It had been almost a century since Alluva Lovedrake first learned of her draconic bloodline. The course was so diluted that she showed almost no outward evidence of her heritage, save for her vivid purple eyes and the only slightly oblong pupils within her irises. Over the decades, she'd used her guile, her wits, a plethora of aliases, and her body to infiltrate more organizations than she cared to remember.
Her first was the Harpers, consorting with many of their members before bailing out and moving on to the next. The Zhentarim's Black Network, the Night Knives of Westgate, the Shadow Thieves of Athkatla, the Arcane Brotherhood in Luskan, and an assortment of other neutral organizations that she could neither name nor remember were all a part of her past. Currently, though, the Cult of the Dragon had her utmost attention.
She had been recruited by her true name by a young red dragon who was still thrice her age. Her bloodline, that of a long-dead purple dragon who's name the arrogant red refused to give her, had brought her to his attention, and she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. After her last stint as Lady Violet, posing among the Red Wizards of Thay in and around Neverwinter, she had killed many dragons. Some inborn rage had lent fury to her sorcery, and she made a career out of slaying the winged beasts. Her decades of experience had aided her, but no more than the latent draconic heritage in her blood.
Alluva found herself resistant to most of the dragons' magics. Her first victim, a small purple beast who's name she never bothered to learn, had provided her with her iconic purple-scale robe. The iridescent scales sheathed her body, the robe hugging her womanly curves. Long hair such a deep brown as to almost be black had an almost purple sheen to it.
Now Alluva found herself in the clutches of the aforementioned red dragon and several purple-robed clerics of Tiamat. She had no idea how she'd gotten this deep into the organization, but somehow she had become revered by these "Wearers of Purple," leaders in their own right of the Cult of the Dragon. She did know, however, why the dragon had taken so fondly to her.
The beast had been named Fierkar when she met him. With deeply tanned skin and coppery hair, he had charmed her robe right off, revealing her large bosoms, broad hips, and powerful thighs. They'd rutted like animals for a straight tenday, taking breaks only to eat raw meats and drink water that sizzled right off their tongues.
It was the best sex she'd ever had, and after he'd left with promises to rejoin her in the morning, she couldn't wait to continue their sexual adventures together. Indeed, she'd spent a good long time after that day awaiting his return, ready to swear off her espionage lifestyle.
But the man never returned.
He'd left her only with a belly swollen with child.
Alluva went into hiding, knowing full well that her history had earned her many enemies. Enemies with magic enough to track her down and slay her, if she wasn't prudent. She was constantly warded. She spent all her energy maintaining her body for childbirth and shielding her abode, now in Waterdeep, from potential enemies.
The Lady Lovedrake, as she had formerly been called, kept to herself when she was out and about town. People that normally respected her for her air of dignity and for her sorcery now treated her with disdain. She was a single mother, pregnant to bursting. Her breasts had swollen to a size she had not ever seen before, and the lactation stained all of her good blouses—blouses that no longer fit over her immense breasts.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, when the birthing did come, the midwife she had hired fled in terror when she shoved out not a human child, but a black-scaled egg, dripping viscera.
Alluva had no choice. This couldn't get out. With magic fueled by pain and confusion, she struck down the midwife with a massive blade of violet energy.
It didn't take long for the egg to start twitching. She'd incubated it for nearly nine months within her womb—a womb that was obviously as much draconic as it was human. It cracked, the scales sloughing off, and a baby girl with tiny talons jutting from her fingers and toes laid their crying within the egg. Her horns were stubby, tail short and fat, but what really stood out to Alluva were the jet black wings that spread out under her.
Her instincts took over. She lifted the babe from the egg and laid back on her birthing bed. Her breasts were free, nipples hard and dribbling milk. The babe latched on immediately and suckled. Sharp teeth couldn't penetrate her nipples, but the pinching sensation was unpleasant for Alluva.
