FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Just a quick note, this is somewhat of a longer story, so if you just wanted a bit of smut, then I encourage you to read at least a fifth or so of the story. Also, this was a bit of an experiment, so I'd love to get feedback of the good and the bad. Other than that, enjoy!

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Nemyra of House Baruuk and first disciple of the Matriarch, padded carefully behind a man wearing ornately crafted armor, the metal sending shrill notes to her sensitive ears. This was surely a herald, and the message it sent was clear; the Emperor had more wealth than seemed sensible. A grin tugged at her lips as she eyed his white cloak hanging delicately down his back, only just masking her view of the gilded scabbard of his long blade - no doubt made of carefully refined gray metal.

They walked through a corridor, wide and tall enough for her to glide through with room to spare. Great polished columns ran in rows along the edges of their path, framing the long tapestries and large painting depicting grand battles of old. Men in plate only faintly less ornate than the herald's stepped aside as they passed, all careful to avoid her eyes, as was expected of course. This was the Marbled Court, the epicenter of empire and a palace for dragons. The sights she had seen since this very morning had stunned her, though the arrogant opulence of even this hallway seemed to far surpass the great spires and impregnable fortifications of the capital.

Twitching in apprehension, she reminded herself why she was here. Focus was important. The next hour would determine not just her own fate, she needed to succeed. Countless hours of preparation had led her to this. Years of hard training had made her among the pinnacle of her kin in health and vigor. Her heart quickened, the stress that had afflicted her for the last several months as the nervousness of this day growing quickly. She practiced her father's breathing technique, a skill taught to all Baruuki hatchlings. Steeling herself, mind sharpened for the approaching task, Nemyra quelled her fevered heart.

This should be enjoyable, once she had the Emperor where she wanted, the hardest parts of her grand play would be over. She looked up from the floor, resolve gleaming in her eyes. Though the burst of vigor wilted in an instant as they reached the final door. The herald motioned her to stop, though, she needed no such suggestion.

Her heart again beat harshly, this time only irritating her as it seemed bent on betraying her feelings to those around her. Refocusing on her breathing, she watched as the herald rapped solidly against the thick oak. Without delay, the massive doors began to swing slow and deliberately open, as if to reinforce the already oppressive anxiety knotted in Nemyra's gut.

A voice from the next room broke through as the door crept open, causing her ears to flick forward on instinct, her one sapphire earring jingling from the sudden motion. The voice grew louder, the tone crisp with cheeriness. Before she could lean to her side to peer in, a sharp red gleam caught her eyes as a drake of crimson scales flowed effortlessly through the door, wide grin stretched decadently across his angular features, his wings raised with elusive grace. Garments of gold and brass adorned his slim form, wrapping tightly against his hide while delicate jewels hung and swung gently on thin chain between his polished silvery horns. He seemed as though he'd only just recovered from a great laugh, an air of mischievousness still awake in his eyes.

He paused, his tail giving a sudden flick as he rounded on her, as if just noticing her standing by the entrance to the throne room. "Ah, a pleasant surprise to see another fine blooded kin. Who is it that I have the honor of meeting?"

"Nemyra, of House Baruuk." The words were almost automatic and she fought back a rush of heat to her ears. She'd been too surprised by his appearance to have come up with a better response. Who in all the Empire was he impressing with such a ridiculous display of wealth?

"Baruuk?" He raised his head, eyes growing distant, "I cannot say I've heard of it. What is the Baruuk's symbol of honor?"

No longer dazed, Nemyra bit her tongue lightly, a slight disappointment edging into her. It was a sly tactic, divulging her wealth in such way. Symbols of honor were only offered to the more influential houses, and coincidentally, those with the benefits of deep coffers. This was the kind Malrik had warned her about. "My family has none, my lord," she replied, carefully keeping the irritation form her voice.

His demeanor abruptly shifted to something that uneased her. Nodding sagely to her answer, he took a step towards her, "I see this troubles you." He arched his neck, nodding to his chest in reference to a golden badge. His was adorned with a careful etching of a draconic helm wreathed in flame. He flicked it lightly with a claw, "no worries, I am not one to judge by these petty things. For to the astute, they offer poor insight into the character of their wearer."

They'd only just met, yet wealth is one of his first questions. He meant to control this conversation. It didn't surprise her, he seemed like a drake to act in such way - wealth often had that effect on the weak minded. Despite not being surprised, it still irritated her to see her low assumptions confirmed. She clenched her jaw, muscles burning with the ache of restraint - brief interest in further conversation squashed. "You are_truly_wise," she bowed respectfully, hoping the annoying high blood would leave. She turned as if to pass, though he stepped again closer, blocking her escape. She flinched, "sorry?"

His gaze seemed predatory now, "you must be new to the capital, is this your first visit? You certainly have the look about you."

There was something he wanted, and now she was certain she knew what it was. "Yes, I'm here for business on behalf of my father." She'd hoped it wouldn't come off as too harsh, irritating him would only increase her risk of failure within the capital. There was no telling who this drake had connections with. Just based on his first appearance, it seemed easy to assume he had a good relationship with the Emperor - seeing that he left the throne room as if it had been a dinner with close friends.

He chuckled, "you must have yet to lay eyes on the many wonders of the city. I could be your guide." He made the final step and brushed almost imperceptibly against her side, swinging his head slowly over the low of her back, nostrils flared to her scent. Meeting her eyes, she could see a covetous glint to his expression.

Anger roared violently within, her tolerance wearing to a perilous thread. She was being treated as though a cow in an auction. She was high blood, a noble beholden to the greatest empire of their age. Regardless of the absence of a symbol of honor, she deserved respect. A primeval presence at the edge of her mind begged her for release, the desire to crush the drake in a duel of honor near bursting. Through a strong force of will, she suppressed the ancient force, fortitude prevailing. Such actions would do her no good.

To his credit, she couldn't deny he acted without reason. He must have mistaken the heaviness of her unmasked scent as a discreet plea for a stranger's bed. Though, even common drakes would've restrained themselves more than this beast.

An invasive touch grazed her and she released a strained breath, fidgeting as he brushed a claw along her rear, letting it trail delicately to her underside. It was a crude flirt, though she'd come to realize females sometimes only wanted such attention. Thoughtful courting had its place, though in the dead of a female's heat, the idea of a rough tumble in a secluded forest was far more appealing. With the primitive presence gone, new instincts pleaded for her to raise the thick of her tail and let the claw explore her potent female gender, a strange lust quivering in her at the thought of letting a wealthy noble pleasure her in open public.

Though, she was no ordinary female, her training had forged her a will of iron. Many before had tried similar tactics when she'd been weaker, and none had succeeded as much as she wanted them to. She would not succumb to him, though, it was important to take care not to harm his pride. A wise strategy would do the opposite.

Flattening her ears, she bowed slightly to feint a mix of submissiveness and sharp embarrassment. Pulling away, the invasive claw drifted silently to the floor. "My lord, I am sorry." Quickening her breath, she continued, "I am simple in your presence. I could not... accompany you. It would be a disgrace to your honor."

He recovered swiftly, smile returning, "of course not, such pleasantries would do nothing of the sort."

The guard that had walked her in broke suddenly between them. "Your Greatness, the Emperor awaits." The herald turned to her and bowed, eyes to the floor, cape held delicately to his side with practiced precision.

A silent thanks went out to the knight and she gave the drake a pained expression. He waved dismissively, "you mustn't keep him waiting. Perhaps I will find you after. It would be a shame for you to miss what the capital has to offer." He chuckled to himself, giving her an inviting look, then finally swept away, the jingling of his jewelry growing dimmer as he went.

A hiss ran between her clenched fangs when he was out of earshot. Already, she'd nearly lost her temper in a short conversation. No matter what she faced next, she would need more control. It took her a moment before she could urge her limbs into motion, then she passed the herald and walked briskly into the next room, not allowing herself the chance to think over her next task.

The clicking of her claws against the marble floor sent an echo throughout the chamber. She pointedly avoided taking in the sights for her own sake, afraid she might feel small if she gazed up to the ceiling. Already she could tell great chandeliers hung above her, the sharp gleaming shapes of light cast across the floor tantalized her curiosity. She swallowed uneasily and focused her vision to the end of the hall.

"My dear, how goes your honorable father?"

She hadn't entirely known what to expect, but what she saw seemed only to fit one word. Perfection.

A great drake, black scaled and imperious, regarded her approach with sagely eyes upon a perch of blood red cushions. A flag baring the sigil of the Empire hung cleanly behind him, framing his imperial figure while shafts of golden light cut sidelong into the great chamber, casting him in a heavenly radiance. The rumors of him seemed dim to the casual reality. Silks and plate of war were mixed artfully across his body, his gold band of office hung carefully about his neck, giving him the appearance of a commanding and fearsome force of nature. Her eyes explored him greedily, from the graceful smooth curve from his muzzle to the end of his sleek obsidian horns, to the teasing ripple of muscle hidden beneath his silks, and to the sharply polished claws adorned with jewels of all flavors folded neatly before his chest.

Step one, appear as though stricken with awe.

She realized her jaw was beginning to hang stupidly, her breathing technique wholly forgotten. Well... at least she didn't need to act.

A chuckle rang quietly to her, sending a rush of blood to the tips her long tapered ears. He'd said something, she was sure of it, though she couldn't remember quite what it was. Thinking quickly, she replied, "I am doing well, Your Grace."

The Emperor smiled warmly and gestured for her to sit. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief as she settled atop a thin mat before her Sovereign. So far so good, she had yet to make a blunder. The mat was hardly more comfortable than the cold marble floor and the poor way she had situated herself wasn't helping. Though, she didn't dare move now that she was situated. Bowing her head reverently, she gathered her thoughts.

Step two, draw out the conversation for as long as possible.

This was perhaps the most important and dangerous part. For ten years, she had focused on this one moment. The cards were in her favor, she had to have faith in that.

She'd nearly started with a carefully prepared topic when the Emperor spoke again, "we will have company during this meeting, I do hope this does not bring discomfort to you." He gestured to his side, almost bored.

Nemyra followed the motion, and for the first time, noticed the large gryphon lounging lazily next to the Emperor on his own pad of pale blue cushions. The oversized bird looked pleased when she met his casual gaze. His white and gold feathered form, dressed in thin pale silks, was close to the same size of the Emperor. That made her the smallest of the three, a fact that unsettled her animal nerves. It was unseemly that he was also enjoying a platter of meats during her meeting.

"Of course not, Your Grace." She dipped her head in the newcomer's direction. While she hoped the gesture would please the stranger, she could not shake a building anger. This_beast_ was a wild card, this was supposed to be a private audience. She was being cheated.

"Good," the Emperor said flatly.

He paused, his nostrils flaring as he caught something in the air. A tremble of excitement ran through her and she had to take care she did not grin madly.Yes, she thought, this would be easier than she had hoped. He seemed lost in thought for a moment before returning his gaze. "What matter requires an audience with your Sovereign?" She immediately picked up on the impatience only half-hidden his tone, though she was certain it was merely a playful mask. Even if she only managed to get him to bed her during this visit, she was certain that he would see her as irresistible. At least, irresistible enough that he might want her to return periodically. This would make her important to him.

Nemyra had gone through several choices of topic with her brother and had decided there was only one clear path she should take.

"Your Grace," she started, mentally preparing herself for a tactful battle of words. "I understand it is hasty of me to ask something of you," she paused, looking down to her foreclaws. She counted in her head, giving the Emperor a chance to tell her it wasn't, whatever it might be. No words of encouragement came. She wilted slightly, annoyed she hadn't drawn first blood, though, pressed on regardless, "I wish to join ranks with your Sworn."

Another chuckle came, her eyes darted to the Emperor who watched her without expression. It was the lazy bird who kept snickering. She almost ground her jaw in irritation if it wasn't that the Emperor at least seemed to be taking her seriously.

The air grew tense around her, as if tangible pressure was exerted through the cold bite of the stale palace air. She shifted without thinking, had she misjudged the Emperor already? She focused on cycling her breathing along her technique.

"You are right to be hesitant. There are precious few I accept, and I do not need tests to see you are not fit."

_What?_Her stomach tightened in a mixture of dread, anger, and shame. "I..." The word tumbled from her mouth without thought, her own blade cutting at her. "Your Grace, surely I am not such that eyes alone could determine my proficiency."

A foolish strategy tugged at her mind. It would be blatant, but now she wasn't sure how much longer she had. She needed to capitalize on what precious little she had left. Shifting carefully, she presented the Emperor a better view of her healthy form. Her glimmering emerald scales shone with a brilliance only the finest groomers of the Empire could achieve. It had cost her far more than she was willing to dwell on, though results were results. Her body had the look of a graceful jewel, green light playing over her flanks like the facets of a flawless gem. For days she had been forced to avoid busy streets for fear of a low human touching her pure hide. To complement her strengths, she had chosen thin pale green silks to match her coloration and allow the Emperor insight to her chiseled physique.

It didn't work. He came at her like the sharpened tip of a gray metal pike, "do you think me a fool, young one?"

His voice rattled her, sending her off balance, "no," she nearly shouted. Eyes widening, remembering her place, she lowered her voice and continued, "no, Your Grace. Forgiveness, I only meant -"

His expression grew warm and he waved dismissively, cutting her off, "calm, young one." Giving her a moment to compose herself, the Emperor folding his claws carefully, "my eyes see a strong body. I am certain you have pained tirelessly to achieve great health, but my memory does not know you." He pointedly met her eyes, "the Sworn act as the very claws of an emperor, each must have strength and talent unrivaled by all others. If I do not know you, then you have committed no great feats of skill in game or war."

Nemyra's mouth felt dry. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go, how hadn't she been able to distract him? Males were supposed to be easy, even Malrik had told her so. Though, this one was special, this was the Emperor. He must have a harem of waiting females to coax away his urges. The absence of her own golden badge became painfully wearing on her. She stayed silent, sensing it was not her time to speak.

"Do you know who prince Voroke is?" He glanced to his side, gesturing smoothly to refer to the preoccupied bird.

She shifted her wings uncomfortably, the room seeming too hot. So far, she'd tried to ignore the gryphon as he was never in any of her plans, but to her surprise, this lazy beast was a prince. Swallowing nervously, she cast her eyes to the Emperor's side, searching her memory. She knew the name Voroke from somewhere, but she had never been one for the histories of bloodlines, even for the more current members of them. "No, Your Grace."

His voice softened further, "Olarek is the heir of the Eastern Monarch as well as my closest companion."

How hadn't she learned any of this? She went rigid with frustration. The plan that had seemed so well crafted. Malrik and her had thought of so many secondary and auxiliary strategies. Had she known it was less than half-baked, she wouldn't have left the Baruuki manor in the first place. The gryphon's casual gaze now seemed more painful to hold than the Emperor's.

"Do you know the bane of empire?"

The edge of defeat drew closer to her, as if a pike was pressed against her heart. She could feel it, yet even as her mind raced for the one decision that would pull her from disaster, the sense of helplessness only grew stronger. This wasn't what she had expected from him. Her plans wouldn't offer aid in this situation - she was on her own. Still carefully controlling her voice, she responded, bowing deeply, "infighting, Your Grace. An empire's greatest foes are the restless within."

The black scaled drake nodded his head. Despite the situation, his approval sent sharp satisfaction through her. "You are nearly there. Greed is the center of it all. As leaders and champions see less benefit in conquering those outside their borders, they begin to look within. Greed eats society from within."

He looked back to Olarek, "my friend is well known in the East. A strong and intelligent fighter - a selection the Sworn would be foolish not to welcome." His head turned back to her, a calculation in his eyes, "I have not heard of your skill, young Baruuk. If you can maintain yourself in a bout with Olarek for twenty seconds, I will accept you as a member of the Sworn."

Nemyra's throat tightened. She had not succeeded. She had utterly failed to draw his interest, she was not the beauty she thought herself to be, and now he meant to shame her. A careful glance to Olarek told her she would clearly not last even a quarter of the challenge. She had built her body for strength and lithe agility, she hadn't seen fit to hone her skill in contest. Even if she managed to stay on her feet for the first few moments, which she doubted, his greater size would end her eventually. She swished her tail halfhearted, only weakly attempting to spread her vital scent.

She tried to appear as if she was deliberating against great philosophy, hoping beyond hope the Emperor would fall prey to a lustful state like the crimson drake before. He did not. She shut her eyes, accepting her fate with what little courage she had left. Ears flattened, she bowed before her Sovereign in the most submissive manner she could manage, exposing her nape and spreading her wings limply across the floor. "Your Grace, I do not deserve your presence. I am no match to Olarek."

His voice returned with a painful edge, cutting away the last vestiges of hope still left in her, "and no match to the urges of your own greed it seems. I will not allow the selfish desires of the nobility to rot the Empire from within."

Nemyra flinched, despising every fiber of her being, she was unfit for her title, how had she never known? The Emperor was no spineless beast. He was not fattened by lust and indulgence. He was the apex of her race, and her, a depraved rat. She had chosen this fate when she could've found another. Instead, she had worked herself to this inevitable moment of wickedness. A sickening vertigo ran twisted through her stomach.

"I do not appreciate your attempts to take advantage of my station, though this is not the first attempt that's been made at seducing me, and it will not be the last. But..." he paused deliberately, giving the words a greater weight, "you have_blatantly_ come before me at the height of your heat. Do you think me a wild beast?"

She squirmed under his gaze, no longer caring for her original goals. Her only desire was to be far away from this forsaken palace. It was a cowardly thought, a thought that made her question how strong her will actually was. Was she truly the force she'd thought she was? Mere words were cracking at her foundation in an astonishing rate, words should not do this.

The great leader sighed, "I fear I must send word of your actions to the Matriarch. I will order she nullify your status with her, though, I will not send word to your family. For your own sake, and for the honor of your house, do not try this again."

Turmoil rolled through her like waves of a crashing storm. She'd be worth no more than a work horse, her carefully polished health wasted, the many years under the Matriarch made void in a moment. How had she failed so horribly? Why was she so incompetent for a task she'd prepared for years to do? Her family would ask her what had happened, they would want to know why she lost her prestige so suddenly. Her brother would know. Shame boiled within her. She should be strong for him, but she could conjure no more of the iron will she believed she had.

As she slunk through the great doors and into the long imperious halls of the palace, dark thoughts gathered around her fraying conscience like vultures circling faltering prey. A crimson drake lounged, speaking to another noble, a white scale she didn't recognize. They did not notice her - the only luck she'd been allotted by fate it seemed. As she left the palace grounds, she pointed herself down the emptiest street and began to walk.

***

Nearly two weeks later, her pale green silks were torn and muddy, her rump raised to an unfamiliar face. He was a pathetic specimen. Weakly built, underfed, and a lawless look about him. His horns hadn't fully developed, yet he looked older than she. The flesh on his wings seemed paper thin, clearly unable to hold his meager weight aloft without tearing, and his hide seemed overly taught, as if his ribs might pierce through if he stretched. The low blood grinned, circling her like he would a cornered treat.

This enticed her. To someone, she was a treat, a precious little emerald all for his taking. The sight sent a shiver through her, the strange lust of being demeaned returning, the strange reasoning accompanying her actions. This was right, this male_should_ claim her.

Night had fallen over the capital, though the moon shone with its soft brilliance. She pointedly kept her eyes to the ground, kneeling in an alley rank with the stench of sewer, litter from generations strewn across the ground. It was odd how his kind seemed drawn to places such as these. Though, despite the area, it was deathly quiet and provided plenty of privacy for her base desires. Perhaps he found these places as solitude for others, or perhaps it was a place to do despicable things.

"Roll over." His words came out with a rasp, their intended aggressiveness lost as his lungs failed to supply him properly.

She readily complied and rolled onto her back, rage building within her. She wanted this pathetic beast to be the first to fuck an egg into her, not some highborn noble drake. She had maintained the freshness of her gender for years, a purity that only the greatest might dabble with. It was another tool she'd added to her arsenal. Yet it wasn't enough, it was never going to be. Just a few weeks ago she had thought herself a vessel fit for the Emperor's lust. Though now, the truth seemed clear. She was never close to the Emperor's equal, in fact, she was less than this beast before her. Any simple female would have had the decency to breed with those of at least their own stature, if not higher. Honor should be forcing her from the slick cobbled street.

He wouldn't be able to catch her in his state. He would miserably fail every test she should require of a male. But the truth was that pride had abandoned her. A sick satisfaction washed over her and she realized she wanted nothing more than to be at least a pleasant satisfaction to this male, to allow him quench his lust in her. It was clear that fate had given him little, the least she could do was offer her womb as small appeasement.

Nemyra grunted as the scrawny male clawed his way on top of her vulnerable belly. He wore no clothing over his body and seemed disgusted by her silks, however wretched they were after days of mistreatment. Tearing them off unceremoniously, only leaving a single pitiful silk wrap tied around her thigh, he grinned, showing black stained fangs. Up close, dirt and mold coated his nearly colorless scales. A putrid stench rolled through her nostrils, causing her to cough involuntarily. Looking down between her legs, her heart jumped with mixed emotions. His prick hung low, hardening with ravenous hunger, dripping with impending consequence. She licked at her cracked gums, a shiver running down her spine. She ran an absent claw down her side, enticing her fidgeting muscles.

"What's your name?" she asked, her voice weak. How was she supposed to do this? It seemed foolish to her that a dragoness of her age had yet to experiment in the alluring game of coupling. Of course, she was no fool, she at least knew his cock would go between her legs and, if he was pleased, he would breed her. It was what she was supposed to do while he did it that made her uncomfortable. This male deserved a good experience, after all, it wasn't everyday a runt got to breed a highborn virgin. Looking back up to the rust colored male, she opened her mouth to ask for guidance.

The runt's mouth suddenly met her own, invading her gaping maw with his slick tongue in a rough kiss, choking off her question. The forcefulness sent fresh lust blooming within her chest. The Nemyra returned in a reckless attempt to please him, darting her own tongue into his mouth, snaking over his teeth, sliding against his own.

It was finally happening. She'd lived with this desire since her first heat, yet her will had always held out. All the many times a highborn made a pass at her was wasted, now she was going to fuck some lowborn runt until she felt as dirty inside as she felt out.

His breath had a rotten flavor, she was certain he was a nest of disease and parasites. No creature could live in such conditions without becoming a hive of rot. Selfish rage flared within her. The upbringing she'd been allowed had provided a clean environment, a place for her to grow with a body pure and strong. Though she did not deserve it. She began eagerly drinking the slick intimacy smeared into her mouth, letting it ride guiltily down her gullet, the burning between her legs growing painful and she shifted beneath him.

It almost felt as though she were delivering a final justice to herself, a justice the Emperor had been too merciful to punish her with, too pure of heart. She had tried to take advantage of the Emperor, so she would let this creature take advantage of her. The irony seemed born by fate itself.

A wet pop sounded as he pulled away from her hungry maw, a look of uncontrolled desire raging. His primal force had already taken control, a sign of a weak mind. Pale wings shuddered as he gave a thoughtless thrust into empty air, his bony form stretched over her as if to claim her.

Nemyra tried to avoid thinking of the wet trickles of fluid passing under her back and she shut her eyes, waiting for it all to begin. A fantasy flit through her mind. One of the Emperor gliding down from his perch to take her back to the palace. His tongue running over her form, cleaning her carefully, his beautiful body stretched across her back, maw teasing the nape of her neck. His slender length hanging low, ready to pierce -

The runt's prick thrust into her, the action burning away the last vestiges of her sore pride. Only the most common drake would stoop so low as to breed her now. She gasped harshly, trembling like a leaf beneath her first mate. The thick meat stretched her, pushing aside the wet heated flesh and sinking deep into her, smearing the thick scent of his cock inside. There was no joy in the first moments, only terror at what was happening. His cock seemed too hot, the strange shape pressing strangely into her walls. Staring at herself in disbelief, watching as his under-flesh grew closer to her own, she groaned, a shock of sensation trembling around the invasive appendage. A warm hanging sack soon pressed against her as they met, the drake pressing against the entrance to her egg chamber.

"You'll have a clutch growing in that flat belly of yours by the end of tonight." His voice was fevered, his cock quivering inside her. Claws clutched at her waist to keep her where he wanted, pressing into her hide hard enough to draw blood.

The words drew lust straight from her depths. She wanted him to fuck as many eggs into her as possible. "Don't hold back," she muttered out, bowing her head slightly. She ran a claw over his flanks, feeling the bones jutting harshly against his thin hide.

He arched his neck, tongue hanging from his maw as he began humping her like a stray mutt, drawing in ragged breaths as he quivered with exertion. She lapped her tongue encouragingly across the underside of his muzzle, though he was too distracted by where his cock was to care to reciprocate. A new pleasure she had never experienced overtook her unprepared mind. As the muscle was rammed in and out of her vent, she clenched, trying to keep it in her. Each time, she felt as though it wouldn't get better, yet there was always the next thrust. Her body moaned in heady euphoria, in anticipation of a climax far better than any she'd been able to achieve by herself with only sharp claws as tools. How had she resisted such urges for so long? It almost seemed a sin had she not been spread out beneath a lowborn runt.

She began answering his thrusts with her own, uncertain but reflecting the motions that felt most natural. Spreading her legs further, the runt was able to slip deeper, his bloated sack slapping against her slick entrance as he rammed into her with ever increasing force, their juices squelching audibly under the rough rutting. Despite his obvious lack in endurance, he was surprising her with every stab of his pelvis. Grinning, she let her claws run down his bobbing hips, between his thighs. Finding his sack, she cupped him, feeling his load writhe within, just waiting to be spewed under a female's tail. She swallowed, waiting to be spewed under_her_ tail. Brushing his sack lightly, she willed him to give her everything, every drop of his lust was to be inside her by the end of the night. Her heat with accept no less.

An especially powerful thrust pistoned the runt's cock to its deepest point. Nemyra let out a deep moan as he held himself within her, a rush of raw desire running like shock from her gender up her spine. He hunched over her, spreading his slick saliva under her neck before slipping his long tongue carelessly into her maw. She reciprocated, reveling in her unrestrained actions, a wash of freedom ripping through her.

He began pumping again, this time approaching a rapid pace that her larger body couldn't match. She moaned into his maw just as she came, her vision narrowing as his precious life-giving sack slapped against her, their promise of eggs nearly fulfilled.

The male above her shuddered, giving in as Nemyra's strong inner muscles pulled at his throbbing prick, her body unwilling to let the fertile concoction escape. His body rattled as he gave one last desperate thrust before planting himself firmly between her legs, his body ready to claim her eggs. His cock seemed to inflate within her, stretching her soft flesh as a stream of white slurry flooded her belly. He pulsed with rhythm as he indelicately sunk his seed between her legs, eliciting a groan as she wrapped her hind legs over his rear and pulled him against her.

Just as he finished, the male gave her a tactless lick across the snout and began again without delay, thrusting into her as if it were his last day alive.

Nemyra grunted, then grinned to herself as she began thrusting back into him. The grin turned to a scowl as time passed. While the runt had performed passed her expectations, after his third climax, he was unable to continue with the same viciousness. She was only able to get two more from him before he collapsed in exhaustion, panting on top of her. Despite being more than ready to continue, Nemyra relented, letting him rest sprawled out over her.

As time passed, it became apparent the small male on her wasn't getting up. His panting had been replaced with a sickly wheezing. She began to feel sorry for him, but she reminded herself it was him that had followed her for a week. He had stalked her. He already got what he wanted, this was the consequence of it.

Nemyra felt the male shiver as a gust of cold wind ran through the rank alley. She clenched her jaws, then wrapped her wings around him, pulling against the foreign body, keeping him warm. Slowly, her heat calmed and she no longer felt the desire to breed. As the urges left, a reluctant sleep followed sometime later. Letting her slip peacefully into a world without her worries and troubles.

***

Nemyra woke to the sound of water being dumped across pavement. She cracked open her eyes, shrinking from the oppressive sunlight and adjusted as she peered about. Three realizations came to her in that moment. The first was that she was lying on her back, body spread out unceremoniously for all to see. The second was that it was not water being dumped. And the third - she felt horribly sick.

Rolling over, pain lanced up her side as she put weight on an overworked muscle. She hadn't fully picked herself up before she began to retch putrid bile from her stomach. She stared in horror at the ground as slick waste dripped off her tongue. It took a while before the heaving slowed to weak gags. She stood uncertainly, waiting for her body to erupt into another fit.

Grimacing, she touched a sore spot on her side, searching for broken bones. To her dismay, aches and pains wracked against her as if she had just finished a week-long flight followed by a hike up a mountain. Pain from between her legs burned where the runt had busied himself. Shame over her actions came at her as a strong tide, rising steadily to overwhelm her. She had made a mistake, but this was an even larger mistake if it was possible. Losing her position with the matriarch was a setback, but how could she be of any use her family if she was pregnant with lowborn eggs?

She looked around, a few lowly humans casting glances at her with unreadable expressions. They turned away when caught their eyes, muttering to themselves as they did. Warm blood rushed to the tips of her ears. These humans shouldn't see her like this, she needed to leave, and flight wasn't an option in her sorry state. Looking around, she immediately recognized the alley from the night before. Though not surprising, it seemed the runt had bred her in a place where humans to empty their chamber pots. She gagged again, though this time for a different reason. Mustering herself, she tipped into a slow lumbering walk. It was awkward, she desperately needed to rest after her rough virgin mating and she was annoyed the runt hadn't stayed with her, though she hadn't expected much. He'd gotten what he wanted, no reason to hang about to do silly chores for her.

The day grew long as she walked aimlessly. She could only hope she'd eventually reach the edge of the city. Just outside the northern gates was a vast lake of fresh water. It may be under Imperial watch, but hopefully they would recognize her and let her in. The slop drying on her back kept reminding her of the mess she had gotten herself in. She groaned, wondering if she could present herself to her father after this; wondering more darkly whether she would have the will to see her brother.

Taking alley after alley, she felt she was becoming hopelessly lost. Despite having lived for quite sometime in the lower city, it was still a mess to navigate. Unlike the well-planned upper city, there were no clear signs and paved walkways, no carefully cleaned streets or patrols to offer assistance.

A voice called out to her just as she took a turn into another alley. "Hey miss, you won't be wanting to go in there."

Wincing from the pain, Nemyra turned her head to inspect the man. He wasn't wealthy, as was immediately obvious. But then, this was still a wretched part of the city. He stood with worn clothing that'd seen far too many days in the sun, their color nearly forgotten. A scraggily beard sprouted from his face, likely a weak attempt to appear older or wiser. To her, he seemed almost childlike in appearance, though she was often wrong about the ages of humans.

Clearing her throat, she responded, "will this not take me to the Northern gate?" She growled at herself. Stupid question, how should he know where she meant to go?

The man walked closer so as not to shout but retained a cautious wing's distance from her. Even if she was quite visibly weak, it was their nature to behave this way around her kind. An intelligent instinct, for it was her kind that led them to glory. Left to their own devices, they would certainly be their own destruction.

He scratched his head idly, "well, I don't know about that. But there've been people that go missing down there. Its not safe you see. Stay on the main roads if you can."

She nodded, then turned back to the larger road in front. It really wasn't much of a 'main' road. It was hardly more appealing than the alley, and hardly brighter. "Thank you."

The words seemed strange in her mouth. She started, when had humans ever thought to help her? And lowborn humans at that. She bit her tongue, he shouldn't help her, she'd done nothing for his kind in the past. With a surge of impulse, Nemyra walked next to the man and reached up to her ear, unclipping her only piece of jewelry carefully with her claw. She held it out to him, the facets of the sapphire catching the weak light from the alley just enough to reveal what it was. It should be priceless to her, but at the moment, she could hardly bring herself to look at the gem. It was too pure.

He stared at her claw, then looked back to her, utter confusion written over him. She shook her claw expectantly, "take it, I don't deserve it anymore."

The man nearly took a step back from her, as if expecting a trick, though he instead carefully reached out and took the jewel from her claw, watching her as he did. He sucked in a breath, "this is... why?"

She turned back and continued down the street, not wanting further conversation with the kindly man. It wasn't long before he called back out to her.

"Miss, wait!" Feet slapped against the muddy street from behind, rushing towards her.

She grunted, then turned, the pain irritating.

He rushed to her side, then looked at her. The expression caught her, it was wrong, as if he'd meant to hide something, only now he wasn't sure he wanted to keep from her anymore. "Yes?" she asked.

Glancing to his hand, he swallowed, then returned her gaze. "You may want to go down the alley." He cleared his throat, shuffling in place, "I've heard it might be safer that way."

Her eyes widened, "but you just said -"

His face went red, then he backed away and ran ahead, carrying the jewel with him. She was flustered by his behavior, though she realized in a moment why he acted so. Evidently, lowborn humans have consciences, however weak. She turned and went down the alley.

By the time dusk came around, Nemyra was moving with a slowness that could have been overtaken by a hurried turtle. A stumble sent a knee into the cobbled road, rewarding her with a lance of pain. She grit her fangs, attempting to rise again but failed - collapsing in total exhaustion. She panted heavily, though slowed her breathing when she felt the threatening edge of nausea build at the base of her stomach.

"I think you took the Emperor's words harder than he meant."

Nemyra whipped her head around, flinching from the pain of the motion, seeing no one. She didn't recognize the voice. Her heart pumped as irrational fear bled freely, adrenaline helping her forget the throbbing pains from her limbs. In the middle of the narrow road, Nemyra looked from window to window for the source of the voice. These were people wealthy enough to begin to own amenities like glass. No doubt this was the District of Craft.

A clicking came from the rooftops high above her. She craned her neck, eyeing a large feathered beast lying lazily against a chimney. The stress on her neck sent the nausea returning with a sudden voracity. Black bile spewed from her gullet and spread across the ground. Her ears flattened in a mixture of shame and distress. "I don't feel so good," she muttered to herself as the relentless throbs of pain returned, the brief burst of adrenaline already expired.

Wind rushed over her as the gryphon leapt from the roof, descending with a single but powerful sweep of his feathered wings. His hind legs settled only a few feet from her, careful to avoid the trickling black pool.

"Okay," he said with a defeated edge, "let's get you to the palace."

She coughed without energy, realizing the gryphon must have been the Emperor's companion during her audience, thought, she was too tired to ask why he was here. Olarek dipped low and shouldered her weight across his back and she grunted as she was pulled onto her sore belly. "Sorry, Your -" Another soft cough interrupted her.

"Tell me if you feel another coming on," he requested as he began pulling their combined weight up the gradual slope. "I don't fancy trips to the old priest for doing a good deed."

Their progress began at a surprising pace. He was clearly larger than her, but he managed as if carrying a load half her size.

"I admit, I am surprised you've managed to put yourself into such a condition. From what I've heard, dragons are supposed to have trouble in that area." The words flit from his sharp beak with a sincere casualness that reminded her of chats with her brother. He seemed wholly at ease carrying a wreck to the palace.

Her mind clicked in sudden comprehension. She didn't want to go back to that dreadful place. "Wait," she forced out as she struggled pathetically.

He seemed to guess at her thoughts, "you look sick enough to be dead in the morning. Can't have highborn daughters dying like rats in the streets."

A weak sob escaped her, tears dripping into Olarek's golden feathers. He turned his head and gave her a meaningful look, "just hang in there."

They passed through the gates guarding the entrance to the Marbled Court. Even as night settled over them, the area still buzzed with activity. This was the center of the Empire, but surely sleep was not forgone? A pang of selfish embarrassment reminded her she must look a mess to even a servant. She wore nothing but a tattered silk rag still tied to her hind leg, its pale green long forgotten by weeks of careless use. Even her heat was unable to penetrate the sickening aroma that covered her once emerald scales. She whimpered in shame as several onlookers watched her.

"Ignore them, they won't recognize you."

Nemyra peered up to the approaching palace, its white stone shining like a star under the sharp light cast by the rising moon. Tall windows of colored glass caught its gleaming rays and played patterns in her vision. She blinked, men in golden plate pulled great doors open, revealing the cold opulence that would consume her for a second time.

***

Nemyra woke from a fitful sleep, spewing black phlegm into a silver bowl. She was overly exhausted from going through the same routine throughout the night. Though now, an old human sat next to her. She turned her head to look at him, pain shooting up her neck, sick drool hanging from her open maw. For a moment, she could not remember where she was, instead focusing on a knife the man held as if he meant to harm her with it. The robed man had wispy white hairs sprouting from his wrinkled head, clothes frayed with time. He seemed undistracted by her sickening display and moved the knife next to her, causing her to flinch. He scraped something black that had clung to a scale and let it drop into a bucket held between his legs.

"Scale rot, worm lungs, and red rash to name a few. Dearest Baruuk, how have you become such a hoard of wonderous prizes?" His voice seemed too high for a man of his age, though he was a human after all. He didn't seem interested in an answer - a relief to Nemyra as animal fear began to overtake.

She figured she should be anger by his words, but anger failed her. She'd never heard of worm lungs, though the other two were common among lowborn dragons. "Worm lungs?" she asked, her voice a ragged whisper.

He chuckled, "just a name. You have worms, yes, but they do not roost in your lungs. No, your stomach is a more likely place."

Nemyra shrunk, running a claw absently over her belly and winced. Even slight pressure caused discomfort. Her neck seared in pain, forcing her to turn and face the rear wall to avoid irritating herself. "Can you fix it?" she asked, calling over her back.

The knife paused. She could no longer see him from her position, but she dared not turn her head again. "At any great speed? No."

Nemyra's chest tightened. If she had to lay weakened as she was for long, her body would wilt into a bony ghost.

"But," his voice returned cheerily, "you seem to be important to His Highness, prince Voroke. He has supplied me well. You should be cleaned up by the week's end."

Joy overtook her turbulent emotions before realizing even that would be a trial of will. She turned, ignoring the pain, "how much did he spend on my behalf?"

The man's eyes weighed on her. "I recommend you don't worry yourself with petty details. Word has been sent to your father. He will arrive in a few days, everything will be taken care of."

She shuddered at the thought of her father seeing her in such a dreadful state so soon, but nonetheless, she nodded. Settling her great head into the soft pillow, she gazed idly about the rear wall of her bare stone room. Sleep did not find her, though she felt she didn't deserve such a luxury.

An hour passed when a door from behind her rattled, metal ringing. She perked her ears, swiveling to catch whoever was at the door. "Nemyra, I do apologize. A prison cell is not the best of accommodations, but the wards were afraid you would spread your sickness to the others. I've been told that would be difficult, but nonetheless, this is an unused part of the palace. I assure you this is as private as is possible within these walls." Olarek padded next to her, carefully prepared apology spent. "How do you feel?"

Dipping her snout, she pointed weakly to the large bowl of black fluid half full before her. He nodded, eyes soft as he settled beside her. He shifted for several moments, ruffling his plumage before smoothing them over.

"You should not need to offer company to me, Your Highness."

"Should not?" he scoffed to himself, chuckling lightly, "oh, but I would like to very much."

She felt less than mud as the sharp contrast between them kept reminding her. He wore new silks, silver laced and tinged with subtle color. Perhaps his others had been soiled by her when she'd laid on his back. She winced again. The gryphon seemed suddenly unsettled by something.

A cold silence fell over them, only the sound of the old man's knife filling the air. This was perhaps the third gryphon she had laid eyes on, yet for the first time, she seemed to comprehend their beauty. Her nakedness suddenly came to mind, forcing a rush of warm blood into the tips of her ears. She wilted, groaning as she stretched her sore wing muscles to cover her exposed flank in a pointless gesture to gain some sense of decency.

Olarek dropped his eyes to the floor, avoiding her own. "Perhaps I should leave you be, you do not seem well." It was strange, despite seeing Olarek precious few times, he seemed unable to project anything but casual, controlled grace. Now he seemed dreadfully awkward, standing up as if uncertain why he came.

Though, as a fact, she was still confused on that point herself. He must want something, and she owed him for helping her, "wait, please stay. Your companionship is a remedy in itself."

He smiled, settling hesitantly back to the floor, ears twitching.

The old man grunted, the slight pricking of the knife halting, "of course, perhaps I should leave His Highness to cure you himself."

More surprised than anything by the servant's irreverent words, Nemyra only managed a weak apology, "forgiveness, I did not mean it that way."

He only chuckled in return, "of course, I only jest. Though, I could slip away for a bite - I am quite famished. Is ten minutes enough? Maybe twenty? I hear His Highness is quite practiced in the subtleties of coupling."

Nemyra paled, utter confusion and realization crashing into her mind all at once. Olarek's sharp gaze told her the servant was more than irritating him. Her hide prickled with heat as she repeated the old man's words in her head for clarity.

The man stood up, his robes creasing with age. "I remember my youth," his bones seemed to creak has he settled his weight onto a cane. "Romance is truly a waste of time. Is the goal of it not the same, with or without? I suggest you get to the meat of it quickly, always simpler that way." He stepped out of the cell, the clicking of his cane echoing into the halls. Olarek glared daggers past her and just when she thought he had gone, his voice called out again. "Dear prince, do avoid her saliva for at least a week less you desire to share in the joy of worm lungs."

As the silence returned, Olarek's anger receded. Nemyra kept her eyes to the floor, hesitant to meet his eyes. Olarek gave a defeated growl. "I hate that man."

She did not garner the same opinion, though she held the thought.

He clicked his tongue absently, "I don't know a better way to go about this now, thanks to our esteemed priest. But as a fact, I assure you I see romance as an important step in any close relationship." He pressed a claw to a chest, "would you join me for a private dinner? Perhaps tomorrow?"

Taken aback, her mouth ran dumbly, "dinner? Why?"

Olarek chuckled at her widening eyes, "well, I had meant to be more indirect. I would like to get to know you." Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "of course, only if you are up to it."

She grimaced, "I fear any food you put in front of me will look worse than dung."

He chuckled, "no matter, you could simply lounge on soft cushions while I eat, then you could tell me all about yourself. I do declare, doing so would accommodate several of the first steps in the ancient proceedings."

Warmth spread into her limbs, the fond realization that fate hadn't seemed to have given up on her. "Why would you be interested in spending your precious time with me? Have I not made a fool of myself?"

He chuckled, "oh, you certainly have. Truly I do not know what you were thinking coming before Glaedur in the prime of your heat. But it was entertaining to see him squirm firsthand. No, I was not fixated on that, as memorable as it was."

Nemyra's ears reddened, his grin faltering. "Oh, right - that's probably still fresh in your mind." He cleared his throat, the ridges framing his eyes knotted in anxiety. "I will see you tomorrow. My aide, Lerin, will dress you with something presentable before you leave this room."

He scampered to the edge of her sight, perhaps somewhat hastily, "I..." he looked back at her, "I look forward to seeing you." He cast her a warm look before disappearing.

***

By the afternoon of the next day, Nemyra was feeling as though her soul had returned to her. The priest had scraped away most of the scale-rot, and the worm medicine had cowed the roiling distress in her stomach. She could almost walk entirely on her own if she was careful to manage the soreness of her limbs. Lerin's youthful strength was enough to balance her as she made her way up the vast spiraling staircase of the Roost, an ancient spire of a previous age. It housed many visiting dragons as its height was pleasing to many of her own kind.

The prince's interest in her confused her. Why someone of his stature would step to her own was a mystery, though he did present an interesting distraction from her more deadly thoughts. Perhaps a conversation would restore whatever had been broken within her.

Olarek's loft was at the top, evidently picked out by the Emperor himself. It was uncommon for a dragon to climb these stairs, they were meant for the servants and guardsmen, though they gave her a wide birth as she passed. While the steps stressed her weakened legs, she forced herself forward, thinking of Olarek carrying her on his back through the city, or the costs for her care; debts she at least wanted to repay. As they reached the entrance, Lerin darted out from underneath her, grabbing at the gold door handle with far greater energy than she could have predicted. How old was he? His height only made it to the low of her chest whereas the old man stood a head taller than her back. Those facts helped her little as humans rarely drew her interest, the details of their development even less.

She expelled those thoughts as the door opened slowly, the weight almost too much for the boy despite his ability to surge into motion. She shuffled her wings, hoping the clothing wouldn't fall to the floor while she still needed them. Lerin had helped her into them, though she wasn't sure he had gotten the knots right. But in the worst case, Olarek would see her exposed for only a third time in a row.

Glaring at the back of the boy's head, she grunted in irritation, the door still opening with frustrating sluggishness. She extended a claw, giving the door a slight shove to augment his youthful attempt. Then she realized why it had been so difficult. A cold rush wind bit into her, flooding the staircase behind her in a turbulent wave. The boy shouted, and in a few seconds, the wind suddenly died, a rattling of metal on wood taking its place.

Lerin stood, ragged and out of breath, his back against the out-swung door. He held his arm out, inviting her inside. She stepped in, nostrils flaring as she took in the scent of fresh cherry blossoms. The luxurious room before her reminded her of why she'd first come to the Marbled Court, it made her grimace. She would not play Olarek.

"Nemyra, my taste in cloth fits you well." He smiled warmly from high in the rafters, latching a shutter closed to shield his room from the raging winds only found at great heights. He gestured past her, the motion unfamiliar. Lerin nodded and the door slowly swung shut behind her, the rapid clicking of Lerin's boots retreating.

In a single graceful motion, Olarek swept himself through the room, gliding carefully around a sturdy chandelier before aiming towards her. Nemyra stumbled frantically out of his way, though he only brushed past, his wings grazing her flanks with careful precision. She cocked her head, arching a scaly brow at the flirt.

His casual demeaner seemed to have recovered from the day before, a warm smile melting away her stress and inviting her to relax. He gestured to a wide cushioned pad with more than a dozen pale blue pillows. She nodded, plodding carefully to her lounge and settled into its comforting embrace. Not even her own bed had been this luxurious. She grinned to herself, then remembered Olarek was watching her.

"Thank you for inviting me to your quarters, Your Highness." Olarek seemed pleased as he settled across from her on a similar lounge, empty table between them. Cold air from the room pressed up against her scales. She shifted slightly, trying to subtly edge herself further into the pillows for warmth.

Olarek seemed unnaturally keen, noticing her discomfort. "I'm deeply sorry, I like having the windows opened to the sky. It always seems so stuffy in the palace. I will find you a quilt."

Despite knowing he was attempting at some strange adaptation of romance, she still felt unsettled by his doting. She wasn't about to faint, it was a simple chill. Years of trial had told her she could persevere through most trials.

Her mind lingered on that thought._Most_trials.

A thick smooth blanket rolled over her, cool to the touch for only a moment before it warmed to her emerald scales, its healthy sheen gleaming after a delightful morning bath. As he settled, he seemed almost excited, his energy clashing with her own and leaving a smile across her face.

The door again swung open, Lerin struggling inside with a large platter of smoked meat. A pang of empathy ran out to him as he fought against the weight, sweat beading across his brow and soaking his formal attire. "Ah, thank you very much Lerin."

He wheezed, frantically taking in air, "yes, Your Highness... but... the cooks had me bring more." He darted out the door without waiting for a reply and began the slow work of ferrying in a feast of fruits, breads, honeys, cheeses and a variety of Eastern delicacies. Nemyra swallowed, the thought of eating disturbing her.

"Of course, you may help yourself at your own pleasure. The cooks simply seem to think I have a greater appetite than I let off."

She groaned, irritated that he seemed to catch everything, "stop doing that."

"I'm sorry, but you're almost as easy to read as Lerin here," he gave her a wink then nodded to Lerin who stood over a plate of elegant cakes, sweat threatening to drip onto several slices. Lerin gave a slight bow, grinning sheepishly as he took a large slice for himself before scurrying from the room.

Olarek parted his beak as he looked over the vast display. It took him a moment before he decided on a plate of meat rolls and begin eating them whole, one after the other. Nemyra had to agree with the cook's decisions, he certainly had twice the appetite she normally had after a day of training. Slightly nauseous of the sight, she cast her eyes aside, looking at a tapestry baring a sigil depicting a lone starlit spear. She assumed it was the sigil of Olarek's house, but she was not certain.

"Let's begin, shall we?" He tapped a claw absently on his mat, "you may refer to me as Olarek. I like water diving, the higher the better. I prefer colder climates as you may already have guessed." He mumbled to himself, "what else... right," he looked back at her, grinning, "the meat rolls here are my favorite." He popped another into his beak, then watched her cheerily.

"That's just about all you need to know about me for now. Your turn." He nodded to her.

Nemyra licked at her gums, unsure about where to start. She'd never seen herself as an introvert, yet near him, her mind failed to supply her with words. He dropped his gaze, politely busying himself to a few slices of cake as she gathered her thoughts.

"When you're feeling better, I will order the cooks to make you some of this."

She ignored the empty comment as she struggled for something to say. What would he possibly want to know? She was still unsure of why he was interested in her, so she decided to ask him directly, "Is there anything in particular you want to know?"

He looked at her, licking at a smear of sugar on his beak. "I would ask what your favorite food is, but I think we'll skip the subject for now. Tell me about your family. I had not heard of the Baruuki until a few weeks ago."

Easy enough, she nodded, "well, I am the youngest of three. I am not partial to Teiral, though Malrik, the eldest of us, he and I are inseparable when together." The thought of her brother drew a tinge of regret.

Due to her constant drilling and vow of chastity of the years before, she hadn't the first clue of how she was supposed to behave in whatever was happening between them. Was she boring him? Is this what he wanted?

Forcing a smile, she gestured out to the Imperial Reserve. A vast lake of fresh water shimmering in the distance. "I enjoy water diving too. Though I fear I have a greater caution in me. I can never edge myself into going any higher than four or five stories."

He snickered at her comment, "I may have stretched the truth. I don't go further than double of that. I'd hate to ground myself. I cannot imagine how poor Lerin must live, having to take those stuffy hallways each day, weaving between too many perfumed bodies."

His mention of the boy distracted her, "maybe you should get a normal servant, Lerin looked overexerted."

Olarek shook his head, "absolutely not. The first time they tried to replace him, I dragged the old twat to Glaedur. The second, I showed them my claws. They will not take Lerin away from me. And truthfully, I don't think he is capable of tiring." Olarek glanced over the dozens of platters and bowls the boy had hauled in. "He's got more energy in him than a hatchling. Trust me, I do his parents a priceless favor each time I order meat rolls."

Nemyra laughed, "I concede."

He smiled warmly, then looked through the wide window on the far wall, watching waves wash up against the shore far below. "What of your mother and father? I was my parent's only egg and so my youngest memories were only of them. You have yet to mention your own."

My father..." she thought about what to say, then frowned, "I have little love for him." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "I rarely see my mother, and so, I have no opinion of her."

Olarek nodded in understanding, "my father expects much of me. It's another reason why I make the journey to see Glaedur once every season - selfish I know. I tell my father it's a shallow diplomatic venture and he never bothers to look closer. It works for me."

"Well, I doubt my father even knew I was coming here when I left," she shrugged, "I'd told him I was on a pilgrimage for the Matriarch."

He laughed aloud, "we seem to have so many similarities. My instincts seem quite sharp in this regard."

She looked up at him, wondering how much truth he laced into his words, attempting to divine his greater game.

His beak parted slightly - a weak grin, though his eyes wilted. "You are still confused," he pierced an apple with a talon, taking out a chunk from the side.

Nemyra clenched her jaw, saying nothing.

"I admit, I haven't treated this situation with proper consideration. Though it may seem a lie to you, I have a good feeling about this."

Nemyra shifted under her blankets as a chill ran through the room. "I don't understand, are you ignoring what I've done in these last few weeks? After the Emperor denied me, I simply lost control. Why are you interested in me?"

Olarek scoffed, "he did more than deny you, I've been told that losing your place with the Matriarch would be akin to losing your status of nobility for one so young. You may have reacted somewhere in the extreme, but you have to be realistic with yourself."

Nemyra swallowed, her thoughts drifting back to the repulsive runt. He didn't understand. "You didn't answer my question."

Olarek eyed her carefully, "I'm going to be blunt." He waited until he had her full attention, then continued, "you are a Baruuk. I've only recently heard of the Baruuk family. Glaedur learned of your name the same time I did. That means your family does not hold much sway. If I desired to play politics in the Marbled Court, would I not seek a companion of higher stature?"

Nemyra met his gaze, her words edged harder than she desired, "perhaps you only want a body to warm your bed."

His eyes burned with vivid anger, startling her. "You no longer hold your position with the Matriarch and your father will be here soon. I gather he won't be happy in the least to hear what has transpired. Whispers of the Baruuki whore have already begun to circulate. You should be a_danger_ to me."

She flinched from his words. Who had seen her in the alley? She herself thought it was secluded enough, only peasant men had seen her - and that was in the morning after the beast had his way with her. A cowardly part of her mind told her to avoid acknowledging the truth. She deliberated, then realized he had more than likely already read the truth from her demeanor. "I was so angry with myself. I drove myself to near insanity. I let him do what he wanted with me, I wanted to show him I was lower." The last words dripped venomously from her tongue. "You are right, I have no value."

Olarek swallowed, his anger tightly controlled. "I like to act on instinct. People are so often the fool. They don't realize their bodies know more about the world than their minds. I don't think of the exact placement of each step I take, I let my body think for me. In a bigger decision, I will listen. You've done wrong, though I know now you had a greater reason." He gave her a sharp look, eyes almost cutting her, "how many see something they need and are prepared to sacrifice years of luxury? Not many, Nemyra. That is what my body is telling me. I simply listened. I've lived for years around sycophants and heartless courtiers, I hate them. What you did with Glaedur likened you to one, but it was your goals that set you apart."

He paused, leaning back, "your brother, Malrik, he was in an accident."

Nemyra's ears shot up, a harsh retort dying on her tongue as memories of that day stabbed painfully into her. "Who told you?"

He gave her a blunt reply, watching her carefully, "I have special access to the archives. When you went missing, I took it upon myself to investigate as I was one of the precious few to see you last."

Why had he wanted to hear about her family if he clearly already knew everything she might have said? Ears flicking back, eyes narrowing, a choke of anger escaped her, "you had no right to look through his history."

Olarek pushed past, "you have an empathy for others that I have found desperately rare in but the most lowborn between our lands." He scowled at the comment, eyes focusing across the room. "Malrik needs special care, yes? Your father must have refused to provide for him. You needed Glaedur's wealth." His features relaxed, then he shrugged, "certainly the wealth of another noble drake could have sufficed, but I applaud the daring."

Nemyra clenched her claw into a tight fist, unphased as she shredded the expensive fabric of her pillow. She growled low, her head beating with a slight headache, "I needed someone who could keep my_father_from Malrik and I. The Emperor certainly could. But..." she paused, "my goals bring me no solace. If anything, my failure to achieve them is a worse depravity."

Olarek's muscles tensed, "you remind me of Glaedur."

She hissed at his untruths. The Emperor was a state of being far exceeding her own. She had no similarities with him.

He glared, a humorless laugh escaping him, "you_are_. I know him far better than even his late father. Nemyra, your own sense of pride has chained you to a way of thinking that is harming you." His eyes softened, her own anger vanishing in an instant with his sudden shift of mood, leaving her feeling cruel for having spoken to him so poorly. "It tears at me to see someone like you follow in Glaedur's steps. Your thoughts are not reality, you are no beast."

She grimaced, trying to ignore the building pain in her head as she mulled over his words. They promised her a free conscience, but she knew his words would only hide her from the truth.

Looking over his relatively untouched array of foods, she stood. "I'm sorry, I have ruined your dinner. I will leave you in peace." Not waiting for his response, she turned, preparing to walk from his loft. Though, as she did, the beating in her head burst and suddenly she felt dreadfully nauseous. Her eyes widened for a split moment, panic and terror rampant in her eyes. Then she heaved, black bile splashing over the lounge Olarek had carefully prepared for her. Her stomach only granted her a brief lull after several waves of vomiting. She was left panting and groaning in distress, drool hanging from her gaping maw while she stood on shaking limbs.

He was trying his best to look only at whatever good he saw in her. Yet, she struggled to repay his kindness in even the smallest sense. She wanted to hide from this place, to leave Olarek and the palace. Despite his interest, she was a problem he would eventually need to expel. A tear escaped without her permission, rolling down her snout and mixing with the acidic vomit dripping from her gaping maw. She wanted to apologize for the mess but couldn't form the words, her head beating with painful rhythm.

Olarek stepped close to her, brushing her side with his wing, "better?"

She nodded numbly, the steady return of her sickness cauterizing her worries.

"Let's get you back to the priest. I'm sure he has something to settle you." Nemyra didn't resist his gentle guidance.

The trip through the palace was a blur, her mind locked in focus on her breathing in the hope to avoid creating another mess some servant would have to clean up. As they approached her cell, she could hear the old priest's mutterings.

"Thank you."

"Certainly." Giving her a hopeful look, he continued, "how about dinner tomorrow? Of course, you needn't eat if you still feel ill."

He was persistent. Despite how poorly the first had gone, she felt a desire to give it another chance, his words playing in her head, his calming demeanor in stark comparison with the unyielding intimidation of the palace. She nodded, "I look forward to it."

Olarek beamed, "and I as well."

The gryphon left, leaving her just outside her cell, the grumblings of the old man the only other sounds. Nemyra watched him as he left, her limbs still weak, but better after their walk. She sighed to herself, the desire to partake in another dinner draining away now that his presence could not reinforce it. Muttering, she stepped inside, walking around the familiar old man and settling next to him. It was likely to be another dreadful night. The priest had said it shouldn't be as bad as the first, though she was skeptical.

"How did it go?" the man asked, a knowingness in his tone.

She snorted, then presented her stomach to him, allowing the man to undo the knots of her wraps. It was uncomfortable letting him unclothe her, though, his job was to work with her in such state and he'd already done so the night before. Propriety was still difficult to live without, if even a for a single meeting.

"Well, I did tell him," he said, wheezing quietly. "Truly a waste of time, do you not agree?"

A shrug was the only response he received. As the last of her silks fell to the floor, he gestured for her to lie down onto her back. Unfortunately, he'd finished all the other regions of her body, leaving her underside for this night. While the pose was uncomfortable, it also seemed entirely indecent that she should have no clothes and_also_be presented as if to mate with the old human. Her face twisted with a tinge of disgust. The thought of a dragon and human coupling was simply unnatural. Despite the strangeness of the situation, she was gratified when the man draped a few wraps over her gender. Either he noticed her discomfort, or this was at least some discomfort to him. She did not know which.

"Not one to talk? Pity." The priest began his work, leaning over her and scratching at the soft hide of her belly. "I find talk the best way to pass the time."

Her head was to the side, lying on a wide feathered pillow, "am I interesting then?"

The priest pursed his lips, drawing them into a thin line. "No. Quite a bore, really. You were a terrible companion last night."

She blew out air, "I was too busy offering up my innards to have satisfied your desire for talk."

"Exactly. Not very interesting to talk to."

The knife scraped hard against something, causing her to flinch. He didn't apologize. "Well, I am feeling much better today. What would you like to talk about?"

He mused, his eyes creasing with wrinkles. "I certainly enjoy arguing the merits of treatments. Worm lungs has been on my mind quite recently. Tell me about your experiences."

She gave out a rough grunt, "would we be able to talk about anything_other_ than that?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Perhaps if you want conversation, you should be willing to adapt to a middle ground."

"If I did, then it would be of no interest to me. At my age, young Baruuk, you have less interest in the pointless spluttering of empty words. I've no time for it."

She arched her head to get a look at him, "how old are you?"

He gave her a sly look, "please, make a guess."

Thinking, she went through several possibilities. "Forty summers?"

He stared at her for a moment. She wondered if she'd guess it correctly on her first try, then he broke into roar of laughter. She was worried he might simply drop dead by the exertion of it, but he persevered.

"You think me so young? Oh please, I'm certainly interested in this conversation, do continue. How old is Lerin, do you think?"

Snorting loudly, she narrowed her eyes as she ran through any clues from her memory. She would get this right. "Twenty?"

He shook his head, but no laughter came this time. "Closer, but still wrong. Young Lerin is working to his twelfth summer."

"How old are you then?"

He chuckled, "to think that your kind rules my own and you cannot even guess at something simple such as our age," he sighed, a hint of laugh still in him, "I am older than you."

Her eyes went wide, "is that possible?"

A blank stare was her answer. She swore inwardly,of course it was. "Then you are past fifty."

"I'm eighty-one," he paused, seriousness in his voice. "though, I may pardon you of your ill attempts. There are precious few that make it to my ripe old age."

She frowned, watching him work the knife against her. "Shouldn't you be doing something less... intensive then?"

He clicked his tongue, "yes. I certainly should. Though, my assistant is preoccupied at the moment, as he always is. Evidently too busy fetching meat rolls for that blasted bird than to help his grandfather."

"Lerin is related to you?"

He nodded, "yes. My son requested that I teach him the arts of healing, though that has gone poorly as of late. Always happens about this time of the season. Now quiet, this conversation is heading in a direction that does not interest me. I'd rather think to myself."

She shut her mouth, cutting off her next question. Grumbling, she shut her eyes and let the old man work, his strained grunts the only sounds to break the silence. How this rude man had come to achieve such a prestigious rank within the palace, she had not the first clue.

***

"I do declare, we should be accompanied by another dozen knights herald! What will they say of this day? His Imperial Majesty guarded by but a pitiful dozen of the Empire's finest within his own city. We might as well lop our own heads off. Do you not agree, honorable Lerin?"

Nemyra looked about the Imperial entourage, seeking out the slippery youth Olarek seemed so attached to. Eight heralds marched along her flanks, another two pairs covering their front and rear. Each was armed extravagantly, gray metal pikes for beasts and longswords for the rest. Their armor gleamed mirror-bright, white capes flowing, the promise of a heroic demonstration if urged to protect their Sovereign.

Olarek had not mentioned the more than thirty retainers who darted about in patterns she could not fathom, carrying papers to and from the Marbled Court. It seemed even a picnic would offer no respite for the Emperor.

At last, she spotted the boy as he walked carefully behind one of the Emperor's heralds, tugging at his white cloak as if to peer behind it. Nemyra couldn't help but grin to herself. The man was becoming visibly irritated and had finally seemed to have had enough, slapping at his cape, attempting to catch Lerin's curious hands.

Almost the same moment the knight made his move, a perilous snarl erupted from Olarek, long feathers along his back raising, his ears flicking back. As if Lerin were made of the sun itself, the knight jerked his hand back. Olarek quieted, his cheery aura returning without a missed beat.

"What a disgraceful display," Olarek gave an exaggerated sigh, then smiled easily, nudging the Emperor's shoulder as they padded down the spotless street. They passed several villas, reminding her she walked where only the wealthiest and most powerful were ever permitted. She wondered if the crimson drake that had touched her just before her audience lived here. It seemed the sort of place for one of his kind. Carefully manicured lawns and delicate gardens flanked them as they passed undisturbed. They made their way to the Imperial Reserve where a pretentiously decorated pavilion had been assembled near the edge of the pristine lake.

Her heart sunk as they approached. When she had learned the Emperor would be joining, she had pleaded desperately with Olarek to not take her. She had eventually given in to his persistence as he genuinely seemed to think it would be healthy for her.

She had not the faintest clue of why he might think that, but she didn't want to make a too much of a fuss, so she had decided to trust him. Heart thumping in her chest, Nemyra bowed as the Emperor took his seat among his familiar blood red cushions. He appeared no different from the last time she had seen him, as if time itself was unable to exert its relentless influence on him. Olarek's foreign philosophies of self-worth and pride loitered at the edge of her mind. How he could see similarities between her and his perfection she_also_ had not the faintest clue.

A gesture from Olarek told her she was supposed to stop bowing. She looked up, seeing that they were waiting on her to seat herself. She blushed, mortified to have delayed her Sovereign's meal. A terrible blunder had the Emperor been in a poor mood.

Olarek seemed entirely at ease, as if everything was surpassing his expectations. At the ring of a bell she could not locate, several humans wearing delicate fabrics brought forth trays of food, setting them on the large silver table between the three of them. She still felt queasy at the sight of food, so she was once again reluctant to try anything.

"Glaedur, would you mind if I had young Lerin sit with us?"

Nemyra watched the Emperor carefully, ready to break her gaze at a moment's notice. He arched a scaly brow, saying nothing.

Olarek seemed unphased and gestured to Lerin who stood awkwardly outside the tent. Lerin grinned and seemed almost to dash inside but remembered himself. He walked to the edge of the tent, bowing deeply to the Emperor before joining Olarek. The gold feathered gryphon plucked a pillow from his lounge and set it next to him, patting it lightly with a claw. Lerin got the message and sat, his back leaning naturally against the curve of Olarek's flank.

The Emperor pricked a small eel with a claw and sniffed it lightly, "you had a word with the cooks?" His tone came less like a question and more as a statement of fact.

"It's a small wonder they haven't figured you out by now."

The Emperor chuckled, the sound strange coming from him. "I believe they fear I will skewer them with a casual glance."

Olarek sucked in air, "perhaps you should hire me. My hide seems immune to your gaze. Decades of testing has proven it relentlessly."

The Emperor snickered, the sound only stranger than the last. He shuffled his great wings and leaned towards Olarek, mockery laced into his voice, "your hide is fit for warming soft bodies, just ask the honorable Lerin."

Lerin pulled away from Olarek's warm feathers and poked his flank, as if to confirm the Emperor's words, though he had not caught the second edge. A chuckle rose from Nemyra before she could silence it and drew the Emperor's attention. Her stomach sunk and she broke her gaze, bowing slightly in submission. She waited for him to lose interest, certain it wouldn't be long.

A human in white robes of court stood at the entrance of the tent, waving to get her attention. She widened her eyes, not sure why he was looking at her before he stiffened suddenly, bowing to someone past her.

The great drake sighed, sweeping his head back in Nemyra's direction, a bored expression drilling into the intruder. The man seemed to shrink from his gaze, unsure of himself. "Bring them here."

The man carefully approached, bowing low and holding them out for the Emperor to read. Cool concentration radiated as the Emperor tapped the places for the man to stamp before moving on. Everyone was forced to wait in silence and Nemyra began to grow irrationally annoyed by the robed man. She knew it wasn't his fault, but the Emperor truly seemed unable to escape his work.

Another pang of regret hit her as she thought of her past desire to misuse his emotions. He clearly hadn't deserved it. She'd always told herself the Emperor must live an undeserved life of luxury. Olarek seemed outwardly wrathful, his eyes narrowed dangerously. It was unnatural how quickly his mood could change.

As the last page was finished, the Emperor nodded, letting the man retreat from his presence. Though, before he was able to reach the exit, Olarek motioned for him to stop.

"Do not disturb us during our meal. If the Empire is on verge of collapse, you may ferry one letter of your choosing." Olarek glared at the man, waiting until he nodded with understanding before allowing him to leave.

"I truly wish you would stay longer," the Emperor said as the man left.

Olarek didn't seem to hear, "what is it that requires your attention every waking moment?" he seemed almost to shout the words.

The Emperor nodded as if he were agreeing with Olarek's display of emotion, "the council is voting on land use within the lower districts. Evidently, it has become an unorganized cesspool. Many see it as a dishonor to have within the capital."

Nemyra couldn't help but agree.

"Well, the city_is_ quite big, they must expect some parts to fall into a bit of disarray."

The Emperor shrugged, "and to the heart of the matter. I know very little about this kind of rulership, I truly wish the architects would rely on their own knowledge, rather than mine."

They continued for some time, the plates and trays occasionally being swapped for their next course. Nemyra still hadn't eaten, but if anything, her appetite had only receded further. She felt trapped, the three of them seemed to be doing fine without her, leaving her feeling horrendously out of place. Even Lerin was giving a stronger performance than she could have managed, occasionally poking fun at Olarek or being the other end of a joke. He seemed entirely at ease. She swore under her breath, clenching her claws into tight fists.

As their fourth course left and the fifth was placed on the silver table, she caught a glance from Olarek. She grimaced, his unspoken offer to help her join the conversation sending a lance of panic through her. She shook her head desperately - worried that a split moment of hesitation would end with him drawing attention to her. He frowned almost imperceptibly, and she was left alone.

She let out a sigh of relief. Reluctantly, she tried to follow their conversation in a weak attempt to find an opening for Olarek's sake but felt foolish. She should not be here, everything about this was wrong. She thought about what her father would say in only a few days' time. Would he expel her from the family? Would he simply be glad she was not dead in the streets?

The latter seemed unrealistic. If the former, she already had no more worth than the runt that had bred her in the alley. The silks Olarek had provided her felt too expensive, the luxury wasted on her hide. She should present herself as a wild beast. It would match her more readily. A creature exposing itself blatantly to the elements, ready to breed at a moment's notice, no civil ritual of undress to take place.

Tracing the seam of her wraps with one claw, she followed it to her belly where she stopped in thought. It had felt good. Letting the runt slip into her. She had reveled in it. If he were to present himself to her again, would she roll over?

Her ears prickled in heat, she hadn't known she was a whore in silks, not picky about who mounted her. If a mud stained stallion offered, perhaps she would raise her tail even then. Would she like it more?

A concerned glance from Olarek caught her attention. She met his eyes, only then realizing she had started to weep quietly. A growl of frustration threatened to erupt from her, though she steadied herself, cycling her lungs with her Baruuki technique. She flicked her eyes to the Emperor, relief sweeping through her as he seemed too busy with a slab of meat to have likely noticed her disgraceful presentation. She gave Olarek a silent thanks and wiped the tears away on a quilt. Resituating herself, she drew air through her flared nostrils, trying to clear her mind.

The rest of their dinner passed without incident and she was glad to be back on the road. It was easier to avoid attention this way. Olarek walked beside the Emperor, speaking softly. A part of her wanted to hear what he was saying, though it was best she couldn't. Their long companionship deserved due privacy.

It had truly been a pleasant day, the weather perfect. She was happy the Emperor was at least able to enjoy a meal without puzzling through some issue. She tried to distract herself with the views around her, foolishly attempting to pick out a villa more ostentatious than the palace. It was difficult to find anything coming close. Though, she reckoned the palace could use more plant life. It always seemed deathly inside - despite the lively colored glass used throughout. The delicate gardens around her promised her a peace even an expert craftsman couldn't recreate.

Lerin caught her attention, walking quietly behind Olarek's tail feathers. He had a pained expression as he held a hand over his belly. She chuckled to herself, he had eaten far more than she thought possible. It had begun to disturb her near the end of the meal.

A quiet laugh came from the Emperor as he draped a wing over the gryphon. Olarek had said something about the cooks, her ears catching infrequent words. She grunted in annoyance with herself, swiveling her ears to something loud and jarring to drown out their conversation. The heralds at her flanks were an excellent source, mail ringing painfully into her sensitive ears. She wondered how the Emperor could tolerate a home full of these suits of rattling metal.

She continued to watch the passing manors, then grunted. The more she looked between them, the more she was certain they might_actually_ be challenging each other - passively or otherwise. As if pride and honor was determined by the height of their columns. It seemed pointless to her. A small slice of the upkeep that went into any one of their properties would easily have made the runt into something more than a street rat.

Olarek fell next to her, driving her other thoughts away. "I'm doing fine, you don't need to give me company," she said automatically.

She felt his easy smile against her, "bah, he should have a break from me."

A frown creased her eyes, "I'm sorry Olarek, I didn't mean to start like that. My mind seems a greater enemy to me than anything else right now."

He looked ahead, as if watching for something at the end of the street. "When I saw the look on your face, I called in Glaedur's favorite course. I don't think he saw, if that makes you feel any better."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, wanting to hug the oversized bird next to her. "I don't deserve your attention."

Olarek faltered, a grimace forming, his wings no longer folded at an elegant angle. She regretted her words immediately, but he needed to understand this truth. They walked silently among the soldiers for a time, listening to the cheerful songs of the birds around them.

"Nemyra, I know it's foolish of me to think you will drop your own ideologies in exchange for mine. I will never fully understand the pressures you endure among your kind. But..." His voice weakened and he slowed to a halt, letting the Emperor and his knights pass around them. It grew quiet as the rattling of plate grew distant.

"I don't want to hurt you Olarek. I'm broken. You can't fix me," she gave him a slight push, encouraging him to return to the Emperor.

"It's the egg, isn't it?"

Nemyra started, her limbs going cold, "what?"

"I see your pain each day, you claw at your belly as if a rat grows within you."

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to prod herself just then. His eyes cut through the deflection with ease.

"I want to help you." He came closer to her, his feathers brushing warmly against her side.

She choked on her words, "how can you?"

Easy control lapsing, he went quiet before turning to her, shamefaced, "Is there honor in carrying an egg of an Eastern prince?"

The blood went cold throughout her body, utterly shocked by the implied proposition. He knew the answer, he didn't need to ask her. Her breath caught in her throat, selfish hope splitting across her expression.

"It hasn't been long." He scratched idly at the cobbled street, fidgeting unrestricted. "If we went about it soon, you could carry mine." His face told her he was struggling with this more than she was, a strange realization.

She shifted uneasily, "we've hardly been together for any sensible duration. How could you offer me such an honor?"

He seemed almost too hasty to answer her this time. "Please, don't take this the wrong way, for I always had every intention of precisely following the ancient proceedings of romance. I merely thought that given the situation we could skip a few steps, before there is no turning back."

She thought to herself, her mind at large with an inner struggle.

"If we... went there, we could always double-back to the ones we skipped." He gave her a searing look, "I don't care what you did, I know enough to see a companion I would be foolish to let slip, however short my time with you has been."

Honored deeply, she bowed, splaying her wings around her. "You won't give up."

She waited a moment, mind working. He was avoiding a critical issue and it hurt to call attention to it, "I bring you no assets. Olarek, you are a prince. You've told me to be realistic with myself and I urge you to do the same."

Olarek frowned, "my father does not muddle with my private life."

Nemyra glanced down the road, watching the Emperor and his heralds turning a corner, obscuring her view of them. She'd expected him to bite angrily at her words, though he seemed lost in thought, a slight nervousness to him.

This time, her own irritation rose, "he will in time. A few distractions now may be of no matter, but he will assert himself if you do not find a more suitable mate. It is likely I won't retain my noble title by the end of the week, knowing my father."

Olarek eyed her apologetically. "While words may remove the promise of due inheritance, they cannot remove the blood that flows through you."

He paused, dipping his head, pawing lightly at the ground, "look, Nemyra, you're right. We've hardly been together long, and this all seems hasty and ill-planned - and it is. The truth is that I've felt rushed over this entire matter. We will both be leaving the capital soon. I to the East, you... to wherever fate takes you." He sighed, "I have a good feeling about you, but a feeling just the same. I can't know if we would fit well together, only time could tell us that. I wouldn't try to lie to myself about these sorts of things."

Nemyra said nothing, the cold wind rustling nearby trees. She shifted away, putting a wing's distance from him.

"This isn't an offer of lawful bonding, this is an offer of friendship." He shrugged, ears quivering, "well, with some added intimacies, of course. In the future, maybe we will find it better to drift apart," he turned back to her, eyeing her reluctantly, "or, maybe we see fit to strengthen the bond."

Nemyra grunted as though disregarding him, though she thought through his words. They had been the most realistic she'd heard from him, the most bound to truth. The offer was appealing, even if it essentially made her his mistress. She truly liked Olarek, it was difficult not to.

"Look at it another way; if we... tried for an egg, then I get a bit of fun in making it, and you have the honor of carrying. No one loses." His expression grew pained, eyes tired, voice soft, "a friendly exchange. We could part ways soon after if you desired."

Her heart quickened and she gave into a sudden urge. "Olarek, hush. What you're offering is more special than that." Nemyra padded up next to him, brushing his ear with her muzzle. He flinched at her touch, then warmed to her and pushed back, sliding forward to press against her side. She liked his closeness, his presence was comforting, a feeling she'd sorely missed for months. Perhaps her troubles had loosened her to trying new and exotic experiences.

"I would love an intimate night with you."

She didn't know what else to say. He nuzzled harshly into her neck, "I'm glad you changed your mind." Turning slowly, he met her eyes, "when would you be most comfortable to try?"

Shaking, she hoped she didn't sound desperate, "any time you are free."

He pulled away from her and reached to his thigh with his beak, plucking a small vial from a strap she had not noticed before. He dropped it into a claw and removed the cork before draining the contents into his beak. He shuddered for a moment, then nodded to her, smiling.

"And that was?"

He gave a hesitant laugh, "I may be more virile than most, but even I will need a hand to win your eggs at such an advanced stage."

She raised a scaly brow, "you had that with you all day?"

"I like to act on instinct, remember?" He shivered again, "oh... that stuff works faster than I thought. Damnation take that priest, I'm going to be a mess tonight."

Nemyra couldn't help but laugh. She had likely dealt with worse, her seasons especially potent, though she sensed he wasn't going to remain civil for long. "We should hurry then," her words coated in excitement.

***

The emerald dragoness sprawled into the soft cushions, rolling onto her back to present herself as Olarek tumbled in after her, door slamming shut. She could see his arousal pressing desperately against silks. She stretched out a hind leg, clawing at his wraps, trying to help him free his throbbing erection. He wheezed, body trembling with a mixture of nervous and aggressive energy.

"I would start with teasing, but I'm afraid the act will affect me more than it will affect you."

She snickered to herself, breathing hard before giving him an alluring smile and kicking one last time. His wraps tore free, letting his cock droop beneath him and stiffen to its full length. Her tongue ran hungrily within her maw. She spread her legs wide, inviting him to mount her. He needed no further encouragement.

Pressed against her, his warmth rushed over her body as he wrapped her into a tight nest of feathers. He drew his tongue along her cheek, "I hope I don't disappoint."

Still sucking in air, Nemyra struggled to pull her mind away from the press of his slick organ nestled between them, its heat radiating against her belly. "You're already surpassing my expectations."

Olarek panted, smiling back to her, elated by her complement. "Should we try to draw this out?"

"Just give me a breather, I haven't recovered from the stairs." She let her long serpentine tongue slip out the side of her maw, wheezing heavily. She didn't want to ruin the moment by provoking another bout of nausea.

Olarek nuzzled her again, exploring her neck. Nemyra pressed her belly against his, feeling the throb of his member, the fevered beat of his heart. He swept his wings to her side, shielding her from the wind rushing into the room. Olarek hadn't bothered shutting the windows, he had been too interested in her to pay them any mind.

A shock of arousal ran through her when he found what he'd been searching for on the nape of her neck, pinching her playfully with his sharp beak. She gasped, surprised he knew the spot, "where did you learn that?"

He grinned, giving her another shock before answering, "Glaedur and I are still young. He has urges too."

A moment of curiosity broke through her lust, "Glaedur - Sorry, the Emperor has mated before?" She knew he had no mistress currently, that would have been public knowledge.

He shook his head, "he tried. It hadn't quite worked out. I encouraged him to give it another attempt, but something about honor and duty," he grunted. "The neck was the furthest he got."

Olarek leaned down, nipping her again, this time much harder. A pleasurable burn ran suddenly through her. Her limbs betrayed her, leaving her paralyzed to him, body relaxed. Her control returned seconds later. She swallowed, strangely intoxicated by the sensations and her inability to resist, "that's cheating," she gasped, breathing intensely.

He chuckled, touching her snout with his beak, a mischievous look in his eyes. Nemyra shifted underneath him, trying to pry free a pinned foreleg.

"Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head, "I want to feel your flanks."

"Oh," he said, surprised perhaps for the first time by her blunt reply. "By all means." He leaned, letting a foreleg slip free and offered her his side.

She ran a claw through his shallow feathers, feeling the outline of his muscles. His skin twitched from her touch, unused to such invasive roughness. "Sorry," she said.

"You must sharpen those."

"A habit. I'll try not to prick you." She brushed through his feathers, wondering if he could overpower her, the primeval instinct to challenge his right to breed her flitting through her head before she silenced it.

His breathing quickened as she played with his elegant coat, "caught your breath?"

A sly impulse encouraged her to ask for more time, but he was doing this for her, so she nodded. She wasn't sure he could contain himself for much longer anyway, his body trembling against her own.

"Just tell me if you need to slow down."

She nodded, curling her tail in unchecked eagerness.

Olarek raised his rear slightly, letting his shaft align itself. He prodded against her entrance, tip sliding in only slightly. He glanced to her one last time.

She bowed her head slightly, urging him to begin. He gave her a lick across her snout and lowered himself, his mating tool easing slowly inside her. Only days before she had felt a cock inside her, but his felt markedly different. Rough along several ridges, small knobs almost grinding into her flesh. They should hurt, but the feeling only drew shivers of excitement as they pressed against her passage, her insides shoved aside by his thick meat. As his under-flesh finally kissed her entrance, she felt his bloated sack press against her. She reddened, unable to prevent several unflattering groans of approval, squirming as she felt her insides split.

His eyes knotted in concentration, watching her, carefully maintaining the pace of their coupling. She felt another pang of embarrassment as she was already crooning for him - shouldn't she last longer? His attention seemed to falter when her body rewarded him with a powerful embrace of her birthing muscles. This time, he let out his own ragged moan, dipping his head past her and pressing his feathered chest against her. She nipped at an ear, playfully reassuring the male.

Olarek shifted, then waited for her heavy breathing to slow before beginning slow deliberate motions, pleasuring her with careful technique. he ran a foreleg behind her, claws gently exploring the tight rippling muscles of her shoulders and wings. Nemyra gulped as she tried to hold back another groan. Instead, a struggled sigh escaped her lips. She had been expecting a rough breeding... not_this_. Nemyra felt clueless, this new experience as foreign to her as her virgin mating just days before. She was repeating herself, doing nothing but lying still beneath an experienced partner.

"You're strong," was all he managed before slowing to a stop as a sharp twitch ran through his length. He let several distressing moments pass and eyed her apologetically, "sorry, almost lost it. I don't quite have the same restraint I normally do."

She said nothing, letting her head sink into a soft pillow, relaxed and tingling with wonderous sensation. After several heavy beats of her heart, his careful mating continued, drawing a relieved sigh from her lungs.

He continued enticing new feelings from her body, finding sensitive flesh she hadn't been aware of despite it being her own - places the runt had been too preoccupied to bother with. Even nearing the end of her heat, she still wanted to throw Olarek onto his back and pound relentlessly against him, to feel his cock drill into her again and again. But this was his moment. And besides, her first attempt at mating with the runt had taught her next to nothing about romance as she was quickly realizing, she was eager to learn what she could.

She wasn't sure how long he'd been at it. He had to pause every minute to calm his twitching member, but then he would continue. She was starting to become impatient when at last he gave a grunt, beginning to drive short, deep thrusts, his body tensing each time as the base of his rigid flesh met her underside. A strange lust began eroding his technique, a look of savage delight unmasking itself. His eyes narrowed distantly, giving him the look of a deadly predator, a look she recognized. She wasn't certain he'd be able to respond if she requested another breather, but luckily, she had no intention of slowing down.

Pressure began building around the outline of his cock. She wasn't sure if it was her, or Olarek's pent up lust, his vital seed ready to compete for her eggs. Her thoughts began feeling faint, like unimportant worries before a greater task. She felt something calling within her - a part of her she had been told to avoid. Shutting her eyes, she focused on the dreamlike presence. It was as if a stranger was offering her an unknowable truth. She followed, the truth a mere moment away. Eyes widening, she realized what she had done. Though it was too late.

Her mind warped.

Vision clouding in thick red, she felt energy burn suddenly through her, her heart beating rapidly to catch up. It seemed a bestial power on the verge of release, and she was too weak to hold it back.

They were no longer prince Olarek Voroke of the Eastern Sovereign and the shamed Baruuki female. They were the pinnacle of creation, apex predators at the height of their vitality. The sky seemed to flow with the eb of their energy, roaring into action as the female presented her contender one final test. She ripped her claws from under him, sickness cowed pathetically by her primeval state and stared savagely into his eyes. Pushing against his flesh, she threw him off balance and challenged him to lay claim to her with an animal snarl.

The feathered drake recovered immediately, responding with a surge of force that lanced against her own. As if beasts of the wild, they struggled against each other, claws tearing, flecks of blood smearing their bodies, marking the potential mates. Locked together in a deadly embrace, the female felt her strength begin to waver, the larger beast's size a sharp disadvantage despite her rare strength. Sensing her weakness, the drake poured himself against her, relentlessly battering her failing defense. Slowly, his cock regained territory, sliding deeper into her and approaching its prize.

She grunted and redoubled her efforts, throwing every ounce of strength into the motion, if only to delay the inevitable. The male growled in impatience, and with deftness she could not match, he flanked her, curving around and latching firmly onto the nape of her neck. She gasped, realizing his sly strategy.

Then he tore into her, beak piercing her scaled hide and drawing a warm trickle of blood across his beak. Air ripped from her lungs as she threw out one last defiant roar as her rebellious energy receded as quickly as it came, laying her bare before the victorious male. She attempted to throw him back but found no limb responding to her demands.

He snarled, plunging his slick passion deeply into her, blood smeared feathers pressed against her soft underside, bleeding with several thin cuts of his claws. A powerful burst of numbing desire ran through her as the base of the male's length stretched against her walls, forming a thick bulge near her entrance. Her vaginal muscles were unused to such utility of the strange beast, leaving her with no ability to resist him as he locked himself in place, the bulb of his cock preventing them from separating. Then, steady throbs sent his augmented essence flooding into the warm embrace of her gender, sack pulsing against her underside, the sensations giving her but a wonder for the breadth of his profound fertility.

Her senses began returning as time passed, redness fading, the pressures of her heat and their coupling no longer disorienting. Olarek laid on top of her, chest heaving air, maleness fidgeting inside her, his knot sealing them together. The air seemed to boil against her scales, forcing her own ragged breaths despite the windows being wide open.

"That..." Olarek gasped for another breath, "was a bit much." He leaned back, raising his head into the cold air above their heated bodies and began panting heavily. "Are you okay? I think I might have bit you." His ears reddened as he glanced dumbly to her neck and then to the tip of his bloodied beak. "Sorry... I lost control," he mumbled.

She grimaced, arching her neck, flinching at its soreness. "I liked it, even if it has a poor aftertaste."

They waited together, recovering from the explosive use of energy moments before. After several minutes, Nemyra felt Olarek's knot begin to shrink. "Should we double-back now?" she asked.

He gave her a look of guarded disappointment, "you think I got them all?" He cocked his head, smiling sheepishly, "the eggs I mean."

"Are you sure you know the steps of formal romance? If so, you seem stuck at one in particular."

He frowned, his excitement faltering, "you don't want to?"

"I'm just surprised you still have some left to give. That felt like more than you should be able to carry," Nemyra pressed gently against her belly, a slight bulge where his warm seed now swarmed within. The touch excited her, its promise of hatchlings drawing out emotions she hadn't known she would have. She spread her legs further, pressing his rear lightly with her long emerald tail.

Olarek's excitement returned at her clear invitation. "I guess so," he grinned at her, his shaft finally slipped free. He shifted his weight, turning sideways and raising a hind leg to present his hardened cock and hanging fruits.

Nemyra licked at her fangs absently, eyes pouring over the details between his legs, entirely distracted by his tools. Olarek cupped himself with a claw as if weighing his contents. "Feels like plenty. Do you have space?"

She groaned, "I didn't know you could be so crude."

He chuckled, letting go of his sack and straddling her again as he aligned himself. "I don't think my little concoction has worn off yet. Thought we might as well keep going."

She returned with a grin, energy working its way back into her limbs, "I would have to agree."

***

Nemyra groaned, muscles complaining. Several shallow wounds covered her body, the results of their more animal passions. Her underside was a painting of slick compassion, her womb a sea of fertility. They would need baths. Only the most common would not predict what had transpired through either sight or scent. Though, that could wait for the morning.

"Should I get a bucket?"

She shook her head, "I'm just sore."

He chuckled, spreading a wing over her form and brushing the slight swell of her belly. She felt content. Whatever the priest offered to Olarek had made an impressive display several times over.

It was past midnight, the city below only half asleep. Soft orange lights created a poor imitation of the dazzling starlight from far above, a rippling reflection of the sky caught within the cold grasp of the great lake. She was pressed against Olarek's underside, his limbs wrapped around her. She was nestled into his thick plumage for warmth as frigid wind rushed through the loft. It felt as a nest for hatchlings, warm and safe. She slipped her muzzle underneath his head, burrowing against his neck, though, careful to avoid stretching the tender muscles along her nape.

Nemyra shifted, opening her eyes to see Olarek watching her with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. She touched her muzzle to his beak, rubbing him gently. The words felt foolish, but she wanted him to know, "I think I'd like to see where this goes."

He shivered against her, his expression revitalized. Stroking her neck, he quietly spoke, "then I look forward to fathering our clutch."

Nemyra felt her own shiver this time. She didn't hide it, instead, she indulged in the reaction and shifted under the warmth of his outstretched wing.

"Will you follow me to the East then? I only have a few days left here."

"Of course," she said, without deliberation. It didn't matter if she remained a Baruuk by the end of tomorrow. It didn't matter that she was letting herself become his mistress. She pulled her forelegs against her chest, a thought crossing her mind, though, she was hesitant to bring it up.

Only a single beat passed before he asked, "what is it?"

She smiled inwardly, unsurprised by his sudden question. "May I bring Malrik?"

He smiled easily, "certainly, I would love to meet those dearest to my mate."

Nemyra drew a claw tiredly across his foreleg, careful not to hurt him, "thank you." She should have said something more meaningful, but she gathered he'd already felt the unspoken truths through her closeness.

Her thoughts drifted quietly to Malrik and she wondered how he would react, knowing that in months she would be burdened with egg. He would likely dote as much as Olarek. She shut her eyes, relishing in her companion's touch.

He idly brushed her soft underside, his eyes gleaming as he stared into the night, "perhaps I will bring Lerin too. He could cling to my back like some legendary warrior of old. I think he told me he wanted to try that at some point - he might even enjoy it if I'm lucky."

Nemyra mumbled softly in reply.

"Right," he said quietly, looking over the exhausted form of his mate, a proud grin tugging at him. Nuzzling an unruly ear, he let the warmth of sleep carry them together into peaceful dreams.

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