it has brought us all something to be grateful for. Today... we are all part of a momentous time indeed." Stasya gave a smile to them all, family, stangers, and Mylo, a smile that expressed the gratitude she spoke of. "So let us all go forth, to work together to further serve the gods returned."

Nadya beamed at her. Even her father could not help but draw away from those he stood with and pull his second eldest daughter in for an embrace. He kissed the top of her head. "Both of you girls, show our new guests and staff the roost? We will see to it lunch be prepared and ready for your return later. Perhaps we will have the gazebo set up, as we have a rare nice day gracing us?"

Stasya and Nadya found themselves outside minutes later, boots laced up and packs slung across their shoulders. Nadya had shooed off Kalyss and Esdyr, and Stasya realised she had been dreading to be near the female dragon. Seeing her, and how many times she turned to look towards her, Stasya knew.

The dragon wanted to bond, and she would be a fool or dead to refuse.

She waited for Mylo, and her sister sighed and nodded, leading the others towards the woodland where they will travel through to reach the roost.

"It is nice to see you, finally, Mylo." She smiled. She was sure her parents would be peering through a window, and so she settled for holding out a hand for him to take. Once he did, she would pull him along to follow the others already making way.