I wake to find myself back in humanoid form and chained by the neck.
As I stir, the chain rattles. No ordinary metalworking. It's engraved with dark green runes, cursed to sap the power of anyone unfortunate to be bound by them. There's next to nothing I can do to escape them, short of somehow dispelling the curse. Not that it matters. The Fallen Queen is a master of curse magic, to an extent I can't even begin to contend with.
I'm locked to the floor in a small cavern, with a good few meters of leash to walk around with. A little pool of bubbling water is coming up from an underground spring, so I drop to my knees and drink from my palms. Only once my thirst is sated do I investigate my condition further.
I'm sore and beaten, but it's nothing substantial. Underneath this cold metal collar, I imagine there are bruises around my neck from when I was getting choked and thrown around. My horns are intact, my wings are untorn, and I still have my tail, so I decide I'm just fine.
Standing back up, I take a look around my cell. Even in the dim light, my eyes are capable of seeing well through darkness. A meager bedspread on the floor, the springwater pool, a few beautifully glowing mushrooms or gemstones, and all the usual rocky protrusions. That's everything. There is a heavy iron door, but I can't reach it without the chain stopping me.
I'm either entombed beneath the surface of Avi, or more likely somewhere in the Hells, a prisoner to the fiercest enemy of the Goddess who has ever existed. The thought inspires dread and a sinking feeling deep in my core, but the fact there's absolutely nothing I can do about it makes things a little easier. No use wearing myself out by trying to escape. This is where I am, and I can't go anywhere, and that's just the way it is.
I sit down on the floor facing the door, toying with the chain as I wait. And wait. And wait some more. It's impossible to know how much time has passed or is passing. For all I know, she locked me in a temporal stasis. The Overgrowth may have taken all of Avi by now, and I wouldn't know it. Hells, I just hope Hilde volunteered to look after my skyland. She's the only one who would know to help poor Slippy with his shedding problem.
"Damn," I groan, remembering how quickly and thoroughly I was defeated. "That poor man. Thought he'd be a lasting companion. Hope he found his way to the Aether…"
I wait. And wait. And wait.
A sound makes my pointed ear twitch.
Someone or something is coming.
I remain seated with my legs crossed beneath me. I've already accepted my powerlessness. Even if I'm tortured, there's only so much she can do to me. I think. Actually, I'm not sure. No, she can probably do a lot worse than I'm able to even imagine.
Now I'm a little concerned.
The door to my cage creaks inward.
A tall shadow slips inside and advances.
I flick my tongue. Roses.
Humanoid as well, the Fallen Queen stands towering above me. Wings of roses, scales of blood and obsidian, and piercing horns of solid bone. Her black forked tongue darts out at me, blind eyes looking at nothing in particular, only my general direction. Her skin is like alabaster, pallid from so much time in the darkness, and her elegant robes are black as ink, though quite revealing and rather thin. It doesn't take much imaginative labor to discern her figure, while her stature is long and full. Shimmering black hair falls in loose waves down to her waist in length, and she brushes a few strands behind her ear as she looms.
Goddess, she's beautiful. Dreadful. But beautiful.
"Hello," she whispers in the draconic tongue. Her voice is sharp yet soft, clearly audible but deathly quiet. "What is your name, little wyvern?"
I hesitate for a long moment. "Crimson."
"Ahh…" It's emitted almost like a moan. "Crimson. Are you red like I am? Or closer to vermillion?"
"Closer to vermillion. But my scales are primarily white. It's the accents that are red. And the webbing of my wings."
"Mmm. And your hair?"
"White. Like snow."
"Horns?"
"Also crimson."
"Skin?"
"Not exactly sun-kissed but I have a decent tan."
"Eyes?"
"Sort of a darker red."
"Mm. Tongue?"
I'm taken aback. "Um. White?"
"Lovely." She smiles a touch. "I can see it. In mind."
I don't say anything in response, waiting.
Creeping closer, she extends a hand, from which I retreat. The smile slips off her black lips and she grabs the chain, pulling me forward. A chillier air has come over her, expressionless as she lowers to her knees before me. It's then that I realize how much bigger she is. It's a substantial difference.
She gently touches my face, feeling the shape and contours of it. "Hm. I… imagine you're quite handsome."
I have been described as such numerous times.
Then she touches my horns, following their upward curve, sliding a thumb along the bladed front. "A little dull. You should sharpen them more often."
"If I ever have the opportunity to do so again."
Now she's back to softly smiling. "Perhaps you will."
I'm not holding out for hope. It'll only break me.
She feels at my hair, running it through her clawed ruby fingers, then her icy touch goes down my neck to my shoulders. "Mm. Strong. But lean. Athletic, aren't you? Quite swift, I suspect. Even among wyverns…"
I'm staying quiet from here on. I have nothing to say to a monster like her.
Her index claw slowly traces my collarbone, then slides down the middle of my chest to tug at my robes. Sickened and horrified, I retreat again, but she only tightens the chain with another chilling blank look on her face.
"Stop that," she hisses, blind white eyes boring through me. "I want to see you in mind. Clearly. Your shape. Your features. Your body. Otherwise… You're nothing but an abstract to me. An amorphous something. Not a defined someone. Think. Crimson. Do you want to be nothing to me? Or do you want to be a person?"
I bare my fangs in response, but she can't see it. Those are my only two choices here, it seems. If that's the case, then the decision is an easy one. I just don't know if I have the stomach to tolerate it.
For now, I stop resisting.
She takes a deep breath and continues, feeling my clothing, the linen fabrics, the way they fit, the length of the skirt. Here I thought she was about to touch my chest, but it appears I was wrong. She does trace my sides, my waist, my hips, but that's the worst of it.
That placid faint smile is back. "Quite the figure."
I swallow the lump in my throat, clenching my jaw and forcing myself to stay still. The less she sees me falter, the better. I won't react to anything. Not in the slightest.
Next she takes my arm, squeezing at my bicep with a small sound of pleasure, and her palm flattens as she slides it across the scales past my elbow down my forearm. "Soft. Supple. You spend… a lot of time in the water."
That deduction catches me by surprise. I'm almost impressed.
Taking my hand, she scrapes her claws against mine, gauging their length and sharpness. Apparently, she's satisfied there, unlike with my horns. Without commenting there, she moves on to my legs. Unlike our arms, our legs are totally covered in scales, with jagged points to our knees like armored plating.
"Yes," she mutters with a nod. "You are athletic. Strong." Tapping a claw to my knee plating, she nods again. "Durable. Tough." Caressing my calf and shin, she nods a third time. "Well defined. You're often walking on foot, in humanoid form, are you?"
I don't respond. She's right, I'm much more often in this form than my draconic form, but I'm not giving her the satisfaction.
Then it's my feet and talons that are up for inspection. "Mmm… Interesting. You have scythe claws. But hook talons. That's… very unusual. How?"
Defiant to the end, I say nothing.
"I asked you a question, Crimson. Speak."
I refuse.
She pulls hard on the chain. "I said. Speak."
Still, I refuse.
Then she falls silent. The only sound is the bubbling spring. Her blind white eyes stare directly through me, like I'm being impaled by her gaze. Motionless, she does nothing, says nothing. Eventually I realize I've been holding my breath. Nothing at all happens in this silent moment that stretches on for what feels like hours, and yet my composure is fracturing under her pressure.
With that, fear begins to gnaw at me.
The Fallen Queen maintains her silent icy threat.
"When I tell you to speak," she whispers in a tone like claws slowly raking across slatestone, "you will speak."
I am afraid. "Pl–Please. Don't… Don't hurt me."
"I won't hurt you. If. If. You speak. Crimson."
"I'm one-eigthth dracoraptor," I blurt all at once. "On–On–On my–my father's… side. Th–Three generations back. The hooked talons are the–are the only raptor trait I have, but… It's enough."
The change is indiscernible visibly, but somehow I can sense that she's softened a touch. Flickering her tongue, she tilts her head slightly. "Enough? For?"
"For…" I exhale a sharp breath through clenched teeth. "For fucking everyone to know it. One look. That's all it takes."
She lets the silence hang. "And?"
"And? What do you mean 'and'?"
"Elaborate more clearly, Crimson."
"Hells, don't you know this already? You were up there in the Heavens before you betrayed the Goddess and she cut you down. You know what they think of rotbloods tainting the proverbial waters. A single drop of base crawler blood would be bad enough. And I'm… Um…"
I just realized I'm exposing a vulnerability.
"I'm… Yes, one-eighth dracoraptor. That's why I have hooked talons."
The Fallen Queen slides the back of a claw down the spine of my first talon, still with that faint smile on her lips. "How perfectly curved. Half moon. No longer… No shorter. Just right. Mmm… Lovely."
More than a touch baffled, I keep quiet.
Rising to her hands and feet, she prowls around to my backside and rests on her knees once more, feeling for one of my wings. Once she has it, she stretches it out, prodding at the scales, the joints, the fingers, and the webbing between them. I'm nervous at first, but she's still surprisingly gentle, and being careful with her claws.
"Ahh… Healthy. Very healthy. Your webbing… It's rather thick for a wyvern. Again, strong. Yes, yes, I understand. You're very fast, aren't you?"
I stay quiet again. Better I don't give her more details.
"I asked you a question, Crimson. Speak."
Damn it. "Yes. I'm very fast. Faster than any other wyvern. That's my one and only accolade. And faster than your average amphithere too. Actually, I'm fairly certain I have some amount of amphithere blood as well."
"Remarkable," she murmurs, using both hands to extend my wing as wide as it will go. "Swiftness. And strength. Hm? How strong are you? Physically."
"Well, I'm small for a wyvern, but I can contend above the average in might."
"Mm. And magically?"
I hesitate to answer. "Average."
"Oh? Is that so? What element?"
"Lightning. Red lightning. They call me the Red Storm."
"You must be quite the marvel in battle."
"I can… hold my own."
Done with my wings, she starts touching my shoulders again before finding my neck and following the hardened bony protrusions of my spine down my back. It makes me shiver, and my heart skips. Damn it, that's rotten. My back is… sensitive. Hilde used to sneak up on me and run a claw down its length, and immediately I'd end up ravenously craving her caress. The same goes for any of my ex-girlfriends. They all found my weakness, one way or another.
I'm not certain the Fell noticed, and I pray to the Goddess that she didn't. The last thing I need right now is to get turned on by the foulest creature to ever lurk the Hells.
But then she scratches my spine again, and I gasp.
"Ohh," she purrs from just behind me. "You like that?"
Fuck. She did notice. And now she knows.
I'm holding my breath, fighting to not move a muscle.
What in the Goddess's name have I gotten myself into?