Zef and Snorb on Sir Glitterflap
The wedding had been a tasteful riot of glowing fungi, enchanted macarons, and at least one uninvited squirrel bard. But now, Zef and Snorb were finally alone—well, as alone as one can be with a dragon named Sir Glitterflap, a beast so radiant he sparkled even in shadow.
Zef adjusted his teal-and-purple honeymoon cloak, which matched his new husband’s skin and socks, and gave Sir Glitterflap a confident pat. “All right, Glitterflap. Take us somewhere romantic.”
Sir Glitterflap responded with a huff of glittery steam and a wing flourish that sent a rainbow ripple across the sky. With a delighted squeak, Snorb gripped Zef’s waist as the dragon launched into the air, trailing iridescent scales and startled butterflies in his wake.
The wind sang through Zef’s silvery hair as they soared above emerald valleys and cotton-candy clouds. Far below, the trees of Tumbledown Forest rustled in the breeze, and a group of squirrels waved tiny “JUST GNOMED” flags. (Zef had bribed them with pistachio tarts. Worth it.)
“This is amazing,” Snorb whispered into Zef’s ear. “It’s like flying inside a dream painted by a unicorn with poor impulse control.”
Zef laughed, cheeks pink with wind and love. “Darling, that’s basically how I describe you.”
Sir Glitterflap purred—yes, purred—and banked left, wings outstretched like cathedral windows of golden light. They descended into a hidden valley where the clouds parted to reveal a floating lagoon, rimmed with glowing blue lily pads and crescent-moon hammocks strung between translucent trees.
Glitterflap landed delicately on a cliff edge, because even at three tons he was a drama queen with impeccable timing. Zef hopped off first and turned to offer Snorb his hand. “Welcome to Honeymoon Hollow, population: us and possibly one lonely mushroom spirit who just wants to cuddle.”
They set up a picnic: candied rose petals, fizzy elf cider, and a cake that giggled when you sliced it. Snorb fed Zef a bite. Zef promptly dropped the fork and kissed him, slow and sweet.
A meteor shower began just as the cake hiccupped itself into a nap. They curled up in a hammock made of woven starlight, the dragon snoring softly nearby, his tail curled like a comma.
“I love you,” Snorb said, quietly, like it was a secret too sacred for the sky to overhear.
“I know,” Zef replied, then grinned. “I mean—I love you too. But I had to get the line in.”
They fell asleep like that: tangled together, glowing faintly, while above them the stars whispered stories of a gnome prince and his shy beloved, who tamed a glittering dragon and rode off into a forever made of laughter, kisses, and glitter in every imaginable crevice.
They never quite got the glitter out.
But they wouldn’t have it any other way.
Zef adjusted his teal-and-purple honeymoon cloak, which matched his new husband’s skin and socks, and gave Sir Glitterflap a confident pat. “All right, Glitterflap. Take us somewhere romantic.”
Sir Glitterflap responded with a huff of glittery steam and a wing flourish that sent a rainbow ripple across the sky. With a delighted squeak, Snorb gripped Zef’s waist as the dragon launched into the air, trailing iridescent scales and startled butterflies in his wake.
The wind sang through Zef’s silvery hair as they soared above emerald valleys and cotton-candy clouds. Far below, the trees of Tumbledown Forest rustled in the breeze, and a group of squirrels waved tiny “JUST GNOMED” flags. (Zef had bribed them with pistachio tarts. Worth it.)
“This is amazing,” Snorb whispered into Zef’s ear. “It’s like flying inside a dream painted by a unicorn with poor impulse control.”
Zef laughed, cheeks pink with wind and love. “Darling, that’s basically how I describe you.”
Sir Glitterflap purred—yes, purred—and banked left, wings outstretched like cathedral windows of golden light. They descended into a hidden valley where the clouds parted to reveal a floating lagoon, rimmed with glowing blue lily pads and crescent-moon hammocks strung between translucent trees.
Glitterflap landed delicately on a cliff edge, because even at three tons he was a drama queen with impeccable timing. Zef hopped off first and turned to offer Snorb his hand. “Welcome to Honeymoon Hollow, population: us and possibly one lonely mushroom spirit who just wants to cuddle.”
They set up a picnic: candied rose petals, fizzy elf cider, and a cake that giggled when you sliced it. Snorb fed Zef a bite. Zef promptly dropped the fork and kissed him, slow and sweet.
A meteor shower began just as the cake hiccupped itself into a nap. They curled up in a hammock made of woven starlight, the dragon snoring softly nearby, his tail curled like a comma.
“I love you,” Snorb said, quietly, like it was a secret too sacred for the sky to overhear.
“I know,” Zef replied, then grinned. “I mean—I love you too. But I had to get the line in.”
They fell asleep like that: tangled together, glowing faintly, while above them the stars whispered stories of a gnome prince and his shy beloved, who tamed a glittering dragon and rode off into a forever made of laughter, kisses, and glitter in every imaginable crevice.
They never quite got the glitter out.
But they wouldn’t have it any other way.
