Chapter 131 Nothing Worth Having Is Easy
Damien
I sit with Paul’s dragon because that's all I really can do. He’s curled near the edge of the gardens, massive head resting against the stone path, wings slack, tail stretched out. His breathing comes uneven and shallow, where it should be deep and steady. He looks smaller like this. Not in size but in spirit. A creature built to take up space, now folded inward on himself like he’s trying to disappear without actually leaving. I lower myself beside him, back settling against the solid slope of his shoulder, and he doesn’t flinch or shift. He just exhales, a long, tired sound that fogs faintly in the cool air. For a moment, I say nothing. I let the garden exist around us. The quiet clink of dishes being cleared farther off. The soft hum of voices. The sound of children laughing freely.
“You know,” I say eventually, eyes on the frost-soft grass, “Bella didn’t exactly like me when we met.”
One amber eye cracks open, turning toward me with mild interest.
“She tolerated me,” I amend. “At best. Thought I was arrogant, dangerous, a complication she didn’t ask for.”
A low rumble vibrates through his chest. Agreement, if I had to guess.
“My dragon knew before I did,” I continue. “Not that it helped. He was smug about it, actually. Still is.” I snort quietly. “She challenged me at every turn. Questioned everything. Refused to be impressed by rank or fire or the fact that I could level a mountain if I felt like it.”
I smile faintly, the memory warm and sharp all at once.
“She didn’t fall into my arms. Didn’t soften just because I wanted her to. She only trusted actions, time and consistency. She watched what I did when it mattered and decided for herself what it meant.”
I glance down at him, tracing a shallow groove in the stone with my fingers.
“That part was terrifying.”
His nostrils flare. The rumble this time is deeper, slower, rolling through him like thunder.
“I wanted to protect her,” I say. “She wanted to stand on her own... and we were both right.” My voice drops a fraction. “It took a long time for us to meet in the middle. Longer for me and my dragon to understand that love isn’t something you claim just because it exists.”
I lean my head back against his shoulder.
“It’s something you earn. Over and over again. Every day you wake up and decide to keep choosing the same person.”
Silence settles between us, thick but steady. The kind that lets the truth sit where it lands.
“And none of it was easy,” I finish quietly. “But nothing worth having ever is.”
Paul’s dragon exhales again, a breath so long it pushes warm air across the stone and up my spine. He closes his eye, settling more fully against the ground, but his ears twitch. Once. Twice. Then slowly they lift. I hear it too. Her crying cuts through the garden raw and uncontained. She doesn’t bother hiding it because it’s already broken past that point. Paul’s dragon’s head lifts. His body tenses with focus.
“I think,” I say gently, nudging his shoulder with my own, “she needs her mate.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. Hope flickers behind his eyes, faint and uncertain, like a flame that’s been blown low too many times to trust it’ll hold. His chest expands slowly. He pushes himself upright with care, wings shifting to avoid knocking over a nearby table, tail curling inward as if he’s suddenly very aware of how large he is and how much damage that size could do if he isn’t careful. He takes one step. Then another. He moves toward the sound slowly. Each step measured, each breath controlled, heat dialled back to something gentle and safe. I follow at a distance, not close enough to intrude, not far enough to miss anything. Call it curiosity. Bella has already scooted away by the time we round the corner, and Ashlyn sits on a stone bench beneath one of the garden trees, shoulders shaking, face buried in her hands. Her hair has come loose from whatever attempt she made to tame it earlier, strands sticking to her cheeks with tears. Paul’s dragon lowers his massive head until it rests near her feet. She looks up and sniffles once with a broken smile.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
He purrs. The sound is deep and resonant, rolling through the ground and the bench and straight into her bones. He nudges her foot gently with his muzzle, carefully like he’s afraid of startling her even now. She laughs, broken and wet, and presses her hand to his scales.
“You’re dramatic,” she says hoarsely.
He agrees enthusiastically, nudging her again, harder this time, his tail giving a hopeful little sweep against the grass.
Bella steps up beside me, watching with soft eyes. “Looks like things might work out.”
“I would hope so,” I murmur, taking her hand and guiding her away before we ruin the moment by witnessing too much of it.
By the time we return to the gardens, breakfast is winding down. The staff have cleared the plates, stacked the cups, and children chase each other between tables, laughter bursts out without hesitation. Elders gather their wraps and walking sticks, moving with careful confidence. Guards fold tables and stack benches. Servants distribute water and packs. Someone adjusts a scarf. Someone else checks on a neighbour’s boots without being asked. The tension that once lived here has gone. In its place is nervous excitement, anticipation and possibility. I step forward, letting my presence gather attention without force.
“Alright,” I call, voice carrying easily. “Finish up.”
Movement slows, and heads turn my way.
“If you’re ready,” I continue, smiling as I look over them, “we’ll start the walk.”
A ripple of excitement moves through the crowd.
“We’re not rushing,” I add. “We’ll take it at a pace that suits everyone. There’s time, there’s space, and there’s a place waiting for you when you're ready.”
I pause, letting the words settle.
“So,” I say, lifting my chin slightly, fire warm and steady in my chest, “are you ready to find a home?”
For a heartbeat, no one speaks... Then someone cheers, and a child raises both hands. An elder nods. A woman squeezes her partner’s hand. Boots shuffle into place, packs are lifted and faces turn toward the mountain path. Bella slips her fingers through mine. They’re ready and so are we.