Chapter Two
Arriving at the dragon almost-kingdom, she saw a hub of activity. Several forts had already been carved into the mountain face, and dragons in both human and dragon forms wandered the landscape, some of them with princesses in tow. What surprised her was the arena built into part of the mountain, where she saw a dragon facing off against a Quester band now, under the screams and cheers of a watching crowd. The dragon in the arena, a huge black monstrosity, faced off against five Questers, who looked pathetic in comparison. She heard an announcer, his voice magnified as he commented on the match, but didn’t catch everything that was said.
“Trying the pinwheel dodge. Ooh, that didn’t end well…” One of the Questers could be seen flying through the air, as the black dragon’s tail lashed him out of the arena. “And it’s over for that one… Sigun’s whacked him out!”
When the dragon landed at his home, a rather well-crafted cavern of a sort, with appealing paintings of serpentine figures dotting the cave entrance, he happily ambled inside to a well-lit room, dome-shaped, with a ceiling painted in star patterns.
Lystra looked around, impressed, even though she didn’t want to show any evidence at all that she liked what she saw. Why, she certainly didn’t intend to enjoy herself here. But the way the cavern had been set out looked quite attractive. Chairs were arranged artfully around the room. One was by a bookcase, another around a circular table with a golden tablecloth, and yet another near the kitchen with a book placed on the cushion, which suggested that whoever cooked here also liked reading as they did so. A cauldron simmered with green smoke, and some cutlery danced on the kitchen surface. Apparently, the knife was trying to teach the fork how to tango.
Beyond the main room lay a corridor with other little rooms, each sealed by a reinforced wooden door revealed in the yellow lighting. Lystra slid off the dragon, who then promptly morphed into his human form. Her eyebrows jerked upward in surprise. She didn’t know what she expected, really. Some twisted old dragon looking his age, or maybe displaying a nervous tic in his eye. Instead, she stared into a youthful, clever face, with light brown eyes that gazed into hers with mild interest. He had a large jawline, making his face wide yet friendly, and chestnut-colored bristle framed his cheeks and chin. A wild mane of shaggy hair erupted from his head, nothing like the preened, immaculate appearance of a prince. Yet somehow, under that wildness, he appeared… well, good looking. Annoyingly so. He contained broad muscles, a substantial chest concealed by a leather jerkin which left his arms exposed – the kind of arms that could probably flex with a watermelon wedged inside and explode it. He had the makings of a warrior or knight, though he could do with a good trim to the head.
Really, Lystra hadn’t expected that at all. Her cheeks pinkened slightly, even as the dragon examined her from head to toe.
“Hello,” she said. It came out awkwardly.
The dragon ignored her hello, which she thought was rather rude, and prowled around her, still inspecting.
“It’s considered polite to answer back,” Lystra added stiffly, hoping the dragon wouldn’t turn out to be some uneducated, feral ragamuffin, incapable of basic decency. That might make the days passing by harder to endure.
Eventually, the dragon let out some kind of grunt, which she presumed meant some greeting or another, and her irritation flared higher, dissolving her initial thoughts of how attractive he looked. Nothing less attractive than a shaggy-haired grunter. Perhaps he sensed her irritation, for he said, “Sorry. It’s customary for us to not talk to you yet. I may not be the dragon that’s in charge of you.”
Confusion wrought Lystra’s pretty features. “What? Why?”
The dragon pointed outside to where the noise of the arena blared out. “The dragons will fight for the chance to have you as their princess. I’m merely the carrier. I bring you here.”
“Wait.” Lystra held up a hand. “So I don’t belong to you?”
“Not unless I win the fight,” the dragon confirmed. He appeared rather dispassionate about this. “Though there’s a lot of fierce competitors this year. I’ll likely await my chances for when the scene’s less flooded.”
For some reason, this statement infuriated Lystra. “You don’t find me attractive?”
“What? That’s not what I said.”
“You’re not going to even bother fighting for me? Am I that dismissible?” She perfected the bottom lip wobble for good measure.
“No! I didn’t say that. You’re very attractive.” The shifter raised up his hands helplessly. “It’s just there’s about seventeen other dragons who will be competing for you. You’ve been plucked at a prime time. I prefer to wait until something easier comes along.”
“Princesses,” Lystra hissed, her emotions burning, her presence practically emitting flames from her skin, “are not supposed to be easy. Defending them is hard work. If you win a competition against other, strong competitors, it proves you’re worthy of defending that princess. You’re a worthy opponent for the Questers!”
Wait, what was she even saying? She didn’t want this dragon as her keeper. Or did she? She didn’t know, but his “easy way out” attitude pissed her off.
“Whoa, calm down,” the dragon said, unleashing a wry smile. The smile transformed his gruff face into a kindly one. “I didn’t realize you liked the look of me so much.”
“That’s… that’s not what I said…” Lystra protested feebly, as the dragon raised one eyebrow, pursed his lips, and inspected her with more interest.
“Well, suppose I better register, then. Just give me a second. I’m gonna eat. Then I’ll take you down to the arena. And for future reference, the name’s Tarek.”
Dumbfounded, Lystra watched as the dragon headed into the kitchen. He sniffed appreciatively at the cauldron, and a little black and white cat which Lystra hadn’t noticed before raised up its tail from the pile of tablecloths it sat on, and meowed.
“Yes, it’s okay, Scruffles.” Tarek started stroking “Scruffles” the cat, who had a huge white splotch on its face, resembling a sword. “Who’s a good boy? Eh?” Scruffles raised up his rear end when the dragon scratched, enjoying it so much that he lost balance and fell over.
“You have a cat?”
“Is it that obvious?” He didn’t bother elaborating, and Lystra rolled her eyes, now resisting the desire to punch him. Rage seethed inside her stomach, and she felt it as if it was a reservoir lingering inside her. Best not to let herself keep giving into her rage impulses, and just breathe calmly to reduce stress. Just like her mother taught her.
Lystra ventured over to where Tarek cooked and saw him examine the cauldron, before sitting in his kitchen chair and picking up the book, labelled Dragons and Damsels, book four – The Princess of Lust. Lystra’s eyes almost popped out of her head. This dragon was reading romance. And, judging by the racy cover picture of a princess sprawled seductively as a dragon towered above her, she was willing to bet that the pages were heavily saturated in erotica.
Her cheeks flamed intensely, and Tarek glanced up, a slight leer upon his face. “Oh dear. Not comfortable with this?” He held the book up.
“Why are you even reading that?” She attempted some sort of bravado, but the dragon’s smirk grew wider.
Licking his lips, he read to her, much to her horror, “And the princess felt heavy, uncontrollable longing for the dragon known as Magrid. She became as wet as a river, her eyes shining like the very stars above. When he peeled apart her luscious little clothes, one by one, revealing the creamy milk of her skin, he saw how eagerly her breasts leapt to his attention, and he bent before her, letting himself suckle on those bulbous love mounds…” Tarek cleared his throat. “Honestly, the writing’s terrible and cringeworthy at times, but once you get to the meat of the scene, it does a fine job.”
“What job?” Lystra said in a strangled voice.
Tarek didn’t bother to answer that. Just smiled wider. Lystra’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she turned away, keeping her focus on the cat, Scruffles. The cat stared at her with lazy green eyes before yawning, exposing all of his sharp teeth.
No way. Dragons read erotica about princesses? They thought about doing things like that with princesses? Oh Gods. The embarrassment sent a fever through her skin, made her stomach twist up into knots, and she wanted to dash out of the cave and run away screaming into the Wilderness, until some monster scooped her up. At least she didn’t have to worry about being eaten, right? Just as she contemplated this, the smell of delicious, mouth-watering food hit her nostrils, and her stomach gave an un-princess-like gurgle.
“Food’s up. Help yourself,” Tarek said, and she heard the creak of the chair as he got up, abandoning his book. Her blush still hadn’t evaporated, but Lystra headed over to the cauldron anyway, determined to hold herself in place.
I now regret goading this dragon into entering the princess knock-out competition or whatever it is they do. She heard the announcer shrieking something, and the crowd roar in rapturous delight. I sincerely hope he doesn’t win.
Tarek dipped his plate into the cauldron, and the food jumped onto the plate, arranging itself in a delicious way. The tango fork then soared over to his hand, along with the knife, and he promptly left to eat at the table without another word. Nervous, Lystra collected a white plate and held it above the cauldron, and some food obligingly leapt out of the green froth onto the platter. She received an array of fish rice rolls and vegetables – amongst her favorite foods – and blinked in surprise. She thought she saw the cauldron wiggle smugly.
She let out a shriek as a pair of chopsticks came hurtling towards her like thrown spears, and impaled themselves in two of the rolls. She let go of the plate, and the plate stopped its fall a few centimeters from the ground, vibrating in indignation.
“Sorry,” she whispered to the plate, which gave one last tremor before accepting her apology and falling still. Tarek had watched the whole display with amusement curling his lips, even as he tucked into what resembled a bloody rare steak. Determined not to sit anywhere near him, she chose one of the armchairs by the bookcase, trying not to glance at any of the provocative titles. It proved difficult, because her eyes kept sliding over to the bookshelf, picking out titles like: The Virgin Princess, The Dragon’s Harem, or Coming with Style, Hardcore Edition.
Gods, Tarek had a library full of erotica. Wanting to scrub out her eyes with soap, she concentrated on her fish rolls. They tasted as appetizing as they smelled, and the chopsticks helped her in the process, making sure they didn’t slip in her hands or allow the food to escape. Nice little things, really, aside from hurling themselves at her earlier. They were quite eager to help her eat.
When she finished the food and sat in the armchair, resting as the plate floated away to let itself be cleaned, the chopsticks waved goodbye to her. She let out a yelp when Tarek stood before her in all his shaggy glory.
“I advise you to get off the seat now, or I’ll start reading to you a passage from Orgasms with Dragons.”
Lystra launched herself off the seat as if it had suddenly caught fire, and glared as Tarek started laughing. “Oh, princess,” he chortled. “It’s going to be so easy to tease you. Now I have to win this competition.”
Please don’t. Seriously concerned he might win and she would become the princess of an openly lecherous dragon, she went off to the toilet to relieve herself and brush herself down, then followed Tarek morosely out to the arena.