Even as her name was echoing off of the walls of the buildings in her village, called out by the arbiter from the town square podium, the world seemed to fog over. Trist could hardly believe that what she was experiencing was real.

-----

Every single year, shortly before the summer solstice, kobolds and dragons alike would flock the bustling county of Bluewater. The village of Bluewater sat at the lone entrance to the valley, providing commerce and traffic into the valley and out. The castle of The Stone Resolute presided over the town after a three-mile hike from the village gate. This trail followed alongside a pure mountain stream, from which the entire county received its name. From the castle came a set of waterfalls that fed the stream down to the village, through the middle of it, and onwards to the fertile farmlands outside of the Bluewater valley.
Behind the castle was a high set of jagged mountains preventing invasion from the south, east, and west, forcing any invaders to have to enter from the head of the valley, where the watchtower presided. The tower, known as the Watchful Eye, kept steadfast guard, shining like a beacon by night, and imposing by day. Every part of the county was within its line of sight. As such, those who would make the journey up to the tower would behold the splendor of the entire county: the panoramic vista of the idyllic valley, from the Watchful Eye, was incredible beyond words.
From the watchtower, the fields of wheat and orchards of fruit trees could be seen, all the way to the county's fortification walls about twenty miles around. A tower cap stood along every mile of the wall, each with a single-window pointed to the Watchful Eye. Signal fires would be lit every evening and doused every morning, lining the dominion with beacons signaling safety and protection. Gatehouses guard over the three roads that lead from the north, northwest, and southwest of the farmlands. These roads met in a small area near the middle of the fields where the farmers and traveling merchants established a marketplace. The locals took to calling it the Bluewater field market. The five miles from the village to the field market saw frequent traffic by carts of food and supplies, delivering goods from the market to the manufacturing centers of "downtown" Bluewater. And it was in that downtown region, located about a half mile into the valley, where Tristiana Longclaw held her smithing business.
The roads through the dominion attracted dragonkind, species consisting of the mighty dragons and the lesser kobolds, more than any other. Travelers would find solace in Bluewater county with temporary work in the fields, or trade in the village. Infrequently, dignitaries visiting from other dominions would travel up to the Resolute, to entreat upon the royal family there. Villagers would often hear tales of King Blackwing's conquests and of the royal family's many exploits and travels. Trist would rarely catch glimpses of them as they ventured out from their manor, or as they were returning from a hunt.
A more usual sight, however, were the traveling draconian hunters who would enter the dominion to seek fame, fortune, good deals, and tales of valor. To those, Trist would usually roll her eyes and get back to her work. The adventuring life, she had decided, was not something she'd ever find appealing to take part in or to even listen to. She was more likely to listen to her fellow kobolds and lesser dragons in their tales of day-to-day life in Bluewater county. She was happy as a blacksmith, crafting armor, tools, weapons, and gadgets to sell. Still, she had to admit, those hunters were important to helping the economy of the county. They would spend their foreign money on overnight lodging, mead for celebrating accomplishments, or pleasurable company with which to nest and seek entertainment.
Close to the start of every summer, after the Easter Moon had passed, several appointed arbiters would come down from the castle in a measure of pomp and circumstance, to address the villagers. Their purpose was to hire new workers from the populace to go up to the castle, to work a contract of about three years in an assigned task. Communications were otherwise open between the castle, tower, the village, and the field market, so a show of formality such as this was usually met with nervous anticipation. The assignments and adjustments would usually already be determined by the arbiters before Midwinter's Eve, to await final approval from the royal family.
It was in this environment that Trist, the lone daughter of a kobold blacksmith named Rook Longclaw, grew. Rook had moved into the fields of Bluewater county, setting up a smithy in the market-town to provide for and repair tools and supplies for the workers of the fields. He was then called to move to the village when his mate Kirsti, Trist's mother, was selected to be a castle steward, in charge of managing the stores and supplies. Rook carried Trist's egg the entire journey by himself, and he alone took care of her for the first two years of her life, from hatch to wean-years and beyond. Trist remembered only the sadness she felt when her mother was finally released from servitude, back into her father's arms. She could not remember, and they did not speak of, what had happened to her during her time there, only that Rook was distraught. There was a certain and unpleasant length of time when Rook's rage was his most frequent companion. Her poor father had to take care of both of them, until the day his leg gave out. He fashioned a brace out of the scrap and wood in his smithy, but that was the day, she remembers, that Rook cried twice. Once, from the pain of necrosis settling in. And once again, from seeing the small frame of his daughter handing him a screwdriver with which he could tighten his knee joint.
From that day until her 17th year, Trist worked alongside her father in the smithy, until she was able to carry on his work by herself. Trist was "that one working girl", as she was called by adults and children alike. She would rather spend all her time in the smithy, looking over the countless weapons and gear she had helped make over the many years than socialize or partake in the adventuresome exploits of the other children her age. She would, however, socialize with other, older workers and was not against providing aid where it was needed, such as in helping construct a home or an expansion to a house, or in helping her mother with delivering groceries when the blacksmithing business was running slow. Kirsti had recovered from her distress, and took time to assist her fellow villagers, using the skills she had learned while working in the manor. She'd impart such skills and small bits of wisdom to her daughter, but would silence herself if Trist asked about her time in the Resolute. The young kobold looked to her mother as her inspiration no matter what, and relied on her the most. Still, there wasn't truly anyone in the village she'd call a "friend" by any stretch, certainly not in her own age group.
But Trist would get to hear of those of her associates who were assigned to work in the castle, and those who were released and coming home. They would tell some stories of life in the castle, of their exploits and of the change of pace. Of their tasks and assignments. Of their dragon beaus and breeding habits. Some even came back with eggs. Trist would always duck out of those conversations with exasperation, rolling her eyes and isolating herself in her smithy, or spending time in quiet contemplation with her parents. She would get the sense that all that the kobolds did was party and have fun, and not make something of themselves, when they were assigned to work in the castle. Not like her mother had. Kirsti eventually coaxed those thoughts from her daughter's mind, and spoke to her in gentle kindness one evening.
"It's not easy, working in the castle. It's structure, it's decorum, it's orderly."
Trist looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Then why do the others mention so much about breeding with the dragons there? Is that work, too?"
Kirsti wrapped her arms around her daughter, kissing her forehead. "They focus more on the rewards to make the work more bearable. It's not wrong for them to do so. And... sometimes it can be fun."
Kirsti rocked her child in her arms, swaying slowly back and forth. Trist nestled into her mother's chest and sighed. "I don't want to live that kind of life. I wouldn't feel like I'm doing enough with my time."
"My child, if you are called to work up there in the castle someday... I'm certain you will be able to fulfill and surpass any role you are assigned. You have that potential in you."
In the months that followed, Trist took those words to heart, and she found herself smiling more and more frequently than before. Her self-confidence increased, and her fear of hearing her name being called each year was diminished. She still felt that she wasn't going to enjoy any time she would spend in the castle, but she promised herself that no matter what, she would make sure that they'd want her back. Maybe as a blacksmith. Hopefully as a blacksmith. Or an artisan. Or a tinkerer. Something she knows how to do, at least.

And then, at some point in the preceding winter, news reached the village, that the queen of their dominion had fallen ill. Apothecaries and physicians, with their knowledge of potions and ailments, were rounded up and gathered at the gatehouse at the head of the road leading up to the Resolute. Arbiters and messengers counseled with them as to what medicine they should present to the royal family, in a hopeful effort to heal the queen. The details of the illness were kept under wraps, and those involved in those counsels were forbidden to speak to anyone else about what was discussed. For several months, the queen's health wavered on a knife's edge, until a period of silence hung over the county during the beginning of that spring. Eventually, the silence was met with the tragic news of the queen's quiet and painless passing. The remainder of that week was reserved as a time of mourning for all in the dominion, culminating in a pyrrhic display from the top of the Watchful Eye as the queen's body was cremated, her ashes scattered over the land by the wind.
The villagers always felt that there would be a new sensation and new demeanor worn by the arbiters this coming summer solstice, when their new assignments are to be given, and the palace's currently-completing work shift was released to their families. As the names were called this year, most folks were surprised that no such different air was given.
Until one arbiter spoke.
After the work assignments were given, a wizened dragon stood up and walked up to the makeshift podium erected in the middle of the town square. His wings were folded across his shoulders like a robe, claws interlocking. A hood was over his head but for the horns and crest extending out from holes in the back. Several scales were missing from his left fore- and rear-legs, scarred in a battle long ago. As he stood, he pulled out a scroll and began to read from it, his age not diminishing the power in his voice.
"Citizens of Bluewater..! Blessed town resting under the shadow of The Stone Resolute, from which reigns our king, Hundaris Blackwing..! An additional assignment and need have issued forth from the throne, and it shall be answered by one among you..."
The dragon's voice echoed from the walls of the village buildings, funneling down the alleyways, and reverberated off the distant valley walls. The kobolds in the village were always mentally susceptible to the dominating evolutionary might of the dragons, obeying without question. It was not easy for any of them them to doubt the winged predators, or to countermand them, barring extenuating circumstances such as the life of a loved one in danger. Indeed, if there were any loyalty to rival that of a kobold to a dragon master, it was that of a kobold to their immediate family.
"His Majesty... has selected one of you... to be his newest consort..!"
Now, loyalty notwithstanding, this newest announcement created a buzz among the gathered citizens. By this point, the returning servants had already entered the arms of their loved ones and were refusing to speak when questioned, as they had been sworn to secrecy about this news. The newest batch of servants have were already selected and in the middle of their good-byes to their families.
Trist was with her parents as they also talked with one another about the news. For the king to select a consort was both an incredible honor, and a huge responsibility on those shoulders. They would effectively be the king's mate in all respects except for legal. In the years of their sojourn in the valley, they had never ever experienced a passing of a royal title or of a royal marriage or change in the royal family. Indeed, not even the oldest kobolds in the village could remember when something like this happened. Dragons had such long lifespans, a kobold's lifespan would be nothing more than a blink to them in contrast.
The arbiter spoke onwards about the honor of this selection, but Trist turned to her mother and said, "A dragon, selecting a kobold as a consort? Is that something that happens often? How can we compare to them at all?"
Kirsti hung her head and whispered, "Trist, the hunger of a dragon is insatiable."
Trist turned to her mother with a confused expression. "What do you mean..?"
Rook turned and looked at the two, a low growl in his throat. Her mother shook her head and shut her eyes.
Then came the words from the arbiter's mouth.
"... will be Tristiana ... Longclaw..!"
To Trist, the world slowed down, grew blurry, and went silent. Around her were voices rising in volume, pointing her location out to the arbiters and soldiers, but she couldn't hear them. Others were looking at her in shock, almost as if she had done something wrong, or something worth talking about. Slowly, on wobbly legs, Trist answered the beckons of the arbiters with a raised hand, putting down her mallet and stepped forward, joining the others bound for the journey to the castle. She turned around to view her parents as the arbiter began closing the formal event. Her mother's eyes watered as she waved good-bye to her child, her father looking at her with tears in his eyes as well. Both had such concern for her, and it seemed well-deserved. Trist could only hear her heart pounding in her ears.
It wouldn't hit her until a short time after they passed through the gate at the head of the path. Some of the females in the group were eying her curiously, lowering their gaze when they saw her looking at them looking at her. She wasn't sure what to say, to anyone, until some of the voices in the group were aimed upwards over Trist's shoulder. They turned and looked, and marveled at the beauty of the Bluewater stream and its many waterfalls. The path zigzagged up a slope, and the roar of the tumbling waters became the dominant voice. Even the dragons in the group looked with awe and reverence at the stream. 
The soldiers and arbiters assisted the new servants in their climb up the trail, otherwise keeping the conversations to a respectful minimum. The soldiers and arbiters would occasionally speak to the kobolds about the revered and respected history of the Resolute and the Blackwing family, and telling them that their duties and assignments would be clarified once they reached the palace. The kobolds whispered among themselves about their feelings of nervousness, excitement, or concern for their families. The arbiters let them know that they would be allowed to correspond with their families at least once a day by mail, and that any items they would need delivered from home can be handled by a petition to the quartermaster in the castle.
As they walked, Trist found herself between the arbiter that had called out her name, and a younger armored dragon soldier, and she was at a loss for words. She was always more comfortable around her own kind, since her experiences with dragons were more invasive of her personal space. The guard stumbled on a boulder, and Trist instinctively grabbed his arm to hold him, despite her nervousness.
"Ahh... Thank you, young one..."
"Oh, no worries, soldier."
The larger dragon looked at the kobold's face, then recognized who was holding him. "I mean, Miss Tristiana... " He seemed flustered, as if he had done something wrong. "Please, c-call me Saracen."
Trist was shocked, but nodded. She felt very weird about being treated as if she were a queen, but she was more put off by having a dragon give such obeisance to a kobold such as herself.
The soldier walked away at a hurried pace, turning his head away and hiding his face. As she turned her head to watch him, she noticed the elderly arbiter looking down at her, observing her actions. She paused, standing at attention so he could offer some words. "Am I not supposed to help a soldier, Master Arbiter?"
He smiled at her. Trist couldn't tell if it was a condescending smile, or a genuine show of contentment. "Of course, Miss Tristiana... And please, my name is Daimon... Now... Let us get a move on... Time is of the essence..." He resumed walking, and the train of soldiers, arbiters, and kobolds followed behind.
Trist was appalled, unsure of how to respond and take in the way she was being treated. Even some of the kobolds looked at her and lowered their eyes respectfully.
After what seemed like an hour of walking, they rounded a corner and saw the full might of the marvelous palace gates of the Resolute, beckoning entrance to the new shift of kobold vassals. Guards with long pikes stood along the corner towers, at regular intervals along the walls, and at the portcullis that slowly raised. As the entourage entered, the arbiters excused themselves to separate chambers, accompanied by their own personal kobold servants. Some were familiar faces that waved their greetings to the newest shift.
Daimon alone remained behind. He began issuing orders of separation and assignment to the new vassals, and they started peeling off into groups. Before long, Trist found herself alone with him, and stood in front of the hooded dragon, holding her ground with balled fists and a sweaty neck.
"And you... Tristiana Longclaw..."
"I... I prefer being named Trist, sir."
The dragon paused, lowering his head at her and raising a whiskered eyebrow.
Trist hesitated, wondering if her speaking out of turn was against some sort of rule of decorum in the palace. "Ah... If time is of the essence, less syllables would help. That's all I wished... to say... ... sir."
The dragon stared her down, but then unfurrowed his brow. "Trist. Yes, that would help."
The kobold girl gulped silently, but nodded and held her tongue, allowing the arbiter to continue.
"Trist... to you is given the honor... of being a consort of the royal family... Before your presentation to the Throne, you are... to be cleaned and dressed... in a manner appropriate of such an honor..."
The dragon snapped his fingers sharply, its noise almost as the sound of a cannon shot in intensity. On his signal, three kobold maidens stepped forward and formed a line by the arbiter's left hand. They were each dressed in simple white skirts and short tank tops, with gold sashes around their waists.
"These... will direct you... and assist you in your preparations... The Throne will expect you to present yourself before the evening bell... I suggest... you arrive on time... to leave a good first impression..."
Trist nodded and gulped again, this time a bit more audibly. Her throat, she had just realized, was considerably more dry than earlier in the day. The arbiter took his leave without another word, and left to join the others. The three handmaidens then pivoted and stood in front of her.
"Miss Tristiana... Please follow us."
"It's... just Trist..."

It was about half an hour until the evening bell, and Trist was not comfortable at all. Her head was weighed down with royal adornments and jewels hanging from her horns. She felt like her neck was going to disappear and her chin would sink into her chest. In fact, her chest as well was equally weighed down with gold and jewelry. Not the least of those was a golden frame which was fastened around her breasts, and seemed about two or three sizes too large for her, almost as if they were fashioned for a dragoness. Her lower half was covered with a long sash of pure white silk in front, a girdle underneath secured by a chain of interwoven golden links around her hips, and a split skirt covering her thighs. Her tail was given no less than five bracelets and hoops - to which she had commented, how anyone can hope to keep them on as they're walking - and her feet were covered in open-toe high-heel sandals, secured to her body around the ankles. She wore armlets and bracelets, and no rings at all; she was told that the King himself would bestow rings as he sees fit.
Trist kept her hands folded and her tail up in an S shape, trying not to let it sway from side to side lest she lose her hoops. She stood in front of the massive doorway leading to the inner sanctums of the castle. She couldn't get the many fragrances out of her mind, the most strong of which was the scent of her own body after that embarrassing bath... She remembered again being scrubbed and lathered up in soap by five servants - at least two of which were males! - and forced to stand up and put her body on display in full nudity before being given a towel to dry herself. But she did remember how warm and amazing the bath water was... She shook her head and remembered where she was, then regretted her head shake as her adornments rattled against her skull, giving her a headache.
"We're approaching the door, milady. We'll have someone announce you. Just wait."
Trist paused, blinking hard and taking deep, sharp breaths. The moment was arriving where she'd meet with none other than the dragon king Blackwing himself. Would he approve of her? Would she make an embarrassment of herself? Or bring shame to her family?
From behind the large door, the voice of a male kobold could be heard.
"Announcing... the newest batch of neophytes from Bluewater Village, to be inspected by Your Majesties, for your approval!"
Trist made a motion for the door, but one of the kobold maidens stopped her. "No, not yet... They'll call you by name at the very end."
Trist nodded, stepping back. She then noticed that this maiden was wearing a red band about her waist instead of the gold worn by the other maidens. She ventured to ask her, "Hey, um... You're wearing red? Why red? I've seen the others wearing gold."
The maiden lowered her head, and Trist could hear a very pregnant silence from the other maidens around her. Some looked away to hide their faces, others covered their mouths to stifle giggles. The kobold wearing red lowered her head in defeat, all blood leaving her face as she looked sickly pale. "It... It is a mark, milady, for those who... are claimed property of the royal family."
Trist took a step back in shock, hearing one of her hoops fall off of her tail onto the tile floor. As the maidens picked up the jewelry, the ex-blacksmith whispered, "Claimed? Why is that a mark?"
"It is a rule here in the palace, milady, that any and all kobold staff are property of the royal family..."
Trist's response of alarm came only a few seconds afterward as she came to the realization of so much at once. She thought of why her own mother was sad when she had returned home all those years ago... Why her parents refused to talk about her time serving in the palace. And she realized also exactly what kind of burden would be on her shoulders. But she had no more time to compose herself than she heard, through the door...
"... as consort to the Royal Family, Miss... Tristiana... Longclaw..!"
On cue, the doors opened, and two massive and armored dragon knights stood before Trist, as a final gateway into the great throne room lay before her. She stepped inside, unable to resist the urge to look around and view the great hall and all its glory for the first time. As the castle was originally built for the larger dragons, even this throne room was large for dragon standards. Trist stepped forward, looking at the great many statues, murals, paintings, chandeliers, museums of crystals and treasures, and the occasional royal guard dragon knight at attention, lances and shields in hand. The walk felt so long, but soon Trist was passing a line of familiar-looking kobolds, dressed in white and with golden bands. The very same kobolds who walked up with her earlier that afternoon. Behind them was a long dining table, still in the process of being set. A great many dishes of food, ranging from roasted poultry of some sort to bowls of leafy greens and steamed vegetables, were being served on the table by runners. A feast was being prepared, and there were a great number of chairs around the table. Enough for everyone in the hall, Trist realized as she counted rapidly.
And then she set her eyes forward, to the raised platform upon which the throne itself stood. The gold embroideries interlaced with blackened wood, almost seamlessly integrating with the figure seated upon the throne, a muscular, horned, darkened but calm-eyed dragon. Hundaris Blackwing himself, the king. He wore a dark purple vest over a golden tunic, wearing at least one ring on each of his fingers except for his index fingers, which each had two rings. Around his neck was a golden necklace with a winged broach hanging from it, in the center of which was a bright ruby. Around his waist was a black leather belt, and below was a set of long black trousers, secured to his ankles by golden bands. His feet were bare, but they didn't need anything more, as his talons flexed and tapped the floor of the chamber, sharpened to the piercing power of iron ballista arrows.
To his right was a throne equally imposing but the etchings thereon were much harsher, it seemed. The back of the seat bore a dragon symbol with a furrowed brow and long, bared fangs. Trist couldn't help but feel some sorrow as she realized whose throne this once was, and how much it must've pained the king to have a constant reminder of his missing mate every single day.
But behind the queen's throne, to Trist's left further, was a set of four more chairs, each given the attention of master crafters and artisans as thoroughly as the thrones of the king and queen, but still less elaborate. Upon these were seated four other dragons, who all looked much younger than the next, spanning from a mature dragon prince to a young adult dragon princess, to a prince around Trist's age, down to a tweenage dragon princeling. The eldest was a dark-teal scaled dragon of comparable musculature to the king, but a measure less chiseled. His large biceps were open to view, and the contour of his frame could be seen from under his silver tunic. He wore a verdant green band around his shoulders in an X-shape across his chest, tied behind his back. The number of golden barbs adorning his left ear was staggering, balanced only by a single sapphire stud on his right ear. Next was a dragoness of stellar curvature, her skin shining like oil reflecting sunlight, with a dark green tint to it almost like a black mamba snake. She wore a circlet of golden chains across her forehead, and a necklace of pearls and teardrop-shaped sapphires. She was dressed in rather... revealing clothing, with a low-cut cleavage and a split-side skirt that showed off her right thigh as she kept her legs crossed, her midriff bare. In fact, her navel was decorated by a lone diamond. Next was a dragon much lighter scaled than the others, almost with a golden sheen akin to a blond creature. He was also elaborately dressed, with one armored gauntlet on his left hand and a sabaton-like boot on his left foot, almost like it was a prosthetic graft. Last was the youngest dragon, a rustic brown specimen, with splotches of fiery orange on his face and upper forearms. He wore two ruby-studded rings on his left hand, and a simple circlet around his head, but otherwise no further jewelry. He was topless, wearing only the bottom portion of a silver tunic as a kilt. His physique was not anything to write home about, possibly only on account of his age.
Trist halted at the bottom of the raised platform, not taking any steps further. She felt that if she did so, she'd find her head rolling on the floor detached from her shoulders, or charred to a crisp and served on that banquet table. She curtsied slowly and carefully, feeling the ringlets slip on her tail but also thanking every star in the sky that none slipped completely off. "Your Majesties..."
As she raised herself from her curtsy, her eyes opened as she looked directly to the king, finding herself staring at him, but not really able to look away. And, to her everlasting wonder, he... smiled.
"I understand," his voice boomed as heavily as a thunderstorm, but as menacing as the wind rushing through treetops, "that you prefer to be named, 'Trist', instead of 'Tristiana'. Correct?"
A frog was stuck in her throat, but she managed to nod once before her dried mouth managed to follow up with a response, "Y-yes, Your Majesty."
Trist heard a small and briefly shrill voice, coming from her left, originating somewhere in the vicinity of the four heirs' thrones. The princess had a small smirk on her face, and the eldest had his head tilted towards the princess with an unamused expression on his face, before turning back to Trist.
The King continued, "Is this your first time in a conversation with a dragon, Miss Trist?"
She could feel that her knees were almost melting every time he said her name. "W-well... As a blacksmith... I..."
The shrill sound echoed through the hall again, prompting two of the princes now to look to their sister, the eldest and the youngest. The one closest to Trist's age kept his eyes on her.
"Blacksmith, you say... That was yesterday's profession, was it not?" The king tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at her with one eye.
Trist hesitated. She felt the distinct sensation that she was being tested right now, to see whether the king had decided well who his consort should be. Within her mind, she weighed her possible answers, but felt the blood rush out of her face and fingertips as she heard herself blurt out, "Th-this morning's..! pr... profession... ..."
The sanctum was as silent as a grave, as all eyes turned to the king.
Then the hall was filled with a low, rhythmic rumble. The king's head was bobbing up and down, and shaking side to side, eyes closed. And as he raised his head, they all saw a smile on his face.
"... Yes, this morning's. I forget, the arbiters usually don't make it into town by about noon anyway."
Trist felt the blood returning to her extremities, but it returned to her face now as a blush from the excitement.
"As a blacksmith, Your Majesty, I usually converse with dragonkind only as they need armor or swords repaired, or made, whenever they are in town for the hunt. I have... not had much opportunity for conversation with the Ascended."
"'The Ascended'..." The King stood, walking down the steps to stand next to Trist, He was still easily four times her height, and at least seven times her height in length. "Such a quaint title, I must say. I frequently forget how our kobold kin view us as superior..." His head bowed, as if he was thinking to himself about something. "I sometimes fail to see that which is right in front of me... And that has been a strain I have had to deal with for quite some time."
He turned to Trist, taking a knee to lower himself to her. He still towered over her, but it felt like a gap was closing between them already, not just in physicality. "A fresh perspective will be appreciated in a consort. Solis was right to choose you."
Trist couldn't think of anything else to say, so she blinked and nodded.
The king raised himself back to his feet, and climbed the steps to the throne again. "Now... CHAMBERLAIN! Are there any others to present at this time?"
The male kobold that had announced the newcomers, stepped forward, behind Trist. "That is all, Your Majesty! The business regarding today's neophytes... and new consort... has been concluded."
As if on cue, a bell started tolling outside the building. The sound reverberated throughout the walls, signaling the setting of the sun.
"Hrm... Well, with that business out of the way..." The king raised his arm, pointing in the direction of the table. "As a special treat for the newcomers, the royal family partakes in one welcoming banquet along with you, provided that all manage to not make a total mess of the hall."
The new servants began to chatter and make murmurs of excitement, oohing and ahhing at the meal being prepared behind them.
"Please, all, join us as we dine." The King made his way to the head of the table, followed by his princes and princess, who each sat next to him.
"Miss... Trist?"
Trist came to herself as she realized that all eyes were on her, and none of the servants had moved. She slowly walked past them to the table. A dragon servant carried a sizable cushion, something that, Trist figured, would let her sit up and reach over the edge of the table, given the size of the furniture.
The King looked to the princess that was sitting directly at his right. "Valencia, please..."
The dragoness rolled her eyes and huffed. "You have GOT to be kidding me..."
She was beginning to get up when one of the princes, the second-to-youngest one, jumped out of his seat and took the empty seat next to him. "Miss Trist, you may have this seat."
The dragon servant wasted no time in applying the cushion to the seat. Trist then jumped up into the chair and took her seat, marveling at how both sturdy and soft the cushion was. This gave her a good view of the food served before them, and she could feel her stomach in protest of the inevitable volume of food it was about to receive. Conversely, she could feel her mouth watering, ready to taste the glorious meal before her.
As the king motioned to the other servants, they started scurrying over, being accompanied by a few more dragon servants with cushions who desperately tried to hurry about and cover each chair as the kobolds entered them.
The princess rolled her eyes in disgust once again. But everyone stopped moving when she let out a squeal of pain.
"OWW! Markus, what are y--!"
The eldest dragon let loose a deep, bassy growl, baring his teeth and staring his sister through narrow eyes. "Valencia, you go through this every year, but this must be the worst attitude I've ever seen you in. These are GUESTS HERE! Treat them with honor you yourself wish to be treated with!"
The dragoness hissed, about to retort, when the King raised his own voice. "THAT'S ENOUGH, out of both of you! Valencia, conduct yourself like a queen worthy of the title. And Markus, like a king. You both make me worry..."
It took a minute of stunned silence and kobolds trying to fit into their seats without a sound, before Markus broke it. "... I apologize, Father. Valencia. Company."
Trist was sitting between Markus and the second-youngest, of whose name she was still unsure. She nodded at the eldest prince and the king, then looked at Valencia.
The princess looked at the king and at Markus, before looking at Trist. She then lowered her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Neither the time nor the place."
The king looked at her with tired, narrowed eyes.
Valencia blinked hard and turned to the rest of the table. "Sorry, all... Welcome to The Stone Resolute."
The younger two princes raised their voices and said "Thank you!" in a cheerful manner, sharing smiles.
The king snorted a chuckle, shuddering the table. Behind him approached a chamberlain dragon, who was, Trist noticed, missing his entire left wing. A cloak covered his back, so she could not see hole nor stump of the limb. The chamberlain announced, "The food has been served, and the feast is ready to begin, My Liege."
"Thank you, Gréva." The king replied with a nod, and the chamberlain stepped back, in line with other servers. Blackwing then stood, bowing his head and raising one hand to the sky, fingers splayed out. The dragons and veteran servants bowed their heads, and some of the new servants followed suit, but kept eyes open to watch. Trist stared in wide-eyed wonder.
"O our ancestors, we give thanks to you this evening... For this glorious feast... and time of prosperity... among our people. We thank you for the p..." He paused, and Markus raised his head to look at his father, whose lip was quivering slightly. "... For the peace... we're able to enjoy..." At this point, Markus bowed his head again. "We mourn any separation... temporary or not... from our loved ones... and those who are not here with us this evening... May the stars forever shine on our dominion in abundance."
Around the table, the dragons and kobolds raised their hands up to the ceiling, mimicking the splayed hand of the king. "To the Light!" they took turns saying reverently, each joining in until all had a hand raised.
The king then lowered his hand, and all others followed suit. "Now... Feast on, my friends."

As Trist ate, she noted how high-spirited the new servants were, and smiled every time she heard one compliment the chefs for preparing the food so wonderfully. At some point the king asked, "All the servants who manage to get home... Some of them must be your parents and siblings... Do they not share the recipes with you on how to make these meals?"
"Well, yeah... It just still tastes so much better here, for some reason."
In the meanwhile, Trist was looking at each of the royal family members. The king, Hundaris Blackwing, rested his left hand on the table, using one hand to serve himself and eat. He only ever lifted his left hand to grab the jeweled goblet for a sip of sweet wine, then would return it to its resting point on the table.
To Trist's right was Markus, who occasionally looked to the kobold consort and asked if everything was to her liking. She would respond in the affirmative, and he would turn back to his food, glancing occasionally to her sideways.
In front of Trist, to the right, was Valencia. The dragoness focused on eating, and then would only ever look up at Markus with daggers in her eyes, and then over to Trist with a look on her face as if she had just told herself a humorous tale. The kobold knew that the princess didn't hold kobolds in high regard at all, but hoped that the king's favor would help protect her from any danger that may result from her stay in the palace.
Then there were the two princes, on the left and across on the left. She turned to the dragon next to her, who was looking sideways at her but pretending to only be interested in the food he was tumbling with his utensils.
"So... I know your older siblings' names," she said softly to him. "What is your name, then?"
"I'm... I'm Solis, Miss Trist."
She smiled and nodded to him. "Pleased to meet you, Master Solis."
The lad pointed across the table to his youngest brother. "And this... This is Hector."
The tweenager looked up as he heard his name, and waved and smiled at the two, before stuffing his mouth with more meat. He didn't eat sloppily by any means, but he did have a rather large mouth and look large mouthfuls of food.
Trist returned the wave before turning back to Solis. "So, I heard... you selected me?"
The blond hastily filled his mouth with a mouthful of drink, eyes flitting around to look at anything else.
Trist noted the dodge. "I suppose, Master Solis, I need only ask... how did you come to learn of my existence?"
"Solis and I usually visit the village together, actually," Markus responded. "He loves looking at the lifestyles of urban folk, for some reason."
The king exclaimed, "Ahh, I knew it! Looking for more subjects to sketch and make tales about, Solis? Har har har har!"
The blond's face was flushing a bright red, and he buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, you're only just now hearing about this, father?" Valencia had a bemused look on her face. "Or did you think all his tales were just his imagination?"
"Oh, come now... I doubt every one of his tales were 100% truthful. He's got an imaginative mind, after all! But it's a mind I trust to be able to peer deeply into someone's soul."
Trist could feel a blush begin on her face, as she turned back to Solis. "Oh, a storyteller? I'd love to hear your tales someday."
Hector giggled. "Yeah Solis, you should tell her your stories about her!"
A voice came from among the kobolds. "I'm not surprised, at all, that there are more stories about Trist..."
Markus raised his head, brow stern. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"
"... ... Well, like... Trist doesn't really... mingle with people her age, much. It makes it really easy for people to spread little stories here and there, to make her seem more... interesting?"
A strange silence covered the hall.
"... I don't know, some just do it to pass the time. Shoot the breeze, and all that."
The king shrugged. "Well, I can't fault anybody for that, really. But is this true, Miss Trist? Can you verify any of the tales told of your imaginary deeds?"
Trist blinked a few times, struggling to find words. "This is... the first time I've heard that stories about me w-were made for entertainment in the village."
At this, Valencia's face went from amused to surprised with a bit of concern. She bit her tongue and just listened.
"R-really? Oh, s-sorry, Trist..."
"Really, Josef? This isn't a nice way to let someone know..."
"Well, okay, it's good that this news came out now instead of some less opportune, more embarrassing time, right?"
"Doesn't matter, it doesn't make it excusable at all..."
The hall grew quiet again for a few moments before the king leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward. "So... what manner of stories were told about our royal consort... exactly?"
One kobold hesitated, and stood, knees knocking and breaking out in a light sweat. "N-nothing malicious, My Liege, if that is troubling Your royal mind... It's mainly stories about her going... off on surveying journeys across the county, or finding some new mining cave to explore in the mountainside, or something to that effect..."
Trist folded her arms across her chest as if she were cold, but her face and ears felt incredibly hot.
"... Nothing... You are sure?" The king's voice lowered, and he tilted his head to the side to look at the kobold with one eye, narrowing his gaze.
The kobold who was standing was frozen in fear, and felt his legs give out like the bones within started turning into gelatin. He sat back in his seat. "T-to my knowledge, My Lord..."
But Trist was not going to be freed so easily from this. Another kobold stood. "Not about HER, per se... But I did hear -- and this is without knowing who the source of these tales are -- some rather... ear-catching things about her mother, Kirsti of Longclaw." All eyes turned to this kobold except for some who covered their faces in sympathetic embarrassment and shame, anticipating the words about to be said. "How she, while she was stationed in this palace, was... bred... by the Royal Family."
Trist's heart sank into her stomach, and a lump formed in her throat.
Blackwing relaxed his arms and returned to his food. "Very possible. A lot happens within these hallways, as you are surely bound to see in short order. The high summer is fast approaching, and from what I am told, it's going to be a hot one."
Trist felt like she was developing a case of tinnitus with how her hearing dulled, and her head was feeling tighter and more in pain than before. The murmuring of the kobolds was not helping, neither the boisterous laughter of the dragons. It took several minutes before she realized she hadn't touched her food, but there was a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey... Miss Trist?"
The newly-appointed royal consort started, and looked at the one addressing her. Solis's large green eyes were filled with concern as he looked at her. "Miss Trist, are you okay?"
She nodded, again giving herself a headache with the amount of jewelry knocking against her head and horns. "Yeah, yes... Just... still trying to take it all in, you know?"
"I'm... sorry about... that revelation. You didn't know?"
"... My parents... refused to talk about it. I thought it was bad, but... Something terrible must've happened."
"I don't know, really. That must have happened before I was hatched."
Trist nodded, then went back to her food. Her appetite was diminished, but not completely gone.

The rest of the dinner was completed without a peep from her, and eventually the plates and table were cleared, as the new servants were dismissed to their quarters. A few faces turned to look at Trist as they departed, to which she only responded with a wave. Eventually, the hall was empty of all besides the guards, the king, and the princes. Valencia, it seemed, excused herself some time before.
"Well then, Miss Trist..." the king's voice rumbled the sanctum. "The evening has fallen. Have you seen what our beloved valley looks like at night?"
She was about to shake her head, but then stopped herself. "No, m-my lord. Never have."
He offered his large hand to her, extending his other arm to one of the side doors behind one of the guards. "Before too much more time has passed, let me at least welcome you to the Resolute, with that vision."
She placed her hand in his, and followed behind him, increasing her pace to keep up with his large strides. She turned around to look at the princes as they exited out another door. Only Solis looking back at her, fondly waving before the door closed between them.
The king led his consort along a path under the night sky, a light but warm wind passing over the castle from the north over the palace walls. Torches were lit or being lit by the guard, and the group of three maidens that first greeted Trist were following at a distance, ready to take her off for evening preparations. The king, however, held up his hand without a word, and they halted, and waited in one of the courtyards. A tall oak tree was planted in the middle of a stone courtyard, in a patch of fresh soil, under which was a stone bench large enough for a dragon. The king led Trist along the path, stopping to let her admire the view, the masonry, and the layout.
"Don't feel like you will get lost in here. Every guard and servant here can point you in the direction you seek, if you but ask."
"I... w-- Mmm, yes, my lord."
They eventually came to a set of stone steps, leading up a rock face in a side-winding trail. Trist could see a rock outcropping with two torches at the end of the path, above her about ten feet and about ten yards out. She climbed and hopped on the stairs as the king followed alongside and stepped effortlessly, offering his arm if she needed any assistance. She never needed to take it.
As they made it to the outcropping, Trist looked up and around, in awe of what she saw. The night sky was bright and glowing with so many stars, and a waxing gibbous moon gave enough light to be able to tell the silhouettes of the mountains encompassing the valley. To the northwest she saw the lit-up shape of the Watchful Eye. She remembered being able to see the Tower's light from the village just the night before, but it looked so familiar yet so different now from this location. And all at once she felt the pangs of homesickness, and crossed her arms in front of her.
"Maybe the view will be more impressive in the morning?" the king ventured, noting Trist's change in posture.
"Ah... Yeah... It's just... even though the village is just down there a ways..." She looked down to the north-by-northwest, noting the glow of a village obscured by rock outcroppings. The castle was not directly visible from the village, and it seems that the reverse is true as well.
"Your family? Or your business?"
"... A little bit of both, I suppose."
"You're not one for adventures, are you?"
Trist thought carefully, before turning back around to face the king. "No... I'm more comfortable in the familiar. Things I can put my hands on and work, with the tools I'm most comfortable with."
The king nodded knowingly. "I knew someone that felt similarly. Had a good heart, she did."
Trist paused for quite a time before she raised her head.
The king knew what was in her heart, and preempted her question. "To answer your earlier question... yes. Your mother was one of... a number of kobolds in my chambers. And yes... I was quite fond of her."
"... They act with shame whenever I ask them about her time here. What happened, my liege?"
The king looked around, noting the presences of guards and night-watch around. "... I suppose... there'll be time to tell that whole tale another day."
He held his hand out, turning on his heel to head back down off the outcropping. "For now, it's late. Time to retire. Do you wish to take one night to acclimate yourself to this new place? Or would you join your king tonight..?"
Trist's heart fluttered. But she found herself hesitating, as if she didn't know which one to answer. She stuttered and sputtered, stopping herself from giving an answer either way.
The king noted her brightly-blushing face and smiled calmly. "One night. I think that should help relax you somewhat."
Trist looked back up to the king, and curtsied. "Thank you, y-your majesty..."
He held out his hand again, and she took it, being guided gently down the steps back to the courtyard. With a wave of his hand, the servants approached.
"Take Miss Trist to the queen's spa. She will be taking tonight to relax and become acquainted with the palace. There's... no immediate need for her to join me in my chambers. Help her in whatever she needs."
The servants bowed their heads reverently. The king then nodded to Trist, taking his leave, and disappeared into the halls, a canopy of stars overhead.
"... The queen's spa?" she asked.
"Yes, Milady. The queen had used it to relax. It's a hot spa, a garden in a sheltered place in the palace..."

The servants led her to a chamber inside, where, Trist remembers, they had dressed her up in her current outfit before her presentation to the king. She sighed as she felt the jewelry being taken off and set away, craning her neck from side to side. The sound of loud cracks from her spine surprised the kobold servants, but Trist was nonplussed by it.
Eventually, though, they began taking off her clothes but for the sash and girdle around her crotch. She covered up her breasts as they took off the over-sized bra frame, then sighed as a sash was brought over her head and around her chest, covering up her top, if but only barely. She looked down at herself and whimpered as she saw just how... appealing and revealing she was dressed.
"Milady? Is something wrong?"
"I... I'm just not... used to being this naked... in front of so many people."
The kobolds all looked at each other.
"... Well... summer is coming, and..."
Trist looked up. "Wh-what do you mean by that?"
One of the servants piped up. "Well, the royal family... and visitors... Being a dragon in a hot part of the year will... bring them to cast aside certain inhibitions, let's just say."
"Males AND females, Milady."
"And sometimes... other dragonkind such as we, will be invited to join in..."
Trist went pale. "And strip down? Even further than this?"
"All the way, Milady. I've been there, myself. But... to be invited into a bed with dragons... Ohh, it's so amazing..."
"And you have the king!"
Trist's color returned to a blush. "Y-yeah... Lucky m-me..."
"Are you nervous, Milady Trist?"
"Quite a bit, yeah. I'm just... not used to this."
"Maybe a bit of time in the spa would help."

In a few minutes' time, the door opened and Trist was greeted to an amazing sight. The chamber was a large half-dome with a high ceiling, with an opening only in the middle of the back wall. The back wall was made of uneven rocks and stones, as if the room was built from three walls jammed into the side of the mountain. Through the hole in the ceiling and down the rocks of the back wall came a waterfall, feeding a sizable, steaming pool in the middle of the chamber. A lone cherry blossom tree sat in the middle of it, surrounded by a moat of water. The water spilled out of the chamber through three grates placed equidistantly from the moat and off to the side, towards the wall on the left. That wall had only a single window to its name, guarded on both sides by a pair of female dragoness guards in full gear. 
She entered the room dressed in the uncomfortable "comfort" clothes of earlier, the sash across her breasts, the sash between her legs, and her girdle. Her handmaidens - whose names, she had learned, were Mabel, Nikki, and Sugar - followed her in. The dragoness guards came to attention as the door opened. One male kobold servant with scant clothing and as revealing a girdle as Trist thought possible, was holding towels over his arm and standing at attention by the edge of the pool.
"Ah, ah! Milady Trist! Welcome."
Trist hesitated as she walked forward, noting her handmaidens were standing at the door but not moving forward. Trist looked back with a nervous expression on her face.
Mabel spoke up. "Ah, do you need us for anything immediately, milady?"
"Uh, I'm... uh..."
Trist looked to the male servant and then back to the girls, then to the dragonesses and back again.
"Are you not comfortable with the spa, milady?"
"I... I guess I ... need some privacy."
The girls looked at each other, then walked into the chamber and up to the male servant. Sugar took the towels from off of him, and whispered to him to give them a minute, to which he nodded and walked out. He did not seem ashamed of his bulge being visible to the new royal consort, but less than enthused about a kobold entering. The dragonesses remained steadfast, and Trist felt that they wouldn't budge unless the palace was under attack or their shift was over, much to her dismay.
"That was Matteo, Milady. He's as skilled a masseuse as can be found in the entire kingdom..."
Trist shuddered, imagining the commentary she'd receive on the many burn marks and calluses all over her body. "I'm DEFINITELY not going to relax with a masseuse nearby... Male, especially. Did you see how..?"
The girls nodded as Trist's voice trailed off. She felt like she didn't need to finish the thought, and so she left it hanging in the air.
She then glanced sideways to the dragonesses, who still hadn't budged. "... Tell me, knights. Does anything that happen in this room... bother you? At all?"
They looked at each other, then back to the kobold consort. "... That Matteo can be a bit of a perv, for sure." "I don't understand what the queen saw in him. Maybe she was just... horny so often?"
Trist blinked hard, wishing she could mentally erase that image from her mind.
Nikki spoke, "It's something that just... happens here, Milady. Dragons have their heat and ruts, and we kobolds... live to serve them."
Trist whimpered as Mabel and Sugar began loosening her chest sash and girdle. She squeezed her hand shut as she felt the clothes leave contact with her scales, exposing her to the warm night air. She took notice of a set of steps along the edge of the moat, just under the water's surface, and slowly stepped in. The water was surprisingly warm, and she sighed deeply as she took another step in. She then squatted down and sat in the water, her top half over the water's surface. Covering her breasts, she hopped down one more level, now able to sit with her head barely above the water. And wow, this feeling of being surrounded by warm water felt so amazing!
"Is... is the water heated? I... I can't imagine that mountain spring water is hot at all."
"The water," Mabel replied, "is heated from under this chamber, milady. A special furnace downstairs, just for this room. The rest of the palace is fed by another furnace in the basement, which heats up the water for the kitchen, the laundry, and the restrooms. I used to work there, helping feed the furnaces with lumber imports."
"O-oh?" Trist finally heard words that piqued her interest. "What kind of wood does the palace usually import?"
"I think pine, mostly? It gets really scent-heavy down there, with all those pine needles all over."
"Ah, pine usually doesn't burn too well for furnaces. Oak would be more preferable... At least, that's what I use in my sm... What I USED to use in my smithy."
"Y-yesterday's profession, madam?"
Trist looked up at Mabel, and smiled. "This morning's profession. The king tested me with that when I was presented at the throne room earlier."
The three handmaidens looked at each other in awe.
Trist then looked at the dragonesses. "Those swords and armor... My father probably helped make them."
The guards smiled at the kobold. "They've served us well, if that's the case."
Trist sighed to herself, looking along the surface of the water at the many cherry blossom petals dotted across its surface. She sighed, and held her breath, dipping her head under as she swam a lap around the moat, coming up for air. She shuddered as she felt the sensation of the slightly colder air against her head scales, then opened her eyes to see the kobold maidens pointing at a spot on her head. Nikki produced a mirror and held it out to show the newly-appointed consort. Trist saw her head and horns were now polka-dotted with cherry blossom petals. The three giggled lightly, then giggled even louder when Trist joined in the laughter. It was the first time in a long time, she felt, that she's been able to have the calmness to laugh at herself. Something in the water, she wondered? Either way, she smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror, somehow feeling that things would work out, somehow, and that so much about what was worrying her was not as drastic as she thought.

After about half an hour or so in the spa, Trist rose up out of the water, and allowed herself to be wrapped up in the towels to dry off. Sugar had her stand on a towel to help dry her feet, bringing forward a pair of slippers for the royal consort to walk in. Trist slipped them on, and tightly held the towels around her chest and waist. The four took their leave of the guard-dragons in the spa room and made their way to, as Mabel said to Trist, the queen's chamber.
Opening the door, Trist was unsure how to take the room. It was so lavishly decorated with portraits, statuettes, and busts of the late queen. She had surrounded herself with images of herself, Trist thought. There were mirrors, great dressers and wardrobes, a large walk-in closet with racks upon racks of clothing, jewelry boxes and chests full of gold and gems... Trist took a step backwards.
"This is... so much. Maybe too much."
"Is something wrong, milady?"
"I just... All the images of the queen, it... It feels imposing. I don't think I could be comfortable here overnight."
The four looked at one another, unsure what to do or say.
"I guess there's... the queen's guest chamber?"
"... The queen's guest chamber?" Trist asked, hesitating. "... What's that room like?"
In about three minutes, the doors to the queen's guest chamber opened up. It was a large room, filled with little besides a large poster bed, complete with a red silk canopy, and a wardrobe. The bed was large, certainly large enough for...
"Maybe this is too much information, but... This is where the queen entertained her guests."
Trist paused and turned to Nikki slowly. "'Entertain', as in..?"
"... Yes. But... the sheets are changed on the regular."
Mabel closed the door behind them as Trist slowly walked in. She was still wearing her towels, but Nikki and Sugar helped remove those off of her body, and started wrapping her chest-sash around her. Nikki went to one of the drawers under the bed, and pulled out a clean white set of underwear, bringing it to Trist. She lifted a leg and allowed Nikki to slip it onto her, surprised by the smooth texture and the snugness around her curves.
"W-wow... Fine materials, here!"
The three bowed. "The best is saved for the royal family, after all."
Trist scratched idly behind her ear. "... Meaning me, as well?"
Mabel smiled. "The king did select you, after all!"
"Actually," Trist glanced at the bed, "the king said Solis did. But... I still don't really understand why."
"Solis?! Oh, he's so cute..."
"He must have his eyes on you, milady!"
"Truly lucky indeed, for him to have chosen you."
Trist turned back around. "... Why?"
Mabel nodded. "I suppose it's up to the king and master Solis to tell you themselves. Is there anything you need before you retire for the evening, milady?"
Trist looked around, noting the door just hidden behind the left side of the bed. "What's behind there?"
"Private restroom, milady."
"Ah. Well... I suppose I shall make use of that, before heading to bed."
Trist started making her way to the door, stopping to place a hand on the bed mattress and pushing down firmly. "Stars, this is soft..!" she mumbled to herself.
The three kobolds bowed. "Then we shall retire as well, milady. If there is anything else you need, anything at all, please notify a guard, or have them notify us. Until then... good night, Miss."
"Good night, Mabel, Nikki, Sugar. And thank you."
The three left, leaving Trist alone in the bedroom. The lamp's flames danced along the walls of the room, lighting the chamber an eerie yellow glow. Trist opened the door to the restroom and entered, finding herself in little more than a side closet. Its familiar layout was certainly similar to what she lived with back in the village, but this was all for herself.
She quietly reached behind her and undid her chest sash, then pulled down the fresh pair of panties she was wearing. She again admired their texture, then placed them on the lip of the sink. Glancing briefly at herself in the mirror, she then stepped into the shower and drew the curtain shut. Spreading her legs a little bit, she raised her head and released her muscles, relieving herself of her waters. As she did, her mind worked to ruminate on the events of the day, from the moment her name was called, to the events of the evening. It felt like the day had gone by so fast, but also like so much had happened.
She thought again about the kindness of the king, his attitude towards her, his restraint, and his power. She was so nervous throughout the day due to her trepidation towards whether the king made a mistake selecting her to be his consort. She knew that from that moment forward, she had to not make him feel like he regretted his choice, or disapprove of her. Given what her mother had gone through, she felt hesitant about another embarrassment entering the family. And about what that would mentally do to her own father.
Her thoughts returned to the king. And she felt... warm. At peace. Her loyalty was always going to be to the master of the dominion, no matter what. She started to realize more and more that she needed to trust in her king's decision. She knew then and there that the biggest obstacle to her success during these next few years of her life, was going to be her own self. Her self-confidence, or lack thereof.
As Trist's mind laid hold upon that thought, she came to her senses again, and remembered her surroundings. Then she looked down. She was still in the same stance as before, her legs slightly apart, but one of her hands was gripping her breast. She let go, surprised that she had done so without thinking, unable to remember making herself do that.
In a moment, she had a thought. She looked around, as if to make sure nobody else was there with her. She honestly had no clue what or who was on the other side of the walls around her, but she had the impression in her mind to do something, to treat herself, just for a little bit.
Her hand moved down between her legs, and her fingers slowly ran along her pursed lower lips. She exhaled forcibly out of her snout, stroking herself with her middle finger. She made her finger into a hooked shape and parted her lips, rubbing against the inside of her vulva, tickling the edges of her birthing canal.
Upon contact, she opened her mouth and sighed, tickling herself even more, and increasing the rate of contact. Soon an entire finger disappeared inside of her, and she sighed again, with a small vocalized creak in her throat. She sped up the pace, biting her lip and moaning anyway, trying to lower her volume in case the walls weren't thick enough. Her free hand gripped her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers and tugging on them.
Soon the build-up of pressure became unbearable, and she inserted her ring finger into the moist, wet tunnel as well. She pumped and pumped as fast as her arm would let her, feeling the pins and needles start to plague her biceps, until, at long last, the flood of endorphins ravaged her system and she gasped loudly, shivering as her body shook with orgasmic delight. She kept her fingers inside only because she had clamped her legs shut, and leaned against the shower wall and slid down it carefully, eventually dislodging her fingers from her nether region and feeling the leak of internal fluids trickle down her leg and into the shower drain.
For several minutes, Trist took long, deep breaths, feeling her temperature stabilize. The scent of her fluids reached her nostrils, and she looked at her sticky hand in both admiration and triumph, like this was something she needed all along. She slowly raised her hand to her hand, placing her fingers in her mouth and suckling quietly, moaning ever so lightly as she tasted herself.
She looked up at the shower-head, and reached for a rope that controlled the water flow. She pulled it, and felt the sensation of warm water cascading over her body. She opened her legs and rubbed her vulva clean of fluids, washing her sticky hand in the process. She then let go of the rope and felt the water flow stop. Standing up, she drew back the shower curtain and headed to a cabinet, which looked like it was filled with a few items of various use. She grabbed the large towel and dried off her scales, then grabbed a glass cup and put it under the faucet in the sink, opening the tap, and drinking down the cool water. She then bared her fangs and inspected her teeth in the mirror, happy that they were all still there and in relatively good condition.
She then looked again in the cabinet and noticed two more things: a bottle of clear liquid, and a smaller flask of pink translucent liquid. She pulled out the clear liquid bottle and unstopped it, taking a sniff. Ah, lubrication oil. The heady aroma made Trist blink hard, and she closed it up and placed it back in the cabinet. The smaller flask, however, intrigued her. She uncorked the flask and sniffed, then sniffed again. It was mild, but there was a scent of cherry in it. Pulling the flask out, she noted that the underside was affixed to a wick of some sort, which had absorbed some of the liquid. She shrugged and dappled the perfume between her neck and her shoulders, returning the cork flask to the cabinet. She inhaled deeply, and her sinuses were filled with the sweet fragrance. She bounced side to side a little, giggling to herself. She then pulled on the panties and sash again, and left the restroom, closing the chamber door behind her.
Trist then looked again to the colossal bed. Her mind presented vague images of a terrible and beautiful dragon queen sprawled out in the bed, with dragon hunters by her sides, fully in the nude. As Trist uncovered the comforter and rolled into the covers, she remarked again how soft the mattress was, how silky smooth the sheets were, how nicely everything smelled... She remembered the cherry perfume, and scrunched her shoulders, shaking her head side to side to spread the oil on her scales a little. She settled into the bed, looking down at the foot of the bed and seeing how much more room there was, that she couldn't possibly fit into all that space.
Then her mind presented to her a vision. The shape of a muscular, war-chiseled dragon male stood at the end of the bed, top removed and in the process of removing his girdle and loincloth. The vision skipped ahead to the dragon crawling on hands and knees on the bed, up to Trist's face. Then there was the sound of repetitive slap-slap-slapping, followed by a dragon's orgasmic roar of triumph. The sensation of extreme warmth and tightness in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of being bloated with eggs...
Trist gasped, and looked down, uncovering herself. All she saw was her own body, exactly as she had left it a few seconds before.
She sighed, and covered herself again, turning to her side. She let the images in her mind play back again from memory. And she thought to herself about what the future would hold, as consort to the royal family. The words of her mother came back to her mind, as well as her resolve to do her best in whatever job she was assigned. She wondered, if she needed to get used to sleeping in this room at all.
Then she began to wonder about the king's bed.
She fell asleep a short while later, a hand between her legs, cupping her lower region again. Her panties were soaked in one spot. The light from the lamp fizzled out on its own within the hour, and the stars above the valley shone brightly.