Gareth watched in wonder as she opened up the large, heavy doors. He wasn't sure what mechanism they worked on or if they were magic themselves, but relatively little exertion on Winter's part pulled them open effortlessly. "Not that odd," he replied to her as Gareth followed Winter inside. She seemed even more like a Dragon here, in some ways, than she had when she'd carried them on her back to and from her homeland. She was alien, strange and new. Fascinating.
And it helped that the crystalline lights threw a beautiful light on her figure.

It grew warmer, not colder as they went deeper into the earth. And all at once they were in what must have been the main room, and he heard it as well as felt it: a warmth hung in the chamber, and a steady stream of small noises. Tiny wyrmlings cooed and yawned, while their parents breathed rhythmically. Winter went straight to a nearby sleeping baby, but there was too much for Gareth to take in at once.

He stood there, awed by the majesty of the chamber. His hand reached up, trembling, then falling. "It's..." he breathed, taking in the many crystal-like eggs and the vague shapes that floated within them, taking in the mother Dragons sleeping peacefully, taking in the carefully sculpted walls and the well-tended nests, taking in the winding white tree that grew from the base of the mountain.
"...beautiful," he finished. And there were tears in his eyes.