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Tsunami stomped down the dimly lit corridors of the Jade Mountain Academy, her tail swishing sharply behind her with every step. The torches flickered in the damp air, barely lighting her way, and every little sound—the soft flutter of wings, the distant chatter of students — irritated her beyond reason.
Mostly because walking was a nightmare.
Her belly, which had once been strong and lean, was now… large. Heavy. Unreasonably full of eggs. And it made moving through the school’s halls a frustrating experience. Her legs ached, her wings felt useless at her sides, and the worst part? She couldn't even waddle properly without feeling like a beached whale.
She gritted her teeth and muttered to herself, “Just get to the dining hall. Get food. Sit down. Survive.”
For months, she had been away from the Academy, dealing with royal SeaWing matters, and somewhere along the way—surprise!—she ended up with eggs. Now she was back, heavier, angrier, and entirely uninterested in social interactions. If she could just eat in peace, that would be wonderful.
But this was the Jade Mountain Academy, where ‘peace’ was as mythical as an IceWing wearing a sunhat and sipping coconut milk on a tropical beach.
She pushed open the doors to the dining hall, instantly greeted by the buzz of dozens of dragons talking, laughing, and generally enjoying their normal, non-egg-filled lives. A few glanced at her in surprise as she entered. Others quickly looked away, probably remembering how unpleasant she could be when she was in a bad mood. Smart.
She stomped over to the food table and grabbed whatever was closest—some roasted goat, a handful of bananas (ugh, RainWings), and an entire fish that she didn’t even bother to check for scales. Then she turned, found an empty table, and dropped herself onto the bench with a dramatic sigh.
Finally. Silence.
She crossed her front talons over her chest and took a deep breath. Maybe — just maybe —s he could have a single meal without—
“Oh my moons! Tsunami! You’re back!!”
Tsunami groaned. Like a whirlwind of sunshine and pure chaos, Sunny bounded over, her bright yellow scales shimmering even in the dim lighting. Before Tsunami could react, Sunny was already hugging her, pressing up against her massive belly with an excited giggle.
“Oh, wow! Your belly is so round! It’s like a big boulder! Are there eggs in there? Oh! Oh! How many?! Are they big? Do they kick? Can I touch them?”
Tsunami’s eye twitched. “Sunny, I swear on my entire kingdom, if you poke my stomach, I will personally introduce you to a very large wave and a very long swim.”
Sunny pulled back with a sheepish smile but still radiated excitement. “But this is amazing! You’re going to be a mom! Can you believe it?!”
“I can,” Tsunami muttered, stuffing a chunk of fish into her mouth. “Because I have to carry them. Every. Single. Day.”
Sunny was about to launch into another enthusiastic ramble when another voice cut in. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to waddle back.”
Glory, the ever-sarcastic RainWing queen, slithered up with an amused grin. She flicked her tail lazily and plopped onto the seat across from Tsunami, her scales shifting to a smug shade of emerald. “And here I thought you just ditched us for good.”
“I thought about it,” Tsunami grumbled. “But unfortunately, I have a responsibility to educate the next generation.”
“And now you have another responsibility,” Glory said, smirking. “You know, the kind that screams in the middle of the night, throws up on you, and ensures you’ll never sleep again.”
Tsunami stopped chewing mid-bite. A distant look crossed her face, as if the full realization of what was coming finally settled in. “…I hate you.”
“Oh, I know.”
Before Tsunami could make a snappy comeback, Clay arrived, looking as cheerful as ever. “Tsunami! I was just saying we needed more teachers back—oh! Whoa!” His eyes went wide as he took in the sheer size of her stomach. “Uh, wow. That’s… a lot.”
“Thank you, Clay,” Tsunami said flatly. “I had no idea.”
“No, no, I mean—it’s great! Really! Wow, eggs! That’s—” He trailed off, as if realizing he had no idea how to talk about this subject without saying something wrong.
“That’s terrifying?” Glory supplied helpfully.
“Exciting!” Sunny corrected.
“Painful,” Tsunami muttered.
“Better you than me,” Glory added, taking a bite of fruit.
Tsunami glared at her. “Oh, you think this is funny, don’t you? Just wait, Glory. One day you’ll end up with a dozen little RainWing babies climbing all over you, and I’ll be there laughing so hard. ”
Glory snorted. “Please. That sounds like way too much effort.”
Just as Tsunami was about to throw a banana at her, another voice rang out. “Tsunami! I foresaw this moment happening!”
Tsunami groaned again. “Oh no.”
Fatespeaker, the overly enthusiastic NightWing, practically pranced over, her black scales shimmering with excitement. “I had a vision! I mean, it was a little blurry, but I totally knew you were coming back! And that you were going to have eggs! I bet they’ll be beautiful! Do you think they’ll have your nose?”
“Dragons don’t have noses, Fatespeaker.”
“Well, snouts, whatever.” She beamed. “But I totally called this!”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Tsunami said dryly. “You correctly predicted something that’s literally visible to everyone.”
Fatespeaker, unfazed, plopped down next to her. “Ooooh, can I help babysit? I’d be great with baby dragons! I’ll tell them stories, and teach them about NightWing prophecies, and—”
“No,” Tsunami deadpanned.
“Oh, come on! I’ll be fun! Unlike Grumpy the Whale over here.” Glory gestured at Tsunami’s belly.
Tsunami bared her teeth. “Say that again, and I’ll whale you right across this dining hall.”
Everyone burst into laughter, except Tsunami, who just stuffed another piece of goat into her mouth and glared at them all. Her friends were insufferable. Annoying. Loud. Ridiculous.
And yet…
As she looked around the table — Sunny practically vibrating with excitement, Clay looking awkward but happy, Glory smirking with every opportunity to tease, and Fatespeaker rambling about nonsense — she felt a warmth inside her chest that had nothing to do with the meal.
Tsunami barely had time to take another bite of fish before the inevitable happened — her friends unleashed a tidal wave of questions. It started with Sunny, of course, because there was no force in Pyrrhia strong enough to stop her curiosity.
“Oh! Oh! How many eggs do you have? Do you know? Is it, like, two? Three? Five? Oh, imagine if it’s five! That would be so adorable!”
Tsunami sighed through her nose. “It’s three, and no, I do not want to imagine five, because I am already tired.”
Clay leaned forward, his eyes wide with concern. “Does it hurt? I mean, carrying them around like that? It looks… heavy.”
Tsunami gave him a flat stare. “No, Clay, it feels like floating on a cloud. Of course it’s heavy.” She huffed. “I swear, if one more dragon asks me how it feels, I’ll make them carry a boulder strapped to their belly for a week.”
Glory smirked. “Noted. Next question—are you craving anything weird? Because I once heard that pregnant dragons sometimes get the strangest cravings. Like, I bet you suddenly want to eat live eels with banana peels or something.”
Tsunami rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a small smile. “I wish. It’s mostly just more fish. But, fine—sometimes I want cold fish with hot seaweed, and I don’t know why.”
“Ew,” Glory muttered, pretending to gag. “That’s a crime against food.”
“Speaking of crimes,” Fatespeaker cut in, wiggling her talons excitedly, “have you been super emotional? Like, randomly crying? Or getting all mushy and sentimental? Or predicting the future in an extra dramatic way?”
Tsunami blinked at her. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?”
“Well, no—”
“Exactly. Next question.”
Sunny bounced in place. “Ooooh! Do they move? Can you feel them moving inside? Like, can you talk to them? Have they kicked? Are they kicking right now?!”
Tsunami exhaled sharply, pressing a talon to her forehead. “Yes, Sunny, they move. No, I can’t talk to them. No, they are not kicking right now, but when they do, it feels like I swallowed a bunch of tiny, angry eels.”
“Oooooh,” Sunny whispered, fascinated.
Clay tilted his head. “Do you know what they’ll look like? I mean, SeaWings mostly, right? Or… is it more complicated than that?”
Tsunami hesitated, her expression softening for just a second. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Glory stretched lazily, then shot Tsunami a mischievous look. “Alright, here’s the real question: who’s the father?”
The table fell silent. Every dragon leaned in expectantly.
Tsunami immediately shoved a huge bite of fish into her mouth and chewed aggressively.
“Oh, come on,” Glory pressed, grinning. “You can’t just not tell us! This is the biggest mystery of the year!”
“Yeah!” Sunny agreed. “Who is he? How did this happen? Is he handsome? Is he nice? Did you two fall in love in a dramatic, romantic way? Oh! Did he serenade you under the moonlight?”
Tsunami groaned. “Sunny, stop.”
Fatespeaker gasped. “Wait! I think I foresaw this! I saw something about Tsunami and a NightWing!”
Tsunami nearly choked on her fish. Before Tsunami could respond, the dining hall doors creaked open. Starflight stepped in, scanning the room absentmindedly. The moment his eyes landed on Tsunami, his face paled.
Tsunami locked eyes with him, then bared her teeth in a grin. “Stop!”
Starflight turned to flee, but she was faster. With a surprising burst of agility, she lunged at him, pinning him in place.
Starflight yelped as she grabbed him by the horns and dragged him back toward the table. He flailed weakly, but his protests were drowned out by the gasps and barely-contained laughter of the other dragons watching the scene unfold.
With a final heave, Tsunami plopped Starflight onto the seat beside her, wrapped a wing tightly around him so he couldn’t escape, and then turned to the others with a pointed glare.
“This,” she announced, “is the father.”
Glory blinked. Sunny’s jaw dropped. Clay looked like his brain had stopped working. Fatespeaker let out a dramatic, high-pitched squeal of excitement.
Starflight, for his part, looked as if he had just been set on fire. His face darkened with a deep blush, his wings curled in, and his tail tucked close to his body. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally managed to croak, “Uh… hi?”
Glory was the first to recover. “You?” she asked, staring at Starflight with barely concealed amusement. “You did this?”
Tsunami groaned. “Yes, him. He is the father. Surprise. Can we move on now?”
Sunny suddenly gasped and clapped her talons together. “Oh, wow! That’s so sweet! I knew you two had chemistry!”
“We do not have chemistry!” Tsunami snapped, her face heating up. Then she hesitated. “…Okay, maybe a little. But that’s not the point!”
Starflight shifted awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “I, uh… I really didn’t expect this.” He glanced at Tsunami, his expression softening. “But I think I’m glad it turned out this way.”
Tsunami felt a strange warmth settle in her chest. She looked away, muttering, “Yeah, well. Don’t get too sentimental about it.”
Fatespeaker practically vibrated with excitement. “This is so much better than my visions! I need to write this down! Oh! What are you going to name them?!”
Tsunami groaned. “Can I please finish my fish first?!”
The table erupted into laughter, and for the first time that day, Tsunami allowed herself a small smile.
They continued to talk, but Tsunami wasn’t letting Starflight go anywhere. In fact, she had wrapped her powerful, scaly arms around him and was squeezing him like a toy. His wings were pinned, his tail was twitching helplessly, and his face was slowly darkening to a deeper shade of black.
“T-Tsunami—” Starflight wheezed, struggling slightly. “Air—I need air—”
Tsunami ignored his pleas. Instead, she tightened her grip, pressing her snout right against his, her bright blue eyes flashing dangerously. An ominous, menacing aura radiated from her, thick enough to suffocate the entire dining hall.
“You won’t abandon me and our children, will you, Starflight?” she growled, her voice low and sharp as a dagger. Her claws subtly dug into his scales, just enough to make him squirm.
Starflight swallowed hard. His heart hammered against his ribs. He had faced many terrifying things in his life—perilous prophecies, near-death experiences, Glory’s sarcasm—but this? This was something else entirely.
“Of—of course not!” he blurted out, voice cracking. He forced a shaky smile. “I—I’d never—! I mean, as long as, you know, you don’t strangle me to death first.”
Clay and Sunny had to physically hold back their laughter. Glory, meanwhile, looked like she was enjoying every moment of Starflight’s suffering.
“Oh, this is too good,” Glory murmured, smirking. “Tsunami, remind me to get you to interrogate my enemies for me. You have a real talent for terrorizing NightWings.”
Starflight shot her a panicked look, but Glory only winked at him.
Fatespeaker, on the other talon, was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is the greatest love story I’ve ever witnessed!” she declared dramatically. “A powerful warrior SeaWing and her timid yet brilliant NightWing mate! The passion! The drama! The threats of murder!”
Tsunami finally loosened her grip—just slightly—and Starflight sucked in a much-needed gulp of air. He panted, blinking rapidly. “Okay, so, just to be absolutely clear,” he rasped, “you are not going to kill me, right?”
Tsunami rolled her eyes. “Not yet.”
Sunny clapped her talons together. “This is so exciting! You two are going to make such a great family! Have you thought about names for the dragonets yet?”
Tsunami huffed and released Starflight entirely, letting him slump against the table. “Ugh. No. I’ve been a little preoccupied growing them inside me.”
Starflight, still recovering, straightened up and cleared his throat. “Well… maybe we should start thinking about that. You know… together?”
Tsunami eyed him suspiciously. “You want to help name them?”
Starflight shifted slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. “Well… yeah,” he admitted. “I mean, they’re my dragonets too, right? I should… I should at least have some input.”
Tsunami stared at him for a long moment, then her face softened—only a little, but enough that Starflight could breathe a little easier.
“Hmph. Fine,” she muttered, pretending to be uninterested. “But if you suggest something ridiculous like ‘StarTsun’ or ‘NightWave,’ I will throw you into a wall.”
Fatespeaker gasped. “Oooooh! StarTsun! That’s adorable!”
“No, it’s not,” Tsunami deadpanned. “Next idea.”
Starflight chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay, no weird name fusions. Maybe we should just—think about it for a while.”
“Fine,” Tsunami relented, then fixed him with another glare. “But just so you know, if these dragonets come out stubborn and impossible, I’m blaming you.”
Starflight hesitated. “Is that… how genetics work?”
“In this family, it is,” Glory quipped.
The table erupted into laughter again, and for the first time in weeks, Tsunami felt something close to peace settle inside her.