Midas tilted his head slightly, listening. “And yet,” she continued, “when I see them playing and laughing and growing—I know it was all because of you. You gave me space to believe in beautiful things again.”
He swallowed and nudged her affectionately. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. But she never needed an answer from him, she only wanted him to listen. “You love in your own way,” she said, leaning her head against him again. “With warmth. With protection. With every bone in your body. And that’s how our boys will love too. I hope that the world will be kinder to them than it was to us. ”
He was still for a long moment. Then, with a careful shift, he began to return to his human shape—limbs narrowing, wings shrinking, horns curling close to his scalp. When he was fully formed, he wrapped his armsaround her and pulled her close. She climbed into his lap without hesitation, straddling his legs, chest against his. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and she buried her face into the curve of his neck.
They stayed like that—breathing each other in.
“I was afraid,” he said quietly, his voice slower in this form. “When you were with child. I did not know if I could be…father. Or what that meant. But now I know that they are my greatest blessings. My most valuable treasures.” Midas looked at the sleeping twins, their chests rising and falling in tandem. “They are the best thing I have ever done,” he said.
She pulled back, cupped his face in her hands. “It’s the best thing we’ve done.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lips warm and slow. Then he moved slowly down her cheek until he reached the tender spot under her ear that he had learned made her shiver. In the hush that followed, Elowen whispered: “Everything is so perfect now. Sometimes I wish time would stop here.”
But as she spoke those words, something shifted in the wind, and the breeze carried the scent to Midas.
Smoke. Metal. Man.
He lifted his head from Elowen’s neck and gently moved her aside so he could shift once more. His nostrils flared wide and his eyes turned a more wild shade of gold, the pupils dilating for better sight. He used his tail to keep Elowen back as he approached the mouth of the cave, and there, below, barely visible through the mist of the lower cliffs, figures moved among the rocks.
Humans. Armed. Tooclose.
He was on his feet in a heartbeat, wings flaring wide as a bellow tore from his chest—low, guttural, warning. Elowen touched his tail, her voice faint. “Midas? What is it?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He crouched low at the ridge, teeth bared, heart thundering in his chest.
They found us.
His mind spiraled—images flashing behind his eyes like lightning. Elowen screaming in pain. His sons, pink and helpless, blinking up at him with his own golden eyes. Their tiny hands, the weight of them in his claws. The soft curve of Elowen’s smile as she whispered their names.
Mine.
A deep growl crawled up his throat like a curse summoned from the depths of the world. The damp rocks beneath his claws began to steam.
The humans drew closer, unaware of what waited above. One of them carried a long weapon—primitive, but deadly enough. Another held a torch.
Fire. Destruction. Screaming.He remembered his kin falling. Remembered mothers screaming as their young were slaughtered in nests. Remembered how men cheered when dragons died.
Midas leapt out of the cave mouth without warning. The wind cracked around him as he dove, wings slicing the air like blades. His roar shattered the stillness of the mountain, echoing like the voice of a god long forgotten. Below, the men froze, one stumbling backward in terror.
Midas didn’t care.
He hit the ground like a meteor, talons driving into the earth. The ground exploded around him in a wave of heatas he inhaled deep and let his fury out in a pillar of fire. The torch-bearer screamed. His flame licked the rocks, the trees, the bones of the earth. They ran.
Cowards! Insects!
One fell, stumbling over their own useless feet. Midas was on him in an instant, jaws snapping shut just inches from the man’s leg. He didn’t kill him. Notyet. He wanted him terrified, so that when they returned to their stinking villages they would speak of the beast who was no longer afraid of the humans. Midas wanted him to see what awaited those who dared threaten his den.
He lifted his head and let out a second roar, louder than the first, a sound so ancient and furious it made birds scatter from the cliffs.
Then he turned his fire on the path they’d climbed.
Flame poured from his mouth in waves, searing stone, destroying every foothold and ledge. The mountain itself seemed to groan beneath the heat. No path would remain. No trail.
He scorched it all.
When he returned to the cave, his scales still glowed faintly with heat. Elowen was waiting for him just inside, holding the boys to her chest, crying and trembling from being awakened by the noise. Her face was pale, eyes wide. He stepped close and pressed his head gently to her side, careful of the children.
He growled low, wings curling forward as if to wrap them all in armor. She rested her hand against his jaw. “We are safe,” she murmured, hoping it would bring some peace to his fury. She had never seen him so fearsome, not even when they whipped her against the post.
