Cassandra had to admit that while she hated all the noble crap, they ate good food—and Stanton was good company. She'd even let him talk her into going to the ball, so long as he could get them an invitation.

Walking home, she realized that while she'd never felt scared to walk the streets of Conjur before, now that she had the power of a (totally good) dragon, she practically stalked the roads and hoped some idiot would try to rob her.

But, without so much as an odd glance from anyone, she reached her home and made her way upstairs to her room. Entering, she found it looking exactly the same as normal—except for the kobold kneeling just inside.

Only once the door was closed behind her did Cassandra ask, "Why are you here? No one saw you, did they?"

"Of course not, your gloriousness! I am fortunate enough to welcome you to your new home—your lair!" Jumping to their feet, the kobold ran to one side of the room and pulled on one of the ornate ironwork rods that held a magelight—which caused a panel to slide open in the wall.

Walking over to the hidden door, Cassandra couldn't believe how it'd been built. "There shouldn't be enough room here for this. The walls of these rooms are paper thin!"

Nonetheless, she followed the kobold down the stairs, pulling the wall closed behind her. The stairs seemed to go on forever, but just as she was about to demand how much further they opened out. A huge cave, lit with dim candles, stretched before her. She walked in after the kobold, eyes trying to take it all in at once. "When did you have time to build this?"

"Today. We only have two rooms so far. Big rooms. Good rooms. Dragon rooms. Soon kobolds get rooms too. Then many rooms!" Trotting forward, the kobold reached a huge set of doors set into the wall of the cave.

As she got closer, the next room was revealed to Cassandra. It was a monster of a chamber. Great big pillars holding the ceiling up and bracketing a long path that led to a dais. On that dais sat what looked like a throne—if she squinted and closed one eye. "What is that made out of?"

"We couldn't find enough good stone, oh great and powerful scaled master! We will do better once we find what we need!" Clearing their throat, the kobold shouted, "Make ready the throne!"

Two kobolds strode out carrying a blanket between them, which they proceeded to spread over the seat of the throne. Another, smaller kobold ran up with a cushion to set it down and back away.

Striding up to the throne, Cassandra had to admit they had done a wonder in just a day. Carefully, she adjusted herself to be a human-sized dragon form without spines or sharp edges, turned, and sat down on the throne.

There was a stirring in her blood that made this right. Being in control. Having minions. Her own throne. "You have done well." This, she realized, was akin to the power nobles had, but she would definitely not abuse it like they did. "Now, have any of you found out about who this werewolf is?"

"She's definitely Super Lupine Girl."

Cassandra looked at the kobold that spoke and considered pulling its head off—then calmed her temper. "Yes. Anything else?" It was apparently going to take patience to lead a group of kobolds. "And don't say 'she's a female werewolf with magic powers' or I will unscrew your head."

Snapping their mouth closed so they wouldn't say the words they'd been about to, the kobold thought for a moment. "I heard a guard talking about her. Called her Louise Silverclaw."

It was a start, Cassandra realized. "I want you to find this Louise Silverclaw. Find her and tell me where she is, so I can rip her in half."

Wagging their stubby tail in excitement, the kobold bowed. "Of course, your unspeakably rewardingness!"

Cassandra was still trying to make sense of the words the kobold had said after it'd left. Ignoring that for now, she turned her attention to the others. "You said there were others coming and you need to build quarters for them?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Do so. Make it your priority." There was something in her that instinctively wanted to care for the strange little creatures, not because they were all that useful, but because they were hers. The idea of having them leave or someone else taking control of them started to raise her ire. "I want every kobold in the world living in this city."

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"Wand, you are amazing." Stanton looked at himself in the mirror and suitably recoiled. He was wearing a knee-length skirt, a top that was cut a little low by current fashion (and very low according to his own measure—but only when it came to shirts he was wearing), and there was a tight corset around his waist that made sure the low-cut shirt had something to show off. "Thank you."

He twirled, and the girl in the mirror twirled too. "Angel?"

Angel bit her lip, looking up at Stanton with wide eyes. "Are you really going to—?"

"Angel, make me look cute." The look of pure and unadulterated joy that radiated from Angel almost overwhelmed Stanton. "I want hair, I want makeup, I want you to primp me and leave me with nails so impractical that I won't be able to feed myself without sufficiently re-engineered cutlery." Holding out his hand to Angel, Stanton waited until she took it to add, "I want to look pretty."

"I—I never believed this day would come, Stanton. It seemed like just this morning that you were trying to dress like a man and now you want to be dressed and pampered like a good girl?" Twirling in a circle, Angel fell backwards on the bed and wiggled her arms and legs to make an Angel angel. After a moment of sighing in emotional bliss, she lifted her head up and looked at him. "What's your angle?"

Crouching down, no mean feat in the skirts he was wearing, Stanton got down to look Angel in the eyes. "My angle is that the City Guard needed to talk to someone fitting Super Lupine Girl's description. I arranged that to happen by making up a pseudonym for myself of Louise Silverclaw. Now Louise needs to go and make an appearance at the guardhouse to tell them she's sorry for causing a fuss but this dangerous creature that she hopes isn't an actual dragon needs to be stopped."

Pressing her hands together, Angel took a slow breath, held it and counted to five, then let it out again. "So this might not happen again?"

"If I have to keep appearing as Super Lupine Girl, I'm sure I'll have to be Louise with depressing frequency."

"Sooo… I get to make your hair super-long, make you look girly and pretty and cute and—and—and… I really do?" Angel made her eyes as huge as saucers as she looked at Stanton, while trying to hold back the magic that even now was building within her.

Stanton beamed at Angel. "Go as far as you dare—then a step further." He had no idea why he was encouraging Angel so much except that she looked adorable when she was excited.

Standing, dipping her head forward in her most windblown badass pose, Angel turned slightly and cupped her magic into one paw. Not just a little magic. Not a moderate amount. Princess Angel von Snuggles, the fourth, could have wiped out a city with the magic she had gathered—and she built the inferno of power even further. "You want everything I've got and then some?"

Bracing himself, Stanton trusted Angel to at least not do a bad job. What he worried was her doing exactly as she intended. Still, as he watched her brace and use both paws to pull the burning ball of magic forward, he had to admit that whatever she was going to do would make him completely unrecognizable as Stanton Raveel-Sharptooth.

"Ha!" Angel leaned into the attack, putting her spiritual force behind it. "Do!" Pink lightning crackled off the ball of energy as it accelerated. "Ken!"

All Stanton had as a warning before the crackling magic hit him in the chest was watching the world slowly turn more and more pink. He couldn't dodge or half the city would wind up wearing blush and ribbons. He took one for the city and then fell backward as it hit him.

Stanton was lost in a nightmare world of pink frills and frilly pinks. Someone called his name, though, and so he pulled his way back to reality to see Angel flying above him; looking down. "Uh, Angel?"

"You look amazing!" Angel danced around in the air, finishing with a motion that pantomimed throwing something toward the ground. "Come on! You have to see!"

Hauled to his feet by a creature not even a quarter of his size, Stanton let himself be dragged (covering his eyes, of course) to the other side of his room where the full length mirror had pride of place. When he opened his eyes at Angel's encouragement, he stared. "That's me?"

The girl in the mirror looked a few years younger than him, had pink gloss on her lips, a slight blush on her cheeks, and her eyes were done with a deep blue eyeliner. And that was just his face. His hair was free of all confines and cascaded down his back—complimenting his face with some framing bangs.

The dress was the same, though he noticed there was more under it. When he flipped up one side, he revealed petticoats under it. Knee-high socks and a blue pair of shoes that matched his eyeliner completed the look. "Angel—"

Angel was worried she'd gone too far. Stanton hadn't even noticed the glitter in his hair yet. "Is it too much? I could—"

"It's perfect!" Turning on the little floating wolfette, Stanton grabbed her out of the air and hugged her against him tight. "Thank you—I knew you could do it."

Hugging Stanton, Angel let out a happy squeak of pure and unadulterated joy. This was her purpose. This was exactly what she was sent here to do. And now—NOW!—she got praised for it. "Am I a good girl?"

Giving Angel a pat on her head, Stanton nodded. "Angel, you're a very good girl."

----------------------------------------

Stanton could still remember Angel's smile and wagging tail when he finished his long and winding walk around Conjur at the guardhouse. Without a doubt he looked nothing like the nobleman who stepped into the building just a few days earlier.

Walking up to the central counter, he smiled at the guard on duty there and said, "I'm here to see"—he fumbled out a note he absolutely didn't need—"Sergeant Steven Gaoler."

"He should be free in a while. I'll let him know you're here, miss…?"

"Silverclaw. Louise Silverclaw. Uh, also Super Lupine Girl." It was calculated just right, by how Stanton was reading the guard on duty, to be a name drop he'd recognize.

"This way Miss Silverclaw." The guard sounded somewhat excited and was showing it. When they reached the sergeant's door, he finally broke down and asked, "Can you sign this for my little girl? She saw you fight that monster and has been asking me over and over if I knew you."

It wasn't exactly what Stanton had envisioned. He took the paper from the guard and pulled out one of his fountain pens. "What's her name?" He waited for it before writing, To Sable, I hope you're a good girl for your daddy, he's a real hero! and signed it Super Lupine Girl.

His jaw dropping, the guardsman was practically bouncing in place. "Thank you so much. She'll love it."

Stanton had to face facts that he was, apparently, a role model for young women who wanted to uphold the peace. He knocked on the door and was swiftly told to enter. Walking in, he spotted the sergeant in his chair filling out paperwork. Trying to affect a more one-the-balls-of-his-feet walk, Stanton stood across from Steven Gaoler rather, as Stanton had, sitting. "My cousin demanded—uh, suggested—I come and talk to you about events last week?"

Shuffling his notes around, Steven Gaoler found the folder he was after and pulled it across. "Have a seat, Lady Louise Silverclaw." When she didn't sit down, he let out a grunt. "I just have to dot my Is and cross my Ts, you understand."

The title of lady surprised Stanton. He would have to have words with his contact about keeping his alias more humble. "Of course, sir. You want me to explain what happened?" Another grunt and this time a nod. "Well, I was trying to avoid that cousin of mine, but had spotted him in a restaurant in town. That's when I heard the argument between that dragon-thing and another noble. Well, I know Conjur is a very lawful city, so I figured the City Guard would handle it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"But the werewolf wasn't doing so well. She'd taken her wolf form, but it wasn't doing her much good. I just—I put myself between her and danger. The dragon—"

Steven Gaoler cut in. "Alleged dragon. We're still investigating, and haven't found anything conclusive to believe it was a dragon—young or otherwise."

"R-Right. Well, it was nasty. I had to use a lot of tricks to angle it away from the woman. When I got my chance, I gave it a good punch and shoved my magic at it." Stanton kept things vague—Louise wasn't meant to be as analytical as he was.

"Under normal circumstances, and in this case as well, we're told to talk down vigilantes. Your actions, Lady Silverclaw, are to be lauded. You have been trained in combat?" Steven's hand was poised to write whatever information was given.

"I grew up with a lot of cousins, nephews, and uncles who made sure being a girl wasn't an excuse when it came to losing a tousle." Shrugging, Stanton went on with his made-up excuse. "So if growing up with a dozen excitable werewolf 'brothers' is combat training, then yeah."

Writing it down, Steven chuckled at that one. "If you see the creature again, please let the City Guard know as soon as possible. While it was a good idea to remove the threat from the scene in this instance, we much prefer to have someone to arrest in these situations." It felt stupid to him to have to read all the rules to the young woman. She was, by all accounts, a capable fighter and dispatched a foe with greater reach and height without getting hurt. "This is just between you and me, though, but thank you for what you did. We try to be everywhere, but the city is too large to have the City Guard on every corner."

"C-Can I go?"

"Sure. Everything I have points to this being a brave bystander offering some assistance to a noblewoman who was being accosted. Open and closed. If you find anything further out about this alleged dragon, I'd appreciate you letting us know. Have a nice day."

The sergeant dipped his head down, leading Stanton to believe that was all the dismissal and thanks he was getting. He turned for the door—still on the balls of his feet—and stepped outside the little office…

… to see three more of the City Guard, with notepads held at the ready, wanting autographs. Stanton, rather than being his own quirky and slightly sarcastic self, pulled his new persona tight around him and bounced over to the first with a big smile. "Who do you want this made out to?"

----------------------------------------

Stanton had returned home and was back to looking at himself in the mirror. It was both terrifying and reassuring to see how little he resembled his normal self. "Thank you again, Angel."

"You're not going to take it off now, are you?" Deploying her big puppy eyes again, Angel looked up at Stanton and even added a soft whine to her voice.

"…" He was at a loss. Angel, he feared, was going to have him wrapped around her littlest digit. "I mean, if I took it off now I could get ready for our slumber party." The look of dawning joy on Angel's face was worth it. "Wand, could I get something a little more relaxed evening talking girl-stuff with my best friend?"

Angel, when she worked out what Stanton had said, squealed and flew a loop-the-loop in excitement. "Wand, we'll need makeup and jewelry too! Oh, and snacks!"

"Huh? My wand can just—" Stanton stared as a cart with cakes on it appeared in front of him, then another little stand appeared that had a number of cozy-looking robes, thick flannel shirts, and several dresses. The last thing to appear was a desk with makeup products scattered over it along with a bucket of ice with a wine bottle and glasses. "Wand, you're the best, you know that?"

Even if he wasn't holding it, Stanton felt a vague sense of warmth coming from the sensation of the wand in his head. "You know, you might as well just chill out here all the time." He gasped when the wand appeared in his hand. "There you are. Thank you for all this."

Stanton poured them each a glass of the wine, which he noted was surprisingly delicious. "Okay, comfort first, then we start working out what outfits to try on."

When Stanton had his wand make another rack of outfits just for her, Angel was over the moon. She tried on dresses, skirts, and even a pair of trousers (that she was sure to say she didn't like, even if they were comfortable) while Stanton did the same. Eventually, with several glasses of wine in each of them, she started teaching Stanton the finer points of makeup application.

Staring intently at himself in the mirror, applying eye shadow as Angel instructed, Stanton said, "This dragon stuff worries me. I think I might have given the sergeant a hint that it was much more than some kid playing games, but I don't think anyone takes the threat seriously enough."

"It could have something to do with the titanic struggle between good and evil," Angel said. Looking at Stanton, she hiccuped before realizing he'd want more of an explanation. "You are a huge source of good in the world. The dragon is the opposite, evil incarnate. You are drawn together and nothing can come between that fight. Them not recognizing the full threat of the beast is probably the universe supporting that."

Pausing a moment, one eye done and the other almost there, Stanton took a long breath and sighed. "That's a heck of a thing to tell someone, Angel. So I'm stuck alone—with you and the wand—fighting the dragon on my own?"

"Hmm, I don't think so. If dragons here are as powerful as you say, I bet you're going to end up with a whole trout of heroes. Wait, trout? Trip? Oh, troupe!" Angel giggled, hiccuped again, and stretched out on the bed on her back. "This tickle makes head my wine."

"You're drunk, Angel. Also, what do you mean?"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"… Am not!"

"Are too!" Angel froze, giggled, and pointed a digit at Stanton. "You're really tricky."

"Thank you, I really do try to be." Stanton got back to work with the eye shadow, finishing the light purple to compliment his blue eyeliner. "So, more people are going to wind up like me?"

"Yes and no. If you mean"—Angel sat up, reached for her wine, and sipped some more—"just like you, no. Everyone's path to pure and perfect femininity is different. Yours expressed itself as a cute wolf girl, someone else might be a singer, or even a giant robot pilot!"

"I… err… What?" Stanton asked, turning to look at Angel.

Her eyes widening, Angel held both her paws up to her mouth. "Your eyes are so pretty with that shade!"

Stanton turned back to look in the mirror and— "Yeah, it really is." It was weird to look at the pretty face and see it for being a pretty face first, then overlaying that with the deep-seated knowledge that it was his pretty face. He shook his head to cast off the distraction. "Answer the question, Angel. I want facts here. How do I get other people to help me, and how do I recognize who they are?"

"The universe will make all visible in time!" Angel gave a nod, like she was revealing the inner workings of the universe.

"You're full of it. So I just keep doing what I'm doing and, if things are too hard, someone will fall into this mess with me and I'll recognize them?"

"Ugh. Yes. You really can't just let me be mysterious and all-knowing?"

Removing his dressing robe, Stanton (who was still wearing an under-corset) reached out and grabbed Angel to hug her to him. "You are, without a doubt, not all-knowing. But you know what, Angel? You're perfect just the way you are."

Sighing, Angel reached out to hug Stanton back, though she could barely get her arms to the sides of him given his size. "Aww, you say such nice things."

Stanton didn't want to say it was the alcohol helping him just unwind, but he knew it in his head that he'd wake up and spend a good half a day trying to unpack what he'd done. "So, if mother replies that she got me invited to a ball, I'm going to go as a woman wearing nice dresses, rather than the horrid fashion that ladies are expected to wear."

"You shaid tha' before." Blinking at how she'd sounded, Angel looked at the wine glass she'd been drinking from accusingly. "Dish your fault!"

Realizing how inebriated he was, Stanton nodded solemnly. "I think we both could use some water, thanks for the wine though, wand." The wine in both their glasses faded from a rich yellow to a clear and uncarbonated water, and Stanton reached out to his and sipped it. "This is chilled. Wand, you are amashing."

Looking up at Stanton and blinking a few times in surprise, Angel started to giggle. "You shlurring too!"

"Yeash." Stanton gulped down the water and focused on his werewolf metabolism. The sensation of the alcohol processing faster left him shaking at first as he became more drunk, then it faded into a light buzz. "Ah, better."

"Whaaaa? Whash you do?"

"Okay, Angel, a lesson in werewolf powers. Close your eyes." Stanton waited for her to do so. "Now focus on how things move inside you. How your food moves. How the energy it gives you works its way through your body." When she gasped and nodded, he went on. "Now imagine that faster. Working harder to—"

Her eyes snapping open, Angel fell backwards onto the bed as she became intolerably drunk, then sober again. Gasping, she turned her head and looked up at Stanton. "Wow."

"Yeah, quite the rush isn't it? So that's how you can deal with alcohol. You can also do the opposite and slow things down if you get poisoned. Just don't speed up for poisons or the shock will kill you."

Eyes widening, Angel nodded. "'Kay. Well, what are we going to do next?" She reached out to her wine glass and took a long swig of water. "Oh, I need more cake."

"That's a very good idea. The best thing about all this is I can eat whatever I want and I seem to just burn it up. There're no downsides to eating cake!" Reaching over to the food cart, Stanton lifted down two plates with cake on them. One he passed to Angel and the other he took for himself. "So, any thoughts on what I should wear to—whatever ball mother finds for me?"

"Mmmf." Angel had a mouthful of cake she had to gulp down, not that she minded since there was plenty more. "Full gown. All the bells and whistles! Magic gems for jewelry! A dress so magical it would literally shine if anyone could actually see the force of magic in something."

"Angel, most of both sides of my family can see magic force in items. Some can even tell what the magic is."

"Even better! We put all kinds of magic into the dress. Nothing specific! MAGIC!" Angel, holding the plate in her right hand, waved her paw mysteriously at Stanton.

The idea really did things for Stanton's creativity. He stared at Angel for a moment, feeling his energy spooling up, before he started talking with zero filter between brain and mouth. "This is going to blow everyone's minds! Magic-imbued items are always done with purpose. Everyone will try to puzzle out why I have the dress imbued and wonder what it's doing. So we make the enchantment itself pretty. Swirls, rose patterns, and even my families' crests!"

Not sure exactly what was going on, Angel had a pretty good idea Stanton liked something she said. While he ranted about coloration of magic and accents, she ate more cake. When her tummy was full of cake, she slipped her plate back on the trolley and got a second one—because good girls get bonus cake.

Relaxing and sitting back with her cake, Angel decided a third piece would be a special reward for making Stanton so happy. By the time she was halfway through he'd grabbed a notebook and was sketching away. When she was done with the whole slice, he'd started actually casting enchantments onto a practice dress.

"Stanton?" Angel asked when he finally put down a full notebook and started casting a spell to summon another.

"Yeah?" Looking around, seemingly in a daze, Stanton focused on Angel.

"Is this a fourth-slice-of-cake event?"

Staring at her a moment as his context shifted, Stanton spotted empty plates (well, empty except for crumbs, the icing had been dutifully licked off, he could see) and did some math—then threw it all out the window. "Probably five, just to be sure you are getting your proper daily intake of cake."

Angel's eyes widened, her tail started to wag, and she nodded to the sage words. "Also, you need to catch up."

Looking down at the filled notebook and the dress that, to his magic-sensitive sight, glowed, Stanton nodded. "Yeah, I probably should. Thanks for the idea, Angel." Reaching out with his left hand to pick up a fresh plate of cake, Stanton used his other to give Angel a good rub on the top of her head.

Her tail wagging, Angel leaned into the petting and let out a happy little whine of bliss. She had no reservations when it came to headpats and cake, so even when he stopped petting her, she reached for the trolley and got another slice. "When do you think the dragon will show up again?"

Putting a forkload of cake in his mouth, Stanton chewed it slowly and thought about the question. Swallowing, he nodded to the answer he'd come up with. "In the first encounter, it just seemed to get angry at Shazine out of the blue. Either it will do this again or—and I think this is more likely—when it can gain something from doing so. That worries me even more, because if it does that, it means the dragon has an agenda."

Looking at her cake, Angel felt the same worry Stanton did. "So what do we do about it?"

"Not much I can do. The City Guard will be doing the best searching it can for them, overtly. I guess I could try testing out some of my theories on this predictive ability I have." The cake was easily on par with any dessert Stanton had ever tried. There were multiple layers, each bounded by a sweet cream, and it was covered in a thick and rich icing that should have been making him gain weight just by looking at it. The cherry flavored cake itself was so light and moist that it seemed to melt in his mouth as it deposited its bounty upon his palate. "This is really good cake. Thanks, wand."

"Predictive what-now?" Angel asked.

"I noticed that when the dragon was swinging punches and claws at me, I could feel the direction of its swings. I tried to test it at the guardhouse, but without being able to wolf-out I only got the slightest hint of it."

"Huh. Probably just reflexes."

"No, Angel, it was way more than that. I deliberately closed my eyes and asked a Guard to hit me. He did, and even though I wasn't even fully magicked up—I felt it coming. Not the air, not the sound of his muscles—I felt that a hit was coming before I sensed it." The little fork in his hand seemed almost insufficient for the task of dealing with the cake, but Stanton was not willing to just grab a handful of it and start devouring… yet.

Getting onboard with Stanton's interest in the ability, Angel asked, "Oooh! So it tells you when and where to expect attacks?"

"No, not precisely. But I think I can work around that. I've been thinking about it all day, and—I need to explain something else about the academy. We have to study stuff outside our chosen field. They claim it gives good grounding, or something, but it's really just to stop wizards and sorcerers from becoming utter fruitcake crazy before leaving school. One of these classes, that I was given a list to pick from, was statistical analysis."

"Numbers?"

Staring at Angel like she'd just described the magical arts as interpretive dance, Stanton began with a droll tone. "Yes, Angel, numbers. But the way statistics uses numbers is to measure the chances of things. So if I feel a strike coming for my upper body, I can move in a way that would avoid most of the damage I'd normally take from such a hit—and put me in the best position to take advantage of it."

"What language was that you spoke just now?" Angel asked, looking perplexed.

"Ha-ha." Stanton looked at Angel, focusing on her paws. "Did you paint your claws?"

Her eyes widening to unreasonable dimensions, Angel gasped. "How backwards is this world that you don't do your fingernails?!"

"In my defense, I now have a superior mentor in all things feminine to assist me," Stanton managed, before Angel attacked him.

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This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.