“He’ll think we’re deranged,” Urien said quietly. “Or dangerous.”
The silence stretched, broken only by the snap and hiss of logs in the fireplace. Urien’s dragon didn’t care about human sensibilities or logic. He wanted their Treasure safe, claimed, home with them, where he belonged. The urge to shift, to fly to that cottage and stand guard, made his muscles ache with tension.
“So what do we do?” Rux finally asked. “Nothing?”
“No, not nothing.” Mabon turned the laptop around, showing a website titled ‘Modern Dating Etiquette.’ “We court him properly. One of us is going to the café tomorrow to order coffee and make conversation.”
“Which one of us?”
/~/~/~/~/
Breakfast wasn’t the slow-paced, comfortable routine it usually was.Urien pushed eggs around his plate, his appetite buried beneath the constant thrum of his heart stone. Across the table, Mabon hadn’t touched his coffee. Rux had already finished two servings and looked ready to demolish a third.
“We just tell him.” Rux set down his fork with enough force to make it clatter. “Simple. Direct. We’re dragons, you’re our fated mate, welcome home.”
Mabon’s coffee cup froze halfway to his mouth.
“Done.” Rux spread his hands. “Why complicate things?”
“We talked about this last night. Because humans don’t know dragons exist.” Mabon set his cup down carefully. “If we reveal ourselves to Sam, he’ll think we’re either insane or dangerous. Possibly both.”
“He’ll see the heart stones…”
“And think we’re wearing some kind of projection device.” Mabon’s fingers drummed the table. “Or that we’ve doctored images. There was adocumentary about it. CGI, they called it. Humans explain away what they don’t understand, Rux. They don’t automatically leap to ‘oh, you must be mythical creatures.’”
Rux’s scowl deepened. “So we shift, then, and show him our dragons.”
“In his cottage?” Mabon’s eyebrows climbed. “The one with the low roof and neighbors on both sides? Brilliant plan. Nothing says ‘don’t be afraid’ like a massive dragon crashing through the ceiling at - what time do humans wake up? Seven? Eight?”
“I don’t know. When does the sun rise?”
“That doesn’t mean that’s when humans wake up, Rux.”
Urien let them argue, his mind circling the same problem from different angles. His dragon knew what to do - dragons had been claiming mates since before humans built their first cities. The instinct ran deeper than thought, an imperative carved into his very bones.
Court. Provide. Protect. Simple. Except nothing about this was simple.
“Gifts,” he said, suddenly.
Both Mabon and Rux stopped mid-argument.
“Treasures.” Urien set down his fork, the solution crystallizing. “It’s what dragons have done for millennia when we find our mates. We court them with gifts, show them that we can provide, and that we value them above our hoard.”
Mabon’s expression shifted, considering. “Traditional courtship, in other words.”
“Dragons understand treasure.” Urien’s pulse quickened, his dragon settling slightly at the rightness of it. “We bring him offerings. Let our actions speak before our words.”
“Yes!” Rux slapped the table hard enough to make the silverware jump. “Gold. Jewels. I’ve got those cufflinks with the rubies - three carats each. And the emerald necklace from Prague. Or wait, what about that golden chalice from…”
“No.” Mabon shook his head. “Think about it. Sam works at a coffee shop and lives in a little cottage. If we show up with priceless gems, we’ll either terrify him or make him think we’re criminals. Or that we’re trying to buy him, which…” He paused. “Actually, is that what we’re doing?”
“We’re courting him!”
“With expensive gifts we’re presenting without explanation. That’s...that might be the definition of trying to buy someone.”
Rux deflated. “Then what constitutes treasure for a 21st century human?”
Silence fell over the breakfast table.
