Something was off with Longan.

It wasn't just the way he'd started to look at you, his usually distant, ancient eyes now burning with an unsettling intensity whenever you was within his line of sight. It wasn't just the low, rumbling breath he seemed to take whenever you passed, heavy and almost like a growl barely suppressed. No, it was the gifts.

A whole roasted beast, still warm, left at the entrance to my nesting chamber. A pile of shimmering, rare fruits from the highest peaks, meticulously arranged. Jewels gleaned from forgotten caves, sparkling with an unusual light. All presented with a solemnity that was frankly baffling. You mean, you appreciated the gestures, but Longan Dragon Cookie was the epitome of ancient power and aloofness. This sudden outpouring of… stuff was completely out of character.

"He's been doing it for weeks," you muttered to myself, nudging a particularly iridescent gem with my claw. "Is he… ill? Has he eaten too many spicy jellies?"

You couldn't bear it anymore. The constant staring, the heavy breathing that made my own scales prickle, the increasingly extravagant (and frankly, slightly intimidating) gifts. You sought out the one other dragon who might have an inkling of what was going on: Pitaya Dragon Cookie.

You found Pitaya perched on a jagged peak, casually flicking a stray crumble off their claw. "Pitaya," you began, trying to sound casual despite your rising bewilderment, "have you noticed anything… unusual about Longan lately?"

Pitaya merely snorted, a puff of crimson smoke. "Unusual? What's the fuss? It's just mating season. Gets 'em all riled up."

Your scales flushed a deep crimson. "Mating what now?" The words felt foreign on my tongue. You’d always been more focused on ancient prophecies and flight patterns than… that. As a relatively young dragon cookie, you was, to put it mildly, inexperienced. You hadn't even known dragons had a mating season, let alone what it entailed. Suddenly, all of Longan's bizarre behavior clicked into place with horrifying clarity. The staring, the heavy breathing, the gifts – they weren't signs of illness, they were… advances. And by the looks of it, you were the target.

The revelation left you flustered for the rest of the day. You tried to put it out of my mind as you took on a routine patrol mission that evening, just a skirmish with some particularly stubborn Gummy Worms in the lower valleys. It was late by the time you finished, the moon high and casting long shadows across the ancient peaks. Weariness seeped into my bones, and all you wanted was to collapse in my nesting chamber and try to process this new, utterly overwhelming information.

But you never made it.

Before you could even step a claw into your own space, a powerful, scaled arm shot out from the shadows near your door. A gasp was ripped from your throat as you was dragged, roughly but with undeniable strength, into a dimly lit chamber you hadn't even realized was there. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and something else… primal.

And then you saw him. Longan.

His usually immaculate scales were slightly ruffled, his long mane of dragonfire seemed to crackle with an unusual ferocity. Those ancient, golden eyes, which had only hours ago been merely "staring," were now burning with an intensity that made my very core quiver. There was a raw, possessive heat in their depths, an undeniable lust that made your breath catch. But beneath it, swirling like a dark storm, was something else, something you hadn't expected: profound, undeniable jealousy.

He hadn't been just watching you, he had been claiming you. And the look in his eyes promised that there would be no escape from the ancient, territorial instincts that now consumed him.