This man, who’s been like a brother to me, who’s shared countless adventures and quiet moments, who’s supported me through every challenge our complex family has faced—he’s finally going to experience the indescribable joy of holding his own child. The thought makes my eyes burn with unshed tears of happiness.
I carefully scoop Lee up in my arms, marveling at how completely relaxed he is in his post-mating exhaustion. His trust in me, even unconscious, speaks to the depth of our friendship. I’ve carried him before—through battlefields, away from danger, in moments of celebration—but never when he was this peaceful, this utterly content.
I phase us both back to our home high in the mountains of the Sovereign nest, reality bending around us as we cross the vast distance in the space between heartbeats. We materialize directly in his private chambers, a space that reflects his personality with its clean lines, warm woods, and subtle touches that speak to his connection with the natural world.
With infinite care, I lay him on his comfortable bed, arranging his limbs so he’ll wake without stiffness or discomfort. Being the devoted friend I am—and knowing exactly how dragon mating can affect the body—I rush to our well-appointed kitchen to gather recovery supplies.
I return with a plate laden with his favorite fruits, their natural sugars perfect for replenishing depleted energy reserves, and two large bottles of the mineral water he prefers. These I placecarefully on his bedside table where he’ll find them easily upon waking.
Reaching for the soft blanket folded at the end of his bed, I spread it gently over his sleeping form, tucking the edges with the same care I’ve shown to our children over the years. Let him sleep off this incredible experience in complete comfort and safety.
As I stand back and observe my friend’s peaceful slumber, I’m struck by how profoundly this day has already changed all our lives. Lee is going to wake up as a father-to-be, his deepest dreams finally fulfilled. Mina is carrying new life, her maternal instincts already awakening as her body begins the miraculous process of egg formation.
And I get to be the architect of this happiness, the one who made it all possible through careful planning and unwavering dedication to my family’s wellbeing. The satisfaction that fills me isn’t pride in my cleverness—it’s the deep contentment that comes from serving something greater than myself.
This is absolutely the best day ever, and it’s far from over. I still have two more dreams to fulfill, two more friends to surprise with the gift of impending fatherhood. The thought energizes me like nothing else could, sending me back toward the academy with renewed purpose and barely contained excitement.
Operation Last Clutch is proceeding flawlessly, and every moment brings us closer to the expanded family we’ve all been dreaming of. Time to go hunting for daddy number two.
I phaseinto the upper levels of Ranthor Keep, the ancient stone fortress that houses the academy’s administrative offices. The familiar weight of the massive walls surrounds me as I materialize in the shadowed corridor, my footsteps echoing softly against floors worn smooth by centuries of use.
According to my meticulously kept notes, Callan should be in his office at this time of day. He’s probably buried under the endless paperwork that comes with managing an institution as complex as Shadowcarve Academy. The man has a gift for organization that borders on the miraculous. But even he gets overwhelmed by the sheer volume of details that keep our educational system running smoothly.
Trying not to appear obvious in my intentions proves virtually impossible—my excitement about fulfilling another friend’s dreams threatens to bubble over with every step. I approach his door and knock with what I hope sounds like casual familiarity, waiting for the muffled “come in” that grants me entry.
Pushing the heavy oak door open, I find Callan exactly where I expected him—behind his imposing desk, surrounded by the organized chaos of administrative work. His normally pristine blonde hair is sticking up in several directions, suggesting he’s been running his hands through it in frustration or fatigue.
“What’s wrong, Callan?” I ask with genuine concern as I settle onto the arm of the leather chair positioned in front of his desk,exactly as I would during any normal visit. The familiarity of the gesture is important—I don’t want to tip him off that anything unusual is happening.
The sight of his disheveled state tugs at my heart. This man works tirelessly to ensure our children receive the best possible education, often sacrificing his own comfort and rest to solve problems that would challenge beings with twice his experience. His dedication to our family’s wellbeing deserves recognition and reward.
“Leander had Abraxis cover his classes, and Mina isn’t here either,” he huffs with obvious frustration, and I nod sympathetically while fighting to keep my expression neutral.
He thinks they’re off somewhere engaged in spontaneous intimacy, which isn’t entirely wrong—just not in the way he’s imagining. The irony of his assumption brings me a secret satisfaction that I have to work to conceal.
“You know how Mina gets inspired at the most unexpected times,” I remind him with studied casualness. “Besides, weren’t you in exactly his position last week? Mina disappeared with you for several hours, if I recall correctly.”
I arch an eyebrow with the knowing look that speaks to shared experiences and understanding between friends who’ve all been the recipients of our mate’s spontaneous attention.
Callan’s cheeks flush a brilliant red at the memory, and I can see him reliving whatever intimate encounter he’s remembering. The color spreading across his features is endearing and tells me everything I need to know about how much he treasures those stolen moments with Mina.
“Point taken,” he concedes with characteristic directness.
“How much more work do you have remaining today?” I ask, leaning casually on the corner of his desk while studying the calendar spread before him. Several notes are scribbled in his precise handwriting, though their abbreviated nature makes them incomprehensible to anyone not intimately familiar with academy operations.
“I’m finished for the day. Just feeling a bit tired, that’s all,” he admits, running both hands through his blonde hair in a gesture that speaks to deeper exhaustion than he’s willing to admit. “Several of the little ones haven’t been feeling well lately, and it’s been demanding.”
His concern for our children—but every young one in our care—exemplifies exactly why this man deserves the joy of fatherhood. He’s already proven himself to be a devoted caretaker who puts children’s needs above his own comfort.
“I’ve got exactly what you need,” I announce with carefully controlled enthusiasm. “Let me take you home the fast way.”
I tilt my head and study his expression, noting how readily he accepts the offer. This is proving far easier than I expected—Vaughn definitely won’t fall into my hands with this level of simplicity.
“That would be extremely helpful,” Callan agrees with obvious relief. “Give me just a few minutes to get everything properly organized, and we can go.”
He smiles with genuine appreciation as he shuffles paperwork across his desk, making quick work of the towering stacks with the systematic efficiency that makes him invaluable to our academy’s operations. Watching him work fills me with admiration for his dedication and attention to detail.
When Callan finishes his organizational tasks, he turns off the office lights and stands to stretch his tired muscles. The movement reveals just how much tension he’s been carrying in his shoulders and back.
