24. Hernan

Chapter 24

Hernan

Merry had sent me off to my studio this morning, saying it was only a ring twist away I needed to stop hovering. Easier said than done. Ever since the eggs came, I had become a master hoverer. Merry, on the other hand, was such a good dad. He watched those eggs like a hawk and still got things done.

Merry had never been good at sitting still. He loved to be productive. He reorganized our clothes twice, kept the room immaculate, and started crocheting. He made so many little stuffed animals that I had to set aside a new section in the attic just for them. He said we could sell them next year at the Christmas festival. They were absolutely adorable and kept his need to accomplish tasks sated.

I glanced up at my clock. It was getting close to lunchtime, so I started to clean up. I could only focus on work for so long, knowing our eggs could hatch any day. I didn’t want to miss a moment of their coming into this world.

I’d put a stew on in the kitchen earlier, and the aroma hit me before I even fully opened the door. It was a vegetable stew from one of the cooking shows we’d watched recently. I’d been skeptical about it, but the smell told me it was going to be wonderful. That was another new habit of ours—watching cooking shows together. I had to laugh at how different our lives were now that the eggs were here and Merry was glued to the nest.

I turned the stew down, as per the directions, and was about to make sandwiches for lunch when Merry’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with fear.

“Hernan! Hernan, come here!”

I ran into the room to find him standing over the eggs, his body physically shaking.

“What’s wrong?” I rushed to his side.

“The color—it’s different. It’s wrong.” He didn’t look up at me, his eyes focused on our eggs.

“What do you mean it’s different?” I was trying to stay calm. It wasn’t easy.

At first, his words didn’t make sense, but then I saw it. The veins of color on the eggs weren’t the same vibrant shades they’d been before. They were darker. And there were new patches of color forming.

“Maybe it’s an egg thing.” I really should’ve paid more attention to sex ed. “I haven’t heard of it before, but most dragons are fairly private about their eggs.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Let me go get the midwife.” The thought of leaving physically hurt, but I couldn’t think of a better plan. I surely couldn’t call a midwife from town. Not only were we dealing with eggs— in the North Pole, but they were elf/dragon eggs. There was no explaining that.

He looked up at me, his eyes wide. “We can’t. It’s too far.” They were only across Santa’s Village, but I got it. Any distance was too far.

“It’s not too far. I have the ring, remember?” I hugged him tightly. Technically it was too far for me too, but with the magic of my ring, I might be able to get there and back faster than going any other method I could think of. At least I hoped it would be. “I’ll pop in, get them, and pop out. It’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t completely sure I was telling him the truth, and my dragon didn’t want to leave him any more than I did, but getting the midwife seemed like the best option. I slipped on my ring, turned it, and found myself not just across the village, but at the midwife’s front door. That was new—I’d always ended up in the same general area before. But my intention had been very clear as I willed myself there and that appeared to have made all the difference.

Without hesitating, I knocked on the door, and when it opened, the midwife said, “It’s time.” They grabbed their bag, took my hand, and the next thing I knew, we were back home. The whole trip had taken maybe a minute—I hadn’t even had time to explain what was happening.

When we got there, my mate was curled around the eggs, tears streaming down his face. “They’re changing. They’re changing. I think... I think something’s wrong.”

The midwife put a comforting hand on Merry’s shoulder. “Let me check them out. I only sense two healthy and happy dragons.”

He gently turned the eggs, examining each one carefully, making comforting sounds as he did so.

“The change means it’s time.”

Merry’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Think about it, Merry. Where are you from?” There was zero concern etched on the midwife’s face.

“The North Pole.”

“Exactly. And how do we know when something is ready at the North Pole?”

Merry thought for a few seconds before answering. “We wrap it up for Christmas.”

“Exactly. This is your eggs wrapping themselves up. Look here—this line is forming a bow. And over here, a star.”

As he pointed out the patterns, they began to make sense. Comforted by his explanation, we asked him to stay. We weren’t confident enough to do this alone. So the three of us sat there, watching the eggs.

What started as a slow process became quicker. Before long, the eggs looked like huge Easter eggs, all decked out for Christmas. It was an odd experience watching them morph in real time—one I hadn’t expected—but magical all the same. They were telling us exactly when they were ready to arrive.

When the eggs looked absolutely perfect, like something you’d display in a museum featuring Christmas art, they began to wobble. The wobble became a peck, then a crack. It was so hard not to help them, not to pull them out, but the midwife insisted they needed to do this on their own.

Then, a little claw emerged from the first egg, then another. Our first baby was here. With dragons, you only saw them in their shifted form once before puberty, and that was at birth. As soon as you held them, they shifted to their human form for the first time.

I wanted Merry to have the honor. He picked up the first baby—a little dragon with green and red scales, the colors of Christmas. When they shifted, they became the most beautiful baby boy I’d ever seen.

Shortly after, the second egg cracked. Merry turned to me. “You get this one.”

I waited for the perfect moment, then picked up the second baby. This one had blue, gold, and a hint of red in their scales—also Christmas colors, but different than their twin. When they shifted, I was holding a beautiful baby girl.

We named them Nool and Noelle, cliché as it was, and they were absolutely perfect.