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The Sovereign's Darkflame	By : Lord_Tyrant Category: +G through L > League of Legends Views: 11768 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The following work, concerning the intellectual property of Riot Games (League of Legends), is entirely non-profit and no intention is made to market or unlawfully charge for it.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Fear may be from a lack of understanding, but hatred is always a choice.

*~*
Special notice: For those coming immediately from Chapter 1 ‘Ionian Revelry,’, you will see that Shyvana’s physical characteristics have changed somewhat. This is in line with her champion splash art update when this story was in development. She’s basically going from gray/dark skinned to blue/dark blue, otherwise nothing too untoward has changed.
*~*

Syndra stared down at the inordinately large pile of scrolls and writings strewn about her office desk, her fingers strumming across the wooden surface as she tried to focus. Hours had passed since she first sat down and the stack of reports remained as intimidating as when she began. She scowled, shaking her head contemptuously at the papers.

Why do I bother?!

Never before had she allowed her concentration to be ruined by such trivial details. She had blamed the heat on the unusually warm month, but it worsened by the day. Fleeting thoughts tormented her, bringing half-remembered pleasures that always left her flustered. Eyes narrowing, her jeweled fingers curled into a half-formed fist and swiped at the air in front of her. A crackling wave of dark energy erupted, violently scattering the cluttered mess across her study room.

Syndra shot up from the desk and made her way to an open window, leaning against the wooden frame to stare out into the gardens below. These inane reports are beneath my attention, she thought irritably, rubbing her temple with the tips of her fingers. Why bother asking me where to build a temple? Despite the gentle wind's caress over her face, she still felt utterly stifled under her long, flowing dress. She loosened her folded top, freeing her hefty bosom from its stuffy prison.

Her mind wandered as it had for weeks, worldly concerns vanishing as she fanned herself. Golden eyes sat radiantly atop dark blue lips, flitting through her mind's eye, a tumultuous vision of familiar warmth pressing up against her, pinning her underneath an invisible weight which both excited and vexed her. Lusciously firm lips drifted teasingly toward her until she could feel their warmth. Just as they met, however, the cold taste of metal tore her away from her fantasy.

Syndra glared at her jeweled claws of amethyst and obsidian, the offending things having slipped idly into her mouth. With a scowl, she wiped her mouth and cast the offending appendage away.

It has been a month and I still cannot stop thinking about her. We had more than enough time together! With how satisfying her massage was, it should not be this infuriating, the sovereign reasoned. She closed her eyes and recalled the way that Shyvana had started upon her shoulders in small circles, moving gradually down further and further, her rough hands working the sore knots from her muscles. The mere memory left her skin tingling.

Syndra blushed, clenching her legs together a little too tightly. Contending with some fool in Negatron weave is less frustrating than this, she groused. Her traitorous mind tried recalling her last fruitless attempts before she caught it and whirled away from the window. Frustrated, she stalked across the tatami floor back to her desk and took up her old spot in a huff, sitting cross legged.

Is this what happens after sex? It torments you until you give into it again? How utterly ridiculous. Her face scrunched at the idea.

As Syndra’s thoughts wandered, so too did her gaze. Almost immediately, she settled upon the small panda doll which sat on the corner of her desk, slumped over sideways. Her ire wilted in the face of its blank, lopsided gaze. With a curl of her jewel-tipped fingers, the doll lifted towards her from a touch of her magic.

Idly, she fingered the panda’s soft fur, recalling the prideful grin the dragon wore when she had won it for her. There is no way people subject themselves to this torture willingly. There must be a way to address this; maybe a calming drink? Perhaps tea? She held the thought for a moment before scoffing. Hardly. Turning the doll over in her hands, she squinted into its dumb eyes and ran a hand over its soft, round ears, folding them back and letting go so they popped up again. Slowly, a smile crept at the corner of her lips.

In truth, the answer to her problem had always been readily apparent. The very first night she was alone in bed, panting and sweating without any satisfaction, she knew what had to be done. Syndra pursed her lips and irritably squeezed the panda between her hands repeatedly. Why must I wait until our next meeting? If that is the only option, it would be faster if I simply went to her myself ...

For a brief moment, her fitful frustration halted while the thought took form. She saw an opportunity—almost as if a door had slid open in front of her—and bubbled with anticipation as her plan came together.

"Yes, that is true, isn't it?" she asked the panda, her very voice thrumming with excitement. "I can simply go there, can’t I? Oh, there is so much for me to do!"

Preparations had to be made, dresses sorted, court and diplomatic routine practiced. At the very least, her visit needed to seem passable to the Demacian rabble Shyvana surrounded herself with. The dragon had been quite insistent that she not cause a scene the last time she visited, a sentiment which Syndra could appreciate.

As she made her preparations for the journey, the week flew by in a blur. Whatever menial tasks required attention she off loaded to her subordinates, leaving her free to prepare. Her cover story was simple enough, but the dress demanded the greatest of her attentions. On the one hand, she had to maintain a certain level of decorum and regality. On the other, she needed to lure Shyvana in—to tantalize the dragon—tempting her without being uncouth, in equal parts a dignified sovereign and coy temptress.

It wasn't nearly as simple she imagined it to be.

*~*

The trip proceeded without incident, and soon she arrived at Demacia’s inner palace. There, she was greeted promptly by its court officials and their tedious decorum. They were strangely receptive to her request to meet with the Prince of Demacia despite the suddenness of the visit, and a small cadre of guards were assigned to escort her and her entourage.

The guards led the way through one of the palace wings, brimming with soldiers of all kinds. Syndra scowled at their offending looks, turning a fair many heads away. It was only when the escort leader stopped in front of a pair of doors that she looked ahead.

"His Highness, Prince Jarvan the Fourth, is out on the training field, Lady Syndra," the leader announced, ceremoniously securing his lance snugly beside him. A nod toward the sentries by the door sent them opening the impressively-tall entrance.

Syndra took the lead, gesturing to her servants to stay behind. As the gate opened, the drill yards came into view; a cavernous hall sculpted from the mountain which loomed around her. Battlements had been carved out of where the face of the mountain once was, expanding the training grounds and fortifications. Every part of the area was neatly sectioned off in clearly-cut paths, soldiers of all kinds attending their training with remarkable discipline.

Her glowing eyes swept across them all, but one group in particular caught her attention. Huddled near the hall's center, rambunctious and howling onlookers stood at odds against the orderly ranks. Syndra's brow creased and she lifted herself higher into the air, briefly glimpsing a skirmish where a small woman grappled with a giant of a man.

Or, more aptly, where her ferocious dragonborn grappled with the Prince of Demacia.

Why are they wrestling? Syndra wondered, peeking over the crowd to better see. There, Shyvana stood hand-to-hand with Jarvan IV, the vivid, dark blue scales of her skin contrasting against the prince's golden white uniform. Both focused intently upon each other, arms locked together, but neither had the upper hand. Despite their comical difference in size, the dragon held her ground without budging.

Syndra's heart fluttered at the sight and she froze, a blush threatening to reveal itself. With a tight-fitting black tank top and taut black shorts, Shyvana's fierce beauty commanded her attention. Her lithe but firmly-toned figure glistened in the light, beads of sweat slipping into the small crevices of half-formed scales and scars littering her skin. Subdued fire coursed along her veins, magmatic leylines revealing her proud draconic heritage.

Every movement conveyed her strength, defined muscles tensing and easing as she stood her ground and grappled with the prince. Syndra’s gaze struggled to rise, lifted only by her mounting desire to see more. Fiery, golden eyes glowed fiercely, and a smug smile curled upon Shyvana's thin lips, her unerring confidence transforming her ferocious beauty into a breathtaking sight.

The sovereign lifted her leg atop the other and crossed them, her full-body dress neatly covering to her shins. An effortless thought drew her magics forth, distorting the air as three dark spheres manifested to line up underneath her, serving as a makeshift chair. High above the spectating soldiers, no one paid any attention to her, leaving her undisturbed to watch. If I must wait, then at least there is a show, she considered, folding her free-floating silk shawl onto her lap.

Shyvana lunged threateningly, and in the moment she overstretched, Jarvan snapped a kick toward her ankle. The dragon awkwardly leapt backwards, stumbling onto the ground in a clumsy attempt to dodge. The crowd cheered, clapping or fist-bumping each other at the sight.

Syndra, however, was not amused.

He can outreach her, but she is faster and much stronger. That was an easy opening for her to grapple ...

Her glowing eyes narrowed, watching as the two fighters picked themselves up and dusted off. Shyvana's arms stayed low and spaced widely apart as she traced around him, a predatory glint about her. Jarvan remained poised, yet oddly still, neither attacking nor moving to defend himself. He had the advantage, but squandered it in giving Shyvana all the room to work in, and Syndra wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Suddenly, the dragon lashed out and feinted to the side at the last moment, tricking the Prince into an opening. Despite the prime opportunity, her blow amounted to little more than a harmless graze across his side, leaving her fatally exposed. Jarvan grabbed her in an instant, turning Shyvana's own momentum against her.

Syndra's scowl deepened as the Prince twirled her lover around and hurled her sprawling onto the ground again.

She does not aim that poorly.

As fighters squared off again, the sovereign clapped her hands, jostling everyone watching the spectacle. Confused looks passed between the fighters and the crowd until one soul pointed upward, collectively drawing attention to her. She paid them no mind, coolly greeting Shyvana's stunned golden eyes with a tiny sneer.

"Dragon, cease this foolishness and win," the sovereign demanded with an upturn of her nose.

"Syndra? How in –"

"Ah, how kind for you to grace us with your presence once again, Lady Syndra," Jarvan cut in over Shyvana's sputtering. He thumped a fist into open palm, flexing his bare, chiseled shoulders. "Though I must admit I am somewhat surprised; I don’t recall this being arranged."

"My visit is strictly informal, I assure you. I have business with you and the dragon." Smiling thinly, Syndra waved her jeweled fingers invitingly. "But please, finish. I can wait."

The fighters looked toward each other as the crowd around them cowed, their jubilance bled away by the interruption, each shuffling awkwardly beneath the sovereign's gaze.

"All or nothing, then?" Jarvan proposed, setting his legs apart and holding his hands up.

"All or nothing," Shyvana echoed with a growl, mirroring him.

The very air around her lover changed an instant, Syndra noted. She glanced at Jarvan, seeing that he must have noticed the same thing. Shyvana carried herself with serious purpose unlike the amiably lax attitude before. The fine hairs on Syndra's airs prickled at the sight, her own toothy smile coming out.

Hand-to-hand the fighters met, at first simply trying to bowl the other over. Their spar carried on for minutes, each blow striking faster and harder until Jarvan weaved underneath Shyvana's fist to catch her from below. Just as he moved to strike, however, Shyvana turned his own momentum against him by twisting his unsteady footing, slamming him into the ground with such force that even Syndra felt it.

Better.

The crowd almost erupted in a cheer as the final blow was struck until they saw who it was. Most of them quickly dispersed afterwards, but a few loitered, leaving Shyvana and the Demacian prince to collect themselves. She offered him an arm and helped him to his feet, and Jarvan dusted himself off, leaving the dragon to raise her arms questioningly at Syndra, her brow cocked.

"Hah! Now that is a fight," Syndra said, much to her lover's annoyance. Rising upright from her seat, the sovereign descended just ahead of Jarvan, hovering with regal posture, spheres floating around her.

"I will admit, you've certainly caught me at a disadvantage,” he said, inclining his head to take a small towel from a nearby soldier.

"I would not be concerned over it. It would hardly be amusing to fight if you did not have your armor and lance."

Jarvan snorted, wiping at his face and sweat-drenched hair. "At least you have the courtesy to let me dress," he remarked and passed the towel back. "You mentioned business with me?"

"Yes. Aside from my usual exercises against the dragon there," Syndra said, glancing over her shoulder. "A small curiosity crossed my path that interested me in speaking to you."

"An intriguing offer, if it should require your personal attention," Jarvan returned smoothly. "Please, a moment to collect myself, and I shall meet you outside."

"Of course." Syndra nodded, gliding through the drilling yard until she reached its still-open doors. Her attendants gathered around in haste, heads politely bowed, but relaxed as she gave a simple wave.

Hnn, Shyvana did seem upset, she mused, curling a fist under her chin. The dragon made it clear any affairs within Demacia were to be business only. Murmurs of court intrigue and dishonored reputations had been mentioned as the reasons, but Syndra didn't care to remember exactly. I need only entertain him long enough to secure his consent for my request.

A small cadre of soldiers marched forth from the drilling yards with practiced routine, surveying the area and talking amongst themselves. Satisfied, they split in two, each smaller group proceeding down separate directions of the hallway. Jarvan emerged not long after, Shyvana in tow behind him. The two had donned their traditional armor and helmets, surprisingly proper despite the workout. Two guards began to step up to the prince's flanks, but a curt look over his shoulder stilled them. He nodded to Syndra with an inviting wave of his hand.

"I trust your trip here was uneventful?" Jarvan inquired, gesturing to follow as he lead the way back into the palace.

"Entirely. I noticed the guard was quite receptive to my arrival."

"Shyvana requested accommodations be made in case you wished to duel somewhere more secure."

Syndra blinked owlishly, barely containing the rest of her surprise. Her head tilted enough she caught her lover from the corner of her eye, seeing the dragon look straight ahead without flinching. "Did she now? I had thought to spare you the trouble of causing unwanted harm to your palace."

At her implied hesitance, Jarvan gave a hearty laugh. "If a single mage could bring harm to this place, I'd love face such a challenge."

The sovereign's lip twitched into the slightest of grins. "As would I," she returned.

"Haha, good! Now to the business you spoke of!" Jarvan said, his joviality bleeding away with frightening quickness.

Syndra made a show of looking at the quiet dragon, in plain sight of Jarvan. "Is it safe to speak in front of your servants?"

The prince's thick eyebrow cocked at the question. "Of course. What I hear, Shyvana hears." They rounded a corner, pulling out from the mountainous interior and more into the grandiose palace proper.

Syndra lowered herself, letting her bare toes skim the cold marble floor. "An interesting proposition crossed my way through one of the Ionian villages. They have stumbled across a range of high ranking Noxian officers, but none who have been in Ionia before."

"You keep track of them?"

"Extensively," Syndra replied airily. "We think they came from this part of the mainland. I had wondered if you might be willing to lend an agent of your own. A fresh set of eyes to a familiar problem."

"You would handle them on your own terms, I imagine," Jarvan wagered. “Why involve Demacia in your business?"

"An open invitation," the sovereign said plainly. "An Ionian concept I am unsure your people might have. I would need your agent's knowledge, mainly, to understand why Noxus moved their officers. You are welcome to be involved for your own purposes, of course."

Jarvan shook his head with a hearty chuckle, sending his unwrapped hair tussling. "In Demacia, offering such work might be seen as trying to pass it off onto another."

Syndra drew back, lips pursed. "That is not my way."

"I know." The prince adjusted his forearm guards. "Which is more than I could say of others. Very well, Sovereign, I'll consider your offer. It would be best if you stayed the day; the person I have in mind is out till the morrow."

Is he not going to offer Shyvana? A sourness, not unlike rotten fruit, sat in her mouth. Suddenly her idea had gone completely the wrong way. She grit her teeth and stiffly folded her hands together behind her back. "I require lodgings then."

"The best for a guest of Demacia," Jarvan said, eying an upcoming intersection further down the hall. He turned into the entrance, flanked by Syndra and Shyvana, leading them into the awaiting lobby before turning to address them. "Excuse me, there is someone I must speak with."

The moment after he disappeared behind the set of white-gold doors, Shyvana rushed toward Syndra, fire all but spitting from her eyes. "What are you doing?!" she hissed, nearly running into the floating mage, peering up her. "You can't just come to the palace unannounced!"

"And why should I not go where I want to?" Syndra returned coolly, cocking her eyebrow. Her lover twisted into knots, face contorted between disbelief and scowling.

"Every one of these tight-lipped quill pushers has rules they would claw eyes out for. Not just anyone can waltz right in!"

"How fortunate, then, that I am above such a petty station." Syndra glanced over her shoulder, noting her servants remained out of sight, as they should. She leaned her head down the rest of the way, touching their noses together, and mindfully made a point of speaking slowly. "The Sovereign of Ionia is not some peasant to be ignored, dragon," she said, her clean breath brushing over Shyvana's lips.

A tiny, frustrated grunt escaped Shyvana, her hands clenching incredulously before grabbing her closer. She brought their lips a hair's breadth away, freezing just before the kiss could happen.

Syndra's heart fluttered in anticipation, delectable heat just within reach. She waited, eyes shut, ready for the kiss she'd thought of weeks. What she didn't expect was for the heat to vanish; as Shyvana pulled away, her eyes snapped open and she scowled at the dragon’s impudence, reaching over to grab the back of her head. Syndra sealed her purple painted lips to the smaller woman's, ignoring her surprised grunt.

It took every ounce of her will not to shake from the sweet, electric caress she'd craved so much. Despite the dry taste of her lover's lips, she nibbled the lower one tenderly in invitation. Shyvana's stunned eyes finally blinked, her sputtering disbelief making Syndra pull away. "I have waited nearly three weeks for that," she whispered thickly, "and I fully intend to take more."

The sound of a boot hitting wood sent them both flying back; the doors swung open, Jarvan strolling forth with a burly-looking guard suited in white plate mail accompanying him. He gave them both an appraising look, settling upon Syndra.

"I've verified that Quinn will arrive tomorrow. Our discussion will have to wait until then. Unfortunately, I'm needed elsewhere."

"Very well," Syndra agreed, hiding her annoyance.

"A servant will arrive shortly to see you around the palace as you need, Lady Syndra." Jarvan's brow furrowed thoughtfully and he glanced at Shyvana. "Wasn't there a ball tonight? I remember talk about one being hosted."

Shyvana gave him a dubious look. "The only one I know of is Fiora's over in the east wing, my Prince. You know, because her invitations still find me somehow."

"That's the one," Jarvan said with a wry chuckle. "If it interests you, Lady Syndra, perhaps you might enjoy an evening of entertainment from Demacia’s best?"

"I admit to some curiosity," Syndra answered. Nonetheless, her official cover story was settled; no one should find her lingering presence for the day awkward enough to question. "I shall leave you to your work then, Prince Jarvan”, Syndra replied, inclining her head. "For now, I desire a stroll through your extravagant palace."

"Please, consider yourself my welcome guest. I shall see to it that I can make dinner tonight, at the least."

"Until next time, my prince," the dragon respectfully acknowledged. Jarvan waved courteously and departed, his armored companion following after.

In credit to Demacian punctuality, Syndra only waited a few minutes before a demure-looking man servant came. She directed him to her entourage, instructing them that they would be free until the evening. The man servant was bewildered at being rebuffed so quickly, but diligently helped her attendants.

"I'll handle the sovereign personally," Shyvana remarked, rolling her eyes.

"See that they are allowed to come and go from the palace," Syndra added, waving her hand dismissively.

Whatever protests the man might've had were drowned out by the sovereign's entourage. They quickly absconded with him to take care of the business she'd given them before they left for Demacia. Waiting until they were out of sight, Syndra's gaze crawled toward the flustered Shyvana. The dragon's blue cheeks hummed with glowing veins, worming through her skin and scales; few things elicited such impropriety as a blush and Syndra took a perverse pleasure in the achievement. Twisting around through the air, she flew forward, listening for boot-heavy footsteps.

"I have never been to this part of the palace before," she mentioned offhand, eying the vaulted ceiling. It was grand in every sense, lined with tall marble pillars and an impressive collection of artwork arranged along its walls. Fine tables, crafted from golden-brown oak, lined the hall in set intervals, adorned with vases full of colorful flowers. She found the entire arrangement to be incredibly opulent, to the point of being wasteful. "Do all Demacians prefer slathering their riches about like this?"

"Better here than some hole in the ground," Shyvana muttered from beside her. "You might enjoy the gardens."

"Perhaps you should show me then," Syndra dipped down and whispered in the dragon's ear.

Shyvana nearly tripped over herself. "T-that'd hardly be proper, I'm a royal guard, not a tour guide."

"Then this dress will be wasted on some hapless fool," Syndra shot back, making a show of turning up her nose. Hovering ahead ever so slightly, she held her smile as Shyvana grabbed her hand with haste.

"I didn't … Syndra, please," the warrior whispered stiffly, sounding apologetic and frustrated. "The people here won't understand; some would even use it against me!"

"And you're afraid of that?" Syndra retorted, raising her brow, smoothly. "A dragon afraid?"

"They have the ear of the king and the prince!" Shyvana hissed, ripping her hand back as they heard the sound of people coming from ahead. The two of them passed by the Demacians silently, a few of the soldiers glancing by, curiously.

"Ah, such a long and boring journey to come here," the sovereign remarked with a sigh. "I suppose I could see how many Demacians I could juggle. That might hold me over till bed."

"Gods damned–fuck it, come here!" Shyvana snarled, grabbing Syndra's wrist and dragging her into one of the alcoves lining the palace wall. Only a potted flower bush concealed them from any casual onlookers passing by.

Syndra was pressed into the wall with a surprised grunt, leaving her staring at eye level with the dragon. Two strong, gloved hands pinned her arms beside her, and the cold floor unwelcomingly greeted her nearly naked feet. With a scowl, Syndra hiked her legs up and straddled Shyvana's hips, the length of her dress hitching over her thighs.

"I'm not afraid," the dragon growled softly into Syndra's helmet-covered ear.

The Ionian's creamy face lit up in a blush, an unease settling in her breast. Desire warred with embarrassment and she met Shyvana's strained stare with a tentative wiggle of her legs. "Then why do you cower from them?" Syndra asked, trying to maintain a dignified tone. The rush of the dragon’s warmth, tempered by the cool armor hiding it, left her heart skipping.

"Nowhere else have I ever been accepted," Shyvana mumbled, burying her face in the crook of the sovereign's neck. "Before you, only Jarvan saw me as a person. He understood my struggle, bled beside me in battle, fought and killed in my honor. But, these others ..." Drawing herself up, she came face to face with Syndra, her fired eyes wide open. "He isn't like them, he'd understand, but he is a prince. They would make him do it and I would lose my battle brother."

As much as Syndra wanted to indulge her fantasies, Shyvana's despondent sighing dampened such a notion. She wiggled her arms free and hugged herself to Shyvana, letting the dragon brace her with her armored hips.

"I don't know how to have all of it," the dragon mumbled, eyes closing. "The woman of my dreams, my brother, and these lands that would be my home."

Her last words struck a chord in Syndra, reminding the sovereign of a disturbingly familiar problem she had once faced herself. The last of her lust drained away, reality stepping in its stead; now, an emotion she loathed to experience—much less give power to—loomed in her mind. Snaking her fingers up along Shyvana's cheek, she cupped her cheek and gently rubbed with her thumb.

"I understand," Syndra muttered, making Shyvana's eyes open slowly. "I am," she struggled with the next word, "sorry, I reacted like that."

"You were right to—"

"Shut up and accept it or I will take it back," Syndra interjected quickly, her soft look hardening in an instant.

The dragon blinked slowly before an uneasy smile spread across her thin lips. She tilted her head ever so slightly, their noses rubbing together.

Syndra's breath caught at the encompassing view of her lover's shining gold eyes. The tiniest flecks in that dazzling gaze captivated her, Shyvana's comfortable heat enveloping her as their lips pressed together. The delicate kiss caught Syndra off guard, her mouth partly open from surprise. The smoother sides of their lips molded to one another, but a sharp coldness pressed into her thighs, eliciting a stiff gasp that broke the silence.

"What's wrong?" Shyvana asked worriedly, snapping awake.

"As much as I want you against me," Syndra remarked with a sly smile, "I would prefer it without the armor."

Confusion flickered across Shyvana's face, her gaze following the sovereign's downward. Syndra's shin-length, thigh-hugging dress had hitched all the way up, its dark plum folds and pink-blossomed etchings crumpled around her hips. The long leggings she wore cut just above her knee served only to accent the nakedness of her upper thighs and the valley between. There were no panties to speak of, nothing to hide her from Shyvana's wide-eyed stare.

"You … you're—"

"Do appreciate my foresight in treating you," Syndra teased, rolling her hips. She kept from touching the armor, grinning at Shyvana's lecherous appreciation. "I feared anything I wore might end up stained or torn to pieces," she remarked accusingly, her lover grinning with a cheeky smile.

Just then, the pitter-patter of feet reached their ears from across the hall, snapping both of them to attention. Shyvana's glare snapped over her shoulder, teeth bared in a silent hiss. She mindfully let Syndra down and peeked around the corner of the alcove, leaving the Ionian to straighten out her clothes.

An echo? Syndra wondered, adjusting her helm. Her brow raised at Shyvana's confused look when she returned.

"No one's there," she said, shrugging.

"Then let us leave. You mentioned gardens earlier, show me them. I am a little curious at what wasteful display of Demacian decor it must be."

"Heh." Shyvana rolled her eyes, a knowing look hiding in her eyes. "You'll be surprised. Come on, it's this way."

The Demacian warrior led onward, giving Syndra the time to collect herself and piece together a workable plan. The entire situation annoyed her to no end; the excursion had already caused more trouble than she had anticipated. While she had a few solutions for the Demacian agent in mind, Shyvana's situation demanded complete attention. Her usual methods wouldn't work here, or at the very least, were to be a last resort.

During her musing, the Ionian's eyes rested on one place in particular.

The natural sway of the Shyvana’s hips raptly held Syndra's gaze, clouding her idle thoughts. The crimson armor fit snugly, accenting her in a way that tempted Syndra to run her hands over the warrior's rear and mouthwatering curves. It would be easy to sidle up and take hold of her delectable hips, groping them to her heart's content, but they were still too exposed to undeserving eyes.

Syndra contented herself with imagining the armor and underclothing stripped away. The memories of their first night teased her mind, wistful wonders she held close each day since then. How well did she remember all of it? The odd, quirky but cute placements of scales, the way Shyvana tensed as her legs were spread open, or the growling moan that escaped from her kisses?

The lewd game kept her thoughts busy as they passed through the fortress, an uncomfortably familiar coil of tension arising in her belly.

As they passed through the archway to the outside, the palace walls began to fade, giving way to lavish flower beds and tall trees. Shyvana’s voice snapped Syndra from her reverie, though she missed some of the words. "... I'm not sure why they call this a garden. It's more of a forest. When they expanded the palace, they built outwards.”

Where a lesser person might have seen the wild, untamed brush as little more than overgrown weeds, Syndra saw them for what they truly were. Beneath their wild exterior, each flower fit a precise color code, every bush arranged in meticulous patterns. The trees were healthy and neat, spaced in staggered rows with walls of brush connecting them. Together, they wove a delicate sense of order from the chaos, much to her begrudging respect.

"They built a forest," she noted, fleetingly catching Shyvana's eye as they traveled together along the path.

"Yeah. If you keep an eye out for them, you might see some of the battlements."

"Why would they add fortifications?"

Shyvana scratched her scaly cheek. "Well, from what I remember, they used to put catapults here. Once they pushed Noxus back far enough for the outer walls to be built, they were were useless. A few bored nobles later and here this thing is."

After some curious looking, Syndra thought she spotted a few remains of emplacements, nothing more than rocky foundations. "Huh. How pragmatic."

"Ehh," Shyvana grunted, arms stretching overhead. "If you want a bunch of flowers, you should see the courts. That’s where they keep the really fancy stuff. They're not at all like your gardens, though."

"Is that so?"

"Everything here is tense," Shyvana said, pausing in search of the last word. "Always standing at guard. I can actually relax in your pretty pink flowers."

Whether it been her intended meaning or not, Syndra couldn't help feeling smug at the compliment. Her personal gardens had been carefully cultivated over a number of years; each rock, flower, and blade of grass had been shaped by hand. To hear that Shyvana preferred her work filled the sovereign with immense satisfaction. "Is that why there was a dragon-shaped hole after you visited them?" she accused mockingly, arousing a laugh.

As they emerged from the thickets, they reached what she thought might have been a meadow. The path lazily inclined to a rolling hill in the center, dotted by wildflowers of every yellow, white, and blue she could imagine. For a moment she thought the Demacians had let it run wild, but a pattern emerged as she stared, some strange design wrapping around the grounds.

"This is it, really. The bigger ones have benches and statues, but ..." Shyvana trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. "It's easier to train new recruits without all that junk in the way."

"They train here, in the middle of the gardens?"

"On some days. It's a shorter hike than going outside the city walls."

Syndra hovered regally alongside Shyvana as they ascended the crown of the hill, rolling her eyes at how the dragon trudged through the flowers without a care. They stood at eye level with the tree tops, granting them a fine view of the palace's grand domes and towering, skyward spires. She couldn't help but feel a foreboding sense of presence as she studied the immense place, dwarfed by its massive construction.

"Damn, I'm missing lunch, aren't I?" Shyvana groused, folding her arms together.

"What?"

"Everyone's off inside already."

Syndra glanced around, not finding a sign of any life in the gardens or the greater fortress. "You can tell?"

"You don't see anyone patrolling the walls, do you?"

"I doubt if there were hundreds it would feel less empty …"

Chortling, Shyvana grabbed at Syndra's leg, giving her a playful shake. "Empty? It's huge! Just look at all this big, meaty fortress we've built!"

Although the Ionian smiled, a touch of trepidation filled her all the same. And yet small people live in it with their pointless problems. You are so much more than this, Shyvana ...

She set down on the flowery grass, standing beside the dragon. "Earlier, you said that the prince would understand, but others would force his hand?"

Shyvana looked over from the corner of her eye, her lip twitching. "Yeah. Jarvan's a warrior, first and foremost. I proved myself and he accepts that. He doesn't play politics, but even he can't ignore the royal houses."

"How many are there?"

"Four or five? Jarvan's is Lightshield, then there’s Crownguard, Laurent; I forget the others."

"Which is the most troublesome?"

"Besides all of them?" Shyvana teased with a small grin. "Crownguard. Their house is sworn to Lightshield and Demacia, purity of purpose in all things."

"Their two houses are close?"

"Almost inseparable."

Frowning, Syndra folded her arms together into the sleeves of her dress. Our lands are different and yet I am reminded of the Court of Villages. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lamented how needlessly complicated her one-day foray had become. If it meant peace for Shyvana, however, she'd deign to handle the issue personally. "If they were taken care of, would Jarvan still be a problem?"

"I doubt it," Shyvana replied, scratching at her blue cheek. "There are idiots elsewhere, but they don't really matter."

"Then we focus on the Crownguards and make sure they do not want to be a problem for you."

Chortling with disbelief, the dragon raised her hands and shrugged her shoulders. "And how do we do that?"

"By making you irremovable."

Her thin eyebrow arching up, Shyvana folded her arms together. "What?"

"Think on it. If the Crownguards are invulnerable, then make it so you cannot be removed," Syndra pointed out. "Take up a position so dangerous they would not risk it."

"They still think I'm an outsider after all these years, how would I even do that?"

"That, I am still figuring out." The sovereign sighed, staring at the trees around them aimlessly. "You have a history with Jarvan, that should matter for something. The whole of Demacia cannot think to exclude your service." Her words hung between them in the following silence as she mulled over how to actually help Shyvana.

I could no more tell the forest from the trees, Syndra grumbled to herself, rubbing her helm-covered forehead. The weight of Shyvana’s hand on her shoulder drew her attention, and the dragon gave a warm, thankful smile. But before she could return it, Shyvana’s hand slipped down and grabbed at her lower back, pulling her closely against the unyielding armor and eliciting a gasp.

"No underclothing, hmm?" Shyvana's low voice rumbled with intrigue, her glove hand roaming lower and cupping Syndra's bottom, strong fingers grabbing a cheek appreciatively through the fine dress.

Syndra rolled her hips against her lover's greedy hand encouragingly. She frowned playfully at Shyvana's cocky grin, but gasped as the warrior raised her hand and firmly slapped her rear. "How rude!" she admonished, despite her own lascivious desires. "Perhaps I was wrong to be so considerate!"

Pulling away from Shyvana's hand took more effort than she expected; it had seemed simple at first, but she quickly missed the strong grip on her back all the more. She couldn't return now—not without losing—and resolved instead to saunter down the hill, awaiting her companion.

Heavy footsteps followed after, catching up just as she reached the tree line. She expected to be grabbed by the rump again—or maybe the shoulder—but Shyvana did neither, sweeping her legs out from underneath her. A tiny yelp escaped as the world shifted sideways, Shyvana carrying her away hurriedly into the shrubbery beside the cobblestone path.

"Oh, somebody help, a dragon is kidnapping me," Syndra cried in a low, mocking attempt to sound meek. She kicked her legs for added effect, stirring a snorting chuckle from her lover. "Whatever do you plan on doing?"

Shyvana took her into a tiny, secluded outcropping, pressing the mage’s back against a nearby tree in response. "Such a noisy woman, pleading like that," she growled, leering mischievously as Syndra wrapped her legs around the dragon’s hips. Slowly, she moved her gloved hands underneath the woman's knees and roughly braced her against the bark of the tree trunk, glowering downwards with golden eyes. “Maybe I should just eat you here instead of my lair."

Syndra tilted her head back and clutched her hands to her chest mockingly, the horns of her helm digging into the tree. She moaned as she felt the smooth leather brushing against her skin and lifting her dress higher. The two hands crept upwards and squeezed at the undersides of her thighs, just before her butt, causing a pleasurable jolt to snap Syndra awake. "W-wait," she hissed, her fair cheeks blushing hotly. "We are in public!"

"Public, hmm?" Shyvana hummed mockingly. Her eyes flashed lewdly at her creamy smooth skin, accenting her grabbing hands. "I guess you’re right. I have drills soon, inspections, recruits to scare shitless ... my, I'll be busy until nightfall. Isn't that a shame?"

The sovereign's mind whirled at the implications. Noon had barely begun and she knew there would be a formal dinner, at least. It would be hours before they'd be together again, and hours longer before they could be alone. Hours of waiting through mind-numbing politics and pointless drivel, without a hint of relief in sight except the two hands which inched tantalizingly toward her butt.

That is not fair!

Throughout Syndra's troubled realization, the dragon waited with agonizing patience, an expectation of inevitability in her predatory grin.

"F-fine,” Syndra sputtered, her bottom lip quivering in disbelief that she was even entertaining the notion.

"I'm not forcing you," Shyvana said, reservedly.

The sovereign stuck her nose up and folded her arms in spite of her warming cheeks. "No, you are not," she said, earning a wide, almost lecherous, smile. The hairs on her neck rose as Shyvana leaned in, warm lips settling on her throat with a needy suckle. Her toes curled and she gasped, stirring a smile from the scaly mouth upon her.

"S-shut up," Syndra barked quietly, smacking Shyvana's shoulder armor. The warm lips parted and a tongue licked her collar playfully. With a wet, skin-pulling pop, the dragon pulled away.

"I didn't say anything," Shyvana pointed out, sounding overly pleased. She slipped her hands down and grabbed Syndra's knees, prying her legs off from around her firmly. With a quick adjustment, she helped the Ionian stand up against the tree before she kneeled down. In the same casual, strong-handed motion, Shyvana lifted one of Syndra's legs onto her shoulder, the entirety of the woman's dress out of her way.

The barbed, half-formed retort Syndra had readied fell apart quickly as she felt Shyvana’s warm breath on her naked mound. Twin, golden eyes peeked up and caught hers, a visceral realness of what they were doing striking Syndra. Her woman knelt between her legs, brimming with eagerness and framed by her wide-horned helmet. It didn't matter anymore that they were in some foreigner's forest-garden, all that mattered was Shyvana's loving nuzzle and adoring gaze.

Oh, yes, right there. Syndra smiled, relishing the feel of rough scales rubbing against her smooth skin and Shyvana's long tongue dipping between her inner thighs. She clutched her dress with one hand, keeping it out the way, while the other went to Shyvana's helm, grabbing one of its horns. She held tightly as the dragon’s tongue travelled lazily across her wet womanhood, just barely teasing the skin. Clenching her thighs together, she tried nudging Shyvana on, stirring a throaty chuckle.

Her loins tightened in sweet anticipation as Shyvana inched her way down, goosebumps racing up her back. The fat tip of Shyvana's tongue slithered onto her folds, drawing across her vulva slowly. Syndra couldn't stop the jerk of her hips, quivering with each probing tastes. Top to bottom, Shyvana teased, dipping along the edge and then withdrawing, her dance ending with a hearty, mouthful kiss.

The sovereign's fist tightened, bunching the fabric of her dress up in her hand, and her very breath caught in her throat. Anger warred with arousal, her face twitching between the two. "Do not tease me, dragon," she whispered, eyes flashing dreadfully. "I have longed nearly a month now for this."

The command sent Shyvana shoving into her, the broad length of her tongue plunging inside. Syndra's glowing eyes shot open in an instant, her thighs hugging the sides of Shyvana's face as she curled her tongue upwards. It slid across the very roof of her womanhood, drawing out an electric pressure beneath her clitoris that nearly made her buck.

The last vestiges of her control fought to keep her from shoving the woman down further. "Ahh, Shy-vana," she rasped, interrupting the dragon's name with a moan. Her lover pressed in a little harder, reaching deeper and pushing that wonderfully gripping tightness in her belly further and further.

A gruff voice shouted suddenly through the forest-garden, interrupting them. "I say, Shyvana are you still out here?!"

Syndra's eyes snapped opened instantly as the frigid weight of reality slammed into her. Anger, horniess, and embarrassment swept through her, leaving her head spinning dizzily. Shyvana tugged away from her and she reluctantly let go, the sharp, bitter cold of the air embracing her in her partner’s departure. Indignant anger triumphed and Syndra scowled nastily, mirroring the same from the dragon.

Staring off into the foliage, Shyvana's eyes narrowed to frightening slits of boiling magma. "What is that shithead doing here?!" Shyvana muttered incredulously, growling each word.

"Who is it?" Syndra whispered dourly, uncertain if they were about to be caught. At Shyvana's begrudging insistence, she peeled her legs from around the dragon’s shoulders, standing awkwardly on the tree's roots. Finding herself uncomfortably exposed, she scowled deeply and shoved her dress downwards, the tight cloth an unwelcome replacement for Shyvana's heated scales.

"Garen Crownguard," the dragon answered sourly, wiping her mouth.

Crownguard.

"Why is he here?" The sovereign demanded lowly, squeezing her thighs together.

"I don't know," Shyvana grunted, adjusting her horned, lop-sided helmet. "I’d better deal with him."

Her jeweled hand shot out and grabbed the woman's breastplate. Syndra yanked the warrior close, bringing them flush together, whispering into her ear. "I suggest you be on time tonight."

A cocky smirk flashed across Shyvana's face as she closed the gap and delivered a swift and forceful kiss, grabbing roughly at Syndra’s hips. "Patience, woman. You'll be on your back before the moon is high."

Syndra jumped as she felt a playful slap on her butt, eyes widening as Shyvana walked off with a swagger and disappeared into the forest. All the while, she blushed a dark red, her head buzzing from the impact of her lover’s strong hand. She's always so ... Syndra marveled, grasping for words. Not rude, but forceful—perhaps even brutish. It was a carnally simplistic promise. A part of her found it almost vulgar and distasteful, yet she was unable to help herself from wanting it so much more.

She flexed her jeweled hand, electricity crackled between her fingers. The light within her palm was swallowed into the black, spherical emptiness at its center, an eerie radiance shimmering across its event horizon. The sovereign squeezed and plied the dark sphere within her hands, disregarding its protesting crackles.

Fine, then. Tonight it is.

*~*

The hours passed slowly under Syndra's scrutiny, her servants toiling frantically to find the information she’d demanded on Demacia's royal houses. Despite their efforts, they found only trivial details and boastful accomplishments. She’d already understood the basics of each House—Laurent, for example, being pariahs even amongst the nobility— but there was nothing exploitable.

This is more difficult than I expected. She has no property, wealth, or familial history. It is only the word of the Prince that keeps her within Demacia. They even shame her blood! She scoffed at the notion. To think that such mystical icons were hunted and killed with fervent abhorrence was a step beyond reason.

Jarvan remained the best option, as well as the most dangerous. While he might be willing to side with Shyvana, he was a man beholden to the whims of his nation. She'd seen what happened to village elders who lost power before, and she doubted even he would survive any better than they did.

She knew there had to be a way, even if she couldn't see it quite yet. Jarvan needs the support of his people, but so too does Shyvana. If the people hate Shyvana for what she is, then how do you make them support her?

One-by-one, her servants returned while she contemplated the solution. Before long, a Demacian maid appeared in the twilight hours, summoning them for the evening ball. They left together for one of the host wings, a splendid reception hall which rivaled the opulence of the main palace itself.

A set of white wood doors stood at the end of the long corridor, rimmed with gold. The usual bulkiness of the fortress disappeared here, the once-thick, sturdy columns became thin and the arches were frail and skeletal. Even the passing guards seemed demure without their armor. Vibrant flowers lined the edges of the floor's walkway, red roses standing prominently amongst the blues and yellows.

She arched her brow at a curious group of nobles whisking from one room into the room beyond, each dressed in poofy clothing, and squinted at the maid. "Are all Demacian gatherings so crowded?"

"Certainly not, madam," the maid said with a start, fidgeting under the attention. "Tonight’s function is hosted by House Laurent as a ... get-together, I suppose you could say." She waved to the banners hanging from the doors, which bore gilded emblems of a rose with a thin sword behind it. "The first in quite a long time, I believe."

The maid stopped them at the white wooden doors, speaking with an overly-dressed doorman. The two exchanged looks between themselves before pausing to look toward Syndra, nodding. Once their conversation concluded, the maid turned and addressed her. "He will announce you properly, Madam. Please enjoy the rest of your evening," she said, excusing herself.

Syndra glided after the doorman and straightened to her proper height, preparing to enter the grand hall with her entourage.

With a voice practiced from years of work, the doorman's loud declaration lanced through the cacophony of idle chatter. "May I present the Sovereign of Ionia, Syndra, and escort!" He heralded with a dramatic flourish, stepping out of the way.

The rumbling of idle conversation quieted at the announcement, hundreds of eyes turning in unison towards her. The hairs upon her neck stood up at the unwelcome stares as Syndra gave the crowd a contemptuous sneer. They would presume to stare at me while wearing those gaudy things?

Nearly every person present was dressed in a frilly, overly complicated mess of clothing. Where Ionian decor dictated neat, immaculate designs which elegantly flowed, Demacian design felt distinctly more akin to shouting or bludgeoning. The men were clad in puffy shoulders with sleeves twice the length of their arms, and the women wore long, shimmering gowns which simply ballooned around them.

"You all know what to do," Syndra said to her servants, directing them in their native tongue. Each attendant respectfully excused themselves with a bow and split off into the crowds. Their dark regalia clashed amongst the whites and blues of the nobles, drawing quite a few curious and guarded eyes.

The sovereign took to the air and hovered over the crowds, artfully avoiding the crystalline chandeliers hanging in even rows, bright magics sparkling within them. Her discerning eyes spared no detail as she searched the room, looking for a familiar face. Long tables with food and drink, a section cleared for dancing, and far too many people crammed into one room. This place is enormous and still it feels crowded.

In time, she discovered an entire second floor, recessed away to overlook the main hall. Far fewer people milled about there, amidst quiet groups hidden by the thunderous conversation from below. Syndra eyed it curiously as she glided past, absently noting the velvety carpet floor and fancifully-carved wooden walls. Just as she turned to continue on her way, a familiar voice quipped from behind.

"Hey! Tall, dark, and powerful over there!"

She couldn't help the tiny shiver down her back. The slightest warmth settled in the sovereign's cheeks, embarrassment and delight wrapped together. Syndra paused and quickly collected herself, casting a commanding glare at the speaker.

"Dragon," she addressed coolly, her voice raised over the crowd's noise.

Clad in her crimson scalemail with only her helmet missing, Shyvana stuck out sorely amongst the soft-clothed nobles. The entire idea seemed oddly appropriate to Syndra, and she fought to keep a grin down. At the warrior's insistent waving, she flew downwards and settled next to the stone guardrail, resting an elbow upon it.

"If I had known you were going to be late, I wouldn't have waited up for the buffet table." Shyvana said, shuffling sideways to make room. The red wine glass in her hand swayed, only her practiced grip keeping it from spilling over.

"I would not have missed it for anything. I was simply caught up studying."

"You? Studying?"

"I can be bothered when it is important enough."

"You'll have plenty of hands on experience tonight." Shyvana's nose scrunched up, prying a finger from her glass to point towards the crowd. A fair many kept their eyes upon the two, some discretely, most not. "I haven't had this many eye-balling me since I lit some noble's dress on fire. I forget who."

"A story?" Syndra asked, leaning closer.

"You know me and alcohol. Some wise-ass thought it funny to gut punch me and I spat fire everywhere." Snorting into her glass, Shyvana sipped the wine noisily, one eye upon the mage.

The color drained from Syndra's face, her glowing eyes sharpened to points.

"Jokes on them, though," Shyvana said, rolling her head, a disgusting, bony pop coming from her neck. "I wasn't the one going to a burn ward that night."

"Surely they were punished for their offense?"

A bark of laughter escaped the dragon. "Oh, no. No, mustn't punish the bright-eyed idiot who 'accidentally' elbowed the half-dragon. Sometimes I hate how good the healers are here."

Syndra watched without a word, her fist curled contemplatively under her chin. For all her lover’s bravado and dry humor, the air around her hung with morbid seriousness. She itched in a desire to touch her–to comfort her, if only in some small gesture–but unwanted eyes lingered on them. The sovereign spared a withering, aimless glare at them, mustering all her contempt; a few of the curious onlookers balked and quickly turned away, returning to their conversations.

"Hey, Shyvana!" a gruff and distressingly familiar voice called.

"Here we go," the dragon rumbled into her glass. She took a sip before standing up with a sigh, nodding to the group of men that approached them.

Each of them was clad in armor, adorned in Demacian whites, blues, and golds. There were three of them in total, two of distinctly lighter complexion, but the third man’s hulking stature set him apart. They weaved through the lonesome tables and hushed gatherings, paying no mind to the wilting frowns cast upon them.

Syndra sat upon the banister, resting her back against a column of marble as they approached. She watched as Shyvana went to greet them, and the lot of them fell into hushed discussion, wild gestures and boisterous laughter following in their wake.

I cannot tell if she hates or tolerates them, the sovereign mused to herself. Perhaps both.

Despite the apparent ease in which she smiled and conversed with them, tension coiled in Shyvana’s shoulders. Syndra simply observed, feigning interest in the party below. One of the men noticed her watching and gestured, crossing through a small grouping to meet her near the balcony. She sat slightly straighter and smiled thinly, eyes narrowed uninvitingly.

"Ho there, fair maiden!" one of the smaller men shouted jovially. In spite of his spiky hair, the shadow of a beard, and his sure-fire smirk, Syndra thought him to be almost spritely looking—the sort of man that might take the first arrow in a skirmish. "What might such beauty be doing here?"

The greeting hung in the air with an expectation of response. She didn't bother.

"Hah! You cannot give just any lady the LaCroix treatment, Dallen," the rugged, brick wall of a man commented. He grinned at his fellow's abject horror, rubbing his hand upon his chiseled jaw. Stepping forward, he stuck his hand out and offered a handshake. "Garen Crownguard. A pleasure to meet you, madam."

A face to the name, Syndra thought, shifting her attention to him. He was a wall of man that carried the look of a well-trained soldier, with shoulders so broad they were almost blocky. While not as tall as Jarvan, he made up for it with the sheer bulk of what could only be muscle. Her eyes twitched toward a frown, pointedly glaring at his outstretched hand and dumb smile.

Chortled laughter from Shyvana cut in. "She's Ionian. They don't shake hands there."

Garen blinked and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well, how do they greet then?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"We bow," Syndra explained, curtly. "I will spare the boring details."

Garen frowned and seemed thoughtfully. "If you say so. Still, Shyvana has told us a lot of good things about you, Lady Syndra."

"Has she now?" The sovereign replied, struggling to keep her brow down.

"It's not often she speaks highly of a mage, what with her penchant towards ..."

A loud, intrusive cough interrupted Garen as Shyvana's foot kicked the back of his leg, causing him to reel back in dismay. "If every spell-slinger in the guard didn't cry when I grabbed them, maybe I'd think better of them," Shyvana defended, taking a sip of her wine.

"We have the best mages in Valoran!" Dallen shot back, a stringy lisp to his voice. "What could this fine woman have that they don't?"

Shyvana raised her hand, but she remained quiet. Instead, her smoldering eyes dragged sideways, settling upon the Ionian sovereign almost coyly. "Why don't you show them?"

Syndra bit her lip, a shiver trickling down her back. Oh, that was cheap, she thought, glaring half-heartedly at the smug dragon. "I suppose," she said airily, making a show of stretching her fingers. "Who wishes to volunteer?"

"Dallen, of course," Shyvana offered up immediately, much to the man's sputtering disagreement.

"Now wait a moment," he remarked, straightening up at the accusation, the top of his head barely rising to Garen's shoulder.

Syndra frowned as she observed the man, rubbing the jeweled claws on her forefinger and thumb together. "He is rather small. It would be hard to do it convincingly."

"What?! I am not!" Dallen shouted, his apprehension evaporating.

"If you say," Syndra taunted, her hands resting in her lap. "Charge at me as you would on the battlefield."

The men shared curious, if disquieted, looks between each other. Dallen waved it off, however, and stood at the front. "I trust this is safe?" he asked seriously, unclasping his poofy white cuffs.

"Perfectly."

Dallen rolled his shoulders and stretched in a quick warm up. His hand poised with an imaginary sword, he nodded once in warning before breaking into a dead run, crossing the gap in mere seconds with a practiced sprint. When he came upon the sovereign, too close and too fast to stop without hitting her, a flash of energy crackled across him. The air warped, gripping him as a hand might, and ripped him straight off the floor.

Syndra smiled as he went soaring into the air and straight into the main hall, screaming frightfully. Garen and the third man rushed to either side of her, leaning across the banister and watching in shock as she suspended their comrade with her dark magic.

"Most mages require a focus, incantation, or other such nonsense to use magic," the sovereign lectured, pulling herself away from the banister and hovering just above them. "I do not. I require only my force of will."

With the slightest wave of Syndra’s arm, she sent Dallen hurdling over the balcony, cries of fear and wonder echoing from below. Just as he was about to hit the floor, she stopped him with a gut-wrenching jerk, only to lift him up higher and do it again. She turned to Shyvana and watched as the knowing smirk—the one which vexed and intrigued her—peeled across the dragon's lips.

Their moment was cut short however, quickly soured by the sight of a woman storming up the stairs to charge in their direction, cutting her way through the crowd with surprising ease.

"What in oblivion is this! Why is Dallen flying?!" the newcomer slurred through her incredibly thick accent, to Syndra's amusement.

"His mouth ran faster than his senses again," Shyvana explained flatly, turning to motion towards Syndra. "To a foreign dignitary, no less."

The woman stood angrily in front of the two, a trio of armed escorts poised behind her. "Just bring him down! These antics frighten the guests!"

Syndra paused, glancing at the woman curiously. She wore a tightly-fit two-piece suit, with a fine, white gambeson layered atop a pair of suave blue leggings, both of which were adorned with gold trimmings. Yet it was her aura, rather than her clothing, that intrigued the sovereign. She carried herself with a practiced, confident poise that seemed almost elegant, and bore a touch of arrogance in those turquoise eyes to match.

"If you would?" Shyvana prompted, catching Syndra’s attention.

She raised her hand and hummed in annoyance, curling her clawed fingers and lifting Dallen back onto the second floor. A moment later, she released her magics and unceremoniously dropped the screaming man straight onto Garen's waiting arms, where he laid utterly sick in the face. "Dallen, my fellow—snap out of it," Garen remarked to his companion, barely noticed under the women’s staring contest.

Fiora, tight-lipped and arms crossed under her chest, coolly regarded the Ionian. "I must apologize for this offense," she addressed haughtily. “I am Fiora Laurent, matriarch of house Laurent; you must be Lady Syndra, non?"

The Ionian stared upon the oddly-accented woman impassively. Of all the Demacians she had met thus far, Fiora was the first to not offer her hand. "I am the Sovereign of Ionia, as I am certain you have heard," she answered, her glowing eyes challenging the unwavering turquoise of her host.

"I have," Fiora nodded with a thin smile. With a flick of her wrist, the accompanying escorts bowed in response and departed. "Shyvana here has spoken highly of your skill. I'd wished to see it myself, without all the distractions," she said, waving her hand toward the balcony. "Tea, croissants, and perhaps an afternoon duel—you know."

The sovereign's brow arched, equal parts disbelief and amusement. "Perhaps next time."

Fiora nodded in agreement, but her response was quickly cut short by a shrill voice echoing from the floor below, drawing their attention.

"Introducing His Majesty, the Crown Prince, Sir Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth!"

Fiora cried with dismay, pinching her nose with a scowl, her composure vanishing momentarily. "Dammit! He's early." She all but ran toward the stairs, gracefully weaving around the people in her way.

"Actually, he's not, but don't listen to me," she muttered into her wine glass. The dragon warrior snorted and inclined her head toward the balcony.

"You speak with familiarity," Syndra noted, settling down onto the ground. The cool carpet itched her bare feet, an annoyance she tolerated only to be closer to Shyvana, leaning onto the banister beside her.

"She's a true noblewoman of Demacia; if it isn't high class or royalty, it's ignorable." Shyvana pointed with her wine-holding hand tracking Fiora, watching as the sea of people parted at the noblewoman's elegant stampede. "You interest her, but Jarvan commands attention not even she can resist."

"I shall settle for being merely offended by her flagrant impudence, then," the sovereign remarked, already bored of the idea. She spied on Shyvana from the corner of her eye, their elbows nearly touching.

Slitted eyes flicked toward her, laughter dancing in them. "Please, you were crawling in your skin!"

"I did no such thing," Syndra squinted, secretly enjoying how much more lively Shyvana became.

"Oh, I'm very certain you are not—ummmcomfortable," The dragon said in a horrid, overly-thick imitation of Fiora's accent which clashed horribly with her growly voice. "I am certain I can make accommodations!

Syndra half-caught her laughter in snort, her hand flying over her mouth in a vain effort to stifle the undignified sound. "Spare me," the sovereign choked out, delicately wiping her eyes clear. Far be it for her to lose composure in front of so many strangers, although Shyvana certainly made it difficult. A wistful sigh drew her attention and she glanced over to find Shyvana's curious eye.

"I can't ask anyone else this," Shyvana said with an air of trepidation, "but tell me I'm not the only one who thinks Fiora would look better without that face of hers."

Syndra stared back, her mind having completely blanked. "I suppose," she trailed off, her expression fighting between incredulity and intrigue.

"Think about it—she's got a killer body," Shyvana teased, waving her hands together in a curving motion, "but then that snide, bitchy look ruins it."

For the life of her, Syndra couldn't figure out why Shyvana had brought it up. That Fiora all but put herself on display was obvious, the woman wore a tightly fitting leather suit that left nothing to the imagination. At a distance, it might have been pleasing to her eye, if only just. A trickling curiosity, one laced with disconcertion, arose the longer she thought about it. "Why do you care?"

"Ah, you know," Shyvana said, aimlessly waving her free hand.

"No, I do not. Are you saying she is better than me?"

"By my bloody honor—no, Syndra! I didn't mean that at all!" The dragon backpedaled, her golden eyes wide with shock as she stood up straight as if she had been struck.

Syndra found herself even more confused by the response. "What driveling nonsense are you talking about, then?"

In the short pause between them, Shyvana fidgeted. She took a quick swig of her wine, guzzling it down as one would a tankard of ale. "I just wanted to know what kind of women you like,” she stammered out.

The situation's escalating absurdity almost made Syndra laugh. Were it not for Shyvana's frightful glancing, she may have well lost her composure entirely. "A difficult question," she intoned, curling a fist under her chin. "I believe short women, blessed by dragon's blood and with a … what was it, a 'killer body'? Yes, I like those quite a lot. I have one, in fact."

Shyvana groaned, rubbing at her face. One golden eye peeked between her fingers, a curious swirl of embarrassment, adoration, and exasperation. "Thanks."

"You still have not answered my question."

"What? You've never looked at someone good-looking and wondered?"

"There was never a reason to. I already knew how dull they were, however elegantly they dressed. Why bother?" Syndra asked, leaning forward slightly to leer. "No one was worthy. And now, my eyes can only see one particular dragon."

Shyvana coughed nervously, magmatic lines raced across her face in a draconian blush, leaving the woman almost glowing red. "Me and my mouth," she grumbled, raising her drink, but finding the glass empty. "I need more wine."

"And I need to speak with Jarvan," Syndra said, seizing on the opportunity.

"Alright. I'll come save you both from the razorbeaks in a minute."

There was a flippant familiarity to her tone that gave Syndra pause. "The what?"

"You'll see. Have fun," Shyvana said with a laugh, whisking herself away.

Syndra squinted at the retreating woman and drew her jeweled fingertips across one another, a spark of magic dancing between them. She shaped it to a point on her finger, and with a flick, shot the nigh invisible spark toward the dragon and popped it against Shyvana's rear, causing her to jump.

Hiding her grin behind a hand, Syndra turned away from Shyvana's accusing glare, all too pleased with herself. What good humor she had, though, bled away at the sight of the ballroom. She cast a wary eye below, noticing how different the flow was. The people gravitated toward Jarvan, some overtly, most not. I am already tired of this.

*~*

Though it began in the twilight hours of the day, the party dragged on far longer than Syndra expected. Without the dragon, her conversations proved idle and only marginally useful, and she soon grew tired of them, vacating to the outside balcony. As she left the dull roar of the ballroom behind, she found herself looking out over the open courtyards that stretched across the palatial grounds, relieved to find she could finally hear her own breathing again in the cold evening air.

Eugh. My head is pounding, she groused, balancing a plate of desserts on one hand as the other rubbed at her temple. A few honey-butter rolls remained, glistening temptingly under the brass lanterns. She had long since adjusted to the sickeningly sweet flavor of honey and bread, but found her mouthwatering all the same, plucking another from the plate and helping herself to it against her better judgement.

I had not expected to find out so little at this party, she considered, sitting down neatly on the frigid guardrail, dangling her feet off the edge. Demacians were too stiff-lipped and wholly unwelcoming of questions, neither of which surprised her. What information they did reveal was often fragmented; names, titles, snippets of history - little things, imperfect when alone. Try as she might, her own conversations yielded nothing of use, save old war stories and slander about Noxus, though she did take some enjoyment in discussing their favorite victories over them.

What a waste of time. Perhaps I should see if my advisors might actually know something, she mused, eying the star-filled sky. One of them should have some familiarity with this land. I could combine that with my notes and—

A loud bang from the balcony's glass door jostled Syndra from her thoughts, startling her into sitting straighter. She peered over her shoulder, her glowing eye narrowed contemptuously, yet to her surprise, she found Fiora strolled alongside Jarvan instead, shrieking with laughter. Syndra barely suppressed a shudder.

"There is our esteemed guest!" the hostess said, her eyes settling on the sovereign. She beamed a smile that stretched entirely too wide and shut the door behind Jarvan.

"Ah, enjoying the fine evening as well, Lady Syndra?" the prince asked, the jovial air of his words overcoming his usual stiffness.

Syndra gave a half nod and waved, causing her plate to float away. "Well enough, apart from all the crowding. I am not used to this many people in such a small room.

"Small?" Fiora echoed with some amusement. "There is room enough for dozens of families, no?"

"You have more than simply dozens in there. I do not know how you Demacians can tolerate standing around, let alone dancing with so many pushed together," Syndra remarked, her hands making a squeezing motion.

"Truly? Well, I admit that I do not know how Ionians prefer to dance." Jarvan chuckled as he strode to the balcony rail, Fiora in tow beside him. They settled near Syndra, the prince leaning onto the rail as Fiora stood proudly beside him.

"I could bore you to tears with the details if you would like," the Ionian intoned dryly, rousing another chuckle from the man. From the red tinge of his face, she would wager he had finished quite a few drinks already.

"Perhaps a demonstration, then?" Fiora interjected, all smiles, oblivious to Syndra's internal cringe.

"I would need my attendants." She frowned at what choice of word to use. "Ionian dancing is more of a performance which relies on intricacy and careful positioning. Not twirling in circles on a floor in poofy gowns."

"I am not one for dancing myself. These legs of mine are a bit too long," Jarvan remarked.

"Non-non, you're perfectly capable, my prince."

"I remember a few stubbed toes that said otherwise."

"Certainly none of mine?" Fiora suggested, smiling far too sweetly for Syndra’s tastes.

"No, you're quite quick on your feet, Lady Fiora."

Syndra had no idea what the swift side-glances toward her or the pointed looks passing between Fiora and Jarvan meant. Waving her hand, she pulled her now-chilled bread plate back and took a bite out of the last piece left. The simple act drew the Demacians toward her, their eyes peeled on the floating plate in surprise.

"Forgive my curiosity, but how is it you do that, exactly?" Fiora asked, watching as the plate went floating away again.

"I need only think and it happens."

"But, I did not think this was how magic worked."

"Few can hope to dream of approaching what I can do." Try as she might, Syndra couldn't quite help but smirk; the perplexity from Jarvan and Fiora was utterly delectable—a simpleton's understanding of her power.

"Hmmph. All that magic just to make a plate float?" Fiora said haughtily, one brow curved in disbelief.

In an instant, Syndra's smug enjoyment turned to annoyance.

"The Sovereign's talents certainly amount to more than that," Jarvan cut in as the two women began glaring. "I've found Shyvana's claims of your duels to be quite intriguing."

"As have I," Fiora added "She rarely speaks well of one not entirely clad in armor. Tell me, how is it you two became acquainted?"

Despite the ease with which she spoke and gesticulated with her hand, Fiora's question left Syndra on edge. Both Demacians peered at her through piercing stares, even in spite of Jarvan's efforts to hide it. "I had heard rumors of a dragon," she said haughtily. "It was not difficult finding her when I looked."

"But, why seek her?" Fiora waved her hand again. "You are not a—what are they called—dragon slayer?"

Syndra's eye twitched as much as Jarvan's did at the name.

"I am astounded something so brutishly uncivilized is a popular idea," she bit out with a pointed glare of her own. "No. I had need of a sparring partner worthy of me. She has proven that much and more."

The Prince of Demacia hummed curiously, standing up straighter. "Perhaps I am presumptuous, Lady Syndra, but aren't there any worthy sparring partners in Ionia?"

"As a river crashes from a mountain into the forest, Prince Jarvan." She blinked at their blank looks. "No, there are not. The few I could name are better left off dead than spoken to over tea."

Fiora gave a knowing nod at the idea. "Ahh, yes. I can name a few myself. This is so romantic! A fetching woman from a foreign land, drawn by the need to impress her skill on our very own dragon. Don't you think so, my prince?"

The hairs on Syndra's neck prickled at the word 'romantic'. What does she mean? How does that possibly relate to love at all? she wondered with a dreadful sense of trepidation. A noise flitted past and she realized that her sudden worry blanked out whatever Jarvan had just said.

"What is that word you used? 'Romantic'?" Syndra asked Fiora, feigning ignorance.

"Oh! Like a story, that is all."

From such a simple answer, Syndra couldn't discern if Fiora was being coy or truthful.

A bang on the glass door drew their attention, their three heads turning toward a shy-looking maid who peeked out to see them.

"E-excuse me, Lady Fiora? Lord Donovito wishes to speak with you," the servant conveyed, eliciting one of the angry twitches which Fiora seemed so predisposed to.

"Of course, of course. I will be inside in a minute." She twirled toward Jarvan and beamed a smile as the maid disappeared. "Shall we return, my prince?"

Chuckling to himself, Jarvan patted his belly. "I will shortly. The buffet tonight was exquisite, perhaps a little too much."

"Ah, the chefs will love to hear this." Fiora nodded, excusing herself with a polite curtsy.

Syndra watched the noblewoman disappear behind the door and found the atmosphere infinitely more tolerable. Yet, when she glanced toward Jarvan, she found that the boyish charm of a man in his prime had vanished completely. In some ways, it reminded her of those who fought in the war, of soldiers burdened by terrible things.

She couldn't help but marvel at the staggering differences the Prince of Demacia had to entertain.

"You appear ill at ease," the sovereign intoned lightly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut for a moment. "I loathe to discuss matters of Shyvana with others in the nobility."

"Would it be because it is always on what she is, not whom?"

Jarvan's eyes shot open, a flicker of surprise in them. "Is it that obvious?"

"To one whose ears work. Even in the brief moments in the ballroom, I could hear whispers about her. Tiny, pointed daggers too cowardly to have a face."

He chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "It's not often she speaks well of anyone–or anything, for that matter. Shyvana’s praise has drawn the ears of quite a few, friend and foe alike, Fiora amongst them."

"I should feel embarrassed that she speaks so highly of me," Syndra observed, drawing a snort from Jarvan.

"You are not a woman for that, I'd think."

"You presume to know me so well?"

"Well enough to see how Fiora's forthright questioning could be irritating," the prince stated flatly, casting his gaze out into night and staring at the twinkling lights of Demacia.

Syndra let out a sharp 'ha!' and smirked. "That is unkind to say of her, is it not?"

"I speak no ill; Fiora is a good friend, she merely weighs upon one's sensibilities–heavily."

The dramatic pause stirred a laugh from her, and Jarvan followed shortly afterwards, chuckling politely as he sipped what was left of his sparkling wine. In the amiable silence that followed, Jarvan turned from the sight of Demacia, squaring his attention upon the sovereign completely.

"I've a request of you—not as the prince, but as Shyvana's friend."

Syndra straightened herself properly, her glowing eyes narrowed in anticipation. "I would listen, much as the same."

"Tell me—what is she to you?"

For a moment, she sat there, mulling over what to say; not even he was worthy of the whole truth.

"A friend from an unlikely place," Syndra answered tersely. She thought it enough, but his expectant stare irritated her. "What I said to Fiora is true as well; I came seeking a challenge and found it. Shyvana has turned out to be more than I expected."

"She has that way with people. When we first arrived back in Demacia, in fact, I think she may have been bigger news than me."

"I do not know of this story," Syndra remarked, trying not to sound too interested.

"Truly? Ah, it was a spectacle. I'd been out in the wilds for some years when I first met her. When she accompanied me on my return to Demacia, I thought riots would break out."

"Should not the people celebrate their prince's return?"

"They all thought I was going to marry her."

His deadpan tone made it difficult for Syndra not to burst out in laughter, but her mirth vanished as the grim implications settled in her mind. "You are serious?" she asked.

"You don't have royal succession in Ionia?" Jarvan asked, a brow raised dubiously.

"Ours is a succession of ideas. A great leader can be replaced only by a person of great capabilities, not by some child who shares their blood."

"If only such a thing worked here," he remarked with a wistful tone. "Thankfully, it all settled quickly when Shyvana and I dispersed the rumors. That was when the other problems started."

"The people saw what she was and grew frightful,” Syndra interjected. “Not enough to challenge their beloved prince, but the whispers started."

Jarvan's flicker of recognition was all the confirmation she needed.

"Are there not those who scorn her—who call her unclean, dangerous, or something to be … slain for the challenge? I am not the Sovereign of Ionia through birthright, Jarvan. Many have scorned me for what I am, much like Shyvana. We both fight to protect our homeland, despite its people's willingness to run a knife through our backs the instant they could."

Syndra didn't bother to hide her bitter, hateful smile.

The silence hung between them as Jarvan frowned and nodded slowly, trailing his gaze to the horizon once more. He lifted his wine glass to sip, but found it starkly empty, setting it upon the stone again with a soft clink. His shoulders sagged for a moment as if wearied by a troubled thoughtfulness, before he straightened up once more to address her.

"Thank you, Sovereign," he said, turning toward her with a reserved smile. "You've allayed some old fears and made me realize some others are not as unfounded as I believed."

Syndra's eyes snapped to Jarvan, her head turning slowly. Their eyes locked together, and in that moment she scrutinized his blue depths, feeling him to be truthful. Perhaps not in whole, but nearly enough, and as close as he could get.

"Well then," he said, returning his gaze to the empty glass in his hand, "I believe I could use another drink. It has been a pleasure spending the evening in your company, Lady Syndra."

"Of course, Prince Jarvan," she answered. "Only worthy people may find themselves in my presence for long."

The Prince departed, and she returned her attention to the courtyard below, listening to the heavy-set thuds of his boots as they were swallowed up by the dull roar of the ballroom. The quiet of the balcony returned at last, leaving nothing to be heard but her own breathing and the distant, sleepy wind.

Shyvana is not going to be happy.

For all her speculation and worries, Syndra had found the most direct route to solving their dilemma. She had no idea what would happen with Jarvan now, or if their conversation had even began to cover the real problems. If he spoke with Shyvana at all, the dragon might very well boil over.

On the other hand, if it worked, it would be unfathomably easier to help secure her lover's home.

Syndra squinted, her glowing eyes flickering with turbulent magic.

I will make this work.

Anxiety nagged at Syndra’s mind, whispering promises of ill-fated intent over what she had done, a voice that troubled her the longer she entertained it. The ballroom door opened and a familiar voice interrupted her aimless musing, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Hey, why are you hiding out here?" Shyvana growled teasingly.

"Is it hiding to simply remove myself from all that noise?"

A wave of heat washed over as Shyvana approached and came up alongside her, and she quickly became aware of just how numb the cold evening air had left her, the tingling of pins and needles still lingering in her arms and legs. With no sense of subtlety, she scooted over closer to Shyvana, basking in the woman's heat.

"What are you doing?" the dragon asked amusedly.

"It is much colder here than Ionia. Shouldn't a courteous host provide warmth for her guest?"

Shyvana chortled, but stayed where she was all the same, tapping her gloved fingers distractedly against the stone railing.

Smirking secretively, the sovereign reached out with her magic and plucked up the end of her long, pink shawl, slowly lifting it towards her companion. She teased the fabric across the back of Shyvana’s neck, taking care to keep its threads just a hair’s breadth away from her dark blue skin. Then, as the dragon began to twitch irritably, she quickly snatched the cloth away—just as a gloved hand slapped at the spot where it had been.

"Damn mosquitoes," Shyvana grumbled, inspecting her hand. "They stick like honey to me when it's this cold."

The sovereign bit her lip to keep from snickering, wriggling the shawl and teasing it closer. In a flash, Shyvana's hand shot up again, snatching up its tail. She snapped her head and glowered back toward her antagonist, bewilderment creeping across her face.

"And so do you, apparently," she remarked dryly.

Syndra laughed, her shoulders shaking as she covered her mouth with her hand. An indignant huff of hot air blew into her face and she frowned at the dragon. "You are much too tense for this fine evening."

"I hate parties."

"Ionian ones are much better," Syndra said agreeingly. "Less people and much more space."

"And no one asking me to do fire shots."

Syndra blinked. "To do what?"

Shyvana sighed with an exasperation born from some great burden, a frustrated noise that Syndra knew quite well from having to explain herself again and again. "I spit flame into some alcohol and swallow it back down. You know, the whole flash of fire out of my mouth."

"Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"Everyone just nags and nags wanting to see it for themselves ..."

Sensing the dreary path they were about to visit, Syndra straightened herself up and seized the gap in the conversation with a commanding tone. "This night has dragged on far too long, don’t you think? I will need to find my attendants. Perhaps you might escort me to my room afterwards?" she suggested, brushing off her sleeves of imaginary dust while Shyvana looked on.

A strange, inscrutable look wormed its way across Shyvana's face, equal parts confusion and bewilderment. As she heard Syndra's request, however, it was banished by a knowing smirk.

"I suppose I should oblige," the dragon said with a faux-annoyed sigh. "Come along then, I'll wait by the entrance."

"Good," Syndra said, entirely pleased with herself. She glided alongside the warrior, the two of them heading toward the ballroom. "I am told Demacian prefer beds with soft pillows and covers. I will need something harder than that."

Shyvana nearly tripped over the words.

*~*

"Quit squirming, my room is right here," Shyvana growled, her hand kept firmly over the Ionian on her shoulder while she jiggled the annoyingly stubborn handle to her room. She smirked as the door clicked behind them with an air of finality, her armored boots echoing across the stone floor. “You won’t escape this time.”

"W-wait," Syndra hissed and slapped the dragon's plate-scale armor. "What are you doing?!"

Each step jostled the rigid plates underneath her, pressing the cold bite of unrelenting armor into her gut. She paid it no mind, far too busy smiling to herself. Weeks of frustrations swam through her head, their nearing end making her rump squirm in Shyvana's hand. She snuck a glance ahead, spying a spacious bed raised up from the floor with a fully-fluffed mattress. "Ooh," she whispered, perhaps a bit too loudly. “So that is what I've been waiting for."

"Yes, that's a bed," Shyvana remarked dryly. "You get to watch from it. I need to take this armor off. Up you go!"

With a firm slap to her butt, the sovereign was hurled into the air, a shrill giggle escaping her. Twirling head over heels through the air, a surge of her magics stopped her upright, hovering near the ceiling. She patted her sleeves, wrapping her loose sash back around her arms, and gave a coy look downward. "I've hardly the mind to ... what are you looking at?"

"A really great view," Shyvana said with a wink and wide smile.

Brows knitting together, Syndra followed the dragon's gaze underneath the bottom of her dress. From the angle, her pantyless bottom was on complete display. Shyvana's brows wiggled and Syndra met them with a roll of her eyes. Easing her magics, she floated swiftly downward, coming to a rest atop the bed and sitting neatly with her legs closed together.

"No free looks," she declared, earning a groan of disappointment.

"Sure, make me work after I've been busy all day," Shyvana griped, stepping past the bed. At the other end of the room, near a set of glass doors to a balcony, stood a small armory. Two racks lined the wall holding the matching pair of Dragon's Head gauntlets, set above a group of leather straps and mixed tools scattered on a nearby bench.

Syndra sat up a little more, watching as the heavy armor came undone, transfixed by how deftly Shyvana handled every latch and strap. The crimson platemail cracked open at its golden seams, peeling away from the black, featureless undershirt that clung to her bulky chest. The tension of her tight muscles and fine curves stood out as Shyvana set her armor down, a beckoning sight that made Syndra's legs clench together a little tighter. It wasn't too dissimilar from how complex her own dress was, a realization which made her cheeks warm.

"So, tell me, Dragon, are all Demacian parties so lively?" the sovereign asked, idly clicking her fingers together.

"Heh, hardly. That was small for Fiora. Grand balls are hosted in a House's wing, while the royal family has theirs within the palace proper." Shyvana scratched her chin thoughtfully, claws chipping at the scales. "Those can number in the thousands."

The mere thought actually made Syndra go cross-eyed. "I have no idea how you tolerate them."

"Tell me you want to spend this night talking about courts and I'll send you back to your room." Shyvana's golden eyes peeled over her shoulder, narrowed dangerously.

The mage rolled her eyes at the threat, giving a coy smile. With the smallest ounce of concentration, she floated up from the bed and came to a stop alongside Shyvana, earning a surprised look as she snuck up alongside her. Her hand reached out, idly grabbing at the dragon's toned arms and squeezing softly, inspecting their firmness. "Hmm, at least you have not gone too soft in these last few weeks."

Shyvana snorted and turned around in a wordless challenge, raising her arms and flexing them above her head. Skin and scales contorted in a taut, powerful display that Syndra couldn't help but grope at.

“Soft?” she sneered. “Go on, then. Try to pinch even a little."

"I'd rather not break my jewelry," Syndra returned dryly, picking at Shyvana's scales with her fingertips. "But you are quite tense, hmm?"

The red-headed Demacian blinked as the very air shimmered and warped, eyes widening as a dozen tiny spheres formed around her limbs and crackled with intent, ensnaring her wrists and ankles.

"What the hells is this?" Shyvana demanded, tugging at the bonds.

“Sit back and relax,” Syndra teased, allowing the word to linger as she hovered beside her captive and spread her lips into a thin, ominous smile. Turning around in the air, she glided away from the armory, Shyvana bound in tow. Her eyes roamed from the bed to the large, oaken table at its end, and she effortlessly sat the dragon upon its back edge with her legs laid out across its center, arms suspended above her in the air.

The sovereign circled the table a few times, eying the dragon, her jeweled fingertips skimming along its wood surface. Her chest clenched at the sight, stirring indecent ideas and half-remembered fantasies in her mind; flickers of their first few nights of passion-fueled exploration together, resurfacing the longer her gaze settled on Shyvana's exposed belly. Her stomach was lined with hard scale and tough skin, yet supple and delicate in hidden places—secrets she'd hardly learned the first time around. I spent days planning what I would do to her, and now I cannot decide where to start.

"I would've laid on the bed if you’d asked," Shyvana intoned, a brow curled up.

“Where would the fun be in that? You have worked so hard today, after all,” Syndra crooned, squeezing herself up against Shyvana’s back and laying her head on the dragon's shoulder. The corners of their eyes met and she couldn't help but grin as her fingertips slid around the woman's belly, sneaking up to the undersides of her supple breasts. Inching her hands up a little higher, she grasped Shyvana's pert bosom eagerly, drawing a sharp hiss out. She leaned in closer, her lips nearly on the dragon's ridged ear.

"Mmm, now here is something I have missed."

"What, groping me?"

Purple lipstick-covered lips peeled into a smile and her hot breath whispered into her scaled ear. "Having my big, strong Shy-vana here in my arms."

Syndra's sweet words wrung small, eager tremors from the dragon, and she pleasantly noted how stiff Shyvana's tiny bumps became. She smirked deviously to herself and dragged the tips of her dull claws around the hidden nubs, teasing them even harder. The warrior squirmed in her hold, jutting her chest forward.

"Come on," Shyvana groaned.

Ignoring the grumbling plea, the Ionian stood up and reached for the redhead's hair. Twin locks of the dark crimson hair trailed down, neatly tied on either side of her face; the rest roamed free, an unruly mess that Syndra had to finger-comb into some semblance of order. "I should have brought a brush," she muttered under her breath, gathering strand after strand into one hand. A shuddering moan, one so low she almost missed it, made her pause.

"Oh?" Syndra hummed curiously, dropping the hair. Shyvana had gone still, looking straight ahead. Peering down at the redhead, she sunk her fingers into the thicket; the warm, scale-free skin of the dragon's scalp met her hands, a curious contrast she’d never noticed before. "Do you like this?" Syndra asked the relaxing woman, beginning her massage. Her jeweled claws helped give a nice, gentle scratch with every motion, and in mere minutes she reduced the dragon to a cuddly mess.

"Ehm, uhh," Shyvana gaped, an unintelligible purr of satisfaction escaping her lips.

Perhaps giggling wasn't the most reassuring response, but Syndra couldn't contain herself.

"Where did you learn to do this?" the Demacian asked, stretching in her bonds with a wiggle.

The question made Syndra blink. Satisfaction welled in her heart, a pleasant thrum at having so elegantly captivated her lover. It is not so different from arranging penjing, she mused, deciding not to comment about it. "I know a thing or two with my hands."

"Oh? Something my cute maiden hasn't shown me yet?" An uproarious laughter erupted out of Shyvana, surprising her masseuse.

The sovereign's cheeks warmed with a blush and she pulled her hands away. "I did not mean it like that!" The refusal only brought out a louder guffaw. "Stop laughing!" she demanded, shaking the woman's shoulders.

"W-wait, Syndra!" Shyvana choked out. Suppressing her giggles, she craned her neck backwards, letting her long hair trail towards the floor.

Suspended as she was, Shyvana sat completely relaxed, waiting with slitted eyes. And yet, something about her lover's posture struck a chord; for all her ferocity, the constant sense of 'predator' was gone. She's ... cute. Her heart clenched with excitement, and all too suddenly, a need to kiss the dragon consumed her.

"Would you rub my shoulders, too?" Shyvana asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I suppose I could," Syndra remarked haughtily, pushing the woman's head up and cradling it in her bosom. She rolled her eyes at the encouraging coo that followed with a small, wistful smile, and took hold of Shyvana's shoulders. There was a certain order to giving a proper massage; she tried to recall the steps involved, imagining each in her mind’s eye. Palms on the top, thumbs behind, fingers over ... like this. Press in with the thumbs, roll to palms, and squeeze with fingers. That was what her mother said once when she sprained an ankle, at least.

"There. How is this?"

"Tiny bit away from the neck and a lot harder."

"This?"

"A little harder."

Her dark, gray brow curled up. If this was anyone else I might be strangling them, Syndra mused. The angle felt right to her, and she was keenly mindful of her jewelry, allowing her palms to pick up every little scale and muscular twitch.

"Oh yeah, right there," Shyvana purred, rolling her head from side to side.

"Are you simply tense or—"

A sickening pop came out of the dragon's neck, vibrating straight into Syndra's hands.

"Tense, then," she noted, absently finding Shyvana's neck a little softer.

"This last week was awful," Shyvana sighed, leaning back into Syndra's chest. "We went marching after a Noxian war band that didn't exist. Quinn's supposed to be checking in on the scouts who made the report, but I have no idea what came of it. She doesn't like it when some idiot jumps on rumors just to chase a cheap promotion."

"You know this Quinn?" Syndra inquired, ears prickling at the odd name again.

"'Demacia's Wings'," Shyvana quoted with her bound hands, rolling her eyes. "She’s one of the best scouts this side of Valoran, if you get over the smell of bird. Common-born too—that really pisses off the nobles, even more when she's giving puppy eyes to Jarvan."

The mere thought made Syndra pause. "Why would she kill dogs for him?"

"What? She isn't!"

"Then why give him puppy eyes?"

Hissing laughter escaped from the dragon. "She wants in his bed like how I want you in mine."

"I ... oh."

Setting the idea away for later, Syndra nodded and kept messaging her chuckling lover. A comfortable silence descended between them, different in its own way—neither heated passion nor coy play, but a simple act of trust. Though her hands were starting to cramp, she smiled all the same. The gentle coos and moans were rewarding enough to tolerate the discomfort, and she took pride in knowing that she took away the dragon's stress.

"Treat me like this and you can tie me up any time," Shyvana remarked with a pleased, throaty moan, stretching her limbs with a leisurely sigh.

The opportunity was too good for Syndra to pass up. She set her chin down atop Shyvana's head, the faint smell of dried sweat and stale shampoo tickling her nose. "Hm? Does my little dragon like being tied down?"

"Little?" Shyvana echoed with mock offence.

"Perhaps not too little," Syndra mused with a little giddiness, her fingers venturing down the dragon’s powerful shoulders to rest on Shyvana’s firm biceps. She gave an approving hum before dragging her fingertips underneath the woman’s pert, clothed breasts, cupping them in her hands. “Certainly not here,” she said, greedy squeezes punctuating her words. She smiled as her lover's chest jutted forward at the touch, trying to offer up more of itself despite her vexed look. "Good girls," she cooed, teasing the tips of Shyvana's nipples with her fingers. "My delightful favorites."

“Are they really?” she whispered quietly.

The question made her pause and stare at Shyvana from the corner of her eye. "I will admit to thinking about them a bit too much, but nothing more."

Shyvana blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes, a tiny smile hiding away in spite of her flippancy. Her stern face slipped into one of shock as, unaware of Syndra's sneaking hand, jeweled claws edged their way between her legs.

A tense squirm wormed its way out of her lover, a telltale sign that Syndra recognized all too well. Her eyes flicked to the dragon's knees and she grinned at how they clenched together, trying to keep her hand out. It was inconsequential to her plans, but still, she found the woman’s sudden shyness amusing.

"Now you are blushing, Shyvana?"

"By my fury," the dragon groaned, her head falling over backwards. "Do not use that stupid jo—OKE!"

Through the bindings of her dark spheres, Syndra slowly pried open Shyvana's legs. She smirked at the accusing glare that passed her way, ignoring it in favor of her newest treat. Although Shyvana still had her plate-scale greaves on, they only covered the outsides of her legs. The black undergarments, however, were helplessly open to Syndra's roaming hands.

It is warm down there, Syndra marveled, brows inching upward as she slid her hand between Shyvana's inner thighs. As a dragon, Shyvana always radiated a certain warmth, but this was a step above. The angle and her armor made it awkward, though she certainly enjoyed the desperate tugs at her bindings.

A frustrated growl, low but entirely audible, tickled her ear as Shyvana muttered something unintelligible.

"Relax," Syndra whispered into the dragon's ears, her jeweled fingers raking at her pants. "Do you not want your massage?"

"I will get you for this," Shyvana grumbled, rolling her hips to the motion of Syndra's hand. A hard squeeze to her breast stole a gasp and brought her to a sputtering halt.

"Will you now?" the sovereign taunted, gripping and pulling her closer. Shyvana's sharp hiss tickled her ear, the murmurs of a suppressed moan escaping past her lips. She reached lower, her whole hand coming to cup the dragon's mons in a slow, deliberate stroke, appreciative of how damp and warm the spot had become.

"Blood and thunder, when did you become such a tease?" Shyvana swore, hips squirming in half-hearted attempts to grind against her hand. "The sweet virgin act was a trap for me, wasn't it?"

Face alight with a blush, Syndra pursed her lips and glared playfully at her lover. "I have had to wait weeks," she stated, leaning in until the edges of her helm pressed against Shyvana's face, surprising her. "Not a single thing could satisfy that insufferable itch. You have more than enough to make up for!"

"Let me down then," Shyvana requested with a purr, brows arched upward. Her sultry efforts turned to confusion when Syndra pulled away with a light laugh.

"Mmm ... no," Syndra remarked, curling her fingers and pressing them into the wet fabric, jolting the dragon into a pleasured arch. The padded fabric gave way slightly, hinting at the welcoming embrace it guarded. Every fiber in Shyvana's body clenched and relaxed in Syndra’s hold, an unsung song of playful torment. She couldn't help pushing further, caressing just enough to leave the dragon a panting, writhing mess in her arms.

"Ohh, that's so–unf, Syndra!" Shyvana panted, her growling moan reverberating in Syndra's chest. Her head craned sideways, falling upon Syndra's shoulder, exposing her neck. A gasp escaped as a pair of warm, wetted lips sank upon her sensitive, pulsing spot.

Giddy at the opportunity, Syndra suckled on the scaly skin, rubbing her hand faster, encouragingly. Sweat, and the odd-but-familiar skin of her lover, greeted her tongue, and in one long, sensual lick, she left the dragon trembling in her arms.

"How much more can you take, hm?" she whispered into Shyvana's ear, grinding one finger upon the crown of her mons. A trembling buck of hips followed, strung along by every little pointed stroke she made.

With a half-formed plan, Syndra's other hand slid across Shyvana's belly on its way downward, stopping to steal a tantalizing squeeze of her toned abs. "Ugh, what I would do for a stomach like this," she grumbled under her breath.

"I know a great workout you can do," the redhead whispered back, tugging her bound arms again.

Ears perking, Syndra tilted her head and turned her gaze towards the heated pair of eyes watching her. The sheer intensity, a palpable heaviness thickening the air between them, caused the very hairs of her neck to stand on end, her fair skin shivering.

Pulling herself away, Syndra fell over in the air. There she hovered sideways, laying alongside Shyvana, head propped up on her hand. Here, she had a grander view of the dragon, distinctly showing off her handiwork in how flushed the woman's indigo skin was. With her free hand, she covered her mouth, trying to disguise the smug smile she knew was there.

"And what idea might you have, my little dragon?" the sovereign asked airily, sliding her same free hand across Shyvana's armored thigh. She rubbed her hand along the inner side and teased with one long, pointed finger at the wet spot.

"My woman seems to think she can get away with teasing me in my own home, so I'll start with getting off this table and throwing you onto that bed behind me. Then, once I've had my way with that pretty mouth of yours, maybe I'll rip those clothes to pieces,” she said, flashing a predatory grin. Her fingers rolled at the words, clawing at invisible threads in the air.

"Isn't that daring?" Syndra said with mock surprise, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Her expression held for a moment before it slipped into an arrogant smirk. "Bold words for someone in your position, don't you think?"

Eyes ablaze, and fire almost literally spitting from her lips, Shyvana wrenched one of her arms free. The magical bonds shattered like glass, the shards and broken spheres evaporating into the air.

Syndra's smirk froze, slowly slipping away as dumb shock took over. "Wait, how did you—"

With another wrench, the remaining bonds burst, leaving both hands free. Shyvana lunged at the mage, her feet tearing themselves loose as every inch of muscular dragon hurtled forward, wrapping herself around the sovereign. They tumbled across the floor, the warrior taking the brunt of the fall, rolling and lifting them both up in one jarring motion.

Her head swirling, Syndra blinked and sputtered, trying to find her bearings. A throaty chuckle drew her attention, her wobbled eyes centering on a smirking Shyvana.

"Mages are always so high and mighty," Shyvana remarked, a toothy grin spread across her face. Leaning in closer, her golden eyes soon flooded Syndra's vision as their noses touched. "But give them a good grab and they squeal like girls."

"I do not squeal!" Syndra defended, struggling to free herself. I am taller than her, why is she not moving?! It should have been simple to topple the woman, yet nothing made her incredible grip budge an inch.

"I'll take that bet."

Syndra could barely process the sultry remark before she went hurtling into the air. A shrill squeal escaped as she tumbled over, thrown onto the dragon's enormous bed like a sack. Cushioned bedding and sheets snuggly enveloped her with a gracefully soft landing. She blinked, surprised at how fluffy the bed was compared to her own, but her momentary distraction let the warrior close in upon her.

Shyvana towered over her, staring back down in the candlelight and possessed of all the might and fury of a conqueror. The palpable intent radiating from her lover’s proud posture stirred a heat in her belly she couldn't ignore. "Oooh," the sovereign purred, drawing the jeweled claw on her finger across her lip. “Have mercy on this fair maiden, dragon."

"Mercy?" Shyvana echoed, leaning onto the bed.

In that split moment, Syndra caught a predatory glint. Inching back across the mattress, the dragon pursued after her, shifting from side to side, arms and knees surrounding her as Shyvana climbed on top. The bedroom's candlelight glowed behind Shyvana, accenting the shadow she cast, and her fierce eyes standing as twin beacons in the darkness.

"You come into my lair wearing that tight-fitting dress?" she growled, the air smoldering around her, crimson specks dancing beneath the dragon's scaled skin.

"You dare to tempt me ..."

Two elbows landed beside Syndra's head, right next to her helm's wings. Her breath shortened, cheeks stained red from warmth that was as much hers as Shyvana’s. The dragon's untamed crimson hair fell around them, accenting her gloating grin.

"And you expect mercy?"

As the dragon leaned closer, thrilling anticipation stilled Syndra. Their lips met in a fleeting, gentle caress that sent a shiver down her back and stirred an excited beat in her heart.

"Never," Shyvana whispered breathily, her mouth hungrily seeking out Syndra's own.

Squirming under the weight of her lover's presence, Syndra grabbed at Shyvana's thighs to pull her closer, the bed sinking with a heavy creak. The heat of the dragon's embrace felt smothering, yet she had little desire to move away, even in spite of the playful effort she made to deny Shyvana her prize. She blinked, eyes widening at the dragon's thunderous growl, the rumbling vibrations making her own throat tremble.

With a suckling pop, Shyvana pulled free and licked her lips. "Try all you like, but you are mine!"

Syndra gasped, forgetting her retort as pointed fingers pressed themselves against her loins, digging deep into her layered dress. They curled into her womanhood, grazing her with such a possessive force that a flare of pleasure sent her back arching on reflex. The moment her concentration broke, the hot, thick, wetness of Shyvana's tongue stole into her open mouth.

Her indignation vanished under Shyvana's fervent kiss, her toes curling at how her own tongue was so casually overwhelmed. She tried to reciprocate, but found it made her lover's lips squeeze harder, and her tongue even more domineering. Her dress became entirely too snug, her body too hot, Shyvana's weight much too heavy. Air became scarce and she half-heartedly smacked at the warrior's backside with her hand to break free, rousing her after a few attempts.

Panting and huffing, their hot breaths blew onto one another, a thin trail of spittle hanging between them that stretched as they pulled away with a shudder. The grinding hand she wanted so much disappeared, an absence she longed to be rid of.

Syndra panted, blinking her eyes into focus. "Your hunger is insatiable, dragon."

Between breaths, Shyvana chuckled and sat upright, straddling Syndra's stomach. "Hunger?" she mused while reaching up to undo the knot that kept her braided hair in place, throwing her red locks open. "Oh, it's so much more than that, Syndra."

The sovereign's eyes widened, her heart leaping in her chest. A blush, not just of arousal, warmed her cheeks and neck, tickling her nerves in embarrassment. Perhaps it was the way Shyvana purred her name, or the long, heated stare that her own eyes couldn't turn away from.

"Shall I show you?" the dragon asked with a sultry smile, her fingers pulling forcefully at the delicate cloth covering Syndra’s cleavage.

"This dress is expensive …"

"Not like that," Shyvana shot back, pulling away from Syndra and off the bed. "Hold on, let me get my pants. You better take that helmet off, too."

Syndra looked at Shyvana curiously, watching as the dragon smiled and slowly narrowed her eyes. The resounding snap of her buckle unclasping echoed through the bedroom, falling to the floor in a casual, practiced motion that sent Syndra's heart racing. The tiny clink-clink of the buckle danced in her ears, her fingers tingling as she raced to remove her helmet. With a casual wave of her hand, dark magic sent the pristine helmet floating off to the room's table.

I knew I wore it for too long, Syndra grumbled to herself, tousling her long, white hair to let it breathe. Her eyes watched Shyvana all the while, never straying from the slender curves of the dragon’s waist as she bent over, wiggling her hips to free herself from her armor. Piece-by-piece, she removed its metal faulds, revealing the tight black undergarments that clung to her like a second skin, perfectly framing her taut, palmable rump.

Syndra paused as her attention narrowed, admiring the athletic shape of the dragon’s muscles. They look better than I remember, she thought with a lewd smile. Her eyes trailed upward as Shyvana turned around and kicked a foot up on the bed, reaching down to undo the clasps on her shin guards. Her entire body looked divinely firm in that moment, and Syndra felt a sharp jolt race down her spine at the sight of the dragon flexing, nearly moaning out loud. Only the hand clasped quickly over her mouth kept the noise from escaping.

"Oh, my back is so sore. Perhaps I'll take that massage from you after we …" Shyvana's purring tease trailed off at the sound, looking up with a confused expression at Syndra's pointed gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Do that again," Syndra commanded quickly, pointing with her other hand. The dragon's brows creased with confusion.

"Do what?"

"The thing with your arms that you just did."

An amused smile flitted across Shyvana's face as she raised her arms, each one curling upwards into a nice, circular shape—every inch of muscle contorting and flexing in an eye-catching dance. Her motions flowed in a controlled wave, causing her shoulders and upper chest to rise and fall with each breath, adding a slight lift to the dragon's pert breasts.

"Ah, so you like this?" she asked teasingly, changing again so one arm outstretched to the side, the other curved behind as if she were throwing something.

"Yes," Syndra said, sitting forward on her knees to angle for a closer look. She caught Shyvana's smug grin from the corner of her eye, but her attention remained on the show, watching as the dragon effortlessly rotated through attractive postures.

"Really? Why?"

An honest question, though she found it silly. "I have not truly seen you undressed before."

Shyvana threw her head back as a bark of laughter escaped her. "I recall some rather heated nights a few weeks back. Or was that a dream?"

"Not that, you boob," the sovereign replied, sliding off the bed with a roll of her eyes. The cool ground met her exposed toes, sending a drafty chill up her legs. On equal footing, she could see quite cleanly over the woman's head. She stood and placed her hands on Shyvana's shoulders, reassuringly.

"Standing before me like this, with only the two of us, I ..."

Everything had made perfect sense in her head, and it just bumbled out of her lips the second she spoke. Were she not so in control, Syndra would have cringed at listening to herself.

"Your strength, scales, dashing charms. You are very beautiful."

"Ah," the red-haired warrior cooed. “There's my sweet virgin, all blushing smiles and sweet words."

"I-I keep saying that is hardly relevant now!" Syndra deflected as two long arms wrapped around her neck, locking her in closer to Shyvana. The dragon stood up, kissing her in a slow, gentle embrace that eased Syndra's sudden anxiety. When they parted, her mouth was left slightly agape, a fluttery and pleasant knot in her belly.

"I'll let you look as much as you want another night," Shyvana said breathily, flecks of crimson bleeding into the molten gold of her eyes. "But, you belong somewhere else right now."

Syndra slowly backed up as the dragon pushed closer and closer with her measured steps. "And where might that be?"

“On my bed,” Shyvana growled, her hands firmly groping at Syndra’s breasts as she stepped forward, pushing Syndra back until they both fell onto the bedding. “There aren’t any buttons, right?”

Syndra's brow furrowed thoughtfully, her hand instinctively moving to the fold of the cloth belt at her waist. "No, this kind of dress simply folds at the seam here, and ..."

Her words were quickly cut short as Shyvana’s hands flew to the tightly-wound seam at her chest. In a single, effortless pull, Shyvana all but tore the dress completely open, causing the mage’s hefty breasts to spring out of the fine, silken layers of her inner shirt and leaving her pert, swollen nipples completely exposed to the cool air. Her eyes flashed wide and she simply stared back with her mouth agape.

"There we are," the dragon said, gloating. Two warm hands, roughened by scale and hardship, sank possessively into Syndra’s creamy white breasts.

Syndra squeezed her knees together absently, fighting down the sudden urge to arch her back and push her chest forward into the dragon’s hands. Never in any of her torrid fantasies had she imagined such arousal being so roughly and casually handled by the dragon; it was different in a way she wasn't certain how to answer yet.

“Hmph. How impulsive,” she reproved, masking her excitement behind annoyance. “Are all dragons so greedy with their women?”

"We do take what we want," Shyvana remarked with airy, self-assured tone, eyebrows curled in appreciation. As if to punctuate the statement, she slipped her fingers around the points of Syndra’s nipples and squeezed playfully, delighting in the stifled moans that each tweak and rub invoked. The mage moved to cover the erect nubs with one of her arms, but she playfully bit at the air with her teeth, chasing it away. “Mine.”

Syndra's eyes widened as her lover's head dipped and a hot breath enveloped her sensitive points. Closing her eyes, she waited, all too keenly aware of the hands holding her; the dragon lifted her breasts and puffed air over her nipples, slowly drawing her mouth closer and closer until she couldn't imagine those warm lips being more than an inch away.

But they never came.

Cracking a glowing eye open, Syndra met Shyvana with a baleful glare. Shyvana’s cheeks simply dimpled into a smile, and then her mouth slowly parted, the dragon’s wet, glistening tongue stretching until it grazed the tip of her flesh. She bit her lip and watched in fascination as the enticingly-long muscle swirled around, brushing and painting the edges of her nipples, leaving a tantalizing swathe of spittle in its wake.

"All mine," Shyvana mumbled, sounding as if she were half speaking to herself.

The dragon’s hot mouth sank down and encompassed the pink flesh of her areola, her scaly hands pawing and squeezing at Syndra’s full breasts strongly. “They’re so soft—and big,” she praised, swirling her warm tongue around the underside of the mage’s nipples and suckling them until they were stiflingly erect. “I could suck on them for hours!”

“Treat them right and I might allow you to,” Syndra teased, blushing slightly. The dragon glanced up at her, and Syndra suddenly let out a sharp gasp, feeling a sharp, pinching pleasure as the dragon latched onto her aching nipple with her teeth and nibbled gently. “Nngg—yes—just like that!” she praised, lifting her chest up and stroking the back of Shyvana’s head.

Spurred on by her lover’s words, Shyvana redoubled her efforts and pursed her lips, slathering Syndra's nub with a hard, throaty suck while squeezing her breasts in lewd, massaging pumps. She grinned as the mage’s hips rolled upwards in response, futilely grinding against her own, and pulled her mouth away with a loud, wet pop as she rose up.

"How insatiable," Syndra sputtered, fanning her sweating face.

"Don't play coy, woman," Shyvana demanded, grabbing the sovereign's hips and hoisting her up, throwing her further onto the bed with draconian strength. She joined Syndra in laughter while climbing up onto her knees, pursuing her with a perverted glint in her eye.

"This—" Syndra addressed, hefting her red and swollen breasts, “—is not coy. Now, get back here."

"Hmm, a tempting idea," Shyvana teased, trailing her hand down the center of Syndra's chest. Tilting her head and smirking, she brought her fingertips lower, dipping between the valley of her bosom, and further still, until they hooked around the folds of her dress. Slowly, she brought them under the seam of the folds that covered the Ionian's waist and began to pull them open. "But, there are other treasures for me ..."

Snorting, Syndra let her big breasts flop free and grabbed Shyvana's wrists. "Treasure?"

“Dragon, remember?” Shyvana intoned airily, continuing to unwrap the folds of Syndra’s plum dress until she’d uncovered the naked, creamy skin that lay underneath.

A shiver raced its way down Syndra’s body from being so suddenly exposed, in stark contrast to the smoldering heat of Shyvana’s gaze. She instinctively moved a hand to cover herself, biting her lip as the dragon’s eyes swept rakishly over her nakedness and left her tingling in nervous anticipation.

"Oh no you don't," Shyvana growled, pulling her black shirt off and shimmying out of her pants, effortlessly throwing them away. Planting her knees on either side of the sovereign's hips, she slowly lowered herself down until she was laying flush against her, hard scales kissing Syndra's soft, creamy-white skin. Slipping a hand into the mage's hair, she grabbed her head, keeping their faces locked together almost close enough for another kiss. "No getting shy on me now."

"I am not," Syndra defended hotly, pressing against Shyvana's scaly body defiantly. "But when you look at me like that, it is ..." She frowned, trying to pick out the word. "Desirable?"

Shyvana grinned lecherously, tilting her head to whisper into the woman’s ear. "You know why, right?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"No. Why?"

"Because, I want you."

Each word stirred trembling shudders in Syndra, igniting a pleasurable heat that started in the pit of her stomach and radiated all the way down to her loins. She hummed, pliant and yielding as Shyvana took both of her arms and pinned them to the bed.

"I’ve wanted you every day since the first time we met. The perfect woman who flew into my life, all power and beauty. Mmm, she gave me a lot of restless nights." As she spoke, Shyvana began rocking a little, her hips gyrating on Syndra's stomach. "Now she’s here, in my bed, naked and ready. I'm a little hot, you know."

Syndra couldn't help a giggle at how dry the one liner was. A hard shove into her, however, brought her laugh to a gasping halt.

"You mock me, but I'll remind that cute pussy of yours who it belongs to."

Leaning in, Syndra huffed into Shyvana's ear, "Those are big words, but I thought there would be more than just talking." She knew draconic pride wouldn’t tolerate such a casual dismissal, and smirked shrewdly as a crimson flare blazed in Shyvana’s eyes.

The warrior growled and climbed off her, grabbing at her as she rumbled deeply. "Turn over."

Before she could even react, Syndra found herself being pulled up by her arms and flipped onto her belly, landing on a fresh, cool part of the bed. Picking a long lock of hair from her face, she pushed herself up and sat on her elbows, peeking over her shoulder. Her brows shot upward as Shyvana rummaged around in her dress, hiking it up onto her back while hot, scaled hands grabbed at her naked hips, pulling her onto her knees and leaving her butt exposed in the air.

“What are you doing?!” she asked, incredulously.

"My secret technique," Shyvana remarked, completely serious.

Intrigued, Syndra settled back onto the bed, her head leaning upon her folded arms. The whole position felt silly to her; she tried to keep her legs shut, but Shyvana's hands grabbed at her thighs and peeled them open with utter ease. A trickling nervousness arose from being so completely exposed, her wet pussy perfectly framed for her lover’s eyes. She was glad that she was stuck facing forward, where her uncontrollable blushing was out of sight.

How does anyone do this seriously? Syndra wondered. The urge to cover herself up came so easily, and yet she wanted Shyvana to see her. She wanted to feel those rough hands massaging her butt and thighs, possessively grabbing her with a desire that made her weak in the knees, and found herself quivering with anticipation as Shyvana's fingers trailed inward.

Syndra clutched at the sheets as a single digit traced along her wet nether lips, nibbling on her bottom lip to stop from gasping out. With each teasing flick of that damnable finger, her hips tensed up and she had to resist pushing back just to get it inside her.

“Hmph,” she muttered, mustering up her control again. “Is that al–ahhh?!”

Without warning, Shyvana dipped her finger slightly inwards and dragged it down the length of the mage’s folds, tracing across her clit. "I knew it," Shyvana commented, sounding far too conversational for Syndra. "You get really wet down here."

"And?" Syndra shot back, trying to suppress how easily her back arched at the touch.

"Just my kind of treasure," her lover sang, the bed creaking as she shifted around.

Syndra shuddered as the very tips of Shyvana's rough fingers caressed up and down her soft folds, pushing her hips back into the dragon’s hand as she stroked and traced the edge of her outer mound. No matter how closely Shyvana teased her entrance by dipping inward along the parting of her inner lips, they never went inside, and she knew the dragon was taunting her now.

Before she could say anything, she heard, as much as felt, the slap of a hand against her rump and couldn't help jumping a little.

"Fuck, you're just so—you’re so damn perfect!” Shyvana rasped, appreciatively squeezing Syndra's cheek with her other hand and sinking her fingers into it greedily.

"Mmm, of course I am," Syndra preened, unable to stop herself from smiling. Still tingling from the surprisingly pleasant buzz that Shyvana’s slap had left behind, she shifted her rear and raised it in a way she hoped would make her seem even more inviting to her dragon, shivering with perverse thrill as Shyvana inhaled sharply at the sight. "Do you not want a taste, dragon?"

"Ah, I wasn't going to," Shyvana mumbled. An odd conflict in her voice confused Syndra.

"What? Why?"

"I wanted to—oh, fuck it. Secret technique for another day!"

Scaled hands took hold of Syndra‘s hips, and faster than she could realize, she was rolled over onto her back. Her hair and open dress were thrown into a tussle around her, a beautiful mess. In a single swoop, the dragon's head nestled between her thighs, the wet fire of Shyvana's mouth descending on her labia. Her lover's long, flexible tongue swept up and down, gathering all her wetness in long licks and audible suckles, and swallowing with growling approval.

"There. Right there," Syndra purred, lifting her hips as she grabbed Shyvana by her crimson locks, spreading her legs wide to give her lover the deepest reach possible.

The dragon licked from the very bottom of her slit all the way to the top, stopping just before her flushed hood, tending to the outside with fervent detail. No matter how Syndra squirmed or jutted her hips, Shyvana rode her with an infuriatingly practiced grace, refusing to take that one extra step forward.

"I never thought dragons were such teases," Syndra half-grumbled.

With a slurping pull the dragon parted from her, though only for a moment. Twin gold eyes peeked up from between her legs, locks of crimson hair framed around them. Syndra's breath hitched, pleasant goosebumps upon her neck from the look Shyvana gave her.

"I’m tasting, not teasing," the dragon said with a wiggle of her brows. She sunk lower once more, but this time, her tongue delved past the pink folds inviting her in.

"What are you wo-oh—ahh," Syndra stumbled over her words, a reflexive need to press closer overcoming her. She spread her legs open just a little further, utterly delighted by Shyvana's thick tongue filling her, a happily satisfied moan slipping out. The long, slow strokes deep inside her sped up, joined by half-kisses and nuzzles. Each long lick dragged out, her thin lips kissing her folds with tiny nibbles, the drag of her lover's tongue on the outside plunging inward and lapping hungrily.

She clung to Shyvana's red hair, reveling in the belly-tightening, leg-trembling pleasure her dragon's ravenous attention brought. A chuckling, yet muted, laugh reached her ears with tiny, ticklish shakes in her loins. She tried to frown, but any semblances of clear thoughts disappeared under a wave of wet heat. Shyvana's tongue snaked around Syndra's clitoral hood, licking within a hair's breadth without covering it fully.

"Oh fuck," the Ionian moaned in her native tongue, clenching Shyvana's head harder, and brought the other to her mouth where she bit a knuckle. "More, I want more!"

Her heart pounding wildly, Syndra's hips rolled with lustful encouragement. To her lewd delight, her lover's arms hooked around her thighs, firmly securing them. With new-found leverage, Shyvana's licked and kissed from top to bottom, sucking all the while her hands rubbed the sovereign's fair thighs. She gladly gave into the rising tide of emotions, swept away in a wave of pleasure, her hips rolling to the tempo of Shyvana's mouth.

Throwing her head back, she moaned with abandon, her breaths stuttering with unrestrained passions. "Shyvana," she whispered, her lover's name a jumble in the echoes of her magical voice. "Shyvana!" Syndra spoke again, louder. The dragon's fevered pitch never relented, ravishing her womanhood with that deliriously skillful mouth. Where pleasure began and she ended, she couldn't tell anymore.

Careening over the edge, Syndra squealed into her closed fist. Her entire body seized up and relaxed at once, shuddering from head to toe. A gasping moan spilled out into a shrill cry; Syndra's hips bucked and her pussy throbbed, clenching, tightened with joyful orgasm. Her lover's unbelievable tongue worked inside of her, slurping with wild, wondrous pleasure that arose from the very pit of her stomach. Poignant and powerful, it took away her worries and senses alike, crashing through her.

She had lost track of how long she'd laid there, panting and squirming on the bed, delightful release having left her nerves utterly raw. The world looked blurry and far away, Shyvana's rough skin and volcanic aura the only things she was certain of.

Squinting with unfocused eyes, she found herself being moved, warm hands grabbing at her thighs and chest. Her sweat-slicked skin peeled away from what was left of her dress, the garments almost savagely taken away. Only her finger jewelry remained, and being so completely exposed to Shyvana made the warmth between her legs even hotter. She blinked her eyes open, Shyvana's beautiful blue-skinned face greeting her with a cheeky smirk. The dragon cuddled up to her, their chests kissing and their legs intertwined, gently petting and rubbing wherever her hands could reach.

Syndra relished the attention of laying in Shyvana's strong arms, leaving her with a sense of comfort and safety that drove her deeper into the embrace.

"Someone enjoyed herself."

"Oh, please. That tongue of yours has—nghh—ruined me." Syndra groaned, only to inhale sharply when a hand teasingly dipped between her sensitive legs.

"Has it now?"

The mage rolled her eyes at the innocent tone. "For several nights I tried to find relief and, believe me, it did not work." Confusion flitted across Shyvana's face until the biggest, smuggest grin Syndra had ever seen spread over her face. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, opting instead for flattery. "Perhaps a dragon does possess some skill worthy of me."

"Only some?" Shyvana echoed, cupping one of Syndra's breasts and squeezing aggressively. "Clearly I've not eaten enough if the maiden can still talk back."

"Really? Eating me?" Syndra remarked under her breath, knitting her brows together. At first, she had thought that Shyvana meant it literally, but the dragon’s lecherous smile revealed the real meaning behind those words.

"Oh yes. You’re delicious," Shyvana said, her lips parting into a silly grin.

"Really?" Syndra exasperated.

"Ah, you wouldn't know, hmm? How lucky for you." The dragon's hand slid down Syndra's side, cupping her bubbly butt.

"Know what?"

"Dragons like me … well, we have a deep appetite," Shyvana intoned, a conspiratorial look creeping over her as she leaned in closer, drawing Syndra's rapt attention. "We don't always get to, but when we do, we love eating a maiden's pussy."

A storm of emotion swept through Syndra as Shyvana’s sultry—yet ridiculous—words landed, causing a blush to spill out onto her cheeks from how utterly crass it all sounded. To her overwhelming vexation, Shyvana broke into a fit of hissing laughter. Syndra couldn't keep frowning for long and smiled as she sat up, giggling as Shyvana rolled away from her and onto the bed. Dragons, she thought bemusedly, combing her hair into some semblance of order. She knew she must've looked like a mess by now, but at least she could keep her hair straight.

As Shyvana's laughter died down, Syndra looked over and caught the dragon nestled in the sheets, her lecherous smile alight in a veiny, magmatic blush. Syndra's hand paused its combing as she watched the cracks in the dragon's skin glow with hidden fire–a living power, not unlike her own. Amusingly, the more she watched, the more fiery Shyvana's blush became.

"What?" Shyvana asked after a long minute of silence, her gold eyes darting around nervously.

"Nothing," Syndra said with a leer. She shuffled across the bed and slid onto Shyvana's stomach, straddling the dragon as she leaned onto her shoulders. With her thighs and loins flush against Shyvana, she indulged in a slow, grating roll of her hips, pointedly asserting control. Yet, in doing so, she felt keenly aware of every little patch of rough skin and scale, and even more so as she rubbed herself against them. A trickling curiosity bloomed into an idea she'd never thought of before.

"Now, I have my dragon," she remarked, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. To her delight, she had the entirety of Shyvana's muscular, feminine form open to her, tempting her hands to grab and grope. The dragon's breasts were not at all like her own, smooth on their topsides, the unders and edges indented with small, vulnerable ridges. She brought her hand down and traced her fingers along them, idly reacquainting herself with the unusually soft skin and little crevices.

"Your dragon?" Shyvana's brow rose upward dubiously.

"How foolish to let your guard down," Syndra chided and squeezed her chest, the suddenness of it stirring a surprised hiss. Smirking, she indulged in each grope, appreciating the fine scaly details of Shyvana's pert chest. "I am in control now."

"I'm sure," the dragon remarked, setting her hands on Syndra's hips.

The sovereign stared down with glowing eyes and narrowed them, understanding the challenge for what it was. Ideas of all sorts turned over in her mind, but an answer came when her eyes fell upon Shyvana's glistening lips. Grinning with pure wickedness, she looked over to her clothes on the table and waved a hand, bringing her long, silken shawl to life and causing it to creep through the air like a snake.

"You will learn your place soon enough," the sovereign promised, snapping the cloth between her hands tautly, its loose ends floating beside her.

"What's that?" Shyvana asked, her expression quickly changed from utter confusion to stark realization.

"A shawl, woven from rare, Ionian spider silk. You should feel honored—expensive does not begin to describe how hard they are to come by," Syndra informed haughtily, lifting Shyvana's hands up and wrapping the fabric around them.

Halfway into binding the dragon’s hands, she found out she had no idea what she was doing. The knots she might use on her dress didn't work at all and she worried the stupid thing would fall right off the instant Shyvana tested the bindings. Eventually, she settled on simply wrapping Shyvana's hands into an awkward silken ball.

"Huh, well that's … something," Shyvana mused, hanging on the word.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing. I've never felt something like this," Shyvana remarked with a laugh. "It's soft but it makes my skin tingle."

Pleased with her success, Syndra leaned down and hugged herself closer, bringing their faces within a hair's breadth. Pressed together in a quick, sweet taste, she stole away with a smile, leaving her captive dazed.

"I've heard rumors of a once legendary kind of warrior," she said, rising upright as she idly trailed her fingers down Shyvana's chest. "I admit to a little curiosity about them."

"What?" Shyvana's brows creased, her uncertain gaze flicking down and up again.

"With you under my grasp," Syndra continued, smiling a little too widely, "I might experience what being a Dragon Rider is all about," she teased, rocking her hips atop the mortified dragon, delighted by her disgruntled sounds.

"Nooo, not that joke! You don't get to say mine was bad now!" Shyvana groaned, throwing her hands up and kicking her legs.

Syndra laughed as Shyvana struggled pitifully against her rolling hips, her amusement quickly turning to short, stifled gasps. She’s so hard and bumpy, she thought, biting her lip aimlessly as her gaze wandered between the valley of Shyvana’s pert breasts and solid, toned stomach. Tiny jolts of pleasure shot up from between her thighs as her smooth skin bucked against the rougher surface, slickening the dragon’s pebbly scales. The friction felt surprisingly delightful, and she found herself squeezing her thighs harder together, chasing the sensation.

"You are quite different from my pillows."

“I’d hope so.”

“That was meant as a compliment,” Syndra sighed, swatting Shyvana’s thigh.

“I’d hope so,” the dragon repeated, grinning back up at her.

Syndra rolled her eyes and glared down at the smug dragon, reaching down and capturing Shyvana's thick, dark nipples in her hands. "Stubborn dragon,” she said, rolling and tweaking them between her fingers, noticing how the firm muscles of Shyvana’s stomach tightened between her legs.

"Stubborn woman," Shyvana grunted, her hard body jerking.

Syndra leaned over and narrowed her eyes, planting a sweet, playful kiss on Shyvana’s lips. She nibbled, seeking entry with tiny flicks of her tongue, and the dragon eagerly pressed her mouth back against Syndra’s. Then, just as Shyvana’s hot lips began to part and her thick tongue flicked outwards, Syndra pulled away. With a wet pop, she leaned to the side and whispered into the dragon’s scaled ear with a devious smile.

"And here I thought about being nice."

"Nice?" the Demacian echoed with disbelief, her gaze following Syndra’s hand and the faint crackles of magic flowing around it. Three tiny dark spheres formed, no larger than marbles in size. They pulsed with barely-constrained power, energy shimmering across their event horizons.

Syndra almost laughed at Shyvana's flash of recognition.

"Oh."

"Oh yes."

Turning around, Syndra sat backwards on Shyvana, sliding backwards to give the dragon a better view of her butt. Yet, as she grazed along the dragon’s hard skin and scales, she immediately noticed the how the bumps and ridges felt slightly different against her. She looked down in curiosity and rolled her hips in a long, slow grind, delightful shudders working up her back from the new riveting, but familiar, sensations.

"Now I'm a little annoyed at being tied up," Shyvana growled, rubbing against Syndra’s butt with her bound hands.

Twirling her hair around one finger, Syndra leaned forward, reaching for the dragon's shapely legs. The moment she tried, however, Shyvana clamped her legs shut together. She squinted at the tensed muscles and picked at the scaled skin with her jeweled claws.

"Hmmm, perhaps you are the bashful one?" she mused, raising her open hand. With the slightest thought, her magic surged out into a flickering, purple glow, enveloping the dragon’s legs radiantly.

"Just try to get those inside me," Shyvana snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Easily,” Syndra replied, lifting the dragon’s legs straight upwards with a sharp, magical tug until they were nearly as vertical as the sovereign herself.

Hugging her lover's strong legs, she peered down, habitually brushing a lock of hair out of the way. She couldn't help but smile at the sharp inhale that followed, a devious playfulness swelling in her heart. Glistening blue skin, flushed with warmth, peeked out from between Shyvana's thighs, hinting at the pink folds nestled within.

Shyvana tried to struggle, shaking her legs and hips from side to side, but her efforts were too weak to resist the magic holding her. "You damn cheater.”

Scooting back just a little, Syndra peered down and dropped the three spheres, letting them roll onto the bed like glass marbles. I can finally try this out on her, she thought with a certain excitement, steeping her jeweled fingers on either side of Shyvana's half-exposed pussy and spreading them with intent.

"Wait," the dragon said with complete seriousness, causing Syndra to pause and looked over her shoulder. "You're not sticking something sharp down there."

"Oh, these?" Syndra chuckled, her brief moment of worry vanishing as she flexed the jewelry on her fingertips. "They are blunted. They look sharp, but I do use them on myself."

"You what?"

"They are a complete bore to clean. But, they are quite versatile; their little curved ridges of metal, or the small bumps of the gemstones provide … such wonderful diversity."

"I'm starting to feel like the virgin here," Shyvana muttered under her breath.

Syndra’s lips curled as the dragon lifted her hips invitingly, stroking her fingertips along Shyvana's folds and gently spreading them. The soft, pink inner flesh stood out in sharp contrast to the rough, blue scales that lined the dragon’s body, gentle and vulnerable. Desire, curiosity, reverence, and apprehension consumed her thoughts; feverish emotions that suddenly made her passionate dreams feel too small and unreal compared to the realness of Shyvana's beauty. She nibbled on her lower lip, gaze fixated on Shyvana’s glistening cunny even as her attention dragged toward the tiny dark spheres on the bed.

Picking one up, she rolled the sphere between her fingers, her other hand delicately stroking Shyvana's nether lips. She relished the wetness that clung to her fingers as they stroked along the circle of the dragon's outer folds, working their way up just short of the crown before descending again.

"Ohh, those fingers," Shyvana said with a tiny moan, angling her hips temptingly. "But what are you going to do with that sphere?"

Syndra's brow tweaked at the innocent tone and she brought the sphere down. Prying her lover's pinkish lips apart with two fingers, she pressed the glowing orb to the soft, inner flesh. Shyvana jolted underneath her, stiffening up an instant, though her thighs trembled with invitation. "How does that feel?"

"Hnn. Maybe a little nice, I guess," the warrior grumbled, despite the tightness of her voice.

Such a tough act, Syndra noted amusedly while pressing the sphere inwards with her fingers, taking her sweet time. Shyvana's clenching walls resisted, but with a little increase in pressure, she watched the orb disappear inch by inch. She smiled as the dragon quivered around her fingers, those kissable pink folds enveloping her sphere. One more tiny push of her finger and the orb disappeared, completely inside.

"There is the first," Syndra sang, spying over her shoulder. "Now, for two and three."

"F-fine," Shyvana bit out, her bound hands fidgeting. Her eyes were scrunched in concentration, her cheeks colored by a rampant blush that bloomed across her neck and face.

Grabbing another sphere without looking, Syndra remarked, "You know, you are beautiful when you do that." She smiled at the earnest surprise that overtook Shyvana, the dragon's veined blush deepening further.

Delighted at her lover's vexation, Syndra hurriedly went back to work and started slipping the second sphere inside. It went in more easily than the first, but the third gave her trouble. Shyvana's pussy trembled, kissing her fingers with their slippery wetness as she tried to push the final orb in. Can you fit three? Syndra thought, scrunching her nose. With her other hand, she started to stroke again, reaching all the way down and pulling her jeweled fingers right to the top. Lost in concentration, the shuddering gasp from behind caught her by surprise. A rhythmic pulse rocked through Shyvana's lower half in a long, shuddering shake followed by a gush of hot juices rushing out.

The troublesome sphere slipped right inside, swallowed by the dragon’s contracting folds with a tiny pop.

Syndra blinked owlishly and snuck a glance at Shyvana's glazed look. I barely did anything, she puzzled. Slowly, the dragon's unfocused eyes met hers, crimson hair in a messy tussle around her head.

"Well? What'sss next?" Shyvana purred, the corner of her lip tucked into a coy smirk.

"It will be something magical," the Ionian teased, twirling one lock of long white hair around her finger. She released Shyvana's legs, letting them flop on the bed and pulling the spheres deeper inside. With their connection to her, she could feel their presence inside the dragon’s clenching passage, right where she believed her lover's sweet spot was. The little tremors that passed through Shyvana told her everything she needed to know.

She sat up and turned around, planting herself on Shyvana's belly, eager to start, but wanted to savor the moment a little longer. An allure hung about Shyvana in a way she couldn't quite put words to; the latent ferocity tempered by need, or perhaps the half-lidded gaze alight in her draconic blush. Those warm, gold eyes gazing so hungrily at her were something she could stare at for hours, but Shyvana’s voice quickly brought her back to attention.

"You're not going to make me beg, are you?" the dragon intoned with a hint of impatience.

"Why have you beg when I am already riding you?" the sovereign chuckled. She leaned forward and braced her arms around the sides of Shyvana's head, giving her lover a tantalizing view of her hefty breasts. No matter how much Shyvana tried, her mouth wouldn't quite reach either of the plump, erect nipples standing before her.

She ignored Shyvana’s groaning response to the terrible joke, rocking her hips forward and grinding the length of her womanhood upon the dragon’s scaled belly. With each thrust, the spheres embedded inside Shyvana mimicked the motion, pushing deeper and then pulling back out in rhythm. They gasped in unison as the spheres moved inside Shyvana—one gasping in excited surprise, the other in much needed relief.

"Don't ssstop," Shyvana demanded, bucking her hips and squirming between Syndra's legs.

"Haa haa," the mage half-moaned, exhilaration awakening her every nerve. The rough scales kissed her thighs and nether lips, making her body tingle with the wonderful friction. She couldn't believe how each scale felt so slightly different, their bumpy ridges pressing into her in just the right ways.

"I can feel all of you," Syndra panted, throwing her loose hair over her shoulder. "So hard and strong and … mine."

Rocking a little harder, their breasts jiggled with each energetic thrust. She felt the effects of every throaty moan and shudder Shyvana let out, those hard muscles twitching madly between her legs. Her gaze fell to Shyvana's thin lips as a half-intelligible reply came out, the dragon's eyes squeezed tight as she pressed back into the mattress.

Syndra dragged her hips back, settling on top of Shyvana's pubic mound and grinding against the dragon as she sought her moaning mouth. As their lips touched, the dragon’s slitted eyes snapped open and looked back at her, Syndra suckling and biting in an attempt to capture the dragon’s long, tenacious tongue. There was no gentleness to their kiss, both of them vying for control as their tongues attacked and retreated in turn, Syndra's lipstick smearing upon both their lips. A thin trail of spittle hung between them as they broke apart for air, neither one of them caring.

A shudder rolled down Syndra’s back as she found the perfect angle, a particular patch of Shyvana's scales jolting her clitoris and electrifying her hips. There, oh, right there!

"Hey, Sssyndra," Shyvana rumbled, a fire burning beneath her cheeks. "Together. Let'sss go together."

"Say it again," Syndra squeezed between breaths. "Say my name."

Shyvana's firm hands tensed and squirmed between their chests, the flimsy silken shawl coming undone and allowing her hands to slip free. Unbound, she quickly slid them around Syndra’s back and pulled her downwards, until their chests were pressed flat against each other. Hearts pounding as their sweat-slicked breasts sliding together deliciously, she craned her neck and settled her lips near Syndra’s ear.

"Sssyndra," the dragon purred, rolling the word on her tongue, her voice reverberating all the way down her lover’s back.

With the strongest of pleasures swirling in the sovereign's mind, she tried to speak, her whole body beginning to seize and constrict. "Shy—ah, ahh—vana!"

Syndra’s thighs clenched desperately around Shyvana with a mind of their own, driven by the feverish need to feel every inch of draconic skin against her naked self. The dragon’s voice rumbled in the back of her mind, crying out with such womanly pleasure that it left her own legs weak and wobbly. Her body rocked in blissful spasms, each writhing squirm made tantalizingly worse by her lover’s rough scales and firm muscles. Clutched to Shyvana, she sought her mouth with ravenous kisses, sinking into her strong hold as far she could.

Shuddering with wondrous pleasure, she pried herself away from the dragon’s lips, the need to breathe overcoming her. She tugged herself free with a parting moan, panting and drinking in the smouldering air, warmed by the fires of her draconic lover. Their holds loosened, but they kept each other in their arms, seeking reprieve without separation.

"Haa—haha," Syndra sputtered in laughter, a lopsided smile on her face as she fell onto her side. The sheer sensation of sliding across the dragon's body wrung a gasp and shuddering on its own. One rough hand, looped under her, found her butt and squeezed possessively. Pressing further into it, Syndra looked up and met Shyvana's flushed face.

"By my father'ss blood, woman, you're amazing," the dragon lavished, nuzzling into her lover's head of white hair. "I've never felt anything like that. Thossse ssspheresss of yourss. All that power sshaking between my legss ..."

“Shaking?” Syndra blinked. "Ohh, yes—that," she drawled, her glowing eyes narrowing mischievously as she cast her free hand downward and slid it over Shyvana's flushed loins. Her fingers cupped her lover's mound, drawing a sharp inhale and shudder from Shyvana. "Yes, they have that effect. There is nothing anywhere that makes you feel quite so full."

"I noticed," Shyvana intoned with a wry smirk.

"But you have not yet felt the best part," Syndra teased, curling her fingers suggestively.

"I think I have."

"No, here. Roll over, I will show you."

Shyvana eyed her bemusedly and rose up, hugging the Ionian. She smirked at Syndra's wide-eyed stare and planted a wet, hard-but-sweet kiss on her lips. It ended as quickly as it began, leaving Syndra a little dazed as she untangled the two of them.

"Sit up on your knees a little," Syndra sputtered, grasping for words. "Now, bend over and lean onto your elbows.”

Shyvana curled her brow and looked back at her with a questioning glance, but complied, lowering herself onto her hands and knees.

“Yes—now, spread your legs open. Keep your hips level and sprawl forward until your belly tightens up," Syndra grinned, knowingly.

The dragon crawled a bit further up on her arms and pushed her chest into the mattress, lifting her butt up into the air. Her reaction betrayed the spheres’ intended effects immediately; eyes widening, her legs quivered and she let out a guttural moan, a rolling tremble shaking her from her head to her toes.

"It … it got tighter," Shyvana panted, her crimson hair strewn messily about her shoulders.

"You can do so much more with them. Sitting, walking, stretching ..." Syndra rattled off a few more examples, earning an airy laugh.

"And you know all thisss how?"

"I have had a lot of time to myself at night," she said, winking. Her hand slid down over Shyvana's backside, stopping just over the tailbone and rubbing in large circles, sneaking a grope when it could. "Now, focus down there and try to push."

"Try to what?" Shyvana asked, blinking incredulously.

"Push the spheres out. Feel them inside, use your muscles to guide them."

She's probably never done anything similar to this before, Syndra mused, pausing at Shyvana’s dubious expression. "Hmm. Hold on."

Piece-by-piece, she unclasped her jewelry, slipping each off with practiced grace and waving them away. Then, rolling her fingers, she grabbed the dragon greedily and sunk her fingertips into her the firm cheeks of her rear. To Syndra’s satisfaction, Shyvana pushed back into her hands, balling the bedsheets in her fists as she commanded the spheres deeper inside.

“B-blood and thunder,” she swore, “Why are they moving like that?”

The sovereign laughed at the dubious look Shyvana shot from over her shoulder and eased her control of the tiny orbs, permitting them to roll free in the dragon's quivering pussy. "Are they not wonderful? Even if you grip down on them tightly, they resist—bumping and sliding around as if they had a mind of their own.”

A mighty shudder rocked its way through the dragon, turning her soft gasps of pleasure into a loud cry. She seized quickly, every muscle tightening at once as her toes curled, and eye-catching trembles went through her hips. Knees buckling, Shyvana's legs spread further apart, leaving the quivering dragon flat against the bed and biting her own arm to muffle herself.

Syndra's brow tweaked as she watched one of the orbs come gushing out with a slick pop, its shimmering surface gleaming with Shyvana’s wetness in the dim light. She plucked the magical sphere up from the dampened sheets and eyed it with amusement before flicking it aside, dispelling it in an instant.

"That is only the first one. Two more remain," she sang, drawing a sputtering moan in response. She couldn't help feeling a little giddy at having watched the fierce warrior softened into a kitten, mewling with need. It stroked her pride to know that she had such an effect on Shyvana despite the massive experience difference between them.

Making herself comfortable, Syndra locked her eyes onto the inviting expanse of Shyvana's rear. Her hands glided from the dragon’s ample hips to her firm bottom, fitting each cheek into her palms. There were no 'hard' scales where her hands roamed, only tough skin with the barest hint of roughness.

Such strength, Syndra marveled, squeezing in appreciation. Shyvana's rear kept solid definition no matter what she did, every grope and handful of flesh failing to leave even the slightest impression. Her fingers traced around its edges, following the thin line between cheek and thigh, teasing slowly inwards towards her nether lips.

"Harder," Shyvana growled, scooted backward and presenting herself in needy desperation.

Syndra obliged, digging her fingers deeper into Shyvana’s supple blue skin, encouraged by heartfelt moans and the appreciative sway of her hips. "You do like it rough," the Ionian teased, her eyes falling to Shyvana's glistening womanhood. The outer lips parted just enough that the inner pink was freely showing, throbbing with every beat of the dragon's heart.

I can see why you enjoy this so much, Syndra realized with a blushing chuckle. Darker in color, thin little trails of magmatic veins wormed their way through the dragon's loins. All of them seemed to lead to the parting center of Shyvana's precious place, tempting her to come closer. Biting at her lip, she watched as a thin trickle of wetness escaped her folds, adding to the tantalizing mess.

"F-fuck, thisss iss weird," Shyvana half-muttered. "But sssoo good!" Odd little twitches and spasms worked their way across her body, a rhythmic quivering Syndra knew all too well. The next sphere began its exit, hastened by the first's departure.

"You like it, then," she teased, playfully squeezing her lover's thigh as she eagerly watched the next sphere emerge, peeking out from between the dragon's nether lips. It slipped out and landed right into her waiting hand with a soft plop, just as wet and sticky as the last one.

"I'm almosst afraid to asssk what elsse you can do," Shyvana hissed out, her face pressed into the bedding as she started to laugh. "Fuck me, I-I can't sstop ssshaking!"

"If that is what my dragon wants," the sovereign grinned.

"W-what do you—?" Shyvana gasped, her words faltering as Syndra lifted up her legs with her power, elevating the dragon's loins to nearly eye level.

Scooting closer, Syndra brought her face right up to Shyvana's glistening womanhood. She stared hungrily, feeling its warmth radiating on her skin, a mixture of draconic heat and womanly desire that stirred a heady lust in her head. Then, slowly reaching up, she parted the dark blue outer lips with her fingers and leaned in, pressing her lips against its folds.

A hint of inner softness graced her tongue as it nestled between the rough, yet malleable, folds of the dragon’s pussy. She trailed along the edge of its wet outer lips, licking them completely clean before delving into the treat that awaited her. Warm, wet flesh graced her tongue as she slipped it deeper inside, her mouth tingling in excitement.

Syndra grinned as the dragon began to awkwardly buck against her face, pushing her tongue deeper with each thrust and slurping across Shyvana’s molten core. It shuddered around her, trying to hold her in as deeply as possible and rewarding her with more of the wonderful nectar.

"Don't ssstop!" Shyvana demanded, clutching at the bedsheets. As the dragon bucked and thrusted against Syndra’s mouth, the last sphere rolled inside her wildly.

Syndra quickly slid her fingers to the hood of Shyvana’s clitoris, teasing along its edges in an effort to coax the final orb from its resting place with a light massage. Just as the sphere began to sneak out, the sovereign slid her tongue downward to join her fingers, slowly running the flat of her tongue along the ridge of Shyvana’s hood.

"Oh, fffuck," the dragon growled, sounding more beast than human.

A prickling light tickled the edge of Syndra’s vision and she cocked her head, her brows shooting straight up as she saw the angry, familiar, magmatic lines pulsating through the cracks of her lover’s scales. Their many-veined tendrils snaked underneath the dragon's dark blue skin, bubbling with dangerous anticipation. Recognizing Shyvana was close, Syndra resolved to see it through, coaxing the dragon's core to the explosive peak she knew was just out of reach.

Pure, orgasmic relief exploded from Shyvana’s center as a mighty spasm sent the marble-like sphere gushing out, painting Syndra's nose in a flood of arousal. Every muscle in the dragon’s body seized at once, not even a cry escaping. Heat radiated outward, her veins pulsing with an angry, ominous glow.

All you have to do is let go, Syndra thought, reaching with her free hand to Shyvana's lower back, rubbing encouragingly. The dragon trembled in her hold, her glowing veins growing brighter by the second. In a single, shuddering release, a trembling roar erupted, followed by a bloom of light as pure, liquid flame spewed forth, its fiery crackle joining the cacophony. All at once, the roar ended and the fire sputtered down in an unimpressive puff of smoke.

Sweat rolled off Syndra in waves, the heat nearly unbearable. She stole one last suckle before backing away, dispelling the sphere and letting Shyvana down gently onto the bed. A blackened streak marred the bed cloth, scorched in layers that ran all the way to the edge mattress. She patted out the few remaining smolders, smothering the tiny flames before they could grow any larger. Well, at least it was not my ceiling this time, she grinned, chuckling to herself.

Strange—she tastes better now than I thought before, she mused, wiping her face clean as she watched Shyvana pant from exertion. Sitting back on the bed, she took a moment for her own relaxation, absently pulling the locks of her loose, messy hair into order. She brushed a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and fanned herself, eying her lover.

"I knew you were hot," the sovereign smirked, overly pleased with her own terrible joke. She had expected a laugh, or maybe scorn for such an awful remark.

Not tears.

Her heart tightened in her chest as the soft, choking sound of Shyvana’s sobs rung in her ears. She froze and looked over to find the tearstained scales of the dragon’s face. Sheer dread gripped her heart, paralyzing her thoughts; biting her lip to steady her nerves, she tensed her fists and leaned over on the bed, shaking Shyvana by the shoulders.

“Why are you crying? Hey!”

No answer came.

"Shyvana!"

With a subdued gasp, the dragon’s dazed, golden eyes glanced up to meet her. "W-what?" the dragon choked out, each eye blinking separately.

"Did I hurt you?" Syndra demanded.

“No,” Shyvana said, looking back at her with an utterly confused expression.

"Why are you crying, then?"

"Crying?" Shyvana reached up to her own face and stared at her tear stained fingers in surprise. "No, I ... jussst, one minute. I’ll be fine."

Syndra sat back, crossing her legs. She propped her head on her hand, waiting for her lover's ragged breathing to steady.

"Did I ssscare you?" Shyvana asked.

Letting out a stressed sigh, Syndra ran her fingers through her silvery bangs. "I thought I hurt you."

A reassuring smile spread across Shyvana's face. "No, quite the opposssite," she noted with an air of teasing. She laughed in earnest from the playful slap on her butt and reached head-to-toe in a full body, cat-like stretch, her crimson hair sprawling messily across her shoulders and chest, casting a wild allure to her draconic beauty.

"Hmmph. Dragons!" the sovereign remarked, rolling her eyes with exasperation as she fell over backward on the bed to join her. Relief quashed what remained of her fear, the tension quickly bleeding away as Shyvana grabbed onto her thigh with her rough, scaly hands and crawled halfway on top of her. Cracked magmatic veins bloomed across her cheeks, a draconic blush that still made Syndra smile.

Shyvana leaned down, locks of her red hair spilling onto Syndra's silver. Their noses rubbed past one another, their lips meeting in a sweet, gentle caress. The dragon's hand cupped Syndra's cheek all the while, her thumb running affectionate little circles along it. They parted quietly with a pop of their lips, both fresh with the tasteful reminder of the other.

"I'm ssspent," Shyvana declared, dipping down and burying face into the crook of Syndra's neck.

A bark of laughter erupted out of the sovereign. "Really? Were you not simply warming up?" Syndra looped an arm around her, hugging the hot woman to her in spite of her own sweating.

As they settled down and laid there in contentment, Syndra stared up aimlessly at the ceiling, a trickling of concern nagging at her all the while. She considered keeping it to herself, but the flash of Shyvana’s tear-stained face in her mind urged her to push forward.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Mmm, yesss," the dragon purred, squeezing closer. She snorted amusedly as Syndra's hand squeezed her back. "It'sss been a while, that'ss all."

"But are you, really?"

A minute of silence hung between them, long enough that Syndra began to wonder if she had misunderstood.

"It's nothing."

"Shyvana …"

"Nngh," the dragon grumbled in her throat. Her fingers squeezed at Syndra's soft skin, almost kneading her. "People … they see my ssskin and think I'm sssomething exxotic; a prized little notch to have on their belt."

The sheer venom in her voice sobered the sovereign with frightening quickness. She was half ready to rub her back, but stilled as the next hateful words came.

"The onesss who didn't look at me like that tassste of fear instead when the heat and flame comesss. Maybe they 'understand', until I've burned a hole through a wall or ssscorched their hair. Every time, it's alwayss the sssame."

When the heat rose again, Syndra knew it wasn't from pleasant excitement. She laid her hand on Shyvana's back, rubbing the dragon as she continued.

"Ssso I sstop the fire, I choke it in my throat, even when it hurts me."

"Shyvana," Syndra commanded with her imperious tone, giving the dragon a shake. She met those golden eyes head on, stoic in the face of the roiling hatred a lifetime of cruelty had left scarred in them. "You do not have to worry about that with me."

The dragon stared her down, nose twitching with every deep, rumbling breath she took. Slowly, the creased scowl on her face loosened and the red bleeding into her molten gold gaze receded. A small smile cracked across her thin lips and a dry, almost exhausted, chuckle followed.

"I know."

Syndra blinked, frowning thoughtfully. "You do?"

"I've known ssince we first became friendsss," Shyvana said, smiling more earnestly now. "You know what it'ss like. You're thisss … perfect fucking woman, even when you pissss me off. It pisssess me off just thinking about it, actually."

The horrible tension that worried Syndra disappeared as the dragon's face softened into a dreamy eyed stare she'd never seen before. She finally relaxed into the bedding, hugging Shyvana to her and rubbing her back with all the reassurance she could.

"My woman isss too powerful to be afraid of a little fire," Shyvana teased, reaching her hand between Syndra’s legs and spreading her fingers to cup her womanhood possessively.

Syndra jumped slightly, a thrill of anticipation welling up inside her. She mustered up a look of cool disregard and quirked her brow, looking back at Shyvana. "Am I now?"

"Ssso tall and fair, with big breassstss I jusst want to sssuck all day."

"They are not that special …"

"Are you ssserious?"

Syndra's coy comeback disappeared behind an inhale as a scaled hand grasped her breast, pushing it up and groping all in the same motion. She couldn't help shuddering as her over sensitive nipple rubbed against that rough skin, but it was Shyvana's heated look that made her truly tingle with excitement.

"Maybe I am."

"You won't be when I'm done with you, woman."

{THE END}
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The Sovereign's Darkflame