DVU Cute Scene

Author's Notes: Part 6 of Dragon Vs. Unicorn was almost a complete rewrite from the original ending. In the original version, Horace becomes trapped in rubble and believes he'll die. He hallucinates his daughter's future, thinking Hunter will raise her. This was meant to be foreshadowing of how the novel would end, but it was cut completely in the rewrite.

Horace passed out at least twice. The oxygen was thin, and the pain was unbearable. As far as he could tell, the crushing weight of the rubble kept his bones from healing. He was going to die there – he felt sure of it. This had been what his vision was about all those months back.

He kept his eyes closed, picturing his daughter as he’d seen her in his vision by the water.

Ahnks anaiy, ahnks alette. Druid, mon dovette. He dimly recalled the nursery rhyme his mother sang when he was young. He imagined himself standing over a bassinet and singing to the baby that would be his. A dense child with curly dark hair and blue eyes. She would smile…

The child behind his eyes didn’t smile at the song, though. It cried, over and over. And the room wasn’t what he originally imagined in the palace. It was a small space with wood paneling on one wall and sapphire paint on the other. The sweet bassinet was now a wooden cage with an open top. For a moment, Horace feared the girl would get her foot stuck in the slats along its edge when she kicked off the blanket depicting rainbow balls on strings that swaddled her.

The crying grew louder, chunky tears pooling across the baby’s chubby face. Something colorful was hanging over the top of the cage – bright animals in reds, greens, and blues that spiraled in a circle seemingly of their own accord. The thing made music, too, that drowned out the old Tamlense lullaby he was singing.

Horace made to pick her up, to comfort her, but other hands got there first.

He turned, expecting to see Amba. But it was Hunter who lifted the screaming infant into his arms and rocked her softly about the room. He murmured under his breath about sunshine, rubbing her back soothingly until the child calmed enough to rest her head on his shoulder.

Horace gasped awake, realizing that he’d fallen asleep again and the nightmare about his daughter had been just that…nothing real.

He choked on a strangled sob, realizing tears were in his eyes like they’d been in the baby’s. He didn’t want Hunter to raise his daughter. They belonged together – the three of them. Horace, Amba, and Autumn.

He was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to see Amba then – to know that she was okay and that there was still time to tell her he’d changed his mind.

What’s wrong with me?

Dimly he was aware that these thoughts and fears weren’t right – they were human.

Forgetting where he was momentarily, he tried to turn his head, only to scrape his cheek against a sharp piece of wood – possibly a nail.

“It huuuuuurts!” A boy wailed, holding a bloody rag over his fingers. He couldn’t be older than five.

It’s me, Horace realized. A memory he’d long blocked out from his childhood. Uncle Kern swooped him up and rushed him to the infirmary. Hector followed close behind them the whole time, swearing that it wasn’t his fault. Horace couldn’t remember whose fault it had been. Did his fist go through a glass window? 

He tried to remember, but nothing else came to mind.

His mother used to sing to him. He tried to picture what she looked like, but all he could imagine was Amba again, the way she was the last time he saw her, staring out the apartment window.

His next breath was shallow, barely squeaking into his pained lungs. He vaguely thought the carbon dioxide levels within his tiny space were getting too high. Soon he’d be in a coma.

How many hours has it been, he wondered? Is it daytime already? Two days later?

He couldn’t keep track of time with how often he was in and out of reality.

Horace peeled back his eyelids, wondering if the color was his usual amber or if they were as crystalline as in his dream.

He wanted to start crying, but he knew that would only take more of his oxygen, and he wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He wasn’t healing; his body was in agony each moment he was conscious.

He drew another shallow breath, wondering how long his body would endure.