Close enough now that he could hear their breath, two soft rhythms that beat in sync. He watched the rise and fall of their chests. Watched the way they kicked in their dreams. One gave a soft snort and made a sound he’d never heard before—a laugh.
Something clutched at his chest. He lowered his snoutjust enough to feel the brush of warmth from their small bodies.
And then a tiny hand came reaching aimlessly, landing with a soft pat between his nostrils. Midas froze. His son didn’t even open his eyes before he giggled sleepily and went still again.
Elowen stirred.
“Midas?” she whispered groggily. He rumbled back a response, just loud enough for her to know he was there.
She fell still with sleep again in an instant, and it warmed his heart. She trusted him enough with their children to fall asleep so easily, knowing he was so close.
He lay there the rest of the night, head beside his greatest treasures, learning what it meant to be strong in a way that was reserved not for the world, but for his family.
Elowen saton a blanket of fur, twin bundles nestled against her chest. One stirred, a tiny hand stretching open with a soundless yawn before curling again. The other smacked his lips in sleep, a droplet of drool collecting on Elowen’s shoulder.
Midas stood a few paces away. He had taken his human form, the shift leaving his body trembling from the strain. He said nothing. He only stared, eyes wide and molten as they fixed on his perfect sons.
Elowen reached up and brushed a strand of hair from herbrow, her body still exhausted from the toll of birth, but radiant in the firelight. “Come here,” she said gently. “You need to hold them, my heart. Come embrace what we created together.”
Midas didn’t move at first.
“What if I hurt them?” he whispered painfully, as if it had already happened.
“No,” Elowen murmured. “You never could.”
With painstaking care, she lifted the larger of the twins—Kalen—and extended him out in her arms. Midas approached like one would step in a temple, every step heavy with awe. He knelt before her, eyes flicking between Elowen’s steady hands and the tiny creature she carried.
Kalen stirred as he was passed over, his small brow furrowing, lips pressing together in protest. Midas took him with hands that trembled, fingers curled protectively beneath his son’s back and head. The warmth of the boy’s body shocked him. The heartbeat, even more.
So fragile. So real.
Midas bowed his head over the small figure and inhaled deeply. Kalen smelled of his mother’s milk, of warmth, of something ancient and nearly forgotten.
Elowen watched from the nest with the other boy in her arms, quietly watching and forcing her expression to stay steady for him. Midas pressed a kiss to the top of Kalen’s head as she handed him Auric next.
This one stirred immediately in his father’s arms, letting out a squeaky whimper. Midas exhaled a shuddering breath and pulled both twins to his chest, one in each arm, cradled with care that was becoming of the most delicate treasures in his hoard.
He knelt there for a long time. The silence was thickwith emotion. It stretched and shimmered around them like spun gold. When Midas finally looked up, tears streaked his cheeks.
“They are dragons,” he whispered, awed. He turned his head to look at Elowen, as if he were seeing her anew. “You gave them to me,” he said, almost in disbelief. “You gave me a future.”
Elowen reached forward and pressed her forehead to his, their sons between them. “You gave me a home first.”
He nodded once, fiercely, as if that meant more to him than anything else in the world.
It did.
It had takenweeks before the toll of birth had finally passed through Elowen’s body. She appeared brighter and had more energy than before, but she was still tired. So very tired. Her sons took up all of her attention and time.
Midas had done his best to tend to her while her body recovered. It had taken weeks—but now he knew in the soft exhale of sleep that true rest claimed her.
She needed sleep. Shedeservedsleep. And this morning, at last, she had found it, and he would not be the one to take it from her.
The twins were already stirring, wriggling in their woven basket beside the hearth, their soft cries just beginning to rise.
Midas moved quietly. He quickly learned tocradle them in his human arms, though the awkwardness still lingered in his joints and fingers. His claws followed him in this form, and the fear of their sharpness haunted his grip, making him overly cautious.
He gathered the boys to his chest and padded barefoot across the cave’s smooth stone to the small copper basin Elowen used for washing. He had filled it earlier, fetching water from the river and warming it with stones heated with his own breath.
