Not destiny in portents, but artifice instead

The sky was cold.

The wind was swift.

The dragon swifter still.

Valentina hugged her dragon close, clinging to the back of his neck. The dragon himself was warm, and some of that warmth transferred over, keeping Valentina alive, keeping her awake even through the chill.

It was a different flight now. Before Vakenroth had stolen her away as tribute, as a gift, as a **** bride a peace offering to spare Valentina's kingdom. Yet in captivity, the two of them had shifted. Valentina found strength, both in borrowed magic and in herself, and Vakenroth had found a strange joy in bending to the small woman.

The once princess.

And then by accident or compulsion, Valentina took a bite out of her dragon and ate him. And then let him live.

And in doing so, she proposed.

That first coupling between Valentina and her dragon bride was messy and painful. Yet their relationship was not in isolation. The world hadn't stopped when the two of them negotiated, when they threatened and flirted with tooth and crushing thigh.

Valentina's old kingdom of Acre was being invaded. By not just one army, but by multiple. Valentina was once a princess of Acre, yet her family had given her up as tribute to the dragon. She considered herself a princess no longer. What loyalty she had was spent in the transaction and replaced with a thirst for ****.

Yet **** didn't entirely erase sympathy, Acre had been her home, it was where she had been born and where she had grown to a woman, at least enough of a woman to be sold.

Wanting to see it burned to the ground, didn't remove that fear in her that it might just be burned to the ground by someone else. Wanting to kill her family for their betrayal didn't make her no longer worried for her families' safety.

And so she left the lair, the safety of that gilded nuptial chamber, riding on the back of her dragon, or at least the neck, the only part of Vakenroth she could have a sturdy grip.

She could see over the side, look down from dizzying height, see the world in miniature, as maps would only dare to depict it. Acre was the strongest of the Sword Kingdoms, if not the largest. The central city of Acre itself the main settlement of note. Built upon the banks of the river Tagus, leading to the sea itself. The kingdom was dotted with lesser towns and villages along the old trade routes.

The only other settlement of note was the port of Dawn. Along the sea to the East. It once had another name, in the older Gutaniz tongue. Most things did, if you scratched away the gilt and song. Yet it was the landing point of the Wesi raiders, the blonde haired barbarians who came with the morning tide.

The conquerors. The blond haired people of dawn. And now the Sword Kings.

The raiding had been sporadic at first. But over the centuries, the Wesi raiders lingered, they made treaties and alliances with the Gutaniz nobles, and eventually they started to intermarry, they started to conquer. Most of the nobility in the five kingdoms now were descended from a mixture of Wesi and Gutaniz blood.

Including Valentina herself. Old history lessons running through her mind as she saw the old sights such histories referenced. The places of once great battles and defeats. The old legends of the Gutaniz, which the Wesi had claimed now as their own.

Yet the largest institution of the conquest were the Sword Kingdoms. Five Kingdoms claimed by the conquest, blessed by Wesi blood and nobility.

The Sword Kingdoms warred each other as often as they found peace. Temporary alliances bought by blood and marriage, only to get betrayed with the turning of the decade. There was little unity between them, and during her youth, Acre had been the strongest of them.

Even if not the largest.

It was for that strength, that stubborn pride, that Vakenroth had attacked Acre. That he had demanded they give up a child of their own. Valentina had heard that they demanded a princess, yet she now knew that not to be the case.

Vakenroth had never specified the gender of his prize. Dragons had little use for such misogyny, and at least among the dragons that Vakenroth spoke of, the women most often ruled through hunger and fear.

Yet a daughter had been the only tribute that Valentina's family had been willing to offer.

Vakenroth had meant the demand to humiliate Acre and its king. And he might have succeeded all too well, if now the rival Sword Kings moved their armies upon Acre.

Yet something was wrong. Valentina could see the movement of armies clearly, the wake of trodden ground and broken trees which only an army could leave as trail, the burning of the cook fires.

But...

There wasn't enough flame. As they flew, Valentina could see at least three armies had crossed Acres borders. Though it was hard to tell from the height, she guessed that the combined forces of Reccared, Tripoli and Edessa had massed. As well as Acre's own army. All of them ready for war.

Yet there were no signs of battle. There was no burning. While there had been some pillaging with the simple movement of armies, there had been no great sundering. Acre was intact.

Had the war not yet started?

Had King Alfraud d'Acre offered up another daughter in the name of peace? How might he pacify three kingdoms?

Valentina needed to find out more. But descending upon an army would be dangerous. While Vakenroth was formidable, he could still bleed, something Valentina herself discovered. She was sure that Vakenroth could triumph against any mortal man, or even a charge of knights, but a full army with bows and siege weapons would surely challenge him.

She looked across the country, across the fields and forests, the rivers and roads. There were other fires burning, along the outskirts. Away from any army.

"What is that?" She asked, repeating herself in a shout after her voice was at first unheard.

"Fires." Rumbled the dragon back, the answer obvious.

"What sort of fires? It isn't an army." Valentina countered, wanting to know more.

"I do not know. Those fires always burn. The humans burn them through night and day." It wasn't a new flame, it wasn't tied to the armies. But there were people there. People in isolation. People not in great number, nor armed with a host of arrows or siege weapons.

"Land there, on the outskirts. I want to speak to them."

Vakenroth began to descend. "If you aim to escape..." Vakenroth offered, trying to hide the doubt in his voice. There was a threat there, that if Valentina tried to escape, he would kill everyone who aided her. Even though she was now his husband in the crudest of terms, or perhaps even his master, she was still his hostage, and he considered the terms still binding.

"I have no wish to escape." Valentina countered, squeezing her thighs around Vakenroth's neck, affirming and threatening both.

The ground rose in moments, the speed of Vakenroth disorienting, even when riding upon the dragon. The dragon landed, skidding for a moment across the grasses, ripping up the ground under claw. Taking that moment of impact and drawing it out, leaving scraping wounds across the earth before finally stopping.

Valentina took a moment to steady herself, before sliding down and off Vakenroth's back. She was a far cry from her bridal gown now, wearing a man's tunic covered in patches, cinched tight with a kidney belt, the source of much of her strength. A cloak hung down from her shoulders, and large boots covered her feet and legs up to mid-calf. Yet her legs were uncovered. A flash of pale skin and even thigh as she walked. Her legs still caked with dried blood from her wedding night.

Her hair wild and untamed, while washed as best as she could in snow melt, it had been over a month since her hair had met comb or soap.

Not a princess. Not any longer.

Valentina looked to the great dragon. While Vakenroth could often surprise with the speed of his approach, one he had arrived, he was rarely subtle. The size of him impossible to hide, and his every movement shook the earth.

How had she lain with such a beast? How had she made it surrender?

Valentina blinked the thoughts away, lest she be tempted to brush against Vakenroth's brilliant scales once more. She raised a hand up, running it slowly along the full of Vakenroth's jaw.

"I wish to speak to the humans here. I doubt they will speak in your presence." She paused and then asked. "How far away can you hear my voice?"

"A distance." Vakenroth responded, his usual cagey self.

"Stay within that distance, in case I have need of you." Valentina replied, ignoring the slightness of response.

"Humans are treacherous." Vakenroth warned. There was much unstated with it. An expression of care. He did not wish Valentina harmed, or at least, he did not wish her harmed by another.

The dragon was protective of her, invested in her. Despite the **** that often erupted between the two of them.

"I have learned." Valentina replied, patting Vakenroth once, and then turning and walking away. She had learned all too well.

As Valentina walked towards the fires, Vakenroth took off, taking wing once more, to lazily fly above. To watch whatever transpired from a greater distance. Ready to save Valentina. Or to kill her should she try to escape.

If he still could.

Valentina walked through the lightly wooded area, towards one of the more isolated flames. A bonfire of sorts, smoke coming up from packed dirt, a smothered flame here in the forest. She knew what it was, at least in the abstract.

A charcoaler's pit. Buried wood burned, starved of air to transform it, through some peasant alchemist's art to charcoal, a far stronger fuel. The kingdom's forges all ran on charcoal, the fuel itself a key component in Wesi steel.

Valentina had learned the lessons. She knew the history. Yet she had never been so close. She had never seen that touch of industry. The smell of the smoke would have been overwhelming, had she not spent the last month living with a creature of flame.

The warmth radiating from the covered pit was disorienting. It reminded her of home. Not of Acre, but the cave over Stolvas. Her home with Vakenroth.

She took a few steady steps closer, to the edge of the pit, basking in that familiar warmth. That reminder of intimacy.

"Get to cover!" A voice called out. A woman's voice, older than Valentina's own, and aged even more through rough living. Through a diet of smoke and flame.

Valentina didn't see who had called to her, and she stood there, looking about dumbly. And then there was a wave. From the nearest woodpile. A woman was there. Dark haired. Curly. Tied back. Practical clothes. A worker.

A charcoaler.

Face scarred with the flame's touch.

It had been over a month since Valentina had seen another human.

"Are you dumb, girl? The beast is about! Hurry and hide." This woman, this stranger, was risking her own hiding spot trying to lure Valentina to safety. Risking her own life.

Valentina did not expect such kindness from another human.

Yet Valentina was not scared of the beast. At least not in the immediate. This stranger offered more threat to her than Vakenroth did. Valentina knew Vakenroth's intentions. She knew what roused him to lethal anger. She didn't know this woman.

Yet she had to know more. She walked forward slowly towards that wood pile.

Slowly enough that the woman could get a good look at her. "Gods. What happened to you?" The woman asked.

Valentina looked down, seeing herself for the first time in a while. Her clothes were filthy. And while she had tried to clean herself over the past week with snow melt, she had been without soap. And she had gloried in Vakenroths' return.

The two of them had been coated in seed and blood by the end of it. Valentina herself, an atrocity walking. Even if it was one largely of her own creation.

Valentina took another few steps closer. And this woman. This stranger. Taller. With the appearance of greater strength. She pulled Valentina close and into a hug. Burying Valentina under her form, hiding Valentina away from the dragon above.

And almost immediately **** in disgust. "You reek." The stranger exclaimed, before, with a heavy exhalation, offering comfort. "But that is okay. You are fine now. Safe now." She ran her hands along Valentina's hair, offering kindness.

Valentina was not touch starved. She had touched her dragon plenty. She had grown used to that firmness of scale, to the pattern and texture of it all.

Yet she hadn't held another human in... she couldn't remember how long it had been.

She did not remember a comforting embrace. Not from her siblings. Not from her mother, certainly not from her father. There had been some fumblings with the cook's apprentice, with the stable-boy. Something approaching a hug, but there was not care to such a gesture.

Not concern.

If anything, the boys had been terrified of her. Had Valentina known that before or was this a new revelation?

Valentina blinked. For the last month she had been trying to read a dragon's emotions, to pick up a dragon's thoughts from subtle clues. But to encounter a human again. It was as if she had to relearn everything.

So she started with something simple. "Hello."

The older woman looked at her, pausing before nodding, looking back with kindness. "Yes. Hello. Good." There was a sigh of annoyance, surrendering to patience and decency. This woman didn't tolerate fools. But she did humor those who had been wronged.

Those whose foolishness was inflicted.

"Is anyone chasing you?" The woman asked, trying to understand Valentina's appearance, her strange listlessness. That almost inhuman demeanor.

"No." Valentina replied simply. Vakenroth was above somewhere, and would come when she called. Yet the dragon had no need to interrupt her.

"Good. Now you need to stay down, here with me. At least until the dragon passes. He will likely pick up some horse, a deer if we are lucky, a fool man if we are not. And then we will be safe."

"He has hunted here before?" Valentina asked, almost immediately dreading her own question.

"Yes." Was the woman's pained reply. An experience with predation all too direct.

They were in the border regions, the outskirts of Acre as it ran towards Reccared. Contested and claimed by both kingdoms, truly ruled by neither. And closer to the Stolvas mountains. Easy hunting territory for a dragon. Far away from the notice of kings and adventurers.

The woman collected herself. Her own sorrows suppressed for the favor of another. "You just need to stay down. Don't make noise, and don't run. The beast prefers when people run." There was a tremble of cheek there, an agony unspoken.

"Yes." Valentina replied. She had figured out as much and from the first meeting refused to run away from the dragon. It was why she was still alive.

"Look. I'm Gesch. We just need to wait for the beast to kill. Then we can get you cleaned." There was a pause as she saw how slight Valentina was. Already a slender woman, the week of starvation hadn't helped the once princess. "And fed."

A bath sounded nice. As did a meal that wasn't raw meat or bone broth. Valentina started to respond. "I'm Val-" And stopped herself. Some instinct told her to pause, to not reveal who she was. If nothing else, her own family would want to know her location, and such a search would only bring consequence for Gesch.

"Val?" Gesch asked in reply, a brow raised, her skin tugging at scar tissue. "An ill-fortuned name. Though not one of your choosing." She replied grimly.

"Ill-fortuned how?"

"You don't know? Have you been...?" Gesch started to ask. Under a rock. It wasn't an uncommon expression, and in Valentina's case, it was literally true. Yet Gesch knew the smell of Valentina. Of body odor, of blood and cum. Any sign of isolation in Valentina spoke only to the worst.

Valentina didn't want to answer that, to say where she really had been or why she was isolated, or even to explore Gesch's assumptions. "I don't know." She replied, sidestepping the question entirely.

"Mmm. In the big city. The princess Valentina was murdered." There was a begrudging irritation to Gesch's statement. An acknowledgement of the suffering of others, but perhaps an annoyance at how suffering was judged.

She wouldn't wish a daughter murdered. Yet she was tired that so many other murders were ignored.

Valentina had been trained to deceive, to manipulate, to hold court, even to govern. Her emotions guarded and hidden away. And over her time with Vakenroth, her expressions had become all the more alien, growing to match her strange lover.

It was only through the combination of that inhuman expression and trained guard that she was able to hide her emotional response. Had her family assumed her ****? Or lied about their cowardice? It took her a moment to form a reply.

"By whom?"

"By the dragon, of course. She wasn't the first killed by the beast. Nor the last. But seems, she was the only one that mattered to those in castles."

"Why did the dragon kill her?" Valentina avoided asking who else had died, who else her lover had killed. She didn't want to know that. Not now.

"Who knows? I'm only getting this news third hand. But whatever the dragon did, he killed that princess improperly. Violating some sort of sacred truce? It was enough to get the family enraged. And the others too."

"The others?" Valentina asked, still catching up. She had been offered up as a sacrifice to the dragon, her **** signed off on by her very father. That was the violation, not... whatever rumor had reached this backwater place.

"The Sword Kings." Gesch replied, looking at Valentina with some confusion. All of this was well known, the news had spread like flame across the kingdoms. The only way the girl couldn't have known was if she really had been hidden away.

Still, the tale started, Gesch might as well finish. "Old King Alfraud called the Sword Oath."

The Sword Oath, this much Valentina knew well. The Sword Kingdoms shifted between a complicated nest of alliances and betrayals, petty wars rising nearly every year, and nearly every year a different enemy. Yet there was one common cause between them.

The Sword Oath.

If a greater outside **** attacks one of the kingdoms, the rest will rise as one in defense. It was enacted in the early days of the conquest, as the newly nobled Wesi Kings had to fend off invasions from their lands of origin, and rebellious Gutaniz subjects all the same.

They had a common cause for mutual defense and mutual oppression of their territories. No longer the raiders of the dawn, but all the same, not quite the storied brown haired Gutaniz. They were both, they were in between.

And there was only one pact they seemed to held sacred. The Sword Oath, to defend against threats external. Valentina's parents had sold her off to a dragon. Then claimed her **** and used her corpse as a political pawn to call upon ancient alliance.

The three armies weren't there to invade Acre. They were reinforcements. All the swords of the western world aimed right at Vakenroth.

Yet even that didn't make sense. Vakenroth was mighty, but this host massing was beyond even what he could counter. There had to be some greater target. Some grander goal.

For which the dragon was the spark.

And Valentina was so much spent tinder.