Δράκος: Νερό Pt. 02

Layra didn't protest or struggle against him when he gave her water, or when he forced some sort of broth down her throat. Though it gave her no extra energy, it gave the appearance to mortal humans that she was in excellent health, when in reality, her ribs extended far past her shrunken belly. Dragons' magic was a powerful, powerful thing.

The sustenance only served to make Layra hungrier, but she did not have the will to try anymore. Too long had she gone without food, too long had she been chained to the wall of the cave. While a human might believe what the magic made them see, Layra was a day away from her deathbed. She had long since given up hope that Jareth would come looking for her, no doubt he was glad to be rid of her and had already found a new mate.

Layra knew very little of the true nature of dragons, and that once they had found their mate, it was for life.

She was picked up into the talons of the blood red dragon, and though the claws cut into her unmercifully, she did not even flinch. The fight was gone out of her.

They flew for what seemed awhile, though Layra was sure it was only a matter of minutes. Her ability to tell the time had faded, her eyes stayed closed to avoid the harsh sunlight she had not seen in so long. Her bruised ribs cried out in anguish from the death grip the dragon held on her, but she did not utter a sound, instead silently hoping that this would be the end of her; that she would not live to make it to the castle.

They landed in a clearing not far from the village the dragon had originally taken her from. He dropped her roughly to the ground but she did not move, lacking the strength to roll away from. The dragon morphed into the man once again, and she watched him pull clothes out of a pack she had not noticed before. He dressed swiftly and then walked over to her and hauled her to her feet, dragging her to a pool they were near for she hadn't the strength to walk for herself.

He hauled her into the water and held her under, scrubbing at her body and getting all the sweat and dirt off. When she could no longer hold her breath and felt her lungs were near bursting, he pulled her up, giving her a split second to breathe before he pushed her back under, scrubbing harder to remove all the blood. When his hands brushed over her bruised ribs, she made to cry out, but instead swallowed a mouthful of water and began to choke. He pulled her back up and laid her on the bank while she coughed and sputtered, and set about washing her hair until it shone. He was not tender in any of his ministrations, but rather approached it as simply as if he was washing fruit or dishes.

The magic potion he had made her drink put color in her cheeks and meat on her bones as an illusion, but with her body nicely clean, she definitely looked the part of the princess once more. Her lithe muscles she had developed while in her dragon form had wasted away, but to the mortal eye, she looked every bit the royal part.

The man pulled a dress over her body, a simple white one similar to the ones she used to ride in, and dropped some sort of liquid onto her leather bonds. At once, they disappeared, but she could still feel them binding her, a clever trick. Layra looked into the pool for a moment, and couldn't believe what she saw there, it was like looking into an enchanted mirror that showed the past. She knew it was a trick, but her own eyes betrayed her. She sighed, but had little time to think over these things, as she was hauled to her feet once more. The man inspected her carefully, then, seeming appeased, proceeded to pull her along back to the path that would lead to the kingdom. Layra could hardly walk along beside him, but she was forced to but some power yet again that was not her own.

Layra searched the skies, but to no avail, her dragon would not come.

~~~**~**~~~

It was nearing dark when they finally stopped. Layra was past exhaustion, past coherence, past caring. They had walked all day, flying in remote parts of the countryside, and were just outside of Larkenshire and the castle of the kingdom at this point. She wasn't sure how she had put one foot after the other, but somehow, she had.

The dragon man had snapped a collar around her neck and chained her to a nearby tree in the glade where they rested for the night. He planned to present her at first light to the King.

She sighed to herself, thinking over what would happen the next day. The man that held her captive had sent out a courier to the King to alert him that he was to meet them in this very glade if he wanted the princess. Where the dragon had found a courier was beyond Layra's understanding, but at this point, she didn't really care.

The King would appear, and be presented with his daughter, but the dragon man would first tell him his conditions. He was to be offered a sacrifice of a virgin girl once a season from every village in the kingdom. When the King would scoff at this, the red-haired man would morph into his dragon form, and the King and his knights would cower down in fear, for although he was not near Jareth's size, he was still much larger than an average human man. The King would, of course, agree to these conditions, and she would be handed over. What her future was beyond that was anyone's guess, but she figured that instead of killing her, the King would keep her as his own personal sex slave, since she had cost him so greatly.

She shivered at the thought and the horror of such a deal. The dragon man lay in the glade not far from where she was chained, but even if Layra had been able to escape, she wouldn't have had the energy to even try.

She settled herself and closed her eyes, her thoughts and dreams carrying her to the same place they always did – the safety of Jareth's arms.

How she longed for him, to feel his tender gaze upon her as she undressed, to feel the heat emanating from his skin as his dragon fire burned hot and deep, to feel his forked tongue caressing her body in loving, passionate desire as he moved from her throat to her breasts, leaving no inch of skin untouched. To see his eyes as he dipped between her thighs and into her tight center, toying with her as he brought her so close to the brink, knowing just where to touch her, his pleasure reflected in those golden eyes at the moans she emitted in pure ecstasy. To feel his body connecting with hers, and the low groan he would always utter as he slid deep inside of her, claiming her as his own and uniting their bodies once more.

Layra cried herself to sleep once more, but it was not out of spite, but pure, unbridled desire for her mate, and the life she had once had.

~~~**~**~~~

The following morning, before the sun had even begun to touch the tips of the trees, Layra woke on her own accord. Though weaker every day, she felt a kind of energy at being out of that horrible cave and in the soft grass bed she had rested on. To hear the birds singing and not be surrounded by the stench of blood or the sight of human bones was a freedom in itself. If Layra had ever thought she wasn't free before, she truly understood bondage now. She longed to morph herself and take to the skies, flying alongside Jareth as they danced in and out of the wind currents, high above the mountains and cloud-bank. She still felt the inner strength, the touch of defiance, but the dragon man that held her captive had starved her, removing all physical capabilities of showing such traits. Not that it really mattered now, for the King would be here soon, and as she now lost hope, no one would save her. Not this time.

The dragon man was moving around, and she remembered that such men did not require sleep, though she had hid this knowledge from Jareth at the time. She watched him under still-bleary eyes, though they were slowly adjusting to the light again, and she knew it would not be long before the knights arrived, followed by the King. The man turned to her and grinned wolfishly to see her awake, but he made no move towards her. Instead he leaned down and drank from the stream that they had stopped by, offering her none, but making sure that she was watching as he let the cool water dribble down his chin.

She felt the familiar flare of animosity in her chest. How she hated this man! But she could do nothing for it; as it was, Layra still was incapable of walking but a few steps, as weak as she was, and her sole existence relied entirely on the grotesque creature that sat before her. He smirked as she dryly licked her lips, and he could see how badly she wanted, and probably needed, the water. He still did not offer her any, but stood quickly at the familiar fanfare of trumpets as the party moved towards them, and towards the glade.

Layra watched on as a group gathered in the clearing, and she could see the amazement on the faces of the soldiers as they recognized her, their mortal eyes not seeing past the spell he had placed on her. She wondered how long it would take for the potion to wear off. Shortly after they gathered and took up the familiar pattern of the circle, her father, the King himself, entered into the glade, staring at the man before him, after a brief glance in her direction.

While the red-haired hunter wasn't particularly intimidating to the King's eyes, something about those bright green orbs spoke worlds of apprehension to the King. However, he was desperate to have the princess back, and so he continued his dismount. He walked to the center of the glade and stood a few feet away from the man, drawing himself to his full height.

"It would seem I am your debt, Sir, for you have successfully returned my daughter to me. As per the reward stated for such an act, I shall grant you a Lordship in my Kingdom, with your choice of the land and flocks." The King stated this all without realizing how much trouble he was about to be in.

The man laughed a deep laugh, that faded out to a snarl. "Your highness, I have no use for a Lordship, what I seek as a reward is much more worthy."

The King looked at him questioningly.

"Well, state what you desire and it shall be yours."

The man's grin curled into a wicked smile, and Layra, who was watching this exchange from a distance, could see his fangs elongating.

"I desire a sacrifice every season, from each village in your Kingdom, of one virgin." He sneered.

The King stared at him for a moment, before letting out a laugh, followed by the knights surrounding him.

"That's rich! A virgin, every season, from each village?" He laughed harder than ever, tears rolling down his face.

Layra closed her eyes, she knew what was coming.

The red-haired man closed his eyes and shouted the word he used to change, and in moments, a blood-red dragon stood in the glade before them. The King went ashen at the sight, and one of the younger knights fainted. The dragon snarled and his voice boomed out a word Layra did not recognize, and the small cliff behind them exploded and shattered, not close enough to harm anyone, but certainly enough for the King to realize his power. His eyes widened and he looked at Layra, his daughter. She was not worth such a bargain, there were plenty of young women he could have just as easily, but he got the distinct feeling that the dragon was not really using Layra as a bargaining piece. She was simply the ploy to get the King to come. Still, he could not give in to this brute and lose his control over the kingdom.

"Layra is simply not worth a virgin from each village for as long as you desire! Keep her!" He spat out, trying to back out of burning range, not knowing that only certain dragons breathed fire.

The red dragon roared at him and stomped over to Layra, ripping her chains from the tree.

"I will still have my demands, but for your refusal, I will punish you, first."

He grasped her in one mighty paw, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the intense pain she knew she would feel right before he snapped her in half.

She waited.

And waited.

But nothing came. Time seemed to go in extra slow motion, and she opened her eyes just as a shadow blurred out the sun before it torpedoed to the middle of the red dragon. She fell to the ground in a heap just as she heard a mighty roar, and looked around to see the King and knights scrambling behind logs and trees, watching with horror and amazement as a massive black dragon grabbed the throat of the red one and bit down, hard.

The red dragon voiced his fury, but the black dragon only returned the noise, his own vicious snarl reverberating the trees and causing the river to shudder, the cliff-face breaking apart even further at the echo of his deep roar.

Though significantly smaller than his foe, the red dragon was wound up so tightly in pride that he would not back down from a fight, even when it was clear that he was the underdog. He tried to shake the larger dragon from its death grip, but could do nothing to loosen his jaws. He scratched and bit, and finally, a back talon met its mark in the belly of the black, and he loosened his grip just enough for the red to rip away.

They circled each other, the black dragon at least double the size of the smaller, and his black scales glittered deep in his fury. His eyes swirled a deep red, the same color as the scales of his attacker. They met in a ball of fury once again, each trying to get the upper hand, but it was an easy match for the black dragon as he found a death grip once again. The red dragon ripped his neck away at the last second and took to the skies, hoping that his smaller size would give him swiftness in the air.

The black dragon quickly followed, and they met once more, slashing at each other and roaring, doing incredible flips and acrobatics throughout the air. It was clear that the black dragon was almost toying with his foe, but when his dragon eyes looked below and saw Layra, lying on the ground, a look of terror on her face, his entire fight changed.

~~~**~**~~~

At first, this fight was about another dragon in his territory. Jareth, as all dragons were prone to be, was extremely possessive over the Kingdom as his own territory, and dragons do not live within miles of each other. When he had detected this dragon, he had been biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

But when he beheld Layra, he suddenly understood. He had looked for her for weeks when he'd discovered she was gone, but to no avail, it was like she had disappeared into thin air. He knew she would no longer change since she had left, but he had begun to lose hope of finding her, though he looked day after day and night after night. He had torn the kingdom apart trying to find her, and at last had taken to watching the castle, knowing that if anyone did find her, they'd bring her here for their reward.

His dragon eyes saw past the potion, and he felt physically sick at the creature she now was, a day away from starving to death, bruises covering her whole body, her hair falling out and the color gone from her cheeks. The nausea quickly formed into rage, an animalistic desire to kill and destroy the red dragon that had tortured his mate, and the black dragon let out a breath of fire that burned the eyes of his attacker, causing them to crash into each other.

They met in a ball, descending to the ground in a tumultuous battle, and he positioned the red dragon underneath him so that he took the brunt of the fall. With his advantageous position on top, Jareth reached for his jugular, the sensitive patch of scales that would sever the animal's life, but the red dragon was fast and darted away, snaking his head around to take an once-in-a-lifetime shot at the death grip on Jareth's neck.

Though he twisted and turned, he could not free himself, and he felt the red dragon's teeth grinding down to the cord that would end his life. He raised his eyes to look at Layra, who was standing so close to where they landed, and took in a last view of her.

She was standing now, bound in leather manacles, what was left of her blond hair whipping around her face as the breeze ripped through the trees. Her eyes were more pronounced than ever by the hollows in her cheeks, and the clear blue glistened with tears; he could see them beginning to run down her face.

Though so skinny, and so mistreated, she was so, so beautiful.

His mate.

He stopped struggling against the red dragon, there was no point in fighting against the hold, the rogue had locked him in firmly. He felt the teeth so close to their mark, and shut his now-golden eyes, feeling utterly defeated for he had failed to protect her.

Suddenly, in a flurry of activity, the grinding stopped, and the dragon let out a roar of fury and tried to whirl around, but he could not, for he was still trapped partly under the large black brute.

Jareth opened his eyes and saw a slender, beautiful golden dragon with a grip on his attacker, grinding in the same way that the red dragon had done just moments before.

Registering what was happening, and taking advantage of the ambush, Jareth reached his great maw over to where Layra held their foe, and in one hard bite, snapped the red dragon's head off, where it fell to the ground, the great body lying a few feet away.

Layra looked at him shakily, her great form so skinny and sickly, and his eyes widened as she suddenly fell to the ground, in her human form once more. He looked at the knights and king were they sat cowering and scooped her up into his talons quickly, flying both of them away from the battle, away from the King, away from it all.

"Hang on Layra..." His voice rumbled as he flew as quickly as he could.

"Just hang on."

~~~**~**~~~

Layra's eyes opened blearily in a dark room, and she was sure that she was dead. Her transformation always took a lot of energy out of her, but when she'd seen Jareth so close to death, she had involuntarily changed. Surprised, but full of adrenaline, she had dove for the red dragon, grabbing it in the same hold as he held Jareth. When it was over, and her adrenaline had subsided, the energy she so desperately needed to stay alive was gone, and she had slipped out of consciousness.

She had never really imagined what the afterlife was like, but this didn't feel right. The bed felt distinctly familiar, though she hadn't slept on one in so long, and the smell was...it was...

Jareth.

She could smell him, all around her, flooding her senses. She tried to pick up her head, but she was too weak to do so. She tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a soft whimper.

In an instant, she felt something by her side, and she instinctively tried to roll away from it, remembering the beatings the red dragon had given her. Something held her fast, and she looked up into the golden eyes of her mate.

He was smiling at her.

"Easy there, Layra, don't worry, nothing will hurt you." He murmured, pressing a cool wet cloth against her forehead. She tried to sit up again, and surprisingly, found the strength to do so. Her voice was raspy, but it still worked.

"Jareth."

All she said was his name, but the smile he gave her warmed her to her soul. She felt her ribs, they ached, but looking down, they were no longer bruised. She felt weak, but not near death, and every second that passed she felt a little bit stronger, though she was sure it would take days for her to return to her full state.

"You will heal very fast, Layra, much faster than a normal person," He informed her, though she hadn't actually voiced her question.

She looked at him, searchingly, but his eyes revealed nothing to her.

"What happened?" She implored.

He laid down beside her, unable to keep his hands from exploring her body once again, though she was still emaciated. Her curves were smaller, but still gave him chills as he felt the silky softness of her skin.