Chapter Fifteen
Urien
This has to be stunning. Urien surveyed Dinetell’s public park at dawn on Thursday, mentally mapping where the design would go. The northeast corner got morning sun and decent drainage - perfect for what he had in mind.
He’d already filed the paperwork with the town council. One expedited permit, two thousand dollars in donations to park maintenance, and nobody asked why he wanted to plant flowers in geometric patterns.
Dragons had been bribing humans for centuries. That part of the plan wasn’t even creative.
Urien unloaded the first van full of supplies, his dragon humming contentedly at the prospect of creating something beautiful for their Treasure. The second van arrived an hour later, packed with mature plants he’d been nurturing for weeks in the estate’s greenhouses. Planning had its advantages.
By midmorning, he’d cleared and tilled the designated space.
Tourists wandered past, watching him work.
A few even stopped to ask questions. Urien kept his answers brief, focusing on the physical labor that kept his dragon’s restless energy channeled into something productive instead of circling Sam’s cottage.
The design existed flawlessly in his mind - twenty meters across, curving script visible only from a height. From ground level, it would appear abstract and decorative. But from above? The love in the gesture would be undeniable.
Friday brought clouds and the threat of rain. Urien worked faster, setting the first letter. Scarlet salvias formed the S’s upper curve. Golden marigolds defined the lower arc. He’d chosen varieties with different bloom heights, creating depth and dimension.
“That’s lovely,” someone called.
Urien glanced up to find Mrs. Channing watching from the path, her shopping bags dangling.
“Thank you.”
“What’s it meant to be?”
“Flowers.” Urien returned his attention to spacing the marigolds precisely. Each placement mattered. Too far apart, and the letter blurred. Too close and the colors muddied.
“Well, yes, obviously flowers, but…” She tilted her head. “Is there a pattern?”
“Everything has patterns if you look properly.”
Mrs. Channing made a thoughtful noise, then continued toward Harrison’s.
By Friday evening, the S and A were complete. Urien stepped back, squinting against the sunset to check the spacing. His dragon purred approval. The letters read clearly to his eyes, even from ground level, but humans saw only attractive groupings.
Saturday morning, Urien planted the M through morning fog, using deep purple petunias for the letter’s outer edges and white begonias for definition. The final touch - a heart rendered in crimson dahlias - took until afternoon.
He knelt in the soil, his hands dirty from his labor of love, and placed the last dahlia. He was done.
Urien stood, every muscle aching pleasantly. The garden stretched before him, a riot of coordinated color. Red bled into gold, gold into purple, purple into white. The overall effect was cheerful chaos, exactly what a public park needed.
His dragon wanted altitude to properly appreciate the work, but Urien resisted the urge.
Shifting in broad daylight would cause problems the local council wouldn’t forgive, permit or no permit, and the dragon council’s wrath would be worse.
But he could imagine how it looked – Sam’s name spelled in living color, the heart obvious and unmistakable from any height.
“Sam,” he murmured to the flowers. “This is for you.”
/~/~/~/~/
Sunday morning arrived too bright, too early. Urien had barely slept, his dragon demanding he immediately show Sam the garden, claim him, and explain everything. Dragons were not patient creatures.
But humans needed time and space, along with clear invitations instead of assumptions.
Urien drafted the note at the estate’s kitchen table, surrounded by Rux’s leftover pastry experiments and Mabon’s abandoned coffee cups.
Five attempts ended crumpled in the bin before he settled on something simple.
Sam,
Would you meet me at the park at sunset? There’s something I’d like to show you.
Urien
No flourishes or cryptic hints. Just a straightforward request that Sam could accept or decline without pressure.
Urien folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and drove to Sam’s cottage before he could second-guess the wording again.
The street was quiet at half-past eight. Sam’s curtains were drawn, no movement visible through the front windows, which was good because it meant there was less chance of another Basil incident.
Urien approached the door with the envelope, hyper-aware of every sound. Inside, something shifted, and then he heard claws clicking against hardwood. The cat was awake.
Urien moved faster, pulling tape from his pocket and securing the envelope to the door at eye level, where Sam couldn’t miss it. His hands trembled slightly – which was ridiculous for a creature who’d lived centuries, but he couldn’t deny he was anxious.
What if Sam didn’t come?
What if he came and still didn’t understand?
What if the garden wasn’t enough?
A low growl filtered through the door. Basil knew he was there.
Urien stepped back as a heavy thump hit the door from the inside. Then another. The cat was throwing his full weight against the wood, defending his territory from the dragon-shaped threat.
“You’re protecting him,” Urien murmured. “I understand.”
He wanted to tell Basil they had the same goal - keeping Sam safe and happy. But cats didn’t negotiate, especially not with predators they instinctively recognized as dangerous.
Another thump. Basil wasn’t giving up.
Urien retreated to his vehicle, watching the cottage until a light flickered on upstairs. Sam was probably wondering what the noise was about.
The envelope stayed secured to the door, white against dark blue wood. It was clear, visible, and the invitation was unmistakable.
Now he just had to wait and see if Sam would come.
/~/~/~/~/
Of course, Sam came. He was too nice to refuse. He arrived at seven-forty-three, just as the sun began its descent. Golden light spilled across the park, turning everything amber and rose.
Urien stood beside the garden’s edge, hands shoved in his pockets to keep from fidgeting, his heart stone throbbing beneath his shirt.
Sam spotted him and waved, crossing the grass with that easy stride Urien had watched from their surveillance perch outside his cottage. Sam had worn jeans and a navy jumper that made his eyes look darker.
“Hey.” Sam stopped a few feet away, slightly breathless. “I got your note. Basil nearly shredded the door trying to attack it, but I got it.”
“I heard him.” Urien’s mouth twitched. “He’s very dedicated.”
“He’s a menace.” Sam adjusted his glasses, glancing past Urien toward the flower beds. “What did you want to…” He stopped mid-sentence.
The garden stretched before them, nearly a hundred feet across.
Salvias bloomed scarlet and bright, marigolds glowed golden in the sunset, and petunias spread purple and lush.
White begonias bordered each section, and crimson dahlias punctuated the design.
From ground level, it looked like an elaborate geometric pattern.
Sam stepped closer.
“Did you plant all these?” His voice sounded breathless. “Urien, they’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Urien’s chest tightened. Sam couldn’t see it yet - the letters, the heart, the declaration spelled out for anyone looking from above. But he saw the beauty and understood the effort. That had to count for something.
Sam walked into the garden, following the white begonia borders between the sections. His fingers brushed a salvia bloom, gentle as if afraid to damage it.
“These are my favorite red flowers.” Sam crouched beside the salvias, examining them with clear delight. “I’ve tried growing them before, but mine always get leggy.”
“Pinch them back early,” Urien said automatically. “Before they set buds. It forces lateral growth instead of vertical.”
Sam glanced up, smiling. “You really do know everything about plants.”
“I’ve had practice.”
More than Sam could imagine. Dragons hoarded and Urien hoarded knowledge about making things grow.
Sam stood, moving deeper into the garden. He touched a marigold, releasing its pungent scent, and then ran his hand over the petunias’ velvet petals. He stopped beside the dahlias, turning to take in the whole display.
“How long did this take?”
“Three days.”
“Three…” Sam shook his head, wonder plain on his face. “This is incredible. I mean, really incredible. The town council must be thrilled.”
“They were amenable to the project.” Urien didn’t feel the need to explain the donation Mabon had made to resurface the parking lot and repair the playground equipment.
Sam now walked the perimeter, examining each section with genuine interest. He recognized the plant varieties, appreciated the color combinations, and noticed how Urien had arranged different heights and textures for maximum visual impact.
But he still hadn’t seen the pattern, and Urien wondered if perhaps he couldn’t see it from the angle he was standing.
The sun sank lower, painting everything gold and shadow. Sam stopped beside Urien again, close enough that Urien’s dragon surged forward, desperate to touch, claim, and keep.
“Why did you invite me here?” Sam’s voice was quiet. “To see this?”
“Yes.” Urien’s throat felt tight. “I wanted you to see what I do.” Please see it, and then he just had to ask because he couldn’t wait anymore. “What do you see?”
Sam tilted his head, studying the garden with those warm brown eyes. The sunset caught his glasses.
“I see…” He gestured toward the salvias. “Passion, maybe? All that red. And the gold – warmth and brightness. The purple adds depth.” He walked forward, hands clasped behind his back like he was afraid to touch too much. “The white borders keep it from being chaotic. Everything has its place.”
Urien’s heart stone flared. Sam saw meaning in the colors and structure of the design. But not the letters, not his name spelled out in flowers large enough to be visible from the sky.
“What else?” The question sounded desperate even to his own ears.
Sam turned, silhouetted against the garden he couldn’t fully comprehend.
“It feels peaceful. Like someone put real thought into making something beautiful just because it should exist.” He pushed his glasses up.
“This must have taken incredible planning. All those plants, making sure they’d bloom at the same time, choosing varieties that work together… ”
“Yes.” The word felt hollow.
“You’re really talented, Urien.” Sam’s smile was genuine. “I grow tomatoes in pots, and half of them split. You create entire gardens that make people stop and stare.”
The praise warmed something in Urien’s chest, but his dragon thrashed with frustration. He doesn’t see. Our declaration - he can’t see it. How can he know we chose him if he can’t see his name written in flowers?
But of course, the grand gesture required an aerial view that Sam didn’t have. Unless Urien shifted right here in the park, grabbed Sam gently, and flew high enough for the pattern to emerge…
No. That would violate every council protocol and probably give Sam a heart attack.
The sun touched the horizon, spilling red across the sky. Sam stood among the flowers, oblivious to the declaration blooming at his feet.
Urien’s shoulders dropped.
“Are you okay?” Sam stepped closer, concern creasing his forehead. “You look…did I say something wrong?”
“No.” Urien forced himself to meet Sam’s eyes. “You said exactly what I hoped you’d…”
He stopped. That was a lie. He’d hoped Sam would somehow see the pattern, recognize his name, and understand what Urien was offering.
Sam looked uncertain for a moment, then, without warning, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Urien’s waist.
The hug was quick, clearly impulsive, and slightly awkward. Sam’s head barely reached Urien’s shoulder. His jumper smelled like coffee and vanilla, and his warmth soaked through Urien’s shirt where they pressed together.
Urien froze, afraid to move, afraid to breathe wrong and shatter the moment.
“Thank you.” Sam’s voice was muffled against Urien’s chest. “For sharing this with me.” He squeezed once, then stepped back, cheeks pink. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s done in a while. Maybe ever.”
Our Treasure touched us willingly.
Urien’s dragon purred with bone-deep satisfaction. The heart stone blazed hot beneath his shirt, probably glowing through the fabric, but Sam had already turned back toward the garden.
“I should let you go,” Sam said, adjusting his glasses again. That nervous tell Urien had noted during their surveillance. “You probably have dinner plans or…”
The hug had lasted maybe five seconds. Sam’s warmth against his chest, the trust in that impulsive gesture, and the quiet “thank you for sharing this with me” should have felt like victory. And it did, gods it did.
But underneath the joy, there was a definite ache. Sam had loved the garden without understanding it, had admired the colors and completely missed the declaration written in living flowers because humans didn’t have wings, and couldn’t see the world the way dragons did.
A century of courtship tradition, thousands of years of dragon culture, and it all fell flat because Urien had forgotten the most basic truth - Sam wasn’t like them – and he’d never be like them, even if he accepted the bond.
Urien had built something beautiful in a language their Treasure couldn’t read, and Sam’s kindness somehow made the failure hurt worse.
But even knowing that, Urien wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
“Stay.” The word escaped before Urien could stop it. “Please. Until the light fades completely.”
Sam smiled, soft and surprised. “Yeah. Okay.”
They stood together as the sun disappeared, painting the garden in shades of violet and shadow. Sam pointed out how different flowers closed at different times, asked questions about care and maintenance, and laughed when Urien admitted he’d bribed the council with playground repairs.
The gesture might have failed. Sam hadn’t seen his name written in blooms. But standing beside their Treasure while he admired their work, feeling the warmth of his impulsive hug still pressed against Urien’s chest - it was precious and definitely worth three days of planting.