by Sky Winters
As Zephyr flew, he puffed out a steady stream of fire which lit the way and increased his speed. Celeste did not feel entirely safe up there on his back, but she was far safer with him than she was with those barbaric enemy aliens. She hugged his neck to her and gazed at the stars as they passed them.
“Now that I’m not so afraid of dying, I can see that it’s beautiful up here,” she told him. “But you do make the strangest space ship.”
He chuckled deeply again. “Let’s not make this a habit.”
CHAPTER SIX
An Epilogue
The flight back to Daskan was not terribly long, thanks to Zephyr’s fire ability and the fact that he had kept the Yaargothens from taking her all the way to their distant planet. Hyperdrive was no laughing matter, of course, but the dragon could simulate it with his puffs of flames and his strong, beating wings. Celeste was surprisingly able to sleep for some of the trip, and it was sleep that she badly needed. On top of everything else, she was pregnant and that did not lend itself well to dealing with stress. She was fatigued, and Zephyr understood. He was more than happy to let her sleep atop him as he cruised through space faster than the speed of light.
She awoke as he descended back onto his home planet of Daskan. Which was fortunate for her, because she was not holding on as tightly as she should have been, and she needed to do that in order to not fall off as he zoomed through the planet’s atmosphere. Celeste clutched his smooth skin as tightly as she could.
Zephyr landed on the side of one of the planet’s rocky cliffs, clutching onto it with his long claws. Once had caught his breath some and gathered himself, he flew up into the sky again and seamlessly floated back to their white, cliffside castle. Once he landed there, Celeste carefully got from his back and climbed down to the flat surface where their home lay. She watched curiously at he shifted from his dragon form and back to his more humanoid alien form. He contorted, bones cracking and shifting back into their places. Celeste shuttered a bit, thinking about what that must feel like. She could not imagine and she did not really want to, except empathetically, she supposed.
As soon as her dragon was back to looking like her General, she rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him as tightly as possible without hurting him further. The cuts on his chest and neck looked far worse now that he was more like a man and less like an unstoppable beast.
“Come on,” she told him. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” She looked up at him and they kissed tenderly. Heaven help her, she loved him so much. He was now no longer the answer to Earth’s prayers. She was her literal hero. And her literal hero deserved some tender loving care.
Celeste’s pregnancy was not as long as a typical human pregnancy, but it was long enough for her. By her fifth month, her abdomen was completely swollen and she spent most of her time in bed so as not to injure herself or the baby. “I feel so lazy,” she complained to Zephyr, who continued to work as well as take care of her. It was as if he had been preparing his whole life for this, which made her realize that just as the women of Earth had long been a part of this fertilization pact, the Daskani had been planning for fatherhood. The people of Earth needed babies, and the Daskani wanted badly to have children of their own.
“Ahhhhh!” she cried out in the middle of the night, while she and Zephyr were in bed. He awoke at once and brought her into his arms, thinking that it had been one of the nightmares that had been troubling her of late. But no. This was labor pains.
“It’s happening!” Celeste shouted in agony. “It’s contractions!”
Zephyr did not know about Earthling pregnancies, but he knew what contractions were. He nodded and let go of her so that he could situate himself at the end of the bed. “Put your legs up on my shoulders,” he instructed. “Let me help you. It should not take long.”
Celeste breathed in and out. “This better not take long!” she snapped at him. Why was it that making a baby was so, so pleasant but having one was the complete opposite? Science just was not fair.
Zephyr smirked a bit, but he knew that it was not an enjoyable time for her so he kept his smiling to a minimum, which she appreciated. When he saw that she was dilated, he looked up at her face. “Push,” he urged her gently.
It hurt so much that all she wanted to do was push until it stopped hurting. But in the end, she paced herself and let Zephyr give her the command to push when she was supposed to and relax when she needed to. After several long, excruciating hours, Zephyr was holding their small, light-blue skinned son in his arms. He was crying and Zephyr was crying and Celeste was crying, too. It was equal parts wonderful, exhausting and daunting for all three of them.
Their son looked like a perfect mixture of his parents. Aside from the robin’s egg blue hue of his skin, which clearly came from his father, he had Celeste’s auburn hair and large, inquisitive eyes. Celeste wasn’t sure how well he was going to fit into society on Earth, but then he was going to be a being with two planets. And as Zephyr was so set on the idea of staying with her, their son would have his weird, alien father with him to fend off any bullies, at least.
She smiled at Zephyr. He smiled back at her.
“What do you want to name him?” he asked her. “You’re probably better at that sort of thing than I am.”
“Zenith,” she said with no hesitation. She had been considering names ever since she found out she was pregnant. “I figure it would be good to start him off at a high point, at least.”
Zephyr chuckled. “I like it,” he said. He hugged her and gently petted his tiny son’s head. They made a cute family already.
“Let’s take him home,” Celeste said then. “I cannot wait to introduce him to my planet and my people.”
Highland Shifters
Clan of the Werebears
Lady Arabella Armstrong looked out of her window. The day was bright for travelling and her heart fluttered with excitement. Today she would be travelling from her home in Stirling to the baronial castle of her betrothed, Lord Andrew Grenville Stewart, the wealthy Laird of Inverness. The marriage had been arranged many years ago by her father, Lord William when she was just a girl. He had no son and heir and the match would be a good one. As well as uniting the two clans, she would live out her life in luxury; nothing would be too good for the new Lady Arabella Stewart. Although her father was a rich man, it was nothing in comparison to the wealth of the Stewart Clan, and she would have her own suite of rooms within the castle and maids to look after her every whim.
For months she had been measured and fitted for her trousseau, a beautiful peach silk gown inset with ivory lace. In fact several sets of new clothing had been made especially for her new life in the Highlands, expertly sewn to be both practical against the winter chills and attractive. Most of the items had been packed away, but she had kept out a deep blue woollen tunic for travelling in. It matched the colour of her eyes and she wanted to look her best for her soon to be husband.
She had only met Andrew Stewart the once, when he had visited her family in the summer to make the arrangements for their nuptials. She had felt shy back then, being presented to the worldly wise and older man. He was an enigmatic stranger, the future husband with whom she would share private intimacies. He was very handsome, with jet black hair swept away from his face in a somewhat rather severe manner. His eyes were steely blue and his lips red and thin against the pale skin. He had a reputation for cruelty but he had been kind, bringing her a present of a sparkling blue amethyst necklace, set with diamonds. She remembered how he had fastened it around her throat; his long fingers brushing the nape of her neck, as he bent down to kiss the bare flesh of her shoulders when no one was looking. At the time she had recoiled at his touch, it was the first time a man had been so intimate with her, and the feel of his hot sticky breath against her soft skin had made her flush with embarrassment. If he had noticed, then he had been too much the gentleman to say, but her mother Margaret had seen her daughter’s reaction and had remonstrate
d with her later. The match was important and Arabella must be brave. Her mother had told her all about the needs and passions of men and it had quite shocked her young mind. At 18 years of age, she had led a very sheltered life. She was amazed that her prim and proper mother had actually committed the acts that she embarrassingly described; she could not imagine her parents clutched together in conjugal bliss, but obviously she was the proof of their past union, and possibly why she was an only child.
Looking at the image of herself in the long mirror, Arabella smiled approvingly. The new dress fitted well and complimented her long, dark hair that fell around her face in soft ringlets. The wedding would take place in a little over a week and she wondered if she would look so young and innocent after her marriage, after her wedding night?
The carriage was prepared and she hurried down the stairs to bid goodbye to her parents. Matilda, her maid would be travelling with her on the long journey and continue to be her ladies maid at the castle. The two girls were good friends and it made the prospect of her new life less daunting.
Her mother and father were waiting in the hall to say goodbye. They were both undemonstrative in their affections, but her father had tears in his eyes as he waved the carriage a fond farewell. Her mother’s last advice had been that she must do everything she could, to please Lord Stewart.
Anything would be better than her mother’s continual instructions, and now she would be free, Lady of her own castle. Surely the sacrifice would be worth her liberty? Once she had given him children, he would probably leave her alone, her mother had said by way of a comfort.
The carriage had been made cosy with blankets and cushions to keep them warm and comfortable on the long journey. They had packed a small meal of bread, cheese and preserves, and would stop off at a halfway point for a comfort break and to drink a glass of warming ale. It would be late by the time they reached the castle and would need some sustenance en route.
As the figures of her parents diminished into the distance, Arabella felt the first stab of fear in her stomach. What if she wasn’t happy, what if she could not please Lord Stewart in the ways her mother had imagined? Margaret had been rather vague about the actual deeds she would be expected to perform, talking in riddles of 'men's ardour' and certain 'urges'. She had also hinted that the first time might be painful, but apart from that she was clueless, and her maid Matilda seemed as naive as she was.
The young maid was very pale except for two red spots on her cheeks. She hadn't wanted to leave Stirling, she had been with Lord Armstrong for most of her working life and she would miss the old familiar place, her own family. But she could not desert Arabella in her time of need.
Looking out of the window she blinked rapidly in an attempt not to cry. She would be sad not to see John Wilson again, the young man who had recently joined Lord Armstrong as stable hand. She had become very fond of him.
"Do ever think that you shall marry Matilda?"
It was the wrong thing to say at that moment, for the young maid was soon in floods of tears, much to the alarm of her mistress.
"Why whatever is wrong with you, surely you are not homesick already?"
Matilda sobbed between words "No Mistress, not really Miss, it is just that..."
"I hope you're not wailing over that new stableman, John Wilson?" she lightly scolded.
"He is a charming young man I have heard but not one to be trusted with the ladies. I hear he was walking out with a young woman from the village, but was caught kissing the cooks daughter, Bessie in one of the stables. Broke both girl’s hearts I believe and he has only been here a couple of weeks. You are well away from that young knave Matilda, just think of all the strapping Highlanders you are bound to meet soon".
The young girl wiped her tears and laughed. Young hearts seldom stay broken for long, and soon the two girls were soon chattering away to each other.
"So, what do you think it will be like on your wedding night, when you are first alone with your husband, in his bed?"
Matilda giggled and blushed at the same time. She had seen the pigs and cows on her uncle’s farm, but she did not think it would be the same with people.
"Imagine seeing a man naked?"
"And him seeing YOU naked!"
"I fear I would die with the shock."
"Or with the pain? I have been told a man’s Roger can be this big, as big as a bulls," and she held up her hands in such an exaggeration that both girls tumbled back into their seats in fits of laughter once again.
"But what does he do with it?" The young maid had no idea.
"Why, he sticks it inside you and wiggles it about until he gives you a child."
The whole thing seemed so preposterous that it wasn't long before the girls were giggling once more.
"In that case I do not want to be married and will remain an old maid all of my life."
Matilda stuck out her bottom lip in mock defiance and crossed her arms.
"Yet I shall be married in a week’s time and I suppose I must endure my husband?"
"You must, it is his right as your spouse and keeper." The two girls had now ceased their laughter and sat in quiet contemplation.
"I must confess, I am a little afraid Matilda."
The girl grabbed hold of her companions hand and their fingers entwined.
"Do not worry. I don't think it can be that bad. After all, my mother gave birth to 10 children," and that set the two girls off laughing again.
It didn't seem long before they were stopping at ‘The Moulin Inn’ near Pitlochry, to rest the horses and give the girls a chance to stretch their legs.
As the coachman helped the two girls down the steps, a group of rough looking characters stopped their drinking and all eyes were on Arabella. She was a fine sight to behold in her new dress, the tiny waist and blossoming bosom, her long flowing black hair catching the wind.
She was a beauty, there could be no denying and the man smacked their lips as they eyed her slowly from head to toe.
One man, with broken teeth and an eye patch whispered something to the others and they all broke out in a peal of lusty laughter.
No doubt it was something coarse about her and Arabella felt her cheeks flush.
On hearing the noise, the landlady of the Inn, Mrs. MacBrayne rushed out to see what was afoot. She was a cheerful, plump looking woman with a red nose, who would settle for no nonsense in her establishment. On seeing the poor girl’s plight, she quickly ushered the two into a private room at the back of the place, where they could eat their refreshments in peace, away from prying eyes. On bringing two glasses of warming ale to the table, Agnes MacBrayne sat with the girls, intrigued to know their story.
Arabella soon told her the details of her forthcoming marriage to Lord Stewart and Agnes wrinkled her colourful nose.
"Lord Stewart. Aye, I have heard folk speak of him. He's a cold fish from what I have heard. But don't ye take any notice of me, my loves. I'm sure he will make ye a good and proper husband. He's rich enough, that's for sure. Many a man has been changed through marriage."
She looked sadly across at the young woman.
"And many a maid too if I'm not mistaken, still I'm surprised you are travelling alone, two unescorted ladies with only a coachman for protection?"
"Papa said we would be safe. That no one would dare to harm the future bride of Lord Stewart- he is too powerful and rich a man to cross."
"With wealth and power also comes enemies, and Lord Stewart has many of those. There are men that would like to harm him. He has stolen land that does not belong to him and imprisoned men that have stood against him. It does not tell a pretty story I am afraid, and you must be always on your guard."
Arabella felt a cold shiver inside. She had not thought how vulnerable she and Matilda were, and her father had never mentioned the troubles. She could not believe that the man she was about to marry could be so wicked. It was probably all lies and gossip anyway.
Soon it was time to climb back into the c
arriage. The coachman, Thomas, had been drinking with the men outside, and she wondered what they had been talking about. The less people knew about her journey until they were safe within the castle walls the better, and she urged him to continue their journey as quickly as possible.
The light was almost fading and there would be many more hours until they reached their destination.
The landscape had changed from the gentle hills of the Lowlands, and now they were among the barren heather clad moors of the Highlands. Great mountains loomed above them, their white caps just distinguishable in the growing darkness. Mountain streams cascaded down the rocky surfaces, and the smell of pine and wild heather filled the air.
The two girls had fallen into a silent stupor as they watched the shadowy world pass by the little carriage window. Soon they were both fast asleep.
A sudden jolt of the carriage woke them simultaneously and Matilda was thrown into the lap of Arabella. The horses had stopped and there was an eerie silence around them. Arabella shouted out to the coachman to see what was happening, but there was no reply. After a short while she opened the window and poked her head out into the night air. The coachman was not at his station and the girl felt the fear rise in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he had to answer a call of nature and had fled to the bushes to relieve himself. That must be the case. She looked back at Matilda, pale and wide eyed in the corner of the carriage.
"It's alright Matilda, he won't have gone far. Relieving himself of all of that ale he drank at lunchtime no doubt," she tried to laugh but her humour did not lighten the mood, and the young maid grabbed at her Mistresses hand for comfort.
"Whatever shall we do Miss?" Matilda was almost crying.
Being the elder of the two, Arabella felt she was the one that had to be brave for both of them. Indeed she was almost a married woman and felt it only right that she should take charge of the situation. Opening the carriage door she placed her foot on the step.
