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Preamble

Breakfast before Dinner

Acceptance

All Beginnings are Difficult

Working at the Dragonwash

A Moonlight Bath

The Beast, the Beauty & the 'bolds

By El Poyo Diabolo

So 2023 marked the year I got back into writing short stories.

Thanks to some awsome people in the community, that sparked my imagination, I was able to get back into one of my favorite passtimes. Writing short stories. I have to say, I missed this feeling of: Just one more paragraph. Just let me finish this page. And in the end taking a look on the clock and it's morning again.

To be fair. Getting back into it was harder than I though initially and the lack of quality shows that pretty obvious. But non the less, thanks to Maxie the Wolf, aka Zephyr, and Fire15q, I got into a rhythm that allowed me to produce some really funny stories. Some of which went pretty dark and some had some serious undertones.

Never the less 2023 and 2024 so far were a pretty nice experience on that regard and I hope to be able to work on this for the next years.

There will be some sequels to some of the stories in this complilation, those will be out in late 2024 and 2025, so keep your eyes open for those.

Until then, enjoy the reading.

Sincerely

El Poyo Diabolo

Prologue

He was standing in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal and was right in the middle of chopping vegetables, humming contentedly to himself. He was so concentrated on his task, he didn't even hear her quietly approach from behind, but when she saw him chopping so intently, she smiled. Careful not to startle him, she snuggled up to him, and when she did so his lips curled up into a smile as well, before setting down the blade and turning to face her.

"How was your bath?"

He asked, looking over his shoulder to see her gleaming at him and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It was heavenly. The herbs are fantastic."

She purred and in response he nodded gently. They had made a deal early on in their relationship, that whenever he returned from one of his long trips, he would spoil her rotten for taking care of their home alone for so long; like today he had been true to his word and had brought her some exquisite herbs for a relaxing bath, had made sure that the water was at a nice temperature, and was now preparing a princely dinner.

Curiously, she looked past him at the large bowl full of mushrooms, onions and carrots.

"What’s with all the greens?"

The skepticism was clearly audible as she voiced her concern. He followed her gaze and grinned.

"I've seen it in the southern kingdoms. They use it to stuff the roast. It tastes delicious."

He explained, only for her to tilt her head a little. What was wrong with roast ox without the bells and whistles? But she was willing to try it. What he prepared usually tasted delicious.

"Fine, you do it the way you like. I trust you."

She said in a good mood and snuggled closer to him, making him snort a laugh as he threw the last onion into the bowl and began to mix it all together. Watching him closely, she nibbled playfully on his neck and elicited a slight chuckle from her partner. He knew exactly what she wanted. They both had agreed that she would get a present when he came back, but only at dinner.

Patience had never been her strong point, but it was of no use. He would stand by their agreement. He had already given her the other gifts.

"I like what you've done with the den."

Trying to distract her from it, he alluded to some new decorative elements instead.

"Well, you know I don't like peddlers that much, but sometimes they have such nice things. I just couldn't resist."

She admitted meekly, looking at some of the plate armor, she had put up nicely at the far wall. He nodded and smiled as he began to stuff the roast.

Some time ago they had moved further north because those pesky peddlers had gotten out of hand at their old address. It had been a chore, transporting all their belongings here, but their new home had some advantages. It was more spacious, offered a wonderful view, far fewer of these troublemakers came by, and the neighborhood was generally much quieter. Maybe it had to do with being way up in the mountains.

Looking back at what her partner was doing she brushed her head up on his neck again, and purred slightly. He leaned into her caress slightly, feeling her love for him, and thought back to the day he had first laid eyes on her.

They had met when they both wanted to raid the very same castle way down south. She had laid claim to the castle first and he had come late to the party. Normally he would have fought off the clearly smaller, weaker dragon, but when he saw with which elegance she dodged the incoming attacks and still kept picking off the defenders one by one did leave a lasting impression on him. And the way the sunlight reflected off her shiny scales and made her look like a fire breathing green emerald that made him fall madly in love with her.

When he had made himself known, naturally she had attacked him, as she had laid claim to the castle and its treasures and he was just more competition for it. Shrugging off her attacks, he had confessed to her, catching her by total surprise; and to his surprise she had agreed to it. After pillaging the castle together and leaving with a nice bounty, they pretty much stayed together ever since.

"Faff, darling, can't you give me my present now?"

She asked in an angelic voice, but he just laughed lightly and put the roast on the spit. When did she start to call him Faff? He didn’t remember so clearly anymore. She did not like his full name. Fafnir.

While he liked his name, she did insist that it sounded too harsh, too Germanic, and even though he did not agree, he had given in to her wish out of his deep love for her.

Since that day forward she had called him Faff. Only if she was angry at him, or if he had screwed up did she call him by his full name. It was the same reason she wanted him to call her Emmy, as she did not like him to call her by the name her mother had chosen for her: Esmeralda.

“My mother thought it would suit me, as I looked just like a little emerald when I hatched.”

She had explained. Faff had agreed to call her Emmy, since he didn’t like her full name either.

"My dear Emmy, let me make you an offer. I'll finish the roast – it'll take a few hours to cook anyway – and we'll have some other fun in the meantime. And when the meal is ready, you'll get your present, too."

Fafnir suggested and placed the spit on the rack. When he turned back to Emmy, she looked at him with her beautiful, dark, blueish-green eyes and smiled.

Peering deep into them, he almost lost himself in their depth. They shone with intelligence, but there was also a certain amount of mischief in there as well.

Looking at his beloved Emmy, Fafnir realized once more that he loved everything about her. Her sleek, aerodynamic build, her swept back crest, her narrow muzzle. Her every movement was of smooth elegance and by the elders she was fast. He loved those smooth lines, covered in just as smooth scales that shimmered in such a vivid dark green, at least with that her mother had been right.

Fafnir on the other hand, was the complete opposite of her. Where Emmy’s body screamed speed and elegance, his screamed brutality and power. He had lived almost four centuries already before she had even hatched from her egg. Those years had him grow a good bit bigger than she was, and his massive frame dwarfed Emmy when they stood next to each other.

His scales were by far not as vibrant as hers, they were of a dull, black color. They were rough and hard, made to ward off damage. His limbs were like tree trunks to support his deep chested massive body. On this body sat his broad neck that supported his big head, crowned by big horns that made him almost look like a battering ram. His deep set eyes glowed in a dark red.

However Fafnir had managed to get her to even think about choosing him as a partner was still a mystery to him. But that didn't bother him, he was simply happy that she had chosen him.

---

Dessert before . . .

A fire made itself be felt inside of him; one that he always felt when she looked at him like this. Over the many years of their relationship, he had realised that Emmy knew exactly how to manipulate him to get what she wanted. She slowly swayed her tail back and forth, tilted her head ever so slightly and lowered it just enough to give the appearance of submitting, driving him crazy with desire. He smiled, showing his gleaming teeth and nuzzled his muzzle against hers. It had worked once again.

Emmy returned his caress and moved closer to him, sliding her head along his muzzle down his neck. While doing so, she playfully nipped at the scales on her way. She was like a cat in this regard, rubbing her head on his rougher scales, using them to scratch that elusive itch. Faff did the same and let his massive head slide along her smooth scales, skillfully using the more pronounced texture of his head and neck to stimulate her. He tenderly nibbled on her shoulder and her wings, making her giggle as they slowly began to prance around each other. Bit by bit, their teasing became more purposeful. In the last century Emmy and Faff had spent together, they had learned exactly which buttons to press and which levers to pull on each other.

"Hmmm Faff... don't make me wait any longer..."

The smaller dragoness finally hissed after they had been circling each other for what felt like an eternity. The both were pretty fired up and Emmy was breathing fast. The reflection of the fire in her eyes matched her state of mind pretty well. She shuffled her wings impatiently and playfully snapped at her mate. Faff grinned thievishly, and hissed his desire in response. He took a step back and swished his tail in excitement, knocking the big bowl from the granite block that served as their table. Ignoring the ruckus behind him, he moved up to Emmy, who willingly bent down and moved her tail out of the way so he had access. He trembled with excitement and bowed his head to take a look, while his own tail snapped back and forth like a whip. Her slit, under normal circumstances practically invisible hidden between her dark green scales, was swollen and glowing pink, and that gleaming sheen of wetness was all over her tender flesh.

*That sleek ‘ness was more than ready.*

Thought the bigger dragon and breathed in deeply, flaring his nostrils as he took in her scent. Yes, she was more than ready, and as aroused as he was, his long and sleek member was already fully out of his slit. Emmy growled and hissed, kicking her hind legs impatiently on the floor. She needed it badly.

Fafnir couldn't and wouldn't hold her off any longer either. He gave in to her pleas and his own desire to be united with her and thus mounted her vigorously. His member twitched as he aligned himself with the more lean dragoness’ slit and pressed into it. The two dragons roared as they joined, shaking the walls of her cave. Faff pushed himself into Emmy all the way, savoring the feeling of her tight and yet welcoming love tunnel pulsing around him. She herself reveled in the feeling of his mighty lance stretching her nicely. When Faff began moving, he started slowly, just feeling his way around her. Emmy writhed underneath him, hissed and purred as she felt him move inside of her, stirring up her intestines. Her front claws scraped the granite floor, and she bent her neck back trying to nibble at her mate's throat as he towered over her, pinning her to the ground by his weight and his length stuck deep inside of her.

Growling out his pleasure, Fafnir started to move with more purpose, sliding his shaft in and out of her in tantalizingly long and smooth motions. She squirmed as she indulged in the intense sensation his thrusts provoked in her. Her tail swished to and fro more violently with each of her partner’s movements, making him wrap his tail around hers preventing it from thrashing around too much. Restraining her movement like that only drove her arousal even further up, until her internal muscles started to ripple and tense around his length. She let out a loud moan, hearing Faff huff out as his member was subject to this treatment.

"Ohhh by the elders, Emmy… you gonna milk me dry this time…"

Faff growled and bent down his neck to nip at the tips of the swept back crest. Those scales were smooth, and yet they were tough as nails. On the other hand, a dragon’s teeth were made to rend steel, cut cleanly through plate armor and tear warhorses to pieces. He had to be careful not to do too much damage. Emmy’s hiss when he bit down, however, somewhere between pleasure and pain, told him he was applying just the right amount of pressure and it fired him up even more. Using her considerable strength, the sleek dragoness pushed back hard on the brute above her, as she needed him deep inside of her. She wanted to feel every last inch of him stretching her to her limits. Faff was a big dragon, much more massive than her, but Emmy wouldn’t have it any other way. She needed him to be rough, to bring her right to the edge where a certain pain would just heighten her pleasure.

She was hissing her delight as she was using her expert skills to dose his pleasure just right, where he was enticed enough to keep going harder, but not yet brought too far, so he would not cum too early. She gritted her teeth as he bit down yet again, piercing some of her scales and drawing blood.

"Yes… yessss… give it to me… show me your feral side…"

Emmy demanded in her lust, lifting her behind a bit more, pushing against Fafnir's hips with her powerful hind legs. He let go of her, roaring his approval, shifting his position and pushing himself up to the hilt into her innermost. This renewed effort stimulated Emmy profoundly. She reared up her head to add her roar to his and their united thunder shook the very foundation of their cave, while he hit all the right spots with his deep thrust.

Knowing exactly what she craved, he began to drive her hard and fast. Plunging in and out as the ridges on his member rubbed her all the right ways, and she made her delight heard, as she squealed and he growled in his effort to please her. His saliva drooled down on her, while he concentrated on keeping up his vigor, and she bowed her head, straining her muscles to milk him as profoundly as dragonly possible.

Faff’s claws were scraping over the hard granite of the cave’s floor in an effort to keep him stable, as he thrusted hard and deep into her depths. He did not hold back anything, he gave her his all, and slowly, his growls turned into a roar as he felt the pressure inside himself rise. Emmy felt her mate’s tension and steeled herself for her reward. She braced her legs forward, ready to push back as hard as she could, while her own pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. Her squeals gained in volume as she raised her head, presenting her throat for him to bite, as it was custom.

As the climax broke its way through Fafnir, he gave her a few more hard and deep thrusts, before his roar peaked in a single deafening scream of triumph. He spread his wings, tensed up his whole body, reared up his head as far as he could and took aim, followed by him closing his jaws firmly around her throat and sinking his lance all the way into her most sacred of temples. When Emmy felt his mighty, final thrust, she pushed back at him with all her might, her own shriek throttled by his powerful bite.

Just as he flooded her with his burning hot seed, she experienced her own climax as well, clenching down on him hard, almost pushing him out of her slit prematurely. Only his brute strength and determination kept him wedged inside of her, not letting even a single drop of his semen escape her cavity. She writhed and bucked underneath him, trapped in the throes of her orgasm. Her legs kicked out and eventually, her tail tore itself loose from his entanglement.

It took a hot minute for the two dragons to calm down again as the most intense high of their combined climax ebbed away slowly. After the first minute, Faff slowly let go of Emmy’s throat so as not to choke her beyond reason. Licking his lips, Faff tasted her blood on them and uttered a low growl as he brushed his head up against hers.

Coming down slowly from her high, Emmy leaned against his head, rumbling low in her throat to sound her contentment and approval to his service.

They would stay like this for a little while longer, enjoying their connection as he would every once in a while give her a little, lazy thrust or two, while she would wiggle her behind from time to time, just to pleasure each other.

---

Interlude . . .

Normally these sessions could go on and on for hours on end, but they had a roast on the fire, and it would have been a shame if it got burned. So after some time, Faff slowly extracted himself from her depths, making her inhale sharply as his long and thick member slid out, only for Emmy to exhale with a heavy grunt. She turned her head and looked after him, as he dismounted her and took a few steps back, stretching limb after limb and working his wings.

He was an impressive sight to behold. All the brute power that legends were written about, and he was all hers, and hers alone. He likewise looked at her, watching as she moved about like water, never standing still, her movements flowing effortlessly, mesmerizing with the play of light and shadow on her shimmering scales. He tilted his head slightly and blew her a small smoke ring, which made her giggle softly.

Emmy loved him just as much as he loved her. He was the counterpart to her, her soulmate. She was the light to his shadow, the calm breeze to his temper, even though her wind erred at times and he had to get her back on track.

She smiled at him. He had made her proud and he knew it. Faff’s smile did carry a certain smugness, but he had earned it. She tilted her head, her lips twitched slightly in pain, as she would feel his bites for the time being, but being a dragon also meant wounds would heal fast, the bleeding of the bitemarks he had so lovingly given her already stopping. With glee she looked between her mate’s mighty legs and saw her prize… He still hadn’t sheathed his member again, but instead proudly presented it to her.

Oh, she would definitely wrangle him again after dinner; she would make sure her beloved would be thoroughly satisfied and not needing to show off so blatantly. He had excellent stamina, as he should, but she would bring him down this time.

With a determined glint in her eyes, Emmy approached him, swaying her lovely hips and her long sleek tail seductively as she did. She lovingly brushed her head up along the rough scales of his neck, catching the edges of some of them with her teeth, adding some more scratches to them, and growling contentedly. She pushed forward until her head came up under his chin, where she softly scritched him with the pointed ends of her crest eliciting a gentle rumble from Faff.

"Hmmm… that was time well spent, my love… want to continue what we started… after dinner?"

Emmy voiced in a low whisper while her growl suggested her desire to skip the dinner right away. Faff sure noticed but just placed his head softly on Emmy’s, letting her feel his weight a little while rumbling deeply with content. Maybe it was enough to distract her for the time being.

"Oh, my beloved Emmy, of course we will continue after dinner. When have I ever been able to say no to that?"

He responded softly, wrapping his mighty wings around her and hiding her in his shroud of darkness. She happily stepped closer, snuggling up to him, feeling as safe as can be in his embrace. Indulging in the moment, Emmy rested her head on his strong shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to Faff’s slow breathing and his steady heartbeat. She allowed herself to relax against her beloved partner’s bigger frame as he held her close with his mighty wings.

She had missed him dearly. It had not been one of his longer trips, since sometimes he had been gone for years at a time. This time, it had only been a couple of months. But nevertheless, they had bonded for life, and whenever his wanderlust took hold of him she feared he would never come back.

Sure, Fafnir was a mighty dragon. Big and strong, able to fend off armies all on his own, yet even bigger and stronger dragons had fallen to those pesky humans in the past.

"Will you stay for a while this time?"

She finally asked, whispering softly. He bent his neck around hers and held her tight against him.

"I wanted to talk to you about that over dinner, in fact. There is something… I… yes, I think I will stay for a while this time, but let’s talk about that while we eat, alright?"

The mighty dragon answered as softly as his rough voice would let him. Emmy rejoiced in those words, but the way he said them concerned her. There was something she couldn’t quite grasp; something she would need to coerce out of him later. But for the moment she was simply happy her mate would be staying with her. She made her happiness known by snuggling closer to him and brushing her head and neck against his shoulders; and while she did so, Emmy nibbled at the scales between his shoulders; ultimately laying her head and neck on him with all their weight, showing him how much she relied on his strength and love. Fafnir felt her leaning onto him and reacted in kind, happy to give her the support she needed; not that she was heavy in the first place. A human might have considered her gigantic but to him, she was but a feather.

"Let’s take a look at the roast. I can smell it already. This is gonna be a good one."

He finally said with some mirth in his voice as he released her again and she had to agree. The roast smelled delicious. She lifted her head and brushed it up against his neck once more before slipping by him in one fluid motion to take a look at the roast.

It was perfect. Its juices dripped from it and its bronze colored crust had just the right sheen in the light of the fire. The meat’s fat sizzled over the heat of the flame and filled the air with its lovely smell. Emmy sniffed the odor laden air once more; it smelled beguiling and she felt her mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into it. Fafnir was much slower in turning after her, as his massive frame made him much more cumbersome. Sniffing the air and smiling, the black dragon came closer to the kitchen's fireplace. Using one of his sharp claws, Fafnir poked the roast. It was almost done, the skin was nice and crisp but the flesh was still tender and juicy. It just needed a little bit more time and heat, even though it was terribly tempting to take it off the fire now and tear into it right away. He resisted the hunger, for it would be even better if they gave it just a little longer. He lowered his head and gently rekindled the flames by adding some of his dragonfire to it. Not much, just enough, so the roast would get that last little kick.

When it was finally done, Faff took the hot spit off the rack and laid it on the large granite block they used as the table and countertop of their kitchen. Despite it being hot, he grabbed the spit with one claw and held the roast with the other. He pulled it out of the meat and laid it on the ground next to their countertop. Looking at their meal, his mouth watered and he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into that most delicious roast. However, he would need to wait just that little bit longer till they both could eat. He took the blade –well, calling it a knife was a bit of an understatement for a Messer of its proportions– and cut the roast cleanly in half along its spine. With the filling spilling out of it, its smell filled the kitchen area. Watching the fillings and the juice spread out over the granite block, he was tempted to simply lick the blade clean, but refrained from it in the end. Instead, he took a deep sniff and sighed contentedly.

---

... Dinner

"Hmm, perfect…"

He growled softly as Emmy came up next to him, and he couldn’t deny a certain pride swelling in his chest when he saw her taking in the smell as well and licking her lips.

"Indeed, I never thought those greens would ever do any good, but it seems I was wrong… Do we eat those, too?"

She asked and poked at one of the mushrooms. Her antics made him smile, as he laid down the blade, skewered one on a claw and reached it to her.

"Sure, they taste delicious."

The sleek green ‘ness closed her eyes, opened her mouth and took the small treat from him, closing her lips around his claw and softly sucking on it as he drew it out. He smiled and thought about the possibilities while she tasted the mushroom, which was now soaked in all those magnificent flavors and had been cooked thoroughly. It was an unknown taste to her, but she did like it. It was something else, extraordinary, and although she would not need it everyday, for an occasion such as this it was quite a nice little treat. Emmy chewed on it and savored the taste before swallowing and smiling at her loving mate.

“This indeed did taste quite nice. I could see myself getting used to that.”

She exclaimed and looked after the roast with a growing appetite, making him smile softly and nod.

“Shall we dine then my love?”

Faff asked and slowly rounded their table. Emmy nodded and took her place on the opposite side from him. After she had settled, he gestured for her to begin feasting, and as she did, so did he.

A whole ox, including the filling, for just two dragons would sound like a lot to a human, but to them it was just right for a nice evening dinner. They ate slowly and, sharing the odd little piece here and there, feeding one another with little treats.

His eyes were always on her. He couldn’t get enough of her. Even if her snout was covered in juice, bits of flesh, and greens, she was still the most beautiful living being he had ever encountered. And he had seen it all… Not even the fabled unicorns came close to her, not by a long shot.

While his beloved partner was holding down the hind leg of the ox and tore into it heartedly, Fafnir pulled out a small little sack he had hidden by the table earlier, and laid it on the granite between them.

When she realised, Emmy did let go of the leg and looked at him with big eyes. Carefully, she licked her claws and her snout clean before reaching for the little bundle.

“As I promised, whenever I come home from one of my journeys, I will bring one special little something with me just for you, and you alone.”

He said in a low tone, smiling softly as she pulled the bundle to herself and opened it. She took a peek into it, and what she saw made her eyes sparkle in an expression of awe, before she looked back at him and smiled widely.

“Oh you shouldn’t have…”

She called him out and shuffled her wings in excitement, while Faff grinned and tilted his head. He nodded softly and motioned her to take the little something out of its sack.

“I know, but for you my love, only the finest is just good enough.”

He explained in a loveladen tone and blew her a little kiss. She caught it and brought it to her heart for safekeeping, then looked back into the little sack. Carefully, she took what was in there and pulled it out of its bag: a crown, sized for a human head, made of gold and silver. The precious accessory was studded with gems and other valuable stones along its rim. Taking it between her big clawed fingers, the ‘ness turned it to inspect it from all sides. Each of her movements made the gems reflect and sparkle in the low light of their cave, and she couldn’t help but to smile widely.

“Oh it is so pretty. It will go so well with the others.”

Emmy said and carefully put it back into the sack, before rounding the table and brushing up against her beloved mate. She nibbled at his chin and leaned heavily against him. He smiled and returned the nibble on her neck.

“I thought so as well… he did hold on to it pretty well too…”

Fafnir agreed with a slight smirk and he could feel her chuckle even before he heard it. Slowly disentangling herself from him, she looked up at him and her smile was as infectious as ever.

“Those pesky humans, never into sharing. All the time they want to keep their shinies all to themselves… tsk tsk tsk…”

The smaller dragon replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm and her eyes shone brightly as she raised her clawed finger and wagged it in the typical scolding fashion the humans used so much. He nodded softly, returning her smile before lowering his head to softly nuzzle his snout on hers. As she enjoyed his touch, Emmy closed her eyes, indulging in the feeling for a bit longer. When she finally softly withdrew from him, however, and quickly got back to her side of the “table”, she picked up some of the filling with a claw, just like Faff had done before and lavishly put it into her mouth. An arch smile played around her muzzle as she sensually sucked on her claw and popped out of her mouth for good measure. He growled softly, feeling that stirring in him he always felt when Emmy did such things, and grinned over to her. It left little doubt of what he was up to.

“Oh you are insatiable… My lovely Emmy.”

He said in response to her machinations. She lowered her head and looked up at him out of the corner of her beautiful eyes with a mischievous smile.

“You know I am. I can’t get enough of my Faff.”

Emmy said and pawed at him jokingly. Seeing her playful reaction, he laughed a rough and deep, yet heartfelt laugh.

They continued feasting on their dinner, as not to let any of the goodness go to waste. Faff skewered the last of the filling on his claw and reached over to her. Again she gently took his claw into her mouth, this time going so far as to take in almost his entire finger, pulling off the treat with her tongue before sucking and licking his finger and claw. He let her, enjoying the treatment. Following a train of thought, he began to move his finger softly in and out of her maw. She hummed her approval and sucked harder on it, letting her tongue play along his digit. He smiled and tilted his head to one side.

“Wanna continue this in the den, before the fireplace?”

Fafnir asked softly, pulling his claw carefully out of her mouth, but she almost didn’t let him, wrapping her tongue tightly around his finger. He grinned and let her have it for a little longer, while he watched her sucking off his finger and felt his arousal rising by the second. Oh, he wanted her so much right now. Finally, Emmy let go of him and with an audible plop his finger snapped free from her lips. With a devious grin, he brought it up to his lips and licked her saliva from it, making her huff with desire. The big male slowly came around to her side. He quite literally towered over her comparatively small stature and looked down on her. Emmy’s breathing sped up.

Fafnir naturally emanated that kind of authority that exacted total submission, and even if Emmy was headstrong and free minded, she loved it when he took the lead and demanded her to obey his command. As he sniffed deep, his nostrils flared wide, taking in her primal scent. He tasted it thoroughly and smelled her arousal. A low, guttural rumble escaped his throat as he turned towards the den, motioning at her to follow him. She sucked in a sharp breath and had to press her thighs together as she took her first step after him. She was trembling with anticipation, her wings constantly shuffling as she tried to fight the building tension. Emmy shuddered from his appearance, all while her tail whipped back and forth involuntarily.

---

Second servings anyone . . . ?

Fafnir stepped into the den, their living and sleeping part of the cave. She had gone to great lengths to decorate it nicely. They had a big fire pit, a must for every den worthy of this title, and before it, she had draped some nice and cozy furs and hides. Along the back wall, she had decorated some of the nicer armors and weapons of those pesky adventurers and mercenaries who got sent out on a semi-regular basis to hunt and slay them. Until now, they never even came close to hurting her, let alone him, but they brought gifts and decorative items, at least most of the times… if not, they were always good for a light snack.

Along the other wall, she had decorated some selected pieces of their hoard. They had accumulated quite the treasure trove over the years, which made them prime targets for those who sought quick fame and fortune, or more likely a mostly quick but definitely not painless death.

While Faff walked in front of her, he deliberately let his tail sway left and right, just enough to grant her a view underneath. Emmy caught a glimpse of his slit and his slowly emerging member and giggled girlishly in excitement, as she knew he did it on purpose. Her breathing sped up and her nostrils twitched as she sniffed the air behind him, catching his musky scent laden with that tangy smell of his arousal. He chuckled when he noticed and slowly continued his path towards the firepit. A short burst of his dragonfire was all it took to light the big logs in the pit, before he laid down on the pelts, rolling on his side and presenting her prize to her.

Emmy’s eyes widened as she saw his mighty phallus completely unsheathed and already partially erect. His two foot long, tapered shaft slightly bent down, and its smooth surface was not yet adorned with the usual ridges a dragon's phallus featured when fully erect. While she adored it, she noticed as the veins pumped more blood into it, making it throb ever so softly. The lean ‘ness felt her heart rate rising as she tore her eyes away from his lance and to his face.

“Since you are so eager to suckle on things, why don’t you wrap your lovely tongue around this?”

He growled in an authoritative tone, but the look in his eyes, how he waved her closer, pointed at his member, and the way he smirked as he growled showed how much he really loved her. She came forth to him and with a mischievous smile on her lips, she lowered her head submissively. Snuggling up to him, she brushed her head against his, softly murring her lust for him. Faff answered with a content growl and licked over her crest and neck.

“Hmmm… maybe the master wants a bit of comfort first…?”

She whispered, the mirth in her voice clearly audible. The bigger dragon huffed softly and lifted his head a bit, not disagreeing with her in that regard, so she continued by nibbling at his chin, before slowly working her way down his neck, licking, nipping at his thick scales and adding to their scuffs and scratches as she went.

“Hrrnnn… oh you are such a tease.”

Murred Faff as he clearly enjoyed her machinations. He could hear her chuckle softly.

“Of course, oh mighty Fafnir, I will do everything to please my beloved mate.”

Emmy whispered, barely containing her giggling as she slowly worked her way down his muscular neck, brushing her snout up against and nibbling at his hardened scales, finding those most sensitive spots. Abandoning his neck, she came down to his mighty chest. Faff’s strong musculature, hidden underneath thick, interlocking plates of hardened scales, had formed a broad yet flexible chest that heaved under his breathing.

In her aroused state, Emmy’s scent was infusing the air, making it heavily laden with that primal, musky smell, as she was so enamored by his dominant behavior. Faff greedily inhaled it deeply and drank his fill of the intoxicating scent. In this fired up state, he had to be careful not to simply drag her to the ground and violently mount her again right now, as he wanted to savor this some more, wanted her to serve him, to submit to him like she would never do to anyone else.

And submit she did, for she was caressing his chest diligently and slowly worked her way down to his stomach. Despite his thick armor plating, he still was quite sensitive in places, and over the many years, Emmy had found out how to tease her mate and where to nibble to achieve the results she wanted. Fafnir growled and huffed in his delight, while she used her teeth, tongue, and claws on him, drawing ever closer to his now pretty much rock hard member. Her nearing her ultimate goal didn’t go unnoticed, and so Faff raised his hind leg with a low growl of content to give her better access to her prize. He drew deep breaths as she finally hovered her muzzle right before his very tip. Her burning hot breath brushed over his slightly twitching lance and made him murr with anticipation. She licked her lips as her mouth watered at the thought of what was to come.

Even though he was desperate for her to commence and everything inside him screamed at him to just force her to finally begin, Faff barely managed to restrain himself. Emmy meanwhile was hypnotised by the slight undulations of his member caused by his blood pumping through the now thick veins, snaking over his member’s surface. She slowly opened her mouth and took a light lick of his tip, tasting the small drop of pre that had already formed at the tip of his phallus.

The mighty dragon shivered and growled deeply. Her tongue was even hotter than his member, and even that small of a touch felt like heaven to him. Apparently satisfied with him, Emmy extended her split tongue once more and gave his shaft a more thorough lick. She had always liked his taste and it was by far not the first time she did this to him, but every time it was such a tease to him, since he knew her jaws were capable of rend plate armor, and his member was by far the most delicate part of him. He remembered the first time she did it to him. They had not yet been together long at that point, and so he had been tense all the way to the very tip of his tail, not yet trusting her to the fullest. Back then, having her mighty jaws around his phallus and being totally at her mercy had been a big deal for him. He had not been able to fully enjoy it back then, but nowadays, the thrill only added to the excitement he got out of it.

Emmy looked over to his face and saw him already panting. She grinned widely and teased him by licking him just that little bit more. His low growls of content pleased her to no end, knowing that even if he played the dominant part –and he was very well able to force her if he chose so– he pretty much let her control his pleasure right now. Mulling this thought over for a moment, she looked back down at his member, as it twitched slightly and waited for her to continue.

“Nyooaah…”

She eventually moaned softly while opening her maw wide, diving down and carefully closing her lips around his hot and hard member. She placed her tongue along the underside and began to suckle rhythmically. At first, she applied only soft suction and began to move her head slowly along his shaft, feeling its ridges scrape against the upper wall of her mouth.

“Hmmpf… slrp.. hnnnf…”

Emmy murred softly. Faff meanwhile closed his eyes, and his claws dug into the pelts on which they laid as he moaned softly and breathed deeply, while she slowly deepend her strokes. The ridges on the back of his member were highly sensitive, and having them rub and scrape against the hard and rough ceiling of her maw was exhilarating. Emmy laid down and used the clawed paw on her foreleg to softly massage the base of his member, letting her razor sharp claws run ever so softly over his delicate skin, making him shudder in delight. She reveled in teasing him mercilessly, as she knew he was all for it. He moaned out loudly and looked down at her.

“Hrmm… yes… you are doing well…”

Fafnir said under his breath, reaching his paw down to her, caressing her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into the tender touch as much as she could while still keeping up her ministrations. Enticed by his praise and him stroking her cheek, she sucked a bit harder and wrapped her tongue around his member just in between two of its ridges, extracting yet more moans from him as his hind leg began to twitch slightly. She squinted down at the base of his member, and her paw gently slid a bit up as she pointed a clawed finger at his slit. Ever so gently, she slid her paw back down his shaft, accompanied by her muzzle and in one smooth motion she inserted her finger up to her knuckle in his slit, teasing the very foundation of his member.

Feeling her clawed digit tickling him so deep down, the mighty male sucked in a sharp breath and growled out his pleasure in a low rumble. Emmy could hear the pelts tearing under his claws as he strained against them, tensing his body up as she continued to bob her head back and forth. She growled gleefully against his member and let her tail sway left and right, showing her delight in his beautiful agony.

Faff let out a howling snarl and his whole body shuddered. His tail whipped around and beat the floor of their den, while the big mighty dragon desperately tried to fight down his climax. He did not want this experience to end; not yet.

On the other end of things laid Emmy and had the time of her life mercilessly teasing her mate. She had, admittedly over the last century, mastered the art of bringing him right to the edge and keeping him there until he was unable to hold on for longer; she precisely knew how to use her tongue, her razor sharp teeth, and claws to great effect. By now, almost all of him was placed deeply inside her maw, letting his long, tapered shaft violate her throat, while she was only breathing through her nose on the outstroke. She had learned to hold her breath for a long time to maximise his pleasure. But bringing joy to him did not mean she did not get to have some fun herself, after all. Not only did she enjoy seeing and feeling him squirming under her ministrations, her own slit was also swollen and pressed against the cold granite while her ever harder swishing tail forced her hips to move from side to side, providing the lean dragoness with quite some pleasure.

“By the elders, Emmy… I don’t know how long I can hold it any more…”

Fafnir pressed out between moans of most exquisite pleasure. He felt like he would burst any second, while he tensed up, his wing spreading as muscles cramped and shook his body. He felt his member twitch and throb in her maw and felt that familiar sensation of it heating up while his body prepared to spill his precious seed once more.

He curled himself into a tight crescent shape around her, his muscles trembling under the strain. He gritted his teeth, pressing out a pained grunt, before he reared up like a spring releasing its tension. It was more a gasp than a roar, more a hiss than a growl as he finally succumbed to his climax. Emmy reacted in time, grabbing his member at its base and lodging it to the hilt in her mouth, still careful not to bite down. She used her tongue to guide his burning hot jizz directly towards her throat and did her best to swallow it all. Given, she had never been too much a fan of drinking his seed, but she knew very well that he got a big kick out of it, and so she crossed that bridge, knowing he would repay her in kind later.

He shuddered, his muscles spasmed and cramped, while he was caught in the throes of his orgasm. Faff was a big and powerful male, his release matched his prowess and sometimes, when he came home from prolonged journeys, Emmy found herself on the receiving end of a hose on full blast, almost drowning her. Luckily today was no such day, but his load was considerable nonetheless, and she had to work not to spill anything. Still twitching and shuddering as his muscles had not yet calmed down again, the mighty, black dragon slowly came down from his high. His uneven breaths quivered as he licked his lips and looked down on his lovely mate. Gasping, he tried to slowly relax his muscles again, but the adrenalin was still running hot in his veins.

“By the heavens Emmy…hrnnn… you’ve totally outdone yourself…hfff…”

He huffed, trying to catch his breathing again, while she still slurped and swallowed the last of his cum from his mighty, throbbing member. Slowly she pulled her sleek snout back, tightly wrapping her lips around his member, working her tongue feverishly around it and cleaning him nicely. When it finally plopped free from her mouth, Emmy lavishly licked her lips and looked over at him deviously. The big, dark dragon huffed once more, regaining control over his breathing. Now that he had his boon, it was time for him to repay his beloved mate. Even though he would love to just cuddle up to her right now, doze the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace, and let the warmth of the flames soak in, she had done well and deserved her reward. Fafnir gently rolled onto his belly with a low groan and slowly stood up, while Emmy was watching his every move, eagerly waiting for what was happening next. He stretched limb from limb to free up cramped muscles; he stretched his cracking neck and tail, before spreading his wings, almost blocking all the light from the firepit behind him. The thick, leather like skin on his wings was almost totally opaque, a far cry from the semi translucent membrane of her wings. Step by step, he pushed himself up to his full height before her still cowering form. He looked down on her and blew dense clouds of smoke like steam out his nostrils. In his heated state, his fire almost got the better of him and he had to hold back a little. It was not that he would have hurt her with his flame, but it surely would have wreaked havoc on the pelts.

“On your back.”

He commanded in a stern tone while watching the lean, sleek ‘ness elegantly folding her wings around her curved body and obediently rolling over. When Emmy laid on her back, she spread her wings slightly to stabilize herself and tugged in her legs; as if to shyly cover her vulnerable tummy. She looked up at him with an innocent smile, while her tail wagged back and forth. Faff smiled as he looked her up and down.

“So eager to please.”

He stated in a loveladen tone.

“And pleased I am. You have been a good little ‘ness… a very good ‘ness indeed…”

He added and bent down his head until it was just a little bit above hers. Emmy smiled and lifted her head to nuzzle his snout lovingly, using her front paws to hold him in pace, so he could not easily withdraw.

“Will you reward me for being your good lil’ ‘ness?”

She asked softly and nibbled at his chin. Some of his scales there were pretty chewed up at this point, but Faff didn’t mind. He looked down at his lovely, beautiful mate. Of course he would reward her. How could he not after what she had just done for him?

“Of course you will receive a just reward for your efforts…”

He purred and smiled, asEmmy’s eyes gleamed with joy.

“Show it to me… let me see your innermost, your most sacred of temples.”

His rumbling voice demanded softly and Emmy shyly parted her hind legs, letting him see all of her. Her breathing sped up and she felt her heart racing. She felt like it was her first time all over again as he looked down on her. She trembled. Her vulva throbbed hard. Under this piercing stare, she wasn’t moist, nor was she wet. She was dripping.

“You are so beautiful…”

He whispered. It was but a breath, yet she caught it and it made her infinitely happy. Her love for him, already immortal and never-ending, just deepened even more. She was blessed with him in ways no one else could fathom.

When they got together, her family had been distraught by his appearance and the huge age discrepancy. They had never understood why she had not chosen a dragon similar to her, young, lean, beautiful. Instead, she had chosen a battle hardened warrior, who had a penchant to wander off for months if not years at a time, pillaging whole kingdoms only to bring her home small trinkets. They never had understood that she did not love him for his looks, or his hoarding skills.

Emmy’s tail thrashed left and right. At this point, she almost panted in anticipation, and still, Fafnir had no intention of relieving his beloved mate just now, as he wanted to exact a little bit of vengeance for her earlier mischief, but lowered his head and softly blew over her swollen slit.

“Haaannnnrrrrr…”

Moaned the lean ‘ness underneath him. She shuddered profoundly, her wings twitching, and she had to strain herself not to press her thighs together now that a big, bulky dragon head was in the way. Faff deeply inhaled her scent. That primal, sweet, and tangy scent he had learned to love so much. He looked up out of the corner of his eyes and saw how her lovely face was contorted in need. Her eyes were begging him to commence, to end her suffering and elevate her into the heavens, but her lips remained sealed except for the low moaning that accompanied each and every exhale. He let his long, flexible, split tongue loll out of his deadly maw. Its twin endings ever so gently brushed over her bright pink swollen flesh, doing little more than tickling her, nevertheless, Emmy’s muscles tensed up hard and she gasped for a sharp breath, pressing out a needy moan that begged him to not tease her any longer. Complying with her pleas to satisfy her lust, Faff finally sunk his head between her thighs and gently licked over her slit, pushing his tongue between her folds and taking in her wetness. Pulling his long tongue along her tender flesh, he tasted her juices and revelled in her sweet yet spicy flavor.

Greedy as he was, he did not wait for long to push his tongue deeper between her folds and into her cavity. Exploring her every nook and cranny, the male dragon rubbed that strong muscle against her inner walls, stimulating the younger ‘ness immeasurably.

“Oh yes for fucks sake…”

Emmy cried out as her mate found a particular small and rough patch on the upper wall of her vulva and began tickling it feverishly. She began to buck and squirm, so Faff decided to lay down again, pinning her tail underneath his belly, where its erratic movements would only heighten his own arousal once more. Shifting most of his weight to his hind legs, Fafnir used his forelegs to pin the sleek, green dragoness to the floor and spread her legs further.

“...eeep…”

She squeaked as the bigger male first totally immobilized her and then went ahead and nibbled carefully at her most delicate of parts. She rolled her eyes back into her head and moaned out loudly.

“Aaaahnn… fuuuuck… this feels so good…”

As she cried out loudly, Fafnir felt how her passage suddenly became much more moist and her slit began to contract involuntarily. He knew he was doing it right when her body reacted to his machinations like that. Faff grinned and pulled back a little bit to savor the moment. Her breathing came in short, hot bursts and her body convulsed visibly with the contractions of her vulva, while she was positively overflowing. Before Emmy could protest, he extended his tongue once more and gave her a long, thorough lick, from the base of her tail up to and over her slit, taking in all the pre she had already spilled and then pushed his tongue back into it as deep as it would go, until his lips sealed her slit shut.

“Oh by the Elders… hrnnn… oh fuck… hnn… you gonna…”

Stuttered Emmy as she felt his tongue almost reaching rock bottom and his lips applying ample suction on her tender, swollen slit. Faff rumbled a deep guttural growl, before he continued to eat her out. Letting his tongue dance inside her cavity and rub every wall, he felt her tense more and more. Her moans gained in volume and pitch, before she finally could not hold on anymore. She curled in, grabbed his horns with her front paws, and pulled him in even more while pressing out a pained grunt. Fafnir’s tongue was grabbed and wrung by her inner walls as Emmy contracted so hard that he feared she would crush his tongue. When the tension gave way to her climax, she squirted hard, accompanied by a screech of relieved pain. After what had felt like an eternity, she could finally give in to the convulsions and spasms of her orgasm. Fafnir tried to hold her down by using his considerable weight, but a good portion of his strength was necessary, to keep her from kicking out with her powerful legs.

Emmy was in her own world right now. Her second climax for the day–after months of abstinence at that–pushed her right over another edge and into the abyss of pure bliss that were her mate’s ministrations. She felt like floating and falling. It was a glorious feeling that could not be replicated by any other means. Her whole body tingled and she lacked the words to describe just how her innermost felt right now. Somewhere between numb and a thousand little needles being pushed into her inner walls by their powerful contractions. She was burning up inside, and yet, it ran ice cold down her spine. She wanted to scream so badly, but her body was barely able to moan right through the intensity of her convulsions. She still clutched his horns and held him to herself, unable to open her paws. Deep down, she knew she could not hurt him, not like this.

“Hrrrrrrrk…”

She pressed out between clenched teeth, when her lungs forced her to breathe. Meanwhile, Faff drank his fill from the juices she so freely provided.

When she finally let go of him and her body fell limb, he raised his head from in between her thighs. He looked a mess but he felt great. Slowly sitting up and stretching his neck, he looked down on the dark green goddess that lay before his paws, heavily panting and trying to regain control over her body. Her legs were still twitching, as were her wings. He felt her tail quivering between his legs and chuckled softly. Lavishly, he licked his lips and hummed, not willing to let any of her go to waste. When he slowly stood up and stepped to the side, he had to be careful not to step on her wings. The massive male rounded her and lowered his head to her level. Gently, he nudged her sleek, comparably small head.

“Hmmm… did your mate do well?”

He asked jokingly, knowing fully well, that she was beyond any doubt happy with his service. Her head slowly turned to him and smiled a bit silly, nuzzling her narrow snout to his massive maw.

“Oh my lovely Faff, you made me so proud… more than that…”

She whispered while slowly folded her wing to her body and tried to roll onto her side, but she was unable to bring her legs together, as every movement in that area triggered her sensitive slit again and threatened to overstimulate her. She whimpered softly as she tried time and again to close her legs, while her mate patiently waited for her to move on her own accord. When she eventually managed to curl up a bit, Fafnir slowly moved behind her and laid down, gently snuggling up to his beloved partner. Emmy murred quietly as he shoved his massive frame carefully against her back and slung his foreleg around her body, pulling her ever so slightly against him. He curled himself around the much smaller smaragd green dragoness and buried his muzzle just under her swept back crest. Gently, Faff unfolded one of his ginormous wings and covered her up, shielding her from the world.

Emmy smiled softly and let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling as if nothing could ever happen to her when embraced by this mighty protector of hers.

---

Epilogue

“My loveliest of dragonesses…”

Fafnir whispered and nuzzled her just a bit more, eliciting a soft giggle from her.

“... I told you that I want to stay for a long time…”

He added, wrapping his long tail around her. Emmy nodded softly.

“Mmmhmmm, you did my love…”

She answered in her soft voice, just barely audible. Fafnir smiled and used his foreleg and paw to pull her even closer to himself, letting her indulge in his warmth and love.

“... how do you feel about offspring?”

He asked, his voice filled with love and desire.

Emmy’s eyes shot open…

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edit by

Bordox

Fawkesish

&

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo

Stargazing

Fafnir sat high above the mountain, at the highest peak, his wings and tail wrapped tightly around his body. He was facing north and waiting for the sun to set. It was already late in the afternoon and the sun was slowly creeping towards the horizon, coloring the sky fiery red. The orange-red light of the setting sun cast sharp shadows in the crystal-clear air of the mountain peaks. The left half of its face and body seemed to glow in the light, while the other half was completely in shadow and its charcoal-black scales seemed to swallow up any light.

The wind up here was icy cold and blew almost constantly. The thin clouds of condensation that his breath left in the cold air were almost instantly swept away by the wind and dissolved in the crystal-clear air after just a few meters. An icy shiver ran down his spine and he pulled his wings tighter around him. It wasn't so much the cold that bothered him. Cold, like heat, didn't bother a dragon like him much.

It was what he was waiting for that made him shiver.

Since her death, he had come up here every day and waited for the sun to set. He had watched silently until she had disappeared behind the horizon and then waited for the sunset to fade far enough to see her. It was a small consolation, but he needed it in order not to give up completely.

He hadn't been there when the humans had come and attacked their home. He had been hunting to get dinner for his Emmy and himself.

The humans were smart enough to know that they could never have taken on two dragons, so they had waited until the larger, stronger of the dragons had left the cave before launching their attack. They had learned. Over the centuries that humans and dragons had lived in conflict with each other, they had learned where the dragons' weak spots were and how they could exploit them to defeat an overpowering opponent.

He had heard her screams and had rushed back to the cave, but it had already been too late. Emmy had fought bravely, defending her cave and her brood against the defiant attackers. When he found her, her injuries were too severe and he saw her life draining from her body, staining the floor of the cave red. Knowing he could do no more for Emmy, he had laid with her and spent the last moments with her. When she finally closed her eyes for the last time, it was as if something inside him broke.

Fafnir had stepped outside her cave and expressed his anger and loss in a mighty roar before turning his gaze to the valley at the foot of the mountain.

In his fury, he had raged and literally razed every settlement in the wide area to the ground, leaving nothing but cinders and ash. No stone had been left unturned and not a soul had escaped his vengeance.

Like a deadly, black shadow, he had come over the land and left death and destruction in his wake.

When he finally came to his senses after almost a month, the land resembled a scorched wasteland ruled over by a black demon standing in the middle of the ashes, spreading his mighty wings and screaming his woes into the night sky along with a pillar of fire that was visible for many miles.

He had returned to their den, exhausted and shaken, and curled up around their nest. Emmy had defended the brood, the eggs had remained untouched. They were all that mattered to him now.

Dragon eggs were tough, but the month he had left them alone in the cold was a long time even for them.

In the end, of the three eggs Emmy had laid, one had hatched.

He could hear her hopping through the snow, the crunch that accompanied her every step. She did not yet dare to fly in the sometimes strong winds on the summit. The chick was still young, still small; just big enough for her to sit comfortably on his large paws.

Fafnir relaxed a little and looked down at her.

He had named her Tyria, after her great-grandmother. A strong name for a strong little dragoness.

She looked like her mother, was built just as aerodynamically as Emmy, and her smooth scales were the same rich dark green that her mother's scales had been. But she couldn't deny her father. A wide strip of black, hardened scales stretched from her head all the way down her back to the tip of her tail. However, even these scales still had a smooth surface and they were not yet as dull as his. That would take another few hundred years.

Tyria had folded her wings close to her body, looking up at him with her big blue eyes and he couldn't help but smile.

“What are you always doing up here, Papa?”

She asked as Fafnir opened his large wings to take her between his paws. With a delighted squeal, she jumped around him and finally sat down between his huge paws, next to which she still seemed so tiny. Fafnir drew his wings closer again to protect himself and Tyria from the icy wind, but left a gap so that she could see out.

“I'm waiting for your mother's star to rise.”

Replied the large, black dragon, blowing warm air downwards towards Tyria, who snuggled up to his foreleg. She wrapped her tail around his leg as far as it would go, looked up at him and beamed at him.

“Mommy has a star?”

She asked with interest and her voice sounded joyfully excited. Fafnir scritched his daughter carefully with one claw of his other foreleg and nodded.

“Yes, my darling, mommy has a star. When a dragon dies, it gets a star, so your mother has one too.”

He said softly. His voice was full of warmth and love as he spoke to his daughter.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon by now and the first of the really bright stars were already twinkling through the red-violet of the sky.

They were lucky, there were no clouds in the sky and they had a clear view.

Tyria leaned into his caresses.

“Which star is mommy's?”

She asked, peering curiously from between his wings and watching the sky; Fafnir also turned his gaze towards the horizon. As the light dimmed, more and more stars appeared. He looked at the horizon and finally his lips pulled back into a smile for a moment before a melancholy expression spread across his face.

He carefully slid his large paw under his daughter and gently removed her from her embrace. Tyria squealed in surprise and excitement as she clung to one of his strong fingers and flapped her wings lightly to keep her balance. Finally, he slowly pulled back his wings to lift his daughter to shoulder height.

When she was within reach of his muzzle, she stretched towards him and nuzzled her small head against his chin. Fafnir snorted with a soft laugh and returned the gesture. He rubbed his huge muzzle tenderly against her head, almost knocking her over. Tyria struggled to keep from falling, but enjoyed the attention and affection, to the fullest. Fafnir pulled his muzzle back a little and blew hot air at her. Tyria spread her wings and tried to catch as much of the hot air as she could before trying to blow hot air as well. She couldn't get beyond a few smoke rings though. Fafnir laughed softly and rubbed the tip of his nose against his daughter's head again.

“We'll have to practice that a bit more.”

He admitted affectionately and motioned for her to turn around.

“Look, over there...”

Fafnir began and lifted his second foreleg to stretch it towards the horizon. He pointed with one claw at a pale blue star that seemed to sparkle. Tyria looked intently at where he was pointing, but to her obvious disappointment, she didn't recognize what he meant.

“... do you see that star there, the pale blue one that sparkles so nicely?”

Fafnir asked gently and lifted his wing to protect Tyria a little more from the strong wind. Following his renewed description, the little dragoness looked at the now almost completely dark sky. She seemed to be searching intently and at no time did her little tail stop moving back and forth. Fafnir felt her claws tighten around his finger. Finally, when she seemed to have found her target, she nodded and turned her head towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

She whispered, looking forward again. Fafnir nodded and pulled his foreleg back to place it on the ground again. He lowered his paw slightly with Tyria, causing his daughter to squeal excitedly and snuggle up to his paw to keep from falling over. The mighty dragon grinned at the little chick's excitement on his big paw and drew his mighty wings closer around them both again. The wind, now that the sun had completely set, quickly became even colder and he wanted to protect his daughter from it.

Tyria, now once again trapped in a cocoon of dragon wings, looked up through the small opening her father had left. She saw and heard him take a deep breath and sigh as he turned his gaze back to the horizon. She could only guess that he was looking at her mother's star again. She could not yet fully comprehend how great the loss of her father was, but she realized that it was weighing heavily on him.

“Do you miss mommy a lot?”

She asked after a while and wrapped her tail around one of his fingers, almost as if to comfort him. Fafnir tore himself away from the star and returned the wide gaze of the little dragoness on his paw. His lips began to tremble, but it only lasted a brief moment before he nodded.

“Yes, my darling, I really miss her. It does hurt not having her around anymore.”

He said softly, his pain clearly audible in his voice. Tyria cuddled her head against his finger in an attempt to ease his suffering and made soft squeaking sounds. Fafnir shuddered and pulled his wings tighter around himself and Tyria. He looked down at her and a soft smirk crept onto his lips.

“But I'm glad you're here, my little sunshine. You always manage to take my mind off things.”

He said, pushing his head down towards her and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. He was rewarded with a joyful squeak and Tyria held on to his nostrils with her little claws to maintain the contact a little longer. He had to restrain himself from snorting and possibly blowing her off his paw or scorching her.

She pushed herself up on her hind legs so that she could look over the back of his muzzle and her eyes literally beamed at him. Fafnir had to squint to see her properly. Tyria began to chuckle when she saw her father squinting his eyes like that. She put her head up between his nostrils and rubbed it gently against his rough scales.

Fafnir's features softened. He couldn't help but think back sadly to Emmy as he watched his daughter, who bore so much resemblance to her and exhibited many of the same behaviors. He had to laugh and the shaking of his head caused Tyria a great deal of distress. She clung to his nostrils and squealed in surprise as she struggled to keep her balance.

“Papaaa...”

She complained as she wrapped her tail around one of his fingers again. Fafnir pulled his lips back into a grin and bared his teeth, but held still so she could stand safely again. Once Tyria had stabilized herself again, she let go of him and sat back down on his paw.

The great dragon shuddered. The wind and the biting cold slowly crept through its scales. A thin layer of ice had already formed on his back. It was still nothing that could be dangerous to him, but it was still not pleasant. He pulled his head out from between his wings and checked Emmy's star again.

After a moment, he looked down at her again. His expression seemed unusually gentle.

“Let's go home, it's getting cold and I'm sure you're hungry and tired.”

Fafnir suggested, but Tyria shook her head vigorously.

“But I'm not tired at all yet and it's cozy here...”

She protested vehemently and reinforced her objection by stamping her front leg. Fafnir nodded gently.

“Oh yes, I can see it quite clearly. It's already far too late for little dragons like you. Look how small your little eyes are already. It's time for you to crawl into your nest.”

Fafnir insisted, his voice still soft. He could see Tyria literally slump down. She realized that she couldn't really contradict her father, but she had to at least try.

Tenderly, he nudged her with his muzzle.

“Let me make you a suggestion, hmm. How about dad flies us home? Would that be something?”

He asked encouragingly and gave her a little puff. Tyria's eyes began to sparkle as she looked at him and nodded vigorously.

“Oh yes, daddy. Fly us home.”

She demanded and excitedly reshuffled her wings. Tyria could fly. Any winged dragon could fly naturally, but she didn't dare to fly really high yet, or really fast either. It was different when Fafnir flew and took her with him. Her father was an experienced flyer, he could fly high and far. Wind and weather didn't bother him, and even the dark was no problem for the mighty dragon.

Her father nodded slightly and nudged her again with his snout.

“Alright, we'll fly, but you know...”

He began, only to be interrupted by Tyria, who was excitedly sliding back and forth on his paw.

“... always hold on tight and fold my wings close to my body. I know dad.”

She completed his sentence. She sounded less annoyed and more excited that she was allowed to fly with him again.

Fafnir laughed lightly at his daughter's eagerness and began to unfold his wings.

Although the wind was blowing strongly up there at the summit, Fafnir had no trouble stretching his wings to their full span. He stood up, unfurled his tail and stretched into the wind.

His huge wings looked like a dark shadow against the starry sky.

Tyria clung to his finger and pressed herself flat against the surface of Fafnir's paw, waiting for the moment when her father would finally flap his wings.

Fafnir pulled his foreleg with Tyria very close to his body and turned his wings into the wind. He felt his body lighten as the wind caught in his wings.

“Ready?”

He asked and Tyria nodded vigorously.

“Fly, Daddy, fly!”

She shouted excitedly and Fafnir did her the favor. With a mighty flap of his wings, he took off from the summit and let the wind carry him away. As soon as his legs were no longer in contact with the ground, he lifted his hind legs back towards his tail and his second front leg towards Tyria to shield her a little better from the wind and the cold.

He followed the wind and flew a few turns around the peak while Tyria whooped under his chest. Fafnir was neither an elegant nor a fast flier. He was too cumbersome to fly truly elegant or even fast maneuvers, but that didn't matter to Tyria. To his daughter, he was the greatest and most formidable flier there was. Not that she had any comparison. With each new turn, she cheered loudly, spurring her father on to fly more daringly.

“Faster dad...!”

She shouted against the wind whistling through her father's jagged scales. Fafnir laughed loudly and spun around so that Tyria briefly felt like she was falling free. The little dragon acknowledged this feeling with ecstatic screams.

While Tyria celebrated her father for his flying skills, Fafnir slowly headed for her cave.

---

Welcome to: Choose your desired ending

• If you prefere this story to end nice and quietly, just keep reading from the next partition down.

• If you like the slightly spikier ending, you may want to skip to the partition after the next to get a glimpse of what Fafnir thinks about getting his home invaded by uninvited guests.

---

The Wholesome end:

Fafnir let himself be carried by the updrafts close to the slope of the mountain and landed gently near the entrance to the cave. Slowly, he folded his huge wings back against his body and released Tyria from his grip. The little dragon leapt from his paw and spread her own wings. She hopped around happily in front of her father, fluttering her wings slightly and giving her jumps a little more height and range.

“That was great, Daddy!”

She shouted excitedly and tried a few smaller maneuvers during her jumps. Fafnir watched her with amusement and slowly followed her towards the entrance to the cave.

“Yes, it was a lot of fun, especially because you were there.”

He commented in a soft voice and looked around once more. Tyria ran ahead and turned into the cave, her young voice echoing off the walls. The large dragon entered their home shortly after her and looked around. Everything was as he had left it. The fire had gone out by now, he would rekindle it before they slept.

Tyria had climbed onto the large granite block they were using as a kitchen table. She spread her wings and jumped. She flapped her small, emerald green wings and flew tight circles in the cave, laughing with joy. Fafnir watched her and laughed with her, even though at times he wanted to admonish her not to fly too close to the walls of the cave. He held back, knowing that distracting her too much now would only increase the likelihood of a crash landing. Tyria sailed towards him and managed to land halfway gracefully. Her breathing was rapid from the excitement and she beamed at him.

“Did you see that, Papa? Did you see how great I can fly already? And the landing is almost as good as yours.”

She babbled proudly, her tail wagging wildly back and forth as she rearranged her wings. Fafnir nodded eagerly and bent his head down to her.

“Yes, my darling. You are a natural.”

Her father confirmed and his voice was filled with fatherly pride, but also amusement, for he knew how much she still had to learn. Tyria stretched up and licked Fafnir's muzzle.

“Dad, I want to fly with you. Really fly. Not be carried.”

She demanded. Fafnir's tongue nearly knocked her over as he returned her gesture. She stumbled back two steps and wiped her muzzle with her little paw.

“Papaaa... that's gross...”

She complained as she looked at her slobbery paw. Her father chuckled and lifted his head.

“When spring comes and the air gets warmer, we'll fly together. I promise. But until then, you still have a little growing to do.”

He replied and watched as Tyria shook her paw. She looked at him with a mixture of angst and hope.

“Seriously?!”

It was both a question and a statement. She flicked her paw one last time to get rid of the last of his saliva. Fafnir grinned and nodded.

“Yes, my darling, seriously. But now it's time to sleep.”

He said softly and pointed to a kind of nest made of furs that was set up in front of the large fireplace in the middle of the cave. Tyria hung her head a little and looked at him from below out of the corner of her eye.

“But I'm not tired yet...”

She replied meekly as her tail swished slowly back and forth. Her father looked down at her gently from above, but shook his head.

“Tyria, I know you're tired, you just don't want to admit it, and that's fine. But we're going to sleep now. Both of us.”

Fafnir's voice remained gentle, but his tone of voice and the look in his red eyes did not allow any objection. Tyria hung her little head. She knew when she had lost and turned around towards the nest. Her tail dragged across the floor of the den as she shuffled very slowly towards her sleeping place.

“It's okay daddy...”

She said so softly that Fafnir almost didn't hear. He watched her walk the few meters to the nest like a heap of misery. He didn't exactly remember his childhood, it had been far too long ago after all, but he was sure he had had the same discussion with his father every night. He went to the place near the entrance of the cave where he had put some wood and took a few of the larger pieces that he could carry with a paw and in his mouth before following his daughter.

She had made it to her nest, climbed up and, like a cat, was currently indulging in kneading the furs with her forelegs until they were to her liking. She emitted a constant stream of soft squeaks and growls. She had her eyes closed and turned slowly on her own axis to ensure that every part of her little bed was kneaded thoroughly and carefully.

Fafnir watched the everyday spectacle out of the corner of his eye as he placed the wood in the fire pit. He watched her for a moment longer as she turned in circles and finally curled up into a tight curl of scales, wings and a cute nose. She took another deep breath and exhaled before her body finally came to rest.

Her father smiled softly and turned to the wood he had piled into a small pyre. He used his dragon fire to light it. The dry wood caught fire immediately and after just a few moments, the orange-red light of the flames and the crackling and popping of the burning wood lit up the cave. Satisfied, Fafnir nodded and turned to his daughter's nest.

He approached carefully and lay down next to Tyria's sleeping place. He curled his massive body and tail around the nest and rested his head on the wide rim. He was like a castle wall, enclosing the most important and precious thing in his life. He watched his daughter a little longer, how her chest rose and fell gently in rhythm with her breathing and how her eyes moved behind her eyelids in her dreams, before he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the temptations of dreams.

---

The Spikier end:

As Fafnir flew one last loop around the mountain, he noticed a glow of light in their cave. His eyes narrowed and he pulled Tyria closer to his chest.

“Darling, when you left the cave, the fire was already out, wasn't it?”

His voice was insistent and serious, the kind Tyria rarely heard from him. She nodded.

“Yes, Papa. The fire was out and it was dark in the cave.”

She called out to him uncertainly. The exuberant mood she had just been in had completely changed. The large, black dragon flew a tight turn and landed gently a little above the cave. It carefully set Tyria down while it spread its wings and looked around carefully.

“Hide and don't come out until I call you.”

Fafnir ordered sternly. Tyrian nodded and hid among the rocks of the slope. She had never seen her father like this before.

Until now he had always been friendly, if sometimes sad; had always joked with her and had never missed an opportunity to play little tricks on her. The dragon that now stood before her on the slope, whose squat posture radiated danger and violence, whose eyes seemed to glow red, was not the father she knew.

Fafnir looked down towards the cave entrance and bared his teeth. A deep, gutural growl escaped his throat as he prepared to jump.

“I'm scared, Papa...”

Tyria said softly and literally snapping her father out of his thoughts. It went through him like a jolt and he looked down at her once more. He tried to relax his features, but only partially succeeded.

“It's all right, my darling. Daddy just wants to make sure there are no bad men in our cave.”

He said in a forced calm voice. Tyria looked at him anxiously. He had wisely told her what had happened to Emmy, that the bad men had come when he wasn't there to protect her. That the bad men had killed her mother out of greed and vengefulness. And that one always had to watch out for them, because they could come back at any time.

Tyria nodded and retreated further between the stones.

“Stay here. Papa will check on things and come back for you.”

Fafnir added and turned away. His mighty leap, together with the flap of his huge wings, made the rocks tremble. Tyria looked after him and then pressed herself fearfully to the ground.

Fafnir flew low and fast. He used the properties of his scales to make the wind howl through his scales. He had used this sound many times before to frighten enemies and announce his arrival. The plateau in front of the cave, which he used for landing and taking off, was not particularly large, but it offered enough space for a dramatic entrance. While he usually tried to land gently, especially when flying with Tyria, this time he hit the ground like a meteor. His impact on the plateau shook the ground and he paired it with a loud roar that could be heard far and wide. Its massive body and huge wings almost completely covered the entrance to the cave.

He could already see the light in the cave beginning to flicker. Slowly, he folded his wings against his body, but always left them sticking out a little to appear even larger. He heard the shouts of the people in the cave. They were excited, but not frightened. They knew what they had let themselves in for when they had entered the cave of the black demon, as the humans called him.

He lowered his head and growled. It was a dark, deep growl that embodied all his hatred for the little two-legged creatures. Slowly he entered the cave, putting one foot in front of the other as he carefully observed the surroundings. There were few corners in the cave to hide in, so an ambush was unlikely, but he didn't fancy a crossbow bolt in his eye.

Further ahead, he saw the torch the humans had carelessly tossed on the ground as they retreated deeper into the cave. The humans' fire was weak. They could not create it themselves, relying on stones to do so, and it rarely burned hot enough to cause any real damage. His fire, on the other hand, burned with the power that melted granite into glass. He stepped on the torch and extinguished its fire. He could see in almost complete darkness.

“I know you're there, you puny parasites. Come out and face your doom!”

He didn't like the language of humans. It was so primitive and all they knew was hatred and greed. He heard them, or rather, their armor and weapons as they moved. They had advanced into their hoard. They had probably hoped to find him asleep or not there at all.

When they finally emerged, Fafnir knew once again why he hated humans so much. They had covered their armor with dragon hide. They knew about the insulating effect of the scales. His fire would do no harm, at least in the short term. And they carried long, pointed weapons capable of piercing between his scales.

“Professional dragonslayers. Has the lord hired you to complete the work his knights have begun?”

Fafnir hissed and the heat of his breath made the air in the room shimmer. The six humans spread out and prepared themselves. The tallest among them took a step forward.

“Beast. Black demon. Your reign of terror over these lands ends tonight!”

He shouted, raising a heavy lance and a shield. Fafnir knew enough about human tactics that he did not focus on the obvious danger, but on the fighters moving further and further into his flanks. He did not take his eyes off any of them, but took a step back.

He knew that as soon as he attacked one of them, the others would strike. He looked around, the space in the cave was cramped, he would not be able to make use of his greater reach and speed here, but at the same time the humans would not be able to escape him either.

With a hiss, he let the viscous secretion flow out of his mouth, which ignited on contact with the air and formed his dragon fire. It was as if liquid fire was oozing from his lips. It collected in a puddle on the floor and immediately began to burn brightly. The temperature in the cave began to rise. Fafnir knew the temperature wasn't a problem for him, but the humans would be sensitive to it.

“Hrhrhrhr... what is it now... Dragonslayer... come and claim your prize.”

Laughed Fafnir, it was a harsh, vicious laugh, and spat a mouthful of the secretion against the mercenary's shield. The dragon hide on the shield would prevent the shield from burning instantly, and it insulated the human behind it from the direct heat radiation, but still the dragonslayer would not be able to hold the shield for long.

In fact, the mercenary threw the shield away and gripped the lance with both hands. The attack was imminent.

Now everything happened very quickly.

The dragonslayers on Fafnir's flanks rushed at him and tried to attack him with their lances, the large, heavy mercenary directly in front of him thrust at him with his lance and the others raised their swords and crossbows. Fafnir took a deep breath as he spun around as fast as he could, sweeping the mercenary on his right off his feet with his tail and knocking the lance out of the hands of the mercenary on his left with his wing before getting an arm between his powerful jaws. The force of his spin ripped the arm clean off the dragonslayer's body and dragged him to the ground. He felt the bolts slam into his back but stick harmlessly in his scales. As he continued his spin, two of the remaining dragonslayers dodged and the third was hit full in the side by Fafnir's tail. His pained cry as he was thrown against the wall of the cave by the impact accompanied the amputee's screams. Fafnir's head turned back in the direction of the mercenaries and he spat his dragonfire at them with all his might. It took away their vision and the sheer heat made the granite glow. The first mercenary began to scream, but his cries died almost instantly as the fire burned his lungs. The leader had his back turned to Fafnir and waited for the fire stream to end. Fafnir did not allow him the luxury, but leapt towards him and landed with crushing force on the man, whose armor glowed red at the edges. He felt the metal of the plate armor give way.

Then he felt the sting in his side. He had overlooked the sixth dragonslayer, who had just rammed his spear between two scales beneath his wing. Fafnir hissed and rammed his paw into the leader's back, breaking his spine, before turning his head to the side and looking at the mercenary with red-glowing eyes.

“Big mistake...”

The mighty dragon hissed and let go of the gasping leader. The man tugged at the spear, but as Fafnir was already moving, its blade wedged itself into the scales. He let go of the weapon and looked around frantically for another. Fafnir turned to him slowly and hissed at him again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mercenary who had originally flanked him on his right get back to his feet. He let his tail whip from left to right once more, brutally knocking the poor devil off his feet once more. The dragonslayer in front of him picked up a sword that belonged to the man Fafnir had thrown against the wall. Fafnir heard the scrape of metal across the stone floor and refocused on the danger. He swung it a few times, but the dragon was unimpressed.

“What do you want with that toothpick...?”

He asked cynically, blowing his dragonfire against the steel. The sword immediately began to glow and the man dropped it.

“Flee you fool!”

Shouted the man whose arm Fafnir had torn off, but it was already too late. The great dragon had opened its mouth and the mercenary's head disappeared into it. He struck the muzzle once or twice more with his fists before Fafnir simply bit down.

The mercenary's lifeless body folded beneath him. He looked around. The man he had thrown against the wall was still unconscious. The amputee whimpered and crawled slowly towards the cave entrance, the leader was still breathing but was no longer a threat. That left the dragonslayer, whom he had already knocked off his feet twice. He turned to face him. The man was now standing again and raised his spear. Fafnir spat the head of his companion at him and moved towards the man standing with his back to the wall, growling.

“Choose... short and painful, or long and agonizing...”

The dragon murmured and looked at him from narrowed eyes. The man bared his teeth and gripped his spear tighter.

“Your choice was... bad…”

The dragon hissed and dodged the man's thrust and was immediately on top of him. He pressed him against the wall with one paw and slowly increased the pressure. He could hear the metal of the armor groaning under the weight as the man screamed at him.

“You will never understand why people hate you!”

There was pure hatred in his voice and in his eyes Fafnir could see the realization that he was going to die now. He bent his head down to the man until only a few centimeters separated their faces.

“Oh, I know why you hate us. I know the reasons all too well.”

The dragon whispered as the breastplate of the armor slowly gave way under his paw.

“And you would do well to hate the dragons, for we hate you even more...”

Fafnir added and the human began to groan as he felt the pressure on his ribs.

“You humans think you're better than us. Civilized, you call it. Bah! We were already part of this world when your ancestors still lived in the trees...”

He hissed and felt the first ribs crack under the plate armor. The man cried out. The dragon grinned darkly and increased the pressure further.

“You are nothing... fledglings. Not even worth the breath to curse you.”

The dragon concluded, watching the man gasp helplessly beneath his paw, and he could see the man's racing pulse in the vein on his neck. Fafnir looked completely calm as he crushed the man's heart in his chest and watched the life extinguish in the dragonslayer's eyes. Emotionlessly, the dragon removed his paw from the dead man's body and let him sink to the ground. He took a deep breath and turned around. There was still the unconscious man to take care of. He looked at the leader as he passed, he would probably die soon, just like the amputee, the blood loss was simply too severe.

He approached the mercenary slumped against the wall. He looked at the man for a moment to see if he wasn't already dead. But he was still breathing. He had probably hit his head hard against the wall and lost consciousness.

Fafnir sighed and raised his foreleg to put a quick end to it.

“Papa?!”

When he heard Tyria's voice, the mighty dragon instantly froze. He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly.

“Papa?!”

His daughter called out again and Fafnir put one of his claws to the man's throat. A small cut would be enough. If he was quick, the man would be dead before...

“Hiiiiieee...!”

Tyria shrieked, probably having found the amputee. Fafnir shuddered. He had wanted to spare her the sight. Turning, he slit the man's throat and turned towards the entrance.

“Don't come in, darling...”

He shouted and looked around. He didn't want her to see all this, this trauma would befall her soon enough. But before he could rush towards her, he saw her standing at the entrance to the main area of the cave. Her eyes wide open, she stared at him and her lips began to tremble. Fafnir took a deep breath and approached her carefully.

“Calm down, darling... it's nothing. Everything is fine.”

He said calmly, taking care not to step on anything. She shook her head.

“Daddy... your... wing...”

She stammered and you could hear how much she was struggling with her emotions.

“Wing...?”

He mumbled and looked at his wing.

“Oh... that's right...”

In his excitement and adrenaline, he had completely ignored the spear in his shoulder. Carefully, he craned his neck and took the shaft of the spear between his teeth. He already knew he would hate himself for it, but the blade had to be removed for the wound to heal. With a jerk, he yanked the spear from his shoulder and suppressed the pain. The weapon fell to the ground with a clatter and Fafnir felt his warm blood running over his shoulder. Tyria looked at him in horror.

“Papa...!”

She shouted and ran to get to him. But he shook his head.

“Stay where you are, darling. I'll come to you.”

His voice sounded perhaps a touch too stern, but he couldn't change that now. He hurried and rushed to his daughter, who still seemed completely shocked.

“Were those the bad men?”

She asked meekly, looking around for the lifeless body of the man whose arm her father had torn off. Fafnir stepped up beside Tyria and nodded gently.

“Yes. They were the bad men. But I took care of them. They won't bother us anymore.”

His voice sounded tired and he bent his head down to nudge her gently.

“I didn't want you to see this.”

He added and was glad when she rubbed her head against his muzzle. She pushed herself up on her hind legs and held him with her little paws to maintain contact for longer.

“It's all right dad. I was just scared.”

The little dragoness replied and looked at his shoulder.

“Does it hurt bad?”

She asked, looking him in the eye. Fafnir nodded slightly.

“It does hurt, but your dad is tough. It will heal in a few days.”

He replied softly and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt terribly tired. Tyria nestled her head further against his nose and cooed softly. Fafnir breathed carefully so as not to knock her over and when he opened his eyes again, he looked directly into her large, blue eyes. Confronted with his daughter's unconditional love and affection, the large dragon relaxed. His lips slowly pulled back into a smile and he nudged her lightly.

“Let your daddy clean up quickly, then we can go to sleep.”

He suggested and Tyria nodded eagerly before letting go of him. Fafnir lifted his head again and took a deep breath. Carefully, he turned around and walked back into the main area of the large cave.

One by one, he collected the bodies of the slain mercenaries, grabbing them by the leg with his mouth and simply dragging them along. When he had collected the first four dragonslayers, he came to the leader of the troop. He noticed that he was still breathing and quickly snapped his neck. Fafnir actually felt more like letting him suffer, but he didn't want to traumatize Tyria any further. With all fives in his mouth, he walked past the little dragoness who had been watching him the whole time. At the entrance to the cave, he finally picked up the last of the men. He would quickly fly a little way down the mountain and simply scatter them over the charred trees as a deterrent example.

“ 'll be bck snnn.”

He mumbled, not wanting to put the men down again.

“It's alright papa...”

Came Tyria's call from the cave and Fafnir spread his wings. His left shoulder hurt a little more than he had expected. They had probably smeared some kind of poison on the blade. It would be fine. He jumped off the small plateau and let the updrafts carry him.

He didn't fly far down the slope, just enough to drop the dragonslayers one by one. He did his best to drape them nicely in the trees before turning around and flying back to the cave.

As he approached the plateau, he could see Tyria carrying the rest of the mercenaries' weapons and other items out of the cave one by one. With her head held high, she carried the spear in her mouth that had been stuck in her father's shoulder just a few minutes before.

He was so proud of her.

Tyria dropped the spear and looked up at him. There was a sparkle in her eyes when she saw her father approaching. She spread her wings and flapped them. Fafnir landed carefully near her and she used the wind his wings created when he landed to give herself a boost. She was lifted up like a leaf and sailed towards him.

“Papaaa...”

The little dragon cried happily and landed on his back. Fafnir grinned broadly and folded his wings carefully so as not to throw her off.

“Oh no... Tyria, the mighty is wrestling me down...”

He exclaimed in amusement and went down. His daughter squealed and balanced on his back as he rolled slowly, first onto his side and then onto his back. Meanwhile, Tyria jumped on him to stay on top and ended up on his big belly.

“Hahahhahaha... Daddy... you're silly...”

She shouted and stomped on him some more. Fafnir had to laugh too.

“Yes... sometimes your dad is silly, but only because he likes to hear you laugh so much.”

Fafnir returned and used his paws to cuddle her. Tyria leaned against his caresses and closed her eyes. The large dragon lifted his head and looked at her as she sat on his belly and surrendered to his affection. A mixture of sadness and love flooded through him.

She reminded him so much of Emmy and at the same time she was so much more. He blew hot air at her and demanded her attention.

“Let's go to sleep. Tomorrow your papa will show you how to catch breakfast.”

He said quietly and Tyria's eyes snapped open. She disentangled herself from his paws and climbed over the thick scales on his chest to get closer to his head.

“Really? We're going hunting?”

She asked excitedly, anticipation reflected in her eyes. Fafnir grinned and licked her face.

“Ewww... Papaaa...”

The little dragon complained and began to wash her face. Fafnir just giggled and confirmed.

“Yes, tomorrow morning we'll go hunting together. It's time you learned how to get food.”

His voice sounded relaxed and affectionate. He rolled back and forth a little and Tyria giggled as she tried to keep her balance while continuing to clean her face of her father's saliva.

“Come on, hush hush to the nest with you.”

The large dragon said softly, having had his fill of his daughter's laughter and delight. Tyria laughed out loud and took a running start. She spread her wings and jumped off her father's belly.

“Aaaahahahahaha... but I'm not tired yet...”

She shouted exuberantly as she flew a loop around her father. Fafnir looked after her and shook his head.

“Yes... but you're tired...”

He said jokingly and slowly rolled over onto his stomach to stand up again.

“No... I'm far too excited to sleep...”

The little dragon dared to disagree and took another lap around her father. He waited until she was in front of him again, spread his mighty wings and cut her off. With a dark chuckle, he carefully urged her on towards the cave until she had no choice but to fly into it.

“...oooh meany...”

Tyria protested, giving vent to her frustration with a small burst of flame. Fafnir replied with a snort of hot air that nearly knocked the little flying lizard off balance.

“Yeah, mean...”

Said Fafnir.

“... You may not be tired, but your papa is tired. And when your daddy is tired, you sleep too.”

He added. His tone was still calm, but Tyria could hear the very slight undertone in his voice. She landed in the main area of the cave and turned to face him.

“It's fine Dad... but I'm so excited. I'm so looking forward to tomorrow.”

She said meekly, lowering her head to submit. Her father came to her. His massive frame made hers seem even smaller as he towered in front of her. He looked down at her with his red eyes and for a brief moment it looked like he was angry, but then his lips drew back and he laughed softly. He bent his head down to her.

“My little darling... lift up your head.”

He whispered and Tyria looked at him with wide eyes.

“My daughter doesn't submit to anyone. She goes through life proudly.”

He added and watched his daughter slowly raise her head until she carried it high and proud. Fafnir nodded.

“A dragon is the highest living creature. It shows strength, nobility and pride. We answer to no one but ourselves.”

He commented and walked past her to her nest. Tyria watched him go and practiced her pose while her father rekindled the fire in the pit. Then she realized something and quickly came running after her father.

“But dad... if we only answer to ourselves... doesn't that also mean I don't have to listen to you?”

She asked, the flames of the fire reflected in her eyes. Fafnir, illuminated from behind by the fire, looking even darker and more menacing, grinned broadly at her.

“Yes, that means you don't have to listen to me. But if you don't listen to me, I won't take you hunting and I won't fly with you. Simple as that.”

It took Tyria a moment to really realize what he was saying, but then she understood and nodded.

“It's fine papa.”

She said and climbed into her nest. A large ring of furs that lay in front of the fire pit. She spun around a few times and then lay down. She curled up into a tight ball of scales and took a deep breath. Fafnir continued to grin and curled up around the nest, resting his head on the edge of it.

It wasn't long before they both found their sleep.

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edit by

Bordox

&

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo

The hatchling leave the nest

It was autumn, the trees had already swapped their lush green for a golden yellow and the nights were already getting considerably chillier. Migratory birds could be seen flying south in the sky, while the local birds were slowly preparing for winter.

He had always liked autumn, even if the others disliked it because of the implications of old age and approaching death that had always been associated with it. He loved the changing colors and to him death was not a bad thing, it was just another part of life, and after winter came spring again, and with it rebirth.

He had been commissioned by his liege lord to look after the forests around his hunting lodge and ensure that there was always enough prey to hunt. The lord was a passionate hunter and his hunts were more often than not the talk of the taverns in the surrounding villages. The feasts he held after his hunts, where his successes were not only celebrated but also eaten at the same time, were just as legendary. He was popular with the people, but his extravagant lifestyle demanded high taxes, which occasionally led to him being criticized by his subordinates.

This year's hunting season promised to be another bountiful one. There had been no bad weather all year and the game had been able to raise its offspring in abundance. The hunting grounds were richly filled with red deer, wild boar and even the fox population had recovered after the last few years of excessive hunting. His lord would be pleased.

It was already late afternoon on a rainy day when he trudged through the forest to check on things as usual. He did this every day, for the woods on his lord's estates were extensive and he could not possibly walk it all in one day. It was easier to divide the forest into individual sections and walk through them on different days, as he had learned early on from his predecessor. The hidden paths through the undergrowth had become so firmly anchored in his memory over the years that he could probably walk them at night with his eyes closed.

In years like this, when there had been no storms and no other major disasters, there hadn't been so much for him to do. No fallen trees, no new beaver dams that flooded parts of the hunting grounds, no forest fires after which the forest had to be painstakingly reforested.

Just a young dragon that had apparently crashed...

“Wait a minute...”

he said to himself and took the three steps back that he had already taken. Eyes wide open, he looked at the winged reptile lying there among broken branches and fallen bushes. He had never seen a dragon himself, he had only heard descriptions and seen the pictures in the church. There were several images in the large stained glass windows. They showed large, winged monsters that caused all kinds of calamities. There were warnings about them everywhere, but there hadn't been any dragons in this area for a very long time; and now, there was one in front of him.

The dragon was clearly unconscious, but it was breathing. The gamekeeper struggled with himself as his instincts screamed at him to escape while he still could and get the lord and his henchmen. They would surely put an end to the dragon. They had weapons, they were mercenaries, they were battle-hardened.

At the same time, however, a heart beat in his chest that felt compassion for all living creatures, and what harm could a dragon, obviously still young, not much bigger than one of the larger hunting dogs the lord used for boar hunting, do?

He looked around, listening to the sounds of the forest, which were usually a very good indication of danger, but all was quiet. The birds were chirping serenely and the atmosphere was completely relaxed. He trusted his gut feeling, even though his knees felt very weak. He stayed where he was, at least for the moment.

He looked at the unconscious reptile with growing interest.

It corresponded to the descriptions and illustrations he knew. Four legs, two wings, a long tail, a long neck and a relatively small head. It was covered with scales from head to tail, the color of which did not match the pictures. The pictures in the church windows usually showed large, red monsters, sometimes set in yellow or orange, but this dragon here was a rich green color, except for the broad black stripe running down its back.

He dismissed it as a variant, or perhaps a different species. He was quite familiar with all sorts of animals and knew that not all lizards looked the same, even if they were technically in the same family. It was probably the same with dragons.

He blinked, as something didn't seem quite right. Upon closer inspection, the gamekeeper realized that one of the wings was bent at a rather unnatural angle. He didn't really know anything about dragons, but a wing shouldn't look like that. Basically, the structure of the wings reminded him of bats, and he knew enough about bats to know that this wing was broken.

He swallowed, knowing that if an animal that relied on its ability to fly couldn't fly, it was pretty much screwed.

“How did this happen?”

he asked himself aloud and immediately held his breath. He didn't want to wake the dragon now. Injured animals tended to be aggressive, and a confrontation with a wild animal the size of a large hunting dog that could breathe fire if necessary was not on his wish list for today. However, his worries seemed to be unfounded as the reptile continued to lie still and breathe calmly.

Since no one would answer his question, he tried to deduce the course of events himself.

“The way it's lying there, it must have fallen from there.”

he whispered, turning in the direction the dragon must have come from, and sure enough, in the treetops you could see the swath the dragon had left behind when it crash-landed.

“Well, that's settled... but why?”

the gamekeeper pondered, trying to make sense of what could have forced a dragon to make such a landing. He couldn't think of any bird of prey big enough to be a danger to such a reptile, nor had there been a storm in the last few days that might have been responsible for such an accident. It remained a mystery, and so he shook his head.

“What am I going to do now?”

he asked again, louder than he had planned. His irrationality was rewarded with a grumble from the reptile. His eyes widened and he quickly retreated behind one of the surrounding trees, seeking cover.

*Oh no...*

Fear welled up inside him, but curiosity and the desire to see what was happening on the other side of the tree trunk quickly took over again, and when he heard nothing more, he slid back out from behind the tree trunk and looked over at the downed dragon, whose breathing had quickened a little as he tried to move.

Both the wings and the legs of the flying lizard were trembling slightly, and every now and then soft sounds of pain could be heard. Only now did he realize that at least one of the front legs must have been broken, as he didn't know of any animal whose legs had a joint at this point. He shook his head.

“I should get help...”

he muttered, venturing further out from behind the tree.

“... But for what? To kill this creature? No one will help me save it...”

he continued, running a hand through his hair, something the gamekeeper always did when he was thinking hard.

His lord would simply kill the dragon and hand it over to his Kirschner to be stuffed. Just another trophy he could brag about and show what a great pike he was. The villagers would probably even appreciate it. A dragon, even if its kind hadn't been seen here for many, many years, was too great a danger to be left alive, no matter what.

“But what if I splint the wing and the leg, nurse him up and then release him back into the wild. Won't he probably just fly on then? Away from here?”

He looked around as if there was someone there who could agree with him. But there was no one, just a dragon looking at him out of one half-open eye.

...

She had left her father's hoard, as tradition and her instincts demanded. From an early age, Fafnir, her father, had meticulously explained to her the ancient traditions of her kind; taught her the rules and laws by which dragons lived and survived. He had been a strict but loving teacher, and had repeated again and again that only if she followed these rules would she become a great, strong dragoness and live as long as he did.

One of these rules was that as soon as she heard the call, she had to leave her parents' lair and go in search of a lair of her own. She would leave behind the cave that had been her home up to that point, the safest place in this world, without turning around once more.

Fafnir had told her that this was the only thing he was afraid of now. Her father, a mighty dragon, over five hundred years old, survivor of countless battles and wars, the ruin of countless kingdoms and nightmare of all dragon slayers, had stood trembling before her when he had confessed this to her. He had confessed to her that it would be the same for him as when Emmy, her mother and his companion, had died.

Died was the wrong word.

The humans had taken her from him in their vindictiveness and greed. He hadn't told her how it had happened for a long time, but as she grew older, and he was sure it wouldn't be long before she heard the call, he had taken her to the top of the mountain one more time, where he waited every night to see her star. He had taken her between his front paws, wrapped his wings around them both, as he always did, and stared melancholically at the night sky. She had always enjoyed sitting there with him. It was strange that she felt more connected to her father in his grief for a mother she had never met than at any other time.

But that night had been different, she had felt the tension in him, had sensed that something was on his mind, more than usual, and an unidentifiable fear had taken hold of her. She remembered how she had looked up at him, how she had noticed that his lips were trembling and how he had drawn his wings tighter and tighter around them both. She remembered how he had quietly begun to tell her about her mother, as he often did, but this time his voice had not been filled with love, but with pain and fear. She had clung tightly to his front paw, hoping to give him support, confidence for the future, but it hadn't helped. In the end, he had lifted her up and pressed her tightly against his chest. His voice had been a hoarse whisper as his grief and pain took over and turned to pure hatred as he told her how he had flown out to hunt, leaving her mother behind with her and her siblings. How he had heard her cry for help and had rushed back to their den, where he had found her mother already on the ground. The humans had taken her from him, taken her from her.

He had told her how cold-hearted the humans had been to kill a mother who had defended her clutch and put their future at risk. He had then told her how he had raged for a month, sacrificing the entire kingdom to the flames and losing his own will to live, earning him the name Black Demon.

“You will hear the call soon Tyria, and then you too will leave me.”

he had said and she had tried to contradict him, but her father had denied it. Every dragon heard the call at some point. It was something that was as inevitable as the sunset. He knew it and she knew it too. It was an instinct that every dragon had. An internal clock whose alarm would sound at some point and draw a dragon into the distance.

It was a tradition so old that it was already imprinted as an instinct in every dragon's consciousness, and she wouldn't be able to resist it either.

And she had not resisted it.

When she had woken up one morning, she had felt this irrepressible urge to spread her wings and simply fly away. Where to? Who cared! Just somewhere far away!

She remembered how she had carefully and tearfully woken her father, who, like every night, had still placed his massive body around her like a fortress wall. She also remembered how the look in his eyes had changed when she confessed to him that she felt the call. It had been as if something had broken inside him. He had remained calm, held her close and nodded gently. They had gone into the treasury together.

“Tradition dictates that you take something from this hoard so that you can start your own.”

The words had almost stuck in her father's throat at the time. He had told her to take her time and find the piece of jewelry that spoke to her. She hadn't known exactly what he had meant at the time and had wandered aimlessly around the cave. Everything that was stored there was valuable, desirable and spoke to her in a way that probably only dragons could understand, but none of it “spoke” to her. In the end, she had stood before her father with empty paws and he had nodded. Wordlessly, he had led her into a small cave behind her treasure chamber.

There were treasures in this small room, but they were different from the ones in the large treasure chamber. They were not “simply” piled up in a heap, but neatly presented. Each individual object had its own little pedestal, its own place. They weren't necessarily more beautiful or glamorous than all the gold and jewels in the main chamber, but there was something special about them.

Tyria's eyes had widened. She had entered this cave before and had wondered about the jewels, but now everything was different.

“These are the gifts I brought Emmy from my travels. I chose every single one of them especially for your mother.”

Her father had murmured, his voice almost choked. The little dragoness had walked past the pedestals and looked closely at each individual gem. Each of them had exerted a special attraction on her. She hadn't known why, or how this could be, as they were basically just inanimate objects. Of course, each had its own value, they were still pieces of jewelry, made of precious metals and valuable stones, but how could an inanimate object trigger such emotions in her?

In the end, she had stopped at a rather inconspicuous hoop and looked at it closely. It was made of a metal that shone, but it wasn't gold; its silvery sheen had the warmth of gold, but the color wasn't right. It was simply shaped, had no scrollwork or other embellishments.

She had hesitated, but something inside her had urged her to reach out her paw for it. Tyria had been so completely absorbed by this piece of jewelry that she hadn't noticed how Fafnir had come to her and wrapped his wing around her.

“This was my first gift to your mother. Nothing special in itself, but there are a lot of emotions attached to this hoop.”

He had whispered and released the little dragoness from her spell. She had flinched and mewled slightly before finally snuggling up to his flank. She had looked up at him and gazed into his red eyes.

“Then... then I can't take it with me... it would be wrong to take it from you.”

She had stated, only to be nudged by his nose. Tenderly, he had rubbed the tip of his nose against her head, grumbling affectionately.

“It's all right, my little angel. If this is the trinket that speaks to you, then it's the trinket you'll take with you. Tradition demands it and I have enough other trinkets to remind me of Emmy. Besides, I want it to remind you of home, and what better way to do that than with this gift?”

His voice had been quiet, almost toneless, but she had felt the love and warmth in it that she loved so much about her father. She had continued to snuggle up to him, enjoying the contact, knowing that once she left the hoard, she wouldn't be going back any time soon.

While it was not uncommon for dragons to revisit their birthplaces later in life, it was never a given that they would still be welcome there. Dragons were very territorial, and even if they were family members, it was not uncommon for them to be chased away later if they approached again. It was also never impossible for a dragon to have died in the meantime or to have been driven away itself. At best by fellow dragons, at worst by hated humans.

It would be goodbye for an indefinite period of time, perhaps forever, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself.

She had taken a deep breath and leaned against her father, who offered her the support she had needed.

“Take it with you, I want you to have it; then I'll know something of your mother is with you.”

Fafnir had finally said, settling the matter.

She remembered how she had reached reverently for the hoop and had immediately felt a connection with the simple piece of jewelry. Afterwards, her father had escorted her through the hoard to their dining area, where they had eaten one last meal together.

“When you leave this hoard and go in search of your own, you must never forget that the humans are not well-disposed towards us, nor are the elves. Find an area where only a few of them are present. You can fly long distances to hunt or find treasure, but the humans must not find you.”

The big black dragon had advised her, reminding her once again that it had been the humans who had killed her mother. She had assured him to be careful, to always stay hidden, at least until she was a little bigger, and to stay away from those horrible two-legged creatures that only brought death and destruction.

When the time had come to say goodbye, a heavy burden had been on her heart. They had both stood on the small plateau outside their home cave; her father, Fafnir, infinitely older, more experienced, bigger and stronger; and she, Tyria, young, inexperienced, small and weak. They had stared into the sunrise, the symbol of birth, beginning, hope and life; and in many ways that was true for her. When she left home, her real life would begin. She would be independent from now on, the birth, the beginning of a new phase of life, full of hope for the future and full of new adventures. A whole, long life lay ahead of her.

At the same time, the gloom of the night still lay in the long shadows that the rising sun cast in the valleys between the mountain peaks; this darkness was like the burden that lay on her soul, her heart. She would leave her home, if not forever, then at least for a long time. She would not see her father again for an equally long time.

Even though he had assured her over and over again that she was a strong dragoness, that she had inherited her mother's intelligence and her father's resilience; even though he had promised her, time and time again, that he had taught her everything a dragoness needed to know and could do to survive out there; she still didn't feel ready to go out into the world alone.

In a world that seemed to hate her kind, where dragons were seen as the root of all evil, and where she could expect a fight at first contact.

She had snuggled up to her father one last time and he had wrapped his large wings around her to shield her from the world. He had talked to her incessantly, encouraging her and reassuring her that everything would be all right. She had known then that this was a compensation mechanism to help him cope with the parting rather than to help her.

They had taken off from the plateau together hundreds of times, going hunting or exploring. They had flown during the day and at night, in good and bad weather, so that she had the chance to find her way in all weather conditions. This time, however, Tyria had taken off alone, for tradition demanded that the young dragon should not be helped on his departure. Fafnir had stayed behind alone on the plateau and watched as his daughter, the hoop between her front paws, set off on her journey into the unknown.

She had remained strong, had not cried, even though it had been infinitely difficult, for her father, who had shed bitter tears as he handed his only daughter over to a cruel world, not sure if he would ever see her again.

She had flown all day, always heading east. She had had a feeling that this was the right direction for her. She had followed the mountains, flying over vast fields of ice, seeing nothing and no one the whole time. She had known that so high up in the mountains the likelihood of encountering a human or elf was nil, but equally she could find little to no food there. She was able to fly like this for a few days, but in the end she had to fly into one of the valleys to hunt for something.

She had repeated this cycle several times, flying as long as she could, getting food and then flying again. She had slept on the high peaks, burrowed into the snow and waited for daybreak to fly on.

Soon she had reached the end of the mighty mountain range where her former home was located. The mountain peaks were no longer above the clouds and there was less snow on the slopes. The air was warmer and Tyria found that she could see more life in the mountains. She had decided to fly a little further and look around. It would have been foolish to just settle anywhere. After all, a dragon needed a cave or something similar in which to set up a lair. If possible, this place should be difficult to access so that no one could simply get there and prey on the dragon's property. Most dragons therefore chose caves in the mountains, which made it more difficult for humans and elves.

At the same time, however, a lair should still be close to a food source; she didn't want to have to fly forever just to get something to eat.

She had flown around for days in search of a suitable cave, but also to see if another dragon had already settled here. It would have been a great affront to simply settle in another dragon's territory. Fafnir had told her that some dragons were very sensitive, even if you were just passing through. She had looked for the usual signs, but had not found any. If there had once been a dragon here, it hadn't been here for a very long time.

What Tyria had found, however, were traces of human civilization. Everywhere she had looked, she had found signs that there were humans in this area. She had decided to move on. She didn't want to set up her first hoard in an area where she was in direct danger of flying into the arms of humans.

The further she had flown, however, the more the signs had increased that there were people there. She had flown over small villages that she had only noticed too late, seen neatly laid out fields and the odd castle, but she had flown as far out of the way as possible.

She was pretty sure that no one had seen her directly, as she hadn't heard any screams or bells, as her father had told her. People would raise the alarm if they saw a dragon. The little dragoness had been afraid to settle down here anywhere for the night. Against all better judgment, she had decided to fly through the night and not stop anywhere.

She had fought against her exhaustion and had flown on in the hope of perhaps finding an area where there were fewer people. Several times she had caught herself losing the fight for a moment and her eyes just wouldn't open again, but each time she had been high enough to catch herself before she crashed.

Every time, except for the last. Nyx, the god of dreams, had ensnared her and she had closed her eyes, wings gliding, and then it had happened. The moment she had broken through the canopy of the first tree, Tyria had opened her eyes again, but it was already too little too late. She had lost too much height and speed and had been unable to avoid the next tree.

With a scream, she had smashed into the nearest treetop, breaking through the thinner branches and getting caught in the thicker ones. Her delicate wings had been unable to cope with the strain and the pain as the bones in her left wing snapped had almost made her lose her mind. Unable even to break her fall, she had hit the ground with full force, breaking one of her front legs in the process, and she hadn't been sure if anything else had been affected in the crash landing.

She had tried to move, tried to hide, but the pain had been overwhelming. In the end, she had been too exhausted and had resigned herself to her fate.

When she regained consciousness, she had heard his voice. He spoke in a dialect she didn't recognize, but she knew very well that he spoke the language of humans.

She didn't understand everything he said, the words made no sense. It was as if he only spoke half sentences, but she recognized the fear in his voice.

She had been wide awake in an instant, but the little dragon had not dared to open her eyes. She had listened to him, followed his movements, and only when she had been sure that there was no immediate danger from this human, at least for that moment, had she opened her eyes.

...

She stared at him standing there in front of her. He was wearing strange clothes, the likes of which she didn't recognize from the humans in her area. When Fafnir had taken her hunting, she had sometimes seen the remains of humans who had tried to settle in her territory. Her father had driven them away every time.

This human wore a costume of green and brown cloth, wore light boots and carried an axe and a light bow. He was frightened, that much was certain, so he was not a warrior like those humans her father had driven out of their cave.

When he realized she was looking at him, he startled and took a few steps back until his back was against a tree.

“Damn...”

he muttered as he continued to try and increase the distance between himself and her. Tyria sighed and lowered her head. This human wasn't a danger, but he could become one if he called for reinforcements. She tried to move again, but instantly pain shot through her whole body.

The whimper she let out before she could hold it back left no doubt that she herself posed no danger. Even if she had wanted to, she could not have killed this human.

All she could do was close her eyes and wait. She tried to breathe calmly and find out what had been affected by her crash. Both wings simply ached, while she already knew that one was completely immobilized; at least two of the sturdy but nonetheless delicate bones were broken. She was also unable to move her forelegs. Whether they were broken, too, she could not determine exactly, but what she could determine was that her right hind leg was definitely broken. She would not even be able to flee, there was no question of fighting. She would die here, she was sure of it.

She pressed her lips together. What would her father think? She hadn't even made it to her own hoard yet.

Tyria, daughter of Fafnir, descendant of the Black Demon, of the Ruin of Kingdoms, and she hadn't even managed to find her own lair. What a disgrace!

Anger rose up in her, anger and shame. Anger at her own incompetence and arrogance and shame at the way it would end with her. Bitter tears gathered in her eyes.

Only now did she realize that she no longer held her mother's hoop in her claws.

*Oh no. No, no, no, no! This must not be. Where...?*

Her anger turned to panic. She couldn't lose it. It was the foundation of her hoard, the memory of her home, of her father and the mother she had never met.

“Where is it?”

she gasped before she could stop herself as she opened her eyes. The human, who was now standing behind the tree, was looking at her with wide, frightened eyes. It was as if he had heard his own language for the very first time and was completely terrified. Tyria bared her teeth and fought against the pain as she tried to lift her head one more time.

“Where is it?”

Her otherwise soft, quiet voice took on a raspy, harsh tone as she barely managed to turn her head in his direction before the pain overwhelmed her and she had to drop her head to the forest floor. The pain-filled whimper that escaped her throat afterwards was a testament to the effort that even this simple movement had demanded of her. The human continued to look at her with wide eyes, while the young dragoness almost despaired.

“It must not be gone...”

she whispered. It didn't matter if he understood her or not, it didn't matter anymore. She had lost the one thing that still connected her to her home. With a sigh that expressed her pain and despair, she closed her eyes again. She wanted so much to pull her wings around her and shut out the world, but she couldn't even do that.

“What... what are you looking for?”

The question caught her completely off guard and for a moment Tyria was unable to react. It was only when she heard the human move towards her again and repeat his question that she opened her eyes again. He was still standing a few steps away from her and the fear was still written all over his face, but he seemed genuinely interested in her problem. She pulled her lips back and bared her teeth, knowing that she probably wasn't much of a threat at the moment. Of course she could use her fire and kill the human, but then what? Perish in her own fire? No, that was not an option.

The human was still standing in front of her, slowly raising his hands and holding them in front of him.

“I don't want to hurt you...”

he whispered slowly, nodding.

“I... I want to help you...”

he added and swallowed. Tyria looked at him for a long time, scrutinizing the man who didn't move. What choice did she have?

“Where is it?”

She asked him, her voice almost toneless as the tension drained from her face, giving way to more despair.

“Where's my hoop?”

she continued, looking at him pleadingly, but the human in front of her just shook his head.

“What hoop?”

He asked, looking around. He looked like he was really trying to find something, the effort was written on his forehead and he moved carefully back and forth.

“My hoop, my memory of home... the only thing left...”

Tyria added and tried to move, but the pain was too strong; she didn't want to show the human how helpless she was, but the pain-filled moan escaped her lips before she could do anything about it. The man stopped immediately and looked at her with wide eyes. Cautiously, he came closer and something stirred inside him.

Had she revealed too much? Had she shown him too much that she was helpless?

“Don't move too much, your wing is broken, and probably your leg too...”

the man said carefully and took another step closer.

“... we'll have to splint it if it's ever going to heal.”

His voice sounded calm and gentle, but Tyria showed him her teeth.

“Stay away... don't touch me...”

she hissed, and even as she tensed her muscles to lift her head, pain shot through her body like white-hot iron.

“Arrnnnn...”

she gasped involuntarily and her muscle tension collapsed. The young dragoness began to sob, there was nothing she could do, she would surrender to her fate.

...

The gamekeeper saw the heap of misery lying in front of him and could empathize with the pain. He approached cautiously, the temptation to touch a dragon was very great. His curiosity and an almost childlike urge to explore battled with his reason, which literally screamed at him that the dragon in front of him was a dangerous predator and that he should get help.

When he was really only an arm's length away from the winged reptile, he could no longer hold back.

He took a deep breath and gently placed his hand on the dragon's torso. The scales were smooth, surprisingly hard, and they were cold, horribly cold.

Of course they're cold, it's basically a lizard, an oversized, fire-breathing lizard.

He explained to himself, but that was as far as he got, because as soon as his hand rested on the dragon's skin, it flinched. Gathering all his courage, he ignored the growl and left his hand where it was, if the dragon had wanted to or been able to, it would have attacked him already.

“Don't touch me...”

the dragon hissed, but it lacked the strength behind it to make it sound believable. He shook his head.

“I have to touch you though, if you want me to help you.”

he said calmly, letting the warmth of his hand seep into the scales very slowly. The dragon continued to growl, but there was no further reaction.

He cautiously approached further until he was standing very close to it and could place his second hand next to the other. The reptile flinched again, accompanied by a pain-filled hiss.

“Sshhh... calm down. I'm not going to hurt you.”

he whispered softly, trying to empathize with the dragon. But he himself was so agitated that it was difficult to calm an injured, frightened animal. The dragon shivered as it breathed, either the cold was getting to it by now, or the pain, or something else.

“Do you have a name?”

He asked calmly, hoping to distract himself and the dragon a little.

“T-Tyria... my father called me Tyria...”

The dragon's voice was low, hoarse and feeble. The gamekeeper hummed his agreement, even though he was sure the dragon could see him.

“A very fine name for a mighty dragon, but isn't Tyria a female name?”

He kept his voice calm and put as much warmth and affection into it as he could. The dragon nodded slightly.

So it was a female dragon, a dragoness so to speak. Carefully, he stroked her shoulder. Slowly, he could feel her relax at least a little under his hands.

“You can call me Artem.”

he whispered and let his hands circle a little more. Tyria growled softly and tried to turn her head a little. The slow movement was accompanied by growls and hisses until she left it halfway.

“Artem? I've never heard that name before...”

she admitted, looking at him from the side. The gamekeeper smiled slightly and turned to her head. He crouched slightly and reached out a hand for her to smell it, like a dog.

“That name is quite common in these parts. Where are you from?”

he asked and waited patiently until the little dragoness had finished sniffing. Her breath was surprisingly warm and her eyes remained fixed on him the whole time.

“From where the sun sets. I've always flown towards the sun...”

she explained softly and sighed.

“I should be looking for my own hoard, staking out my own territory, now I haven't even gotten that far...”

Tyria added in a whisper and Artem nodded. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. The gamekeeper couldn't hold back and gently stroked her nose with his hand and from there over her head. The dragoness under his hand tensed briefly, but then gave in to his caress and he could literally feel her pressing her head against his hand.

“We will fix your wing and splint your legs, and once they are healed, you will be able to continue your search for a lair of your own.”

He said softly, feeling a slight vibration under his hand. Was she purring? Or was it a quiver?

“But first we have to get you to my house, and we have to do it in a way that no one can see you.”

he added. She couldn't be all that heavy, after all, she had to be able to fly. He knew that most flying animals were quite light, otherwise their wings wouldn't be able to carry their weight and their muscles wouldn't be able to move them. But still, she was about the size of one of his liege's large hunting dogs, and they tended to weigh around seventy kilos. He wouldn't be able to carry that to his house. But perhaps he wouldn't have to carry Tyria that far. Not far from where he was now was one of the handcarts he used to transport wood when he had to cut down one of the trees. If he brought the cart as close as possible to this spot, he might just have to lift the little dragoness onto the cart.

While he thought about it and scratched his chin in a self-conscious way, Tyria kept looking at him.

She wasn't quite sure what the human was up to, but he seemed sincere, at least at first glance. It wasn't as if she had a choice, either. She watched him take a few steps away from her again and again, only to turn around and come back to her.

Again and again he started to make a move, only to change his mind. She tried to take another deep breath, but her chest prevented her from doing so. She only managed a half-hearted growl and groaned.

“W...whatever you want to do, Artem, do it, but do it fast...”

The young dragoness growled, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“I can't and won't lie here for much longer...”

She added and closed her eyes. She heard the gamekeeper come closer and then she felt his warm hand on her head.

"You're right. I'll get a wagon quickly so we can bring you to me before someone else finds you. Then I'll take care of your injuries..."

His voice sounded so calm, so warm. She wanted to lose herself in it, just for a moment. He sounded very different from her father, less volume, softer, and yet the same warmth and affection resonated within his voice. She wanted to let go of herself and just listen for a while, hear his voice, feel his hand stroking her head. But Artem took it away again quite quickly, much to the little dragoness's displeasure.

The gamekeeper looked around and seemed to be searching for something before orienting himself in a direction unknown to Tyria.

“You wait here.”

He said softly, and when Tyria heard that, she rolled her eyes slightly, as if she could run off somewhere at the moment, but Artem didn't seem to notice. He pointed into the distance.

"There's one of my carts back there. I'll get it quickly."

He added and turned his back to her. Without waiting for another word or a reaction from the little dragoness, he stomped off. Tyria watched after him as he moved through the forest with surprising speed and agility. He moved away from her so quickly that within a very short time his figure disappeared behind the trees and shortly afterwards she could no longer hear him either.

Now she was alone again.

Alone with herself and her failure.

She groaned as she tried to get her battered body into at least a slightly more comfortable position.

“By the elders...”

The little dragon growled as the pain flared up again in her limbs, especially her wing.

"... aaarnnn... hmmmmrrrrr... father would scold me again now. 'Tyria, didn't I tell you a hundred times not to sleep AND fly.'"

She muttered, focusing on her father's stern but loving voice in her memory, hoping to block out at least some of the pain.

Her father, Fafnir, had been a strict teacher. He had always emphasized that a dragon, regardless of breed or gender, had to be able to survive on its own.

"'Dragons have no allies. Dragons are the absolute pinnacle of evolution."

She mimicked her father's tone as he recited his favorite lesson.

“‘No...no one hrnnnnn-helps a draaarrrrrrgon, because we arrr rg the fff-foe.’”

She continued with a groan, bringing at least one of her forelegs out from under her body. It looked horribly deformed. Not necessarily broken, but swollen, and in some places, she realized, the impacts had splintered parts of her scales or even torn them off completely.

“Hhnnnn...damn...”

Tyria cursed and tried to move her clawed fingers. She did not succeed.

All she managed was to feel her jaw tighten.

“That's not good...”

she realized grimly, but at least the limb was now free. She concentrated on her breathing and tried to relax her jaw again. It took a little while for the pain to slowly dull back down to a numb throb. She didn't want to rely completely on the human, but wanted to see if she couldn't free at least another limb or two. She gritted her teeth and tried to lean on the hind leg and foreleg she already had free to pull another limb out from under her battered body.

“Aarrrrrrnnnnnnn...”

the little dragoness growled, biting through the pain that shot through her body like electricity. She managed to prop herself up a little, but it wasn't enough to pull another leg out from under her. Her muscles began to tremble and then she collapsed.

“Uuuurnnnng...”

Tyria gasped, surrendering to her pain. She wanted to scream, to make her anger and despair known to the world, but she knew that this was a bad idea on the one hand, and on the other that she probably couldn't breathe deeply enough to really scream. She had no choice but to lie still.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt so weak, so vulnerable and completely helpless. She could feel the anger rising inside her and she had to suppress the urge to give free rein to her rage. Burning down the forest now would not help her, quite the opposite, but her unruly, wild nature, common to all dragons, lurked behind the gossamer veil of reason and whispered to her to surrender to her rage and let the sacred, purifying fire consume everything, to do what dragons were created to do.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but the fire burned deep. She pressed her lips together and her features contorted into a serious expression. The young dragoness's breathing came in short, shaky puffs, accompanied by soft moans and sighs.

She didn't know how long she lay there, it seemed like a small eternity, counting her breaths and heartbeats as she could do nothing else.

Tyria didn't even notice Artem approaching her again, only when he spoke to her softly did she open her eyes again and look at him desperately.

...

“Tyria?... Tyria? Are you still there?”

Artem whispered and was rewarded with a low grumble. The little dragoness opened her eyes and looked at him. He could clearly see her pain and despair. He had pulled the handcart as close to her as possible, but it was still about a dozen meters to go. He would have to lift her up and carry her, at least the short distance to his transportation. Carefully, he came closer and placed his hand on her head again. She felt noticeably warmer, he didn't know exactly why, but he thought it was probably because she was more alert and active again. He gently stroked her smooth scales and took another closer look at her body.

“I'm going to have to carry you.”

he whispered and felt her nod slowly under his hand.

“If I lift you, it will probably hurt a lot, at least for a little while.”

he added and again the little dragon nodded.

“I... I know. I tried to get up...”

she replied in an almost toneless voice and closed her eyes again.

“... I couldn't...”

Now it was Artem who nodded.

“Mmmhmmm, I can vividly imagine that. Are we going to be able to do this without you biting me?”

he asked quietly, sliding his hand slowly down her neck. Tyria didn't react immediately, it was as if she had to think about it.

“I don't want to bite you, but it could happen if the pain gets too much.”

she admitted ashamedly, but Artem just nodded. Like a dog, or a cat, that bites even its master when the pain gets too strong.

He knelt down next to the little dragoness and tried to figure out the best way to lift the reptile so that he could not only carry Tyria safely, but also not cause any more pain than absolutely necessary. She groaned as she tried to turn her head further towards him to get a better look at what he was doing.

“Wha...hrnnnnssss...what are you doing?”

She asked, the curiosity clear in her voice despite the pain. Artem turned his head towards her, smiling tightly.

“I'm trying to figure out the best way to lift you without hurting you more than necessary.”

He replied, pointing to her chest and pelvis.

“Normally I would take an animal your size here and here, either in front or behind the legs, but I'm afraid your wing is in the way.”

He explained and before he could add anything, he saw Tyria trying to move her broken wing. Of course she failed and hissed her pain and frustration into the cold air of the forest. Artem closed his eyes and waited a moment to at least give Tyria a chance to catch her breath.

“I...it's okay...”

the young dragoness gasped and the gamekeeper nodded grimly.

“L...le...let's just do it...”

she stuttered, narrowing her eyes. Artem hated himself for it, but he could only agree with her. It wouldn't help to wait any longer, it wouldn't get better, not like this and especially not here. Carefully and with bated breath, he slid his hands under her body. She was hot, literally glowing on her underside. As he pushed his hands further, the dragoness inhaled sharply and held her breath as well.

“Grrrrrrnnnniii...”

she mouthed between clenched teeth as he finally slid his arms all the way under her and lifted her carefully. She was lighter than he'd feared, which was a positive, but her growled cry of pain almost caused him to drop her. He hurried, not wanting to have to carry her for too long, who knew when she would lose to her instincts and bite him, or worse, burn him.

He turned in the direction of his cart and trudged off. It only took him a moment to cover the distance, and it wasn't until he placed Tyria on the cart as carefully as he could that he realized he was still holding his breath.

Tyria was still holding her breath too, the growls and hisses were evidence of her pain and it was only when he put her back down that another cry of pain escaped her, forcing her to breathe again. She couldn't be angry with him, he had really gone out of his way to lay her down as gently as possible and make sure all her limbs were positioned so that she didn't accidentally lie on one, but it still hurt like hell.

Her vision was blurred and her tears were running down her cheeks in little rivulets. Her breathing was in short shaky gasps and she felt unable to move her head. Artem stood in front of her, breathing heavily. The brief exertion seemed to have taken everything out of him. He looked at her and struggled to catch his breath.

“Are... are you all right?”

He asked, searching her body with his eyes. Tyria managed a short, stiff nod.

“Fine would be bragging...”

she pressed out, but she didn't manage to get the joke across, Artem nodded anyway. He pointed once more to the place where she had crashed.

“I'm going to go back over there for a moment, maybe I can still find your hoop.”

he gasped and turned around. As he trudged off, Tyria watched him go. She couldn't make out much as her eyes were still overflowing with tears and the pain was almost making her lose her mind. She decided it was better to try and just relax. She let her head rest on the planks of the carriage and closed her eyes. There was nothing for her to do, for the moment she was at the mercy and help of the human.

After a while, she heard Artem approaching again. His footsteps sounded a little frantic, but it was his voice that really startled her.

“I think I've found what you've lost...”

He called out to her while he was still a few steps away. Partly out of shock, partly out of joy, but mostly out of impatience, Tyria wanted to lift her head and look around for him, but she didn't even get that far because her muscles prevented quick and careless movements.

So she just opened her eyes and looked at the gamekeeper, who was waving what looked like silver in his hand. She couldn't quite make it out and had to wait until he was with her, but when Artem finally stood in front of the carts and proudly presented her with his find, her heart skipped a beat.

She gasped as she realized what he was holding in his hands.

“This... by the Ancients... this is my hoop...”

Tyria gasped, looking at the bent silver hoop in Artem's hands.

“...But... what happened to it?”

she asked, although she could well imagine what had happened to the fragile piece of jewelry when she crashed. Artem turned and turned the hoop in his hands. The scratches, dents and dings, as well as the completely bent shape, indicated that the hoop had collided with her several times against solid obstacles. He looked up at her and pressed his lips together.

“Well, I think your crash did more damage than I thought. If you want, I can have the hoop mended by one of the blacksmiths... but I don't know if they can fix it completely.”

the gamekeeper offered, holding the piece of jewelry out to her. Tyria tilted her head slightly to one side and closed her eyes again.

“No.”

she replied and sighed softly.

“I can't expect that from you. You're already doing too much for me and putting yourself in danger for my well-being.”

she added carefully and opened her eyes again. She looked calmly into his brown eyes and saw him begin to smile. He placed the hoop on the cart and began to stroke her head tenderly with both hands.

“It's all right, little Tyria, as long as we're a little careful, nothing will happen, and after all, it's my job to look after the animals in these woods, and for a while at least, that includes you.”

His voice sounded calm and loving as he stroked her smooth scales and scratched her under her chin. The little dragoness closed her eyes again and enjoyed the caresses. She murmured her approval softly and leaned her head against his hands.

How could his touch feel so good? It felt almost as good as when her father showed her affection, but it wasn't just the touch, it was the connection that made it feel even better. However, she had no connection with Artem, at least not yet, and yet the feeling she was experiencing was almost as strong. The warmth that his hands radiated was so completely different from the warmth she knew from her father or even herself.

The warmth that dragons generated came from their fire, a primal, raw, destructive heat. Not necessarily unpleasant and quite suitable for emphasizing a dragon's love for another, but still something completely different from the warmth Artem carried within himself.

Humans had no fire of their own, her father had taught her that. Humans relied on artificially creating their fire. So it couldn't be fire that warmed his hands so pleasantly.

Tyria lost herself in the thought and enjoyed the attention until Artem removed his hands again. She couldn't help but grumble and express her displeasure at the end of the caresses, but Artem denied it.

“How should I see to it that I get you home before the Lord sees us after all.”

he said and took the hoop back.

“Don't worry, I'm just keeping it since you can't hold onto it right now.”

he added when she looked at him a little distraught. He turned around and took the handles of the cart. Carefully, he began to push the cart through the forest. The oversized wooden wheels, designed to roll better over the uneven forest path, unfortunately offered no additional comfort, and every bump, every root that Artem had to maneuver the cart over, was passed on to Tyria undamped and caused another painful sensation. The little dragoness groaned softly and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to distract herself from the pain.

...

She didn't know how long she had been traveling, at some point during the bumpy ride, she had lost consciousness. All the pain and exhaustion had taken their toll and her body had simply shut down.

All she could remember was the steady stream of apologies that Artem had muttered over and over again when the car had bumped over another rock or root.

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edited by

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo

The war between the ancient Dragons and the Mages of the realm has been raging for five years now. Nobody was sure who exactly had started the fighting; they only knew that the Dragons, once the only creatures capable of wielding the powers of the warp, were keen on restoring that status again. The mages, some humans, but mostly elves, had only learned to use magic recently and had no interest to surrender it now.

The animosities had started small, but quickly got out of hand, and now almost every Dragon was on the frontlines to fight back the ever growing force of mages.

It was a bloody war, a dirty war, fought with every weapon at their disposal. On the Dragon’s side, it was Fire, Ice and immeasurable strength, whereas the mages countered with weapons wrung out of black steel and their magic to balance the scale.

With the fighting came the grime, the magic stains, the residue of magic fire and poisonous arrows. Dragons, while capable of great feats, were not always able to fully clean themselves again. It came in handy that since the dawn of time, the Dragons held themselves a formidable workforce. One they could rely on in keeping not only their hoards in check.

Since practically forever, the Kobolds were the subordinates of the Dragons. Since forever, they were henchmen, accountants, builders, engineers, snacks and whatever else there was a need for, for their masters.

They counted the gold, cataloged every item in their possession, but also kept the hoard clean and free of any pesky adventurer.

With the ongoing war, a new task came along for their servants. The most important task of them all: keeping the Dragons in fighting shape, which not only meant tending to their wounds, but also keeping them clean and getting rid of all those pesky remnants of human and elven magic and weaponry.

---

Somewhere in the countryside a few industrious Kobolds had started a small business. At first they had been just a few ‘bolds that had lost their master in the war, merely armed with a few buckets and brushes offered to clean Dragons who came directly from the frontlines. They had never hoped in their wildest dreams that it would take off like it did.

In less than a month, they had waiting queues for the Dragons, who had heard of their services and were willing to pay a pretty penny for them to get rid of all the dirt and grime from the fighting, so they could get back to the frontlines as fast as possible. It was not that most Dragons did not have their own servants at their hoards, but it was so much more convenient to just stop at the Kobolds’ Dragonwash, get cleaned and take off again, saving the trip back to their own hoard. They needed to expand to get quicker and more efficient in their task.

Kobolds are nothing if not capable of thinking quickly and are industrious when given free reign over the resources at hand. It did not take long for them to build the first shacks and offer drinks and snacks to the waiting Dragons, while others used scaffolds to get on and off the Dragons quickly. A whole army of Kobolds had built a system of pipes and pumps to get water from a nearby stream as well as a boiler to heat it up.

The beginning was a glorious time of profit and wealth for the indefatigable little creatures, who had made a name for themselves.

They were the one and only Dragonwash.

They had built big signs and dotted them around the countryside, leading any Dragon in need to them and promising the full service of cleaning and detailing; for every Dragon able to cough up the needed cash for the service that is.

…

---

Yeah this is the Dragonwash… Yeah I called in before… Sure I have a customer number… 0800-fuck off… Now give me Dave from mailorder… No, I am not going to talk to you… Listen to me you little shit. There are other suppliers for soap and wax. I am not dependent on your services… Yes I know… Now be a darling and get Dave on the orb, I don’t have time to spare…”

The Kobold sneered into the big crystal ball on his desk. He stood on his much too big chair and leaned over the human-sized desk. He could have easily gotten one for his kin, but he was the boss of this joint and that needed to be reflected. So the biggest and most cushy chair had to be acquired, and a fitting desk to the chair was in order as well. He chewed on his cigar and waited impatiently for his assigned agent from his favorite supplier to get back to him.

It took a moment, but then the face in the crystal ball changed and eventually showed a haggard human, who looked slightly stressed.

“Dave!... Yes, this is Grumpard… Listen, those prices are ridiculous… I will not pay that… No, not even if you would have used the king's horse to make that soap… I know you have the best stuff, but I will not pay those prices… Hey, don’t give me that shit; you know we are your best customers, and we are the ones holding the Dragons off your neck… so cut me some slack there will you?... No… No, I will not talk to your boss. You are my agent. You are assigned to me, not your boss… You know what? Fuck that, fuck your business, I gonna get my supplies from Jay’s… Yeah you heard me right… And I will tell my customers, that you, you in particular, fucked us over…Yeah, dwell on that…”

And with that he threw the blanket over the crystal ball. He was seething inside, boiling, white hot…

Grumpard chewed some more on his cigar, before he turned around his chair and opened the window of his office. Outside, his crew was in full swing. Since the early morning one Dragon after the next had been cleaned and serviced just to fly back to frontlines. He looked around until he found who he was looking for.

“Hrun… Hrun… you little bastard! Get over here!”

One of his foremen, a wiry Kobold with a vicious mohawk and a leather apron came running over from the reception desk.

“Yes, Boss?”

His squeaky voice did not suit his look in the slightest, but Grumpard knew why he was his best forebold. No one was able to herd this army of twitchy Kobold like Hrun was.

“We have a problem. The prices for soap and wax are through the roof; we need to make more profit! Can we charge more for the service?”

The boss asked, but Hrun shook his head.

“Not without better equipment. We need those rotary brushes, and we need those spray nozzles for the hoses; else we cannot raise the prices.”

Hrun replied and counted on his fingers what else was needed. Grumpard rolled the cigar, which he had never lid in the first place, left and right between his lips. He hated smoke, and he hated smoking even more, but in his eyes, a boss needed to have a cigar. It was mandatory!

“But Higgry has said he will need another month to get those done.”

He complained and Hrun nodded.

“I will talk to him and see if he can cobble something together.”

Grumpard smiled, he knew indeed why he had assigned Hrun with the task. Not satisfied but at least a little bit relieved, he closed the window and let himself slight down on his chair. Time for a nap.

…

---

Hrun ran towards a shack at the edge of their property. It was plastered with many signs, warning everyone of the dangers that were waiting within the workshop of their best engineer. Carefully he approached the shack, from which loud banging sounds emanated.

Higgry, or Higs for his friends, was a determined little Kobold. He had shown his interest in engineering from a young age and had always worked and fiddled with all sorts of scrap. At the moment he was tasked with building a new sort of brush that would be able to clean the Dragons faster and more efficiently than they currently could.

He had called it the “rotating brush”, and as the name implied, it consisted of a rotating shaft, to which they would fit a bunch of brushes. It would be driven at first by a bunch of Kobolds on a big crank, but as soon as Higs was able to, he would build something to enable them to use one of the water pumps to power it.

Hrun came to the big doors and banged his tiny fist against them.

“Hey Higs… you there?”

He yelled and pulled the door open. Inside it was a mess of scrap metal, various inventions that had never worked properly, all sorts of trash and food, and a Kobold, who feverishly hammered away at something mostly covered by a tarp or something. Carefully Hrun made his way through the thick of it, towards the Kobold with the hammer.

“Hey Higs… whatcha doin’?”

Hrun yelled, but Higs did not react and kept going with his favorite tool. Only when Hrun kicked the engineer in the butt did the latter yelp and spin around, hammer raised and ready to attack.

“Hey, careful with that thing…”

Hrun called out and raised his hands defensively. Higs looked at him with wide eyes.

“Hrun? What the hell are you doing in here? It is not yet lunchtime!”

Higs’ voice was a bit less squeaky than Hrun’s, but nevertheless, he still sounded as if someone gave a piglet some helium. Hrun grinned. No, it wasn’t lunchtime yet, and even if it was, it would not be him bringing Higs his lunch. That honor would be Jirray’s.

“The boss sends me. I am here to check on your progress. We need those brushes, and we needed ‘em yesterday.”

The engineer shook his head vigorously.

“I already told ya, I’ll need another month, at least… It is still not tested… so many things could go wrong… and I haven’t yet figured out how to power it with one of the pumps.”

Higs denied and tried to shield his current project from Hrun prying eyes. Hrun looked past him, and slowly the thing under the tarp took shape in his head.

“You sneak lil’ bastard! You already built it?”

It was more of a statement than a question, and Higs, feeling himself caught, tried feverishly to cover it up more.

“Nnnnnooo…”

Hrun shook his head and took a step forward.

“Yes, you have, I can see it…”

Higs pinned his floppy ears back and gritted his teeth.

“Nnoo I did not… I… it… it is not done… no you can’t have it…”

Hrun took another step forward and reached for the tarp.

“No, Hrun… it is not done yet… it will not…”

Hrun ignored the protest of his best engineer and pulled at the tarp. As the heavy canvas fell and buried Higs underneath itself, the rotating brush came into view. Higs kept complaining from under the tarp that it needed more work, and that it would fail, if he would use it now, but Hrun ignored all that. He knew Higs was overly cautious; he had always been. The brush was a work of beauty. All the polished metal and all the scrubbers he could ever want. Carefully he touched the bristles and let the device spin. It rotated almost without any resistance.

“We’re gonna use it. It will work, and it will hold up. I am sure of that.”

Hrun stated and looked at the moving tarp to his feet, where Higs still struggled to get out from underneath.

“Nooooo… not again… you always take my inventions away from me when they are not done yet!”

Wailed the Kobold under the tarp and Hrun nodded. They really did that. All the time they took his toys away from him, and all the time they worked better than they had hoped for. Sure, Higs would work on the brushes until they were perfect, almost magical, but they did not need to be, as long as they worked and did their job, it was all fine and dandy. He would perfect them later… as he always did.

Hrun took another look at the contraption and nodded, before turning around to get the others to help him with that thing. Meanwhile the poor Higs could do nothing but sit there and sulk in his misery.

…

---

The next morning saw the new rotary brush installed and fitted with a big wheel, in which a group of Kobolds would run to rotate the brushes at a moderate speed. Higs had worked through the night to get it done, and it worked like a charm.

With the first rays of the sun, the first Dragons arrived for their service. He was a big old Dragon, landing with a mighty thud that shook the ground from the impact. His scales were charcoal black, and they showed the wear and tear of hundreds of years of fighting and surviving. He looked around and emitted a low growl, before approaching the reception desk;

behind which stood Laamri, one of the female Kobolds working at the Dragonwash, and smiled at him.

“Welcome to the Dragonwash. We clean, so you can gleam. How can we be at your service today, Master…?”

She thrilled the well studied welcome formula, and the Dragon in front of her desk looked down at her with a reserved, yet benevolent stare. When he finally opened his maw, his voice was a low rumble.

“My name is Fafnir. They call me the black demon, but you and your colleagues may call me Faff. That is, if your service holds up to the promises of your commercials.”

He said, and Laamri nodded eagerly.

“Master Fafnir. We pride ourselves with excellent customer satisfaction. We are the leading provider of Dragon cleaning services, after all. There is none that comes even close to our results.”

She rattled down their pledge of service. Faff only nodded and bent down his head to her level.

“What does your service provide, then?”

He asked, and Laamri could smell the death in his breath; for a brief moment she felt how her breakfast wanted to evacuate her stomach, but she could just fight down the feeling and kept her well trained smile. She took out a clipboard and began to count down their offerings:

“Master Fafnir, we can provide you with a full service, which includes the following:

• A full wash of your body with a deep cleaning of your scales, wings, horns and claws.

• A full detail of your scales, claws and horns, including removal of any debris, leftover weaponry, or remnants of magic missiles

• A repair of any cracked or otherwise damaged scales, horns and claws using our patented quick-dry Chitin-Cement

• A full waxing off all hard scales, horns and claws, followed by

• A full polish of all outside surfaces

• Claws and horns will by filed and sharpened

• We offer a full tooth and tongue clean, including removal of any foreign objects and repair of any damaged teeth, if needed

• Our super special deal will offer a total cleanout of your cloaca

• The application of scented oils is optional, but included in the total package

So, what can we do for you today, dear Master Fafnir?”

Laamri smiled and looked up into the deep, red eyes of the mighty Dragon standing in front of her desk. Faff sat back and scratched at his chin where some of his scales were cracked and broken. While he did so, the first of the broken scales came loose and clattered to the ground, underscored by his thoughtful hum that sounded like an old, creaky barn door.

“Hmmm the full service package sounds almost enticing. I need to look my best tonight. After all, I have a date with a certain Dragoness that I need to impress, if you get my drift…”

He said in a soft tone, and the Kobold nodded eagerly.

“Your mate will be most satisfied with your appearance, that I can assure you of. This will be four hundred ounces of gold, my dear Master Fafnir.”

Explained Laamri and pointed at a scale next to the desk she was standing behind. Faff looked at it and grinned. He reached to a pouch that was fastened to his hind leg by a broad leather belt.

“Four hundred ounces? Your service will better be stellar at that price.”

The mighty Dragon growled and took something from the pouch.

“I was not yet able to clean it off, but that should be more than enough.”

He stated and let a head fall onto the scale, still wearing a huge crown that was partly melted onto his skull. Laamri shrieked as she saw the head and the crown and stepped back a few paces.

Faff just looked at her in bemusement and waited for the small Kobold to calm down again. It took a moment or two until Laamri had caught herself again. Attracted by her shriek, a few of the others had come, curious what got her so excited. Hrun was amongst the first to arrive at the scene. He looked first at Faff, then at Laamri, and finally his gaze wandered to the scale. Seeing the severed, scorched head lying on the scale, his eyes widened shortly, but he kept his cool for the most part. With a knowing smile he turned to Faff.

“I guess that means you will get the full service package.”

Hrun stated and took the clipboard from Laamri’s hands, who was still in a state of shock and did not react; instead she just kept staring at the severed, scorched head and emanated sheer panic. Quickly he scanned the notes and looked back at Fafnir, who simply nodded and smiled a wide, toothy smile.

“Master Fafnir, would you be so kind and follow me, then, I will walk you through the process of getting you completely clean and…”

He looked up at the dull, charcoal black color of the mighty Dragon standing next to him. Without even searching for damage, he could see that they had their work cut out for them this time.

“...all polished up again.”

The last words came out with a good bit of delay, and Hrun wasn’t so sure if they would really manage to polish Fafnir to a nice sheen. Some Dragons were just not meant to be shiny. Faff on the other hand chuckled softly; a sound reminiscent of a rock avalanche in the distance.

“Well, if you manage to get me shiny again, I am willing to pay double.”

He said in an amused tone and carefully stepped around the counter and past Laamri, who still was only breathing because she forced herself to.

“It has been ages since I had as much as a soft sheen on my scales.”

Hrun nodded at that statement. This Dragon’s scales were so dull and scoffed up, they would most likely never shine again, but it was a challenge, and he was ready to take it head-on.

Meanwhile Faff looked back at Laamri and smiled.

“And I am somewhat sorry to have scared your receptionist so badly, but I would have thought you were used to such things, with the war and everything.”

His voice was a low rumble, and the Kobold walking in front of him chuckled softly.

“Well, she is still young, and normally most Dragons are paying in coin rather than… how shall I put it… trophies?”

Faff nodded, but concluded that he would need to try and find an even more hideous one next time.

Hrun led him to the Dragonwash proper, and as Faff saw the contraption, his eyes widened.

“What by the elders is that?”

He asked, and for the first time, he did not sound totally full of himself and now it was Hrun’s turn to be a bit sarcastic.

“This is the newest in Dragon-washing high-tech. Those brushes will be able to clean off most of the rough dirt and grime in one go, much faster and more efficiently than we could by hand. We will need to go over you a second time, to get into all the nooks and crannies, but it will be much faster this way, and it will feel pretty nice as well.”

He explained in a calm and matter of fact way, while Fafnir looked at the mess of steel, bristles, wires, and Kobolds.

“Well, we will see about that.”

He replied as Hrun led him to some sort of tray, built of big and sturdy wooden planks and situated on a pair of rails that ran through the whole of the Dragonswash.

“Please stand on this platform and hold on to it. We will do the rest.”

Carefully Faff stepped onto the planks, and the material groaned under his weight but did not budge. When he had settled, he grabbed the platform with his powerful claws, held on to it and looked at Hrun, who nodded and went to a large lever, situated next to the contraption. The Kobold took hold of it, pulled the break and set the lever onto the ON position.

It was then that in the background the Kobolds began to trudge in the large wheel, and as it began turning with the cogs and pulleys. With a slight tug, the platform with Fafnir began moving forward towards the rotating brushes. Fafnir flared his wings briefly to keep his balance and squaked shortly. On a scaffold running overhead and across the Dragonwash, some Kobolds began to douse him with hot water, making sure he was properly wet. Looking at the pictograms at the side of the scaffolding, he unfolded his wings and let the Kobolds get them soaked too. Hrun walked next to the Dragon, always looking out for any signs of trouble or any technical defects at the new contraption.

As they approached the first set of rotating brushes, Fafnir folded his wings tightly against his body again and pulled them back a bit. He closed his eyes and let the bristles scrape over his head and horns. It really did feel nice, very much more so than he had anticipated. He murred his pleasure and pressed his head firmly against the brushes. The platform slowly pulled further and through the big arch that was the first set of horizontally rotating shafts and brushes.. Much to Fafnir’s delight, the brushes followed his neck down to his shoulders and continued to caress him with their gentle massage. He pushed his back up against them like an oversized cat and murred loudly. The second set of brushes, which were arranged vertically, hit the mighty Dragon by surprise, as he still had his eyes closed. From both sides they snuggled up against his face and began to scrub first his muzzle, then his cheeks. Pushing further they eventually brushed up against his horns and the sides of his neck. Fafnir rumbled deep in his throat and enjoyed the subtle scratching of the stiff bristles. He wanted to open his eyes, but the foam of soap burned and he had to keep them clenched shut.

Meanwhile the first brush reached his behind, and he had to strain to push his hips firmly against it, since it felt so nice. At the same time the other brushes scrubbed their way down to his shoulders and further to his wings and flanks. Fafnir did not know where to push against since it all felt so good; it tickled just the right amount at just the right places.

He did not see the next bridge over the Dragonwash approaching and therefore did not see the next set of Kobolds readying their hoses to rinse off all the foam and soap from his body.

It truly was a relief when the next dousing of hot water finally hit his head and washed out the soap from his eyes. He waited for the Kobolds to aim their hoses to his neck before he opened his eyes and blinked the last of the water away.

All the while his tail wrapped around the first rotary brush, and he enjoyed the feel of it rubbing and scrubbing the scales on his long appendage. The second set of brushes just reached his hips, and the mighty Dragon let out a nice and relaxed sigh while rubbing his hips up and down against the rotating bristles of the contraption.

If they would had continued like this, he would have been more than willing to endure this treatment for a good while longer, but the platform was unrelenting in its movement towards the end of the rails. The Kobolds on the scaffold rinsed the foam from his body and his folded wings, and when the last of it dripped down underneath the platform, it itself reached the end of its journey.

Hrun pulled another big lever, and the clutch disconnected the whole machine from the drive-mechanism, so the platform came to a stop softly against the endpoint. Fafnir already anticipated the stop, and this time he was much more elegant in keeping his balance on the platform. Almost sad, he looked down to Hrun, who stood next to the big platform and gestured to another one that was just a few paces away.

“Dear Master Fafnir, would you be so kind as to follow me to the next step in the cleaning process.”

The small-ish reptile suggested and stepped towards the next platform. Faff shook himself briefly and stretched his wings, as if to shake off some of the excess water. He then stepped down from the plattform and followed Hrun to the next one, where a small army of Kobolds were already waiting for him. Armed with buckets, brushes, scrapers, wire brushes, and a hole toolbelt full of all sorts of pliers, chisels, hammers and what else was needed to deep clean the rough scales of an old, battle hardened Dragon.

Being already invested, said Dragon looked over the assembled troop and smiled.

“So many… nobody would miss the odd one or two…”

He mumbled with a predatory smile, and the forebold next to him chuckled.

“Well, Master Fafnir, as much as we can understand the allure of the opportunity, we would prefer it if you resisted the urge to eat our personnel, since finding professional staff is not easy nowadays, and the union is already unhappy with the conditions we need to put our workers through.”

Hrun explained and led the Dragon onto the platform.

“You may sit down here. The platform will make sure that the water will drain away nicely and you will not have to sit in the mud.”

The Kobold added and Fafnir nodded, before carefully climbing into place and sitting down. He looked around and fixated Hrun again with his piercing gaze.

“You already have a union? You're quite organised I must admit.”

In the rough and rumbling voice, the amusement was very clearly heard, and the smile on the black-scaled beast said more than a thousand words. Hrun nodded; the union was both a blessing and a curse. It helped to fight for good living and working conditions, but at the same time it fought against efficiency and made quick and easy changes almost impossible.

“Yes indeed. We got a boss who has nothing to do other than chewing on cigars and bellowing out orders, we got a union that steps on our toes every now and then, and we got dental as a bonus. We are almost human by now…”

Hrun counted down on his fingers.

“... tsk, tsk, tsk… where are the good old days, when we had a Dragon overlord who just kicked us if we weren’t fast enough.”

He added in a most sarcastic undertone, and Fafnir laughed a loud, hearty but honest laugh.

“I can help with the kicking if you so desire. Haven’t kicked a ‘bold in a while.”

The Dragon said with a wide smile, but Hrun waved him off.

“No, my dear Master Fafnir. No kicking today; as long as you are satisfied with the result that is.”

The Kobold stated and nodded to his colleagues.

“My team will now begin the deep clean procedure, where we will tend to whatever the rotary brushes were unable to get off. This will include some of them climbing onto you, and in case of stuck debris, may be slightly painful. This can't be helped, so I kindly ask you to tolerate these minor discomforts, as they are absolutely necessary to achieve a satisfactory result.”

Hrun continued while his team closed in from all sides. Fafnir looked at the closing-in Kobolds. They all wore leather aprons, just like Hrun did, and one by one they deeply bowed when he looked at them. He chuckled softly, but what left his throat sounded more like distant thunder than a minor laugh. Nevertheless he nodded and lowered himself a bit more to make their work easier.

“Those minor inconveniences won’t bother me overly much… but I seem to develop a bit of an appetite, being surrounded by snacks all the time. You do not happen to have anything edible at your disposal, do you?”

Faff asked as the first of the Kobolds was lifted onto his back and climbed up to his neck to scrub his scales there. Hrun raised his hands placatingly.

“I will get you something proper. Would you like something to drink with that snack?”

His voice sounded just a little bit distressed, but the offering sounded genuine enough and so the Dragon nodded. Hrun turned on his heels and rushed away while the Kobold on Faff’s neck asked him to bend his head a bit more forward so he could remove something that was stuck between two of the armor-plate-like scales. He kindly complied, but it still took the little helper a good minute or two to get the barbed arrowhead out of there. When it was finally removed, the feeling of relief was quite a surprise for Fafnir since he hadn’t noticed its presence to begin with.

“What was that?”

He asked the Kobold, who showed him the rusted and bent item. The Dragon grimaced at the little thing. Carefully he moved his neck around. A resistance in his movement he had not even noticed was gone, and it suddenly felt much more free to move.

“How long might that have been in there?”

He mused, and the Kobold on his neck shrugged his shoulders.

“It looks like an arrowhead they use in the southern kingdoms, and by the state of it, it has to have been in there for at least five years now. I will fix the nick it has created.”

The squeaky voice of the ‘bold made Faff grin, but he nodded and bent his head back to face forward again. While they continued to scrub his scales with soapy water and various brushes, his thoughts wandered back to Hrun and his supply run.

What goodies will that little runt bring me?

He mused, and much to his amusement, his imagination eagerly began picking up on the idea. One was especially enticing, showing Hrun coming back to him, pulling a small cart with a big silver plate on it, on which lay a nice, juicy Kobold with an apple in her mouth and cucumber in her… He did not finish the thought but had to chuckle heartily at the picture.

"No. Sadly he would never serve me that as a snack. Hmmm... if one of them seriously overstepped, though...."

He mumbled to himself, licking his lips in anticipation. He was almost disappointed when Hrun indeed returned with a small cart, but on which only a plate with a heap of freshly roasted meat was arranged. Further there was a small keck of some liquid that smelled a lot like mead. He pulled it right up to Faff’s forelegs and bowed deeply.

“Please excuse the wait, we had minor difficulties with our oven.”

The Dragon nodded, pleased with the show of respect and the offered snacks. Carefully he picked up some of the meat and brought it up to his mouth. It smelled good, felt nice and juicy, but before he could enjoy it, a nasty sting came from his back. With a low growl he looked over his shoulder. One of the helpers had removed a completely shattered scale and now held the cracked remnants of the armor plate in his hands.

“Ow.”

Fafnir complained and felt tears well up in his eyes, but he fought them back down; it did not suit a Dragon of his size to show weakness in front of Kobolds of all creatures.

“My deepest apologies, Master Fafnir, but this one needs to be replaced. We will make a prosthetic for the time till the new one has regrown.”

The little Kobold squealed and handed the scale down to another one who rushed off to some sort of workshop.

“Hrnnn… prosthetic?”

He asked and resisted the urge to try and scratch the spot where the scale had been removed. As it had been many years since he had lost one of the bigger, tougher scales, he was surprised by how much it hurt and itched. He could not really remember what had happened there, but it had to have been a mighty blow to completely shatter one of those big scales.

“Yes. We can produce a replacement scale. It will be fitted there; not as tough as the original, but it will suffice to armor your back for the time being.”

Hrun explained and Faff grunted.

“Master Fafnir, could you please unfold your wings? We need to clean the membranes.”

Another Kobold asked and the mighty Dragon reluctantly complied. He had to admit that he was a bit concerned. Not even the humans had caused him so much pain in a long time. Those pesky little runts knew exactly where they could hurt him, and his wings were somewhat sensible. On the other paw, when they were not hurting him, the cleaning felt rather nice. The water was warm, the soap smelled nice and flowery, and the brushes they used were nice and stiff. Also, when they hit those nice spots, it was a heavenly mixture of tickling and scrubbing and scratching that felt amazingly good. Again and again he caught himself purring and groaning in delight, bending and twisting his body to give them that bit more access to those areas.

“Careful with those wings…”

He mumbled as a horde of ‘bolds descended on them with water, soap and brushes. His concerns were unfounded, however, as he felt how careful they were with those delicate membranes. The brushes they used to clean his wings were surprisingly soft, in fact. Pleased with their work he nodded to Hrun and took the bite he had been holding in front of his maw the whole time. The flesh indeed was nice and juicy, and the spices they had used were exquisite. Cheerfully the Dragon chewed on the bite and savored the flavors a bit longer, humming his enjoyment of the whole process.

He was a loner, ever since he had lost his mate, and up to this point, his sole offspring had left the den in search for a hoard of her own. He had not bothered to find himself a new mate, or even fancied the idea of one. His hoard surely was enormous, for he had been adding to it for centuries now, and until now, no one had ever managed to take any of it away. Well, that was not entirely true, since his daughter had taken a small trinket from his treasure, as it was custom for their young as a starting point for their very own hoard. And possibly as a reminder of their home, if he was lucky.. But despite all his possessions, it felt empty and hollow without someone, anyone really, to share it with. Only out of fear and dread of losing yet another one, he had never so much as searched for a new mate.

Until he had met her a few days ago on the field of honor. She was an elegant Dragoness, fast and sleek, and he adored the way she was able to twist and turn in the air. In a cruel whim of fate, it all reminded him of his long lost mate. Seeing her had rekindled the fire in his heart, for as he had watched her fight; he felt the warmth in his chest rise again, but this time it would be different; he wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Fafnir had then taken heart to approach her after the fights, and she had not outright resented him, which had spurred him on. They had agreed to meet this night to bathe in the cold moonlight; just to see what would come from it.

It was the sole reason he had sought out this service, as he wanted to leave a lasting, preferably good impression on said ‘ness. And so far, he had to admit that those Kobolds had done a good job in tending to his scales. He reached for another bite as he heard one of those that sadly weren't on the menu.

“Master Fafnir, there is a hole in your right wing, would you want us to seal it back up?”

He left the meat on the plate and looked over his shoulder to see a particularly small Kobold kneeling on his back next to the point where the membrane joined his body. Faff raised his wing and looked at the membrane, which looked far too delicate to keep a giant beast like him in the air. Indeed there was a hole in his wing. An old wound he had earned himself in his youth. He had challenged the ancients and had flown through a lightning storm. In hindsight, he had presented a formidable enemy, the ancients had not been in the best of moods that day, though. A lightning had struck and had burned a hole in his wing. It had never fully healed up, but it also had never bothered him much.

“We could open the old scars and sew it shut…”

Said the Kobold on his back, looking through the opening. Fafnir pressed his lips together, as he was reminded of this painful memory once more, before slowly shaking his head in disagreement.

“No. Leave that one as it is, it is a reminder to never challenge the ancients.”

He replied in a subdued tone, before turning his head the other way not waiting for the Kobolds reply. Faff suppressed a chuckle, as he felt a tickle under his other wing.

"Careful there, you little fiends."

He said, in maybe a bit too harsh a tone, and the Kobolds tasked with cleaning his other wing bowed deeply. The Dragon rumbled softly and focussed back on the cart in front of him. He did not want to let any of the meat go to waste.

On his back the Kobolds worked feverishly. They had their work cut out for them, after all. As Fafnir was an old Dragon by now, most of his more hardy scales had accumulated a lot of damage over the years. They formed a broad ridge of interlocking armor plates on his back that started up on his head and ran all the way down to the tip of his long tail. Even though Dragons never truly stopped growing, they slowed down with age, and so the need to renew them diminished more and more, thus the damages had more chances to add up.

The age of some of those scales could almost be counted like the rings on a tree, as the layers of horn had started to delaminate at the edges. Also the sheer amount of damage some of them had suffered poorly betrayed their age. On some of them the grime and sood was so thick that even the wire brushes had difficulties getting rid of all the dirt. But nevertheless, Fafnir was all for it. Whenever they found a particular sensitive spot or were able to scratch an itch, he murred and almost playfully pushed against their ministrations. More and more he felt that bringing his hoard back in order and getting some of those small servants would be a nice addition. They could tend to the hoard, and when he got home, the would already have lit the fire and brought him his favorite snacks, if they don't want to end up as snacks, that is.

“Hmmm maybe that would be a nice thing to have… some ‘bolds and maybe, just maybe…”

He mumbled and thought of that ‘ness who would wait for him tonight. Deep in thoughts he stuck another piece of meat into his maw and sucked the juice from his claw.

After they had thoroughly cleaned his scales, Hrun’s team could finally begin to repair the damage. His interest piqued, the mighty Dragon watched as a large trough was carted to him, filled with a charcoal black, viscous material, of which each and every one of the Kobolds got a portion and skittered back to him. Fafnir pointed at the big tub and asked:

“What is that?”

His voice was filled with genuine interest, and he shuffled his wings, being a little bit hesitant. Hrun came to the trough, and with a wide grin he started to explain.

“This is our chitin-cement. We developed this filler to be able to repair minor to medium damages to Dragon scales, but we also use it as a modeling compound and it can be used as a glue, at least to a degree. It cures and hardens completely after an hour or two, depending on how thick we need to apply it, but then it is comparable to most Dragon scales in hardness and durability. We will make your replacement scale out of it as well.”

During his explanation he imitated the motions of his fellow Kobolds filling the holes and cracks in his scales to show the Dragon what was happening. Fafnir listened intently and inhaled deeply, flaring his nostrils wide. The cement had an acrid smell to it. This did not go unnoticed by Hrun and he raised its tiny little paws placantly.

“Don’t worry, Master Fafnir. Once hardened the cement will be completely odorless.”

The Kobold stated and pulled a small trinket from a pocket on his apron. He showed it to Fafnir, the Dragon sniffing it intently and almost sucking it from the Kobold’s little paws. It indeed smelled of almost nothing, and the rest was not unlike his own scales. Hesitantly he nodded and already felt the Kobolds swarming all over him.

“What about the color?”

He asked in a low tone and Hrun nodded eagerly.

“We matched the color to the damaged scale we took off earlier.”

He explained.

“It will darken when it cures, so the tone will be almost indiscernible from your own scales.”

He added and Fafnir smiled softly, well, as soft as a battle-hardened, scoffed-up, old Dragon could, that is. Behind Hrun came another Kobold from one of the workshops. The small servant carried something that looked a lot like one of his bigger scales, and if he hadn’t known it to be an artificial one, he would have thought that it was one of his very own.

“Hrun. Here I got the replacement prosthetic.”

The squeaky voice of the newcomer called out to the forebold of the team, and Hrun lifted a finger to Faff, motioning him to wait for a moment. Looking at the artificial scale, Hrun smiled and gestured at his colleague to give it to him. Brandishing the replacement part, he turned back around to the black Dragon lounging on the platform and sipping from the keck they had provided him.

“As you can see, the color matches most perfectly and…”

He knocked on the surface to produce only a dull knocking, not the hollow tone Fafnir had anticipated.

“... it is tough as nails.”

The Kobold advertised. Fafnir looked at the scale, raised his razor sharp claws, and scraped over the scale. Much to his astonishment but also delight, he could neither feel nor see any damage to the material. He had to admit that this was impressive.

“Very nice. Very nice indeed. I would not have expected this. Will your team be able to fix most of the damages?”

He asked and scratched his chin, breaking loose some more chips. Hrun nodded once more.

“Indeed. This is what we intend to do. You will look your best when we are done.”

“This sounds satisfactory. Very well then; continue on.”

The Dragon agreed and took another sip from the keck, while Hrun gave the replacement scale to one of his workers, who nimbly climbed up on Fafnir’s back and began his work.

It took them a fair bit to fill and repair all the damage he had collected over the years. As a heavily armored Dragon, he did not bother so much with avoiding damage, he simply pushed through it, and it showed.

Slowly but surely the Kobolds managed to repair at least most of the more obvious damages. The remainder was not so much a problem for Faff, as it was part of his charme that he was so scuffed up. By the time he had finished up the meat and the keck, the Kobolds had finished their work on his back. Their strength lay in their numbers, and they were therefore able to work surprisingly fast, but it also might have to do with them being so well practiced in what they were doing.

---

When they had finished their tasks, the Kobolds began to jump off his back one by one and waited for the last of them to be done too. It did not take her long, and finally she climbed down from Fafnir's back and bowed deeply before the big Dragon.

“All done, Master Fafnir. The replacement scale fits like a glove.”

She reported with yet another bow and Fafnir nodded off her words with a genuine smile.

“Master Fafnir, would you please turn on your side, so we can clean your belly.”

Hrun instructed, as the other Kobolds switched out their gear to go back to brushes and buckets. Fafnir raised his brows but complied to the forebold’s demand and slowly rolled onto his flank, exposing his underside to the Kobolds.

He was just trying to relax, as he heard the signature whooshing of Dragon wings in the sky. Immediately he stiffened and looked up into the vast blue, searching for the telltale silhouette of a fellow Dragon. He did not need to search for long, as the Dragon flew right across, but since they had the sun in their back, Fafnir was unable to easily identify the other Dragon.

The other Dragon flew a circle and then landed somewhere close to the reception. It was an elegant landing, not the impact Fafnir had performed; more of a soft touchdown, accompanied by some flapping of wings and proper usage of the ground effect.

Fafnir raised his head to take a closer look, and Hrun peeked over to the reception as well.

“Laamri will take care of her. She is a regular here. Normally comes once per week.”

The Kobold stated and smiled widely as he saw the look on the old Dragon’s face. There was definitely more than casual interest in that gaze.

“Who is that Dragon? I have never seen… her… before.”

Said Fafnir and had some difficulties tearing his gaze away from the sleek Dragoness,who was by now talking to Laamri. He was too far away to understand anything, but both of them obviously had a great time. It was tempting to just get up and go over, appeasing his curiosity and getting to know the Dragoness, but Hrun shook his head.

“Sadly I can’t tell you her name. That would violate the privacy regulations put upon us by the union. But she will most likely be done more or less at the same time as you are, so you might be able to ask her yourself.”

The forebold explained, and Fafnir huffed out a thick smoke ring in disappointment.

“Please, Master Fafnir, no Dragonfire in the Dragonwash. We Kobolds are eager to please and serve, but we are not fireproof, as is the Dragonwash itself. Highly flammable.”

He said with a raised finger and Fafnir let out a heavy sigh, careful not to blow another one.

“Regulations… huh? One would think being a Dragon, creation's crowning glory would put one above all rules, not put up ourselves…”

He mumbled and lifted up one of his forelegs to grant a couple of Kobolds better access to his chest, and, for lack of a better word, armpits. Hrun shrugged his shoulders.

“I am sorry master Fafnir, but those are the rules I am bound to follow.”

The old Dragon nodded and began to chuckle softly.

“Hrhrhrrhrr… I am ticklish there… careful…”

He flexed his clawed paws in an attempt to keep himself from flinching too much, but he simply could not keep his tail still, the appendage twitching left and right and making the Kobolds tending to it having to move with it. The Kobolds worked quickly, though, and it did not take all too long for them to be done with the majority of his underside. Only his chest and throat took a while still, since he had taken so many attacks head on.

“Master Fafnir, would you be so kind and let me see you chin?”

One of the female Kobolds asked and came up to his head. She was so small, just a tiny little snack if Fafnir would be so inclined, but he was able to restrain from simply slurping her up and gulping her down. Instead he turned his massive head towards her and squinted to look at her properly.

“I fear that this chin is a lost cause, little one.”

He rumbled softly and smiled, lifting his chin up slightly for her to see.

“Name’s Loomny, dear Master, and never call a charismatic chin like yours a lost cause, not until I am done with it.”

The small female squeaked and carefully inspected the scales. They were cracked, chewed-up, scratched, and chipped in ways she had never seen on a Dragon before. These scales were hardened, thick and rigid. In contrast to the scales all over the rest of his body, these did not lay flat against him to create an interlocking armor. Instead, they stood on their edges; almost as if they were creating some sort of beard. It was a unique look she had not seen on any other Dragon until now.

Carefully, she ran her finger around the edges and looked at them from each angle. Despite the fact that they were not so well connected to his chin, they were still stuck tightly in place.

“Let me guess. You scratch them often, don’t you, Master Fafnir?”

Loomny asked, and the Dragon in question huffed a chuckle at her.

“I am afraid it has developed into a habit.”

He admitted, grunting softly as Loomny scratched the itch behind one of them.

“It seems like that…”

She mumbled softly and felt around them some more, before she stepped back a bit to take another look at his face in its entirety.

“... I think I have an idea if you were ready to trust me on that matter, Master Fafnir.”

The little Kobold explained, and Faff scrutinized her from top to bottom, curling his lips into a predatory smile and showing his dagger-like teeth.

“Trust you?”

He said in his deep raspy voice, rumbling in his throat, but he had to pay her respect for neither flinching nor budging even in the slightest. He lowered his muzzle to be able to give her a better look and raised a brow.

“What do you have in mind?”

His voice took on a new quality, much more smooth and rich in an accent that was used more in the southern kingdoms. Loomny, knowing she had broken the ice between the big old beast lying in front of her and herself, stepped forward and laid her little paws on his snout.

“The way they stand off from your chin and their structure; this is realy unique. I would love to emphasize this uniqueness a bit more and give them a bit more shape, let them join with this lower jawline here..."

She explained, while feeling along his lower jaw.

"...elongating these broken scales just a bit. It will take a bit longer, but in the end, it might just make you look even more striking and much more wise. We could even try to add a bit of color matching your eyes, just around the edges.”

Her squeaky voice gained in volume and strength the longer she talked and explained her plan to the Dragon. She sounded very excited about the fact that he would at least consider her ideas. Indeed, Fafnir mulled the idea over in his head and caught himself reaching for his chin with a clawed paw, but was able to stop himself just in time. With a grin he pulled away from his chin.

“Habits…”

He stated bemused and carefully pulled his muzzle back from Loomny, who just giggled. Once more he looked her up and down and considered her offer.

“Good little Loomny, you may try what you have planned. We will see what comesof it.”

The Dragon said and lowered his head again. Loomny’s pupils went wide and she nodded eagerly.

“Thank you, Master Fafnir. You will not regret that decision; I am sure of that.”

She bubbled, turned on her heels, and started to gather her gear for the extensive project. Fafnir looked after her and chuckled softly, before looking down along his body. Everywhere, the Kobolds were working diligently. They seemed to have finished most of the cleaning and were repairing the damages of his long lifetime. Fafnir nodded softly and turned his head towards Hrun.

“How long is this going to take?”

He asked in a low, relaxed tone, and the forebold came up to his head, bowing once again.

“Most of the crude work will be done soon. Then the detailing will start with polishing your scales. Given the color and the texture, we will most likely not bring you to shine like a diamond, but it will help with keeping your scales clean and lower the drag you feel. Furthermore, we will file and sharpen your claws and seal them with a hardening compound that will allow you to tear through even the toughest armor the humans can muster, and the wear and tear will be lessened. And finally, we will deep clean your teeth and cloaca. You will feel refreshed like you might never have felt before.”

The Kobold rattled down the following procedures, while Loomny already began to model the scales on his chin and cheeks. She utilized the same compound they had already used to repair his other scales. Since he had to hold still so Loomny could work on his face, he just hummed his acceptance, but he had to admit to himself that some doubts were remaining about getting his cloaca cleaned. Faff's imagination was already playing tricks with him again, creating some pretty disturbing scenes before his inner eye.

When Loomny had applied all the cement on her tray to his face, he carefully raised his concerns.

“Tell me, what methods would you use to clean out a Dragon's vent? You hopefully are aware that this part of my body is much more delicate than the rest, and I would rather not get it injured in any way...”

He mumbled, his speech a bit impeded by not wanting to move his mouth too much, as not to ruin Loomny’s work already. Hrun grinned and nodded. That question came up a lot when this option was considered by the customers. It was always tempting to tease the customers a little bit when it came to explaining the process, and he considered the possibility of Faff being a Dragon who had that certain amount of humor. With a smile he opened his arms.

“Master Fafnir, there is no easy answer to your question, it all depends on the size of the Dragon, their sex, and how thoroughly we are supposed to clean said cloaca. For a Dragon of your size, we normally choose the most thorough solution, meaning we send Frodo in with a Haz-Mat suit, and he proceeds from within…”

Fafnir’s eyes widened as Hrun imitated the motions of scrubbing something with a broom and a hose. He was just moments away from protesting, when he saw the big, thieving grin on the Kobold’s face, but before he could say anything, Hrun continued.

“... jokes aside, my dear Master Fafnir, since you are a male Dragon, we would love for you to slide out your lance, so two of your most skilled employees will be able to professionally tend to it, before we will use a special cleaning agent and soft sponges to take care of out the rest of your vent, as far as you will tolerate it, that is. We guarantee absolute customer satisfaction, and if asked for, we will even provide the happy end.”

His voice still sounded all business, but his thievish grin had softened to a degree that he now looked serious but still a tad too impish for the Dragon’s taste. Fafnir looked at him, scrutinizing his statement and posture, and taking a moment before he slowly nodded.

“Well we will see about that satisfaction you promise.”

He gave a low growl, and it seemed as if his eyes began to glow in a brighter red. Now it was Hrun who had to judge whether his customer was serious or not. The staredown lasted nearly five seconds, before both of them almost simultaneously broke into crackling laughter, whereas Fafnir could not take it quite as far as Hrun, since he was still worked on around his face.

“Oh Master Fafnir, you nearly had me there!”

The forebold admitted and wiped his brow.

“Please, don’t move as much…”

Interjected Loomny, who was still trying to reshape the broken scales at the Dragon's chin. She had already shaped much of the scales along his lower jaw and was now using her dexterous paws to elongate the scales as promised, to draw out and emphasize that beard-like structure. Luckily for her the cement had already begun to dry and was now much more stiff, behaving almost like a putty, which she could first shape in her little paws and then attach to the scales. It already took shape, giving his brutish head a sharper look and slowly changing his appearance.

Fafnir grinned, but stiffened and ceased all movements, so the small female could work in peace.

Meanwhile, the others had pretty much finished their work and waited for an opportunity to get the Dragon back on all fours, so they could begin polishing the scales on his back.

---

On the other end of the Dragonwash, a second team of Kobolds was feverishly working on the Dragoness who had arrived after Fafnir. She had opted against the rotary brushes and preferred to be cleaned the old fashioned way, meaning that they would be working on her for quite some time, as Fafnir was informed by Hrun. He would most likely get an opportunity to chat with her, if she was inclined. Hrun could very well see how the big Dragon's eyes lid up briefly, before Faff focussed back on Loomny, who was applying the finishing touches on his “beard”. It would still need some time to dry fully, but it would be stable enough in a moment or two, so he could shuffle back onto all fours.

One last time she controlled the fit and arrangement of what she had created and gave a thumbs-up. Fafnir nodded and took a hold of the platform to right himself again, so the Kobolds could begin the process of polishing his scales and put on the final touches on the exterior. He rose to his feet and lavishly stretched limb after limb and spread his wings to their full extent. He almost blocked out the sun with the magnificent display, casting a shadow onto the whole team. With a deep growl that gradually shifted its tone to a low groan, he settled back down and folded up his wings against his massive frame, before crouching down onto the platform again. With a satisfied smile, he looked at the awestruck Kobolds.

“You may continue.”

He said and carefully laid his head onto the keck, as not to touch the ground with his still only semidry new scales. Immediately, he was swarmed by the Kobolds, who climbed all over him and began to polish his scales and horns. They used some sort of polishing compound that smelled almost nice, and the special brushes they used had much stiffer and shorter bristles. It almost tickled when they worked on his smoother, less thick scales at the side of his neck and around his wings–areas where much more movement would occur. In contrast, he did not feel a thing on the thick armored scales on his back. Sure, the pressure told him roughly where a Kobold was, but that was as much sensation as he got from it.

It did not take them long, however, to realize that attempting to polish the rigid, rough scales that made up his heavily armored back was futile.There simply was no way they would achieve any presentable result on them any time soon, so they concentrated their efforts on the smaller, more flexible scales, which indeed took on a subtle but nice sheen after polishing. The contrast between the matte scales on his back and chest, and his scales on his flanks, neck and tail was striking now. The latter caught the light and reflected it like black marble or a calm, deep lake on a moonless night, made him look sharp, and gave him a distinct look. They had spent a good amount of time polishing his horns and had given them a nice satin finish. Now they looked as if they were made of onyx, and the faint ivory veins running through them gave them a depth that was not visible before.

When they descended on his claws, he had to restrain himself from twitching. Whatever they did to his paws and claws, it tickled so bad, and he was afraid that if he gave in in the slightest, he would hurt or injure any of the Kobolds working on them. In the end, they looked as if they had made them out of blackened steel. Carefully, he flexed them and looked at the intricate texture, imagining himself tearing some mages or knights apart with them, and he couldn't keep a wide smile from creeping on his lips. He was only pulled out of his musings by the squeaky voice of the forebold:

“I see you like our work so far. We would now commence with working on your teeth and…”

Hrun cleared his throat and pointed downwards in the general direction of his own crotch.

“... more delicate areas.”

He concluded in a more subdued tone and added a sly smile to the last words. Faff pulled his lips back into a knowing grin and lowered his head to Hrun’s level.

“Oh you cheeky little Kobold. I should snack you just for your attitude alone, but I have to confess that I like your kind of humor, so you are safe…”

The Dragon purred.

“... for now.”

He added and playfully snapped his jaws shut; just inches in front of Hrun. The Kobold didn’t even flinch, and Fafnir had to admit that it did impress him. He had indeed not given the Kobold that much courage in the first place.

The Kobold was far from unaffected by it, but he did not want to let it show. He knew all too well that if a Dragon wanted to, there was not much they were able to do to keep said Dragon from just eating them.

When Fafnir lifted his head again and looked down at him, Hrun inwardly sighed his relief and licked his lips. His mouth had felt dry rather suddenly.

“Master Fafnir, may I ask you to lay on your side one last time, so my team may finish what we have started?”

He managed to speak the sentence with a firm voice and look his customer straight in the eye. The Dragon in question just smiled widely and nodded.

“As you wish.”

He said softly and brought his body down to his side once more. With a groan that sounded almost content, he stretched out his legs, giving access to his most delicate areas and laid his head back on the keck.

“Hhrmm… What did you say again? Now you need me unsheathed?”

Fafnir asked in amusement and slowly let himself slide free. Out of the corner of his eye, he first saw and then heard their reaction. He wasn’t the biggest Dragon around, not by a long shot, but since Dragons never really stopped growing and he was pretty old by now, he was of considerable size. He grinned to himself and waited for them to regain their composure. As per usual it was Hrun who found his voice again the quickest.

“Well, dear Master Fafnir, this is a magnificent example if I ever saw one. Please relax and let our team do its deed. We will make sure it will be as pleasant an experience as possible.”

The Kobold smiled and made his way to Fafnir’s head, while a team of Kobolds got to work on his family jewels with pleasantly temperate water, soft sponges, and what felt like something very slippery. Faff shuddered as they touched him the first time. Even though he had anticipated it, it still was such a strange and alien sensation for him. Hrun came to a stop next to his head and flashed him his best service-provider smile.

“We will work on your mouth simultaneously if you don’t mind. To be extra thorough, one of our Kobolds will climb inside, while a small team will work from the outside. Doing it this way will be much quicker and less strenuous for you, because you can close your maw again as soon as he is in, and the team can work in parallel.”

Hrun explained and a troop of five smaller Kobolds came to him. They all wore the same aprons and had a toolbelt strapped around their waists. Fafnir looked at them and raised his brow.

“You want to sit on my tongue… in my mouth… while my jaws are shut?”

He asked and looked at the smallest of the Kobolds, who just seemed to shrink even more, before he laid his gaze back on Hrun.

“I am really tempted here, having a little snack on my tongue for so long, and all I have to do is swallow, for the little one to be gone.”

He added in an almost serious tone and Hrun just grinned and nodded.

“It is something like a rite of passage. If he survives, he will be on cloaca-duty.”

The forebold replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The expression on his face did hold up for all of five seconds before he burst into laughter, and the big Dragon joined in with a chuckle of his own.

“Oh I almost had you there Master Fafnir, but jokes aside, Gimini here is coated head to toe in a special agent. You would throw up if he would not sit on his little cushion.”

Explained Hrun calmly and Fafnir looked at the Kobold pointed out by the forebold.

He lifted up his head and took a sniff of Gimini, before curling his lips up in a disgusted snarl. The agent had a pungent stench to it that alone was threatening to churn the Dragon's stomach.

“Ooh, no worries there. This I will not swallow.”

Said Fafnir and recoiled at the thought of having the Kobold sitting on his tongue. Gimini, as well as Hrun, could not help but grin widely at that comment. In the end Fafnir laid down his head again and hesitantly opened his maw wide, so Gimini could get into position.

The Kobold got his pillow, his tools and carefuĺly stepped into the big Dragons mouth. He placed down the pillow on Fafnir's tongue and took a seat, orienting himself inside. Once situated he gave a thumbs up to Hrun.

“You may now close your jaws now, Master Fafnir.”

Exclaimed the forebold and saw how the deadly maw of the Dragon closed slowly around his colleague. He could see how much Faff had to fight his urge to spit Gemini out again, while simultaneously being stimulated much more pleasantly at the other end of his body.

“You are doing great, Master Fafnir. Please keep your lips pulled back, so my team can begin their work on your teeth from the outside.”

Explained Hrun and thought,

*Not to mention, to keep poor Gimini from suffocating.*

Fafnir fixed him with one eye and growled.

“Oh, ge’ i’ do’e a’rea’y.”

He replied, sounding somewhat annoyed, while the rest of the team got to work at a wave of Hrun. They used an assortment of tools, scrapes, files, chisels and a few brushes and sponges to get his teeth to a nice ivory again. While doing so, they nearly constantly shouted codes to one another that made no sense whatsoever to Fafnir. The Dragon raised his brow and looked at Hrun, who only nodded and made a placant gesture at him.

“I will explain it when they are done, Master Fafnir.”

Smiled the forebold and watched as his team worked feverishly on both ends of the big black beast. At some point he heard Gimini shout a few codes that made him chuckle and then laugh out loud, earning him a glare from Fafnir.

“Oh, he just said that he found out why your mouth smells even worse than the agent we covered him in. But he will fix that real quick.”

Explained Hrun, and Fafnir just sighed.

When he looked over to his other team lovingly tending to the Dragon’s more delicate parts, he saw how it twitched under the care of his workers and how every once in a while, Fafnir’s hind legs would almost kick out.

It was a sight to behold, as the mighty Dragon fought valiantly not to give in to the machinations of the small, carefully working Kobolds. Nevertheless, the sensation of getting his most sensitive part cleaned so thoroughly was getting to him.

Meanwhile over at his muzzle, the Kobolds were working feverishly. Using small chisels and files, they got rid of hard plaque, and pliers removed the remaining loose debris, removing the obvious things first and tidying up, so to say. After that, they brushed his dagger-like teeth to restore their ivory color and sheen.

"Do not worry, Master Fafnir, we are working most carefully. Any pain will only be short lived, and is most likely due to foreign objects lodged in between your teeth and gums. We will use a balm made of herbal essences to soothe any inflammations and numb the pain."

Explained Hrun calmly, which made Faff roll his eyes. The forebold just snorted slightly, then smiled, shrugged and turned back to his team. Throughout their conversation, they were finishing the work at Fafnir's teeth and switching to softer brushes to massage and clean his gums. As they started applying the balm as well, it smelled of alcohol and herbs and was feeling cold on his gums, but soon, the Dragon seemed to relax a bit again.

With as many helping hands, it did not take the team of cleaners long to declare their work as done, and they stepped back from his muzzle as Fafnir opened his eyes and fixed Hrun. The forebold took a quick look at the teeth, then stepped back himself and nodded at Fafnir to open his maw again to let Gimini evacuate. Fafnir looked at the Kobold and hesitated for a moment. It would still be just a quick swallow and the little runt on his tongue would just be gone, but then again, there was this agent they put on Gemini, and throwing up was not on his list for today. So he complied with Hrun's plea and opened up.

When the brave Kobold reappeared, however, he had a whole bunch of partly decayed body parts, rusted pieces of armor, and other debris that he threw out of the Dragon's mouth, before stepping over the row of deadly teeth and taking his pillow with him. As he stood before Fafnir, he bowed deeply.

“Thank you for not chewing on me, Master Fafnir. I think I have removed everything from your mouth that does not belong there.”

He said, and Faff slowly closed his jaws again, working them a bit and grunted.

“Hrrmm… tha’ i’ goo’...”

Mumbled the Dragon, still working his tongue and smacking it against the roof of his maw to return sensation on his gums and tongue. Hrun nodded. He knew this reaction all too well, as most Dragon had slight difficulties after the cleaning, but those would pass quickly.

“How does it feel, Master Fafnir?”

He asked and was rewarded with a low groan, as the Dragon turned his head toward the forebold.

“Still a bit strange, and the taste of that stuff is still in my tongue. You have to find a better solution for that.”

Fafnir said and ran his big tongue over his lips and snout, before shivering briefly and looking down towards his nether regions.

“Careful there…”

He growled and bent his hind leg down to gently prod one of the Kobolds, who was a bit too eager in cleaning out his vent. Hrun followed his gaze and saw the Kobold in question stuck almost up to his hip between the base of Faff’s shaft and the scales around his slit. One of his colleagues pulled him out of there, much to said Kobold’s annoyance.

“Hey Jenna, I ain’t done yet. There's all sorts of…”

That was as far as he came, before the stare of both Hrun and Fafnir cut him off. Whatever was just about to yell at his colleague got stuck deep in his throat, and he almost choked on his words. The Kobold scrambled and bowed deeply before the black Dragon and uttered his apologies.

“I am so sorry Master Fafnir, if I was too engrossed in fulfilling my duties, but there still is some residue left that should be removed, so you and your mate will be able to enjoy whatever you wish to do to the fullest.”

His voice almost stumbled over itself while speaking. Fafnir bent his leg further down and nudged the Kobold softly with it. Well, softly for a Dragon was still more than enough to knock the small and scrawny being over.

---

While the Kobold got up from the ground again, though, they heard the draconian equivalent of a wolf whistle. Immediately, Fafnir’s head snapped around and his gaze fixed the sleek Dragoness that was all but done with her service and looked over to them. Fafnir, still lying on his side, his member on full display was a sight to behold, and it was very obvious where the Dragoness was looking, since her tail swished excitedly behind her and she smiled superciliously at him.

Fafnir was not quite sure whether he ought to be embarrassed or proud, but lying on his side, his legs spread was not quite the pose he would strike to impress a Dragoness. Slowly, he lowered his legs, pulled his member back into his sheath, and rolled onto his stomach to stand up. It only needed a brief look over at Hrun and his team to tell them that they were not done yet. The forebold nodded, while Fafnir got up from the platform and built himself up to his full height.

The big, bad, black Dragon stretched himself and slightly unfolded his wings, before rearranging them against his body. He slightly cocked his head to one side and smiled at the other Dragon. She was elegant for sure, almost the same size as Fafnir, but much more slender in build. Her scales were of a strange, hard to describe color. Somewhat iridescent and changing in their hue almost like mother-of-pearl, it made her lines blur against their surroundings. It was hard to look at her for too long in the bright sunlight, but then again, it was enticing to do so, as her whole body seemed to glow in pastel colors, always shifting, never resting.

“Like a pearl…”

He repeated his thought softly, and only now the proverbial penny dropped and he recognized her. The excitement caught him off guard, but he was just barely able not to let it show. She slowly came over to Fafnir and the Kobolds,who quickly skittered away and used the sudden break to clean out their buckets and sponges, waiting for their customer, so they could continue. With each of her confident steps, she swayed her hips, her long tail swishing left and right behind her. She clearly was excited, as the avid appendage sometimes as much as lashed to the other side, sending spectacles of light in Faff’s direction. Her ice-blue eyes sparkled as she looked him up and down, and the more she scrutinized him, the wider her smile became.

Faff on the other hand seemed to be calmness personified, as he stood there and all but swelled with every step she made towards him. He pushed himself up to his full height, presenting his formidable build, while his smile oozed confidence, and his stance almost burst with pride. Only when she was almost standing right in front of him, her head at the same level as his, something akin to a jolt went through him.

“Long time no see, Fafnir, Ruin of Kingdoms, Bringer of Death, and if I heard correctly, Black Demon.”

Purred the Dragoness in a soft spoken voice that was so much different from the rough and raspy uttering her black conspecific sported.

“Indeed, Iria, Queen of Ice, Princess of the northern Winds and Guardian of the Aurora.”

He replied quietly. For a while, they stared at each other through the invisible mist of almost palpable tension between them, as if they pitted their strength against one another without showing it to the world.

In the end it was Fafnir whose features softened first and who submitted to the pearlescent Dragoness. Just a moment later, she gave in to him as well. In a surprising show of affection, she pushed in to him, brushing her snout along his and left it there for the moment.

“It is good to see you alive and well. I have heard so much bad news as of late.”

She whispered, while Fafnir nodded slightly, pushing his head further along hers and bending it around her neck just slightly. Still, he did not take the last step towards full contact with her.

“Indeed it is. I have heard about Amun, I am so sorry.”

He answered in an equally soft tone. It was her who finally took the step forward and pushed into the black Dragon, brushing her head along his neck and resting it on his broad back. Unfolding his wings and gently wrapping them around her, he enclosed her in his version of a heartfelt hug and allowed her weight to settle more comfortably on his shoulders and back.

Amun had been her mate for many centuries, and he had fallen in the more recent fights. It had made the rounds quickly, as there had not been many Dragons of his description. Losing a long time mate was a devastating blow for every Dragon, even more so in these trying times.

Iria sighed heavily, before slowly backing out of Faff’s embrace. Carefully, he released her again and pulled his wings back against his body. As they stood before each other again, it was Fafnir who looked her up and down.

“You still look as stunning as you did almost five hundred years ago, if anything, the years have only made you even more beautiful.”

He said with a smile and Iria waved him off with a wing.

“Oh, and you are still terrible at flirting; but I heard that you have been through many battles in other domains recently, always running in head first.”

This statement elicited a wide smile from the black Dragon.

“You know me, I am no tactician. But enough of that. I would never have expected to see you this far south.”

“Well, with Amun’s death, the northerners have become cocky. It is not safe anymore up north. There never were so many Dragons up north to begin with, but now, we are all but evicted from the northern kingdoms.”

Iria explained and looked to the ground, scratching restless circles into the dirt beneath her claws. Fafnir huffed, carefully laying his paw on hers.

“Don’t… keep ‘em sharp. You will need them in fighting condition, to rip and tear, until it is done. But yes, I know, the humans and elves rely on their numbers. They are legion, while our numbers dwindle with time. Will you search for a new mate?”

The question came very much out of left field for her, and so she just looked at him, lost for words. He nodded softly.

“It is alright, Iria, I am looking for a new mate as well. We need to regain our numbers if we ever want to wi… hmmm… well, survive this war.”

He insisted, but Iria shook her sleek and beautiful head. It almost had something of a scolding.

“No, no… my dear Fafnir, this is not how it works. Sure, our numbers are dwindling, but you can’t just come up to a ‘ness like this. How did Emmy fall for you back in the days?”

She began, but there was no anger in her voice, only bemusement about an old Dragon who had never been got at wooing a girl. The smile on her face was one of benevolence and affection towards a friend, another of her kin.

“A ‘ness like me needs a mate that is stable, a mate that will not run off to distant lands for months. A ‘ness like me needs a Dragon able and willing to stand by my side at all times. How many offspring have you sired, Fafnir? One? Maybe another without knowing? Amun and I have sired virtually hundreds of offspring; and he was always at my side, helping me rear them up, nurturing me and our hatchlings with his love and presence.”

She continued in a soft tone. She stepped forwards again, brushing her head up against his cheek as she saw that she had hit a sore spot.

“My apology. I shouldn’t have…”

Iria added, but felt him shake his head softly.

“It is alright Iria. You are right. I was never reliable, always on the move, on the run. From what, I don’t even know myself. When I finally had a reason to settle down, they took Emmy away from me, as if the ancients forbid it.”

Fafnir whispered and leaned into the Dragoness’ caresses, enjoying the contact. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“I may simply not be made for a stable life, not destined to find a mate for life and start a family, build a legacy. Well, other than being the Ruin of Kingdoms.”

He added and carefully nibbled at her neck, making her shudder.

“Mmhmm… maybe, maybe… only one way to find out.”

She answered and held contact with him.

“Who will be the ‘ness of your choice?”

She asked softly, returning the nibbles and eliciting a playful growl from the black Dragon.

“Nellja, from the Bladewing clan.”

Iria nuzzled her snout under his chin and smiled at his rather confident declaration.

“Hmmm you have cut your work out for yourself; the Bladewings are demanding folk, but your prowess in that regard were never in question.”

With a knowing grin, she pulled her head back and looked at him, her ice-blue eyes filled with mirth. Fafnir nodded; he knew that Nellja would put him through his paces, but he was looking forward to it. He returned her grin and tilted his head slightly.

“My offer stands…”

He said and his eyes darted down for just a fraction of a second, and when they returned his grin widened, which in turn made Iria shuffle her wings and flick her tail. She took just a tad too long to answer, though.

“It was good seeing you again Fafnir, but as alluring it is, I will have to decline… at least for now.”

She finally said and nodded softly while Fafnir smiled. She may have declined this time, but there had been consideration, so it was a win in his book. Besides, he already had an appointment with another lovely Dragoness.

*Well, ‘lovely’ doesn’t quite fit…*

He added in his head, but the presence of Iria in front of him kept him from letting his conscience drift to the upcoming meeting, while his smile took on a more somber tone. It was time to part ways once more, in the hopes of meeting again, under different circumstances.

“The pleasure was all mine, Iria. May the winds always carry you so we shall meet again.”

He replied softly and stepped forward, nuzzling her softly; a gesture that was returned with emphasis. The pearlescent Dragoness closed her eyes and enjoyed the short but intense contact, before gently pulling back.

“We will meet again, Black Demon. Maybe then, I will take you up on your offer.”

She answered, and there was more than just humor in her voice, maybe a promise, but before he could answer something incredibly stupid, she turned on her heels, unfolded her wings, and jumped off with a flick of her long tail.

Her mighty wings launched her into the air with incredible ease, and she gained height quickly. Fafnir could only watch after her, as her sleek silhouette blended in with the sky.

“Hmmm, oh yes, my lovely Iria, we will meet again…”

He mumbled with a wide and excited grin on his lips and shuffled his wings. Somehow, this short encounter had left him all giddy, and he could hardly contain himself, as he shuddered and gazed at the clear sky for a bit longer. Then he heard someone clear his throat, it sounded almost funny.

“Master Fafnir, we need to finish our service.”

Fafnir was somewhat annoyed, as it pulled him from his musings, and he looked down at the team, waiting for him to lay back down and let them finish their work. It took him a moment, but then something like a small jolt went through him, and keeping his smile, he nodded, if only to stop Hrun's impatient tapping on the Kobold's wrist.

“Of course; you shall finish what you have started.”

He said and turned around, to return to the platform. Careful not to trample any of the Kobolds down or knock them over with his tail, he took the last few steps and slowly laid down again. With a pleasure filled growl, he relaxed and unsheathed his member again. Patiently, he waited for the inevitable reaction of the cleaning team, and it came almost as fast as he had anticipated. Having talked to Iria and the thoughts about mating had had a profound effect on his copulation organ, and when it came into view, he was slick from the very tip to the deepest recesses of his vent. The Dragon had to fight hard to restrain himself from snickering as he heard their silent protest and their sighs. They would need to clean him all over again. Fafnir huffed softly and looked at Hrun.

“I will tip you and your team nicely, no worries.”

He purred and waited for them to get started. Hrun just nodded, then gave the order to continue.

As they went on with the cleaning, he shivered. Getting his Member touched in this state, even if it was just cleaning Kobolds doing their duty, felt wonderful. He took deliberately slow and deep breaths, trying not to get even more aroused by it.

Every once in a while, he growled or murred, while his leg twitched and his tail flicked from side to side.

“Who knew getting clean could feel so good, hm?”

It obviously was a rhetorical question, as much was clear, but the big Dragon nodded nonetheless.

“It does feel very good, wonderful even. But your team needs to be careful, or I might just make a mess all over again.”

Whispered Faff and stretched his hind leg back all the way. Hrun chuckled and nodded.

“Do not worry, Master Fafnir, my team are professionals; they know when to stop.”

He assured the big Dragon but looked at his team with a certain relief that said team would be done soon. They were just shy of cleaning out the innards of Faff’s sheath, while some were already finishing up and collecting their tools and buckets.

Fafnir growled once more as one of their cleaners drew a lungfull of air and went in all the way up to his hip to get the last bit cleaned. While the 'bold cleaned the one side, the Dragon twitched slightly, and when the Kobold moved around in there to get to the last bit on the other side, the platform groaned as Faff dug his claws into the wood and gritted his teeth hissing. The big Dragon began to tense up and his red eyes fixed Hrun, just as the forebold called his employee to finish up.

“It’s about time… hrnnn…”

Fafnir groaned and shuddered profoundly as they pulled out the Kobold from his more delicate of places. It took a moment for Faff to relax again, but soon, he settled down again, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

“Congratulations, Master Fafnir, we are done; you are as clean as a Dragon can get.”

Stated Hrun and stepped back to give room for Fafnir to stand up. The black beast on the platform groaned, then slowly rolled onto its stomach and pushed itself up on all fours.

Once again, Fafnir stretched himself long and thoroughly, limb by limb. He unfolded his massive wings and yawned to loosen up his jaws.

The scales on his head and flanks caught the light and gleamed with a healthy sheen, while the rougher scales on his back remained a dark charcoal black, making him look even more menacing. He lashed his tail back and forth, enjoying the wind whistling along his scales and grinned. He felt great. As he slowly and lavishly folded his wings to his flanks again, he looked down at the small gathering of Kobolds. While feeling a little hungry, he would, in his endless generosity, refrain from feasting on them for the time being. Carefully, he reached for the pouch on his hind leg, and after rummaging around for a while, he pulled out something that looked like a stone. It was a stone, in fact, but at least a particularly rounded one, as Hrun had to acknowledge. The Dragon brought his paw up to his face and looked at it for a minute before nodding.

“This is a geode I found over at the western shores. It should have a sufficient treasure inside it to compensate you for the extended stay.”

Fafnir said and placed it in front of Hrun.

“You will need to open it carefully.”

He added before stepping off the platform and spreading his wings once more. Swiping with his tail almost violently, he took a few steps into the open, before crouching slightly.

With a beat of his mighty wings, he jumped off and raced for the sky, leaving the Kobolds alone in their Dragonwash. It truly was a sight to behold how he glistened in the late morning sun; their work, of course. The Dragon was somewhat interesting as well. Finally, Hrun looked down at the geode. It looked massive and thus valuable.

“So, what do we do with that now?”

The End?!

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edited by

El Poyo Diabolo

and with much apprechiated Help from

Bordox

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo

Transitions

After Fafnir had finished his stopover at the spa, he flew high in the clouds toward the north. With the sun at his back and the fluffy white clouds beneath him, he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

It wasn't just because he was thoroughly clean — that helped, there was no doubt about it — no, it was because it felt right. He was on his way to Nellja, to his date, to his moonlight serenade.

It was always quiet up here. The birds couldn't fly that high, and the few wizards who could wouldn't dare attack a dragon in his domain. He was truly alone, and he enjoyed it. He lazily closed his eyes and sailed through the ice-cold air, revelling in the feeling of it whistling through his scales, because he had time. All the time in the world. Of course, it was a long way to his meeting place with Nellja, but he would be more than fast enough to arrive on time. It was not proper for a lady, let alone a dragoness, to keep others waiting, but if he arrived too early, it would make him look like a desperate young dragon who had been given such an opportunity for the first time.

No, arriving on time for this appointment was important!

He would wait until the time was right, only then would he make his entrance, as was proper.

His slow flight took away the time pressure, but at the same time ensured that he had time to think about what this appointment meant. He belonged to an old clan, although "clan" was too much of an exaggeration. He belonged to a dragon species, which was more accurate, that had always been very conservative, and his parents, or rather his mother, as he had never known his father, had raised him according to the old customs.

"Ha, raised …"

he laughed; it was a cold, joyless laugh.

"… she didn't raise you, old toad, she just drilled the rules you live by into you so thoroughly that it's hard to break them."

he chided himself as he dodged a cloud towering high in the sky.

It was true, his mother had been a strict teacher. From the very beginning, she had instructed him and his four siblings in the "old ways," as she called them. He remembered it as if it were yesterday.

"A dragon is the highest of all living creatures!"

That was the first rule they had learned, and pretty much the only one he could wholeheartedly agree with.

"A dragon bows its head to no one!"

And just as his mother had never bowed her head to anything or anyone, he had bowed his head, just like his siblings. They had all bowed their heads, otherwise their mother would probably have killed them.

"A dragon takes what he wants!"

He had lived by this principle for centuries. He had plundered kingdoms, amassed treasures, and lived the life of a dragon. It was a free life, a wild life! A life before he met Emmy. His Emmy.

A feeling of heaviness came over him now as he thought of his partner. He hadn't taken Emmy; she had taken his heart and never given it back.

After meeting her, he had thought for the first time about the rules his mother had taught him.

Yes, dragons were the highest beings, but even among dragons, there were some who stood higher than others. Emmy had been one of them. In his eyes, she had been higher than he could ever have been. She had been the apple of his eye. He had bowed his head before her, but not under duress, as he had with his mother. Voluntarily. He had allowed her to steal his heart. He had sworn his loyalty to her.

"A dragon binds himself for eternity."

Eternity. They had been together for a century, sharing joy and sorrow, loving each other as he had never thought possible before. For Emmy, he had tamed his restless spirit and settled down. With her, he had fathered his only offspring, and after her death, he had laid an entire kingdom to waste, almost losing himself in the process.

Not eternity, but a whole hundred years. At the side of a goddess.

Until humans took her away from him.

He had to admit that he still hadn't gotten over it, and now that Tyria had flown away, he found himself alone with his thoughts again.

Dark thoughts, inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts that a dragon shouldn't have.

As much as he wanted to agree with his mother that a dragon should commit for eternity, dragons lived too long to spend all that time alone. Not after he had tasted the sweet fruit.

Admittedly, he was old, an experienced dragon, but he still had a good five to eight hundred years ahead of him, barring any untoward incidents.

"Emmy …"

he whispered into the wind, almost hoping for an inspiration as to whether what he was doing was the right thing.

He was going to meet Nellja, and unlike him, she belonged to a real clan. Her kind did not live alone or with a single partner; instead, Bladewing Dragons lived in communities. However, they kept to themselves most of the time and rarely accepted dragons from outside their clan.

He wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to become part of this clan and its restrictions, because he actually liked his freedom; nevertheless, he wanted to give it a try with Nellja. After that, he could always decide.

In the distance, he could now see the mountain peaks where he wanted to meet her. The high peaks of the Drakensberg Mountains, covered with snow even in summer, as the humans had christened them in their inexplicable compulsion to give everything and everyone a name, formed the natural border to the northern kingdoms. Humans had only recently invaded this area. It had once been the home of the dragons, and few other creatures had managed to gain a foothold in the harsh highlands. But since humans had spread more and more throughout the area, the number of dragons had also declined in the northern regions.

It was a good place for a meeting, because the mountains had their own magic and beauty. Perhaps it would make his decision about Nellja easier.

Fafnir had met her on the battlefield, much like he had met Emmy all those years ago.

Her blood-red scales had immediately caught his eye. She had stood out dazzlingly from the turmoil of battle, into which she had thrown herself headlong. Unlike most other dragons of her size, she did not use her fire in battle, but preferred direct, physical confrontation with her opponent, which had garnered him some respect for the younger dragon.

After the battle, he had approached her and expressed his admiration for her performance in battle. She had smiled and thanked him before returning the respect she typically showed him.

"You fought well too — for a dragon of your age."

He had noticed the humor in her voice, but the barb had still stung, bruising his ego more than he was willing to admit. So he had stood up to his full height and tried to intimidate her, but she was more amused than frightened. She was smaller than him, significantly smaller, but that didn't bother him, because she had a strong, indomitable character. But it wasn't just her character that appealed to him: he liked her stocky build, her small round head with ram-like horns that had been cracked in many battles and stabilized with golden rings. They suited her character.

He had found her attractive, but hadn't given it much thought, because he knew that her clan didn't really tolerate outsiders. That was another reason why he had dismissed the encounter as harmless flirting, until Nellja had approached him and asked if he wasn't interested …

"What …?"

He had asked, stunned, when she then asked him on the battlefield if he wanted to mate with her. She had just smiled at him, her short tail wagging behind her and her red eyes almost glowing.

"Spring is coming soon, and with it the time for another clutch of eggs. I just haven't found a partner for this season yet."

It had sounded so casual that it had caught him completely off guard. He had stammered, hemmed and hawed, and almost made a fool of himself in front of a dragoness who was not even half his age. But she had simply lowered her head and looked up at him from below, fanning out her blade-tipped wings and showing herself to be submissive. He would have expected such behavior from someone younger, but not from a dragoness looking for a mate.

"It's nothing, I just need your seed …"

Again, her voice had that almost casual tone. It might not have been a big deal for her, since she didn't have a permanent partner in her clan, but for him it was.

Of course, he had mated with others before he got together with Emmy, but never for "mating purposes"; it was never about producing offspring. It had just been for relaxation, for fun, and perhaps to be able to brag to the others, even though he would never admit that.

He had tried to explain it to her, had told her that he would not mate with her if she was not willing to turn this affair into a real relationship. She had evaded the issue, had looked for excuses, only to agree in the end that she would meet him at a neutral location, and then she would see where it led. Not really satisfied with the answer but unable to find another compromise for her, Faff had agreed to this suggestion and they had flown their separate ways.

Fafnir, an old-school dragon, had flown straight from the battlefield to the dragon wash and dressed up for his big night. The thought of it made him chuckle again. Yes, he would get himself a few kobolds, too, for sure. They were amusing, hard-working, and made a nice little snack when times got tough. His loud laughter echoed through the thin mountain air.

The sun slowly sank behind the distant mountains as Fafnir flew over the first peaks of the sprawling mountain range. The snow on the mountain tops sparkled golden in the light of the setting sun and the shadows in the valleys were deep. Night fell quickly here. As soon as the sun sank behind the next peak, shadows enveloped everything. This didn't bother a dragon much; they had excellent night vision, and although most of them preferred daylight, they all knew that dragons were especially dangerous at night.

Meanwhile, the large, coal-black dragon flew a long loop, orienting himself by the ancient peaks of the mountains that now surrounded him. He was early, even by his standards, but quickly found a beautiful peak nearby that met his requirements, and with a few powerful wing beats, he flew the short distance to land there. The loose snow covering the summit was stirred up by the downdraft from his mighty wings and immediately carried away by the icy wind that constantly blew at these heights. Fafnir watched the rapidly dispersing cloud of snow crystals for a moment before looking up at the rapidly darkening sky, as he always did. Unable to do anything else, he wrapped his wings tightly around himself and waited.

"Emmy …"

he whispered softly, waiting for a response that never came. Fafnir's lips twitched slightly, almost forming a smile, but the actual expression never materialized. Emmy had never answered him, not since that fateful day. Perhaps it really was time to move on, both figuratively and literally. There was no longer any reason to hope for a sign. Fafnir looked around once more, watching as the last light of day illuminated the highest peaks from behind, making them glow, while the shadows made them look like the sharp teeth of a dragon. When he looked up at the sky, the stars were already twinkling; it was indeed time. She would not wait for him forever.

Slowly, he unfolded his wings again and stretched upward, whereupon the icy wind welcomed him with open arms and almost lifted him off the summit. It was a good feeling, a feeling of weightlessness, of buoyancy.

He looked forward to meeting Nellja, no matter how it would turn out in the end. Slowly, he sucked the icy, thin air into his lungs and, together with a powerful burst of fire that lit up the summit and banished the shadows from the slopes, he let out a thunderous cry that still echoed in the valleys around him.

Before it had even faded away, he jumped off the summit, accompanied by a flap of his wings, and flew further north. He flew faster now, drawn to this meeting. Not only physically, but also, or rather, mentally. He wanted to meet Nellja, and yes, he wanted to mate with her. He would mate with her.

The doubts that had plagued him just moments ago had almost completely faded into the background. Of course, he knew that Emmy couldn't have answered, couldn't have disagreed, how could she, but he had to give her this last chance; for his conscience. And she hadn't done it.

With renewed vigor, he flew over the peaks, faster, closer to the slopes. More daring and bold, he ventured maneuvers that he would otherwise only use when the wild hunt itself was hot on his heels. It seemed like an eternity since he had felt so full of energy.

The black dragon, now barely distinguishable against the dark background of the sky, flew so close to the tops of the snow-covered peaks that he felt he could reach down and trigger an avalanche as he flew past. Unlike before, he now adjusted his flight path to the geography of the peaks, diving down into the valleys before rising again and rushing just above the passes. More than once, he caught himself accompanying his maneuvers with sounds.

He plunged into a gorge after one of the peaks, his rough voice echoing off the walls of the narrow ravine.

"Ooouuuuuuhhhmmmm …"

The sound grew deeper the further he advanced. He strained to follow the twists and turns that had greedily eaten into the rock over the ages, while the whistling of his scales continued to swell in the headwind. Only when the walls of the gorge became so narrow that they were about to touch the tips of his wings did he break off his dive and climb back up at breakneck speed.

"Uuuuhuuummmoooooaaaahahahahaa …"

It took him a few wing beats to clear the last peak, and his laughter was loud and liberated. By now, the last peaks lay before him before he would reach the lake where he had arranged to meet Nellja.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. After all, he wanted to appear calm and confident when he arrived at the lake, not agitated like a young dragon in mating season. It took a few minutes, during which he glided calmly over the rooftops of the world and enjoyed the icy wind that helped cool his mind.

Fafnir knew these mountains well; in his youth, he had flown over the peaks many times, visiting foreign lands and the northern dragons. They had hunted ice giants here in the past, until one day they simply disappeared, then they hunted mountain trolls until they too had all vanished; they had probably simply killed them all. Exterminated, as humans called it. Today, there was not much left at these heights, a few species that had specialized in living on the rugged mountain slopes and in the eternal ice, but nothing that justified a hunt.

In one of the lower valleys, only the faint lights of a human settlement shimmered. Soon they would conquer the mountain peaks as well, and then the dragons would have no place left to retreat to.

"How ironic …"

muttered Fafnir as he thought about how many of the ancient races had already been wiped out by the dragons. In the course of history, dragons would probably also become nothing more than a footnote at some point; in a book that would be written by human hands.

"… someday, but not yet …"

he muttered grimly and flapped his mighty wings to avoid a snow-covered hill. He had to move on quickly so he wouldn't have to see that damn settlement anymore.

---

Seightings

A little later, he passed the last pass, although "pass" was the wrong word – it was more like the edge of a huge crater. In the middle, the water of the lake where Faff wanted to meet Nellja shimmered gently. The crater belonged to an ancient volcano. Since time immemorial, this lake had attracted dragons, because their affinity for fire also drew them to this place. Even though the volcano had not spewed fire and ash for a long time, the power of the earth's fire was still clearly felt here. The heat rising from the earth's interior had created a fertile, green oasis in the crater that was free of ice and snow all year round. The lake itself was almost circular and lay deep in the basin of the volcano. The slopes of the crater, which were steep at first but then quickly became flatter, were already densely covered with all kinds of trees and shrubs just below the rim.

The large black dragon flew over the edge of the crater and gazed down into the depths. For a moment, all he could see was dense vegetation and the lake, its smooth surface reflecting the moon, but then he spotted her, walking along the shore, her gaze fixed on the ground in front of her. Her dark red scales stood out only slightly from her surroundings in the pale moonlight, only the occasional reflections from the blades on the front of her wings betraying her position from a distance.

She obviously hadn't noticed him yet, so preoccupied was she with what she was doing, so Fafnir decided to circle around again and watch the dragoness on the lake shore a little longer. He couldn't quite make out what Nellja had between her claws, and it aroused his curiosity. What could be so interesting that she was so absorbed by it, for he was not a silent flyer, not at all.

Faff flew a wide loop and slowly spiraled deeper into the cauldron. It seemed as if she was examining something, repeatedly picking things up from the ground, looking at them, and then carelessly throwing them into the lake. A smile crept onto his lips. She was probably just bored. He looked up at the moon as a slight doubt crept into his mind. Had he perhaps taken too much time, but no, he was on time. Nellja had simply been too early.

"Impatient young thing …"

he smiled to himself and sucked the cold night air into his lungs. As he exhaled, the air carried his greeting in the form of a loud but benevolent roar into the crater, causing the dragon to startle slightly before turning in his direction. She seemed to search for him in the dark sky for a moment, but then such a broad smile spread across her lips that he could see it clearly even from a distance. Fafnir had never been a particularly elegant flyer, and this time, too, he attempted a gentle landing but then crashed into the sandbank next to the lake like a meteor. The dull impact sent small waves across the lake and stirred up the sand around him. Of course, it wasn't the entrance of a gentle drake, but he liked his rather brutal manner, because it made an impression on the humans and usually ensured that he had a little breathing space after landing before they descended on him. Nellja, however, who stood a good distance away from him and whose tail casually drew patterns in the loose ground, remained rather unimpressed. She just sat there quietly, briefly rearranged her wings, and nodded to him, but did not acknowledge his performance with any further emotion.

Fafnir flapped his wings one last time and then folded them against his massive body before nodding as well and slowly walking toward his date.

---

Getting to know someone

"It's good to see you, Nellja."

Faff called out to her, trying desperately to appear relaxed, but the excitement and tension colored his voice and made his movements seem rather stiff and tense. Nellja nodded again and bowed her head respectfully.

"I'm glad you're here too, Fafnir, or do you prefer ‘Black Demon’ these days?"

the younger dragon replied, the sarcasm in her voice unmistakable. He didn't care. These titles basically only meant something to humans; dragons didn't need them. Black Demon, Destroyer of Kingdoms, Bringer of Death—these were all names that humans had given him, and as flattering as they might be, he wasn't the first of his kind to collect them like trophies.

He stopped a few steps away from her and waited until she raised her head again. Normally, it was good and right for her to show him respect — he was, after all, the older and more experienced of the two — but tonight he wanted to meet her on equal terms, just as he had always done with Emmy. When she finally turned her gaze back to him and smiled somewhat uncertainly, he took the final step, pushing his head forward and wanting to rub it against hers, but Nellja flinched and dodged his obvious attempt to get closer.

Fafnir also cautiously pulled his head back, but was surprised that the dragoness avoided this gesture of affection. On the other hand, it was possible that she had bruises after the fighting and that touching her would hurt, so instead he sat up and looked at her with a smile.

Her blood-red scales shimmered in the pale moonlight, and the golden rings she wore around her horns caught the light and impressively highlighted her striking face. His stare did not go unnoticed, of course, and the smaller dragon grinned openly at him.

"Do you like what you see?"

she asked, straightening up and spreading her wings slightly so that he could see her body better, while at the same time making sure that he only saw her best side. Not that there was anything else to see. The only thing missing was for her to turn her pelvis towards him and lift her tail. Fafnir's smile widened. Of course, it was a really superficial and downright intrusive form of courtship, but he couldn't deny its effect. Yes, he liked what he saw, more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh, but of course I like what I see. You are a jewel in the pale light of night. Really beautiful."

he replied, trying to make his dark, rough voice sound a little softer as his tail twitched back and forth more quickly. Nellja seemed pleased by his comment, for her eyes lit up briefly. Fafnir tilted his head slightly and approached her again. He wanted to make physical contact once more, but before his snout could touch her neck, Nellja recoiled again. This time, however, the black dragon did not let it go, but expressed his concern:

"What's the matter, Nellja? Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

he asked quietly, looking at her again, searching for signs of injury, but the young dragoness shook her head. Instead, without further ado, she turned her back to him, lifted her tail, and revealed her slit.

Until now, Fafnir had only been a little surprised that Nellja had offered herself to him so easily, but this behavior now completely confused him. He was simply not used to a dragoness just lifting her tail like that, but he also had to admit that he was unfamiliar with the customs of the Blade Wings.

Until now, he had always had to court potential sexual partners first, had to prove himself before union could occur.

He hesitated at first, but then took heart and shook his head.

"Wait, Nellja, this … this is too fast."

he said quietly and sat down next to her. He left a little distance between them so as not to pressure her and rustled his wings nervously. The dragoness next to him, however, reacted with disbelief, lowered her tail, and looked at him in complete astonishment. It took a moment, but then anger rose within her. She spun around to face him and almost shouted:

"What's wrong with you, why aren't you mounting me?"

The frustration was palpable in her voice, and in her anger she snapped at him. The sound of her jaws clapping together sounded terribly final.

Fafnir just shook his head. He knew she wouldn't really bite him in anger. It was a displacement activity, born of rage and frustration and because she didn't know what else to do at that moment. He slowly turned his head toward her and raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't come here to mate with you … well, at least not only that. I'm here to meet a dragoness I could imagine spending the rest of my life with, or at least to find out if she could be a mate for me at all. Of course, our union was part of this meeting … no, wrong … It would be a beautiful thing if it came to that …"

Faff began, trying his best to keep any form of accusation out of his voice.

"But I'm not just going to mate with you and then go my own way. Definitely not!"

The last sentence came with enough emphasis to make Nellja pause for a moment, but then she snapped at him again. This time she came dangerously close to his snout. Even if she didn't bite with full force, her sharp teeth could cause considerable damage even with such a casual snap.

"Oh, come on, Fafnir …"

she began, her voice vibrating with suspicion and sarcasm.

"… you know how it works. The clan needs more dragons, not cuddly salamanders. You, of all the dragons in the world, should know that best!"

The black dragon recoiled, this view of things disgusted him, but he didn't want to give up yet.

"What do you mean, the clan needs more ‘dragons’?"

he asked, but he could almost guess what was coming next. Nellja began to laugh loudly, coldly and joylessly, but when she saw that he was serious, she caught herself. First she stopped laughing, then she fell silent, swallowed, pressed her lips together, and took a slow, deep breath.

"Oh, Fafnir, please excuse my outburst, but I keep forgetting that you free-living dragons function differently than we do."

She sounded truly sincere and lowered her head to the ground, spreading her wings and laying them on the sand beside her, a very clear display of submission. Fafnir sighed softly and gently lifted her head again.

"There's no need to humiliate yourself now,"

he said gently and smiled at her. His glowing red eyes seemed incredibly soft, and there was no aggression in his demeanor. Of course he was superior to her, of course he was bigger, stronger, older; and if there was such a thing as a pecking order among dragons, he was clearly above her. But none of that mattered at the moment, at least not to him. He only saw the complete confusion in her eyes, saw the doubt and fear in them. He carefully withdrew his paw, gently stroking her jaw.

"I want to learn, I want to understand,"

he began, patting the soft ground next to him invitingly.

"Tell me about your clan, about the way you live,"

he urged her, keeping his voice free of any authority. Nellja looked at him silently for a moment before noticing that her own clawed paw was touching her chin where Fafnir's paw had been just a few moments ago. Embarrassed, she took her paw down and sat where she was.

"Well … as you surely know … we Bladewings live in large communities, breeding grounds you might call them. Many dragons together, under the leadership of an elder. There are strict hierarchies, which are necessary, otherwise chaos would reign. We all fight for the community, while the females are there to produce more offspring to fill the ranks so that we can continue the fight. So that we can survive."

She explained, her voice growing quieter with each sentence, and where she had looked him in the eyes at the beginning, her gaze had shifted to the floor by the end.

"Everywhere, the clan needs new blood to keep ours healthy. That's why the females are sent out; to find good, new dragons so that we remain strong."

she added, her claws digging individual stones out of the sand and turning them over. Then she looked at him again, her expression reflecting concern.

"And that's where you come in, Fafnir …"

The last sentence hung in the air, and she looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear, while Fafnir raised his eyebrows in horror and took a deep breath.

"So I'm nothing more than a sperm donor to you."

It was less a question than a statement, a realization whose utterance carried so much disappointment that it was almost a slap in Nellja's face. The young dragon shook her head vehemently.

"No, no, don't say that. You are a highly respected dragon. I would never have considered you as a possible partner if I didn't respect you so much."

She desperately tried to backpedal, gesturing with her front legs and fluttering her wings nervously, her tail whipping behind her, but Fafnir wasn't buying it.

"Well, that doesn't make it any better. So I would be a highly respected sperm donor, but nothing more. A quick little affair, a brief fling, just so I can successfully return to the breeding stock afterwards."

His attempt to hide his disapproval of this fact failed miserably as his freshly polished claws dug into the sand on the shore, yet he still tried hard not to let his anger get the better of him.

---

Understanding

Nellja pressed her lips together, but you could see she was about to explode. She stood up straight, stretched her neck, and tried to look taller, but this only elicited a contemptuous snort from her opponent.

"This has nothing to do with fun. Nothing about it is fun!"

She practically spat it out and stamped her paw on the ground, leaving a considerable imprint, while her wings reflexively spread and her tail whipped angrily behind her. Faff sighed loudly and shook his head.

"So you're telling me that you wouldn't feel any pleasure or satisfaction from our mating? That this is purely business? A partner worthy in your eyes comes along, ‘mounts’ you once, and then you go your separate ways? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Fafnir was shocked; such a thing was completely foreign to him. He had never considered that someone could feel no pleasure or fulfillment during mating. Nellja's gaze sank to the floor once more and her posture finally collapsed.

" Well…"

she murmured meekly, suddenly seeming smaller and smaller. Fafnir wanted to lean on her, to support her, but he hesitated.

"But… you’re missing out on so much…"

he finally said when the blood-red blade-winged dragoness didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she sighed deeply.

"I … I never had the chance … I live for the clan … My enjoyment was never up for discussion,"

she replied meekly, and her counterpart shook his head in disbelief.

"Nonsense!"

Fafnir exclaimed harshly, but Nellja shook her head.

"You don't understand."

Sadness and resignation colored her voice as she looked down at the ground. The big black dragon shook his head again.

Yes, he didn't understand, maybe he didn't want to understand, but maybe he could offer a first step toward a better future. Slowly, he unfolded his mighty wings and turned them toward her. For a moment, he just looked at her before gently speaking.

"Do you trust me?"

Nellja raised her head and her eyes fixed on his, questioning, unsure of how to respond. She nervously pulled her wings around her and her tail, which had been whipping sharply back and forth just moments before, was now wrapped tightly around her. Fafnir tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrows. His red eyes, which usually looked so dangerous, were full of calm, yet Nellja hesitated.

"Do you trust me …?"

he whispered again, nodding gently. Nellja's lips trembled as she seemed to struggle with herself. He did not press her, but waited quietly until she finally nodded weakly. That was all he needed before he carefully wrapped his large wings around her and pulled her to his side. She resisted for a brief moment, but when Faff simply held her tight, her resistance quickly subsided.

"Shh, shh, shh … relax, girl, let it happen …"

he whispered, trying to radiate calm.

"… trust me … everything is fine …"

he added, and the young dragon, who was still turning a little in his embrace, slowly began to relax and lean against his massive body. Fafnir nodded gently and closed his eyes.

"A partner is there to be enjoyed. The warmth, the presence, the tenderness … these are all things you can enjoy together with your partner. Connecting with a partner is so much more than just mating."

he explained calmly, leaning a little closer to her, just a little bit, and he began to feel his body slowly warming up.

"I was never allowed to …"

"Mhm … I know … just let yourself go, tonight you're not a Bladewing, tonight you're just a pretty young dragon enjoying the full moon with a friend by the lake."

he whispered softly, nestling his head against hers. At first she recoiled, but when he maintained contact, she slowly began to return the gesture. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as she slowly sank against his flank. Fafnir wrapped his wing a little tighter around her, shielding her from the environment and giving her his warmth.

"Good girl … see, it's not that bad …"

His voice was now just a warm whisper, yet it carried so much love and affection that Nellja shuddered and pressed herself closer to him. Carefully, he bent his neck around hers and laid his head on her shoulder. Nellja flinched slightly again, but less than before.

"I … I'm not used to this …"

she admitted meekly, but then laid her head on his shoulder, imitating his gesture, and Fafnir smiled before nodding slightly, deliberately brushing her neck with his horns. Nallja giggled; it was a beautiful, light laugh that sounded so different from his rough, smoky growl.

"The only ones who ever cuddled with me were my hatchlings …"

she explained, her voice tinged with regret.

" … and even they were taken away from me as soon as they were big enough to be incorporated into the training squads."

Fafnir tried not to let on how much this disturbed him. Of course, even when they were newly hatched, dragons were already capable of surviving on their own. There were plenty of examples of those who had hatched alone in the wild and had managed to get by without any further problems. Hatchlings were skilled hunters and intelligent enough to know which prey to attack and which to leave alone, but over time it had proven more sensible to let hatchlings grow up in the care of their parents so that they could learn faster.

It was cruel to train little dragons that weren't even dry behind the ears for war. Hatchlings needed to play, steal supplies from the pantry, and get into all sorts of mischief; fighting would come later, usually sooner than anyone would have liked.

"Hmm … what would you like to do?"

he asked, trying to distract her from the subject, and reached for her paw, which was still scratching around in the loose sand. He felt the tension leave her front leg and her grasp his paw. Faff smiled contentedly and waited for Nellja's answer.

"What do you mean?"

It sounded as if she wanted to allude to the obvious, the reason they were both here, but that was obviously not what Fafnir had meant with his question.

"I mean, what do you like to do when there are no fights or matings on the agenda? What do you do to pass the time?"

When Nellja heard this, she pulled her head back and looked at him questioningly. Fafnir reacted a little slower, just smiled, but then carefully opened his wings so she could slip out of his embrace. Nellja took a step or two back, still visibly confused by his question. She nervously rearranged her wings and her tail twitched back and forth. Fafnir waited a moment, but it was clear that she needed a little nudge, so he straightened up, his chest swelling proudly and his wings puffing out a little before he spoke:

"I, for example, love to collect strange and unusual items for my hoard. Whenever I find something extraordinary, I keep it. It may not be as valuable or as shiny as other things, but I just like collecting unusual things. Among other things, I have what humans call a cuckoo clock in my hoard. Unfortunately, I seem to have damaged it during transport, because apart from making a nice tinkling sound, it doesn't do much anymore, but I still have it on display on a small pedestal in my cave because it looks funny."

He confessed with a disarming grin and was rewarded with an equally strange and confused grin from Nellja.

"A cuckoo … what?"

"A cuckoo clock. Yes, I know, I'm a little strange sometimes …"

he replied, his grin widening as his tail, which he had wrapped around himself, began to twitch slightly back and forth.

"… so Nellja, what do you do when you just want to have some fun?"

he continued, watching her raise her eyebrows. She seemed amused, but also thoughtful. Watching her nervously adjust her wings again and again, watching her tail change from a reasonably relaxed swaying back and forth to rapid twitching and back to a more relaxed movement, watching her clearly struggle with herself over whether to confide in him or not, was somehow cute, but also unsettling. Fafnir, however, gave her the time she needed and did not press her further; and when she finally took a step toward him, turned her head slightly to the side, and raised her brow as if looking at him very skeptically, it felt like a reward.

"And … and you won't laugh?"

she asked, still unsure whether she should really tell him.

"Of course I won't laugh,"

he promised, trying to put on a trustworthy smile as he mimicked a cross on his chest with his claw. It took a moment, but then his smile infected her too.

"I look for stones and then try to make them skip."

she said quietly, almost in a whisper, as if she were still embarrassed. He blinked, not quite sure he had understood her correctly.

"Stones … to make them skip?"

Fafnir tilted his head and looked at her questioningly. He was genuinely curious; he had no idea how to make stones skip. She couldn't just throw them on the ground and see if they bounced. But Nellja seemed to misunderstand his question and took a step back. There was a look of betrayal in her eyes, and he feared that she would close herself off to him again if he didn't act quickly.

"Can … can you show me?"

the black dragon hastily added, trying to let his curiosity show. Nellja looked at him searchingly for a moment, as if she had to weigh up whether she should reveal herself to him further, or whether he would just continue to make fun of her. Fafnir lowered his head and the tip of his tail wagged as he looked up at her.

"Don't make me beg … Please …"

It sounded unbelievable, almost ridiculous, and he even added his version of puppy eyes, which made Nellja really giggle, but she quickly recovered.

"I can try …"

was her meek reply as she looked at the ground. Fafnir watched her and thought for a moment that she was being submissive again, but then realized that she was looking for a stone, poking around in the loose soil and pulling them out one by one, examining them, and then carelessly throwing them into the lake. He watched her with growing interest and noticed how she seemed to slowly relax. It was completely unclear to the older dragon what criteria the younger one was using to examine the stones, only that she had not yet found what she was looking for.

He lowered his head to her level and also looked at the stones, most of which were half buried in the sand. She did not look at him, but simply continued searching while Fafnir watched her.

"What kind of stone do we need?"

he asked after a while, and Nellja finally found her smile again. She had a beautiful smile. It suddenly made her otherwise very striking features appear much softer, made her younger, more attractive, and it suited her so much better than the serious, grim expression that usually graced her face. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive otherwise, but this first honest lightness made her even more beautiful, and together with her dark red scales and the golden decorative rings on her horns, Fafnir really had to be careful not to fall head over heels in love with her.

"Fafnir? … Hello …?"

Nellja's slightly puzzled voice snapped him out of his stupor and he flinched slightly. She had caught him staring and he was visibly embarrassed.

The younger dragoness shook her head in amusement.

"Have you been listening to me at all?"

she asked him with a slightly annoyed tone of voice, tilting her head to one side. Fafnir could only grin sheepishly.

"Please forgive me, but I was completely enchanted by your beauty,"

the old black dragon tried to save himself. His counterpart shook her head in disbelief but kept smiling.

"Typical drake, unable to concentrate for more than a moment,"

Nellja mocked, and Fafnir found himself unable to disagree.

"But I don't want to be like that, so I'll explain it to you again."

She could hardly suppress a laugh when Fafnir sat down in front of her with his eyes wide open, looking very attentive. Both held out for only a moment before Fafnir began to laugh, followed shortly thereafter by Nellja.

Only when they had both calmed down did she attempt to explain again.

"I … we need a flat stone … with round edges … like those discus thingies that humans sometimes play with."

she explained, the enthusiasm in her voice clearly audible as she examined another stone, only to find that it did not meet her expectations. She threw it carelessly into the lake and continued her search. The splash as the stone hit the water's surface was loud and echoed off the crater walls surrounding them.

---

Skipping to the essential

In the end, it was Fafnir who found a suitable stone. It wasn't very big, but it was quite round, very flat, and had sufficiently rounded edges. But when he handed it to Nellja, he held her paw for a moment, just long enough to see the blush rise beneath her scales. He carefully withdrew his front leg and watched as Nellja closed her claws around the small pebble and then brought her paw to her chest. It was only a brief moment, but one that meant the world to him. Nellja smiled and turned the stone, looking at her paw and the pebble, which seemed so tiny in comparison. She smiled and turned it back and forth, examining its shape and nodding before taking it between her digits and turning toward the water. Fafnir watched her closely, and when she showed him how to throw the stone, he was genuinely curious.

Then everything happened very quickly. Nellja took a swing and threw the small stone flat across the surface of the water. Fafnir watched intently as the spinning, dark stone stood out against the reflected moonlight, and when it first touched the mirror-smooth water, it actually skipped. Then again. And again. And a few more times before it finally sank into the lake with a loud "plop" after covering about half the distance to the other shore.

Fafnir had watched with his mouth open, spreading his wings wider with each subsequent skip. It almost looked as if he wanted to jump after the stone until it finally sank, then Fafnir actually jumped and shouted his joy into the nights air.

"That was amazing!"

cried the black dragon, stamping his front legs excitedly. His excitement seemed to be contagious, because Nellja finally joined in his cries. Fafnir looked at her, his mouth still open.

"We need more stones!" he demanded, and Nellja happily agreed.

Finally, it seemed, Nellja had truly shed her inhibitions toward him and was able to show him her true character.

Excited like two young dragons, they ran along the shore of the lake looking for more pebbles. Every time they found one, they cheered, and Fafnir encouraged Nellja to skip it across the water again. After a few throws, Nellja insisted that Fafnir try it too, and when they found a suitable stone, he threw it across the water. The stone spun in a much too high arc over the mirror-like surface and hit the lake with a high fountain.

"Ooooooh …"

The disappointment in both their voices was palpable, but Nellja cheered anyway.

"Look how high the water splashed!"

she almost shouted, picking up a really big, misshapen stone and throwing it after the first one, before the surface had even calmed down again. The impact created a huge splash, and this time the water sprayed almost to the shore. The waves caused by the stone rolled slowly toward the shore and would probably disturb the surface of the otherwise calm lake for a while.

"That wasn't bad either,"

Fafnir admitted, and without thinking, he snuggled his head against her neck. For a moment, nothing happened, just the feeling of the soft scales of his snout against hers. Only when they both noticed that Nellja hadn't recoiled did they pause.

There they stood, on the shore of the crater lake, watching the waves spread out in concentric circles, while Fafnir simply listened to the excited pounding of her heart. Nellja's breath caught, but Fafnir didn't dare move any further. To be honest, he didn't want to pull his head back either. It felt right, no, it was right. Now. Here.

It took a moment longer, but then he felt the tension in the young dragoness ease as she tilted her head toward his and rested her snout on his head. Nellja quietly hummed her approval and leaned a little harder against Fafnir, who visibly enjoyed the contact.

"Not so bad, hmm?"

whispered the black dragon, feeling the nod on his head. His smile widened.

"One could get used to this."

replied the dragoness at his side, the amusement in her voice clearly audible, albeit side by side with a slight residual uncertainty.

"If you came with me, you could have this every day."

Faff offered, even though he knew he was crossing a line. It could get him into a lot of trouble, but he had to get it off his chest. Nellja, for her part, fell silent and her head rested heavier on his. The younger dragon was thinking, that much was certain. He could feel her tense up several times, but then relax again before she finally lifted her head.

"That's something I can't do so easily. I am a Bladewing. I live for the clan."

Her voice was soft but firm, even though he could hear the doubt in it. He carefully pulled his head back, and this time she flinched. Fafnir blinked slowly, keeping his eyes closed a moment too long to make it seem accidental, but then nodded.

"Let's leave it at that for now. We don't want to spoil the mood."

he finally said and nudged her with his nose.

"Come on, let's walk a little further …"

he coaxed, already taking a few steps ahead. Nellja followed him a moment later. When she was back beside him, he snuggled up to her again, and this time she returned the gesture, visibly enjoying the contact. For a while, they walked along the shore in silence, each enjoying the other's closeness in their own way.

It was Fafnir again who took a step forward and nestled his head against Nellja's neck.

"You know, Nellja, this is all well and good … but …"

he whispered, keeping his tone as even as possible and waiting patiently for her reaction. It didn't take long for her to respond, as the younger dragoness tensed up, uncertainty and doubt making her breath catch in her throat. Fafnir grinned at her cluelessness and dug his claws into the sand on the shore.

Then it happened quickly.

He nipped the dragoness on his right lightly in the neck and ran off.

"Tag, you're it!"

he shouted, and then he was gone. His loud, raucous laughter echoed across the lake, but Nellja stood there as if struck by lightning. The shock did not last long, however, and with a combative roar, she gave chase.

"You despicable … stop right there!"

she shouted after the heavy, black monster, which was able to move surprisingly quickly.

"Aaaahahahahahahaha … No … if you want me, you'll have to catch me!"

Fafnir called over his shoulder and continued to laugh. He spread his wings slightly to maintain his balance during the sprint, and his tail whipped back and forth with each of his galloping strides. Nellja's laughter mingled with Faff's as she slowly but surely closed the gap.

It would have been easy to simply swing herself into the air and catch him, but that wasn't the point; the chase itself was the goal.

"Oh, I'll get you … you old lecher …"

the dragoness shouted after him, but only accompanied the insult with more laughter. She sounded really exuberant as she chased after him. In an attempt to maintain his distance from her, Fafnir headed closer to the lake and jumped over a rock that lay in his path, and only when he continued running did he notice that he could no longer hear her. But he didn't have time to think about it any further when she slammed into his side with the shriek of a banshee, catapulting them both into the lake.

With a tremendous roar and an equally impressive fountain, the two dragons landed in the cool water of the lake. The water was already surprisingly deep here, and when they came back to the surface, they both laughed loudly and exuberantly. Nellja was the first to start splashing water at her opponent, but Fafnir was not far behind. He shielded himself from the younger dragon with one front leg while trying to splash Nellja with the other.

"Lecher, huh?"

Faff chuckled and dove slightly underwater so that only his eyes and horns were visible. Nellja laughed loudly.

"Yes, lecher … chasing after a young, innocent dragoness …"

Her feigned indignation was easy to see through. Even though she couldn't see the grin on his lips, it reached his eyes, and as he slowly approached underwater, Nellja squealed excitedly. The moment she felt his paw caress her front leg, she almost jumped out of the water.

"Aah!"

she exclaimed involuntarily, and in that moment she lost her balance. She landed in the water next to Faff and glared at him with her red eyes as soon as she was no longer struggling to get her legs under her body. She lifted her head just far enough out of the lake to speak.

"Pervert …"

He just nodded and touched her again beneath the surface, but this time she was prepared and no longer startled; instead, she seemed to enjoy it. Very slowly, he also lifted his head above the water.

"It's not as if you have anything against a shrewd, slightly devious dragon, is it?"

he asked, suppressing a laugh as Nellja shook her head vehemently.

"As long as he knows how to behave around a shy dragoness,"

she replied, her mischievous grin revealing her teeth.

If Fafnir had been one of those Far Eastern dragons, he would have twirled his mustache now; but instead, a wink, a soft growl, and a hint of a snap had to suffice.

Nellja squealed again and splashed water at him. They both laughed loudly, and Faff carefully pulled her closer before wrapping his wings around her again.

"I'll be very gentle …"

he whispered, nibbling on her neck. She gasped briefly and then bit her lip, but then reached for his paws and pulled them closer around her.

"Mhm …"

she murmured softly and nestled against his massive body. Encouraged by her reaction, he continued to nibble her neck, slowly moving closer and closer to her head. Nellja stretched her neck and gasped softly as her claws dug into his paws. Fafnir did not let himself be deterred, but continued to caress the young dragoness in his embrace, and little by little, even through the cold of the water, he felt Nellja's body heat up and he too felt his inner fire being stoked. They remained like this for a little while longer, enjoying the warmth they gave each other, and the younger dragon let him pamper her.

"Shall we find a cozy spot …?"

he finally whispered in her ear, rubbing himself against her with relish, whereupon she trembled slightly and responded with a lustful snort. Fafnir smiled and turned them both back toward the shore before opening his wings again. For a brief moment, Nellja shivered as the cold water from outside Fafnir's embrace flowed against her body, but then she broke away from him and swam the short distance to the shore. Fafnir watched her elegant movements and felt a familiar tingling in his abdomen.

Oh yes, it was time. He wanted to feel this dragoness around him.

A little further ahead, Nellja climbed out of the water. Her wet scales shimmered in the moonlight, and her hot body seemed to steam in the cold air. As she slowly climbed out of the lake, swaying her hips, she lifted her tail for him and gave him a cheeky look.

"Come and get me …"

she seemed to say, and it wouldn't take much for the water around him to start boiling. Fafnir licked his lips and followed her. It took immense strength to restrain himself from running after her openly.

Her blood-red beauty waited for him on the shore of the crater lake. She had stood up and struck a pose, her wings slightly spread, and with every breath she exhaled thick clouds of steam.

Fafnir was delighted, and as he slowly emerged from the lake like a black shadow, the water dripping from him began to boil. As soon as only his paws were left in the cool water, he whipped his tail aggressively back and forth behind him. He shook himself briefly and suddenly spread his mighty wings, throwing off the last remnants of the lake.

There he stood, puffed up, the black demon that he was, just a few steps away from Nellja on the shore. She seemed to like what she saw, for her wide-open eyes shone and she grinned like a predator. Without further hesitation, she turned her back to him and crouched down in front of him.

She was more than ready, and Fafnir was in no way inferior to her.

---

Afterglow

Some time later, they lay entwined on the shore of the crater lake. After their union, Fafnir had laid down beside her and gently pulled her to his chest, his right wing like an oversized black blanket over her. He grumbled softly and contentedly and nuzzled her neck tenderly while Nellja was still busy processing the experience.

Their mating had lasted longer than she had expected, but less time than Fafnir had wanted. Nellja just hadn't been ready to fully embrace Fafnir's way yet. He had tried all the little things he had always done with Emmy, nibbling on her neck, gently caressing her back and shoulders, carefully using his claws to further stimulate her, and caressing her neck with his tongue.

It wasn't that Nellja hadn't enjoyed all of this, quite the contrary, but she hadn't been able to derive the same satisfaction and pleasure from it as Emmy had. Fafnir had finally had to admit to himself that he had had a hundred years with Emmy to figure out which buttons to push to get the desired result. It was unfair to expect Nellja to respond to the same stimuli.

In the end, however, they had both had fun, and the big, old, black dragon had been able to show his younger counterpart that mating could be about more than just fulfilling his purpose. Although Fafnir was very sure that he had more than fulfilled his purpose. During the entire time the two dragons lay silently on the shore, he did not stop caressing his little spoon, and was rewarded by her repeatedly purring softly and gradually snuggling closer and closer to his chest.

Faff smiled; it felt so good, so right. He tenderly pulled her a little closer and took a deep breath. He felt Nellja tense slightly.

"I'd like to repeat that,"

he murmured softly, emphasizing his desire by gently nibbling her neck once more that night. He slowly began to believe he had found the right spot, because Nellja shuddered and her legs twitched involuntarily.

"Hnnnn … me too …"

agreed the blood-red dragoness and relaxed again. She took his paws in her much more delicate paws and began to play with his claws shyly.

"But … but you know that's not possible … right?"

she finally asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly, the fear and doubt in it clearly audible.

"Hrrmmmpf …"

Fafnir snorted heavily and pulled his front legs closer around the younger dragoness. His wing now seemed to shield her from the world like a protective shield. Of course, he knew he couldn't change the traditions and rules of the Bladewings, nor could he simply break them. He was alone, and even if Nellja stood by him — which was far from certain, since she was part of this clan — the Bladewings numbered well over a hundred dragons. Punishment would be swift and very one-sided.

"Of course I know that."

he finally grumbled into her neck as he loosened his embrace again.

"But that doesn't mean I agree with it …"

he added in a whisper as he carefully ran his paw down her chest to her belly, where their offspring would probably soon develop.

His offspring, who would probably be trained as warriors in the ranks of the clan soon after they hatched. Nellja didn't seem to have missed his gesture, because her paw gently rested on his.

"Don't think about it too much …"

she replied quietly, her voice unable to hide her displeasure. Fafnir nodded slightly, rubbing his snout against her horns. They both remained lying together like this for a while, enjoying each other's presence, until Nellja finally turned slowly in his embrace. Now that she was facing him, Fafnir's massive body seemed even bigger, and she would have to stretch her neck to reach his head. Instead, she began to nibble at the thick, overlapping scales on his neck. Faff clearly enjoyed the attention and smiled quietly. His neck stretched the further Nellja's sharp teeth climbed up his throat. Visibly fired up, the younger dragoness moved along the older dragon's neck until she could finally reach his lower jaw. She giggled like a young dragon as she worked her way scale by scale toward his snout, and Fafnir growled contentedly.

In the end, they lay eye to eye and grinned at each other.

"You're a quick learner, my little butterfly,"

Fafnir grumbled, squinting along his snout into her red eyes. Small wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes as her grin widened.

"Little butterfly?"

she asked in surprise, and Fafnir nodded.

"You're so fluttery,"

he joked, earning himself a little nose bump from Nellja.

"Hmmm … let's fly together for a while … I want to move around a little,"

she demanded in an amused tone and carefully pushed herself away from him. Reluctantly, the big dragon let her go and released her from his grip. Slowly, the blood-red dragoness withdrew from Fafnir's claws and stood up.

She took her time stretching extensively and lasciviously. One wing after the other and one leg after the next, until finally — like a cat — she stretched her back and stretched her neck and tail as far as she could. All this was accompanied by a relaxed moan, with which the dragoness was able to express almost the same bliss as she had expressed during their mating a short time ago.

Meanwhile, Fafnir had propped himself up on his elbow and was watching Nellja with more than casual interest. With each of her supple movements, his tail twitched faster and faster, while the desire within him soared to new heights. When she finally turned to him and cheekily stuck her hips out to the side, he growled happily. She just grinned and took the few steps toward him.

"I know you like that,"

she began, nuzzling the tip of her snout against his.

"But if you want it too …"

she continued, and there was a gleam in her eyes that Fafnir had never seen before. They both began to grin.

"… then you'll have to catch me first!"

she finished her sentence and licked his nose before spinning around and running away laughing loudly. Fafnir stared after her with his mouth open for a moment, but didn't move, the shock sat too deep. Nellja, who had already put some distance between herself and him, turned around again and stuck out her long tongue at him.

"What's the matter, you old toad, are you getting cold or something?"

teased the nimble dragoness, and when Fafnir growled loudly and rose from the ground, she squealed loudly and happily before taking flight again and soaring into the air after a few more jumps.

Fafnir watched her and stretched. She wasn't going to just fly away now; she wasn't done playing yet, he was sure of that. He watched her effortless wing beats and how she flew tight circles around the treetops. She was a skilled, elegant flyer, though not as effortless as Emmy had been.

Once again, he caught himself thinking and reproached himself for still tending to live in the past.

While he was still wrestling with himself, he noticed that the moon had already moved quite a bit further along its path and was slowly sinking behind the edge of the crater. The shadows down here grew darker and the air became noticeably colder. He looked across the lake, where the young dragoness was circling, stirring up the thin mist that had formed over the mirror-smooth water in the meantime.

The smile on Fafnir's lips widened, and he spread his wings relaxed. His eyes followed his ‘prey’ and, after taking a deep breath, he announced his hunt with a loud, joyful roar, which Nellja joined in with a short time later.

The large, raven-black dragon leaped off the ground and, with a beat of his huge, leathery wings, took up the chase.

Nellja, who was still flying close to the water's surface, turned away with an excited shriek and began to frantically pick up speed. Fafnir rushed after her, and the whistling sound so characteristic of his flight grew louder and higher the faster he went.

It was like a continuation of what they had been playing at first, only this time the speeds were much higher.

The younger dragoness flew over the trees covering the slopes of the crater, laughing merrily. She dodged the individual, taller treetops and flew tight maneuvers so that the much heavier and clumsier dragon behind her couldn't catch her so quickly.

Fafnir was close on her heels, taking advantage of the fact that he was flying behind her and could therefore react better to her antics. He laughed too, but his laughter was rougher, darker, and somehow more devious. It sounded as if he were really on the hunt and his prey was almost within reach.

"I've got you now, little butterfly!"

he shouted loudly and playfully snapped at Nellja's tail, but missed. On purpose, he told himself. The blood-red dragoness squealed excitedly and flapped her wings frantically, flying in tight loops and trying to gain altitude. Her pursuer, unable to follow her directly, was forced to fly a wide arc and start his pursuit anew.

"Well flown!"

he shouted loudly and was rewarded with resounding, only slightly hurtful laughter that echoed high above him from the crater walls.

"Thanks, but I'd give my wings to a kobold if you could catch me in the air!"

Nellja called back, her silhouette circling above him in the thin clouds. Fafnir gritted his teeth. The jab had hit home, and for a moment he wondered if he really wanted to catch her, or if it was just a game. A game he was losing for the second time that night.

"Have you given up yet, old toad?"

The question was accompanied by a slightly too mocking laugh, and Fafnir shook his head. No, he hadn't given up yet, not at all.

With a loud roar, its guttural quality carrying his frustration into the cold night air, the coal-black dragon resumed the chase. With powerful wing beats, he accelerated and rose into the thin wisps of fog where his target was hiding. Her excited squeals only spurred Fafnir on further. As he gained altitude and speed, the whistling sound so characteristic of his flight swelled again, and he followed the hysterical laughter of the young Bladewing dragoness.

They circled each other in a tight spiral, with Nellja always able to outmaneuver the older, more experienced dragon. Whenever Fafnir flew a tight curve to cut her off, she made a quick turn; whenever he thought he was in her slipstream, she let him run into thin air. She seemed so confident in her superiority that she engaged in reckless maneuvers that Fafnir saw through all too easily. She flew close to the treetops, where she could only evade upwards, and approached the crater wall so closely that she had only one direction in which to flee.

"You'll never catch me!"

she grinned over her shoulder, only to see that he had once again closed in on her, whereupon she screeched in surprise and pulled up sharply. Fafnir had anticipated this, however, and changed course at the same time. He managed to touch her tail and laughed his triumph into the night.

"Gotcha, my butterfly."

he shouted as he tried to keep up with the more skilled flyer, whose frustration erupted in a short burst of fire. However, the flame quickly consumed itself in the thin air, and apart from a rush of hot air and a little stench, nothing remained.

Nellja's frustration, on the other hand, was visibly more persistent. She had climbed a little higher and then transitioned into a calmer gliding flight, while Fafnir took up a position next to her. As he looked over at her, he could see the grim expression on her face and hear the steady stream of muttered curses she was uttering, only partially carried away by the wind.

"So, just so we're clear: you don't have to give your wings to a kobold because of me."

teased the black dragon, but Nellja just looked at him with a mixture of anger and frustration. So Fafnir took a deep breath and simply smiled back.

"Don't be sad, you can't always win."

His comment was not really well received, as the young dragoness clenched her paws and her whole body seemed to tremble with anger and tension.

"Not winning means losing. Losing means death. And I must not lose!"

she shouted, though he wasn’t sure if her anger was directed at him or perhaps more at herself. Faff was about to say something when she looked at him again. Her eyes glinted in the darkness and her teeth were bared.

"You, of all dragons, should know best. Those who lose die!"

she growled, and he felt her words more than he heard them. What she said hurt more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to roar back, wanted to throw it in her face that he knew very well that losing a fight could mean death under certain circumstances. But as he started to speak, he knew it wouldn't do any good, because Nellja had most likely been raised that way from an early age. Her teachers had drilled it into her until she no longer questioned it.

Instead, he swallowed his pride, closed his eyes briefly, and tried to calm himself. When he opened them again, his indignation had given way to a more paternal resignation, and he flew a little closer to Nellja.

"Yes, I know what it means to lose. I've lost my whole life; and when I did win something, it was taken away from me again."

he began, his voice calm, quiet, and composed. Just as Nellja was about to reply, he continued.

"But every time I lost, I learned something. I learned that my mother wasn't always right. I learned that losing his heart can be the greatest win there is. I learned that giving up my freedom was the best decision. And I learned that to love also means to be able to let go."

he explained calmly and saw Nellja start to reply, but then stop. She turned away and flew over the lake, while Fafnir watched her for a moment, unsure whether he should give her some time or whether it might be better to fly after her. He closed his eyes and cursed to himself before finally turning away and following her. The younger dragon flew slowly and low over the mirror-smooth, dark surface of the water. Every now and then she made loops, but it seemed unmotivated and joyless. He approached slowly, keeping his distance for a moment before positioning himself next to her again. He saw how stubbornly she pressed her lips together and thought he could see the damp trace of tears on her scales.

"Nellja …?"

he asked quietly and flew closer to her, but she exploded before he could get any further.

"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think it doesn't hurt every time they take my hatchlings away from me?"

This time she really screamed, and the volume of her outburst shocked him. His sensitive ears hurt and he backed away a good distance, but he didn't want to leave it at that.

"Of course I know that, Nellja."

he replied cautiously, watching for signs of another outburst.

"That alone is reason enough for me not to lose!"

Nellja replied, still loudly, but no longer deafeningly so, whereupon Fafnir nodded.

"I understand, but you haven't lost."

he replied quietly, looking at her with raised eyebrows as they flew another loop. Nellja clenched her paws, but she didn't look at him. The only thing he heard was the frustrated grinding of her jaws.

"Yes, I lost, you caught me. I wasn't good enough."

she finally squeezed out between her teeth and headed for the edge of the cauldron. Faff shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes, you lost to me in a friendly game. I caught you once. So what? I only won because I'm much more experienced than you and because I had a certain, rather wriggly young dragoness to practice on."

he called after her as he watched her increase the distance between them. This time, he wasn't quite so sure whether he should follow her. Maybe it was better to give her a little time to vent her frustration. That usually helped him.

---

Mind games

He let out a soft, frustrated sound and turned away. While Nellja climbed the slopes to the crater rim, Fafnir continued to fly in tight circles above the lake, and every time he came back in her direction, he looked for her.

The young dragon had now landed at the top of the rim and was sitting there with her back to him. With each new circle, the desire to fly to her grew stronger. He hated leaving something so important unresolved.

"You should never part on bad terms, because you never know if you'll see each other again alive."

A much more intelligent dragon had once told him that, and after thinking about it, he had agreed. At the same time, he couldn't follow her too soon, or she wouldn't have enough time to think for herself. On the other hand, he couldn't wait too long, or she might just fly away.

Reluctantly, Fafnir flew two more loops, taking the last one much faster, before finally heading in Nellja's direction.

She was still sitting high up on the edge of the crater, her wings wrapped so tightly around her body that she looked smaller than she actually was.

She had also pulled her head between her shoulders and wrapped her short tail tightly around herself. In this position, she looked like one of those gargoyle statues that people put on their magnificent buildings. She didn't move even when Fafnir cautiously and slowly approached her and, gently by his standards, landed a few steps away from her. He paused for a moment, then slowly folded his wings against his torso before taking a cautious step toward the blood-red dragoness.

"What is it? Do you want to rub more salt in the wound?"

Nellja growled softly, but did not look at him. Faff slowly shook his head and then tilted it slightly.

"It was never my intention to hurt you in any way,"

he replied before sitting down at a sufficient distance — so as not to directly pressure her — and looking into the distance.

"Listen …"

he began quietly, not really sure if the fatherly tone he was striking was really the right one for this situation.

"… we were playing; what was I supposed to do? If I had let you escape, that would have been wrong too. If you had really wanted to prevent it, I would never have been able to catch you, don't you think?"

he explained quietly and waited for Nellja's reaction. When it didn't come, he continued.

"If I hadn't caught you, I would have lost. Then I would have been weaker in your eyes. In your clan, in your society, strength counts more than anything else, doesn't it?"

He heard the soft rustle as the younger dragon nodded.

"So if I had lost, if I had been weaker, then I would no longer have been as respectable in your eyes, not a good catch."

This time he looked over at her and saw her nod. He smiled slightly before continuing.

"I fully understand that you don't want to lose, and I understand that losing often means death, but you didn't lose in a fight, not against humans. You lost in a game between lovers, against a dragon you had defeated only moments before in the exact same game."

he explained in the same soft, caring tone he had always used when explaining things to Tyria. Next to him, Nellja pulled her wings closer around herself, and he could hear her deep, controlled breaths as she desperately tried not to show any emotion.

"In a game with your partner, losing doesn't necessarily mean you really lose; often, the opposite is true. I lost too, and we had a lot of fun after that, didn't we?"

he asked, turning slowly toward her. It took a moment, but then Nellja nodded; just once, but the movement was clearly visible. At the same time, he caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Fafnir smiled, opened his wings slightly, and raised his front legs in a welcoming gesture.

"Come on, come here."

Fafnir invited her, and after looking at him for a moment, Nellja actually got up and took the few steps over to him. The black dragon welcomed her into his warm embrace, and as he closed his wings around them both, it almost seemed as if a shadow was swallowing the smaller, blood-red dragoness.

He hadn't quite closed his wings when Nellja had already snuggled tightly against his chest. She was hot, and the way she clung to him reminded him of his daughter. She was breathing heavily and sinking just as heavily against him. Fafnir held her tight, carefully resting his head on her shoulder and listening to her breathing.

"It's okay,"

he whispered softly and waited for the inevitable sigh. He didn't have to wait long before Nellja took a shaky breath as he tenderly stroked her back.

"Let it out, you don't have to hold back with me. You can be honest with me, you can be weak, because I'm here for you."

he added quietly, grumbling, and felt Nellja cling to him more tightly and bury her head in his chest. Fafnir couldn't help but smile. She was younger than him, yes, but she was certainly already three or four hundred years old. Nevertheless, the dragon he held in his embrace was little more than a hatchling. She still had so much to learn. The indoctrination of her clan had produced a capable fighter who could hold her own in any battle, who survived where others failed. Yet she was also a dragon who lacked in so many other areas. Iria had been right: with Nellja, he had his work cut out for him if he really wanted her as his mate.

"I … I should go …"

Nellja finally murmured into his chest, but Fafnir wasn't sure if he really wanted to let her go just yet. She held on to him for a moment longer, then lifted her head slowly until she could rest it on his shoulder. She sighed deeply once more and then let go, but he hesitated, unwilling to break their embrace or open his wings. The great dragon grumbled and tenderly pulled his wings closer around her.

"Hey …"

she protested with an involuntary smile before gently but firmly pushing herself away from him. Faff let her go. He knew there was no point in holding her against her will; it would only push her further away from him. She left the protection of his wings and stopped a few steps away from him, her eyes moist, but the smile on her lips seemed genuine. Fafnir, for his part, remained seated and tilted his head slightly.

"Better?"

he asked quietly and was rewarded with a nod. A relaxed, relieved smile crept onto his lips as Nellja rearranged her wings and her tail wagged slightly back and forth. When she was done reorganizing herself, she approached him again.

"Um … it's not that I wouldn't rather stay …"

she began, and Faff nodded.

"… but I've been gone far too long. The others will ask questions."

she continued, scraping her claws awkwardly on the hard ground.

"Should I come with you? I could try to explain."

Fafnir offered, but Nellja shook her head vigorously.

"By the high heavens, no!"

she said, emphasizing her statement with another shake of her head.

"If you just came with me now, they would probably attack you. No outside dragon should just approach the clan like that; it would be suicidal."

she explained, looking at him seriously. Fafnir nodded slowly. He already knew that the Bladewings weren't always "hospitable." So he slowly pushed his head forward until the tip of his nose touched hers.

"Then promise me you'll be careful, because I'd like to see you again,"

he grumbled, looking deep into her red eyes. Nellja grinned and booped his nose.

"I'll be careful. After all, I'm going to be a mother again,"

she said, trying to sound cheerful.

"When I return, I'll talk to the elders. Maybe I can arrange a visit,"

she added, stepping closer and nestling against his neck and throat once more. Fafnir growled contentedly and returned the gesture.

"I'll wait for you here,"

he murmured softly, but the young dragoness declined the offer.

"No, I want to see where you live. I will visit you in your hoard. No, don’t argue, I insist."

she declared in a surprisingly firm voice, and to emphasize her demand, she bit his shoulder. The big black dragon didn’t even flinch, but just laughed.

"Very good, I like you that way."

Fafnir replied and let go of her again. Nellja let him do so and pulled her head back. Her eyes shone with new vigor, and Fafnir nodded appreciatively.

"So be it, Nellja of the Bladewings. I must admit, it is difficult for me to say goodbye, but I hope to see you again soon."

It sounded pompous even to his own ears, but it was the truth. Nellja, for her part, finally bowed her head to her taller counterpart.

"It has been an honor, Fafnir, Ruin of Kingdoms, and I too hope we will meet again,"

she replied with a smile that made Fafnir's heart skip a beat. Now it was his turn to bow his head, though not as deeply as Nellja had done.

"May the winds carry you home quickly and back to me even faster,"

he said as they both returned to their upright positions.

"May your wings always have updraft,"

she replied, and before he could say or do anything, she had playfully licked his snout and jumped away again, laughing loudly.

"You won't catch me this time!"

she cried as she spread her wings and soared up into the air. Fafnir blinked once, twice, and then burst into loud, joyful laughter himself.

"No, I won't catch you this time, but next time, you won't escape me!"

he called after her, sending a loud roar after her, its echo mingling with a cry of her very own.

He watched her for a while until her dark silhouette disappeared behind the next peak, then he took a deep breath. Something stirred inside him and it felt good. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was faith in a better future, but above all it was joy! As much as their little argument had upset him, he was happy that he had agreed to this meeting. Even if there might never be a long-term bond between them, he would cherish each of their meetings in his heart.

---

The path to a (better) future

"Come on, come on, old frog…"

he spurred himself on. There was nothing left for him to do here, and the flight home was long. If he didn't want to stay here, he would have to set off now. Slowly, he turned around, oriented himself using the surrounding mountain peaks, and once he had found his direction, he unfolded his wings and stretched once more with relish. There was no reason to rush.

As if to check whether they still worked, he flapped his wings a few times before finally taking off from the crater rim and heading for his home mountain. He wasn't in a particular hurry, but he didn't want to dawdle either, which is why he didn't raze the village in the valley he had flown over on the way there. He told himself that they would come back anyway and that he was only postponing the inevitable. Besides, he was tired and didn't want to spoil his rare good mood with people.

So he flew silently over the peaks of the Drakensberg Mountains and enjoyed the icy night air whistling through his scales. Again and again, he caught himself giggling loudly as he thought of Nellja. She had left a lasting impression on him, and that was a good thing.

The sky above him was starry, actually a perfect night, but for the first time since Emmy's death, he didn't feel the urge to talk to her. He looked up at the stars twinkling in the firmament and found Emmy's star almost immediately. He smiled quietly to himself, because now he no longer had to ask her permission or seek her blessing for what he was doing.

"Not anymore…"

he whispered, and the wind carried his words away.

Fafnir felt light, even elated. This night, even though it hadn't gone as he might have wished, had lifted a burden from him that he hadn't even known was weighing on his shoulders. Although, that wasn't entirely true. He had been well aware that he had been so attached to her that he had not really been able to move on. It was the first time in what felt like an eternity that he felt he had taken a decisive step in the right direction.

After flying for a while, he recognized the foothills of the mountain range where he had made his lair. Soon his day would come to an end, and somehow he was looking forward to settling down in his hoard. Of course, it would have been nicer not to return to his hoard alone, but what wasn't yet could still happen.

"Soon…"

he tried to convince himself, thinking of Nellja's promise to talk to her elders. His stomach tingled at the thought that perhaps in the not too distant future, more than one dragon would inhabit this cave again. This beautiful, warm feeling inspired the black dragon, and he found himself flying faster.

The sooner he got home, the sooner he would sleep, and the sooner tomorrow would come.

So his wings beat faster and the wind whistled more shrill through his scales as Fafnir flew over the last snow-capped peaks that still separated him from “his” mountain.

His gaze wandered down to the sprawling valley with its fertile plains and lush meadows. They had recovered quickly after his devastation. As after a great forest fire, nature had taken advantage of the destruction and emerged stronger.

On the other hand, they had always been fertile; it had been one of the reasons why Emmy and he had moved here with their hoard. Not only had humans not yet found their way to this valley, but the forests and meadows also offered a rich supply of prey.

But, as was the case everywhere else, the idyll did not last, for humans soon followed them, and with them, death.

In his unbridled rage, he had almost reduced the entire kingdom to rubble and ashes, burning down the settlements of humans and nearly exterminating these upstarts. Only those who had made it beyond the borders of the empire had escaped.

He had been merciless, and that had earned him some of his less flattering titles.

But just as nature had reclaimed the plains soon after this destruction, so too had the humans not stayed away for long.

As he flew over the plain, he saw the small villages and settlements, the resettled farms and fields they had rebuilt. It was not yet anything that could pose a threat to Nellja or him in any way, but who could know how long that would remain the case.

Nevertheless, the thought crossed his mind that he might have to deal with it again before he tried to start a family once more.

"Probably. But not now."

he muttered, fixing his gaze on his mountain. Soon he would be home, where a comfortable nest awaited him. It was still cold, but perhaps that would change soon. He yawned extensively as he flew the last stretch of the way. However, the flickering, faint light that slowly moved up the mountainside toward his cave went completely unnoticed.

On the plateau in front of the large cave entrance, the black demon landed with a dull thud and flapped his wings twice more before finally folding them against his massive body. He grinned and called out jokingly:

"Honey, I'm back."

And when, as expected, there was no answer, he added,

"Now don't sulk, I told you I'd be away longer."

And then he burst into relaxed laughter. Fafnir shook his head and slowly entered his cave. Even though he still kept his eyes and ears open and sniffed the air of his home in case someone had made themselves at home in the meantime, this time he was not as thorough as usual. His nest was calling to him, and he willingly followed its siren song.

As he passed by, he pushed two large logs into the fire pit and lit them with his dragon fire. The flames lit up the central cave with their merry dance, and almost instantly it became much warmer in the large room. Nodding contentedly, the big black dragon lay down next to the fireplace and curled up tightly. In the glow of the flames, Fafnir's scales shone coppery, and after watching the flickering fire for a while, he closed his eyes.

It didn't take long before the quiet, deep breathing of a sleeping dragon could be heard.

…

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edit by

Bordox

&

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo

Uninvited guests

It was dark in the cave, wherein the only source of light was a fire that had almost burned down, its embers casting a faint red glow into the large, open space, illuminating the outline of a sleeping giant. The silence in this cave was broken only by the sound of his slow but steady breathing.

Fafnir, the black demon, the bringer of death, the ruin of kingdoms, lay curled up tightly in his nest, his limbs drawn close to his body and his tail wrapped tightly around him. He had spread his wings over himself like a blanket and pulled them over his eyes, shielding himself from the chaos that reigned around him. A chaos that was barely visible in the dim light, but which the sleeper knew very well existed. Years of neglect and ignorance had turned the once cozy cave into a refuge that the great dragon would have to take care of sooner rather than later, but there was no rush, not yet. His future mate, if it ever came to that, would not be arriving at his cave the next day. So he still had time to make his home presentable again. For now, he slept the sleep of the righteous.

Outside, in front of the cave, it was still dark; the nights were long and cold at this time of year. The sun sank quickly behind the high mountain peaks and remained hidden behind them for a long time before venturing out again on the other side. The snow had not yet fallen, at least in the valley, but it would not be long in coming. Not that it bothered him; he was largely immune to the cold, and darkness didn't bother a dragon anyway, but none of that mattered at the moment; his body craved sleep and rest. The previous night had left him quite exhausted, and he was no longer as young and resilient as he thought.

The encounter with the Bladewing dragon Nellja had been quite challenging, in a good way. Fafnir would have liked to take her with him, to give her a new home, one where she was so much more than just one of many, but the young dragoness had refused, saying she had duties to her clan. He had reluctantly given in, but only let her go after she promised to ask her elders for permission to visit him.

So for now, he lay alone in his nest, which – at least since Tyra's departure – felt terribly large and terribly lonely again. Nevertheless, he slept well for the first time in many nights. He was not plagued by nightmares, nor did he wake up repeatedly because his subconscious told him that some danger was lurking. Fafnir slept peacefully, relaxed, and even hummed contentedly from time to time in his dreams, which revolved around the previous night and his potential new mate.

However, a dragon did not survive for centuries by sleeping soundly. Most dragons – including Fafnir – had become very light sleepers over time, and so the quiet but characteristic crunch of loose gravel under heavy boots tore him from his dreams. Even before he was fully awake, he was already on his feet, his nose and ears working overtime. He turned as silently as possible toward the cave entrance, focused his eyes and ears in the direction from which the sounds must have come, and listened to the silence with bated breath.

And sure enough, he heard the heavy footsteps echoing from the entrance again. When the sounds fell silent a moment later, Fafnir had to restrain himself from rushing forward to confront the intruder, for he knew only too well that it was always a big mistake to underestimate humans. It might sound like just one of those fragile upstarts for the moment, but that didn't mean there weren't more waiting for him to fall into an ambush. Here, in his cave, they could only attack him from one side, but outside it was different.

“Dragon!”

a voice called from the entrance. It sounded strong, clearly male, and he could detect no fear in it. He remained silent, letting the intruder come to him.

“Black demon, I know you are here. Come forth and show yourself!”

The voice sounded once more. It sounded proud and a little too confident for Fafnir's liking. He could wait until the warrior at his door changed his mind, or perhaps gave up, but he had a feeling that the human might have seen him when he returned. There was no point in waiting; he would have to drive the intruder away himself. Grumbling, the large black dragon set off and slowly approached the entrance to the cave. He took care to position himself correctly so that, if he had to defend himself and his dragon fire was needed, he could use it without damaging his cave. The closer he got to the entrance, the stronger the scent of the one waiting for him outside his cave became. His nostrils flared as Fafnir inhaled deeply to take in the smell, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Mage …”

Fafnir growled, and hatred rose sourly, acridly within him.

“I'm here … human!”

he finally called out, underscored by a guttural growl, and waited for the intruder's reaction. It didn't take long before he heard the magician's crunching footsteps again as he slowly penetrated deeper into Faff's cave. As the clumsy footsteps slowly grew louder, Fafnir tensed involuntarily and his fire slowly rose in his throat, for he knew what these warriors were capable of. He would roast this wretch alive if he had to. However, when the human finally came into view, he had his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture and stopped as soon as he saw the huge black dragon sitting only a few meters away from him, its mouth already beginning to glow from within. He himself was one of those battle mages, a warlock, judging by his armor and rune-like tattoos. The metal-studded leather armor offered sufficient protection against most attacks with slashing and stabbing weapons, but even this second skin would not be able to withstand a proper blast of dragon fire.

Fafnir eyed the mage suspiciously, but when he did not move, he slowly let the fire in his throat subside for the time being. He would at least give the human a chance to explain himself before sending him to join his ancestors.

“What do you want here, apart from finding a quick but certainly not painless death?”

growled the dragon, baring his dagger-like teeth, but the mage seemed unimpressed and only nodded slowly.

“I come in peace.”

he replied quietly, his voice sounding strainedly calm, as if the human were trying to keep all emotion out of it, which only further fueled Fafnir's skepticism. He tilted his head slightly and replied with a growl:

"Your species has never been interested in peace. But I am willing to show you eternal peace. It follows directly after eternal fire. "

The prejudice Fafnir harbored toward humans, and magicians in particular, made his voice grow into a dark rumble, resonating with the threat of an agonizing death. His counterpart, however, stood his ground and at least commanded a certain amount of respect from the dragon.

“Now speak, wizard, what are you really up to? What brings you to me in the middle of the night?”

The lizard demanded to know, fixing the human with its glowing red gaze.

“My lords send me, for they wish to negotiate a non-aggression pact for their small kingdom.”

explained the warlock, his voice filled with the conviction that he was doing the right thing as he defended his position against the dragon. The dragon pulled his lips back into a joyless, predatory grin before lowering his head slightly.

“A pact, a peace agreement … you don't say … well, well … the intruders, the invaders come crawling to me. Of all the dragons on this continent, you come to me of all people to negotiate peace.”

The sarcasm was downright biting in Fafnir's voice as he spat his reply at the mage's feet, but the latter merely nodded curtly as the saliva ignited in the air and splattered onto his boots.

"Indeed, my lords are of the opinion that enough blood has been shed, that we all, even the mighty and terrible black demon, could use a break. Let the wizards of the West continue their wars until there is nothing left worth fighting for. My lords, on the other hand, believe that this kingdom and its citizens have suffered enough. We are weary of fighting, we are tired."

the warrior proclaimed so loudly and clearly that even Fafnir had to admit that he could detect no lie or evil intent in the statement. The dragon slowly and menacingly rose to his feet before approaching the man with heavy steps. Flames fueled by centuries of hatred and anger blazed in his throat as he took a deep breath, and still the mage did not take a single step back or show any other reaction.

“After all you humans have done to me, my family, my loved ones … the demand to forgive and forget is truly courageous … not to say brazen insolence. For that alone, your masters deserve punishment.”

His voice sounded rough and the fire blazed brighter in his throat, but despite the affront, he decided to swallow his anger for the time being. Killing him now would serve no purpose other than to satisfy his thirst for revenge for a moment; besides, he wanted to at least hear the mage's offer before killing him. His counterpart nodded slowly.

"We are well aware of the misdeeds of the past and that both the citizens and the rulers of this kingdom have not always acted honorably or with foresight. That is why my lords do not ask for forgiveness, for we know that it must first be earned. My lords therefore ask instead for a chance to do so, for they fear for the future of their people and their country. Most of the farmland still lies fallow, and even if the harvests are plentiful, they will hardly be enough, and winter is approaching."

The mage spoke softly, his voice taking on a calm, soothing tone, and his body language showed submissiveness to the black beast that still towered above him. Fafnir watched the intruder closely, noticing every little movement as he thought about what had been said. His suspicion, his anger, and perhaps also his pride prevented him from fully accepting such an offer, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to. Hatred of humans and everything they represented had defined his entire life so far. Wherever he had seen them, he had cursed, hunted, killed, and driven them away; and in return, wherever they had found him, humans had fought him.

Leaving the beaten path was not easy, changing his own worldview was not easy, but he also knew that one day he would face an opponent he could no longer defeat. If the heavens willed it, this would be many years away, but it would happen, eventually.

The credo of his species had always been that it was glorious to die fighting the enemy, that it was a disgrace to pass away old and frail. Fafnir had always seen it that way too, but then he found love and everything changed.

Two sides fought within him. On one side was the dragon who had fought for centuries and found fulfillment in it, on the other was an ever-growing dragon who whispered gently to him: Think of Nellja, think of the family you want to start.

And he couldn't help but admit that it would be nice not to have to worry every time he came home after a long day whether his hoard was safe or whether humans had prepared an ambush.

Not that Nellja wasn't capable of taking care of herself.

However, he had thought that about Emmy too.

Several times, his lips twisted briefly into something resembling a smile, but it wasn't a joyful one; it was more of a caricature, somewhere between disgust and doubt. He already knew he would regret his decision.

“You have seen what I am capable of, and I will not shy away from doing it again if necessary. I will kill! I will maim! I will burn and turn the entire kingdom to ashes once more if the people betray me or even think of betraying me. Only this time, I will make sure that nothing and no one escapes.”

Fafnir growled as liquid fire dripped from his lips. The mage still did not back down, even though the fire was slowly spreading at his feet, making the air in the cave hot and stifling. He raised his head and looked into the red eyes of the large black dragon, but he did not get a chance to respond because Faff cut him off.

“I will hunt … I will kill … and if I find even a single human anywhere near my mountain, I will roast them alive, slowly and with relish.”

added the dragon, his voice a hoarse whisper. The magician nodded.

“Have I made myself clear?”

asked the flying lizard, furrowing his brow. The magician nodded again.

“Crystal clear. You have made yourself understood.”

assured the warrior, and Fafnir blew hot air from his nostrils at him, almost knocking the man off his feet.

“Good. I demand guarantees!”

Fafnir replied with such matter-of-factness that the magician was initially speechless. When no answer came at first, the flying lizard raised his eyebrows, looked questioningly at his counterpart, and for the first time since the conversation began, it seemed as if the magician was on the defensive. He was obviously searching for the right words, because his mouth moved without him speaking, and when the dragon tilted its head slightly and brought its snout closer to the intruder, he took a step back and stammered.

“Gu … guarantees? What kind of guarantees?”

he stuttered, his voice breaking, taking another step back and trying to get into the cold night air coming in from the cave entrance, but the huge black dragon simply followed him, step by step, ignoring the fire still burning on the ground.

“Oh, you know, guarantees, reassurances that your ridiculous army won't try anything stupid that would force me to live up to my name in the end. I'm sure your … masters understand.”

Fafnir explained in an almost casual tone, which, however, became significantly darker at the end of his explanation. The man, who had now made it into the draft, greedily inhaled the fresh breeze.

“Your … your name?”

he finally stammered as the oxygen rushed through his body and made it easier for him to think. The dragon grinned broadly, baring his deadly teeth once more, and slowly lowered his head far enough to look his counterpart directly in the eyes. His breath reeked of dragonfire, death, and destruction, but the mage –refreshed by the cold night air – remained steadfast.

"Correct, my name … You humans call me ‘Black Demon,’ 'Deathbringer,' and 'Ruin of Kingdoms. Ridiculous names given to me by ridiculous creatures. Nevertheless, they fit quite well, for I have done all of those things. I bring death, I have ravaged kingdoms, not just this one, by the way, and I will do so again!"

growled the dragon, and to emphasize his statement, he opened his mouth wide. His fire blazed in his throat, its merciless heat now hitting the mage unhindered. Fafnir continued to heat it up, pushing the flames further forward into his mouth, where they danced on his tongue and finally flickered around his snout. He let the mage stare into the inferno for a moment before snapping his jaws shut with a loud bang, extinguishing the blaze inside. The mage swallowed and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he took another step back.

“But these are not your real name, are they?”

It was less a question than a statement of fact, with which the human attempted to express some self-assurance again, but the heat was clearly taking its toll on him. Fafnir laughed softly, a harsh, evil laugh that sounded almost like large stones rubbing together.

“Quite right, little human, a mighty dragon will only obey his true name, which will remain hidden from you, you deceitful little spellcaster.”

The great dragon agreed, his lips curling back into a malicious smile. The warrior, on the other hand, only nodded weakly.

“Well then, what guarantees do you demand? What can my lords offer you to make you reconsider the proposition?”

he asked, looking toward the entrance of the cave, a certain longing visible in his features. Fafnir snorted contemptuously again, but drew his head back a little.

“Well, it has to be something of value for your masters to stick to the agreement, doesn't it? I thought we honored traditions …”

the dragon began in a very smug tone, and the magician looked at him with wide eyes. It was widely known that dragons sometimes placed great value on tradition. However, some of these traditions, as Fafnir had called them, were very archaic. There were legends of kidnapped virgins, incredible treasures, and sacrifices. None of it sounded desirable, but he didn't have to rack his brains any further, because Fafnir continued while absentmindedly examining his claws.

“ … I think your king's firstborn child would make an excellent hostage, and don't tell me your ruler has no offspring.”

When the mage heard the demand, he audibly gasped. He was now sweating profusely, and the whole situation was clearly getting to him. He probably hadn't expected the dragon to put him under such pressure, even though it should have been foreseeable. The dragon maintained his sardonic smile as he took another breath.

“It's a bit hot in here.”

he mentioned casually before slowly sitting up and looking outside, where the first rays of sunlight heralded the approaching morning.

“Don't worry, I'll take good care of my guest. The hostage shall want for nothing essential. I am an excellent host; no one has ever complained about my hospitality …”

Fafnir explained, looking the mage in the eyes before adding:

“… and survived.”

The dragon sounded very confident as he stretched slowly and comfortably before finally walking past the mage, who could think of nothing else to do but stare at him with his mouth hanging open. Anger and bewilderment were written all over the man's face, but Fafnir didn't care. He knew he was vastly superior to the lone warrior, even if the latter tried to use his magic.

“But … but …”

stammered the man, who slowly turned around and followed him onto the plateau in front of the cave. With every step the human took away from Fafnir's dwelling, he looked better. More oxygen, cooler air, more space to breathe.

"No, not ‘but’, but ‘at your service’ and ‘as you wish.’ If you want peace, you must submit. You are not the rulers of this world. Not yet, not in my domain. And as long as that is the case, you will submit to me."

The great black dragon explained it so calmly and with such certainty that there was no doubt about his opinion as he gazed into the distance across the valley. Dawn was already clearly visible on the horizon.

“You will bring me this hostage, I will take care of her, and you will leave me in peace. If there are special occasions when the hostage's presence at court is necessary, you will send me a messenger beforehand, and then I will graciously lend her to you, provided the occasion meets with my approval. Woe betide you if the hostage is not brought back to me afterwards.”

Fafnir continued, still gazing into the distance. Occasionally, his red eyes turned to the magician, who now stood a little apart, his face slowly changing color. Where it had initially been red from the heat in the cave, it had taken on a much paler hue in the fresh morning air. But after hearing the dragon's proposal, the blood rushed back to his face. Once again, the same bewilderment and anger that had graced his expression in the cave was written all over his face, only this time he could no longer control himself.

“With all due respect, demon, we cannot deliver the king's daughter as a pawn to a dragon, even if the peace of the kingdom depends on it.”

he began, his voice almost breaking, as he began to gesticulate with his arms. Fafnir paid little attention to this, but waited calmly to greet the morning sun.

“The princess will soon be married to the prince of the neighboring country. This liaison will secure peace between our kingdoms and strengthen the bonds between the countries. She cannot serve indefinitely as a guest of a dragon, let alone the black demon. Thwarting this union could mean the downfall of the kingdom!”

He almost shouted the last sentence at the armored back of the mighty flying lizard, who began to laugh quietly, the volume seeming to increase with each successive chuckle. Finally, Fafnir looked down at the mage standing behind him, whose sweaty hair was sticking to his head. He almost felt sorry for the little human as he stood there, breathing heavily in an attempt to remain calm.

“And you really think that angering this other kingdom could be worse than …”

Faff asked cheerfully, pointing at himself as he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“… angering me? Really?”

The sarcasm gave his voice an almost melodic quality, and he took a mischievous pleasure in watching the mage struggle with himself. The human clenched his fists, and for a moment it looked as if he was about to cast a spell, but he caught himself before the magic could manifest. Fafnir nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Is there no other solution? Another guarantee? Another hostage?”

asked the warlock with a trembling voice, his eyes desperately searching for something like compassion or understanding in their red counterparts. Fafnir rearranged his wings and slowly wrapped his tail around his feet as he let his gaze wander back to the horizon.

“I return that question to you. Was there no other way than to take the love of my long life from me? Was there no other way than to force me to sacrifice this land to the flames?”

Pain and anger resonated in his voice as he turned his head back to the mage and stared at him with his glowing red eyes.

“Was there no other way than to perpetuate this senseless feud?”

The accusation in his words was sharp, and his voice, though soft, was like a blade cutting through the silence of the early morning. The mage wanted to reply, but Fafnir cut him off.

“If your kingdom wants peace, then peace must first be made with me. I am not interested in your petty squabbles. The wars of men are not my wars. You know my demand, now go and bring me the little ward!”

The mage wanted to object, wanted to protest, but Fafnir looked into the distance again and took a deep breath. There would be no point in trying to change his mind now.

The man sighed deeply, and it sounded as if he had lost all courage.

“So be it. I will return to court and make your demand known to my lords; then I will inform you of theirs.”

he finally said, his voice sounding quite dejected. Fafnir nodded slightly as the sun slowly moved over the edge of the world on the horizon.

“Good, but hurry, our agreement will depend on it.”

He didn't even look at him as he felt the first real rays of sunlight of the day on his face, their light making his coal-black scales glow dully. The magician silently agreed and turned to leave. Shortly thereafter, Fafnir heard the crunching footsteps of the human as he quickly moved away from his cave. He remained seated in front of the cave for a while, enjoying the warming rays of the morning sun. He still had plenty to think about.

Only when he was absolutely sure that the human was out of earshot did the great dragon take a deep breath and sighed. It sounded almost laborious as he rose and stretched, each leg being stretched extensively before he stretched his head and tail, groaning as he did so. He shook himself briefly and smacked his lips several times. The concoction of several substances, stabilized and ignited with the help of wild magic, forming the dragon fire so typical of his species, did not taste particularly good. Even though the effect it had on his enemies every time he let his fire drip lazily from his mouth was extremely amusing, the unburned mixture stuck to his tongue and teeth, and it was always a pain to remove it. Finally, he spat a lump of the mixture onto the ground, where it ignited immediately. Fafnir grimaced in disgust, then turned toward his cave. With slow, deliberate steps, he returned to his nest, passing the spot where the ground had been burning just a few minutes ago. Now it was sooty, and the stench of the secretion hung heavy and sweet in the stuffy air. The dragon grumbled morosely and snorted contemptuously. He was actually still tired, but how could he sleep now after all this fuss?

“Always the same …”

he grumbled under his breath and looked around.

“… first they wake you up, then they force you to do stupid things, then they talk you into their nonsense, and in the end you're left sitting there with a princess on your hands, a cave sinking into chaos, no one to cuddle with …”

He grew louder with each point he listed.

“… no one to clean up the mess, and then … then, to top it all off, you're not even allowed to destroy any villages … RRRRrrraaaaaargh!”

he exclaimed in frustration at the end. He stamped demonstratively around the fire pit, where the embers of the night's fire were still smoldering faintly, and flopped down on his nest. He didn't curl up as he usually did, but simply lay across the roughly circular collection of skins, sticks, and blankets that had served as a nest for him and Tyria since Emmy's death. His butt and tail hung over one side, while his head and neck protruded over the raised edge of the nest on the other side. He was frustrated, downright depressed.

“Lonely …”

he finally whispered. His eyes scanned the large main room of the cave. He almost wished that the minions of the human king would attack him now, it would be a welcome distraction and a more than welcome reason not to have to stick to the agreement. At the same time, however, Fafnir knew that in the long run it would cause more problems than at least respecting the agreement. He ground his jaws, snorted into the embers of the fireplace, and immediately regretted it when the embers billowed apart and scattered widely throughout the cave.

“Ooooohrrrrrrrnnnn …”

A tirade of ancient curses followed as he curled up tightly and pulled his wing over his head.

---

One heads out to finds himself some ‘bolds

It took a while before he finally poked his head out from under his wing and looked around; nothing had caught fire, but he wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The great dragon growled grumpily, annoyed by his inability to wind down and still upset by the audacity of humans.

“It's no use, I can't sleep!”

he finally protested, slowly rising from his nest. It was that nagging thought that wouldn't leave his mind.

He had demanded a hostage, a human one, to make matters worse. He had no idea how to take care of a human. Of course, he realized that one of these upstarts was just an animal. A civilized animal, as they called it, but an animal nonetheless.

“Well, let's not call it an animal, let's call it a living creature, a pet perhaps …”

he muttered to himself and slowly crept through his cave. In any case, such a thing needed food, shelter, a place to sleep, a …

“What do they call it again?”

he murmured and looked around.

"… yes, exactly, a latrine. They can't just do it during the flight… well, they could, but it would already fail because of the flying."

He smiled and his rough laughter filled the room as he entered one of the rear chambers of his cave. In any case, there was more than enough space here. Emmy and he hadn't even used half of the space, the rear chambers had always remained empty. The princess could settle in there with the few things she would probably need.

“But what will she eat? She probably won't be satisfied with raw meat.”

he noted. He had learned a lot from humans over the centuries, and some of the dishes they prepared were quite tasty. He had prepared some of them himself, but he wasn't sure if he was capable of providing a human being with an adequate diet.

It slowly dawned on him that he might have taken on too much with this task, especially since he was also hoping that Nellja would visit him soon.

“At least this princess shouldn't be a child anymore. If she's promised to a brat from the neighboring kingdom, then hopefully she'll be a little older. By the heavens, I wouldn't know in a million years how to take care of one of her young!”

he muttered, looking worriedly toward the cave entrance. Would they have to detain the young thing here, or even install a gate? Lost in thought, he chewed on his lip for a while and finally shook his head.

“Maybe it's time to get myself some kobolds.”

he whispered the thought. He had toyed with the idea many times in the past, but had never really gotten around to it. Before he met Emmy, he had only been settled to a limited extent – of course he had had a hoard, every dragon worth his salt had one, but his had been small, manageable – and he had moved so often that it would have been a huge effort to take the kobolds with him every time. It was only later that he had become somewhat settled, but he had still been on the road for months at a time, while Emmy took care of everything. It was only many years later that he realized how selfish he had been all that time, but by then it was too late to make amends. Alone again with Tyria, he had taken care of everything himself, and so there had been no need for kobolds anymore.

Now the situation had changed again. Fafnir was still alone, but soon a human would be living with him, a human who was with him against his will, whom he would probably have to supervise, and whose relatives he had promised to take care of everything.

He couldn't be away for days on end with the royal offspring in his cave; even hunting and gathering supplies would be difficult under these circumstances.

He would need help, that much was clear, and quickly. A handful of kobolds could at least watch over the princess while he was away. He would teach them that this one human was not to be …

He didn't want to dwell on that thought, at least not now.

Besides, Nellja would be coming to visit sometime in the near future, and – he hoped – perhaps staying forever.

“Oh no … I hadn't thought of that …”

the thought flashed through his mind. The Bladewings hated humans with a fervor that was almost legendary. Of course, he wasn't particularly fond of these hairless monkeys either, but he wasn't nearly as fixated on them as the dragons of Nellja's clan. Fafnir believed that as long as humans stayed away from him and simply ignored him, he could ignore them pretty well too. Of course, it was always very frustrating that they were so attached to their gold and didn't just hand it over to him when he came by, but he could live with that. After all, he could also empathize with their, albeit irrelevant, need for dignity.

He grumbled to himself that Nellja was a problem he would have to deal with sooner rather than later. There was no real way to contact her before she literally stood in front of his cave. He would have to inform her of the circumstances then and there and hope that she wouldn't flambé the princess on the spot, not to mention the rest of the kingdom.

On the other hand, Nellja had also seemed weary of fighting, so perhaps there was a chance. Filled with new vigor, Fafnir decided to cling to that hope.

He went to his treasure chamber, the part of the cave that was sacred to many dragons. For him, too, this collection of treasures had long been the center of his life, but now he was no longer so attached to each individual item in his hoard. Other values, experiences, and encounters had taken their place and made the gold appear dull and lifeless. Of course, the jewels had lost none of their real value, but they were replaceable, arbitrary. Every treasure chamber had a selection of them, but nowhere would one find someone like Emmy.

Nevertheless, he took one of the leather bags he had for such matters and filled it with a considerable amount of his treasure. Anyone who wanted to hire kobolds would have to offer them a reward, because as much as kobolds enjoyed serving dragons, there had to be something in it for them, or at least for the person he bought them from. He tugged the pouch tightly against his hind leg and checked that it was secure before leaving his hoard.

He slowly stepped out of his cave and looked up at the morning sky, where the sun had already risen well above the horizon. The view from the plateau was majestic, with mountains on one side, their peaks illuminated by the early rays of the sun, and lush plains on the other, their fertile soil still covered in morning mist. Soon the sun would be high enough to burn away the haze and lure the people of the kingdom out of their homes.

The black dragon greedily sucked the cold mountain air into his lungs and let it escape very slowly. He loved this crisp, clear air, which was truly wonderful, especially in winter. Its purity invited him to fly, and so he was able to combine the useful with the pleasant as he slowly spread his wings and prepared to take off.

“Now, where can I get some kobolds?”

he asked with a smile, then pushed off from the plateau. His wings caught the wind and he sailed toward the valley. Still, he wasn't quite sure where to fly.

Basically, kobolds could be found everywhere; it wasn't as if they were rare. He used to hunt these little pests for fun because the wild ones simply tasted better than the mass-bred specimens available in the markets. The free kobolds were more muscular, had less fat, but were also less refined. They were good for a quick bite and a little fun, but when it came to tackling more complex tasks, they were pretty useless.

So he couldn't take any “wild” kobolds; he needed ready-made servants who were not only loyal and hardworking, but also intelligent and capable.

Loyalty and diligence were not a problem with kobolds, at least as far as he knew. The kobolds' zeal was legendary, and they never rested until the task was accomplished; it had always been that way. Loyalty was usually just as easy to obtain, because most of them literally longed to serve a dragon; it was in their nature. Ability and intelligence, on the other hand, were a different challenge altogether. There were certainly intelligent kobolds, real geniuses, as Grumpert's kobolds proved; the dragon wash had a reputation for that.

“Grumpert, exactly …”

Fafnir blurted out. Who else but the owner and operator of the dragon wash would know where to find a few really good kobolds? With an enthusiastic flick of his tail, the dragon turned and accelerated with powerful wing beats toward the west, where the dragon wash was located.

He didn't fly particularly high, but stayed between the clouds that sailed lazily across the sky. Deep below him, wisps of fog still hung over the fields, waiting patiently to be dispelled by the sun.

With the sun at his back, the black dragon flew over the land, listening to the whistling of the wind and the occasional screams of terror from the people who were already up early and saw his dark silhouette through the thinning fog. Soon he reached the vast forests that bordered his territory to the west, at the other end of which lay the western realms, where the magicians ruled and the fiercest battles raged. There he would also find the washing facility.

Autumn had already taken a firm hold of the forest, and the otherwise green treetops swaying in the wind formed a golden-yellow sea with gentle, rolling waves, which he followed for quite some time.

The gold of the canopy was only interrupted here and there when streams or small rivers meandered down from the distant mountains and carved paths through the forest on their long journey to the sea. Many of the rivers had names, some so old that even the dragons no longer knew who had originally named them. One of them, however, that had stood the test of time was the Blue Ice Float, so named by the trolls because it fed from a glacier high up in the mountains and its water was a deep blue color there. They hadn't been particularly creative, but the name had stuck.

Fafnir would follow this river, for it led directly to the dragon washing facility. He sank lower and flew in an arc along one of the lazy loops that the river drew through the eternal forest. It was almost fun, and Fafnir caught himself overdoing the turns a little so that he had to correct himself and thus had an excuse to fly more maneuvers. If the clearing hadn't been so narrow, he would probably have flown even lower, perhaps even directly above the water's surface, but the vegetation crowded closely around the watercourse and some of the trees already grew far beyond the banks. Besides, he would have lost sight of his surroundings.

It was extremely unlikely that members of the mage guilds were lurking in these woods, but it was not impossible; and then it would be disadvantageous to restrict his mobility.

So he stayed above the treetops until he saw the large clearing in the distance where the kobolds had set up their washing facility. Of course, this was a risk, because so close to enemy territory, it was always possible that the wizards would launch an attack. Some dragons had initially avoided the washing facility for this very reason, but over time, the kobolds had proven themselves to be independent entrepreneurs.

Fafnir still wondered what defense mechanisms they used to keep the magicians at bay, because he had not yet been able to find any nearby machinery or outposts.

It was still early in the day, but from a distance he could already see one or two dragons being pampered by the little helpers. With a few flaps of his wings, Fafnir gained altitude and flew a wide loop over the grounds to see where he could best land. Meanwhile, he watched the hustle and bustle on the ground with great interest, but realized that he didn't know any of the others. They must have come from further away. Perhaps, if time allowed and he was in a good mood, he would try to make their acquaintance, but first he would take care of his business here. He had more important things to do right now, so the black dragon headed for the meadow near the reception area and prepared to land. With his wings spread, he finally touched down on the open space and lowered his wings once more to cushion the impact before slowly straightening up with a satisfied growl.

His eyes fell on Laamri, who was also on duty at the reception desk that day. She had witnessed his impressive landing and now looked at him with wide eyes and a broad smile.

“Master Fafnir, it is an extraordinary pleasure to see you again so soon.”

the kobold greeted the approaching dragon and quickly tidied up some papers that had accumulated on her desk. Fafnir grinned and slowly shook his head, because as much as he had enjoyed yesterday's procedure, he was not here to call on her services again.

“Greetings.”

he grumbled quietly as he approached the kobold's desk, forcing Laamri to take a step back to see the great dragon's face.

“We hope you were satisfied with our service.”

The implied question was rather unnecessary, as dragons tended to express their displeasure quickly and bluntly, but etiquette demanded it. However, Faff simply nodded thoughtfully and slowly bowed his head to the little kobold.

“Oh yes, I am very satisfied with your work.”

His voice sounded rough but friendly, and his tail swayed relaxed behind him. It seemed to satisfy his counterpart, because Laamri nodded eagerly and pulled her clipboard out from under the desk.

“We are extremely pleased to hear that. What can we do for you today?”

She was completely in her element and had already pulled out her pen as she scanned the area with a trained eye for dirt and damage that she could report to the cleaning team. The black dragon watched with amusement as her eyes darted constantly from left to right and her gaze slowly lowered, then he shook his head.

“There's nothing you can do for me, but I'd like to speak to the owner of this facility.”

he replied, his eyes drifting to one of the huts scattered across the grounds. When he heard no response, he turned his gaze back to Laamri, who looked at him as if he had asked for something truly outrageous.

Her large eyes stared at him with an expression of utter horror, and he was well aware of Grumpert's reputation. He was considered quick-tempered, and it was said that he was very vindictive, but it was her job to ask for an audience, even if it meant trouble.

Basically, the dragon didn't care, because this little poisonous dwarf certainly wouldn't cause him any trouble. He looked down at Laamri and raised his eyebrows as if to say, “What's taking so long?” She hesitated only briefly, then raised her small hands, which were still holding the pen and clipboard, in a conciliatory gesture and took a few steps back.

“I'll see if he's available to talk. Please wait here.”

She looked slightly stressed as she glanced around briefly and then ran off. On the other side of the counter, Fafnir merely nodded and watched her as she hurriedly headed for one of the wooden huts. She wasn't running, but it wasn't far off. Giggling, the dragon sat down and wrapped his long tail around his feet. It certainly wouldn't take too long for the little thing to return; after all, the huts weren't too far away, and how long could it take to ask the boss for a little chat?

The muffled but still clearly audible shouting coming from the hut Laamri had run to made him almost flinch. The owner of the dragon wash didn't seem to be in a good mood at all, and although Fafnir didn't understand every word – he had a really awful accent – it was obvious that he wasn't happy.

So it didn't take long before the kobold girl came out of the hut again and approached the waiting draagon with firm steps and a determined look. When she reached her desk, Laamri leaned on it and took a deep breath. The flush of anger was still on her face, but she somehow managed to at least stop trembling. After exhaling long and deeply and her face slowly returning to its normal color, she looked up at Fafnir, clearly more relaxed. The practiced smile on her lips still seemed a little forced, but at least she managed to appear professional as she pointed to the empty space behind the hut.

“Grumpert will welcome you there, but be warned, Master Fafnir, he's a little quick-tempered today.”

the employee explained in a trained friendly tone, whereupon the dragon grinned and nodded.

“You don't say, he was impossible to ignore, but I think …”

Fafnir replied, bending his head down toward her and running his tongue over his scaly lips.

“… I'll know how to handle him.”

Laamri's eyes widened and she gasped slightly as the dragon rose cautiously.

“Worst case scenario, you'll need a new owner. Not that that's a big problem, is it?”

he added with a grin, and Laamri wasn't quite sure how to respond.

“Be that as it may …”

muttered the black dragon and strode past her, his tail swinging over her head as Laamri ducked behind the desk.

For a dragon of Fafnir's size, it took only a few steps to reach the back of the hut. The building might have been relatively spacious for a kobold, but for the black dragon it was little more than a doghouse, its roof not even reaching his shoulder.

He looked down at the simple wooden structure with a mixture of amusement and pity. He couldn't help but think of an old legend he had once heard from another dragon, in which three humans had built different houses out of straw, wood, and finally stone to protect themselves from a dragon.

“I'll huff and puff and blow your house down …”

That was more or less how the dragon's threat had sounded back then, before he had razed every house to the ground.

However, Fafnir could not dwell on memories any longer, because the small door of the hut opened and an astonishingly rotund kobold stepped out of the house. He had a cigar clamped between his jaws, which was not lit, however, and a certain aura of authority surrounded him. He seemed completely unimpressed as he looked up at Fafnir.

“So, say what you want, but make it quick. I still have a lot to do.”

the cheeky creature practically spat in Fafnir's direction, and the big dragon couldn't help but feel offended. He certainly hadn't expected to be fawned over by someone like the owner of the dragon wash, but a certain level of manners and at least basic respect were appropriate, considering how puny good old Grumpert was. Something like contempt was reflected in his red eyes.

“Do you know who you're dealing with, kobold?”

he finally growled, leaving no doubt about his resentment, but Grumpert just took his cigar out of his mouth and planted his small fists on his significantly more voluminous flanks.

“A full-grown nuisance who's costing me time and nerves. Now get to the point!”

he replied, without a trace of reason in his voice. Fafnir's lips curled as he bowed his head slightly toward Grumpert.

“I am Fafnir, the black demon, the ruin of kingdoms, the bringer of death. Show a little respect …”

Fafnir hissed angrily and raised his front foot slightly to tap the kobold with his sharp claw. Grumpert rolled his eyes and carelessly pushed the razor-sharp claw away.

“And I am Grumpert, owner and operator of the best and largest dragon washing facility on this continent. The fact that I am speaking to you is respect enough …”

He didn't get any further, because Fafnir's jaws snapped shut just inches from his face. The kobold hadn't seen the movement coming and fell backwards against the door of his hut, while the dragon pulled his head back with a rough growl, leaving a fiery trail on the floor.

“Listen, imp. You may be the great master here among your pathetic peers, but you are and will always be just a kobold …”

began Fafnir, thick smoke already billowing from his nostrils. Grumpert, meanwhile, scrambled to his feet and wanted to say something, but Fafnir cut him off with a quick gesture of his claws.

"… SILENCE! From now on, you will only speak when I allow you to! I came here and showed you all due respect by not simply taking what I wanted. I asked more than politely for a conversation, and now you have the audacity to confront me like this – of all dragons. Actually, I should just burn everything here to the ground and make an example of you and your subordinates, so that your kind are reminded of their place!"

the dragon's words echoed across the grounds, drawing the attention of those present to the two combatants. Grumpert, who seemed to have come to his senses quite quickly, raised his hands apologetically and pressed himself against the wall of the hut.

“So …”

he tried to reply, but the fire that continued to drip from Fafnir's mouth made him falter.

“I hear …?”

growled the dragon, lowering his head a little more until it was almost level with the kobold.

“It … it … was a stressful day, my nerves …”

stammered Grumpert, but Fafnir just shook his head slightly, spreading his fire over a larger radius.

“It's still quite early, Grumpert, come up with something better.”

It was little more than a hoarse whisper, its heat blowing against Grumpert and causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead. In the background, some of Grumpert's kobolds came running to see if they could defuse the situation, but none of them dared to say or do anything. They all knew who was arguing with their superior, and no one wanted to get caught between the fronts.

The dragon wash operator swallowed hard and finally gave in.

“Please forgive my harsh and completely inappropriate speech, my temper got the better of me. Let mercy prevail over justice.”

he muttered quietly, and although Fafnir understood him perfectly well, he furrowed his brow.

“What was that? I don't think I understood you …”

the black dragon replied, tapping his claw on the ear facing Grumpert to emphasize his statement.

“… can you repeat that?”

he asked in an exaggeratedly polite tone, but the kobold seemed to understand what was going on and took a deep breath.

“I said: Please forgive my impetuous and inappropriate speech, I let my temper get the better of me. Please let mercy prevail over justice.”

He spoke loudly enough for his crew to hear and understand him. Their giggling seemed to be a worse humiliation than admitting his guilt to the dragon. Fafnir nodded slowly and straightened up again, extinguishing his fire and finally sitting down in front of the kobold. He remained so close to his counterpart that the latter was forced to look up steeply in order to speak to the dragon.

“Very well, I will overlook this disrespect, at least this time, for I need your services.”

the dragon began, sounding so jovial that it was almost repulsive. Grumpert, who was still pressed against the wall of his hut, looked up at him and gestured somewhat desperately in the direction of his washing facility.

“That … you could have made that easier for yourself. Laamri …”

Grumpert replied, but Fafnir shook his head.

“No, I didn't mean that service, although I must admit …”

the great dragon responded gently, looking down at himself, where, despite the activities of the last twenty-four hours, it was still clear to see that the kobolds at the washing facility had done a good job.

“… that I am pleasantly surprised by the performance of your employees; but I am here for another reason.”

Fafnir added, bending his head down a little toward the little guy.

“I need a few kobolds for … household-related activities.”

He tried to sound casual, but he could already see the blush rising in Grumpert's face again.

“And then you come …”

the angry kobold blurted out before he could stop himself, but he held his hands in front of his snout and the rest of his outburst remained incomprehensible. The dragon grinned and nodded slightly.

“Well, now that you mention it, yes. Yes, I would definitely take some of ‘your’ kobolds, because at least with them I can be sure that they are capable.”

he replied mischievously, looking over at the group of curious employees. Now the kobold could no longer hold back and it burst out of him.

“How dare you! Just because you can, doesn't mean you're allowed to take whatever you want! Show ME some respect. After all, I created all of this from nothing so that you table lighters don't have to wash your own asses!”

Grumpert shouted angrily, but then he saw Fafnir's gaze and added meekly:

“My employees are not at your disposal!”

The dragon, more like a shadow as black as night, towering far above the kobold, looked at him with glowing red eyes sparkling with malice.

“You're still alive, aren't you?”

Grumpert nodded.

“That's respect enough.”

Fafnir growled and watched as the kobold, who had briefly puffed himself up again, collapsed like a soufflé.

Fafnir waited just a tiny moment longer before suddenly bursting into loud laughter. The rough, hoarse laughter carried far across the grounds, so that even the last person present turned to look at them. It took a little while for the dragon to compose himself enough to turn his attention back to the kobold. As he looked at him in horror, Grumpert somehow reminded him of a frog with flatulence.

“By the heavens, you should have seen your face just now. Simply delicious.”

He was still chuckling a little, but quickly composed himself when he saw that his counterpart was not at all happy.

"So, once again: I need some kobolds to take care of a few things for me. After all, I will be welcoming a permanent guest in the near future, and since I can't always stay at home, I need someone who can ensure the safety and comfort of my guest and, of course, my hoard. I would, of course, prefer well-trained, capable kobolds. However, since I am a little pressed for time, I am willing to accept personnel who do not quite meet my high standards."

Fafnir explained calmly and composedly, whereupon even Grumpert seemed to slowly calm down.

“So you come to good old Grumpert to ask for his help.”

the kobold observed, and the big dragon nodded appreciatively with his eyes closed.

“That's right. I thought I'd ask you because you obviously have a knack for finding good servants. It won't hurt you either.”

Faff replied, reaching for the leather pouch on his hind leg. He took out a generous amount of gold coins and dropped them into Grumpert's outstretched hands.

“You could call it an advance payment. Get me a small troop of capable kobolds. They must be able to clean, cook, and protect the hoard, and there's a bonus if they have manners; then I won't have to teach them first.”

he explained to the kobold, whose hands were still trembling as he struggled not to drop any of the coins. The puffy reptile's eyes bulged visibly as he looked at the gold in his hands. It wasn't an overwhelming amount of the precious metal, and even less than what Fafnir would be able to pay, but he wouldn't have to do too much for it either. A few calls, a few conversations, nothing that would particularly tax him, at least that's what Fafnir thought.

Grumpert slipped the coins into one of his spacious pockets and grinned furtively up at the great dragon.

“Why didn't you say so right away? Nothing could be easier. I'll take care of it immediately and personally.”

The enthusiasm in the kobold's voice was clouded by greed for more and the intrinsic instinct to please the dragon. Fafnir smiled thinly and looked at the imp.

“I would have mentioned it earlier if a certain kobold hadn't completely forgotten his manners, but never mind. I'm sure you'll do your best to find me good staff, because you don't want me to have to come back again, do you?”

It was a purely rhetorical question, and yet Grumpert nodded eagerly, too absorbed in his daydreams.

“Good, then we're done here. Send the servants to me as soon as they are available. I am a very impatient dragon when I want something badly.”

Fafnir added with just enough emphasis to ensure that his request was taken seriously. When the kobold assured him that he would take care of everything, the black dragon blinked slowly and then rose leisurely to his feet. He uncoiled his long tail, which he had wrapped around himself in his typical manner, and let it whip through the air with a hiss.

“I'm counting on you, imp. Make sure I'm not left wanting.”

Fafnir growled as he turned to take a few steps away from the hut before spreading his enormous wings and taking a slight crouch.

“Certainly, you can count on me.”

Grumpert assured him, and Fafnir soared into the air. The sound of his powerful wing beats was accompanied by a triumphant roar as he quickly gained altitude and speed.

---

Opportunity creates bounty

The return flight was terribly uneventful, as Fafnir flew quickly and high back to his lair. He was driven by anticipation for his 'guests', but also by the knowledge that his cave resembled a bachelor pad in many relevant ways: it was quite messy. He would have to tidy up before his hostage or future companion arrived.

He didn't know when each party would arrive, but he was pretty sure that the princess would be traveling for a few days before she reached his cave, assuming they would leave immediately after the magician returned to court.

"Hmmmm, that's rather unlikely. There will be some discussions; both Their Majesties and the magicians of the guild will not be satisfied."

he muttered, then began to laugh loudly.

“Oh, I would love to be a fly on the wall …”

he added as he left the forest area and flew over the vast plains of his territory.

He would give the humans a few days, maybe two weeks, before he would have to ‘kindly’ remind them of their agreement. By then, he should have enough time to prepare his home, and perhaps the kobolds would have arrived by then and could help him.

But the thought of where he could accommodate everyone in his cave, what changes he would have to make, and where he could get the materials for them already made his claws curl. Of course, he could simply take what he needed – who would stop him? – but on the other hand, once the princess was with him, he could no longer simply plunder the villages. After all, he had promised to keep the peace. So he would have to find resources elsewhere, probably by buying them or raiding other kingdoms.

He grimaced at the thought of giving the humans their gold back.

Lost in thought, he looked down at the plain where a large herd had gathered around a pool, and instinctively his stomach began to rebel, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything in quite some time. Fafnir grinned. He hadn't sealed the deal yet; he could still take whatever he wanted, and at least a few small creatures here and there shouldn't jeopardize that.

He spread his wings and went into a steep dive. With a shrill screech, he literally fell out of the sky and waited until the last moment before opening his wings again and catching his fall in a swift glide. The cattle scattered before him in an attempt to escape the dragon, but not all of them were intelligent enough not to simply run ahead.

Even though cattle could run amazingly fast when it came to sheer survival, they were no match for a dragon. The panicked cries of the animals galloping away from him only spurred Fafnir on further. It was almost too easy when he simply stretched out his claws and caught the cow he was flying over.

The powerful blow from the dragon's clawed paw caused the cow to stumble and finally fall from full gallop. While the animal rolled over several times and came to rest a few meters away, Fafnir turned in a tight loop, slowed his flight, and finally landed with a thud not far from his prey.

It was not yet dead, but it was obvious that it would not survive, even if Fafnir did not feed on it. The cow looked at him with wide eyes, its breathing turning into short, choppy gasps, while the large, black dragon slowly and relishfully folded its wings against its massive body and towered over its prey. Slowly, he pulled back his lips, baring his dagger-like teeth. The cow tried to scream, to flee, but her injuries made escape impossible, and her cries did little to deter the dragon from his meal. As Fafnir's head lowered and his jaws closed around her neck, she reared up one last time, then her body went completely limp. The dragon waited a moment longer before releasing his prey and raising his head slightly to take a closer look at his catch. It was a well-fed cow and, at first glance, she appeared to be healthy. A feast. Opening his mouth wide, he struck and devoured the animal right there and then, for there was no reason to take the cattle anywhere else; only when he was no longer alone would it make more sense to take his prey home before consuming it.

---

Insights

The sun had just passed its zenith when Fafnir returned to his cave. With powerful wing beats, he spiraled up the mountainside until he reached the plateau in front of his lair. Shortly before landing, he dropped the rest of his meal to make landing easier. With one last flap of his wings, he settled on the landing pad and then carefully folded his wings against his massive body. It was quiet up here in the mountains. Only the wind, which blew almost incessantly here, rustled the sparse trees and bushes. The dragon looked around, searching for signs of intruders who might have settled here during his absence, but there were no traces, no signs that anyone else was here besides himself.

Nodding contentedly, the dragon lowered his head to pick up his prey before entering his lair. Directly behind the entrance was the main room of his cave, which also housed his kitchen, for lack of a better word, although the large granite block that served as his work table and the fireplace next to it could hardly be called a proper kitchen.

However, before he could put his souvenir there, the dragon first had to dispose of the remains of another meal. Fafnir looked with disgust at the already decaying remains of a deer he had caught a few days ago. He had only eaten most of this majestic animal and saved the rest for a later meal, which had never taken place. The sweetish smell emanating from the carcass made him wrinkle his nose, but he could probably still eat it – a dragon's stomach was quite capable of handling just about anything – but why should he? After all, he had brought fresh meat with him.

Fafnir snorted contemptuously and pushed the meager remains into the fire pit before dropping the fresh carcass onto the granite block and turning toward it as well. A neat burst of his dragon fire made short work of what he had just disposed of there, as hot flames flared brightly and consumed everything in the pit.

“What a waste …”

Fafnir reproached himself and resolved to be more careful in the future to hunt only as much as he really needed, or to consume what he killed quickly.

“… Humans have much more sensitive stomachs …”

he mused to himself, but he didn't really know for sure. He only knew that humans were weaklings and much more fussy when it came to their food. The flames flickered wildly and the dragon watched their hypnotic dance for a moment, but then he tore himself away and looked around the cave. There was so much to do.

Since Emmy's death, he had been living like a young dragon again, doing only what was necessary to maintain basic order, at least while Tyria was still there; but now he was all alone again, and that had left its mark on the large cave. Plenty of space to put things off.

His nest, once a small work of art that he had woven together with Emmy in days of painstaking work and then upholstered with exquisite furs, was rumpled and the damage had only been patched up makeshift.

The decorations, which had been collected over almost a century and then rearranged again and again over an equally long period of time until they looked truly perfect, had been knocked over, moved, and destroyed by a raging young dragoness, but never properly replaced or put back in their place.

Burn marks, stains whose origin he could not explain, rubbish, pieces of armor and weapons did the rest to adorn his dwelling, and it bothered him.

It really bothered him. And to his shame, he had to admit that it had bothered him not only since that day, but he had not been able to overcome his lethargy to do anything about it.

“This ends here and now…”

Fafnir commanded himself and began picking up scattered items and placing them in a pile. He would probably throw almost everything away, but he wanted to collect it all first and then decide what to do with it.

He ended up spending almost the entire rest of the day separating trash from recyclables. It was amazing how much trash had accumulated over time, and during the course of the day, he had to realize that it wasn't so easy to pick up all the sometimes very small items and put them in a pile, since he could only use his mouth most of the time. After a while, he started throwing items in the general direction before finally placing them on the pile.

“Where did all this come from?”

Fafnir muttered as he looked at the collection of objects in the front area of his main cave. Of course, he was aware that most of it was stuff that adventurers had 'lost', but he hadn't thought there would be so much.

Emmy used to take care of it and make sure the cave stayed clean, that everything was tidy and neat. He had always just caused chaos, bringing in new stuff, trophies, gifts, souvenirs, which he simply left lying around somewhere so his companion could find a place for the junk.

But that would change from now on, no, it had to change from now on. He couldn't just dump things here in the cave anymore, hoping that someone would take care of them. In the worst case, this little human he had tied to his leg would hurt herself on something and then get sick, just like they always did, and that had to be prevented at all costs.

“We don't want this brat to hurt herself. Otherwise, her dear old daddy might complain, and that's not going to happen.”

He muttered to himself, addressing no one in particular, but simply giving free rein to his contempt. His lips twisted into a sardonic grin.

“Well, if we're being honest, it would actually be her own fault …”

he added, picking up a bent, rusty sword and examining it curiously, but then carelessly throwing it onto the pile.

“… if she hurts herself on anything. She'll get her own little kingdom where she can ‘reside’ …”

His tone became downright contemptuous with the last words.

“… and if she leaves that area, she shouldn't be surprised if there's something lying around.”

He concluded his monologue and barely resisted the urge to scatter the whole pile around the cave again, just out of spite. The only thing that really stopped him was the fact that the mess bothered him too, and that he didn't want Nellja to find his cave in absolute chaos. He didn't really care what the two-legged creatures thought. Finally, he tore his eyes away from the pile and looked around his lair. It already looked much better, still not really tidy, of course, but at least no longer completely desolate. As he continued to let his gaze wander, he noticed that the light from outside had already become significantly weaker.

How much time had he spent picking up this junk? He shook his head in disbelief and slowly walked to the cave entrance. Indeed, the sun was already beginning to hide behind the mountains. The sky was already turning pale red and the outlines of the peaks glowed golden as they were illuminated from behind.

Fafnir stepped up to the edge of the plateau and sat down so that he was facing the sun. The last orange-red rays of the sun made the scales on his face glow dully, and his otherwise raven-black scales took on a coppery hue. After watching the majestic spectacle for a moment, he closed his red eyes and simply enjoyed the warmth on his armor.

---

Interlude

Night fell quickly in the mountains, the shadows grew rapidly, and with them darkness and fear.

The enormous shadow, barely distinguishable from its surroundings, sat silently and motionless on its plateau. Its wings wrapped tightly around its body and its long tail wrapped around its feet like a shackle, it was like a memorial statue. A silent guardian high above the valley, its eyes closed, but its spirit never sleeping.

It was a dark night. A cold night. Clouds covered the moon and the stars did not twinkle in the firmament.

Unlike on previous nights, however, the shadow was no longer drawn to the peaks and above the clouds. He felt a strange peace within himself that he had not felt in a very long time. Very slowly, he opened his eyes, and their faint red glow stood out in the darkness of the night. Without haste, they moved and looked at the world that spread out around him, gray on gray, robbed of all color.

“Hmmmm …”

he murmured softly, and his gaze turned to the valley, where the shadows were even denser, even darker than on his mountain. The perfect night to wipe out a village.

“No, old boy, you can't do that anymore …”

murmured the shadow, and something like disappointment resonated in his voice. As if to give more expression to his feelings, he took a deep breath, and as his breath left his nostrils, it formed thick clouds that were soon carried away by the wind and dissolved. He watched the quickly dissipating mist and finally shook his head.

“Time to sleep.”

he sighed and rose laboriously from his vantage point, stretching extensively and finally turning toward his cave. In the darkness of the night, he was just a shadow, an almost black outline against an equally gloomy background. Only the red of his eyes and the occasional mist of his breath stood out against the backdrop. However, his slow, sluggish movements belied his strength and made him appear exhausted and drained; and if someone had asked him now, he would certainly have admitted to being tired, even sleepy, but he would never have admitted to anyone else that he felt exhausted or even drained. A dragon of his caliber did not reveal such vulnerability.

His long tail slithered behind him in slow undulations as he passed the mouth of the cave and left the outside world and its conflicts behind.

Inside the cave, he was greeted by a familiar smell, and the air was warmer than outside, though not by much. With sedate steps, he circled the fireplace and pushed a few more logs into the ash-filled depression before carefully lighting them with his fire.

The dry wood burned immediately, and the glow of the flames illuminated the black-armored face of the shadow, whose lips curved into a gentle smile as the playful dance of the flames cast his silhouette unsteadily onto the walls. With a low hum, the shadow nodded in approval of his work and moved on to the ring-shaped structure that served as his nest.

He carefully climbed over the edge and turned around once before curling up inside his bed so that his head continued to face the fire.

“Soon …”

he sighed softly, watching the flickering of the fire for a moment before closing his red eyes.

---

A kobold seldomly arrives alone

The next few days passed without incident, but Fafnir had expected as much; his cave was literally on the other side of the kingdom. What was a leisurely day trip for him would be a journey that would take several days for humans. Furthermore, he did not expect the kobolds to arrive within the next few days.

“Short legs …”

he smiled as he held up the typical image of a kobold.

“… nimble little beasts.”

added the dragon, thinking about how difficult it sometimes was to catch them. Their small stature, quick reflexes, and cunning nature had evolved kobolds into crafty little creatures over the centuries, but all that only helped to a limited extent when it came to covering long distances quickly.

In fact, it would take a few more days for the small caravan to make its way to his cave. Fafnir had already heard their loud and boisterous chatter before they arrived. Slowly, the dragon emerged from his cave and watched as the group covered the last few meters to his landing site. There were ten of them, and they wore long hooded cloaks under which their large ears were visible. Each carried a bundle tied to sticks over their shoulders.

The dragon grinned as a thought briefly crossed his mind.

“Hmmm, free snacks, that's dedication worthy of respect.”

he called out cheerfully, and for a brief moment, you could see the kobold faces fall until they realized that Fafnir hadn't really meant it.

The largest of the kobolds, who was also walking at the head of their small column, pushed back his hood and unfolded his ears. His scales were a warm orange color and his eyes were a bright green. Like a good subordinate, he immediately stepped forward, sank to one knee before the great dragon, and bowed his head.

“Greetings, Master Fafnir, my name is Grendel. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. We have come to enter your service.”

His slightly squeaky voice somehow did not match his appearance, but he showed the expected respect, and when Fafnir looked from the kneeling man to the rest of his crew, they also knelt and lowered their gaze.

“Rise, Grendel.”

the dragon replied quietly, his warm smile clearly showing his goodwill. It took a moment, but then the little kobold rose, and with him the rest of his crew. As he surveyed them, Fafnir hummed his approval softly. It was a small but fine crew that Grumpert had hired for him. As was usual for these little scaly creatures, no two were alike; each was special in its own way, but they all had in common that they were significantly smaller than the average human. They all had amazingly large ears and eyes, and none of them could stand still for even a moment.

“Grumpert sent you?”

asked the dragon, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, and Grendel nodded eagerly.

“Certainly. He hired us on your behalf. He said the mighty black demon needed capable henchmen who were not only loyal but also clever.”

confirmed the kobold in his inimitable voice, which brought a smile to the dragon's lips before he nodded.

“Good, good. Your crew, is that everyone?”

The question was justified, because Fafnir had left a lot of gold with Grumpert. If he only got ten of these little nasties in return – even if they met his standards – then that was quite a generous commission for the fat dragon wash owner. To his relief, however, Grendel shook his head, which made his ears flutter around. Somehow, this made the kobold look cute and stupid in a way that Fafnir liked.

“No, Master Fafnir, a few more kobolds will be coming as soon as they are available. You have set high standards for your henchmen, and it is not easy to meet them.”

replied the ringleader, and the dragon grunted in agreement.

“Indeed, I need capable personnel. I am expecting important guests whose well-being I have guaranteed. Your primary task will be to make sure they have everything they need.”

explained the flying lizard calmly, turning slowly toward the entrance of his cave, one of his wings signaling the newcomers to follow. Grendel glanced briefly at his companions before they joined the dragon.

Inside, it was darker but significantly warmer than outside, and as they walked down the short corridor leading to the main chamber of the hoard, Fafnir continued.

“However, before my guests arrive, there are a few other things to do. My lair is in a … hmmm …”

he muttered thoughtfully.

“… how should I put it … hmmm … unsightly condition.”

he concluded as they reached the main cave and the light shining in from outside projected his silhouette as a large shadow on the back wall of the area. The dragon stopped and let the impressions sink in on his new subordinates, who gradually entered the room.

The main cave had a high ceiling and was surprisingly large. On several intermediate levels, there was not only his kitchen, next to which he had set up his sleeping quarters some time ago, but also a kind of living area where Fafnir had previously spent most of his time with Emmy. This had its own fireplace, which was used not only as a source of light but also as a source of heat, and the walls were lined with the meager remains of various decorations that had been provisionally repaired or rearranged, while the stone floor had once been covered with a kind of carpet. However, Fafnir had disposed of the flooring because it had suffered so much over time from Tyria's first attempts to control her fire. Further back in the cave were several passages leading to other sections of his lair: the treasure chamber, his former bedchamber, and several other rooms they had not yet needed.

Grendel and the other kobolds looked around. It wasn't exactly messy; the dragon had used the time until their arrival productively and had already removed most of the things that could clearly be recognized as rubbish from the cave. However, that didn't mean that the cave was even remotely livable. Everything looked neglected, worn out, dirty.

“Master Fafnir …”

Grendel began, trying to strike the right tone.

“… if you'll allow me to ask, who are the guests you wish to receive here?”

The question sounded genuinely interested, and it was appropriate, because one would go to great lengths for another dragon, but not for a human. Fafnir looked at the little devil at his side and took a deep breath.

"Well, sometime in the next few days, the princess of this kingdom should arrive here. She will reside here as my hostage, indefinitely. She should not lack anything essential, but I think such a human being will be quite easy to keep, won't she?"

replied the dragon, but he did not sound really convinced. Grendel scratched his chin before looking up at him.

“You get your hostages delivered, Master Fafnir?”

There was a lot of amusement in the kobold's question, and even the dragon couldn't help but smile. However, he quickly regained his composure.

“Well, it's a concession from the citizens of this kingdom. They want peace and are willing to do their part to ensure that I don't have to sacrifice their land to the flames again.”

Fafnir explained in a calm voice, looking around the cave.

"They will drop them off here sometime in the next few days. Until then, this cave needs to be spruced up, and I'm afraid we'll have to create some accommodation for this brat. In addition, I hope that another bladewing dragon will arrive here in the not too distant future, so you will have plenty of work to do for the time being."

He continued, and Grendel's expression changed several times, first from curiosity to amusement and finally to shock. The kobold started to ask a question several times, but each time he stopped before he had said a word. Finally, Fafnir nodded slightly and took over for him.

“I know, Grendel. I am well aware of the dilemma, but I hope that it will work out anyway. Nellja is open to reason; she won't just kill my hostage… I hope.”

The dragon sounded quite uncertain, but the kobold at his side just nodded and continued to look around.

“Very well, Master Fafnir, we will need some building materials so that we can build a chamber for your hostage and restore your nest to a condition where two large dragons can feel comfortable in it.”

“You shall have what you need. Come, let me show you where I would like to have them placed.”

said the dragon good-naturedly, slowly rising again. Grendel nodded and remained at his side while he motioned for the others to wait. Fafnir walked slowly through the main room of his hoard, his long tail swinging leisurely behind him.

“This is the actual living and reception area of the cave, but there are several other rooms in the rear areas of this domicile.”

said the dragon, pointing briefly to one of the openings in the wall.

“That leads to the hoard. I know how much you little robbers love the glitter, and you are allowed to stay there, but woe betide any kobold I catch helping themselves without permission.”

This threat sounded intimidating coming from his master's mouth, and the dragon's mischievous grin made the kobold shiver.

“Don't worry, Master Fafnir. With us at your side, the hoard will only continue to grow.”

replied the kobold, nodding eagerly. Fafnir looked down, spotted the broad grin on his subordinate's lips, and chuckled softly.

“We'll see, but I'm not too worried about that.”

replied the dragon, leading his companion through the other passageway into the rear areas of the cave. They now entered the part of the cave that Fafnir had once used as a nest with Emmy. They had made themselves comfortable there, but basically the whole area had become more of a large playground, with furs and other cushions everywhere, but now it looked bleak, cold, and empty. The dragon grew quieter, his movements slower and more deliberate as he looked around the abandoned room. He had brought most of the furnishings to the main room before Tyria hatched, along with her egg, and all that remained were a few tattered remnants. As his eyes scanned the darkness, memories overwhelmed him and he took a deep breath.

“This was once our … my nest, but I haven't used it in a long time. Maybe if Nellja decides to stay … maybe …”

he murmured quietly, looking toward the back wall, where another passage led to areas of the cave they had never used. Emmy had once explored them, and Tyria had honed her hunting skills there in the torchless darkness, but Fafnir had never had any reason to go in there. Grendel refrained from commenting, but remained at the dragon's side.

“There are more cave sections back there. You can set up quarters for the hostage and, of course, your camp there. Take as much space as you need; as long as it doesn't conflict with my needs, it's fine with me. Look around, make plans, and let me know what you need. I'll make sure you get what you ask for.”

the dragon repeated in a rough voice, pointing to the passageway. Grendel followed the instruction and looked over at the ominous path, but did not go through it for the moment. Fafnir knew that these little scaly creatures were not quite so forgiving. He estimated that the faint glow of light still reaching them from the main cave illuminated this area just enough for the kobold's leniency to give him a rough idea of the size of the room. If they wanted to work back here, they would need torches or fire bowls. He wasn't too worried about that; kobolds were inventive, they would know how to help themselves.

“Understood, Master Fafnir. The others and I will look at the possibilities in the rear areas and draw up appropriate plans. For the first night, we would prefer a place by the fire, if that is acceptable to you, Master Fafnir, of course.”

The kobold sounded excited and eager to get started, which Fafnir welcomed, and he decided to allow them to warm themselves by his fire for the first few nights until they had set up their own camp, but they were not coming into the nest. He would not allow that. He would not allow that. Pets had no place on his furs, except perhaps to clean them. He was very tolerant, but there were limits. He would only share his nest with Nellja, there was no question about that.

“You shall have this place until your camp is ready. I will hunt and bring back enough food for us to feast on. Now go and fetch your companions. Begin the work, there is much to do and little time.”

he instructed the kobold in a firm but benevolent voice before turning on his heel and returning surprisingly quickly to the front of the cave, where the other nine kobolds had already sat down in a circle and were waiting for Grendel's return. Fafnir just looked at them and then grinned.

“Eeny, meeny, moo …”

he counted quietly and mischievously, but paused mid-sentence when he heard a cough beside him. He was about to mutter grumpily and reprimand his subordinate, but when he turned his head toward the sound, he saw a kobold grinning broadly, admonishing him with a raised finger.

“No, no, no, Master Fafnir, THESE kobolds are not meant to be eaten.”

Grendel explained in a feigned serious voice, but he couldn't quite suppress a laugh when he saw Fafnir's derailed facial features. The dragon quickly caught on and realized that his lackey had understood his joke. Hearing his laughter, the other kobolds pricked up their ears and looked around for the two of them. Curiosity was reflected on their faces as the dragon, accompanied by their leader, slowly approached them.

“… but they taste really delicious when you roast them slowly over an open fire and stuff them with mushrooms and onions first.”

Fafnir dryly continued his joke, trying to convince the kobold, but he still shook his head and remained adamant.

“I know, and if you pour beer over them while they're cooking, they become even tastier. Nevertheless, these kobolds are not meant for consumption.”

Grendel corrected his liege lord, but the suppressed laughter was still audible in his voice, whereupon Fafnir threw his head back, growled in disappointment, and stamped his paw on the ground to keep up appearances.

“You never let me have anything!”

grumbled the black demon as the other kobolds rose and cautiously backed away from him.

Both Fafnir and Grendel watched the spectacle for a moment, maintaining the tension and enjoying the uncertainty on the others' faces before both burst into loud laughter.

An awkward moment passed before the two had recovered enough to calm the other kobolds.

“All right, all right, it was just a joke.”

Grendel began, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye while the dragon chuckled a little longer.

"Hey, hey, hey, you should have seen your faces. Hi hi hi, too delicious."

Fafnir snorted and shook his head in amusement. His little henchmen looked at each other in disbelief, still tense and uncertain about their master's statement, who was quite capable of devouring one or two kobolds as he walked past them toward the cave exit.

“I leave my hoard in your care. Grendel, you have a job to do, get started!” he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the passageway.

---

To feed a whole horde

On the way to the plateau in front of his cave, Fafnir was still laughing to himself. Just for this fun alone, it had been worth hiring the kobolds. He was in high spirits, even when he thought back to the brief low point in his old nest. He would consider whether he should really move the nest back to this section of the cave. It had always been more comfortable there than in the main hall, and if Nellja really stayed, it would make more sense to have a place of retreat that was quieter and more secluded than the reception area. Not that he would be shy about getting intimate with his companion in front of his subordinates, but it did have something to do with privacy.

When he finally stepped into the light, he stretched his wings and enjoyed the cold on his scales. He took a deep breath, tasted the crystal-clear air, and then let it escape very slowly.

“Aaaaah … wonderful.”

he sighed and stretched with relish. He would go hunting, get a decent feast for himself and his subordinates while they got their bearings. He looked down the slopes of his mountain, to where the forests and meadows met, where he would find a deer or two to catch.

He carefully flapped his wings a few times, feeling the wind catch in the membranes and almost lift him off the ground. The desire to fly and hunt rose within him, and he roared it into the cold mountain air before plunging off the edge and sailing down the slope.

Gaining speed, he whistled over the trees toward the valley. He hoped he could drive the game out of the forest and onto the meadow, where they would be easy to kill. He could only hunt them to a limited extent under the trees. Although he was able to break through the treetops, if he missed his prey, which sometimes happened, he had to climb laboriously out of the ruined canopy before he could continue the hunt. He much preferred to hunt his dinner in open fields. So he sailed over the densely vegetated slopes near the foot of his mountain, repeatedly letting out short cries that he knew would panic the animals and drive them away from him. Between his cries, he only had to listen to the forest and wait for something to startle him.

It didn't take long before he heard something literally explode, and shortly thereafter, a large shadow sprinted through the forest in front of him.

Fafnir laughed loudly, changed course, and gave chase.

“Yes … run … run for your life … ha ha ha haaa … faster, faster …”

he shouted through the treetops that rushed past between him and his prey. He heard the animal's panicked cries as it stormed through the thicket, hoping to escape its pursuer, but both knew that there was no escape now. Once in the dragon's sights, death was the only way out.

Further ahead, the edge of the open field was quickly approaching, and with it the chance to kill his prey. Just before Fafnir reached the edge, the boar broke through the last bushes separating it from the meadow. The boar raced away at full speed, and the dragon chasing it let out a triumphant cry when he saw his target clearly for the first time. He accelerated with ease and closed the gap between them, reaching down and snatching his squealing meal. Feeling the long claws on its flanks, the boar struggled and fought back for a moment longer before Fafnir broke its neck. Even as the twitching in his claws subsided, the dragon flapped his wings to regain speed and altitude. In the course of this maneuver, he looked around once more in the hope of seeing one or two more prey animals, which would make feeding his new subordinates much easier.

However, he had to admit to his shame that he had no idea how much a kobold needed for its daily requirements. He only knew that he could consume a wild boar like this in one sitting, but now there were ten more mouths to feed, and no matter how frugal they were, they would hardly be satisfied with the few mosses and lichens in his cave.

In the end, he had managed to catch a second boar, and when he landed on the plateau in front of his cave with the afternoon sun behind him, one of the kobolds was already waiting for him there. Armed with a spear, he stood guard at the entrance to the hoard, and when he saw his master approaching, he bowed deeply and greeted him respectfully.

“Welcome back, sir.”

The reverence that resonated with the greeting delighted Fafnir. In general, he was very fond of his subordinates' subservience and their need to please him, and once again he realized that it had been a great mistake not to have decided to acquire kobolds earlier.

After arranging his wings and placing his prey on the plateau, he approached the guard in good spirits and gently touched his head with his paw.

“Get up and fetch the others, I've brought dinner.”

he grumbled benevolently, watching as the little kobold seemed to grow under his paw.

“Thank you, master. I will inform the others immediately.”

replied his lackey and trotted off into the cave under Fafnir's slightly amused gaze.

“So dutiful …”

he muttered to himself before slowly turning in the direction of his hoard, from which he could already hear the excited chatter of the other kobolds. Grendel was the first to come out to meet him, followed by six others and the guard. When they saw their master, they all immediately knelt and greeted him. Fafnir basked in their display of reverence and loyalty for a moment longer than necessary before allowing them to rise again.

“I brought dinner, take care of it.”

Fafnir commanded calmly and strolled past the group to the cave, while he heard Grendel giving instructions behind him.

When he entered the main room, he noticed that his lackeys had been very busy during his short absence.

They had neatly gathered the last bits of rubbish and some of the damaged decorations into small piles and sorted them according to usability. They had started to clear the fireplace of the ashes from the last few months and had begun to clean the floor.

They had neatly gathered the last remnants of rubbish and some of the damaged decorations into small piles and sorted them according to usability, had begun to clear the fireplace of the ashes of the last few months, and his nest already looked much tidier.

Fafnir grinned broadly and nodded; he was very satisfied. If the kobolds continued like this, it was quite possible that his cave would be in a presentable condition before his guests arrived. It would make a much better impression on his guests, especially Nellja, and it was important to him that she felt comfortable with him from the start. After all, it would make her decision to stay with him permanently easier. At least, that's how he imagined it in his mind.

Before that, however, his little minions arrived and, much to the dragon's astonishment, carried the wild boars to the fireplace. Impressed that these beasts were able to carry the heavy boar on their shoulders into his kitchen, he took a step back and let them pass. Together, they hoisted the first animal onto the granite block and immediately began gutting it and preparing it for cooking. It was quite interesting to watch them quickly, cleanly, and skillfully separate the edible innards from the inedible parts, at least for non-dragons.

“Master Fafnir, how would you like your dinner?”

asked one of the kobolds, who was busy skinning the cellar. Once again pleasantly surprised by the kobolds' behavior and attitude, Fafnir nodded slowly.

“Normally, I would just devour the meat raw, but since we should prepare meals in a way that is also suitable for humans in the near future …”

admitted the dragon, not quite sure what that would entail, but the kobold simply nodded and turned back to the skinning knife.

“Leave it to us, Master Fafnir, we will take care of it appropriately. You will see that everyone, even these humans, will enjoy it.”

assured the little devil, returning his full attention to his task. Satisfied with his henchman's statement, Fafnir looked around for Grendel.

The leader of the small troop stood a little apart and had some papers with him. When he saw that Fafnir was staring at him, he ran to him as fast as his short legs could carry him and bowed again before the dragon.

“Master Fafnir, we have compiled a list of materials that we need for the priority construction projects. Although additional supplies will be needed over the next few days and weeks, the building materials listed here should suffice for the time being.”

explained the kobold eagerly, showing the dragon the parchment on which a whole series of items were listed. Fafnir smiled when he noticed the neat handwriting, which did not seem to fit a creature like the kobold at all. He carefully read through the list and made mental notes of what he could do immediately and what he could do later.

“Very good, very good. I'll take care of it. You shall have everything you need; after all, I want everything to be prepared …”

he began, but then paused and sighed loudly.

“… when the time comes. I just hope that brat has manners.”

It sounded like a mixture of hope and resignation, with resignation clearly taking the greater share. As befitted a good henchman, Grendel listened to his employer's concerns and nodded eagerly, but began to grin towards the end. Finally, he rolled up the parchment, tucked it under his arm, and turned to Fafnir.

“Master Fafnir, you worry too much. Even if this princess is a particularly unruly ward, you will surely be able to teach her the necessary manners.”

the little kobold assured his master.

“If in doubt, put her over your knee and …”

Grendel mimicked the typical movements of spanking someone's bottom and looked up at his master with a broad grin. The latter stared at him silently for a moment, then raised one of his enormous paws, which were large enough to completely enclose a human being. Both stared at the paw, armed with long, sharp claws, for a silent moment before Fafnir mimicked Grendel's movement and both burst out laughing.

The kobold recovered first, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, and cleared his throat.

“Maybe … just maybe, we'll reconsider.”

he chuckled with a broad grin, while his master slowly tilted his head and carefully rubbed his fingers together.

“Hmmm, I don't know, I actually quite like the idea …”

the dragon mused in a somewhat detached tone, causing his subordinate to look at him in shock for a moment, but then the corners of his mouth curled back into a grin.

“You almost had me, Master Fafnir. I must say, you are quite cunning.”

replied Grendel, trying hard to keep his tone respectful; he was rewarded with a slow nod before Fafnir turned back to the kobolds who were preparing the wild boar for cooking.

The small group had now completely skinned and gutted the boar, partially cut it up, and were in the process of skewering the individual pieces on spits to grill them later. One of the little creatures was already preparing the fire pit, while another was searching through one of the piles they had stacked for more pieces of metal to use as skewers. Fafnir watched his subordinates with interest and considered offering to light the fire pit, but decided against it; he wanted them to ask him.

When the little monsters finally lit the fire with the help of two flints, he felt almost a little offended, but on the other hand, he was pleased that they would be able to light it without him.

The dragon nodded thoughtfully and turned back to Grendel.

“Give me that list, I'll see what I can get today.”

he demanded, holding out his paw while the kobold took out the parchment and handed it to his master.

“Didn't you want to eat something first, Master Fafnir?”

The question was entirely justified, but the person asked simply shook his head.

“This will take a while, so I can use the time wisely and see what I can get so that you and your people can start work tomorrow morning.”

the dragon replied good-naturedly, closing his claws around the list.

“As you wish, Master Fafnir.”

Grendel replied, bowing respectfully to his master, who smiled slightly and turned toward the cave entrance.

---

Running errands

On his way out, he heard the kobolds behind him discussing whether they had upset him, but much to his satisfaction, he could hear their leader explaining the matter.

For the second time that day, he prepared for takeoff by spreading his wings and stretching as he enjoyed the sun on his black scales. The wind from the valley blew around his nose, carrying scents from far away up to him. Fafnir breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh, cold mountain air and the scents of the valley, tasting them and letting them escape very slowly. What he smelled awakened something old and animalistic in him, and he pulled back his lips, baring his deadly fangs, before crouching slightly and leaping into the air. As soon as his wings caught the updraft and the mighty flying lizard sailed into the valley on a cushion of air, a loud laugh burst from him and accompanied the whistling of the wind as he flew just above the treetops and headed for a small settlement where he knew he would find mainly farmers and forest workers.

The list Grendel had given him included a lot of wood, straw, some fabric, hemp rope, and tools, as well as various other items that the dragon had no idea where to get. However, that was something he could take care of later. He would do one thing at a time and first get the things he knew where to find, and then he would have the farmers get the rest. A grin spread across his lips.

“Exactly, let them take care of getting me the stuff, after all, it's their princess, not mine!”

he muttered as the valley quickly approached, and in the distance he could see the wisps of smoke from the individual chimneys that marked the small village. He remembered very clearly the old settlement that had stood not far from this one, which he had razed to the ground in his rage back then. To this day, the people had not returned to recover the meager remains.

It gave him a mischievous pleasure to imagine the commotion his arrival would cause now, since the people of this kingdom were accustomed to the fact that when his shadow was seen in the sky, it always meant death and destruction.

“It will be a bit of an adjustment, even for me …”

he murmured quietly, while the alarm bells were already beginning to ring in the village. Spoilsport. Well, since he had already been spotted, Fafnir decided to slow down his approach and look for a suitable landing site. He would try diplomacy first, but if, contrary to expectations, the mob resisted him, well, he hadn't actually agreed to the peace treaty yet.

The settlement had been built around a large square with a fountain in the middle. This was an excellent landing site, so he decided to make his entrance there. Shortly before reaching the settlement, however, he roared his greeting and moments later landed with a mighty thud.

The square was deserted, and even as Fafnir folded his wings back against his massive body, he looked around. All the houses were barricaded and no one was to be seen. Even the otherwise ubiquitous strays had hidden from the dragon, too cowardly to face the black demon. He laughed to himself as he stood up and slowly turned around.

“Cornerstone, cornerstone, everything must be hidden …”

he called out amusedly, looking closely at the individual buildings in the settlement. Surely they didn't believe that their puny houses could withstand an attack, especially when a dragon of his caliber was standing at their doorstep.

“Come on out, I know you're hiding in your houses.”

His voice was loud but not angry, perhaps a little impatient. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the door of the largest house opened and an elderly man was literally pushed out of the opening before the door was loudly locked behind him. He immediately turned around and hammered his bare fists against the thick wood, but the inhabitants of the building showed him no mercy, and only when the door did not open even after repeated shaking and pleading did the man turn back to the dragon and press his back against the gate. The panic was clearly visible on his face, and when Fafnir turned completely toward him, the man seemed to lose his composure almost completely.

“Are you in charge here?”

asked the black demon in a voice reminiscent of distant thunder as he rearranged his wings and slowly approached the trembling man. The man addressed remained silent as a fish in front of the door, unable to do anything but gasp for breath. The impatient growling of the beast standing less than ten meters away did not seem to help either.

When no adequate response came from his counterpart, the dragon finally rolled his red eyes and exhaled deeply.

“Can you understand me?”

Fafnir tried again, in a forced calm tone, as he suppressed the urge to simply kill the poor wretch and grab the next inhabitant until he got what he had come here for. The man continued to stare at him with wide eyes, trembling all over, but at least he seemed to really understand him, because he managed to nod slightly. This earned him a slight, almost satisfied nod from the dragon, who now sat down and bent his head a little closer to him.

“Very good, that makes it easier.”

said Fafnir smugly, smiling and showing his teeth to the villager. That seemed to be enough to completely panic the poor man: he lost control of his bladder and bowels. When the dragon saw the rapidly spreading dark stain on the old man's pants, he wrinkled his nose and pulled his head back.

“Really? Are you serious?”

He didn't really mean these questions, but the revulsion and disgust in his words were clearly perceptible as he turned away from the man and called out to the circle of houses.

“Is that all? Is that really the best you have to offer me? An old man who shits his pants at the first sight of a dragon?”

His voice echoed across the square and off the walls of the surrounding houses as the dragon slowly turned around and surveyed each of the houses once more until he found himself facing the sacrificial lamb that the villagers had placed outside the door.

“You come down from your mountain one time and, for once, you don’t plan to reduce the village to rubble and ashes, and then these cowards hide in their holes, too cowardly to face their doom.”

He monologued to himself as he bared his teeth and slowly lowered his head to the level of the man, who was now just whimpering.

“And I only came to get supplies for YOUR …”

he literally shouted the last word into the open.

"… princess, or are there any objections?”

he concluded, snorting his disgust directly into the villager's face before straightening up again, his counterpart slowly sliding down the door.

“I thought so.”

he added dismissively, staring down at the miserable heap.

It took another moment before another door opened on a different building. Hearing the squeaking sound, Fafnir slowly turned his head in its direction, growling slightly.

On the other side of the village square, a little girl stood in an open doorway, looking at him with big blue eyes. She couldn't have been very old, and her frizzy hair stood wildly out from her head. She wore a simple dress made of beige burlap, tied loosely at the waist with a coarse rope.

Slowly, the big black dragon turned around, not caring that his tail had finally knocked the old man over. He had fixed his gaze on the girl and grinned at the thought that, at best, the little one would be a small morsel. He tilted his head slightly and took a few steps toward the young villager.

“Who are you? Where is the princess?”

the girl asked curiously in her squeaky voice, pointing at him with her little fingers.

“Aren't you afraid?”

The dragon's voice was rough as granite, but there was no aggression in it as he answered her question with his own. The little girl shook her head so violently that her curls flew wildly back and forth and continued to bounce for a moment after she looked at him again.

“No. But you didn't answer my question. Who are you, and where is the princess?”

She repeated her question a little more boldly, and Fafnir began to laugh loudly. He found it refreshing how this little thing was able to stand up to him, while her parents and elders hid behind the walls of their houses. With a final chuckle, he composed himself and bent his head down low to get a better look at the girl.

“I am the black demon, the bringer of death, the ruin of kingdoms.,”

he explained calmly, waiting for recognition in his counterpart's eyes, which never came. Instead, the girl tilted her own curly head and looked at him searchingly.

“You don't look like the devil at all.”

she then realized and put her fists on her hips, while the dragon just smiled amusedly.

“You look like Frodo's lizard, only bigger.”

she added, and now Fafnir didn't know whether to feel offended or whether the villagers might be keeping a small dragon captive.

“Oh, like Frodo's lizard? And who is this Frodo?”

he asked, but the girl shook her head.

“I'm not telling you! You haven't told me where the princess is yet!”

replied the little girl, sticking out her chin defiantly, whereupon the dragon began to laugh.

“Ha, ha, ha, haaa … I should just eat you for being so cheeky, you naughty little brat, but I promised I wouldn't harm the citizens of this kingdom.”

he said to her and blew hot air at her, which almost knocked her over; but the village child braced herself against the wind and stood her ground defiantly. Fafnir did respect her a little for remaining steadfast compared to the others.

"Look, you cowardly dogs, sending your children and old men ahead because you yourselves have no backbone. Come out, you parasites, or I'll just take what I need!"

he shouted impatiently over the girl's head and straightened up again, while below him the girl stamped her foot firmly on the ground and was just about to scream when, further back, the doors of the houses opened and, slowly, one by one, the citizens ventured out of their hiding places. Cautiously and fearfully, they came to the well and stood there in a cluster of misery. Fear was written all over their faces; they were all old enough to know who was standing in their place and who the forester's daughter had just kicked against the paw.

It wasn't as if it had hurt or that she could have caused the slightest damage; in fact, the dragon had hardly felt it, but nevertheless, he could not let this behavior go unpunished.

To the horror of the villagers, he grabbed the girl by the collar of her dress with two sharp claws and lifted her off the ground with ease. The forester's daughter screamed and struggled, but there was no escape from the beast's grip. Slowly, he lifted her up to his eye level, and when she finally found herself face to face with the black demon, the girl stopped struggling and instead clung to his claws while Fafnir simply growled.

“Simple-minded, useless, stupid git. The only reason I spare a completely worthless life like yours and that of your relatives is because I promised it to the emissary of YOUR king.”

he explained in a raspy voice, thick smoke billowing from his nostrils, bringing tears to the little girl's eyes and irritating her lungs. Limping, the dragon took two steps toward the well and peered into the deep, brick-lined hole.

“Normally, for the crimes you have committed today alone, I would tear down the entire village and burn everything and everyone I find alive, but because I promised not to do just that, I will content myself with setting an example.”

he added growlingly, while the girl coughed, whimpered, and thick tears ran down her cheeks. Meanwhile, on the other side of the well, several villagers had to restrain a burly, bearded man who was trying with all his might to break free from them and was screaming incoherently. Fafnir lifted the girl over the well shaft and looked over at the little people, his sardonic grin making him look even more brutal than usual.

“Is this your daughter?”

he asked maliciously, fixing his gaze on the muscular human. The latter was biting the hand of another man and finally managed to break free. He stumbled two steps toward the dragon, but then just pointed his fist pitifully in the dragon's direction.

“Let her go, you monster.”

the man shouted hoarsely, and Fafnir just nodded.

“Your wish is my command …”

he whispered and dropped the child into the well, still smiling. The girl's shrill scream lasted only a moment before a loud splash indicated that her small body had broken through the surface of the water about four meters below. A shock wave rippled through the assembled crowd as Fafnir grinned contentedly and placed his paw back on the ground. Before anyone else, the father on the other side of the well fell to his knees, screaming, forcing the dragon to roll his eyes, again.

“Calm down already.”

he growled, looking into the shaft where the girl was clinging to the stones of the wall, staring at him with angry, flashing eyes.

“Your brat is fine, I just cooled her temper a little, which she clearly seems to have inherited from her father.”

added the dragon, looking at the villagers with glowing red eyes. He turned to face everyone present and took a deep breath to calm himself before addressing them.

“So, as I was saying, I need some resources …”

His tone was still gruff and brooked no contradiction as he took out the list Grendel had given him.

"… so that the princess feels comfortable in her new home. My subordinates were kind enough to make you a list of the materials that are needed for now."

Fafnir explained, holding out his paw with the list in it, but none of the villagers reacted. Again, the dragon rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance.

“Are you really serious? Don't you hairless monkeys think that if I had wanted to kill you, I would have done so long ago?”

This time he sounded genuinely annoyed, and his already rough voice took on a whole new quality as he stared at the front row and waved the list again. One of those present, who had previously helped to hold the forester down, was now literally pushed forward by the others, and before he could do anything about it, the man stood alone between the dragon and the villagers. Fafnir, who was gradually losing the last remnants of his patience, watched the spectacle and tilted his head slightly. After a moment, he raised his eyebrows before handing the list to the reluctant man.

“Now take it, bailiff. I am aware that you will not have everything on this list. Therefore, I will take what you have now and send my staff later to collect the rest.”

Fafnir explained in a hissing voice, and when the villager finally took two steps toward him, he pressed the list against him with such force that he fell back into the ranks of his people.

“Now go, bring me what I demand and don't keep me waiting!”

he added with a growl that made the ground beneath their feet tremble. But when the villagers continued to stare at him as if frozen, he finally lost his patience. Angrily, he stamped his paws hard on the ground and spat his hatred at them with such a roar that the villagers recoiled in shock. Now the spell seemed to be broken, and as the people ran away like headless chickens, the dragon nodded contentedly.

After the villagers had finally trotted off, he looked back into the well, where the girl was slowly losing her battle against the cold. His lips curled back in disgust, but he nevertheless lifted his front leg, pushed it into the brick hole, and fished for the child. It took a moment as he fumbled blindly in the depths, but then he got hold of her and pulled her back into the light of day. With a mixture of curiosity and disgust, the dragon looked at the miserable little bundle he held between his claws.

The girl's lips were blue and she was shivering so badly that she could barely control her breathing. Her dress was soaked with cold water and clung to her petite body, and her red hair framed her deathly pale face. She had lost a shoe in the well, and the toes on her bare foot were shriveled and blue.

For a tiny moment, something like pity stirred in Fafnir, but then he remembered how insolent this little monster had been.

“I hope you've learned your lesson, child.”

Fafnir growled and watched every movement of the child, who just stared at him with large, panicked eyes, unable to speak or even nod, so much was her body shaking from her own muscles. He continued to hold her in his paw, which was at least warmer than the surroundings and protected the girl from the wind.

“How could your pitiful species survive and thrive when even this little bit of cold overwhelms your puny bodies?”

He didn't expect an answer; he knew that this little child couldn't comprehend such philosophical questions and was probably not even able to read, let alone write or use magic, even though redheads were said to have an affinity for magic.

The dragon looked around again at the villagers who were desperately trying to gather the items and materials he had demanded. None of them were able to care for the freezing child in his claw. On the one hand, he was pleased that this rabble was frantically working on his list, but on the other hand, he found it abhorrent that they seemed to have completely forgotten about the child. A dragon would never leave its brood in the clutches of the enemy. It would rather die and take as many of them with it as possible. He sighed deeply and turned his attention back to her.

“You have to do everything yourself …”

he grumbled and began to carefully blow hot air in her direction. It wasn't easy to find the right temperature, because it wouldn't help to burn the child on top of everything else. When his breath hit her for the first time, the shock was clearly visible on the girl's face, but she was still in no condition to defend herself in any way, so she just let it happen.

It took a short while before the first villagers rushed back to the well to deliver parts of his 'order'. The rumbling of the beams being thrown down next to the well made Fafnir pause and look around at the people. He looked disparagingly at the meager yield that had been provided to him.

“Is that all?”

he asked grumpily, straightening up and pushing his paw, now laden with his no longer quite so violently shivering child, toward the people and releasing the little girl from his grasp. Two of the women present caught her and quickly carried her away, while the men remained standing.

“The others are bringing more supplies, but we can't spare too much of our own provisions, even for the princess. We also have to see how we get through the winter.”

explained one of them, his voice trembling slightly as he remained slightly bowed the entire time. His entire demeanor literally screamed subservience. Fafnir could understand this attitude, at least in part – after all, it was 'only' their princess – but it was not the monarch who had made this demand, but he, and his demands were to be met at any cost, no matter how harsh.

“I don't care how you get the rest of this list, have the other villages deliver it for all I care, or ask your king for help, but when my subordinates arrive here to collect the rest, you will have it neatly laid out here, or else have mercy on whatever god you worship these days, because I will not.”

said the black dragon, letting his gaze wander over the square where the rest of the inhabitants were approaching them, laden with more items. The man who had spoken to him wanted to object, but another wisely stopped him. It would be pointless to argue now. Reluctantly, the man bowed his head and, while the others placed the rest of the few possessions they could spare on the pile, he replied.

“We will do our best to procure the requested materials, but please give us a few days.”

The dragon rolled his eyes and snorted contemptuously, but had to acknowledge that the request was not entirely unreasonable.

“Since my subordinates will need some time to arrive, you will have a few days to obtain the missing items. However, that does not mean you can dawdle. If my servants arrive here and the delivery is not ready, I will descend upon this village like a force of nature and wipe it from the face of the earth.”

the dragon repeated his threat in an ominous tone, and the fear was evident on the faces of those present.

“We will send messengers immediately.”

the man replied, emphasizing his statement with an eager nod.

“So be it.”

Fafnir growled, eyeing the pile of materials. It was already a pleasing amount of what was on his shopping list, but of course not everything. He would be able to carry the beams and larger items easily, but he would probably have to carry the rest of the small items in a bundle.

“Tie it together, then I will leave you to your work again soon.”

he demanded almost casually, gesturing at the pile that had been placed in front of him.

In the end, the villagers had worked quickly and tied up a nice package for him, which was now under his massive body as he made his way back to his home for the second time that day. He held it tightly against himself with his strong paws and slowly climbed up the mountainside. The extra weight and the not-so-streamlined shape of his load didn't particularly help with this task, but the dragon had already coped with much heavier burdens. It would take a little longer to reach his cave and his wings might be a little tired, but all in all, it was no problem.

So Fafnir finally conquered the last few meters of altitude with powerful wing beats and hoisted the package onto the plateau in front of his hoard. The loud, dull thud as the heavy wooden beams hit the granite of the landing platform echoed far into the clear mountain air before the flying lizard settled down right next to it with a much softer impact.

He had not quite folded his wings against his torso when the kobolds, attracted by the noise, came rushing out of the cave to see what was going on outside. Even as the dragon slowly rose to his feet, the kobolds knelt before him and bowed their heads. He let them remain like that for a while, then nodded appreciatively and pointed to his delivery.

“Rise, there is much to do. This is the first delivery. Bring it in and see what you can do with it. Oh and Grendel …”

He fixed the leader of the group with a serious look.

“… I assume it was an oversight that there was no guard on the plateau. This will not happen again.”

Fafnir commanded, noticing Grendel's deep bow out of the corner of his eye.

“Certainly, Master Fafnir, I will ensure that the plateau is guarded day and night.”

The dragon nodded in acceptance of his subordinate's assurance and strode past them toward his cave. He wanted to see if these little pests had left him any dinner.

Much to his satisfaction, however, he found a whole wild boar, ready to eat, waiting just for him. Inhaling the delicious smell of the roast, he approached his kitchen block and caught himself licking his lips in anticipation. With relish, he pulled a strip of meat from the side of the roast and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmmmm … I had almost forgotten how good it can taste when you take the time to prepare it properly.”

he grumbled as he let the meat melt in his mouth.

“Yes, Shmiie is a good cook. He took over our meals on the way here. The good chap has a natural feel for ingredients.”

Grendel explained as he entered the main cave behind him and put down some tools. His master nodded appreciatively and pulled off another strip.

“Master Fafnir, I'm sorry, but that's not all the material we need.”

the kobold added cautiously, and Fafnir slowly turned his head toward him while chewing on his bite.

“You don't say, but the farmers had nothing more to give me, and they weren't very helpful to begin with. A downright rude bunch.”

he growled, his displeasure at his subordinate's nine times wise statement clearly palpable. Grendel immediately sank to his knee when he noticed the shift in his master's mood and bowed his head.

“Forgive my faux pas, Master Fafnir.”

The addressed nodded curtly.

“It’s all right. However, you will have to go back down into the valley in the next few days and fetch the rest as soon as those peasant clumsy oafs have taken care of it.”

ordered the dragon calmly, swallowing his bite before signaling to the kobold that he could rise again. Once more, he noted that Grendel obeyed his instructions without hesitation, albeit sometimes a little slowly. He would praise him for this obedience in front of his companions sometime, if he didn't forget.

“Have you already paid for the goods, Master Fafnir?”

Grendel asked, still cautious not to put his foot in his mouth again, but his master raised his eyebrows and looked at him in confusion.

“Paid? What do you mean, paid? Why should I …”

the dragon blurted out, but his voice quickly faded into a barely intelligible mumble as he remembered that if they were to live together in peace, he owed the humans something in return for the materials he had received. Simply letting them live would not be enough in the long run, and he had to admit, without envy, that it took some effort to provide the required materials and tools.

"… But these things are not for me, they are for the princess. After all, I don't expect her to give me my … no, that's not quite right. If they invited me to stay with them, I would expect them to build me a nest and make it available to me. That much I can expect from them!"

he finally added defiantly, but Grendel slowly shook his head.

"I'm afraid the farmers will see it a little differently, Master Fafnir. They are used to being subjugated by their nobles, but even from them they get something in return for their efforts. Be it hard cash or just the certainty that no one else will come and plunder their villages. You can no longer simply take everything you desire, even if you are theoretically capable of doing so."

explained the kobold, but Fafnir shook his head firmly.

“Don't tell me what I can and cannot do.”

growled the dragon more sharply than he intended, but he saw no reason to apologize when Grendel flinched again.

“The way I see it, the humans here are still indebted to me for what they did to me. They can be glad that I'm only taking raw materials and not claiming their lives as well.”

Fafnir raged, noticing his breathing and pulse quickening.

Oh, how he would love to fly down into the valley and wipe one or two settlements off the face of the earth, but that would only bring him a brief moment of satisfaction and cause more trouble in the long run than that moment was worth. So he held back and contented himself instead with digging his claws into the roast wild boar and tearing off a large chunk. Grendel swallowed as he watched the fat drip from his master's claws as he eyed the chunk briefly and then devoured it, bones and all. The kobold flinched as the dragon bit down and the boar's ribs cracked between his teeth.

“Perhaps … perhaps you would like to discuss this matter again with the princess once she has arrived, Master Fafnir. Her perspective on this might provide a good basis for discussion, since it concerns her people after all.”

Grendel offered, bowing submissively to his master, who looked at him suspiciously and continued chewing his bite.

“We'll see.”

---

A highly distinguished visitor

Several days passed in which Fafnir's minions worked feverishly on the tasks assigned to them before the scout outside the cave sounded the alarm and announced a caravan approaching from the valley.

Grendel was the first to check on the plateau, closely followed by his master, who addressed the scout directly.

“How long will it take them to reach us?”

the dragon asked quietly, peering down the slope, where a procession of humans and mules was indeed struggling up the incline in the distance. The lookout thought for a moment and then turned to Fafnir.

“Master, if they continue climbing at this pace, they will arrive here in less than fifteen minutes.”

the kobold replied dutifully, and the dragon at his side nodded slightly. He had estimated a similar time frame and turned to Grendel.

“Good, go and prepare everything. Light the torches and make sure everything is in its place. It doesn't really matter, but I still want to make a good impression.”

he ordered his subordinate, who bowed and then quickly retreated into the cave, while Fafnir remained with the lookout on the plateau.

Much to his frustration, however, the caravan approached the plateau slowly, as the terrain was rough and the ascent steep. But this gave the dragon plenty of time to take a closer look at the procession, so he crouched down and stared downwards.

At the front, the magician with whom he had already negotiated this agreement trudged along, followed closely by another man leading a mule up the mountain, which was connected to a second mule by a kind of enclosed sedan chair. Behind this team followed another man, who in turn led a pony, and on the back of the animal sat a well-fed middle-aged woman. She was rather unattractive and stared sullenly into the distance.

“Could this be the princess?”

the lookout asked quietly, and Fafnir thought for a moment about this somewhat disturbing possibility, but then slowly shook his head.

“No, I don't think so. That self-proclaimed magician said that the princess had just been promised to another kingdom, so she'll be much younger. But I wonder who this woman could be.”

replied the dragon, without taking his eyes off the humans. His lookout shrugged at the statement.

“I don't know, sir. Maybe she was sick for a long time and that's why she's so ugly now.”

Now Fafnir glanced briefly at his henchman and raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and continued to focus on the column, where the last pair was just appearing from behind a rock. It was another man leading another mule, but this time it was loaded down with luggage.

“It looks like they're bringing tribute, Master Fafnir.”

the kobold surmised, gripping his spear more tightly. The dragon smiled and shook his head once more. As nice as the idea was that the humans were bringing him treasures or other valuables for his efforts, he was pretty sure that wasn't the case.

“I don't think this is tribute. I assume these are our guest's belongings, although I wouldn't have thought she would take half her castle with her.”

he contradicted his subordinate, adding quietly, “This is going to be fun.”

When the caravan was still about two hundred paces from the plateau, the horses began to shy away and refused to approach the dragon's lair any further. Their panicked neighing and the excited snorting that followed their cries were music to Fafnir's ears, and he felt an intense urge to throw himself down the slope and feast on the frightened animals, but he resisted his desire and even moved back a little from the edge so as not to frighten the horses even more. As the pack animals continued to express their displeasure, other voices mingled with their sounds. It must have been the guides desperately trying to calm the mules entrusted to them.

At the top of the cave's forecourt, the dragon shook his head in amusement.

“So they've seen me, and they can probably smell me too. They won't calm down until you're much further away.”

he muttered in his rough voice, looking at his lookout, who just grinned and chuckled.

“You're right, Master Fafnir, the creatures only become more panicked the longer they try.”

confirmed the scout, while Fafnir nodded mischievously and wondered whether he should call out to the humans or whether he should allow himself the joke of showing himself once more in all his glory and sending the horses into a complete panic. Before he could decide, however, he heard his subordinate giggle.

“Look, now they're unloading their pack animals, and there's another person.”

reported the kobold, suppressing another giggle as the first angry shouts reached the two of them.

“Oh, that must be the princess. The way she's yelling at the man in charge, she doesn't seem happy at all.”

he added, and his master smiled. The dragon had good ears, but the wind carried most of the words away unheard, leaving only brief snippets of the heated debate reaching him.

“… incompetent … stupid … animals … to hell … home …”

She sounded really upset. Unfortunately, Fafnir couldn't hear any of the replies, but he could vividly imagine the mage trying to calm her down, explaining that she couldn't behave like that in his presence and that they had to hurry on now and that she would actually have to walk the last few meters herself.

The continued shouting that reached him from further down the slope only confirmed his suspicions.

“… no … seriously … no way … slave … never … hell … aaaAAAAaaargh …”

The dragon couldn't help but smile and looked at his subordinate, who seemed to be enjoying himself just as much and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh.”

the kobold exclaimed, and Fafnir pricked up his ears.

“What happened?”

he asked curiously, resisting the urge to peek over the edge himself.

“She just slapped the leader!”

reported the lookout, retreating slightly as his master stood up and waited for Her Highness's arrival with a smug smile. It was definitely going to be interesting.

Apparently, the magician had managed to overtake the princess in the last few meters, because he was the first person to catch sight of Fafnir on the plateau. Close behind him was a young woman with dark hair and a fiery gaze, whose mood could best be described as 'seething'. The rest of the caravan followed some distance behind.

The black dragon sat calmly in the middle of the forecourt of his cave and silently watched the people who were gradually gathering in front of him. He looked like a volcano that you could never be quite sure wouldn't erupt, quiet and peaceful at first glance, but seething incessantly beneath the surface. His red, piercing eyes wandered from one to the next and so on until they finally rested again on the mage, whose face was still adorned with a slightly reddish handprint.

“Welcome back, human.”

he greeted the new arrivals curtly, trying to banish his disgust for their race from his voice as much as possible, but a slight hint of traditional superiority still wafted over their small heads. The man, for his part, gave a slight bow, which the other humans followed, except for the young woman, who just stared at him intently.

“Greetings, black demon. I have kept my word and returned as quickly as I could.”

replied the warrior, his voice filled with the respect the dragon demanded of him. Fafnir nodded slowly and finally turned his attention to the princess, who continued to defiantly stick out her chin as the dragon's pupils narrowed.

“And you will be the firstborn, won't you?”

The question was purely rhetorical, but the heir to the throne nevertheless took the opportunity to answer him.

“To you, I am Her Highness, Princess Vallerie Puretia Victualia Hawthorn the Fourth, Duchess of the Seven Provinces, Countess of and to Star Bay, heir to the throne of Tervindt, and I command you to show me the respect due to me on account of my birth and rank!”

Fafnir was briefly impressed by how she had recited the whole thing without even pausing for breath, and he actually found himself going over the princess's name and titles in his head once more.

“I think I'll call you Dolly.”

he finally replied, having decided that he was too old and too powerful to indulge in this petty game of vanity. However, his comment did not go down well with the young lady, and her face quickly began to change color.

Amused, the dragon watched as sheer rage rose within her, but before she could explode, the second woman pulled her back and desperately covered her mouth.

“Please excuse Her Highness, she has had a long and difficult journey.”

the woman pressed out, while continuing to try to restrain the wildly flailing and screaming princess. Fafnir chuckled and lowered his head a little.

“And you are?”

he asked, seeming to be thoroughly amused.

“This is the princess's chambermaid. Their Majesties, the King and Queen, insisted that the maid accompany their daughter and keep her company. It is a condition they have set for the princess's stay in your care.”

explained the magician quickly, looking imploringly at the dragon. Fafnir nodded; he was fine with the maid being there. It would make it much easier to take care of the princess, especially when he saw how she had the rebellious thing under control.

“So be it, one more mouth to feed won't put too much strain on my supplies.”

he replied to the battle mage, who was visibly relieved and nodded gratefully. His curiosity satisfied for the moment, the dragon was about to turn his attention back to the princess when she broke free from her chambermaid and confronted him.

If her glances could have killed, then both Fafnir and the mage would hardly have lived to see the evening, as she took another step toward the dragon with wild determination in her eyes and pointed her slender finger at him.

"How dare you not address me by my full name and title! I know we are far from the capital, but this is beyond uncivilized! And anyway, what gave you the glorious idea of keeping me away from my wedding, you oversized lizard?"

The princess's rage intensified, and when she heard something behind her, her glance was enough to keep her maid at a distance. Then she continued:

“This wedding was my way out of this backyard my father calls a kingdom and into a better future, AND YOU RUINED IT!”

She raised her voice slightly with the last sentence, and it wouldn't have taken much more for her to be literally yelling at the dragon, while the warrior's face drained of color. So Fafnir didn't even get a chance to split her in two, he didn't even have time to answer, because the princess had caught her breath again and continued her tirade.

"And just look at this hole! What is this supposed to be? Are you seriously asking me to live in a cave? I AM A PRINCESS, I HAVE STANDARDS!"

By now, she was screaming her grievances unabashedly in his face as she approached him and hammered every word of her last sentence into his chest with her finger. Fafnir remained completely unmoved, letting the princess vent her anger. Instead, he looked over at the magician and a broad grin began to form on his lips. When the princess saw this, it seemed to spur her on even more.

“What's so damn funny? Are you even listening to me? Hey, toad, your princess is talking to you, so listen up! I DEMAND BETTER ACCOMMODATIONS!”

Once again, she hammered every single word into the dragon's chest with her index finger, her head slowly turning the color of ripe tomatoes.

The dragon chuckled at the furious attack and bent his head down toward her, growling softly, opening his mouth slightly and showing her his dagger-like teeth. This open display of disrespect seemed to trigger something in her, because the princess tensed up and took a deep breath. Before she could react properly, however, he just sniffed her deeply and began to chuckle.

“He he he … You have spirit, I think I like that.”

he said in a rough voice as his lips receded further, revealing a truly predatory grin.

“You're very lucky that I'm forbidden to harm you in any way, otherwise you would already be part of my lunch.”

he added with a growl, but instead of his not entirely serious statement frightening his defiant hostage, it seemed to fuel her resistance even more. She trembled with barely contained rage.

“You are truly despicable! You disgusting old toad, you are truly a curse on this world! How dare you speak to me like that! If it weren't for the good of my people, I would have ordered you to be killed and skinned by noon and your pitiful remains displayed on the great bridge for all to see!”

she replied, the vitriol in her voice sharp and biting, but Fafnir only smiled again as the princess gave free rein to her frustration.

“Well, I am not allowed to harm a hair on your head, but your chambermaid, on the other hand …”

he muttered, his voice containing more humor than threat, but she clearly failed to notice. Before Vallerie could react, the older woman standing behind her turned pale as the dragon fixed his bright red eyes on her. The princess frantically stepped in front of her maid, denying the dragon access.

“Don't you dare even look at Rosie, or I swear I'll hunt you down myself, you vile demon!”

She was close to spewing fire and brimstone.

“Oh, really? You and what army?”

asked the dragon, visibly amused, and blew a blast of hot air at her, causing her to stumble back into the arms of her chambermaid. While the princess was still busy regaining her composure, Fafnir turned his attention back to the warrior, who had been holding back the whole time in the hope of not escalating the situation further.

“You could have warned me.”

the dragon scolded, and the mage looked at him questioningly with wide eyes.

“You could have told me that your little princess has such a temper.”

he added with a chuckle, whereupon the warrior nodded and bowed apologetically.

"I was afraid she wouldn't be able to restrain herself. Please accept my sincere apologies for not telling you sooner. Our king was so happy to have finally found a suitable prince for her who met her … individual requirements …"

He didn't get any further before the princess's gloved hand gave him the second resounding slap of the day, its sharp smack still echoing off the mountain wall.

“How dare you speak of your princess like that? I will have you hanged for this, insolent servant! You are unworthy of your knighthood if you do not defend the honor of the heir to the throne of this kingdom against the accusations of this … this beast!”

she shouted in the face of the caravan leader, emphasizing every single word by hammering her finger against his chest, just as she had done with Fafnir moments before; unlike with the dragon, however, it had the desired effect on the magician, who recoiled and bowed deeply.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Highness.”

he replied submissively, which immediately cost him an incredible amount of respect in the dragon's eyes. Visibly satisfied, Vallerie then turned back to Fafnir and pressed her lips tightly together. The look in her eyes had lost none of its fire and defiance toward the dragon, but her posture was now a touch calmer, more composed. She straightened up, lifted her chin, and addressed the black flying lizard opposite her in a calm but authoritative tone.

"Since I cannot and will not shirk my duty to my people, I will fulfill it and remain here, as it will bring my people the peace they deserve. However, I will certainly not enjoy this stay! Now take me to my chambers, I must freshen up a little!"

she demanded in her most cultured and commanding tone. When the dragon heard this, he briefly rearranged his wings and nodded curtly, but did not rise from his seated position. Instead, a kobold stepped out from behind him.

The little imp greeted the princess with his rather squeaky voice – much to Fafnir's chagrin – and bowed deeply to his master's guests.

“Would you be so kind as to follow me, Your Highness?”

Grendel asked with an inviting gesture, but the princess only gave him a withering look of utter disgust.

“What is this supposed to be? I demand that you take me to my chambers, not your filthy, despicable lackeys!”

she shouted, gesturing wildly at the kobold, but Fafnir just snorted another laugh.

“Oho, ho, ho, hoo, I can tell we're going to have a lot of fun together, little princess. You'd better learn quickly that you're no longer at your father's court.”

he began, lowering his head to her level once more.

“The fact that I am not allowed to harm you does not in any way mean that you are my superior; quite the opposite is true. You are not my guest, you are my prisoner, my hostage, my guarantee that your people will not get any silly ideas.”

he added in such a sugary tone that even the kobold shuddered. While he was still regaining his composure, the others emerged from the cave to take the princess's luggage.

“You will learn to behave. You will follow my instructions, or you will see that it will not be necessary to touch you at all.”

His gaze flicked back to Rosie for a split second before resting on the princess again, his pupils dilating for an equally brief moment. Vallerie gasped and wanted to respond to the dragon, but this time the maid was quicker, grabbing the agitated heir to the throne and resolutely covering her mouth.

“Her Majesty, the princess, is tired from the long journey. She will retire to her chambers, which are certainly befitting of her status. Please excuse us, but please do come by later and see if everything is all right, esteemed Lord Dragon.”

said the chambermaid quickly, but loudly enough to drown out her mistress's muffled cries as she literally dragged the young woman past Fafnir and behind the kobolds.

The dragon watched her go, nodding silently, and when they disappeared into the cave, he burst out laughing, and the warrior also seemed to relax considerably.

“Oh, by the high heavens, this is going to be great fun. What have I gotten myself into?”

he asked no one in particular, but the mage just grinned awkwardly.

“She is the king's only child, and I must admit to my shame that he has often been a little too lenient with her.”

the man replied meekly, and Fafnir had no choice but to agree.

“Oh, I like her temperament. She'll provide me with a lot of entertainment.”

the dragon replied, and before the other man could answer, another shrill scream came from the cave.

They couldn't understand everything that was being shouted, but what could be deciphered from these almost primeval cries made Fafnir laugh even louder.

“… CAVE … PRIMITIVE … MONSTER … NEST … NEVER … AAAAAAAAARGH!”

Between the few halfway comprehensible words were a multitude of curses and insults that the dragon would never have expected from a princess, but he had to admit that this rebelliousness commanded a little respect from him, even if he would never admit it to her.

It took quite a while for the screams and ranting in the cave to slowly subside, and the magician apologized to Fafnir several more times on behalf of the princess. The dragon nodded each time and was thoroughly amused. Of course, the little diva's behavior would get on his nerves, but he was pretty sure she would settle in quickly. Not least because, he was quite certain, the maid would put a stop to it. A grin spread across his lips. He was stuck with this for a while now.

The End

---

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edit by

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&

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo