by Marie Daye
The priests left the safety of their steps and joined the slayer and dragon ally, by their sides they all went silent for a moment. The crater was not empty, but the ebony dragon was not there. At the bottom of the crater lay the body of a man, he was slowly struggling to push himself upwards but it seemed as if all the strength he had fled his body and he kept collapsing back into the soil.
“Vegeir,” Libelle whispered. “-is that… is that Eskil?”
The old dragon made a rumbling noise, his yellow eyes were darting about as he thought the situation over. “You may be right, I believe it may be him.” He peered down the crater at the nude man who continued to struggle to stand. He motioned Libelle forward, and the Slayer slowly took her first step forward.
Libelle unconsciously flinched when the man’s deep voice hollered, “Curse you Slayer!”
His head lifted, and she swallowed hard. Her feet slid out from underneath her, and she fell onto the soil and slid down the steep slope on her bottom. She kicked her feet out in front of herself and tried to slow herself down, and eventually skidded to a stop only a few feet in front of the man.
Libelle flinched again when he reached forward and grabbed her leg, his grip was strong and tight: constricting like a snake around her thin ankle. The dark aura emitting from the man matched the dark aura Eskil had, this man had to be him.
The man lifted his head, his gaze locking with hers. “Pray for your soul,” He growled. His pearly white teeth clenched together, long fang like canines glimmering. “-for I will devour it.” He snarled again and pulled on her leg.
Libelle couldn’t help herself but find herself looking at his stunning features. The nude man-beast had to be Eskil, his eyes were glimmering like polished gold with black snake-like pupils. His skin was a lovely shade of bronze, and the tanned tissue was stretched over large and well-defined muscles. Despite his deep frown, he had deep colored lips, a sturdy jaw line with a slightly pointed chin and angular cheekbones.
His eyes were narrowed and spaced evenly apart, his thick arched brows were separated by his broad nose. Dark black hair hung straight down past his shoulders, sloppily kept as stray strands hung in his face. From the top of his head, at the beginning of his thick hair line protruded two thick black layered and scaled horns.
Her gaze trailed down his chin to his thick neck, his body being as tense as he was caused his tendons and muscles to stretch tightly beneath the skin. His adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, which caused her eyes to travel further down past his collar bones. His chest was large and broad, his abdomen chiseled with bulging and taught muscles. He pulled her down further again, his arm flexing and all the veins in his forearm and bicep looked like they would burst. Eskil in this form was incredibly handsome, he was incredibly fit and muscular. He was sexy. But he was still very, very dangerous.
“Slayer,” He growled. “Die.”
Eskil opened his human mouth, trying even now to build up the strength to form a flame to spew at her. Libelle saw few sparks build up at the back of his throat and she panicked, she quickly jerked back and used her free booted foot to kick him hard: her foot made full contact with his nose and chin. Eskil’s head snapped back and his eyes rolled back in his head, before his grip around her ankle loosened and he collapsed back to the ground beneath him.
Libelle exhaled when Eskil went limp, completely unconscious. “Vegeir, it really is him.”
The old dragon’s eyes widened. “Bring him here.”
Libelle grabbed Eskil’s limp arms and proceeded to drag him up the craters step ledge. He was still large in this form, tall and heavy. She struggled up the chilly slope, slipping more than she cared to. Davyn and Jolgeir reached out to her, grabbing onto her arm when she was within reach. Her feet reached the solid surface of a stone slab and she fell onto her knees after the two priest grabbed onto Eskil’s arms and pulled him up the rest of the way.
Libelle was panting, she was tired and her strength was fading. She was already tired from her trip here, the energy that was required sapped her strength as well. She needed to rest. She looked down at Eskil who was still unconscious and he showed no signs of waking up. She felt her cheeks flush when she looked down the rest of his nude body, everything was large in this form of his.
Davyn shook his head and wiped his forehead with his grey wool robes. “How did this happen?”
“I do not know, Loki said this magic was only meant to prevent him from harming mortals. Any other side effects, this side effect: I could not predict this.” She watched as Jolgeir turned and headed up the slippery steps and push open the doors to Uppsala, then disappearing behind the heavy wooden doors.
“You cast a spell without knowing its side effects?!” Davyn asked frustrated. “I trust our gods, but you know how Loki is! Why did you not question his actions further?”
“Would you question a god when he offers you his help?” She snapped.
Davyn sighed, shaking his head. “No, probably not.”
Libelle shrugged, “It’s not like I have test subjects lying about for trial and error. In theory it was not meant to have such an effect, but not a soul could have foreseen this.” She glared at Davyn as he was about to continue his assault of questions and insults.
“Davyn, don’t scold me like some bairn. I did what my heart felt was necessary, I knew I could not kill him in this world or the next. But with this moment, I knew we were able to disarm him. That is what I aimed to do.”
“But what are we to do with him now?!” Davyn raised his voice a notch higher when Olief and Kirk stepped away to return to the warmth of the temple. “Keeping an entire dragon captive was one thing, but now you need to keep a man! A man with horns is not going to go unnoticed!”
Vegeir interrupted his disciple. “Calm Davyn, patience. The slayer could not predict this, I could not see this curse. Eskil’s no longer the prince, his crown has been removed.” He nodded in approval when the three other priests returned with wool robes in hand and several blankets. They moved as fast as their aged legs could carry them over the slick ground and knelt by Eskil’s side. Quickly gowning him and providing mild protection from the cold.
“Vegeir, we cannot keep him here. We are peace seekers, not jail keepers.” Davyn said, this time more calmly.
He nodded again, “Slayer, this responsibility falls to you I am afraid. I do not know what to expect from this magic, so be prepared for anything. Eskil may return to his normal self at any moment, and none of us know if he will not be able to harm mortals any longer.”
He shifted his weight, “It will be your task to keep a close eye on him. Keep those around him safe, and please return to me with any news.”
Libelle forced a smile to him, “You know I will only do this cause you asked me so nicely.”
Vegeir snorted before he returned to the sky, flying high above the temple and returning to the peak of the mountain. He would meditate and he would give his wounds time to heal. Leaving her to deal with the man-beast and a very upset Davyn.
“Help me bring him inside will you?” She asked the men, and reluctantly they each grabbed a limb ever so not-gently. They quickly shuffled inside and Libelle followed the men to an empty cot where they set Eskil down. He was still breathing which was a good sign, but the smear of blood from his nose blemished his features. Libelle sat down next to him, accepting a heavy blanket from Kirk.
She kicked off her soaked boots and set her feet near the warmth of the fire place, not more than ten feet from Eskil's bedside. The heat from the flames radiated into the room, bringing heat into the chilled bones of all the beings in the room. Libelle sighed and rested her head back against the stone wall, wrapping herself in the blanket she kept her side to the sleeping dragon. Her chest to the flames, and her other side to the doorway. Right now, she just wanted sleep.
Davyn had taken the few minutes to calm himself, despite his worry and his frustrations there was nothing that he or anyone else could do to change the outcome of this situ
ation. He had to accept Vegeir’s wisdom and decision on the matter.
“We will sleep in the opposite wing, please call if you need us.” He said following his brothers out the stone archway.
“Yes, I will.” Libelle said, resting her head on her arms that were now crossed on her bent knees.
“Please keep an eye on him, he is still Eskil, the world-eater. Even though he looks almost like a man.”
“Alright.” She was already asleep by the time Davyn and the others left the room. She had exhausted her magic, her stamina, and her strength. Now she needed rest.
Eskil groaned as his head pulsated in pain, it felt like a boulder had landed between his eyes and he could hear his pulse beating in his ears. He wanted to open his eyes but they stung, his ears were buzzing and his throat was dry. What had occurred the night before was lost to him, the evening's events filled with nothing but a black haze in place of his memory.
He felt oddly warm in his surroundings and it was strangely quiet. He knew he had to access the damage to his body, he’d likely be missing scales and lots of blood if he did not remember his battle with the slayer.
He forced his eyes open and blinked, his vision momentarily blurry before his gaze found focus. Puzzled, he found himself staring at a stone brick ceiling. Where was he? He found himself thinking. Had the slayer imprisoned him in some temple?
Eskil sat up to inspect his surroundings, he needed to know where he was. Despite his sore body he pushed himself up further, perching himself on his wings clumsily. He growled out, fighting the aches that radiated all over him. He blinked a few more times before freezing and taking in the sight.
A pair of mortal feet lay in front of him, attached were two legs that attached to a waist and an abdomen. He swallowed hard, and began to breathe in and out rapidly. He raised his wings upwards to his face to inspect them, but what appeared in his vision were not his wings: but a set of calloused hands.
What in Odin’s name is this? Where is my body? Where are my scales, my talons, my wings?! Slayer, where are you? What have you done to me?!
Eskil pushed himself upwards until he was standing and stumbled around the room until he was able to approach a large bowl of clear water. He looked into the water to see his reflection, and his horned face was not the one that greeted him. What stared back at him was a mortal face, one with tanned skin, black hair and golden eyes. The only part of himself that he recognized was the single pair of horns protruding from his head. He shredded the itchy wool material from his body, tearing it into pieces and throwing it to the floor. This body was not his, it was not one he recognized. He wanted to scream, to breathe deep breaths of fire and tear the stone building down: he wanted to find the elvish woman who had placed this curse on him.
Slayer, I do not know what you did to me but you will fix it! You will change me back and I will kill you! I will break your soul into pieces and devour it! I will-
He needn't look far however, because while he paced the room in an enraged fit he caught sight of the slayer, sleeping soundly against the wall near where he had slept. She hadn't stirred the entire time he had raised a fit, still sleeping with her head resting on her forearms that were crossed on her knees. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and ten pink toes peeked out from the blanket.
She's… unarmed? Why? Humph, I shouldn't bother myself with asking why. It makes her such an easier target, in this form I am… Am I weak? Curse you elf, you will answer for this!
As quickly and as silently as he could he rushed up to her, ideas of ripping her esophagus from her throat, or her heart from her chest filled his mind. He was furious. He was about to reach for her thick mane of hair when she looked up at him with her icy blue eyes and an expression that lacked emotion. He gritted his teeth when he found himself wanting to admire her, and forced himself to lunge with his fist and try to take a fist-full of her blankets. Wanting to slam her down to the ground. He would make her pay for what she had done to him.
Libelle effortlessly dodged the man-beasts grip, his movements slow as he was not used to his new form. His fist passed by her and slammed into the bricks behind her, but he did not yield to the pain. His eye twitched, and his lip curled into a snarl again. Libelle sighed, ducking beneath his muscular arm and pushing him backwards, hard. He stumbled backwards and tripped over his bare feet, falling backwards to the cold stone floor.
“I will kill you! What have you done to me!?” Eskil tried to push himself back up, he wanted this fight to continue but he froze when the Slayer plopped herself down across his waist. She grabbed both his wrists and pinned them to the floor by his head, and gave him an icy glare. He struggled against her grasp, he actually struggled! He somehow was not strong enough to pull himself away. Gods, he would kill her.
“Get off me.”
She didn't respond, but just continued to stare at him. Her eyes darting about his face.
“Damn you to Hel, I will kill you Slayer!” He struggled again, feeling like a hatchling caught in a trap. She still didn't respond, instead she sat up and simply let go of his wrists. Eskil paused momentarily, trying to process the possible schemes she was up to before he sat up as fast as he could and wrapped his long and thick fingers around her neck. He squeezed.
The moment his malicious intent grew to its peak, and his hands constricted around her throat Eskil screamed. His mortal scream just as chilling as his dragon roar. His head snapped back and all the muscles in his body went rigid like he had currents of electricity running through his body. His grip loosened and he fell backwards panting, beads of sweat formed on his brow and his eyes were clenched shut. She remained sitting across his lap, her buttocks on his waist and her heels behind her beside his legs.
“Hmmm, so it worked.” Libelle murmured, her voice just above a whisper. She tapped her slender finger to her lip.
“What,” Eskil panted. “-have you done to me?” He slowly opened his eyes as the pain gradually faded. She was still contently sitting on him, no fear in her eyes this time. It sickened him, the pride it had brought him the weeks before when he was able to strike fear into her eyes with hardly any effort were gone.
She didn't answer him again, but continued to stare at him. Seeming to be analyzing him, like he was some subject in an alchemist's laboratory. It made him uncomfortable, it sent chills up his spine. When had he become such a coward?
His anger returned as soon as the pain vanished, and he forcefully pushed her from his lap. He followed as she tumbled backwards on her bum and grabbed her wrists, slamming them down onto the ground by her head: just as she had to him. Despite his human appearance, he was still a dragon: the need for revenge was great and the taste to have her blood on his tongue was even greater. He opened his mouth wide and bent his head down over her jugular, his razor sharp canines touching her skin like tickling feathers.
The same incredible pain rushed through him, every nerve cell in his body screamed and burned. It felt like his skin was being stripped from his body, his muscles being torn from the bone, and his soul was being ripped into shreds. It was excruciating, it was a pain he had never felt before. It was pain he would never wish upon any of his kin.
He panted hard again, his eyes clenched shut as he still held the female elf beneath him. He waited for the pain to pass once more. “What have you done to me?” He groaned out.
She shifted herself beneath him and he raised his head to look at her. Her cheeks were a rosy pink and she was averting her chilling eyes. He grabbed her chin roughly, and then loosened his grip when pain stung at him again with warning. He turned her head towards him, directing her gaze to meet with his.
“Tell me woman, what have you done to me?”
She opened her mouth to reply then snapped it shut, the color in her cheeks darkening. A deep growl emerged from his throat, “Slayer, in this form I may not be able to harm you. But I do have ways to make you speak.”
She sighed, “Fine then you big oaf, I’ll tell you once you get off of me.”
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He growled again, “I am rather comfortable with you at my mercy.”
He was to his surprise, his mortal enemy was pinned beneath the weight of his body. The warmth coming from her body felt delicious as it warmed his cool skin, he fit snugly between her legs and her plump chest pressed against his felt strangely erotic.
She sighed again, “I will not tell you anything until you get off of me. You hear me? You want the story, you’re going to listen.” She wiggled against him, sliding herself upwards and pulling her wrists from his hands. Eskil paused as he felt a feeling he hadn't felt in a great length of time, in fact: he didn't remember the last time he felt this way. He felt aroused.
Why, he could not answer. He was so angry, rage burned deep down to his core. Arousal was the last thing on his mind, let alone arousal for a slayer. A cursed dragon reborn as a mortal. This was disgusting, it was embarrassing. He pushed himself upwards to follow the elf who scooted away again, the pink color of her cheeks now a deep red.
He was nestled between her thighs again and pushed her back down to the floor, when an uncontrolled, desire filled moan escaped his mouth. A wave of pleasure shot through him when his body rubbed against her inner thigh, and he found himself unconsciously grinding his hips against her groin.
What are you doing you fool? He mentally snapped at himself. You're here in this situation because of this damned she-elf, you're in a mortals form! Secure the information you need to change back, kill her, and be done with this whole situation!
Eskil growled again when pleasure spiked through him again, how he did not know. Or gather the information, mate her, then kill her. The idea was one that intrigued him yet still disturbed him. How do mortals even mate? They don't lay eggs like dragons, do they? No, they enter this world screaming from their mother's loins.