Chapter Nine – Poppy

Charlie looked up at her with his big, innocent eyes. “He didn’t say goodbye.”

“I think he’s real busy,” Poppy said.

“Manners cost nothing, that is what you always say,” Charlie returned.

“That is true, young man.” The older man had entered the kitchen and walked across to the stove. “Sometimes even grown-ups forget their manners.”

“It’s true,” Poppy agreed. “But that does not mean you can.”

She lifted Charlie up into her arms. “I guess I’ll just have to have that goodbye kiss,” she teased.

Charlie kissed her noisily on the cheek, and then hung his arms around her neck. “But you aren’t going anywhere, are you, Mommy?”

“Nope,” she promised. “Never, Charlie bear.”

“Why don’t you two sit down, and I’ll ladle some porridge out for you.” Alfie fetched two bowls and set them down on the table.

“What about you, Alfie?” Poppy asked.

“I’ve eaten already.”

“You have to eat some too,” Charlie announced. “Otherwise, it will be all wrong. Since Daddy isn’t here.”

“What will be all wrong?” Poppy asked, her stomach growling at the smell of the warm porridge.

“We can’t be the three bears,” Charlie announced. “You know… Since Teddy isn’t here.”Charlie’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you think the bad men hurt Teddy?”

“No, no one could hurt Teddy,” Poppy said firmly. “And one day, I promise I’ll go and get him.”

“You promise?” Charlie asked.

“I do.”

Charlie’s face broke out into a smile. “But you still need to eat with us, Alfie.”

“Very well, young master,” Alfie said.

Charlie giggled. “I’m not a young master.”

“You will be one day.” Alfie set another bowl down and ladled porridge into it.

“Why?” Charlie asked.

“Blow on it,” Poppy warned as he scooped a spoonful up and was about to eat it. “It’s steaming.”

Charlie blew on it, and then put the spoon in his mouth. He was taking this all in his stride. He had only ever really known the cabin on the mountain, and here he was sitting in the dragon’s den, eating porridge, chatting to a stranger.

“You are the firstborn son of George Lancaster.” Alfie looked at Poppy, studying her. She could read his mind: it said, or so this woman says.

“What does that mean?” Charlie asked.

“It means that you are the oldest child, and that means you get to own all of this one day.”

“That isn’t why we came,” Poppy insisted quickly.

“That has nothing to do with me,” Alfie said. “All I care about is that you treat George with more respect than you did at your last meeting.”

“Our last meeting?” Poppy put her spoon in her bowl. “Our last meeting was a long time ago.”

“Which brings me to my next point…”

“Why didn’t I tell George about Charlie?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“You know George better than anyone else alive, I’m assuming?” Poppy asked.

Alfie inclined his head. “Yes. That is a true statement of fact. At least for now.”

“At least for now?” Poppy asked with a frown.

“You are the mother of his child. His mate. That means that you are the one for him.”

“The one for him?” Poppy did not follow. “Listen, Alfie. We got together by pure chance.”

“There is no such thing as pure chance,” Alfie insisted. “You and he were meant to be together.”

“So you think I was supposed to steal from him?” Poppy asked.

“You stole something, Mommy?” Charlie asked with disbelief.

“I did,” Poppy admitted. “It was wrong, which is why I tell you never to steal. It makes people unhappy.”

“Did it make you unhappy?” Charlie asked.

“Sort of…” Poppy wasn’t sure about the answer to that one. If she had never stolen the blade, she would never have met George, and she would never have given birth to a beautiful son named Charlie. She covered his hand with hers. “But I’m happy I met your Daddy that night.”

“Because of fate,” Alfie said, and ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, for which Poppy was grateful; it gave her time to put her thoughts in order. Not for the first time in the last four days, had Poppy had to rearrange the way she looked at her life.

Was Alfie right, was fate at play here? If so, did she blame fate for everything that led her up to this point in time? The death of her parents, the promise she felt compelled to fulfill. The theft of the Heartsfire Blade, sleeping with George, conceiving Charlie. The list went on and on. But to blame fate was to let herself and Brax off the hook, and that she was not ready to do.

“Shall I wash the bowls?” Poppy asked, getting up from her chair when they had all finished.

“No, that’s my job,” Alfie insisted.

“Well, since we are going to make more work, I insist we help in some way. Charlie is used to doing chores,” Poppy said.

“Is he? Sounds like you are a mother who instills the best qualities in a young man,” Alfie said kindly.

“I don’t know about that, I’m sure Charlie would much rather spend his time playing. But where we lived before, let’s just say Charlie understood that we had to work together to stay alive.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” Alfie said.

“It was the best fun,” Charlie insisted. “Mommy let me help her chop wood. And then I carried it into the house and we counted how many logs would fit in the basket by the fire.”

“Ahh, an education while you work.” Alfie smiled down at Charlie. “You look like your father did at your age.”

“You knew George when he was Charlie’s age?” Poppy asked.

“No. But there is a painting of him. It’s in the dining room. Do you want to see it?” Alfie asked, drying his hands and then leaving the half-washed dishes and leading them out of the kitchen.

The mansion was so big compared to their small cabin. A child could easily get lost in the place. As they walked, Charlie looked into the rooms they passed. An occasional ohh escaped him as he looked at all the open space. Their cabin could easily have fit into the whole of the entrance hall, with room to spare.

“Why does one man need so much space?” Poppy asked.

“He doesn’t, not really. But size is important when it comes to status,” Alfie said.

“He lives here because it makes him look important?” Poppy asked.

“Yes,” Alfie admitted. He opened a door leading off the hallway and let them inside before he added, “I know you will judge him for that. But you need to understand what happened when you stole the dagger.”

Poppy turned to Alfie, hating that this kept getting dredged up in front of Charlie, but knew she deserved all the shame it brought down on her. “Tell me.”

“The Heartsfire Blade was the symbol of power for the clan.”

“The clan?” Poppy asked.

“Dragons belong to a clan. Each clan has its ancient symbols of power.”

“The Heartsfire Blade.”

“Yes. It is imbued with magic. It is one of a few weapons that can pierce the hide of a dragon.”

“Magic? Like real magic?” Charlie asked excitedly.

“Yes.” Alfie nodded, and pointed to a painting of a man who had a keen resemblance to George. The man looked down on them with a stern face; in his hand was the jeweled dagger Poppy had stolen from George that night.

“And because the Heartsfire Blade was stolen, it weakened George’s position in the clan.”

“More than that. It weakened the clan’s position with the other clans.”

“Other clans. More dragons?” Poppy asked nervously. “And they are real dragons?”

Alfie nodded.

“Are you a real dragon?” Charlie asked excitedly.

“Not me, no. But your father saved my life long ago, and so I swore to serve him.” He pointed to another painting of a boy in his teens.

“That’s my daddy?” Charlie asked.

“It is.” Alfie went closer. “See the resemblance in your eyes?”

Charlie looked closer, and then held up his arms to Alfie. “Can you lift me up, please?”

“I can.” The old man bent down and lifted Charlie up so that he could get a better look at the man who was a complete stranger to him, but who was his daddy. A daddy who was a dragon.

Poppy still struggled with the very idea of it. Let alone the thought that her son was a dragon too. A dragon who was part of a clan, who was weakened because of her actions.

“What happened to George’s clan?” Poppy asked. “

Alfie let Charlie slip out of his arms and set him down safely on the floor. “George has made himself powerful enough that there are no ongoing repercussions,” Alfie said.

“But they all know the Heartsfire Blade was stolen?” Poppy asked.

“Yes, the very same night you took it. George had to admit he had failed to guard it with his life.”

“And what happened to George?” What punishment had she caused him?

“His father lost his seat on the council. George was commanded to find it. To use every means at his disposal.”

“But he never has?” she asked.

Alfie shook his head. “Why come here now, Poppy?”

“That is the same question George had asked me, and I can only tell you the same thing. We lived in the mountains, out of the way. No one knew we were there.”

“Not even your family?” Alfie asked.

“No.”

“So why leave?” Alfie asked.

“Because bad men came,” Charlie said looking up at the other paintings in the room.

“Bad men. Men you knew?”

“Yes,” Poppy admitted. “The same man who I stole your Heartsfire Blade for.”

“And so the end game is upon us,” Alfie murmured.

As Poppy looked at the paintings, Charlie slipped his hand into hers. They would be safe here, George would protect them. Yet the thought of having stolen a weapon that could kill dragons, that could kill George, and Charlie, made her question if she had done the right thing coming here.

Getting on a plane and putting thousands of miles between her and Brax might have been a better idea.

She only hoped fate had a plan, and that fate was on their side.