They had returned as promised, dropping out of a clear blue sky like lightning bolts, the ground shaking from the impact sending every precarious object in the town tumbling, all the dogs barking and all the cats running for cover. They sat on the hill above town, amused and lazy and wise, blowing smoke rings and nodding their great heads at each other as people brought out their gold and climbed the hill and asked what they would of the wyrms.
Eren had nothing to ask, so he climbed empty-handed, dazzled by the sun on scales. One was gold, the other brass. And they had kept the promise to return, earned by nameless heroes long forgotten by the humans, but remembered by the wyrms.
In exchange for gold and gems they settled inheritances, located long-lost springs and wells, and answered questions on history and magic.
Eren crept closer, worming his way past the crowd. He flopped down on the grass and watched.
As the day came to an end, the festival would begin. The day was celebrated every year, even though the wyrms returned only every ten. He remembered the last time they’d arrived, his mother holding him back from running up the hill to them.
She couldn’t stop him now. He’d crept out before dawn. In fact, he’d barely slept at all. He yawned.
“And what do you want?” the voice rumbled.
Eren opened his eyes. It was dark. Shit. The town was ablaze with light, but he barely noticed it, most of his field of vision being taken up by the huge gold head of the dragon, its vast blue eyes focused on him.
“I. Hello.” He scrambled to his feet and bowed. The other dragon was spreading its wings, the draft stirring the grasses. They were about to leave. “I just wanted a look, really.”
The dragon smelled like smoke–not tobacco, and not singed meat or bread either; more like a distant forest fire. It considered his response.
“One kiss then,” the dragon said.
“Uh.” Eren craned his neck, propped himself up on his toes and dutifully pressed his lips to a warm scale on the dragon’s chin. “Thank you for visiting!” The dragon regarded him with wide eyes as he turned and fled.
He hurried back into town, making his way through the long lines of people dancing and singing and waving dragon lanterns about. He should get home first, he decided, ducking down familiar alleyways. Let his family know he was fine and see if he could find his friends-
He nearly ran into the tall blond gentleman in the fancy clothes and as he muttered an apology a pale hand shot out and caught his arm.
“Hey!” Lord or not, Eren didn’t like being grabbed.
“Go fuck yourself!” Eren tried to get away. “I’ve beaten bigger guys than you.”
“I doubt that.” There was another man in the alley with equally fancy clothes; mother of pearl buttons and velvet trim on his doublet. They they had to be there for the festival, Eren thought. The newcomer prowled closer. “A kiss is a kind of coin,” he said to Eren. To his friend he added. “They don’t use them any more. I got a funny look when I tried to spend one.”
Eren was getting a sinking feeling he knew what was going on so he stopped struggling and at that point he was released. He considered running but his feet were rooted to the spot.
“I see.” The tall man regarded him narrowly, and Eren saw smoke curl out from between his teeth as he smiled. “I suppose the fault was mine, then. Do forgive me.”
“You’ve created a monster,” the other one said to Eren. “He’ll be wanting virgins or something next time.”
The stories are true. They walk as men when they choose, Eren thought, his heart beating wildly.
They looked at him. “How old are you?” the darker one asked.
He snorted, blowing smoke out his nose.
“Show us around,” the tall one said. “This is all in our honour, after all, we should take a look.”
They didn’t ask him for any more kisses. Sometime around midnight, they decided to leave, walking out of town and unfolding themselves into the night.
“See you in ten years, Eren.” The words hung like smoke in evening air.
