Dragon Boyfriend: Deiphobos (rough draft)

Stories have been passed down for generations about how the dragons came and forged the lands with their fire and strength. It was not man who first founded what is now known at the Ruby Empire, it was dragons. Back then, the isles that were formed by the dragons were known as gems, each one a different hunting ground and keep for certain tribes of dragons. The Ruby Isle was one of the biggest, becoming what is now home to the Rakshasa and Lizardfolk kingdoms. Your home was once known as the gem Malachite.

Over time, the isles joined together, forming the Dragon’s Chest as it became known before being called the Ruby Empire. Despite this, your home still remained an island south of the Rakshasa shores. Indeed, while Malachite were still in abundance on your home, it was copper that was now the main resource the land produced. The men in your family had been miners for generations, while the women were prodigious cooks.

Even in your earliest memories you were in the kitchen. Your great-grandmother taught you how to make dough and roll it and let it rise. Your grandmother passed down secret recipes and spices that had been in the family for generations. Your mother bestowed upon you cookware and knowledge of presentation on the plate. Even before you had your first blood, you were a master chef in your own right.

Due to your family’s history as great cooks, the women in your family were high sought to become the cooks in the richest homes on the island. Your grandmother still worked for her family, had so for decades. Your mother worked for a family, in the same house you were born in. You had even been working in a family’s house, having started there when you were sixteen, you had now been in their employ for a decade.

It was also family tradition to never cook your best for the family you served. You saved your best for your home, your blood, a trick your great-grandmother taught you to reign during her final days.

“When you work, you do not put love into the food,” she told you. “It does not come out the same, but people who don’t know, will never know. Only those you love will be able to taste that difference, that love, that care. Do not work yourself to death trying to make others see your gifts when in the end, it will not matter to them either way.”

It was coming close to being the birthday of the young daughter of the house. She had been so young when you arrived, barely five. Now, she was celebrating her debut, something which you found utterly remarkable. You had heard your mother, your grandmother, each talking about the celebrations and milestones which they prepared feasts for in the houses they worked. You had certainly had your fair share of feasts, but in your ten years of employ, this felt like the first milestone of the house you witnessed.

Also, this little girl felt like a sister to you. She would hide in the kitchen, even to this day, to escape the bickering of her family. She would watch you cook, sample your work, and had even picked up cooking as a skill in her own right. She loved making bread, kneading and working for hours to create a perfect loaf.

As her birthday drew nearer she talked more about her dresses and who she wanted to dance with. She had idealistic daydreams about meeting the love of her life at that party.

“Are you married?” She asks you one day in the midst of describing a romance with a forgein prince.

You smile back at her. “I am not.”

Her expression widens into shock at this news. “I thought you were!”

You are chopping vegetables that will be fried then tossed in a sauce. “I am not. My family tends to marry older because of how busy we are. Either working in the kitchen, or working in the mines.”

“How awful,” the girl whispers.

You shrug, tossing a batch of chopped vegetables into the pan where the sizzle and pop. “Not really. Mama says it helps to keep us young. The later we get married, the longer we go without the stress.”

The girl seems to think long and hard about this. After all, her parents had married young, had her young, and all they did was fight. “I still would like to meet someone,” she says decidedly. “Then I could have my own house, my own staff, and I could take you with me.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. “Are you ready to put up such a fight with your mother, young lady?”

“Willing,” she says brightly. “I would not be able to stomach anyone else’s cooking besides yours. I would simply ask my father, and he would have no choice but to let you leave here to come and be with me.”

You smile to yourself as you stir the contents of the pan, tossing in spices so that when they combine with the sauce it would make a wonderful symphony of flavor. “If you say so, dear.”

“What would your dream man be?” The girl practices dancing with the air as she ask you this. “How would you want to meet him?”

“How are you so sure it is a man?” You ask teasingly.

The girl grins at you. “Then that would certainly be the talk of the house!”

You chuckle and shrug. “I never really thought about it. I grew up with only knowing miners. I suppose a scholar or artist might be interesting.”

The girl continues to dance. “Then how would you meet?”

You hum as you think. “I would want it to be a surprise. Something sudden like a bolt of lightning.”

“That sounds scary.”

“Does it?” You toss the vegetables into the sauce. “I think it sounds rather romantic. Like, the shock and surprise of it all is what binds you, what brings you together. You talk about it, you learn from it, you slowly grow to know each other more. Eventually, it’s all second nature.”

“What about seeing each other from across the room? Your eyes meet and you are both pulled to one another by a force stronger than yourself?”

You snicker. “When is the last time you saw someone across the room and didn’t avert your gaze immediately?”

“Well-” she murmurs.

“Those are stories, little one. More than likely, you will bump into someone while getting a drink. You’ll both laugh, he’ll offer to fill your cup, and the night will progress from there.”

“That sounds boring,” she whines.

“That is life. It is both not what you want, but what is expected.” You offer her a taste of what you’re cooking with a blob of rice. “Now try this and tell me what you think.”

She happily takes the bites. “It’s spicy!”

“Good, that’s what the rice is for.”

You begin preparing the feast for her party days in advance. You work on the cakes first, then soups, then chopping up everything, preparing vats of rice, and so on until the day arrives and you begin putting everything together. You start early in the morning, knowing you’ll be working until late that evening.

There is a great commotion, but you figure it is just the party underway, perhaps someone already had too much to drink and knocked over an entire table. You continue working, even as screams begin to pour into the hallway. You finally stop when it begins to bother the rest of the staff.

“What’s going on? Is there a fire?” You walk away from the stove right as the doors burst open as some of the servers come running inside.

“Dragon!” One screams.

“Impossible!” You scoff. “How can there be a dragon! They’re all gone!”

“It’s circling the island!” Another server burts. “It’s heading this way! You can see it outside.”

“This must be a trick,” you scoff. You step towards the back doors which lead into the garden. “I’m seeing this for myself.”

“Chef! Don’t go out there! It’s dangerous!”

You open the doors and walk out, surprised by how dark it is already, you had assumed it was earlier. Then, you hear a low growl and just as you look up, it lands in the garden. There was no way to describe what you felt then. You had been told through stories all the dragons had died, or returned to Grattertock to hide. You were shaking, but quickly closed the doors behind you so the dragon didn’t see the staff inside.

The dragon lowers down, looking directly at you with bright golden eyes. “Something smells devine.”

Your shaking from your chest outwards, feeling it now enter your hands. “You’ve come to the kitchen.”

The dragon tilts their head. “Are you the cook?”

You’re not sure why, probably because you are only moving on instinct, but you nod.

The dragon holds out a hand. “Then come with me.”

You do not remember what happened after that, you must have fainted. When you do regain consciousness, you find yourself in a wholly new place, surrounded by things you have never seen before. Everything is bathed in the rich green color of the malachite. There are veins of it in the stone walls, and the floor. All around you are pillows and soft things, piled high to form a nest. As you lift yourself from the pillowy pit, you see a massive fireplace lined with copper. There are great stone pillars carved in the shape of dragons, their eyes filled by different gemstones.

You try to get out of the nest but you keep falling backwards, plopping into comfort and softness each time. You snake in frustration, finally managing to find some footing in something solid and bracing yourself at the edge. As you’re pulling yourself out the dragon steps from inside the fire place.

You yelp as you fall back inside, plopping back into the void of down.

“Good, I was hoping you would be awake.” The dragon reaches in and pulls you out, setting you on the malachite floor.

“No!” Is all you can yell, throwing up your hands and jumping back when he releases you.

The dragon lowers down to the ground, massive, strong, and hypnotically beautiful. He is various shades of copper, melting from golden to fiery red. His great head bows before you and he closes his golden eyes.

“Forgive me, but I only intend to keep you here for a short while. My name is Deiphobos, and I am humbly asking for your help.”

“You’re a dragon!” You blurt.

He opens his eyes again. “I am.”

Your mouth opens and shuts like a landed fish.

“I understand you’re frightened, but I want to change that. You see, I have just woken from a long slumber, and to my horror, I found I am alone. I need help.”

“Why?” You sputter. “Why? Why me?”

Deiphobos tilts his head to the side. “Because of your smell, it was very familiar to me. Before I fell into my deep sleep, I used to partake in the festivals below my keep. There, a woman used to make a dish in my honor. Whatever you were making, it smelled exactly like it.”

“I am a chef,” you murmur.

Deiphobos lowers his head more. “I am scared, little chef. I am alone. Please, all I ask is just your presence, your understanding. I will let you go once I am able to clear the path from my keep, then, people can come and go as they please and my home will be filled again”

“You can be afraid?” You ask in awe.

“All creatures are,” he replies quietly. “Fear is familiar to all of us.”

You wring your hands as you look up at him. “You aren’t going to eat me?”

Deiphobos shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The quaking in your chest hasn’t subsided, but it has moved away from your hands. “What are you afraid of?”

“I am lonesome,” he murmurs. “My keep used to be filled to the brim with people, with other dragons. But now-”

You look at him apologetically. “Dragons,” you start nervously, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, dragons haven’t existed in some time. Sightings have been rare. Most are gone, either dead or returned to Grattertock.”

Deiphobos sighs heavily. He lays his head and long neck upon the floor and begins to weep. “I missed it! I was foolish and thought it was a mere nap!”

“Don’t cry on the malachite!” You exclaim urgently. “It’ll make you sick!”

Golden tears fall from his eyes, splashing onto the ground and cooling to form hard lumps upon the ground. “The mass migration, the hibernation, I thought there was more time.” He whimpers.

You approach him gingerly, kneeling down beside his head and touching it. He feels hot to the touch, while his scales feel like smooth metal.

“I know this means nothing to a human like you,” he sniffles. “But I missed a rebirth. I will be lost to the ages.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply. “Usually, I cook something when someone is sad. I don’t know what to do here.”

Deiphobos chuckles softly. “You smell like long ago to me, like the festivals that held at the base of my keep. It makes me feel safe.”

You continue to pet him, rubbing his muzzle and the sides of his face until his head lays in your lap. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever expect to hold a dragon in your hands, let alone comfort it upon your lap.

“I am sorry,” he sighs. “I will take you home, you do not need to take care of me.”

“I would like that very much. But I would feel bad knowing you are here alone.” You’re still fighting with your gut instinct about what to do. “Take me home,” you say decisively. “But just long enough for me to see my family and pack my things.”

Deiphobos lifts his head and stares at you in disbelief. “You would do that?”

“Once you clear that path, I can come and go as I please, right? Not only that, my family could come as well.” You give him a firm nod. “Let me cook for you if it smells so familiar. Let me help you fill your home again so you are not alone, and you will not become lost.”

Deiphobos nudges your cheek and breathes against your hair. “I will greatly reward this kindness. Ask for anything and I will give it to you.”

“Right now, I have used up everything in me to decide upon this. Let me think about it and I will let you know.”

“That is fine,” he chuckles. “Do you want me to take you to your home now?”

“Please, I am sure my family is panicked beyond reason.”

Deiphobos places you upon his back, and as he walks through the fireplace he comes out the otherside flying into the sky. You direct him where to go and he lands in the street outside your house.

It is utter chaos. Your grandmother tries to rush out onto the street with her best nice to attack the dragon, only to find it cannot pierce his skin, and it ruins the blade. She keeps trying to attack him though and you have to force her inside. While your family tries to convince you to hide, you have to calmly coax them down.

It takes what feels like hours, but eventually you convince them of your plan. “I want to cook for him. I am not sure why, but I feel as though this is what I have to do, what I have been preparing for since our family began. Do not ask me to explain it I just-”

“I see,” your grandmother murmurs. “My mother used to tell me that our recipes came in the hopes of finding favor with the dragons.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I thought she was crazy. Always talking about dragons that one. But now,” he voice goes low. “Seeing this creature on our doorstep, I have to admit my mother may have been right.”

“But we can’t just let her go!” Your mother argues.

“I know it is frightening,” your grandmother says. “But giving up your child, one way or another, is in itself the most frightening thing a parent can do. Granted, I expected her to go off with a miner like everyone else. Going to live with a dragon? It is a shock to this old heart, but it is not much different.”

Your mother looks at her like she’s ready to attack her with a knife too. “You’re joking right, mother?”

“Only a little.” She then stands and goes into the kitchen. Out from under the cupboards she takes a great big pan and hands it to you. “This was to be your birthright upon your wedding day, but I think now is the proper time.” The man had been in your family longer than even your name. It had been used during celebrations and family gatherings, only for the most important of events. It had been your family’s greatest heirloom and pride, used back when the festivals first began.

“Take it now to please your dragon,” your grandmother says. “The more you earn a dragon’s trust, the greater your fortune becomes.”

“This is crazy!” Your father argues. “We can’t just let her go with this beast! How do we know she is safe?”

You take the pan into your hands. “Because he remembers our family’s cooking. Our ancestors used to feed it to him at the festivals.” You look into his eyes. “He just wants a companion. He won’t hurt me. My food will make him happy.”

“And he will bless our family in return,” your grandmother says thoughtfully.

You finish packing your things, including more spices and cookware from your family. You say a tearful farewell to your family. “It won’t be long, once the path is cleared again we can all come and go as we please.”

Your grandmother kisses your cheeks. “You will call it home soon, we will come visit.” She then brandishes another knife at Deiphobos. “You owe me a new knife!”

He tilts his head. “You attacked me.”

Your grandmother waves the knife in her hand which your father quickly takes away. “And I’ll do it again if you hurt her!”

“Then I will make sure nothing does.” Deiphobos loads your supplies onto his back. He then gently lifts you up and lets you say one more goodbye before flying back to his keep.

“Your grandmother felt familiar,” he says.

You chuckle. “Sorry she tried to stab you.”

He glances back as he flies, a smile appearing on his face. “She loves you, I understood her motives.”