Sins of the Father - Chapter Twenty-Nine (Patreon)

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

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Valyrym followed his son across a grassy expanse set back from the city streets. Alia and Vatch walked together just behind him, letting the old dragon proceed at his own pace. The grass was soft, crinkling slightly under his pads. Normally, it served as a vast outdoor patio area for a restaurant serving a plethora of smoked mutton and other dishes. Depressions in the grass and divots in the earth marked where tables and chairs usually stood, before they’d been cleared away to make room for the dragons. Daily footfalls kept the grass short.

As they walked past the restaurant, Valyrym fought the urge to stare at the long, triangular building and all its many inhabitants. Smoke poured from a trio of chimneys at the building’s far end. A bustling crowd of humans crammed into the place, feasting on a plethora of smoked meats and roasted vegetables. Even at a distance, the aromas emanating from within were divine. Many of the diners stared at the dragons through the grand, white-lined doors, or the tall, glass windows. Others were too fixated on their own meals to notice the new arrivals. How long had it been, Valyrym wondered, since he had eaten food from such a place? Not since his youth, when Valar was but a tiny hatchling, and they were eating smoked fish in Sigil Stones. But back then, Valyrym lived amongst them. Back then, those people liked dragons. But this place… despite the hospitality shown so far, Valyrym could not shake the feeling that they were unwelcome. This was, after all, still Illandra.

Valyrym swallowed, and looked away from the restaurant. “Are you sure this is alright, Valar?”

“Quite sure, Father.” Valar continued on without glancing back.

The dragons continued on past the dining hall. A cluster of servers stood nearby, eying the dragons warily. Despite Valar’s own ease at speaking with them, Valyrym doubted many of the workers were as comfortable around dragons as his son was around humans. They murmured amongst themselves, occasionally pointing to the two dragons.

“I think we’re making them uncomfortable, Valar.” Valyrym glanced between his son and the workers. “While they’ve provided us a nice, open space, I cannot help but feel they’d be more at ease if we took our food to eat outside their city’s walls.” Valyrym took a breath, his tail tip nervously twitching.

Valar glanced over his wings, his head tilted. “That’s half the point, Father. We are going to make them a little uncomfortable. But this is how they get past it. By becoming accustomed to dragons dining in their midst.” He shifted a wing, gesturing. “More importantly, this is how you become accustomed to living amongst humans, again. By letting them feed you.”

Valyrym grunted, turning his gaze down to the grass beneath his paws. “Perhaps you’re right.” He focused on the lawn for a few moments. It was verdant, and green, almost too vivid. “But are you certain they won’t begrudge us the disruption we’re causing their business?”

Valar tossed his head, snorting. “For the amount of coin Krek seems to have offered them, they’d probably kick out all the indoor patrons as well, if we but wished to eat in the shade. Trust me, Father, everything is fine.”

“Very well.” Valyrym stretched his wings, soaking in the sun’s warmth. “I should rather savor the sunlight, anyway.”

“And so you shall.” Valar came to a stop, glancing around. “Here, I think this will do. Far enough away from the street, and the dining hall to keep everyone at ease, yet not so far as to challenge our hosts ability to bring our us our meals.” Valar turned towards the restaurant, then settled down onto his haunches, curling his tail around his paws. He patted the ground alongside himself. “Father, sit next to me. As soon as we’re settled in, I’ll signal them to bring the table and some chairs.”

Valyrym eased down alongside his son, leaving his wings half-unfurled to enjoy the sun. Despite the overwhelming brightness and vibrancy of the world around him, the warmth of golden sunlight remained a blissful indulgence he had gone far too long without. He sighed, savoring the heat that spread across his wing membranes. The wind shifted, and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of great oak trees shading the corners of the fenced in area. The soft whispering of leaves joined with the gentle hum of voices from the restaurant, and the street. The sound was less cacophonous than before, peaceful in a way that tugged at half-buried memories of trips into Sigil Stone’s markets, and meals in the town with Amaleen.

Alia walked up alongside him, and gently stroked the scales of his foreleg. “See, Val? It’s not so bad here, right?”

Valyrym glanced down at her, a smile beginning to part his muzzle. “No, Alia, it is not. It’s a little quieter here. It reminds me ever so slightly of summer days with Amaleen, sitting outside little cafes with her, while they’d bring her a plate of food, and cover a table with it for me.”

Alia rubbed his shoulder. “That sounds nice.”

“It was.” The winds shifted again, tickling Valyrym’s nostrils with the tantalizing aroma of smoking meats. He rumbled and licked his jaws. “But that smell stirs even nicer memories. Of feasting upon smoked fish with her, and with Valar…” He turned his gaze towards his son, his smile growing. “When you were scarcely this big.” Valyrym held his paw out just above the ground. “There was nothing you liked more, than smoked fish.”

“Still my favorite.” Valar lifted his head, his jaws parted and frills perked in a happy dragon grin. “Although, any other smoked meat has become a close second. They don’t often have fish here, but when I was here before, their smoked mutton was incredible.” He lifted a forepaw, waving for the waiting servers to approach.

“That does sound good.” Valyrym licked his nose, still smiling at his son. “Do you remember asking me to make things smoked for you, Valar?”

Valar tilted his head. “I don’t think so. What do you mean?”

“We’d wander through the market, sometimes with Amaleen, and sometimes on our own.” Valyrym waggled his paw back and forth in the air, as if emulating a dragon walking. “And inevitably, we’d reach the fish mongers.” He glanced at Alia. “With tanks and buckets filled with water and fresh fish from the rivers and lakes, still swimming.” Then he turned his gaze back to Valar. “I had to keep hold of your tail just to prevent you from jumping into the tanks and sinking your teeth into the fish. And even then, you’d find one you wanted, stare at it a while, then look up at me and demand…” He lifted his voice into an impression of a hatchling. “Make it smoked!”

Valar laughed with his father, shaking his head. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Valyrym said, sighing. “No matter how many times I tried to explain to you how long it took the humans to smoke their fish, you’d inevitably swat me with your paw and demand I make them smoked immediately.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Valar shrugged his wings. “Smoked fish are delicious.” The younger dragon’s belly suddenly growled ominously. He thumped his spined tail tip, tearing up a few grassy tufts. “Case in point.” He lifted his head, gazing across the field towards the restaurant at its center. “Now what’s keeping those workers? Where’s our table?”

Valyrym followed his son’s gaze to where a group of humans was now crowded around a thoroughly distracted Vatch. Some of them knelt down to speak to him on his level, while others examined his tail. Another’s hand hovered just above his ears, as if resisting the urge to feel the softness of their fur. Vatch pivoted in place, trying to polite answer every query, even as he slowly tried to back away through their group.

Alia giggled, shaking her head. “Poor Vatch. I think he’s going through a bit of whiplash, from the center of persecution in Illandra, to the center of attention out here in…” She chewed her lip. “Well, wherever the hell we are. Still Illandra, technically I suppose, but you know what I mean.”

  “Don’t worry, Alia,” Valar said, smiling at her around his father. “I’d need a damn map myself to keep all these regions and provinces and this and that straight myself. It’s easier for me, back home. Denoria’s a small country, with no extra provinces or anything else to remember.” He gestured at the urd’thin and his admirers. “Do you want me to help out?”

“That would be nice, Valar.” Alia leaned against Valyrym’s foreleg. “I think Vatch would appreciate being able to get away from them without having to excuse himself.”

Valar cleared his throat, then called out in a loud, brassy voice. “Excuse me! We’re all set for a table over here, and some chairs for my smaller friends, please. We’d also like to order some drinks while we wait on the food.”

The dragon’s words sent the servers into a frenzied scramble. They dispersed in an instant, leaving Vatch behind. Some of them hurried to grab a large table together, and carry it towards the dragons. Others picked up chairs, and brought them over as well. Another fetched a small writing pad upon which to take orders. Vatch took the chance to hurry away from the scattered group, and rejoin his friends.

“Vatch very happy everyone like urd’thin here,” he said, panting a little. He unslung his pack, and set it down in the grass near Valyrym’s paws. “But it overwhelming trying talk to everyone at once.”

“Poor Vatch.” Valyrym curled a foreleg around the urd’thin’s middle, gently drawing him closer. “You just stick close to me. Anyone else bothers you, and I’ll devour them.”

Just as the words left Valyrym’s mouth, the servers set down an expansive table before the two dragons. One of the humans stared up at Valyrym with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He slowly backed away, gulping.

“He’s joking!” Valar quickly spoke up, his voice as soft, gentle, and honeyed. “My father’s quit the kidder.” He shot Valyrym a glare, his eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you father?”

Valyrym forced himself to smile, slowly nodding. “Yes, that’s right. It was only a jest.” He shook himself. “I would never eat an entire human. I’m far too old, I haven’t got the appetite for it, anymore.”

The server went paler still, glancing back and forth between father and son. He managed a stiff, shaky bow, then turned and hurried back the way he’d come. The other humans who’d carried over the table only laughed, though Valyrym could not tell if their laughter was genuine, or simply spawned by their own nervousness. Either way, they were just as quick to retreat, making room for two more workers who set chairs down on the opposite side of the table from the dragons. One chair was somehow both taller, and smaller than the other.

Vatch’s ears shot up, and his dark eyes glowed with fresh excitement. “They have chair just for urd’thin here? Vatch love this town!”

As the urd’thin hurried around to test out the chair, Alia gestured for Valyrym to lower his head. When he did so, she whispered into it. “Don’t tell Vatch that’s a high chair designed for children.”

Valyrym fought back a rumble of laughter, nodding. As amusing as that was, he did not wish to impinge on Vatch’s simple happiness. Instead, he watched as the urd’thin scrambled up the tall chair. He settled himself into it, adjusting his tail, then smiled at the group.

“Is pretty good!” Vatch glanced at his tail, slightly cramped against the chair’s back. “Need room for tail, but for town not know much about urd’thin, is pleasant surprise they have chair for us.”

 Alia made her way around to settle into her own chair. She scooted it closer to the table, smiling at the dragons. “This is nice, actually. We’ve shared a lot of meals together already, but this is…” She turned her smile up to Valyrym’s face. “Different. We can almost pretend this is just…” She waved a hand. “Our life together, now. Visiting your son, meeting him for dinner, somewhere they treat us all like…” Alia swallowed. “People. Not…servants, or monsters, or criminals. Just people.” She sniffed, glancing away. “Actually, if I keep talking like that, I’m afraid I’m going to sour the mood.”

Valyrym stretched his foreleg across the table to gently brush his pads across her ebony hair. “Actually, my love, I find I quite like that idea.”

“This is where that sort of thing starts, you know.” Valar waved his paw at the town around them. “With all the people here, seeing us walking their streets, browsing their shops, eating in their restaurants. Just living our lives. It’s already there in a few parts of the world, you know.” He arched his neck. “Back home in Denoria, they’ve already got three dragons who call my city home. They wouldn’t think twice about inviting another. In fact…” Valar turned his head, looking his father over. “I think more than a few of them will actually be excited to finally meet Ayly’s grandfather.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Alia slapped the table, her smile growing. Then she glanced over her shoulder towards the building. “At least, I will if they serve alcohol here.”

“Alcohol?” Valyrym licked his nose. “Oh, please let them have rum. Alia…” He glanced down at her, grinning. “Can I have some rum?”

Alia smirked back at him. “What are you asking me for? Drink whatever you want you silly old lizard.”

“Very well, I shall.” He stretched his neck towards his son, lowering his voice to a playful whisper. “You heard her, Valar, she said I could get blind drunk on rum. Be sure to remind her of that if she gets angry later.”

“Those are not the words I used,” Alia said, laughing.

A server soon approached, a young human male with fair skin and light hair. His nervous eyes flicked from dragon to dragon. He swallowed, soon glancing at Vatch and then Alia. He clutched a writing pad to the maroon apron adorning his body, a charcoal writing stick held tightly in his other hand. The young man forced a smile to his face, and offered the group a stiff, anxious bow.

“Welcome to our fine establishment.” The server slowly straightened, forced smile still stretching his lips a little too thin. “It’s our great pleasure to serve you, today. We don’t often get…” He glanced up at Valyrym. “Dragons.” Then his eyes darted to Valar again. “Let alone two of them. But I’m certain you’ll find our offerings quite to your satisfaction.”

Valar lowered his head a little, offering the human the gentlest smile a dragon could manage, with very few of his sharp teeth exposed. “I’m quite certain of that as well, my friend.” His voice was softer even than his smile. “It’s my understanding that the bulk of our meal has already been paid for. Is that correct?”

“It is, yes.” The man relaxed ever so slightly, some of the anxious rigidity draining from his posture. It was as if all it took to put him at ease was to hear how well spoken their dragon guests could be. He appraised his pad, furrowing his brow. “And it appears you’re getting several orders of literally everything on our menu today. Would you like everything to come out all at once, or…” His eyes drifted down towards the table. “Actually, I don’t think you’ve enough room for that. Would you a bigger table?”

Valar shook his head, his voice still soft as the clouds drifting across the azure expanse above them. “No, thank you. Just bring everything out in waves, if you would.” Valar glanced at Alia and Vatch. “Do either of you have a preference for what comes first?”

Vatch rubbed his hands together, his tail wagging against its wooden enclosure. “Vatch only preference for eating all the foods. He not care what show up when as long as he get to eat it.”

“Agreed, Vatch.” Alia smiled, turning towards the server. “I’d say leave the order up to your cooks. Let them decide what should come first, last, and in between.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” The server scribbled down a note. “Can I offer you anything to drink? It looks as if there is an order for drinks, but the particulars have been left up to you.”

“Rum.” Valyrym did his best to emulate his son’s gentleness of voice. “Good rum. In something dragon-sized. You can put it into a bowl, or even a bucket if you must, so long as there is a suitable amount of it.”

The server grinned to himself. “Yes, Sir Dragon. One bucket of our finest rum. And for the rest of you?”

“I should like the same rum as you bring my father.” Valar inclined his head towards Valyrym. “Preferably in a large drinking bowl, should you have them. Something suitable for gryphons ought to work, but if you’ve nothing of the sort, a large soup bowl would work.” He nudged his father with his wing, grinning. “Buckets are usually used for slop, Father.”

Valyrym grunted and tossed his head. “So long as I’m served rum, and not wash water and piss, I don’t care what it comes in.”

The server chuckled, scribbling down another note. “No slop or piss water. Got it.” He pivoted on his heel towards Alia. “For the lady?”

“Red wine, please,” Alia said, flourishing a hand in the air. “And perhaps something non-alcoholic, as well. Some kind of juice, if you have it. And water all around, if you’ve only fit to drink.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” The server nodded, turning his attention to Vatch. “And for our urd’thin visitor?”

“Vatch drink what dragon drink, of course!” Vatch slapped the table with a brown-furred hand. “He drink rum! But not in bucket. Bring in glass. Also…” He tilted his head. “Bring ale, too.”

“You know, Vatch,” Alia said. “You make a good point. It would be fitting if we all shared rum with Valyrym. Add a pour of fine rum onto my order, as well.”

“Rum all around.” The server added a note, then grinned at Alia. “I trust you’d also prefer yours served in a glass, rather a bucket?”

“Good guess.”

The server departed, and Valyrym idly rested a forepaw upon the table. “You’re so good at that, Valar.” He dragged a half-unsheathed claw around in uneven circles. “Talking to the humans, I mean. It’s not just that you’re at ease amongst them, but you’ve a way of putting them at ease around you.”

Valar shrugged his wings. “It’s nothing you didn’t do when, back when you were my age, or so.” He lifted a forepaw, playfully waggling a digit at his father. “I might not remember asking you to personally smoke my fish, but I do certainly remember venturing with you into Sigil Stones. I remember walking the streets, roaming their markets, wandering at your side and riding upon your head.”

A smile slowly stretched across Valyrym’s muzzle. “We used to call that playing conqueror.”

“I remember that, too.” Valar gazed at him, memories from a lifetime ago drifting behind his silver-gold eyes like half-glimpsed ghosts. “And I remember you striding confidently amidst a veritable ocean of humanity. As unafraid of them, as they were of you. I remember thinking you spoke to them as if they were dragons, just like us.” He lifted his forepaw, tapping the base of a horn. “In my head, you never treated them any differently than you treated our people.” Valar pressed his jaws together, his frills back. “Unlike mother. At least, at first. I don’t think I ever told you, or her, but back then…” Valar brushed his pads over one of his childhood scars. “When I was healing, and you were away, I always felt like mother was afraid of them. Afraid of the humans. And…” He set his forepaw back down. “I never really understood why. But it was in the way she looked at them, while I was recovering. It was in her eyes, and in her words, and in the way she spoke to them. All of them, save Amaleen. I know that changed, later, but it always struck me that you saw the humans as friends, and mother…” Valar swallowed, looking away. “Mother saw them as monsters. And now, here you are…” He turned his eyes back towards Valyrym. “Trying not to see them the same way.”

Valyrym worked his jaws, but no words came. He took a slow, shuddering breath, then let it back out as a trembling sigh. When he finally found his tongue, Valyrym scarcely knew how to reply. Valar was right, but being right did not make it any easier to hear. “I don’t mean to see them that way. But-”

“It’s alright, Father.” Valar set his paw atop Valyrym’s, smiling at him. “I do not mean this to needle you. It is merely an observation. And one that is all too understandable.” He squeezed Valyrym’s forepaw. “You spent your youth fighting Illandra, to save your friends. You spent your late adulthood, chained beneath the city of your enemies. All the humans you once knew as friends are long, long gone. Until Alia-”

“That’s enough, Valar.” Valyrym looked away, forcing himself to stare at a single fence post, hemming in the field on which they sat. His eyes burned with fresh tears threatening to fall. “I understand your point.”

“I know you do, but I think it needs to be said.” Valar patted his father’s front paw. “We’re all here to help you through this, Father. And if you’d rather not hear my thoughts, I shall keep them to myself. But if you’ve the strength to listen, I’ve something else to share.”

Valyrym pinned back his ears. Already, his son’s gesture had warmed his frigid old heart. Valar’s thoughtfulness was equally responsible for the sudden tightness of his throat, and the heat behind his eyes. “Very well.”

“Until Alia came into your life,” Valar said, extending his wing across Valyrym’s back. “The only humans you knew for an entire lifetime were your tormentors. Where once you saw them as your friends, now you, like mother, saw them only as monsters.” Valar tightened his grip on Valyrym’s paw. “Not by choice, father, and certainly not by desire. But by circumstance, and by cruelty. It is all too reasonable now, that your mind, your instincts, should struggle to discern friend from foe, kindness from cruelty, and person from monster. But I promise you father, you will see them as they truly are, once more. As people, just like us.”

Valyrym swallowed back the lump in his throat, managing little more than a weak nod. “I know, Valar. But thank you.”

“Of course, Father. And until you do, I am here to help you along.” He waved his wing at Alia and Vatch. “And so are they. And honestly, though it may be hard to tell, so is Krek.”

Valyrym snorted. “I don’t know, Valar, he may not be the best one to help me. After all, can anything with an ego that big truly be counted as a person themselves?”

Alia leaned towards Vatch. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Valyrym glanced over at her, a hint of a smile on his muzzle. “I heard that.”

The urd’thin splayed his oversized ears. “What means this? What pot and kettle have to do with dragon and gryphon?”

Alia waved him off, laughing. “Nevermind, Vatch.” She stood up and walked around the table to wrap her arms around as much of Valyrym as she could, hugging him tightly. “Your son’s right, Val. We’re all here to help you get through this. And I know soon enough, you’ll be insulting and intimidating everyone you meet, just like you used to.”

Valar cocked his head. “Is that really the sort of behavior we wish to encourage?”

Alia just laughed. “Don’t worry, Valar. That’s just how your father treats the people he likes.”

“I see.” A playful smile parted Valar’s muzzle. “He must really like Krek, then.”

Valyrym scoffed, thumping his spined tail. “I’d like to kick his pompous, feathered ass. Again.”

Valar placed a front paw over his chest. “It just warms my heart to see you becoming so fond of my lifelong best friend.”

“Fond of smacking the smugness out of his smarmy beak, at least.” Valyrym rumbled amusement, then looked between Alia and Valar. He stretched his wings to hug the two of them. “Thank you both, though. Really.”

“Of course, Father.” Valar arched his neck, grinning. “Honestly, if Mother could overcome her fear of humans, we both know damn well that you can.”

“It isn’t that I’m afraid of them, I’m just…” Valyrym trailed off, uncertainty welling up inside him. Was he afraid of humans, now? Or was he just afraid of Illandrans? Or was fear even the right word? After all, somewhere, deep inside him, The Dread Sky was anything but afraid. That lurking darkness frightened Valyrym far more than any Illandran ever would. He shook himself, trying to push the last vestiges of his vengeful past deeper still. “Where’s that damn rum?”

“It’s coming, Val, it’s coming.” Alia rubbed his scales, and then returned to the other side of the table, settling into her chair.

Just as promised, an entire army of servers soon descended upon the group’s table. The first of them set out several immense pitches full of water, accompanied by wooden drinking vessels. There were cups for Alia and Vatch, and oversized bowls for the two dragons. Then a wooden mug of ale was set before Vatch, with foam dripping down the side. Alia was given a battered chalice filled to the brim with red wine. Finally, small glasses filled with dark rum were brought to Alia and Vatch. The dragons were soon presented their own much larger pours of rum, served in the same sort of oversized bowl as their water.

Valyrym lowered his head, inhaling the rum’s aroma. Scents of spices, vanilla and caramel swirled within it, along with hints of charred oak. “Oh, that smells good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Valar lifted his drinking bowl in his paw. “I’m impressed they actually have drinking bowls. They must get at a few gryphons and dragons through here now and then.” He tilted his head. “Or perhaps Krek just paid them off to carry them on his behalf at some point. Anyway, father, you use these by…”

Valyrym wasn’t listening. Instead, he was busy lapping up a few warming mouthfuls of delicious rum. It’s spicy sweet flavors were even more intense than its smell, with added notes of candied fruits and hints of cinnamon as well. He groaned, his head lolling back, his frills standing on spiny end. “Oh, dear gods, that’s good rum.”

Valar just laughed. “Or I suppose you can just lap it. Either way.” He carefully tilted the bowl back to his muzzle, and took a sip. Then he groaned, a sound very similar to his father. “Oh, yes, that’s the stuff.”

Alia picked up her glass. “I see you’ve inherited your father’s taste in booze.” She sipped her own drink, sighing. “You’re right, though. That’s wonderful. A bottle of this probably costs nearly as much as the entire barrel I last had delivered to your father.”

“I can imagine so.” Valar took another sip. “Thankfully, Krek’s coin is covering it.”

Valyrym lapped up another few mouthfuls, then lifted his head. He gave a long, happy sigh, some of the tension draining from his body. His wings sagged at his sides. “Alright,” Valyrym said, holding a paw up towards the others. “I’m better now. I’m ready to deal with all the humans this city has to throw at me, so long as I can keep drinking this delightful stuff.”

Alia giggled. “Glad to hear it, Val. And like your son said, Krek’s paying for it, so we’ll be sure to keep it coming.” She leaned forward, staring at the bowls the dragons’ rum was in. “Are those actually made for dragons?”

“Gryphons, more likely.” Valar set his bowl down, circling a claw around it. “This is something akin to the design they use for their drinking bowls. That’s how I learned of them first, anyway. They’re fairly common now in places with dragon or gryphon residents, though. They’ve everywhere in the City of Stairs.” He paused, blinking, then glanced at Alia and Valyrym. “That’s what we call the place where Mother lives, now. The city’s real name is Amira, but…” He shrugged his wings, grinning at Alia. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about how we dragons like to give things our own names.”

Alia nodded. “Like Sigil Stones.” She waved at the buildings down the street. “Or the Village of Red Roofs.”

“Exactly.” Valar picked up the bowl, holding it out. “Anyway, they’re meant to hold enough liquid for a gryphon, at least. And they’re sort, oblong, to make it easier to tilt it into your muzzle, or beak.” He demonstrated by sipping his rum, then sighed happily and set the bowl down. “Wasn’t sure they’d have them here, though. I suspect Krek is responsible, one or another. Unless they get a lot more four-legged visitors than they let on.”

Valyrym picked up the bowl in both forepaws, examining it. “They’re nervous around us, and yet Vatch seems more exotic to them. So, you might not be wrong.” He glanced at his son, grinning. “I fear if I attempt to drink from this as you have, I’m only going to spill it. And that would be a terribly sorrowful waste of rum.” He set the bowl back down, glancing at Vatch. “How do you like, Vatch?”

The urd’thin cradled the bowl up against his muzzle, savoring the aroma. “Vatch not even taste yet. He too busy enjoy good smell!” After a few more moments, he sipped the liquid and gave a happy groan. “Oh, this even better than dragon’s good rum in dungeon!”

 “I’m inclined to agree.” Valyrym took another drink, holding the rum in his mouth for a few heartbeats before swallowing it. “I could drink this by the barrelful.”

“I think that would be a bit much, even for a dragon.” Alia poured herself some water, then took a long drink. “I’d suggest you all make use of the water, too. Too much booze alone is bad even for dragons.”

“Yes, mother,” Valyrym said, muttering to himself. He poured a bowlful of water, glancing over at the urd’thin. “Vatch, weren’t there some book you meant to tell me about? I think you said you wanted to show it to me after food, but perhaps it would better to show it to me now, so as not to get it messy.”

“Oh, yes!” Vatch hopped off his chair to dig around his pack. “That good idea.” He soon produced the book in question, holding it up over his head so the others could see. It had a dark blue binding, with silvery lettering down the side. An outline of a dragon was depicted in black on the front cover, and on the back, an outline of a human woman. “It present for grumpy dragon, because Vatch he like it.” He pushed the book back into his back. “But Vatch show when food not around. It brand new! And cost much money.”

Valyrym grinned at the smaller creature, arching his neck. “Very well, Vatch. I saw a dragon, on it. What’s it about?”

Vatch clambered back up onto his chair. “Is about grumpy dragon!” He pointed at Valyrym, barking playful urd’thin laughter. “Hah! Is just like you! And grumpy book dragon also fall in love with human female!” He glanced at Alia, his ears perked. “Is practically perfect.”

Alia smirked back at him. “That does sound right up his alley.”

Valyrym idly tapped his clawtips against the table. “Can’t imagine why you’d think I’d enjoy a book like that. Dare I ask if the book, and the dragon have names?”

“Yes!” Vatch picked up his ale. “But is words Vatch cannot yet pronoun.”

“Pronounce, Vatch,” Alia said.

“That too.” Vatch sipped his beer, murmuring happily. “This very good, too.” He wiped froth from his muzzle. “Dragon in book called…Gal-var…gee? Is big dragon name.”

Valar cocked his head, his frills lifted. “Galvarys?”

“Yes!” Vatch thumped the table with his free hand. “That what book seller say.”

“I know that book, then.” Valar took a drink of rum, then flashed his father a sly grin. “I think you’re going to enjoy it.” He set the bowl back down. “It’s about a real dragon, by the way.”

Valyrym perked his ears. “Is it?”

“Galvarys the Wrathful.” Valar nodded once. “It’s a fictionalized account, I’m sure, but the dragon himself exists. I’ve met him, actually.” He flattened back his frills. “Mother tried to recruit him, years ago. He’d have nothing to do with it, thankfully.”

Alia picked up her wine, scowling. “Sounds like a smart dragon to me. Don’t tell us to much about him, though. Don’t want to spoil the story for Val.”

“Yes,” Valyrym said, holding up a paw. “I shan’t want to know about him until we’ve read the story, or it may spoil things for us.”

Valar just smiled. “I’ll say nothing more, then.”

Alia sipped her wine, then gave a happy sigh. “For anyone interested, the wine is just as good as the rum. Considering this is all on the gryphon’s coin, I suspect they’re giving us the best they have to offer.”

“Speaking of which,” Valar said, pointing towards the restaurant. “Here comes the first courses of our meal.”

The initial wave of food was delivered upon a variety of wooden platters and deep bowls. Roasted squash with garlic and onions and drizzled in a savory sauce sat alongside great slices of smoked mutton, edged with dark lines of fatty, smoky bark. Freshly baked bread rolls were set all around the table, presented with an assortment of spreads. Plates with cured meats and aged cheese were squeezed in, as well. The servers set plates before everyone, along with utensils for Alia and Vatch. They also explained what every dish was, but Valyrym stopped listening to them the moment he saw the sliced sheep.

Valyrym reached out and speared a single, thick slice with a claw tip. “This is the mutton, yes? I thought it might arrive last.”

Valar chuckled as the servers retreated to let them start eating. “You know, Father, if you actually listened to things people tell you, you might-”

“Never mind, don’t care, eating smoked eat.” Valyrym popped the morsel into his mouth. The taste left him shuddering. The rich flavors of mutton melded perfectly with the sweetness of caramelized fat, the boldness of the smoke, and the hints of spices rubbed onto the meat. He swallowed it, and immediately took another piece, moaning around his mouthful. “Oh, gods, that’s good! This might be the best thing I’ve tasted since Sigil Stones.”

Alia laughed, spearing herself a few slices with a fork. “Don’t let Kaylen hear you say that.” She moved the meat to her plate, then bit a piece in half. Alia froze, as if the flavor alone had paralyzed her. She chewed it, slow and thoughtful, and then heaved a deep, happy sigh. “Never mind. Even Kaylen would admit this is better than her cooking.” She took another bite, shivering. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had meat that tasted like that.”

Valyrym helped himself to more. “The only thing I can remember that was anything like this, was the smoked fish in Sigil Stones. Kaylen’s cooking was excellent, but this is something else entirely.” He pushed the platter towards Valar and Vatch. “You two have to try this.”

Valar only laughed, spearing a few slices for himself before gesturing for Vatch to claim the rest. “I tried to tell you it was good, father. Now, since you ignored the servers, I’ll tell you this is the brisket from the sheep.” He gestured towards his chest. “This area, apparently. They’ll keep bringing us different parts of the sheep with every course, I suspect, but we can also ask for more of this each time, as well.”

“Yes.” Valyrym eagerly devoured another slice. “More.”

While the rest of the group was devouring the mutton brisket, Vatch filled his plate with roasted squash, garlic and onion, as well as several slices of dark bread, each with a different spread. He helped himself to hunks of cheese and thin slices of wine-cured meats, loading up his place. When the mutton platter was pushed his head, he took the rest of the slices, adding to his already overloaded plate.

Alia nudged him with her below, grinning. “Careful, Vatch, you don’t want to fill up with the first course, and miss out on everything else they’re bringing.”

Vatch’s eyes went wide. “There more?” He waved his fork at the mutton. “Vatch stop listening when he smell delicious food!”

“See?” Valyrym thumped his tail on the grassy ground. “I’m not the only one who wasn’t paying attention.”

Alia reached over and ruffled the fur between Vatch’s ears. “Don’t worry, Vatch, we’ll make sure you get a taste of everything too, even if you’ve filled up on bread.”

Vatch batted her head away. “No ruffle Vatch! And no worry about Vatch appetite. If he too full to finish, he took food to…” Then he blinked, glancing around. “Where we sleep tonight?”

Valar waggled a whole loaf of bread. “I think Krek’s set up inn rooms for yourself, and Alia. You’ll get to sleep in a real bed and have a hot bath.”

“That sound very good!” Vatch picked up a slice of mutton on his fork. “Vatch take leftovers to inn, and eat tonight. And tomorrow!” He bite into the mutton, and then made a happy, chittering noise. “This good!” He finished off the slice, his tail thumping against it’s confines. “This maybe best thing Vatch ever put in mouth.”

Valyrym rumbled soft laughter. “You know, if I wasn’t so high class, I might make a dirty joke about that statement.”

Alia arched a brow. “You’re the least high class person at this table, Val. You’re just too busy stuffing your own muzzle to make that kind of joke.” She jabbed her fork in the air. “And yes, I’m well aware there’s a joke to be made there, too.”

Valyrym grinned, helping himself to the rest of the food. Everything else was delicious, too. The dark bread was crusty on the outside, yet soft and warm within. He tried each of the spreads, some were sweet and made of fruits, while others were savory and spicy. The cured meats had a rich, slightly unfamiliar sort of taste, that paired well with the sharpness of aged cheeses. Even the roasted squash was delightful, enhanced by cloves and garlic and diced onion, with a rich sauce drizzled across it.

By the time the table was barren, the next course was arriving. They brought another platter of smoked mutton brisket, but this time they also brought an entire smoked leg of lamb. The leg was studded with rosemary and garlic, and served with coal-grilled potatoes, and little bowls of mint sauce for dipping. Carrots roasted in orange sauce showed up in another large bowl. Individual bowls of soup made from the lamb’s juices and a mix of herbs and root vegetables were given to everyone at the table.

The two dragons took the bulk of the lamb’s leg for themselves, but ensured that Alia and Vatch had plenty of choice morsels from it as well. If anything, the lamb was perhaps even better than the brisket. The flavor was slightly more delicate, which left the smoke in stronger balance. Matching it with the mint cut through the smoky richness and left Valyrym’s mouth tingling in the most tantalizing way. He drained the soup in a few long gulps, and found it equally delightful. The potatoes and orange glazed carrots were also delicious, though if anything, the dragon found them to serve best as a palate cleanser before yet more lamb and mutton arrived.

And arrive it did. Empty serving vessels were swept away, and replaced with even more food. Next, there were whole lamb chops, and mutton steaks, presented individually. The dragons were given a triple portion. Valyrym did his best to listen to the servers explanations. Both the bone-in chops, and the steaks, were seared over coals first to seal in the juices, then slow smoked for flavor. The chops were rubbed with mint, thyme, and rosemary, while the chops had garlic and an assortment of spices the dragon was unfamiliar with.

Every course came with its own accompaniments. There were savory, bowl-like pastries filled with deep brown gravy. There were little, green sprouts of some kind, fried with chunks of bacon. There were spicy peppers, hollowed out and filled with cheese, then smoked. There were potatoes and parsnips roasted in fat. There were smoked geese, stuffed with fruits, and smaller, roasted pigeons stuffed with raisins and nuts. There were more kinds of food than Valyrym could possibly keep track of it, and all of it delicious.

As the meal progressed, and Valyrym’s belly gradually inched towards being overfull, a deep sense of satisfaction settled over the dragon. The pace of eating slowed down, and the four of them conversed about pleasant nothings. Valar told a few stories from his youth, the sort intended not to make his father wistful, but instead, simply to make the group laugh. Valyrym listened intently, soon devolving into belly laughter at stories in which Valar dumped a cake on his mother’s head, or was caught in a private moment by a human woman. Alia, in turn, took to regaling Valar with some of the stories she shared with Valyrym. She told him all about the history of Val Jr, and of the time in which she and Kaylen chased him around with a wooden platter, threatening to paddle with him.

Rather than hiss at the mention of such embarrassing moments, Valyrym relished the telling of such tales, simply because his son hung on every word. The old dragon laughed along with his son. Valyrym embellished details here and there, while playfully arguing their veracity at other times. Whenever his dignity was in question, he assured his son that Alia was lying just to make him look bad.

As the sun sank lower, and happy conversation gradually replaced filling their bellies, a strange sense of peace settled over Valyrym. At first, he could scarcely even place the sensation. After struggling throughout the day just to keep himself balanced mentally and emotionally, peace of mind was in and of itself, disorienting. But encircled by the people he cared for most, and with a belly full of delightful food, it was far easier for him to push through that disorientation. It struck Valyrym, then, just what it was he was experiencing.

Contentment.

Here, in this beautiful moment, Valyrym was happy just to exist.

The old dragon could not recall the last time he had known such true contentment. He sat in the afternoon sunshine, wings outstretched to absorb its glorious, golden warmth. The tantalizing scents of smoked meats, roasted vegetables, and good rum were redolent in the fresh air, daring him to eat even more despite the protests of his belly. The breeze brought with it the smells of woodsmoke and distant blossoms.

More importantly, his loved ones surrounded him. Alia sat just across from Valyrym, smiling at him as if entranced just to see the sun upon his scales. Vatch sat next to her, still extolling the virtues of every bite of food he tasted. And at his own side, was his beautiful, healthy son, laughing over some of the funniest, and most embarrassing moments they’d each missed out on.

It was all so nearly perfect Valyrym half-feared he was surely dreaming. All the day’s earlier anxieties had melted away, and the struggles with overstimulation had eased, for now. The richness of such extravagant food was still nearly overwhelming, but in a far more pleasant way than his initial walk throughout the town. Now, there was only the happiness and satisfaction that accompanied a wonderful meal with even better company.

Valyrym looked away from everyone, wondering if this was what freedom was meant to feel like. The contentment that settled across his tattered wings, and inside his patchwork heart was so unfamiliar it was almost alien. Valyrym had known happiness at times throughout his imprisonment, especially after Alia entered his life. Just as there were moments of serenity sprinkled throughout his wasted years. The old dragon had known genuine peace at times, especially when he lay curled around Alia at night.

But this…

Something about this was different.

“This…” Valyrym licked his nose, slowly turning his attention back to the group. “This is real, isn’t it?” He waved his paw at the table, and those around it. “All of this is really happening, isn’t it?”

“Father?” Valar cocked his head, his ear frills flattened back in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Val,” Alia said, worry furrowing her brows. “Is everything okay? You’re not…” She chewed her head, searching for an appropriate word. “Drifting, are you?” She tapped her head, and let the rest go unspoken.

Valyrym chuckled, holding his forepaws up. “No, I’m fine. It’s just…” He turned his head, glancing from face to face. The dragon took a shaking breath. “I am struggling to remember ever feeling so content, before. Even when I was first…” He trailed off, suddenly struggling to speak his freedom aloud. “When first I was free, and we were all together in that inn, it wasn’t like this. I thought myself content, at the time, and yet…” Valyrym fixed his gaze on a platter heaped with slices of roasted mutton, their fatty edges crusted with black. “Sitting here with you all, enjoying this food, outside in the sun? It finally feels…”

Valar set his paw atop Valyrym’s. “Real?”

Valyrym swallowed, nodding. “Too real, in fact. As though I’ve finally reached the point in the dream, in which I realize I am dreaming. And I suddenly know all too well that the dream is about to break, and when I open my eyes, I will find only gray walls, and solitude.”

“You won’t, Father.” Valar squeezed his forepaw, then gently nuzzled Valyrym’s neck. “I promise you, this is not a dream.”

Valyrym’s throat tightened, but he forced a smile to his muzzle. “That’s just what a dream would say.”

Across the table, Vatch hefted his oaken mace. “Dragon want Vatch hit with stick, prove is not dream?”

Valyrym snorted. “No, Vatch, that won’t be necessary.”

“Allow me, Father.” Valar lifted a foreleg, then pinched Valyrym’s ear sharply enough to make him yelp.

“Ow!” Valyrym swatted his son’s paw away, jerking his head to the side. “That hurt, damn it!”

“Did it?” Valar arched his neck, an all-too-familiar smirk upon his muzzle. “Sufficiently enough to prove you’re not dreaming? Or should I do it harder?”

Valyrym rubbed his suddenly throbbing ear, his tail tip coiling. “I suspect you’ve made your point well enough already.”

“You’re not dreaming, Valyrym.” Alia rose from her seat, and walked around the table to Valyrym. She smiled up at him, love alight in her eyes. “There are no more gray walls to hold you. No more rusted chains to bind you. You are free, my love.” She kissed his scales. “You are free.”

Free.

That single word was like a bell, tolling inside Valyrym’s soul. It set a flame ablaze inside him, a funeral pyre for all his lingering doubts, and uncertainties. Countless days had passed since he escaped that wretched tomb, and yet he suddenly realized he had not truly acknowledged his freedom. At least, not within the darkest corners of his battered, anxious heart. He had celebrated his escape, the warmth of the sun, the taste of freshly hunted meat, and held his son in his wings.

Yet, some frightened part of him remained buried in that place. It held shadowy sway over his heart, instilling in him a buried fear he dared not even acknowledge, lest admitting it made it true. Until now, Valyrym had not wholly and completely accept that he was free. Logically, he knew it. But neither dread nor anxiety were ever logical. Only at long last, when contentment’s warm light banished the last doubtful shadows from his heart, did Valyrym finally, and completely accept the truth.

“I’m free.” Valyrym’s words were scarcely audible. He slowly lifted his head, looking around at all the red-roofed houses. Where before their scarlet tiles nearly burned his eyes, now they looked absolutely resplendent, contrasting the gorgeous azure sky above them. “What a beautiful little town…”

“Valyrym?” Alia rubbed his foreleg. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m more than alright, Alia.” Valyrym smiled down at her, his frills perked. “I’m so much more than that! I’m free!”

“Well, of course you are.” Alia chuckled, her hand stilling. “Wait, is it just hitting you?”

Valyrym jumped to his paws, throwing back his head. “I’m free!” His voice was a brassy call that echoed down the city streets nearby. “I’m free!” He backed away from Alia, then pranced in a circle, his tail spines whistling as they cut through the air. “I’m free, I’m free! I’m basking in the sunshine! I’m eating mutton and goat with Alia and Vatch and my son and I’m free!”

Nearby, a server emerged from the restaurant’s main building. She clasped her hands together, frowning at the dragon. “Uh, Sir Dragon, I’m afraid I must ask you to keep your voice-”

“I’m free!” Valyrym bounced in another circle, his joyous cry rising into a raucous roar that shook mugs and platters upon the table, and rattling the restaurant’s windows.

The server clapped her hands over her ears and retreated back inside.

Valyrym didn’t even care. Laughter erupted from him, bubbling and happy, a jubilant, almost musical sound. He snatched Alia up in his forepaws, rearing back onto his hind legs. Then he spun her around, too, balancing with his tail. Soon, his laughter proved infectious. She clutched his front limbs in her hands, giggling like a madwoman.

“You’re free, Valyrym!” Her voice rang out like the happiest, most melodious hammer to ever strike an anvil. “You’re free!”

“Alright, alright, Father.” Valar’s voice trembled with mirth, struggling not to join the others in laughter. “As nice as it is to see you so happy, perhaps you should put your lover down before you break your hip.”

“I’m not that old,” Valyrym said, spinning Alia around another few times.

“Dragon pretty old!” Vatch waved his mug at the dragon, chittering happy urd’thin cackles. “But he free now! You let him break hip if he want! He have other!”

Valyrym whirled around a few more times, carrying Alia through the air. Her long black hair cascaded around her hair, whipping about. Their shared laughter reverberated down the street, and off all the red-roofed buildings. Through his spinning vision, Valyrym glimpsed a few passersby staring up at them from beyond the restaurant’s fenced-in garden. They looked as if they weren’t sure if the dragon had gone mad, taken up dancing, or if they should direct the guards stationed nearby to intervene and save that poor woman.

Finally, as if just to prove Valar right, his hips began to ache. He brought himself to a stop, and lowered Alia back to the ground. As soon as she had her foot, she backed up to give him plenty of room. He dropped his forepaws down, resisting the urge to resume spinning about on all fours. A hint of dizziness still twisting in his head told him he’d made the right decision. Instead, he simply tipped his head back and roared, once more rattling the dishware and nearby windows alike.

When his roar ended, Valyrym took another deep breath, and called out at the top of his lungs. “I’m free!”

“Yes, Father, you are!” Valar padded over to his side, grinning. “And while I’m delighted to see you so overjoyed about your own freedom, I’m afraid you’re starting to scare the locals.”

Alia put her hands on her hips, glancing back towards the restaurant. “He has a point. I think one of the servers is talking to guards inside.”

Valyrym snorted. “It’s not my fault dragons are loud when they’re happy.”

“Perhaps not,” Alia said. “But if we don’t want to wear out our welcome before we’re ready to leave town, you should at least try to avoid frightening the locals. They might be used to seeing the occasional dragon, but I doubt they’re used to hearing them roar.”

“Oh, very well.” Valyrym turned back towards the table, cradling Alia beneath his wing. “Valar, you did see Krek is paying for all this, did you not?”

“He is, yes.” Valar nodded. “He’s paid for most of it in advance, and he’ll cover the bill for everything else, as well.”

Alia gestured at the nervous looking servers, now staring at the dragons through the windows. “That’s good, because I think we should make up for frightening them by leaving an extremely generous tip.”

Valyrym perked his ears, his frills rising. “You mean we can atone for my indiscretions by punishing the bird financially? Yes, let’s do that. Let’s definitely do that.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what he intended.” Valar shrugged his wings, rumbling amusement. “Then again, I don’t see him here to stop us.”

“Precisely.” Valyrym ushered Alia back towards the table. “On that note, if Alia’s not going to let my roar, I suppose I could celebrate my freedom by ordering enough of this delightful rum to get properly drunk.”

Alia laughed, rubbing his side. “I think I could allow that.”

“And then…” Valyrym ushered her back to the meal, lowering his head to whisper to her. “Perhaps I’ll also celebrate by taking my lover to that spring we flew over, for a private bath.”

Alia smiled, kissing his nose. “I think I could allow that, too.” Then she shook a finger at him. “Though if you drink too much rum, bathing might be all we do.” 

Valar flashed them both a wicked grin. “At his age, it’s wonder he can do anything else when he’s sober.”

Alia giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. “I’m not laughing, Val, I swear!”

Valyrym snorted. “You may laugh, Alia. It was a well-aimed jest.” He shot Valar a playful glare. “I just hope my ever-so-witty son realizes that he’ll be my age, someday. And that he also has a child to make fun of him, once he is.”

“That I do.” Valar settled back alongside the table, curling his tail around his paws. “And once I’m all old and gray-scaled, I shall fully expect her to unleash an absolute broadside about the limits of my aging body.”

“As she should.” Valyrym sat down next to his son. “Seems to be family tradition.” He lifted his drinking bowl, and drained the last of the rum. He thumped it back down with a flourish. “Speaking of which. Now that you’ve of age to drink alcohol, Valar-”

“I’ve been drinking alcohol for decades, Father.” Valar thumped his tail, chuckling.

“Not with me, you haven’t.” Valyrym arched his neck. “As far as I’m concerned, this is your first such outing!”

Valar picked up his own drink, gesturing with it. “Father, we drank in the inn, with Jirr. And we-”

“Krek’s old girlfriend hardly counts.” Valyrym drummed his fingers against the table, rattling his bowl. “Besides, this is different. This is our first chance to just sit and drink together as father, and son.” He waved at Alia and Vatch. “And your extended family.” Then he snapped his teeth at Vatch. “And if you tell anyone you family, I’ll string you up by your mangy tail and bat you about like a party favor.”

Vatch made a face, his ears splayed and tongue half protruding. “Oh, dragon so scary. It okay dragon. Vatch not tell anyone Dragon love Vatch like long-lost brother.” He waited a bit, then cut in just before Valyrym could reply. “He not have to tell. Everyone already know.”

“Perhaps so.” Valyrym flattened back his spines, then turned his attention to Valar. “So what of it, Valar? Care to get drunk with a miserable old bastard?”

A smile spread across Valar’s muzzle, a smile that was all Valyrym ever wanted to see. “I’d be delighted, Father.” Valar delicately picked up the bottle of rum, splitting the last of it between their two bottles. “We’re going to have to order a few more of these, though.”  

Valyrym shrugged his wings. “Since the bird’s paying, let’s ask if they have anything even more expensive.”

“Again, he isn’t here to stop us.” Valar set the empty bottle down. “But, first thing’s first. A toast.”

Valyrym blinked. “A toast?”

“It’s a habit I picked up from humans, ages ago.” Valar lifted his drinking bowl. “You hoist your vessels, and then you-”

“I know what a toast is, Valar.” Valyrym picked up his own rum. “I was toasting with humans in Sigil Stones long before you were even conceived.”

Valar only smirked. “If you say so, Father.” He cleared his throat with a growl. “Now, if you’ll allow me?”

Valyrym dipped his head in acquiescence. “By all means.”

Valar raised his drink higher. He glanced around, waiting until Alia and Vatch did the same. Then he held it out over the center of the table, where even Vatch could reach. “To freedom, then.”

Valyrym’s breath caught, but a smile soon parted his muzzle. In that moment, he could think of no better toast.

“To freedom.”