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Chapter Text

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The upside to the torrential storm raging outside was that the annual sacrificial ceremony had to be postponed. You couldn't hope to incinerate a person with soggy kindling—and even if a fire did spark it would be put out in seconds under that relentless downpour.

Muriel breathed into her cupped palms as she sat there on her raggedy old bed. A scratchy brown blanket was wrapped snuggly around her form, keeping in as much warmth as possible. Damn this cold, wet climate.

She rubbed her hands together, her green eyes glancing towards the small pantry where she kept her rations. It was nearly empty. She had meant to fetch more days ago, right when the storm had reared its ugly head. At first she didn't think heading out was worth the risk of catching sickness. After all, medicine wasn't cheap. But as she didn't see an end to this dreary weather anytime soon, she figured it had to be risked.

A beat of damp wings and scratch of talons drew her gaze to the windowsill at the opposite stone wall. A thrown rock had broken the glass months ago—a prank on the town's mysterious orphan girl—and since then the crows had decided her small, drab home was theirs as well. This crow in particular was a regular. It cocked its head at her after it squeezed inside, ruffling its feathers to keep warm.

"I'm afraid you won't find it much better in here," Muriel said to the bird with a wry smile. Various pots and pans were laid out to catch the water dripping from the few cracks in the aged ceiling.

It just clicked at her then flew down to perch onto a nearby pan. It dipped its beak into the water and lifted its head to let the drops fall down its throat. After doing this a few times it hopped down to the cold floor, its beady eyes searching for forgotten crumbs.

Muriel sighed as she watched the scavenging crow, nestling further into her blanket. "You and me both, Mister."

She listened to the rain pummeling against stone for a while before finally having the courage to unwrap the blanket from her body and get ready. Immediately the cold seeped into her bones and her teeth chattered, goosebumps raising on her tan skin. She put on another layer above her plain white dress then threw a heavy wool cloak on over that, as grey as the clouds in the angry sky.

Hastily, she put her long black hair into a braid around her head and pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover it. She grabbed her gloves off the small table in the corner and pocketed what little coin she had. Of course Harriet would refuse it, the sweet woman that she was, but nonetheless she would offer it anyway. She wasn't entitled to people's charity.

A soft caw drew her eyes back to the crow peering up at her from the dirty floor. She smiled at it. "I suppose I can bring you a little something to eat. If you think you deserve it?"

The black bird clacked its beak.

"Alright, then," she said as if it had spoken to her. "I won't be long."

As soon as she left the small dwelling, she wished she hadn't. The rain was relentless and determined to soak through her thick layers if she wasn't fast enough. So she set off down the muddy road towards the village. Her boots were thick with mud by the time she hit cobblestone.

No one else was crazy enough to be outside but her, it seemed. She was grateful for that at least. No prying eyes would follow her, no whispers would reach her ears, and she wouldn't feel the sting of rejection every time a person avoided her on the street as if she had the plague. If she had known who her parents were then maybe they would have treated her differently.

Her short trip ended and so did her troublesome thoughts as she knocked on a wide wooden door. It opened to the smiling round face of a shorter, plump woman with greying brown hair and darker brown eyes.

"Muriel," she said so warmly it reached her heart. "Come out of this rain, come in," she insisted, ushering her into her home and near the crackling fire.

Harriet's home was bigger and more furnished than her own. It had wooden floors instead of stone and there were no leaks in the ceiling. Her two boys, one 9 and the other 12, were playing with wooden toy soldiers on the floor by the fireplace. Their father, a sailor, brought his children a new carved toy each time he returned from sea. They looked up at the cloaked woman when she came in.

Thomas, the older boy, gave a cheerful grin and waved, "Hello, Miss Muriel."

His younger brother beside him, Henry, barely glanced up at her before looking shyly back down at his toy, fiddling with its stiff arms.

"Hello," she returned the greeting with a warm smile as she sat down on the sofa while Harriet went into the storage room. "What do you have there?" Muriel nodded towards the wooden figures in their hands.

"These are soldiers," Thomas said, holding up his toy and lifting its arm to have it wave at her up and down. "Mine is from across the sea. He was sent by a far away king to save the captured princess."

"Oh he must be very brave to travel so far from home," she commented.

"Mine is brave, too," Henry spoke up softly, still looking down at his little wooden soldier. "He saves the princess from a big scary dragon when it tries to eat her."

The younger boy held up another toy she hadn't noticed before. It was the figure of a dragon carved from lime wood. Its jaws were open in a roar and its wings were spread as if to take off in flight.

"Wow," she whispered, staring at the wooden beast. "Your soldier is very brave indeed."

Henry's gentle features broke into a bright smile that could light up the darkest night.

Harriet came in holding two bags filled with baked goods, fruits, vegetables, and some dried meats. "Here you go, dear," she handed her one bag, then the other. "The second one is for Agatha, if you would be so kind as to send this to her."

Muriel nodded, accepting the food. "Of course. I'll take this to her immediately," she stood from the sofa, wishing she could give the woman a hug but her hands were full. "You are so kind, Harriet. Allow me to pay you this once?"

"Nonsense!" Harriet shook her head as if offended by the idea of taking her money. "I don't want to hear you talk about payment ever again, you understand? Good. Now off with you, and don't stay out in the rain too long else you'll catch a cold."

Muriel chuckled at her motherly friend as she walked to the door. "Yes, ma'am." She shouldered the door open and looked back at her one last time. "Thanks again, Harriet."

They shared a smile and then she was gone.

The walk to Agatha's house was a longer walk from the village than her own was. The woman was a witch and suffered the same isolation Muriel did. But kind people like Harriet and her boys made their situation less bleak.

Eventually she came upon the stone hut, smoke billowing from its chimney. With a huff, she set down one of the bags and knocked on the door.

A middle-aged blonde woman cracked the door open, peering out suspiciously before her beautiful blue eyes locked onto her. She opened the door wider and offered a small smile.

"Muriel, what a pleasant surprise."

Picking up the other bag from the dry spot on the ground, the cloaked woman handed it to the kind witch. "This is from Harriet."

Agatha accepted the bag and her smile softened. "She is so sweet. I wish I could pay her back."

Muriel laughed. "She'd sooner beat you with a stick than let you give her money."

The pretty witch laughed softly with her. "I suppose you're right."

The longer she stood out there, she started to notice the rain had soaked through both the heavy wool of her cloak and the second covering she wore. Muriel gave the woman a small, respectful bow of her head. "Well, I have to be going now. I'm scared to know what Harriet would do if she found out I let myself catch a cold."

The witch snickered. "Yes, you'd best take care of yourself," she said, her giggling fading to a contented grin. "It was nice to see you. Don't be a stranger, okay? You're welcome here any time."

Muriel nodded with a grin of her own. "I'll have to take you up on that offer soon. Take care," she said with a wave goodbye before turning to head back home.

"You, too," she heard her reply before the sound of the door latching shut reached her ears.

Her heart felt lighter as she walked back to the village on her way to the old dilapidated building she called home. Her thoughts traveled to Harriet and her family. The older woman hadn't mentioned it, but her husband had been gone for longer than usual. For a sailor that wasn't a good sign, but Muriel held out hope that the boys' kind father would return and Harriet would be happy again with her family complete.

A figure rammed into her and she almost dropped her bag of food. The other person nearly fell over but Muriel righted herself before grabbing their arm to stabilize them. When she got a good look at them she realized it was the old mute beggar woman that lived on the streets, keeping to herself. She also wore a cloak, though it was tattered at the edges and very dirty.

"I'm sorry," Muriel apologized, releasing the old woman's arm once she was stable enough. "I was lost in thought and didn't see you. Here," she opened her bag quickly and took out a bread loaf. "Please take this."

The mute, hooded woman looked at the offered food before tentatively accepting it from her and hiding it under her cloak to protect it from the rain. The beggar gave a respectful nod and Muriel interpreted it as a thank you.

She smiled. "If you ever need a place to rest your head, you're welcome in my home any time."

The old beggar bowed again and then walked off into the village, most likely to go back to her usual covered alleyway.

She wondered why the beggar preferred solitude even when it came at the cost of her comfort. But she didn't think too deeply into it. Soon she was back in her own sorry little hut, kicking off her muddy boots and leaving them by the door.

A sharp caw made her heart jump and she pressed a hand to her chest as her gaze whipped over to the cheeky black bird now perched on the back edge of the wooden chair in her small kitchen area. Muriel narrowed her eyes at it before stomping over to the pantry and organizing her new rations into it.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," she accused as she finished arranging the food inside the cool storage space.

It cocked its head at her when she glanced over at it and she sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I got some food for you. I don't think you deserve it, but I am a woman of my word," she said, tearing a chunk off of a loaf. She ripped the chunk into smaller pieces and slowly fed them to the happy crow.

As it gobbled up its fifth tiny piece, she found herself smiling softly while she sat there on the thin mattress of her bed. With cold, achy fingers, she unraveled the braid around her head and let her black locks fall down her back. As her fingers toyed with a few dark strands, she wondered if she got this feature from her mother. She imagined her as a kind, selfless woman—probably with a vast knowledge of medicine to help people because her heart was so big it could encompass everyone within it.

If her dark hair was from her mother, then maybe her forest green eyes were a gift from her father. She imagined his own eyes had crows feet at the edges from years of laughter. He must have had a big, warm laugh that made everyone around him feel happy and welcome. In her mind he was a strong man, rough on the outside but soft in his heart. He used his strength to build homes for those who couldn't do it for themselves.

Muriel vowed to be just as kind, selfless, and strong as she imagined her parents had been, whether or not her ideas were true. Other kids had grown up with role models they could see in the flesh, and she also had people to look up to and aspire to be like, even if they only existed in her head.

Hours passed and she realized it wasn't raining anymore. When she took a peek out of her cracked window, she looked up in search of angry clouds. She found none.

The sky was ominously clear.

Chapter Text

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Muriel didn't believe in luck. But when the village elders pulled her name by chance for the annual sacrifice, she quickly decided that if luck did exist, she clearly had none of it.

Harriet put up a fight as they dragged Muriel to the sacrificial grounds where all the dry lumber available was piled at the foot of the pillar she'd be tied at. She felt bad for the men as they fell one by one, some clutching their throats and heads, some clutching their family jewels; they were just doing their job, but Harriet didn't care. It took three men to finally restrain the rotund woman as she thrashed around like a mother bear roaring for her stolen cub. Her two boys were kicking the men's legs and stomping on their feet but they, too, were soon restrained.

"Take the children away from here!" shouted one man.

Children weren't allowed to see the sacrificial ceremony, and Muriel was grateful for that. At least there was some semblance of sense amongst these religious fanatics. Sense was something they ran short on. What did killing another person have to do with crops and the weather? How would a human sacrifice keep the monsters away?

Blood always drew the monsters in. And what the people failed to realize was that they themselves were the monsters. Who would protect them from each other?

Thomas bit the hand of the person restraining him then bolted down the path towards the witch's house as soon as he was free. Muriel's lips tugged up in a weak smile at the attempt, but she knew he wouldn't make it back with Agatha in time. Even if he did, the witch would be putting a target on her own back for interfering.

Muriel winced when her hair was pulled. One of the elders—a snaggle-toothed old woman so wrinkled she could give a grown man nightmares—was pulling Muriel's head down to get as much hair as she could reach with her back being so hunched.

Snip, snip, snip.

The black locks were freed from her head, held firm in the old woman's boney grasp as she ambled off with it to make another sacrificial doll. She shivered to think of her hair on the head of one of those faceless cloth dolls. That's what she would be soon: faceless. Her skin would melt from her bones until she was nothing but ashes.

Her head felt lighter after losing the weight of her hair, which now fell just past the line of her chin, cut horribly choppy. Of course they wouldn't try to make it neat. That would be pointless.

Her eyes met Harriet's as rope was wrapped around her, binding her to the stone pillar that was black with scorch marks from the previous year's sacrifice. Her friend had yet to give up, still struggling against her three captors, tears pouring down her round cheeks as she tried to get to her. Muriel blinked her watery eyes and the first few tears finally fell down her own cheeks as reality set in.

This was it. This was where her 20 years of life ended.

The lead elder was giving his usual speech to the people gathered around once all the children were sent away, but Muriel didn't hear a word of it. She tried to focus on all the little things she loved. The blue sky, the salty smell of the ocean nearby, the majestic silhouette of Dire Mountain in the distance, and the face of her friend who was always there for her, even in the end.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the torch was lit. Then pure panic stabbed into her and she began to struggle against her bonds, no longer a passive, moveable doll for them to do with as they please. She should've ran earlier, she shouldn't have let them take her. What was she thinking? She was just as crazy as them!

In her struggle, her gaze fell to a familiar bird perched on a rooftop not far from the whole event. The crow tilted its head at her and she imagined it found her predicament amusing; it didn't care whether she lived or died. She threw it a piercing glare but it just flew away with a cheeky squawk—and landed on the shoulder of the cloaked beggar.

Huh?

There in the distance her eyes caught movement. It was Agatha running towards them, Thomas nowhere in sight. She must have told him to stay in her hut until it was over. But she was too far away, still as small as a bean in the distance when the torch's flame kissed the kindling at her feet.

It didn't take long for the whole pile to go up in flames.

She heard screaming, but it wasn't her own. Harriet.

Muriel's eyes squeezed shut and she expected to feel pain, but all she felt was the extreme heat. After a while, she cracked an eye open to see what was taking so long and she realized all of her clothes had burned completely off, the only thing keeping her nudity from the shocked eyes of the crowd was the wild orange flames surrounding her.

Was this what luck was?

No, if this was luck then she wouldn't be standing with her goods out for everyone in the village to see.

A sudden powerful gush of wind whipped at the fire until it went out all at once and then her world went black. It took Muriel a moment to realize Agatha had thrown a big blanket over her head and body. She didn't have to see to know it was utter chaos in the village.

"She didn't burn!"

"This must be a sign! We don't have to sacrifice anymore people!"

"She has to die or else the gods will be angry!"

"She's a demon!"

"She's an angel! Don't you see? She's saved us from having to kill our own."

"If we don't kill her, we all will die!"

"Will you all SHUT IT!"

The arguing faded into awkward silence at Harriet's outburst. It seemed everyone was afraid of the short yet fierce woman. Muriel heard shuffling and imagined it was the men she'd attacked before, keeping their distance and protecting their jewels.

Muriel felt the ropes around her shift and then drop from her body and she quickly removed the blanket from her head, wrapping her nude form securely in the cloth.

As soon as her vision was unobstructed, she realized all eyes were on her: the girl who wouldn't burn. She wished she could crawl into a hole and never come out. Especially when she noticed the way the lead elder was leering at her.

Her attention snapped back to Agatha when she started pulling her away from the scene, stumbling off of the pile of charred wood until they walked on the cobblestone road. The arguing ensued after the two women were a good distance away. It took a little longer to walk to Agatha's house since Muriel didn't have any shoes on, but eventually they arrived—greeted at the door by a frantic Thomas.

He was relieved to see them both. "Miss Muriel! Miss Agatha, what happened?"

"Hurry back to your mother and she'll explain everything," the witch told him, pulling Muriel inside.

The poor boy blushed when he realized she was in nothing but a blanket. "Y-yes, Miss Agatha! Right away," he stuttered before rushing out.

When he was out of sight, Agatha opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and pulled out a couple dresses, ushering the girl closer. "Grey or black?"

Muriel eyed the two plain dresses. Figuring she'd worn enough grey to last a lifetime, she answered, "Black, please." It was a day of crazy decisions, after all.

Before she could grab the dress, however, the blonde witch pulled it back last second. She was looking at her hair with pursed lips and Muriel self-consciously raised a hand to it, feeling the choppy ends.

After a few seconds, Agatha said, "I will fix your hair first, then you will have a bath."

She immediately protested, "No, it's okay, you don't have to do tha—"

A handheld mirror was shoved in her face and she gaped when she saw the state of her hair for the first time. Agatha raised a brow and peered at her from around the glass. "You prefer it like that?"

Pouting, the younger woman mumbled a small "no" and let the witch fix her black hair with a pair of sharp silver scissors before bathing her in a copper tub by the fire. By the time she was dried and dressed in clean clothes, there was a knock at the door.

Agatha peeked out the window to see who it was.

"Where is Muriel? Is she okay? I've brought some ointment for any burns," Harriet called from outside before knocking impatiently again.

The door was opened and a hurricane came in.

Muriel flinched back as she was suddenly overwhelmed with attention; poked and prodded as the woman searched for any injuries, rambling the whole time about how worried she had been, how furious she was with the village elders, how she should have kicked them harder in the—

"I'm fine," Muriel interrupted with a laugh, gently pushing Harriet's searching hands away. "No burns, nothing at all. I still don't know how Agatha did it."

Harriet huffed. "Yes, I also wonder how she managed this. I'm starting to think we should all become witches!"

Agatha frowned after closing the door and moved to the shelved wall lined with bottles and jars of who knows what. "The only thing I did was blow out the fire. I don't know how you came out unharmed."

Muriel blinked. "What?"

"You mean she has a... natural resistance to fire?" Harriet questioned, baffled.

The witch plucked a black ceramic jar from one shelf and turned to them. "I didn't say that."

Muriel gulped. "What's in the jar?" Eyes? Bugs? Goblin toenails?

The lid was popped off and Agatha pulled out a beautiful pale blue flower petal. "Blue Dizzibud petals. These flowers grow at the base of Dire Mountain."

Oh.

"Are they poisonous?" Harriet asked, eyeing the petal cautiously.

An amused smile curled on Agatha's lips. "No, they're completely harmless."

Muriel took a closer look. "What do they do?"

"They have the ability to tell when something, or someone, is cursed."

"You think I'm cursed?"

She shrugged, moving the jar to a table and grabbing a bowl. "Either that or you've secretly been practicing witchcraft. You could've made yourself fire proof by rubbing Beetleberry juice all over your body and activating its dormant properties with a simple spell."

Harriet eyed Muriel suspiciously.

The younger woman scoffed at the look her friend gave her. "I'm not a witch! I don't know what happened back there. I don't even know what Beetleberry juice is."

Agatha poured a few petals into the bowl, added a little water, and then began to crush the mixture with a thick wooden stick, turning it into a paste. "It's juice from Beetleberries. I have a bottle of it right there," she said, nodding to one of the lower shelves. "It'll look like a bottle of piss."

Harriet and Muriel looked in the direction she indicated, seeing two vials that fit that description.

Harriet picked up one of them. "Is this it?"

Agatha glanced over and shook her head. "No, that one actually is a bottle of piss. Red Tiger. Very rare to come by and very powerful, in both smell and magical properties."

The poor woman wrinkled her nose and immediately put it back before shaking her hand as if to get rid of the phantom remnants of it. Muriel held back a laugh.

Soon the witch was satisfied with the mixture and came up to the younger woman. She scooped too fingers into the paste, scraping some from the bottom of the wooden bowl. "Hold out your hand, palm up," she ordered.

Muriel obeyed, holding her dominant hand out with her palm facing up.

Agatha cradled the bottom of her hand then smeared the paste onto her palm before making her close her fist. She muttered a spell with eyes closed while holding onto Muriel's fist. The younger woman's eyes widened as blue light began to seep out of the cracks between her fingers. The witch finally allowed her to open her hand and the soft blue glow filled the room.

Harriet and Muriel's mouths were both open as they stared, not having seen magic up close before.

"You are cursed," Agatha announced, pulling them out of their shock.

"How— when could this have happened? Who would curse me? What does this mean?" The questions tumbled out of her mouth.

Agatha pulled her over to a porcelain bowl of water, washing the paste from her hand until it was clean. "I don't have Polliweasle blood so I can't track your curse back to its caster, but I do have some answers for you," she began.

Muriel refrained from asking what a Polliweasle was.

Once the women were all sitting around Agatha's small table with a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them, she continued, "You are not human."

Harriet laughed, thinking it was a joke as she nudged Muriel's side. Her laughter faded when Agatha raised a brow, completely serious. The short woman aggressively cleared her throat then took a sip of her tea, looking away.

Muriel smiled, bemused as she gave the blonde witch a skeptical look. "Not human? Then what am I?"

"A dragon."

This time Muriel laughed. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

She shrugged. "Dragons are the only beings naturally resistant to fire. It would be tragic if every time they breathed flames, they cooked themselves to death from the inside."

The women sat there in silence for a moment. Muriel tapped on the table, deep in thought. "So... why would someone curse a dragon hatchling? If that's what I was before I was brought to this village."

Agatha sighed, leaning back in her chair with her warm cup cradled in her grasp. "I have a couple theories. Either this was revenge against your parents for some wrong they committed against a witch, or you are a rarity. Rare and powerful enough that a witch decided to hide you from her competition and save you for later."

"A rarity? Dragons are very common," Harriet commented, confused.

"Yes, that is true. However, there are certain breeds that are endangered. There is one in particular that is greatly sought after by many witches for the vast magical properties in their scales and blood once the dragon has reached a certain age. But one hasn't been seen in many decades."

Muriel's brows shot up, intrigued. "Really? What breed is it?"

Agatha set down her cup and stood, walking to a smaller shelf filled with books. She picked up one dusty old tome and brushed it off before returning to the table. Muriel saw the silhouette of a dragon on the cover, its wings spread and its tail curled around it in a circle.

The witch opened the heavy book and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She set it flat on the table and turned it towards the two women so they could see.

Agatha tapped on the right page, darkened with age. "This is it. Icildrakendür: that is the proper name of the breed. But it was more commonly known as the Ice Dragon, back when they were as common as any other dragon you'd see nowadays."

Harriet and Muriel leaned in, looking closer at the page. There were two drawings of white dragons, one with wings, one without. There was writing surrounding the sketches but it wasn't in any language they recognized.

"Male and female," Agatha clarified, pointing to the winged dragon, then to the other beside it. "A female could still fly, in a way, using the moisture in the air to make temporary platforms to jump from in the sky. I've read a few ancient texts describing a white, wingless dragon galloping across the clouds like a leaping gazelle. Some thought they were spirits that brought the rain. This is the only recorded dragon to not have wings."

Muriel was fascinated, brushing her fingers across the whimsical depiction of the female dragon. She couldn't be this. It was too much like a mythical fable, unreachable, only existing in unbelievable dreams. She was just an orphan girl in a little, crazy village on the coast. That's all she was and would ever be.

Agatha continued, "Ice Dragons could breath both ice and fire. It was speculated that some could even control wind and weather, and if this is true it's no wonder they have such immense magical properties held in their bodies. There is a reason they are endangered. Greed is a common trait among witches, I'm ashamed to say."

Blinking away her captivation, Muriel sat back. "I wonder what my parents did to make a witch curse me. I'm clearly not this Icildraken-thing. They don't even seem real."

Agatha closed the book, setting it aside. "Whether or not you are an Icildrakendür specifically, we do know for certain you are a dragon, cursed into a human body."

Muriel gulped down the rest of her tea, troubled.

Harriet looked between Agatha and her. "How do we break the curse?"

Muriel nearly choked on the last gulp of her tea. She coughed and cleared her throat. "What if I don't want to break it? I like myself as I am right now, I don't want to change."

The two other women gave her a sympathetic look and Agatha placed a hand over hers on the table. "I understand. But unfortunately you can't stay this way forever. A dragon is a very big creature. It takes a lot of magic to consolidate all that mass and power into one little human. Eventually this form won't be able to handle it and..." She paused.

Muriel leaned forward, impatient for her to finish. "And what?"

She sighed. "And you'll burn up from the inside out."

Chapter Text

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Either way she couldn't go back to her life before. She didn't even have that great of a life to begin with, so was it really that bad? It was the feeling of normalcy that she would grieve the most. Not to mention how insanely terrifying it was to have no idea where her life was heading.

"Alright," Muriel finally spoke. "How do I do this, then?"

"There are two things needed to break a transformation curse. Ironically, dragon saliva is popular for its ability to wear down a curse's strength. Usually another ingredient is needed to break it completely. In this case, you would need to be near the living blood of a dragon. If you had been a horse, for example, you'd need to apply dragon saliva on your skin daily and be near only horses until your transformation curse breaks. The longer you've been under a curse, the harder it is to break."

Muriel thought for a moment. "If dragon saliva is popular, does that mean you have some?"

Agatha grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah I do, but... it's really expensive and I only have one vial."

"You're not going to give it to her?" Harriet crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at the blonde woman.

The witch shrugged with a sheepish smile. "I did say witches are notoriously greedy."

Muriel put a hand on Harriet's arm. "It's okay, she doesn't have to give it to me. Dragons are common, it won't be hard to find one. Though..." she cringed, "I don't know how I'll go about asking for their spit."

Agatha snorted. "They know how valuable it is to witches so they'll assume you're a witch if you ask. They'll demand a hefty payment in exchange. Luckily for you, I have something a dragon can't resist," she got up and reached for a wooden box on the top shelf, pulling it down and opening the lid. "A fire lily gemstone," she took out a cleanly cut, orange and red gem. It was stunning.

Muriel's eyes widened, immediately drawn to the gorgeous jewel. Agatha handed it to her and she cradled it carefully, running a finger along its edges. "This is so beautiful. Are you sure you want to give this up?"

The witch waved a hand dismissively. "There's thousands of them that wash up on the shore in Eastland. They're worth as much as a paperweight and are often used as one. But dragons seem to love their red jewels. Even if they already have hundreds of fire lily gemstones, they'll always accept more."

Muriel could tell why. It was hard to look away from something so beautiful. She found herself staring at it silently for a good three minutes, much to the amusement of her two friends.

"I wasn't so sure about her being a dragon and all," Harriet whispered out the side of her mouth to the witch. "But I think I can see it, now."

Muriel blinked, shaking her head a little. She blushed and cleared her throat, pocketing the fiery gem. "Right, so... dragon saliva and then what? I just need to be near dragons for how long?"

"As long as it takes for the curse to break. In your case, it might take weeks or even months."

"Months?!"

Agatha nodded, patting her shoulder consolingly. "I can hardly stand being around dragons for more than a few minutes. You'll be in my daily prayers."

"But... I am a dragon."

"Yes, but you've been taught human manners."

"Are they really that bad?" Harriet asked.

Agatha nodded. "When they're not bragging about what they have in their treasure hoard, they're threatening to cook you if you don't have anything valuable to give. Or they'll just plain ignore your existence. And worse, if they like you, they won't shut up!"

"Not all dragons are like that, I'm sure," Muriel tried to give them the benefit of the doubt.

The witch shrugged. "True, I suppose. There can be some exceptions. So far I've only met one," she said, looking pointedly at the younger woman.

Muriel glanced out the window, seeing the sky darken as evening approached. "I don't know where to look for a dragon. Aren't they usually solitary creatures?" If her own habits were anything to go by, she already knew the answer to that.

"The unmated dragons live alone. I know of one that lives up in Dire Mountain, but he's an asshole."

Muriel was intrigued. "Why's that?"

"When I tried to bargain with him for some greatly needed supplies, he said nothing and picked me up in his claws, terrorized me by flying high above the ground, then he left me on the highest branch of the tallest tree."

Muriel snorted. The witch glared.

Harriet chuckled. "He sounds like quite the charmer. Perhaps he can be your boyfriend, eh Muriel?" She playfully nudged the unamused woman.

Agatha's expression turned grim. "There is one last thing I should mention. It is likely the witch who cast your curse did not stray far from the village."

Muriel and Harriet shared a look before glancing back at the blonde witch.

Harriet stepped forward. "Say, uh... Where were you 20 years ago?"

Agatha laughed. "Probably terrorizing my poor mother with experimental potions and vanishing spells."

"Right. Too young for big curses," the shorter woman mumbled, dismissing the idea.

"I can try to find a Polliweasle if you want to find her, but I'd recommend staying as far from that witch as possible now that she knows you know there's something different about you," Agatha advised. "It would be best if you left for Dire Mountain tonight when no one can see you."

"Oh!" Harriet suddenly exclaimed.

Muriel and Agatha blinked at the woman.

"Speaking of tonight," she went on, "I forgot to mention the village elders decided to discontinue the practice of human sacrifices and celebrate by having a feast in your honor."

She certainly was not expecting that.

Agatha sighed. "It would be best if you attended this feast as if you were staying, else people would be suspicious if you didn't show up."

Muriel was wary of the idea. "I've never been invited to a feast before." Much less been the reason for one.

Harriet shook her head with a small smile. "This should be interesting."

ᨒ

Interesting was one way to put it. For Muriel it felt more unsettling. Especially when she caught sight of the long feasting table's centerpiece.

There, sitting surrounded by a wreath of flowers and berries, was a faceless cloth doll with her hair on its head. It wore a red dress and a crown of lily petals. Muriel's nose wrinkled in disgust.

The whole village was sending smiles and compliments her way as if they hadn't tried to kill her just hours ago. She found she preferred it better when they avoided her like they had before all the new craziness began.

At least the food was good. She took advantage of the delicious roasts, deep dishes, and pies cluttering the long table. By the end of it her stomach was noticeably distended from all the food she'd crammed into it. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea, when she considered all the walking she'd have to do in just a little while. Oh well.

It took half an hour, but she finally managed to escape the villagers' relentless conversation and head to the blissful solitude of her little stone hut. She sighed and leaned against the door once it latched closed.

After resting for a minute, she grabbed a bag and went to her pantry that she'd just stocked the day prior. After filling it, she realized she'd also need to bring a change of clothes. With a huff, she tugged the heavy bag towards her rusty old trunk by the wall. There was only one dress left in there, since she'd lost two of them in the fire. She quickly tossed the folded dress on top of the food, taking a moment to cringe at her horrible packing skills, then sealed the bag closed.

Harriet would have an aneurysm if she could see inside of it.

A scratch of talons at her windowsill drew her attention. She turned and her eyes narrowed when she saw the crow.

Muriel placed her hands on her hips. "What do you want, hm? Disappointed I didn't get burned to ash?" she questioned the bird as if it could answer.

It blinked at her.

She huffed. "Whatever, I'm leaving and you better not follow me!" She tossed the bag over her shoulder and opened her door, nearly running into Agatha and Harriet in the process.

"Who are you talking to?" Harriet asked, peering around her and into the small space.

She shook her head. "Just some dumb bird. Are you here to send me off?"

Agatha nodded before pulling the young woman into a hug. Harriet joined in, making the two other women groan from the force of her suffocating embrace.

"Okay, okay, I think that's enough love for me," Muriel laughed and Harriet reluctantly released them.

A glass vial was pressed into the palm of her free hand.

"Beetleberry juice. Not that you'll need it, it's more of a token to remember me by," Agatha said with a warm smile.

Muriel felt herself get teary-eyed and in an effort to prevent herself from crying, she joked, "Are you sure it's not tiger piss?"

A series of chuckles and sniffles escaped them all.

"No," the witch cleared her throat, "but you're welcome to smell it just to be sure."

She laughed. "I'll pass."

Harriet shuffled her feet, her bottom lip trembling a little. "I wish I'd have brought you something, too, but I didn't think of it."

Muriel hugged them both again. "You're acting like you'll never see me again. Come on, I'll be back before you know it."

Harriet let out a small sob, clutching onto the folds of her dress. "You'll be a pretty dragon, going off on adventures, being free in the world. You'll probably meet some charming young dragon and fall in love—" her words became unintelligible as she started weeping like a mother whose child was leaving the nest.

This triggered the rest of them and soon they were holding onto each other, soaking their dresses in tears.

After a while, the witch pulled back, wiping her cheeks. "Enough of that," she sniffled, huffing out a laugh. "It's as she said, we'll see each other again."

But something in Agatha's sad eyes made Muriel think she didn't believe her own words.

A few hugs and wobbly smiles later, Muriel was heading off into the woods towards the towering silhouette of Dire Mountain, still prominent against the starry night sky.

The sun was high above her the next day by the time she arrived at the foot of it, surrounded by a patch of Blue Dizzibuds. Her bag dropped to the ground with a heavy thud beside her and she soon followed after it.

Exhausted and panting, she looked up at the huge mountain, dreading the steep hike she knew she'd have to suffer through.

Tomorrow. She'd do it tomorrow, she decided as she laid down on the grass and closed her eyes.

Luckily for her, she wouldn't end up needing to do any hiking as her sleeping body was lifted up into the air a short while later.

Chapter Text

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Muriel shifted as short puffs of wind kept blowing all over her. It tickled and she became annoyed in her half asleep state. She lazily swatted at the wind as if that would make it stop and she paused as her hand came in contact with something textured and warm. Well at least the wind stopped.

She sighed softly and snuggled back into the rocky ground. Wait.

Not wanting to awaken fully quite yet, she kept her eyes closed and patted the ground. What should have been grass was cool stone beneath her palm. She frowned, irritated that she'd have to open her eyes.

Muriel's bleary eyes slowly fluttered open and she rubbed them with a small yawn. Her vision was met with a rocky wall, and a few gold coins scattered here and there on the floor next to her. She gulped. She was still on her side, facing the wall, and she didn't want to know what she'd see if she turned around.

"Good afternoon, little one," a deep, draconic voice rumbled above her.

Trying to be brave, she rolled onto her back and her eyes widened at the large, grinning face of a red scaled fire dragon hovering too close for comfort. Her whole body could fit in his mouth if he wanted to gobble her up. A glint of his long, sharp fangs peeked out and her heartbeat sped up. She scrambled backwards and the beast chuckled.

"Careful not to go too far. It's a long way down and you don't have any wings."

Confused, Muriel chanced a glance behind her and squeaked when she saw the mouth of the massive cavern a foot away, looking down on the valley from a dizzying height. She changed directions and crawled away from it before standing to her feet.

She spotted her bag of food a few feet away from where she'd woken up. Muriel gave the dragon a confused look.

"Why did you bring me up here?" she asked warily.

"Why were you sleeping at the foot of my mountain?"

He had been laying down but now he surged up to his massive clawed feet and she gulped at his enormity. She was surprised to find she was attracted to the graceful slope of his horns, the span of his wings, the broadness of his chest, and the luster of his scales, some a dark muddy color and some a blood red. Before she could judge herself too harshly, she remembered that she was supposed to be a dragon as well. This was the first male of her kind she'd ever seen. This was normal.

Realizing she had been staring, she blushed and looked away. "I, um..." How was she supposed to say it? I need your spit, please. No way!

A deep, draconic sound emitted from his chest as he waited expectantly for her reply.

Here goes nothing. "I'm a witch and—"

"Do not think that just because I've allowed you to live means that you can lie to me," he growled, prowling closer.

Muriel swallowed down her nerves. Alright. Complete honesty, then. She sighed, "I've just discovered I'm cursed. I want to break it."

"A transformation curse?" he inquired, though something told her he already knew the answer to that.

She nodded. "Yes. My friend, a witch... She thinks I am a—"

"Icildrakendür?" he finished and she gaped.

"Well I, uh," she stuttered. "Maybe not that specifically, but she is convinced I am some sort of dragon, cursed as a baby."

"I've met this witch before," he assumed with a rough chuckle. "Does she happen to have a fear of heights?"

"Anyone would after what you did," she mumbled.

"Ah, so she's mentioned me?" The dragon circled around her slowly and she shuffled her feet, blushing under his scrutiny.

"Yes, she did. Though she didn't have much to say about your manners."

He laughed and she flinched when she felt the end of his tail brush against her legs through the skirt of her dress.

"Yes, humans are very particular about their manners."

"We are," she nodded.

He stopped in front of her, his huge muzzle lowering until she felt his breath puff against her face. Was that what woke her up?

"You are no human, little one, though you may look it," he said, then raised a big black talon to gently brush against her short black locks. "You make a very pretty human, I will say. You must be a sight to behold in your true form, Icildrakendür," he purred.

"Muriel," she said, trying to hide her shudder. "My name is Muriel."

"Muriel."

The way he said her name in that rumbling voice like thunder made her embarrassingly wet between her thighs. She hoped he couldn't smell it. She was furious with herself for reacting like a hormonal teenage girl.

The dragon hummed deeply, bringing his face closer to her body and she took a step back. Heat flashed in his orange red eyes like two Fire Lily gemstones. She felt the weight of her own in her pocket, reminding her.

Muriel took out the stone and held it up to him. "If you help me, I'll give you this."

His gaze flicked down to the stone in her hand. His forked tongue ran over white pointed teeth and their eyes locked again.

"No."

"Oh. This is all I have," she muttered, embarrassed. "What would you want then? I'm sure I could get it for you, whatever it is."

"In exchange for breaking your curse," he began, holding her captive with his stare. "I want you to carry my clutch within you."

She blinked. "Your what?"

"Hatchlings, little one," he clarified with a chuckle. "I want to take you as my life mate and fill you with my seed until you are round with many eggs."

Muriel stood there, red-faced and slack-jawed for a moment. Then she promptly turned around and headed towards the exit. "No thank you. I'll ask a different dragon."

His laughter rumbled after her. "As you wish, though I won't be helping you back down."

At the edge of the drop that would surely kill her, she looked down. There was no way she could climb down without a rope. She huffed, turning back around.

"Do you have any rope?" she asked.

The smug dragon was lounging on the cool stone floor again, watching her in amusement. "Not that you can have, little one."

With narrowed eyes, she moved to go deeper into the large cavern, avoiding him as much as she could. "We'll see about that, asshole," she muttered as she passed.

Muriel entered the heart of the cavern and her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the vast amount of treasure piled high in every corner. She'd never seen so much wealth in one place before, and the way it all glittered back at her triggered an instinctual hunger within her. She was envious, she realized bitterly.

"You like it," the dragon observed, and she jolted out of her trance when she noticed him at her side, studying her expression.

Muriel crossed her arms and made herself look away from the gleaming gold and sparkling, tempting jewels. "No. I hate it, actually. I think it's a bit much," she grumbled.

When she glanced at him she saw his red scaled chest puffed out proudly and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Yes it is a lot, isn't it? It's taken me years to collect. I once fought a dragon twice my size to win his entire hoard, which wasn't nearly as impressive as mine. It could only fill one room," he chuckled, making fun of his old opponent. "My hoard fills several rooms."

"Good for you," she deadpanned, searching for a rope.

He continued, oblivious to her disinterest in hearing him. "Yes, it is good for me and good for my life mate, too. This belongs to you as much as me. I can get more if you wish? Yes, I think there is still space to be filled, I must do more to impress my life mate, hm?"

"I am not your life mate," she growled out, trudging through heaps of gold to find her rope and finally get out of there.

She grit her teeth when she heard him chuckle. "You're so cute. And you smell so good. Mmm, I can scent you melting between your thighs for me."

"Shut up!" she barked, searching more furiously, not caring if she broke anything fragile.

Muriel heard the tinkling of coins cascading down the hill of gold as the dragon ambled closer to her. She didn't turn around to face him, determined to find a way to leave and ignore him as much as she could.

"There's no need to feel embarrassed, my sweet Muriel," he purred and she shivered when she felt his breath hit her back. "It's only natural to want the strongest, wealthiest male to mate with. You haven't been taught much about our kind, have you? Don't worry, little one... I'll teach you everything you need to know and more."

She angrily turned around to give him a piece of her mind but then immediately looked away with bright red cheeks when she saw he was fully unsheathed. Her face was hot as she tried to get rid of the mental image burned into her brain. That thing was thicker than her body!

"Ugh! What is wrong with you?!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill as she stumbled further up the hill of treasure.

"What?" he questioned coyly, following after her. "It's only natural for a male to become erect when scenting a fertile female's arousal. I am not ashamed of my reaction and I won't apologize for it."

Muriel huffed, trudging faster across the heap to get away from him. "Stop following me!"

"This is my cavern, my hoard, and you are my life mate; I can follow you if I wish."

She grabbed a fistful of coins and threw them at him with a frustrated roar, having to face him to do so. The dragon looked down as the coins bounced harmlessly off his chest, then his Fire Lily eyes flicked back to hers, amused. Muriel was breathing heavier in her anger and she tried her hardest not to look down at the other angry thing pointing right at her.

"Did that make you feel better?" he asked mockingly.

"Yes it did," she huffed, refusing to back down as she held his gaze. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I am not your life mate and I never will be. So stop with... Whatever this is. I'm not interested."

He tilted his big draconic head at her. "I have heard of females saying one thing when it is obvious the opposite is true. You are clearly interested. I have scented your interest. It is there between those cute little legs of yours. And when your curse finally breaks and you are restored to your glorious form, I will partake in that interest again and again and again."

He enunciated his meaning with a little thrust of his hips and she couldn't stop her eyes from snapping down as the pulsing red appendage bobbed with the movement. Her mouth went dry.

"Your scent is stronger now, does this mean you want to touch it?"

The dragon throbbed at his own question and she couldn't tear her eyes away. She was horrified at the fact that she really did want to touch it.

A deep groan rumbled from above her and the heavy thing twitched so hard it started gently bobbing again. It looked painful. "I like that expression on your face. If only you were big enough to take me... You would always feel me inside you."

If she ever dared let that thing inside her, she doubted she'd ever be able to stop feeling him. She subconsciously pressed her thighs together. Never in her life had she ever become this wet, certainly not for a human male.

"I would like to amend my offer," he said suddenly, and that pulled her out of her lustful thoughts.

"Huh?" she responded dumbly.

"I will not take you as soon as your curse breaks. I will give you 24 hours to evade me, and if you fail, I will mount you and you will mother my hatchlings. If you manage to evade me for the full amount of time, I will leave you alone."

Muriel stared up at him with parted lips. If she ended up being an ice dragon, she wouldn't have wings. But maybe it would be easy to figure out how to use ice platforms like Agatha described. Wings or not, she would need time to learn how to fly.

She came to a decision, "Give me an hour headstart and I'll agree." Hopefully that would be enough time to learn.

The dragon grumbled, displeased with the idea. "Fine. One hour and then I will come for you. As soon as I catch you, you will be mine. Do we have an understanding?"

Muriel bit her lip, thinking for a moment. Then she nodded, "Yes."

"Good," he cooed as his head lowered to breathe her in more deeply. "And until then... You will do as I say."

"Excuse me?"

The dragon pushed her over with his nose and she fell onto her ass with a yelp of surprise. She squeaked when her thighs spread with the force of his muzzle pressing up between them, causing her to tip over onto her back with her dress bunched up at her waist.

"H-hey!"

A low, draconic purr emitted from his chest as his nose nudged up against the large wet spot soaking through her undergarments. She heard him breathe in deep and she blushed.

"I want to always smell this scent," he confessed passionately. "I will make you desire me just as strongly as I desire you, Muriel. Until by the time your curse breaks, you will welcome me between your thighs gladly and beg for more. I will give you my cock until you fight me to stop, and even then I will not stop my rutting, not until I have nothing left to give and you are dripping my seed for days. This I vow to you, my Icildrakendür."

As he spoke, the top of his snout rubbed against her clothed cunt and she whined. Her hips had a mind of their own, it seemed, as they started grinding onto the dragon's textured nose; the ridges of his scales felt too good against her swollen clit to come to her senses and stop.

"That's it, little one," the dragon growled, his Fire Lily eyes heavy lidded as his own hips started moving, thrusting into nothing, searching for her. "Feel pleasure and only think of me."

Muriel couldn't stop—she didn't want to stop. Her underwear was so soaked through with arousal that his scales started to glisten with it. This was crazy. She was crazy. Why couldn't she stop?

Her breaths came faster along with her hips and when gentle, whimpering moans escaped her lips unbidden, the dragon's claws dug deep into the golden mountain at either side of her and he growled lustfully, the sound reverberating off the towering cavern walls and bouncing straight back into her core.

Muriel gasped as a cold talon tucked under her waistband and cloth ripped until she was bare from the waist down. All thoughts of protest left her once something wet and hot grinded against her pussy and inner thighs; when in her hazy mind she realized it was his tongue, she nearly orgasmed right then.

She was lost to the world—lost in the pleasure pulsing through her engorged cunt as her hips canted up against the slick muscle. Her upper body felt too hot restricted in her dress; she wanted to be fully naked under him, she wanted to dig her claws into his hard, scaled back and— claws? What was she thinking? She didn't have claws.

With one final flick of his forked tongue, Muriel unraveled, crying out to the cavernous ceiling as she gushed onto him, her legs shaking from the force of her orgasm.

The dragon lapped at her pussy, collecting every little drop of her as his breath huffed against her thighs. His hips were still rocking into nothing until his head suddenly reared back and a rough grunt escaped him as he ejaculated a flood of cum into the air. A hefty amount of the hot, thick semen landed on her lower half, covering her bent, spread legs and her still fluttering cunt.

She stared with wide eyes as his hips jerked once more and another spurt drooled from his swollen tip, leaking down the bottom of his shaft. She licked her lips and shuddered. He had just cum from tasting her.

The dragon panted, looking down at her with slitted pupils blown wide, admiring his work painted all over her pussy and thighs. "My name is Akryos," he said, breathless.

"Akryos?" she whispered, her dazed mind still in the process of coming down from her post-orgasm high.

His fangs flashed in a wicked grin.

"Next time I want to hear you moan it for me."

Chapter Text

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After the blissful haze in her mind cleared, Muriel was left with only shame—and a lot of cum, oozing off her body. She tried to turn her shame into anger for the smug dragon hovering over her but her emotions were so jumbled she couldn't focus on just one.

"I have to say," Akryos rumbled, licking his muzzle as his fiery eyes raked over her supine form, "I love how you look covered in my seed. It is something I wish to see more often."

Her face flushed and she glared up at him. "This is never happening again," she seethed before trying to stand to her feet. Her legs were a little wobbly but she managed to keep her balance as the thick, warm liquid seeped down her body and onto the gold coins beneath her feet.

This was not what she expected when Agatha told her how to break the curse.

The skirt of her dress that had been bunched up at her waist now fell and stuck to her sticky legs. She groaned, irritated. "And now you've ruined my dress."

"It will wash," he said smoothly with what looked like a smirk on his muzzle. "Take it off."

Muriel let out an incredulous scoff. "Not a chance, I'm not—"

"Take it off," he interrupted lowly, "or I'll make it come off your body in ribbons."

She huffed, her cheeks puffed out a little and her face bright red. Then, figuring he was serious, she reluctantly peeled off her dress until she stood there nude before him, unable to look up into his eyes despite what they'd just done together only minutes prior.

A surprised squeak escaped her when she found herself suddenly grasped in his claws and lifted up into the air. She was quickly horrified when he then proceeded to put the lower half of her body into his mouth, leaving her upper torso peeking out.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, gripping onto the claws that held her up from being speared on his teeth. The sharp points lightly pressing against the skin of her upper stomach made her nervous.

But he couldn't answer with his mouth full. Instead, he emitted a soft, teasing moan while his tongue swirled around her legs, occasionally spreading them by dipping to swipe between, grazing her mound in the process. She gasped and he chuckled, the sound vibrating through her body and making her pussy clench around nothing.

Eventually he pulled her from his mouth, and although she was now covered in his saliva, at least she was clean from his sticky cum. He placed her back on her feet beside the pool of semen still slowly moving down the slope of gold.

Muriel shivered. "How are you going to clean that?" She nodded towards the mess.

Akryos frowned as if he hadn't thought that far ahead. "Hmm... I can't use my tongue or else I'll swallow coins. But your tongue... Is small enough," he said, an intrigued, hopeful spark lighting up in his eyes.

She shook her head immediately, flustered. "What– no! I'm not doing that. Even if I agreed, that's too much!"

The dragon made a noise of disappointment but then ended up nodding, "Right. It is best if you don't or I will become erect again."

Muriel thought he would come up with another way to clean his treasure but all he did was stare at it, perplexed. She sighed.

"Do you have a wheelbarrow?"

"What?" His massive head turned to her.

"A wheelbarrow, you know, a big metal bucket with a wheel and two handles?"

"I– yes, but why are you asking for one?"

Muriel put on her fakest smile. "Oh, no reason. I just like looking at them."

Her sarcasm didn't catch on. Apparently this was legitimate reasoning for a dragon.

"Alright, I'll go find one for you." Then he was off, disappearing into another cave room.

Muriel took that time to grab her grey dress from her food bag, wipe the crumbs off from it, and put it on. She scowled as she realized she didn't have more undergarments. She had been planning to clean and reuse the one she brought with her but now it was torn. Perhaps the dragon had thread and needle?

"I am back with your—" Akryos stopped when he saw her dressed. She could've sworn she saw him pout. "I liked seeing more of your soft flesh."

She came up to him and gestured for him to put down the wheelbarrow, which he did. "It's best if I wear clothes so you won't become erect again," she said in the same manner he had earlier.

He grumbled under his breath.

She was pushing the wheelbarrow towards the mountain of treasure by the time he finally thought of a comeback.

"It is your soul that arouses me, Muriel," he said as he trotted after her, trying to be flirtatious. "Though your outer shell does contribute some," he couldn't help but add.

Oh swoon.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the wheelbarrow up the golden hill and stopped beside the mess he'd left.

The dragon looked between the two, confused. "What are you doing?"

She pointed at the spot. "Scoop up the dirty coins and put them in here," she said, patting the metal lip of the wheelbarrow.

Akryos hesitated, then asked, "So... You do not like looking at wheelbarrows?"

She huffed, "Just do it."

He obliged, scooping up the pile in one swoop and depositing it into the metal tub. Then he looked at her for what to do next.

"Now we must take this to the river," she said. She disliked how invested she was in cleaning it up, but it just didn't sit right with her to leave shiny, pretty things dirty.

The dragon's tail lashed, not liking the idea and thinking it was a scheme to leave him. "I will not let you down from this mountain, Icildrakendür."

She blinked slowly up at him, one hand on her hip. "If you clean it yourself, you'll let too many coins slip between your claws. My hands are small enough for the job. You will take me and the wheelbarrow down to the river now," she growled.

They glared at each other, neither one backing down.

Then his draconic features broke into an affectionate grin. "Already acting like a dragon life mate," he sighed happily. "Very well, I will take you."

Muriel didn't know what she had done to act like a dragon life mate, but she decided as soon as she figured it out, she'd never do it again.

Akryos was able to carry the wheelbarrow in one clawed forepaw while carrying her in the other. And then they were out and in the air. Muriel wondered if the witch had made a mistake in thinking she was a dragon because as soon as she saw the ground so far away, her body froze with fear and she clutched onto the dragon's talons for dear life, though he would never drop her.

Soon they were dropping down to a winding river not far from the base of Dire Mountain. She let out a breath of relief once her feet touched the ground and the dragon huffed a laugh at her. She scowled.

"Set it close but not too close," she instructed, pointing to where to place the wheelbarrow by the running river.

Once it was set down, she started taking handfuls and carefully washing them in the river, not dropping a single gold piece. Akryos laid down nearby, rumbling softly as a blue butterfly landed on his snout.

Muriel was nearly done when he broke the peaceful silence. "Females of our kind tend to have their treasure cleaned and polished. Though this limits them on the size of their hoard because of upkeep. Some females enslave smaller creatures to do the work for them so that they can get a bigger hoard."

Muriel glanced back at him. "That... Sounds awful, actually."

Akryos huffed out a breath and the butterfly flitted away. "Only some females enslave. Some males do, too. But most dragons look down on this."

She nodded with a hum, finishing up her work—including washing her soiled dress—then standing up and stretching her arms above her head with a groan.

"What are you doing?"

Her hands fell to her sides and she turned back to him, walking over. "Doesn't it feel good for you to stretch?"

He grimaced. "Like a cat?"

"Do you not like cats?"

He shuddered. "Not at all. They are foul creatures. Angry little demons."

Muriel laughed.

The dragon emitted a pleased rumble at the sound, watching her features attentively.

She shook her head, getting out the last of her giggles. "Well maybe cats don't like you, either."

"They don't," he confirmed.

A comfortable silence fell between them and he couldn't help but subtly shift closer to her after she sat down on the grass. She noticed. "I... Do like to stretch my wings sometimes," he offered.

Muriel found herself smiling softly. "I like your wings," she complimented, completely forgetting she had been determined to be upset with him.

The dragon's chest puffed out a little and his head was held high as he spread his wings wide, blocking out the sun. "Yes, they are magnificent, are they not?"

She snorted. "Don't let it get to your head, big guy."

"Big guy?" Akryos grinned roguishly and folded his wings back against his sides. "I like this nickname. Do you call me that because there is something big about me that you like?"

He nudged her side with his nose and she scoffed, swatting him away. "Shut up, you pervert! I don't like you at all."

He played coy, "I only meant my big, handsome eyes. What did you think I meant, little one?"

She groaned with a laugh, covering her blushing face with her hands. What was she doing flirting with this dragon she just met? She supposed their earlier encounter broke the ice, in a way.

The dragon whined, nudging her again, "Don't cover your face, you look so pretty when you smile. And I enjoy your laugh, I don't want that beautiful sound muffled by your hands."

She put her hands down and picked at the grass, flustered. "Stop saying things like that," she mumbled.

When she snuck a glance at him, he looked confused. "You want me to keep things from you? But that is unnatural, a dragon is always honest. I suppose that is why your human friends think we are rude, because we say what we think. But I think the human way of being dishonest is rude," he rambled.

Muriel couldn't help but find this trait admirable. "Alright," she relented. "Then feel free to be honest with me, if you wish."

The mischievous expression was back on his face. "Oh I will, my Muriel. I was never going to stop. I love it too much when your cute little face changes colors for me."

She threw a pebble at him and he laughed.

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"Why do you have a chest full of expensive dresses? It looks like you raided a wealthy noblewoman's closet."

"She had an awful attitude and I didn't like her," Akryos huffed from where he was laying not too far away.

This cave room held more chests and barrels than anything, some filled with gold and other miscellaneous things. But the one he'd directed her to open was filled to the brim with the finest fabrics she'd ever seen in her life, all with vibrant colors and—from the excellent stitching—made by a skillful seamstress whose services no doubt costed a pretty penny.

"You mean you actually raided a noblewoman's closet?" she questioned in disbelief, glancing over her shoulder at him.

He waved a massive clawed forepaw dismissively. "Raided, demolished, incinerated, whatever you prefer to call it—yes I did. There was nothing that harlot loved more than her glittering wardrobe."

She whistled. "Wow, she must have really hurt you bad."

Akryos sniffed, raising his snout in the air indignantly. "She called me a fat lard."

Muriel gasped. "She didn't..."

He nodded with another pitiful sniffle before resting his muzzle on the craggy ground, sulking. "She did. I don't look fat to you, do I?"

"Oh no, not at all."

He was practically pouting, looking at her with big glossy eyes. "Really?"

She chuckled. "Yes, really. You look very fit."

Immediately he switched back into his normal cocky demeanor, sitting up proudly while flexing the muscles of his upper forelegs for her perusal.

"Yes? You think so? You think I'm very handsome, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the chest. "I think you're a preening peacock starved for attention."

Akryos shuffled closer with a cheeky little pout while she looked through the chest. "Mhmm, yes, you've not nearly given my peacock enough attention. You should try petting it~"

"Desperate whore."

He sniffed. "Shameless tease."

She snorted, pulling out a white satin nightgown. "I've not teased you once. Delusional slut."

His snout bumped her side. "Your soul teases me. You make me this wanton thing begging for any touch."

"You make me this annoyed thing begging for peace and quiet."

"See? See what I mean? Your soul is teasing me and I'm on the edge of losing control."

"What will you do? Eat me?"

"Are you into that? You blushed when I put your soft little body in my mouth~"

"No! Ugh... Harlot."

Muriel stood and draped the dress over a nearby barrel, moving to start unfastening her clothes, but she stopped when she saw him staring with his head lifted in interest.

She made some sort of waving gesture with her hand. "Turn around."

He grinned, only moving closer to get a better look. "I can't, I'm a whore. You said it yourself."

"Even whores have more class than you."

"Well I am a beast. Forgive me if I act like one," he growled flirtatiously.

Muriel glared at him then sighed, looking away. He had already seen her naked, what was the harm in changing in front of him?

She turned her back to him and continued unfastening her dress. She tugged it off her shoulders and wiggled it down her body until it pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it and reached for the nightgown.

A warm, wet thing slid up the back of her thighs, up the curve of her rear, and flicked at the dip of her back. It happened so fast and she squeaked in surprise, turning around to angrily berate him.

He did the same thing to her front, the force of it causing her breasts to bounce a little. She could only stare for a moment, shocked at his blatant brazenness.

He blinked at her innocently. "For your curse, remember? I was just making sure you got your daily dose of medicine~"

Her shocked stare morphed into an irritated glare. "I'm sure I've had more than enough medicine for today, thank you."

"You're welcome."

She huffed, turning back to grab the dress—quickly this time so he couldn't sneak attack her with his tongue again. She slipped the dress on over her head and smoothed it down her body. It was the most comfortable garment she'd ever worn. She would sleep like a baby in this.

Overall she had to admit her day had been pretty good. Most of it was spent outside next to the river, sitting with Akryos. The breeze had lulled her to sleep a few times—she woke to find her head laying against his side—and when hunger struck, Akryos showed her where a few peach trees were nearby. A day outside with no worries, feeling so peaceful she wished she could bottle up the feeling for later. Night came too fast, and though she wanted to stay to enjoy the beauty of the stars, Akryos was adamant they return to the cave.

"Are you comfortable, my Icildrakendür?" the dragon purred affectionately.

Muriel nodded. "I've never worn something so comfortable. I didn't have much in my small stone hut. But it was home."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I am your home now. You will want for nothing as long as I am yours and you are mine."

She looked at him skeptically. "We just met today."

He chuckled. "It doesn't take long for a dragon to know when he's met his life mate. Call it a sixth sense, but I knew the moment I saw you huffing and puffing like a fat little pig when you arrived at the foot of my mountain. You were meant to be mine."

She raised a brow, ignoring the way he described her. He wasn't the one who walked all night and half the day. "I figured you only wanted me because I'm an Icildrakendür." Allegedly.

He shook his big head, amusement dancing in his Fire Lily eyes. "That is only one of the many things that makes you intriguing, Muriel. Soon I will know every part of your intoxicating soul and I will enjoy making you fall madly in love with me."

She rolled her eyes. Pretentious, narcissistic, vain, conceited—

"You doubt me?" he correctly assumed.

She gave him a pointed look. "Absolutely."

"You won't for long. You'll see," he said with a confident grin.

"Mhm, and how many people have you gotten to fall in love with you?"

"None, you'll be the first."

"I see."

Muriel turned and began to look around the cave for a nice place to sleep.

He was undeterred by her disbelief. "We're meant to be, I know it. I feel it deep in my bones."

"Your bones have quite the imagination," she said dryly, moving into another, bigger cavern.

When he didn't answer, she looked behind her and saw the flick of his tail as he disappeared around a craggy corner. She sighed. It felt good to have a slice of time to herself after such a long day.

She searched through the room piled with more treasure. Maybe she should have asked him if he hoarded blankets and pillows as well as noblewomen's clothes. But she was confident she could find something somewhere by herself.

She'd been looking for a while when she heard the dragon approaching behind her.

"What do you wa—"

She yelped when suddenly her feet were off the ground and his talons were wrapped around her body. Akryos began to three-leg wobble walk out of the smaller treasure room with her wiggling in his grasp.

"Put me down! This is completely unnecessary!"

He only chuckled and continued walking through a large hallway. Eventually she stopped struggling since it was useless and all she was doing was tiring herself out. She'd already been very tired.

They came to his main treasure room where they'd had the encounter before—the cleaned coins were put back in their spot. Muriel saw a comfy pile of blankets and pillows at the highest point of the golden mountain. The dragon wobble walked up it and set her down on the soft pile.

It was very comfortable and she laid down on it, glancing at him to see he was already watching her with what looked like a smirk on his draconic mouth. She wanted to roll her eyes from the expression, but she figured she should thank him for considerately making a bed for her.

"Thank you," was all she could make herself say.

"You're welcome," he replied before moving to wrap his body around her and the makeshift bed atop his biggest treasure hoard.

She felt secure with him laying curled closely around her like a protective cocoon. But she'd never tell him that. She snuggled into the pillows and blankets on her side, getting into her usual sleeping position; the soft puffs of the red dragon's breath was a gentle noise in the background that helped lull her close to a deep slumber.

Before she drifted off, she tiredly whispered, "Goodnight."

It was something she whispered to her dead parents every night as if they were next to her, but now there was someone real she could say it to that was able to receive it.

A deep rumble emitted from his chest, sounding content. "Goodnight, my treasure. Sleep well," he replied softly before both of them fell into the best sleep they've ever had, nestled closely together.

Perhaps the vain red dragon's sixth sense was right.

Chapter Text

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A week passed and Muriel found each day with the red dragon brought her varying degrees of irritation. When he wasn't bothering her with endless monologues on each piece of treasure in his hoard, he was dressing her up like a doll with every fine piece of clothing in his storerooms—they hadn't even gotten through half of them. And when it came time for her medicine, the stubborn ass wouldn't do it any other way but his. Essentially, she could either grind on his tongue till completion, or he could put her in his mouth again.

The whore was using her fear of his mouth to his advantage. But it turned out glaring into his draconic eyes while she used his tongue for her pleasure was erotic for them both.

Though during the moments of peace in between, she had to admit it was nice to spend it in his company. It was in those pockets of time that she could see past the humorously narcissistic traits and into the soul beneath.

She listened as he shared that he was one of four brothers hatched from the same clutch. Both his parents were from the northern mountains, descended from a long line of pure blood fire dragons. He'd been expected to take over a part of his father's territory, but he felt stifled by the high expectations—trapped on a path he never wanted. So, as a young, rebellious dragon, he went off on his own. Now middle-aged 180 years later, he'd never returned. But many years were inconsequential to a dragon who's lifespan stretched so long. He would see them again someday.

In turn, he listened to her when she shed light on her old life—the tragic story of a poor orphan girl, looked down upon by the village she was left in. Muriel found herself smiling when she told him of Harriet and Agatha. Sharing the good moments soothed the sting of missing them.

To her surprise, she even told him how she'd imagined her parents. It wasn't something she told anyone before, but with the earnest way he listened, it poured right out of her. Like a bad bout of the runs.

A terrible analogy.

"Kind, selfless, and strong?" Akryos hummed, the sound a deep reverberation in his chest.

His head rested near where she reclined on ridiculously extravagant silk pillows with designs of gold woven in. They were in another one of his many cavernous rooms. This one had been cleared out a little—save for stacks of dusty books—for them to use as a makeshift lounge.

The hot puffs of air from his slitted nostrils were a constant annoyance. She brushed stray hairs out of her face yet again and nodded. "It might be silly, but it's all I have of them. Even if it isn't real."

A whisper of a secret swam in the depths of those molten eyes. Dark, but gone in a blink. "Nothing you could say with such openness would ever be silly to me. I think it is a beautiful way to honor them. I confess... the more I learn of you, the more I find myself falling deeper under your spell."

Muriel scoffed, amusement lifting her brows. "My spell? No, you've got it confused from all those feathers in your brain. Agatha is the one with the spells."

"You pretend to misunderstand me," he grumbled, lifting his large head to peer down his snout at her in a playful manner.

"Just as you pretend to be a dragon when you're really a peacocking whore."

"I'm determined to be both."

She rolled her eyes. "A true overachiever. Be still my beating heart."

"What happened to being kind?" he retorted with a mirthful snort. "You're missing one of those desired qualities, oh small one. Perhaps you should practice with me. Then I could reward you..."

Her nose wrinkled, even as her cheeks darkened. "I don't think I have to be kind to someone who makes questionable deals. And besides, I doubt I'd like your 'rewards'."

Akryos chuckled, lowering his head to her level. "You've liked them so far."

"Go eat a skunk." She whacked his snout with a pillow.

He sneezed daintily from the dust cloud that puffed from its fibers. She sneezed like a horse three times as the cloud billowed over to her.

Muriel sniffled, rubbing her nose. "If we could get those feathers out of your brain, then maybe we could give this place a much needed dusting."

"I've never had guests before." He sounded almost embarrassed at the admission as he plucked up a pillow between two claws, trying to pat the dust from the tiny thing. "But you are not a guest. You are my life mate. I should have properly prepared our nest for you."

Muriel gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not your life mate."

"As my life mate, you deserve a clean home. And all the riches you could ever want," he continued, returning the pillow and grabbing another.

"It's really fine. I'm not your life mate."

"I must apologize for being so unprepared, as I had no idea my life mate would arrive quite suddenly at my door."

"A door that doesn't exist. Like your life mate."

He finally caught her eye and acknowledged her words with a pointed expression. "Hmm. I've never had a treasure in my hoard grumble so loudly."

She glared at him.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a sharp smirk—frightening on a dragon's visage. "At least you won't deny being my treasure."

"It was a stupid thing to say that doesn't deserve a response." She crossed her arms and turned her face away. "I'm not one of your pretty trinkets. I'm Muriel. You don't have any claim over me."

"My Muriel."

"No, not yours. Not ever."

The draconic smirk slowly faded. When she glanced at him out of the corner of her view, her stomach flipped at the serious, sincere expression he leveled her with. There was a heavy force behind it; something suffocatingly possessive that had only grown stronger the longer she was around him.

Something deeper, something darker, roiled in the eye of the storm contained in that Fire Lily gaze. It lay in wait with all the patience of a predator who knew his prey would always be doomed to fall into his jaws. Like fate had twisted them up together in its blood red string, uncaring of the consequences.

But then the mask slipped back into place, a cheerful light smoothing the harsh angles of his face as he smiled. "That's what you think now. But you'll see someday that I'm right. We were destined to be together."

"As you've said before," she grumbled, choosing to ignore the strange moment.

Akryos flicked the pillow back to her pile and stood to his feet. "You can expect to hear it many more times. Now come." He turned, curling his neck around to look at her over his wing. "It's time for your medicine."

ᨒ

The red dragon glanced at her outstretched hand, perplexed. They stood on his mountain of gold, the glittering treasure a constant temptation, pulling her to admire and adore.

"I'm not doing it your way this time. Just lick my hand. That should be enough." Her jaw clenched, holding back the private reason she had to refuse.

His head tilted, viewing her curiously. "Sure, it would be enough, but a whole lot less fun."

"I don't need any fun today." She could already feel her face burning at the thought of it. "Do it my way this time. It's only fair."

A gravelly, beastly sound rolled from his chest as his head descended to her body. She shifted uncomfortably, coins sliding as she took a step back. He nudged her belly, which earned him a swat to the nose.

"Cut that out."

He only nudged lower. "You think your monthly cycle deters me?"

Muriel froze, turning beet red. She swatted harder. "I don't care what you want, you pervert! You keep your face away from me!"

The thought of him tasting her blood, even in a small amount proportionally, nearly made her gag. Not sexy.

He let out a long, drawn out sigh, finally lifting his head away from her. "Alright. I will wait till your bleeding is done. At least for that particular activity."

Her gaze narrowed. "You better not try anything else on me. I'm warning you, I'm not in the mood."

A wicked light glittered in his eyes. "Take off your clothes."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "No. I told you, I'm not in the mood."

Talons grabbed her and she yelped. The world shifted until she found herself looking down at him. He was on his back, his tail swaying like a contented cat against his coins. His wings reclined, blanketed wide across the gold.

He set her down to stand on his chest and she nearly stumbled trying to adjust to the steady rise and fall under her bare feet. The point of a claw touched her back and she flinched as it trailed down.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly, blinking at her with concern in those big, mischievous eyes.

Her brow furrowed at the unexpected question. "At the moment it is dull."

"Hmm." The claw hooked in her skirt, giving a light tug. "I have an idea I think you might like. Considering the way you looked at it before..."

The drumbeat of her heart picked up its pace. "Keep your ideas to yourself. Help me down, I want to rest."

"You'll get your rest. But you'll have to earn it, first." He tugged again, harder. "Take off your clothes."

Her jaw ached at this point. Knowing there was no escape, she unlaced her borrowed red dress, letting it fall off her shoulders to pool at her feet. She stripped until her undergarments and makeshift menstrual cloth remained.

"Go on," Akryos urged when she stopped.

The nerve of this dragon astounded her. "No. I'll make a mess on you, and I'd rather not."

"I already planned to make a mess on myself. Better on me than the gold, don't you think?" He winked.

Muriel shook her head. "You're disgusting."

"Not if I clean in the river right after."

"Animals drink from that river, you ass."

"And fish pee in it. Are you going to fuss at them, too?"

She dropped the rest of her clothes with a huff. "I can't wait till the curse is broken. Then I'll never have to deal with you again."

"Yes. I'll be too busy hunting for your cravings, since you'll be fat with many young."

She scoffed, ignoring the way his eyes devoured her. "You wish. I'll be far away from here. Far away from you."

The darkness in his eyes deepened tenfold. Her heart stuttered in the silence extending wider between them. Maybe she shouldn't have provoked him while standing naked and at his mercy.

But then he moved, his eyes still holding hers captive as he brought a forepaw to his mouth. His tongue slithered out, laving his palm thick with saliva.

What was he going to do? Grab her with it instead of putting her into his mouth? All to cop a feel, no doubt.

Once lathered enough, his massive forepaw came towards her. She stiffened. But it only brushed past, journeying lower. Her eyes widened.

When the dragon's lids fluttered and his breath hitched beneath her feet, she knew where it landed. Her lips parted as she stood there like a statue, at a loss for words. She couldn't dream of speaking under the weighted heat that fell over her body with the way he was looking at her. With the way she knew he was touching himself to her.

Muriel fought the traitorous urge to turn around and see.

The vibration of his low moan shot up her body, tingling in her core. Her nipples pebbled, and she told herself it was just the cool air of the cavern. But she didn't feel cold. Not with the fire licking through her veins.

His eyes, black centers blown wide, caught every change of her body. As did his nose. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw his movements quicken.

"Look at it," Akryos grunted, breathless. "I want you to watch me. I want you to see what you do to me."

She swallowed hard. Unable to resist any longer, she turned.

Throbbing. Thick. Strangled in his grasp. It was more red than she remembered, veins pulsing as his tight grip glided up and down.

A shuddering moan escaped him, causing her to slip further down the hill of his chest. Closer to the towering appendage. Her eyes traveled slowly over it, from the glistening tip and down.

She never noticed before—a bulb at the base. The tortured groan he let out when he gave it a squeeze was felt through his whole body.

"When I take you," he breathed, sounding more desperate by the second, "this knot will swell. It will lock us together—make us one. And you will feel me deep inside your womb."

His words, and the thoughts they spawned in her mind, sent a jolt of arousal to her sex. She winced at the sudden cramp it was coupled with. But she was past the point of letting pain stop her now.

Muriel wanted him. She wanted to experience what he described. Maybe it was some primal instinct, heightened in a dragon, but just for that moment she didn't care.

"Are you in the mood now?" he purred, teasing seduction thick in his tone.

She shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Where are you going with this, anyway? I thought you said it was time for my 'medicine'."

His grin was rakish. "I did." He nodded towards the terrifying thing in his hold, slick with spit. "Why don't you get closer and find out?"

She paused before facing forward once more. A small thread of fear tangled with her arousal. Did he want her to... touch it?

Of course he did. That was why he'd covered himself in spit. She needed it to lift the curse. So it only made sense to...

She shook her head. Thinking too much about it would only make her chicken out. She'd never been more terrified—more excited—in her life.

Muriel took a slow, deep breath, and let it out. Then did it again. She put one foot in front of the other, tracing down the hard plates of his firm abdomen. Each step brought her closer to certain doom, she was sure of that.

She stopped in front of it, breathing faster. His musk hung heavy in the air, making her body react in ways that made her legs start to quiver.

His movements slowed to leisured strokes, giving her a good long look at what he planned to thoroughly ruin her with. If he caught her once the curse was broken, she only prayed her dragon form could take him. She was in for a world of pain if it couldn't.

After a moment to gather her courage, she lifted her hand. With the slightest brush of her fingers, she followed a vein along his knot, her arm lifting as it trailed up the hot, leathery shaft. He shuddered under her, his movements stilling completely.

"That," he panted, "that's not nearly enough medicine. You need more. Yes... much more."

The words had barely registered before she was up in his grasp again. His scales scraped gently down her naked skin.

She squirmed, pushing down on his talons to make him release her. "Akryos! Put me down, you know I hate being handled like this!"

The look he gave her was feral. Hungry. She trembled, her struggles faltering as he lathered his other forepaw with saliva once more. Wide eyes followed as he brought it back down to massage over his cock, which only seemed to grow painfully harder. Precum welled from the tip—she began to fear what ideas were making him so riled up.

If touching him wasn't enough... what else did he want?

"Don't worry, my treasure," he rumbled in a voice dripping with lust. "I'll make sure you get all the medicine you need~"

Her stomach dropped as she descended, her eyes squeezing shut. The breath escaped her lungs when she was suddenly pressed to a wet, firm thing, leaving the front of her bare form and the side of her face slick. Muriel's eyes snapped open. Oh.

She was sat on his knot, and with her legs bracketing the thick length, her sex was flush against it. Her everything was. He was holding her with it in his fist.

This is truly a  depraved  dragon.

She imagined his annoying, smug face. If only she could see it past his cock.

"I'm not a toy. Put me down right now!" Damn the tremor in her voice.

"I will not."

She gasped as she was squeezed tighter, breasts flattening against his unsheathed flesh. "Akryos!"

He groaned, long and low, his cock twitching. "Mnh... you make me burn from the inside. The way you feel against me... I know I won't last."

He started moving her, squeezing her body up and down his lubricated shaft. A startled mewl slipped past her lips as her aroused sex was unexpectedly stimulated. The constant gliding, rubbing pressure on her clit sent shocks of pleasure sparking through her body, all the way down to her toes.

"I— unnh... I'm not... a toy!" She repeated her strained protest, despite the way her body responded to the degrading act.

She heard him chuckle darkly. "No, you're not a toy. But on occasion, you love being treated like one~"

"Insufferable dragon," she gritted out, knees squeezing around him.

Akryos cursed.

He didn't let up. Neither did she, determined to make him cum soon, to end her humiliation. Her legs squeezed harder, making his moans rougher. Louder. At the same time, the pressure between her thighs built and built, climbing to a height she didn't care to resist.

Might as well get some pleasure out of it.

Soon enough, her hips were grinding on their own, chasing the fast approaching climax she was aching for. And then she felt it—his length pulsing against her as he came with a wild growl. The sound sent her over with him, her own cry piercing through the cavern.

Muriel panted as the spasms slowly eased. Her body felt like trembling pudding. She glanced up, hoping she wouldn't be bathed in his semen again. But it seemed like he'd shot it all on his belly, gravity pulling the remaining drops forward on the other side.

She let out a breath.

Only to suck one right back in when he lifted her again.

She cried out as she fell onto her back in his palm. She propped herself up with hands behind her, finding herself staring into the darkly satisfied eyes of her insatiable tormentor.

"What is it now?" she demanded in a breathless growl.

His other forepaw came into view. The pad of one finger was covered in his seed. Her eyes widened. Then narrowed.

"Don't you dare."

But why would he start listening to her now?

The smug dragon pushed his way up between her legs and swiped the stuff over her mound despite her protests.

"Spread your legs," he commanded.

"Absolutely no—"

"Now!"

Her eyes snapped to his once more, his simmering gaze making her shiver. It was like something had possessed him. A darker side he fought to suppress.

Calmer after a breath, he continued, "Or I'll put your soft, pretty little body in my mouth again."

She swallowed thickly. Her legs opened, wide for his view. His eyes were fixated there, intense and demanding.

"Use your fingers. Push my seed inside you."

"But—"

"Muriel," he rasped in warning. He licked his teeth, utterly consumed by the sight before him. "Your cursed form couldn't conceive. I just... want to see."

A moment passed, tense with her hesitation and lingering arousal. Then she obeyed. With a shaky hand, she reached down, two fingers sliding through the thick semen. She gathered a bit, before slowly pushing it in.

She closed her eyes, cheeks tinged pink at the thought of him seeing what a mess she was down there. But he didn't seem to care.

Once she'd pushed as much as she could inside her channel, her lids tentatively opened, taking a peek at his expression.

Possessive. Reverent. Mad with unquenched desire. She'd never seen the blaze in his eyes burn so brightly before.

Eventually, he met her timid stare with his own blistering one. "When you're free of your curse... I only pray I have the strength to be gentle. But if..."

The pause hung heavily between them. Stifling.

"If what?" she pressed in a whisper.

"If I should fail," he murmured, a flicker of true worry flashing briefly across his visage, "I'm sorry for what I'm going to do to you."

Chapter Text

ᨒ

True to his word, the instant her bleeding was done, they were back to their normal routine. Muriel didn't complain as much about it. Not after the humiliation of being used as a toy for his pleasure. At least the old way wasn't as degrading. Though some hidden, shameful part of her was eager for it to happen again.

She'd kill to keep that a secret.

Two weeks. It had been nearly two weeks now with Akryos. He was just as annoying as ever. But she'd noticed a gradual change in him. The way his eyes always followed her around with an unsettling, possessive intensity—unveiled, unrestrained desire. The way he never let her leave his side.

It was as if he worried she'd take off the moment she left his sight. He could sense her concealed fear of him as well as her attraction. In the end, one had to win out over the other. He didn't yet have her heart. And until he secured it, she guessed he would only become more suffocating.

Speaking of suffocating...

The sun rose that morning and brought with it a wave of unforgiving heat. With how it rained the night before, the humidity clung to her skin and refused to allow her relief. Suffice to say, her mood was soured.

The second Akryos opened his mouth to dare breathe the word "medicine", she snapped at him. Not in this fucking heat. She was already sweating enough. Surely he would do things her way this once.

But that was how she found herself up in his claws, screaming as the humid wind whipped at her face, sticking to it. The ground was so far below. Then the river. Until the cage of his talons opened and she fell.

And fell. And fell.

Splash!

She heard his infuriating laughter when her head broke the surface, her lungs drawing in a gasping breath.

She threw a colorful string of words at him, while he stood on the bank with a mirthful grin. He absorbed her words, nodding in mock sympathy at some points, before silencing her with a sudden swipe of his tail in the cold water.

The wave crashed against her face. She sputtered. Cursed. Then seethed at him again. Though the blessed coolness enveloping her body dulled the edge of her fury. She eventually stopped altogether and opted to ignore him.

The water was nice.

"Feeling any better?" Akryos inquired.

Her eyes glared a searing hole into the bushes across the river.

"Ah, your clothes are all soaked through. I see a toasty spot on a rock they can dry on. Here, take them off and I'll put them there for you."

A few angry, jerky movements later, the wad of clothes flew at his face. It landed with a wet smack, sticking, before it dropped to the ground with a heavy thump.

"Alright, then."

She refused to look at him as he shifted to drape the clothes across a rock placed too tall for her to reach. The river current gently pushed against her body and she leaned into it, open hands cutting through the moving water at her sides.

A minute later, she glanced towards him to see he was lounging nearby, his gaze already locked on her figure. He saw her looking and his mouth quirked up, a hint of sharp teeth flashing.

"See something you like?" he teased.

She scoffed, like she always did. "I should be asking you that, the way you're ogling me."

"As long as we're both naked, I say we should ogle each other."

"You're not—"

The words froze on her tongue. Technically, he was naked. Muriel huffed with a blush and looked away.

He sighed. "Well... I would look silly with a coat and top hat, wouldn't I?"

The image threatened to ruin her carefully maintained façade. She fought to choke back a giggle, clearing her throat.

When she turned to him again, a retort on her lips, she paused at the sight of him. Her mind betrayed her, placing a phantom top hat on his head, his wings protruding through the back of an ostentatious coat.

She burst into a fit of laughter.

Mirthful, and only slightly offended, Akryos narrowed his eyes. "I don't imagine it would look that silly. I'm handsome enough, I could pull it off."

"Oh, I'm sure. We could fashion a hat from the roof of a house, and a monocle from one of its windows!"

"A monocle?" He stared at her in bewilderment as she cackled. "I may be old in your years, but not old enough to wear a monocle. Or anything at all, for that matter."

"Yes, you prefer the all natural look."

His eyes raked over her form once more. "I must say that I do."

Her giggles faded when their eyes met, a simmering calm heating up the space between them. Or perhaps it was just the sun.

She cleared her throat. "I should get dressed, now."

The red dragon watched as she waded out of the flowing water. "So soon?"

"I'm cooled down enough," she assured, making her way to the rock where he'd placed her dress. Why did he put it up so high?

"You don't look it. You're all flushed. I can practically feel the heat of your body from here..."

Muriel ignored the velvet rumble of his voice as she climbed up towards the boulder. "I'm fine."

"Say, while you're out of your clothes—"

"No."

"I was only going to offer to dry them for you."

She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. "You can do that?"

He nodded with a grin. "Allow me."

Curious, she climbed down a ways, looking up to see him approach. He picked up the dress and undergarments between two big talons.

He took a deep breath.

Then exhaled a gust of flames. When the bright flash was gone, only dust fell from his fingers.

She scowled. "Akryos!"

"Oops." He pretended to be sheepish. "I seem to have trouble getting the temperature exactly right."

"You did that on purpose!"

He looked like he was going to open his big, smug mouth and deny it, but then he paused. His snout lifted, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

She growled, climbing the rest of the way down. "Useless, perverted dragon. Why did I have to get stuck with—"

She didn't even have time to cry out as she was lifted from the ground. And before she could spout more angry words once she was level with his face, he shushed her.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered.

The genuine fear in his eyes made her listen.

They both were dead silent as she looked around them, wondering where the danger was. Akryos scented the air again, his focus on something ahead within the forest. Then he was bringing her closer to his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Muriel, but I have to swallow you."

"You what?!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper.

"Shh!" He looked ahead again, then back at her. "It's the only place to hide you. Trust me. It's safe. Dragons have a crop pouch similar to a bird. I won't digest you in there."

"There's a million trees I could hide behind! Don't you dare!"

But he was already moving to do it. "You won't get stuck. Just try not to wriggle on the way down or you might slide into my stomach instead."

With that frightening warning in her ears, she slipped into the darkness of his yawning mouth. She tried to grab ahold of his tongue, but the muscle pushed her back and his throat did the rest.

Trapped on all sides by hot, slimy walls pushing against her, she whimpered fearfully as she gradually descended. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. If this ended up being nothing more than one of his perverted tricks, she'd kill him.

Maybe she'd misinterpreted the hungry looks he'd given her.

The descent took her to a tighter section which sucked her down, squeezing up her body until she landed in a small pouch just big enough for her and one other unfortunate soul should he decide to give her a friend.

She couldn't see a thing. But she could hear his heartbeat. It seemed to pulse around her, loud and thumping. Was this what being in a womb felt like?

She hated it.

"I'm surprised to see your face after all these years."

The bass vibration of his voice left everything tingling. If this conversation went on any longer, she was sure to have a buzzing in her ears for days.

But who was he talking to?

She strained to hear, but no other voice reached her.

"No. I am alone. You won't find what you're looking for here."

Did he have any human acquaintances? His manners would suggest otherwise.

"I understand. But the fact remains, I've not seen anything these past months. Only the trees and the animals that live beneath their boughs. I'm sure you'll have more luck elsewhere. To the East, I should think. The cities attract the strangest of people and creatures alike."

Muriel remembered the fear in his eyes. It didn't make sense. Not with the way he was conversing so casually now. It seemed just to be a person looking for something or someone.

Though his tone didn't betray his fear, the rapid beating of his heart was proof enough. There was something to be concerned about.

He told her to trust him. So she would.

"I'm sorry to be of so little help. Good luck in your search."

Thank goodness it was over. She had the strongest urge to open a window and air things out. If only she possessed a knife.

She waited there, quite literally between freedom and certain death, for what seemed like forever.

"Akryos?" she called. "If you don't get me out of here soon, I'll pee."

The threat made his body shake with a chuckle. She was going to have a heart attack.

"Just a little while longer," he said softly. "I want to make sure our unwanted visitor is long gone before I chance letting you out."

"Afraid I'll go with them?"

"No."

She jumped from the harsh volume of his voice.

Softer, he explained, "There are those who would wish you harm just for what you are, Icildrakendür. Witches who would tear apart your body for power."

Her own fear bubbled up, remembering Agatha's words. She'd told her the same thing.

"Was that a witch?" she asked.

"Yes."

Dread roiled in her stomach. "Does she know about me and my curse?"

She felt him move and her hands braced against the walls of her fleshy prison.

"Unless there's another cursed dragon nearby. Yes, the witch knows. News traveled fast of a girl who cannot burn."

And to think, not long ago she'd been a nobody. No one looked twice at her other than to scowl. Maybe they'd sensed she wasn't one of them. She'd been lucky with Harriet and Agatha.

Another five minutes passed and she was getting very claustrophobic. "Please let me out now."

She felt him shift again.

"Just a moment."

"Not too long," she warned. "It doesn't smell like roses in here."

She jolted when the space around her suddenly contracted. It did it again. Then stilled.

"Oh no."

Panic gripped her. "What?"

"I can't get you out."

No, it was mild concern that gripped her before. This was panic.

"What do you mean you can't get me out?!" It was getting harder to breathe in the damp, hot air.

"I mean you're stuck."

"I can't be stuck!"

Her hands frantically felt around for the opening she fell through. This was her worst nightmare.

"I suppose you'll have to stay there forever. I could send down food for you. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. We've never been closer."

"This is too close!"

Her panic didn't allow her to catch the jest in his tone. The air in her heaving lungs was suffocating.

"Akryos! You have to get me out!" The words came out breathless and shaky.

A sharp yelp escaped as her side crashed against a slimy wall when he suddenly moved. Then she was all but flying out of his throat.

Splash!

Her head burst out of the water, gasping. The cold river was a balm to her panicked, overheated body. When her eyes opened, she saw him standing at the edge, peering down at her in amusement.

Muriel glared so intensely the water around her could have boiled. "You were messing with me."

His big, infuriating head dipped in a nod. "I was. You were adorable, wriggling in panic inside me."

Her nose wrinkled and she splashed water at him. "I hate you."

Chapter Text

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"Imagine if the curse had broken when you swallowed me. What a way to die!" Muriel chirped, trying on a more practical dress she'd found. It was pale blue with short sleeves and fit her well. She loved it.

Akryos grumbled, deeply disturbed.

She turned this way and that in front of the full length mirror she'd set up against the cavern wall, admiring her figure. "I wonder how slow it would've been. Do you think the transformation will be very slow? Or instant like a snap?"

She was enjoying unnerving him after what he'd put her through. Payback was sweet and she would savor every second of his discomfort.

"I don't know," he said, shifting where he lay beside his hoard nearby. "I've never witnessed the breaking of a transformation curse before."

She giggled. "I bet you would've exploded. Poof!"

"Sometimes you can be quite unsettling, my dear."

"Why, thank you," she cooed. "I bet you won't swallow me ever again."

"After the gruesome picture you've painted, I don't think I will."

Inwardly, she sighed in relief. Outwardly, she wore a smug smirk as she stared at her reflection. "Good."

Akryos rose to his feet, his tail curving as he turned to exit the cavern, deeper into the mountain passages. "There's one more trunk of clothes for you to try on. I'll retrieve it."

She glanced over at him as he left. The room was quiet around her, large and empty of life. She'd gotten so used to his presence that the lack of it was glaring. Uncomfortable.

The thought made her uneasy as she focused back on her reflection. It would've been better to be alone. To not need anyone. If she never had something, she wouldn't feel the loss of it.

Akryos wasn't someone she wanted to need. She didn't need him. She was just getting used to his company, was all.

What was so great about him, anyway? He was vain, narcissistic, perverted...

Charming.

She shook her head with a scoff.

A chaotic flapping of wings startled her out of her thoughts and she whipped around to see a crow swooping in. Her neck craned as she followed it, all the way to her mirror where she stood. It landed on the top ledge with one last flutter of feathers.

Muriel was stunned for a moment, staring up at the bird. Its head tilted as it peered down at her, clacking its beak.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "It's you..."

The very same bird that would barge into her little hut of a house and scavenge for scraps. An amused, baffled smile played on her lips.

"How'd you get to be so far from home?"

It blinked, then began pruning some of its feathers beneath one wing.

She chuckled. "There's a lot more food here. More than enough. Shall I fetch you some?"

A faint sound caught her attention. A pat... pat... pat... that slowly echoed towards her. Were those footsteps?

It came from the entrance. She turned, eyes widening when she saw a stark silhouette against the distant, jagged circle of light. The stranger came closer until the long stretch of their shadow touched her feet.

"Who are you?" Muriel demanded, her voice firm.

And how did they get up here?

"I am Cerese."

She jumped as a voice echoed in her head, warm and melodic like a sighing summer song. A witch?

"You must come with me."

Her eyes narrowed at the hooded figure, unable to see her face against the brightness behind her.

"Why? So you can harvest my power?" The words were sharp and accusing.

The witch paused at that, her steps halting a few feet away. The crow cawed and flew down from the mirror to her shoulder, perching there like it always belonged.

"You don't understand."

She laughed, very much unkindly. "I'm sure I don't. Enlighten me."

Cerese took a step towards her. Then another, reaching out.

"If  you would come  with me before the beast returns, I can explain—"

"Don't come any closer!" Muriel stooped to grab a gilded knife from the floor, brandishing it in front of her as she retreated backwards.

The witch held up both hands, a gesture meant to calm the rising tension. Then she grabbed her hood and pulled it back just as stormy clouds smothered the sun.

Deep wrinkles set in a small, oval face. Tangled grey hair and several missing teeth. It was the beggar woman from the village.

But before her eyes she began to transform.

Grey turned to shining gold falling in gentle waves. Wrinkles smoothed into supple flesh of porcelain, unblemished and glowing. Her eyes were a piercing silver.

Muriel's gaze widened in awed surprise. She'd never seen magic like this before.

But her awe was quickly replaced with fear. "You're the one who cursed me, aren't you."

Those silver eyes softened as if the admission brought her great sadness.

"Yes."

The fear turned to anger. Then anger to rage.

Her free hand curled into a fist at her side while the one holding the dagger began to tremble. "What did you do to my parents?"

That sad look shifted into one of unmistakable guilt. Her silence was maddening, stretching like a rope to wind around her neck.

She roared, "What did you do?!"

The words echoed loudly, carrying through the cavernous halls. Soon enough, heavy, pounding footsteps galloped towards them.

Akryos burst in, a deep growl vibrating in his chest once his gaze narrowed on the intruder. "Get away from her!"

The witch raised a hand, palm facing him as a blue glow began to build at her fingertips.

Muriel's eyes widened. "No!" She lunged, colliding with her middle and knocking her off her feet.

The crow took to the air with a screech, peering down as the women tumbled on the ground.

"Muriel! In the library—there's an oak trunk with a lion crest. Open it and bring me the purple vial you find there. Hurry!"

Heeding Akryos's command, she surged to her feet and sprinted down the hall. A burst of heat and roar of flames behind her sent her pulse racing. What was this witch capable of to instill such fear in a dragon?

Muriel flew into the room, coming to a stumbling halt as she looked frantically around for the oak trunk. The moment it was spotted, she was upon it, unclasping the latch.

It groaned open with a cloud of dust. Holding her breath, she quickly lifted the old scrolls and bottles until she found a faintly glowing purple vial. She grabbed it.

Sprinting down the hall, a bellowing roar made her hasten her steps. She didn't know what this little vial would accomplish, but Akryos seemed sure it would help.

The sight that greeted her when she returned made her eyes grow wide. The witch was blocking the red dragon's flames with a shield of blue light. Coins were melting around her feet.

"I have it!" she called, raising the vial.

He stopped breathing flames to swipe his tail at the witch. "Throw it at the ground behind her!"

Still panting from her run, her eyes locked onto the spot. Her arm pulled back, then swung hard.

It flew. Then crashed in splinters of glass behind the ethereal woman just as she was raising glowing hands towards them.

The purple glow seeped into the ground and spread in a growing black circle. Tendrils whipped out of the abyss and curled around the witch's limbs.

A sharp cry echoed in Muriel's head, making her wince and cover her ears. It did nothing to silence it.

Slowly, the witch was dragged back, though she fought. Her fight was so fierce, she managed to slip one arm free.

"A parting gift for you, Akryos!"

She spat the name with poison before launching a beam of light.

It hit him in the middle of his chest and he roared, falling back into his mountain of treasure. Just as fast, the ground swallowed her up and the abyss closed.

Muriel stared in shock. The moment passed and panic moved her feet, taking her to his side. A bright blue glow grew from his chest, enveloping his whole body in a blinding light. She had to shield her eyes from it.

When it dimmed behind her fingers, she dropped her hand. A sob caught in her throat when she thought he'd been erased from existence.

But then her eyes dropped and she saw a very naked, muscular man sprawled on the gold. She blinked. Then blinked again.

"Akryos?" she whispered hesitantly, approaching with slow caution.

The man had long, black hair that fell to his waist. He was huge, his chest broad and muscular, rising and falling in a sleep-like rhythm. His face, half hidden by his hair, was sharp and strong, lips turned in a frown and brows furrowed as if having a bad dream.

He was quite handsome for a human.

Too curious for her own good, she allowed her gaze to drop further, following the trail of dark hair at his abdomen down to the impressive thing between his legs.

If it's that big flaccid...

A low groan broke her out of her perverted thoughts and her attention snapped to his face once more as he began to wake. Dark lashes fluttered a moment before opening in confusion.

His eyes were a muted red that could have been mistaken for brown. Around his pupils were flecks of gold. Those unique irises flicked up to her form.

His confusion deepened.

"Muriel... You're huge."

She cracked a grin, relieved he was okay. She knelt by his side, scanning him again in case he was injured. And maybe she wanted another peek. "No. You're just small."

He startled at that, scrambling to his feet. His two feet. His breaths quickened and his big hands patted over his body, lamenting the loss of his scaled armor.

"No. No no no..."

With wide, horrified eyes as if realizing something, he looked straight down between his legs.

That seemed to break him.

"Nooo!" he cried, quickly covering his genitals with both hands. "Don't look! I'm so... so small. So puny."

She muffled a fit of laughter behind her palm as she straightened up once more.

Akryos paused to glare at her from under heavy brows. "I'm glad you find this so amusing. I've been cursed, and all you can do is laugh."

She crossed her arms, giggling. "It's your reaction that's so amusing. No, indeed I'm very upset that you've been cursed, and I intend to rectify the situation. We'll have to find another dragon to help us."

His face fell along with his shoulders. "Another dragon?"

"Mhm, unless you'd like to keep that form?" Muriel raised a brow with a smirk.

Akryos scowled, turning and stomping away. "We'll find a female. I won't have any other male trying to claim you once your curse breaks."

"But what if the lady dragon wants to claim you?" she called in jest as he rounded the bend.

"I assure you, she won't," he answered distantly.

Five minutes of waiting later, she decided to follow him. It was easy to find where he was, in the room full of dusty clothes.

She found him struggling with normal men's clothes, wearing the pants backwards and the shirt, somehow, sideways. She laughed, coming up to help.

He grumbled in protest, but let her assist, pouting like a child.

Once her work was done, she stepped back to assess. A billowy white shirt of cotton, plain and lasting. Dark pants with a black belt and a silver buckle with a lion crest. He shifted from foot to foot like his black boots bothered him. Or maybe it was the way she looked him thoroughly up and down.

"You look like a dashing prince who ran away from his palace," she concluded, breaking the silence and meeting his eyes.

He huffed an embarrassed chuckle, eyes downcast. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

She rolled her eyes. After being so vain, why not let him think he's ugly and small for a while? It might do him a bit of good.

"You're right. Now, I think we'll be needing some rope to get down the mountain. Will you finally provide it?" Muriel circled the pile of clothes, searching for the missing piece of his wardrobe.

"Ah... yes... the rope." He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together in an almost nervous way. "I burned it in my worry you'd find it and leave me."

Muriel straightened after grabbing a long leather coat. "What a stupid thing to do. Come here."

He winced. "Are you going to hit me?"

"No. Turn around and angle your arms behind you."

He obeyed, and she slid the coat up his arms and onto his shoulders. She turned him around, nodding in satisfaction.

"Now all you need is a cross necklace and you'll be a pirate."

Akryos breathed out a laugh. "Muriel, be serious. We don't have much time—we have to figure out how to get down."

She met his gaze with her narrowed one. "What do you mean we don't have much time? It's not like anyone is after us. The witch is dead."

He averted his eyes and shook his head. "No. Gone, not dead."

"But I saw the ground swallow her."

He walked over to where a stand of weapons leaned against the wall. Taking a jewel-encrusted sword, he sheathed it at his side. "Once she endures the trials of the abyss, she will emerge 5 miles from here."

"In which direction?"

He paused. "I don't know."

"Great." She smiled with no humor, stalking up to choose her own weapon. "She's a witch with the most powerful magic I've ever seen, and we could stroll right into her waiting clutches."

"Sorceress," he corrected reluctantly, swallowing as he fiddled with the hilt of his sword. "She's not a witch, exactly. She is the Sorceress Cerese. The greatest wielder of magic these lands have seen in hundreds of years."

The knowledge made her mind scramble faster for a solution. There was no rope. So they'd just have to make one. She scanned the room, trying to find anything that could be used as a substitute. Then she stopped on the piles of clothing. Many, many piles.

She looked up. "I've got an idea. If we tie all the clothes together tightly, it could be enough to get us down if we go one at a time."

He nodded, eyes lighting up at the idea. "Yes. Good. Let's get started with the dresses. Perhaps with the one you're wearing."

The withering look she gave him made him drop the joke quickly.

"Right. Sorry." He knelt down to start grabbing clothes to tie them together. He'd gotten three pieces tied when a pair of black leather gloves hit the side of his face with a slap.

"Put those on. They'll look good with your outfit. And lose that ridiculous sword unless you want to get us robbed." Turning, she stalked out of the room to find the longer, thicker dresses.

Time to make a rope.

Chapter Text

ᨒ

The descent down the mountain went smoothly. For her.

For the newly cursed fire dragon, the makeshift rope untethered when he was ten feet from the ground and he crashed heavily into a thorny bush.

He'd climbed out with barbs and twigs tangled in his hair, spitting curses that made the squirrels scatter. She stifled her giggles for his sake, not wanting to upset the poor thing further. He was like a little lamb learning to walk on wobbly legs. A transformation like this was a lot to get used to.

He swatted her hands away for the hundredth time as they walked, him carrying the sack of supplies over his shoulder. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't need your help."

"I'm fixing your hair and that's final." She plucked another twig from his locks and combed through the section with her fingers. "Doesn't it feel nice? Relax."

He shivered. "It's making me tingle down my spine in a most unusual way."

Muriel chuckled. "If you had your tail, I'm sure it would be wagging."

"Don't speak of my beautiful tail," he whined, long and lamenting.

She went on, "It was beautiful, wasn't it? And your wings—so magnificent, there aren't words to give them justice. But I have to say, your muscles were my favorite thing to ogle. When you'd flex for me..."

Akryos groaned, a pained sound. "If only you'd said such things before I became this diminutive, pathetic form. Now I feel worse."

She snickered. With one final twist of a barb, his hair was free of debris. Dropping her hands, she walked at his side.

"I will say something about this form, though," she mumbled, more to herself as she held him in the corner of her vision. "I admire your hair very much."

He glanced at her with a small spark of hope in his eyes. "You do?"

"Mhm."

"Then why did you stop? Touch my hair, darling, I love it."

Muriel snorted. "Maybe some other time. Where are we going, anyway?"

She noticed he was leading them in a particular direction, following the river. Maybe he already had a female dragon in mind. Someone he knew. The thought triggered an unexpected stab of jealousy in her chest, which she ignored vehemently.

"An old friend of mine resides in the city of Daltok. Her name is Nala. She serves the king in exchange for all the riches she desires. King Garrick uses her as an executioner and bringer of chaos to his enemies. She's made quite the reputation for herself."

His explanation left a pit of dread in her stomach. The dragon sounded fierce. "What if she won't help us?"

"She will," he said with such confidence. "We played together as hatchlings, though we didn't grow up under the same clan."

"Is she not a fire dragon?"

He shook his head, dappled sunlight flitting across his features. "No. If she were, I'm sure my father would've insisted I take her as a life mate for her strength. But she is a mixed dragon. One of shadow and water. Valuable for a monarch whose kingdom was built by the ocean. But an impurity to my parents. Only full blood would appease them."

She grimaced. "If you did manage to catch me when my curse breaks, will they feel the same about their grandbabies?"

The look he sent her way was all cocky smugness. "You mean when, not if. And no. The spawn of fire dragons and ice dragons aren't considered impure half-breeds. They're considered their own, more powerful pure blood species. Icilfürden."

Her brows furrowed. "Ice fire dragons?"

"Yes. There's been no sight of one in many centuries. As far back as time has been recorded, our two clans have been enemies."

"Why did they become enemies?"

He shrugged. "Ice dragons liked it cold. Fire dragons liked it hot. They couldn't come to an agreement on the temperature—doesn't make for very fun neighbors."

"Akryos." She leveled him with a pointed look.

The smile he answered with was sly. "Well I suppose I'll have to be straight with you if you're giving me that look." He took a breath, continuing with more seriousness. "No one knows for sure how they became enemies, but I believe the rift was formed when too many fire dragons allied themselves with witches in exchange for rare and valuable treasures."

A frown pulled down the corners of her mouth. No wonder there'd been conflict. To have one's own kind join with those who'd wear your skin as a prize was alarming, to say the least. Even more so if they assisted in the hunt.

A dreading, morbid curiosity made her ask, "Did they ever... take the scales and blood of ice dragons themselves to deliver to these witches?"

The uneasy pause between them confirmed the sick truth.

"Yes," he replied with great reluctance. "Some did."

With the weight of this knowledge heavy in her mind, she wondered how her parents would've felt about Akryos. Was simply being a fire dragon enough to hate him? But he couldn't help what he was or what those who came before him did, just as she couldn't. Whether she was an ice dragon or not.

The air had cooled down considerably from the humid heat of before, yet her body was getting noticeably warmer. They'd been walking for an hour; perhaps it was time for a break.

Her lips parted to speak, but she paused as the warmth in her body raised abruptly into something more than uncomfortable. Her heart began to thrash painfully against her ribs, her hand flying to clutch at her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, breaths more shallow since to breathe any deeper felt cutting.

Cool gloved hands encircled her upper arms, stabilizing her before she could stumble.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Akryos questioned, his silken voice saturated with deep concern.

Muriel tried to answer, but the rising heat began to burn beneath her skin, forcing out a whimper. She nodded instead, her weight falling against him. Fire. She was burning inside, exactly as Agatha said. Was this the end? Was she too late?

He cursed after feeling her temperature, and suddenly she was swept into his arms. Her head lolled as he moved swiftly, too weak to focus on anything but the flames searing her blood, scorching her flesh, leaving her innards charred.

Frantic fingers unlaced her until she was free of suffocating clothes, her body limply repositioned like a doll. Then the icy brush of moving water jolted through her system. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped.

"Shh—It's alright. You're going to be just fine," Akryos soothed in a low timbre.

A cloud of lightheadedness came over her from panicked breaths. With one arm supporting her in the river, his wrist raised to his lips. Longer canines broke skin, dark crimson flowing in slow rivulets from the wound. When he brought it to her mouth, she turned her face away.

"It will grant you more time. Please, Muriel, drink. Just a little will do," he entreated softly, a subtle desperation behind his words.

More time. The promise moved her face towards him again, and she received him willingly. Even as the iron tang of his blood coated her tongue with revulsion, she obediently took it down. The burning in her body gradually began to ease, and with that distraction gone, her cheeks burned for a whole different reason. This felt too intimate. She was completely naked.

And he was without his shirt.

No gloves separated his hot touch from her back, and the unusual heat from his bared torso he held her against almost made her think she was dying again.

"Mm... dilated pupils, flushed cheeks... I think you're quite back to normal," he mused with an easy cockiness that broke her out of whatever daze she'd been in.

She scowled as soon as he took his wrist away, blood smeared across her lips. Immediately, she wiped it off, letting the water erase every intimate trace of it. "You can let me go, now."

His eyes of dark blood and fire glittered down at her and he chuckled. She inwardly cursed herself for the way her body reacted to the deep vibrations.

"I can?" His strong grip around her tightened and her breath hitched. "But what if I don't want to?"

Before she could open her mouth to give a biting reply, movement caught the corner of her eye from behind him. A man. Then another came into view. Until a group of them emerged from the tree line to stand at the bank. Some with golden teeth and many who sported tattoos up to their necks. All of them wielding weapons.

"What luck we've run into," one drawled with a charismatic air. His accent betrayed he'd grown up by the eastern shore. "Hey lad, when you're done with your whore, why not let the rest of us have a turn, eh?"

Akryos's abdomen tensed under her fingers as jeers and crude laughter followed the comment. His dark brows furrowed, jaw flexing with barely suppressed rage. His broad body blocked her nakedness from view, even as he let her go and turned to face them.

"Leave now while I still allow you to breathe," he growled.

Their laughter turned mocking, swords raised in threat. Muriel peeked around his bulging arm to see the leader of the group. He had a silver tooth and a conniving grin that curdled her stomach. His greying ash brown hair was wild under a ridiculous black wide-brimmed hat with a purple feather, and the hilt of his sword was a decorated silver—the type a nobleman would wield. Definitely stolen.

"Not very wise to make threats when you're surrounded and outnumbered," the leader sneered, nodding to one of his men to check the bag of supplies. "If you hand the pretty lady over nicely, I'll consider being merciful. It's been a while since I've felt the pleasure of a woman's touch."

Muriel snorted. "That's not surprising."

The leader bristled and shot glares at the surrounding men who had the nerve to guffaw at her muttered insult. She ignored his ire, her eyes drifting to the young man who sauntered up to their supplies. He had no tattoos or missing teeth. His clothes were well put together and new, but he certainly walked with the air of a thief.

With one smooth swipe of a sword, the contents spilled onto the bank: various treasures and gold along with food and clothes. The sight was just as much a surprise to her as it was to the group of thieves.

Muriel pinched Akryos's side in reprimand. "No wonder it was so heavy. I told you, we only needed a small pouch of gold. You greedy dragon..."

"I wanted to spoil you with beautiful dresses and expensive delicacies once we arrived," he defended himself with an embarrassed huff.

"My, my," the leader mused with awe, eyes pinned to a bejeweled golden chalice that rolled to his feet. He stooped to pick it up, hunger glinting in his dull grey eyes. "What luck indeed..."

Akryos's chest swelled with a breath. "I warned you."

Then he exhaled long and menacingly in their direction.

Oh, stars above...

The men blinked, momentarily distracted from their plunder by the strange action.

Thinking quick, Muriel sunk into the river and came up with an armful of rocks. She shoved a few into his hands. "You'll have to settle this like a human. Throw hard and precise."

Not waiting for him to make the first move—and deciding her nakedness could be useful as a distraction—she emerged from behind the protection of his body and started pelting stones at them. The cursed red dragon sheepishly followed her lead a second later.

The group cried out and ducked for cover, scattering. A couple angrier meatheads ambled quickly towards them with raised weapons. She stopped one with a devastating blow to the head, but the other was upon them.

Akryos sidestepped the blade and snapped his neck with a sudden furious movement. The body splashed into the river.

A different scrawny thief was scrambling in the chaos to put as much back into the bag as possible before hefting the heavy thing over his shoulder and stumbling to his feet. He tipped over from the weight, the slanted bank doing nothing to help him regain his footing as both he and the goods fell into the faster flowing river, carried away.

Muriel cursed, but her attention was brought back to the one thing not yet lost. The chalice. It would be enough to buy as much supplies as they needed.

The men found their courage once the initial ammo of stones depleted and they began to swarm around them, hoping to trap and cut them down. Though the leers sent her way proved they'd do more than that if given the chance.

But Akryos was an angry bull.

He had no fire, but his bigger body and heavy fists were deadly enough. He beat and tossed and kicked anyone close enough, blood splattering onto the ground in bright red streaks.

Meanwhile, she used her agility to dodge strikes and grabby hands, managing to swipe a sword from one of them. In this she knew close to nothing, but she figured swinging wildly would discourage anyone from coming closer.

Blood flew through the air with each strike she was able to make land, her hands and arms speckled crimson. Until finally her sword clashed with the group leader's. Only one hand clutched his sword while the other had a death grip on the chalice. He was a skilled swordsman otherwise, but his roving eye would be his undoing. With all the force she could muster, she shoved against his blade, brushing it aside just enough to make her move.

Splat!

The dark line slashed sloppily across his throat, pouring endless rivers of blood. He choked, gurgled, then fell to his knees. Wide eyes looked up at her in shock, before giving one last longing look to her breasts as his body tilted forward. His face collided against the earth with an undignified thump.

Muriel pried the gleaming cup from his death grip with a triumphant smile, screams and cries for mercy a background noise to her victory. But then a hand shot over her shoulder and grabbed the chalice.

She grabbed the thief's wrist firmly, glaring over her shoulder. Her eyes met with the ocean blue of the young man's—the one who'd cut open their supplies.

"Don't you dare," she seethed.

He merely grinned and yanked his arm out of his coat sleeve while releasing the cup, leaving her gripping fabric. But then his other arm came around and plucked the chalice away while removing his jacket fully, wrapping her up in it so her arms couldn't move.

She scowled at him, teeth bared, as she'd been turned to face him in the scuffle. Her nakedness was entirely covered by the outerwear.

He winked, wagging the treasure in her face. "You ought to cover more skin, lady. That's too much beauty to be sharing with just anyone."

"Give that back!" she snapped.

"Tsk, tsk—I think I'll keep it, and you can keep the coat. Deal?"

Before she could rage at him more, an unwelcome arm wrapped around her middle and a waft of rancid breath breathed passed her cheek as she was pulled back against a pudgy body. She squirmed with a roar of fury as the intruder's other hand pawed at her chest through the borrowed clothing.

"Good job catchin' 'er, Torin. She's sure a pretty 'un—"

The words ended in a sickening gurgle of blood as the man in front of her—Torin—dealt a swift blow with his sword, only sheathed a second ago. Spots of blood landed to stain his sunny blonde hair, his once playful eyes now ice cold, pinned to the dead man behind her.

Confusion froze her there as he met her questioning gaze again. But when the body fell to a heap at her feet as time resumed, he was already off into the woods. The chalice with him.

Her feet remained planted there as the last of the pained whimpers faded into nothing, the air filled with the calming sounds of running water and chirruping sparrows. Familiar, heavy footsteps padded close until a gentle pair of hands were on her, setting her free from the tied jacket, but keeping her covered.

"I'll go after him," Akryos declared with a chilling anger.

Muriel shook her head, lifting her eyes to his. "No. Let him go. He went in the same direction we were heading in, anyway. I'm sure he means to sell the chalice at the nearest city. We'll find him there and take it back."

He searched her gaze, the angry crease between his brows softening. His thumb brushed a smudge of blood from her cheek, lingering there. "Very well," he conceded reluctantly, his lips tilting up in a small smile for her. "We'll get washed up and get going. I'll hunt dinner for tonight. I don't want you lifting a finger."

She raised a brow in amusement, though the events that just transpired began to settle in, leaving her shaken. "I should at least make sure you don't burn it."

A soft laugh shook his chest and he brought her in for a comforting hug. "I won't burn it. I won't rest until I've made it perfect for you. You deserve nothing less."

She didn't mind the mess of blood on his heated skin. In his arms, she felt safe enough to melt. And that's exactly what she did, eyes falling closed as they stood amid countless scattered, battered corpses on the bank.

The attack, remembering all those leering faces, made her feel small. But remembering who she was, remembering who held her, reminded her that she was more than the weak human they saw her to be.

She was a dragon. And someday, no one would dare to raise a hand to her again.