Valentine’s Day Extra

It’s been five years since Lilith’s road-dust finally settled.

The Little White Dragon isn’t so little now. She flew back to the Dragon Territory and built a nest, a warm hollow not far below the Talros place. It’s a snug den, just big enough for her, Nidhogg, and a few little ones, like stars tucked into a pocket of dusk.

Peace settled like soft snow. Lilith chose to be an Astrologer in truth, shouldering Teacher Asterios’s mantle. Under her lamp like a pale moon, she’s even taken on a couple of apprentices, seeds she waters with patience.

Nidhogg stayed with her in the Dragon Territory. She runs with the hunters beside Typhon, out each day into the cold wind to bring back game, her laughter ringing like steel on stone.

Today’s special. Lilith sits in her room, palms warm as a hearth, preparing a gift. This continent knows no such holiday, yet by her carried calendar, today is Valentine’s Day from the White Dragon’s old world, a ribbon tied across time.

She got up at dawn and cooked a feast, steam rising like morning mist. Nidhogg had to head out, so after breakfast the Black Dragon packed up, shouldered her gear, and stepped into the crisp air.

Lilith wasn’t teaching today. In a thin nightgown that floated like a wisp of cloud, she walked out of the room. At the entry, she wrapped Nidhogg in a hug, rose on tiptoe, and kissed the Black Dragon’s cheek, a petal on basalt.

“Safe travels. Come back early tonight.”

She brushed a kiss across Nidhogg’s lips, then whispered sweetness in her ear like warm honey, and kissed her again.

“Got it. Love you.” Nidhogg leaned in and returned the kiss, a spark under the ribs.

“Love you!” Lilith chortled, waved like a wind-borne flag, and saw her off at the door.

Once the Black Dragon left, the Little White Dragon pitter-pattered back to the kitchen, a spring sparrow hopping to its branch. She took out ingredients she’d prepped ahead. As the house cook, she’d picked up a habit: recreating tastes from that other world. Once a devotee of all things bitter, she’d already cracked the secret of chocolate, dark as midnight.

Valentine’s Day means chocolate. That’s a rule as old as a red ribbon on a wrist.

So she’d piled up supplies. Today she would make Nidhogg the best chocolate she’d ever tasted, a piece that would burn bright in memory like a comet.

Lilith clenched her little fist, a seed swearing to sprout. She brimmed with resolve.

Her hands moved sure as moon phases. The house was hers alone all day; she skipped lunch and planned to steep in chocolate like a tea leaf in amber.

Before tempering, she chose to bake some cookies. The little dragon didn’t like pure chocolate; she’d fold in chopped nuts and cookie crumbs, so each bite broke like a wave on pebbles. There was time before Nidhogg came home, so she’d bake first, let her hands remember the rhythm of cooking.

The cookies came out perfect. Besides the chocolate-cookie bits set aside for the chocolate, she baked butter shortbread, golden coins for “emergencies,” in case the afternoon birthed a sudden appetite that stole from Nidhogg’s gift.

A little after noon, she set down her tools and drifted to the small rocker by the door. Since the journey ended, Lilith had grown a new habit: when the sun hung high like a bright coin, she’d find a gentler patch of light, sit in the rocking chair that creaked like a lullaby, hum a tune, and unspool memories with Nidhogg, one silver thread at a time.

She held a plate of little cookies and a cup of black tea with milk and sugar, steam curling like calligraphy. She sipped, she nibbled, and in her head old scenes flickered like lanterns.

She saw Nidhogg strolling the market with her, sleeves brushing like leaves.

She saw Nidhogg sharing a quiet room, pages turning like wings.

She saw herself bent over parchment and a pricked Star Canvas, while the Black Dragon sat beside her, gaze gentle as night water, keeping watch without a word.

The more she remembered, the brighter her chest glowed, a brazier under snow. Sun-warmed and happy, she grew drowsy. She blinked, once, twice, and drifted off in the rocker, as if the light itself had closed her eyes.

She dreamed she’d returned to her original world. The Little White Dragon was gone; she was Fan Yu again, treading her old path like footsteps reprinted in wet sand.

But the dream tasted like ash. Every time she lay in bed, Nidhogg’s face rose in the dark, the Black Dragon girl at her side, kissing her brow like a falling petal, whispering sugar-sweet words into her ear.

Then came the sleepless nights, white as winter. She didn’t know what sin that dream-self had committed, to deserve such a cut, like a river split from its sea.

“Nidhogg…” In the dream she curled up small, a leaf in rain, and cried under the quilt, sobbing the Black Dragon’s name.

“Lilith…”

“Lilith…”

Was that Nidhogg’s voice?

Lilith fluttered her eyes open, fog lifting off a lake. Through the haze she saw the face she pined for, Nidhogg leaning over, palm warm as a hearth, patting her cheek.

“Lilith, why’d you fall asleep out here?” Concern threaded her voice like silk.

Lilith sat up, still adrift. She realized she must’ve dozed off without meaning to.

She bolted upright, grabbed Nidhogg’s arm, panic flaring like a match. “How long was I out?”

“How would I know when you nodded off? But it’s six in the evening now.” Nidhogg raised a pocket watch, its hands like sword-tips pointing to six.

“Ah—ah—ah! No! My chocolate!” Lilith sprinted for the kitchen. Nidhogg watched her whirl like a startled bird, then ran after her.

“I haven’t even started…”

Nidhogg walked in on a soaked little dragon without the water, shoulders drooped like wet feathers, and a counter piled high with untouched ingredients.

“What’s all this?” Nidhogg leaned close, breath like warm wind against the White Dragon’s ear. “Is this the stuff you usually tinker with?”

“It—it was your gift.” Lilith’s mouth turned down like a wilted petal. “But I fell asleep, and forgot I hadn’t made it yet.”

“What’s the big day?” Nidhogg turned her around gently, crouched to meet her eyes, and wiped the silver tracks from Lilith’s cheeks with a thumb.

“Valentine’s Day. A day for lovers.” Lilith’s tears beaded like pearls as she tucked herself into Nidhogg’s arms and sniffled. “Chocolate’s the traditional gift. I wanted to make some for you. Look, I even baked the cookies. But I fell asleep. What do I do?”

“Silly girl. Crying over that?” Nidhogg sighed, helpless and fond, and folded the small dragon into a hug, palm drifting on her back like a tide. “Didn’t get to it? Then we’ll make it together.”

“Really?” Lilith’s eyes went wide and wet, little lakes catching stars, as she tilted her face up.

“Of course.” The Black Dragon patted her head, set her on her feet, and tied on an apron like donning a wing. “Walk me through it?”

“Okay… first, take everything out…” Lilith swayed a little, voice soft as cotton.

Turns out, all those meals Lilith cooked had saved the house from many quiet disasters. In all her years, the Little White Dragon had never seen someone, with live coaching and all ingredients set like chess pieces, still manage to wreck the dish. After all that, they ended up with one tiny piece of chocolate, the kind with butter shortbread tucked inside.

Lilith broke off a corner and tasted it. She stuck out her tongue, a cat denied cream. “Awful! You’re banned from the kitchen.”

“What do we do with all this?” Nidhogg knew today was on her, so she accepted the verdict like a soldier takes orders. But the battlefield of bowls and crumbs made her wince.

“Who made the mess, cleans the mess.” Lilith rolled her eyes, a little white wave.

“And my gift?” Nidhogg asked, as pitiful as a rain-drenched pup.

“Mm… then you pick one. I’ll make it happen.” Seeing her so forlorn, Lilith took pity and tossed her a key to the candy shop.

“Then I won’t be shy.” A glint of mischief flashed in Nidhogg’s eyes, like moonlight on a blade.

Lilith cut her a glance, then nodded, trusting her like a swimmer trusts the tide.

Nidhogg swung her up onto her shoulder in one smooth motion.

“Hey! Wait—what are you doing!” Lilith wriggled hard, a fish on a line. The Black Dragon pinched her waist, and the Little White Dragon went soft, a ribbon in warm hands.

“Taking my gift,” Nidhogg said, shameless as summer heat.

“You—” Lilith choked on the rest. She squirmed, flushed, then managed only, “As long as you’re happy.”

She stopped fighting, and comforted herself in the quiet of her chest.

A belated Valentine’s gift. Just this once.