She belonged withhim.
Fourteen
Midas croucheddeep in the bowels of his cave, tail curved protectively around the cache of gifts he had gathered for Elowen. He stared at the flower crown she had once given him. It had long since withered, nothing more than dry straw, but he had kept it anyway.
Midas looked down at the claws, massive and gleaming, made for survival, not for gentleness. Not suitable for holding something so small and fragile as her.
Elowen had touched him gently. Taught him words. Smiled when she saw him. Midas ached to give her even more of him, something real she could see and touch and that could touch her back without fear of harming her. Something that did not have to hide in the shadows of the trees.
Midas moved deeper into his cavern, into the very heart of the cave, where the warmth of the magic of ages past beat like the heart in his chest.
His wings were nervously curled into his sides, and his breath was low and heavy. Midas trembled with doubt as he called on that ancient magic of the dragons.
He wanted to be closer to her, and once the thought sparked in his mind, it could not be extinguished.
Midas closed his eyes. Pain lanced through his spine, his large, strong bones folding in on themselves. His skull reshaped to be narrower. The teeth in his jaw receded into his gums until they reformed mostly blunt. His scales drifted apart and then back together again, like a cracked stone expanding and contracting with the seasons. His wings grew smaller, but they did not shed, nor could he lose his tail, which curled behind him and whipped side to side through the pain. His horns still protruded from the top of his head, and he grew…hair. Long, unruly, black as a starless sky as hers was, for it was the only shape he knew; the only beauty he had ever learned to admire.
When he opened his eyes again, he stood shakily on two legs. Tall, trembling, sweating. Naked except for the jagged patches of scales across his center and shoulders that he could not change. His claws were still there, sharp at the end of shaking human-sized fingers.
He was…small. So very small.
It was horribly uncomfortable. Unnatural. And yet still, he hoped Elowen would find it suitable—that she would understand why he did this.
Midas tested his smaller wings, which ached because they were so heavy compared to his smaller, human-sized back muscles. It took all of his effort to move his feet from the ground, and he could only manageto fly for a moment before he stumbled to his boney knees, landing in a pile of gold coins which seemed to mock him in this form.
He felt weak and unsteady, but he did not try to shift back. Instead, he started toward the lake.
He found her there, of course, but he could not bring himself to reveal his new form to her. She stood in the sun, humming softly as she examined the leaves on a creeping vine. Lost in herself, she did not hear his approach.
Midas looked at her, not as a beast, not as a shadow, but something as close to equal as he could manage. He stepped nearer, his clunky human-like feet making more noise than he was used to. She turned, hearing him at last, and when her eyes met his, she gasped, dropped her satchel, and took a purposeful step back.
Midas tried to form words in his strange human-like throat, but it came out as a rumble, a growl. He tried again, wheezing out a sound.
“Mm–Mi–Midas.”
Elowen went even more still than she was before. She stared at him, wide eyed, though not with fear. It was something else, but he could not put a word to it.
Then, she crumpled. Not to the ground, but into herself. Her shoulders began trembling. Her hands covered her mouth as tears welled and spilled down her flushed cheeks.
Midas panicked then. He stepped back in shame. His head lowered and his heart raced uncomfortably.Did I hurt her? Did I say it wrong? Why does she cry?
He opened his mouth to try and form any of the words he knew.Safe. Me. Dragon.None of them came out.
But Elowen surged forward, and to his completeastonishment, she touched him. She threw her frail arms around the curve of his neck and buried her face in his half-scaled flesh, sobbing softly.
Midas did not know what to do, so he froze. Every muscle locked into place, trying to understand. But then her warmth began to soak into him, and she did not move. She was so fragile. So soft. An ache bloomed from his chest as he felt her shake against him.
He did not know this strange gesture, but he knew it wasn’t pain. She wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t running, she wasclingingto him.
Midas shifted slightly, then awkwardly curled his new arms around her.Like this?he wondered.Is this what I’m meant to do?
She stayed like that in his arms, crying. He took a deep breath and tried a new word: “Elowen,” he said. She pulled back to look at him. He repeated her name again, more confidently this time. She nodded, still crying.
“Yes. Yes, I’m Elowen,” she said, giving him that soft smile he had come to adore. Her eyes roamed this new form of his. She did not look away from the horns or the wings or the tail. She did not flinch at the scales that decorated his body. Her fingers lifted, and she tenderly ran the tips over a patch of scales at his collarbone. The touch sent shivers down his spine.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, and Midas thought she might have been speaking to herself, so he did not answer.
She wrapped her arms around him again, resting her head on his chest. She held him like she had done before,and he returned it as carefully as he could, minding his claws.
