BHM, Romance, Urban Fantasy, Dark Academia
Cornwall is not only criss-crossed by thousands of caves, it is also home to tin and lead deposits. There are also four great dragons slumbering beneath the earth: Guardians of Fire, Earth, Water and Air. They bring disasters such as fires, wars, droughts, floods and diseases. When they stir or awaken, only human magic can put them back to sleep. These are not simple spells, but can be banished through the power of art, poetry and music.
Oberon, the fairy king, and Morgane, the Lady of the Sea, have for millennia undertaken the task of preparing mortals for this task in times of need.
Now the time has come again and the dragons are stirring. This time the chosen one is not a great poet or artist, but a simple student at the Lizard Academy. The young man is also overweight and has his own problems to deal with. Can Oberon and Morgana really train him to become a dragonslayer?
This urban fantasy story is inspired by Undine's fantastic story Xander, even if the setting and characters are completely different.
Tropes: Slow Burn, Crumpy vs Sunshine, She falls first, forced proximity
Cornwall, Lizard Point
Fog was rising from the sea. The color of the water was a dark blue, almost black, and the sky was leaden and heavy. The rugged cliffs of the coastline blurred before the eye. Everything receded into the distance and dusk slowly descended over the land. It was probably time to go back.
Art ran his hand over his forehead. With difficulty, he bent down to stuff his drawing materials and the empty food wrappers back into his bag. His hands were clammy by now and he had to reach twice for the metal box in which he kept his pens, because it slipped out of his grasp. He shouldered the bag and absentmindedly stroked his soft stomach. He was hungry. That was another reason to return to school, but he was in no hurry. He was always one of the last to go to the dining hall when most of the students had already finished, eager to get on with their leisure activities. He was happy when the hall was almost empty and the whispers when he entered were nothing more than a murmur. The staring gazes were only directed at him from a few pairs of eyes.
You would think that the other students would have gotten used to the sight of him by now. But that wasn't the case. He was sure that they would stare at him with the same mixture of disgust and sensationalism as usual, especially now that the semester was starting again after the summer break. Snorting, Art brushed his slightly too long hair out of his face. The gust of wind that blew against him immediately blew it back into his forehead.
As he walked along the beach, he let his gaze wander over the beach again. Art loved the rugged beauty of Cornwall, the fine sandy beach in the secluded bay. It was lined with rugged rocks into which the water had carved caves. It was a sheltered place, and he came here as often as he could. When the weather was mild, he would sit there and read or draw. In summer he bathed and in winter he simply walked along the coastline, letting the wind blow in his face, collecting shells and stones. He loved the feeling of the spray on his skin, the smell of salt and seaweed. Sometimes he even took his guitar here with him to make music undisturbed. But even so, the journey here was exhausting enough.
In the meantime, the fog had crept closer over the water. It obscured the view of the meandering coastline, the large foundling and the buoys bobbing in the water. Art had now reached the ascent. A steep notch in the rocks, which then met a narrow path that wound up between the cliffs to the old Victorian hotel next to the lighthouse, which now housed the school's dormitories and classrooms. The Lizard Academy.
Art adjusted the bag on his back to keep his hands free. Then he took another deep breath. As much as he loved coming here, he hated the climb back to school. Even though he walked the path almost every day, he had to take breaks and catch his breath at least twice. His body was simply too heavy to heave him up the steep path. Even the fact that he had lost almost 15 lbs over the summer couldn't change that. Not that he had deliberately fasted or followed any kind of diet. On the contrary. Whenever he had found the opportunity, he had sneaked something to eat. But under the critical gaze of his father, whom he had visited during the summer break, he simply hadn't been able to down a single bite.
The tides had eaten a natural staircase into the crevice. But the steps were irregular, and, in some places, you had to pull yourself up. Sometimes it seemed to him that he could see the scales of a dragon's body on the weathered surface. From higher up on the cliff, he thought he could even imagine a mighty head with towering horns. But he knew for sure that they were just boulders and rock needles. He had always had too vivid an imagination, a tendency to daydream, to recognize figures, strange creatures or jugglers in every cloud, tree trunk or water-reflection. He had always been different from his peers. Art bit his lips. Then he grabbed the ledge, feeling the rough surface under his cold fingers, small cushions of moss cool and soft between them. He pulled himself up and began the ascent. He was looking forward to the warm meal in the hall. And if he was lucky, his friend Lanny would have arrived in the meantime. He had really missed his company over the last few weeks.
A black barge glided silently through the fog and towards the beach. It seemed to glow from within. Untouched by the swell, it cut through the water. A black-robed figure stood upright in the bow. Slim and tall, wrapped in a long dark cloak, she stood motionless. Two piercing eyes flashed out from under the hood; they were green and burned from within.
With a jerk, the boat came to a halt on the sand. With smooth movements, the dark figure stepped forward and effortlessly climbed out of the vehicle. Just at that moment, a second figure approached, a little taller and stronger. A slim, but muscular man with long red hair. His skin glowed golden, as did his large eyes, which gleamed in his narrow face. Above his temples, twisted horns curled out of his head and the shimmering, oversized butterfly wings hinted at his non-human nature.
“Greetings, Morgane, sea-born, mistress of the apple isle and the mists.” His voice was bright, ringing like a chime. He bowed his head. But a mocking grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.
The woman in front of him took down her hood. Black hair flowed out, framing a narrow face with sharp features and an aquiline nose. “So, we come together again after all this time, Oberon, Lord of the fairy realm and the rocks.” She let her gaze glide over the beach. “The sea and the rock united again.”
“Yes, it's been a long time, even by the standards of the Otherworld.” Oberon turned around. “The dragons have stirred again. Their sleep is no longer deep and solid. They will awaken soon.”
Morgane walked across the sand towards the rocks. “Do you remember the last time?” Her heavy leather boots left no marks in the sand.
“How could I forget?” Oberon laughed mirthlessly. “It was the ice dragons, in the year without a summer.”
“And the Chosen One a self-absorbed poet who had nothing better to do than run off with his good-for-nothing friends.” She snorted. “A villa in Switzerland.”
“That prig just couldn't muster the magic needed to banish the dragon.” Oberon stopped and ran his hand over his chin. His long fingers lingered on his lip for a moment. “But he looked good.”
“Oh, stop it now. The ice dragon didn't just have Cornwall in its grip, not just England.” With a violent movement, Morgane threw back her coat. “If Mary Shelly hadn't unleashed the powerful word magic with ‘Frankenstein’, it would have been the downfall of us all.” She twitched her upper lip contemptuously. “That snoot Byron a Chosen One, don't make me laugh. There's certainly been a mistake.”
“Just don't let any of the higher-ups hear that.” Oberon strolled light-footedly alongside the snorting Morgane over to the rocks. “But you're right, I praise Samuel Pepys, who in quick succession banished the air dragon that brought the plague in 1665 and the fire dragon that ravaged London in 1666. A very perceptive and clever mind.”
“Oh, we had many other clever minds who were able to calm the destructive power of the dragons with their magical abilities.” Morgane gave Oberon a dirty look. “Florence Nightingale and Virginia Woolf, for example. But then I had to do all the training on my own. You weren't there”
“Oh, they were women.” Oberon laughed.
“And what about Tolkien or the Beatles.” Morgane paused. “Gender is no excuse for the fact that you slept through almost the entire 19th and 20th centuries, and I had to do all the work alone.”
Oberon pranced around Morgane and put his arm around her shoulder. “Oh, come on, my dear. I was tired. All the revolutions and upheavals.” He waved his hand casually. “Besides, you know how time passes so much faster here in the fairy realm than in the earthly world.” He winked at her. “And to be honest, Titania was jealous. She thought I was spending too much time with you.”
Morgane's features softened. “Oh, you old charmer. I'm glad you're here now and I don't have to do the job alone again.” She pushed him off her and walked to the edge of the cliff. “But come on now, we should take a closer look at the Chosen One. We should start training soon. And I'm curious to see what special abilities he brings with him.”
Morgane put on her hood and flapped her arms so that the cloak billowed around her slender figure like a black cloud. In the blink of an eye, she rose into the air in the shape of a black raven.
“Wait a minute,” Oberon called out. He shook his head and relaxed his shoulders. There was a whirring sound and suddenly the handsome man with the golden skin had disappeared. But wait, what was that? A shimmering moth rose into the air and whirred after the raven faster than an ordinary animal.
By now, dusk had settled over the land like a glowing blanket. The setting sun leaned over the water and shimmered milky through a carpet of mist over the sea. The silhouette of palm trees and lush hydrangea bushes lined the curved path, which was bordered by stone walls.
A raven perched on a bent tree, its branches overhanging the path, gazing at the massive young man who came puffing up towards the Victorian building with its oriels and turrets. The white façade shone though the twilight just like the towering lighthouse behind it.
The young man stopped at the gate under the tree and leaned against the wood, obviously relieved to take his weight off his feet for a moment. With his hand, he waved away a conspicuously large moth that was buzzing around his face, then pushed his sweaty hair out of his forehead. His round cheeks glowed. His slightly too short nose was adorned with freckles. His straight eyebrows were drawn together and amber-colored eyes peered out from under long eyelashes.
But the most striking thing about both his face and his figure was how fat and soft everything about him was. As he stood there gasping for breath, his thick chest visibly rose and fell. It rested on a massive belly that bulged far forward, stretched in two thick rings around his hips and hung in a heavy overhang over his massive thighs. The broad arms rested on the gate and even the hands and fingers gripping the wood were fat-padded and thick.
The young man took another deep breath. Then he straightened up and pushed his slightly too long hair out of his face. He opened the gate, closed it carefully behind him and continued along the path towards the entrance.
The raven fluttered down from the tree and remained perched on the gate. He opened his beak. “Things are going downhill with the youth of today!” the animal stated in a human voice. “How is a obese fatty like him supposed to fight a dragon? He can't even get up the mountain here without taking a break three times.”
“Truly, how ponderous.” The moth buzzed around the bird. “There must be some mistake. Just like with that Byron.”
“No, there's no chance of a mistake this time. I've checked the parameters.” The raven sighed. “The marking is clear.”
“Well, I didn't sense anything definite.” The moth sat down on the gate beneath the raven. It sluggishly opened and closed its wings, trembling with its antennae.
“Oh, obviously you didn’t sleep long enough.” The proud bird fluffed up its feathers. “Besides, there's only one way to find out. We slip into human form and test his reactions.” The animal stretched. Its wings lengthened and became arms. Then it lifted its head and the feathers became skin and hair.
In the blink of an eye, a young woman was sitting on the gate. She was very thin, almost gaunt. She was wearing dark blue jeans, Docs and a parka. Her long black hair framed her pale face. Only her piercing green eyes and hooked nose gave her an eccentric look. “There, now it's your turn.” She blew at the moth so that its wings shook. “But don't overdo it again. No dandy look or anything. Don't get all the girls running after you again and break any hearts.”
A whirring sound grew louder. The moth spun in the air until all that could be seen was a shimmering ball of iridescent colors that slowly grew larger and pulsated. And then he stood there. A young man, tall and muscular. With golden skin tone and burning dark eyes. A prominent jaw and curved eyebrows, plus long dark curls emphasized his dramatic appearance. He wore tight jeans, a leather jacket and heavy boots.
“Well, what do you say, Mo?” A wry grin twitched around his lips.
Morgane rolled her eyes. “Didn't I just tell you not to overdo it, Oberon?”
“Just call me Ron from now on.” He winked at Morgane. “We don't want to reveal our true identities right away, do we?”
Morgane snorted. “As if any of today's dotty students even know who we are.”
Oberon shrugged his shoulders. “Be that as it may. Now it's time to take a closer look at our fatty.” Without turning around again, Oberon walked towards the Lizard Academy. It had become dark in the meantime. The large windows glowed honey yellow and invitingly, painting patches of light on the lawn. Morgane hopped down from the gate and took long strides towards the fairy king.
Cornwall is not only criss-crossed by thousands of caves, it is also home to tin and lead deposits. There are also four great dragons slumbering beneath the earth: Guardians of Fire, Earth, Water and Air. They bring disasters such as fires, wars, droughts, floods and diseases. When they stir or awaken, only human magic can put them back to sleep. These are not simple spells, but can be banished through the power of art, poetry and music.
Oberon, the fairy king, and Morgane, the Lady of the Sea, have for millennia undertaken the task of preparing mortals for this task in times of need.
Now the time has come again and the dragons are stirring. This time the chosen one is not a great poet or artist, but a simple student at the Lizard Academy. The young man is also overweight and has his own problems to deal with. Can Oberon and Morgana really train him to become a dragonslayer?
This urban fantasy story is inspired by Undine's fantastic story Xander, even if the setting and characters are completely different.
Tropes: Slow Burn, Crumpy vs Sunshine, She falls first, forced proximity
Where dragons sleep
Cornwall, Lizard Point
Fog was rising from the sea. The color of the water was a dark blue, almost black, and the sky was leaden and heavy. The rugged cliffs of the coastline blurred before the eye. Everything receded into the distance and dusk slowly descended over the land. It was probably time to go back.
Art ran his hand over his forehead. With difficulty, he bent down to stuff his drawing materials and the empty food wrappers back into his bag. His hands were clammy by now and he had to reach twice for the metal box in which he kept his pens, because it slipped out of his grasp. He shouldered the bag and absentmindedly stroked his soft stomach. He was hungry. That was another reason to return to school, but he was in no hurry. He was always one of the last to go to the dining hall when most of the students had already finished, eager to get on with their leisure activities. He was happy when the hall was almost empty and the whispers when he entered were nothing more than a murmur. The staring gazes were only directed at him from a few pairs of eyes.
You would think that the other students would have gotten used to the sight of him by now. But that wasn't the case. He was sure that they would stare at him with the same mixture of disgust and sensationalism as usual, especially now that the semester was starting again after the summer break. Snorting, Art brushed his slightly too long hair out of his face. The gust of wind that blew against him immediately blew it back into his forehead.
As he walked along the beach, he let his gaze wander over the beach again. Art loved the rugged beauty of Cornwall, the fine sandy beach in the secluded bay. It was lined with rugged rocks into which the water had carved caves. It was a sheltered place, and he came here as often as he could. When the weather was mild, he would sit there and read or draw. In summer he bathed and in winter he simply walked along the coastline, letting the wind blow in his face, collecting shells and stones. He loved the feeling of the spray on his skin, the smell of salt and seaweed. Sometimes he even took his guitar here with him to make music undisturbed. But even so, the journey here was exhausting enough.
In the meantime, the fog had crept closer over the water. It obscured the view of the meandering coastline, the large foundling and the buoys bobbing in the water. Art had now reached the ascent. A steep notch in the rocks, which then met a narrow path that wound up between the cliffs to the old Victorian hotel next to the lighthouse, which now housed the school's dormitories and classrooms. The Lizard Academy.
Art adjusted the bag on his back to keep his hands free. Then he took another deep breath. As much as he loved coming here, he hated the climb back to school. Even though he walked the path almost every day, he had to take breaks and catch his breath at least twice. His body was simply too heavy to heave him up the steep path. Even the fact that he had lost almost 15 lbs over the summer couldn't change that. Not that he had deliberately fasted or followed any kind of diet. On the contrary. Whenever he had found the opportunity, he had sneaked something to eat. But under the critical gaze of his father, whom he had visited during the summer break, he simply hadn't been able to down a single bite.
The tides had eaten a natural staircase into the crevice. But the steps were irregular, and, in some places, you had to pull yourself up. Sometimes it seemed to him that he could see the scales of a dragon's body on the weathered surface. From higher up on the cliff, he thought he could even imagine a mighty head with towering horns. But he knew for sure that they were just boulders and rock needles. He had always had too vivid an imagination, a tendency to daydream, to recognize figures, strange creatures or jugglers in every cloud, tree trunk or water-reflection. He had always been different from his peers. Art bit his lips. Then he grabbed the ledge, feeling the rough surface under his cold fingers, small cushions of moss cool and soft between them. He pulled himself up and began the ascent. He was looking forward to the warm meal in the hall. And if he was lucky, his friend Lanny would have arrived in the meantime. He had really missed his company over the last few weeks.
A black barge glided silently through the fog and towards the beach. It seemed to glow from within. Untouched by the swell, it cut through the water. A black-robed figure stood upright in the bow. Slim and tall, wrapped in a long dark cloak, she stood motionless. Two piercing eyes flashed out from under the hood; they were green and burned from within.
With a jerk, the boat came to a halt on the sand. With smooth movements, the dark figure stepped forward and effortlessly climbed out of the vehicle. Just at that moment, a second figure approached, a little taller and stronger. A slim, but muscular man with long red hair. His skin glowed golden, as did his large eyes, which gleamed in his narrow face. Above his temples, twisted horns curled out of his head and the shimmering, oversized butterfly wings hinted at his non-human nature.
“Greetings, Morgane, sea-born, mistress of the apple isle and the mists.” His voice was bright, ringing like a chime. He bowed his head. But a mocking grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.
The woman in front of him took down her hood. Black hair flowed out, framing a narrow face with sharp features and an aquiline nose. “So, we come together again after all this time, Oberon, Lord of the fairy realm and the rocks.” She let her gaze glide over the beach. “The sea and the rock united again.”
“Yes, it's been a long time, even by the standards of the Otherworld.” Oberon turned around. “The dragons have stirred again. Their sleep is no longer deep and solid. They will awaken soon.”
Morgane walked across the sand towards the rocks. “Do you remember the last time?” Her heavy leather boots left no marks in the sand.
“How could I forget?” Oberon laughed mirthlessly. “It was the ice dragons, in the year without a summer.”
“And the Chosen One a self-absorbed poet who had nothing better to do than run off with his good-for-nothing friends.” She snorted. “A villa in Switzerland.”
“That prig just couldn't muster the magic needed to banish the dragon.” Oberon stopped and ran his hand over his chin. His long fingers lingered on his lip for a moment. “But he looked good.”
“Oh, stop it now. The ice dragon didn't just have Cornwall in its grip, not just England.” With a violent movement, Morgane threw back her coat. “If Mary Shelly hadn't unleashed the powerful word magic with ‘Frankenstein’, it would have been the downfall of us all.” She twitched her upper lip contemptuously. “That snoot Byron a Chosen One, don't make me laugh. There's certainly been a mistake.”
“Just don't let any of the higher-ups hear that.” Oberon strolled light-footedly alongside the snorting Morgane over to the rocks. “But you're right, I praise Samuel Pepys, who in quick succession banished the air dragon that brought the plague in 1665 and the fire dragon that ravaged London in 1666. A very perceptive and clever mind.”
“Oh, we had many other clever minds who were able to calm the destructive power of the dragons with their magical abilities.” Morgane gave Oberon a dirty look. “Florence Nightingale and Virginia Woolf, for example. But then I had to do all the training on my own. You weren't there”
“Oh, they were women.” Oberon laughed.
“And what about Tolkien or the Beatles.” Morgane paused. “Gender is no excuse for the fact that you slept through almost the entire 19th and 20th centuries, and I had to do all the work alone.”
Oberon pranced around Morgane and put his arm around her shoulder. “Oh, come on, my dear. I was tired. All the revolutions and upheavals.” He waved his hand casually. “Besides, you know how time passes so much faster here in the fairy realm than in the earthly world.” He winked at her. “And to be honest, Titania was jealous. She thought I was spending too much time with you.”
Morgane's features softened. “Oh, you old charmer. I'm glad you're here now and I don't have to do the job alone again.” She pushed him off her and walked to the edge of the cliff. “But come on now, we should take a closer look at the Chosen One. We should start training soon. And I'm curious to see what special abilities he brings with him.”
Morgane put on her hood and flapped her arms so that the cloak billowed around her slender figure like a black cloud. In the blink of an eye, she rose into the air in the shape of a black raven.
“Wait a minute,” Oberon called out. He shook his head and relaxed his shoulders. There was a whirring sound and suddenly the handsome man with the golden skin had disappeared. But wait, what was that? A shimmering moth rose into the air and whirred after the raven faster than an ordinary animal.
Chapter I - The Chosen One
By now, dusk had settled over the land like a glowing blanket. The setting sun leaned over the water and shimmered milky through a carpet of mist over the sea. The silhouette of palm trees and lush hydrangea bushes lined the curved path, which was bordered by stone walls.
A raven perched on a bent tree, its branches overhanging the path, gazing at the massive young man who came puffing up towards the Victorian building with its oriels and turrets. The white façade shone though the twilight just like the towering lighthouse behind it.
The young man stopped at the gate under the tree and leaned against the wood, obviously relieved to take his weight off his feet for a moment. With his hand, he waved away a conspicuously large moth that was buzzing around his face, then pushed his sweaty hair out of his forehead. His round cheeks glowed. His slightly too short nose was adorned with freckles. His straight eyebrows were drawn together and amber-colored eyes peered out from under long eyelashes.
But the most striking thing about both his face and his figure was how fat and soft everything about him was. As he stood there gasping for breath, his thick chest visibly rose and fell. It rested on a massive belly that bulged far forward, stretched in two thick rings around his hips and hung in a heavy overhang over his massive thighs. The broad arms rested on the gate and even the hands and fingers gripping the wood were fat-padded and thick.
The young man took another deep breath. Then he straightened up and pushed his slightly too long hair out of his face. He opened the gate, closed it carefully behind him and continued along the path towards the entrance.
The raven fluttered down from the tree and remained perched on the gate. He opened his beak. “Things are going downhill with the youth of today!” the animal stated in a human voice. “How is a obese fatty like him supposed to fight a dragon? He can't even get up the mountain here without taking a break three times.”
“Truly, how ponderous.” The moth buzzed around the bird. “There must be some mistake. Just like with that Byron.”
“No, there's no chance of a mistake this time. I've checked the parameters.” The raven sighed. “The marking is clear.”
“Well, I didn't sense anything definite.” The moth sat down on the gate beneath the raven. It sluggishly opened and closed its wings, trembling with its antennae.
“Oh, obviously you didn’t sleep long enough.” The proud bird fluffed up its feathers. “Besides, there's only one way to find out. We slip into human form and test his reactions.” The animal stretched. Its wings lengthened and became arms. Then it lifted its head and the feathers became skin and hair.
In the blink of an eye, a young woman was sitting on the gate. She was very thin, almost gaunt. She was wearing dark blue jeans, Docs and a parka. Her long black hair framed her pale face. Only her piercing green eyes and hooked nose gave her an eccentric look. “There, now it's your turn.” She blew at the moth so that its wings shook. “But don't overdo it again. No dandy look or anything. Don't get all the girls running after you again and break any hearts.”
A whirring sound grew louder. The moth spun in the air until all that could be seen was a shimmering ball of iridescent colors that slowly grew larger and pulsated. And then he stood there. A young man, tall and muscular. With golden skin tone and burning dark eyes. A prominent jaw and curved eyebrows, plus long dark curls emphasized his dramatic appearance. He wore tight jeans, a leather jacket and heavy boots.
“Well, what do you say, Mo?” A wry grin twitched around his lips.
Morgane rolled her eyes. “Didn't I just tell you not to overdo it, Oberon?”
“Just call me Ron from now on.” He winked at Morgane. “We don't want to reveal our true identities right away, do we?”
Morgane snorted. “As if any of today's dotty students even know who we are.”
Oberon shrugged his shoulders. “Be that as it may. Now it's time to take a closer look at our fatty.” Without turning around again, Oberon walked towards the Lizard Academy. It had become dark in the meantime. The large windows glowed honey yellow and invitingly, painting patches of light on the lawn. Morgane hopped down from the gate and took long strides towards the fairy king.
