Page 17 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon
"Well, for starters," Ember begins seriously, "real dragons don't have those weird bumpy things on their heads, and we can all breathe fire, not just some of us, and—"
"How about we watch the movie first, critique later?" I suggest gently, knowing that once Ember starts analyzing dragon depictions in media, she won’t stop.
"Okay, but I'm keeping a list," she warns, pressing play on the remote.
As the movie begins, I find myself glancing at Luna. She sits cross-legged, her knee occasionally brushing against my thigh when she shifts position. Her scent, something floral mingled with the natural sweetness of her skin, is more noticeable in this close proximity. I remind myself to focus on the film, not on cataloging the subtle changes in her breathing or the way her heartbeat quickens during certain scenes.
Ember provides running commentary despite my earlier suggestion, pointing out everything the filmmakers got wrong about dragons. Luna listens attentively, asking thoughtful questions that delight my daughter.
Twenty minutes into the film, Ember's commentary begins to slow, her excited energy waning as tiredness takes over. By the time Hiccup and Toothless form their tentative friendship on screen, she's slumped against Luna's side, eyes fluttering closed.
"She's fading fast," Luna whispers, glancing down at Ember with a soft expression.
"She's had quite a day," I murmur, watching as my daughter's head slides down to rest in Luna's lap. "Sorry about that. I can move her."
"It's fine," Luna says, gently stroking Ember's dark curls. "She's comfortable."
We watch the rest of the movie in silence, the only sounds Ember's soft breathing and the occasional commentary from Luna about the film. I find myself watching Luna more than the screen, fascinated by her gentle handling of my daughter, the way she seems so natural with Ember despite the extraordinary circumstances.
When the credits roll, I reach for the remote and turn off the TV, plunging the room into dimness, illuminated only by a single lamp across the room.
"Should we wake her?" Luna asks, still absently stroking Ember's hair.
I shake my head. "I'll carry her up in a bit. She's sleeping soundly now."
Luna nods, seeming content to stay where she is, Ember's head resting in her lap. After a moment of comfortable silence, she speaks again, her voice low in the quiet room.
"So... Romania in the 1380s. That must have been... different."
The corner of my mouth lifts at her diplomatic phrasing. "That's one way to put it. Life was harder then, in many ways. Shorter for humans. Simpler in others."
"Were there more dragons then?"
"Yes," I say, the single word carrying centuries of loss. "Many more. We lived primarily in mountainous regions, the Carpathians, the Alps, the Pyrenees. Remote enough to shift forms without detection, but close enough to human settlements for necessary interaction."
"Necessary interaction?" she questions, raising an eyebrow.
"Trade, primarily. Dragons have always had certain skills valued by humans—metalworking, mainly. Our fire burns hotter than any forge humans could create back then. We could work metals in ways they couldn't match."
"Is that what you did? You were a metalworker?"
I nod. "My father was a master craftsman, renowned for his work with gold and precious gems. I learned the trade from him, carried it through several centuries."
"And now you work construction," she observes, no judgment in her tone, merely curiosity.
"It's practical in this era. The physical labor suits my strength, and it's a nomadic enough profession that moving frequently doesn't raise suspicions." I glance down at Ember, peaceful in sleep. "With her, stability has become more important. Hence settling in Cedar Falls, taking a permanent position with Blackwood."
Luna considers this. "How often do you usually move?"
"Every five to ten years, traditionally. Long enough to establish ourselves, not so long that humans notice we don't age normally. With Ember entering school, we'll likely stay here through her elementary years at least."
"And then what? New identities, new town, start over?"
"That's how it's been done for centuries," I confirm. "Modern documentation makes it more complicated, but there are ways."
She falls silent, processing this information. I can almost see her mind working, calculating what this means for her position, for her relationship with Ember.
"You're wondering about your role in this," I observe quietly.
