The Cove manor’s dragon stables were huge, but almost vacant. One could even call them the definition of an empty nest.

Once, they had been Waver’s sanctuary, full of warmth and care in an environment which disdained him at best and that was openly hostile at worst. It embarrassed him to remember, but having at least some of the dragons dote over him was a mote of validation that he had sorely needed. Even then, some of the dragons spurned him as weak, but unlike in the manor, there were other dragons to admonish any cruelty. The de facto leader of the stables, the drake Valse, had a cold affect but had tacitly approved Waver’s friendship with his own hatchling, so he was always safe there.

And then Waver left.

In the meantime, some of the dragons in the stables had simply disappeared. A couple of them had died during an epidemic. Waver’s sister Wistel had taken a few to military academy with her, and only one returned with her; the other two were donated to the academy as a gesture of goodwill from Wistel’s knight mother. Waver’s brother Fichet had lost one in a bet, and was punished harshly for it. Some others were sold when Granise stopped actively training soldiers with them.

So, now, there were only four dragons left in the spacious stables.

Wistel, as a military genius with an officer commission held in reserve if war ever broke out again, naturally had a riding drake of her own. Her name was Platon, and she was a rare potash drake, with lilac, iridescent scales that shimmered in any light. She had a haughty temperament to most, but was extremely fond of both Wistel and Waver.

Baxter and Prince were the two remaining carrier sparks in the manor’s employ. One was a dark metallic silver color, and the other was the color of dirty brass, with black markings. The two of them were always lively, and played around like foxes when no one was watching, knuckling around on their wing-claws and hind legs.

Finally, Valse was Valor’s sire. Valse was a tin drake, with noble silver-white scales, and was slightly smaller than Valor. However, because of his bearing and presence, he seemed to fill a room in a way Valor did not. Waver felt a pang when he remembered he wouldn’t reunite with Valor that day, but as long as both were alive, he told himself that there would be another opportunity.

In addition, there was the stablehand Ficus. He was round, with neck-length vivid green hair, and as he greeted the master and her estranged son, he wore a dirty dress that looked more like a smock.

“Mistress. Waver. I received notice of your arrival. Please, come this way.”

As the stablehand led them through the stable, he whispered in Waver’s ear. “Tell Valor I said hi! And tell them I’m trying out being called the same way they wanted to be. Oh, but the normal way is fine too.” Waver’s eyes widened, the emptiness of the stable completely forgotten.

When Waver had lived in the manor eight years before, Ficus had been stablehand-in-training. He, or they, would often be there on the sidelines when Waver and Valor would play together, so Waver innocently translated a lot of their conversations for him. Ficus had been even younger than Waver, and impressionable, so he’d had absolutely no doubt that Waver really could talk to dragons.

Waver had assumed Ficus would grow out of that notion over time. But, unbeknownst to Waver, Ficus had continued speaking to the dragons in the stables as if they could fully understand speech, not just simple commands. And gradually, the dragons came to trust Ficus enough to communicate with him with advanced nonverbal cues.

So when Ficus told Waver that Valor had inspired a mild gender revolution in them, this was not an exaggeration, nor were they merely playing along. Waver had found an unexpected ally.

Waver would have to thank them and congratulate them properly later.

For now, the three of them walked over to Valse’s nest. Valse was by the window, curled up on a cushion made of sandbags, resting in a ray of evening sunlight. On their approach, he stood at attention.

While smaller than Valor, he was denser and more muscular, and his posture when upright was so refined that he almost literally took up more space. He was covered in scars; he was missing a wingclaw from a partisan swipe, missing several talons that had to be amputated after bad trampling wounds, and had received such a nasty slash to his snout that he could no longer smell anything properly. His clear blue eyes, so like Valor’s, stared intently at Waver, and then returned to his master.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

he said to Waver, in a single rumble.

Waver looked at his mother. She cleared her throat.

“Valse, I’ve agreed to let the boy... speak... to you, on the condition that he use words I can understand on his end. If you really can speak, that would mean you alone can say things you wouldn’t want me to hear, but at the very least the boy will need to be either discrete, or honest. I will judge what I hear. Sit on your haunches if you understand.”

Valse blinked and sat back on his haunches, his tail curling around his claws, considering his options. Finally, he relaxed.

Waver nodded. “Thank you for understanding, Valse. Sorry I couldn’t bring Valor with me this time. They’re well.”

the old drake rumbled, nodding.

Wait... nodding? That’s strange...

Waver’s ears reddened at the praise.

“I, um... I couldn’t do it without them. They take care of me, and worry about me when I do reckless things, and point out problems that I haven’t noticed. Thank you for letting them stay with me.”

Valse let out a barking laugh that seemed to startle Granise, who was watching on.

“Um...?” Waver looked at the drake sideways. “Tell them off...?”

Valse looked at Waver with a serious, steadfast glare. He cowered only slightly, overwhelmed by Valse’s warrior’s spirit in a way that his mother’s couldn’t manage. Although she was much more dangerous in combat than Valse was, the refined and tempered presence of a war dragon was incomparable.

Waver gasped.

“R-really? That’s...”

Waver gulped. “Right... history. I wish it were possible to learn about that... what’s true, and what’s false.”

The drake’s eyes flickered over to Granise.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you anyway!” Waver protested. “But... oh. So that’s why Valor, then...?”

Valse nodded slightly.

Valse’s voice got vehement enough that even Granise, observing the conversation, narrowed her eyes. Waver thought quickly and responded to both the drake and his mother’s reaction.

“Thank you, Valse,” Waver said. “You’re right. You were exactly right. I’m so happy my friend has such a good father.” He hoped that shred of context would be enough so that his mother wouldn’t worry that Valse was getting angry with him.

However, it backfired. Granise glared openly at Valse, who laughed raucously once more.

Waver giggled warily, but quickly sobered up, remembering he was being told about how much danger he was in.

“So... when do you think I’ll have to start worrying? About... um... the turbulent waters you mentioned.”

The dragon scratched his chin with a foreclaw.

“I... I see... days after that, you say...”

Valse jabs a foreclaw gently into Waver’s chest.

Valse let out a long, long sigh, almost totally emptying his large dragon lungs.

“...I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Waver admitted. “Getting stronger... to protect their heart. I don’t know if I’ll be adequate, but... I promise I’ll struggle for it.”

Valse snorted in approval.

Waver glanced to the side, and saw his mother deep in thought, her expression straining to remain neutral. He turned back to Valse and nodded.