Page 39 of Delinquent Dette
Chapter Twenty-One
Sten
When they declared Frikka done, Sten shifted and dressed, holding his chest as he staggered to the side of the nest to sit. He’d taken his fair share of the pain Frikka experienced. It made him regret not taking it their two previous clutches.
“Eggs thirteen and fourteen for him, was it?” Gaspard said quietly as he cleaned his hands and let Frikka sleep, their two new little lives nestled comfortably against his side.
Sten nodded as Bastien made notes in his phone, actively typing away.
“Third clutch,” Sten nodded.
“I know you lost one from the first clutch due to a Bhaldraithe dispute… What was that over?” Gaspard sat next to Sten and folded his hands. The Drake was easy to talk to.
“I’m honestly not totally certain, but many interested parties had put offers in on Frikka, and him having a clutchdevaluedhim.” Sten twiddled his fingers, lacking something to focus on.
“That ceremony that they used to do for the clan heads… Barbaric thing…” Gaspard shook his head.
“It was a kindness in its own way. Dettes got to choose the Drake they lay with, or choose none at all. It was a great way to give a Dette a good heat with someone they trusted and cared for before…” Sten made a gesture.
“Before their paters made arrangements.” Gaspard sighed. “The Drakes were raiders, and Dettes?”
“If they weren’t adopted, they were traded off. Not a lot of medical care in those days, so a few bad heats could kill a Dette.” Sten gave a halfhearted shrug. “A happier Dette makes more Dettes… The running made an even number of Dettes to Drakes. Says a lot about their attitudes about it.”
Gaspard gave an uncomfortable shrug. “And you sired that clutch?”
Sten nodded. “I alone. And his second.”
“And this one, of course.” Gaspard made more notes in his phone, but the name on the file wasn’t Frikka’s. Sten glanced over, his name at the top of the screen.
“I do not need medical attention.” Sten frowned.
“No, you do not. But Frikka has been seeing Leo for his emotional well-being. And there’s nobody that talks to the Drakes. I think that should change.” Gaspard rested his hands in his lap and sighed. “Might as well be me. I am a Drake and I am more in touch with my heart.”
“You’re a Dette with a knot.” Sten snorted, elbowing Gaspard.
“Perhaps. But I sired pups. When called for, I can service a Dette just fine.” Gaspard had grown so comfortable with his sexuality over the years. Sten had ragged him for it but never judged him. He had a stag son, after all—Jörmun. He’d never faulted Torsten for his dual preference. They preferred to climb bigger mountains, so to speak.
“That you did. Very happy pups.” Sten ran fingers through his hair, finding the strands damp from sweat.
“And I aim for very happy Drakes, too. Talk to me, Sten.” Gaspard sat still as Bastien and Marc cleaned fastidiously, bagged the trash, and quietly binned over a dozen weak blanks in a sealed plastic tote. Without the last week of gestation, they were weaker and paler, and each one of them Sten verified lacked life. In a way, he understood how sad it was as they placed the tote to the side of the room. Leo talked about it often, being sad about the blanks. All the life that could have been, but wasn’t ready to be.
Sten sighed and hung his head. He started from the beginning with a chubby-tailed Dette pup full of Loki’s magicand Tyr’s fascination. Then, he ended with two beautiful eggs nestled into his mate’s side. And over the course of it all, Marc and Bastien had left, all evidence of their measures gone but the faint smell of antiseptic.
“I wish you’d confided in us sooner, but we never really spoke much of our pasts.” Gaspard rubbed his shoulder. “Come have drinks with me every other week. We’ll settle with a glass of something weak and let our dragons speak in the conservatory. I think it’d help you.”
“I’m fine. I promise you.” Sten waved Gaspard off.
“You may be fine foryou. But are you fine forhim?” Gaspard gestured toward the sleeping Frikka.
Sten stared at Frikka as his chest rose and fell in even pulses. He loved his Dette with all of his heart. “I could always be better for him.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Would you like to also talk to some other Drakes with me? You’ve been at the whole forefront of Dette rights since you were young. And you’re the strongest Drake I know. You’d have weight behind your words, the Drakes who still think Dettes weak and useless except for breeding.” Gaspard sighed heavily.
“I think most of those are stags who haven’t realized it yet…” Sten cut his gaze to the side, upper lip curling.
“Some, perhaps. But let us not blame bigotry on the stags. It’s an easy target, but not the root of the problem. Just some moss on the tree of shit that we’ve grown.” Gaspard pulled a cloth and hand sanitizer from a pocket and worked on cleaning his hands again, running the edge of the cloth under his nails, though they still gleamed almost immaculately.
“Then I’ll have those drinks, and I’ll join you in speaking to those Drakes. I suppose I traded my raiding ways for trading ways, and now that humans have proliferated this land, I’ll be robbing Drakes of their culture.” Sten snorted.
