Content Warnings: Dubious Consent ❤ D/s Dynamics ❤ Boss/Employee ❤ Master/Servant ❤ King/Not Technically Slaves But ❤ Fucked Up Power Dynamics ❤ Size Difference ❤ Two Big Scary Monster Men/Horrible Waif ❤ Maledom ❤ Malesub ❤ Femsub ❤ Death ❤ PTSD ❤ Implied Abuse ❤ The Death Penalty ❤ Rough Sex ❤ Fellatio ❤ Irrumatio ❤ Facefucking ❤ Throatfucking ❤ Just A Lot Of Fucked Up Stuff Involving Dicks In Mouths, Generally ❤ Slapping ❤ Improvised Bondage ❤ Exhibitionism/Voyeurism ❤ Masturbation ❤ Penis-in-Vagina Sex ❤ Anal Sex ❤ Double Penetration ❤ Unprotected Sex But They're Magic So It's Fine ❤ Humiliation ❤ Degrading Language ❤ Narratophilia ❤ Choking ❤ Breathplay ❤ Submissive-as-Fucktoy ❤ Anachronistic Steampunk Outfits ❤ Biting With Fangy Teeth ❤
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Gareth had tried to tell her—over and over, ad nauseum, ad infinitum—that she needed to be more careful. And yet. And yet.
The fire had been the final straw. Enough to get them on The List. Gareth had never before, not once, been on The List. He'd met with the King—and how—but never, never under these circumstances. He was furious and anxious, and doing his best to stay calm.
The King liked him. He was good at his job. They would be fine. They would both be fine. He'd worn his best uniform, and even put a ring on one of his horns, a gift from the King in years past. A reminder, he hoped. A flattery, maybe.
His supervisor—a naga of far worse predilections than Gareth's own—had pressed upon Ren the importance of wearing her uniform. And so they looked, if nothing else, good. Very good. Better than everyone else who'd had the misfortune of making The List this month.
Two of them looked… nondescript. A little wrinkled, a little tired, a little smudgy. The supervisor was a gnome named Jamie, and she seemed to get along with her elfin recruit just fine. That wasn't their problem, then. Probably too alike. Jamie fell down rabbitholes easily, and with a partner in crime they'd get distracted from their task too often. Build the wrong things, fail to complete assignments. They would get, Gareth was sure, little more than a gentle scold.
The others he was less sure of. The supervisor was almost as new as his recruit—Cory, he thought the human's name might be. He'd been in fieldwork before his transfer. The recruit was of indeterminate origin, a greyish tone to his skin and a size to him that could have meant any number of things. He looked… bruised. Not in any obvious way, but in the whole of him, battered. Cory had put a muzzle on him. It made Gareth bristle.
Grilka didn't seem any more pleased with the situation. The naga gave Cory a wide berth and a careful eye, and amused emself by fussing with Ren's hair to get it sitting right.
"Now then," Grilka said, clapping eir hands together and 'standing' taller. "Stand together, a little distance please." Ey urged the pairs to stand side by side, enough room between each pair that any happening would not affect anyone but the pair in question. Gareth didn't know if it was clear to everyone what ey was doing. "All together now," Grilka said, herding them forward. Ey moved ahead to step first into the throne room, holding up a hand to indicate everyone should stop.
"If it pleases Your Majesty," Grilka announced, projecting eir voice and letting it echo through the enormous room, "Overlord of the Northern Mountains, Elder Dragon of the Divine Opals, Scourge of the Skies Above Seven Kingdoms, Demon of the Winter Winds, Slayer of Tyrants and Merciful King of Aeris—six members of your King's Guard have arrived to beg of you your mercy and understanding."
Grilka gestured subtly for the assembled to step forward into the room, and Gareth resisted the temptation to pull Ren along bodily.
The King yawned. He'd been curled over what could only be termed a mountain of treasure piled where the old king's throne had once been. He was himself only barely small enough to be able to stand in the vast hall, and it was clear that no doors here were large enough for his body to fit through. His scales were all opalescent shimmering white, reflecting the bright red of the banners hanging along the walls. His eyes and his claws were black as obsidian, his eyes as blue as the sky.
His front legs reached forward and his back arched in a catlike stretch, a chill through the room as his mouth opened wide and displayed all his teeth. He shook the sleep from his head, and then started to slink down his pile of gold and jewels to approach his subjects.
Gareth immediately dropped to one knee to bow, as did the other two pairs.
The fire had been the final straw. Enough to get them on The List. Gareth had never before, not once, been on The List. He'd met with the King—and how—but never, never under these circumstances. He was furious and anxious, and doing his best to stay calm.
The King liked him. He was good at his job. They would be fine. They would both be fine. He'd worn his best uniform, and even put a ring on one of his horns, a gift from the King in years past. A reminder, he hoped. A flattery, maybe.
His supervisor—a naga of far worse predilections than Gareth's own—had pressed upon Ren the importance of wearing her uniform. And so they looked, if nothing else, good. Very good. Better than everyone else who'd had the misfortune of making The List this month.
Two of them looked… nondescript. A little wrinkled, a little tired, a little smudgy. The supervisor was a gnome named Jamie, and she seemed to get along with her elfin recruit just fine. That wasn't their problem, then. Probably too alike. Jamie fell down rabbitholes easily, and with a partner in crime they'd get distracted from their task too often. Build the wrong things, fail to complete assignments. They would get, Gareth was sure, little more than a gentle scold.
The others he was less sure of. The supervisor was almost as new as his recruit—Cory, he thought the human's name might be. He'd been in fieldwork before his transfer. The recruit was of indeterminate origin, a greyish tone to his skin and a size to him that could have meant any number of things. He looked… bruised. Not in any obvious way, but in the whole of him, battered. Cory had put a muzzle on him. It made Gareth bristle.
Grilka didn't seem any more pleased with the situation. The naga gave Cory a wide berth and a careful eye, and amused emself by fussing with Ren's hair to get it sitting right.
"Now then," Grilka said, clapping eir hands together and 'standing' taller. "Stand together, a little distance please." Ey urged the pairs to stand side by side, enough room between each pair that any happening would not affect anyone but the pair in question. Gareth didn't know if it was clear to everyone what ey was doing. "All together now," Grilka said, herding them forward. Ey moved ahead to step first into the throne room, holding up a hand to indicate everyone should stop.
"If it pleases Your Majesty," Grilka announced, projecting eir voice and letting it echo through the enormous room, "Overlord of the Northern Mountains, Elder Dragon of the Divine Opals, Scourge of the Skies Above Seven Kingdoms, Demon of the Winter Winds, Slayer of Tyrants and Merciful King of Aeris—six members of your King's Guard have arrived to beg of you your mercy and understanding."
Grilka gestured subtly for the assembled to step forward into the room, and Gareth resisted the temptation to pull Ren along bodily.
The King yawned. He'd been curled over what could only be termed a mountain of treasure piled where the old king's throne had once been. He was himself only barely small enough to be able to stand in the vast hall, and it was clear that no doors here were large enough for his body to fit through. His scales were all opalescent shimmering white, reflecting the bright red of the banners hanging along the walls. His eyes and his claws were black as obsidian, his eyes as blue as the sky.
His front legs reached forward and his back arched in a catlike stretch, a chill through the room as his mouth opened wide and displayed all his teeth. He shook the sleep from his head, and then started to slink down his pile of gold and jewels to approach his subjects.
Gareth immediately dropped to one knee to bow, as did the other two pairs.
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Ren had really stepped in it this time.
The fire had been an accident. She wasn't as careful as Gareth--or anyone--wanted her to be, despite what she considered to be marked sacrifices in her normal work routine. But the thing was, the fire that had landed her on death row had been an accident too, and for far nobler a cause then the development of a more effective version of coal.
Longer burning... check... hotter burning... also check... Resistant to the damp... checkity-check-check. She really did need to learn to think these things all the way through. She got too caught up in her mind, she knew she did, all she could think about was the project at hand and her mind just fired with so many ideas and she had to do them all now while they're fresh before they fade and--
And that, kids, is how you end up with a legendary coal fire in your place of work, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey and ready to be paraded with your boss and their boss in front of a goddamned dragon. The goddamned dragon. He hadn't even been at her trial. He probably hadn't even known her trial existed. When the fuck had she become significant enough for this?
It probably wouldn't have happened if Gareth had just called her a lost cause and let her hang. That knowledge tasted bitter in her mouth for a number of reasons.
Grilka fussed over her, and she, for her part, allowed it. She allowed Grilka to do an unfortunate number of things she wouldn't allow anyone else to do, but not because she held any particular fondness for the naga. No, ey just gave her the absolute terror-creeps. Ey was too much snake, and she was too much rat.
And then, it was time to enter the throne room. She couldn't hold Gareth's hand, and he wouldn't have wanted to, so she clutched at the hem of her uniform, trying not to betray her nerves. If anything, she supposed, death-by-a-dragon-who-is-also-the-king would be a hell of a way to go for a street rat who was never supposed to amount to anything more than--as Gareth so colorfully put it--a belligerent corpse.
She was half a step behind Gareth before she stumbled to catch up, two steps for every one of his. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be looking up, but found she couldn't resist. She'd never seen a dragon or a king, and she absolutely needed to get a good look at the bastard who'd put her in this position to begin with.
He was beautiful and regal and breathtaking on his mountain of treasure, a drop of which could have changed to course of her life to such an extent that she never would have wound up here. Every cold winter, every minute of growling stomach, every night spent buried in someone else's filth. Every single second of her imprisonment, the indignities and the punishments and the horrible, endless boredom.
She was unable to look away as he began to approach. She hated him utterly and instantly, and if he ate her, she hoped to hell she gave him indigestion.
She was a second late on the bow, Gareth catching her arm on his way down and all but dragging her onto her knees. She forced her head down as well, but couldn't help glancing up through the black bangs shading her eyes.
The fire had been an accident. She wasn't as careful as Gareth--or anyone--wanted her to be, despite what she considered to be marked sacrifices in her normal work routine. But the thing was, the fire that had landed her on death row had been an accident too, and for far nobler a cause then the development of a more effective version of coal.
Longer burning... check... hotter burning... also check... Resistant to the damp... checkity-check-check. She really did need to learn to think these things all the way through. She got too caught up in her mind, she knew she did, all she could think about was the project at hand and her mind just fired with so many ideas and she had to do them all now while they're fresh before they fade and--
And that, kids, is how you end up with a legendary coal fire in your place of work, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey and ready to be paraded with your boss and their boss in front of a goddamned dragon. The goddamned dragon. He hadn't even been at her trial. He probably hadn't even known her trial existed. When the fuck had she become significant enough for this?
It probably wouldn't have happened if Gareth had just called her a lost cause and let her hang. That knowledge tasted bitter in her mouth for a number of reasons.
Grilka fussed over her, and she, for her part, allowed it. She allowed Grilka to do an unfortunate number of things she wouldn't allow anyone else to do, but not because she held any particular fondness for the naga. No, ey just gave her the absolute terror-creeps. Ey was too much snake, and she was too much rat.
And then, it was time to enter the throne room. She couldn't hold Gareth's hand, and he wouldn't have wanted to, so she clutched at the hem of her uniform, trying not to betray her nerves. If anything, she supposed, death-by-a-dragon-who-is-also-the-king would be a hell of a way to go for a street rat who was never supposed to amount to anything more than--as Gareth so colorfully put it--a belligerent corpse.
She was half a step behind Gareth before she stumbled to catch up, two steps for every one of his. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be looking up, but found she couldn't resist. She'd never seen a dragon or a king, and she absolutely needed to get a good look at the bastard who'd put her in this position to begin with.
He was beautiful and regal and breathtaking on his mountain of treasure, a drop of which could have changed to course of her life to such an extent that she never would have wound up here. Every cold winter, every minute of growling stomach, every night spent buried in someone else's filth. Every single second of her imprisonment, the indignities and the punishments and the horrible, endless boredom.
She was unable to look away as he began to approach. She hated him utterly and instantly, and if he ate her, she hoped to hell she gave him indigestion.
She was a second late on the bow, Gareth catching her arm on his way down and all but dragging her onto her knees. She forced her head down as well, but couldn't help glancing up through the black bangs shading her eyes.
The King considered each pair in turn, trying to decide which order to go in if he wanted to maximize drama.
Which he did. Always.
But the situation was a touch different, in that one party clearly required attention immediately. Allowing them to remain as they were for any longer was unacceptable.
"Cornelius Steelsplitter," he announced, his voice low and rumbling through the room, sibilant consonants and rolling Rs in an accent foreign to everywhere. "Stand, and introduce your charge, that you may explain yourselves." The man that Gareth knew as Cory stood, and the man beside him joined him more slowly.
"This is Thrandroch," Cory said shortly, his voice deceptively soft around the edges. "He's a belligerent, violent moron who won't do as he's told. I've done my best, but he's a lost cause. Not even sure why we kept him, really."
The King came closer, claws clicking on marble, and brought his head low. He darted his enormous tongue out at both of them, uncomfortably close, taking his time to process the smell of him.
"Thrandroch cannot speak," he observed. Gareth, at least, noticed the subtle shift in his tone.
"He keeps spitting acid," Cory said. "I had to take steps."
The end of the King's snout touched Thrandroch's chest contemplatively. Then he stood, raising his head. "You were a good soldier, Cornelius," he said, and Gareth shut his eyes, his tail curling.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Cory said, before the King bit his head off. Followed quickly by the rest of him. He wanted to kill him quickly enough to avoid any screaming, but he also didn't want blood all over the floors. He used to just pick them up in one big bite, but then they'd scream and flail in his mouth, and the whole thing was just horribly undignified. This way it was just a few quick crunches and the problem was solved.
Gareth definitely preferred it this way, without the muffled screams. The crunching, though. He could have done without the crunching. The meaty sound of teeth through flesh wasn't half as troubling as the crunching. Like stepping on a beetle.
"You may kneel, Thrandoch," the King said once he'd finished swallowing. He looked to Grilka. "He is Thrandoch Strongthroat now," he decided, as the man in question fell gratefully to his knees.
"Very good, Your Majesty," Grilka said with an incline of his head.
"Make a note," he added, tail swishing. "Good soldiers make bad managers."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He moved on to Gemmarine Marshrose of the Fell Swamp Marshroses, who eagerly introduced Jaonos Valwynn before apologizing profusely about The Whole Thing With The Carts. Her voice was twice as high and twice as fast as anyone twice her size, and she spoke as much with her hands as with her words. The King sniffed at them both as they spoke. When he offered Jamie his snout, she petted it absentmindedly, still absorbed in her explanation. He withdrew.
"People died, Jamie," he said sternly, and she wilted. "Fortunately, I never cared for them." She perked up. "And I do like the carts. I would like a track around the tallest tower." Jamie and Jaonos gasped, grabbing at each other and nearly hopping in delight. "If you are given an important project," he warned, "and you do not think you can finish, you will tell your supervisor so they can reassign it. We cannot have people jumping out windows with nothing to catch them. It might be someone we like, next time."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Jamie said, bowing at the waist. Jaonos imitated her.
"You may kneel."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." As soon as they were back on the floor, their heads were together, whispering ideas at a rapid pace.
Gareth tensed as the King stood in front of them. "Gareth," he said, and then paused. "Oh, Gareth," he said ruefully, instead of stating his full name. "Stand and explain yourself."
Gareth pulled himself up as gracefully as he thought he could manage. The King was watching him, and Gareth had to tilt his head back to look him in the eye. The enormous eye. "This is Ren," he introduced. "She is still having some difficulty with cultural adjustments," he said carefully, keeping his tail unmoving. "She is sometimes overeager, and her enthusiasm is often greater than her patience. However, I believe she has made great progress in her time here, and she's a valuable asset to the King's Guard even accounting for damages."
The King practically licked him, but Gareth remained still and blank-faced. When the dragon made a thoughtful rumbling sound, his face started to feel a bit hot.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
A dragon's tongue darted at Ren, mouth slightly open to let air pass over his palette, scraps of bloody fabric still caught in his teeth. He gave another thoughtful rumble. He looked at Grilka, who looked very pleased with emself. Then he stood. "Do you have anything to add to this testimony, Ren?" he prompted.
Gareth's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, his tail curling and uncoiling.
Which he did. Always.
But the situation was a touch different, in that one party clearly required attention immediately. Allowing them to remain as they were for any longer was unacceptable.
"Cornelius Steelsplitter," he announced, his voice low and rumbling through the room, sibilant consonants and rolling Rs in an accent foreign to everywhere. "Stand, and introduce your charge, that you may explain yourselves." The man that Gareth knew as Cory stood, and the man beside him joined him more slowly.
"This is Thrandroch," Cory said shortly, his voice deceptively soft around the edges. "He's a belligerent, violent moron who won't do as he's told. I've done my best, but he's a lost cause. Not even sure why we kept him, really."
The King came closer, claws clicking on marble, and brought his head low. He darted his enormous tongue out at both of them, uncomfortably close, taking his time to process the smell of him.
"Thrandroch cannot speak," he observed. Gareth, at least, noticed the subtle shift in his tone.
"He keeps spitting acid," Cory said. "I had to take steps."
The end of the King's snout touched Thrandroch's chest contemplatively. Then he stood, raising his head. "You were a good soldier, Cornelius," he said, and Gareth shut his eyes, his tail curling.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Cory said, before the King bit his head off. Followed quickly by the rest of him. He wanted to kill him quickly enough to avoid any screaming, but he also didn't want blood all over the floors. He used to just pick them up in one big bite, but then they'd scream and flail in his mouth, and the whole thing was just horribly undignified. This way it was just a few quick crunches and the problem was solved.
Gareth definitely preferred it this way, without the muffled screams. The crunching, though. He could have done without the crunching. The meaty sound of teeth through flesh wasn't half as troubling as the crunching. Like stepping on a beetle.
"You may kneel, Thrandoch," the King said once he'd finished swallowing. He looked to Grilka. "He is Thrandoch Strongthroat now," he decided, as the man in question fell gratefully to his knees.
"Very good, Your Majesty," Grilka said with an incline of his head.
"Make a note," he added, tail swishing. "Good soldiers make bad managers."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He moved on to Gemmarine Marshrose of the Fell Swamp Marshroses, who eagerly introduced Jaonos Valwynn before apologizing profusely about The Whole Thing With The Carts. Her voice was twice as high and twice as fast as anyone twice her size, and she spoke as much with her hands as with her words. The King sniffed at them both as they spoke. When he offered Jamie his snout, she petted it absentmindedly, still absorbed in her explanation. He withdrew.
"People died, Jamie," he said sternly, and she wilted. "Fortunately, I never cared for them." She perked up. "And I do like the carts. I would like a track around the tallest tower." Jamie and Jaonos gasped, grabbing at each other and nearly hopping in delight. "If you are given an important project," he warned, "and you do not think you can finish, you will tell your supervisor so they can reassign it. We cannot have people jumping out windows with nothing to catch them. It might be someone we like, next time."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Jamie said, bowing at the waist. Jaonos imitated her.
"You may kneel."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." As soon as they were back on the floor, their heads were together, whispering ideas at a rapid pace.
Gareth tensed as the King stood in front of them. "Gareth," he said, and then paused. "Oh, Gareth," he said ruefully, instead of stating his full name. "Stand and explain yourself."
Gareth pulled himself up as gracefully as he thought he could manage. The King was watching him, and Gareth had to tilt his head back to look him in the eye. The enormous eye. "This is Ren," he introduced. "She is still having some difficulty with cultural adjustments," he said carefully, keeping his tail unmoving. "She is sometimes overeager, and her enthusiasm is often greater than her patience. However, I believe she has made great progress in her time here, and she's a valuable asset to the King's Guard even accounting for damages."
The King practically licked him, but Gareth remained still and blank-faced. When the dragon made a thoughtful rumbling sound, his face started to feel a bit hot.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
A dragon's tongue darted at Ren, mouth slightly open to let air pass over his palette, scraps of bloody fabric still caught in his teeth. He gave another thoughtful rumble. He looked at Grilka, who looked very pleased with emself. Then he stood. "Do you have anything to add to this testimony, Ren?" he prompted.
Gareth's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, his tail curling and uncoiling.
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Ren knew Thran, as much as you could know anyone when you only got about an hour a day outside of work before you got locked in your room for twelve hours. She'd seen him at breakfast a lot, because both of them rarely, if ever, got to eat it. She'd never seen anyone other than her get eating privileges taken away that fast. She found herself holding her breath as the king loomed over them.
To say she didn't expect the outcome was a hellish understatement.
She barely muffled her shriek, managing at the last minute to turn it into a panicked squeak, and clutched wildly at Gareth's arm in abject terror, burying her face into his shoulder. His shoulder could not protect her from the sounds, and she was shaking in earnest by the time he'd finished... eating.
She'd changed her mind and decided this was a terrible way to die and she hated everything and everyone and especially that fucking dragon. She managed, barely, to get a hold of herself during the interrogation of the second group. She wasn't shocked, but was quite dismayed and more than a little irritated, at the rather obvious show of preferential treatment. She'd never have spoken a word in defense of the man who got eaten, but she'd spoken a lot in her own defense over the last few months, and she would never have gotten away with 'no one IMPORTANT died.'
Still, at least he had good taste. Their carts had been goddamn brilliant.
Then it was their turn, all too soon. She found she couldn't bear the sight of the King's jaws that close to Gareth. Her fists clenched so tight her nails threatened to draw blood, even short and jagged as they were.
And then, then it was her turn to talk. Gareth had once described her talking as the worst thing about her. There was definitely nothing she could say that would help the situation, probably. Definitely everything her mind was helpfully suggesting was no good. This was surely not the time to start in on a economics lecture. He'd probably bite her in half before she had a chance to make her point, for one. For two... she was not alone up there, and it hadn't been acid-spitting Thran who'd been bit in two.
His breath smelled like blood on the ice. She managed not to shudder, barely, as she stood, still all thin knees and ribs. She made herself look him in the eyes--er... eye, huge fuck-off eye--and took a deep breath. She could practically hear Gareth panicking in her peripheral. Subconsciously, she shifted a half-step in front of him, between him and the teeth, and felt better for it.
"...This one was my fault," she said, voice, miraculously, coming out as bold as ever, even if it was to say something she'd probably never said before outside of directly after a real good 'dressing down' from Gareth. "The boss's done the best he can with me, but I get... real excitable. Get kinda... ahead of myself, sometimes." The main hint to how terrified she was right then was her fists, clenched as tight as Gareth's. "...In my defense, though--" She could literally HEAR Gareth's asshole clench-- "No one died?"
To say she didn't expect the outcome was a hellish understatement.
She barely muffled her shriek, managing at the last minute to turn it into a panicked squeak, and clutched wildly at Gareth's arm in abject terror, burying her face into his shoulder. His shoulder could not protect her from the sounds, and she was shaking in earnest by the time he'd finished... eating.
She'd changed her mind and decided this was a terrible way to die and she hated everything and everyone and especially that fucking dragon. She managed, barely, to get a hold of herself during the interrogation of the second group. She wasn't shocked, but was quite dismayed and more than a little irritated, at the rather obvious show of preferential treatment. She'd never have spoken a word in defense of the man who got eaten, but she'd spoken a lot in her own defense over the last few months, and she would never have gotten away with 'no one IMPORTANT died.'
Still, at least he had good taste. Their carts had been goddamn brilliant.
Then it was their turn, all too soon. She found she couldn't bear the sight of the King's jaws that close to Gareth. Her fists clenched so tight her nails threatened to draw blood, even short and jagged as they were.
And then, then it was her turn to talk. Gareth had once described her talking as the worst thing about her. There was definitely nothing she could say that would help the situation, probably. Definitely everything her mind was helpfully suggesting was no good. This was surely not the time to start in on a economics lecture. He'd probably bite her in half before she had a chance to make her point, for one. For two... she was not alone up there, and it hadn't been acid-spitting Thran who'd been bit in two.
His breath smelled like blood on the ice. She managed not to shudder, barely, as she stood, still all thin knees and ribs. She made herself look him in the eyes--er... eye, huge fuck-off eye--and took a deep breath. She could practically hear Gareth panicking in her peripheral. Subconsciously, she shifted a half-step in front of him, between him and the teeth, and felt better for it.
"...This one was my fault," she said, voice, miraculously, coming out as bold as ever, even if it was to say something she'd probably never said before outside of directly after a real good 'dressing down' from Gareth. "The boss's done the best he can with me, but I get... real excitable. Get kinda... ahead of myself, sometimes." The main hint to how terrified she was right then was her fists, clenched as tight as Gareth's. "...In my defense, though--" She could literally HEAR Gareth's asshole clench-- "No one died?"
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Gareth would have liked to have held her and stroked her hair and reassured her. The King probably would have been delighted. Still, better to adhere to a certain protocol.
Gareth's mouth pressed to a thin line as he noticed Ren trying to stand in front of him. It definitely did not escape the King's notice. One of his brow ridges rose as he glanced at Grilka, who smiled like a snake in a nest. He darted a tongue at Ren again, looking over her outfit and her dainty little fists. Finally, he gave a nod of satisfaction.
She never could just quit while she was ahead.
"I accept your explanations," the King said primly, "and hope that you will both strive to better your performance in the future." He tilted his head. "Ren… Boldheart," he mused.
"No," Gareth said automatically. That could only possibly encourage her.
The King looked him over with a raised brow ridge. "Your objection is noted," he said, "Gareth Fizzgigg of the Everburning Rose." Gareth groaned audibly. "Grilka, update her file."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You may kneel, Gareth and Ren Boldheart. Jamie, Jaonos, you are excused."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," they both said, rising as Gareth fell. The King turned, and headed back to his hoard without another word. Once he'd reached it, he pounced, burrowing into the mound of it as easily as snow. The tip of his tail was the last to disappear beneath the gold. It was a moment later when a man emerged from it, white-skinned and raven-haired, brushing gold from his shoulders. His jacket and waistcoat were black embroidered with gold, his cravat fluffy. There was a crown of gold and opals resting on his hair, the large curls long enough to reach his waist like a capelet. His breeches were skintight, his boots up to his knees as he strode closer to where they knelt. It took longer, since this time he was not an enormous dragon.
"Stand, Thrandoch Strongthroat," he ordered as he came closer. The man in question obeyed, and the King didn't stop until he stood practically chest-to-chest with the man, of an equal height. Thrandoch didn't flinch as the King reached up and around him, unbuckling the muzzle around his face. "We'll not be needing that again," he said with some disgust, tossing it aside. He took Thrandoch's chin in his hand to admire his face better. "You'll be paired with Grilka until we find you a better manager. Ey'll take very good care of you." He let him go, and stepped away. "Take him to new quarters," he said to Grilka, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stood, until there were only three of them there in the throne room.
"Up," he ordered, and Gareth was standing in time to catch the King, who had thrown himself bodily at the half-demon and wrapped his arms dramatically around his shoulders. He smelled like the smoke of burning mint leaves. "Gareeeeth," he whined. "You never pay tribute anymore."
"I've been busy, Your Majesty," he said, patting his shoulders. His tail swished loose behind him.
"That man tasted awful and I hate him," the King complained, his head only just beneath Gareth's chin. "Put something in my mouth, make it better."
Gareth produced a paper-wrapped candy from one of his pockets. The King let him go to claim it with both hands, popping it in his mouth and sucking on it. His teeth were as sharp as they'd been when he was larger, his nails sharp and black, his pupils slits.
"You never come see me," he complained again, around the candy in his mouth, "and you're always busy, and I'm going to burn your house down and eat all of your sheep."
"I only have one sheep, Your Majesty," Gareth pointed out.
"And I'm going to eat all of it," he insisted with a toss of his hair. "And then I'll get you a new sheep, and then I'll eat that one, too."
"No sign of the Knight of the Woods?" Gareth suggested sympathetically.
"No," the King said, biting down on his candy with a crunch, stomping one of his boots. "And I've been King for years now, and I've raised taxes eight times, and I ate all the old Barons and three of the Dukes, and he shouldn't even get to call himself a hero when he hasn't come to try and slay me even once. And! And! Torrie went South to, you know, do spy things, and try to find him, and instead that stupid man jumped out a window without checking to see if the balloon was there first, which it wasn't because Jamie was busy making those carts, so for all I know the Knight of the Woods is busy being in thrall to that necromantic whore and it would serve him right if he was because only an idiot would be enthralled by someone who wears that much perfume. I hate her, and I hate him, and I'm very cross with you and I'm going to burn your stupid house down."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Gareth's mouth pressed to a thin line as he noticed Ren trying to stand in front of him. It definitely did not escape the King's notice. One of his brow ridges rose as he glanced at Grilka, who smiled like a snake in a nest. He darted a tongue at Ren again, looking over her outfit and her dainty little fists. Finally, he gave a nod of satisfaction.
She never could just quit while she was ahead.
"I accept your explanations," the King said primly, "and hope that you will both strive to better your performance in the future." He tilted his head. "Ren… Boldheart," he mused.
"No," Gareth said automatically. That could only possibly encourage her.
The King looked him over with a raised brow ridge. "Your objection is noted," he said, "Gareth Fizzgigg of the Everburning Rose." Gareth groaned audibly. "Grilka, update her file."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You may kneel, Gareth and Ren Boldheart. Jamie, Jaonos, you are excused."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," they both said, rising as Gareth fell. The King turned, and headed back to his hoard without another word. Once he'd reached it, he pounced, burrowing into the mound of it as easily as snow. The tip of his tail was the last to disappear beneath the gold. It was a moment later when a man emerged from it, white-skinned and raven-haired, brushing gold from his shoulders. His jacket and waistcoat were black embroidered with gold, his cravat fluffy. There was a crown of gold and opals resting on his hair, the large curls long enough to reach his waist like a capelet. His breeches were skintight, his boots up to his knees as he strode closer to where they knelt. It took longer, since this time he was not an enormous dragon.
"Stand, Thrandoch Strongthroat," he ordered as he came closer. The man in question obeyed, and the King didn't stop until he stood practically chest-to-chest with the man, of an equal height. Thrandoch didn't flinch as the King reached up and around him, unbuckling the muzzle around his face. "We'll not be needing that again," he said with some disgust, tossing it aside. He took Thrandoch's chin in his hand to admire his face better. "You'll be paired with Grilka until we find you a better manager. Ey'll take very good care of you." He let him go, and stepped away. "Take him to new quarters," he said to Grilka, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stood, until there were only three of them there in the throne room.
"Up," he ordered, and Gareth was standing in time to catch the King, who had thrown himself bodily at the half-demon and wrapped his arms dramatically around his shoulders. He smelled like the smoke of burning mint leaves. "Gareeeeth," he whined. "You never pay tribute anymore."
"I've been busy, Your Majesty," he said, patting his shoulders. His tail swished loose behind him.
"That man tasted awful and I hate him," the King complained, his head only just beneath Gareth's chin. "Put something in my mouth, make it better."
Gareth produced a paper-wrapped candy from one of his pockets. The King let him go to claim it with both hands, popping it in his mouth and sucking on it. His teeth were as sharp as they'd been when he was larger, his nails sharp and black, his pupils slits.
"You never come see me," he complained again, around the candy in his mouth, "and you're always busy, and I'm going to burn your house down and eat all of your sheep."
"I only have one sheep, Your Majesty," Gareth pointed out.
"And I'm going to eat all of it," he insisted with a toss of his hair. "And then I'll get you a new sheep, and then I'll eat that one, too."
"No sign of the Knight of the Woods?" Gareth suggested sympathetically.
"No," the King said, biting down on his candy with a crunch, stomping one of his boots. "And I've been King for years now, and I've raised taxes eight times, and I ate all the old Barons and three of the Dukes, and he shouldn't even get to call himself a hero when he hasn't come to try and slay me even once. And! And! Torrie went South to, you know, do spy things, and try to find him, and instead that stupid man jumped out a window without checking to see if the balloon was there first, which it wasn't because Jamie was busy making those carts, so for all I know the Knight of the Woods is busy being in thrall to that necromantic whore and it would serve him right if he was because only an idiot would be enthralled by someone who wears that much perfume. I hate her, and I hate him, and I'm very cross with you and I'm going to burn your stupid house down."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
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She blinked in baffled confusion. Had he just given her a last name? ...What in the fuck was she supposed to do with that? She was pretty sure she could legally own property now, but also, she was in jail, so, uh...
She silently mouthed "fizzgigg of the everburning rose" a few times, the shock on her face breaking into one of delight. A brief, devilish glance at Gareth said all she needed to about everything Ren Boldheart intended to do with this new information. It took her a full second to kneel after Gareth had, still confused as to what had happened and why. That confusion didn't exactly lessen.
She hadn't known the king could do that, at all, but it did make a lot of what she'd heard about him fucking most of his royal court seem a lot more plausible. She'd been kind of concerned on that front, honestly. He was tall for a human but probably not that tall for anything else. Shorter than Gareth, her measure for 'tall' these days.
Thrandoch was given new quarters and a new case manager, and Ren felt a bitter stab of jealousy. She knew things wouldn't go similarly well for her if she mentioned her own woes, and it wouldn't do Gareth any damn favors either, but envy was still a sour taste on her tongue. He was dismissed, then the others, even Grilka, but to Ren's surprise, not the two of them. Whatever she had suspected would happen next... She was one hundred percent wrong.
She watched the display with increasing bafflement. She glanced between Gareth and the King, confused and then affronted and then jealous and then just exhausted. This was the King? This petulant little whiner? This decadent fop was the ultimate source of her woes, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he was climbing all over her--
Boss. He was climbing all over her boss, she reminded herself, and that affection was probably the reason she was still alive and had a last name to boot. Of course it was nepotism; how could it be anything but? How could she think, even for a second, that it had anything at all to do with her.
"He never gives me candy," she muttered under her breath, unaware that she'd even said it out loud.
She silently mouthed "fizzgigg of the everburning rose" a few times, the shock on her face breaking into one of delight. A brief, devilish glance at Gareth said all she needed to about everything Ren Boldheart intended to do with this new information. It took her a full second to kneel after Gareth had, still confused as to what had happened and why. That confusion didn't exactly lessen.
She hadn't known the king could do that, at all, but it did make a lot of what she'd heard about him fucking most of his royal court seem a lot more plausible. She'd been kind of concerned on that front, honestly. He was tall for a human but probably not that tall for anything else. Shorter than Gareth, her measure for 'tall' these days.
Thrandoch was given new quarters and a new case manager, and Ren felt a bitter stab of jealousy. She knew things wouldn't go similarly well for her if she mentioned her own woes, and it wouldn't do Gareth any damn favors either, but envy was still a sour taste on her tongue. He was dismissed, then the others, even Grilka, but to Ren's surprise, not the two of them. Whatever she had suspected would happen next... She was one hundred percent wrong.
She watched the display with increasing bafflement. She glanced between Gareth and the King, confused and then affronted and then jealous and then just exhausted. This was the King? This petulant little whiner? This decadent fop was the ultimate source of her woes, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he was climbing all over her--
Boss. He was climbing all over her boss, she reminded herself, and that affection was probably the reason she was still alive and had a last name to boot. Of course it was nepotism; how could it be anything but? How could she think, even for a second, that it had anything at all to do with her.
"He never gives me candy," she muttered under her breath, unaware that she'd even said it out loud.
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The King looked at Gareth with eyes reproachfully wide. "Never?" he asked, and Gareth sighed.
"She never asks," Gareth said, producing another two candies from his pocket so they could each have one. The King pushed Gareth's hand toward Ren so she could have both.
"He only gives me candy half the time," he said, "when he's being a prude." He prodded at Gareth's ribs with a sharp nail. Then he tapped his fingertips along his jaw, looking at them both. "The outfits," he said admiringly. "You're a set! I love it. But she's so small. I didn't notice before, because you were both small, but this one really is a nibble of a thing. How do you even fit?"
Gareth rubbed at his face. He knew it. He fucking knew that he knew. He'd smelled it on them, of course he had.
The tip of the King's tongue briefly emerged from between his teeth before he remembered that wasn't how he worked. He inhaled instead, prodigious and aquiline nose catching the scent of her on the air. "You're all over her," he marveled. "Not that that's saying much, considering…" He made some vague size-related gestures. "Gareth, that's terrible," he said, pulling on Gareth's wrist to try and see his face. "You're supposed to know better, you know, I'll take her away from you if you can't control yourself."
"Avi, please," Gareth muttered, muffled by his own hand, which the King wasn't actually moving. He tended to err on the side of too-gentle after a few incidents with bruising, which had followed a few incidents of limb-rending.
"You don't deserve her," the King decided, emboldened by Gareth's protestations. "I'll put her in the tallest tower—no, that's the one my cart's going on. The second tallest tower! The second tallest tower, and I'll have them make posters for all around the kingdom about the fair maiden, and there will be a grand party and all the Knights of the realm will fight for her favor—"
"Your Majesty," Gareth said, dragging his hand down his face, "you're getting ahead of yourself again."
"Knights love to save damsels!" the King protested, exhaling smoke through his nose. "It's the law!"
"That's not the law."
"I'll make it the law!"
"Your Majesty," Gareth said, "don't you have a meeting with a prospective Duke today?" The faster he got Ren away from the King's imagination, the better. Particularly looking as sullen as she was.
"No," the King scowled, hands on his hips. "That was yesterday and not only was the man not interested in me but he brought a girl and she was a hatchling and he wouldn't shut up about how she was a virgin, which was gross, so I ate him. And there wasn't anyone to bring me candy afterward! Just a girl. I'm running out of room for all these hatchlings. I think I'm going to conquer Crithe."
"I don't think that will solve the problem."
"That's what Grilka keeps saying, but I've seen their castle and it's very large and it could fit a lot of hatchlings in it. All I have to do is eat their King, and that won't be difficult. Though he does look old, and stringy, and I don't care for that. I'll put the hatchlings in the castle and I'll put Ren Boldheart in the tallest tower and—"
"Your Majesty."
"She never asks," Gareth said, producing another two candies from his pocket so they could each have one. The King pushed Gareth's hand toward Ren so she could have both.
"He only gives me candy half the time," he said, "when he's being a prude." He prodded at Gareth's ribs with a sharp nail. Then he tapped his fingertips along his jaw, looking at them both. "The outfits," he said admiringly. "You're a set! I love it. But she's so small. I didn't notice before, because you were both small, but this one really is a nibble of a thing. How do you even fit?"
Gareth rubbed at his face. He knew it. He fucking knew that he knew. He'd smelled it on them, of course he had.
The tip of the King's tongue briefly emerged from between his teeth before he remembered that wasn't how he worked. He inhaled instead, prodigious and aquiline nose catching the scent of her on the air. "You're all over her," he marveled. "Not that that's saying much, considering…" He made some vague size-related gestures. "Gareth, that's terrible," he said, pulling on Gareth's wrist to try and see his face. "You're supposed to know better, you know, I'll take her away from you if you can't control yourself."
"Avi, please," Gareth muttered, muffled by his own hand, which the King wasn't actually moving. He tended to err on the side of too-gentle after a few incidents with bruising, which had followed a few incidents of limb-rending.
"You don't deserve her," the King decided, emboldened by Gareth's protestations. "I'll put her in the tallest tower—no, that's the one my cart's going on. The second tallest tower! The second tallest tower, and I'll have them make posters for all around the kingdom about the fair maiden, and there will be a grand party and all the Knights of the realm will fight for her favor—"
"Your Majesty," Gareth said, dragging his hand down his face, "you're getting ahead of yourself again."
"Knights love to save damsels!" the King protested, exhaling smoke through his nose. "It's the law!"
"That's not the law."
"I'll make it the law!"
"Your Majesty," Gareth said, "don't you have a meeting with a prospective Duke today?" The faster he got Ren away from the King's imagination, the better. Particularly looking as sullen as she was.
"No," the King scowled, hands on his hips. "That was yesterday and not only was the man not interested in me but he brought a girl and she was a hatchling and he wouldn't shut up about how she was a virgin, which was gross, so I ate him. And there wasn't anyone to bring me candy afterward! Just a girl. I'm running out of room for all these hatchlings. I think I'm going to conquer Crithe."
"I don't think that will solve the problem."
"That's what Grilka keeps saying, but I've seen their castle and it's very large and it could fit a lot of hatchlings in it. All I have to do is eat their King, and that won't be difficult. Though he does look old, and stringy, and I don't care for that. I'll put the hatchlings in the castle and I'll put Ren Boldheart in the tallest tower and—"
"Your Majesty."
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"Why would I ask fer candy." She pouted, but didn't clarify her reasoning, which was that asking your jailer for candy was ludicrous and also she hated being told no. Nonetheless, she eagerly took both candies, unwrapping one partway and giving it a small lick before tossing the whole thing in her mouth. It had more sugar than she believed she'd had in about a year. No one let her have sugar, for many reasons, several of which Gareth was about to discover.
She didn't like being called a nibble, in this context or any other, but was too distracted with opportunities for mischief to bring it up. "He's super determined. D'you know he's put me in the healer's twice?" Neither one had been just his dick's doing, and were at least in part because she refused to stop yanking on his horns when possible, but it was technically true as it was so she let the implication run wild and free. "He's always tellin' me, 'Ren, just because it can fit doesn't mean it should fit' but just you catch him around my ass in those idiot skirts they make me wear, and see how quick 'is tune changes. Suddenly he's a round peg 'n' I'm a square hole an' he's got th' will to make it happen."
She had questions about this tower, and whether or not she would be given access to professional grade fuel for once in her goddamn life. She was pretty sure it was as much of a whim as his house-burning and sheep-eating, however, and a much more pressing opportunity was rapidly presenting itself. She had been training for this moment her whole life, entirely accidentally.
"Tha' seems like a very pressing issue, yer highness," she mused, in a tone of voice that probably set off a thousand warning bells in Gareth's head. "But if I may, I think yer solution might be found in domestic policy. After all, if ya go an' conquer Crithe, that's jus' gonna be more Dukes with more girls and yer gonna get a headache. But y'got a lot of land right here in Aeris, yer majesty, and all kindsa big empty buildings. Why, if ya needed a place to store all these kids yer savin' from awful Dukes, y'can just have one built. Give it a fancy name, like, say, a vocational orphanage, and y'can have these, uh, hatchlin's, taken care of 'n' fed 'n' trained in a useful profession so they don't fall in with any other shady Dukes, all without havin' to do it all yerself. Gives ya more time for Duke-in' without all the kids around, y'know."
She didn't like being called a nibble, in this context or any other, but was too distracted with opportunities for mischief to bring it up. "He's super determined. D'you know he's put me in the healer's twice?" Neither one had been just his dick's doing, and were at least in part because she refused to stop yanking on his horns when possible, but it was technically true as it was so she let the implication run wild and free. "He's always tellin' me, 'Ren, just because it can fit doesn't mean it should fit' but just you catch him around my ass in those idiot skirts they make me wear, and see how quick 'is tune changes. Suddenly he's a round peg 'n' I'm a square hole an' he's got th' will to make it happen."
She had questions about this tower, and whether or not she would be given access to professional grade fuel for once in her goddamn life. She was pretty sure it was as much of a whim as his house-burning and sheep-eating, however, and a much more pressing opportunity was rapidly presenting itself. She had been training for this moment her whole life, entirely accidentally.
"Tha' seems like a very pressing issue, yer highness," she mused, in a tone of voice that probably set off a thousand warning bells in Gareth's head. "But if I may, I think yer solution might be found in domestic policy. After all, if ya go an' conquer Crithe, that's jus' gonna be more Dukes with more girls and yer gonna get a headache. But y'got a lot of land right here in Aeris, yer majesty, and all kindsa big empty buildings. Why, if ya needed a place to store all these kids yer savin' from awful Dukes, y'can just have one built. Give it a fancy name, like, say, a vocational orphanage, and y'can have these, uh, hatchlin's, taken care of 'n' fed 'n' trained in a useful profession so they don't fall in with any other shady Dukes, all without havin' to do it all yerself. Gives ya more time for Duke-in' without all the kids around, y'know."
"Gareth," the King scolded, as the man in question turned darker shades of red. Then he frowned, looking Ren over. "You do like it, don't you?" he asked, giving Gareth a wary look. "You must come pay tribute more often, if you're hurting her," he warned, reaching up to touch the ring on Gareth's horn. "That isn't like you." He sighed. "Oh, but the skirts are so cute, aren't they? Trinh is the only one who comes to see me in that uniform, I ought to make more people wear it. Or maybe make another uniform just for tribute! With a fluffy skirt and stockings." His eyes glittered at the prospect.
Gareth's eyes shot daggers over the King's head, but the King started to yawn just as soon as the words 'domestic policy' came out of her mouth. "Too complicated," he decided with a wave of his hand, swooning against Gareth again. "You people complicate things too much."
The King could never be bothered with actual policy or even complex discussions in this form, but it wasn't something Gareth could easily have warned her of. He was much more attentive in his other form.
Really, he was.
Regardless, Gareth could almost guess how well Ren would handle the King's being so dismissive. "How about," he suggested tactfully, "Ren writes up a proposal, and Grilka can bring it to Your Majesty during the next court meeting?" The motion of his tail had slowed.
The King pulled the ribbon out of Gareth's hair to let it fall loose. "Uuuuugh. Proposals. I'm going to eat the King of Crithe, and all his gross Dukes, and then I'm going to go see Rosey and get all her best girls and make them Duchesses."
Mistress Rose's brothel had been losing a lot of girls to the gentry, lately.
"You only have to consider it, Your Majesty," Gareth said gently.
The King's 'harrumph' came with smoke, winding Gareth's hair ribbon around his fingers. "I'm bored, Gareth," he complained. "It's small and boring and everything stinks of mammals. Your cities are terrible and I should burn it so you can build a good nest instead of all these stupid smelly burning houses."
Gareth lowered his head. "I can come see you later, if that would help," he said, risking the briefest glance at Ren. His hair had fallen half in front of his face.
The King perked up immediately. "Promise?"
Gareth's eyes shot daggers over the King's head, but the King started to yawn just as soon as the words 'domestic policy' came out of her mouth. "Too complicated," he decided with a wave of his hand, swooning against Gareth again. "You people complicate things too much."
The King could never be bothered with actual policy or even complex discussions in this form, but it wasn't something Gareth could easily have warned her of. He was much more attentive in his other form.
Really, he was.
Regardless, Gareth could almost guess how well Ren would handle the King's being so dismissive. "How about," he suggested tactfully, "Ren writes up a proposal, and Grilka can bring it to Your Majesty during the next court meeting?" The motion of his tail had slowed.
The King pulled the ribbon out of Gareth's hair to let it fall loose. "Uuuuugh. Proposals. I'm going to eat the King of Crithe, and all his gross Dukes, and then I'm going to go see Rosey and get all her best girls and make them Duchesses."
Mistress Rose's brothel had been losing a lot of girls to the gentry, lately.
"You only have to consider it, Your Majesty," Gareth said gently.
The King's 'harrumph' came with smoke, winding Gareth's hair ribbon around his fingers. "I'm bored, Gareth," he complained. "It's small and boring and everything stinks of mammals. Your cities are terrible and I should burn it so you can build a good nest instead of all these stupid smelly burning houses."
Gareth lowered his head. "I can come see you later, if that would help," he said, risking the briefest glance at Ren. His hair had fallen half in front of his face.
The King perked up immediately. "Promise?"
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Gareth's prediction of her mood was right on the money, but she was showing an uncharacteristic amount of wisdom. Something about seeing a dude get straight up eaten could do that to a girl. Her eyes flashed with irritation, but she wasn't going to give up that easily. She'd just met the King. She could learn how to do what Gareth was doing, maybe, or something similar. She wasn't going to yell at him just because he was annoying her.
"He's not pent up; I'm just really obnoxious," she explained, helpfully. This was her equivalent of throwing Gareth a bone. She was, after all, still very aware that the intestine-bruising they got up to was very different from what Gareth had with other people... including the king, apparently, which he'd never mentioned.
To be honest, a proposal sounded horribly boring to her, too, when he could just wave his hand... claw... whatever... and make it so, but she was willing to put in the effort if that's what it took. If she could just convince him of one idea, the King might realize how much nicer it was which such things out of his hair, and voila, sweeping social change. Also, most of her political debates these days happened while getting absolutely reamed, and that was significantly more fun. She wondered if that concept would be any more appealing to the King, but had absolutely no idea how to suggest it. She'd figure it out, though. She was inexplicably near the King, and she was going to take advantage of that, goddamnit.
Which was the other reason she was putting up with this, other than general fear of being eaten. She shoved the second candy in her mouth to override the sour taste of jealousy. She couldn't pull his ribbon out like that. If she'd tried, he would have gotten mad at her and told her to focus on work. She wanted what he had. Both of them, frankly, but bitterness was a pill she was getting better at choking down.
But it would serve stupid Gareth right if she just went up into the King's tallest tower and got fought over by knights and never looked at a demon ever again in her life. Unfortunately for her, knights were horribly boring and all smelled like polishing oil and sweat. Gareth smelled like wood smoke and cologne and his hair looked way better down. When he glanced her way, she tried to look unbothered, badly. She hated when he could tell things about her, and wished she was better at keeping her emotions off her face. She leaned back to sprawl on the floor, sick of kneeling.
"Would it help if I wore a fluffy skirt?" she said, barely managing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Would it help if he wore a fluffy skirt?" She didn't think she could get Grilka to wear one, and it wouldn't look right on em anyway.
"He's not pent up; I'm just really obnoxious," she explained, helpfully. This was her equivalent of throwing Gareth a bone. She was, after all, still very aware that the intestine-bruising they got up to was very different from what Gareth had with other people... including the king, apparently, which he'd never mentioned.
To be honest, a proposal sounded horribly boring to her, too, when he could just wave his hand... claw... whatever... and make it so, but she was willing to put in the effort if that's what it took. If she could just convince him of one idea, the King might realize how much nicer it was which such things out of his hair, and voila, sweeping social change. Also, most of her political debates these days happened while getting absolutely reamed, and that was significantly more fun. She wondered if that concept would be any more appealing to the King, but had absolutely no idea how to suggest it. She'd figure it out, though. She was inexplicably near the King, and she was going to take advantage of that, goddamnit.
Which was the other reason she was putting up with this, other than general fear of being eaten. She shoved the second candy in her mouth to override the sour taste of jealousy. She couldn't pull his ribbon out like that. If she'd tried, he would have gotten mad at her and told her to focus on work. She wanted what he had. Both of them, frankly, but bitterness was a pill she was getting better at choking down.
But it would serve stupid Gareth right if she just went up into the King's tallest tower and got fought over by knights and never looked at a demon ever again in her life. Unfortunately for her, knights were horribly boring and all smelled like polishing oil and sweat. Gareth smelled like wood smoke and cologne and his hair looked way better down. When he glanced her way, she tried to look unbothered, badly. She hated when he could tell things about her, and wished she was better at keeping her emotions off her face. She leaned back to sprawl on the floor, sick of kneeling.
"Would it help if I wore a fluffy skirt?" she said, barely managing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Would it help if he wore a fluffy skirt?" She didn't think she could get Grilka to wear one, and it wouldn't look right on em anyway.
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"She's a brat," Gareth clarified.
"Aaah." There was a spark of interest in the King's regard. Gareth's eyes widened at Ren's suggestion, but the King latched onto it before he could stop him. "Will you come, too?" he asked eagerly. He turned back to Gareth. "Will you bring her?"
"I don't think that's—"
"You should bring her," he pressed. "We can go now, I've already eaten."
"Your Majesty," Gareth warned, tail curling.
"I'll consider the proposal," the King offered, hooking his fingers in Gareth's belt to press his hips against him. "I'll show it to all of the experts and everyone involved in logistical considerations and we'll take it very seriously."
Shit. There was no way Ren would turn that down, and the gleam in the King's eye said that he knew it.
"We can go to the dungeon!" the King suggested.
"Not the dungeon," Gareth said.
The King wilted, but only a little. "I suppose she's new," he said, and Gareth nodded as if that were the problem. "A room, then," the King said. "I have lots of rooms."
Gareth wanted to refuse on Ren's behalf, but he could tell he was outnumbered. "You'll have to ask her yourself, Your Majesty," he said, instead of assenting. He refused to be responsible.
The King pounced without hesitation, knocking Ren flat to the floor in his haste, hands on her shoulders and long legs tangled with her shorter ones. His curls tumbled down around her face, his eyes unnaturally bright.
"Will you join us?"
"Aaah." There was a spark of interest in the King's regard. Gareth's eyes widened at Ren's suggestion, but the King latched onto it before he could stop him. "Will you come, too?" he asked eagerly. He turned back to Gareth. "Will you bring her?"
"I don't think that's—"
"You should bring her," he pressed. "We can go now, I've already eaten."
"Your Majesty," Gareth warned, tail curling.
"I'll consider the proposal," the King offered, hooking his fingers in Gareth's belt to press his hips against him. "I'll show it to all of the experts and everyone involved in logistical considerations and we'll take it very seriously."
Shit. There was no way Ren would turn that down, and the gleam in the King's eye said that he knew it.
"We can go to the dungeon!" the King suggested.
"Not the dungeon," Gareth said.
The King wilted, but only a little. "I suppose she's new," he said, and Gareth nodded as if that were the problem. "A room, then," the King said. "I have lots of rooms."
Gareth wanted to refuse on Ren's behalf, but he could tell he was outnumbered. "You'll have to ask her yourself, Your Majesty," he said, instead of assenting. He refused to be responsible.
The King pounced without hesitation, knocking Ren flat to the floor in his haste, hands on her shoulders and long legs tangled with her shorter ones. His curls tumbled down around her face, his eyes unnaturally bright.
"Will you join us?"
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"I make brats look like teacher's pets," she interjected in a quick clarification. "I am a hellion."
Something about this caught the King's interest, and something about that caught hers, as Gareth had probably feared. The look of concern in her eye was intriguing for a number of reasons, not least of all because she was angry with him and wanted to upset him. Not that she'd ever admit it, but it was also because she didn't want him to go anywhere alone with the king. Out of jealousy, yes, but also a continued defensiveness that said, in the back of her mind, that if she let her eyes off him for a moment, he might turn back into a giant dragon and eat someone.
Of course, all he'd really needed to say was 'consider the proposal.' She opened her mouth to interject an agreement--she'd fuckin' go alone if Gareth was gonna be a prude about it--when he said the word 'dungeon' and her mouth snapped shut, wondering if she hadn't extremely misunderstood the proposal at hand.
It sounded like sex. But she was unclear on these things, and Gareth hadn't helped, blurring the lines between sex and punishment and reward and work until she never knew where she stood.
Gareth had no more than passed her the buck, when the King--who was smaller now, yes, but still very large in comparison to her--full on tackled her to the ground. She let out a deflating squeak of alarm, a scream that had once again considered better last minute. She wondered if he knew he still pounced like a predator even in his human body. Dazed, she stared up at him, his long hair falling in artful whorls around them, feeling a bit like the walls of a trap. His eyes were a shade of blue that humans' eyes didn't get to, although her own ice blue tried their best, blown wide and staring as if maybe a little dazed. Or hypnotized. His pupils were slitted, an unceasing reminder--along with his teeth and nails--of what she was dealing with. As if she could forget.
She was very unclear of what she was agreeing to, but she hadn't gotten anywhere in life by playing it safe (because she had literally never played it safe even once).
"Certainly, yer Majesty. And he'll have t'come, because he ain't allowed to let me out of his sight the whole time I'm outta the complex." She felt it was important the King knew this, not for her own safety, but so that he knew he could make Gareth do things by dragging her around.
Something about this caught the King's interest, and something about that caught hers, as Gareth had probably feared. The look of concern in her eye was intriguing for a number of reasons, not least of all because she was angry with him and wanted to upset him. Not that she'd ever admit it, but it was also because she didn't want him to go anywhere alone with the king. Out of jealousy, yes, but also a continued defensiveness that said, in the back of her mind, that if she let her eyes off him for a moment, he might turn back into a giant dragon and eat someone.
Of course, all he'd really needed to say was 'consider the proposal.' She opened her mouth to interject an agreement--she'd fuckin' go alone if Gareth was gonna be a prude about it--when he said the word 'dungeon' and her mouth snapped shut, wondering if she hadn't extremely misunderstood the proposal at hand.
It sounded like sex. But she was unclear on these things, and Gareth hadn't helped, blurring the lines between sex and punishment and reward and work until she never knew where she stood.
Gareth had no more than passed her the buck, when the King--who was smaller now, yes, but still very large in comparison to her--full on tackled her to the ground. She let out a deflating squeak of alarm, a scream that had once again considered better last minute. She wondered if he knew he still pounced like a predator even in his human body. Dazed, she stared up at him, his long hair falling in artful whorls around them, feeling a bit like the walls of a trap. His eyes were a shade of blue that humans' eyes didn't get to, although her own ice blue tried their best, blown wide and staring as if maybe a little dazed. Or hypnotized. His pupils were slitted, an unceasing reminder--along with his teeth and nails--of what she was dealing with. As if she could forget.
She was very unclear of what she was agreeing to, but she hadn't gotten anywhere in life by playing it safe (because she had literally never played it safe even once).
"Certainly, yer Majesty. And he'll have t'come, because he ain't allowed to let me out of his sight the whole time I'm outta the complex." She felt it was important the King knew this, not for her own safety, but so that he knew he could make Gareth do things by dragging her around.
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The King buried his face in her neck without warning, breathing deeply, her pulse against his cheek. Then he rose up to kneel, grinning sharp. "Wonderful!" he said. "Gareth, will you bring me my cape?" he asked. He gestured vaguely toward the hoard. "It's over there—the white one, with the fur."
Gareth wasn't sure how he felt about the King looming over Ren on the floor like that. Something hot under his skin. He didn't want to leave them alone. He wanted to think that the man wouldn't just ravish her on the throne room floor, but it wasn't as if it would be the first time.
But he was the King, and he was a dragon, and Gareth knew better than to overestimate his own importance.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. He took long steps to make his absence shorter.
The King watched him go, until he was sure he was far enough. Then he bent back over Ren, his hands on the floor beside her waist, his nose nearly touching hers.
"You don't like me," he purred, his voice low and silky. He walked his fingers up her waistcoat. "I know a prey animal when I smell one." He stopped short of her throat, hand resting flat above her collarbones.
"I've learned you people don't take me seriously, because I say it so casually. But it really would be that easy to burn this city to the ground." He grinned, smoke through his teeth. "There used to be a field here," tracing her jaw with the point of a nail. "Full of wildflowers. Flowers I've never seen anywhere else, beside this river. And you built a city over them." His thumbnail followed her lower lip. "I think that I miss those flowers more than I'd ever miss any of you. I'll burn it someday, when this game stops being fun. How fun will you be to play with, do you think, little Boldheart?"
Gareth wasn't sure how he felt about the King looming over Ren on the floor like that. Something hot under his skin. He didn't want to leave them alone. He wanted to think that the man wouldn't just ravish her on the throne room floor, but it wasn't as if it would be the first time.
But he was the King, and he was a dragon, and Gareth knew better than to overestimate his own importance.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. He took long steps to make his absence shorter.
The King watched him go, until he was sure he was far enough. Then he bent back over Ren, his hands on the floor beside her waist, his nose nearly touching hers.
"You don't like me," he purred, his voice low and silky. He walked his fingers up her waistcoat. "I know a prey animal when I smell one." He stopped short of her throat, hand resting flat above her collarbones.
"I've learned you people don't take me seriously, because I say it so casually. But it really would be that easy to burn this city to the ground." He grinned, smoke through his teeth. "There used to be a field here," tracing her jaw with the point of a nail. "Full of wildflowers. Flowers I've never seen anywhere else, beside this river. And you built a city over them." His thumbnail followed her lower lip. "I think that I miss those flowers more than I'd ever miss any of you. I'll burn it someday, when this game stops being fun. How fun will you be to play with, do you think, little Boldheart?"
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She hadn't wanted Gareth to be alone with the King, and had therefore not even slightly considered the realities of being alone with him herself. Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned back over her, and her heart started hammering away like a hummingbird's--or a rat's--at this first four words. Shit. She always had been real bad at hiding her emotions.
For a moment, she was frozen, nailed to the spot in much the same way Grilka could do to her, except bigger and worse.
But she was, by her own admission, a hellion, and that was an instinct that was bred deeper into her bones than any connection with any rats at all.
"I didn't build shit; I'm like twenty," she said, voice coming out strangely breathy. She wasn't sure why, and she couldn't look away from his too-blue predator's eyes. "I hate this city and I beat you to setting it on fire. But mine didn't keep, so let's hope I'm enough fun to warrant bein' warned before you start settin' fires." She blinked, slowly, wide eyes not betraying the primal fear that had her paralyzed. Some things were so terrible that they were beautiful, and he was a prettier death than she'd ever been threatened with before.
"Also, your Highness," she added, almost as an after thought. "Rats are omnivores. They hunt in packs and eat things dozens of times their size. Everythin' just smells like prey when yer on top of the chain."
For a moment, she was frozen, nailed to the spot in much the same way Grilka could do to her, except bigger and worse.
But she was, by her own admission, a hellion, and that was an instinct that was bred deeper into her bones than any connection with any rats at all.
"I didn't build shit; I'm like twenty," she said, voice coming out strangely breathy. She wasn't sure why, and she couldn't look away from his too-blue predator's eyes. "I hate this city and I beat you to setting it on fire. But mine didn't keep, so let's hope I'm enough fun to warrant bein' warned before you start settin' fires." She blinked, slowly, wide eyes not betraying the primal fear that had her paralyzed. Some things were so terrible that they were beautiful, and he was a prettier death than she'd ever been threatened with before.
"Also, your Highness," she added, almost as an after thought. "Rats are omnivores. They hunt in packs and eat things dozens of times their size. Everythin' just smells like prey when yer on top of the chain."
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