Chapter 9: A Drakion Matter

She had almost died—literally smashed her face into the pavement. But of course Fenrir had to step in with his “little game,” dragging her back from the dead—literally—just to make her commit not one, but two murders. And just when she thought she might finally catch her breath, she was told she was a Drake.

Not just an heiress. The heiress.

To an oversized financial empire, to a name as heavy as a leaden throne.

Nothing less.

A tired groan escaped her. No pain. Not yet. Just that creeping, gnawing migraine drilling into her temples as each piece of the puzzle slid back into place—crooked.

"So then… Grandma…?" she said, recalling a part of the documentary.

"Yes," her mother confirmed without hesitation.

Elizabeth III had died giving birth to her. Winter, the father, hadn’t coped and had buried himself in work, abandoning his own daughter. At least, that was the official version fed to the media.

Blanche had always had trouble believing it. Her mother, a former party girl? Hard to picture. There had never been a single drop of alcohol in the house. Kiyan used to tease her about it. Well… not for a while now. He didn’t drink either.

She had grown up in luxury, lulled by high-society parties, whims, and fake smiles. A brat in the making—that’s what Blanche had thought when she saw her in the documentary. The kind of girl she would have hated. And to think it was her own mother.

But that was nothing compared to what came next. Something so enormous Blanche felt like she might dissolve on the spot.

"Sweetheart… the Drakes are also… dragons. Real dragons. With fangs, scales, wings. Humans who can turn into fire-breathing monsters. Your grandfather, him, he’s an ice dragon."

" What?"

That was all she managed to say. Her internal hard drive had just fried. System error. Corrupted file.

" This world is inhabited by magical creatures. They come from another dimension: the Otherworld. They live among us, hidden. And yes… magic is real."

Blanche blinked, stunned.

"This Otherworld again… And by “creatures,” what exactly do you mean?"

"Fairies. Elves. Vampires. Dragons…"

"Orcs? " she asked, almost against her will.

"Yes, those too."

She closed her eyes for a second. She was already on the ground. She couldn’t fall any lower.

" Wait, if the Drakes are dragons… You are one? I’m… a dragon?"

"Yes. But I’ve never transformed. Otherwise they would have found me quickly. I don’t even know what I look like in my draconic form… Male dragons can have children with human women, but those children are always human. A female, though, always gives birth to a dragon. So yes, you are a drakion."

Exhausted, her mother went on, somewhat disjointed:

" It was at a cousin’s wedding that she learned the truth: her father was a dragon. The bride-to-be, preparing to become the perfect wife, had told her she needed to be ready for her wedding night."

Because yes, that mattered.

"Luckily, I was already pregnant with you at the time. Otherwise… I might have triggered my draconic heat."

"Sorry—what?"

"Drakion women, after their first time, go into heat every month. Like periods, but far worse. Around the full moon. For 40 to 72 hours, they have to mate with a drakion… Otherwise, the pain is unbearable. I found that out after you were born. I’d already run away, so I had to improvise."

"You mean… a stranger? And what if you prefer a human?"

Her mind was racing.

"That’s why our futures are often decided in advance. We don’t really have a choice. But you still have a little time…"

Blanche wondered whether it was worth reminding her she’d been the same age when she got pregnant.

"How bad… is the pain?" she whispered.

Silence fell. Brutal. Cutting. Elsa shot her a look heavy with memories she would rather forget. Her reptilian pupils shimmered.

"Worse than death. Like being flayed alive. I didn’t last long. During heat, we emit very powerful pheromones. The first male dragon nearby… came. He literally smashed down the apartment door. I barely had time to put you in your crib. He even took care of you while I recovered."

Blanche grimaced. Too many images for her overactive imagination.

"And now… how do you manage?"

"I go see him when I need to."

"For sixteen years? Every month?!" Blanche choked.

How had she never noticed?

"That’s why I sent you to boarding school. I thought it was to be with Eva!"

"I didn’t know how to tell you. So… I let you believe that."

God… Naive. She had been so naive. She, the “genius,” the gifted kid, the brilliant student. What a joke.

" So you have to… do that with him, for several days? And you never got pregnant again?"

Elsa rolled her eyes.

"It’s very hard for dragons to conceive. Most are sterile. One birth every ten years, roughly. Your father must have had exceptional genes. And getting pregnant outside of heat is almost impossible. So on the first try, you can imagine… And no, no need to repeat the act. It’s enough to be… satisfied."

Blanche stared at her, stunned.

"Is that why you never had a boyfriend?"

She had judged her. Thought her mother was avoiding love, or incapable of loving again. That she felt unworthy. What nonsense. She had even tried to push her to go out, meet someone… before realizing no man could compete with Kiyan. With a best friend like him always around.

"I never needed one. But I often thought about giving you a real father. Someone to take care of you. Until Kiyan… took pity on me and took you under his wing. Then out of love for you."

"And I thought you were just running from love…"

Elsa shrugged, brushing the idea aside.

" Father wasn’t an example of fidelity. He had… concubines. Dominant males “have to” relieve females in heat. Our pheromones drive them mad. There’s one female for five males. And like I told you, we rarely survive our first child…"

A cold shiver ran through Blanche. Her mother had come close to death. She had almost been born an orphan.

"And… your drakion? Doesn’t he want to be with you?"

"No. Too complicated. It would put his life in danger."

"Is that why we kept moving? You were running from your past?"

"Winter searched for me for years. Until I paid a necromancer for a silence spell. As long as I don’t reveal my name, no one can know who I am. Even if I’m in the same room as my father."

Blanche nodded. Of course. A necromancer. Totally normal.

"And my father? You never found him?"

" I tried. But with just his first name—Nathaniel—it was… complicated. Without the Drake name to open doors, I was stuck. "

She explained that was all she knew. If Blanche wanted to meet him, they could hire someone to find him.

"So I’m not a Callahan. And my real name is…?"

" You are a Drake. And by tradition, your name is Elizabeth V Blanche Drake. You’ll always keep that name, even if you marry. The draconic dynasty comes first. Especially ours."

They sure don’t think small of themselves.

And suddenly… she understood her mother. Not completely. But a little more.

Her absences. Her silence. Her coldness.

It wasn’t neglect. It was… survival.

And above all, she understood a truth that tore through her:

"I’ve… never really been human."

A drakion… and a Player? Did the powers mix? Cancel each other out? She would have to find answers.

And Fenrir seemed to be the only one who could give them to her…