Work Text:
Hooves pounded over scorched earth as the rider approached the ridge, armor glinting in the dying sun. His blade, long and polished, sang with purpose. Atop the ridge waited the beast—a hulking shadow of scale and smoke, wings outstretched like storm clouds made flesh.
Its roar split the sky.
At the tower’s peak, she stood. Silent. Unmoving. Her dress fluttered like a banner in the wind.
Steel clashed with claws. Fire spilled like floodwater across the battlefield. The rider fought fiercely, battered by flame and fury, until he struck true—one clean thrust beneath the beast’s jaw. It collapsed, shuddering, no more than a mound of embers and bone.
Without a word, the rider climbed the stone steps, offered his hand, and she took it. Together, they rode into the light.
The kingdom was waiting.
Layla sat quietly at the edge of the bed, fingertips trailing across the blanket in gentle patterns meant to soothe, though Lucy’s trembling form beneath them couldn’t be stilled. Her cheeks were blotched pink and damp, her breaths shallow from crying, but her little hands had stopped fisting at the sheets. They lay still now, palms open—as if waiting for an answer.
In the soft glow of the hallway, Jude stood frozen in the doorway. His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the logic behind the tears. To him, it was a bedtime story: simple, heroic, resolved.
“But why did the prince kill the dragon?” Lucy asked, voice barely more than a breath.
Layla began to answer, but Jude beat her to it. “Sweetheart, the dragon kidnapped the princess. It was their wedding day. The prince had to rescue her—he had to bring her back.”
Lucy’s eyes welled again. She bit her lip, blinking hard. Her voice cracked as she whispered:
“But it was her dragon… He treated her like his greatest treasure.”
Layla’s breath caught. Jude faltered. The room, once small and warm, felt a little wider now—a pause hung in the air, heavy and open.
“I didn’t like the ending,” Lucy added, her tears returning slowly, like soft rain.
Layla reached out, brushing Lucy’s hair from her eyes with a touch that lingered. “Then maybe,” she said gently, “you should make your own.”
Lucy stared up at her mother, wide-eyed and searching—then her expression shifted. That glint returned, faint but fierce. She nodded with quiet resolve. Again, firmer. Her cheeks were still wet, but her posture straightened like something inside her had rearranged.
“I will,” she said.
Jude blinked at her, bemused. “Better get up early then, huh?”
Lucy gave a determined hum of agreement as she tucked herself tightly beneath the pastel pink sheets, eyes already drifting toward sleep.
Layla smiled softly, brushing a curl from Lucy’s forehead. “We’ll be right here when you wake.”
Outside, wind stirred through the trees like it was listening. And in the quiet between heartbeats, a new tale began to grow—with a dragon unburied, a princess unsilenced, and a little girl turning sorrow into story.
The days that followed were wrapped in quiet rebellion.
Lucy vanished into her room with an armful of markers, sparkly pens, and paper that fluttered behind her like a cape. She commandeered the corner of the library beneath the stained-glass window, stacking pillows into thrones and refusing entry to anyone who knocked, be they maid, butler, or well-meaning parent. Even Layla was turned away with a firm, "Not yet."
Every hour was filled with furious scribbling, dramatic humming, and the occasional burst of frustrated groaning. Crayons snapped. Pages were torn, then re-taped. A glitter spill on Tuesday left a faint shimmer across the hallway carpet—evidence of creative warfare.
Jude and Layla exchanged amused glances at dinner each night as Lucy made grand declarations about "the ending being almost ready" but refused to elaborate. Her masterpiece was a secret. A promise.
Then came dawn on the fourth day.
The bedroom door burst open with a creak and a thud. Pale golden sunlight spilled in behind Lucy as she stormed into her parents’ room, clutching a thick, lumpy bundle of stapled pages. Her curls were wild, cheeks flushed from excitement, pajamas mismatched and streaked with marker.
“I finished it!” she declared.
Layla blinked, then sat up, one hand over her heart.
“Oh my stars,” she whispered. “Look at it…”
The storybook was chaotic and radiant—full of uneven lines, splotchy watercolor skies, stick figures with big eyes and massive wings. The title, written in rainbow bubble letters, read: “Fixed Fairytale!”
Jude reached out with theatrical reverence and took it from her. He cleared his throat dramatically.
The narration began.
“Once upon a time, a lonely princess lived in a tall tower all by herself because she had no friends and everyone was too busy being royal.”
“One day, a lonely dragon found her and thought she was the most interesting person ever because she liked books and snacks and painting things with lots of color.”
“They became best friends really fast and told stories and played tea party and flew around the mountains and had fun every day.”
“Then a prince came riding in to take the princess away, but he didn’t ask if she wanted to go, and also he didn’t like dragons, which was rude.”
“So the princess and her dragon worked together and tricked the prince into going home alone by saying ‘No thank you!’ and throwing glitter at him.”
“The prince galloped away in a confused way, and the princess and dragon lived together happily ever after, forever.”
Jude choked on a laugh. Layla had tears in her eyes. Lucy stood like a knight showing off her first forged sword.
“Well?” she asked. “Better ending, right?”
Layla scooped her up in a hug, squeezing tight. “The best ending.”
And Jude nodded, flipping back to the glitter attack page. “I think this deserves a place on the royal bookshelf.”
Lucy’s chest puffed with pride. Outside, the sun climbed higher—but inside the story, and the story-maker, the light had already bloomed.
“I just knew you guys would like it. So I made another one!” she announced.
Layla head snapped to face Lucy, gasping dramatically. “A sequel?!”
Lucy nodded with all the gravity of royalty. “It’s called Together Forever.”
Jude let out a low whistle and reached to take it, but Lucy darted past him and placed the book squarely in Layla’s lap.
“I want mama to read it this time,” she said. “Start where it gets sparkly.”
Layla blinked, then flipped to the first glitter-glued page.
“One time the dragon was sad because he missed his old cave, so the princess helped him decorate a new one with sparkly rocks and snacks and pictures of them doing funny faces.”
“They made a secret handshake and it had five steps, including a tail wiggle.”
“Every Thursday they had silly hat day and made up songs with banana rhymes.”
“One time the prince tried to come back with flowers, but the dragon sneezed on them and they burst into flames and the princess said, ‘Oops!’ but she was smiling.”
“They built a castle in the clouds and made rules like ‘no shouting unless you're cheering’ and ‘everybody gets nap time and snacks.’”
“The princess became the Queen of Kindness and the dragon was the Royal Hugger.”
“And they never needed saving again because they saved each other every day.”
Layla was beaming by the time she finished, pressing the handmade book to her chest. Jude’s eyes were wide with pride—and maybe a touch of envy for not getting to read it first.
“This,” Layla said softly, “is the most important sequel I’ve ever read.”
Lucy bounced on the edge of the bed, grinning. “I already started the third one. It’s gonna have space dragons.”
Layla laughed, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “Can we preorder it?”
“Only if you bring snacks,” Lucy said.
The sunrise spilled soft gold across the garden path as Jude stood cloaked in shadow beneath the overhang of a gnarled tree. His once-groomed hair had grown long and scraggly, streaked with silver and memory. The ragged brown cloak hung heavy on his shoulders, worn threadbare at the edges, wind catching the frayed hem like a sigh.
His gaze followed Lucy—grown now—walking with purpose and light beside a boy with wild pink hair and unmistakable fangs. A scaled scarf fluttered around his neck, like the echo of a dragon’s wing. One arm rested around Lucy’s shoulders with a casual protectiveness, their steps in rhythm.
Behind them strode a girl in armor like tempered grace, a moody boy cloaked in ice, and a blue-furred cat whose wings twitched with delight.
Team Natsu.
Jude said nothing. The ache was quiet, deep—but not heavy.
As their figures shrank in the distance, the light shifted—
Layla lay nestled into Jude’s side, the handmade storybooks resting between them like a crown jewel. Her chuckle was melodic, soft as silk drawn across moonlight.
“She’s going to follow a dragon into the sunset one day,” she said, voice amused but full of knowing.
Jude scoffed. “More likely she’ll grow out of this phase. She can’t go on befriending dangerous things forever.”
Layla hummed. “Dangerous things aren’t always cruel. And she sees hearts better than we do sometimes.”
He turned to her, frowning. “I just want her safe.”
“She’ll be safe,” Layla whispered. “Even if she flies close to the fire. Especially if the dragon loves her back.”
They fell into silence, watching the stars blink out one by one.
Jude exhaled, wind brushing past the stubble on his chin and the threads of memory across his heart. His eyes lingered on Lucy, her golden hair catching firelight, her laughter drifting back faintly as Natsu nudged her shoulder.
She didn’t look back.
She didn’t need to.
Jude smiled—a quiet, weathered smile that belonged to a father and a dreamer both.
“As always… you’re right, Layla.”
Dangerous though he may be, he will protect our treasure.