A renowned warrior-poet of old once wrote that love is a battlefield. Or something along those lines. Sir Charles couldn't be bothered to remember the specifics; he already knew he was on to something. A decisive victory could be won only with surprise and overwhelming force. But how?
Charles was no stranger to the wages of love, having bested, bedded, and wed a great red dragon. He was now more-or-less retired from his life as a paladin, mostly just protecting the town he and his wife Elizabeth had settled near and joining a crusade or two when they came knocking. Money certainly wasn't an issue and few outside the local area would trust a man who lived with a dragon, so he had little reason to work or travel.
It was this comfortable lifestyle that led his mind to wander. Since he had largely given up smiting, he would need something new to dedicate his life to. It was not long after that that he made his lover and one-time adversary his wife. He never regretted his decision, but it would not be inaccurate to say that it still felt as though something was missing. Their life was empty, a man and his dragon alone in an enormous cavern, more than a day from the nearest living soul. Life simply held no challenge, no motive force. Practically anything could be solved by nigh-infinite wealth and the city-destroying power.
Charles wracked his brain for a solution to his predicament, something he could do with his wife that would not be made trivial by breathing fire, a token of their love and mutual dedication, as well as a proper cause to which they could dedicate the whole of their effort and devotion. He was fairly confident that there was an obvious solution he was just overlooking. Whenever he had faced such dilemmas in the past, he sought the council of a priest of his faith, someone who had been educated in matters other than smiting heathens. The nearest temple operated by his order was nearly a month away, but he knew he must go.
He left the next morning, informing his wife that he was leaving on a quest for divine inspiration and that he would return shortly. There he met with a venerable cleric, a kind and insightful old man who presided over an orphanage. The conversation was short, ending almost immediately after the knight had finished recounting his concerns to the reverend, who unceremoniously ejected him from his chambers for "being a fool".
Lost and without a soul to turn to, he wandered the town in a trance. His idle wanderings led him to a fallowed field on the outskirts. By all rights, it should have been a lonely place, an isolated patch of land not even farmers would bother to visit until at least next season. Yet instead of being abandoned, it had become a playground for the village's children. Dozens of young boys and girls of all ages frolicked in the field,enjoying the brief period of youth before responsibility stole their carefree innocence. It was amazing how children could change so much just with their presence. Suddenly, while watching the children of the town bring warmth and happiness to a remote, lonely place, an idea came to him.
He approached a young girl who sat, resting on the soft field of clover. Few would have thought of such a solution, but Sir Charles prided himself on his ability to think outside of the box. He sat down next to her and began telling her his story. If his was problem even the sagacious priest could not solve, perhaps the youthful naivete of a young girl would provide an answer. They conversed for some time before she answered him. Upon hearing her answer, he knew immediately that this little girl was wise far beyond her years. The knight hopped up from the ground, armor clattering as he strode home with new-found enthusiasm. Time to make a baby.
A few months later, Sir Charles found himself at a table, surrounded by ancient manuscripts, in the nation's grand library. He sat with Elizabeth as they poured over the volumes day and night, pursuing his objective with the same single-minded dedication that led him to her during his days as a dragon slayer.
When he had returned to her after his journey for inspiration and told her of his plan, his elated spirit fell quickly at her despondent response. She should have conceived long ago, considering the frequency of their couplings and the notorious fertility of human/dragon relationships. As he came to learn, it was her concern over this matter that troubled her so these last few years. She had tried every solution known to dragonkind, yet could not seem to bear a child. She had even resorted to hiring sorcerers to improve her fertility by magic, yet none could tell her what was wrong, much less how to fix it.
Charles responded the only way he knew how, rushing off with Elizabeth to the nation's capital to research her condition themselves. It did not take long for them to discover what ailed her. On occasion, a dragon assuming the form of a human may make an error, rendering herself infertile in her human body in such a way that not even magic could restore her. While they celebrated the discovery at first, they quickly fell glum upon realizing their prognosis: conception was impossible while she took the form of a human woman.
Of course, this did mean that her draconic body was still fertile. However, the prospect of a mere human impregnating a being so large was dubious at best. They searched tirelessly for a solution, yet nothing they could think of would work. Fertility magic could not make up for their size difference. Even size alteration would not work unless the effects were permanent. Naturally, neither would accept the idea of having another man or woman sire their child. They were stumped.
During one of their long, lonely nights in the library, Charles hatched a plan. If the problem was just size and volume, certainly old-fashioned human ingenuity could solve it. Producing such an enormous quantity of semen would be difficult, but certainly doable. He attacked the library with unrestrained vigor, knowing for the first time since they arrived where to look. Elizabeth seemed nearly frightened by his manic excitement. There it was. His solution, plain as day. An answer no one else would even consider. It was beautiful. It was ingenious. It was mad.
A common man may think that siege weapons had no place in the bedroom. Sir Charles was no common man. In the time between sleep and wakefulness in the deserted library, a fleeting memory of the siege of Dunlain entered his mind. There had been a great wheeled tower, equipped with a massive ramp and an iron ram for pounding though thick castle walls. He was a mere squire at the time, a brash youth full of immaturity and contempt for proper behavior. Riddled with the hormones and stupidity endemic to a pubescent male, he snickered inappropriately at the phallic imagery of the ram smashing through the gates of the city and the tide of men flooding into the city.
