There was only darkness, and warmth. And a tongue. I'm dead. Death is kissing me, to welcome me to his domain: The Underworld. I will spend the rest of my days here, reliving my life and dreaming of the years I will never live. Are we there yet, Death? I appreciate the passion of your embrace, but… I would like. To. Finish my, umm, journey.

???

???

Is the Grim Reaper supposed to be quite so passionate? And his body; it's surprisingly supple, yet firm. And… cinnamon? And are those… teeth?!

Leon opened his eyes, only to find two large, mostly lidded, golden globes staring back at him.

Oh.

His eyes focused upon the large, white, teeth lining the – distinctly feminine – muzzle which was presently clasped lightly around his own mouth.

She tastes like strawberries.

???

What am I thinking about that for?

As she broke off the kiss, he took in the rest of her form. Long, curving, horns swept back from her visage. Her neck curved gracefully to where it connected with her scaled body a surprisingly close distance behind her head. Tucked into her sides were enormous wings; and lashing behind her like a hunting cat's, her tail. She was beautiful. She was stunning. And she was decidedly female. And decidedly naked.

Naked! I'm naked! Where are my clothes?! Where am I? Oh shit, why is a dragon pressed up against me like this? Why was a dragon kissing me?

Leon froze, his heart hammering in his chest, the dragon's scent strong in his nostrils, the taste of her kiss still in his mouth. His body uncomfortably aroused. Did she just grin at me? Ahhh…

The Dragon gave her hips a little wriggle, before spilling off of him like water from a rock.

She moved with a serpentine grace that he could only admire—while also fearing for his life and sanity. Dragons were said to devour the humans they captured, eating first their bodies and then their very souls. But even so, his eyes continued to roam her body; he couldn't get his mind off of how stunning she was. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, to die to a creature this beautiful.

“You're awake."

???

Did she just speak? Leon turned his attention once more to her face.

Her nostrils flared briefly. She tilted her head slightly to the side, fixing her gaze on his own. And then it happened; the impossible. She opened her mouth and words issued forth. But dragons aren't supposed to be able to speak! They're just, monsters. They eat people, and devour their souls!

“You're afraid of me…" she said, her voice soft and calm—and sad. “Please, don't be." She set one taloned paw lightly on his shoulder for a moment, before placing it back upon the floor – of the cave. We're in a cave.

???

Maybe I am dead after all. Or perhaps I'm in a coma. Do people dream, in comas?

Leon took a moment to examine his own body. There were no scars; the sword wound to his leg was gone; there was no scar to mark where the arrow that had taken him in the gut had been; there wasn't even the scar on his arm where he had broken it as a child.

“Am I dead?"

Her eyes, which he had previously only seen slitted, now opened wide as she pulled her head back and once again flared her nostrils. Her eyes were slitted, like a cat's.

She relaxed her stance slightly, and responded softly, “Dead?" She left out a small breath. “No. You aren't dead."

“Then… how?" he swept his arms over his body before holding his hands out in a gesture of confusion; his face a mask of puzzlement.

“I healed you."

“You healed me."

“Yes." She tilted her head to the side again; big, beautiful eyes inspecting him, as though looking for something she had overlooked.

“You can do that."

She responded with a huff and a ruffling of her wings that once again called his attention to her body.

So I didn't imagine it! She just grinned at me again!

He sat up. “You don't happen to have any spare man clothes lying about, do you?" He looked around the cave, hoping to see his armor or even his undergarments magically appear. No such luck.

Following his gaze around what he could only assume was her home, she answered slowly and with yet another flare of her nostrils, “I removed what I found you in; I'm afraid I made a bit of a mess of it all, though your armor was already beyond repair."

“So, that would be a no, then." Finding a suitable rock, he strategically placed it to cover himself.

At that, she turned and began to exit the cave, her movements more graceful than any mere lizard's ever could be, her tail whisking along behind her hypnotically.

“Wait!"

She arched her neck around, her draconic visage coming back into view and her beautiful golden eyes peering at him intently. One eyebrow arched deliberately upwards.

He swallowed, and then wet his lips before continuing. “Will you be back?" Do I want her to come back? I think, yes. I want to know what happened. I want to know why she chose me.

She tipped her head slightly to the side, and then she was gone.

*    *    *

Leon – or Leonidas, as his father had named him – spent the next several minutes assessing his situation. He was alive. He no longer had any scars whatsoever. He had all of his limbs; none had been lost after the battle – or if they had, his mysterious savior had restored them to him. And he was parched, and ravenous.

He thought he could hear the sounds of water trickling somewhere outside of the cave. Good enough for me.
Climbing to his feet – I'm remarkably steady; just how well did she heal me? – he began the trek to the mouth of the cave and, hopefully, water.

His bare feet padded over the smooth floor of the cave while he considered his situation. I'm alive… and I should be dead. He ran a finger over his stomach, feeling for the scar that should be there. I have my memories, but I feel nothing; no sorrow, no loss, nothing. He stepped on a sharp rock, “ach." But I can still feel pain, apparently.

He thought back to his encounter with the dragoness. She was smaller than I thought she would be, or rather, than I thought a dragon would be if I should ever be so unfortunate as to meet one. He stopped for a moment, his hand lifting to his face, thumb and pointer finger resting around his chin briefly before beginning to explore the rest of his face. I have a beard. He lowered his hand, looked at it, and let it go. I have a beard... How long was I unconscious?

Night had fallen, and as he exited the cave mouth he could see the full moon in the distance. There was a quarter moon, when last I saw the night sky. So… maybe 21 days, if this is the next full moon? He felt his short and scraggly beard again. Let's go with that. I've been without food or water as far as I can tell for 21 days. Maybe the jungle people can proclaim me their prophet! Of what though? Bad hair and poorly kempt beards? 'And lo, all men grew forth a beard, and all was well.'

He chuckled a bit.

Maybe not. Ah, there's the water!

The sound of water had grown steadily as he walked through a lightly treed forest, and now found himself standing beside a shallow stream.

Dropping to his knees, he plunged his hands into the water. Cold. He washed the dust from his hands, splashed some water on his face, and began to drink like a man dying of thirst. Maybe that's exactly what I was, but no more.

His thirst slaked, he looked around for something edible. There were leaves, there was bark, and there was dirt. None of those sounded particularly appealing. He couldn't see any animals, nor even their tracks – though how well he could hope to see tracks at night he didn't know, he certainly wasn't trained as a scout. And of berries and nuts… also nothing.

“Shit."

“Am I hungry enough to eat bark…" an idea, “bugs?" A shake of the head. “No, not yet."

Maybe she will be back at the cave, it certainly smelled strongly enough of her in there.

“Here's to hoping." He raised an imaginary mug to the air, and then set off on the return trip to his temporary – I think? – home.

*    *    *

A musky cinnamon smell. The remembered taste of strawberries. A whisper of sound and the clink of metal on metal.

Wait. Cinnamon? Strawberries? His eyes opened to see sunlight streaming into the cave, illuminating the raised platform upon which he had first woken the previous evening. A quick scan of the interior of the cave revealed a small pile of clothing – with a belt – next to a loaf of bread and some cheese – the latter only lightly chewed upon and the former with only a trace of mold. He walked over to the pile and, picking up the tunic, discovered that everything was damp and smelled of saliva – and he noted, strawberries and cinnamon. If she's still here somewhere, I really need to ask about that. Shouldn't her breath smell like decaying meat, or something? Come to think of it, I don't even know what dragons eat; so much from the stories seems to be wrong.

He dangled the tunic in front of him, considering. Eh, she woke me with a kiss. I don't think a spit dampened tunic will harm me. He put it on, followed quickly by the belt and sandals. It's not much, but at least it all fits.

“Hello? Are you still here?"

No response.

Picking up the bread and cheese, he wandered outside and found a likely rock to sit upon.

“If you can hear me… Thank you. For everything."

*    *    *

She could. But she wasn't ready to speak to him – or to anyone – just yet; the pain was still too great.

She was curled up in a second cave, higher up the cliff face from the first. And she was miserable, and she ached. The physical pain she could endure – it really wasn't so bad; after all, what are some stab wounds and a single arrow to the gut on a dragon? Well, I guess they are something, at that. But I've had worse.

It was the feelings and memories that she was hiding from. They filled her with pain; from injuries long past. They filled her with sorrow; for loved ones lost. And they filled her with terror; of what had been seen, and of what she now felt.

Mostly they were memories taken from Leonidas, the man with whom she was now connected—perhaps for the rest of his – or even her own – life. All of his injuries, physical and emotional, were now hers. The process of taking them into herself had healed him, but at a cost she hoped he would never have to know. A cost that she could accept – even if he wouldn't want her to, as she now knew from delving into his mind.

He may not think it, but he is a good man. One day, he may even be great. I just hope I am still around to see it.

His mission, should he choose to accept it, would bring him right back into the middle of the fight. A fight that she feared with all of her being. She had lived for millennia; she was, in truth, the very first of her kind. And in all of the years since her father had created her in his laboratory – in what had once been the United States of America – she had never seen an enemy more dangerous than the one she had seen in Leon's memories. Lochlan… the Destroyer of Worlds. He bears my father's staff, and he seeks the power of the Dark Elf Lords to unlock its full potential. He would upset the Balance and bring about the end of us all.

The Infinite Emperor! If he learns of this… No. that won't happen. That can't happen. Please, by all the gods, great and small, please let that not happen. This world is dark enough already; I don't think it could handle his presence as well.

Something light touches her shoulder and interrupts her thoughts. She realizes just how much she was trembling, and slowly lifts her head to see what would dare to touch the eldest dragon in her lair.

*    *    *

As he ate the first food he had eaten – as far as he knew – in over three weeks, he was surprised by a small skitter of pebbles and dust landing in the bushes near him. He looked up at the cliff above him – It's not a very big cliff… or a very big hill… but that looks like another cave – and came to a decision; he would better be able to get the lay of the land from the top of the hill. Besides, if there was something up there, he'd like to know about it; this looked like bear or maybe mountain lion country.

It was a bit of a hike, but he made it to the far side of the hill, where cliff met slope, climbing all the while.

He looked up and found himself only a few hundred yards from the top – which directly overlooked the mouth of the cave he had spent the majority of his time in. “Well, here's for it."

No easy way down. And maybe ninety feet down to the rock upon which he had recently been sitting. It wasn't a bear or a mountain lion in the cave, then. It must be her. He backed his legs off the edge and felt for toeholds – there seemed to be plenty.

The descent was easier than he had dared hope; within minutes he had reached the entrance to a small cave in the cliffside.

And there she was. Her scales were green; her fringe was black; her talons were ebony. She was tucked into a quivering ball; her head tucked under one wing; her tail wrapped around her. She looked miserable, and Leon couldn't help but feel his heart breaking for the pain she was obviously in.

He reached out to rest a hand upon her shoulder, offering what comfort he could in a gesture.

*    *    *

He's here, in my cave. He came looking for me. He feels it too – as father had said he would… all those years back. I never believed him. He was always full of proclamations of what would be, and how things were, and the way they should be. I miss you, father. I wish I could be there when Leon finds you. But I don't think I can; I must join the fight to give him the time he needs. But first…

She reached out her head to rest her neck on his shoulder, her jaw draping down his back. She felt his arms wrap around her neck. It felt right. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

His voice broke the quiet. “You're trembling…" She could feel his breath along the side of her neck. “I had hoped to see you again, but… Are you okay? What's wrong?" She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, and the lack of fear. He didn't even smell afraid; he smelled like sweat and exertion, and worry, and potatoes, and sheep, and… It was his new clothing; clothing she had stolen from a farmer's wagon. But the concern, and the sweat; they were his. He had risked life and limb to come to her.

She slowly slid herself out of their embrace, and facing him began to speak. “I found you at the edge of the plains, to the southeast. You were near death, and I would normally have ignored you… but I could smell it on you, and I could feel it in the air. You were marked. You were the one my father had told me I would one day find."

“Your father?"

“Nile Roan, the man your king tasked you to find. The Dark Wanderer. The Guardian of the Balance. He created me, twelve thousand years ago, in the time before the great war."

“Twelve… thousand? Fuck. I mean… wow, that's… a long time ago."

She grinned – something she had learned from the humans when she lived in the great sprawling cities of Mexico and, later, Australia, when it was one of the few safe places left. “It is a long time. Even for me. Even, I think, for my father." She paused for a moment, before continuing briefly in a more subdued tone of voice. “It has been so long, in fact, that I have even outlived most of my own children."

He didn't know what to say to that last statement, tinged with sorrow as it had been. “So," he eventually continued, uncomfortably, “I was marked?"

She cocked her head before responding, the sadness disappearing from her features. “You were, and still are." She straightened her head and neck, and readjusted her body to get more comfortable. “Something about you drew my father's attention. I doubt you would even remember ever having met him, possibly it was before you were even born. He knew what you would be, and he knew that you would be important. Or maybe he's the reason you are what you are and who you are. I don't know… even now there is so much about him I do not understand."

“It's common knowledge, in my district, that the Dark Wanderer spent a night at my uncle's tavern. No one knew why, and no one really wanted him there. But it's still a rare enough occurrence to be noteworthy." He leaned back against the wall, hand on his chin. He lowered his hand and looked at it, frowning, before speaking again. “So, your father marked me – maybe even changed me in some way?"

“Yes. I believe so." She cocked her head slightly, again, briefly, and then furrowed her brows, also briefly. “He knows things; he sees patterns in chaos. I think he knew this was coming before I ever drew breath. And so he marked you, and I found you, and I brought you here."

“You'll forgive me, I hope, when I make note of your size." He waved a hand in her direction. “You can't be more than ten feet, from the tip of your tail to the tip of your nose." He frowned for a moment. “And… if my memory's not too horrible, no more than two-hundred… and fifty pounds?"

She flashed him another tooth filled grin, and then began to levitate. Her wings remained furled, yet she floated some feet off the floor of the small cave. “I've learned a few tricks, here and there, over the years."

Leon broke into a grin of his own, before letting out a delighted chuckle. “Well, I suppose that would explain how I came to be here. And my healing?"

She settled back onto the ground. “Please, don't ask me about that. Just know that the kiss was a part of it." She started shaking again. She tried to hide it, but she knew he could see it.

“That's what's upsetting you, isn't it? Something about healing me." He sucked in a breath, “the man my king tasked me to find…" He looked sharply at her. “You said, 'the man your king tasked you to find.' How did you know about that?"

She was losing control again; the trembling was intensifying, and her stomach was clenching. She felt sick; she felt like a tree had slammed into her gut. Her breath came in short gasps. “I… I took your injuries. I took your pain. I took your memories, and I took everything that was hurting inside of you, and I made it my own." She felt like she was going to pass out. “I bonded us… and accepted the bond my father set in place, waiting to be triggered. I saw what you saw at the battle; I felt what you felt, when you saw your friends dying around you, and when you were hit by that arrow." She flared her nostrils and tried to calm herself; he looked intent, and concerned, and shaken. He looked like he truly cared for her; though whether that was because of the bond that she had created – that her father had created - or for some other reason, she couldn't tell; and in the end, did it really matter what the cause so long as the feelings were there? She closed her eyes, and her breathing deepened.

She whispered now. “I lived your life through your eyes, and I fell in love with you…"  She paused for a moment, “And I saw also that I cannot stay with you. Our paths, bound together, must come apart. My father denied me the ability to fall in love, to assure my part in things now; and now that I finally feel it—now that I finally know what it means—it cannot be." She took a breath, then continued, “you have to find my father, and I have to face Lochlan. I'm the only one strong enough to hold him; to buy you the time that you will need." She whispered even more quietly now, barely even audible, “and I don't even know if you share this love, or what it means if you do."

She heard the shuffling of feet, and then she felt him place his hands on either side of her face, lifting her head up to face his own. She opened her eyes.

“Thank you, Niara." He knows my name. He's using our connection! “You saved my life, and you gave me the strength I will need to complete the mission King Rodrick gave me. But you don't have to be alone…" He brought his mouth up to hers, and lightly kissed her. “At least not tonight."

*    *    *

He had forgotten to ask her about the strawberries; and as the night went on, he forgot about a lot of things. For this one night, she was his, and he was hers, and it didn't matter that she was a dragon or that he was a human. What mattered was the love they shared. Whether that love was a result of fate, of chance, or of the machinations of a god, it was the truest thing he had ever known.