Epilogue
Gillam
Three years later
One tale says that the young king arrived at the palace riding a silver dragon, his pregnant belly adorned by glowing sapphires, the sword in his hand ablaze.
The dragon ripped Buer’s headsmen apart and devoured them.
When the prince decapitated Buer with one swing of his burning sword, the crown appeared on his head, shining like the sun.
We don’t contradict the stories since they help to sustain my rule.
Of course, the reality was less heroic. Late in the evening, we landed on the balcony at the royal hall, and I climbed down Fergus’s back, facing Buer while Fergus hovered behind me, shielding me with his wing.
None of Buer’s men dared to raise a weapon against us.
Fergus snarled, I stepped into the hall, and they knelt, lowering their heads.
When Buer spotted the dragon, his face turned grey, his eyes bulging out of his head.
“The grim reaper is here!” he yelled.
Maybe his own cruelty drove him insane. He threw himself off the balcony, and his body broke on the stone pavement below.
At first, people were afraid. Some said I’d been seduced by black magic, and others feared the dragon’s rule would be even worse than Buer’s. But as weeks passed, peace returned to the land and to the minds of my people.
Fergus and I were wed at the palace chapel, and I did wear a sapphire jewel over my stomach. The festivities seemed to chase away any remaining worry, and the entire country breathed a sigh of relief.
Our firstborn son arrived the first day of the new year. As my mate promised me, I wasn’t in pain at all. He made love to me, stretching me open and making me come until the very end. He held me in his arms when I gave birth, lost in indescribable pleasure.
Hartley is almost three years old, and Fergus is out above the forests with him, teaching him to fly.
Sitting in a low armchair on the balcony, I rub my round stomach, our second son growing in me.
I look at the horizon. The sun is slowly setting, and I smile when I spot two dark silhouettes soaring across the orange sky.
The big dragon slowly descends toward the palace while the small one flutters behind him unevenly.
Hartley shifts as soon as his feet touch the ground.
“Papa! Did you see?” he calls, running toward me.
I lift him onto my lap, and he hugs my neck.
“I did. You can fly.”
“I can. Big dragon. Big.”
I chuckle. “Yes, you will be. Big and brave.”
My mate rests his head against my side and wraps his wings around us, shielding us from the evening breeze.
The End