☆...♡...☆
The apartment had been transformed into a sprawling, chaotic sanctuary of silk, wool, and oversized hoodies. For three agonizing days, the nest in the center of the living room had become Kaelan's entire world. He hadn't moved from the pile of clothes, his body locked in a slow motion battle with a Draconic biology that refused to be rushed.
Kaelan lay curled on his side, his black panther ears flat against his head, his face a mask of exhaustion and livid fury. Every few hours, a contraction would ripple through his frame—not a soft muscle cramp, but a violent, golden surge of electricity that made his slit pupils vibrate.
"I hate you," Kaelan rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. He looked at Ignis, who was sitting cross legged at the edge of the nest, looking remarkably composed for a man being bombarded by deadly curses. "I hope your scales fall off. hope you turn into a gecko. Why...why is it taking three days?!"
"The hybrid nature is complex, my cat," Ignis murmured, his voice low and obediently soothing. "The Panther wants to protect, and the Dragon wants to conquer. They are negotiating."
"Negotiating?!" Kaelan let out a jagged, short tempered sob, clutching a handful of Ignis's shirt. "My pelvis is currently a diplomatic war zone! No one told me a dragon child takes days! You said overtime, not eternity! I'm going to die in a pile of laundry, and my last memory is going to be your smug, beautiful face!"
Kaelan's nausea was a constant companion, but the fear was starting to outweigh the irritation. He looked down at the high, glowing dome of his stomach. The egg was massive now, a solid weight of divine power.
"Ignis..." Kaelan's voice suddenly dropped, the fierce anger dissolving into a raw, trembling whisper. He cuddled close to Ignis, burying his face in the King's chest despite his earlier vows of hatred. "I'm scared. How is it...how is it even going to come out? It's an egg. It's hard. I'm...I'm going to be torn apart, aren't I? You did this to me. You f*cking lizard, you're going to let me break, I'll die!."
Ignis's heart twisted. He pulled Kaelan tighter, his large hand stroking the curve of Kaelan's spine. "I will never let you break, Kaelan. I am the King of Flame,I know how to make things malleable."
"Help me," Kaelan mumbled, his puffed up eyes shining with genuine terror. "Please. I don't want to feel it tear. Use your...your stupid magic. Do something besides looking arrogant."
Ignis nodded solemnly. "I have a spell, Kaelan. An ancient solar rite. It will make your skin as flexible as shadow and dull the edge of the transition. It will be a birth of light, not of blood."
Ignis began to chant, a low, resonant vibration that made the air in the apartment hum. A soft, golden mist began to settle over the nest, numbing the sharpest edges of Kaelan's pain and turning his fear into a heavy, drowsy warmth.
Meanwhile, outside the apartment building, the fabric of the human realm was beginning to smoke.
The South Lord, fueled by livid jealousy and the orders of a disgraced Zadkiel, had decided to strike. He arrived in a swirl of ash and sulfur, his eyes glowing with the intent to incinerate the "Panther's Nest" before the heir could breathe.
"Now, the Solar King shall know loss," the South Lord growled, stepping out onto the rainy sidewalk.
He lunged toward the service entrance, his mind focused on destruction—until he collided accidentally with a person rounding the corner.
The impact was solid. The South Lord, a god of stone and ash, didn't move, but the person he hit was sent sprawling. The Lord looked down, ready to vaporize the mortal nuisance, but his words died in his throat.
The person on the ground had a shock of vibrant pink hair and eyes the color of a spring sunset. They were wearing a high fashion, oversized coat and looked like they had stepped out of a magazine. The South Lord felt a sensation he hadn't felt in four thousand years,a sudden, crushing weight in his chest that had nothing to do with gravity.
It was love at first sight—a primal, Draconic soul strike.
"Are you...an angel?" the South Lord stammered, his arrogance vanishing as he reached out a trembling, soot stained hand.
The pink haired person sat up, dusting off their coat with a look of extreme irritation. "An angel? Honey, I'm a stylist, and you just ruined my vintage Dior. And for the record..." The person stood up, revealing a tall, slender frame. "...I'm a man, not a female. So you can take your angel talk and your weird charcoal smell and shove it."
The South Lord froze. A male? His Draconic instincts didn't care. The soul strike was absolute. The mission to destroy Kaelan, the orders from the Realm, the ancient politics—it all evaporated like mist.
"I do not care for gender," the South Lord whispered, his eyes wide with obsessive wonder. "I care for...the pink. Please, tell me your name. I am a Lord of the South Peaks, and I find myself... min need of a stylist."
The mission was over. The South Lord was no longer a threat,he was a dragon in the throes of a crush, following a very confused pink haired man down the street toward a boutique.
Back in the apartment, the air reached a boiling point.
Kaelan let out one final, deadly curse, his fingers digging into Ignis's forearms so hard his claws drew golden blood. The golden mist flared into a blinding brilliance.
"Ignis! It's—!"
With a sound like a soft chime of a bell, the pressure suddenly vanished. Kaelan slumped back against the pillows, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Between his legs, nestled in the center of the nest of hoodies, sat a perfect, iridescent egg. It was the color of midnight obsidian but shot through with veins of solar gold, pulsing with a rhythmic, healthy light.
Kaelan stared at it, his tears finally stopping. He reached out a trembling hand, touching the smooth, warm surface of the egg.
"It's...it's not a gecko," Kaelan whispered, a tiny, jaded smile finally touching his lips. He looked up at Ignis, his slit pupils soft. "It's actually...kind of pretty. Even if it did try to kill me for three days."
Ignis leaned down, kissing Kaelan's forehead. "It is the first of its kind, Kaelan. Just like us."
Kaelan sighed, closing his eyes as the exhaustion finally won. "If it wakes up and wants breakfast before noon, Ignis...you're doing it. I'm taking a three year nap if I'm not petrified by then."