Entombed

Chapter 40

Forty

Elowen sat in the shallow basin used for bathing, the hem of her underdress hitched up around her thighs. Her hair was unbound, floating slightly behind her as she leaned back, eyes closed, the tension slowly bleeding from her limbs.

She hadn’t had a moment to herself like this in…she couldn’t remember. Maybe never.

Elowen heard bare human footsteps behind her. She opened her eyes and turned just as Midas stepped into view—his humanoid form glowing faintly in the late light, his gold-kissed skin marked by faint traces of onyx scales. His tail trailed quietly behind him, relaxed.

He crouched beside the basin and tilted his head at her, smiling.

“Is Mama enjoying her moment of peace away from her little dragons?”

“I’m bathing,” she corrected with a smirk.

His gaze dropped, sweeping over her exposed legs, the curve of her shoulder. “Then I’ve come to assist.”

“The boys–”

“Are finishing their chores before I take them out flying again.”

Elowen understood. This moment was for them, and there would be no interruptions. Midas reached forward, cupped his hands into the water, and poured it gently down her shoulder. She shivered beneath the warmth, watching the rivulets trail down her skin.

“You’re good at learning,” she whispered. “And teaching too, as we’ve discovered.”

His hands trailed through the water again, then over her arms, gently. Her fingers found his jaw, traced the faint lines of his face.

“It’s been a long time since it was just you and I.”

His eyes softened. “I know.”

She leaned into his hand. “We’ve been so focused on healing…on the boys…”

“And I would do it all again,” he said. “Every second.”

“I would too.” She reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair from her face. “But I’ve missed you.”

He kissed her then. The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything except to be felt.

“I’m right here, my heart,” he whispered against her lips.

Her hands curled around his neck, pulling him closer, and he slid into the basin with her, shifting their bodies so she was resting in his lap as the water sloshed around their thighs. His forehead pressed to hers. His breath was slow and steady against her lips.

“I want more,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and cocked his head to the side in that curious way he did in his dragon form, following him in this state.

“I want to do it again. To build something new.”

Midas stared at her. Not confused. Just stunned by the hope in her voice.

“You…wish for more children?” he asked, voice low.

“I do.” She cupped his cheek. “I loved carrying them. Raising them. Watching them become themselves. And I see how you look at them, Midas. How proud you are. And it would be my honor to fill our pride with so many more of our perfect children.”

His throat moved in a slow swallow. “I would love to have more,” he said. “But you…are you sure, Elowen? The birth…”

He shuddered at the memory. Elowen leaned in, kissed him again—deeper this time. The wet fabric of her dress turned hot between them. She pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart.

“I would go through it all again without a second thought, Midas.”

They stayed like that in the water for a long time—trading kisses and touches, breath warming breath. Their moment winded down just as the twins came looking for them, and Midas left his mate with a loving kiss before taking to the skies with his sons once more.

The cave was dimly lit by the dying fire, its golden light flickering along the walls. The boys had long since fallen asleep, curled into each other like twin seeds tucked into the same earth. Their soft breaths rose and fell in perfect rhythm, wrapped in furs and dreams.

Midas lay behind Elowen on their shared nest of blankets, his arm draped loosely over her waist, his bare chest warm against her back. Elowen shifted slightly, pressing her hand to his where it rested against her stomach.

“Did you mean it?” she whispered.

His voice was low and quiet against the back of her neck. “Mean what?”

“When you said you wanted more children?”

He nodded against her skin. “There is no fire in the world strong enough to burn that wish from me.”

Her breath hitched softly. She turned in his arms to face him, one leg sliding between his, her fingers ghosting over the ridge of his jaw. “I want to carry your children again, Midas. Even knowing what the world is.”

His golden eyes met hers, wide and searching.

“I want it not in spite of the danger,” she said, “but because of the love. Because we made something beautiful, even when the world tried to break it.”

He ran his fingers along her stomach then. “The thought of you full with my child again…” His voice broke into a low hum.

She kissed him—soft and slow, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.

When they pulled apart, breathless, he rested his forehead to hers and whispered, he held her tighter. She rested her head beneath his chin, listening to his steady heart.

One Moon Later

Elowen stirred from sleep, stretching beneath the blankets.

She blinked, yawning softly, and turned to find Midas already awake beside her.

He was in his human form, lying on his side, head propped against one hand.

His golden eyes were fixed on her, and his tail was flicking around playfully with the same mischief in his eyes.

She smiled sleepily. “What?”

He reached out, brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, then slowly let his hand settle over her abdomen. Elowen’s breath caught.

“I think you’re carrying again,” he said gently.

She blinked at him, confused, then laughed. “Midas, how would you know that?”

He didn’t smile. “I smell it,” he said. “Your scent has changed. Only slightly. But it’s there, just like before. I feel it in you like I feel the fire in my throat.”

She stared at him, wonder and disbelief flickering in her eyes.

“It’s too early to tell,” she said, but the words felt fragile now. Thin. “We’ve scarcely been trying for a cycle!”

He only looked at her with an unwavering and proud smile.

“Your body is building something new,” he said. “I would know it anywhere.”

She laid her hand gently over his, resting on her stomach. Her eyes softened. “We should tell the boys. They will be thrilled.”

Later that morning, they sat outside near the lake. The boys were stacking stones, building some imagined fortress, arguing over whose side the turtle they’d found belonged to.

Elowen and Midas sat a few feet away on a flat rock warmed by sunlight. She looked over at him—he gave a small nod.

She turned to the boys. “Can we tell you two something?”

They both looked up, instantly alert. Kalen cocked his head. “Are we in trouble?”

Midas snorted softly. “Should you be?” he mused teasingly. The boys sank playfully into themselves.

Elowen laughed. “No. It’s something…good.” The boys exchanged a look, then trotted over and sat cross-legged in front of her, expectant. “I think we might be adding someone new to our family.”

They blinked. Midas leaned forward, one arm around Elowen’s back, the other resting loosely across his knee. “A sibling,” he clarified.

Kalen’s mouth dropped open. “You mean…a brother or sister?”

“Yes,” Elowen said, smiling. “Your father suspects I might be pregnant.”

“With another dragon baby?” Auric gasped.

Elowen laughed. “Yes.”

There was silence for a moment. The boys looked at each other, then back at their parents. And then—excitement.

Kalen sat up straighter. “Can I teach them how to make fire?”

“I get to name them!” the other shouted.

“No way, I get first pick!”

The morning passed softly after that.

Elowen sat in the grass just beyond the cave, her dress gathered around her knees, a bundle of herbs in her lap waiting to be cleaned of dirt. The boys were nearby, lying flat on their bellies in the sun, drawing on the stone walls with charred rock.

They’d been quieter since the news, though not in a concerning way. It was more like they were trying to understand how their family would change with another member.

Kalen was the first to break the silence. “Where do babies come from?”

Elowen blinked, startled.

He turned to look at her, propping his chin in his hands. “Like…inside you? Like in the stories you tell? Is that real?”

His brother chimed in immediately. “Yeah. You said the baby might be in your belly, but how does it get there?”

Elowen smiled softly. She set the herbs aside and leaned back on her elbows, the sun warming her through the fabric of her dress.

“Well,” she began, “babies do grow inside me. They start very, very small. A piece of me and a piece of your father come together to form something new. And that something grows, a little more each day, until it’s ready to be born.”

The boys stared at her like she was telling the beginning of a fairy tale.

“But how does it grow?” Kalen asked. “Does it eat what you eat?”

“Yes,” she said. “It takes everything from me: food, water, sleep, warmth. It lives off what I give it. When I was pregnant with you both, I was always tired and my stomach never seemed to settle. But it’s all worth it, and your father will watch over me to make sure I have everything I might need. ”

“Is it hard?” Auric asked, brows furrowing.

She nodded slowly. “Very hard. Carrying you two nearly broke my body. It hurt. A lot. But I would do it again a hundred times.”

The boys went quiet again. Kalen rolled onto his side, eyes on her belly. “Will they grow their fire inside you?”

Elowen blinked. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed his palms together inquisitively. “I just think if the baby is a dragon like us, then…maybe it has fire inside it, too. And you get tired because it’s learning to burn.”

Elowen smiled. “I think you might be right.”

“Is that why Papa got so mad when we were hurt?” Kalen’s brother asked suddenly. “Because he saw what we did to you as babies?”

Elowen exhaled slowly. Her gaze turned toward the distant sky.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t say it that way,” she said, thinking his explanation sounded too harsh.

“He watched me struggle to bring you into this world. He saw me bleed, and shake, and scream. And when they hurt you, he knew exactly how much it cost to grow you. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing something that precious. ”

The wind stirred the grass. A hawk cried out far above. Kalen sat up slowly and shuffled across the thin blanket under her until he could curl beside her. His brother followed. They pressed their small bodies against her side, each resting a hand gently over her middle.

Soon after Elowen fell pregnant with her third child, growling filled the cave.

It was low and imperceptible; barely more than a rumble in the chest. It was the sound Midas used to make in his sleep when he dreamt of danger, memories stirring too loud in his bones.

But now, the sound came from the boys.

The first time it happened, Midas had approached Elowen while she was tending the fire—one hand resting absentmindedly on her lower belly, her face serene and drowsy with the quiet exhaustion of growing something new.

He’d reached for her, quick and eager to greet her after returning from a long hunt.

And Kalen growled. He stepped between them, teeth bared, stance wide, like a wolf cub bristling before a shadow.

Midas stopped, startled. The boy blinked, confused by his own reaction—but didn’t step aside. Elowen laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s all right, love. It’s your father.”

Kalen’s body eased slightly, but his eyes stayed sharp.

It happened again two days later. This time, Midas came up behind Elowen while she was hanging herbs near the entrance of the cave. He placed a hand on her back—and both boys turned in unison, their small chests vibrating with the same low, instinctive warning.

It wasn’t born of fear or defiance, but protection. They were guarding their mother.

Elowen chuckled, turning to glance at her mate. “You’re going to have to stop sneaking up on me before they attack.”

Midas didn’t laugh at her teasing, and instead stared at his sons, feeling something inside of him bloom.

And by the week’s end, they were bringing her food.

It was usually small things—handfuls of berries, roots clumsily cleaned, dried mushrooms piled beside her blanket. They hovered when she ate, watching intently, nudging more toward her if she so much as paused.

Elowen shot Midas an amused glance as he returned from cleaning fish at the cave’s entrance, her boys close behind, carrying the baskets for her.

“They’ve declared themselves the official attendants of my womb,” she whispered.

Midas didn’t answer at first. He only crouched beside them, watching as one of the boys carefully pressed a warm stone against her feet to ease her soreness.

Nothing could match the beauty of this: his sons, dragon-blooded and born in a world so cruel, choosing tenderness not because they were told to, but because they had seen Midas love Elowen this way, and so they treated the mother of their pride with the same care and respect.

Because they knew, in their bones, that she was everything to them. Midas reached out and rested a clawed hand on Kalen’s head. The boy looked up, eyes shining.

“You are becoming men,” Midas said softly. “You are learning what it means to protect something not out of fear, but because it is precious.”

Both boys nodded solemnly.

“She’s our mother,” the younger one said. “She made us. She makes more of us.”

“She has fire too,” Kalen added. “Just…a different kind.”

Midas looked at Elowen. Her eyes were wet.