The kid was plopped down in front of her. Moonflower gave the tiny fae a skeptic glance. “There is no way,” she began, looking up, “in Shadehall, that I—”

But the dragon who’d dropped him off was already leaving, the tuft on the tip of their tail just whisking out of sight as they turned the corner and were gone.

Moonflower sprang to her feet, sticking her head out the door. “You come back here! I never agreed, and this assignment is beneath me!”

“Not my problem,” the wildclaw said, not even bothering to turn their head as they strode away. Before Moonflower could retort, they reached the edge of the cliff and leaped off, wings spreading wide to catch the wind and let them glide down to their own den.

The imperial fumed a while, claws tapping on the soft grassy earth of her den entrance, and tried to think up ways to convince the rest of the clan she was not eligible for this, this, child-rearing!

A crash came from behind, and Moonflower whirled. Her eyes widened in surprise, then outrage, at the sight of a fallen bamboo pot on the floor, shards of broken pottery circling the plop of dirt and scattered bamboo stalks. Scratchings came from up higher, and she looked up to see the fae kid climbing her cabinets with a steady determined glint in his eyes, even as he panted from exertion.

“Look what you’ve done!” Moonflower snarled. “You get down from there right this instant!”

But the fae’s eyes were locked on something above him, and he either ignored her, or didn’t hear. Moonflower followed his gaze, and gasped.

“No!” she cried, lunging, at the same moment the fae leaped the last stretch and wrapped his claws around the hilt of the imperial’s might longsword, hanging from the mantel on the wall.

With a triumphant screee! the kid heaved the sword off its pegs, throwing all his meager weight into it, and brandished the blade over his head.

“Put. That. Down,” Moonflower hissed.

The fae’s crest flared happily. “I like it,” he whispered.

Then the longsword began to wobble. The fae blinked, shuffling an uncertain step to the left as he tried to keep his balance. Then to the right.

“Careful!”

He tottered dangerously close to the cabinet edge.

“Watch—”

The sword tipped forward first, the point plummeting almost straight down, and dragged the fae down after it—

Right into Moonflower’s claws. The imperial slid the sword from the kid’s grip—he seemed dazed, his claws still loosely grasping the hilt, but easily relinquished the blade at Moonflower’s tug—and set it down on a nearby table, then shook a claw in the fae’s face, scolding him.

His crest flexed slowly, unblinking at Moonflower’s lecture, almost entirely frozen in the imperial’s hold. Then his eyes opened wide, crest flaring again, and he met Moonflower’s eyes straight-on.

“Can I hold it again?”

Moonflower sighed, pinching the scales between her eyes to massage the headache building there. “What’s your name, kid?”

His crest waggled in what Moonflower suspected, but prayed she was wrong, was a mischievous way. “Alsike!” he chirped.

Moonflower lifted her gaze, as if the Windsinger would answer her silent plea right then and exalt this kid, then forced herself to gently put the fae--Alsike--down on the ground. “Alright. Alright, kid. For now, you’re staying here.”

Alsike let out a high-pitched trill of excitement.

The imperial winced, and held up her claw for silence. “For now,” she repeated pointedly. “But rule number one: Do not. Touch. A thing. Without my permission.”

Immediately his claw flew around to point at the longsword lying on the table. “Can I touch that!”

“No.”

The fae drooped. Moonflower scowled, but scooped him up in her claws and put him on her shoulder. “Here,” she said gruffly, moving deeper into the den. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

He immediately perked up again, and chattered excitedly in her ear the whole way, commenting on every item they passed and asking a hundred questions a minute.

Moonflower managed to block out the majority of the noise, and silently cursed the name of every dragon in the clan with each step. At the very least, she thought despondently, as she threw together a few old blankets in a closet nook, he won’t take up too much space.

But as she set the fae down and he immediately set to arranging his new nest himself, grabbing whatever objects were nearest and setting them just so, she had a sick feeling in her gut that that would not be the case.


Story written by foureclipse. Art done by MagatsuGoat.