Urien rubbed his temples. Dragons had been courting mates for thousands of years. They’d honed the art of display, of proving worth through magnificent offerings and demonstrations of power. And somehow, none of that translated to asking one human with freckles and glasses if he’d like to get coffee sometime.
“I hate this century,” Rux announced.
“The internet says we should try being friends first,” Mabon offered weakly.
“Friends?” Rux looked horrified. “FRIENDS? He’s our MATE, not our…”
“It’s a starting point.”
“It’s an insult to the bond.”
“It’s better than getting arrested again.”
Urien stood, chair scraping back. “I’m going to the garden. To think. And possibly set something on fire.”
“The roses or your problems?”
“Yes.”
He left his mates arguing about the difference between friendly interest and obsessive stalking, his dragon growling irritably in his chest - a hundred years of searching and they couldn’t even figure out how to say hello.
/~/~/~/~/
Three hours of pruning later, and Urien hadn’t come to any resolutions, so he joined his mates in the study. His dragon was sulking, and no amount of rose trimming had eased the edginess running up and down his spine. Now, gathered in their favorite evening refuge, the triad faced the same impossible problem.
How to court a human who didn’t know dragons existed.
Rux shoved back from the table, pacing to the window overlooking the darkened gardens. “We’re dragons.We should be giving him...magnificent things. Proof of our worth, and his.”
“Rubies the size of chicken eggs?” Mabon’s tone dripped skepticism.
“Why not?” Rux spun, his diamond earrings catching the firelight. “One from each of us. Show him the quality of his mates. The size of our hoard. Dragons have always…”
“Terrified humans with ostentatious displays of wealth?” Mabon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, historically that’s worked brilliantly. Very romantic. Nothing says, ‘I care about you’ like gemstones that could fund a small government.”
“It shows we can provide.”
“It shows we don’t understand modern economics or basic social norms.”
Urien cleared his throat before Rux could set something on fire. “What if we start smaller?”
Both mates turned to look at him.
“Smaller how?” Rux crossed his arms. “Rubies the size of quail eggs?”
“Gold coins.” The idea had crystallized during his time among the roses, his dragon gradually settling as the plan took shape. “Simple jewelry. Nothing ostentatious. Traditional courtship, but...scaled appropriately.”
Mabon tilted his head. “You want to give him money.”
“No. Yes. Not exactly.” Urien leaned forward. “Think about it. Dragons have used the same courting system for centuries. We leave offerings, and in doing that, we demonstrate our ability to provide through the quality of our hoard.”
“We established that showing up with priceless artifacts makes us look insane.”
“So we don’t show up.” Urien’s heart stone heated beneath his shirt. “We leave them at his cottage, anonymously at first. Let him find them, appreciate their value withoutthe pressure of three strange men looming over him.”
Rux stopped pacing. “The secret admirer trope, you mean?”
“Tradition,” Urien corrected. “Dragons have always left offerings for their chosen mates. Let our gifts speak for us. Once he understands what we’re offering, the magnitude of our devotion…”
