“Isn’t she amazing?”
Flynn snorted. “You just like her because she called you handsome.”
The dragon puffed. “That is … not true.”
“All dragons are impossibly susceptible to flattery. And you are no exception.”
“I don’t—”
“Remember when you insisted that this thief was a nice guy simply because he called your scales fashionable … while running away with our gold?” Flynn asked and smacked his lips.
The dragon frowned.
“So what?” he grumbled quietly. “Maybe he just had an eye for those kinds of things.”
“Maybe he just didn’t want you to roast him alive.”
“I would never do such a thing,” Oscar cried out.
“Well, no, but he didn’t know that.”
“Well,” the dragon growled defiantly, “and you don’t know the first thing about fashion.”
“Says the one who walks around naked most of the time.”
Oscar blushed and tried to cover his rear end with his wings. Maybe wearing pajamas wasn’t such a good idea after all, Flynn thought — it would only create more insecurities for Oscar.
Under the watchful eyes of director Nemus, they had exchanged a few pleasantries with the dragon’s new therapist. Her name was Adeline — she’d offered them to call her Elli — and she’d been a therapist at the Mythical Ward for more than ten years now. She was polite without being obsequious, and her voice carried a pleasant confidence clearly founded in intelligence and expertise. Even the notoriously shy dragon had immediately taken a liking to the woman, which was incredibly unusual for the blue reptile.
Now, Oscar and Flynn were sitting on comfortable pillows in one of the many therapy rooms, while Elli was getting tea and biscuits. It took her a few minutes before she returned with a loaded tray, and the subtle scent of baked goods soon filled the air. She’d poured each of them a cup of aromatic tea, or, in Oscar’s case, half a bucket of tea, which the dragon shakingly picked up with his sharp claws.
“I hope I don’t scrape the china,” he said awkwardly, a wisp of smoke coiling around his snout.
“Don’t worry,” Elli said as she lowered her graceful body onto one of the squishy pillows. “They are magically reinforced. Believe me when I say that half the patients in this building struggle with dishware. Makes you wonder why we still impose it upon them.”
She dropped a piece of sugar into her cup and rested her blue eyes on Oscar.
“We have straws if you need one.”
The dragon produced an embarrassed grumble and hastily shook his head, spilling some tea onto the ornamental carpet. Elli chose to ignore his mishap.
“Normally, I would prefer to have this conversation with just the patient,” she said instead, taking a sip from her tea. “But Mira already told me about your special circumstances.”
A gentle smile tugged at her lips as she inclined her head towards Flynn. He could tell her remark wasn’t meant as mockery, but it felt like it.
“What’s so wrong with a little support?” he asked.
Elli’s smile grew even softer. “Support is always appreciated. But sometimes, it can also act as confinement.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I know you want what’s best for Oscar,” she said calmly, “but sometimes, helping means that we have to take a step back and let them spread their wings.”
He couldn’t help but notice the irony of that metaphor.
“If there is ever a time when Oscar doesn’t need or want me by his side, I will respect his wish.”
Flynn reached out and grabbed one of the larger cookies from the plate, then tossed it up into the air for Oscar to snatch. The buttery biscuit crunched when Oscar’s massive teeth made contact.
The therapist smiled politely and took another sip from her tea.
“They are delicious,” the dragon mumbled while chewing.
Their host inclined her head appreciatively.
Flynn rolled his eyes.
“Is it okay if I call you Oscar?”
The dragon gulped down the last crumbs of his cookie and nodded vigorously.
“Please do! I don’t like my given name anyway.”
Elli looked like she was making a mental note of that statement — something to revisit at a later point.
“Alright then, Oscar,” she said and put her mug on a small table.
Her posture was superb, her demeanor calm and collected.
“Please don’t think of this little chat as a formal therapy session. Today is just about me getting to know you.”
“Okay,” the dragon acknowledged sheepishly.
“I have already told you a bit about myself,” the therapist continued, “but I would love to hear more about you. And as such, I want to start with the simplest question of them all: what brings you here?”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Before Flynn could open his mouth to ask whether that information wasn’t already in Oscar’s file anyway, Elli shot him a glance that told him it wasn’t his time to talk. She did so as respectfully as possible, and as firmly as needed. He could respect that.
The dragon had put down his bucket of tea on a small table, and droplets of tea were still running down his scales. Oscar had never enjoyed talking about himself, which was sure to make this entire journey challenging for him. More often than not, Flynn had done the talking for him, but that strategy wouldn’t work this time. And maybe that was for the better, he realized.
“I’m here,” the dragon began nervously, his scales already flashing red in places, “because there are times when I struggle to control certain emotions.”
“What emotions would that be?” Elli asked after letting Oscar’s words be felt.
“I get nervous very easily. A lot of things make me anxious, even if they shouldn’t.”
“Who says they shouldn’t?”
Oscar furrowed his horns.
“I …—” he began, then broke off and started again. “It’s just unbecoming of a dragon to be nervous.”
Elli gently tilted her head, making her brown curls slide down her cheek.
“Is it important to you to be a stereotypical dragon?”
Oscar considered the question for a moment.
“No,” he finally said, “but I also don’t want to bring shame upon my entire species.”
“Is there someone who is giving you that feeling?”
Flynn shifted his weight. All of a sudden, he felt unusually uncomfortable.
“There used to be,” the dragon grumbled and lowered his head. “The relationship with my parents was … difficult.”
Flynn sighed in quiet relief.
“Was?” Elli asked and raised her eyebrows.
“They are not dead, but we don’t have any contact anymore,” the dragon explained in his gravelly baritone.
To Flynn, this very much felt like a first therapy session already. But maybe, he thought, discussions with a therapist always had that quality to them.
Elli didn’t say anything for a long while, her blue eyes examining the dragon in front of her.
“How long have Mr Flynn …—”
“Flynn, please.”
Elli nodded politely.
“How long have you and Flynn known each other?”
“For almost all my life,” the dragon murmured. ”Flynn took me in when I was still a hatchling.”
For a dragon, Oscar was still relatively young. He’d reached a respectable size relatively early on in his young adulthood, but he was nowhere near his full size. Another couple of millennia, and the blue dragon would be truly massive, and way too large to fit into even the spacious room they were sitting in now. Flynn would be long gone then, crumbled to dust in some unremarkable grave. Hopefully, by then, Oscar would be more self-sufficient. The thought of leaving the kind-hearted dragon to his own did worry Flynn sometimes.
“That’s a long time,” Elli said, visibly impressed. “It sounds like you have found a great companion, then.”
The dragon nodded sincerely. “I got very lucky, yes.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in Flynn’s chest and almost made him shed a tear.
“I can see that,” the therapist said quietly and shot Flynn an almost endearing glance.
Flynn muttered something along the lines of “dust in the air” and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. Thankfully, Elli let him keep his dignity and instead focused on Oscar again.
“Have you sought out therapy before?”
The dragon shook his head. “I’ve read about it, but I never considered it for myself.”
“Did you read about the Mythical Ward?”
“I did, yes.”
Elli picked up a notebook from the table next to her. Flynn was surprised she hadn’t used it until now.
“May I ask where you first learned about us? Sorry to bother you with such a silly question. Our marketing division wants us to ask all new patients.”
“Seriously?” Flynn scoffed.
Elli pursed her lips in an apologetic gesture.
Oscar seemed unfazed. “I read about it in the research book The Mythical Mind. I believe it was written by one of your colleagues.”
Elli seemed surprised. “Indeed, it was. Though it was hardly a bestseller.”
The dragon hummed briefly.
“I liked it. I would love to meet the author one of these days.”
“I’m sure you will. And I guarantee you, he will be over the moon to meet a fan.”
Oscar puffed in excitement and took another gulp from his tea, this time more confidently.
“I can tell you take an interest in the inner workings of the mind,” Elli stated. “Has that always been the case?”
The smile on Oscar’s face vanished and gave way to a leathery pout.
“It started when I realized that I was different from other people. Different from other dragons.”
“And you were looking for an explanation?”
The dragon nodded.
“Did you find one?”
Flynn scowled at the question. If the dragon had, he wouldn’t be sitting here.
He bit his lip when Elli’s blue eyes met his.
“No,” the dragon grumbled semi-quietly. “I just ended up having more questions than before.”
The therapist chuckled briefly. “That doesn’t surprise me. It’s a complicated research field, often with more theories than actual evidence. That’s why there exist people like me who can help guide you through this vast ocean of knowledge, to show you what methods are out there to reach a healthy relationship with yourself and your feelings.”
“Like a shepherd?” the dragon asked.
“Kind of. But the difference is that I won’t force you to run in any given direction. I just help you choose your own path, and help you walk it — an emotional cane, so to speak.”
Oscar took a moment to consider her words.
To Flynn, it sounded like the therapists of the Mythical Ward were getting paid an awful lot of money for surprisingly little. But the dragon didn’t seem to share his sentiment.
“I like the sound of that,” Oscar puffed instead, the redness of his scales subsiding.
He picked up another biscuit with his talons.
Elli smiled. “That makes me happy to hear. But I do wonder: if you already knew about the concept of therapy and never considered it for yourself, what changed?”
The dragon seemed to deflate.
Elli immediately picked up on it and added, “If it’s a touchy subject, we don’t have to discuss it now. Pardon my curiosity.”
“I burned a city.”
“Half a city,” Flynn added, and patted Oscar’s sprawled-out leg.
“I see,” the therapist said with a surprisingly calm voice.
She scribbled something in her notebook before looking back at Oscar.
“I take it you didn’t mean to burn half a city?”
“NO!” Oscar roared, and blazing flames escaped his nostrils.
Within an instant, the red flush was back, and the dragon squirmed in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered and helplessly flapped his wings.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Elli said with her soothing voice. “Most of our patients come here after experiencing some awful event like what you describe.”
Flynn frowned at the way she described it like things had just happened to Oscar, like he’d had no say in the matter when laying waste to hundreds of homes. He appreciated that she tried to make the dragon feel better, but the flame-spitting reptile had been anything but a spectator during those tragic minutes.
“As for the fire,” the therapist added and gestured at Oscar’s smoking nostrils, “most rooms are fireproof — or at least fire-repellent — by virtue of a special magical coating. So don’t worry about setting the building ablaze.”
“What about other people and patients?” Flynn asked in bewilderment.
Elli pursed her lips. “Yeah, you might still want to be a bit careful around them.”
Oscar gave a pitiful growl and put his cookie back on the table.
