Dearly Beloved (short story)

### Characters

Aurgothin of Garakalryx, Luskarak of Garakalryx, Agronath of Garakalryx (mentioned), Kahlynor of Garakalryx, Gildakrog of Garakalryx

### Synopsis

A snapshot of Aurgothin and his immediate family's domestic life set 20 years in the past.

### Author(s)

Vincent

**Dearly Beloved** is a short story that takes place in the family home of Kahlynor of Garakalryx, in which she bequeaths to Aurgothin her father's ceremonial shawl.

## Text

"Don’t you think you ought to have figured this out by now, son?”

In truth, for all his half-hearted moaning, Gildakrog didn't mind tying his son’s bow ties for him one bit. Especially now, in his early twenties, Aurgothin was a spitting image of his father, give or take a few inches. Gildakrog was fond of admiring his son’s handsomeness as if it were the handiwork of a seasoned craftsman; which, to be fair, it was.

“Have you ever considered,” his son countered slyly, “that I the only reason I haven’t is because I want you to feel useful for something in your old age?”

"BAH!" Gildakrog’s hearty laugh resonated throughout the room, gently shaking the porcelain decor on the walls and startling Luskarak out of her quiet contemplation. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid the Foundry of Garyx- which, need I remind you, shall be yours someday- could be in peril. Can't have the owner of the clan’s best smithy going senile.”

Aurgothin sighed, and, humming to himself, his father resumed his work on his tie. To Aurgothin, the thought of operating the Foundry without his father’s oversight still gave him pause despite the onset of his adulthood. Shouldn’t he feel more… prepared? “Of course,” he swallowed, trying to force the very thought down his throat.

Noticing the lump forming in his son’s throat and the subtle twitching of his bionic claws, Gildakrog softened his expression and pulled the ends of his tie taut, tightening the knot. “There we go,” he proclaimed with a note of pride, patting Aurgothin on the shoulder. “Sharp as ever, kiddo.”

“Father,” Luskarak groaned, desperate for her father’s relentless praise of her eldest sibling to cease. “Could you remind me again why Aurgothin is attending Atenai sermons within the city and why in the name of our Lord we’re allowing him to do so?” The venom in her voice nearly caused Aurgothin to flinch, and she glared at him from across the room with unsurpassed indignance. Luskarak made no effort to conceal the jealousy or ire her brother inspired in her. He could leave today and never come back for all she cared. Their mother, on the other hand…

“Lectures, my daughter,” Kahlynor’s voice sent another shiver up Luskarak’s spine as she strode silently through the doorway and into the room. “Not sermons.” Gildakrog stepped away from his son and invited Kahlynor into an embrace by his side, an invitation she accepted with the coldness of any other obligation. Her calm smile tightened as her husband coiled his arm around her, though she retained her steady composure. “These two have been dutiful to reassure me of that, if nothing else.” She turned her cold gaze from her daughter to her son and softened her demeanor, though only slightly. “And though your brother has received a most rigorous and thorough education from our clan’s most well-informed scholars,” she began, locking Aurgothin’s timid gaze with her own, “the fact remains that he is an adult and, barring his expressly stated duties to the clan, is free to do as he pleases with his time.”

Luskarak grimaced and averted her eyes as Kahlynor reached up to caress her son's spiny jaw. Her rites of procession couldn’t come sooner, and the last thing she needed was another reminder of their remoteness.

As she finished admiring her eldest son, Kahlynor’s right earfin twitched, subtly rearticulating toward the door. She turned to face her daughter again, causing her to jolt upright and stiffen her posture. “Luskarak, would you be a dear and check in on the hatchling? He seems to be stirring.” Without protest (chiefly thanks to her tightly honed ability to suppress a groan), Luskarak rose from her seat and, after a brief stretch, set off to her newborn brother’s room.

Kahlynor grazed her thumb over the prickly, newly-formed spines running along Aurgothin's chin a final time before sighing, lowering her arm, and freeing herself from her husband’s grasp. Silence filled the room for an impossibly long moment as she turned around and paced away from them. Aurgothin exchanged a confused glance with his father before Kahlynor spoke again. “Aurgothin,” she sighed pensively, continuing only after another silent pause. “You mustn’t let my tolerance delude you. It is with a heavy heart that I observe your activities outside the clan.” Kahlynor listened keenly for the shaky sigh that followed her son’s stomach dropping before speaking again. “Yet I do not interfere. It’s not my place, after all. Not anymore.”

Aurgothin looked down at the floor, his tail drooping and curling around his left leg. “Right,” he stammered as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. “Of course. I understand, mother.”

Kahlynor grinned, but as she turned to face her son again, she assumed a markedly more concerned expression. “I only ask one favor of you, my son.” Seeing Aurgothin perk up, she began towards him again. Although her most recent childbirth lightly hindered her gait, her movement still conveyed the refined elegance of a proper red dragon. Standing directly before her son, she took his hands in her own, glancing over at Gildakrog.

Recognizing her glance as a silent command, he promptly turned around and opened a drawer on the dresser behind him, delicately draping a length of fine, scarlet cloth over his arm. Despite the perceived mundanity of the garment- a Garakalryxian ceremonial shawl- Aurgothin quickly recognized its significance. This shawl had once belonged to his departed maternal grandfather, Valrhekor, former High Priest of Anvil’rak sanctuary. Gildakrog carried the shawl to Kahlynor, who released Aurgothin’s hands to take it gingerly. Then, she presented it to Aurgothin.

She didn’t need to tell him to put it on immediately. Draped over his shoulders and around his neck, it obscured the work his father had done on his bow tie, but Gildakrog didn’t seem to notice or care. At that moment, Aurgothin knew he should have felt the intense honor of his heritage surge through him- and he did, to an extent- but, for some reason, just out of reach, he almost felt queasy putting it on.

Kahlynor beamed with pride, baring to her son every sharp, white fang. It was as if her father had risen anew before her. She placed her hands on his shoulders firmly and ran them down his arms before retaking his hands.

“Never forget where you came from.”