Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Alex
In the aftermath of our extremely excitable Christmas day, every adult in the house dragged themselves to the breakfast table on the morning after Christmas, looking like they’d been on a three-day bender.
Twice the twins had woken in the middle of the night, wailing and begging to play with their toys, which I’d allowed, because screaming dragonets, usually resulted in accidental fireballs and we already had several extinguishers that needed to be refilled.
Of course, the fact that I’d spent a chunk of the evening aiding in the birth of my new nephew also played into my willingness to indulge my own.
They’d only be small for a short time, and I longed to treasure each and every moment.
Which meant my hair was sticking up and I only bothered to crack my eyes open to a thin sliver when I needed to ensure that my coffee reached my lips, but it was worth it, to pass my phone to Ionus, so he could see the pictures I’d taken of them playing in the middle of the night.
“Mate, did you get any sleep at all?” He asked. “Why didn’t you wake me so I could take a turn?”
“Because you had a full day of dragonet duties yesterday and deserved a rest too,” I told him. “You are getting up there in years, dragon. Pretty soon, you’ll be joining Gramps and Great-gramps in afternoon naps.”
Two bushy heads popped up to shoot me a scandalized look, while my mate just narrowed his eyes at me. I knew I’d pay for that comment, and the whole sleigh idea at some point, and was more than looking forward to it.
“We are not napping,” Great-gramps declared.
“That’s right, we’re simply resting our eyes,” Gramps finished for him.
There were grumbles and chuckles from the rest of the Drakemyre clan, with one, muttering from behind a bushy beard, that no, he was most certainly napping.
Since everyone’s eyes were on their food and trying to get it to their lips without spilling it down their fronts in their frazzled conditions, I couldn’t tell who said it.
“Traitor,” Great-gramps muttered, prompting another round of chuckles, and the passing of the coffee carafe around the table.
Because I’d allowed the twins to play the night before, only Griffin and Luna were at the table with us this morning, and they were far more interested in the steak and eggs I’d made for breakfast, now that I’d gotten over my squeamishness about medium to rare meat.
That I’d had not just my mate, but my grandfather and great grandfather teaching me about the needs of dragonets and their more primal sides, as they still needed to keep their inner dragons happy, made it easier for me to barely seer the steak before sliding the cut up pieces onto their plates.
It helped that I’d discovered my dragon too and he very much liked things on the closer to rare side.
“You know,” Great-gramps said, “I just recalled a time when another dragonet torched the Christmas pine along with my eyebrows and the whiskers on the stuffed mouse he’d insisted on using in place of a star at the top of the tree.”
“I have no recollection of that,” Gramps grumbled.
I knew that tone. He knew exactly what Great-gramps was talking about and desperately hoped he’d stop talking.
The moment I heard my mate chuckle, I began to wonder if Great-gramps telling this story was really going to be worth seeing the flush on my grandfather’s face grow into a full-on blush or if Gramps was going to retaliate with tales of his own.
“So, what you’re saying is that our dragonets get their propensity for burning down trees from your side of the family,” Ionus said. “And here I’ve sat being all apologetic to my dear, sweet Alex, for being responsible for the rash of flash fires we’ve sustained since the dragonets were hatched.”
Now I could feel my face heating up, while Gramps just glanced over apologetically and shrugged.
“Sorry kiddo, but you might be a teensy bit more to blame than you think,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I groaned, slapping a hand over my eyes.
I was never going to live this down. Ionus would remind me of it every chance he got, and if he didn’t, our dragons would proudly proclaim the twins to be a glaring example of the Drakemyre temperament.
Which could actually play out in my favor. Hmm. Let’s go with that and hope for the best. When dealing with an ancient being, one needed every advantage one could get.
“Was it his temper that got the better of him?” I asked Great-gramps, while smirking at my mate.
“I never thought I had much of one until my mate stuffed three giant dragon eggs inside of me and I started having thoughts of sacrificing pieces of him to the fates to ensure nothing of the sort ever happened again.”
The whole time I said it, as deadpan as I could manage, I stared dead on into my mate’s gorgeous amethyst eyes, all while carving a piece of my steak. How I managed that feat without taking a chunk out of my finger I couldn’t say, unless the fates were on my side and looking out for me.
Yeah, let’s roll with that.
“Oh no, that night, it was the storm that scared the fire out of him, as the winds howled outside and branches crashed against the roof from time to time. It was one of those thuds that scared him, while he was marveling at the tree. We didn’t have strands of lights back then.
Our ornaments consisted mostly of handmade things. ”
“Aye,” Hamish said. “I remember those days. We’d collect pinecones and use ribbons to adorn them and attached them to the tree. Bits of old, colorful clothing were quilted into the shapes of stars and hung among the pinecones, interspaced with woven ones.”
“Knox always insisted upon sitting on my shoulders so he could reach the highest branches,” Great-gramps said.
“He was a squirmy one, too. He nearly fell off more than once, giggling and wiggling around the way he was, but he decorated every branch, clapping in between the ornaments he placed. That’s how he singed the mouse’s whiskers.
There was a crash upon the roof thunderous enough that I’d have sworn the whole tree fell upon it. ”
“Of course, there was the other fear too,” Hamish recalled. “That it was an enemy dragon who’d landed and was attempting to gain entry. Which, in hindsight, might not have been the best thing to say when there was already a panicked dragonet wailing about the noise.”
“You didn’t?” I said, picturing the protectiveness Griffin already displayed.
“He did,” Great-gramps said, shaking his head as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Which is why I sent him and Ignatius out to see if that was indeed the case, while I turned the tree so the charred parts wouldn’t be visible once Knox settled down.”
“How did you keep the tree from going up completely?” I asked, because that was a method that would truly be helpful to know if our dragonets didn’t have their flames in check come next year.
“I didn’t,” Great-gramps explained. “It was Silven. He encased the flames in a bubble, and when the oxygen ran out, poof, the fire stopped burning.”
“He smothered it,” I murmured.
“Indeed, he did,” Great-gramps said. “He won more battles with those bubbles of his than any mage I’ve ever met.
He was, in many ways, our version of your Raven.
Bred for battle, armed with spells of protection and incantations that allowed him to turn our enemies’ powers back on them.
He helped train many a dragon in how to control their magic, but he was ancient even then, and time catches up to all of us, I’m afraid. ”
“Was he a dragon?” I asked.
“A half-dragon, aye, he was of Drakemyre blood. His mother was dragon, his father an elemental mage who passed along a wealth of power to his son. Our clan has always embraced the mates the fates have given us, regardless of whether they were full dragon or not. It was one of the many things that put us in the crosshairs of the Gorynych.”
“I love that about us,” I said, feeling a surge of pride at learning that part of our family history.
“As do I,” Gramps said, as the other heads around the table nodded too.
“What on roof?” Luna asked.
For a moment, we were all on alert. My warrior husband, along with Hamish and Ignatius, coming half out of their chairs before it dawned on all of us that my wise, brilliant little dragonet had been listening to the story and wanted to hear more.
“Well, little one,” Great-gramps said. “It was Christmas Eve and Santa had arrived to deliver the presents.”
She squealed and clapped at hearing that, for about three seconds, then cocked her head as her eyes grew wide. “But you not asleep.”
“No, we weren’t,” he replied. “But Santa was wise to the ways of dragons and knew that many of us were nocturnal beings, so he slid down the chimney anyway, and delivered all the presents.”
“How he no burn?”
“The same way you didn’t when your brothers burned your tutu,” he explained.
“I no burn ‘cause I dragon!” She declared, then her eyes grew big again. “Is Santa a dragon?”
Great-gramps chuckled at that. “He is indeed, sweet girl. Who else could fly all around the world in a single night?”
“Papa.” She declared. “Papa pull a sleigh in one night.”
“I just bet he could,” I said, grinning over at my mate.
Talk about a match point. Let’s see my mate get out of the sleigh I requested. There was no way now, not with his baby girl grinning at him across the table.
“Where the reindeer?” She asked a moment later.
That mind of hers never stopped. May she never stop seeking knowledge.
It would be a beautiful thing to watch her learn, though something told me that there would be times when I’d be tagging in my bestie, Emerson, to answer questions for her, since that was one dragon who knew a whole lot about many things relating to our heritage.
Now my mate was grinning as he cast a challenging glance down the table, as if daring my Great-grandfather to find a way to explain that part of his tale.
Meanwhile, Hamish chuckled and cast a glance down at his plate as he forked his steak.
I just hoped he didn’t voice the thought that had suddenly popped into my head.
That the reindeer had been supper before the long flight, because that would certainly upset our princess.
“Happily grazing where they belonged,” Great-gramps said, shooting Hamish a look as he popped a bite of steak in his mouth. “Dragons have no need of reindeer when they have wings.”
She squealed at that, pleased with the story, and not long after, wiggled to be let out of her highchair so she could go play, her empty plate left behind as she and Griffin rushed off to enjoy their toys.
“So, what was on the roof?” I asked once the kids were out of earshot.
“Santa.”
“Great-gramps, come on now.”
“I’m serious. It was Santa,” he replied.
“Well, technically, it was Lochlan, delivering the presents for the little ones that he’d brought home from the city.
But he did dress in fur robes, and he did come down the chimney, because he always did have a flare for drama.
The gifts he carried brought great joy to the dragonets, but it was the intelligence he’d gathered while in the city that allowed us to make our next move.
As strong as we have always been as a species, it is our cunningness, our honor, our fearlessness and our will to survive that will always be the true strength of dragon kind.
We were meant to be the peacekeepers. Groomed to end wars and see the world thrive, not to amass power and treasures.
That is what the world needs from us again.
That is how we will survive what’s coming. ”
His humble words, delivered in his strong, rolling brogue, were a firm reminder of the true meaning of the season.
That we were meant to live our lives with kindness, mercy, and generosity.
Tending to the world around us, down to the last creature and plant.
To protect and nurture it for the generations to come after us and instill in them that they must be ready to protect it too, before there was nothing left.