Queen to the Dragon King

As the lottery began, it was not difficult for Ciara to appear concerned.

The lottery was an annual tradition in her village. As it began, an urn was prepared (it had been the same urn since Ciara's Grandmother's first lottery), filled with one white ball for every girl of bleeding age in the town. Then, in a solemn ceremony in front of the assembled village, a single white ball was removed, and replaced with a black one. The urn was stirred, and the women of the village came forth one by one, each to draw a ball from the urn, beginning with the eldest and continuing down to the youngest.

Ciara was neither the oldest, nor the youngest.

The black ball Ciara held in her pocket felt heavy, and dull, and hot. She reached into her pocket, every few moments to touch it and assure herself that her plan was in place. Even so, a portion of her plan relied on luck; just under half the women in the village were older than she, and any one of them might draw forth the black ball.

"You can feel the difference", she heard a teen boy near her hiss to his sister, trying to reassure her and ease her fears, as she fought to hold back tears. "The black ball is going to be warmer. Plus, they're not the samesize; the black ball is bigger."

Ciara knew such thoughts to be untrue; the balls were polished to be perfectly rounded, and all were identical except for colour. She should know; she was one of the few living women to have touched the black ball. She'd had to, in order to make the copy she held in her pocket.

There was a sigh of relief among the crowd as the new widow Mary Schaffer drew out a white ball. "S'only right", a man to Ciara's left hand side said to nobody in particular, "What with her having such a hard year".

Ciara reached into her pocket, and ran her fingers over the ball again. She'd tried to think of a way around this portion of the Lottery struggling to come up a way to avoid the risk that someone who had to take their turn before hers would draw the ball. She'd thought of a dozen ways, but none that could be assured they wouldn't have been noticed.

She palmed the ball again, then released it. She glanced about, and wondered if anyone had noticed how often she was reaching into her pocket. The faces in the crowd, though, told her she could have been doing near anything without raising anyone's alarm, so long as she was not the one drawing from the urn.

Abruptly, a gasp rippled through the crowd, and Ciara spun to face the bin, feeling the color drain from her face. There stood Laina Woods, mother of three children (two girls), bride to Ryan, and there, between her fingers ....

The black ball.

"No!", Laina cried, dropping the ball as though it was scalding hot, and it landed with a dull thud that seemed to echo over the crowd. Ciara's mouth hung agape, as she watched all of her planning for this day had be ruined by Laina's terrible luck!

"Now, now", the mayor said, as the crowd twittered, simultaneously disapproving and relieved. "Now, now, Laina, everyone takes their turn. You'll have a chance to say goodbye to Ryan, and to the children, of course." Then, to the crowd, he continued, his voice changing to sound almost upbeat, "The choice is made! Laina will be this year's Queen of the Feast!"

Amidst the cheers, and Laina's tears, Ciara made the decision to act quickly. She turned on her heel to leave the celebration, not sparing the time to watch Laina's husband embrace her for what he thought was the last time, or watch her crying children cling to her side. If Ciara's plan was to still go through, she needed to act quickly.

She hurried to her house, moving as quickly as she could, running through her quickly formed plan in her head. She'd anticipated leaving, of course, and even anticipated the possibility that she would not win Queen. Therefore, her packing would be brief. When she arrived, she hastily daubed a hint of cow's blood behind her ears and on her wrists, as the Queen's attendants would do for Laina. Ciara then took her packed satchel, full of honey and mead and sweets, with a brush for her hair and twine to tie it back, and her book, a very special book, thick and dark blue, bound in the scaled hide of what most would find an entirely unfamiliar creature.

And then, with one last look back over her home, she fled thru back door and into the night.

Ciara knew the path the Queen followed into the woods each year was not long, and that it ended in a clearing around a tree stump. Then, on that stump, the Queen would sit waiting for her King to bring himself forth from the marsh and bring his blessing to their union, allowing the town to prosper for another year.

Ciara meant to bring an end to the tradition and a spot of bad luck was not going to be enough to stop her! Though she doubted that anyone from town had noticed her missing, but just in case, she moved quickly and quietly to avoid raising an alarm. The sound of the raucous party behind her continued, with the town contributing to the Queen's preparations, as she crept along in the quiet stillness at the edge of the swamp.

The clearing appeared before Ciara abruptly; a last-minute turn had kept concealed it from notice practically until she had taken her first step into it. More, she was surprised how near it was to town, no more than a few minutes away. It had so often been implied that the queen had quite a walk to meet her King.

It was quiet and still in the clearing, and in the center there was an ancient tree stump. Around the stump, there was simple circle of rocks, and around them a ring of longer grasses and flowers had taken root. That stump was the spot, the place the Queen was to meet the King. Ciara breathed in deeply, taking in the damp and warm scent of the nearby marsh. She exhaled, set her jaw, and advanced towards the stone circle.

At the edge of the stone circle, Ciara stopped and began to make final her preparations. She adjusted her shirt, and the skirt; like many others, she'd already been wearing her best for day of the Lottery. She drank the honey she'd brought with her, grimacing at the sickly-sweetness as she chugged it down. Then rinsed her mouth with the wine, both of which were essential parts of the Queen's readiness. She had already daubed the blood behind each ear, a scent to call to her King. And hastily, she wove a crown, as she'd done before as a young girl, of twine and grasses and flowers, to wear upon her head.

All preparations done, Ciara gave herself one a final moment of hesitation, and then, with a notable effort and artificial certainty, she jammed her eyes closed and stepped into the center of the circle of stone, to wait.

After about forty seconds, Ciara released the breath she'd been holding, nervously opened her eyes one by one, and looked about the clearing. She remained alone. She wasn't certain what she'd been expecting, as nobody could watch the Queen enter the circle. She'd anticipated something more dramatic than nothing at all.

"Hello...?", Ciara called out to the woods around her, immediately feeling foolish for doing so, as she heard her voice echo back from the trees. Yet her calling out helped to make it clear that she was wrong when she thought nothing had happened while her eyes were closed. Now, a strange tension hung in the air; since she had set foot in the circle,somethinghad changed, even if Ciara couldn't put her finger on what it was.

A moment later, the realization dawned on her. "Soquiet", she said, both to herself and to test the silence. There was no noise, not a sound, not a peep. Now, no birds sang and not so much as a leaf rustled. Even the bugs had fallen silent. Silence reigned, even as the sun blazed in the late summer sky.

Ciara cast her gaze about the clearing, and her nerve faltered for a moment. Half a thought raced through her mind, as she considered throwing her plan away, casting down her bag, and fleeing from the clearing. Nobody would ever know she'd been here, and she could try again next year, after a chance to build up her courage. But her thoughts turned to Laina's husband and her young children, and nodded to herself.

If her book was right she had the opportunity to end this macabre tradition.

The momentary trip Ciara had taken inside her head came to sharp stop when she saw trees on the far side of the clearing shudder, as if grasped by an unseen hand. She gasped, even though she'd tried to steel herself, forthe King was here.

A low rumble emanated from in the woods where the trees had shuddered. If Ciara had been of mind to describe it to someone, she might have suggested that it had reminded her of a cat as large as a house, purring.

Ciara licked her lips, finding her mouth suddenly dry and her voice to have taken its leave. On her third attempt she finally spoke, to croak out "My ... My King?", asking the trees what she already knew to be true.

"I", the rumbling voice answered, "Am notyourKing."

As it spoke, the creature revealed a glimpse of itself through the trees and shadows and tricks of the light. It was his side, and it glistened as if it were wet and shimmered as if it were covered in scales as it moved through a patch of light. There was the hint of dense and powerful muscles rippling just beneath the surface. Involuntarily, Ciara gasped.

"Did they not tell you? Did they not warn you of my nature? Your fate, Oh Queen?", the voice asked. The voice's tone carried a noted of derision or dismissiveness, or perhaps as though the ideaamusedhim.

"It is ... I mean, they said you were, were abeast, like ... a serpent, only much larger, and more...", Ciara began, and then trailed off, as the creature's foreleg emerged from the forest.

The forepaw was as large across as a small table, and at the end of each digit-like toe there was a sinister and terrible claw as long and sharp as a sword. The forearm seemed to somehow resemble a densely knotted rope, like a thick cord of taut muscles eagerly awaiting the chance to spring into action. And further up, at the shoulder ...

The shoulder disappeared into a shadow, but betrayed the presence of a massive creature. Seeing even a glimpse of the King of the Forest sent a shudder down Ciara's spine, a shiver of fear and panic as she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"More?", the King spoke, sounding as if the fear that was writ large across Ciara's face amused him.

"More? Oh, more! Yes, more ... intelligent. Cunning. Shrewd.", Ciara said, finishing her earlier thought. The King's paw, although it was just as much a hand, dragged slowly across the earth and left furrows where the claws passed.

"More intelligent that a serpent? Such high praise. What doyouthink, my Queen? Am I more cunning than a serpent...? As shrewd as ... as a fox, perhaps?", the King asked, his voice half a snarl.

"Oh,muchmore so.", Ciara said, made cautious by the sarcasm in the King's tone. "I ... the stories, they ... they leave out any details, and say only that you ... demand a Queen, a new Queen, each harvest..."

At that moment the King's head emerged from the undergrowth and Ciara fought not to scream, letting out a gasp instead. The triangular head was nearly two feet across at the middle, broader at the top where the horns projected out and tapering down to his muzzle. The King's oval, serpentine eyes were each as large as saucers, and glimmered as if with an inner fire. A ridge of horns curved upwards and outwards along the back of the King's skull, tapering for about three feet before coming to a menacing tip. His thin lips were curled slightly, to display a line of gleaming white teeth, wickedly sharp.

A dragon.

Ciara had read the stories in the traveller's book she carried in her satchel. Dragons were rapacious, and their desires could never be satisfied. The more a dragon got, the more it would crave. Their hunger could eat herds of livestock, and their thirsts would drink rivers dry.

Ciara blinked, staring at the dragon. She very much wanted to touch the King and feel his scales to know if they as were moist as they looked. Would the scales be smooth and silky or rough like rocks? Ciara knew they were durable enough to turn aside swords and axes, but stories told that they were also sensitive enough that a dragon could feel thingsbeforetouching them.

Into the silence of the King staring at her and Ciara gazing back at him, Ciara sighed, "...you're amazing.", her sense of wonder momentarily pushing aside her fear.

The King responded by widening his eyes, pulling his head back, and raising it, tilting it slightly to one side. His eyes narrowed. "Flattery will not save you from your fate, my Queen.", he said. So close to Ciara, the deep baritone of his voice caused her whole body to feel like it was thrumming.

Ciara shook her head. "Of course not. A Queen for the King is the price to leave our livestock and children alone. I would not ask to be spared." The King nodded slightly, still looking for the trick in Ciara's words. "I ... I brought something for you. Well, forme, for you."

Without taking her eyes from the King, Ciara cautiously reached into her bag. She closed her hands around the glass jar that held the results of her research. The King's eyes narrowed and he growled lightly. Ciara paused, gazing directly into the King's eyes.

"You have nothing to fear from me, my King. Am I not your Queen?", she asked, licking her lips.

The beast surveyed Ciara up and down, appraising her. He then nodded, once. Ciara resumed moving, retrieving the stowed bottle from her pack.

She removed the lid cautiously, and the pleasing smell of the potion rushed out. It smelled of lavender and honeysuckle with an undercurrent of copper to cut the sickly-sweet smell. The King sniffed at the air, narrowing his eyes while his tongue hungrily flicked along his lips. Ciara spoke softly, tilting the jar towards the King, glancing down to the ground. "I found the recipe in an old book, from a travelling peddler. It was quite complex, and ..."

Ciara looked back up to met the King's gaze again, but saw that his gaze was fixed on the bottle. In her stomach, Ciara felt a flutter of genuine hope that her plan might succeed...

So with no further words, she tipped the full bottle back, chugging its contents. She could taste the oils and the blood, just as the book had warned. The brew tasted like honey mixed with chalk, and had a thick and unpalatable consistency like spoilt milk. There was nothing pleasant about consuming the potion, yet as soon as Ciara forced herself to swallow the first mouthful she felt a pleasant, warm tingling in her thighs and upper arms. As she continued to drink that same tingle moved throughout her body, to her shoulders, the small of her back, and her calves. As she gulped the final mouthful, that wonderful sensation came to settle into her chest, producing a feeling not unlike having a purring cat perched there.

The potion fully consumed, Ciara licked her lips. Despite the potion's foul taste and worse texture, she found that she wished she had just a little more left. Licking her lips again, she looked up towards the King.

She gasped, startled to find that the King's face was now within a foot of her own. His wide nostrils flared as he found Ciara's scent. His eyes narrowed to mere crescents and rolled up beneath his eyelids. His thick tongue lolled out of his mouth just a little, and Ciara struggled to keep from laughing.

"Wh... what is... what was in that potion?', the King asked as he rocked his head slowly back and forth. Both of his forelegs were out of the forest, and he kneaded the ground with them like an immense cat. Ciara felt a smile cross her lips.

"I'm pleased you care for it, my King", Ciara answered, lowering her voice to murmur, "It is made of honeysuckle, bacon fats, bee's honey, love-in-idleness, and a hint of extract of Antirrhinum, along with a few other ...". Ciara stammered to an stop as the tips of the King's forked tongue ever so gently played across her shoulder. The sensation of his tongue grazing her shoulder was electric, and Ciara bit her lip to keep from moaning. The book's warning that the potion heightened the senses of the one who imbibed it was true. The touch of the King's tongue gave Ciara shivers as he traced from her shoulder along her collarbone.

Cautiously, Ciara raised a hand to the King's face. His eyes remained half-closed as she gently set her hand along his muzzle between his eyes and his upturned snout. The scales there were smooth, with a hint of a ridge only as one scale gave way to another, and warm to the touch. She gasped softly at the feel of him. How many hours as a young girl had she spent, wondering what it would be like to touch a dragon?

Ciara brought her hand along the King's face, lowering it to touch at his lips. They seemed to be the only part of him that were not scaled, and were instead as soft a thing as Ciara had ever known. The lips trembled at her touch, quivering as she traced her fingers along them. At the same time, the King's tongue ran up and down the side of her neck. The tips of his forked tongue felt almost sharp as they traced along the side and front of her neck like delicate fingers that were just beginning to explore her. A wonderful bubbly warmth began to grow in Ciara belly and move through her body, and she could feel her lips swell, and pout, and she longed for a kiss.

"My King...", she said, and her voice was low, nearly beneath her breath, which came more quickly than before. "...do you like it? My ... gift?"

Her answer was a bemused laugh. The King settled his forequarters down, curling into position along the ground, and then sluggishly raised a paw, curling the sharp talons of it. Ciara gasped as the paw set around and about her, and gently but forcefully pushed her onto her back on the ground.

One claw was eleven inches past her left shoulder, and she felt it dig into the earth, to anchor the paw in place. Another, the one might call the King's thumb, dug in off her right-hand side, while a third sank into the earth near her left hip. The pad of the King's paw, with the consistency of a firm mattress, pressed Ciara to the ground. Beneath his strength, Ciara could move, struggle, and breathe, but could not escape. She set her hands on the King's finger andpushed, but found she was unable to move him at all.

"My... King...", she murmured as she felt her legs rock back and forth. The feeling of being pinned by the King's great strength and the warmth of the pad of his paw holding her in place was adding to a growing tingling sensation between her legs. Her hips communicated to her mind a sensation of want which was rapidly transitioning to one of need.

The King produced a low rumble that could have been called a purr. Ciara could feel the noise as much as hear it, with the deep base causing her to quiver. The sensation the purr gave her was enough that Ciara could not help but rock her hips back and forth while scissoring her thighs, the sensation between her legs rapidly growing stronger.

The King's tongue deft raised her side of Ciara's skirt and slowly pulled itself along the outside of her right thigh. His tongue was warm and moist without being wet, and the feel of it sent a shudder through Ciara. She felt her skin quiver where he traced with the edge of his forked tongue. "My King, I ... It feels so...", she murmured, but she found it hard to speak as her breathing had given way to panting. She rocked back and forth in an effort to free her arms, but the sensation of futile struggling only added to the heat growing between her legs.

The low rumble from the King's upper chest continued as his tongue trailed up and along Ciara's thigh. She felt her knees instinctively part as the spear-points of the King's tongue taunted her moist and cream-colored upper thighs. Ciara looked down along her body to find that the King had lowered his head and was peeking into his paw to watch his prize. She bit her lip as she caught herself wondering if he approved of what he saw.