"These are big glasses," the king told me as he held up the glass cups I had summoned. I took the cups from him and placed them on the rug beside my bed.
"This isn't a casual drink. We're doing this to get plastered so we can feel more comfortable around each other," I reminded him. He stayed silent and I took that as a response of acceptance. I summoned three large bottles of vodka and lined them up in a line against my bed stand.
Summoning alcohol for him was going to be a bit harder. I had seen someone from the staff carrying a bottle of dragon alcohol but it had only been for a moment. Closing my eyes I pictured the glass container that held the light red liquid in it. Soon my hand felt heavy and the drink was in my grip. "Is this right?" I asked him.
He took the drink from my hands and uncapped it. He smelled it then brought the bottle to his lips. He sampled the drink, not swallowing it, then nodded. I immediately summoned two more bottles just like it and handed them to him. He lined his bottles of alcohol against the wall. Then he copied my position and leaned his back against my bed.
"Can we both drink at least one glass before we start this dumb game of yours?" I asked.
He nodded and said, "I think it's necessary."
We both reached for our bottles and poured our glasses just short of the rim. We then chugged the bitter liquid in sync. "Okay... you remember the rules right?" He questioned.
I nodded as I replied, "I'm not stupid. You answer you don't have to drink."
"Right," he responded, "Who's going to go first?"
"You're the one who wanted to do the game. You go first," I grumbled.
He sighed and started the game, "Alright... How old are you?"
"I don't know," I told him.
"Drink," he replied.
"No!" I responded, "I really don't know."
He raised his eyebrow and asked, "You don't know how old you are?"
I shook my head and said, "I have an idea but I don't know it for sure."
"How can you not know your own age?" He inquired. I filled up my cup and drank it. "Really? Oh, come on! At least tell me what you think it might be," he exclaimed.
"I think I'm 27," I told him, "How old are you?"
"I'm 28," he answered, "What are your parents' names?"
I smiled at the thought of my parents and answered, "Darla and Chris."
"Nice," he commented with an approving nod.
"What were your parents' names?" I inquired.
His face seemed to sadden a bit but nevertheless, a smile showed up. "George and Katherine Anders," he answered in a daze.
"Those are very royal names," I said with a grin.
He chuckled and replied, "Yeah... they were. Why do you not have a last name?"
"My parents thought that having a last name was setting people up for failure. They figured that people wouldn't need a last name to distinguish you if you were exceptional," I explained.
"Why'd they think that?" He questioned. I again filled up my cup and drank it.
I set my glass down and asked, "What was your first thought when you saw me?" He stared at the wall for a second, debating something in his head, then he filled up his cup and drank it. "That bad?" I joked.
He shrugged and replied, "What's your favorite color?"
I let out a laugh and said, "Really? You want to know that?"
"Hey if you're not going to answer it then drink," he told me.
"It's blue," I answered, "What's yours?"
"Green," he replied without a pause.
I shook my head with shock and questioned, "Wait... It's not red?"
He laughed and said, "No! Why would you think that?"
"Cause the color red is literally everywhere!" I pointed out.
"That's because it was my grandfather's favorite color. He designed this place," he laughed out his explanation.
I let out a laugh and leaned forward. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin of the top of my kneecaps. I looked up at the king who was staring at me with an emotion akin to adoration in his amber eyes. "I enjoy talking to you, and trust me I don't usually say that," I confessed.
He smiled and said, "I enjoy talking to you too. You're... fascinating."
"How so?" I asked.
"I don't know how to explain it. You just are," he admitted.
I let out a sigh and told him, "Drink up then." He gave me a fake glare as he rolled his eyes. However, he wordlessly filled up his glass and drank it.
Setting his cup down he inquired, "Where did you grow up?"
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying Washington DC. I sat up straight and poured my drink. I drank the vodka then put my cup down. "What's your favorite poem?" I asked him.
He filled up his cup and mumbled, "I'm not ready to own up to that." I let out a laugh at his words and he chugged down the red alcohol.
"Pathetic," I scoffed with a teasing smirk.
He rolled his eyes and replied, "Whatever. What's your favorite poem?"
"Fire and Ice by Robert Frost," I answered.
"You like Frost? Why am I not surprised?" He wondered.
I shoved his arm and said, "Shut up. He's good."
He held his hands up in surrender and proclaimed, "Hey, I never disagreed!"
"That's right," I told him, "So how did your family end up with the throne? The journals said they weren't the strongest dragons of the time, but they still got it... why?"
"Well, there are a few reasons. One was that the first king was the only one who had a beloved and children. He had heirs while the other stronger dragons didn't. We're also the only dragon line that can breathe both fire and ice," he informed me
"I... did not know that was possible," I told him.
He nodded and said, "Well it is and it got my family the throne. How did you get that brand?"
I reached out for the cup but stopped. I pulled my hand back and looked at the king. I can explain it without making him realize that it was just a prejudice dimension. "People thought that I was a witch because of my hair. They branded me so people would know that my crime was witchcraft," I told him.
"That's horrible!" He exclaimed.
I shrugged and said, "They didn't know better. To them I was unnatural."
"Being unnatural doesn't mean that you're a witch," he argued.
"What's done is done. We can't change it," I reminded him. He nodded and I inquired, "So how do you communicate with your dragon?"
He dragged his hand through his hair, making him look as tipsy as he was probably starting to feel. He took in a deep breath then answered, "It's like having your urges and animal instincts heightened. You feel all these powerful emotions, but you know that they're not hundred percent yours."
"That's wack," I commented as I leaned back against my bed.
"Where did you learn how to fight?" He asked.
I smiled but felt a wave of pain. A wave of loss. I grabbed the bottle of vodka and chugged the remainder of the bottle. I looked up at the king and slurred out, "My dad taught me. He wanted me to be able to defend myself and he thought it would be a good bonding experience."
"Why'd you drink if you were just going to answer?" He questioned.
I stared out the window at the dark night sky as the pang of loss flared up in my chest again. "Cause I miss him," I whispered.
The king's eyebrow raised as he asked, "Is he dead?"
"I don't know. I don't know if either of them are. I haven't seen them in years," I told him in a whisper. A tear fell down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. I looked away so the king wouldn't see and said, "Ask me questions I don't want to answer so I can drink more."
"Umm... Where are you from?" He inquired. I grabbed the next bottle and poured the cup full. I downed the drink and started to finally feel tipsy.
"Again," I ordered.
He looked at me skeptically but asked, "Why can't you see your parents?" I filled my cup and drained it again.
"Again," I demanded. He shook his head and grabbed one of his bottles. He brought the bottle to his lips and drained the bottle.
His eyes started to become dazed and he asked, "Why don't you trust me?"
I grabbed the bottle and gulped it down. Despair and anguish still followed me. The ache I felt for my family was growing and I wanted to scream. I need more. "Again," I pleaded.
He shook his head and slurred out, "I don't think I should."
I put my hand on his cheek and made him look into my desperate eyes. "Please," I begged.
"Why do you want me to do this?" He questioned.
He obviously didn't mean for me to drink, but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. I grabbed the next bottle and opened it. I got halfway through the bottle before he took it away from me. "That's not how this game works," he told me.
"Fine," I relented, "How did your parents die?"
He was taken aback and grumbled, "Cancer. My mom had cancer and after she died my father followed."
"Doesn't that suck?" I yelled and threw my arms down.
"I'm not talking about this," he grumbled as he rubbed his forehead.
"Then drink!" I ordered and handed him his second bottle.
He took the drink in his hands, and after a second of examining me, he down the bottle. He coughed as he set the empty bottle on the rug and mumbled, "Ahhh... I'm really drunk now."
"Good!" I cheered with drunken happiness, "It's your turn to ask a question again."
"Umm... Ummm... I know," he snickered and closed his eyes, "Can you see yourself falling in love with me?"
My cheeriness came to a halt and I suddenly felt exhausted. I laid my head on his shoulder and whispered, "Of course I can."