#but because i had to revise and reorganise scene order

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.4

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2900 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

It's finally here. Please enjoy conflict resolution, gardening, and somebody finally taking the initiative. No notable content warnings. Mild descriptions of food and profanity.

To his credit, Slate does return on time. Adalyn watches him land, guarded and curious, from her spot at the dining table. There’s a thunk as a large wooden crate is set upon the balcony. A billow of shadow, and Slate appears after it, dressed neatly in his human form.  

He smiles. “Good morning, dearest!”  

“…good morning, Slate.” 

“I brought you something.” He waves her over, oblivious to her reticence.  

Reluctantly, she approaches. He bounces on his heels and grins at her again, cheeks flushed. His enthusiasm fazes her a little, but she’s not ready to forgive his unplanned absence. 

“Open it.” 

“It’s nailed shut.” 

He hesitates for a beat. “Right. Do you want me to..?” 

She gestures that he have at it. 

Slate uses his bare hands to pry open the crate. The lid groans and splinters under his touch, before cracking. His strength impresses her, but she doesn’t let it show. 

He steps back and removes the lid, now in several pieces, with a flourish. “Ta-da.” 

Bags of dirt. No. Bags of fertiliser. And... tools; pots, seedlings. She blinks. Everything she’d need to start a garden. Almost as if he’d read her mind. 

Adalyn doesn’t know what to say.  

At her silence, Slate’s smile falters, and he musses his hair, sheepish. “You left your garden plans out. I’m sorry I looked without asking. But I already had to go to Cheywyn so I thought I’d pick up your supplies... I can bring up soil from the forest and take you to Fleecehold to get clippings from your old garden. And I was thinking that once your garden is more established we could even talk to folks at one of the apiaries and see about getting a small hive up here-” He hesitates when he sees her expression. “Are you okay?” 

Adalyn closes her eyes. She lets out a long breath and takes a moment to compose herself. To relax her jaw. She doesn’t know how to answer his question. Doesn’t know if she should be honest, or if that would be showing too much vulnerability too soon.  

“This is a thoughtful gift. Thank you.” She speaks the truth, but struggles to inject any warmth into her tone. Instead she trudges inside and finishes making her drink. 

He follows her. Hesitates by the table. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She works in silence. Mulls over her words while she takes a sip of her tea. Then shrugs. “I was - I am – quite upset with you. But you’ve gone and done something sweet and now it doesn’t seem fair to be mad.” 

He takes in her dejected posture. Pulls up the seat beside her. Puts his hand on the table, inches away from hers. “You can still be mad. How did I upset you?” 

She struggles to meet his eyes. “You told me you’d spend time with me. Show me your armour. And then you left without saying anything.” 

He pales. “Ancestors. I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

She turns away. “It’s fine.” 

“No. It’s obviously not fine. You’ve every right to be upset.” He hesitates, “Look, I don’t want you to even consider the gift until I’ve made it up to you. I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to buy your affection.” He shifts again, floundering at words. “How else can I make this better?” 

Adalyn lets her eyes drift back to him. He really does look concerned.  

“I don’t know.” 

“I owe you some quality time. Why don’t we go over the armour this morning and the weapons? Unless, of course, you wanted to be alone.” 

Adalyn leans back in her chair, arms crossed. She’s still upset. And a petty part of her wants to turn her nose up at Slates offer and sulk in privacy. But she knows she’d regret it. 

She scowls down at her drink. Tries really hard to be nice. To be forgiving. To move past the upset, just a little. 

“It’d be a start.” 

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He taps one of her fingers with one of his own. “Did anything else happen? I mean, did I do anything else?” 

Her eyes flick to him, before dropping back to her drink. She sits in silence while she tries to straighten out her upsets. 

“I wish you’d said something before leaving. Even with your note, I still felt left in the dark.” 

Slowly he creeps one of his hands around hers. Absently, his thumb brushes the back of her hand. “I didn’t realise leaving would bother you. Does it usually?” 

Adalyn shrugs. She hadn’t expected him to take her so seriously. And with his gentle touch it’s getting increasingly difficult for her to pull away. “I’m used to it.” 

She misses his wince. His frown. “Okay. Barring emergencies, I won’t do it again. I’m sorry I didn’t consider how you’d feel about it.” 

Adalyn looks up. 

He’s completely serious. 

She’s surprised by his reaction, and slightly warmed. She’d felt like such a fool, being upset over something so small. He hadn’t made her feel like that at all.  

Feeling bold, Adalyn shuffles closer. Leans across the space and rests her forehead against his chest. 

“Tomorrow you can make it up to me some more.” 

“Yes?” 

“By helping me with the garden.” 

He strokes her hair. She tries not to melt completely at the touch, but it’s nearly impossible. Adalyn realises that she’s starved for these small affections, and presses her face harder against him. 

Her words are muffled, but Slate still hears her when she next speaks. 

“Thank you for listening. And taking me seriously.” 

He clears his throat. “Uh. Well. Of course. You listen to me every day, even when I talk about boring things.” 

“I like listening to you talk about boring things.” 

Her face heats at the admission. She wants to pull away, suddenly aware of her proximity, but doesn’t want Slate to see how embarrassed saying that had made her. 

There’s a long silence. 

“Do you… want to hear me talk about my amour collection?” 

She nods. Then, with great reluctance, pulls back, standing and clearing the table before she’s able to meet his eyes again. 

“Yeah. I’d love to.” 

--- 

Adalyn barely stirs when Slate touches her shoulder. The room is still dark. The fire burnt to embers. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m going to start bringing up some soil. If I’m not back by breakfast, I’ll see you outside.” 

“M’kay,” she mumbles, drifting back to sleep. 

She forgets the encounter.  

The sun rises and Adalyn drags herself from bed. It’s not until she notes the lack of construction noise, which typically rumbles distantly, but surely, that she connects the dots of Slate’s absence. Excitement rises in her, but she ignores it, dressing and eating, focusing on one step at a time. Finally, she makes her way to the surface. 

In the first week Slate had carved several doors for her, emerging into the lush and stony mountainsides. The one she uses now had been discussed last night: located halfway down Slate’s Tower and exiting onto a small plateau that clings to the spire’s side. 

She adjusts to the sunlight and takes in her surroundings. Her garden supplies are in a precarious pile, and the wooden crate that had housed them is nowhere to be seen. To the side is a large tarp, weighed down by a pile of loamy soil.  

Confused, but happy to start, she begins working, filling and placing pots, drawing lines in the dirt. She’s just beginning to wonder how soon she can start building garden beds when a shadow appears overhead. 

The missing crate creaks when Slate sets it on the ground, and Adalyn can’t help but wonder how many more trips up and down the spires it can survive. Lid missing, she has a clear view of the dirt inside. 

Good morning. 

“Hi,” Adalyn greets him, craning her neck and allowing a shy smile. “You’ve been busy.” 

The wyvern stretches his neck, and adjusts his wings, allowing them to flare momentarily. It could be construed as a shrugging gesture. Adalyn thinks it looks a bit like Slate preening.  

I’m used to early starts. 

She hides her smile at the forced humbleness. Then looks over the plateau. “Do you want to build some garden beds with me?” 

Shadow streams off of him and he shrinks in size until his demi form remains. 

Adalyn blinks, letting her gaze linger over his horns and his scaled cheeks. She doesn’t get to see him like this very often. Especially not out in the light. Aside from when he’s busy digging, or around his family, he tends to present as human around Adalyn. 

She uses the chance to stare, greedily taking in the glint of his claws and the shine of sun on his scales. The way his profile changes with his muscles shifted to hold the extra weight. The almost imperceptible change in his stance.  

She meets his eyes, and realises she’s been caught staring. 

His cheeks darken a shade. “I’m stronger like this. How can I help?” 

She forces herself to stare at the unbuilt garden surrounding them. “I’ll need some materials for the garden beds. What do you recommend?” 

He rubs his chin, smearing dirt without realising. “Wood will break down over time. You could use it for temporary garden beds and build outwards after. Or reinforce and replace the edges. Stone has better longevity. I’d use larger slabs for an elegant, but basic look. You could do cobbled stone for something quaint looking, but it would take much more work to assemble. Plus, it wouldn’t be as durable, and roots could grow through if we left it unpatched.” 

“I like the idea of large slabs. And perhaps some pavers. I don’t want the path turning into mud or washing away every time it rains.” 

“Well, I’ve plenty of limestone. I wouldn’t use it for carvings though. It weathers kind of poorly outside. But it’ll work for slabs and pavers. I could size it for you today?” 

Adalyn straightens. “That sounds like a plan. Why don’t you bring some out while I get us some drinks?” 

The pair part ways. When Adalyn returns to the budding garden, sandwiches and hot drinks in tow, she finds Slate already at work, shaping the stone with his claws, and smoothing it further with a chisel. 

She offers him food, and he smiles gratefully, reaching for a sandwich before pausing. His hands are covered in dust. He looks to his shirt, about to wipe them clean, when he notices the garment is also grey with powdered limestone. 

She bites back a smile at the defeated expression on his face, picks up a sandwich, and holds it to his mouth. 

They lock eyes for a moment, and at the proximity, Adalyn can’t help but flush at the unexpected intimacy.  

“Thanks,” he says in a mumble, before clearing his throat and taking a bite. 

Slate tries to keep busy, turning back to his work between bites, and discussing with Adalyn. They chose the size and shape, decide against using mortar, and finish eating before Slate starts walking the slabs into place.  

Adalyn puts her gloves back on and continues work, filling the first garden bed with stone and soil, while Slate builds and assembles the other beds. By afternoon they’ve built four and filled one, which Adalyn regards with pride.  

“Last thing I’ll need is a source of water.” 

Slate sits on one of the garden edges, sprawling out. “My fancy bathroom won’t be far. I could probably extend the piping.” 

Adalyn tries not to roll her eyes or quip about his growing list of architectural projects. “A rain catcher would also work.” 

He looks sheepish for a moment. “I suppose it would. Until Winter.” 

“Does fancy plumbing not freeze in Winter?” 

“Not if I really shell out. I could have them built from dwarven metals. Or hire an enchanter.” 

She does roll her eyes this time. “And I could do what most of the locals do, and not grow crops in Winter.” 

He blinks. And Adalyn swears he also blushes. “Yes. I suppose you could do that.” 

--- 

That evening Adalyn accompanies Slate downstairs and offers to help with dinner. He brushes her off with a smile and insists on cooking. Content, Adalyn sits in the dining area during the interim, going over the mail she’d picked up that afternoon. 

The pair had made a trip down the mountain to visit Gwen and Grace, and to take cuttings from Adalyn’s old garden. They’d returned one mysterious package heavier.  

Adalyn pointedly ignores the lower half of the dining area. The table from the third trial is gone from the walkway, but the memory still lingers. Adalyn puts her back to it when she sits at the dais table, looking closer at the parcel.  

It’s wrapped tightly in cloth and leather, in a desperate attempt to keep its contents safe, and when Adalyn opens it, she sees why.  

‘St James’ Treatise on Wyvern Physiology’ 

It’s a hefty tome written on parchment, with detailed diagrams and illustrations, inked in colour. A handful of bookmarks protruding from the top draw the eye, and Adalyn opens to one.  

A subheading written in bold jumps out at her: ‘Mating Habits of the Duopedes Draconis’. Adalyn shuts the book and purses her lips. It’s then she spots the letter, nested among the book wrappings. It’s sealed shut with red wax. She eases it open. 

“Dear Adalyn, 

I’ve enclosed a gift you might find useful. I regret that I was unable to unearth it from my home until recently, but I imagine you’ll appreciate it all the same. I’ve marked some passages you may find particularly insightful. 

Unfortunately, the treatise does not go into great detail on wyvern societal customs. By the time my letter reaches you, I imagine you will have run into a few cultural differences in your courting expectations. In case Slate has not thought to tell you, please know that females usually take the lead when it comes to approaching partners. When males assert themselves or make the first move, it’s considered crass, or disrespectful. 

I also realise I didn’t explain the reasoning behind your wedding gift. You’ll understand after you’ve done some reading. A small dab on the wrists and neck is usually enough to be noticeable, though I’d advise against mixing scents unless you have Slate’s assistance. 

I’ve been busy with my travels this year, but I’ll be nesting at home during the Winter. I’ve attached my return address for your convenience. 

Warm regards, 

Rin 

She scans the letter again, rereading the second paragraph as a knot begins to form in her stomach. A surge of emotions washes over her. Shock. Bewilderment. Irritation. Relief. She’s a bit annoyed at the conclusions Rin is jumping to, but since the female isn’t entirely wrong, Adalyn can’t begrudge her the letter or the advice.  

Could Slate have been holding back for these reasons? Sure, it’s still possible he holds no interest in her, but...  

Before she has a chance to ponder it further, the wyvern in question emerges from the kitchen, two plates in tow. Adalyn stows the book and letter away in their wrappings, hurriedly. She ignores Slate’s curious stare, and forces a smile. She’s not ready to talk about the book yet. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

He raises his brow and looks pointedly at the bundle pressed against her chest. He knows precisely what she’s doing, but goes along with it.   

“Rabbit. It’s a bit threadbare, but it’s all freshly foraged.” 

Adalyn looks over the meal. It’s just meat on a stick, but it’s been seasoned with fragrant herbs and served with a side of greens. 

“It’s fine,” she digs in. “Like you’ve said, variety is the spice of life.” 

He huffs and smiles, before sitting opposite her and digging in.   

Adalyn had only lit the closest torches, and the room is mostly in shadow, the pair seated in the dim glow. Still, the clink of cutlery and scrape of the plates are small sounds in a large room, reminding Adalyn of the cavernous shape to the place. Huddling in the low light, it’s somewhat... cozy.   

“I was thinking,” she starts, trying to work up the nerve. Is now really the time?  

Slate listens attentively between bites. 

Fuck it. If Rin is right, she’d never get anywhere, waiting for him to take the initiative. 

“You’ve been working nonstop these past weeks. Perhaps we could take a day off together. Go on an outing?”  

He considers. “That could be nice. Somewhere in the valley?”  

Adalyn forces herself to continue. To be bold. “I was thinking just us. Maybe a picnic or something? You could show me the east side.”  

She’s surprised when he agrees so readily.   

“I’d be delighted. When would you like to go?”  

She considers. “Well, I want to get those cuttings sorted tomorrow.” And take the time to do some reading. “The day after?” 

“I’ll adjust my schedule.”  

She huffs at the poor joke. “I’ll look forward to it.”

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