The Rebirth Of A Dragon

Luna's Point of View

He disappeared into the stone-and-wood den he called a cabin, the door closing with a soft thud. Inside, the firelight danced across the window, flickering like a slow, steady heartbeat.

My own heartbeat... wasn't so steady.

I lay near the water's edge, stretched comfortably in the grass, my body still, but my thoughts anything but.

He had called himself Hiccup.

A strange name. Soft. Odd. Not fierce or commanding like "Alpha" or "Hunter." Not the kind of name barked with dominance or fear.

But it fit him.

Somehow.

Still...

I let out a quiet huff through my nostrils.

He blew air in my face.

I growled under my breath, my tail thumping the ground once in irritation.

How dare he fluster me.

No other living being had ever done that before. None had ever dared.

And yet...

The edges of my mouth curled upward—not in a snarl, but in something softer.

A smile.

Ridiculous.

I should have scorched him for such insolence. But instead, I kept remembering his face. That sly grin. That low, amused laugh. Not mocking. Not cruel.

Playful.

So different from the other side of him—the cold strategist who moved like shadow and struck like flame. The one who spoke of burning down the world like it was a prophecy he intended to keep.

Two sides. One human.

The warm smile... and the predator behind it.

I didn't know which one unsettled me more.

Or which one I wanted to see again.

My gaze returned to the cabin.

Quiet.

I could hear faint creaks of wood, the soft movements of someone at peace. No weapons. No armor. No threat.

Just... him.

His scent lingered on the wind. Pine and blood. Smoke and steel.

And beneath all that, something else.

Loneliness.

I knew that scent. I carried it too. It wasn't something the body produced—it was something the soul exhaled when it had been left alone too long.

And it was strongest on him.

It made me think of his words. Of the pain behind them. Of the fire in his voice when he spoke of being mocked, abandoned, pushed aside by his own kind.

He was alone.

Like me.

Then came the memory.

His voice, low and bitter, as he spoke of his mother. Of how she left him. Chose dragons—chose my kind—over him.

My wings twitched.

Without thinking, I stood.

My tail slammed the ground, claws digging into the earth.

A growl rose from deep in my chest.

His mother.

His father.

His village.

They hurt him.

They left him.

And I... I was angry.

Why?

Why did it matter to me?

I never cared before. Not about the Queen. Not about the others. Not about pain that wasn't mine.

I never cared.

But now...

My breathing slowed. Deepened.

There was a burn in my chest that had nothing to do with fire.

Was it pity?

No.

It didn't feel like pity.

It felt like rage. Like someone had tried to break something mine.

I froze.

Mine?

Since when did I care about anyone?

I pulled back from the thought, unsettled. My wings folded in tight.

This human...

Hiccup...

He was changing things.

Not with power. Not with chains. But with truth. With vulnerability. With purpose.

And then, his offer came back to me.

A partner.

Not a master.

Not a jailor.

A partner.

It hadn't felt like a demand.

It had felt like a door—one I'd never thought to open—being held open just long enough for me to choose.

And now... I was thinking about it.

I curled myself near the cabin, my body wrapping into a half-circle beneath the stars. My eyes fixed on the flickering light in the window. Inside, I could still hear his heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Strong.

He was dangerous.

But so was I.

He was broken.

But so was I.

And maybe...

Just maybe...

We didn't have to stay that way.