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2.

*****The Lair*****

Ailsa rinsed the mud from her dress, then wrung it out and pulled it on. The wet blue fabric clung to her skin. She stepped into her boots and snatched up her pack. Ailsa searched for her sword and knives before she remembered they were locked away in the town jail.

Ailsa scowled, following the dragon. The beast's posture had changed. Varcorak's tail hung, its spiny fins dragged the ground. He held his head down, spines pinned flat to his skull. His green-mottled wings were half-unfurled as though he were ready to fly to safety. Each time thunder cracked the still air the dragon jumped and glanced around.

By the time they'd reached the manor it was as if someone had opened the clouds with a knife. The crushing deluge would have soaked Ailsa to the skin if she wasn't already wet. She cradled her pack to protect it from the rain. She doubted the dragon would eat soggy pastries.

Varcorak hunkered beneath the overhanging roof that sheltered the entryway. Fluted columns in alternating white and black marble spanned either side of the dragon. The pillars culminated in elegant arches supporting the tiled eave. Rain pounded against the roof tiles in a hissing cascade, pouring down around the dragon. The rain brought a sweet freshness that covered up the danker scent of the swamp.

As Ailsa ran to catch up with the dragon, she spotted a few more statues near his entryway. Like those dotting the plaza, they were missing their heads. "What's with those?"

"I didn't like the way they were looking at me." Varcorak growled. "Dead eyes. So I pulled their heads off."

"Oh." Right. Nothing creepy about that.

"Come inside, Ailsa." Varcorak walked into the archway that served as entrance.

Up close the dragon's manor looked like a limestone fortress, square and sturdy. An immense tapestry hung across the arched entry. An image of the dragon adorned the tapestry, inky black and emerald green. The dragon's name was scrawled across it in fancy script. Varcorak. Beneath the dragon was another phrase. The Black Shield.

"The Black Shield?" Ailsa raised her voice over the rain. "What does that mean?"

"The town calls me that." The dragon pushed aside the tapestry long enough for Ailsa to slip through. "Because I protect them."

Ailsa patted dragon's haunch in thanks and went inside. "Good name."

Varcorak snorted. "I suggested Varcorak, King of the Swamp, and Bringer of Desolation, but it wouldn't fit." The dragon padded inside and let the tapestry fall shut.

Inside the dragon's home, Ailsa was struck by the quiet and the pleasant aroma. The stone walls and thick tapestry shut out most of the rain and thunder. Coils of gray-brown smoke rose from smoldering incense in iron braziers. It left the air smelling of the deep forest melded with exotic spices.

"Is that incense?" Ailsa laughed, almost in disbelief.

"Yes. Humans don't like the smell of the swamp." Varcorak flared his nostrils as if reveling in the scent himself. "Do you not like it?"

"It's nice, actually."

"Good, because I'm lighting more."

Varcorak walked to a brazier holding a clump of wet, red-brown moss. He took a breath, and spat a burst of stunning, red-orange fire across the brazier. Ailsa winced at the flash of heat, but could not tear her eyes away from roiling flames erupting from the dragon's mouth. Great. They really could do that. In the fire's wake, the moss lingered as smoldering embers emitting pungent smoke.

Ailsa shifted her pack, chuckling. "Never thought dragons would have incense in their lair."

"Lair." The dragon grinned, lifting his ears. "I like that word. Makes me sound dangerous."

"You are dangerous, aren't you?" Ailsa smiled.

"Extremely." The dragon rumbled, splaying his tail spines. "Especially to those who betray my trust."

Ailsa wrenched fear's cold fingers away from her heart. Varcorak couldn't know. "I can't imagine anyone would dare cross you."

"Not if they appreciate the use of their limbs."

Ailsa smiled, looking around the dragon's lair while her eyes adjusted. It was a bit dark inside. Windows dotted the upper walls, the panes shone white-gold when lightning flashed. Mirrored lanterns hanging on iron hooks emitted a pale blue light. Ailsa examined one and saw the light came from a misshapen lump of crystal. Glowing rocks? Those were definitely worth snatching.

"Where'd you get these glowing rocks?"

"I found the light stones in the swamp." The dragon swished his tail. "The swamp provides."

Sure. Damn lying dragon.

Once Ailsa's eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped. She'd expected a mess. She thought Varcorak's hoard would be big pile of coins with scattered crowns, jewels and skulls. Instead it was tidy, ordered, almost obsessive. Every wall was lined with shelves, crates, chests and more. Ancient tomes filled elegant bookcases. Gold rings glittered in a crystalline display case. A jeweled scepter sat upon a lone shelf. The dragon might know every bit of treasure here.

Varcorak's tail brushed her as he walked by. "What do you think?"

"It's not what I expected." Maybe if she only stole from closed chests he wouldn't notice till she was gone.

Varcorak snorted and stretched a wing. "I suppose you thought I slept on a pile of coins in a cave."

"The thought crossed my mind."

The dragon tossed his head, hissing. "Why do humans think dragons sleep on metal? Sounds profoundly uncomfortable. And untidy." The dragon clicked his teeth and waved a paw. "If you had a collection of valuables, would you just toss it about on the floor?"

Ailsa's gaze wandered across portraits and busts of dragons adorning his walls. "So what do you sleep on?"

"Pillows and blankets."

Ailsa followed his gaze to the largest pile of bedding she'd ever seen. Woolen blankets, comforters, cotton sheets, silk spreads, lumpy pillows and frilly cushions, all neatly arranged in the corner. "Where did you get all that?"

"The town." Exasperation stretched the dragon's voice. "More comfortable than animal hides and easily washed. You will sleep upon them with me. I promise not to roll over and crush you." The dragon smirked at her, flicking his ears. "Do you wish dry clothing?"

Ailsa grimaced, tugging at her wet blue dress. "I'd love it."

"This way." The dragon walked to a series of wooden crates along the wall. "Unless you prefer to go naked."

"Sounds like what you'd prefer." Ailsa set her pack down, grinning.

The dragon pulled a crate free. "Don't leave your pack there."

Damn dragon was obsessed with tidiness. Ailsa picked up her pack, and set it in an empty space between crates. "Better?"

"For now." The dragon pushed the crate towards her. "Your clothes are in here."

Ailsa bit back an insult and replaced it with a smile. Good thing she was gonna rob this dragon and run. She doubted she'd last more than a few days with him before she got herself eaten for kicking him in the balls. She knelt down and opened the crate, wondering where he got the clothes that filled it.

"What are these, trophies from your last victims?"

"Only a few of them." The dragon yawned, tongue curling.

Ailsa ignored the dragon as she appraised the garments. She glanced at colorful dresses and frilly skirts, but needed something suitable for her escape. Half of it was moth-eaten anyway. Before long, Ailsa was tossing old clothing on the floor just to irritate the dragon.

"Stop making a damn mess!" The dragon snapped his jaws when the box was nearly empty.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ailsa said, her voice all false innocence. "Don't worry, I'll clean that all--Oh!" Ailsa pulled out a pair of well-worn black leather breeches. "Here's something."

The dragon peered at the pants, tail twitching. "Oh, I liked her. Shirt should be there too. Green and gold."

Ailsa seized a green sleeve and pulled the shirt free. "You didn't eat her, did you?"

"Certainly not." The dragon stuffed clothing back in the box. "I rescued her from the swamp."

Ailsa stood and held the pants against herself. "Aw, how sweet, someone you didn't drown. Didn't think you had any kindness in you."

The dragon narrowed his bronze eyes and pinned his spines back. "Do not presume to know what is in my heart."

Ailsa grimaced. Beast had a point. "Sorry."

The dragon grunted and busied himself packing clothes away. What kind of woman got herself lost in a swamp? A woman like Ailsa. Did she rob the dragon too?

Ailsa stripped off her boots and wet dress, and stepped into the dry breeches. She glanced at the dragon while she pulled them up. "You really like human women, huh?" She buttoned up her breeches. A bit tight but they'd do. "Are we your fetish, Dragon?"

"I don't know that word." The dragon cocked his head. "I like many things, human females included. That surprises you?"

"Yes." Ailsa scooped up the green blouse and pulled it over her head. "I thought dragons would only be into..." She adjusted the blouse. The gold-hemmed emerald sleeves were a little short. "We're not even the same species."

The dragon shrugged green-mottled wings. "We're both sentient creatures who speak our consent. What is not to understand?"

Oh, sure, make her look like an idiot. Thanks, Dragon. "If you put it that way..."

"Humans complicate things. Pleasure is natural. It is not to be ashamed of." The dragon fetched her wet blue dress, and laid it over the crate. "How are your clothes?"

"Dry." Ailsa fidgeted with them. "Thank you."

The dragon moved the crate against the wall near her pack. "How did you find yourself in my town?"

The question caught Ailsa off-guard. She couldn't tell the dragon the truth without blowing her cover. Ailsa made a show of adjusting her breeches. "Passing through on my way out west. Figure all the instability out there means lucrative work."

"So you decided to stop by the swamp on your way to die in someone else's rebellion?" The dragon shifted a few crates, but Ailsa saw through his feigned disinterest. Varcorak knew more about the outside world than she expected.

"Actually I hoped to work here and avoid the damn rebellions." Ailsa gave the dragon her best mercenary smirk. "Never know how those things will play out and losers rarely get paid. Turns out some scaly bastard's got the local mercenary market cornered."

"Indeed." The dragon scratched his neck with a wingtip talon. "It's for the best. The swamp would have ended you, and that would cause trouble." The dragon gave her an odd stare, lifting his spines. "It only takes one dead trespasser to get people up in arms, hunting down the swamp tribes. And that makes the swamp very angry."

Ailsa wasn't superstitious, but the idea of an angry swamp was starting to get to her. Thunder rumbled, and Ailsa glanced at a window streaked with lashing rain. "Yeah, I heard there's gryphons out there."

"Gryphons, lizardfolk, horned coyotes, so on." The dragon flicked his tail, spines scraping stone. "Humans call them what they resemble." Varcorak arched his neck, flaring his gold-tinged frills. "They once sought trade with your kind until your people killed them for their lands. So the swamp fought back, and the dead town outside is the result."

"I thought you said it was a plague." Ailsa wrung her hands, glancing at the exit. Was he unstable or just toying with her?

"I say a lot of things." The dragon stared at her. Mischief and danger danced together in his bronze eyes before he turned away. "I'm going to get us a drink. Feel free to look around, just put everything back where you found it."

"Sure thing." For now.

Ailsa walked around the dragon's home, making note of treasure both valuable and easily carried. A golden goblet crusted with jewels. An emerald-studded circlet. A silver dagger with inscriptions in a lost tongue. Pouches filled with old coins and rough cut stones. A bookshelf lined with rare tomes.

A scraping, rattling sound drew Ailsa's attention as Varcorak dragged in a crate filled with bottles. "Where do you get all this stuff?"

Varcorak glanced over as he hauled the crate. "Stole some of it in my youth. The rest I call payment for services rendered. See anything you fancy?"

Ailsa browsed a drawer filled with exotic writing implements. There were gryphon feather quills, inkpots of ivory and bone, a pen carved from antler. "You've all sorts of interesting things. Why?"

The dragon settled on his haunches to examine the bottles one by one. "I wish to be your companion, not your captor. When you leave, you may choose something in return for your companionship."

Paying her off like some whore. How sweet. "Oh, well thank you, Dragon!" One item for months with the dragon? More like a pack full of treasure for a quickie and a cuddle.

"Care for some wine?" The dragon held a bottle in his webbed paw.

"Later, but you go ahead."

"As you wish." The dragon plunked a single claw into the cork and pulled it free. He flicked the cork into the crate then poured the wine into an oblong pewter bowl. "I'll open more later with our tarts."

"That's fine." Get drunk, eat treats, pass out. Perfect.

Ailsa stumbled upon a box holding what looked like sets of large, padded shackles. Had he been captured at some point? Then she saw something with a smooth wooden handle, and pulled it free. The wood beyond the handle was flat, broad, and leather-wrapped.

Ailsa stared. No way. "Is this a paddle?"

"What?" The dragon placed the empty bottle in the crate.

"This is a paddle." Ailsa swatted her hand, laughing.

"Sorry." The dragon sniffed at his wine. "Don't know that word."

"Then what is this?"

"No idea." The dragon shrugged his wings.

Ailsa smirked, and smacked her hand again. "This is a big paddle, Dragon. Is this for you or your guests?"

The dragon lapped at his wine, glancing over. "What's it do?"

"It paddles."

"Repeating the word doesn't explain the meaning." The dragon snorted.

"Right." Ailsa stuck the paddle back in the box. "We'll go that route. If you decide you want your scaly ass paddled, let me know." Paddling a dragon sounded fun. If he kept up the attitude, she'd 'accidentally' swing it low and see how high the beast's voice could get. "I'll just put it by your fun-time shackles."

"What are you on about? That box belonged to an old mate."

"So she liked being paddled?" Ailsa grinned but the dragon still wouldn't rise to the bait.

Ailsa turned her attention to the paintings, tapestries and busts that decorated Varcorak's walls above his treasure. Most of them depicted other dragons. There was a blue one with a short muzzle, a green with a tapered snout, and a full portrait one of a black dragon with fiery red wing patterns.

"Who are these dragons?" Ailsa smirked. "Your conquests?"

"Not conquests." Varcorak licked droplets of red wine from his muzzle. The dragon's voice softened and he glanced away. "Memories. They were dear to me."

That sounded a lot deeper than trophies. Did dragons...did things get deeper for them? That moment of loneliness, the coldness she'd seen in his eyes earlier that day drifted back to her.

Have you seen any female dragons around here, lately? Because I sure as hell haven't.

Ailsa clapped a hand to her mouth, her breath caught. She watched Varcorak, wondering if his lovers were all slain by humans. How many had he lost? Ailsa could scarcely imagine the weight of that burden. The dragon turned his head away, his eyes hidden. His spines sagged, and his ears drooped as he stared at his wine.

Ailsa dug her palms into her eyes. Her throat clenched and she swallowed that sympathetic pain right back down. She didn't have time to feel sorry for some horny old lizard who'd already threatened to kill her. She had to stick to her plan.

"So you had portraits done of the females you cared for?" Ailsa smiled. "That's sweet."

Varcorak shifted, tightening his wings against his body. The dragon seemed caught off-guard by his own feelings and needed a moment to collect himself. "And the males."

"Males?" What else was this dragon into?

"Yes." Varcorak shook himself, lifting his spines, his pained posture vanished. "The gryphon's male."

Ailsa walked the wall till she spotted a tapestry with a gryphon on it. Gray feathers peppered with black, seated on his haunches, and definitely male. "You're into gryphons? Male gryphons?"

"We've been over this." Varcorak sighed, curling his tail. "Dragons are not beholden to your restrictive sexual morals. Life is a gift to be enjoyed. Does sharing pleasure with a willing partner harm anyone?" The dragon flared his gold-tipped spines, hissing. "Do you fear that because I have pleasured a male gryphon, that somehow your cities will come crumbling down?"

Ailsa had no response. Hell, if she didn't agree she'd not have been so willing to pleasure the dragon to get his treasure. "It's just a surprise, that's all."

Varcorak snorted, flattening his frills. "Humans. Always complicating things."

"Just didn't realize dragons were bisexual."

"Not all of us are." Varcorak arched his neck. "But how are we to know what we enjoy without trying it?"

Ailsa rubbed her face, unable to stifle her grin. "I'm sure the gryphon had a wonderful time."

"You should hear the noises he made when I took him in my muzzle."

Ailsa giggled, reddening a little. That might be fun to see. Further down the wall Ailsa found a group of portraits that all depicted the same female dragon. She was black, with hints of blue and green marking her. They were set away from the others, with their own section of shelves and trinkets.

"What about this one?" Ailsa smirked at the dragon. "Was she your best lover?"

The dragon's voice dropped into a growl. "That is my daughter."

Oh. Ailsa swallowed. She really jumped in the dragon pile that time. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes." The dragon cocked his head, glaring at her. "Why does everything surprise you? We don't just assemble each other out of swamp mud and bits of stick!"

Grimacing, Ailsa examined some of the trinkets on the shelves. There were shards of brittle, mottled gray egg shell. Piles of dark scales were arranged from smallest to largest. A broken claw lay on its own. There were wooden carvings of dragons. Had his daughter carved those, or were they toys he'd given her?

So, King Ugly of Shit Swamp wasn't just a father, he was a caring father. Ailsa held her breath when guilt's vice squeezed her heart. This was supposed to be easy. Ailsa grit her teeth. This was easy. She wasn't hurting his daughter, she wasn't harming him. She'd just slip away with a little treasure, and he could get another girl.

"What's her name?" The question spilled from Ailsa's lips before she could stop it.

"Nykarys." Happiness and pride brightened Varcorak's voice. "Named after her mother."

No way in hell Ailsa could pronounce that. "And she's..." Ailsa glanced at the dragon. "Alive?"

Varcorak pulled his head back, spines flaring and eyes wide. "Gods, I hope so."

"I'm glad." For once, that wasn't a lie. Even an old bastard needed someone to care about. "So she's..."

"Off with a mate of her own, somewhere safe and far away." The dragon padded up alongside her, gazing at the portraits. "There aren't many of us left. Not here, anyway. I'm glad she's found someone."

"And...her mother..."

"Is not a topic of discussion." Varcorak's voice tightened, his claws clicked against the stone floor as he unsheathed them. That was answer enough.

"I'm sorry." Ailsa put a hand on the dragon's foreleg. The beast swallowed and looked away.

"You need not apologize for old sorrows." The dragon shook himself, scales clicking.

Ailsa stroked his foreleg scutes. She almost wished she could hug the scaly bastard. Almost. "Ny...Nik...Nie...Your daughter is beautiful."

The dragon rumbled as a smile tugged at his muzzle. "Yes, she is." A rare warmth glowed in his bronze eyes. "Do you have young?"

"Oh, no." Ailsa shook her head, rubbing the dragon's shoulder. "A wandering mercenary isn't exactly a suitable mother. Maybe when I'm settled down somewhere."

"Probably for the best." The dragon traced his pads over some of the eggshell fragments, still smiling.

"Is that why you made your deal with the town?" The dragon's life was a puzzle Ailsa suddenly couldn't stop trying to solve. "Because you had a daughter to raise?"

Varcorak flared his frills one spine at a time. The dangerous, uncertain shine returned to his bronze eyes. "You think I offered them the deal?"

Ailsa chewed her lip, examining the dragon's trinkets to avoid his gaze. "Didn't you?"

"Perhaps they came to me, requesting my protection." The dragon curled his tail around a hind leg, smirking. "Or perhaps I gave them an ultimatum. What do you think, Ailsa?"

"I think they made a deal with the devil, and now they're stuck with it."

The dragon cocked his head, voice encased in icy amusement. "You think I'm the devil?"

"You might be." Ailsa gave him a nervous glance. "I can't figure you out."

"Best try harder, Girl, time's running out." Varcorak tapped his claws against the stone floor.

Ailsa's stomach knotted. What was he playing at? She forced a smile. "What's the hurry? I've months to figure you out."

"Do you?" The dragon's voice was a rising swirl of lilting curiosity and rumbling menace. He flicked his tail, webbed spines clattered on the floor.

"That's what they told me in town." Ailsa bent forward and busied herself digging through a box filled with old clay pots. She glanced back at him. "What's this stuff?"

"Oils and things." Varcorak stared at Ailsa's curves.

Ailsa grinned when Varcorak took the bait. Maybe every time he seemed suspicious she'd just have to distract him. "For what?"

"My scales." The dragon flared out his green-mottled wings, looking them over. "And my wings."

"Maybe I should give you an oil massage." Ailsa straightened up, examining one of the vats. "Ever had one?"

The dragon perked his frilled ears. "No, but it sounds pleasant."

Ailsa turned to put a hand on the smooth, hard plates of the dragon's chest. "Promise it will end happily." She trailed her fingers down him.

"Good." Varcorak smirked, tilting his head down. "Though I may attend your pleasure, first."

Ailsa shivered. "I'd like that."

"I know." The dragon turned away, his tail twisting against her body, brushing her like a teasing serpent with its own desires. "Bring the oil. We shall have wine, and then pleasure."

Ailsa let out a long breath as she collected a few pots of oil. She'd never figure out this beast and his ever-changing moods. The sooner she was out of here with his treasure the better. Just a little long, she told herself. Just a little longer.

*****The Massage*****

Ailsa followed the dragon to his sleeping area. Varcorak settled on his side upon a sprawl of blankets and cushions, his wings draped behind him. He plucked a silver goblet from his wine crate, uncorked a new bottle and poured some into the vessel. When he held the goblet out towards Ailsa, the webbing stood out between his digits.

Ailsa set the clay pots down then accepted the goblet. "Never knew dragons were such aquatic creatures."

"Most aren't." The dragon tucked the bottle away. He splayed his forepaw, then waggled his fingers and watched the gray webbing stretch. "Remnant of my heritage."

"So there's different dragon breeds?" Ailsa rolled the goblet between her hands. It'd fit nicely in her pack.

"There were." The dragon set his paw back down, then curled his tail and flared out his finned spines, undulating them like fish fins. "Most dragons don't have webbing. I'm just a creature of the swamp." He grinned at Ailsa. "Or maybe I'm a malformed oddity."

"You like toying with people?"

"As if you don't." The dragon flicked his claws at Ailsa. "Do you like red wine?"

"More inclined to ale and rum, but I've yet to meet a drink I couldn't finish." She held the goblet under her nose. The aroma was ripe with plum and cherry. Damn dragon had good taste. "Not something I'd expect a dragon to enjoy."

"I stole a wagon full of it in my youth and developed a taste." The dragon lapped at his bowl of wine like an oversized cat.

Ailsa sipped the wine. A hint of tartness and earthy oak balanced the plum and cherry flavors. "This is really good." She glanced at the box of clothing. "How many girls have you had out here?"

"A few." The dragon refilled his bowl. "Now that I can't go around burning things, I get bored. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Bored or horny?" Ailsa smirked, swirling her wine.

The dragon grinned. He tucked the bottle away and pushed the crate aside. "Let's call it both."

"But never lonely, right?" Ailsa exchanged her goblet for a pot of oil. "Because dragons don't get lonely?"

Varcorak gazed at his blankets. He traced a single claw around a golden sun emblazoned on a blue quilt. "Dragons might get lonely. A time or two. In their youth."

Ailsa uncapped the clay pot, an herbal aroma wafted from the oil within. "Have you always lived in the swamp?"

"Yes." Varcorak kneaded the blanket. "I've watched it grow as I've grown."

Ailsa trailed her finger around the inside of the pot, slick with oil. "You said there are still other dragons, right? Your daughter found a mate."

"Yes, a young male from the west. They adore each other." He bared his fangs. "But if he mistreats her I'll beat him to death with his own wings."

Ailsa smirked. "My father told the first man I was with if he ever laid an unwanted hand on me, he'd throw him in the village well."

"A wise man."

"He was." Ailsa picked up her goblet. "Didn't like that I ended up following the same path he did." She stared into her wine. "Sometimes the roads we walk choose us."

"So he was a mercenary, too?" Varcorak perked his ears, tilting his head.

Ailsa chose her words carefully. She didn't want a simple, honest chat to be a noose around her neck. "He lived a life of danger and violence. When I was born, he knew he had to change." Ailsa drank some wine then swapped her goblet for the oil. "Shall I start that massage?"

"Please." The dragon stretched, luxuriating upon the blankets. "Your father sounds like a criminal."

"Bodyguard for a criminal." Ailsa knelt alongside the dragon and worked the oil between her hands. "Till I was born, then he was a town guard. Taught me to defend myself, but wanted me to live a peaceful life. Didn't work out."

"Plans rarely do." Varcorak laid his head upon a purple cushion with silver seams. "My father was a dragon."

Ailsa laughed, kneading the dragon's shoulder. "And your mother, I'd wager." Varcorak stretched his foreleg as Alisa worked his scutes, black and green scales shining in the oil.

"As I recall." Varcorak closed his eyes, relaxing. "I did not know her well."

"What was your father like?" Ailsa cradled the dragon's gray-speckled forepaw, kneading the soft pads.

"Wild." Varcorak splayed his paw. "My father was the swamp itself. Powerful, unpredictable. A tide to wash away his enemies. He taught me to hunt, to survive, and then he let the swamp raise me a while. If he saw me today, he'd ask me why I lived in here when I had the swamp for shelter."

"So why do you?" Ailsa caressed the soft, warm webbing between Varcorak's digits.

"I grew tired of moldy caverns." The dragon pinned his ears when thunder rumbled. "Even I would be a fool to trust the swamp with my life when it's in a foul mood."

"So..." Ailsa glanced at the darkened window. Another flicker of lightning flashed in the distance. "Did the swamp...I mean, your mother..."

"Don't stray into deep waters, Girl." Varcorak opened his eyes to bronze slits.

Ailsa nodded. Better not ask about his mother, then. "Ever think about leaving the swamp? You could go west, find other dragons."

Varcorak sighed, flicking his spines back. "The swamp is my home, Ailsa." He turned his head, staring at the webbing between his fingers. "Look at my damn paws. I'm as much a part of this swamp as the water."

Ailsa scowled, oiling her hands. "You sound like you think you're trapped here."

The dragon snorted and curled his paw.

Ailsa decided to drop the subject. She couldn't rob the dragon if he was too upset to sleep. Ailsa smiled at him, and patted his scales. "Lay your head back down."

The dragon took the purple cushion in his jaws and stretched his neck. He dropped the pillow, and set his head upon it. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Ailsa knelt alongside the dragon's neck, working oil over his green-mottled scales.

Varcorak sighed as the tension melted from his serpentine neck. "That feels nice, Ailsa."

Ailsa grinned, examining the gray spines decorating the back of Varcorak's neck. They ran along his backbone, connected by thin, gold-tinged membrane. When they lay flat they overlapped one another. Ailsa ran a single oiled finger alongside his spines. They twitched and lifted a little.

"Think I can tease these into rising?"

"I think can you tease a lot of things into rising."

"Aw, does little Varcorak want a massage too?" She danced her fingers over the dragon's spines. "I'll be sure to oil him up."

"See that you do." The dragon lifted his spines for her. "And never call it that again."

The dragon's neck spines were dark gray and tipped in gold, an impressive display of ancient beauty and primal threat. The membranes connecting them were mottled with emerald green and edged with more gold. Ailsa traced a finger along one of the green markings upon the smooth skin. The dragon shivered.

"Are you sensitive here?"

"Extremely." The spines trembled beneath her touch.

"Good to know."

Ailsa scooped fresh oil from the pot, and rubbed it into the dragon's neck frill. She worked her hands in circles, polishing the membranes. Varcorak trilled and shuddered, his scales clicking. Ailsa kneaded his neck, loosening the knotted muscles along his spine. The oil made Varcorak's scales shine in the pale blue light, like polished obsidian dotted with glossy malachite. The tips of his spines gleamed like wet gold. Maybe King Ugly wasn't so ugly after all.

"You've striking colors." Ailsa traced a finger around a green blotch.

"Yes, I'm ferociously handsome." The dragon chuckled.

Ailsa worked her way up the dragon's neck, oiling his scales and frill until she'd reached his head. Once there she caressed his ears and the smaller frills at the sides of his head. By the time she was working oil into the fine scales under his jaw, the dragon was purring. It took Ailsa a moment to realize it, but then it was clear. It sounded like stones cascading down a hill, rumbling and rattling, as though the earth itself found a way to growl.

Ailsa grinned, rubbing his chin. "Didn't know dragons purred."

"Keep it a secret."

Ailsa smirked, massaging the soft area of the dragon's nose. "I'll make you a deal."

"What deal?" The dragon swiveled his ears.

"I'll keep your secret if you visit your daughter after I leave." Ailsa stared at her oily hands as she worked them over his face, back to his neck. "You don't have to stay here."

"This is my home, Ailsa." The dragon sighed, his tail curling. "I belong here. My swamp and my town need me."

Ailsa kept her own sigh to herself as she worked her way back to the dragon's neck. "So visit other dragons. Find a mate to share the swamp with. It's just..." Ailsa scowled as cold guilt tugged at her heart. What the hell did she care? "You don't have to be lonely, Var."

"Your concern is appreciated." The dragon's voice wavered. He glanced at the portraits lining his wall, then at a box set aside from the others. For a moment, pain shone in his eyes, cold and real. It was an anchor heavy enough to pull down all his walls and lies and arrogance. "But I do not think I could save my drowning heart a second time."

Ailsa leaned her forehead against his neck. "I'm sorry." Sorry for what she was planning to do.

"As am I, Ailsa." The dragon turned his anguished gaze upon Ailsa. In a few blinks, the pain was hidden behind bronze walls. "But you're here for fun, not moping."

Ailsa grinned. The dragon's attitude was good armor across old wounds. She'd stop picking at them. She oiled the other side of his neck, then his other shoulder and foreleg. "Your wings are next."

"My wings can wait." Varcorak pushed himself halfway to his haunches. "Females should never go long without satisfaction."

Ailsa quirked a brow, smirking. "Can't argue that."

"Then clothes off, Ailsa." The dragon waved unsheathed claws.

"As you wish, Var."

Ailsa eased her shirt up, gradually unveiling light bronze skin. She paused when she reached the swell of her breasts, nipples hidden. Ailsa circled a finger around the button of her leather breeches. She ran that finger down the seam of her pants, over her crotch, and then back to her waist. Then she popped the button, easing open the front of her breeches. The dragon's eyes followed every motion.

Ailsa returned to her blouse, tugging it up an inch at a time. Once her nipples were exposed, she pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. She ran both hands over her breasts, down across her belly, then hooked her thumbs into her unbuttoned breeches. Ailsa dragged her breeches down the swell of her hips, unveiling her mound. She paused before pulling them down enough to reveal her folds. Ailsa saw the dragon's eyes lingering before she stepped out of her pants.

"There. How's that?"

"Perfect."

Varcorak curled his neck and brushed his muzzle against her cheek. The pebbly texture made her shiver. When she felt his snout drift lower, Ailsa tilted her head. She gasped as wet heat washed across her throat. As he licked her, the dragon's paw settled on her hip, stroking her skin. His pads were soft and warm. Varcorak's tongue roamed her throat, his paw explored her body and goose bumps rose in their wake.

Ailsa shuddered when the dragon's tongue descended over her throat. He tilted his head down, and his chin scales brushed her left breast. When Varcorak nosed at her nipple, Ailsa held her breath and put her hands on his muzzle. The dragon parted his maw, swirled his tongue across her nipple. Ailsa gasped, the dragon's tongue was just as velvety as a man's and even hotter. It felt so wonderful twisting across the sensitive bud Ailsa was disappointed when he turned his attention to her other breast.

Varcorak dragged his muzzle against her, and Ailsa felt every fine, pebbly scale bumping against her hardened nipple. The intensity of it was almost too much, yet just when she was going to push him away he rolled his tongue over her. This time the pleasure was even greater as though his scales set her nerves alight in preparation. Ailsa arched her back, groaning.

As Ailsa arched, Varcorak stroked her back. Ailsa gasped when she felt claw tips dragged across her skin. The feeling was as frightening as it was exhilarating. She liked the feeling of nails dragged across her skin but dragon claws were far more dangerous. She shivered as more goose bumps broke out across her in waves.

"I won't hurt you, Ailsa."

"I know, Var." Ailsa didn't trust Varcorak, but the dragon had little reason to harm her.

Ailsa ran her hands over the dragon's face as he worshipped her breasts. Each time Varcorak alternated scales and tongue, her head spun. The pebbly texture left her nipples alive with extra sensitivity, and the velvet heat took full advantage. The dragon stroked her back, her ass, her thigh. Claw tips glided across her but never broke the skin. Ailsa's heat grew with the dragon's every touch. When his muzzle drifted downward, Ailsa stroked his nose to encourage him.

The dragon eased his muzzle back, patting a blanket. "Get comfortable for your pleasure."

For such a smug beast, Varcorak sure seemed concerned with her comfort and pleasure. Maybe it was his ego. She wasn't going to complain. Ailsa dropped to all fours, crawling away from the dragon. She waggled her hips at him, glancing back.

"If I was a dragon, would you want to mount me?"

Varcorak rumbled, his ears perked. Ailsa could see his redness showing beneath his belly. "If you were a dragon, I'd have already mounted you. Alas, I cannot safely fit."

"I'd better stop teasing, then." Ailsa fetched a maroon cushion with golden tassels and rolled to her back. She put her head upon the cushion, parting her thighs with her knees up. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Varcorak rolled to his side, his belly bared.

Ailsa's eyes roamed his belly. His crimson spear was exposed and rigid. "Looks like you're having fun, too." She stretched a leg to brush her toes against his ridged member.

Varcorak shivered, scales clicking. "I am. But this is about you." The dragon arched his neck, muzzle touching her thighs. "Do you want me to lick you, Ailsa?"

Ailsa offered only a coy smile in reply.

He peered up at her from between her legs, muzzle so close she felt his warm breath against her most private flesh. "Do you want to feel my tongue?"

Ailsa lifted her hips, squeezing the dragon's head between her thighs. "Yes, Var." She kneaded her own breasts. "I want you to lick my pussy. I want to feel your tongue on me. Please, Var." Ailsa wasn't normally one to beg, even in play, but stroking his ego ought to maintain his trust. "Please, lick my pussy."

"If you insist."

Ailsa gasped at the sheer, stunning heat of Varcorak's tongue gliding over her mound. This time he did not tease her, he lapped at her. The dragon's tongue dragged across her folds again and again. Each lick parted her a little more. Moment by moment the sweet warmth slipped deeper inside her. Ailsa shuddered with each new lick. She lifted her rump, hips shaking as she pressed her crotch to the dragon's snout.

Varcorak curled himself and grabbed her ass, massaging it. Ailsa wriggled between paw and snout. As the warm velvet of his tongue rolled against her, the scales of his muzzle stroked and teased her thighs. Ailsa panted and ran a hand past her belly to further part herself for the dragon. Varcorak tilted his head and Ailsa cried out when his tongue found her clit. The heat was almost too much to bear.

Ailsa kept herself spread with her fingers while the dragon circled his tongue. His soft nose rubbed her sex. Scales brushed her thighs as he twined the tip of his long tongue around her swollen button. Warmth and pleasure rolled through her with every motion of Varcorak's agile tongue. With her free hand, Ailsa squeezed a breast in time with the dragon's pleasuring.

Ailsa's eyes went wide, her mouth hung open in silent gasp when the dragon plunged his tongue inside her. The sudden rush of such intimate warmth made her dig her fingers into her own skin. Varcorak's tongue twisted inside her and Ailsa rubbed her clit in matching motions. Ailsa gazed at Varcorak. There was a strange thrill in seeing the primal beast working for her pleasure, his muzzle buried between her thighs, horns sprouting above her legs.

Varcorak pumped his tongue, and Ailsa pressed herself against the heat that filled her. Her wetness marked his scales. Ailsa dropped her rump, and the dragon pulled his head back, pink tongue sliding from within her, dragging against her lips. Ailsa's head lolled back in bliss, her whole body felt as hot as the dragon's tongue that swirled against her.

Ailsa dropped her head to the cushion, moaning. The dragon's paws roamed her body. His pads glided in soft circles across her belly. His scales dragged over her skin when he stretched a foreleg to grasp her breast. Varcorak's paw pads were silken soft against her hardened nipples.

Varcorak's tongue matched his touch. When he traced circles across her skin, he rolled his tongue tip around her clit. When he stroked her thighs, he bobbed his muzzle against her pussy. Whenever the dragon's tongue left her clit, Ailsa replaced it with her fingers. Shivers of pleasure ran through her with their every shared touch.

Whenever the dragon's tongue filled her, the heat was nearly all consuming. Ailsa rolled her hips against the dragon's snout, wanting more. Varcorak arched his long neck, bobbing his head between Ailsa's legs. Together they built a primal rhythm, the dragon's tongue thrust into her each time she arched her back, scales stroking her thighs.

As Ailsa's bliss grew, so did her moans. Her body trembled and tensed in rising delight. The louder Ailsa got, the more intensity Varcorak poured into his pleasuring. Ailsa writhed against the blankets as the dragon's tongue returned time and again to the spots and motions that made her cry out.

Wetness dribbled down Ailsa's thighs as the dragon bobbed his whole head. His scales stroked her skin, his tongue pumped in and out of her. Ailsa's fingers grew frantic around her clit when the dragon spent a few long moments just swirling his tongue inside her, her pleasure surging.

"Aah!" Ailsa grit her teeth, unable to hold back her cries. "AH! Var! Vaaaar! I'm...ah! AAAHH!"

Ailsa arched her back as she came, her eyes squeezed shut. She ground herself against the dragon's muzzle, inner walls clenching his tongue as ecstasy consumed her. Varcorak worked his tongue the whole time. Ailsa's pleasure was drawn into beautiful, lingering moments through which she could scarcely breathe. Her juices soaked the dragon's nose and pebbly chin. When her orgasm faded, Ailsa sank against the blankets moaning her satisfaction.

Varcorak lapped at her as if cleaning her with his tongue. "Enjoy yourself, Ailsa?"

Not even the dragon's smugness could darken her afterglow. She stretched out on the blankets, answering him only with a happy sigh.

"Perhaps we shall make that a daily ritual." Varcorak's purr filled the room. "You pleasure me, I pleasure you."

Ailsa smiled, rolling to her side. "You're pretty good with your tongue." She propped herself up on her elbow, smirking. "Must be all those gryphons you blow."

"Been a while since I've done that." Varcorak laughed, curling his tail.

"Pleasure a woman, or blow a gryphon?" Ailsa giggled.

"Either one."

Ailsa laughed with him. She'd have a lot of stories to tell after tonight. She could hear herself warning prospective dragon-slayers now. Careful, the dragon might be busy blowing a gryphon. Don't give me that look, I know more about dragons than you. I've blown one too! In fact, don't slay him. He may have a daughter somewhere.

An image popped into Ailsa's head. She saw Varcorak, splashing through the swamp. He was laughing, chasing an adorable little hatchling. The idea that even a dragon could experience such innocent joy made her smile.

"What are you grinning at?"

Ailsa stuck her tongue out at the dragon before her smile turned too wistful. She still had a role to play. "You, you horny lizard. I still have to finish your massage, don't I?" She glanced at her pack. "Then maybe we'll sit together, eat some tarts, and just...talk."

"That sounds nice, Ailsa." The contentment in Varcorak's happy sigh almost broke Ailsa's thieving heart. "That sounds nice."

*****The Plan*****

The first thing Ailsa did when they released her from jail was to demand a hot bath, a hot meal, and a night in a comfortable inn. She used the bath to wash the cell's stench from her body, the meal to meet with a contact who worked in the tavern, and the night alone to formulate her plan.

Meeting with her contact was a challenge, but he tended a local tavern so Ailsa just asked to have her meal there. She sat at the bar so she could hold a conversation with the bartender while she ate. The two guards she'd dubbed Pukey and Giggles kept watch, but Ailsa knew how to keep the authorities in the dark. She mixed in plenty of simple code words and phrases until she'd gleaned all she needed to know.

If not for the promise of dragon treasure, Ailsa would have ditched Pukey and Giggles in the middle of the night and never looked back at their mud hole of a town. Bad enough she had to give up the job she came here for. At least a bag full of loot would help make up for the sentimental value of what she was leaving behind. Now she just had to play her role till she got her hands on the goods.

Ailsa convinced the guards she should not meet the dragon without a gift for him. She suggested something edible so that he could fill his belly with treats rather than with his newest companion. After that, no one would shut the hell up about some damn tart the dragon always demanded. Tarts it was, then.

Early the next morning, Ailsa followed a winding cobblestone lane across grassy rises and beneath the drooping boughs of ancient willows. Cozy white-walled homes, little shops and hand-painted signs lined the path that led to the dragon's favorite bakery. Warm morning sunlight painted the world gold, though a distant wall of roiling gray clouds promised rain as they slunk ever closer.

The bakery sat on the reed-lined banks of a lazy river. It had a domed roof and walls painted with all manner of pastries. Smoke drifted from clay-brick chimneys. A rock propped open the green front door. Delightful scents of bread and sweet cakes wafted out, overwhelming the dank smell of the swamp festering beyond the city's walls. Ailsa savored the pleasant aromas as she strolled in.

Shelves and display cases showcased freshly-baked wares. A stocky man with dark hair placed loaves of bread. A slender woman with red hair tied behind her head stood behind the counter, arranging cookies on a silver platter. Both wore matching green aprons.

"Hello!" The woman glanced up from her tray, smiling.

"Hello!" The man remained fixated on his bread.

Damn cheerful idiots.

"Yes, hello!" Ailsa slipped into friendly traveler mode. "It smells wonderful in here."

"Oh, thank you!" The woman flashed Ailsa another smile, then deposited cookies on a second platter. "My husband and I are just getting ready. Can we help you?"

"I certainly hope so. I'd like to buy some cakes and things, but..." Ailsa let her eyes drift as if interested in what they had stocked. "Do you take custom orders?"

"Only rarely." The woman re-arranged the cookies, scowling at them. "Afraid we've already got a busy day of baking ahead."

"What a shame." Ailsa slipped a note of disappointment into her voice. "I heard the dragon likes your pastries best."

The man turned around, and the woman's eyes lit up. She grinned, quirking a brow. "Ah, so you're that girl."

"Yes, that's me." Damn guards told the whole town already. Ailsa sighed, lowering her voice. "I've scarcely any idea what I'm getting myself into. He's...not going to...eat me, is he?"

Both bakers laughed, and the woman reached across the counter to touch Ailsa's arm. "Of course not, Dear. Just treat him respectfully and you'll be done before you know it. Might even end up wealthier than when you arrived."

The old bag was right about that. Ailsa feigned a shy giggle. "I'm very nervous. I was told you might have something to help calm my nerves or help me sleep."

"Ah, that sort of request." The woman patted Ailsa's arm, grinning. "Given your situation, yes, I could make something for you. Something with a pinch of red root, put you right out."

Ailsa smiled in relief. She pulled a few golden coins from her purse. According to her contact, this bakery would do anything for the right price. Ailsa passed the coins to the woman, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I was also told you might be able to help the dragon stay relaxed and calm, as well. Just until I'm used to being around such a creature."

"I see." The woman glanced at the guards and the coins vanished in an instant. "He eats our brambleberry tarts by the dozen. I could add red root to those, as well. That'd take the edge off his attitude."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." Ailsa clasped her hands, beaming. "So should I offer him the whole dozen?"

The woman chuckled and shook her head. "No, just a few at a time. Otherwise that might leave even a dragon snoring for a day or two."

"Oh, my." Ailsa pushed a few more coins across the counter. "We wouldn't want that. I'd be bored to tears." She tapped a finger to her chin. "Of course, if I did end up wealthier in the end, I'd not be above sharing that wealth with those who helped me endure this trial."

The woman chuckled, sweeping up the coins. "Wouldn't say no to a nice tip down the line."

"Wonderful. I'll take a dozen brambleberry tarts, then." Ailsa lifted her voice, smiling. "Plus one for myself, and a couple sweet cakes."

"Of course, Ma'am." The baker smiled and gave Ailsa a curt bow. "Why don't you get some breakfast? By the time you're back, they'll be ready to go."

"That sounds perfect." Ailsa smiled, thanked the woman, and made her way back outside. She grinned at the guards. "Pukey, Giggles? Why don't you buy me some breakfast?"

That treasure was as good as hers.

---

That's the end of Part One. Stay tuned for the Grand Finale! If you've enjoyed, please Fave and leave a comment with your thoughts!

One part remains...