Heart of the Mountain

He fished it out of the pool and handed it to her, Isabelle placing it on the rock floor.

"How's the water?" she continued. "I might join you, it's been a while since I bathed in human form."

"I'd prefer that you didn't," he grumbled.

"Iden," she began, her voice laced with mock concern. "Whatever has come over you? You couldn't take your eyes off me when you thought that I was a simple farm girl, you'd sneak a look at me every chance that you got, but now you seem almost afraid of me. I gave Isabelle all of the right features, wouldn't you say?"

He tried to ignore her as she leaned forward, letting her plump, pert breasts hang within her loose blouse. They were so tantalizingly close to spilling out of the lacy fabric, with nothing to restrain them, her cleavage cast into deep shadow by the flickering torchlight. Her long, red locks fell about her bare shoulders, the leather of her tight corset creaking as she moved.

"She's as real as she needs to be, I can assure you of that. What do you think of my handiwork?" she asked as she brushed aside her hair to expose more of her chest. "As a man, and a mortal at that, I'm interested in your opinion. Is her bust full and shapely enough for your liking? Are her legs not long and slender? I made her thighs strong, her rump firm and shapely. Her belly is muscled by a lifetime of labor, or at least, an imagined one. Then there are the things that you can't see. Her skin is as soft as fine silk, her flesh yielding. Will you not sample it, and give me your opinion?"

"What exactly do you expect of me?" Iden replied, hoping that she might write off the flush in his cheeks as a result of the steam. "Do you mean to seduce me? If so, state your intentions openly."

He was not one to turn down the advances of a comely woman under normal circumstances. In fact, women were his vice, his weakness. But this was a dragon. He had seen her as she truly was, near thirty feet long, and covered in armored scales. Even in her human form, he was wary of her. The memories of her sharp claws, her fiery breath, and her flashing teeth were still fresh in his mind.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and loosed a sigh, sitting down on the rock beside the pool in a decidedly unladylike manner.

"Is a little company, a little conversation too much to ask?" she grumbled. "Do you know how long it has been since I was able to have a conversation with someone who knew of my true nature?"

Iden was a little taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, and he shook his head.

"Tell me, how many dragons do you see flying around these days? How often are we spoken of?"

"Rarely, if ever," he replied.

"I haven't laid eyes on another dragon in more than two hundred years," she lamented, crossing her arms over her knees as she stared vacantly into the water. "There used to be thousands of us, back when the world was brimming with magic. Once it began to wane, the mortals started to hunt us. At first, it was for our magical properties, to take possession of our horns and scales so that they might cast spells or brew potions. Then, it was out of greed, for the wealth that we hoarded. Finally, fear motivated them. Over the generations, they forgot that we were intelligent, emotional creatures, and they began to see us as little more than feral animals to be slaughtered."

"You speak of a world brimming with magic," Iden wondered, "what do you mean by that?"

"You were born too late to have known of it," she replied, keeping her green eyes fixed on the pool. "There was a time when magical beasts roamed the land freely, when Elves inhabited the woodlands, and when dragons soared across the skies. There were merfolk in the lakes, centaurs on the plains, and mortals lived alongside all manner of beings that have since faded into myth in the world of men. Your lives are fleeting. Over the generations, history is lost, and the truth fades into legend."

"What happened to them all?" Iden asked, transfixed by her tale now. "If there was so much magic in the world, where did it all go?"

"The Elves were driven from their forest homes, the dragons were slain, and mortals fabricated new Gods to replace the old. Now, rather than communing with nature spirits, men worship false Gods in elaborate cathedrals. Paladins roam the land exacting their brand of justice upon whatever their leaders deem unholy, and what vestiges of the forgotten world that remain are chased away. Every magical creature that dies takes a little of the world's magic with them, and now there is all but none."

"I...had no idea about any of this," Iden muttered, not really knowing what to say. So her motivation was loneliness, she had lived in isolation for who knows how long, longer than he had been alive. The only way that she could find company was to put on a mask, in a sense, pretending to be someone that she was not in order to have fleeting encounters with humans. He felt like he should attempt to console her somehow, but he didn't know what to do, and so he just stood there in the water.

"You're the first person in an age that has seen me in my true form, and has lived to tell of it," she continued. "Will you not grant me the pleasure of your company, at least until you decide what to do next?"

"I thought you wanted me to leave?" he asked, "you seemed rather insistent when you were chasing me around the cave. But now, you want me to stay?"

"We were at odds before, but now we're not," she explained. "And you have nowhere else to go. You showed me hospitality, I will return the favor."

"Alright," Iden replied, if only to calm her down. "It's not like I have any other options right now."

"Good," she said, seemingly satisfied. "Now, if you're done washing, I'll fetch you some clothes."

"What's wrong with mine?" he asked.

"Besides the fact that they're filthy? You can't spend all of your time in a gambeson, you might as well wear your battle armor all day. I'll get you something clean to wear, and then you can wash your outfit later."

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Do you have anything that will fit me? I'm bigger than most."

"I think I can manage," Isabelle chuckled, rising to her feet and gesturing for him to follow her. "Out you come."

"Do you have a towel for me?"

"You won't need one," she replied with a wink.

Iden emerged from the water reluctantly, hunching over and covering his loins with his cupped hands again. The dragon never missed an opportunity to ogle him, making no attempt to disguise her peeking. The water was making him shiny, accentuating his muscles, and he began to shiver again as he left the warmth of the pool. Isabelle waved her hand, and he felt a sudden heat. It was as though he had just stepped out into the summer sun, the moisture on his skin evaporating in a puff of steam.

"D-don't burn me!" he stammered, Isabelle cackling at him.

"Relax, you big baby. I'm just drying you off. You really are scared of magic, aren't you?"

"I'm not scared of it," he grumbled, "but I've seen you set a tower shield glowing like a hot iron with naught but your breath. Is it not reasonable to be wary of it?"

"You'll just have to trust me," she replied with a smirk.

"You'll forgive me if I don't find you especially trustworthy..."

"Keep still," she added, looking him up and down. "This might frighten you."

He braced himself, wondering what she meant, and then his eyes were drawn to a wavering light beneath him. There were flames licking at his bare feet, sprouting from the rock itself. His first instinct was to leap clear, but he suppressed it, noting that there was no heat. How could fire be cold? He shut his eyes tightly as they crept up his body, engulfing him in a roaring inferno, like he was being burned alive on a pyre. It was such an alien sensation, to be able to touch flames without being scorched, it almost felt like soft fabric was caressing his skin.

He felt a tightness about him, as if something was constricting his chest. When he dared to open his eyes again, he found that he was clad in a set of fine clothes. There was a tunic made from crimson silk, the neck cut low, the fabric almost uncomfortably tight about his chest and upper arms. There was also a pair of black leggings that clung to his figure, similarly restrictive abound his rump, and he resisted the urge to reach down and adjust his groin. There were a pair of soft-soled shoes on his feet, and a leather belt about his waist, it had all appeared from thin air.

"Now you're looking a lot more presentable," Isabelle said, Iden scowling at her.

"How did...you've dressed me like some kind of...pompous Lord. This tunic is so tight that I can barely breathe!"

"Trust me, it suits you just fine," she chuckled. "Now off you go, back to the main chamber. After you, of course..."

She followed behind him as he set off up the tunnel, his flat-soled shoes slipping on the moist stone. He felt her eyes on his back, and he looked over his shoulder to see her grinning at him. His trousers were so tight that they almost creaked, it didn't take a genius to figure out what she was admiring...

"Alright, you've dressed me like a prince, and you have me smelling like flowers. What's next, are you going to braid my hair?"

"No, I quite like it the way it is," she replied as they emerged into the main chamber. The pile of gold drew Iden's gaze once again, his heart skipping as it shone in the torchlight. It cast its shimmering reflection on the domed ceiling above, almost like a pool of water reflecting the sun. There was so much wealth here, and yet he couldn't spend a single coin, it was maddening. The gold had an almost magnetic power over him, excitement welling in his belly, joined by an odd urgency that commanded him to fill his pockets and run. Isabelle almost seemed to sense it in him, taking him by the arm and steering him away from the mesmerizing sight.

"The gold isn't going anywhere," she said, "we have more pressing matters to attend to. When was the last time you ate? You must be famished after our...disagreement earlier."

"Disagreement?" he replied with a cynical chuckle. "But yes, I could eat. My pack is still around here somewhere, I have plenty of meat and bread left. I should save some for the trip back down the mountain, though. Come to think of it, I had better start rationing it. With no money, I don't know when my next meal might come."

"I'll feed you," she insisted, keeping a tight hold on his arm even as he tried to pull it away from her. She had a grip like iron, she was far stronger in this form than she had initially let on. She led him over to a long table that was made from rich mahogany, the wood varnished to a brilliant sheen. The legs were shaped to resemble the paws of lions, adorned with ornate carvings. Where in the world had she come across this? He had a hard time imagining a dragon sailing through the air on its bat-like wings with a dining table clasped in its talons. It wasn't just gold and jewels that she collected then, it was items of great value, whatever those might be.

"Oh, you need a chair to sit on," she realized.

"I'll be fine, really," Iden replied. "I eat most of my meals out in the wilds, I only have the opportunity to eat a table when I stay at an inn, which isn't all that often."

"Nonsense, you're my guest! Wait here for just a moment, I'll be right back."

He watched as she hurried over to the hoard of gold, and then his blood ran cold as she began to transform again. The strands of her auburn hair seemed to clump together until they formed a mass of patterned spines, changing in hue from red to blue, her face elongating into a snout as twisted horns sprouted from her head. Her long tail grew from beneath her gown like a giant snake emerging from beneath a curtain, her great wings unfurling. She inflated in size as the signature scales spread across her pale skin to form an armored layer, her legs thickening and widening as they bulged with muscle, her clothes straining against her body. The garments burst into flames as they tore apart, turning to ash and seeming to dissipate into the air. In mere seconds, Iden was standing in the presence of the enormous dragon once more, her sturdy limbs and her stout tail as thick around as the trunk of an old oak tree.

She plunged her claws into the pile and began to dig, shoveling aside great handfuls of treasure, the sound reminding Iden of a waterfall. It was like watching an enormous dog trying to dig up a field mouse. She finally found what she was looking for, unearthing a great, golden throne from deep within her stash. She gripped it in her jaws, lifting it with ease despite its obvious weight. The dragon marched over to him, her thunderous footsteps shaking the ground, Iden unable to stop himself from recoiling as she neared.

There was another thud as she dropped the throne into place beside the table, the dragon watching him expectantly with her burning eyes.

"There we go," she said, her resonating voice shaking his bones. "I knew it was buried in there somewhere."

"Do I want to know where you got this?" Iden asked, eyeing the throne somewhat warily. It was beautifully crafted, he couldn't tell if it was forged from solid gold or not, but it seemed heavy enough for that to be the case. There were two ornate armrests carved to resemble the wings of an eagle, the backrest adorned with the rays of a sun. The throne was surrounded by intricate reliefs and statues, two carvings of women clad in flowing robes standing atop pillars to either side of it, lions resting at the occupant's feet. The seat itself was cushioned by a pair of plush pillows, made from red silk and likely stuffed with down.

"I plundered my share of keeps back in the day," she replied. "Don't worry, the man was a despot."

"If you say so..."

She switched so casually between her human form and that of a giant dragon, it was routine to her, but he couldn't get used to the sight. He walked over to the throne and sat down on it as she watched him expectantly, shifting his weight to get comfortable.

"Is it to your liking?" she asked.

"I mean...it's a throne," he replied, "you can't get much more lavish than this."

That seemed to please her, and she turned to lumber away from him, her long tail dragging on the ground behind her.

"How does roast beef sound?"

"You have roast beef here?" he asked, his hunger temporarily overpowering his apprehension. "Don't tell me that there's a kitchen hidden away in one your side tunnels?"

"Not quite," she chuckled. "Wait here, I'll only be a moment."

There was indeed another hidden tunnel that led out of the chamber, more torches bursting into flames as she neared, illuminating a winding passage that snaked out of sight. She vanished, and then reappeared a minute later, an entire cow clutched in her jaws. The dragon thundered back over to him, opening her mouth, and depositing the carcass beside the table.

Iden recoiled as it slapped down on the stone floor of the cave, its body shaking with the impact. Its black and white hide was covered in claw marks, its tongue lolling from its mouth as its glassy eyes stared vacantly. There was no kitchen down that passage, she must be using it store her meat. The kill still looked fresh, and its hide was somewhat damp. Perhaps she packed them with snow to stop them from spoiling.

"A whole cow?" he asked in disbelief, looking up to see her licking the blood from her lips. "Where did you get this?"

"From a nearby farm. Relax, I paid the man, he won't miss it."

"I don't think you quite appreciate that stealing is still stealing if you take something without permission, regardless of whether you pay for it after the fact."

"Then should I starve instead? It's not as if he'd do business with a dragon. In the old days, I could purchase a hundred head of cattle if I wished, the herders were more than happy to treat with me. We dragons were admired and respected before we were hunted."

She reached down with one of her sharp claws, beginning to butcher the animal before his eyes. She split open its round body, slicing through the pink meat, its juices congealing on the floor. When her grisly task was complete, she slapped a huge sirloin steak down on the table. More cuts followed, until there was a stack of beef that must have been a foot high. It was more meat than Iden had ever seen in his life. Cuts like this sold for a pretty penny, the lower classes of society rarely got to enjoy such delicacies. The herder did not eat the cattle that he raised, of course.

"How do you like it?" Isabelle asked, "rare or well-done?"

"Well-done," he replied. It was easy enough to guess what was coming next.

She reached down and speared one of the steaks with her claw, raising it high above the table, opening her mouth as if she intended to swallow it. Instead, a jet of flame erupted from her throat, charring the meat as she turned it over like she was rotating a spit over a campfire. The flames must have been intense indeed, because it didn't take long for her to finish, setting the roast beef on the table in front of him.

"For the life of me, I can't recall how much mortals usually eat in one sitting," she said as his eyes played over the meal. The meat was cooked to perfection, steam rising from its crispy exterior, the smell alone making his stomach gurgle. "Let me know if you need more. Oh, I almost forgot..."

She made her way to her pile once more, slowly shrinking as she went. Her tail sucked back up into her body, her wings shriveling as they folded across her back, the horns on her head receding. The rough, iridescent scales were replaced by smooth skin, her crest of sharp spines taking on the appearance of her long hair. She was nude for a moment, Iden taking the opportunity to admire the long dimple that ran down her back, and the perfect peach shape of her rump. Her clothes appeared in another rush of flame, the same outfit that she had worn earlier, with a long gown and a billowy blouse that left little to the imagination. He watched as her corset was birthed from the fires, tightening of its own accord, accentuating her wide hips.

She leaned down and plucked something from her hoard, then strode back to the table, placing the items before him with a metallic clatter. It was cutlery, a knife and a fork cast from shining silver, the handles made from what looked like mother of pearl.

"Thank you," he said, turning them over in his hands as he examined them. She had spoken of hospitality, and she hadn't been kidding. He was clad in fine clothes, sitting on a throne, about to eat a meal fit for a king with a set of cutlery that was probably worth more than he earned from an average job. Iden was finally starting to feel a little more at ease, and Isabelle seemed to sense it, beaming as he cut into the beef.

It bled juices as he lifted a slice to his mouth, finding it perfectly succulent. He began to eat more greedily, his hunger getting the better of him. Iden was by no means a starving pauper, but to be able to eat his fill of high-quality meat was a rare opportunity, and he wanted to make the most of it.

"How is it?" Isabelle asked, leaning on the table as she watched him. She gave him another admirable view down her loose-fitting blouse, pressing her breasts together with her upper arms, probably not by accident.

"It's great," he mumbled over a mouthful of beef, wiping the juice from his lips with the back of his hand. "This is all real, right? It's not going to vanish from my belly later on?"

"It's real" she chuckled, "not everything is magic."

"I've been thinking about the gold," he said, taking another bite. Isabelle's expression darkened, her brow furrowing as he continued. "Were you lying when you said that it all belonged to me?"