The Fated Fire Princess

The Dragon Prince's Daughter

Milo’s POV

“This is ridiculous. My contractions are still ages apart; I’m nowhere near ready to deliver. Surely there are women in the waiting room who—”

“Nell,” I interrupt patiently, reaching out to squeeze her hands. “They’ve had this room set aside for you for months. And every nurse and orderly in the place has been arguing over who gets to help deliver the Prophesized Queen’s baby. There’s no point in fighting it.”

She pouts, which is one of my favorite Nell expressions. Really, every expression she makes is my favorite. Nell has only gotten more radiant in the nine months since we came to Earth. Some Farnethians had a hard time adjusting to the contemporary fashions and styles of the Earthlings, but not me. I find Nell to be just as breathtaking in jeans and tees as she is in ball gowns.

Not that she ever really wore many ball gowns.

“I’m not the Prophesized Queen,” Nell tells me, even though we both know it’s the title the whole world has given her, not just me. “I’m not a queen at all.”

“Well, you married a prince,” I point out. “And with my father dead...”

I won’t lie—it’s hard, knowing my father Fitus is gone for good. He was as evil as it gets, but he was still my father. And I never got to say goodbye.

It’s been a strange nine months. Nell’s adoptive mother Ash, who’s been a lifesaver since we came to Earth, has been working with several charity organizations to create the Farnethia Project, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the preservation of Farnethian people, culture, and history. The goal is to create a physical space that we can consider a safe place for our kind, but we’ve been having a hard time finding a plot of land large enough to house and school us and our children. 

Plus, you know, there’s the pregnancy.

It hasn’t been smooth sailing for Nell, by any means. I know morning sickness is common, but it’s more than that. Sometimes it almost seems like the baby is breathing fire inside her. Her belly gets flaming hot, and it almost seems to glow with its own light. The doctors insist that the ultrasounds, tests, and heartbeat are all normal, but if you ask me, there’s nothing normal about it.

“She’s the daughter of a dragon and a phoenix,” Nell always tell me when I point this out. “Makes sense that she runs hot.”

She’s scared, too, though, I can tell. She’s just trying to put on a brave face, like always.

The contractions are starting to get closer together now, and I glance at Archie and Ash as Nell’s grip on my hand gets tighter and tighter. “Should we call the doctor back in?” I ask them, frowning.

“Not yet.” Ash sounds remarkably calm, especially for someone who never got the chance to experience childbirth herself. “She’ll be back in no time, anyway, I’m sure. Nell, just try to relax. Archie, Milo—think of something to distract her.”

Archie frowns, then nods at me, clearly seeing this as my domain rather than his. He’s been good at that ever since taking a human form—respecting my domain. It took a bit of getting used to for me, living with both Nell’s adoptive mother and her best friend. But they’re both very respectful of our privacy, and anyway, it’s not permanent.

“Think about what it’ll be like to meet her,” I suggest softly to the woman I love as I squeeze her hands. “To look into her eyes and to know that she came from the two of us.”

A smile escapes her lips then, as I hoped it would. Nell has the prettiest lips—small, but just plump enough to nibble on, and just firm enough to kiss as hard as you can. “I can’t wait,” she whispers. “I hope she has your eyes.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I reach a hand out to touch her cheek, just below her own, stunning silver eyes. “She’ll have yours.”

Silver is our color, after all.

The doctor comes in then. We went through several doctors over the course of Nell’s pregnancy before settling on Dr. Ambrose, a plump, bright-eyed woman in her fifties with a pleasant demeanor and a wealth of experience with difficult cases. She always seemed excited by having us as patients without seeming like a star-struck teenager, like most of them do, which we both appreciated.

“It’s almost time,” Dr. Ambrose tells us after a quick scan. “Remember what we talked about. Deep breaths. Breaks only when I say so. Milo, keep her calm and focused. Archie, keep her spirits high. And Ash…”

Ash grins, reaching to press “play” on the boom box that Nell insisted we bring with us. 

She wanted our baby to come into the world listening to The Beach Boys.

“Of all the bands?” I asked her when she first made the request.

“What better vibes could we possibly put into the universe for her?” Nell demanded defensively. “Good Vibrations? Be True to Your School? Wouldn’t It Be Nice?”

I caved quickly, of course. I’ll always cave to Nell. Her happiness comes leagues before my own ever could.

Hers, and our soon-to-be daughter’s.

From the time Dr. Ambrose instructs Nell to start pushing to the time I see that perfect, little head start to emerge, about two hours pass. They’re a painstaking two hours for me, which, of course, means they must be excruciating for poor Nell. You wouldn’t know, though. She doesn’t scream, curse, or cry. She just focuses her eyes on me with the same determined, bold expression that I’ve seen on her face a thousand times before, and she pushes, then breathes; pushes, then breathes.

And then, finally, she’s there.

Our daughter.

Nell gasps out loud when they put her in her arms. “Milo!” she breathes, cradling the baby like she’s the most fragile, perfect thing that’s ever existed—which is exactly what she is. She’s tiny, to be sure, but has the same bright, striking eyes as her mother’s—silver, like I predicted—and has enough brown hairs on her head for me to tell that her hair will be somewhere between the chocolate brown of my hair and the near-black of Nell’s. And that smile…

Well, it’s not exactly Nell’s. But it’s no less brilliant.

Before I can even ask, Nell reaches up to hand her to me.

I know, staring down into those silver eyes that burn with a magic that isn’t supposed to exist anymore, that Kenton f*****g Crowley was right.

She’s special.

She’s going to change the world.