A Dragon's Hoard

Chapter Six

Her hoard was... expansive.

Damian knew she was centuries old, and that she had all of that time to compile her hoard, but he didn't realize how much she had truly acquired. He stood in the middle of a series of caverns that were carved far more intricately than the rest of her den. The space had been transformed into a library that would rival those of even the most prestigious universities.

Elaborate bookshelves had been carved into the stone walls, stretching nearly three stories and connected with spiraling stone staircases. The massive space still felt oddly homely, and a gentle glow filled the room from large, magicked lanterns and a roaring fireplace. Books upon books upon books were neatly displayed everywhere, old and new alike, each one prized like a priceless treasure. In the middle of the room was a large, low bed that appeared to be more of a dragon-sized sofa than anything else. It was where Raven likely lounged, basking in the pleasure her hoard brought her.

"You are the first person to see my treasure."

Damian watched as she climbed stone steps to a level above her, her arms full of books. She tucked them away, fingers stroking the spines as if they were precious children, and not simply paper bound with glue. He watched a tenderness fill her expression, and something in his chest twisted almost painfully. Raven was expressive when she didn't think he was watching, and seeing such comfort soften her features made her look unearthly.

He felt his breath catch in his lungs and his fingers itched to pull her into his arms and tumble into her bed. The world outside her den seemed so far away, and there was an itch in the back of his mind that told him perhaps he shouldn't go back.

That was an asinine thought.

"Is that so?" Damian's eyes dropped to the first level and examined the space. "Should I consider that an honor?"

"Above all else." She walked along the aisle above him and slid a book into an empty section. "A dragon never shares her hoard with just anyone. It's her most precious treasure." She paused and turned around to look at him, her hands resting along the carved, stone railing. A teasing smile split her lips and she hummed. "Although, you are part of my hoard, so I suppose the rules are a little different."

"Do you often collect things that aren't books and bring them into your hoard?" His curiosity was piqued. Dragons were such rare creatures that very little was known about them - outside the history of the scourge of Trigon. He found himself genuinely wanting to know more about her.

"Sometimes." She shrugged. "I will take certain things as payment for a job, or if I find something particularly attractive or useful."

He glanced back up at her. "And what am I?"

"Both attractive and useful, knight. That nimble tongue of yours is clearly a gift from the gods, old and new." She smirked down at him and moved along her shelves, inspecting the spines of her books as she walked. "Would you prefer I put you on a shelf, only to be taken down when I deem necessary?"

He snorted inelegantly. "If that was the case, I don't think much would change. You seem to have a boundless lust that you demand I fill."

"Forgive me for being so curious about the pleasures you give me." She didn't sound at all remorseful, and she stopped to look at him, leaning over the railing again. "It's not as though I intended to spend centuries alone like some beleaguered hermit monk."

Damian looked around at the lower shelves, recognizing some of the titles in flaking gold leaf. "And here I thought you were keeping a harem of knights at your beck and call."