Archive of Our Own ^beta

Small, peach-colored petals scattered across the cobblestone path, a light breeze rustling through the emptying branches as the town square busied itself with merchants and customers alike.

“Flower Day?”

The traveling botanist nodded, moving towards the back of her carriage. “Yes, indeed, and so I'm having a special sale.”

Garland cocked their head, the short and stout human holding their hands on their hips. “I’ve never heard of such a holiday,” they said.

“The benefits of traveling across the lands—I learn lots of things about many different places.” The botanist had an air of pride in her voice as she swung open the doors to her carriage with an elegant flourish. Garland, ever curious, timidly inched forward to get a closer look.

Flowers, flowers, flowers. Roses and carnations that were as red as strawberries. Chrysanthemums as brilliant as the sun. Pink peonies and healthy looking hydrangeas, plus a rather mischievous marigold that tumbled out onto the ground. The botanist bent over and picked it up between two delicate fingers, having decided to use it as an example. She held it towards Garland.

“A special day to give special flowers to special people,” she said simply, tucking the stem underneath one of Garland’s leather suspenders. She winked. “Or special customers. That one’s for free.”

Garland felt blood rush to their cheeks. They pulled the marigold out and inspected it more closely. Truthfully, they had never seen such vibrant and beautiful flowers before in their life... no wonder they had an entire day solely to themselves.

“It’s celebrated on the fourteenth day of the second month of every solar year, without fail,” the botanist continued. “It’s very highly anticipated.”

“You must be extremely skilled to grow such beautiful things.” Garland awed at the contents of the carriage, which was nearly full to bursting—and the botanist quickly closed the rear doors to prevent any more flowers from escaping in the breeze.

“The only way you’ll be able to flatter me more is if you buy some,” she said cheekily. Now she was leaning against the side of her carriage, tapping her fingers on the green-painted wheels. A spitting image of her portrait, which was painted extravagantly right behind her on weathered wood, seemed to match her expression.

Garland looked down at the marigold in their hand again. They felt the soft petals between their fingertips and smiled. “Do you have any lilacs?”

The botanist contemplated for a moment. She turned towards a small hatch on the side of the carriage that Garland hadn’t noticed until now, and when she pulled on the small leather handle, a compartment opened up and revealed bouquets of purple lilacs, tied together in red twine. “Like these?”

Garland was dumbfounded. “Y-Yes, that's perfect. They look perfect.” They took a few steps closer, perhaps to reach forward and touch them—stroke their leaves, same as the marigold—but the botanist stepped in between. “Ah, ah. Precious goods. Can’t touch unless you pay up.”

Garland twiddled with their coin purse. “How much?”

“Typically I would charge the standard rate. But these here,” she glanced back towards the lilacs, their freshly watered stems glistening in the slowly disappearing sunlight, “are special. Rarer. Surely you understand that I must charge more for product that costs more to maintain. Simple economics.” She clasped her hands together with flair. “Find it within your heart to forgive me.”

Garland gripped their coin purse a little tighter. “The price, please.”

She clicked her tongue. “For you, maybe I can say thirty gold for a bouquet. Five for a single.”

Garland’s stomach nearly cried in mourning of all the food that thirty gold could buy. Opening the clasp on their purse was starting to sting a little. “And you say that this is a holiday for... special people?”

“Oh, absolutely!” The botanist’s voice quickly adopted a cheerful tone. “If you have someone in your life you really cherish, you absolutely must buy them some flowers today.” She took a step closer. She was carrying a bouquet of the lilacs now, as if the wafting smell could eke the coins out of Garland’s purse. “I mean, do you really care for them if you won’t buy them such a gift? Everyone’s doing it.”

Garland faltered. Curse this woman and her tongue, they thought to themselves. But they were right; Garland had someone in mind. Surely they were worth the price tag.

“For you, my love! Happy Flower Day!”

With their purse considerably lighter, Garland was stopped on the cobbled street by the squeals of an elated couple of women. The traveling botanist certainly fulfilled her name by traveling all over the village. It was impossible to ignore, but Garland didn’t mind—it made them happy to see others enjoying the company of their special someones. It seemed the fair lady rather liked her newly gifted daffodils that she was now clutching to her chest, clicking her heels together as she ran off with her lover.

“Garland! You sly dog, you didn’t tell me!” Garland felt a shove from behind. They stumbled and stomped their legs, clutching their lilacs protectively as they turned to face the playful attacker. “What are you talking about?”

“The flowers!” The man with a mischievous squint pointed. “You didn’t tell me or anyone that you were the romantic type.”

“Romance?” Garland’s cheeks grew red with embarrassment. “You have the wrong idea. These are for Flower Day.”

“Of course,” the man scoffed. “And you give flowers on Flower Day as proof of your love, your undying affection, and your everlasting partnership.” Then, he smiled. “At least, according to the botanist. It sounds like such a nice holiday, I hope we do it again next year.”

Garland felt a pit grow in their stomach. Had they completely misunderstood the point of Flower Day from the very beginning? “I-I was under the impression that it can just be anyone special in your life. Romantic partner or not. Close friends?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the man chuckled. “Who gives flowers to friends?” He held out a handful of poppies. “I bought these for my darling fiancée. Now she’ll know how much I really love her.”

Garland suddenly felt that they were occupying too much physical space. They just wanted to shrink and shrink until they disappeared into nothingness. How could they have been so foolish? Of course, it made perfect sense now. Special people meant romantic partners, from the very beginning. And as the last rays of sunshine descended upon the town square in beams of gold, it took everything in Garland’s power not to toss the lilacs into a nearby puddle and be done with it.

But they couldn’t. They had already spent the coin, and they were doubtful such a keen merchant as the traveling botanist would accept refunds.

“...No, um... these flowers are just for me.”

***

Garland wiped the mud off their leather boots as the ground slowly transitioned from dirt to rock. From up here the human could see the entirety of their village, nestled comfortably against the base of the mountain, while the ocean gleamed with gentle light from the approaching moons. They sighed. This sight alone could ease their weary soul if they sat here long enough, but their true respite lay deeper within the cave. Garland stepped over rocks and rivers of moss as easily in the dark as they could in broad daylight, they knew this place that well. Though soon enough, the darkness would cease to be a problem.

Thud. Thud. Heavy footsteps shook the cave—Garland’s presence had already been noticed. Towards the deepest, darkest depths of the cave, a pinprick of light appeared like a star being born, before slowly growing bigger and bigger as the creature approached. Thud. Thud. Soon enough, they were close enough for Garland to see them more clearly.

A large, large beast, standing close to four Garlands tall, stood on its muscled hindlegs as it approached. Their scales covered their entire body, save for their rather... plump stomach, which looked more like soft, pale flesh. Their arms and hands each ended with four distinctly curled claws, and their head held two curled horns that burned with the same bright light that was illuminating the cave, making Garland’s shadow dance behind them. They snorted. Visibly hot air escaped the nostrils on their snout, and they held up their clawed hands. They bent those claws up and down in intricate, purposeful patterns and gestures—Garland recognized the meaning instantly.

“How are you doing?”

Garland chuckled. They took a brief moment to glance down at the lilacs in their hands, which had lost a handful of petals during the journey. The dragon noticed too. Their claws clicked together during their gestures.

“...and what is that? I knew I smelled something.”

They took a closer look. “...and they look like me.”

Garland laughed again, more heartily, the woes of earlier beginning to melt away. Garland held up their hands, tucked in their thumbs and used their four fingers to mimic the same motions as the dragon’s claws.

“That is why I got them. I am so happy, the color matches perfectly. They are for you.”

The dragon made a quiet sound that sounded like a distinctively happy trill. “Where did you pick them? I have never seen them grow around here. And I have never smelled them before.”

Garland hesitated. “I bought them. With money.”

The dragon’s eyes widened in concern, and took a few steps closer. “You used your pieces of gold for me?”

Garland sighed. They practiced this conversation in their mind, but could never really navigate it successfully. And now it was happening. “It takes a while to explain, and my—” Garland paused for a moment, their brow furrowing as they searched for the right combination of bent and unbent fingers. “I am not the best at this yet.”

The dragon gently bowed their head, to bring their yellow eyes down to Garland’s face, and after a cave-rattling thump, sat down right next to the human. “Me neither. But we can be patient.”

Garland could already feel such a pleasant warmth radiating from the dragon’s body. “There is a human holiday that I learned about today.”

The dragon nodded, as if to say “go on.”

“It is called Flower Day. You give flowers to special people in your life. People that you are... involved with in a romantic way.” Garland squeezed their fists, looking for the right word again. “People you are in love with.”

Another snort, and then a rather confused head-tilt. The dragon breathed in and out, their chest and round middle rising up and then back down. “Love. You have taught me that word but I do not understand it yet.”

That made Garland laugh out loud, and the sound echoed across the walls of the cave, and made the dragon flinch, before they remembered that laughter is a good sound. With a bright smile, Garland signed, “You and me both.” Garland had tried to explain human holidays on many occasions, but this was the first time where the two of them were equally puzzled.

The dragon made a funny expression. They were thinking very hard. They lowered their head further, to nudge the side of Garland’s body with their purple snout. “But you are special. Special in my life.”

Garland’s heart started to beat a little faster. Now they were both sitting down, the lilacs sitting in Garland’s lap. The human frowned. “Yes. And you are special to me too. I value your company. But I felt silly. Because the flowers are supposed to be for love.”

The dragon shook their head emphatically. “Flowers are for everything. They do not grow because they know it is...” A pause. “Flower Day. And the flowers are special because you are special. And you give them to me.”

Garland felt blood rush to their cheeks again, though they could not pinpoint the emotion—maybe it was because they realized they had been a fool, again. Of course. Flowers have whatever meaning you want to give them. Garland was always pleasantly surprised to hear whatever wisdom that the dragon’s care-free life occasionally brought up.

Before Garland could respond, they noticed the dragon continuing to sign. “May I have the flowers?”

Garland smiled, handing over the bouquet with one hand while signing with the other, “Of course, they are yours.”

The dragon delicately picked up the bouquet, unraveling the red twine with surprising dexterity, letting it fall to the ground as they inspected them more closely. They brought the lilacs closer to their face, and Garland thought they intended on smelling them more thoroughly, but then the dragon opened up their mouth and tossed the lilacs inside.

“H-Hey!” Garland said out loud, immediately standing up, but the dragon held up a clawed hand as if to say, “wait.” In a brief moment that felt like eternity, the dragon swished the lilacs around in their mouth, making a series of curious expressions as they cocked their head side to side, thoroughly absorbing the lilacs’ flavors, before... swallowing them. They didn’t even make a bulge in the large dragon’s throat.

Glrrrkk...

Garland fidgeted on their feet. Sure, they were the dragon’s flowers and they could do whatever they wanted, but still! “Why did you do that?”

To answer, the dragon lowered their head more. Instead of matching Garland’s line of sight, they purposefully lined up their jaws with Garland’s face. And then...

Hahhhhhhhhh...

The dragon’s jaws opened up wide. A fleshy, undulating tunnel was presented before the human, filled with living purple flesh that was both glistening in the ambient light, and hiding in unrevealed shadow towards the back of the throat. A line of jagged, blunt, and slightly crooked teeth framed the top and bottom of the both, giving the mouth a lopsided quality, but Garland could only stare for a moment before a wave of hot air washed over them. The dragon was purposefully exhaling their breath over them, and once Garland picked up on the specific scent underneath a thin layer of dragon-breath, they realized why.

The humid air was filled with the scent of lilac.

The jaws closed with an echoing clacking of teeth, and those big eyes stared at Garland expectantly.

“...It smelled nice,” Garland admitted with slightly trembling hands.

“I wanted to share the flowers with you,” the dragon signed back. One of their claws, in addition to the usual motions and gestures that constituted the pair’s customized sign language, was now rubbing and poking their own plump tummy. “Special on a special day. Your special place, too. For you. My special person.”

Garland’s words got caught in their throat. Or—got caught in their hands. “For me? Right now?”

Both of the dragon’s claws hovered close to their belly, squishing into it. “The flowers are in there for you.”

“And you want me to go inside?” Garland signed, first looking down at the dragon’s stomach—because that was where the claws were but also because it was quite a nice thing to look at—and then looking up at the dragon’s eyes. They were filled with an unrivaled kindness. The dragon raised their claws so Garland could see.

“I would like it if you were inside. But only if you want to be inside.”

Garland smiled bashfully. They could not help but take a few steps forward, so they could reach their small human hands into the dragon’s belly, squishing into their soft flesh and feeling it ripple and sink underneath their weight. The flowers were in there, somewhere. Both of them looked at each other. And both of them seemed to know what came next.

Garland felt a drop of something thick and warm fall atop their full head of hair. And when they angled their head upwards, they saw a familiar sight. That mouth, again. Wide, wide, opening wide to accept them within their clutches. It was as if there were an imaginary line, a boundary, that designated the entrance to the dragon’s maw—it was drawn right in between those rows of teeth, and when Garland’s head passed that imaginary line as the head descended upon them, the air suddenly grew so much more thick, and hot, and heavy.

Hahhh… hahhh…

Lilacs. It was a pleasant smell, and it made Garland smile at the strange thoughtfulness of the situation. Garland was devoured vertically, the side of their head sliding in between teeth and along the bumpy, sticky flesh of the dragon’s tongue. Viscous saliva was oozing from the flesh and coating Garland’s skin, it felt hot and cloying. The mouth kept descending down, and down... the dragon was fairly large, but not large enough to fit the entire human in their mouth. In the fleshy darkness, Garland felt the throat slowly taper inwards towards the gullet, which pulsated with a near-sentience as the dragon readied themselves on their clawed feet, straightened out their long neck, and...

Glrrkkkk…. Shlrpppp… grp…

It took roughly three swallows. The first one sucked the upper half of Garland’s body into a constricting fleshy tunnel, which squeezed firmly yet tenderly as they were consumed. With just the tips of their feet dangling out, the second swallow finished the job, turning the human into a neatly compacted bulge that could slide down the dragon’s throat uninhibited. With a loud slam, the dragon found no need to continue standing on their hind legs, and threw their front claws down on the ground to resume their quadruped nature. The third and final swallow was merely clerical, an effort to swallow all of the excess saliva that built up over the two course lilac-and-human meal.

Lilacs. Garland could still smell them.

Eventually after a journey that was surprisingly arduous given that Garland had to do absolutely nothing, the human was squeezed through a tight ring of muscle, and deposited into a much more roomier sack. The stomach of the dragon was dark; no light could penetrate these thick layers of fat and flesh, and Garland definitely didn’t have any light source of their own, so they were left to navigate the landscape with other senses. Their hands pressed down into the squishy floor, feeling them submerge into a thick pool of mysterious gastric liquid. It could be anything really; previously digested food, saliva, or any other manner of stomach contents. It didn’t matter to Garland. The air felt like a weight atop the human, thick with moisture and the scent of fleshy dragon insides... and also lilacs, which were undoubtedly stewing somewhere as a rather nice ingredient in the soup.

Suddenly, Garland was swept aside as the gut contracted rather roughly, those stomach walls flexing and contorting and moving all around, spraying up thick globules of liquid as the stomach contents sloshed. The dragon didn’t mean to do it—they couldn’t control their stomach any more than they could control their heart, which was pretty much not at all. Still, they attempted to make their movements as graceful as a large beast could manage, as they trotted towards deeper parts of the cave, their paunch swaying underneath them. They were carrying very, very special cargo after all.

Garland found the flowers. It took a little digging and sifting through the muck, not to mention they were near-blind, but eventually the human’s hands closed around the distinctive stem of a lilac whose petals were weighed down with bile. They scooped up as many whole flowers as they could find and resigned against the nearest stomach wall, curling up their back against the fleshy, slightly curved surface. The space was roomy, but intimate. Garland stretched out their legs and found that they had to bend slightly to fit, but it was snug. Ah! Garland cursed under their breath slightly. The sensation of their boots pressing against rippled flesh just reminded them that they had forgotten to take their clothes off before being swallowed, and were now completely soaked. That would make returning to the village a much more interesting affair than they preferred, but they tried not to think about that right now.

Grrrglllrrrrrr…. shrrlllggrrr…. rrrllrggg… trlll…~

Interspersed between the fleshy gurgles that rumbled behind Garland’s back were the characteristic trills of a happy dragon. Garland shifted their body and tried their best to rub the stomach walls, their fingers sinking into the flesh.

The two could no longer communicate. The sign language they had devised relied entirely on a line of sight between them, and well, neither of them could see each other’s “claws.” But it was a comfortable silence—and really, there wasn’t much to say. And Garland knew they were completely and utterly safe. All it would take was a purposeful series of taps on the stomach wall, and the dragon would understand that it was time to part ways. Garland could feel one last jolt as the dragon plopped themselves on the cave floor, to rest the night away. Garland was about to do the same, as their eyes were already becoming heavy from being in this place. They held the flowers against their chest, the scent of lilacs and stomachs lulling them to sleep.

Maybe Flower Day was meant for exactly this, Garland thought.