H - 8: They Will Try to Walk All Over You (Patreon)

She was laughing at him.  That cruel, mocking smile he’d seen her use when talking behind her friends’ backs…but never at him.  Kaln reached for her, but Haktria turned her back, still laughing.  Sneering.  Stepping out of his reach…always just out of reach.  If he could only reach her, he knew he could explain…  Surely she would explain, make everything make sense.

But he couldn’t reach her.  The bars of his cell were in the way, the damp stone walls pressing in on him.  Held fast, helpless.  Haktria turned back, smirking, laughing.  She was saying something, but he couldn’t find any meaning in it.  Just mockery.

Wait…this was absurd.  He wasn’t the same fool who’d been tossed away like this.

Kaln embraced the power inside himself, felt it ignite with the fury of the sun.  He was huge, transcendent, towering, majestic; he rose above all of Rhivkabat, above the world itself.  Among the stars and galaxies, blazing with divine power.

And still she laughed at him.  He reached out again and Haktria stepped away—always just out of reach.  Smirking at how she’d tossed him aside.

The iron bars and stone walls loomed, surrounding the infinite cosmos in which he walked.  He paid them little attention even as they began to enclose him and the entire universe.  She was still laughing at him, at his failure…

She stopped laughing, suddenly.  A shadow fell across everything.

The walls were gone, banished by the shelter of a black wing.  Talons ground into the floor to either side as an enormous shape stood protectively over him.  Golden eyes blazed in the infinite night.  Judging, filled with cold fury.  Haktria’s mockery turned to fear, and she stumbled away.

In the shelter of those wings, he suddenly didn’t care to follow.  Let her go.

In the darkness, within her protection, it was peaceful again.  He had so many worries, so much rage and grief, but for the first time Kaln could remember, it began to be quiet…

***

He woke suddenly, the first sound of which he was conscious his own swiftly indrawn breath.  That felt like a hell of a dream, but he couldn’t remember…

It was really warm.  Warm, and soft.

Ah, yes, the bed—that explained the luxuriant furs under his back.  Furs which were still clean, dry, and fluffy, despite everything they’d been through recently; those protective charms Atraximos had laid were serious business.  Ah, but the warmth…

Kaln turned his head to one side, studying her face, smiling even in her sleep.  And very close.  In fact, most of the rest of her was closer than her head, which lay on his shoulder.  Izayaroa was pressed fully against his side, his own arm tucked around her waist.  One of hers lay under his shoulders, the other wrapping tightly around his chest, both clawed hands resting flush against his skin.  Even her legs were wrapped around him, one tangling with his own and the other fully around his waist.  He couldn’t see from this angle exactly how she had her tail positioned, but various coils of its cool scales twined through his legs and feet.

Huh.  The Golden Empress was a cuddler.  Who’d have guessed?

As if his gaze alerted her, she opened her eyes.  Narrow, slitted pupils in blazing gold shifted to focus on his face, and then dilated hugely as if she were looking upon the most precious of her treasures, and Kaln felt a glow of heat roar in his chest as if pumped by a blacksmith’s bellows.  Whatever he’d been dreaming about was nothing compared to this.

“Husband,” she said, simply.

Kaln found one of her hands, gently brought it to his face, laid a lingering kiss upon her palm, all without breaking eye contact.  “My love.”

She smiled for him, causing that burning warmth to rise even higher; her smile was amazing in the power it had.

But then she disengaged herself—careful not to scratch him, he noticed, despite their discovery that he was impervious to any damage from her claws, a fact they had exhaustively tested.  It was a small gesture, even a pointless one, but Kaln couldn’t help but be touched nonetheless.

Izayaroa sat up, turning to fold her legs beneath herself and stretch fully.  Arching her spine and rolling her head back, she raised both arms above her head and then bent them further backward with amazing flexibility, her gleaming claws kneading at the air as she stretched them.  Her tail extended fully behind her, rising up and quivering slightly with the full extension of its muscles.

By all the gods, that posture did amazing things to her chest.

She saw him staring at her, and deliberately held the pose a moment longer before relaxing.  Her smile was warm, smug, and pleased with herself.  Haktria would have reprimanded him for gawking; Izayaroa seemed to consider it her due.

“Unfair,” he whispered.

“Oh?”  The dragon raised an eyebrow.  “Have I mistreated you in some way, husband?”

He shook his head, slowly, not bothering to stop staring.  “It’s not enough you have to be the most…absolutely flawless woman I’ve ever seen.  You’re practically made of jewelry, too?  I hope there’s not a finite amount of beauty in this world, or you’re taking up quite a few people’s share.”

“Mmmmmmm.”  Izayaroa turned fully back around, and indeed she glittered with every tiny movement; her black scales were glossy enough, but with each edged in a rim of shining gold, she was positively iridescent.  But she denied him the opportunity to admire her too long, instead filling his view with her face as she took his head in her claws and pulled him in for an insistent kiss.

Insistent, but gentle, her movements deliberately languid even as she embraced him tightly.  It was an impressive show of control, conveying passion without inciting them into yet another round.  Truthfully, even this much would ordinarily have been enough to render Kaln dizzy with desire, but they had shared a very long, busy night already.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so sated in his life.

She finally relinquished his lips, pulling back just enough to make eye contact.  Her expression, now, was contemplative.

“Tell me, husband: were you ever a courtesan in Rhivkabat?”

Kaln blinked, then couldn’t hold back a startled bark of laughter.  “What?  I certainly was not.  I really am just a scribe.”

“You are several momentous changes too late to call yourself ‘just’ anything, Kaln,” she said with an amused smirk.  “But really.  I will not pry if you wish to keep your secrets; dragons above all else respect privacy.  I am merely curious.”

“To tell the truth, it didn’t occur to me to bother deceiving you,” Kaln said frankly.  He was holding her now, their faces close enough for their noses to brush together.  Even as spent as he was, she just felt so absolutely delightful in his arms.  “No, I was raised as a foundling in the Royal Archives.  I had a knack for it early on, so there was never any question of me taking up another trade.  Seriously, where did you get ‘courtesan’ from?”

“It surprises me to hear that, husband.  You have a quick turn of phrase and quite a knack for skillful flattery…  And you make love with the meticulous focus of a master artisan.”  She grinned and nuzzled at him.  “It stretches my credulity that you haven’t been formally trained in at least some of these arts.”

She…was not wrong, in fact, but he didn’t at all want to get into it.  Kaln had been personally coached in great detail to please the sensibilities of one noble lady in particular; it was gratifying that at least some of those skills were transferable, though he’d already begun finding ways in which Izayaroa’s preferences were different.  And without doubt, so would be those of Tiavathyris and Emeralaphine.  But he wasn’t about to dwell on that while in the arms of his beautiful wife.

“I have obviously had a less interesting life than yourself, my lady,” Kaln said gallantly, “but I’ve found time to have a few little adventures here and there.”

“And so we must add ‘understatement’ to the list of your gifts,” she murmured.  “But well enough; that’s a quality I value in a courtier, and one which has been rather lacking in this household.  Hmm…your eyes.”

She cupped his cheeks in both hands, gently brushing her clawed thumbs across his cheekbones, causing their flesh-rending tips to tickle his eyebrows.  That should have been viscerally terrifying, and yet…  He could feel, though his dragon-aspected power, there was nothing in her intent but tenderness and curiosity.  He could see her gentle expression from so close.  Rarely had Kaln felt so safe.

“They’re not my best feature,” he said lightly.

“If you are fishing for a compliment, husband, consider it granted,” she said, her lips curling up lopsidedly in a smirk that sent pleasant tingles through his brain.  “But no, I meant that they are not sunken or shadowed.  You spent a very long, tiring day yesterday…  And I’ve allowed you scarcely an hour of sleep overnight.  Yet, you look fresh and alert.  How do you feel, Kaln?”

Kaln blinked, having to consider that.  Experimentally, he stretched his arms; it required him to let go of her, and he was disappointed when she released him and moved back to give him room, but he put that aside.  There would be plenty of opportunity in the future to touch her.  More to the point…

“I feel great,” he said, rolling his neck and shoulders.  “Well…  Actually, very much sore and stiff, but in exactly the way I would expect.  The usual results of spending most of the night using muscles in a way that…well, let’s just say it’s been a while.  I’m not tired at all, though.  In fact…I can’t remember ever feeling this energetic!”

“I shall take a measure of credit for the lingering afterglow,” she stated with such a smug expression that he honestly wasn’t sure whether she was joking.  “But this is most likely a result of your ongoing transition; we should take careful note of the changes you manifest.  For example, I note with pleasure that you don’t have the breath of a mortal who’s just risen from bed.”

Oh, shit—and he’d kissed her, without a thought in the world.

“That’s a lucky side effect,” Kaln said fervently.  “Not to mention…peculiar.  Oddly specific, I might say.  Is that…typical?”

“I have known only a few godlings, even over the course of my long life—they are a rare phenomenon indeed.  And none remotely so intimately.”

And there it was, the great sticking point in his massive good fortune.  Kaln knew little of gods and less of magic; he’d never heard of godlings before yesterday and only understood what “apotheosis” meant because it was helpfully constructed of Nourid root words.  What in all the hells was the Entity playing at?  What was that damned thing, and why did it want to turn him into a god?

He urgently needed more information.  His impossible new wives had pledged to help him along the way, but…  They were clearly under the impression that he had come here with a plan firmly in mind, and that had inevitably colored their response to him.  How would they react upon learning that he was the hapless dupe of some inscrutable thing which Kaln was starting to suspect was a rogue god?  How could he get more information without revealing the depths of his ignorance?

Looking into Izayaroa’s warm golden eyes, he desperately wanted to trust her with everything.

The entirety of his life experience warned him not to.

“Yes, that does seem to be the perennial problem,” he said, controlling his expression as carefully as he’d ever done in his life.  “Little seems known of the process, because everyone who knows is motivated not to spread that information.  I can only imagine how chaotic it would be if new gods were popping up everywhere, every day.  Still, it seems certain to me that you must know many things I do not, on probably every subject.  I am eager to learn, my love.”

He raised one of her hands to give her that courtly kiss on the palm which she so appreciated, holding her eyes with his own.

Izayaroa smiled, warm and inviting, and gently stroked his hair with her other hand.  The sensation of cold, hard claws along his scalp had already become strangely comforting.  “My knowledge is of course at your disposal, husband.”  She hesitated, her expression darkening momentarily.  “However…  In this case, my honest recommendation is that you turn first and foremost to Emeralaphine.  She is the unquestionable expert on magic in this family, and therefore on godhood; it seems certain that she must know more of the subject than I do, and is less likely than I to have absorbed incorrect facts.  Given the nature of my scant interactions with godlings over the centuries, that is a real risk.”

“Very well,” Kaln agreed quickly.  “Perhaps it’s all for the better.  I can think of much more pleasant topics I would rather discuss with you.”

So…godhood and magic were fundamentally linked?  Talking with Emeralaphine would definitely be instructive.  Conversely, concealing ignorance from her promised to be extremely difficult.

“You are an incorrigible flirt, husband,” she said, leaning in to gently nuzzle her forehead and nose against his.  “It pleases me greatly; do more of that.  But for now!  I believe I should show you around your new home.  We have just the thing to begin the day properly, particularly if one suffers from onerously exercised muscles.”

“I’m all yours,” he promised, keeping his hand in hers as she rose from the bed and allowing her to pull him upright.

Izayaroa hesitated, her expression sobering again as she looked down at him.  Standing up, she towered over him once more…and also she was still nude, which placed his eyes at a very distracting level.

“They will tend to try to walk all over you,” she said suddenly.  “Not out of any malice, and perhaps not even deliberately; that is simply how we are.  It will be far easier to prevent them from developing the habit than to break them of it later.  You must at all costs be assertive, husband.  Not rude or presumptuous—a dragon’s pride will not bear insult.  But never forget that our family structures are based on hierarchies of dominance, not on familial affection as you know it.  Establish yourself as the authority here and hold firm to it at all costs.”

“I appreciate the advice very much,” he said seriously, all distraction suddenly gone as he gazed intently up into her face.

“I had my concerns, initially,” Izayaroa continued, once more running a hand over his head, clawed fingertips trailing through his hair.  “What you’ve shown me already is greatly reassuring, husband.  You seem to have exactly the skills needed to manage multiple overblown egos.  Only remember to do that without being deferential or submissive, and I believe you will succeed admirably.”

“Domineering will be a new look on me, but I’m pretty adaptable,” he said.

“Mm…yes, you are definitely that,” she mused.  Her eyes slowly wandered over him from top to bottom and then back, a reminiscent smile playing across her lips.  It widened as she focused again upon his expression.  “Well, I think we had best get dressed or we really will be here all day.”

“Oh…I suppose,” he sighed.  “If we must.”

“There will be plenty more opportunities, husband,” she promised.  “And I think you will appreciate what I am about to show you.”

***

There was more to the complex than the enormous, dragon-sized spaces, which made sense; while the Timekeepers had enjoyed their grandiosity, the overall scale of the things they’d left behind mostly suggested they were human or human-like in proportions.  The favorite theory among his fellow scribes in the Royal Archives was that they’d been elves of some kind.  In the case of Kaln’s new home, that meant the presence of many passages branching off the main rooms which would require the dragons to adopt their smaller forms to traverse.  It also told him this complex was much bigger than it appeared; he would have to explore thoroughly, probably with guidance from his new wives.

Izayaroa led him through one of these corridors, this one better-lit than the central chambers due to a relative lack of cobwebs, dust, and mildew obscuring the inset Timeglass panels.  All of that and more did drift into corners along the floor and ceiling; clearly this passage saw regular traffic, but just as clearly the dragons didn’t bother to actively clean anything.

He would have to do something about that.  This whole place was absolutely disgusting.  Atraximos’s chambers were spotless, and he suspected the other hoard chambers were the same for the same reason: automated magic wards.  For whatever reason, they didn’t seem to mind the general filth in the central part of their home.

All that fell away from Kaln’s mind as they emerged into their destination.  The sound of running water had grown louder as they proceeded down the corridor, accompanied by confusing gusts of air that were warm and chilly by turns.  All became clear when they emerged into the baths.

It was a kind of alcove, built to the same palatial scale as the bigger chambers near the front, despite only being accessible via a much smaller hallway.  The huge room was oval in shape, stretching the long way from the door, and only half of it had walls.  The outer arc was open to a stunning view of the surrounding crags, supported by Timestone pillars engraved with the intricate geometric designs characteristic of their culture, each flanked by a thin lip of Timeglass which would provide illumination when it was dark.

And it was full of water.  There was a thin lip of Timestone floor in front of the entrance, and a little peninsula which descended into the water in stairs.  The depth wasn’t great close to the door, but it fell away in tiers until, at the far end, it was clearly deep enough for a dragon to mostly submerge herself, as the bath’s current occupants proved.  Water poured from outlets arranged around the walls on this half, and seemingly spilled over the edges of the outer arc between the pillars to splash down into whatever lay below.

Steam rose from the hot water of the baths, but the gusting breeze of the mountains was cold—the cause of the mingled temperatures that had blown down the corridor.

“You have a bath?” Kaln exclaimed.  “I mean…we have a bath.”  It looked like it belonged in a palace.

“Good morning, husband,” said Tiavathyris from the far side of the room, where she lay mostly submerged, only her arched neck and the upper edges of her wings protruding above the surface.  “Izayaroa.  I trust your night was restful?”

“It was not,” Izayaroa said, positively beaming with self-satisfied smugness.  “I can scarcely recall the last time I was so vigorously…kept awake.”

“Ah?”  Tiavathyris lifted her head further, turning an intrigued expression upon Kaln.  “Felicitations.  I see I have much to look forward to.”

“I expect you will not be disappointed,” Izayaroa purred, running her claws tenderly down Kaln’s back.

Right.  Dominance.  He couldn’t afford to blush and stammer here; she wasn’t making that easy.  What would a dominant dragon do in this situation?  Gods, but that was a departure from all f his social training up til now.  What would a swaggering alpha male do in this situation?

He managed not to shiver, and hopefully if he showed any blush it could be ascribed to the hot steam rising up to embrace him as he stepped to the edge of the pool.  Kaln deliberately made eye contact with Tiavathyris and smiled in what he hoped was a knowing manner.

She smiled in what definitely was.

“This is incredible,” he stated, turning away to gaze around at the chamber.  “Why would the Timekeepers build a bath sized suitably for both dragons and mortals?”

“It is, of course, an open question why they did anything,” said Tiavathyris, lowering her head until it seemed to float upon the surface of the water.  “We have never quite figured out the original purpose of the whole complex; it has a number of quite idiosyncratic features.  Personally, I theorize that this was originally built for aquaculture of some kind.  The water is channeled in from mountain springs and snowmelt; the heat is thanks to an enchantment laid by Emeralaphine.”

“Hwaarglagblarrglhlgul.”

Vadaralshi, the other dragon already present, had paddled over to the closest rim of the wall and held her head directly under the stream of water pouring forth from one of the founts, gargling loudly.

“I hope you are not offended by my daughter’s…playful demeanor, husband,” Tiavathyris added, shooting Vadaralshi a stern look.  “I’m afraid there has been neither opportunity nor reason for her to learn anything passing for mortal decorum.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Kaln said gallantly.  “A home feels more alive with children playing, don’t you think?”

Vadaralshi spat out water and shook herself vigorously, splashing further.  “I am conservatively five times your age, you pants-wearing simian!”

Tiavathyris deftly looped the end of her tail around Vadaralshi’s neck, just behind her horns, and yanked her head underwater.  A great tumult of splashing resulted from the ensuing struggles.

“And she perhaps feels a bit more liberated this morning than is called for,” the elder green commented, raising her voice slightly above the noise.  “I assure you she did not speak to her father that way.”

“Yes, well, I doubt I’m going to react to much of anything the way he did,” said Kaln.  “Far be it from me to tell you how to discipline your children, my lady wife.”

Yeah, he was staying strictly out of that one.

Wait…was this displaying dominance?  Was he coming across as weak?  Shit,he was just not accustomed to thinking in these terms.

Tiavathyris only dipped her head to him once in acknowledgment, still wearing that vague smile of hers, and finally released her daughter.  Vadaralshi jerked her head above the water, gasping.

And notably, not complaining.  Hells uncounted, was this how rough they were accustomed to playing?  And he was somehow expected to rule over them through force?

“Izayaroa?” Tiavathyris had turned to frown at the other dragon, who had casually discarded her garment and slipped into the water with a pleased sigh while Kaln was distracted.  “You are going to bathe…like that?”

“It feels so much more satisfying,” she said, smiling languidly with half-lidded eyes.  “And there is, after all, no reason I should not.  Do join me, husband.  You’ve more than earned a bit of relaxation.”

She gazed expectantly up at him…as did Tiavathyris and Vadaralshi.

Well…there it was.  Rhivkabat was as cosmopolitan as they came, but Kaln had never frequented a public bath; in Rhiva culture that kind of immodesty was associated with the very poor who lacked the luxury of private spaces.  And the three women present—two of them in giant monstrous form—were eyeballing him with undisguised interest.

Okay.  Right.  Dominance.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, smiling, and shrugged out of the loose garment Emeralaphine had conjured for him.  It was easy enough to do that, fortunately, sparing him making an awkward spectacle of struggling out of the fabric.  The white cloth slid down to lie puddled around his feet, and Kaln, forcing himself not to hurry, stepped out of it, then down into the first step under the water.

The heat made him gasp.  It was perfect,just short of painfully hot, and a delicious contrast to the cold mountain air.  He made a point to smile deliberately at Tiavathyris as she eyed him up and down, then carefully descended the rest of the steps and seated himself beside Izayaroa.  The depth at this end was ideal, allowing him to sit down and lean his shoulders back against the rounded lip of Timestone behind.

And…gods, this felt good.  Kaln didn’t bother to repress the groan that worked its way out of him as he leaned back.  Blessed heat worked into his sore muscles from all around.  This…this was bliss.

Water sloshed as Tiavathyris stood, wading over toward them.  She rose progressively out of the pool as she ascended the tiered floor, and then, at the uppermost one, shifted forms.

Well, turnabout was fair play.  Kaln stared unabashedly at her, encouraged by the fact that she met this treatment with a welcoming smile.  And by all the gods she was worth staring at.  Her outfit yesterday had displayed a lot, but nude, she was like a sculpture of some flawless war goddess.  Not bulky; her musculature didn’t add any heft to her, save perhaps at the shoulders and in the legs.  But every inch of her was powerfully defined, very much as if she’d been chiseled from marble.

“Mother?” Vadaralshi exclaimed in alarm as Tiavathyris waded over and seated herself at Kaln’s other side.

“You know how your father felt about indulging the senses of the ‘lesser’ form,” Tiavathyris replied, sighing in satisfaction as she leaned back against the pool’s edge.  “Mmf.  Yes, in fact there are quite a lot of asinine opinions I no longer have any reason to accommodate.  I thank you for the reminder, Izayaroa.  This is so much better.”

Vadaralshi swiveled her head, peering at each of the three of them in evident confusion, before finally letting out a huff and drifting closer.

She did not change, but came near enough to lie on the second tier down, which left her body only half-submerged, and extended her neck toward them, letting it float in the water.  The position placed her head just a couple of paces from Kaln, floating with just her eyes protruding above the surface like a crocodile.

Making and holding deliberate eye contact, Vadaralshi began slowly blowing bubbles with her nose.

What would a domineering dragon do in this situation?  Well, he had only one idea, so he did it.

Kaln leaned back, stretching his arms across the lip of stone behind them, and casually shifted them forward to wrap around the shoulders of his two wives.  Then gave them each just the gentlest of tugs.

Obligingly and without comment, Izayaroa and Tiavathyris leaned against him, resting their cheeks against his own shoulders.  This had the side effect of propping his own head upright, as their smooth horns came to rest against his cheekbones from both sides.  Fortunately they arced backward too much to actually poke him; those things looked sharp enough to kill at the ends.

Relaxing fully into the hot water, he didn’t have to make an effort to put on a somnolent smile, but he beamed the full force of it at Vadaralshi.

Staring right back at him, she blew more bubbles.