To Serve the Empress by Tavypl (Patreon)

The halls of Castle Alythia were lavish and beautiful. The very model of Saurian architecture and design. The walls were lined with the reliefs of dragons and ornamental shields, crossed with swords or pikes. Each one a masterwork crafted by the Varani of Bremen. Though those of dragon’s blood like the tall lizardkin traversing the corridor thought themselves to be superior to the other reptites in every way, an argument could be made for the Varanus lizard being the most intelligent of their kin. Or at the very least the most creative.

The tall, dark scaled dragonkin did not know the truth of that either way. He never subscribed to the idea that blood, species, or lineage had anything to do with intelligence. Sure, those blessed by dragon’s blood had a much deeper connection to the flow of Mana than most other kin, but in his experience power and intelligence did not go hand in hand. He had met his fair share of idiotic dragonkin and born. One of which stood in the middle of the hall barring his way.

“Arkant...” the dark dragonborn called. His tone was stressed and impatient.

“Your Highness...” the black dragon acknowledged with a curt bow.

Before the dragonkin named Arkant stood a tall, muscular dragonborn. Though he towered over the dragonkin, Arkant was the dragonborn’s senior. In fact, as one of the winged ‘dragonkin’ most would argue the black dragon to be superior to his liege. A thought that caused a dull ache in the scars where the warrior's wings had been ripped from his back long ago.

“Long before this hatchling was a twinkle in his father’s eye...” Arkant thought bitterly.

“What can I do for you Prince Phaldak?” He asked, lowering his head respectfully. Though Arkant had little respect for the Prince. The young dragon huffed, crossing his arms and looking like the petulant child he was.

“You can tell me why a ‘Dragon Blade’ who has been discommendated frequently finds himself in my castle; walking my halls, breathing my air, and meeting in secret with my mother.” he snapped.

Arkant shrugged. A look of boredom on his brow.

“I am in the ‘Empress’ Castle at her summons. If you have an issue with the will of your mother, you should take it up with her.” Arkant replied evenly. The prince scowled, but said nothing. They both knew he was just blowing smoke.

The prince was tall, even for a dragonborn. He towered over Arkant’s 9 feet and was a thick bruiser of a dragon. The plated scales on most of his body, his back, and his face were a charcoal grey, that wasn’t quite black, and didn’t catch the light. From the bottom of his maw, down his neck; encompassing his front, to the base of his tail were long, byzantium colored plates, that were the only thing about him that reminded of his mother; aside two sets of horns atop his thick head. His eyes were red and his muzzle stubby and aggressive. He had nothing of the elegance of his maternal side, and all the brutish thuggery of his father, the late King Mizer.

But Arkant was not intimidated by the prince. Far from it. He’d been fighting in the Baptism under the Empress’ command long before either Mizer or his welp had come into the picture. He’d been most loyal to the Ætheria since his own days as hatchling long ago. Long before she was an Empress, long before she’d been chosen by Harad himself to keep the descendants of Amrun in line.

Though he had sworn his fealty to the crown upon Empress Ætheria’s head, his loyalty was to the dragoness alone. He only entertained the whims of her welp out of respect for that loyalty.

Arkant himself was a dragonkin of relatively humble parentage. His parents were neither first or second generation dragonkin like Ætheria, whose father was the Celestial Dragon Harad. The man had spent most of his life serving whatever cause the dragoness saw worthy of her passions, and he did not regret it.

When that was the eradication of the furkins, he obliged. When Salamus had decreed the Baptism to be done and that the furkins were now worthy to live, he was one of the first to follow Ætheria in ending hostilities. When the dragoness took up her sword against the lizardkin who defied the call for peace, he and the other dragon blades followed her as well; cutting down any who would stand against her.

Unlike the Imperial Dragon Blades who thought themselves loyal to the crown, Arkant and the other surviving ‘originals’ knew that their cadre had but one master.

Standing tall, his armor shining in the warm light of luminescent crystals, Arkant showed no signs of submitting to the prince. Phandak knew of Arkant’s closeness with his mother and resented the favor he’d always been shown. The Empress kept a few ‘pets’ and lovers. All of whom Phandak hated with a passion, but Arkant in particular had his ire. For he knew that the Empress’ fondness for her dark knight was a bond forged in blood and battle, and no matter how hard he tried, the prince could not seem to rid himself of the man.

Stepping forward, Phandak growled at Arkant, his arcane power wafting off of him like a scent.

“You are not worthy of her...” he snapped. The gust of his deep exhale shifted Arkant’s long, raven locks back behind him.

“I am aware,” Arkant shrugged, his emerald eyes not even blinking.

He knew he was not Ætheria’s equal. Few were. He had had his opportunity long ago and had proven to be spectacularly inadequate to the task. Still, he loved her, as one loved the stars in the sky. He loved her as you love the sun that warms your life and gives you light. But one does not expect to be worthy enough to earn the sun’s adoration. Favor and fondness however, Arkant did have.

“No kin has ever been worthy of Ætheria.” he stated matter of factly. He let the statement hang, the implication clear for any and all. Neither he, nor the boy's father were worthy of the Empress. Least of all King Mizer. The kin had been a despot whose arrogance and idiocy had almost brought the Empire to ruin.

Though of the blood of Amrun himself, Mizer had been a dragonborn. A wingless little shit with delusions of greatness, whose ignorance was only surpassed by that of those in the ‘War Faction’ who blindly followed him. The bastard hadn’t even lived through the Baptism of Fire. Who was he to say how future generations should feel about it, when those who had were still around?

Arkant was by Ætheria’s side when Leodin made his sacrifice. He’d seen the Stone King’s reaction to the God King’s loss. He wondered if the Eternian was crying still? The idea that an entire species was unworthy was absurd, and if Leodin represented the best of them, then that alone should have been enough.

Baring his teeth and leaning forward, the prince whispered his threats. Making certain Arkant knew of his dislike. The sellsword knew the Prince and his allies in the dark would always seek to make life hard for him. He simply smiled and accepted the man’s ire.

“The life of a mercenary is fraught with peril, my dishonored friend. Let’s hope something doesn’t happen to you out there in the wilds.”

Arkant took the threat in stride. He knew if the Prince really wanted him dead, he’d have to work outside of the Empire to do it. Though discommendated, most in the know understood that the Empress never really threw away a useful tool, and her favorite ‘toys’ were supposed to be exempt from the machinations of the Great Clans. Should Phandak seek his death, he’d have to work hard to do it outside his mother’s notice. Either way, Arkant was less than concerned.

“I doubt the perilous life of a sellsword compares to the dangers that kin is used to, my son; but I’m sure Blade Arkant thanks you for your concern.” came a sultry voice, that was both commanding and alluring.

Arkant smiled at Phandak as the prince slowly stepped back. His eyes still fixed on the dragonkin.

“Hello, mother. I was just having a little chat with your former Blade. We’ve not gotten to chat much since he failed to save my father at Herald’s Keep. I simply wished to know why he’d dare to show his face here.” Phandak snarled through gritted teeth.

The Empress æthereal presence filled the corridor as she stepped forward. Her oppressive might was enough to disorient lesser kin. Neither Arkant nor the prince were quite so affected, but both were still unnerved by the power on display.

“As with all things within these walls, he is here because I wish it to be so.” the dragoness stated matter of factly.

“And as it my will, it is not your place to question it, my dear child.” she cooed, placing a hand on Phandaks shoulder. The dragonborn jumped a bit as he hadn’t noticed his mother move from one end of the hall to the other. Arkant hadn’t noticed either. It was as if she’d just appeared behind him.

“Mommy’s time is valuable and you’re holding up my business with Arkant. Perhaps there are more pressing matters for you to attend to elsewhere.” she smiled, wrapping her arms around the boy.

“Perhaps you can tell your foolish friends of the ‘War Faction’ that their interests in the Freelands have not gone unnoticed.”

Phandak’s eyes bulged then. Surprise heavy on his face. For a long moment, Arkant thought he might say something. Instead he stood silent for a long moment before extricating himself from his mothers embrace.

Begrudgingly, he thought better of contradicting the Empress. She knew what she knew and Phandak had long since stopped questioning how his mother attained her information. Though he and the others had been careful to keep their machinations from the Empress’ eyes, he knew they’d eventually be discovered. He just thought they’d have more time.

“Very well, mother.” He replied with a bow. He said nothing more as stormed down the hall. The prince left so quickly that he hadn’t even the time to shoot Arkant another dirty look.

The Empress watched with a bemused smile as her only son lumbered away in a silent fit of impotent rage.

“I did advise you to swallow that one.” Arkant joked, inferring the ridiculous myth that lizardkin once ate the eggs of their young in times of hardship. Insulting furkin propaganda for sure, but it'd become a humorous anecdote to refer to problem children. In regards to Phaldak, Arkant almost wished it were true.

“He’s young and impetuous. Too much of his father in him.” she shrugged.

“But enough unpleasantness; come my Blade. Your Empress needs your attendance.” she grinned, turning from him. Arkant’s grin deepened as he watched her turn. He would certainly attend to anything she needed of him.

“At once, most exalted.” He replied following her back to her chambers.

The Empress was a tall dragonkin, almost as tall as her dragonborn son. A magnificent representative of her species, Ætheria was a first generation dragonkin; with the wings and all the arcane might that that would infer.

Imposing, majestic, awe inspiring... These were but a few words that Arkant would use to describe Empress Ætheria Asellas. The dragonkin was as beautiful as the violet sky at dusk. Captivating in a way that made his heart skip a beat.

She was a curvaceous, large breasted dragoness, who’s seemingly glossy, ultraviolet epidermis, covered most of her body. Most of her face, chest, and abdomen were a beautiful shade of lilac; and Arkant could see much of it in her rather revealing outfit.

Though many Saurian noblewomen dressed in a way that most would consider immodest, the Empress’ attire was both alluring and tasteful. A bejewelled two piece ensemble, that covered only her breasts and waist with any degree of propriety. Layered silks that were sheer in places, heavy woven in others. Lined with gold both cloth and real, and serving to accentuate her lovely form.

He got to watch that form as she swished her tail and walked proudly down the hall, and into her bedchamber. Arkant did not hesitate to follow.

When he entered the room the Empress was already sitting on the edge of her bed. Hands propped to her side, leaning back with her legs crossed. Her glittering gold eyes looked at him with hunger and he knew then just how his Empress wished him to attend her.

Even if she was not who she was, he would not deny such a fine woman. From her perfectly proportioned muzzle, to her pearly white teeth, with their perfect fangs that glittered when she smiled. Ætheria was one of the most lovely women he’d ever seen. And for one born without horns of his own. The two sets of segmented horns that adorned her head like ivory crowns was simply impressive. She looked every bit the child of divinity that she was, and Arkant would be sure to worship at the altar of her womanhood.

No words were said between the two as he approached. The Empress’ guards, the Dragon Blades Taandi and Yeseria stood aside, ushering her attendants, a few kobolds and a small gekko out.

Taandi was sure to give Arkant a knowing smile as she left the room with a bow, and Yeseria was likewise a bit teasing. Mouthing, ‘Go get her big boy’, as she exited the room. The two would stand guard for the rest of the day if they needed to. Probably gossiping and joking at his expense.

“Clucking hens...” he thought as he walked dutifully over to the Empress.

First, Arkant took a knee. Tradition dictated he honor his lady as first among her kind, always. He would show her all due respect. Even in this.

Ætheria would nod in return. Reaching down and taking him by his chin. She looked fondly into his eyes as she caressed his face and Arkant could not help but be enthralled by his Empress.

Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on his nose and he smiled, as she’d done so many times in his life. Arkant was not sure how old Ætheria actually was. He knew her to have been a friend to both his mother and grandmother; who had both spoken of the dragoness with the reverence of those of a younger generation.

Arkant himself had seen more than three centuries in his time. Having been born on the tail end of the great war. He often wondered if he had been born in a time of peace, would he have ever met such a magnificent person as she. Would his life have gone down a different path. When the Empress leaned back, uncrossing her legs, and smiled lasciviously at him; he lamented not the humble life he might have led.

The Empress smelled of lavender and lilac, as well as several sweet oils Arkant could not identify. Just simply a step closer gave him the full fragrance of her feminine bouquet. Her precious flower was fragrant, a sweet scent he’d almost forgotten. For it had been too long since last she’d honored him with this particular duty.

Pushing his snout against the fabric of her loincloth, he took in her fragrance with appreciation, while also caressing her sweet sex behind the garment. Ætheria giggled like a maiden many years her junior and offered him sultry encouragement.

“Always so reverent, my Blade, but the time to rest on ceremony is over...”

Softly she moved her hand from his cheek to his head, grabbing a fistful of his ebony mane in guiding him forcefully forward. The black dragon took the hint, pushing aside the cloth of bottom and her stylish panties, and placing his mouth over her waiting quim.

Using his tongue her eager servant traced hard circles around the Empress’ vulva. Being careful to pay close attention to the sensitive folds of her flower, before closing his mouth around it’s burgeoning bulb.

With practice care, he licked and suckled on the core of her feminitny, giving her clitoris the special attention he knew she enjoyed. Arkant felt Ætheria’s claws at the back of his head as she gripped him tightly, pushing her pelvis up, and gyrating a bit in response to his attentions. He’d made an art out of making her moan in this way, and would be damned if he’d ever disappoint.

Taking the nub carefully between two of his teeth, he began to pressure it within his mouth. His tongue caressed it forcefully as he moved to place his hand to her entrance. Carefully rubbed around her crevice, making sure she was ready for what he had planned. When he felt the Empress was reasonably aware of his intentions, he thrust two fingers inside her. Mindful of his claws. His care was rewarded by a roar of pleasure as the empress called out to her ancestors in the beyond.

For a long, lovely time, Arkant focused solely on pleasing the Empress. With his tongue, his fingers, and the soft tips of his maw; he pressed, kissed, licked, and suckled on Ætheria’s pink pearl. The dragoness cooed wildly as she held him fast with two hands between her spread legs, wrapping her tail around his chest. She lasted nearly twelve minutes before falling to his practiced skill. Her cry of carnal rapture shook the room, and Arkant was very glad that the room was warded against sounds. No one would hear her inglorious shouts of satisfaction.

Knowing Ætheria as he did, Arkant knew what she would want next. He wasted no time lifting himself up and unfastening the buckles of his armor. He had but a few moments whilst his lady rode the waves of her first orgasm to undress and proceed before he lost the advantage. He’d gotten good at doing so over the years, so it was no trouble disrobing and getting down to keep the dragoness on the edge of her pleasure.

Placing two fingers against her sensitive sex, he unceremoniously removed her top. Unlatching it from the front and casting it aside. Without a word he took the large mounds of scaly flesh into his mouth, suckling on her tit like a hungry furkin babe. The Empress absolutely swooned at his attention, calling out his name and letting him know that he was; ‘Such a good boy.’

He’d continue his assault on her beautiful mounds, first one and then the other, as he attentively played with her bud. He was judicious in his attention; often moving up to kiss Ætheria between bouts of sucks and suckles. Once, she gripped him with all her might, kissing him hard and passionately. The taste of her sending a jolt down his spine, that ran up his shaft and hardened him instantly. With her smell again filling the room, and her body jittering and shaking, he knew he’d brought her to her second climax, and it was time for him to really get to work.

Not even bothering to let her ride this new wave for a moment, Arkant lined himself up and thrust his manhood deep inside Ætheria’s quivering canal. Her grip on him strengthened as he called out;

“Oh you wonderful bastard!”

Emboldened by her praise, the black dragon hilted himself inside her, before proceeding to thrust madly forward with every bit of his strength. From her heavy breathed cries of contentment, he was sure he was doing a good job.

The heart of the dragoness' femininity was warm and inviting. Arkant could feel the warm, slick, salmon colored walls of her core, as they tensed and tightened, trying to grip his member. He thrust down with all his speed and might, meeting her exuberance with enthusiasm of his own. He dare not speak, for he knew if he did he could not keep words of love, longing, and infatuation from betraying his humble heart. If he let himself. He would fall in love with the woman all over again and of all she could ask of him, only that was a misstep he wanted never to make again.

In that moment of vulnerability, he wished only to never feel the heartache of his youth, when he realized he’d never live up to the standard of such an exceptional creature. It was almost enough to steal his focus, but the captivating eyes of his lady caught his, and Arkant’s resolve was renewed. What he had to offer may not have been enough to walk forever beside her as an equal, but he would be sure it was enough to satisfy her needs.

When arms shot forth light lightning and her legs gripped him like a vice, he knew he had fulfilled his task. He did not cry out with her sharp fangs pressed down between his scales, ripping skiing and pushing down into flesh. He did not begrudge her the blood loss as she screamed her ecstasy into his shoulder, hugging him tight.

Many would call him presumptuous, even blasphemous for releasing a thick torrent of his seed deep into the Empress womb, but Arkant did not care. He knew what his Lady liked and smiled as she cooed in response to being filled with his milky essence. It was unlikely that she would grow pregnant if she didn’t wish for it; if pregnancy were so easy among those of dragon’s blood, he suspected she’d have had her son killed and sire a more worthy successor of her will. One more like her and her daughter than that fool Mizer.

Down in the depths of his deepest desires, Arkant had hoped that at least once while fulfilling this duty he’d have contributed to such a hatchling. He'd have loved to see Mizers face had such a scandal come to pass. Given that they were both dragonkin, the babe would certainly be ordained.

Arkant collapsed then, his private thoughts robbing him of the concentration he needed to deny his pleasure. At the end of his climax he felt himself grow weary, falling into the Empress’ embrace with a satisfied smile. She held him close, nuzzling his maw, and whispering to him as she had when he was younger.

“Good boy, you always serve me well.” she commended. Arkant was happy for the praise.

The sellsword grew drowsy then. The subtle touch of Ætheria’s quintessence washed over him as she cast a silent spell. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to resist the malediction even if he wanted to, so powerful was his ladies magic.

“Sleep...” she cooed, pressing her æthereal power upon him.

His eyelids grew heavy as he looked into her beautiful face with adoration as consciousness left him. Soon, he obeyed this order as well, dozing off blissfully in her arms. Thoroughly satisfied, Ætheria kissed the slumbering warrior on his snout.

“Rest easy my faithful, Blade. For when you awake I will have a task much less to your liking.” She whispered.

“But for now, rest. You are forever safe in my embrace.”

And with that, she too fell into a deep slumber.