Page 47 of Delinquent Dette
Dette.Frikka laughed and choked when the rest of the pup slid free. The pup was a bicolor, not as perfect as Luka’s tuxedo coat, but from the bottom of his chin to his chest, he was pearl colored, flecks and freckles spreading out from belly, ending at his tail. “Sten…”
Frikka tore free of his clothes and shifted, nestling in with Jasper as his little one hatched. The nest that never got to see life finally had. And as Frikka licked the pup clean, one who proclaimed to beAshes, the third of the Slang eggs hatched, a little Drake who slid free uneventfully, stretching his little limbs, tail too thin. All three of the pups were a little malnourished, but some nice fat rats would have them full and plump in no time.
Frikka had a freezer full of mackerel ready for his pups.
“Petre, Andre, and Cal,” Jasper declared as the pups chirped—Drake, Dette, and Dette.
Petre meant stone, as did Hallr and Sten. It was a fitting name for a pup to be raised in Nielsen territory. Little emerald scales looked so beautiful nestled against Jasper’s dark belly. Somuch so that they barely noticed until Smoke was nearly fully hatched, another Dette.
You know what this means, don’t you, Drake?Frikka scooped the pups against him to lick and love. Jasper helped him, pushing the pups together for warmth between them.
“That we finally did it?” Sten laughed.
That we must try again as soon as possible. Try for some Drakes to even things out.Frikka purred hard and nuzzled the lovely little ones. Smoke and Ashes would be two beautiful additions to the clan. Sten did the one thing he promised and texted Torfi a picture and a few words.Your grandpups have hatched as well as the great grandpups. We have a little Dette with a jarl’s coat.
Torfi texted back right after.Tell me when I can come see them. Fjallarr can stay home. He and I aren’t on speaking terms quite yet. I may not let him in my nest for many seasons.
Sten knew the pain of being denied his love, but the denial of a mate had to be even worse.That is not my decision to make. The denial of Fjallarr is not our wish, but yours. We only want peace. And for Frikka, that may mean never seeing him again. Will he accept it?
He has no choice but to. Tell me when and if you’re ready.Torfi responded no more after Sten sent back a thumbs-up. That emoji seemed to answer all things he didn’t wish to type out.
Father. I think I need to go upstairs and make myself something to eat. Can you keep Frikka and the pups warm?Jasper needed no such thing, but he slipped from the nest, shifted, put on a robe, and left, letting Sten strip, shift, and snuggle in with Frikka.
This should have been…Frikka stared at their sleeping little ones next to their grandpups. Freshly hatched nesting scent flooded Sten’s nostrils, and he memorized it.
The nest was very different from when he’d originally built it. Jasper had made so many of his own changes for the comfort of a frightened Dette, but at its core, the nest was the same. Life had been made there. Life had been hatched there. The balance of the scales would forever be tipped toward sadness, but new life evened them out.
Sten lay against his mate, snuggling up as a little green Drake climbed slowly over Frikka’s side. He sneezed, nearly falling off before Sten caught him with his tail.Little pebble. You may be a stone some day, but see what is around you. As the only Drake, it is your obligation to be better than the Drakes that came before.
Petre stared him down and gave a little growl, puffing up in a little threat display. A little chirp of thought spoke to them.Hungry! Cold!
I can solve one of those.Sten tucked the pup under one of his wings and bristled when it pricked its claws, turning in a circle.
Warm. Sleepy.It yawned, and Sten imagined a future he didn’t have to be a völur to see. It was filled with happy Dettes, respectful Drakes, and lots of birth control. They’d be overpopulated before it was over with. There were only so many hoards that dragonkind could build.
Epilogue
Frikka
Sten lounged in the backyard, Smoke and Ashes snoozing happily on his flank, little claws dug into his scales. He didn’t seem to mind—such a tolerant and lovely Drake he never deserved.
Torfi sat beside him, patting the rump of one of Jasper’s fussy little pups. They were clingy, and rightfully so. It was a toss-up, whether it was because of their circumstances at laying or from Jasper’s mollycoddling. Frikka’s Dette father didn’t seem to mind, though.
Andre, the pup that had chosen Torfi’s lap, yawned and fussed when he stopped patting on him, spurring the male to pat him some more. “Their tummies are very sensitive.”
“Stressed eggs.” Frikka nodded as he reached over his shoulder to pat the head of a resting little Drake. Petre wriggled happily, fattening up much faster than his Dette siblings.
Torfi wasn’t much for continuing to apologize, but Fjallarr was. Frikka had grudgingly allowed him to come see his grandpups, as he’d never met any of the others before adulthood. It was a small obligation to make sure Fjallarr was kept in the loop on Ashes. With his bicolored coat, he’d be a very sought-after Dette among the Nidhogg clan. Any Drake that took him, if so he chose, would be given status that of a clan head.
Cinder, fortunately, didn’t have any more dreams of the völur nature. No ill tidings called to him in his dreams—or at least ones he told about. Fjallarr had been gracious enough to see to Cinder’s training too, despite him being a Dior in coloring—and likely dead set on claiming Niko—the Nidhogg wanted to foster and track his gift.
Fjallarr, for the day, had chosen Smoke and Cal to play with, running around the yard and nipping at them playfully in a way he’d never done with Frikka as a pup. It was a step in the right direction if he was being genuine. Frikka would have to watch him, though. No older Drakes were trustworthy. Jasper didn’t think so, either, as he sat on the fountain’s edge in his skin and watched.
The doorbell rang, but they’d left it unlocked. People came and went as they pleased, after all.
Ryan and Gaspard showed up, Felix, Colborn, Karl, and Laurant in tow, also with a slew of children happily racing about in their human forms. They were generally mild-mannered little ones, but being on Nielsen territory entitled them to certain freedoms, like Leo said, the freedom to be thebatshitandoff of walls. Happy pups were tired pups.
They brought folding chairs with them, popping them up around where Frikka and Torfi sat. The little ones bowled over Sten like ants on watermelon, earning a slew of laughter and the startled bark of a tiny pup not yet ready to play as hard as his cousins.
