
He heard the noise come closer, the rhythmic pounding of excited footfalls. Feet thudding briskly against the floor with enthusiasm that only children could ever wish to harness.
“Grandpa! Grandpa” they yelled.
“Aye, aye. Calm down children. Your grandpa is too old and slow now to be going anywhere, you can be patient.” He chuckled and tousled the youngest’s hair. “What has gotten into you all to greet a common man like me with such a welcome fit for a king?”
The youngest and middle children, both boys and both in the spitting image of himself, (although he would never tell their mother that for fear that she would lock them in the basement rather then have them inherit his sense of adventure along with his looks) deferred to their older sister. Now a world weary 12 years old, she had seen almost all that there had to be seen in the world, at least in her brothers opinions. She would handle the talking.
“Mother says the blizzard is still too dangerous for us to play in,” she was trying to emulate the diplomats she would see during errands to the heart of the city, her posture was stiff and regal. “We were wondering if mayhap you could tell us a story to pass the time.”
Her attempts to seem aloof and uninterested were thwarted by her brothers, who at this point had been quiet for the longest period of time since they were born. “A story! A story!” They nearly climbed over each other in order to be the first to sit closest to their grandfather, “We want a story!” Their sister let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms.
“Of course, of course!” He said with a laugh, “And what kind of story would you little goblins want from your dear old granddad?”
There was no hesitation, and they spoke in unison- “Dragons!”
“Dragons you say? Hmm.” He sat still, letting the gears in his brain push against each other until his memory was whirring along, “I have just the one.”
“Let me tell you about Ego Draconis.” Read more…