Visnavik’drok’sahrot had lived in her swamp within a forest for five hundred years. In that time, all manner of aimless fools had wandered into the black dragon’s territory, seeking all manner of things. Adventurers seeking evil to slay or treasure to find, hunters seeking a new quarry to sell or eat, thieves and monsters alike seeking a dark and quiet place to hide; none of them expected her. She drank of their terror gladly and revelled in their screams of suffering.
Eventually, all things instinctually learned to fear that forest, learned that none who entered the swamp at its centre ever came back out. Even beasts who required the trees and the brush to survive stuck to its very edges, risking interaction with the outside world to remain as far away from her as possible.
The forest fell silent for a long, long time, until one day, when the parade of fools suddenly began anew.
The drum major leading the march towards death was a human hero, freshly awakened to his abilities and so incredibly arrogant because of it. He stepped into the clearing with such a boisterous shout, claiming he was the next saviour of the world, and that the growth in power he would gain upon slaying her would catapult him into legends. Visnavik had yawned in response, stretching as she rose from her favoured sleeping position, casting a tidal wave of disease ridden water to easily knock the newborn hero off his feet. He didn’t last much longer than that, summoned vines covered in thorns to restrict his movement and a spray of acid to melt his arms and the weapons they held. She enjoyed the remaining hours of his life very much, his sizeable ego fuelling a despair so divine.
More victims followed over next fifty years: nobles, merchants, criminals, adventurers, investigators- their quality variable but enjoyed to the fullest all the same. But even an all devouring void of sadism and hunger had standards for her toys, and the latest fool that town sent her way did not meet them.
Despite the awful hilarity of her existence and banishment, the girl was assuredly the worst sacrifice yet. If their goal was to satiate a predator’s hunger, she failed immediately: a thin thing with barely any muscle or fat, she would be less satisfying to consume than even an insect. As a victim she was extremely disappointing, so delectable at first- a true human so full of hope to loose- but when faced with emotional torment she seemed to lock up and become as stone, denying her tormentor the satisfaction. The fun of physical torture was also dampened, for one so frail would likely just pass out or perish from any serious injury and the black dragon could only raise undead.
In a moment of tired exasperation, Visnavik thought to simply vaporize the girl with acid and be done with it, but a gut feeling told her it was wasteful- thus the current arrangement.
“I’m back, m-my Queen.” Ilya shuffled into the clearing, her face no longer covered in mud and filth and even her hair slightly better, picked of leaves and twigs and as brushed as fingers alone could manage. “I sorted as many- as many bones as I could find into piles.”
She kneeled down in the filthy water again, uncaring of how soaked and dirty her lower half already was. “One for skulls, l-like you asked. One for like, long bones? A-and one for all the little ones and broken shards.” She fidgeted with her fingers as she babbled, head bowed and mind racing. Was it right to speak this much? Would she be reprimanded? The great dragon surely didn’t care about the specifics, but Ilya wanted her new master to know the effort she was putting in, that accepting her was not a mistake.
Lady Visnavik sat beside her shimmering hoard as opposed to curled around it, taking a moment to consider the mission report. A slight tilt of the head, and then a return to centre.
“Surprising.” She finally said. “Long bones look useful at a glance, and are, but bone shards serve a purpose as well. I expected a worthless know nothing like you to just ignore them.”
The dragon’s right claws began to thrum a rhythm against the ground. “Perhaps you may have some worth after all.”
A blistering warmth surged in Ilya’s chest, and she pressed a clenched fist to the spot. The words of almost praise ignited her heart and sent liquid gold surging through her veins; it was an entirely new sensation, one she could easily see herself becoming addicted to. “Th-Thank you my Queen.” She stuttered with a tiny smile.
“Wipe that happy look off of your face.” The dragon snarled. “I have another job for you.” The frown her lady cast her way was sobering, and Ilya very quickly wrestled control of her emotions. The control wasn’t perfect- her body twitching as fear of rejection blossomed anew, but it seemed good enough for Lady Visnavik to continue.
“The animals in the surrounding forest fear me, rightly so, but this makes fresh meat rare.” She explained, her index claw tapping alone rather than with the rest of its kin. “The sacrifices sent by the humans are regular enough to partly alleviate this issue, but their latest delivery was completely inedible. I grow hungry.” Ilya sucked her bottom lip in, her fingers suddenly very interesting again. The targeted jab brought out wave of shame: her lack of nutritional value was the only reason she lived to hear it, and yet the reminder of her inadequacy in all things, even this, still stung. “I’m sorry, m-my Queen. You deserve a finer sacrifice.”
Lady Visnavik nodded once sharply. “Yes I do. You are entirely useless as a meal, and so you shall go and catch me a replacement. It is simple.” Ilya agreed with the logic, it was an outstanding debt she owed that needed to be paid, and as bonus it was a way to further prove her worth. “Of course, my Lady.”
“But before I can send you out of my domain unsupervised, there is something we must do.” The black dragon pointed a claw at the raised earth directly in front of her. “Come.” Like the loyal dog she was, Ilya stood, climbing onto the dragon’s islet and kneeling again directly in front of her master. “Turn around.” She ordered again, and Ilya did so, shuffling on her knees until Lady Visnavik’s colossal form was out of sight.
“Remove your shirt.”
Now, Ilya was no prude or shrinking violet: she had, for years, attempted to sell herself in back alleys on the off chance that someone would like her enough to take her home. She remembered the look on the brothel owner’s face when she asked for a job, telling her that she wasn’t fit for their line of work- no one would want an underdeveloped skeletal waif like her for anything more than a quick blow. She was right in the end.
That being said, when her new master ordered her to remove her clothes, Ilya was thrown for a loop. “W-What? I- I m-mean- just the top, my Queen?”
“Do it. Now.” Irritation was creeping into Lady Visnavik’s normally apathetic or sardonic voice.
Ilya would not keep her waiting longer. “Right away!” She cried unbuckling the leather chest piece as quickly as her clumsy fingers would allow. Once that was done, she ripped the scarf from around her neck and pulled the long sleeved shirt up and off.
The air was cold against Ilya’s flesh, but occasional puffs from the dragon’s nostrils offset the chill with a shower of warmth. “Done, my Lady. What n-“
Pain. Fiercely stinging pain as something sharp pressed against her shoulder-blade, slowly moving as it carved into her skin. There was no fat and very little muscle between skin and bone, and so the horrid thing scraped directly against her scapula. A strained sound squeezed out of her throat: not a scream, as much as Lady Visnavik would like that, but a sound akin to a rusty iron gate closing. “Stay still.” The dragon ordered, and Ilya tried her very hardest to obey, but it hurt. More than being beaten, more than starving, it hurt like how she imagined being stabbed hurt, except directly against bone and stretched out over what felt like eternity.
For the past hour and a half, Ilya’s mind was flooded with a mixture of euphoria and worry: completely elated to have her own place in the world and terrified of having it taken away. She couldn’t even think about anything else, stuck in her waking dream, but the severe pain screaming through her body harshly pulled her back to reality.
This was real. She had given herself over to a dragon. She was a slave now, receiving her brand. Her teeth slammed down against each other, somehow not slicing off her tongue.
Just as Ilya was about to black out, the sharp pain stopped, leaving behind a harsh burning and the dull throb of a heart beat. She collapsed forward over her knees in relief, hugging the bundle of clothes to her chest and shivering like a leaf in the wind.
Seconds later she could hear the beast behind her begin whispering, the foreign words harsh against her ringing ears. The air shifted, something rushing into the open wound on her back, removing the throb but increasing the burn. The burning surged for just a moment of suffering before vanishing entirely. Only a slight soreness remained as evidence anything had happened at all.
“It is done.” Visnavik announced, licking the blood off of her claw while her other hand pulled Ilya back up to sitting straight. “I have marked you with a draconic word. It now contains a spell that will show me your exact location whenever I desire it.”
The dragon’s head drew close, long neck allowing her to easily pass over Ilya’s shoulder to side eye her. “So do not even think about running away. You will serve me forever.”
The thought of never again being without purpose flooded Ilya’s body with that addictive warmth- her moment of lucidity gone and forgotten. “F-Forever? I- won’t you get bored of me?” She could see Lady Visnavik grin out of the corner of her eye in response, a wide rictus that showed off her row upon row of razor sharp teeth. “If that happens child, I will just kill you.”
Ilya’s heart skipped. She used to fear death- fear that her life would come to a close before ever knowing fulfilment or love- that her flame would go out before finding the joy she knew had to be right around the corner. Now, after experiencing that joy- the ecstasy that purpose and praise could bring, death became something not to fear, but revile. The idea that this incredible feeling could be taken away and replaced with empty blackness was absolutely revolting. She couldn’t give this up. She wouldn’t.
Shuffling back around to face her master, Ilya smiled again, bowing low over her knees and prostrating herself for a second time that day, “I will work my very hardest to earn that forever then, my Queen.”
Visnavik felt the grin on her face collapse, the threat failing spectacularly. Creatures of Order were supposed to despise and fear her, they were supposed be terrified when she threatened them. They were definitely not supposed to smile. “Put your clothes back on and get to work.” She scowled with annoyance, pulling her neck back from the girl’s shoulder. “Your blood only made my hunger increase.”
Ilya immediately began doing so, letting the stained, threadbare white shirt fall over her head, but halfway through refastening her chest plate a thought occurred. “My Lady.” She began, watching the great beast curl back up around the hoard- the hoard that now had her old blade sticking out the top of it.“I have no weapon- how will I hunt for you without one?”
“Figure something out.” Her Lady growled in simple reply, her tail slapping grumpily against the ground “Any servant of mine must be able to improvise. I have no patience for micromanaging.”
“Of course, my Queen.” She acquiesced, her brain beginning to turn its well worn gears in thought. She lacked any martial or hunting abilities; her only possible selling point was her proficiency in stealth, honed over years of hiding from aggrieved merchants, violent guards, or other equally starving outcasts. Sneaking up on an animal was all well and good, but without a bladed weapon any blow from her would be a slight breeze.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Ilya sighed internally, she would have to come up with a plan on the long walk out of the swamp, it was quite the distance until life felt safe enough from her Lady to relax.
Suitably stumped and armour fully attached, she hopped back into the muck and shuffled slowly toward the clearing’s edge. “I’ll be back soon, my Queen.” She bid with a turn and a deep bow. Lady Visnavik only grunted, glaring to the side at nothing.
It felt so bizarre for Ilya to have repeatedly entered and left the clearing of no return, possibly the only human to have ever done so. The thought brought a smile to her face; she felt a little special for the achievement, a new and euphoric feeling. Her Lady Visnavik had gifted her so many new, amazing feelings, and would surely gift her many more if she could prove to be a steadfast and reliable servant.
Servant, that was what and who she was now. She had a job with a name and title. ‘Servant to the Black Dragon Visnavik’drok’sahrot.’ It made her kind of giddy.
Her heart eyed daydreaming was interrupted by her boot sinking into a particularly soft bit of mud. She had wandered out of her Lady’s well trampled path and into the more wild and free part of the swamp where the ground wasn’t as packed down by a gargantuan beast. A few more steps proved it extremely difficult to walk in, almost trapping her feet completely a few times.
A zap between two neurons set an idea spinning through Ilya’s brain. It was cowardly, it was ridiculous, it was cruel. It was the only way a weakling like her could do what her Lady had asked of her- and therefore it was perfect.
Two hours later, long after the faint golden light in the distance was again smothered by darkness, Ilya sprinted through the forest as fast as her pathetic legs could carry her, leaping over puddles and weaving around trees, making a grand and chaotic raucous all the while. A poor deer galloped far ahead of her, scared out of its mind at the madwoman chasing after it and the terrible sounds she was making. The curved rib bones between her fingers made a horrid rattling noise as they collided, and from the woman’s throat came a ghastly wail.
Its every instinct told it that only danger was in this direction and yet every time it tried to change its path away from the danger back to safety that scary human was right behind it, forcing it to continue fleeing. The ground was getting wet against its hooves and the brush was growing thicker, normally a sign of the most delicious ferns and grasses, but the deer was far to busy being terrified to think about food.
Ilya giggled maniacally as her legs pumped, she had used basically everything in the immediate surroundings and pushed her body to its limits to make this happen, but her harebrained plan was actually working. The deep parts of the swamp were coming up soon, all she had to do was not collapse a lung or tear a tendon for just a little bit longer and victory was assured- the hunter would have her prey. She laughed again- a wheezing, breathless thing.
A pulse of warmth in her left shoulder brought the mood down somewhat, reminding her of the actual reason behind this insanity. Multiple times throughout the hours this warmth had appeared, and the servant girl eventually pieced the reason together: her Lady was watching her through the runes engraved on her back, checking to see if the task she ordered was being fulfilled. The knowledge she was being watched and judged filled Ilya with anxiety. Was she taking to long? Would the animal she picked not be enough? Was she not enough?
She shook her head, ratty hair whipping in the wind. She couldn’t think about that now, there was still a job to do- one she would not fail.
The deer finally reached the cliff at the proper swamp’s edge, screeching to a halt and looking down the slope warily. The danger was here, in this place, it could sense it. But then the sound of rattling bones returned, that awful human closing in. Its instincts were screaming conflicting messages, one telling it to turn around now, and the other telling it to keep fleeing the scary lady. One was a vague unknown danger and the other was a present and timely danger. The latter inevitably won out.
Jumping off the small cliff and into the swamp below, the deer immediately felt its hooves sink into the mud, the force of the landing pushing them in deep. It tried to move forward- it could not. It tried to move backward- it could not. It tried to lift a leg up and out, but the extra weight on its other legs pushed them in further and it ended up even more trapped- now in an awkward position.
This was not good.
The human had caught up with it while it was struggling in the muck, panting and laughing as she bent over to catch her breath. “I… I can’t…. I can’t believe it…” She puffed, looking down at the trapped creature with shimmering mad eyes. “You will… you will… make a fine sacrifice for my Queen…” It couldn’t understand her, but the mixture of purpose and mania in her eyes was enough for it to get the gist. The deer began to panic, squirming in the mud for any purchase.
The mad huntress had picked up a large rock from the water around the base of the slope, and now carried it in both hands, slowly trudging towards her target. Kneeling down beside the deer’s head, heavy stone held tightly, she raised it over her head. “This might hurt.” She apologized, and swung down.
It took a fair few tries, as she wasn’t very strong, but eventually Ilya successfully beat the defenceless thing to death- mission accomplished. Her lady would surely be pleased, once she got her kill home that is…
…
Oh.
In all her planning and exuberance, Ilya had forgotten a vital part of the puzzle- namely, the last bit. How was she going to do this?
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Visnavik had watched these proceedings off and on through the girl’s rune of scrying- half making sure the human wasn’t escaping or plotting a revolt and half hoping that observation would help in understanding her behaviour. She had cut the link an hour or so ago when she witnessed the girl trying to outrun one of the fastest herbivores around on foot, and now sat scowling and stewing in her thoughts.
Every living thing in the world had its place, a role punched out for it by the universe itself: humans were useless alone but worked together to form a stronger whole: fearful, weak, cooperative, communal- that was their archetype. Annoyingly, few humans recently matched this preordained role, fitting instead into one anathema to the concept of Order: arrogant, selfish, greedy, alone. It was the archetype of a Chaos dragon not an ape- a circle peg in a square hole meant for her- it was disgusting.
Ilya was different in a strange and confusing way. When she first walked into the clearing, she was the closest thing to a true human Visnavik had ever seen: fearful of Chaos, understanding of her weakness, longing for community to make her stronger. The black dragon had been so thrilled to fulfil her role as the killer of hope for one so in line with their nature, but when the final emotional strike landed, there were no tears- no screams- just emptiness and disappointment.
Did that perfect human ever really exist, or had her expectations deceived her? Visnavik had brushed it off at the time and assumed the girl broken- a defective child that town had sent here to be euthanized. With no use as a toy or a meal, the dragon set her to work on a whim, but then came drastic change. She had become happy with her enslavement and desperate to serve, beaming at even the slightest drip of approval and not even flinching at a direct threat of death.
The only thread of a possibility her vast intellect could weave was that the change was only outward, that the first human did exist but now imagined servitude a substitute for companionship and wanted it to continue. But that didn’t make any sense, a human would never willingly subjugate themselves to chaos. There had to be another explanation.
“M-My Queen!“ At that moment, the girl in question stumbled in from the swamp, back first, covered again in leaves and vines and the lower half of her body completely covered in mud. She was dragging something large through the water, thin fingers once pale now red with exertion grasping a pair of antlers tightly. The human slave had somehow killed a moderately sized deer buck with no weapon and somehow transported it all the way back.
Everything clicked together in Visnavik’s mind. The girl was completely insane.
Finally, an explanation that the dragon could make sense of- one that fell in line with their roles. The perfection she had seen did exist, but the black dragon had shattered it, manipulating her mind and soul into submission, just as nature intended.
Visnavik’s head cleared- all was again right with her world.
“My Queen I’m… I’m back!” Ilya huffed, looking over her shoulder at her master. “I’m sorry I…took so long…” The kill was brought forward and now half sat-half floated in front of Visnavik like a rat or bird on a cat owner’s doorstep. Its head was horrifically caved in, blunt force applied over and over again to the creature’s skull until it crumpled. The death was not quick, nor was it clean.
Ilya kneeled down next to the body, looking up at her Lady with a mixture of pride and nervousness, like the aforementioned cat waiting for a treat.
“I must say…” Lady Visnavik began, reaching a large clawed hand out to grab her meal. “You have again exceeded my low expectations of you: not only is this beast of decent size, you also took the time to torture it.”
“Well done.”
If Ilya thought the last hit was good, not only was she wrong; she was ignorant. An explosion of dopamine drowned her brain, overwhelming her senses enough to bring tears to her eyes. She didn’t know happiness like this was possible, let alone achievable for useless old her. No one had ever said those words to her- ever acknowledged her efforts in any way, but this being they called evil- a blight on the land, did.
Ilya’s body began to shake uncontrollably as she hyperventilated, creating a great many ripples across the surface of the swamp. “I…“ She tried to say, but her throat was too twisted up to let anything coherent through. Looking up she saw her Lady- her Queen, quietly staring down at her. What was she thinking, watching her servant break down from just two words? Ilya wanted to know- wanted to know everything about her.
Suddenly, a high pressure stream of cold water hit her square in the face, blasting away the mud and greenery that had accumulated throughout the earlier chase and leaving Ilya momentarily stunned.
“That is enough panting, slave.” Lady Visnavik ordered impassionately. In the short time Ilya had spent riding the high, her Lady had devoured the entirety of the deer, save part of a leg which she now held out. “Eat.”
Ilya blinked dumbly, sniffling as a large droplet of water hung from her nose. She had never eaten fresh meat before, her only experience with animal protein being table scraps she had fished out of the garbage. She knew it was valuable, and that she was unworthy of such a gift, yet here it was being offered to her.
“I- I’m sorry my Queen,” She finally said, realizing she was keeping her Lady waiting. “I was just overwhelmed for a minute.”
“I truly do not care.” The dragon responded dismissively, shoving the severed body part into her face. “Eat. Now. You must gain weight or you shall remain useless in perpetuity.”
The red meat looked appetizing, but the strong smell of blood made Ilya’s stomach turn. Such a valuable gift from her Queen couldn’t be denied however, and so she took the leg into her hands. Coarse fur covered most of it, making the flesh underneath hard to get at, but near the top where Lady Visnavik’s teeth and claws had ripped the limb from the rest of the animal there was a chunk more easily accessible.
It was quite tough, her careful bite unable to cut through the muscle, requiring a left and right shake of the head to saw completely through. It was slow going, but Ilya pushed onward in order to fulfill her Lady’s command, swallowing bite after bite even as the familiar metallic taste suffused her with nausea. Ignoring the fact that a human could not digest raw meat in the first place, a street rat’s stomach would be doubly unfit: not used to the richness and protein density, nor used to such a volume of that dense material entering at the same time. That is to say, five bites in and the abused organ could take no more, violently expelling it’s contents to join the muck and slime of the swamp.
Ilya dry heaved a few more times after everything was already gone, feeling acid burn her esophagus and embarrassment burn her cheeks. “I’m…” A pause to spit out more acid. “I’m sorry my Lady, I tried my best.” At least she didn’t vomit on the meat.
Lady Visnavik didn’t seem to mind her failure, taking the leg out of her hands. “Unfortunate. More for myself then.” In one smooth motion the dragon placed the whole thing in her mouth and then pulled outward tearing all of the meat from the bone and leaving flawless white behind.
Tossing the bone somewhere behind her with a splash, Lady Visnavik’s face shifted to what Ilya had come to recognize as her thinking expression. “…How to feed a human…” She hummed thoughtfully, claw tapping against the dirt a few times before stopping. “Ah.”
Lifting her hand towards a bush at the clearing’s edge, the dragon’s claws flexed, a green flash of magic flaring. In response to the great beast’s command, bluish berries inflated into existence amid the leaves. “Go and pick some of those, eat no more than five.”
Stomach still a little uneasy, but now more hungry than she had been before, Ilya sloshed over to the bush. The berries were perfectly spherical save for the small creases on one end where a tiny brownish patch pinched the skin. There were a great many of them, arranged in bundled clusters like the bunches of grapes she had longingly gazed at in the market- her mouth watered. As much as she wanted to stuff her face with them all, she was limited to five, and so meticulously picked out the five largest she could find.
It didn’t look like much of a meal, but the berries smelled delicious, sweet and earthy and fresh in way that tickled the tiny hairs in her nose. Gently grasping one between finger and thumb found them to be firm but with a slight amount of give that immediately sent a bead of juice trailing down the side of her palm. Her tongue instinctually caught the droplet, and her face scrunched from the initial sour edge, but that sourness quickly dissipated, leaving a light sweetness behind.
The tiny taste relit the ravenous fire of a starving beggar, causing Ilya to shove all five of the berries into her mouth at once in a desperate flurry of hunger. She closed her eyes in bliss as the press of her molars brought forth an explosion of the greatest flavours the girl had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
She had stolen fruit numerous times over the years- merchants too distracted with a customer to notice the slight waif reaching up over the side of the stall, or a farmer too distracted by his children to notice one or two apples gone from his cart. They had been good, the best meals of her life and probably a big reason she lived this long, but nothing could compare to the delight contained in those tiny berries. Ilya squealed, wiggling her body and bringing a hand to her cheek.
Eventually the party in her mouth was over, her throat muscles pulling the crushed remains down into her empty stomach. The berries were as filling as they were delicious, she had never felt so satisfied from eating before- never once felt like she could have too much of a good thing, but her Lady was right: five was more than enough.
Spinning around, Ilya hinged over at the hip, bowing with sincere gratitude. “Thank you my Queen! Your unworthy servant is grateful!”
“As you should be.” Lady Visnavik replied in turn, her tone haughty yet content with the state of things. “I am investing much into you, slave. Do not disappoint me.”
She absolutely would not. Happiness, fulfilment, praise, delicious food- her Lady had given her more than she could have ever dreamed. If Ilya could not serve her well in return, then it was the worst of betrayals and she was truly worthless.