The morning sun had long since burned away the pale mists clinging to Orario's walls, leaving the bustling labyrinth city bathed in the crisp, golden light of early afternoon.
While Eina was busy at the Loki Familia home, Draco had long since made the long trek back to the Bahamut Familia's estate.
His mind, however, was not on rest.
It was entirely consumed by missed paper work, and the preparations for the party scheduled for later that evening.
Unfortunately, as he set down the final plate of a meticulously prepared breakfast on the long dining table, the estate remained stubbornly silent.
Draco paused, wiping his hands on a white dish towel, and let out a soft, fond sigh.
"Thought the smell of bacon and freshly baked bread would stir them awake," Draco mused aloud to the empty room, shaking his head.
"Guess I was too optimistic."
Usually, the Ganesha Familia handled most of the day shift, maintaining public order while the Bahamut Familia cycled into the evening hours, stretching their patrols deep into the night.
But recent events had thrown the delicate balance of the city into chaos.
Due to his own accidental, yet catastrophic, mishap in the deep floors of the Dungeon, both Familias had been forced to pull agonizing double shifts, toiling day and night to plug the gaps and keep the populace safe.
It was no small wonder that every single member of his household was currently dead to the world, buried beneath heavy blankets and exhaustion.
Regardless, Draco knew his familia well enough to anticipate a sudden, ravenous awakening once their bodies finally recovered.
Moving down the length of the table, he carefully covered each warm meal with a silver dome to keep the heat trapped inside.
On top of the cover nearest the head of the table, he left a small, neatly folded piece of parchment, scrawling a quick, cute little note in his surprisingly elegant handwriting: Eat up, sleep well, and save your energy for tonight. No complaining about the cold food!....Draco.
He checked the ornate clock ticking softly in the hallway.
It was almost time for the meeting with the captains of the other major Familias.
As the sole witness to and active participant in the recent Dungeon anomaly, Draco's attendance was mandatory.
With a final look at the sleeping estate, Draco turned and began the climb up the staircase toward his room on the third floor.
As he passed the corridor leading to his room, the distinct, soothing sound of running water drifted through the door.
Bahamut was taking a shower.
Draco paused, a slow, devilish grin pulling at the corner of his lips.
The temptation to abandon his duties, slip past the lock, and join his goddess in the cascade of warm water was almost overwhelming.
It would be easy enough to plead tardiness, blaming paper work as the culprit.
He lingered for a moment, listening to the muffled splash of water, before dragging in a slow, resolute breath and forcing himself to take a step back.
"Later," he murmured to himself, tapping his own chest where a familiar, warm ache of desire always flared whenever she was near.
"We'll have plenty of fun tonight. Right now, duty calls."
Maintaining a steady pace, he reached his room, stepped into his own private bath for a refreshing, cooling rinse, and swiftly changed his clothes for the second time that day…..opting for a sleek, dark shirt and baggy trousers that afforded him some mobility while still looking sharp.
Stepping back out into the main foyer, he found Bahamut waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. She was dressed with a white top and dark frilly skirt, her silver hair still slightly damp from the wash, clinging softly to the nape of her neck.
When she saw him, her eyes lit up, though she tried her best to maintain a cool, aloof goddess-like composure.
Together, the two of them departed from the estate, stepping out into the vibrant, sun-drenched streets of Orario.
Their route took them along the bustling western main street, a wide thoroughfare choked with merchants, adventurers, and bustling citizens.
Predictably, Draco and Bahamut immediately drew a mountain of attention.
As a towering dragon-kin flanked by a literal dragon goddess, they were hardly ever not stared at.
By now, the regular residents of Orario were well-accustomed to their presence, yet people still paused, whispering behind cupped hands as the pair drew near.
What caught the crowd off guard today, however, wasn't their exotic, draconic features or their striking beauty, but rather the absurdly unorthodox way Draco was transporting the goddess.
When they had first stepped out the front doors of the estate, Bahamut had stubbornly insisted that they hold hands.
But the difference in their height and build made it a comical endeavor.
Draco possessed an overwhelming, towering frame that made him look like a giant among mortals, while Bahamut…..was petite and short.
Standing side-by-side, trying to clasp hands, made her look less like a romantic partner and more like a lost child being escorted by an imposing guardian.
Furthermore, she was far too short to comfortably lock elbows with him.
Initially she hadn't cared much about such things, but after a certain off-hand comment from Aasterinian...Bahamut found herself thinking about such things more often than she would have liked to admit.
After marching ten paces in silence, glaring down at their mismatched stride with a deep, frustrated frown, Bahamut had stopped in her tracks, tapped her chin, and declared she had found a brilliant solution.
Or, at least, what she thought was a brilliant solution.
Her proposition? Draco should carry her.
Not in a bridal, princess carry....she had vehemently drawn the line at that, knowing it would instantly turn her bright red and draw the collective laughter of her fellow deities.
Instead, she suggested a method where she could perch securely on his arm, leveling their faces to the exact same height so they could talk eye-to-eye.
Seeing amusement in the idea, Draco had readily obliged.
He had folded his forearm into a tight shelf, pressing his fist firmly against his chest.
With unsurprising agility, Bahamut had scrambled up, neatly fitting herself into the gap between his broad chest and his rigid elbow.
Her small frame rested comfortably against his taut muscles, and her tail lazily whipped through the air from the side, twitching in satisfaction.
For the first few minutes, Bahamut had beamed, convinced she was a genius.
Then, they passed by a large polished glass display window belonging to a high-end magic item boutique.
Bahamut caught their reflection in the glass, and the reality of the situation crashed down upon her like a falling boulder.
She didn't look regal.
She didn't look commanding.
She looked like a pampered, clinging koala riding a large dragon-man across the street.
The whispers of the passing crowd instantly took on a different tone.
"Hey, look at that…" a passing adventurer muttered, elbowing his companion.
"Isn't that the goddess of the Bahamut familia?…..why is she riding her child like a mount?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down! Do you want to be smote?"
"No, wait, look at her face. She's dying of embarrassment…"
A pair of local flower-shop girls giggled softly behind a cart of fresh lilies, pointing discreetly at the towering warrior carrying his goddess like a precious, slightly disgruntled backpack.
Bahamut's face flushed a brilliant shade of crimson.
The heat radiating off her skin began to spike, threatening to scorch Draco's sleeve.
"Can you… can you put me down now?" Bahamut whispered, her voice tight and trembling with mortification.
Her warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of Draco's ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
Draco didn't miss a beat.
A slow, infuriatingly smug smirk spread across his handsome features as he looked at her.
"Thought this was what you wanted," Draco replied smoothly, his teasing voice rumbling right against her ribs.
"I changed my mind!" she hissed, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as she tried to wriggle out of his hold.
"Let me down, Draco, or I swear I'll…..!"
"Empty threats," Draco cut her off, refusing to budge an inch.
In fact, to emphasize his point, he tightened his grip, wrapping his arm more securely around her knees so she couldn't forcibly pry herself away.
Realizing she was trapped by her own ridiculous design, Bahamut groaned aloud, burying her burning face directly into the crook of Draco's neck, effectively hiding from the rest of the world.
Her tail lashed angrily back and forth, hitting his thigh in a rhythmic beat of shame.
Chuckling at her melodramatic defeat, Draco continued his march, effortlessly carrying her the rest of the way down the bustling street until they finally reached the grand plaza in front of Babel.
At the base of the white tower, various deities were beginning to gather for the meeting. Fortunately no familiar faces like, Loki, Hestia, Hephaestus and Demeter were anywhere in sight.
Had any of them witnessed her riding around the city like a toddler on a pony, she would never, ever hear the end of it.
They would mock her for a thousand years.
Draco stepped up to the edge of the plaza, gently lowering the humiliated goddess back onto her own two feet.
Bahamut smoothed down her skirt with trembling hands, coughing into her fist to regain her lost dignity, before turning to glare daggers up at him.
"Not a single word," she warned, pointing a trembling finger right at his face.
"Not to me, not to any other god, and especially not to the other children tonight. Understand?"
"Crystal clear, my queen," Draco replied, dipping his head with a mock-serious salute, his eyes still shining with mirth.
Rolling her eyes, Bahamut turned on her heel and swept toward the entrance of Babel, her slightly pride wounded but rapidly recovering as she prepared to meet the assembled pantheon.
Watching her go with a fond, affectionate smile lingering on his lips, Draco turned away from the tower and began walking down the adjacent avenue.
His destination was the Guild, specifically the conference room reserved for meetings.
The walk was short, and the crisp afternoon air helped clear the last remnants of his playful banter with Bahamut, replacing it with the sharp, focused mindset required for the meeting ahead.
Walking through a side door of the Guild main building, Draco nodded to a receptionist at the front desk, who hastily pointed him up the stairs and down a long hallway.
He walked with a quiet, measured tread, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor.
When he reached the designated conference room, he twisted the brass handle and stepped inside.
The room was spacious, dominated by a massive oval stone table surrounded by high-backed leather chairs.
Intricate magic lamps suspended from the ceiling cast a warm, steady glow over the polished surface, reflecting the quiet stillness of the room.
It was empty.
Draco was the first to arrive.
Pulling out a chair near the center of the table…..one that offered a clear view of both the door and the large window overlooking the street....he sat down, folding his hands casually on the tabletop.
He leaned back, letting out a long, slow breath as the heavy silence of the room enveloped him.
The other captains would be arriving shortly.