Treasure Ch. 03

"You know that story," he said. "You told me yesterday that your scholars taught it to the whole kingdom."

"Yes, but they weren't there, were they?" she replied, smiling coyly at him from the corner of her eye. He laughed again, a rich sound that felt like drops of wine on your lips and expensive furs rubbing across your bare skin.

"Very well." He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, releasing her hair and wrapping his other hand around her waist. "I know just the place to start. Once upon a time..."

"...there was a King?" Catherine inquired curiously.

"There won't be anything if you keep interrupting me," he countered swiftly. "Now hush. No. Once upon a time, there was a Princess." Catherine's eyes widened, but she stayed silent. "She was as beautiful as any storybook princess, with hair like gold coins and eyes greener than summer mornings. And just like many princesses before and after her, what she loved more than anything were jewels.

"She had countless baubles and gems, and enough gold trinkets and jewelry to turn every man in the kingdom into a noble three times over. She had a penchant for emeralds and sapphires, and some said that she possessed the largest, most flawless ones in all the land. But, of course, she wasn't satisfied. Potential suitors did what they could to sate her lust for shining things, but nobody in the kingdom could impress her with their wealth. What she wanted was the stuff of legends: the fabled horde of gold kept by the dragon who lived deep in the mountain. She didn't understand, you see, why a great green lizard should keep the riches that she as a princess so clearly deserved. Her father, who was an honest and reasonable man, told her that it was quite impossible, as we---I mean, he and the dragon, of course---had a very specific agreement that kept his kingdom at peace: he would keep his subjects out of the dragon's mountains and would present the dragon with an offering of gold, or a fine specimen he slew in his hunt, once during the turn of each season. In return, the dragon would leave the kingdom alone and do everything in his power to, ah, deter would-be invaders from enemy lands who dared to try to cross the mountain pass. This had been the custom for many years, and the dragon and the king had cultivated a sort of mutual respect, if not friendship." Catherine raised her eyebrows in surprise. This was a part of the story that the history books hadn't touched upon. Adeon paused, cleared his throat, and continued.

"This, of course, did not sit well with the princess. Tired of being rejected by her father, she secretly offered her hand in marriage to any man who could slay the dragon and bestow upon her his horde of riches. This resulted in a great many failed attempts to kill the dragon in his sleep, which roused the dragon's suspicion. He accused the king of going back on his treaty for peace, and although the king rightfully denied having any part of it, the dragon wasn't satisfied. He demanded another offering each time a man sneaked into his cave and tried to slaughter him, but, spurred on by the beautiful and greedy princess, the attempts continued until the king's riches had run out, and his hunting grounds were plucked clean of his prized bucks and boars. The king himself came to the dragon in distress, swearing that he had played no part in this scheme, and presented him with the crown upon his head as a peace offering.

"After accepting his offering, the dragon realized the king had been telling the truth, and told him that he would return the king's offerings on one condition: that his daughter would spend seven days in the cave with the dragon, polishing each piece that was going to be returned until it shone brighter than the sun. For the dragon had caught word of the princess's greed and suspected that the poor king wasn't to be blamed. The king was angry at first, but the dragon assured him that no harm would come to her. The fair princess was delivered to his cave the next day."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Catherine said softly, craning her neck to look up at him, "but the story our scholars told us of Brightvale isn't half the tale that yours is." Adeon smiled grimly down at her, idly stroking her hair with one of his hands.

"Oh, I'm sure. In my version, it almost sounds as if I'm a rational being capable of sympathy." He arched his back in a languid stretch, resting his head on the cavern wall and gazing pensively up at the ceiling. "May I continue?"

"Please."

"Thank you. Now, the princess was a difficult creature; she had a biting wit about her, and she grew haughty when she didn't receive the respect she was used to. The dragon tired quickly of her company after a day or so, but out of respect for the king, he let her wander the caverns freely when she wasn't working and let her sleep in the privacy of her own room. However, on the fifth morning, the dragon awoke with a portion of treasure missing and a dagger through his ribs, and, as you could imagine, this didn't excite him. He found her some ways down the mountain and shackled her to a large solid gold statue in his cave, promising her freedom and all the gold in the cavern if she could take the statue back to her father in the castle. She couldn't move it an inch, of course---she was a frail, slender thing---and after the eighth day had passed without word from the dragon, the king and his men ventured up the mountain to see what had become of his daughter.

"He wasn't altogether pleased with what he saw. And although the dragon explained to him that he wouldn't tolerate any man or woman who tried to pierce his heart with steel, the king, irrational from worry for his daughter, grew angry and accused the dragon of lying. He obviously didn't know that dragons don't lie," Adeon added as if in an afterthought.

"They don't?" Catherine wondered aloud, thinking suddenly of every flattering compliment he had given her that she had dismissed as persistent flirtatiousness.

"Heavens, no. We take pride in our words; we don't taint them with dishonesty. But with his daughter tied up and shouting that the dragon was lying and planning on simply eating her, and after he had lost every ounce of wealth in his kingdom, the king was quite incapable of seeing reason, and...well, I'm afraid he ordered his knights to slay the dragon." He lowered his gaze, his fingers subconsciously fiddling with a couple tendrils of Catherine's hair. "The entire kingdom burned to the ground that night." Finding herself without words, Catherine stayed silent, looking out the entrance of the cave at the sky, which was turning pink as the sun sank downward. The cave was quiet for some time, the silence broken only by the occasional chattering of birds outside.

"What happened to the princess?" she finally asked quietly. She felt him shrug behind her.

"I wouldn't know," he replied dryly. "I let her go, out of respect for her dead father. She didn't have a kingdom to return to, and I wanted the gravity of her offense to rest on her shoulders forever." Catherine shuddered at the idea of wandering the world alone, knowing that you had single-handedly destroyed your family and home. "Oh, no," he said softly, and she looked up at him in surprise. He was watching her with a sad look on his face, and her heart almost ached at the sight of his expression. "I've scared you, haven't I?" Placing a hand on his knee, Catherine shook her head earnestly.

"Don't be silly," she assured him. "It's just a lot to take in. I'm not frightened of you." He smiled wryly.

"I'm not quite sure if I believe that, little one, but your words are as sweet as the lips that form them. In fact, I'd very much love to taste them," he retorted playfully, and Catherine laughed and swatted him away as he knelt down to kiss her.

"You've stolen far too many of my kisses today, Adeon, and I'd like to keep some," she said in mock sternness, rolling onto her back from his lap and pressing her hands against his chest to keep him away as he descended upon her with a wild grin, his eyes wide with excitement.

"But who else is in need of them?" he teased, snatching her hand away from his chest with ease and kneeling over her as she laughed. "I'm afraid," he told her, pausing to kiss her lips, "that they're all very much mine now." He kissed her again, and she relaxed under him. "But I can return them to you, if you'd like," he murmured dreamily, tilting his head to the side, his hands splayed out on either side of her shoulders, trapping her underneath him. She felt the heat rise to her face and slowly, so slowly, reached out to touch his cheek with her fingertips. As he leaned into her touch, she wondered, not for the first time, what on earth she was doing.

"Something wrong?" he asked, a puzzled note in his voice, snapping her out of her trance. Blinking quickly, she forced a brilliant smile.

"Of course not," she said brightly, but he gave her a wounded look and sat up a little.

"It pains me that you're still unable to be forthright with me after all of the wonderful time we've spent together," he moped.

"I take it you're referring to the three days I've spent in your captivity?" she retorted, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Call it what you'd like."

"Well," she said slowly, "that is what this is, and I feel...a little strange about our affection for one another." His expression darkened slightly, and she continued hurriedly. "Not that I don't enjoy your company very much, but sometimes I find myself feeling..." She paused, and he watched her expectantly for several minutes while she thought. "...guilty...for enjoying it," she finished weakly, her voice growing soft, looking up at him worriedly.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing just enough to validate her worry, and she swallowed.

"My father, and everyone else in the kingdom, for that matter, thinks that I'm dead," she said carefully, "and while they're mourning for me, here I am, rolling around on the floor with you, listening to you tell your stories and kissing you. And...and doing other sorts of things with you," she added, blushing fiercely. "If my father knew, or Sir Richard, they would be so...angry..." She trailed off, her voice quivering slightly. He was quiet for a moment, his expression strange and distant.

"I see. Well, darling, the manacles are only a few steps away," he finally replied, his mouth curling into a sarcastic smile. "Why don't I chain you to a wall so you can pretend you aren't enjoying yourself?"

"It isn't like that!" she cried out, but he had already stood, turning around and running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "Please, that isn't what I meant..." In a flash, he had turned back towards her, his eyes wide and wild with anger.

"Then please, feel free to clarify exactly what you meant," he spat. Oh gods, what a horrible change of pace. She reached out towards him, to brush his leg with her fingers, but he drew back, his lips thinned with anger. She stood quickly, clutching her hands to her chest, and he eyed her warily.

"You have to understand," she whispered shakily, "the situation you've put me in." After a long moment, he slowly inclined his head in inquiry, and she continued. "The people in my kingdom aren't going to take very well to learning that one of their own has a...fondness...for a dragon. If they found out, I would certainly lose my father, and all of my friends. But if I can't possibly risk losing you." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I can't have both." As she opened her eyes to study him, she saw that his body was aquiver with emotions. The look on his face gradually softened into something unreadable and vulnerable, like desperation. Oh no, she thought hopelessly.

"But I need you," he choked out. A tremor ran up her spine and she slowly touched his shoulder with her fingertips, her lips quivering as she struggled for words.

"Oh, Adeon," she murmured after a moment, "I think I need you too."

"Surely not," he said quietly, a dark look crossing over his face, "or you wouldn't feel guilt for enjoying my company." He gently pulled away from her touch, his gaze becoming breathtakingly sad as he watched her. "But how could you not, when I'm a monster?" he breathed, giving her one last, lonely look before turning and skulking away into the treasure room. Catherine watched him go in silence, her heart sinking in her chest as she lowered herself back onto the floor and hugged her knees. Something in the corner of the cavern caught her eye, and she let out a heartbroken sigh as she glimpsed a two loaves of rosemary bread spilling out from the fabric sack, as well as a parchment package tied with string that could only be the rack of lamb. Ugh. A feeling of sickness and unease made her stomach clench with guilt. Not for the first time, Catherine felt desperately overwhelmed by her situation. By the looks of things, she thought miserably, maybe she wasn't the only one.

She sat in silence for a while, deep in her thoughts, listening intently for any signs of movement in the other room. After quite some time of hearing nothing, she slowly rose, making her way to the treasure room. Her steps slow and timid, she peeked around the corner and saw Adeon, back to his scalier self, curled in a dragon-y ball on the floor near a heap of gold, his tail idly curled around its base. One of his large, brilliantly yellow-green eyes opened slightly to watch her as she approached, staying fixed upon her with uncanny accuracy as she walked. Pausing, Catherine turned to unearth the silver crown from the pile of coins, turning it around in her hands as she examined it. He said nothing, and as Catherine reached him, she stood on her tiptoes and gently placed the crown on his head. It was tiny enough on him to look ridiculous, and she smiled hopefully at him.

"It seems like you went through a lots of trouble to get this," she said softly, letting a little cheer enter her voice. "You might as well enjoy it." His eyes never left her face, but he stayed silent, looking as depressed as a giant lizard was capable of looking. "Adeon," she urged desperately. "Please, talk to me." When he didn't respond, she sighed and sank down into a sitting position near his cheek, leaning up against his jaw and feeling the warm firmness of his skin on her side as she snuggled up to him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, nuzzling his skin with her cheek. She felt him exhale slowly and looked up to see his eyes close.

"I don't particularly enjoy feeling so vulnerable," he said quietly, his voice escaping his scaly lips in a soft, rich rush of breath. "I don't believe it's an emotion that dragons are often subjected to."

"I don't mean to subject you to anything," Catherine assured him. "I really don't."

"I know, darling," he sighed, and she could hear him regaining his composure as he spoke, much to her relief. "I don't think you would have the heart to subject a murderer to a light spanking."

"I don't know about that," she giggled. For a moment, she entertained the idea of telling him what her more violent fantasies had in store for Sir Henry. But, dreading the idea of bringing up the day of her 'sacrifice,' she decided against it. "I think it's healthy, though," she said instead, lazily tracing the protruding ridge of bone near his jaw with her fingertips, "to feel vulnerable sometimes. It reminds us that we're..."

"Human?" snorted the dragon, with audible disdain.

"...Alive, actually," Catherine finished, glowering at him. "And that the world is enormous and strange, and that it's filled with wonderful and tragic things." He leaned into her touch, watching her intently.

"Are you implying that you're one of those tragic things?" he inquired curiously.

"I should hope not. Unless I've unknowingly been leaving a trail of chaos and devastation in my wake wherever I go."

"Perhaps it is unknowingly," he mused, "but you seem to be incredibly apt at unbalancing order, for better or for worse." She frowned.

"Are you calling me a troublemaker?"

"Oh, no," he murmured. "You just change things, and people, whether you mean to or not." His gaze became hot and wild upon her, and her breath caught in her chest. "I don't think you can help yourself," he finished softly.

Catherine opened her mouth to respond, but found herself completely and utterly without words. Turning her gaze to the ground, she bit her lip and felt her cheeks burning. "That might be the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me," she finally admitted, still staring fixedly at the cavern floor. "You have quite a way with words. But I'm sure you knew that," she teased, chancing a glimpse at his face and jerking away in surprise as his scales began to ripple away, exposing pale skin as he metamorphosed back into human body, which was perfectly naked. Although, the more time they spent together, the less Catherine seemed to mind.

"I've had a lot of practice," he said, and she grinned at him. He smiled back for a moment, but then his expression became more serious. "Do you really feel guilty around me?" Her face fell, and she nodded slowly.

"A bit," she admitted. "Maybe it will pass." He stretched languidly, rising into a sitting position across from her, and gently touched her chin with his fingertips.

"Perhaps you have a right to be," he sighed. "This is...complicated. Much more than it should have been." She narrowed her eyes.

"How should it have been, then?" she demanded, and he flashed her a quick smile, lowering his hand.

"Don't look at me like that," he replied. "I never intended to eat you." Her eyebrows shot up in shock, and he laughed. "I suppose this should come as some surprise, but I don't eat things that speak."

"So, only mutes and idiots, then?" she asked brightly, and he rumpled her hair, much to her annoyance. Scowling, she took a few minutes to brush it back out with her fingers before continuing. "I suppose that begs the question...what exactly...?"

"Did the other girls do?" he finished. "Errands. Entertainment. Chores and cleaning. We aren't clean creatures, but I'm sure you know that, now that you've seen my gold. There was a girl who made a fabulous rotisserie hen, which, I'll admit, I miss a bit. And the tailor's daughter was quite skilled with mending my tapestries, and even creating new ones. Another one told wonderful stories." She stared at him in silence for several minutes, until she could absorb what he had just said.

"Then what on earth happened to Brie?" she finally exclaimed. "And the others?" He rolled his eyes.

"The other girls were dead set on murdering me in my sleep and liberating their kingdom. I was a perfect gentleman, or at least I thought I was. Fed them, kept our conversations polite, gave them a place to sleep and books to read. It usually only took half a year before I woke up with a knife in my throat, or, in the case of the rotisserie girl, poison in my veins. And if you're talking about that useless lump of flesh that came here a month before you, she was the worst of the lot. Always crying and shrieking and calling me a ferocious brute. Wouldn't lift a finger to polish the gold, kept trying to steal from me. Evil little thing. That's why I asked for another."

"So," Catherine said slowly, trying to piece everything together, "you did...what?"

"Roasted the devil," he laughed, a vindictive look passing over his features. "And the others who kept trying to lop off my head. Tossed their bones off the side of the mountain." Catherine paled, and his expression became gentle. "Sorry. That was tactless."

"Tactless is one way of saying it," she snapped, and he bowed his head apologetically. "That's awful," she continued weakly. "But---and tell me if I'm asking too many questions, but I really feel like I have a right to know---why virgins? Do you try to sleep with all of them?" He looked back up at her, his eyes sparkling deviously.