A Black Place within

Oswuld stood in the void, his eyes graced by the familiar sight of his vast and ever-growing collection, silhouettes presented clearly, but details obscured by the shadow of his abyssal dreamscape.

Most were sleek, some beautiful, some with fiery hair, a couple with locks of pure gold, a few were sensuous of form; unbelievably sexy, others were fairly plump with big juicy breasts and unshaven slits hidden between their legs, however, the majority of them boasted a simple beauty, curvaceous and big breasted, they had dark mahogany hair and shaved cunts, even now after all of these years he could remember some of them, Uther always used to say

“Brown hair and a fat ass and You’ll lose Your head, huh Ozzy?”

Just thinking back to the good old days gave him pleasant dreams, Oswuld missed his Brother, King Uther, more than anything.

“Goodbye, Ozzy...”

The word’s echoed in the nothingness as he remembered them, reverberating In every direction, though, Oz could have sworn that he could hear something else?

Far away in the vista of silence, far from Oz and the Castle, a deep roaring began to echo in the distance, Oz shifted his eyes to gaze upon what had invaded his mind.

Soaring on the currents of onyx, blazing a brilliant silver and flickering with volatile flame, was a great Beast, one so large and bright that even at a distance, the ashen shadow of its eyes could be seen staring viciously.

Oswuld eyed the thing grimly as the Beast opened its jaws, the ear-shattering roar filling his ears as it’s burning scales shone so brightly that it illuminated the darkness.

When Oz opened his eyes, He did not feel the warmth of his woman beside him, only the warmth of the Virgin sun’s gentle rays shining on his naked skin.

Oz hated waking up alone, He would kill to watch his lover wake beside him, see her lazy morning smile and ogle at her perfect bulbous breasts, molest her little pussy until Harry had to break his door down, but even with the rumours circulating, they couldn’t officially be seen being intimate until The Boy was King, it would be a long while before he could see that dream come true… dreams, Oz had Dreamt, But Oz was not the Dragon that Uther was, recalling the happening of his dreamscape was difficult, though the lingering fear leftover was clear as day in Oswuld's mind.

Oz jumped out of his silk laden sheets, taking in a deep breath of air; stretching his muscles in the light of the new day, sure his bones were getting a little old, but Oz would be damned if that would ever stop him from enjoying the morning sun.

The Lord-Regent pulled on his black breeches, the tightly fitting fabric sticking to his strong legs, accompanied by a belt, it’s dark grey buckle emblazoned with the sleeping Dragon of his House.

After strapping on his long thick leather boots, the Lord-Regent gathered his shoulder-length iron-grey hair, brushing and binding it behind his head in a tight half ponytail.

Oswuld lingered as his reflection looked back at him with golden eyes, “Gotten a bit broad,” He said contemplating his slightly fatty stomach but smiled when flexing his biceps, watching as they inflated with the still powerful muscle, it was true that the Lord-Regent had lost his abs and wasn’t exactly statuesque anymore, but He was an older man now, such a thing didn’t matter as long as he was still strong and his family still loved him.

The Lord’s nose, however, had not become any less keen, picking up a faint, although familiar scent: the subtlest of lavender perfumes.

He grinned under his beard “I can smell Your Perfume.” He muttered as He turned to see just what He expected.