Treasure Ch. 05

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her ear, shivering as he felt her fingers slide down his back. "You know I would rather die than hurt you."

"It was an accident," she said softly. As she spoke, she wondered which one of them she was trying to convince.

"An accident," he agreed breathlessly, planting a line of deep, slow kisses from her ear to her collarbone. Catherine's eyes closed lazily at the sensation, and she unwound her arms from his shoulders to stretch beneath him. Her skin, still warm from the heat of the spring and their lovemaking, seared pleasantly against the cool air of the cave, and Adeon's mouth was a stroke of fire caressing the length of her neck. The rock floor had begun to dig into her shoulder blades, however, and she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. Adeon begrudgingly pulled away to allow her to move, and she saw that his fingers were twitching a little, like it took an immense amount of self-control to stop himself from touching her. His eyes were still a little wider than usual, and she felt her brows knit together in worry. He looked just a bit...broken.

"Can you bring me my dress?" she asked, hoping to sever whatever train of thought was causing the aching expression on his face, and he nodded before rising to his feet. Moments later, he dropped the heap of blue fabric into a puddle in her lap, and she smiled appreciatively before standing and shimmying into it. When she looked up, he had pulled on his trousers and was holding his shirt at arm's length, surveying it mournfully. One of its sleeves was ripped to shreds--presumably from one of his arms tripling in size and becoming an enormous talon--and in the back were two gaping holes from his wings. He met her eye once she finished dressing and grimaced when he saw her looking at it.

"Pity, isn't it?" he asked dryly. "I rather liked it." She felt her lips tug into a smile and rose onto her tiptoes to give him a small kiss on his shoulder.

"I'm sure it will be the first of many casualties," she teased, "considering its owner has a tendency to become a giant winged lizard." He gave her a playfully affronted look.

"'A giant winged lizard'? Is that what you think of me?" he demanded, and she stifled a laugh with a little difficulty.

"Would you prefer 'fire-breathing reptile'?"

"I prefer 'dragon', if it's all the same to you," he replied swiftly, his lips splitting into a wide grin. Catherine felt her body loosen with relief at that smile. "A storm is on its way," he added, his expression darkening a bit. "I need to leave you for a moment if I'm to find sufficient provisions."

"I'll wait here," she assured him, and he seemed to regard her uncertainly for a moment before he tore his gaze from her and began to walk towards the cavern entrance. A couple of his fingers played over her shoulder as he passed her, like her body held a gravitational force that he was helpless against. "Be careful," she called, and he flashed a smile at her from over his shoulder before vanishing around a corner, leaving Catherine alone with the vast silence of the cavern and the tumultuousness of her thoughts.

---

A couple of hours later, a distant thud sounded from the entrance of the cave, and Catherine lifted her eyes from the yellowed pages of an enormous, ancient-looking tome she had found beneath a jewel-encrusted helmet. It had turned out to be an illuminated manuscript of sorts, and although the words were in a language she didn't understand, the winding patterns and intricate illustrations on every page were captivating and seemed to tell a story of their own. A recurring image was that of an armored knight chasing what seemed to be a princess, and they always seemed to be separated by several inches of text or tangled images. Although they were closer on some pages than others, his miniscule outstretched hand never seemed to be able to capture hers.

"Catherine?" Adeon's voice called from the next cave over, and she shifted on the pile of gold she had been leaning against until she was standing. Before she made her way out, however, she turned one last page, and her face fell. All that was left of the knight was a gauntleted hand reaching out from the depths of an azure pool at the very bottom of the page, and the princess was now hovering at the top right corner, trapped in the grasp of a grotesquely-rendered dragon with an absurdly long neck that stretched around the text like a border. Its eyes were wide and rolling with madness, and bursts of crudely-drawn fire spurted out of its toothy maw as if in laughter as it watched the knight drown. The princess had her tiny hands clasped to her chest in a martyrly fashion, and her eyes were turned heavenwards in grief. As Catherine closed the pages and gently set the book down on the floor, she wondered idly if humans and dragons had just always hated one another.

The hallway on the way to the cavern entrance was dancing with an orange glow, and when she emerged into it, she saw that Adeon had kindled a small fire in the middle of the cave. Outside the wind was howling, and sheets of thick, wet flakes spun wildly in the gales. Adeon was crouched in the corner near a large lump that could only be another deer, and the light from the fire played over his pale skin and stained it brilliantly orange. It threw his features into sharp relief, forming jagged shadows beneath his cheekbones and making his eyes seem slightly hollow. Her heart ached a little at the sight of him. Her sense of trepidation around him after their tragic encounter earlier hadn't quite gone away, and it made her feel guilty.

"Come sit with me," he said, and she obeyed, crossing the room in a few quick strides and lowering herself between his legs. He slowly wound his arms around her and leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a long, slow breath that echoed richly off the rock walls. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Catherine felt her eyelids lower sleepily. Something about being in his arms made her body weary and her thoughts syrupy-slow. It was all softness and languor and the feeling of being safe, like his body was a warm cage that sealed her off from the rest of the planet.

"You know," he said suddenly, "I think I'd like to hear one of your stories." She blinked and stirred in his arms, craning her neck to look up at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "A fairy tale, or something?"

"Oh, I've heard plenty of those," he murmured. Those long, spidery fingers idly stroked the exposed skin at the base of her neck, and she shuddered a bit at his touch. "I think I'd really like to hear a story about you." Despite the solemness of his tone, she burst out laughing, and he watched her with a blank expression. Once her bouts of laughter had ceased, she looked back up at him, and her face contorted into an incredulous look when she saw the seriousness of his expression.

"You," she said in disbelief, swallowing the rebellious giggles that threatened to invade her voice, "want to hear a story about me?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I?"

"I mean, it's a very sweet thing to say," she replied uncertainly, a bit of a smile still playing across her lips. "But my life isn't very interesting. Well, it is now, but...you already know those parts."

"Do I?" he asked, a bit of playfulness entering his tone.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" she teased, and he let out a long sigh, tilting his head down to bury his mouth in her hair.

"I've been a bit distracted," he admitted softly, and she smiled, goosebumps prickling up her arms.

"But I can't think of any good stories," she protested after a moment's thought, but he jostled her in gentle remonstration.

"Please try," he urged. She exhaled in a long-suffering sigh, raising her hands to idly play with his fingers.

"Alright." She cleared her throat in thought, and after a moment, her eyes lit up with realization. "I think I've got one. Once upon a time," she began, and from the corner of her eye, she saw his lips widen into a broad smile, "there was a little girl of about seven."

"Blue-eyed and dark of hair, with an unslakable lust for apples?" he offered cheerfully, and she stifled a laugh.

"You can't interrupt, either," she chided, but amusement was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Apologies," he said, giving her a tiny squeeze. "I'm trying to imagine you as a little girl, and it's endlessly entertaining. I'd wager that you were quite the troublemaker." Catherine laughed at that, leaning back against his chest so she could reward him with an upside-down grin.

"How did you know?" she demanded.

"Stashing weapons in your sleeves, drinking inordinate amounts of wine on your way to your own execution, flirting with dragons," he replied, waggling his eyebrows. "I can tell. I'm sure you were a handful."

"I certainly was," she agreed, toying with a few of his fingers. "Now, if you don't mind..."

"By all means," he intoned, bowing his head.

"Thank you. Now, about this little girl. Her mother and father were just about at their wit's end with her, because no matter how many dolls and ribbons and fine dresses they found for her, she would ignore them in favor of sneaking down to the armory, where she would bother the guards and beg them to teach her how to shoot a bow. She had heard all of these legends, you see, about elvish women who were as beautiful as they were deadly, and the battalions of Amazons who could shoot a butterfly straight out of the air from hundreds of feet away. Instead of trying to become a lady, she fancied herself an Amazon. She would make up little stories in her head about how she was really a foundling with warrior parents, and thought that she would eventually heed the calling in her blood and go vanquish legions of foes in the name of goodness," she finished in a grandiose tone, lifting an invisible sword over her head.

"A little warrior girl," Adeon mused, regarding her fondly. "How charming."

"Her parents didn't think so," Catherine admitted. "They had to fire two of the guards, because the little girl could be very insistent and she quickly conned them into teaching her archery. Her mother didn't see the trouble with it at first---she told her father that perhaps it was fitting for a girl to learn to take care of herself---but her father wouldn't have it. Archery does not a proper lady make. He was worried about what the others would think if they saw his daughter fraternizing with knights and guards, fencing and shooting and acting boyish. Since she was his only daughter, he was determined to make her into something docile and prepare her for marriage." She bit her lip, fidgeting with the sapphire locket around her neck as she searched for her next words. "Soon word got out around their property about this headstrong child, and the guards would ignore her pleas out of fear for their livelihoods. They didn't want to lose their jobs over something as trivial as teaching a little girl how to shoot a bow, so they avoided her at all costs.

"Thankfully, there was one knight who offered her sympathy. His name was Richard, and he thought it was incredibly amusing that this little girl would stop at nothing to learn the art of battle. So, he fetched her a tiny bow and would sneak away with her once a week or so to give her lessons. After a few months, she thought she was getting rather good. And there was this great tourney just around the corner, where generals and knights would test the mettle of all the boys in the city, looking for squires and soldiers that showed some promise." She smiled grimly. "There was an archery contest as well."

"And this little girl wanted to prove herself."

"Oh, very much. She entertained a lengthy series of fantasies where she would be spirited away on an adventure by a group of soldiers or taken under a knight's wing, and so she practiced endlessly, hoping that she might prove her merit during the tourney. But women weren't allowed to participate, much less a young duchess. So, the day of the contest..." She gathered a fistful of her hair, winding it around her fingers and miming a sawing motion with her other hand. "...she took a sharp knife and chopped off every inch of her hair."

"Oh, no," Adeon murmured in dismay, those long fingers playing over a few strands of her curling locks. "Not your lovely hair..."

"All of it," Catherine declared. "She looked ridiculous, of course, so she put on one of her father's hats. Then all she had to do was bully some clothes out of a stable boy, and she was on her way to the tourney." She folded her arms, staring thoughtfully at the fire. "Her parents were beside themselves when they sent her nurse to doll her up for the celebration and found her bed quite empty. There were swarms of guards all over town, but thankfully, nobody seemed to notice the short little archer on the far end until she went up to shoot. I think her father might have recognized her hat," she added ruefully.

"Did you win?" Adeon asked curiously, and Catherine heaved a gloomy sigh.

"No. I didn't have nearly as much practice as everyone else did. It was humbling, really, because I fancied myself to be this undefeatable champion, and I only hit the target six times out of my ten shots. One of them got very close to the bullseye, though," she added hopefully. "But I got into loads of trouble, and I wasn't allowed to leave my room for months. They went after Richard, too, but he was one of the King's men, so he wasn't punished or anything. I didn't ever shoot a bow again after that, but I always wondered what might have happened if I was allowed to practice more. I could have gotten really good, I think." She glanced over at Adeon, and her face fell when she saw the wide smile on his face. "I'm sorry," she said glumly. "It was a silly story."

"I loved it," he insisted, and she felt herself grin. "I want to know everything about you."

"Everything?" she repeated, and he laughed.

"Certainly. I've found myself quite jealous of your villagers as of late," he admitted, and she looked up at him quizzically.

"Why?"

"They've known you your whole life, watched you grow and become yourself," he mused, fiddling with a piece of her hair. "And to me, you're simply a delicious little enigma who stumbled into my cave one day. It's decidedly unfair, I think, that anyone in the world should know more about you than I do."

"It isn't as if you're an open book yourself," she retorted, and he raised his eyebrows. "Besides the story you told me, I know next to nothing about you," she continued slowly, leaning against his chest. "I don't know where you grew up, or where you've been, or anything else, really."

"My life is a lengthy timeline of destruction and adversity," he murmured. "It would only frighten you."

Catherine frowned at him. "That isn't fair..."

"Another time," he sighed, squeezing her against him. "I promise." She made a noise of dissent but dropped the subject, burrowing against his chest so she was completely surrounded by his warmth. The fire was crackling cheerfully and flooding the room with heat, and other than the howling of the winds outside, there was hardly any indication that it was snowing at all. Suddenly, something rippled the placid surface of her thoughts, and she bit her lip.

"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," she said, not quite looking at him.

"The debacle with the rabbits?"

"Yes, that." She glanced up at him, and he was watching her intently. "That fairy...she said that they were special. That they could extend people's lives." His lips began to curve into the ghost of a frown, and something stirred behind his eyes.

"Is that so," he said softly. Catherine felt her stomach clench with worry. It was clear that this was a topic he had been hoping to avoid.

"It made me think," she continued slowly, feeling her way into her words as she spoke, "about us. About me. I'm not...going to live as long as you will, and even when I'm very old, you'll still be..." She trailed off, agony constricting her chest as she observed the firmness of his arms, his impishly pointed features, the flat panes of his torso. He was silent. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, burying her face in her hands. "It's just so dreadful to think about," she continued jerkily, fighting back the wail that was building up in the back of her throat.

"I love you, Catherine," he said quietly, and she dropped her hands to look up at him. "I always will. It makes no difference what either of us looks like."

"But if there was a way---" she began, but he quelled her with a look.

"Immortality is as much a curse as it is a blessing," he murmured. "After so many years, you begin to change. You'll become little more than a husk of yourself, doomed to an eternity of isolation, and you'll wander the earth looking for that last little glimmer that brings you even a moment of joy. And just as soon as you find it, it's gone."

"But we would have each other. It would be wonderful," she insisted.

He tilted his head as he watched her, those green eyes bright and enigmatic. "I'm sure you would eventually tire of me." Catherine's eyes narrowed, and she glared moodily at the ground.

"How could you possibly say that?" she snapped, and behind her, she felt him heave a weary sigh.

"I want this, Catherine," he pleaded. "I want this fleeting spark. I want all of its intensity and its flaws, and I want it to burn as brightly as possible until it's gone. If anything," he added, lowering his head so it was almost level with hers, "I'd wish for a way to shorten my life, not lengthen yours. I've lived far too long already." She looked determinedly away from him, scowling at the wall.

"That's easy for you to say, isn't it?" She propped her arms up onto her knees and rested her chin on them, suddenly feeling very tired. "You're going to live forever."

"Not forever," he corrected her gently. "Just a very, very long time." She suddenly felt his fingers brush a length of hair from her eyes, and she gave him a sidelong glance as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "If you're so determined to become immortal, I could offer you some optimism," he said, brushing his cheek against hers.

"What sort of optimism?" she murmured, raising her eyebrows.

"Before its life came to a very sudden halt, I do recall that rabbit biting you," he told her. "Perhaps a bit of its magic runs through your veins as well."

"That seems...improbable," Catherine said, but she raised her hand and eyed the tiny red crescent on the pad of her thumb. To her dismay, it didn't seem to be sparkling or shimmering or doing anything out of the ordinary, and her heart sank. "Besides, it probably wouldn't be enough."

"It probably wouldn't," he agreed, kissing her cheek.

"Then why even mention it?" she grumped, and he squeezed her against him, a shadow of a smile flitting over his lips.

"Perhaps we'll find a way," he said thoughtfully. "Or perhaps we won't. Those sorts of things tend to come for a terrible, terrible price. Regardless, I'd like to enjoy the time we have together without fretting over the inevitable."

"And if we have all of time?" she retorted.

"Then it will be a glorious eternity." She heaved a sigh, leaning her head against his chest. "Is that all she said to you?" he added suddenly. Biting her lip, Catherine turned towards him, and there was a carefully blank expression on his face.

"...Why?" she asked.

"I think there's something you haven't told me," he murmured, a shadow passing over his eyes. "Something that's been troubling you since yesterday." Her fingers knotted into one another uncertainly, and she closed her eyes tightly before she spoke.

"She told me that dragons aren't capable of loving anything," she admitted in a quiet voice. Her words cut through the silence like knives. "That I'm nothing more than a shiny bauble to you." Adeon inclined his head, and his lips thinned in anger.