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Outside, every lamp in Tarnfall burned behind rain-streaked glass. Inside, three cats pinned him to a settle as thoroughly as any oath. It was not a grand life. It would not have impressed the old councils or filled the mouths of bards. No prince would have carved it into marble. No scholar would have known what to do with it.
But the fire was good. The house was dry. The village slept soundly beneath his warding. Soonie had fish on his whiskers, Dori was pretending not to love him, and Doongie’s soft head was heavy against his palm.
Minho closed the book over one finger and listened to the storm spend itself against the roof.
“Let them call it waste,” he said.
The cats understood, as cats understand all important things: silently, completely, and without granting anyone the satisfaction of the proof of it.
Or: Dragon Lee Minho had been living in a remote northern village for 200 years after abandoning his post on the dragon council. Dragon Jisung is sent to bring him back.
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Bookmark Notes:
Best fan fic I have ever read
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Bookmark Notes:
beautiful masterpiece
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Complete
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