A Green Dragon surrounding a red gem.

You pick the yellow banner with a green dragon on it. The dragon takes up most of the banner's space, standing tall and imposing with a large, red, oblong square diamond gem in the middle of the banner held in its claws. Within that red diamond is a symbol of a black crown. You take down the banner and wrap it around yourself, and you sit down by the fire.

But then you remember, you weren't always a dragon, technically you never were, but you inherited the form when you slayed Daldrynth, the green dragon that routinely kidnapped princesses from neighboring human kingdoms. However, you weren't a knight in shining armor looking to rescue a princess (or multiple in this case). No, you were an aspiring warlord who needed gold to pay his men to fight for him. You remember the anger and frustration you felt when you discovered that the dragon hoarded princesses instead of gold. Out of desperation, you and your men decided to kill the dragon and hoped to sell the corpse and ransom the princesses back to their homes to recoup the cost of invading his lair.

When you delivered the final blow to the dragon, something took over you, and you went to eat the dragon's heart. When you did, you felt power flood through your body as the dragon's corpse dissolved and was absorbed into you. With this newfound power, you conquered the neighboring lands and turned them into vassal states, swearing fealty to you.

When one of your vassals cannot pay their taxes for your protection, they offer you a virgin maiden as payment, typically their oldest daughter. You're fairly certain that your decision to accept this form of alternate payment is an influence of the dragon's remains. Having gained a greater appreciation for the female form since absorbing the dragon, you can't refuse the temptation.

You sigh as you lean back in your sitting position, staring at the fire as it dances. Its graceful movement entrances you as the banner you wear and the forest around you melts away. The banner turns into fine clothes as you sit upon a throne, and the fire becomes a beautiful dancer. She is dressed in scant clothing, a translucent veil covering the lower half of her face, with more tied around her wrists and ankles, much of her skin covered in small, glittering jewels, all of it evoking the imagery of a graceful flame. Her long black hair flows around her like a heavy smoke, adding to her allure.

She bats her eyes at you, an icy blue in contrast to her costume, as she sways her hips, draws her arms above her head, and slowly spins to show you her backside. The men around you whistle loudly as the dancer spins, each whistle an implicit request for her to shake her hips faster, to which she complies.

After she completes one full rotation, facing you, she drops her arms and starts flailing about in chaotic but graceful moves that call to mind the image of fire. As she does, she slowly makes her way to you.

Your heart races as she approaches you; she moves like a raging inferno that is about to consume you. When she gets close to you, she slows her movement and goes to her knees as she continues dancing like a dying flame. Eventually, she reaches you and puts her hands on your knees and lifts herself up as she puffs out her chest, giving you a good look at her breasts. Her head is tilted down, her hair obscuring much of her face as she looks up at you with sensual eyes. You lean forward, brush the hair from her face, and cup your hand to the back of her head. She tilts her head back in reaction and inches closer. You slowly draw her closer to you, letting you do all the work of pulling her up to have your lips meet. The men cheer as they hear her make kissing sounds as loudly as she can. She pulls her knees up next to your thighs and wraps her arms around your neck, sitting on your lap, forcing you to tilt your head back as she has to arch her neck to maintain contact. When she releases you from the kiss, your eyes are level with her breasts. She leans back, putting her hands on your shoulders, as she shakes her chest, her breasts swaying sensually. The men all whoop and holler. You smile at her but otherwise do nothing as she pushes off you and goes back to the stage and continues dancing, finishing her performance. Everyone in the room applauds and whistles.

As you're applauding, a man in armor approaches you from the side and kneels before you.

"Sire," he says, "Your vassals from the eastern kingdoms have arrived."

You look to him and nod. "Good. It's about time they pay their tithe."

"Uh-" he says, before he bows a little deeper and gets up to leave.

You pick up on his hesitation to say something. "Is there something you would like to say?"

He freezes as his back is turned to you, your keen draconic senses can smell his fear, hear his heart beat faster, and see the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

"N-nothing sire. It's nothing."

You continue to glare at the man, your draconic presence boring into the back of his neck.

He stiffens even further, then sighs in resignation. "It's just, they haven't paid us in gold for the past 5 months."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "And?"

"And they gave us all their princesses by the second month. Now, they're sending us women from their citizenry. None of them are nobility, some aren't even virgins."

"Did I ever say they needed to be virgins?"

"N-no sire. But it's the principle of it. They also offer up more of them to compensate for-."

"Enough." You interrupt him. "Just do your job and collect their tithe."

He bows, "Yes sire. Apologies, sire." And he walks away quickly.

You sigh deeply as you cross your arms. He has a point. Perhaps they're using his vice as a loophole to get away with keeping more gold for themselves.