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This is a mini-series I'll be working on between my other stories. As the title says, it features dragons, rogues, and a plethora of other things. Read, critique, or comment. Anything works, but if you really want to make this kitty happy, do all of them. More comments=better motivation=better and faster uploads!

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Arys crouched under one of the keep's windows. A small garden with three alleys spread before her. Only one wound past the trees and up to the huge tower rising at its end. Stone dragons roared and spread their wings towards each corner of the world. They spiraled around the tower all the way to the top, where a full bodied dragon curled around the Eternal Flame, crest of Engvir the First Ruler.

Arys couldn't care less about him. The full moon revealed it, just as it revealed the one sentry patrolling the otherwise empty pathway. She took a deep breath, released it, then breathed in again. Her shivers lessened, but did not stop. Nor would they, until she'd be past the Great Walls.

She picked an arrow from her quiver and held it between two fingers. With her other hand, she uncorked a vial from her Mageoil belt and coated the arrow's tip with its translucent contents. A sizzle came, followed by ephemeral swirling flames. When they faded, Arys notched the arrow, aimed at the guard, and released the string.

"Agh," the guard yelled. He grabbed his knee, square face scrunched with pain as he tried to pull out the arrow. Two feeble tugs, and he collapsed.

Arys waited for his thrashing to stop, for the other patrol, or for her frenzied heartbeats to subside. None of those happened.

Why? Was it Father? Her guild? Both should have sent their men by now. Yet her first and only victim was an imperial patrol too fat to even run.

A gust of wind crept through the narrow gap of the window.

Arys took a deep breath. Another arrow already rested between her fingers, firm against the bowstring as she looked to the right. Nothing. Left. Nothing.

She fastened the bow at her back, replaced her arrow with a full metal one, and picked the rope from her satchel. She wove one end through the loop at the base of the arrow, then threw it under the window.

What if the window isn't narrow enough? Her mind protested despite the arrow's superior length. Arys did not wait for the answer. She stepped out on the window's ledge, hurled the rope down on the grass, and began her descent.

Her palms burned when her feet found the ground. She fell to her knees, scouting for the nonexistent patrol, before slinking through the garden.

She went around the sleeping pile of meat and dashed to meet the twin doors of the looming tower. The wood felt frigid on her bare hands. Arys pushed. The wood creaked lazily, revealing a narrow hall. As soon as she stepped inside, Arys coughed. The tower's inhabitants responded in kind with screeches and growls. Smaller cities had no separate towers for their dragons. Only these towering stables. The air was thick and damp with the smell of manure that Arys had to breathe through her mouth.

Arys stifled a second cough on her way out. Her stomach roiled at the prospect of returning to that dreadful place, but the guard stirring on the alley gave her no choice. She had to drag him inside, least more patrols stumbled upon him. His breath was shallow and uneven, courtesy of the oil she used. A body only served to stir the dragons into a frenzy and alert every guild of an outlaw.

Arys turned her stare away from the guard and drew her bow. No caretakers slept in the towers after midnight, but some had the habit of passing out from either wine or exhaustion. Tonight, Arys was fortunate. She stepped out on the hay littered stone, her booted footfalls barely making a sound. Two halls opened in front of her, one ending with a small door. The other led to the stairs. Arys picked that one. She traversed the torch-lit hall until another iron-wrought door appeared on her left.

Arys dug into her pouch. Her fingers still felt numb from the cold. She gripped and prodded between bottles and flasks. There.

The key rattled the lock until it gave way with an excited click. Arys stilled her breath, took another look around and entered. The stairs were dark and slippery, and only the briefest of lights reached the bottom. Arys sought the support of the slimy walls to make her ascent. Each step fell in rhythm with the thumping beats in her chest.

Arys stopped between the third and the fourth floor, panting. Tilting her head behind, she eyed the spiraling stair. The AshTails and GreenPaws dwelling below her made better mounts than what she was after. She only had to open one door, jump on a dragon's back, and guide it out of its den.

She considered the thought until it turned sour with all the flaws she found within those inferior species.

Placing a leg on the next step, she continued her ascent. The top revealed a wide, circular room. Torches decorated every wall, placed in worn iron supports rather than the traditional stone dragons. Old tower indeed. No dragon establishment after the Ascent was built without the Order's rules and emblems in mind.

Arys walked around, blinking. Tiredness was catching up with her. The name of the Lords was carved on each door, along with the dragon's age and breed. She barely made out what they said. Wind crept between the tower's pillars, chilling her meat. The torches flickered, pushed by the hungering darkness. The moon rose above tall towers and humble dwellings alike. From this height, Elindra'thor looked like the embers of a deceased bonfire. Arys made a full circle and leaned against the central pillar, cursing.

"All males. Suits my luck, I guess." She was lucky to be here, surrounded by dragons and their growls. After killing four rogues and silencing three guards with the DreamBrew in one of the most crowded trading places of The Empire, she was lucky.

Lucky to be alone with a dragon of her choosing.

She shuffled towards the crowned dragons decorating the door. They bore swords in their paws and spiked shields on their wings. Twin Wyrms. Lord fatty's pets.

"Find a flea ridden horse to carry that fat arse of yours from now on," Arys said.

With a push, Arys entered the den. Straw and leaves whispered quietly under her steps. She met horns, closed eyelids, and two nostrils that flared with each breath. A long neck stretched behind, splayed on two ivory clawed paws. Arys cupped her hands. Male or not, he looked like any ColdWing she ever met. She approached, taking in the soft shade of the dragon's folded wings. They had the color of the sky, but not quite.

"Pssss."

The dragon blinked, revealing two flaming eyes. He was beautiful, just like her Cloud. Arys' breath caught when their eyes met. Coal slits narrowed into large diamonds as the dragon fixated her. It snorted once, then lifted its horned head. Arys reached for its snout. It was warm and welcoming under her touch. The dragon sniffed, licked her hand once, then gently pushed its nose under her palm. Arys smiled. The dragon's scales looked like cobalt in the dim torchlight.

"Bad timing?"

The dragon answered with a growl. Wings flared briefly, dispersing the cerulean mist surrounding its form.

"Probably?"

It curled its tail around its front legs. He licked the tip of his snout, then looked back at the two legged invader. A short growl escaped its throat. It was curt, almost like a cough. Good. He was only slightly irritated.

Arys bounded over the piles of bedding. She had to earn its trust, and quick. Guards could happen upon the tower at any moment. Splash! Coldness hugged her boot, but it was the squelch and the softness that made her cringe.

"Eugh." What good were caretakers if they didn't clean the droppings? She ignored the sour smell, but not the dragon. Leaning his head, he started sniffing.

"Not there," Arys cupped its head, stroking the scales with vigorous motions. They were smooth, warm, and slightly slippery to the touch. The dragon whimpered, pushing his nostrils between her breasts. Arys pulled him closer, sighing at the delightful warmth traveling down her belly. She rewarded the dragon with scratches below its jaw, around its ears and horns. Fingers expertly moved between scales, creating soft circles paired with quick, dashing strokes. The dragon's whimpers rose a pitch higher, turning into soft yelps. Teeth tugged at her leathers and furs, accompanied by a very warm and slippery tongue.

"Do your thing dragon, but do it fast." Arys patted him between the two horns curving behind his angular head. Murderous thoughts left her, along with that pestering shivering. Her sole thought resided with Cloud, inside the Dragon's Roost, probably in one of those damp, dark caverns they called pens where she had been taken to be bred.

Arys sighed. Her new male licked her neck, demanding more affection. She went around him, sliding a hand along its muscular shoulder. Moisture oozed between the scales, making them slippery to the touch. The aura coalescing around the dragon became bright like a winter morning. It smelled of ice, snow, and dragon. Arys bit her lip in frustration. Her touch belonged to Cloud, not to a horny male.

"Most men are brutes," Arys said, dropping between the dragon's forepaws. Claws surrounded her on either side. Curved and pointy, they were always surprisingly clean. She caressed a paw when the male began licking and nipping at her hair. Arys slapped his snout, earning a soft snarl in return. It wasn't aggression, nor discomfort as the dragon's eyes glimmered playfully.

"They don't know where to touch," she tightened her grip, climbing the creature's serpentine neck. "Or how to touch."

Whimpers and yelps were her reward. The dragon pawed, nipped and left her arms moist with saliva. Arys tried keeping the claws away. She succeeded, until the dragon flapped its massive wings. Hay rose around her like a storm. She shut her eyes, groaning.

"Don't," she slapped him on the snout. "Stay still."

The dragon yelped and rolled on his side, kicking at the air. Arys ducked between the feeble strikes and sought refuge near the beast's belly. He could still get her thanks to an overly long neck, but claws could hardly reach her. Arys blocked a few strikes. She grabbed the dragon's muscular flank when a protrusion attracted her attention.

She sketched a smile. She had Cloud since she passed the trials, and she loved her. She knew every scale on her hide, her large glimmering eyes, and the softness of her tongue. Such intimate knowledge offered solace, yet thoughts often led her imagination to males and their particular anatomy. Her heart always quickened its beats when she fantasized about mating. She wanted to see it. Words spoke of how graceful and beautiful the coupling was. The dragons played with each other, testing the strength and endurance of their future mates. Her Cloud mated every year. It was the only time the two spent separated from each other, but only High priests and caretakers were allowed inside the roosts. The Anointed. Arys tried to anoint them with her arrows the first time they took Cloud away, but father intervened. He had dragged her away like a sack of potatoes.

Thanks to him, she was still free to roam as she wants. To think as she likes. And to touch as she pleases. Her cheeks flooded with blood as she eyed the member. It rose like a blunt spear between the dragon's flanks. Thicker than her arms, it was, and throbbed harder than her thumping heart.

Arys bit her lip. She wanted to touch it. Was it warm and slippery, like the dragon's scales? Was it soft, or rough? And how did it look? From here, it only resembled a misshapen stump.

"No," she rose, nails digging into her clenched fists. "No, we already bonded." She coiled an arm behind the dragon's horns and kissed its head. "I pleasured you more than I do myself."

Pleasure. Father would froth if he ever heard of it. He always was an intellectual, placing cold logic before feelings and desires. Those fat priests agreed with him well enough. They took his coin, slurped his words, and stroke his cock whenever he pierced an unlawful hole.

Arys shook her head. The guards. She couldn't loiter. She pushed and slapped the dragon's hide until he took the hint. Shifting on his belly with a growl, he craned his head, blinking at his assailant.

"I pleasured you," she poked between his nostrils. "And for that, you will fly me away from here."

Though she had no saddle, Arys found a comfortable place at the base of the creature's neck. Pushing her legs against the dragon's sides, she grabbed a neck spike with both hands and shouted a command.

"Endra neras vos."

The dragon turned his head and stretched a wing. He licked the membrane twice, then busied himself with a paw.

"Flaghar halir."

He raised his head, blinking.

Arys pet him between the nostrils. "Just fly. Fly!"

She kicked her legs. "Fl--"

A long growl shook the stone around her. The ground switched places as she fell on the side. A shadow descended upon her, and Arys avoided being crushed by the span of several fingers. The dragon growled and kicked and rolled, snapping playfully.

She bit her lip, scratching the back of her burning neck. "It isn't working." A tail slap proved just her point. Groaning in pain, Arys jumped over the dragon's neck. She avoided a slimy tongue and fell flat on that soft, warm belly. She extended a hand towards the member.

And grabbed. The prolonged exposure left it cold, but the dragon's hiss spoke otherwise. Arys rubbed the tip, feeling each crevice, barb, and ridge. The flesh bulged, throbbing wildly in her grip.

"Still. Remain-" She pushed that snout away. "Still."

He didn't. Hind paws clenched their claws as they met above the exposed flesh. The tail swept and hit the ground, and frantic growls left the creature's throat. Arys gulped. Heat erupted from her like a volcano, stopping between her hind legs. The dragon wasn't the only one aroused. She was awfully slimy down there ever since she stepped inside the pen.

She stroke the member swiftly, one hand kneading the tip while the other squeezed the base. More came out, wide as a fist and thick as stone. The dragon licked the tip twice before Arys pushed him away.

"Leave it."

His tongue stubbornly lapped at the barbed tip. Arys head butted him, but the motion worked against her. She dropped on the ground, chest moist with the ColdWing's liquid excitement.

"Dragon!"

He didn't even look at her. Arys collected herself and slapped the creature's neck with all her might. The shock numbed her hand. She tried again, to no avail. The mist and the scent almost choked her. It filled the small den, flaring brighter than any torch. Arys shielded her eyes and placed a hand on the dragon's member. The spasm shook her off her feet.

"Wha-" She stroke around the engorged tip when another spasm flared the barbs. It was so warm...and wet. Arys gritted her teeth, tense with arousal. Was he....was he about to-

The dragon's flanks quivered as the first wave of seed splashed against its snout. He tensed, releasing a shattering roar.

Arys fell, ears quivering with unexpected noise. She took a deep breath, feeling her own pleasure burst from its fetters. Not now! Not when she felt so weak! A hand rushed between her thighs, catching the first droplets of slime just before gooey warmth splashed on her face. Arys coughed. What was-- Where-

She coughed, spitting the bitter liquid between jaws clenched with the cost of climax. Arms rushed to her face, but they felt too weak to stop the unrelenting assault. Jets came one after another, hitting lower with each splash. Too warm! Seed trickled between her legs, rich and burning with heat. The peak hit her harder than ever. Muscles clenched, pushing all that heat and pent-up lust from her lower belly.

"Ghah aaaah!" She moaned, falling on her back as pleasure consumed her. Three quick throbs, and it was over.

Arys spat and cleaned her face. Dragon seed tasted like the sea and the creatures living in it. She got up on her knees, coughing. That thing got everywhere! Noticing the movement, the dragon approached his snout. He eagerly cleaned her with broad strokes of tongue.

"There is no stronger bond than mating," Arys whispered, stroking his snout. Dragons formed lasting bonds with their lords, but every wall had a breach. Arys hoped she was right. The Order would hunt her down for defiling one of Dragon's hatchlings. If mating was kept a secret, how would spilling a male's seed fare?

Arys preferred not to think. She frolicked around, kicking hay and leaves and dust around the pearlescent puddles. No one could know.

She climbed on the dragon's back, trembling with cold and apprehension. She had to fly away. Somewhere warm, preferably. The first command left her lips.

The dragon flared his wings, head aiming at the sky. He roared his approval, then turned towards the den's aerie. He clawed at the wood until a sky-blue mist pushed the steel doors open. Arys tightened her grip. The fall pushed deep into her stomach, creating knots and twists. She held her breath. Within a few beats of the wing, the dragon steadied his flight path.

"There," she grabbed the spike behind his horns. "Towards Engvir's forest."

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So how was it? Let me know in the comments below. Your suggestions might impact the course of the story. Who is the father? What course would the action take? Feel free to share your ideas!

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