Just as agreed upon, Riley, much to the annoyance of two golden dragons, finally managed to see the rescued children and their teacher.
There were a lot of tears, alright. And several children jumping for hugs, wanting to check if his body and his "baby" were fine.
One could only imagine the chaos of trying to stop a verbal war between elven and draconic children.
It started small. Then it snowballed.
"We discovered it first!"
"No! You’re lying! The stork is late!"
The younglings stood in two lines like opposing armies, chests puffed, faces scrunched, ready for battle. Although it looked odd because that’s like an entire class versus two.
Even Liam was stunned. He couldn’t imagine anyone, other than his own brother, daring to talk back to a dragon. Then again, Orien didn’t look the part right now. In this disguised human form, he wasn’t an awe-inspiring dragon—just a smug kid trying to win an argunt with allegedly smaller, louder imps.
It wasn’t even obvious that the sa bunch of kids could seriously damage the infirmary of the MBE.
But the argunts were getting more and more absurd.
They all seed extrely concerned.
But, in truth, Riley was even more concerned.
Because now, the poor aide was practically red-faced as he waved his hands in denial.
"I am not pregnant!" he blurted, his voice cracking halfway through as a dozen pairs of eyes blinked at him in disbelief.
"No baby. Absolutely no baby!"
He was huffing and puffing, indignation flaring with every word as he tried to protect what little dignity he had left. Unfortunately, his defense only encouraged the children, who whispered to each other with scandalized gasps.
And to make matters worse, Riley made the mistake of glancing forward. The sa direction he had been avoiding.
There, leaning casually against the wall, was Kael.
The Dragon Lord stood with his arms folded, the faintest trace of curiosity playing on his lips. His golden eyes tracked the chaos before him with lazy amusent. One brow lifted as he caught Riley’s panicked look, and the motion alone felt like a direct attack.
He wasn’t even pretending not to stare.
He was just there. Watching. Quiet. Completely entertained.
And now Riley was sure it wasn’t just his delusions that he felt eyes on him the entire ti.
It was infuriating. The smug tilt of that bastard’s mouth made it worse, as though this entire misunderstanding was sohow his fault to enjoy.
anwhile, the definitely-not-pregnant human male aide, who hadn’t even gotten the chance to do the deed because of said children, wanted to yell that unless he was having an immaculate conception—or maybe a food baby from skipped als—it was not happening. Not now. Not ever.
But judging from the dragons’ looks and the children’s enthusiasm, no one seed ready to believe him.
Miss Risa didn’t even look like she planned on helping, dammit!
Then again, knowing what he was about to tell them, Riley let them have a bit of fun at his expense.
It was better this way. At least they were arguing about storks and playground cris instead of the thing he would say next.
The mood slid into sothing quieter. A few children wiped their eyes as Riley began his story. The air humd with small sobs and soft sniffles. Prince Finnian looked shellshocked, then ashad. He stepped forward, looking like he wanted to apologize for the world.
"You should not apologize for things you did not do," Riley said, before Finn could speak. He reached out and patted the little prince on the head. Tears slipped down his own cheeks. "Especially when confronted with a similar choice, you picked one you could be proud of."
Riley crouched until he was level with them. He let the silence stretch for a mont, and then he said, "I am sorry for telling you. It could’ve been kept a secret forever, because it would have kept you free from this pain and disappointnt. But imagine finding out when you are older. Wouldn’t you start doubting the relationships you’ve built?"
The children pouted. A few sniffed. Yet even through tears their eyes were open and honest. Riley smiled wistfully. He could feel the weight of what he had done and he wanted them to know why he had done it.
"Sotis people make terrible mistakes," Riley said softly. "They tell themselves they have a good and acceptable reason. Then they get selfish to reach that reason. But as you know, when there are other ways, it would be better to choose those that won’t hurt innocent people."
One child, face streaked with tears, said, "If people make mistakes, they should be punished." The others looked at one another and nodded very seriously, like tiny magistrates deciding fates. Their agreent made Riley chuckle. Maybe it would’ve really been better if children were allowed to lead.
Orien scoffed from where he stood. "They are already being punished," he muttered. "Dragon fire would have been better." He shot a quick look as if expecting applause. Then he added, as an afterthought, "But Uncle said no because Auntie says working is better." Riley’s mouth twitched. He had no idea where Orien got half of what he said, but the dragonling sounded very certain of it.
A small hand went up. "Can we do anything?" a child asked.
"You do not have to apologize," Riley said. "If you want to do sothing, maybe keep each other accountable. Call out the sa behavior if you see it again. Learn why it is wrong. When sothing like that happens, think hard before you respond."
Miss Risa moved closer and put an arm around the smaller ones. She soothed them and told them they could go ho soon. Her voice was steady and kind, and the children clung to her like it fixed the world.
There was resistance as Riley expected. Finnian looked like he wanted to refuse to return to his family. He crossed his arms protectively and would not et Riley’s eyes. Riley crouched lower so he could see the boy straight on.
"Your family has not forgotten you," Riley said.
"They have been looking for you. It’s just that they did terrible things because they were desperate... And yes, that does not excuse what they did."
"In truth, you do not have to forgive them now or ever. You have the right to choose what is best for you. All I hope is that you grow up knowing the truth so you can walk without unexpected baggage."
Finnian’s chin trembled. He looked like he was holding himself together by a thread.
"It may be difficult to forgive," Riley said, "And much harder to forget, so there’s no need to rush it. Maybe you could wait for them to change for the better, or punish them a bit yourself."
"You can ask them to face the wall for a little while and think about what they did." He paused and let that sink in. "The king would probably not like that. But I will."
"But at least this way, you’d be able to build a more genuine relationship with them, even if it’s more difficult."
The children burst into a round of quiet giggles at the image of nobles facing a wall. Their tears changed to sothing softer. Finnian gave a watery, reluctant smile. He did not say he forgave his family. He did not have to. He only said, "I understand."
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