Chapter 41
Forty-One
Laughter echoed through the cavern, bright and wild and wholly alive.
It started as a flick of a tail, a playful swipe of a claw. One of the twins, Kalen, had darted beneath Midas’ great foreleg, squealing with delight as Auric launched from a rock ledge and landed squarely on his father’s back with a tiny roar.
Midas twisted his serpentine neck with exaggerated slowness, golden eyes wide in mock offense. He let out a growl, low and rumbly, the kind that once sent whole villages scattering.
The boys only giggled in their dragon forms, having learned to easily shift without the exasperation that plagued their father when he did the same.
You dare challenge me? he said in the old tongue with feigned offense.
They shrieked and fled as he gave chase, wings half-unfurled and scraping the cavern roof, talons tapping against stone as he lunged and rolled with a grace only a creature of his age and size could wield.
Auric was caught first, scooped up in a massive claw and deposited—gently, always gently—into the unrelenting curl of Midas’ tail.
Kalen tried to climb his father’s tail to save his brother, only to yelp when it lifted and flipped him neatly onto his back with a thump of giggling limbs.
They squirmed and rolled and roared their tiny roars, pouncing and biting in mock battle. Their dragon instincts blossomed so easily—those flashes of strength and wildness that pulsed just beneath their baby skin.
Midas gave them the space to stretch into it, and it healed something deep inside him. For the first time in a century, he felt like himself.
His boys didn’t flinch from his size. They weren’t afraid of his fire. They climbed his scales and tangled in his tail and shouted challenges in half-spoken words.
Elowen stood by the hearth, her eyes glowing with fond exasperation as she folded a blanket and called out warnings that went gleefully ignored.
Kalen’s tail knocked over a pile of furs with a triumphant squeal.
Auric scrambled after him on all fours, claws clattering on stone as he pounced.
The two boys were nothing if not chaos incarnate—gold-eyed, fire-blooded, and boundless in energy.
They were strong. Growing fast, but not yet careful of their inhuman size and instincts.
Elowen knelt beside the fire pit, stirring a small pot of stew. Her hair was loose, her sleeves rolled, and though her back was turned, her laughter, light and unguarded, drifted toward her boys like smoke.
Then, too quick to stop, Kalen leapt.
He tackled her from behind with a wild shriek, not yet understanding the weight of his own body. Auric followed suit, giggling, his scaled feet skidding across the stone as he flung his wings around her waist.
They knocked her flat to the floor. A sharp gasp escaped her, the pot clattering nearby. For a breathless second, all was still.
Then Midas was moving.
Enough, he growled, the word firm as thunder.
The boys froze. Midas was across the cave in a heartbeat, kneeling beside Elowen as she caught her breath. She waved him off, coughing once but smiling.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing hair from her face. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
But her laugh, soft as it was, couldn’t hide the tremor in her limbs or the startled flutter of her heartbeat. Her hand felt her middle, and Midas gave her a gentle nudge that told her she had nothing to fear—that they did not do any lasting harm to her or the baby.
Midas turned to the boys. Their shoulders drooped. Kalen looked guiltily at his claws; Auric wouldn’t meet his eyes.
You are not like her, Midas said in the old tongue, the weight of his words sinking deep into the stone. She is soft. Small. You must not treat her as you treat me, especially while she carries a child in her belly. Do you understand?
Kalen blinked. But we were playing.
I know, my son, but you mustn’t play with her with the same energy as you play with me.
They looked down, ashamed, but knowing they were not truly in trouble.
Elowen, ever merciful, reached out and pulled them both into a gentle hug. “It’s alright,” she said with a tired smile. “I can handle a cave full of roughhousing boys. Just…maybe not all at once, alright?”
“I’m sorry, mama. We didn’t mean to hurt you,” Auric mumbled, having shifted back to apologize, his voice so small it made Midas’ chest ache.
“I know, sweetling,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head. “And I love you both, wild claws and all.”
Both boys snuggled close to her, curling up in her lap like oversized kittens. Midas lowered himself beside her. He stroked her arm once with his snout, just to feel that she was warm and unharmed.
“I can handle it,” she whispered again, quieter this time, meant only for him. “But thank you for reminding them. For protecting me.”
His golden eyes met hers, and he nodded. She smiled, leaning into his side.
Later, when the fire had dimmed and the game had worn the boys into soft little puddles of scales and dreams, Midas curled himself into a slow, protective coil.
The twins clambered up his nose like a mountain trail, finding their sleeping place at last between the great ridges of his brow and the base of his horns. One snuggled into the warm space beneath his golden crest, the other curled into the dip above his eyes like a living crown.
Elowen tucked herself against his chest. He wrapped his tail around her without a word. She sighed into the warmth of his scales, brushing a kiss to the underside of his jaw before settling in, her head resting against the rhythmic thrum of his heart.
The boys snored softly. Elowen’s breath slowly evened out. And Midas stayed perfectly still, afraid that if he moved—if he even breathed too loudly—that this impossible, undeserved happiness might all vanish.
His eyes closed, and his heart, ancient and battle-scarred, whispered thanks to whatever gods still listened.