Declaration of Love to a Dragon

Part 3 - Take This Pain

Derios awoke in his cell again and found his ankles chained to the floor. He remembered how he had attempted to flee and rescue his love, but had been overpowered. Again.

He slammed his hurting fists into the ground with a bitter cry. Again and again.

And all his pain and misery fed the determination that had grown in his mind like a sheet of steel, the absolute will to endure whatever came until she was saved. Like an unyielding, closed fist it held his mind together and made him live through the despair.

In the evenings, a page delivered food by pushing a bowl through the cage with shaking hands. Derios would have torn his arm off if it had only helped him get out. Mechanically, like a puppet, he ate the brew of filth. And rats, spiders, slugs, moss and anything he could find that would uphold his strength.

Each day he listened for her. Listened for the muffled sound that could be heard sometimes and which he believed were her cries. For the noise of her claws on the stone. For her breath...

Each day he pulled on his chains. He used all his strength, used his limbs as leverage, used the momentum of his weight to try and rip them from the ground.

Each day he wished for the death of all around him. For every man in the castle to be smashed to pieces.

There was no food on the fifth day. Neither on the sixth. On the seventh, the guard with the iron gloves came into the cell once more, his nose wrapped in bandages. He was eating cooked chicken and potatoes. "Your last meal," he said and spat a half-eaten potato in front of Derios. Derios ate it.

Several hours later six guards entered the cell. One took him in a headlock. Two others grabbed his arms and forced them behind his back. A fourth bound his hands together. The remaining two stood watch, holding their maces ready to swing. Then a metal collar was placed on Derios, four chains extending from it, each held tightly by one guard. Two walked in front of him, two behind when he was led outside.

I will rescue her. The words burned like irrevocable truths in his mind. I will rescue her.

As they walked through the bailey, Derios turned his head to the basement windows. The inside was dark. Somewhere in there, the dragon was kept. More desperation. More rage. Save her!

He was led into the yard, where a stake had been erected, circled by bundles of brushwood. Next to it, a table carrying what he believed to be instruments of torture. The black-robed man met the procession halfway there, imploring Derios to renounce the devil, to use his final minutes to save his soul and whatnot.

Step by step they marched, through the small circle of screaming watchers and to the place of his demise. Derios observed every guard around him. Five more steps to the stake.

He took note of each of their weapons. Three steps left.

His eyes scanned the walls. No archers. One step left.

In a sudden jump Derios threw his feet against the stake, knocked the chains from of the guards' hands and drove his legs into the ground. His leg muscles screamed their strain as he accelerated with one, then a second brutal step, straight into one of the guards that had walked behind him. His head crashed under the man's chin.

Another guard managed to catch one of the chains on his collar. Derios whirled around and planted his foot in the guard's stomach to launch himself in the opposite direction.

Run

Past the stake he ran, then, to the crescendo of panicked watchers and shouting guards, up the stairs to the wall, the chains rattling behind him.

He moved along the top of the wall until he spotted a small tree, far too small to allow someone to climb into the yard, but maybe able to break his fall. He jumped. He traveled several body lengths downwards before smashing through the tree and landing hard on his side.

All pain was insignificant if he could not safe her. With his hands still bound to his back, he struggled to his feet. The castle city's alleys would conceal him. And on he ran, away from the dragon, away from the castle.

I will come for you, he repeated over and over in his mind to fight the urge to turn around and attempt the impossible.

Behind him, the castle's portcullis squealed as it was raised. Soon they would be upon him. He made for the smithy, his breath ragged and his bound arms offsetting his balance.

The smithy was well known to him from when, as a peasant, he had ordered tools there. Right now, large pieces of iron grating stood next to the forge, probably parts of a new cell or another portcullis. The apprentice watched dumbfounded as Derios came around the corner with clattering chains, but was quickly dealt with by a kick that pushed him into the burning coals.

Phineas' new blacksmith was nowhere to be seen. Completely out of breath, Derios turned around and grabbed a heated rod of iron from the side of the coals as the screaming apprentice tried to get out of them. Even the dark outer end of the stick burned in Derios' hands, but he put the glowing end to the rope holding his hands bound, setting it aflame and singing his wrists.

The workshop door opened and a fat man with bulky arms and leathery skin stepped out - just in time to see Derios use the cutting tongs to break the lock on his collar. Derios grabbed another hot iron rod from the forge, tore his shirt off and wrapped it around the rod's base while already sprinting away. Behind him, the blacksmith began to shout angrily.

Hooves could be heard throughout the city as he ran for the outer wall. Derios managed to evade his pursuers yet.

Taking byroads and corners, he reached the city gates, where two riders stood next to the normal guards. He knew not whether they had just arrived to deliver word of his escape or whether they had remained to strengthen the gate, but they immediately shouted for the others, drew their swords and spurred their horses towards him. Derios ran at them, holding the glowing iron rod like a sword.

Moments before they struck, he let himself fall flat on the floor. One quick-witted rider attempted to run him over but Derios rolled away and pushed the glowing iron rod into the horse's side.

After taking a few more steps, the horse felt the pain and fell. Its rider was toppled and for a moment buried under the injured horse - long enough for Derios to jump him and drive the glowing iron rod straight into the poor soul's face.

The second rider watched in disgust as Derios pulled his makeshift weapon from the wailing body, then spurred the horse anew into Derios' direction whilst from the distance, more riders could be heard closing in. Derios threw the iron rod at the rider and grabbed the sword of the one he had defeated. The iron rod merely grazed the rider, but in trying to avoid it, he lost his balance and fell from the horse.

That was his chance! Derios jumped onto the horse as it slowed down, then wedged his feet into its sides. One of the gate guards was running to the gatehouse, doubtlessly to let down the portcullis. The other tried to block his way. Derios parried the swing of the blocking guard's sword with ease as he saw it coming, then passed the gate before the other guard had even reached the gatehouse.

Once through the gate, Derios steered the horse towards the southern farms and away from the castle. A few times it tried to throw him off, for he was not a good rider and the animal didn't know him. Behind him, the gate guards shouted to the arriving riders, but the rumble of approaching horses soon drowned out their voices.

Derios reached the forest with his pursuers hard on his tail, passed a few trees and jumped from the saddle. He turned and brought his sword to bear. Circled by trees once again. For a moment he saw himself in the forest next to the cave, poisoned, watching her being hurt.

Pigs! Bastards! He could not safe the dragon yet, but here his revenge would begin!

Eight riders had followed him. One flail. Five swords. Two crossbows. The first marksman fired his crossbow from the galloping horse. Not even close...!

Derios positioned himself next to a tree, preventing the riders from coming straight at him. As they streamed past him, he unleashed his rage on the reloading marksman. His legs hammered the ground. One insane jump and his sword cut through the armor, severing flesh and bone. The marksman's head dangled on a rag of flesh.

More! Derios wanted their blood badly. They would feel his terrible rage!

The riders closed their circle around him.

Whom to cut next? A rider wearing a few separate pieces of plate mail gave a signal and they dismounted. Then he taunted Derios: "Come on boy, let's see what you got."

Their captain, he guessed.

Not for long! Starting in a drunken fall Derios drove his feet into the ground. He flew at the man and brought his sword around over his head. Eyes met. One pair cold. The other mad, mad for blood and death. Not a chance to evade.

The guard captain lurched downward, raising his sword to block at the same time. When the swords clashed, he already had his glove under the blade's tip for support. But the captain's sword broke. Derios' sword slammed through and bounced against his head - slicing an ear off - then dug deep into his neck.

Bleed! Scream! With insanity in his eyes, Derios tore the sword free and lunged at the next man - who began to react just as he was decapitated.

Die! The second marksman was kneeling and aiming. Derios gave him his chance as he dug his sword into the next rider openly. Then wheeled around, ducking as the bolt was loosened. At the same time as he got upright again, he thrusted his sword into yet another rider's guts.

The marksman turned to escape. Derios sword danced up, then sideways, then slashed through the knee of the final swordsman while he dived the counter swing. Not even waiting for his victim to fall, Derios ran the escaping marksman down and stabbed his sword deep into the bow arm's shoulder.

"What have you done to the dragon?" he yelled at the man.

"What...?" was his only reply.

"What... Did. You. Do... To. The. Dragon?" Derios pressed, the effect lost as his voice trembled with anger, sounding more like a raging beast than authoritative.

"Nothing. Nothing! We bound it. It's in the royal stables. It's there!" the hurting man blurted out.

Nothing. They had done a lot more than nothing when they had captured her already. It was hard for Derios not to punch the man's head into the ground until his face came off when the asked the all-important question: "When will it be killed?"

"Oh... no... I don't..." the man stuttered.

Derios smashed the marksman's head into the ground, hoping for rocks or hard roots to be there. He furiously screamed into the man's ears: "When?!"

"I don't know!" the marksman blared in agony, then tried to plead: "There's... a big commotion. Nobles, the rich, a...and kings! He... I mean Phineas. He slays it then! - Let me go. I'll tell them to leave you alone!"

Derios remembered himself pleading like that. Remembered what they had done to his love. He reveled in the man's screams as he repeatedly rammed the bastard's head into the ground until silence reigned once again.

Pain

Day by day Derios kept an eye on the road for the coaches of the rich. Some of them had to pass through this forest.

He had enough swords now.

The anger shone like a blinding sun embedded in his skull. He desperately wanted to storm the castle and cut his way to her prison. They all had to die! In the most terrible way!

He could not think about what might be happening to her. His mind would break. And he escaped into his rage. Until his limbs could no longer hold him up, he smashed his sword into the trees and imagined he was cutting through every man and woman he had ever seen.

In his mind's eye, the men dragging the dragon onto the carriage appeared and he turned them into bloody splatters on the ground.

He had tilled his fields, he had pulled coal carts, he had struck the iron in Gustoph's smithy. And yet he was too weak!

Why hadn't he forced his body to move? Why hadn't he willed the poison off? Why did he not have the strength to safe her? Curse this weakness!

He had been forced to watch her being hurt. He had failed her yet again when he had escaped his cell. Curse it! Curse it! Curse it all!

Only the mindless fury numbed his pain. His tortured screams resounded through the forest as he raged, cutting down imaginary foes and savoring the taste of their deaths.

Whenever he had exerted himself to unconsciousness, he could spend a few guilty, peaceful moments in absent blankness. But eventually, they all turned over into sleep. And then the nightmares came.

Sometimes he saw himself, walking out of the forest, his hatred clouding him like swarm of buzzing flies. His sword unleashed a song of pain as it cut limbs from men, women and children to soothe his anger.

Sometimes he only heard the dragon's last scream as an arrogant brat beheaded her. Then his mind snapped as the pain ate his sanity away. All his mad eyes could see after that was the fire which engulfed the world as he began to color the streets red with blood and guts and deplored every second the remaining men could yet live before he reached them.

At other times, he dreamed himself in winter again, hammering on bloody dragon bones in the smithy. And when he looked up to where she had flown, red snow fell from the skies and his lips parted in a horrid cry while the sword he was driving into his chest could not reach his brain fast enough to end the misery.

Preparations

Phineas Hadric, proud bearer of his family's colors and future king of the Hadric Empire, watched the preparations from the castle wall.

Down there, where the carpenters were working, Isabella would stand. She was the maiden in distress that he would safe. The protective cage for her was still missing. Only two more weeks remained and it appeared as if that imbecile Padroc still hadn't completed it.

At least the iron grating in front of the grandstand was ready. His father and every man of rank and importance would watch when he earned himself the title of dragon slayer. The dragon's wings and muzzle would be bound so that it couldn't fly away or breathe fire, but it would still be a worthy foe and word about his skill and bravery would be carried to the corners of the land.

He had checked on the dragon already and it was truly a terrible beast. It had remained motionless in a corner, like a spider in its web, but claw marks were covering the walls and all of the stable's dividers had been trampled to the ground. It wouldn't hurt to slip a dose of sleeping powder into its trough on the day before the fight.

The weapons he had chosen were in his quarters. The first one a large two-hander, its blade shaped into elegant cut-outs and fearful fangs, ornamented with precious jewels. Quite useless on the battlefield, but an impressive sight that would further his glory. His second weapon would be a heavy gold-plated axe with which he could sever the dragon's head after he had defeated it.

He would hold up the head to his guests, then put it down, strip off his coat and walk, clothed in pure white robes underneath, to Isabella. Like a fairytale knight, he would unlock her cage and carry her to safety. The crowd would cheer and be allowed to walk the scene of his triumph before following him into the bailey, where exotic cakes, smoked sausages, roasted chicken and everything that money could buy would await them.

Prince Phineas the dragon slayer, he would be called. And soon, not soon enough, King Phineas!

Worries

Reginald stalked up and down the yard. For three weeks he had been captain of the guard and he already hated the job.

The nobles from far and wide wanted assurances that they would be safe, that the dragon would not eat them. Others wanted proof that it was a real dragon, a scale or a claw or a horn maybe. So uncharacteristic for the noble folk to find an excuse to snatch a trophy for their private collections or to sell...

Then there was the issue of the possessed fugitive. Rumors had spread. People swore tooth and nail that the devil himself had saved him from the pyre and that he had sprouted wings and flown over the wall. Indeed, those three weeks ago, he had slain many of the castle's guards, including Bodkin, his predecessor. They had been discovered slain in the most terrible manner, no limb left attached and their remains hammered into the ground.

All of the weapons had been taken as well. Damn peasants swore they hadn't gone near the place, but Reginald had little doubt that some of the weapons would mysteriously turn up again if he had their sheds and homes searched. Stealing from the dead! How disgusting.

And now the prince was putting pressure on him to find the fugitive before the festivities would begin. Reginald had taken the whole garrison through the forests this morning and, once again, found absolutely nothing. Either the man had run away or he really was possessed and laired in some hellish domain.

The prince's annoying voice still rang in his ears: "Are you mad? If I send for reinforcements the whole country will think the rumors true. Find him or burn someone else in his stead; just get the rabble calmed!"

Slayer

This day was Phineas' day of glory. He pushed all of his daily concerns from his mind. Branson could wait. The fugitive was miles away. Isabella's misgivings about her role would fade.

And the dragon, he knew, would not withstand him. His skill with the sword was without equal. Phineas recalled his strategy: his sword had been measured to one and a half times the length of the dragon's paws. Apart from the paws, the dragon seemed to also smash its head into victims. And it could jump pretty far. But the wings were delicate. He only needed to keep his distance and cut at it until it succumbed. Give or take a few crowd-pleasers if he had the chance.

Phineas took his most lordly stance and opened the door, then raised his arms and walked down into the grandstand, past his guests and via the gap in the iron grating into the improvised arena. Once there, he elegantly turned and bowed to the crowd. Their cheering fueled his confidence even further.

Like a hero of legend he marched in strong, self-conscious steps to the center of the yard, seeing that Isabella had taken her place in the cage.

Then, with an expertly choreographed move, he drew his sword and held it high above his head, the sign for the guards to start the spectacle. The crowd cheered in awe and clapped at the magnificent blade as the stable doors were opened and with a harsh crack, the dragon roared and came running into the yard. He heard the crowd shout anew as the roar echoed over the countryside, then chairs turning over and screams of dread and terror.

That wasn't right.

Phineas turned around. His guests were falling over each other and fleeing from their seats in mindless panic. In their midst, one had torn his dress away and stood there bathed in blood, carrying at least four swords around his hips plus one in his hand. What the hell had happened?

Over his shoulder, Phineas looked for the dragon. It was slowly crossing the yard. Most of the knights and guards stationed along the walls were running to help the guests.

Phineas faced the dragon again and clanged his sword against his armor to attract the beast's attention. It was too late now to drive it back into the stables. He had to make the best of the situation.

From the corner of his eye he saw some of the knights change their direction, running towards him. "Help the guests, not me!" he shouted in annoyance, but they were all looking at some point behind him.

He turned around again. The bloodied man was running straight at him like a voracious animal. Swords flailed around his body in their scabbards like spikes. This was no flight. The man was going to attack.

Phineas thought quickly. His play had been ruined. If he fought the man the dragon would come up behind him. The knights were trying to intercept the man. That's it! At once, Phineas hastened towards the dragon so that the knights might reach the lunatic first. The title of dragon slayer could yet be his.

Moments later he heard the knights and the attacker clash into each other. He tried to concentrate on the approaching dragon. A man screamed in agony. The sickly crunch of bones. Shattering metal.

Yet again, Phineas turned around. The lunatic was jumping the knights like a murderous animal. No defense, just boundless rage. Swords were raised, then fell as limbs flew, the crazed man's every movement another attack. A dozen men down. He shattered their armor, shredded their guts. Blood shot into the air like rain. Seasoned knights scrambled backwards on their hands and feet. Guards cowered in fear. Unreal.

Then it was over and the attacker came for him, legs pounding the ground brutally. Impossible to outrun. The man's face was a distorted grimace, like a prisoner spitting his final curse on the torture table. Like death.

The prince trembled. What to do? What to do?! Then it came to him. Turn disadvantage into advantage. Evade and trade places. The attacker would have to deal with him and the dragon at the same time. He raised the less-than-practical sword as if to parry, whilst flexing his slightly quivering legs to jump aside.

When the attacker raised his sword. Phineas jumped.

The attacker didn't waste a single thought, he just opened his hand and wrote the sword off wherever it was going. Then he veered towards Phineas and kicked him in the chest. Power like a horse!

Phineas was sent flying backwards. For a moment he saw the attacker running and drawing another sword, then the prince hit the ground, the impact knocking the air out of him. Stars danced in his vision as he felt for his broken ribs.

The lunatic ran past him to the dragon, where he finally slowed down; but then neither raised his sword nor attacked. Like lightning the dragon's head snaked back to strike. The bastard was a goner.

Only that, as if knowing the dragon's movements, the lunatic jumped back and grabbed the dragon's head with his bare hands. He brought it to his face, and, in a weird display, pressed himself against its snout.

On the walls, the archers took aim. Reginald had insisted to place them there. And for once he had done something right.

Without warning, the attacker spun around. He ran for Phineas again, who now desperately tried to get up. Get away. Get away! Phineas was pulled to his feet and felt a sword placed on his neck. Pain radiated from the prince's chest.

Think Phineas! The sword was dull and heavily used, but the attacker had muscles like a stone cutter or a blacksmith, if the sword didn't cut, he would have his throat crushed instead. Elbowing the attacker would not do much good if he couldn't follow up with a sword or escape. Stealing one of the attacker's swords might work if only he could escape his grasp.

Before Phineas had figured out his next step, he felt himself being dragged towards the dragon. Next to his head the attacker's voice boomed: "One shot and this scum dies!"

It was a voice fit for a demon. Rasping, evil, filled with hatred beyond words.

The remaining knights warily kept their distance. The dragon stood ready to pounce but for some reason didn't. The archers stayed their arrows.

"Open the gate!" the attacker commanded.

Someone shouted back: "Don't be a fool!"

The attacker let go of his sword, pulled a knife and stabbed it into Phineas' stomach. The prince blared from the sudden pain and tried to pull it out but the man's grip on the knife was like granite.

Again he heard the command: "Open the gate!"

"See, we can't do that, the dragon would..." one of the knights who had escaped the slaughter explained with his hands held up defensively.

The knife was instantly pulled from Phineas' stomach and plunged under his rips. Phineas coughed and while he did so, smelled iron. Blood.

"Open the gate!" the attacker screamed with anger.

The knight quickly repeated the command to the guards on the gate: "Open it!"

Escape

Derios dragged the bleeding prince towards the gate, leading the dragon by the wraps on her muzzle. The prince was still moving his legs but would probably pass out soon. And the dragon's eyes... they were that of a cornered animal, hurt and miserable. Still she followed him, one slow step after another. Her wings had been bound and by the looks of it, several of her wing fingers were broken.

Under the gate at last. Above them, the archers could be heard shuffling. Derios propped the prince's body up like a shield and stepped out. "No wrong moves!" he shouted.

There were only three ways Derios would let this end: Escape together, kill them all or die with her.

The open trailer that had delivered the butcher's goods was still outside, its two horses in disagreement whether they should flee, tugging the trailer forward a bit, then halting again. It was a good thing that they had blinders and could not see the dragon.

"Easy," Derios tried to calm them as he opened the shutter and stepped up to pull the dragon onto the trailer. She reacted as if she was living through her capture all over again. Derios knew at once what he was demanding of her.

He only said: "Please..."

But Derios had to pull her with all his strength. Any moment now the archers would notice that the prince was no longer moving. Inside the yard, the knights and guards could be heard running somewhere. Probably, the archers had given them a signal to fetch their horses.

Derios sat down on the coachman's bench and laid the prince on his lap. He reached back and grasped the straps on her muzzle with one hand while he whipped the reins of the horses with the other. Then they were moving. The wheels jumped on the rough cobbles, shaking the trailer wildly as Derios made the horses run as fast as he dared. When he reached the gate, he propped up the prince and held the knife to his throat.

The guards shouted something to the gatehouse and stepped out of his way.

For long moments Derios feared that the portcullis would come down right upon him, but then he was through, safely on the other side.

He reached for the leather straps on her muzzle and ground his knife forth and back under them, leaving the horses to follow the path by themselves for a moment. The bindings were of strong leather and Derios had to turn all the way around to reach the straps that went to her horns. Only after he had cut several cords did the bindings come off.

She snapped at him and he barely dodged her mouth. Then she pulled back and inhaled deeply...

Derios bent over, held her muzzle shut with both hands and kissed her on the snout while his eyes filled with tears. What have they done to you?

Over her back, he could see the first riders coming through the city gates in full gallop. This time it wasn't just a handful of guards - they flooded out of the gate in an endless stream, likely the entire garrison. Derios turned around and urged the horses into gallop.

She shifted behind him. The trailer's wood floor creaked. Derios' felt his hackles raise. Please... don't attack me again... if I die now they'll hurt you!

Whipping the reins hard, he pushed the horses to run as fast as they could. At times the trailer shifted left and right when the wheels hit the grooves. As if Derios wasn't in trouble enough, the horses repeatedly ran at different speeds and whenever it happened, he could only try and pull the faster one back with the reins.

He looked over his shoulder. The riders kept their distance for the time being. The dragon held her bound wings high as if to catch the wind and her claws were sunken into the trailer's floor.

They raced through the forests of the northern road, a path they had travelled once before, him a soldier and her imprisoned in a steel cage. Side roads came and went, but Derios didn't dare to even attempt a turn at speed, so he just followed the main road wherever it might take him.

Other travelers fled the road in panic as the ground shook under the endless numbers of hooves behind him. Some pointed at the dragon as Derios sped past. Soon the trailer raced out of the forests again and the northern mountains came to view while they raced past vibrant meadows. The horses were visibly panting and despite him whipping the reigns and shouting for them to run faster their speed had begun to lessen.

Some of his pursuers now rode up to the carriage's sides, still keeping their distance, but seeing the slumped body of the prince. One rider fell back and shouted at the others, though the noise of the trailer drowned out what he said. Moments later, a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wood frame somewhere behind Derios. Then another thud! The dragon yowled. Derios stood up and was narrowly missed by another shot.

He kicked the prince from the bench. A few of the riders stopped to pick him up.

Another rider had his crossbow brought to bear. Derios threw his knife but hit the horse. The animal ran off to the side and the man missed his shot. Behind him, another one shot and hit the dragon's back. She yowled once more. Swine!

Derios seriously considered jumping from the trailer and taking on the whole garrison. If only it would guarantee her escape.

He looked forward again. Up ahead a fork was coming, the right path led into the mountains and grew ever tighter the further it went. More bolts whizzed past the trailer, each one a narrowly avoided death. Riders who had fired fell back to crank their crossbows whilst others came up and took their place.

Derios slowed the right horse down in an attempt to take the mountain path. When the trailer turned too far, he urged it on again and it reluctantly sped up. Then the horses got the idea and followed the road up into the mountains. They couldn't take this strain much longer, Derios knew.

Riders came up on both sides and Derios tried to drive the trailer closer to the rock face on the left. Riders amassed on the right. One reached for the crossbow on his back. At this distance Derios didn't know what to do. He threw his second-to-last sword at the rider like an oversized throwing knife. It smashed, hilt first, into his chest. The crossbow fell to the ground.

Another rider pulled his crossbow, but the road became even tighter and he didn't have enough time to fire before he had to take a place behind the trailer again. Don't shoot her!

Behind Derios, the dragon inhaled deeply once more. Derios looked back warily, but she had bent her head and was pointing it at the enemies.

"Do it!" Derios shouted.

A stream of flame erupted from her muzzle into their pursuers, showering them in fiery death. Riders jumped over fallen horses and over the flailing bodies of their comrades, unable to halt their own momentum, only to share their fate as fire engulfed them as well. Out of the flames, more bolts whizzed past the trailer.

As the dragon's fire stopped, Derios urged his own horses forward once again.

The ground became ever rougher and the trailer started jumping and shaking even worse than it had done on the cobbles in the city. To their right, the cliffs extended down almost vertically, so far that the forest below became a green carpet stretching into the distance. If only she could fly.

Some of the riders caught up with them on a higher ledge, apparently following a different trail. Their horses kicked down dust and rubble. Then they had to take a detour when the ledge became too steep.

As the trailer reached the highest point on the cliff street, the road fell off again. On the hard ground, it quickly picked up speed. More speed than the horses. There was nobody there to screw the brakes on. Derios tried to keep from running over his own horses by pushing his feet against their bottoms but that only served to force them into running diagonally. The first one soon stumbled, then the harness pulled the second one with it.

A huge jolt sent the trailer flying. Derios was slammed into the ground and for a moment caught a glimpse of the trailer, dragon and all, somersaulting over him. He heard it hit the ground past him with a deafening crash.

He got up. One of the horses lay motionless, the other was panting wildly and trying to escape on a broken leg. The trailer was nowhere to be seen. Where was the dragon?

In panic, he ran to the edge. It took a moment for his shock-clouded mind to make sense of the scene. She was hanging to the rim by her paws. In the distance, the riders could be heard approaching.

Snapping out of the trance he was in, he rushed to her aid and grabbed her paw. Her wing muscles uselessly flapped the bound membranes back and forth and her hind legs clawed on the rock face to no avail.

"Pull!" he screamed and tore at her paw.

Inch by inch she lifted her body, then threw the other paw forward and onto the hard ground. Derios caught it and held it in place as it began to slip. She roared and pulled. It required all of Derios' strength just to hold the paw in place. Her other paw struck the road but slipped back to the edge.

He pulled as hard as he could until his arms burned. The paw quaked in his hand when her hind legs lost their footing again and clawed the rock face. For a moment he remembered himself, lying in the forest, poisoned and trying to worm from his captor's grasps.

Then his determination became absolute. With all his strength and beyond it he pulled. Bit by bit he lifted the dragon, his hands shaking uncontrollably but never letting go of her paw.

Behind him, on the rocks above, laughter sounded.

Tschok!

The bolt struck just over his buttocks and he crashed to the floor. He did not let go when her claws sunk into his arm, held on whilst they dragged him further toward the edge, letting him come to a halt only when his arm was almost over it and her paw hung down almost vertically. From this position, he saw how she tried to flex her wings, then turned her head over her side to look down, then at him.

Derios could only give her one sad promise: "If you fall, I will follow..."

The crossbow above clicked as it was cranked.

Flight

Following her fall... that was indeed to only option. He screamed as he tried to bring his body over the rim with her claws still dug into the flesh of his arm, pinning it in place. His shoulder was moved into an awkward position, but finally, he hung in front of the dragon and between her paws.

Then he pulled his pinned arm over the edge. The moment it went beyond the rock, her weight ripped it downwards, then her paw shot upwards again, extracting her claws. Derios opened and closed his fist a few times. It hurt like hell but the arm was still usable.

Feeling her chest against his back, Derios lifted his legs to the rock face and jumped off with all his might.

For moments the world turned, a confusing pattern of swinging wing arms, claws grabbing at the air and his own limbs everywhere. He managed to reach for her neck as the wind quickly picked up and made it difficult to even breathe.

Everything around him was spinning and tumbling and only by forcing himself to concentrate on her body could he somehow move with a purpose. That horrible ox yoke was still around her neck. He dared not to touch it and pulled himself towards her wing over her shoulder.

He could see the belt binding the wing. He stretched as far as he could. Then he pushed himself a little further, risking his hold on her neck. The wing's two outer fingers were clearly twisted in an unnatural bend under the belt, at a location where no knuckle would be. Oh my love...

The air and her efforts at opening the wing made it impossible to undo the belt. He placed his hands left and right of the buckle and tore at it, tore for his life, for both their lives.

Too weak! And he remembered what his weakness had done. Screaming with abandon he pulled again. Pull! Pull your arms off! Pull!

The buckle's hook bent, broke and the wing opened.

At once the world spun even faster, Derios almost fell off, then the wind suddenly pushed him back onto the dragon, then away from her again, then it came from the side. From one moment to the next the wing's membrane was loaded downwards, then upwards again.

Derios' hands struggled for her neck. His legs were still dangling over her shoulder. He caught a glimpse of the rock face racing past behind the still bound wing, then his view was filled with the spinning sky once more. His knee made contact with the wing arm behind him. Immediately he used it for leverage and jumped to the other wing.

One more time.

He pulled. Again, as hard as he could. His muscles screamed for mercy. Screams tore from his throat as he forced yet more strength from his arms.

The second wing came free. For another moment the world somersaulted in a terrible turn, then gravity returned, leaving him hanging over the small of her back. Their fall slowed.

He saw her outer wing-finger bent upwards were it was broken, the membrane fluttering uselessly in the wind. One on this side, two on the other, he knew. The pain had to be maddening.

With much effort he swung one of his legs over her back, then bent down, careful not to touch the cursed ox yoke. The ground was still a good distance away and they were gliding away from the cliff streets.

"Keep going", he cooed to her, his voice breaking. "I love you" he followed up, knowing not how she endured keeping her wings spread.

Derios could not describe his anger at what they had forced her through. For the first time in weeks he was touching the body of his precious love again. He cried bitterly. He called to memory every moment his sword had struck a foe. More! Their blood and pain could not soothe his rage. More! His only regret was that they hadn't screamed longer, that he hadn't filled the yard with their dead bodies.

The trees came close now and the dragon angled herself. Derios saw a very small clearing approach under them as their horizontal movement came to a halt and they entered a short vertical fall.

Their landing was harsh and Derios was slammed against her body with force, striking the ox yoke. He immediately righted himself up again and jumped from her back.

He saw that she didn't know how to hold her wings - she repositioned them over and over. After several attempts, she folded them, the broken wing fingers sagging down.

Derios walked around to her head. She hissed at him.

From above, the valley had looked like an old river delta, framed by mountains on both sides. The perfect trap...

His pierced arm painfully returned to his awareness, as did the bolt in his back. With great effort he pulled it out and threw it to the ground. She had taken at least two hits, too, he knew. Then he bound his shirt around his belly, twisting a rock into the fabric to keep pressure on the wound.

Derios didn't know if there was a path down the cliffs somewhere that the guards could follow. They had to get away from the place! He grabbed her head and pulled her onwards. With hesitation she followed, then began to walk as he continued to pull.

And like that, they continued, silently, painfully. They marched on for long hours. Until late in the night, the dragon collapsed.

Not here. Not now! Derios crawled under her chest and with iron will stood up. One step. Another. Her weight wasn't as great as it had appeared whilst trying to pull her up by her paw, but the strain on his legs was beyond terrible. After two steps he already dreaded the next.

Too weak.

No! Safe her.

And without so much as an inch of mercy he forced his legs to go, his will absolute, demanding it, the exertion eating some of his terrible anger and regret from his mind.

He marched through the entire night. For stretches he crawled on all fours, sometimes he forced himself to walk again. Her lower body dragged along the ground, her wings hung down her sides. It couldn't be helped.

At dawn, he sighted a cleft in the rock wall. His body was shaking in cold sweat but he did not stop before they were in front of it.

He only had to make sure that there were no animals inside. With trembling arms and legs he tried to lay her down, but she was too heavy and his muscles too far gone for any controlled movement. She slipped to the ground with him under her wing. His mind went blank...

Recovery

Derios awoke late at noon. The dragon had dragged herself towards the cleft and slept there.

He did not know how far they had come, but the cliffs they had jumped from were not visible anymore, the valley stretched on to the horizon where it disappeared into the cloudy sky.

Even turning his head was painful. He knew the pain well, for he had drunk himself on it time and again after he had escaped the castle. Penance for his failure to defend and to save her.

He hobbled over to her side. Then he saw that her tail was broken, too. She had it curled around herself, but next to her belly it made a sudden, abnormal twist.

Not long ago, he would have screamed in anger. Would have asked how much more they could have done to her. But as it was, it played just one more stroke on an emotional cord that had been hit until it couldn't sound any stronger. One more watering for the strong and mighty flower of rage that bloomed in his mind, mercilessly holding him on his feet and keeping his sanity together with invincible steel.

She couldn't even sleep properly with the cursed ox yoke dug into her neck. It had to go. He had seen the blades she now had - for weeks! - embedded in her flesh. A wonder if the wounds weren't inflamed already.

"I'm sorry," he said. He had to bring her more pain.

On one side of the frame, there was a hinge, on the other a clip and a latch. He pressed the frame together and pulled the clip free. She shifted in her sleep as he carefully let the lower end of the frame come down.

He checked her neck. Four knives had entered it. The outer ones had pushed under her scales and still made dents on her skin from inside the flesh. The inner two blades had broken through the scales. Her neck was swollen slightly around them. Crusted blood was all over it.

The knife farthest to the left wasn't very deep in the skin and he could see that it was a blade from which a flat steel shaft extended, almost as if someone had taken the blades of kitchen knives and affixed them to this sick construction instead of their proper handles.

Derios had to look away and steady his mind. He couldn't take it anymore.

But he had to do it right. If he just tried to rip it off he risked tearing the flesh all around her neck.

Should he try to knock her unconscious? If only he had managed to stay awake last night when he had the chance. More regrets.

To pull out the deeper knives, he would have to ensure that they could slide cleanly from the flesh. That meant opening the cuts again. How?

His hands were shaking. He had to turn away and pace the ground for a moment. This was his precious love. Hooked like some animal in a trap whose creator hadn't ever put a single thought into releasing the victim again. Curse you all for this!

After a while he had forced the tears away once more. He tried to carefully push the skin around the least embedded knife down.

She awoke. She yowled, tried to bite him, her paws nearly caught the opened underside of the frame. Derios looked at her and saw only fear and hate.

It had to come off! Right now! He jumped onto her back, grabbed the bar and laid force on it towards the trunk of her body so the points where the knife shafts extruded into blades were forced to the center of the wounds.

She tried to get up and throw him off. In his mind he saw how she might roll over, making the damage even greater. He pulled, yanked the bar left and right until the knives rose out of her neck. Not a moment too soon he jumped away together with the contraption and sprinted a few steps while she threw herself onto her side.

Her yowling was terrible. She winced again and again as she positioned her body to attack him. No!

Derios rolled away as she pounced. He tried to reach for her head but she smashed it into him, tearing the skin along his chest and sending him flying several body lengths and into the trees.

He didn't get up. Kill me if you want...

She retreated to the cleft in the rock face. Backwards. Retreated from him like from an enemy.

Derios laid sobbing on his back for a long time. He couldn't breathe from the sorrow. The cuts in his chest didn't matter. Nothing in the world did matter. Only her.

A long time had passed when he finally got up and carefully walked to the cleft. She rested right at the entrance. "Please..." he voiced, holding his open hands to his sides as he came closer.

She didn't react. A puddle of blood was under her. She was unconscious.

Derios sprinted into the forest. He called all the herbs he knew into memory. Yarrow to stop the bleeding: long stalk, leaves like fir twigs, white flowers. Grows near trees. Knitbone to heal the wound: violet flowers, big leaves, like a low growing summer lilac. Grows in the sun.

They weren't rare plants but he hadn't used them in a long time. He kept dashing around the trees until he had located and plucked what he needed, then sprinted back to the cleft.

There was nothing to grind them in or to heat them with, so he put the leaves into his mouth and chewed until all he could taste was their sap. That he worked into her wounds.

Then he looked for the crossbow bolts in her back. There were only two and both had missed her spine. One was easy to yank free and he immediately gave the wound the same treatment as he had done for the ones on her neck. The other bolt had traveled sideways into her skin and he had to scratch at its end with the other bolt until he could get a grip on it and pull it out. He applied the sap to this wound as well.

When he was finished his mind couldn't endure it any longer. He ran back into the forest with his last remaining sword in hand and smashed it into the trees over and over until deep in the night when his hurting body closed off and unconsciousness overtook him.

He returned to the cleft the next morning after awaking slung over the branch of a tree where he had fallen. The dragon was gone. Carefully, he stepped inside the cleft and was greeted by an angry growl, like a cornered animal trying to say: "One more step and I'll attack."

Thus he sat down where he was and began humming an old song he had heard as a child. His teary voice made it sound like a lament.

Then he closed his eyes and became silent. Somewhere deep in the cleft, water could be heard running into a puddle. In his torn mind, it created the image of tears hitting the ground.

At noon he went hunting for a time. He ran down a deer, broke its neck and carried it to the cleft. With a stick of wood he cut open the deer's belly, then worked the skin off. When he had gutted the deer, he carried the inedible parts away.

His hope that the dragon would have taken the meat in the meantime was not fulfilled - everything was the way as he had left it.

To make fire, he had to resort to using a drill once again. The memory of their happier days appeared in his mind as he knelt on the ground. Why hadn't he defended her? Why hadn't he forced his body to move despite the poison? Why hadn't he killed them all? Why had he been so weak?

With the third attempt, he got the fire started and moved it as far into cleft as he dared so that it hopefully could not be seen from further away. He also put the gutted deer around it to dim the light and cook the flesh.

After he had eaten his fill, he carried the still remaining trunk of the deer outside, then went to sleep under the trees. He wanted her back. He wanted everything back. He wanted to scream his hate into the night. How much he really slept that night was hard to tell.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of her chewing. She had dragged the deer back into the cleft, but was still visible from where he had slept. Derios crawled to her on his hands and feet.

Shattering

She glanced at him and dragged the meat further back, so he remained where he was and watched her eat. The wounds on her neck seemed to hurt when she swallowed, for she flinched sometimes.

And her wings wouldn't heal properly like this. Neither would her tail.

She tore the deer's flesh from its ribs piece by piece. The legs she ate whole, crushing the bones in her mouth.

Derios patiently waited until she was finished. Then he crawled closer. She began to hiss at him again.

And then, to the angry hisses of the dragon, he saw her eyes and his own reflection in them, saw clearly for a moment how she was retreating from the world. How she was turning into a hurt animal that would never again trust anyone. How she would spend the rest of her life in misery.

And he saw how the hatred he had grown in himself was doing the same to him. It would eat him away until he would only rage and kill, to the point where either his body broke down or he couldn't bear it anymore and ended himself.

At the time when she needed me.

His emotions burst and the steel that had formed in his mind shattered into a thousand pieces.

Derios ran over to her, ignoring her warning hiss and her posture. He pressed his nose to hers and forced her to look into his eyes. "I will not let you take that path," he said and made her watch when his eyes filled with tears as the grief of those last weeks flooded his now unprotected mind.

She didn't respond.

The next day he braided some grass and started work on a splint for her tail, then hollowed out some branches to set the wings. At times, he burst into tears and the pain of his sore muscles, his injured arm and the wound left by the crossbow bolt seeped into his no longer steel-clad mind, making it almost impossible to get anything done at all.

There was a spring inside the cleft, coming out of the rocks and filling a small pond of water. If they'd had this in her old cave, he thought, this whole thing might not have happened.

When he tried to put the splint on her tail, she only lashed out at him again. Derios looked at her and told her: "I love you," the tears in his eyes still not extinguishing the fire in hers.

So he spent his time, trying to somehow make it through the day with his wounds while attempting to treat her, constantly reaching out for her tormented mind.

Until on the third day with no progress, he could not take it any longer. He pulled her out of the cave by her horns. He forced a kiss on her. And when she resisted he screamed at her and pushed her over onto her back.

He climbed on top of her and when she began to push him off, he pinned her. Her paws could easily lift him so he just held them apart and let his arms go soft when she pushed up or down.

Derios no longer had any idea what he was doing. He only knew he needed her to come back to him. By any means. His feet roughly rubbed the base of her tail. He ignored her attempts to kick him off until she got a hind leg under his thighs and sent him flying.

Without pause, he got up, looked only once at his bleeding legs and returned to her as she righted herself. She looked at him with fear. He kissed her muzzle again and when she tried to pull her head away he followed. She started to yowl and retreated, but he followed her until her paw came out of nowhere and slapped him.

He tumbled across the ground and came to rest with three long gashes in his side. Still he got up. Another scar he would have to carry.

"Show that silly human his place!" he shouted and came at her again.

This time, he tried to block her paw by raising his arm and positioning his feet to take the force. The hit split the skin on his arm and rang through his bones as he was smashed into the ground. Only luck prevented him from ending up under her paw.

Better not try that again.

With a strong push of his arms he whirled himself around, got on his legs and kicked the side of her neck. He had to jump back at the same moment as she attempted to snap him up, but before he had even regained his balance she pounced after him, yowling angry like never before. He barely evaded her second bite and punched his fist into the top of her skull.

Derios drove on instinct, blindly following his intuition. He ducked and rolled as she launched herself, trying to get on top of him so she could tear him apart.

This was getting dangerous.

He jumped to the side and kicked her shoulder, skipping away just in time to avoid her horns. Only then did he notice her drawing a deep breath. He had no hiding spot. Now desperate for his life, he ran toward her again and drove his knee under her chin, knocking her head back. Flames erupted all around her muzzle above him.

Before she had time to slap him away again, he drove his shoulder into her chest and knocked her sideways, then pushed as hard as he could to throw her onto her back once more.

She crashed onto the floor, yowling loudly. For a moment he thought she might have landed on her broken wings and regretted it, but when she didn't get up again, he saw that it was no physical pain that made her yowl. If he ever had the slightest idea of what a crying dragon would look like, this was it.

And it was his pain as much as it was hers. He sat over her head and pressed it against his blood-soaked body.

She became silent. His voice broke as he urged her: "Don't keep it in. Don't hide it from me. I love you!" Then he hugged her neck and whimpered for a long while. And then they cried together.

It took them hours to release all the painful memories and they only stopped when sleep overtook them in one of their little breaks.

Derios awoke late at night. They were still embracing each other, he laid on her chest, his arm slung around her neck and her paw was covering his back. His head throbbed from the crying and his blood had made both of them sticky. The wounds burned intensely, but he couldn't leave her. She had finally opened up to him and he wouldn't let go of her for a single moment. He quietly cried himself to sleep again as he pressed against her.

Even dragons could cry.

Healing

Each day after that, things got better. It was not in her nature to approach him or to hug and kiss him - like he did with her - but she no longer retreated from him. Her eyes didn't flee from his own anymore.

Only now had he truly saved her.

Derios' arm had turned almost blue, his chest was burning where her head had scraped the skin off and his side could, not for the first time in his life, use some stitches. He felt lightheaded and could not walk properly on his deeply bruised thighs, but he had her back and that was what counted.

Now unable to hunt, two rabbits and a squirrel that his traps had yielded him were all he could offer her. He roasted the meat and made her pick pieces from his mouth while they watched each other with love.

For the whole afternoon he rested against her side and enjoyed the contact to her body until the sun started to set.

Only then did he risk another attempt with the splint.

The fracture of her tail was still loose, so at least he didn't have to break it before setting it. It also meant that her tail had been broken not very long ago. When?

With slow and careful movements, he pushed the branches under her tail. He had collected a lot of them, all straight and hopefully strong enough, and bound them together with braided grass. She flinched, but otherwise didn't react when he straightened her tail and began binding the splint. He used many pieces of grass rope and strips of fabric he had torn from his shirt to make sure it was held in place. The leather straps from her muzzle or wings would have been useful, but there was no chance of ever finding them again.

Her wings were difficult to set straight. He had hollowed out some bigger branches to what he estimated was the width of her wing fingers, but it was all just guessing work. The outer fingers allowed the brace to go almost around and he glued it with resin from a tree that he had liquefied in the fire. He hoped it didn't burn her as the membranes felt delicate and had no scales on them.

The inner wing finger was a problem. Derios saw no better way than to use two halved splints, fixed with resin and by sewing yawn from his clothes through the wing membrane. He had smoothed a small bone and filed it to a point that he could push through the thin and leathery skin. She didn't enjoy it, but seemed to trust his calming voice until he had managed to tighten the two pieces sufficiently.

He kissed her when he was done and she kissed him back. There were no words for his relief and even his wounds were pushed to the back of his mind for a moment when she answered his kiss.

During the days, she now came out of the cave to sunbathe and in the evenings they shared what Derios had caught in his snares. Sometimes she let him roast it on a fire and at other times she just took it from him and munched it down raw.

The amount of food a dragon needed on a single day was nothing less than impressive, Derios knew, and his traps couldn't catch the rabbits any faster than she ate them. Hopefully, one of them would be fit to hunt again before they showed signs of malnutrition.

At the same time, her mind grew stronger again. Derios could see it in her movements that she now claimed the cleft and everything around it as her own. The fearsome, undefeatable dragon asserted her place in the world again.

Derios had to quickly push the image of a vulnerable dragon that needed care from his mind. She had opened that wounded part of herself to him alone, but she was still a dragon that would submit to nothing and nobody - now more so than ever before. And neither would Derios want it any other way.

He checked the braces on her wings daily. Having raised animals before, he knew how to set bones, they had to be perfectly aligned and restricted from even the smallest movement. The resin was doing a good job at that on her wings, too good maybe, for he wasn't sure how to get the splints off again. Her tail was another story. It was thick and strong and could bend at every point, so he had added even longer splints and more grass ropes.

Sometimes, when he checked her tail, his eyes wandered somewhere else. He very much wanted that part of their relationship back as well, but he didn't know how to ask her. The last time he had touched her down there, he had done so to upset her, to make her boil over.

Until one day, he simply risked it. He took off his pants and sat in front of the sunbathing dragon, his display of male arousal catching the sun next to her muzzle.

She eyed it for some time, undecided, but at least not put off.

Derios sweetened the deal by smearing the drippings of yesterday's roasted rabbit around his length, then took his place again. She eyed it once more and licked her snout.

Uh-oh. That might have been a mistake, Derios thought, readying himself to roll away if the worst would happen. Next to him was a hungry dragon that had gone with too little food for days and he was a human who had coated his loins in gravy.

She raised her upper body. Derios warily tried to face his hips away from her, not knowing if she intended to walk away or to do something else. Then she took a step forward. First, one paw was planted on his belly, pushing him flat to the ground, then the other on the bruised skin of his legs. Trapped. Rising panic.

Derios arousal faded. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but the big paw on his belly made it impossible to reach. Then he tried to hold her head away from him. Don't bite, please don't bite!

Her mouth opened and lunged for his shaft. Derios shrieked. But not stinging pain but the pleasurable coaxing of her tongue followed. Derios cursed and breathed out in relief.

The dragon's tongue worked Derios arousal back to full stiffness despite his momentary fear, leaving his entire groin coated in saliva. He had not dared to push himself into her mouth before and now he couldn't prevent it if he wanted to. Not too long ago she hadn't even known that a tongue could be used for that purpose.

She was pretty aggressive with her tongue, too. Was she warning him for what he had done earlier?

Up and down it glided, swirled and did all kinds of movements Derios could not even follow. Her breath cooled his wet balls and legs as saliva freely ran from her mouth. It felt weird and was probably unavoidable - dragons don't have lips!

Derios' legs tensed and his hips pushed himself into her embrace. Sometimes she hit the right spots, then she licked somewhere else again. He put his arms behind his head and tried to relax.

In his whole life, he had never felt this helpless during sex. No woman he knew would dare to do that. And still it was strangely arousing. He gasped as she tongued the head of his shaft with more intensity. Oh yes, keep that up!

Now she was working him with intent. Her tongue traced the underside of his member like he had asked her to do once before. All he could see from his perspective was a scaled paw and a menacing dragon head right where those wonderful feelings emanated from.

Derios rested his elbows on the ground and threw his head back. His body hurt, but her long forceful strokes drove him higher and higher until she pushed him past his release. But when he had spent his seed in her mouth, she didn't stop. Her tongue whirled about on his now oversensitive member and no amount of flailing got him free.

"I'm done, stop it, stop it!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half in desperation, but the dragon kept going. Her yellow eyes peered at him coldly.

He held his hands on her paw and laid his head down, trying to endure. As the oversensitivity faded, he felt himself grow and raise to full length again.

"You're mean! I need a break!" he called.

Her tongue kept it up until she seemed pleased with his resumed arousal. Then she lifted per paws off him. His rib and his legs smarted. Derios sat up. Evil thing!

The need was there again. He was satisfied... yet unsatisfied. And to that thought, she turned around for him. The dragon knew the procedure well.

Derios watched her tail raise together with the splint on it. The downward curve the tail had normally described there was prevented and it went much farther into the air. Her folds glistened with wetness and the exotic smell of dragon arousal hung thick in the air.

Just that he wasn't really feeling up to it. His body was still hurting all over, especially after spending time pinned under her paws.

But if she felt like asserting her authority today, there was one more thing he could show her. The position was forbidden to pious folk, but Derios had always liked it. Why not teach it to a dragon?

He moved around her until he reached her head again. Did she look confused? Derios ignored her and propped her lowered chest back up. She let him do it. Then he crawled, with his back against the ground, under her, careful not to drag the crossbow wound in his back over the dirt.

Next, he put his hands on her hind legs and tried to pull her down. The confused dragon's head turned and peered at him upside-down. Then she yielded and as he guided her down, he made sure to align her sex with his own such that she found herself impaled when their hips touched.

He lifted her again and her hips slowly raised. Then he tried to lower her onto him again and she kept raising for a moment before she noticed he wanted her down again. Her head observed his strange demands with curiosity.

Derios intentionally kept his hips still - leaving the task to the female was the forbidden part that made this position exciting. It took a few pushes and shoves until she had adapted a rhythm. And then she got the idea. The female was to hump the male.

Her thrusts were entirely different to his own. For once, she moved slower and where a human just pumped into his partner, she kept him buried deep inside her, then slowly eased out only to quickly stab herself on him again. Each time she held him in her, her muscles clenched around his member. Then she repeated the procedure. He hadn't even thought that dragons might do it differently.

He put his hands on her hind legs. Her belly covered the sky above him, smooth and wide scales all the way up to her chest. It suited the lean and strong dragon well. She had no belly button either, just a wonderfully smooth underside that undulated with each of her thrusts.

Not long after getting used to the weird demands, she began to pick up the pace. From this angle, and due to the way her thrusts left him deeply embedded in her for a short moment each time, he felt her inner muscles tug and grab at him in a wonderful pattern. It was a novel feeling, quite unlike normal lovemaking.

His hands reached further, to her moving hips, into the recesses where her hind legs met her body. That's where a male dragon would place his paws when he mounted the female, he thought.

Ever stronger now, she slammed her backside onto his hips on her down-thrusts. When he straightened his legs, her tail touched him momentarily. Her intense humps rang in his wounds just as much as they pleasured him.

He remembered how he imagined a coupling between dragons would work. The male would push the tail out of the way and mount her at an angle. Thus he did with her tail - he pushed at its base with one knee, trying to make her feel as if she had been mounted.

That drove her even harder. Derios raised his head for a moment to see their union. At the upper end, her folds came together to a point. There, a slightly larger scale marked the beginning of her normal belly scales. His shaft entered her a bit below that and each time she eased away, only the tip remained in her body.

Derios lay back down again and watched her head. It had straightened up, but she sat lower than usual, resting on her paws like ready to pounce.

Before long, her thrusts became powerful jabs, violent even, slower than a human's but much stronger. He clenched his teeth and tried to push his wounds to the back of his mind. What had he thought, seducing the dragon in his current state?

On and on she hammered until she came around him, milking his still unsatisfied member in her.

When she had finished, she resumed humping him. Derios wanted to follow her to the heights of arousal, but having just spent himself not too long ago, it would take more effort to do it again so shortly after. He reached for his shaft and angled it for the strongest stimulation while she continued.

Each and every unusual thrust she made reminded him again that he was being ridden not by a human, but by a dragon. This time, his mind embraced it and his instincts followed. He knew her, trusted her and desired her.

Above him, her tensed neck became rigid again as her arousal grew and her breath turned into shallow, quick pants matching her thrusts. When Derios propped his head up to watch the indecent act between their bodies, he also observed the muscles working on the dragon's beautiful hind legs as they raised and lowered her body upon him.

His legs hurt each time her back touched them, but he didn't want her to stop; it felt too great. He still wasn't quite there yet when he could feel her ride him harder again and he knew he wouldn't make it before her orgasm hit, so he just held himself into her thrusts as good as he could.

When she came, it was still sweet and arousing to him, even without sharing the feeling himself. All her inside muscles grabbed and tugged at him while her chest flattened with the sound of pent-up air leaving her nostrils. Oh, he would have wished to kiss her at this moment.

He didn't stop her when she resumed thrusting for a third time. Only now, her motions were more humanlike, quick and smooth thrusts. This was for him, he noticed. A dragon that cared about the pleasure of a human. A dragon that had memorized the pattern of human mating thrusts.

As her rump rode him hard and fast, he grabbed the inside of her hind legs once more and met her pushes with his own. His arousal pushed the pain of his wounds from his mind and he watched her sex envelop him with dirty curiosity until he could no longer hold himself up and laid flat on the ground again.

When her pace increased even more, beyond what he thought to be the dragon's natural speed, his arousal followed until all he could do was to rigidly hold his body into her pushes once again. She came first, but he was so close that he continued the stimulation by humping her from below until he, too, reached the much-needed release.

Derios crossed his legs over her tail as he used friction to extend both of their peaks. Then the dragon slumped down, covering him with her body and trapping his maleness in her. The position was a bit uncomfortable and Derios had to turn his head fully to the side in order to breathe, but he had never felt her so tightly pressed against his body and he enjoyed it immensely.

"I will never let you go, my love," he spoke as he relaxed and tried to put his arms around her sides.

Preparations

"Then take your damn horses from the plebs! I want every arse who can sit on a hack after him!" the king shouted with the kind of false rage that men of authority had often mastered. Though in this case, there might very well be a personal element to it.

The king stood up and continued: "Do you know what this man is?" a dramatic pause, "A king-slayer he is! My own dear blood has been spilled. I command you to take him down!" the king shouted. Jaden suppressed the urge to look away as the spray of spittle hit his face.

Acting as if he had settled a bit, the king continued in normal voice: "Let this Reginald send the army after you when it arrives. But you will ride out tomorrow. And if I see any less than three full divisions go with horses under their backs, you'll regret it!"

"Yes, my king," Jaden dutifully replied

"Get out there! Now!" the king shouted as his fist crashed onto the armrest.

Jaden bowed and turned. At the door, the king addressed him just as he was about to leave: "Field marshal. Tomorrow, four dragon hunters will arrive. Pay them. Take them with you. They know their trade, so respect their choices. You may go."