His wings quivered behind him, and his tail curled around her ankles just to be closer. To be touched. To be known. To not be feared.
Fifteen
It wasn’t justone gift anymore. It was many.
A silver comb, because he noticed the knots in her hair. A dark velvet cloak she now slept beneath only when she was with him, because he saw her shiver at the change of the seasons. The many stems of roses because he watched her touch the soft petals.
And food.So much foodthat even Elowen noticed her body began filling out, most noticeable in her face, where she looked less sallow and pale.
Elowen, though young, was not blind to the patterns or the intention. At first, she had believed the gifts were simply a gesture of returned kindness. But she knew now that they weren’t thank-yous. They were offerings.
It felt silly when a thought crossed her mind, that Midas might have been courting her, but it felt that way less so when he had shifted into a form as close to a human as he could manage, just to say her name.
Weeks later, he was near the lake, lapping at theshallows of the water for a drink when she worked up the courage to ask about it.
“Midas?” she asked. He looked up immediately, golden eyes catching hers. “Can I ask you something?”
His head tilted in that strangely elegant way he had when he was curious and trying his best to understand her words. She stepped closer and sat at the lake’s edge next to him.
“Why do you bring me so many things?”
He blinked slowly at her, then he rose to his full height and stepped away from her, a safer distance for him to shift. He hesitated, but finally, with a grunt of effort and a quiet whine of pain, he changed.
His human form stumbled forward, knees folding beneath him for a moment before he caught himself. His chest heaved, muscles trembling faintly under skin that shimmered with scale-patches and long streaks of gold.
His eyes hurt her, because he lookednervous. Not just uncertain—vulnerable. Like she might strike him where he stood. Or reject him. Or any number of horrible things he had endured at the hands of other humans.
“Gift,” he said, voice rough from the change.
“I know,” Elowen said softly, moving closer in the grass. “I know they are gifts. But…why so many? You bring me things every day now. And I—I think I understand what you’re trying to say, but I want to hear it. If you know the words.”
Midas swallowed. His gaze fell to the ground, tail curling around his side in a defensive coil. He looked like a boy who feared being scolded, not a mighty dragon.
Finally, he said: “For you. From me.”
Her throat tightened. “They are beautiful, Midas. But…I can’t take them home with me. You know that.”
He gestured toward the forest, in the direction of her village. “Not home,” he agreed. He thumped his chest proudly. “Home.”
Her eyes burned. He meant himself. His home.His heart.The gifts weren’t just things. They were promises. They were symbols. They were the only way he knew how to express what he was trying to say to her.
She sat beside him, sliding her soft, gentle hand over his claws.
“I think I understand now,” she whispered. Midas looked at her, brow furrowed, waiting. She smiled gently. “You’re not just giving me gifts. You’re asking me to belong. To stay. With you.”
He nodded once, slow and solemn, then flipped his hand over to press their palms together, before lacing his fingers between hers.
They sat there quietly for a while. Elowen sighed as his warmth filled her bones. She shifted to rest her cheek against the hardened scales of his shoulder, but he winced slightly when he adjusted to fit her more comfortably at his side. He shook when he turned his neck or lifted his hands to brush the unruly hair away from his golden eyes. These transformations weighed on him–she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged and the trembling of his breath. His skin did not look thick and strong, it looked almost translucent in the light.
He was human-shaped, but not human, and this form hurt him. Elowen watched as he leaned forward a bit to look at his reflection on the surface of thelake. His face shimmered back at him from the water. Horns, wings, tail, golden eyes that had seen lifetimes. The dragon parts of him had not disappeared, they clung to him, lest he forget what he truly was.
But he had done this—endured this pain, changed his body—for her. He had approached her that day, shy and silent and afraid. She ran her free hand up his arm and turned his face to her with a gentle press to his cheek. His chest rose and fell faster under her gaze.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly. Her thumb stroked away a strand of dark hair and tucked it behind his ear. “You don’t have to change yourself for me.”
He blinked. A flicker of understanding passed across his face, but not the whole of it. He tilted his head, silently asking her to continue, so he could try better to listen.
Elowen tried again, slower. Simpler. He was not unintelligent, but he was learning, and she owed him that as a courtesy. “You are a dragon. I am not afraid of you. You do not have to hurt to be closer to me.”
