My baby daughter is a dragon

Frey was training in the castle courtyard with a heavy practice broadsword. His eye still hurt. Jimmer had made his feelings very clear about the secrecy with which they had handled all matters related to dragons. Three elven soldiers were injured and much of the upper sector of the city was destroyed, as well as part of the castle's facade. And Jimmer blamed him for not telling him that Lady Meracina was a dragon, nor about his suspicions about the cardinal of Atyr. In the end, the man with the markings turned out to be the real cardinal, his name was Celhyun. King Alistor and Runa had had several meetings with him and the dignitaries of Pellegrin, while he had decided to stay out of it, lest he make more mistakes. As he understood it, they had revealed the nature of the dragons to them. Jimmer had found and interrogated the dragon woman before their argument. Thank the Goddess her devotion to Eri had prevented her from turning against them.

There would be another meeting in the afternoon. Runa would be getting ready...

Runaesthera was having a terrible hair day, a horrendous dress day, and an overall awful day. She was furious with her husband. Wasting the little time they had left together on stupid fights because she couldn't make him understand that what had happened wasn't his fault. He insisted on missing state meetings and talked about resigning his rank as high general. That friend of his, Jimmer, hadn't helped, forcing him to reveal everything they knew about dragons. No matter how right he was, it wasn't fair. It was she who had insisted on lying about Meracina, they hadn't even told her father until shortly before the incident. Frey had actually hated the idea until he considered the danger to Eri and her teacher. Among his own generals, there were many who saw all dragons as monsters. And after the battle, everything was going to get worse. Although... maybe revealing the secret was necessary if there was ever going to be peace, and not extermination. The real cardinal had been scandalized, even despite his role in the attack. She couldn't blame him, a dragon prince had intercepted his caravan and forced him to pretend in order to find Eri, he had reason to be wary.

And while that fool Frey just trained, feeling sorry for himself. Runa wanted to make Frey´s eyes even.

The healing sessions on his ribs weren't enough. Each swing of the greatsword sent bursts of pain throughout his body. It felt good, like a much-needed redemption. Every time he thought of Eri and that knife... When had he started to worry so much? Exhausted, he set his heavy practice sword aside and went to drink some water.

Eight years ago.

Frey took Runa in his arms for the first time. Never before had fighting a dragon been so worthwhile. Until that day, every severed head had left him empty, but his first wound, on the other hand, had led him down the path of meeting none other than a princess. Blood rushed to his face as he tried to remember the dance lessons Jimmer had given him.

She was so small, it was hard to believe that hours before she had knocked him down with one hand. She wasn't behaving like she had then, or even like she had a few minutes ago while calling him a fool and buttoning his jacket. She was letting herself be led and it seemed to him that she trembled at times. Was he being too intimidating? Was she cold in that low-cut dress? The thought led him to look, just a little, "Her eyes, focus on her eyes," Jimmer's voice reprimanded him in his memory.

It was of little use, she was avoiding his gaze as they moved smoothly around the ballroom. He was ruining everything.

Runaesthera let herself be guided by the captain whose name she was embarrassed not to be able to pronounce, or even remember. The music was beautiful, but she could no longer hear it. If she could follow the rhythm, it was because he was leading her well, or so she thought. She was only thinking about the conflict between how much he attracted her and the fact that she objectively shouldn't be attracted to him. He was so bad at expressing himself, so careless, he thought he was clever, those were the worst. He had let himself get hurt to get close to her...

But at the same time, he tried so hard. He spoke with extreme propriety to avoid offending her, he moved around the dance floor slowly, as delicately as a man of his build could. He was willing to look like a fool just to get close to her, those were the best. After all, he had let himself get hurt to get close to her...

She didn't want to look him in the eyes, to feel them on her, especially when he was obviously looking at her cleavage. It made her tremble with anticipation.

Frey began to relax, it seemed he was getting the hang of this dancing thing. Maybe he could try something risky, the end of the melody was approaching...

With the last notes, he dared to lean forward while holding her as he had seen others do at the end of dances. His eager foot landed on her dress, the great difference in height causing her to lean too far back. The princess lost her balance, only managing to stay on her feet because he was already holding her.

The look she gave him as he helped her regain her balance filled him with shame. He didn't know what to say, she wasn't angry, she looked at him like one looks at a child who has made a terrible drawing that they are very proud of. She placed that small, delicate hand with which she had knocked him down on his shoulder, then caressed his face. The sensation was something unknown to him. He took that hand with his own and they finally looked at each other.

She was looking at him. All it had taken for her to dare to return his gaze was that stumble. Now what? What should she say? Why didn't he say anything? Where were they? For a moment, she forgot everything around her...

A loud clearing of the throat brought her back to reality.

"My daughter," Orcish potbellies, Dad, why now? "I see the captain has finally found you. We have been waiting for you for a long time, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry, Father. My maid convinced me to wear a different outfit than usual and I'm afraid she didn't take into account the time it would take to prepare it."

"I see, I see. I deduced it when I noticed how anxious Captain Freydelhart was." Freydelhart! She would make sure not to forget it this time... wait a minute...

"Father, what are you saying? Don't insinuate things to our honorable soldier. Captain..." OH FOR ALL THE GOBLINS! "Frey, could you please bring me some wine from the table over there?"

He obeyed, a good sign.

"Father," she said without hiding her embarrassment, "I wasn't-" A paternal hand was raised to indicate that she should listen.

"My girl, act quickly, we learned from your mother how ephemeral humans are. If you are going to find your happiness right there, make the most out of every moment you can, don't get lost in shame, fear, or indecision."

Was it that obvious? She didn't want to admit it, but...

Frey picked up two glasses of wine, walking very slowly. On the one hand, he knew they had purposely sent him away, and on the other, he had become too nervous about the situation. What did the king want? Was he advising her not to set his sights on someone of such low birth? In theory, Frey was the Count of Cormin, he could claim the title when he turned eighteen, he had the document the king gave him as a child. He hated that idea, all his life he had avoided the company of nobles, titles disgusted him. Besides, he wasn't sure that a county would raise him to a level to woo the princess. Goddess, Jimmer was right, he had been smitten. He had known her for a day, she had yelled at him half of that day, and he was already thinking of betraying his principles to harbor hopes of a future with her...

He would find a way, the first thing was to win her favor, without that everything else was useless.

He approached Princess Runaesthera, holding out a glass as elegantly as he could.

"Thank you very much, Captain," she said, her smile more beautiful than before. He couldn't understand why. "Oh, but please be careful, it seems yours has cracked."

The glass in his left hand had an obvious crack running through it from where he was holding it. It had been him, no doubt. He was still ruining things. How did he expect to get close to the princess if he couldn't even hold a glass?

She smiled at him again, took the glass from his right hand, and led him to a table.

That night, she asked him a thousand questions and answered the thousand he had. Despite his insecurity, he was able to understand that subtly, they were telling each other where and when they could meet. She now knew he would be on leave the following week, he knew that she always walked through the square on days off, and the others practiced magic in the upper district. They shared the habits of their respective authority figures...

Today.

Frey looked at the glass from which he was drinking. Thick molded crystal, something worthy of an elven forge, a simple, functional design, as he was, of a beautiful and intricate material, as she was. He started walking...

Runa finally looked decent. She had been too distracted to get ready properly, luckily it wasn't a gala event. How long had it been since she had to get ready for meetings and events? She had reached a hundred and four years old barely needing the maids and now it seemed she had to request more.

It was him, it was his eyes. He looked at her like that with any clothes she wore, but she loved his eyes when he noticed any change in her and even more so when he liked that change, he didn't know how to hide it. But if he wasn't going to be there, what was the point? Maybe she had already gotten used to it, or maybe she had the hope that he would shake that stone head of his and show up.

Eight years ago. A week after the dance.

"Stubborn orc!" Runa was hitting Frey on the head with one of her shoes. The sand on the beach next to the port of Artemia burned her bare foot, but she didn't give a damn. "Why didn't you go to the banquet last night?"

"Runa, wait, please." No way, it had happened, she had called him Frey so many times that he had dared to call her by her pure name, as if they were intimate. He barely defended himself from her attacks. "I don't have the rank to attend an event like that on my own."

"You're a count, you piece of troll! Yes, my father told me, and don't give me the excuse of your clothes, I know you already have your new uniform. Answer me, why didn't you go? I was waiting for you, I..."

She had gotten dressed just for him. She hadn't danced or talked to anyone because she was waiting for him...

Frey couldn't tell Runa how much he hated titles, but that wasn't the only problem. He hadn't forgotten his mistakes at the dance in her honor. If he showed up alone, without Jimmer's support, he wouldn't know what to do. It was impossible for her to notice him in an environment like that. In the end, his fear had gotten the better of his determination, perhaps for the first time.

"I... I'm sorry, I can't give you a satisfactory explanation." The red in Runa's face said it all. Frey found it attractive that despite her dark complexion, her anger or embarrassment was always evident. "I just didn't want to..."

"You didn't want to what? You didn't want to be with me?" He could almost see the tears in her eyes, he couldn't let her think that.

"No, I..." He didn't have the right words, he didn't know how to finish his sentence.

"There you go again," she told him. "You always run away or hide. In a week of seeing each other every day, you haven't said it once. I'm not satisfied with it being obvious, I don't care if it's not perfect, I want to hear from you what you feel for me."

He stood there in the middle of an empty beach in front of the most beautiful woman in the world, who had given him seven wonderful days and who was asking him something as simple as to tell her that he loved her. He had been in front of giant beasts that breathed fire and cursed their wounds, he could face that with a jump and a swing of his sword. This was too difficult for him.

One of Runa's hands glowed with a scarlet light while in the other gusts of wind formed whirlwinds. With bold movements, she drew sand into the whirlwinds while using the fire of her other hand to turn it into a drop of crystal the size of her fist. She continued to move her hands to shape it, in a few minutes she had something resembling a small glass cup. It was a little denser on one side, and the whirlwinds had made its shape irregular. It would certainly work for drinking, but it couldn't be considered a beautiful object. She placed it in Frey's hands, who noticed that she had gotten small burns.

"Are you okay?" he wanted to say when he saw her hands.

"Shut up, you fool, take it, it's for you. My mother taught me how to make them, they've never turned out well for me, in over eighty years this is the best I can do. Will you reject it?"

Frey didn't know if he understood what she was trying to tell him, but the same absurd courage that flooded him in combat arose like a fire spreading through a dry wasteland, burning his insecurity to ashes.

"Runa," he said, taking the crystal cup with one hand and the beautiful half-elf's waist with the other, "I love you."

"Wait, what?" What was he talking about? It was too soon, besides, she didn't want him to touch her, she was still angry...

"Runaesthera Verrin der Artemia," this madman was going to say it, "by the tradition of the Goddess, and the law of the King, I ask you to grant me the right to claim your hand in marriage."

She broke free, knocking him down with the most intense slap she had ever given. He fell, protecting the little crystal cup, idiot, it wouldn't have broken if it had fallen on the sand.

"You piece of idiot." She herself couldn't believe she was using real insults, what would her mother say if she saw her? But her emotions emulated the magic she had used to make the cup, they were like fiery whirlwinds in her head and heart. "I accept."

The man looked up at her from the ground, eyes wide, unblinking. "Are you serious?"

She crouched down to take the cup from him. "Yes, just let's not mention it to anyone for a while, but if you don't want me to regret it, think about this gift. You don't need to do everything right, I just ask that you be there for me, despite your mistakes or mine..." They stood up together, face to face, their first kiss came after making that promise of eternal love. They were truly clumsy, both of them, yet that spontaneous kiss had been perfect. "And by the way, that declaration was terrible, too formal, without witnesses. And how do you invoke the tradition of the Goddess if you don't have a proper offering with you? When we tell Dad, you'll have to do much better."

Today

Runa came out of her chambers in her simple dress that had been so hard to make look good, and her unruly hair perfectly tamed.

He was waiting for her. He was wearing his training clothes, he had been sweating, he smelled bad, he didn't even have a shirt on... he was absolutely perfect. They didn't say anything, she kissed him on the cheek, smiled at him mischievously.

"Come on," she said in an authoritative voice, her princess pose activated. "I'm not going to wait for you to get ready, the meeting is about to start. I expect you to behave accordingly and be useful. You're the prince now."

He offered her a bare, sweaty arm, and she accepted it.

When King Alistor saw the spectacle of his daughter and son-in-law entering the meeting room, he brought his fingers to his brow and caressed the head of his granddaughter who would be present this time.

"My child, what parents you have found yourself."