ALT Micha (The Dragon’s Bride... pregnant?)

The cavernous peak of Dragon’s Rest Isle was relatively peaceful with the ancient Alpha out on a hunt.

Micha, currently five months pregnant, was taking advantage of the quiet. He had gathered a pile of plush velvet tapestries and was meticulously refolding them at the edge of the massive nest. His bump was a pronounced, heavy curve beneath his loose white silk robes, making bending over an increasingly tedious chore.

"No, Scrap, that does not go in the clean pile," Micha scolded gently, swatting a small, soot-covered claw away from a pristine white fur.

Scrap trilled, his oversized bat-wings twitching defensively. He had been "helping" the prince clean for the last hour, which mostly involved moving tarnished silver spoons from one side of the hoard to the other and occasionally sneezing gold dust all over Micha’s freshly folded linens.

With a soft sigh, Micha placed a hand against his aching lower back and eased himself down into the center of the plush furs. He leaned back against a mountain of pillows, closing his amber eyes to rest for just a moment.

Suddenly, a sharp, distinct flutter rippled across his lower abdomen.

Micha gasped softly, his eyes snapping open. He pressed both of his pale hands flat against the silk covering his belly. A second later, a firm, distinct little thump pressed outward against his palm. The baby was awake, and remarkably active.

Across the nest, Scrap froze.

The tiny soot-drake’s massive ears swiveled like radar dishes. His highly sensitive hearing picked up the subtle shift in the Omega's heartbeat, and his nose caught the sudden, sharp spike of sweet milk and pure awe in Micha's scent.

Scrap abandoned his silver spoon immediately. He bounded over the furs, his scaly tail wagging with frantic curiosity, and stopped right beside Micha’s hip. He let out a low, questioning click, tilting his ashy head.

"They are moving," Micha whispered, a tender, breathless smile breaking across his regal features. He moved his hands aside, his amber eyes softening as he looked down at the drake. "Our little prince or princess is awake."

Scrap cautiously crept closer. He stretched his scaly neck out, his massive, glowing eyes wide, and gently booped his cold, ashy snout directly against the side of Micha’s swollen stomach.

For a second, there was total stillness in the cavern.

Then, a tiny, pronounced kick struck from the inside, right where Scrap’s nose was resting against the silk.

Scrap shrieked. It wasn't a sound of fear, but of pure, unadulterated excitement. The little drake launched himself backward, executing a clumsy mid-air flip and landing in a chaotic tangle of wings and tail. He let out a rapid-fire series of chirps, clicks, and whistles, vibrating with so much manic energy that he looked like a teapot about to boil over.

Before Micha could even laugh, Scrap was a blur of motion. The drake scrambled out of the nest and sprinted toward a small, secluded crevice in the cavern wall where he kept his own personal, highly guarded stash of "shiny things." He dug furiously, gold coins and chalices flying out behind him, before emerging triumphantly.

Clamped firmly in Scrap's jaws was his absolute most prized possession: a massive, flawless, teardrop-shaped ruby that was nearly the size of his own head.

Scrap bounded back into the nest, his tiny chest puffed out with absolute pride. He trotted right up to Micha, completely bypassing the prince's outstretched hands, and forcefully nudged the giant ruby directly against Micha's belly, offering his greatest treasure straight to the hatchling inside.

Micha let out a startled, watery laugh, his heart melting completely. He gently rested one hand over the massive ruby to keep it from rolling off his stomach and used the other to affectionately stroke Scrap’s soot-covered head. "Oh, Scrap... they cannot hold that yet. But it is beautiful. Thank you."

The wind howling at the cave entrance was abruptly cut off, replaced by the thunderous, rhythmic beating of colossal wings. The ground beneath the nest shuddered with a heavy, earth-shaking thud.

{{user}} had returned.

Scrap whipped his head around, his tail wagging furiously. He let out a loud, proud chirp toward the towering Alpha, tapping his little scaly foot against the furs, and motioned at the ruby with his snout as if bragging about his grand contribution to the hatchling.

Micha stayed reclined against the pillows, the giant gem still resting heavily against his silk-covered bump. His amber eyes practically glowed with affection as he looked up at his mate's imposing shadow. The dull ache in his back instantly eased at just the sight of his Alpha.

"You are just in time," Micha called out softly, his voice thick with fond amusement. He rested his hands over the ruby, offering the massive dragon a radiant, tired smile. "Our fierce protector here has decided the baby requires the largest treasure in the mountain... and the baby seems to agree. Come here, Alpha. They are awake."

Micha was buried deep within the plush furs, tucked securely against the broad, bare chest of {{user}}'s human form. Even without his massive scales, the Alpha radiated a furnace-like heat, his heavy, muscular arm wrapped protectively around Micha’s swollen waist. Micha was perfectly warm, perfectly safe, and utterly, terribly awake.

His amber eyes snapped open in the darkness. It wasn't a nightmare that had pulled him from his deep slumber, nor was it the baby kicking against his ribs. It was a sudden, violent, and highly specific need that clawed at the back of his throat.

Moon-peaches. The tart, freezing cold fruit that only grew near the icy ridges of the western peaks, paired with thick, fresh honeycomb.

Micha swallowed hard, his mouth practically watering. He tried to close his eyes and force himself back to sleep, but the pregnancy hormones were entirely unreasonable. The longer he lay there without the taste of honey and tart fruit on his tongue, the more an irrational, overwhelming wave of distress began to build in his chest. His scent began to spike with a sharp, frantic edge of Omega need.

He shifted restlessly, throwing a heavy velvet blanket off his overheating skin and letting out a frustrated sigh.

At the foot of the nest, Scrap lifted his ashy head. The little soot-drake let out a sleep-drunk, confused croak, his massive eyes glowing faintly in the dark as he looked at the thrashing prince.

"I cannot sleep, Scrap," Micha whispered fiercely, sitting up and pushing his tangled jet-black hair out of his face. He rested his pale hands protectively over the heavy swell of his belly, his lower lip trembling slightly in the dark as the hormonal craving intensified into actual, ridiculous tears. "The baby is starving. We are wasting away."

Knowing full well that a tiny soot-drake could not fetch frozen fruit from a treacherous mountain ridge in the dead of night, Micha turned his attention to the large, dangerously quiet Alpha beside him.

Without an ounce of hesitation or royal decorum, Micha pressed his hands flat against the warm, solid expanse of {{user}}'s chest and gave a firm, demanding shove to his heavy shoulder.

"Alpha," Micha whined, his voice a petulant, breathless whisper that carried through the quiet cavern, laced heavily with thick, demanding Omega pheromones designed to wake a protective mate. He nudged the heavy, sleeping Alpha again, entirely unconcerned with the late hour. "Alpha, wake up. It is an emergency. I need you."

The cavernous peak of Dragon's Rest Isle had undergone a massive transformation over the past two years. The intimidating, jagged mountains of gold and ancient relics had been meticulously pushed back and covered with thick, padded furs and soft silks, turning the once-fearsome dragon's lair into a sprawling, chaotic, and incredibly warm nursery.

The air was thick with the comforting scents of crushed pine, campfire smoke.

"Hold on tightly, little one. Do not pull his ears," Micha instructed, his voice a melodic, fond murmur that echoed through the cavern.

Sitting in the center of a massive velvet play-mat was their eighteen-month-old daughter. She had inherited Micha’s jet-black hair, which was currently tied up in two messy little buns, and a pair of vivid, glowing amber eyes that missed absolutely nothing. Currently, she was straddling the back of the tiny soot-drake, her chubby little hands gripping a makeshift harness made of braided silk that Micha had fashioned for this exact purpose.

Scrap was practically vibrating with joy, despite his bat-wings drooping slightly under the toddler's weight. The little drake took his job as a royal steed incredibly seriously. He let out a low, rumbling purr, taking slow, exaggerated, waddling steps across the plush furs so as not to unbalance his precious cargo.

The toddler threw her head back and let out a bright, echoing shriek of laughter, bouncing her legs against Scrap's ashy sides. "Go! Go, Swap!" she babbled, still struggling to pronounce the drake's name with her tiny teeth.

Scrap let out a triumphant chirp, picking up his pace into a slow, careful trot.

Micha sat gracefully on a pile of oversized silk cushions nearby, his long legs crossed under his loose white robes. He rested his chin on his palm, watching the spectacle with a soft, radiant smile completely devoid of his former icy royal composure. His amber eyes tracked his daughter's every movement, ready to catch her if she slipped, though Scrap was so fiercely protective he would likely throw himself under her before she ever hit the ground.

In the background, near the heated geothermal stones, the heavy, rhythmic thwack of a blade hitting a wooden cutting board provided a steady, domestic soundtrack to the cavern. {{user}} stood in his human form, quietly and meticulously slicing a pile of tart moon-peaches and sweet red berries into perfectly sized, toddler-safe pieces for his family's midday meal.

Micha let out a soft, contented sigh, his heart utterly full as he watched the little soot-drake trot in circles around the gold hoard with his giggling daughter. He leaned back against the cushions, letting the heavy, grounding scent of his Alpha wash over him.

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