The Soft-Hearted Prince and His Dragon

3 - Galen

The cavern was a surprisingly cozy place. There were candles in strategic spots and little pieces of mirrors fastened into the cracks in the rock. This system spread glittering light all around and gave enough light for one to read comfortably. There was plenty to read, too. Sen had managed to accumulate a fair amount of books while living in the cavern. Some of it was fiction; he seemed to have a particular fondness for collections of short stories. Many of the books were about magic, and Galen was enthralled.

The two were sitting by the pool, talking. The waterfall was small but still filled the whole cavern with soft splashing and gurgling. The lights were reflecting on it like little diamonds.

"Do you ever fly away? You know... somewhere else?" Galen asked. His bare feet were immersed in the water. It was cold, but he liked the fresh feeling.

"I can't fly," Sen sighed.

Galen watched as the pointy ends of the dragon's wings came above his head and started to unfold. While one stretched out completely—Galen was in awe—the other moved only a little and stayed bent.

"My left wing got hurt in one of the early fights after I came here. It never healed properly."

Galen stood up and went to see the hurt wing. "I could try to heal it. But I don't know enough about the dragon physiology, which is a prerequisite for any flesh magic."

"Does that mean you could accidentally change my wing into something else?"

"Or to move it to a wrong place in your body," Galen explained helpfully, not noticing the tease. Magic was a serious thing.

"Okay, no healing!"

"Well..."

"Don't you even think about it! I don't think I'd look good with a bird's wing growing out of my ear!" Sen protested.

"I meant to say that I could try to learn. I'm sure your physiology can't be so different from what I know already. And with a hands-on experience having a live specimen..."

"Alright, that's enough! I feel like it's only a matter of time before you pickle me in a salt solution!"

"Sorry," Galen laughed. "But if you let me look at you, there's a chance I could eventually heal it," he added. He lifted Sen's wing and ran his fingers alongside the tendons. The skin was dry like that of a lizard, only coarser. The dragon shivered under the touch. It surprised Galen because he thought the skin would be too thick to feel something so light.

"Do you need to cut me open for it?" Sen inquired.

"Of course not. When I focus, I can sense my way in. I can sense your muscles moving, your heart beating..."

"How do I know when you're doing it?" Sen asked, sounding uncomfortable.

"You don't," Galen winked at him.

"Are you doing it right now?"

Galen grinned at him.

"Stop sensing my muscles!" the dragon exclaimed. "Oh, that... came out wrong."

Galen laughed again, and the bright sound filled the whole cavern. He let go of Sen's wing and returned to the water. "If you never fly away, where did you get all this?" he wondered, pointing at the books, candles, and everything else. "I don't suppose you can drop by the village for a shopping spree."

Sen explained that while most of the villagers feared dragons, one group considered him a god. They were bringing him gifts—like food, flowers, and little idols made by their children. But over the years, they learned what other things he liked.