Treasure Ch 02 1

Catherine's eyes eased open, and she squinted blearily at her surroundings, which were still sparkling in all their splendor. Her body wasn't quite as sore as it was before, but her head ached a bit from the wine, and her back was a bit off from laying on the hard rock floor the night prior. And she was

ravenous.

Suddenly, she blinked. The surface she was laying on was much warmer than she remembered, and she could have sworn it was...moving?

She glanced down, and her heart leapt into her chest when she realized that she was naked and sprawled out over the stomach of the dragon, sound asleep and back in his original form, the soft scales of his belly smooth and hot on her skin. He took in a deep, shuddering breath in his sleep, and Catherine let out a squeak as she steadied herself, bracing her hands so she didn't fall off. Why was she naked? This was awful.

His massive head, almost as big as she was, was pillowed on a heap of gold, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing his sharp, gigantic teeth. His breath came steadily in a rush of warm air, and when she glanced at her shackles, she noticed that they were chained to one of his talons, which hovered over her protectively. Frowning in confusion as she realized he was cradling her to his chest as if she were some sort of stuffed animal, she yawned and sat up. After shaking her long, curling black hair back from her eyes, she tried to remember the events from the night before.

Her eyes widened as she felt the soreness between her legs, recalled a pale man with long, straight, silky white hair and draconic eyes. Oh, Gods above. She had given herself to a

dragon.

But he had been rather sweet and gentle, she thought absentmindedly. That is, of course, after he had frightened the daylights out of her and touched her inappropriately until she was squirming.

Although, the more she remembered from the night before, the less she found that she minded the inappropriate touching.

There was a rumbling noise from beneath her as the dragon stirred, and she glanced back at his face as he opened one eye languidly, fixing it on her for a moment before opening the other.

"Good morning," he sighed, tensing in a stretch. She looked away, blushing fiercely, and he raised his head to regard her curiously. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts, and I'm really hungry," she admitted. Then she flushed deep red. "...and...naked."

"You say that like it's a problem," he teased. She glared at him. "I can fix one of those things now, and two of them later."

"Please say it's the clothes," begged Catherine. She then let out a noise of surprise as he lifted his arm, raising her high up in the air by the shackles on her wrists, before setting her gently on her feet on a gorgeous tapestry that was laying about and unfastening the shackle from his talon.

"Give me a moment," he told her, and she watched with fascination as his body slowly shifted and twisted back into a man's, his scales retracting into his skin. "Much better. Now, I'm afraid that I don't have any proper clothes for you at the moment," he announced as something seemed to catch his eye. He motioned to her to wait and walked several paces away from her, pulling a length of luxurious looking cloth from a chest near the wall. "But I do have this."

As he moved closer, she saw that it was made of a rich black velvet, trimmed with gratuitous amounts of fur on the hems. It was a cloak that was long enough to trail behind her as she walked, complete with a wide ermine fur collar that cascaded over the shoulders. Catherine's spirits fell slightly as she saw the fur. She had made the mistake of befriending some of the fur merchant's little stoats when she was a little girl, and had been horrified when she learned about what would happen to them. They were awfully adorable, even if they did bite a lot. He held it out to her and she took it, looking up at him blankly.

"This is...I mean...where did you get this?" she stuttered. It was very fine quality-something that a king or queen would wear. He grinned fiercely.

"It was a King's once," he said, an amused tone in his voice, "and now it isn't."

"Oh." Catherine slung it around her body with a bit of effort, surprised at its weight, and secured the ropey ties in the front, fluffing her dark hair over the fur of the shoulders. She felt incredibly silly. She glanced up at him afterwards, immediately looking away in embarrassment when she saw him staring. "I look ridiculous, don't I?" she asked.

"Oh, certainly not," he mused, and when she looked back up at him, his expression was intense. "Like a wild, pretty thing who overthrew a King on a whim." As if in immense effort, he finally wrenched his gaze away from her. "I do need to leave for a moment, however. I'm quite hungry, as I'm sure you are, and unless you'd like to dine on bats-and I certainly don't-my home is rather lacking in sustenance."

"I'd rather not dine on bats," Catherine agreed, offering him a wry smile. "But I'd also rather not eat anything...raw," she added carefully, visions of raw, bloody flesh playing rampantly through her brain. He raised his eyebrows.

"I breathe fire, darling," he said simply, and she immediately felt foolish. "I'm sure I can find a way to accommodate your needs."

"Oh," she said apologetically. "Right." He smiled and tipped her a wink, turning towards the cavern entrance and pacing leisurely towards it. Scales began to ripple over his spine as he walked, as as she watched, wings pushed out from his back and ripped open behind him. He paused and turned his head to look back at her from over his wings, scales feathering the outside of his face and framing his eyes. Goosebumps prickled up Catherine's arms as she met his gaze.

"I don't think I need to tell you to stay here," he said. When Catherine nodded wordlessly, staring at him in shock, he turned back around and vanished through the darkness of the entryway. She heard the distant scrape of talons on rock and a couple loud beats of massive wings, and then there was only silence.

She peered at her surroundings, pulling the too-large cloak closer to her frame. It was fantastically soft, although a bit dusty. She was still quite unsure about how she should be feeling. She was certainly jumpy-her nerves were strung tight as a violin-but at the same time, she was sort of

excited.

Butterflies were zipping around in her stomach, and combined with the feeling of panic that coursed through her veins like electricity, she was trembling like a leaf and ready to scream. The only thing that stopped that from happening was the dregs of lethargy that were left over from sleeping like the dead the night prior. She sighed. She would have burned down churches for more wine to steady herself. It was very troubling, however. Was this the way you were

supposed

to feel when you were being held captive by a dragon? Wasn't she supposed to feel more distraught and hopeless or something?

Well, here she was, alone in a large cave full of treasure, she thought, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I guess he never said I couldn't at least look around," she said to herself, turning to meander in the other direction. The cloak trailed behind her as she walked, exposing long expanses of her legs with every step, much to her dismay. She wasn't used to her legs being visible. As her father was a prominent figure in the kingdom, her ankles had to be covered at all times, and her bosom had been perpetually locked up in a mercilessly tight corset. It was incredibly strange to be walking with only a long strip of fabric swathed around her torso.

She paused at a particularly large mountain of treasure that was twice as large as she was and stared at it in awe. There had to be thousands of gold coins in this pile alone, and there were about three more about the same size scattered throughout the room. How long did a dragon have to go around looting and pillaging unsuspecting kingdoms to acquire this much wealth? Something sparkling a little brighter than the rest of the pile caught her eye in the pile, and she raised her eyebrows in shock. It was a pendant, cast in silver and inlaid with one of the largest, most dazzlingly cut sapphires she had ever seen. She stood on her tiptoes, raised her shackled hands, and plucked it from the mountain of treasure, wincing timidly as it sent several coins avalanching down the side of the pile. The chain was thick and heavy in her hands, and the pendant itself was about the size of her fist and three times as heavy. The jewel sparkled like a star picked from the sky, blue and luminous and glittering. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled it over her head, the weight of the jewel hanging comfortably against her chest.

Circling in place for a few moments, she found what she was looking for: a massive mirror leaning against the wall. It was humongous, maybe fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide, and it was then that Catherine realized just how tiny she was compared to everything else in the room.

She stared in surprise at her reflection as it came into focus. Her chest-length black hair was full and slightly tangled, and it framed her face in a cloud of curls. Her face was a little more pallid than usual, no doubt from exhaustion, terror, and the ghosts of the alcohol that had made her head throb, but lit up in the cheeks with hints of rose. Her legs looked long and pale and slender from where they peeked out in between the luxurious folds of velvet, and the pendant was doing something to her blue eyes that somehow made them bluer. She had never really admired herself wearing, well, so little clothing. It was considered immodest, at least according to her nurse. She looked...kind of good.

She gasped as a familiar, pale figure appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Playing dress-up?" the dragon asked, grinning in amusement. Catherine watched in the mirror in horror as her face turned beet red. He had returned faster than she thought he would have.

"Sorry," she murmured, wishing she could bury herself underneath the piles of treasure in embarrassment and vanish forever. He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh, no need for that." She yelped indignantly as he hoisted her into his arms and walked with her to another pile of gold, kneeling into a sitting position and depositing her in his lap. She frowned and hastily gathered the hems of the cloak to her waist, preventing it from parting at her hips and exposing...well...everything. He ran his fingers through the mountain of coins and jewels, plucking things out here and there, and Catherine watched him suspiciously. He then took her hands gently in one of his, extending her fingers and carefully sliding rings onto them, one at a time. Each one was a masterpiece, made of gold or silver and studded with diamonds and pearls and other precious stones, and he was smiling to himself as he did it, content and lazy. Once all her fingers sported at least one ring, he began to root through the treasure again, idly playing with a curl of her hair in his other hand while Catherine sat obediently in his lap.

"...Excuse me," Catherine finally managed to say.

"Mmmm," the dragon replied, unearthing a gold chain bracelet and carefully fastening it around her wrist, just above her shackles.

"What are you doing?" she asked slowly. He stopped playing with her hair for a moment to hold a necklace dripping with pearls against her throat, fastening it gently at the nape of her neck.

"Dressing you up," he said simply, gently tugging her arm out of the cloak and fastening a gold cuff around her upper arm. One side of the cloak tumbled off her shoulder, revealing a section of her upper torso, and she felt her face heat up. His gaze crawled for a moment over her exposed skin, but he continued what he was doing.

"...why?" Catherine insisted. He silenced her with a long and hard kiss on her cheek, winding a long string of pearls around her wrist.

"I have all of these lovely jewels," he sighed, as if it was with great woe that the jewels had been bestowed upon him, "and nobody to wear them. It's quite sad, really. Besides, we're about to have our first meal together. Don't you want to look nice?"

"Well...I guess," Catherine sputtered. "But I think I'd look much better wearing...you know...a dress."

"Would that I could make you a dress out of spun gold," he said wistfully. "I don't suppose it would be very comfortable, anyway. But you would be a vision," he continued. Catherine's eyes went wide as his fingertip skimmed against the skin of her belly on its way back to the pile of treasure, and she quickly reached down to grab the hem of the cloak and yank it back over herself. "You don't need to be so shy," he said, smiling. "At this point, I think I'm intimately acquainted with most of your body." She scowled.

"Not by my consent," she muttered. He shrugged, that smile playing lightly across his lips, and he began idly sorting through the gold again.

"Then I apologize. In my defense, you did seem a bit eager last night. Although that may have been the wine. I am a terrifying beast, after all." She glared at him. His voice was so casual, and he discussed his status as a terrifying beast as one might discuss the weather. Coins and jewels tumbled down the pile in rivulets, exposing something circular and pale silver, set with rubies the size of quail's eggs. Catherine's jaw dropped.

"Is that a

crown?"

she breathed in shock.

"Aye," he said cheerfully. "Taken from King Stephan of Brightvale a long, long time ago."

"Wait. That can't possibly be right. Stephan of Brightvale died a hundred years ago," Catherine protested. "His kingdom was..." She stopped suddenly and looked up at the dragon's wild green eyes, which were narrowed with fierce amusement. "...His kingdom was besieged by a dragon," she finished lamely, her jaw slack, her eyes wide with shock. "A great, green dragon. Everyone knows the story. How...how old

are

you?" He brushed a long lock of shockingly white hair out of his eyes.

"If that's how long ago Brightvale fell, then...if memory serves..." He paused, the tip of his too-long tongue idly pressed against one of his too-long canines as he thought. "Two hundred seventy-two."

"Oh," said Catherine weakly. He shrugged.

"I believe the creators above rather liked dragons," he said absentmindedly. "We are not burdened with the curse of aging for many centuries. You," he added, beaming, "look like the luscious mistress of a particularly rich emperor." She scowled, a flutter of-what, embarrassment maybe?-jolting through her stomach.

"As flattering as you may be," she said darkly, "I feel ridiculous." He held up a pair of sparkling cabochon sapphires, set on top of short, sharp-looking needles. Catherine cringed.

"Do you wear earrings?" he asked lightly. She shook her head violently, shuddering.

"Heavens, no."

"What a shame," he sighed. "I always enjoyed women in faraway countries. Studded with gems and gold in every place one could imagine." Catherine looked down at the sparkling ground, a troubled look passing over her features.

"Is that what you want from me, then?" she asked quietly. "To be another gold statue in your collection?" He raised an eyebrow, the smile fading from his lips.

"Perhaps." He gently pressed on her shoulders, guiding her forward as he stood, and she dropped to her feet from his lap. "But you are a statue that talks and breathes and moves," he continued, standing very close in front of her, making her crane her neck to look up at him as he towered over her, "and that seems to be far more useful than something glittery." She watched him uncertainly as he spoke. "Many dragons go insane, you know," he added. "There aren't many of us left, and some just stay locked up in their caves, with nothing to speak to except for a bunch of gems and metals, for hundreds of years. With no mental stimulation, they turn into rabid, gibbering animals. It would drive anyone to madness. And a mad dragon, my dear, is something truly terrible to be reckoned with." She swallowed hard, wondering to herself how far along the trek into insanity he was.

Two hundred years was a very, very long time to be alive.

"What's your name?" she blurted out suddenly, hoping to change the topic. The dragon's eyes grew wide with surprise, and he regarded her curiously.

"Name?" he wondered. He paused. "I have many of them, I suppose. You tend to acquire a few after living as long as I have. Which ones would you like to hear?"

"Just one is fine," Catherine said softly, her eyes wide and unblinking with uncertainty. He made a contemplative noise, his eyes gazing up towards the ceiling of the cave.

"Some men of this land have called me Adeon," he finally answered, turning his gaze back to her to her. "And what, darling girl, do I call you?"

"Catherine." She almost curtsied, but realized that lifting her robe would expose quite a bit of her lower body, which she was intent on trying to conceal from him for as long as possible. He was silent for a few seconds.

"What a refreshing exchange that was," he finally said cheerfully, his mood spiraling from serious and pensive to bright and courteous in less than seconds. "Well, my dear Catherine, I have venison and bread and wine for us to dine upon. Would you allow me to escort you to dinner?" he inquired. He offered her his arm-a silly gesture when you weren't wearing any clothes-and Catherine smiled a bit despite herself.

"Must you?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm afraid I must," he said gravely, his grin widening fiercely. She fiddled with her robe so that moving her arms wouldn't shift the cloak and expose too much of her, gave up, and gently touched her right hand to his arm, her left dangling below it from several inches of golden chain.

"This feels silly," she admitted as they began walking through the entrance of the treasure cavern. He looked down at her.

"Because we aren't wearing proper clothes? Humans are so particular about clothes. It's only fabric, you know."

"My nurse always said that a pretty package makes the present lovelier and more intriguing," Catherine replied, quoting her fondly. Adeon cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

"I don't think I've heard it phrased that way before. How interesting." He waggled his eyebrows scandalously. "I did enjoy unwrapping you last night," he admitted, and she looked away from him in embarrassment. "There's no need to be ashamed," he told her reassuringly.

"I don't think I can have this discussion until I drink more wine," Catherine muttered. He gave her a long, hard kiss on her cheek.

"Eventually, I shall beat the ladylike grace right out of you and make a proper girl out of you," he said cheerfully. "One who isn't afraid of enjoying herself at the expense of some twisted sort of moral obligation. Ah, here we are." They had arrived back at the entrance of the cave that they were in last night, except that now, two silver goblets, (and Catherine did not doubt that they were real silver), lay upon the floor, accompanied by a giant, golden brown loaf of bread and messy, skinned slabs of raw meat belonging to what she assumed was a large buck, head and antlers included. She paled.

"The venison, I presume?" she said faintly, and he rolled his eyes.

"A dragon cannot go to market and order a rack of lamb, Catherine," he explained patiently.

"Then where did you get the bread?"

"A hunter was preparing his dinner in the woods in which I was hunting. He saw me and he ran, leaving behind his lovely dinner. So I fetched it for you," he said happily. "I was sure you would grow tired of meat during your stay." She smiled weakly, hoping it looked a little sincere.

"Oh. Well. That was...thoughtful."

"I'm glad you think so. Have a seat." She complied, folding herself into a sitting position as far away from the buck as she could on the cold, hard rock floor and watching him curiously as he picked up a dusty bottle from the floor and uncorked it with his uncannily sharp teeth. He then stooped down to fill one of the goblets to the brim with shimmering, clear red wine, and the sweet, heady scent of it filled the room like so many fruit orchards. He handed her the goblet. "Take a drink," he urged her. "It's an old spirit, but it's aged well, I'm sure." She nodded thankfully and took a little sip, closing her eyes as the taste tumbled over her tongue and blossomed in her mouth like a plume of smoke from a candle.