Treasure 7

Catherine struggled against the men that held her, snapping at a hand holding a length of fabric that drifted near her face, presumably to bind her mouth. Her long, dark hair fell in front of her eyes as she struggled, and she shook it out of her face impatiently. If they were going to tie her hands behind her back, so be it, but she was not going to be gagged like a muzzled dog. If she was going to die, it was going to be with every shred of dignity she could find, and dignity was hard to come by when you were trussed up like a holiday turkey for a dragon that was terrorizing your kingdom.

Sir Henry stepped in front of her and gripped her shoulder firmly, halting her thrashing and holding her in place so they could bind her hands while she glared daggers at him. He avoided her gaze, and she spat at his glossy red tunic. Sir Henry, the "most valiant knight" of the King's Gentry, was the one who had gotten everyone into this situation. Magnificently drunk and hoping to rid the city of the dragon, who demanded a single virgin sacrifice each year during the harvest, he had summoned some other drunk men, clambered into the dragon's den on top of the mountain, and charged at the dragon, doubtlessly bellowing a war cry along the way.

This would have been all well and good had Sir Henry actually managed to

slay

the dragon, but as it turns out, not only are dragons very large and capable of breathing copious amounts of fire, they also have fantastic hearing. Only Sir Henry was left alive to stumble wide-eyed back into the city with singed hair and sooty armor as a voice thundered from the mountain like an enraged angel from on high.

"You dare try to slay me?" the dragon's deep, rich voice had snarled as smoke billowed from the mountain. "I have only wished to coexist with you humans, who have coveted my treasure and stolen my lands! I have been merciful, but know now that a single girl will no longer satisfy me. If there is not another sacrifice at my door at sunset two days hence, you and your miserable village will burn, burn, burn!"

And so they had come to Catherine.

Catherine had thought that she was practically untouchable, as her father was a duke and she was planning on marrying that year, (her eighteenth birthday was only weeks ago), but she didn't count on the dragon demanding a second girl. The first offering, given a few days prior, had been Brie, the nineteen-year-old daughter of a farmer. It was very sad but came as little surprise; it was often the poorer families in the kingdom that found themselves without daughters this time of the year. However, Catherine was quite shocked to find that after her, she herself was the only virgin over the age of eighteen left in the entire village.

And now here she was. Someone jerked her bonds taught across her wrists, binding them tightly behind her back, and Sir Henry looped a length of rope around her neck. He looked down at her sadly, and she smiled brightly at him.

"One day, Sir Knight," she said sweetly, "I hope you will have a rope around your neck as well." His eyes narrowed.

"Watch your tongue," he said warningly. "I wanted this to happen just about as much as you did. You're nearly the only maiden left in the kingdom fit for marriage. I asked your father for your hand, did you know that?"

"I hope he chased you out of the house with your own sword. He probably did. You would be afraid of an old man, you fucking coward," she spat. "Next time you decide to fuck the whole city over, do us all a favor and let the dragon eat you too." He scowled at her and slapped her across the face, his teeth clenched and his eyes wide with madness.

"You whore," he breathed. "Don't you know? He was just waiting for someone to offer the right price for you to spread your legs." Catherine grinned, hiding a wince from the strike he had delivered to her cheek.

"I'm sure that's what he told you. I bet he was very disappointed that he couldn't wed his only daughter to a the laughingstock of the kingdom." He grabbed a handful of her hair and brought his face very close to hers. His hot breath played over her skin, sour with the scent of beer, and she could see the prominent bags the color of bruises beneath his eyes.

"If your maidenhood wasn't the difference between life and death for the entire kingdom, I would fuck you right now and put you in your place," he hissed. A vein was throbbing above his left eyebrow, just south of a mole at his temple. From where she was, his pores looked wide and sunken from sweat and sun, and a couple of grey hairs dusted his hairline. She laughed and he watched her with furrowed brows. His patience was really being tested, and she loved it. Maybe if she pushed him over the edge and he killed her or raped her, they would sing songs about Catherine Bastion, and how her sharp tongue brought forth the end of an entire kingdom. Not about Catherine Bastion, one of dozens of dragon-fodder.

"I never noticed until now how absolutely ugly you are," she said brightly, once her laughter had subsided. "Maybe the dragon will take my virginity. I'm sure he's much more handsome than you are." His face went white with rage, and his free hand twitched over the handle of his sword.

"You're nothing but a twisted little slut," he snarled.

"Too bad you'll never know how twisted," she retorted, running her tongue across her teeth with a smile and narrowing her eyes. His eyes widened until she could see the whites and his other hand reached for her...

Only to be swatted down by a gauntleted fist. Henry let out a yelp of pain and glanced up to glare reproachfully at another knight, Sir Richard. At fifty-five years old, Richard was the eldest of the knights, and one withering look from him could stop you in your tracks. He was wise, strong and cunning, and Catherine had known him since she was very young.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, a very dangerous tone in his voice, though his face stoic. "Not good enough to sacrifice another girl to that beast, is it? You want the entire kingdom to burn?"

"She was being uppity," he began, but Richard cut him off with a swift backhand to the cheek with his un-gauntleted hand.

"She has every right to be uppity," he growled. "It's your fault she's here in the first place. Hell, I wish I were a magician so I could change you into a pretty young virgin and send you up there. If you had any decency, you'd be on your knees in front of her and begging for forgiveness. Lady Catherine's a good girl, and deserves more'n dying for the likes of you." Henry flushed scarlet and turned on his heel, marching away in a huff. Richard turned to Catherine and sighed. "I have half a mind to truss him up, roast him on a spit and toss him in the cave with you," he said, looking sadly down at her. "I don't suppose it'll matter. The man's ruined, the King won't so much as look at him. He's not going to be a knight for much longer."

"He's still going to live," Catherine murmured darkly. "That's more than I'll get." Richard's gaze shifted to one side, and then the other, and then he leaned in close and kissed her cheek. As his lips brushed her skin, she felt a small weight being deposited in the folds of the sleeve of her sacrificial gown. It was a knife, she realized with a jolt in her stomach. She could cut her bonds once they released her if she played her cards right.

"I have faith in you, Catherine," he said softly, tipping her a wink. "You've got a good head on your shoulders." Catherine's eyes suddenly began to swim with tears as the gravity of the situation hit her. She wasn't going to reach nineteen. She wasn't going to get married or move to a new city. She wasn't going to explore the lands out at sea that her father visited, or have children. Today might be her last day of existence.

"It isn't your fault," she replied simply through the lump in her throat, turning her gaze jerkily down towards the floor.

"You give that beast hell, you hear me?" he said quietly. Catherine bit her lip and nodded, and felt a jerk at the rope on her neck as someone began urging her forward. Richard put an arm to his head in a salute as she passed him, and several other knights did the same. Her father wasn't in the line, and she didn't blame him. No father wants to see his daughter in a procession to her slaughter.

She fought the urge to burst into tears, but she felt a little braver with a knife in her sleeve and five knights saluting her passage. Acceptance blossomed slowly in her stomach as they led her outside of the stable she was being kept in, where the sun was beginning to break over the horizon, and they veered towards the mountain. It looked bleak and foreboding in the twilight, and she lowered her gaze. If she was going to try to escape, she had to keep calm.

An hour later, her legs were burning as they marched up the mountain. She stumbled across a particularly burdensome patch of rocks, and a short old woman with sharp green eyes and long, stark white hair steadied her with her arm.

"Wait a moment," she called to the rest, fiddling with something on her belt. She loosened a wineskin, jerked the cork out with her teeth, and held it to Catherine's lips. "Take as much as you'd like," she said, a hint of pity in her voice. Catherine nodded gratefully and sucked eagerly on the wineskin, cool, sweet honey wine gushing down her parched throat like an oasis in a desert. She pulled her head away once she'd had her fill, her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop. Her head began to feel pleasantly light, and she continued to saunter up the mountain with her leaders. "You're being very brave," the woman said kindly as they walked. "Not to be dark, but we usually have to carry the girls at this point. They're shrieking and crying and won't move." Catherine took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

"Thank you," she replied, a little more curtly than she had meant to. "I suppose I'm just trying to not think about it."

"My apologies, my lady," the woman said quietly. Catherine shook her head, a little drowsily.

"You don't need to call me lady. I'm about to die. That seems kind of silly."

"I know your name, and I shall call you whatever I please," the older woman said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Catherine smiled faintly back at her and focused on the ground. The wine had been refreshing, but it had also made her unsteady. She didn't drink very often.

"We've arrived," the woman told her softly. Catherine stopped in her tracks and looked up uneasily. About a hundred feet away loomed the gaping mouth of a dark cave, smoke trickling up towards the sky from the darkness. Seeing it was like a punch to the gut, and she felt a quiver of dread run up her spine. She looked back at the woman, who was watching her sadly, and felt her eyes well up again with tears of horror. "This is where we leave you, I'm afraid. Would you like some more wine, m'lady?" A single tear rolled down Catherine's face and she nodded frantically, biting her lip. The woman raised the wineskin and she immediately drained it. Escaped drops of the stuff trickled down her chin and the woman raised her sleeve to mop it off, then gave her a nod. "Lucas, let her go. She makes the rest of the way on her own."

"What if she don't go?" Lucas, a tall, muscular blond boy called suspiciously. Catherine glanced sharply at him. Lucas, though slow of wit, had always been someone she thought was at least a little fond of her, as she had bid him good day every time she had seen him working in the King's stables. Unconsciously, though she was not a vengeful person, she felt herself file him away in some sort of list in her brain of people who had let her down spectacularly on the day of her demise. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Then we all die. She knows what she has to do," she snapped. "It's not as if the dragon will let her escape anyway. Untie her neck, give the girl some dignity."

"W-what about my h-h-hands?" Catherine asked shakily, ashamed as she choked back the sobs that threatened to spill out of her throat. The woman gave her a very sad look and shook her head as Lucas untied the sloppy knot around her throat.

"I'm afraid that's the dragon's order," she murmured. "He wants their hands...your hands bound." Catherine nodded, and the woman bowed low.

"Thank you for being brave, duchess. We owe you our lives."

"We owe you our lives," echoed the rest of the team, bowing. Lucas finished last in a drawl. Catherine gave them all a short nod and turned around, not wanting them to see any more tears spill over her cheeks. She waited until the sounds of their boots crunching on the dirt and gravel faded away and then slowly, slowly made her way to the cave's entrance. Her head was spinning from nervousness and intoxication, and she took in a deep, shaky breath.

It smelled like cool, fresh water inside the entrance, and also faintly of sulfur and smoke.

It also seemed to be empty.

Catherine waited in absolute silence for a few minutes that stretched on like hours, listening to the water from stalactites on the ceiling drip into puddles on the ground. Her eyes felt as wide as saucers. If she could see herself, she knew what she would look like-a mess. Pale, quivering lips, shaking in her slippers, which were filled painfully with bits of gravel. If she continued to stand here in complete stillness, she was going to scream. She could feel it building up in her chest, trapped behind her teeth.

The knife, she remembered suddenly, reeling drunkenly with the realization. But her hands were tied behind her-how was she going to use it?

With effort, she slowly bent down onto one knee, and then lowered the other as well. She rolled her shoulder vigorously, feeling the weight of the knife jiggle in her sleeve, and finally heard it clatter against the ground as it fell free. She froze for a moment as she heard the noise echo throughout the cave, and after several minutes had passed, she began to shift her arms towards it, gritting her teeth with the strain. She was very, very drunk, much more drunk than she'd expected to get, and she let out a cry of anguish as her efforts sent her toppling onto her side onto the floor.

"Ahhh," a rich voice purred from several feet to her right. "What have we here?" Catherine froze, tears trickling down her face. The sound of something shifting filled the cave, and she closed her eyes tightly as she heard it approach. It was so close to her that she could feel its breath playing across the exposed skin of her shoulders. "Oh yes, another offering from those pathetic people," he sighed, almost grumbling to himself. Something rough and talon-like hooked under her arms and gave a jerk, rolling her onto her back. She bit her lip and slowly opened her eyes, and what she saw made her feel faint.

The dragon was nearly twenty feet long-maybe thirty feet including his long, thrashing tail-with dark emerald-hued scales, a long neck and eyes that were a wild, bright yellow-green with a deep crimson rim around the edge. His teeth were sharp needle points in his face and his pupils were slits that were black as pitch in those brilliantly green eyes. His thin, scaly mouth parted to show more teeth as he eyed her, and a low rumble escaped his throat as a long tongue about the length of her torso snaked across his lips. Catherine's mouth opened in a perfectly silent scream.

"Oh my," he droned. "Aren't you delectable? Let me see you," he continued, trailing off and sliding a talon beneath the hem of her gown's neckline. With a slight tug, the fabric ripped, and he parted it down to her legs, baring her body as Catherine let out a hoarse cry. She felt her face grow hot-nobody save for her nurse had ever seen her naked, at least not since she was a baby, and right now she was completely exposed. The dragon inhaled slowly and brought his face close to her skin, his tongue skimming the length of her belly. Catherine jerked at his touch, a moan escaping her lips as his hot, wet tongue caressed her body. "You are simply

perfect,"

he groaned. "Is that honeyed wine I smell on you?" Catherine nodded jerkily, feeling simultaneously as if her body was floating away and as if it was lead, affixing her firmly to the ground. She gave her arms an experimental tug, but to her dismay, they were firmly pinned to the floor by her back. "A beautiful, delirious virgin sprawled out on my floor," he purred, those scaly lips curving into something that may have been a grin. "It seems too good to be true, doesn't it?" His tongue slid up her inner thigh and Catherine inhaled sharply, a million wonderful sensations blossoming from his touch and warming her from her toes to her fingertips. Her bare skin was becoming fever-hot to the touch, and the cool air of the cave raked over it like ice. He paused at the sweet spot between her thighs, probing at her lips, and then he slowly, so slowly, slipped the very tip of his tongue inside of her.

"Ahhh-

ah!"

Catherine cried, thrashing beneath him as his hot tongue slid another couple inches in and gave a delicious sort of squirm inside of her. It was a little painful, but mostly felt slick and full in a way that made her want to scream. "What are you doing?!" she moaned, horrified by her body's betrayal. She let out a gasp as his tongue slid out of her.

"Gods above, you are so sweet and tight," the dragon sighed. "I feel like I'm going to enjoy you very much." Catherine's tears were flowing freely now, and she tried to muster up the most courageous face she could.

"Are you going to eat me?" she asked quietly, terrified and hopeless and utterly violated. The dragon eyed her with amusement and brought his face very close to hers. She could smell his breath and see his teeth, each one of which was probably as long as her hand.

"I think not," he replied. "That seems like it would be a spectacular waste of a lovely woman, doesn't it?" Catherine froze and looked down the length of the dragon. Between his hind legs, something was stiffening, something that was the same light green of his underbelly, fleshy, and about the length of her leg from toe to hip. It was also about as wide around as her waist. She felt the blood drain out of her face. It might not be the dragon's teeth that killed her after all.

"No, no, no!" she screamed, thrashing in her bonds. "That's impossible! That's absolutely impossible!" This was a nightmare-this was the nightmare to

end

all nightmares.

"Hush," said the dragon. She shut her eyes firmly and choked back a sob, turning her head to the side as tears streamed down her face freely.

Suddenly, she felt two warm palms on her waist, and jerked her head back towards him. There wasn't a dragon in front of her anymore-there was a man. Although he was slightly large for a man, he could have been a human, (albeit a seven-foot tall one), and his slender body was hard and chiseled with lean muscle. His skin was very pale. Pointed ears knifed through snow-white hair that fell across his shoulders and over his eyes, which rose up to meet hers. They were still the same wild green with slitted pupils, surrounded by a crimson ring. His face was ageless and beautiful in a disconcerting sort of way, with high cheekbones, heavy eyelids and elegantly pointed features. Catherine's mouth opened into a small, surprised circle.

"Oh," she said softly, and his thin lips curved into a lazy grin, revealing straight white teeth with canines that were just a little too sharp. She flushed scarlet, realizing that his taut, muscular body was completely bare.

"Look at you blush," he teased, and his hand trailed down her waist and in between her legs. His grin widened as he slid his fingers along the length of her lips, feeling her wetness and circling her clit delicately with a single digit. Catherine took in a little shuddering gasp at his touch, which was sending thrilling jolts of pleasure through her belly. His fingers were long, and the nails seemed curved like talons "Dear me. I seem to have gotten you a little excited." His lips parted as he slowly slipped a finger inside of her, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with want. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, stifling a moan as she felt his finger moving inside of her.

"Very

excited. You're so wet," he chuckled, bringing his face close to hers. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he crooned into her ear, his tongue, which was still slightly longer than it should have been, dancing across her earlobe. Her heart leapt into her chest with the indecency of his words.