Heart of the Mountain

"I wouldn't call it lying, exactly," she replied. "I wanted to make a point, and I wanted to resolve the conflict. Now that you know you can't claim the gold, we're no longer trying to kill each other, right? Wouldn't you say that I was successful?"

"I thought as much," he grumbled. "I was trying to think of roundabout ways that I might get the gold down the mountain, conceal it somehow, but I doubted that you'd really let me take it. I wanted to ask, why have you collected all of this treasure? If you can't spend the coin, and you have no use for things like dining tables and thrones, then what's it all for?"

"We dragons can be...how do I put this?" she wondered, fidgeting uncomfortably as if she was hesitating to reveal an embarrassing truth. "We have been described as greedy. Some of us can have a bit of an ego. Before you judge us, try to understand how we see the world, what it feels like to be a dragon. We're so much larger and stronger than anything that we might encounter, we are living wells of magical energy. A dragon can raze a keep, or bring down an army under its own power. We're born with the ability to fly. Some of us see ourselves as being...above humanity, both in a literal and a philosophical sense. Humans are these tiny, scurrying creatures with fleeting lifespans, they scarcely have the time to accrue any knowledge or wisdom before they're gone."

"Why do I get the feeling that this is a preemptive apology?" Iden asked, spearing another piece of roast beef with his gilded fork. "I don't know anything about dragons, I've never met one before you, remember? You don't have to make excuses for people that I've never met."

"Some dragons chose to rule over mortals in the old days, they were wiser, more powerful. They saw themselves as being more worthy, deserving of...worship. I don't condone what they did, some even took slaves and concubines, but at the heart of all dragons is that same yearning. We covet things of great value, whatever they might be. Wealth, territory, political power. It's not confined to simple treasure, but that's one way that the need expresses itself. Dragons surround themselves with finery, with great works of art, with priceless relics."

She gazed at her pile longingly, almost wistfully, Iden cocking his head at her.

"So you like gold most of all?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" she replied enthusiastically. "Well, not just gold. I like to own things of great value, and different people value different things. Some dragons prefer more historical pieces. I knew dragons who would have traded away a fortune in gold to possess the sword that slew a famous king, or the journal of a world-renowned poet. Others craved influence, control, they wanted to shape history with their own claws. I like beautiful things, rare things. I like to look at them, to own them, it brings me a kind of satisfaction."

"I can kind of understand that," Iden said with a shrug. "Plenty of humans collect art or hoard wealth. There are despots who crave power, and who will do anything to expand their reach. I've probably fought for more than a few over the years."

"Another factor," she continued, "is just that there's not a lot for us to do. If you've been alive for seven hundred years, everything seems to blur together. Kingdoms rise and fall, seasons come and go, it grows harder and harder to become invested in the outside world. The one constant is your collection, it's something that you can always work on, always expand. That's one of the things that I like about you," she added, smiling at him as he paused his chewing to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Me?"

"Yes. You're something new, something different."

"I'm about as conventional as they come," he said, swallowing his mouthful of meat. "Go to any war camp, and you'd find dozens like me."

"No, you're stranger than you know, Iden. Do you know how many hunters and fortune seekers have tried to kill me? How often I've had to uproot myself, moving from place to place because of the constant harassment? Do you know how rare it is for a mortal to see me as I truly am, and for it to not end in his death? So many men would have taken Isabelle by force on the road, a beautiful, naive girl traveling alone. They would have tried to rob her, defile her, but you didn't."

"Were you testing me?" he asked, "trying to find out if I was worth eating or not?"

"I didn't really plan for it to happen that way," she admitted, "but...perhaps a little. Fate seemed to bring us together, I wanted to see if you were someone who might provide me with some company, a good man."

"A good man," he chuckled. "Is not defiling women on the road all it takes to be considered a good man these days? I'm not a good man, I've done bad things, hurt a lot of people."

"You kill for money," she said with a nod of her head, "but that doesn't make you evil. You wouldn't do it if you had a choice, and isn't that what all of this has been about? You trying to find an out, as you put it?"

"I just don't want you seeing things in me that aren't there," he said, "you don't really know me."

"I know you better than you might think," she replied. "I know that the man who helped Isabelle scale the mountain was kind, considerate, generous. You even wanted to throw her vase off the peak in order to protect her, despite the risk of upsetting her."

"It's not like you gave me a choice."

"But you did have a choice. The fact that you didn't see one proves my point."

"Okay, so I'm secretly a Saint," Iden said as he spread his arms in a gesture of exasperation. "What's it to you? What exactly are you hoping to get out of me?"

She didn't reply, she just gave him a smile, leaning on the table again and letting her auburn hair fall about her shoulders.

"Would you like more meat?" she asked, noting that he had finished his steak.

"No, thank you," he replied as he set his cutlery down on the table. "What I'd like now is a place to sleep, today has been...trying."

"You did climb a mountain, and then fight a dragon," Isabelle replied with a smirk.

"Is there somewhere that I can set up my tent? I don't think I can drive the stakes into this cave floor, unless you have some kind of gilded hammer in that pile somewhere."

"Nonsense, you're my guest!" she exclaimed. "I won't have you sleeping in a tiny tent."

"Don't tell me, you have a Lord's bed lying around here somewhere?"

"Not, exactly...but I think I can come up with something. Wait here for a moment."

CHAPTER 5: STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

Iden watched as Isabelle went back and forth, creating a pile of fabric that she had sourced from all over her cave. It was comprised of silken curtains, canopies from lavish beds, and elaborately embroidered drapes. There were billowing dresses, extravagant tunics, and gowns made from the finest satin that must have once been part of some wealthy woman's wardrobe. Instead of blankets, she had assembled piles of fur coats and warm capes. These fineries alone were probably worth more than the price on her head, and here she was using them in lieu of a common sleeping bag. It looked like the most expensive rat's nest that had ever been assembled, perhaps ten feet by ten feet, deep and plush enough that he couldn't even feel the cold and the hardness of the floor beneath it.

"Will this do?" she asked, watching as he ran his fingers through one of the fluffy animal pelts. It might be bear or maybe wolf, he wasn't quite sure, but it was the softest thing that he had ever felt.

"I'll say," he muttered. "Are we going to brush our teeth with fine wine, and maybe burn some mahogany furniture for warmth, too?"

"You want a fire? I can take care of that," she announced. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth like she was blowing on them to warm them in cold weather, and Iden saw a light appear. It shined through her skin, giving it a red hue, the outlines of her veins visible. She opened her fingers to show him a dancing flame that was resting in her palm, like a candle, but with no wick or fuel source in sight. It was more magic, cold fire.

She placed it on the ground beside the makeshift bed, where it continued to burn, even as it rested on the moist rock. It grew and spread until it reached the size of a roaring campfire. Despite the fact that it hadn't hurt Isabelle, he could feel the heat that was coming off it, driving away the pervasive cold of the cave.

"That wasn't quite what I meant," Iden said, watching the flames dance. "But it'll do."

He slipped off his ridiculous shoes and sat down, sliding beneath the layers of silky fur, quickly warming as they trapped his body heat. The pile of gowns and curtains cushioned him, it was far more comfortable than he had anticipated.

Iden felt so out of place here, wearing these clothes, sleeping amongst this mass of expensive fabrics. The mound of treasure still caught the light from the torches, and he gazed up at the ceiling, watching the shimmering reflection. One by one, the torches faded, casting the cave into darkness save for the magical campfire that Isabelle had conjured. Only now did he realized how sore he was, his body bruised and aching. The climb had been trying, the battle with the dragon even moreso. As he began to close his eyes, he felt shuffling, opening them to see Isabelle sneaking into the makeshift bed beside him.

"Uh...what are you doing?" he asked, and she paused with the fluffy pelts half-covering her.

"I'm going to sleep."

"With me?" he asked.

"Why not? We've slept together until now, right?"

"Yes, but that was because we had no other choice. You would have...well, you led me to believe that you would have frozen solid if you had not been able to share my tent. But now we're in your cave, there's no need to share. How do you usually sleep?"

"Well, I'm usually in my...natural form, and I sleep atop my pile." It wasn't hard to imagine the great beast coiled around the mountain of treasure like a giant serpent. "But now, I'm in my human form, so..."

"Alright," he grumbled, "I suppose we have more room that we did in my sleeping bag."

She lay down beside him, throwing the furry blankets over them, draping an arm about his broad chest. She stroked the soft silk of his fancy tunic with her slim fingers, seeming to enjoy the way that it clung to his figure. It was of her design, after all, he wasn't wearing it by accident.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, looking over to see her green eyes peering back at him in the gloom. She shuffled closer, and he could feel the softness of her bust through her blouse as it pressed up against him.

"Come on, Iden," she whispered. "Don't play coy. I saw the way that you looked at me during our journey up the mountain, the way that your eyes lingered on my...assets. This form is young, vigorous, beautiful. I made it so, I designed Isabelle to be pleasing, enticing..."

Her fingers roamed lower, sliding against the slick fabric of his shirt, tracing the contours of his muscled stomach. Iden considered pushing her hand away, but he felt a twinge in his loins, his body responding to her despite himself. He had been on the road for so many weeks without sight nor sound of a woman, and his need was great. Women had always been his weakness. When it came to the fairer sex, he had about as much ability to resist their charms as a drunk could resist a hearty draw from a pitcher of ale.

"You wanted Isabelle, I could feel it," she continued. "But you were too much of a gentleman to act on your desires. You don't have to hide your feelings anymore, you can set them loose. The more unrestrained, the better..."

She paused above his belt as if waiting for his permission to slide lower, batting her long lashes at him expectantly. Gods, she looked so radiant in the light of the fire. Her skin was as white as snow, her cheeks tinted pink, her lips full and rosy. Her green eyes shone like the emeralds that she hoarded in her prized collection, her mane of long hair the color of autumn leaves.

"Do dragons...like humans?" he mumbled. "Shouldn't you seek out a man with rough scales, and a long tail, who can breathe fire?"

"It's been generations since I've seen another dragon," she replied, averting her gaze as she was temporarily lost in thought. "Can you imagine what that's like? To go hundreds of years without so much as speaking to another of your own kind?"

He could indeed. Iden had only gone a few weeks without enjoying the company of a woman, and he was already chomping at the bit, but it seemed a rather uncouth thing to admit in the moment.

"It must have made you very lonely," he said, and she nodded her head. "But did you not seek the company of other humans?"

"I did, on occasion, but...it's all a farce. All that I can manage are a few fleeting encounters here and there, I can never stay in one place for too long, I can never develop a real relationship with someone. When a certain amount of time has passed, they inevitably start asking questions that I can't answer. Where do you live, who are your parents, what's your profession. They can never know who I truly am. I grew tired of playing those games, it was always the same, every interaction arriving at the same conclusion."

"Why not take human form permanently, and live out your life amongst the mortals?" Iden asked. "It's not as though strangers never move from place to place, there are always new arrivals in towns and cities, people seeking to leave their old identity behind. You wouldn't have to explain anything."

"It would be a life of theater," she replied. "I do not hide my draconic form out of shame, but out of necessity, because I will be hunted if I reveal it. I could not give up my true identity, not to mention leaving my collection unguarded," she added with a glance at her hoard. "Perhaps I could pose as a newcomer to a quiet mountain village, such as the one deep in the valley, but it would surely arouse suspicion in such tightly-knit communities. I must also eat enough to sustain a dragon, regardless of my appearance. A beautiful young woman who appeared at the same time that a dragon began to terrorize the countryside? I'd be lucky not to be burned as a witch. Although I have to admit, seeing the faces of the villagers when the flames of their pyre had no effect on me would almost make it worth the trouble."

She pushed her face into the nape of his neck, nuzzling as her hand made slow circles on his stomach.

"Are you going to make me beg, Iden? Does my true nature intimidate you so? You don't have to be afraid of me, we could do it the way that you're no doubt accustomed to. It wouldn't be theater for me to play the role of a young woman, enraptured by your strength and masculinity, admiring your physicality as you mount me. My desire for you is real, even if this body that I have conjured is not. It's been so long since I felt the touch of a man..."

She planted a lingering kiss on his neck, Iden's heart pounding in his ears. He would never admit it, but he was indeed afraid of her. He had seen what she truly was, thirty feet of scales and fire, possessed of magical powers far beyond his comprehension. And yet the form that she had chosen was so pleasing, so alluring, crafted for the purpose of enticing him just as a sword was forged to cut.

His resolve broke, and he reached down a hand to run his fingers through her auburn hair, stroking her warm cheek. Isabelle loosed a satisfied chuckle, her groping becoming less restrained, her slender fingers wandering across his broad chest. She tested the firmness of his muscles, then slid higher, his stubbly face scratching her palm as she returned the gesture.

"I knew that you'd come around," she whispered, "there's no need to hold anything back now."

She snapped her fingers, and Iden was momentarily alarmed by a rush of flame, the silk tunic that she had crafted for him burning away like a sheet of paper to leave him exposed. Of course, his very clothes were a product of her magic. Did that mean that she could have undressed him any time that she wished?

Isabelle slid a wandering hand down to his stomach, savoring the feeling of his iron muscles tensing beneath her palm, her covetous eyes playing across his body. He felt her trace a more recent scar, a line of pink flesh that had knitted across his belly where a foe had tried to gut him. Years out in the sun had given him a dark tan that contrasted against her own pale white. He should have noticed that, no farmhand could have kept such perfect skin while working out in the sun, there wasn't so much as a freckle on her.

"You're so stout," she muttered, making no attempt to conceal how much she was enjoying exploring him. "You've lived a life of violence, a life where brute strength has kept you in one piece, every bout leaving its mark on your skin."

She leaned a little closer, planting a kiss on his chest, letting her soft lips linger.

"As hard as stone, what a specimen you make, Iden..."

He flinched as he felt the warmth of her tongue, Isabelle seeming to sample his skin, one of her hands hooking around a bicep that was almost the size of her head.

"Your taste, your scent," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word, as if it was all too much for her. "How I've pined for the warmth of a man...how I've longed to quench this thirst..."

She grew more aggressive, Iden bucking from the pile of gowns and curtains as she cupped his growing erection in her hand through the fabric of his tight pants.

"But let's take our time," she added, almost as though she was trying to persuade herself rather than him. "I want to savor this, I want to make the most of every second."

Iden felt a familiar fire rising in his belly, and this time, it had nothing to do with her magic. His fear melted away, his uncertainty fading. She was only a woman, a dragon in a woman's form perhaps, but he knew what to do with women.

He turned onto his side, dwarfing her slight frame, casting Isabelle into shadow as he put his back to the campfire. She peered up at him with an almost gleeful expression on her face, her anticipation palpable, wetting her lips as he cupped her face in his palm. Women liked his hands. They were large and rough, calloused by years of gripping leather hilts, and steel hafts. Her eyelids fluttered as he stroked her rosy cheek again, and then he brought her closer, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

She sighed through their locked lips, wasting no time on pleasantries as her tongue found his own, entwining in a passionate kiss. She tasted wonderful, it was almost like biting into a ripe fruit, her skillful flurries and strokes making his head spin. Isabelle was no stranger to a lover's embrace, it was rare to meet a woman who could match pace with him, who he didn't need to lead around like a dog on a leash. She was so greedy, rapacious, quickly abandoning any pretense of modesty or restraint.

Isabelle seemed to sag into him, pressing her lithe figure up against his torso, her fingernails digging into his chest as she teased him with her artful tongue. He could feel the softness of her breasts squashing up against him through the silken fabric of her blouse, one of her thighs rising to brush against his loins, and he let his free hand roam down to her shoulder.

Her skin was smoother and softer than even the lavish satin that they were lying upon, so warm in the cool air, and he couldn't help but stroke her. Her blouse exposed her neck and shoulders, and so that was where he roamed, inching closer to her bust as he met her bawdy embrace.

"Don't hold back," she panted, breaking off their kiss for a moment to peer up at him with her emerald eyes. "You can be rough, there's no chance of you hurting me. Tear off my clothes, if it pleases you."