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Stelle is warm.
Dan Heng doesn't need direct contact to reach this conclusion.
She had already proven to have a higher resistance to cold when landing on Jarilo-VI, and her preference for cold desserts and cool places reaffirmed his initial suspicions: Stelle's high average temperature came from the Stellaron inside her. As expected with any topic related to Cancer of All Worlds, Dan Heng couldn't help but express certain concerns about it.
According to Welt, as long as Stelle did not openly express discomfort, it was not an issue they should be concerned about.
So he got used to it. Without necessarily being a fan of physical contact—March 7th and Stelle's pouting because he didn't want to “pamper” them comes to mind—the reality is that mere proximity is enough to feel her warmth. To his surprise, it is not a burning, violent sensation—as one might expect from the nature of the Stellaron—but rather an enhanced version of the warmth inherent in a living being.
In other words, for Dan Heng, the first “proof” that Stelle is okay—that is, without major physical or mental injuries—is the comforting warmth that radiates through her skin. Comforting in the sense that, even if he doesn't ask her or has time to do so, feeling her warmth reminds him that she is still there, safe and sound.
A warmth that is always there.
A warmth that should always be there.
And to Dan Heng's shame—horror—there has already been a time when he did not find that warmth. Not kneeling beside her, not touching her wrists, not brushing her neck, not pressing her chest over and over again, looking for her to react—
Dan Heng was convinced that it had been a bad dream—a nightmare, he corrects himself from the back of his mind—and that, therefore, there was no reason to share such a situation with Stelle.
And yet, she...
“She was supposed to be dead.”
She is cold. No, not that cold, just a little more than he is used to, but enough to confirm the words of Mem, who floats next to the Tidal Bounty.
He lays her against his chest, one arm around her back as he searches for her wrists with his remaining hand. It takes him a moment, but he manages to feel it: slow and weakened, but present in her veins.
Dan Heng feels his eyes burning, but he bites his lips to hold back whatever he is feeling right now.
After the initial shock—he saw her collapse before his eyes, for Lan's sake—the restless vidyadhara examined her features, looking for any sign of reaction. He gently touches her cheek, calling her name with increasing insistence—desperation.
Although she does not open her eyes, a pitiful moan escapes her lips. Her brow furrows, and her eyelashes seem to moisten with each passing second.
Dan Heng's heart—the dragon inside him—freezes.
“Stelle...?”
“She is stable, but she needs immediate rest,” said a soft voice, but with urgency in its words. Hyacinth, when did she...? “Lady Aglaea.”
In response, the Goldweaver nodded. “Take her to your chambers, Dan Heng,” she ordered with a serious expression. “Now that she has passed the trial, the rest of Chrysos Heir will discuss how to proceed with this matter.”
The logical part of Dan Heng makes him hesitate to obey. He understands, of course, that these people—those predestined to wield a power far greater than mortality—will have more knowledge and experience to deal with the situation. However, they are in an unknown world that has proven dangerous on several occasions.
The issue is not the constant war in Amphoreus, but that not only the Titans, but also the Chrysos Heir themselves have posed a danger to them to one degree or another.
Nothing assures Dan Heng that they will put Stelle's well-being first if she comes into conflict with the Flame-Chase Journey. What's more, considering the previous actions of their leader, Aglaea, they could very well turn their backs on them and let fate do its “work.”
He really, really doesn't like the idea of leaving the future of someone in his family in the hands of people he doesn't know, even though he trusts—at least a little—Phainon and, perhaps, Castorice.
Keeping things under his control allows him to make the considerations he deems necessary, even if there are dozens or thousands of them.
And now, in a matter of seconds, they want to remove him from a fundamental discussion. How could he accept such a request?
Something inside him feels cold and violent, spreading through his limbs. The blood of the dragon ancestor Long growls at the situation.
“Mem...” Stelle whimpered weakly.
No. He cannot lose his temper in the territory of demigods.
Still, that doesn't stop the vidyadhara from curling over her, protecting her. From whom? He is unwilling to discover the answer.
“Dan Heng.”
A few meters away, with his hand raised, Phainon paused. If the vidyadhara's expression changed at all due to his proximity, the young hero made no mention of it.
“I swear in the name of my homeland, Aedes Elysiae, that our best wishes for the well-being of our partner—” For some reason, Phainon stopped short. After clearing his throat, he corrected himself. “Of Stelle will be present at all times. Please believe me when I ask you to go without fear. She needs you.”
Dan Heng does not want to admit that the words of Phainon, who had already made a particular impression on him—that of a man who lives for others, but without specifying why—are convincing.
To his credit, the raven-haired young man nodded silently before changing his posture and carrying the ash-haired girl as carefully as possible.
Finally, Dan Heng leaves the Vortex of Genesis with Stelle unconscious in his arms.
The first thought that forms in his head as soon as he steps into their room is, once again, related to her body temperature.
Although Hyacinth had mentioned that Stelle was stable, the drop in her temperature still seemed alarming to him. So even though he knew it would annoy her—the crew had mentioned that he was too precise with their habits—Dan Heng made a series of decisions that he considered practical.
First, the primary source of heat comes from solar radiation, in the case of Amphoreus, from the Dawn Device. Stelle had been very honest about it being “too hot” to sleep with sunlight coming in 24 hours a day, so she had stayed in the bed inside the bedroom.
Therefore, this was the first of Stelle's boundaries that he intentionally broke. With the utmost delicacy, he allowed her unconscious body to slide onto his bed, leaving her lying on her side with her face pointing inward.
Her eyelids fluttered, showing discomfort. Similarly, her fingers twitched as if she were searching for something.
The second boundary was broken as quickly as the first, with Dan Heng spreading a blanket—not very thick, considering Okhema's hot climate—over her legs and torso, which were Stelle's most exposed areas.
The third and final boundary was one that, if she thought about it, would probably be to her liking. Stelle would tease him, but she would also thank him for “breaking Cold Dragon Young's facade.”
In reality, it's a rather silly idea, especially since, according to her, he was “cooler” in his vidyadhara form. Nevertheless, and as he rarely did in his life, Dan Heng diluted his human disguise to give way to his draconic features: long, pointed ears, a translucent turquoise tail, and a pair of coral-shaped horns of the same color.
Why did he transform when he didn't like using this form in the least, especially considering that someone could walk in at any moment?
The explanation, while simple, is also archaic and primitive: the larger the size, the greater the surface area that can be covered. As a dragon, Dan Heng can more easily cover—protect, says instinct—Stelle's body.
Hide her face in his collarbone, hug her torso against his chest, wrap his legs and tail around hers.
The plan to quickly provide warmth to Stelle is misinterpreted by his draconic roots as what, in vidyadhara terms, is known as “social thermoregulation.”
Basically, one of the many extremely intimate displays that his species has and that is intrinsically related to the bondmate.
Now, Dan Heng would be lying if he said he had never shared a bed with Stelle. Whether there in Amphoreus or on the Astral Express, his golden-eyed companion had snuck in a couple of times as a result of bad dreams or simply insomnia.
Dan Heng may not be a fan of physical contact, but he is not cruel either, and he was not going to reject Stelle when she was asking for his help.
However, on all those occasions, they shared the same space but were not entwined in the way his instinct told him to be. Both with their backs to each other, perhaps with their clothes brushing against each other—never skin to skin—from time to time, that was what Dan Heng was used to.
And now?
Now he has Stelle, who is not as warm as he would like, sleeping in his bed, covered by a blanket, and with a pained expression that he would do everything in his power to alleviate.
Dan Heng caused this by his decisions, yes, but it still seems inappropriate to him.
He doesn't want to make Stelle uncomfortable, he doesn't want to overstep anything she wouldn't want, and he certainly can't excuse himself knowing that deep, deep down, his instincts are labeling her as something deeper and more meaningful than a friend.
But when he looks at her with her furrowed brow, her pale nails, and small dark spots forming under her eyes...
“Dan... Heng...”
Her eyelashes flutter, the superhuman effort between wanting to wake up and not being able to escape a nightmare.
Stelle sobs.
“I'm sorry...”
The sense of logic vanishes as soon as the sound of her broken voice reaches his ears.
The dragon, the powerful ancestor, territorial and possessive, loyal and devoted, proud and protective, emerges through precise movements, each guided by the instinct to ‘care’ and ‘protect’.
Although the bed is a bit small for two people, Dan Heng's control over his body is more than enough to maneuver Stelle. Flowing like water obeying his commands, his right arm slides under her head, cradling her; his left arm, meanwhile, flexes her arms to hide them against her chest; in turn, he intertwines his legs with hers, surrounding the farthest areas with his tail, leaving them looking like a cocoon. Or perhaps a beast fiercely protecting its most precious treasure.
Both are confined to a very small space, but the balance is undeniable—the perfection with which they are coupled, as if they were each other's complement.
A part of Dan Heng snorted proudly at these thoughts.
“N-No... Ah... Please...”
Hidden between the blankets and the vidyadhara's toned body, Stelle writhes for a few moments, still struggling to wake up.
While he does not enjoy seeing her suffer with whatever is on her mind, Dan Heng is aware that forcing her to wake up could do more harm than good, especially in her peculiar state of limbo.
This does not mean that he stands there doing nothing. On the contrary, it is a dragon's duty to alleviate the discomfort of his partner. With one hand moving back and forth across her back, tracing her spine, the other slides up to her face, covered by a few stray strands of hair.
His long, slender fingers carefully brush each ash-colored strand aside, tucking it behind her ears or simply combing it into place.
Once her face is clear, Dan Heng gazes at her for a few moments.
There is no shame in admitting that Stelle is... beautiful.
Not only physically—it would be ridiculous to deny that all the men had followed her with their unpleasant stares on their expeditions—but as a person, Stelle was the true example of what it means to be a Nameless.
Even though she was the latest addition to the crew—no, he wouldn't count Sunday, as they had already explained to her on the express—each of her actions showed him what a free and genuine soul she was.
Two years. Two years since they found her at the Herta Space Station. Two years that meant nothing in the grand scheme of time for the Long-Life Species, but that he would cherish more than anything else in the cosmos even if he lived for millennia.
At first, Dan Heng thought that all these instinctive reactions were due to a temporary loss of control caused by recent events. That any unusual impression or reaction on his part was to be expected in psychological terms.
But holding her there in his arms, remembering that moment when they arrived at Amphoreus and later at the Vortex of Genesis...
For the sake of his companions, for her sake... How much was he willing to sacrifice?
Dan Heng doesn't say it out loud, but his answer brings both clarity and terror to his heart.
“No... I can't...”
“Shh.”
Dan Heng does not allow the unchanging and irreversible reality to be reflected in his body. He only hugs her tighter, murmuring things incomprehensible to any observer. An ancient language, the language of mythical creatures? Regardless of the explanation, absolute devotion is the only thing that filters through every gesture, every sound, every breath, and every word.
“You're okay.”
He whispered without knowing whom he wanted to reassure with it.
Getting carried away by the brief moment, the vidyadhara inhaled her crown. Home, responds every particle that makes up his existence.
My home is where you are.
A soft growl escaped from between his lips, similar to a purr.
My home... is you.
Ah... Was it that simple?
Still, it's a terrifying truth.
Ironically, he smiles.
He smiles before pulling away slightly—only as much as necessary—and pressing a tender, fleeting kiss on her forehead.
“I'm here.”
As if they were magic words, Stelle's features relax upon hearing them. And since Stelle's well-being—his bomdmate's well-being—is also his well-being, Dan Heng lets go of all the tension of the last hour.
As a result, sleep overwhelms him.
But standing there, so comfortable with each other, Dan Heng doesn't question it.
And aware that Stelle's warmth was growing stronger, he finally allows himself to rest.