Into the Dragon's Lair (Chiaroscuro x 501st)

[Chiaroscuro]

One of the many hazards of being a wandering knight was the occasional village in dire need of help from someone with a strong arm and a sharp weapon. Useful for picking up Gil and contacts, certainly, but it didn't help when one was on a mission. This particular village was no different: something had been making off with the livestock, and that was no small feat considering that not a fence post or lock was out of place, nor were there any tracks. It was as if something were simply grabbing the sheep out of the field and flying off with them. Clearly not the work of any ordinary thief, at least, and the situation was growing quite dire. So, that was why they chose to appeal to the wandering Burmecian and not their feudal lord (who didn't have the forces for this kind of thing anyway).

Ultimately, it wasn't that hard to track down the mutton-loving creature. There were only so many places a being like that could hide within a single night's flying distance of the village. And that led to the neighboring mountain peak, separated by a dangerous trek through a Mist-infested valley. A series of tunnels riddled the mountain, many of them climbing high enough that the Mist finally fell away in favor of clean air. And this would be where the trail started, one made up of scattered bones gnawed clean by dagger-like teeth.

The trail eventually led to a large chamber, and the source of all the trouble: a dragon, still a young one judging by the fact that he was 'merely' the size of a cart horse. His scales were still bright and garishly red, not the duller hue of an adult, but his lion-like build suggested he was by no means a child. He was curled up in a rather cat-like ball atop a pile of bones and old blankets, but his head rose as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His pupils narrowed into cat-like slits as his tail thrashed, clearly unhappy with whoever dared to invade his territory.

 

[501st]

There had been no signs of entry by any beasts. No telltale slime trails of the flans, no scorched fenceposts that were the signs of the bombs. There were not even any stray hairs or anything of that nature left behind, only the occasional clump of wool. No signs... but to Freya Crescent that had been sign enough.

After all, no one knew dragons better than she.

She'd taken their contract -- as much a matter of money as it was the pride of a knight -- and set off through the valley. She tried a couple of places, determining just what type of dragon it was. Not underground, so not one of the bronzed earth dragons. Not behind a waterfall, and therefore not one of the slippery water dragons. Up in a mountain however...

Clawed feet scrabbled against rock as Freya took another route into the mountain. Up and up she clambered, leaping with powerful legs from jagged precipice to rocky protrusion. And there she found it, a hole down into the cave. Dragons tended to watch the landborne entrance, not the airborne one.

Freya dropped, landing near silently not far away.

Well, it WOULD have been silent had she not crushed a skull under her foot on the way down.

She drew her spear, and wordlessly leapt at the dragon, aiming to end this in one slash. The dragons never had any good comebacks anyway.

 

[Chiaroscuro]

With a growl of irritation, the dragon hooked his tail in one of the blankets and launched it at Freya as she sailed through the air. By the time she'd disentangled herself the dragon was already on the other side of the room and halfway up the wall of the chamber, his claws buried deep in the solid stone.

The dragon let out a low, threatening hiss, his lips pulled back to reveal razor-sharp teeth. "That's very rude, you know," he said in a voice that was low and raspy. "I thought knights were supposed to have manners."

He didn't give her much time to marvel at the sight of a dragon that could speak. As he glared at her from his perch on the wall his eyes began to glow with a warm light like that of an old glass lamp. She could feel something burrowing into her mind, something alien and powerful. It was oddly soothing, somehow, as if her brain was being swallowed by a numbing fog.

"Now then," the dragon said, voice a malevolent purr. "Why don't you put that spear down and we can talk?" Ordinarily, that would have been a foolish request...but now? Maybe it wasn't that unreasonable. Surely there'd be no harm in it?

 

[501st]

Freya cut through the blanket -- or most of it anyway. She landed in a crouch and tore the rags away from her face. Powerful calves tensed up and she held herself in a powerful crouch, ready to leap at a moment's notice. This was a smaller dragon than she had expected, which meant it would be even faster than usual. But that was fine -- dragon knights like her were always faster. They had to be.

"... you can speak?" Freya asked. But it had to be a trick of some sort. A mage, perhaps, speaking from a distance. The coiled tension in her calves released themselves as she bounded toward him, drawing energy to her lance. She might have called to the Dragon's Crest, a power that would have obliterated this dragon given the number of dragons she had felled in her life since the fall of Burmecia, but--

... but...

She fell out of her jump midway, hitting the ground in a tangle of armor and spear. "... say your piece, dragon," Freya gritted out. Perhaps she was just interested in the fact that he was a TALKING dragon. That was impossible at the most, and rare at the least. She could always destroy him later.

Yeah.

That had to be it.

 

[Chiaroscuro]

"Quite rude," the dragon replied, as if vaguely disappointed in her somehow, though inwardly he was quite elated that it seemed to be working. He could tell that she was something more than the rural simpletons he normally dealt with, and the fact that he was able to stay her blade with his mind alone made him quite proud.

Perhaps he'd get out of this with his hide intact after all. Perhaps he could come out of it with something a little more.

He made his way down the wall, lizard-like, keeping his eyes locked on the dragon knight's as he went. The foreign presence in her head began to dig deeper, spreading invisible tendrils throughout her mind as he peeled back her mental defenses one by one.

"Introduce yourself," he said as he drew closer, a command and not a question. His claws were clicking on the stone floor as he prowled, the power of his gaze only growing stronger as he approached. It was a terrible light his eyes cast, seeming to sear away rational thought in favor of obedience and awe, the sort of thing that was a dragon's due as king of the beasts. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to do what he said. It felt somehow natural, didn't it?

 

[501st]

Freya couldn't feel it -- that is, not EXACTLY what he was doing. But she could feel that something was amiss in all this. It was enough to keep Freya on her feet, spear held between herself and the dragon defensively. She was moving in a slow circle, keeping her back away from the wall so that she would not be cornered by this beast.

"Freya Crescent, dragon knight of Burmecia," she said. "Who are you? Dragons are not meant to talk," she said. Her hands shook on the spear a little more with every passing moment, and after some time she fought to drag her eyes off of his own. Instead she focused on his feet, keeping track of where he was without daring to look into those eyes.

But she could still feel them.

As she came around in a full revolution, Freya was unable to fight her natural impulse any longer. She took a pouncing strike at him.

But it was slow. Clumsy. A rookie's move, not a master knight's.

 

[Chiaroscuro]

"Who am I?" the dragon asked, sounding somehow amused. "I've never thought to give myself a name. I've never really needed one before." He said this while turning to face Freya as she prowled, the very picture of a deer being stalked by a wolf...

But then she pounced, and somehow their fortunes reversed. He lunged into her strike, raising a paw to slap the haft of her spear towards the ground with enough force to embed the tip into the stone beneath their feet. Using the haft as leverage he continued the lunge, his other paw coming around to attempt slamming her into the ground and pinning her there beneath his scaled foot.

He was so close now, close enough that burning golden eyes were filling her vision, her entire world. Like they were the only things that mattered. "You could give me a name, though." His tone was casual, disturbingly so, as if they weren't in a life-or-death struggle at all. "You can call me Master. Or you will, soon." The dragon laughed, a raspy, rhythmic hiss. "I know your type, Freya Crescent. You think yourselves the masters of the natural world because you have pointy things. But they aren't much help to you now, are they?"

 

[501st]

The spear tore through stone (what was that thing made of?) and embedded itself a food into the rock. Freya abandoned the spear and attempted to leap away, but the dragon's paw was too fast. It caught her right in the midsection and slammed her against the stone, driving the breath from her lungs. She cried out, getting her hands between herself and the dragon's paw to try and budge it, to save herself from whatever it was this dragon had in mind. She would not die to this thing.

Of course... she wouldn't, and that was so much worse.

"... just finish it," Freya growled, keeping her eyes closed to avoid those golden eyes, hot enough to sear what control she had left. She held to it stubbornly, but it was a fleeting thing. "If you are going to kill me, get it over with."

 

[Chiaroscuro]

"Oh, Freya." The dragon sounded fondly amused, as if he'd heard a good joke from an old friend. "Why would I do a thing like that?" He took the opportunity to lean in, putting more weight against the limb pinning her to the ground. She could feel the scales of his palm beginning to dig into her hands as she tried, in vain, to hold him off. "You're mine now, and I don't like giving up my things." He was a dragon, after all - it was in his nature.

He was close enough now that she could feel his warm, ash-scented breath rolling over her. "Go on, open your eyes," he said, voice low and tender as if he were addressing a lover. "Just give in, it's inevitable." His voice was almost like a purr now, contrasting with the cruelty of his words.

 

[501st]

Freya made a sound of protest under her breath, arching her back and straining to get that paw off of her -- but it was no use. She had less than zero leverage from her position here and she wasn't all that strong to begin with. "... what are you planning?" she managed. But she couldn't keep this off forever. His mind was powerful -- more than she had given him credit for. She should have been more prepared. She should have gotten one of the others to come with her -- Steiner or Eiko or--

Freya opened her eyes.

And went slack-jawed and almost limp under his paw the moment she did so.

 

[Chiaroscuro]

"There we go." His tone was the mixture of happiness and relief one normally used upon completion of a difficult puzzle. Almost immediately he eased off of the dragon knight, giving her spear a contemptuous swat before returning his burning gaze to her. "Now then...get up." His tone was short and sharp, as if he were training a dog. Which, in a way, he kind of was.

"Hmm...I feel like I'm forgetting something...oh, right. Get out of that armor. You don't deserve clothes." He said this while narrowing his eyes, the command searing into her mind as if it were instructions from God. He also began to prowl in a small circle around her, a reversal of their earlier roles...though he was taking the opportunity to examine his new conquest. Strong legs, certainly. Excellent gear as well. She wouldn't be needing any of it now, but it appealed to his deep-seated instinct to take things.

 

[501st]

As his claw moved away form her Freya slowly and shakily got to her feet. She was woozy on her legs and she wrapped her arms around her chest the moment she was up, perhaps because she missed something for her hands to grab a hold onto -- the spear had been nearly a safety blanket for her all these many lonely years.

But now she was more laone than ever.

"... m-my armor?" she asked. But then his command redoubled against her mind and her whole body stiffened at the searing touch of it. She wordlessly undid the straps on her armor, letting the plating fall to the ground. Off came the helmet, revealing medium gray hair and... a surprisingly cute face, if one was into rodentia.

But she knew the command didn't stop with just her armor. Off came the breezy robes, revealing her for just who she was -- someone toned and taut, fraught with muscle and fur and a scar that had never quite healed across her left hip. She was nude except for the long stockings up and down her strong legs, and she had a clearly tight snatch buried between muscular thighs. Her breasts were not lacking, and were tipped with pointy pink nipples that hardened in the cool air of the cave.