Rhythan | Dragon BF | Fem x Masc | Part 2
Feminine Human Reader x Masculine Dragon Boyfriend You x He/Him PG-13 for Violenccceee and Swearing Revenge Fantasy, Size Difference, Magic-User Fantasy
Special thanks to the anon who asked about this story—kicked my butt into gear! I hope it was worth the wait!! ... You have continued to be plagued by nightmares, even with your new companionship offering the incredible relief of safety and belonging. You see their pervertedly content faces as they bound and gagged you and left you to die. You keep hearing their saccharine lies that burned your flesh like a dagger being slowly dragged down your neck. You relive these wounds every time you close your eyes...wounds more painful than a dragon’s ever could have. The dragon that never did...and never would have. You sit up fast, gasping as if relieved of a sword that had been plunged into your chest. You’re on the floor of the cavern, curled up in one of the fine, thick fabrics that Rhythan provided at the foot of the giant pile of gold. It must be the middle of the night, as no sunlight shines in. All you can hear is the deep, heavy breathing of Rhythan as he sleeps. Following an unexplainable urge, you stand up and begin walking down the tunnel, clutching the sheet like a cape as it drags behind you. You walk silently toward the entrance, your bare feet used to the cold rock of the mountains by this point. The soft bubbling sound of the waterfall greets your ears as you get closer, and you slowly step your way to the edge of the cliff, looking out at the forest. Even from a distance you can find your village; they’ve kept the bonfire going for days...the one that celebrates your death. You stand and stare, frozen and unblinking, at that little light in the distance. Never did something so warm feel so god damn cold. “Are you not cold, little one?” asks a curious voice from behind you. You glance down at the forest below you, acres of silent pines hundreds of thousands of feet down. You don’t look at him, you don’t move. “Look at them,” you start. “So proud and content of themselves for leaving me, using me as a bargaining chip for a game they never had to play...it disgusts me.” You’re silent for a moment, taking a breath to try and control yourself. “But...how can I blame them? Wouldn’t I have done the same thing? And the people, they were lied to...right? And, I shouldn’t bother about the kinds of people who would do something like that but it doesn’t change at all how I feel...and it feels like I’m dissolving in acid.” “Those that lack empathy do not learn from death,” he says. “Even the ones at their own hands.” “They don’t care...” you whisper to yourself. “...they don’t care...” “But who are the ones that sought your pain?” He asks. “Who are the ones that poison your heart?” Your throat cracks: “It sickens me that they even dared to touch me!” The tears pour, and the cape drops from your shoulders. The wind chill is biting, but soon there is a warm sigh of air at your back, and your cape is dropped back over you. You turn around and see Rhythan’s dark form half-hidden in darkness, his glowing green eyes the only salient feature at this time of night. Before, this sight would have frightened you, but now it was the only thing that could comfort you. Even cast in shadows, he exuded dignity. “You are allowed justice,” he says. ”Few are offered the chance...and fewer take it.” You look down contemplatively for a moment, and then look back up at him with conviction: “I want them to fear the power of a vengeful seamstress.” Rhythan chuckles, seemingly impressed: “So it is settled, then. Come, let us rest and tomorrow, we’ll plan.” He scoops you up into his palm gently—you’ve gotten used to the drill—and he takes you back down the tunnel
“I’m sorry you have to deal with an emotional wreck,” “It’s the reason I like you, my dear.” “Th—thanks?” “You have a heart of true, unbridled emotion,” he says. “I have never encountered anything quite like that.” “I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of though,” you admit. “It hardly seems helpful at all.” “Everything has its usefulness,” he simply says. “I’m too tired for your wisdom, Rhythan,” you sigh, lying back in his palm and looking at him upside-down. He snorts hot air at you and you can’t help but laugh. “Ah, I wonder how much magic that sound holds,” he says, you barely catching it as you fall back asleep against the warm scales of his palm. ...... The next time you wake up, you go back to the waterfall with an armful of old books that tell you of different magics. It is now cold enough that the water has frozen over, and you are glad that you took the time to fabricate some new clothes from the textiles in Rhythan’s stash. “But can anyone do this stuff?” you murmur to yourself. “Can I do magic, if I just say these incantations or do these hand motions? I’d rather not have to have a sack full of random items required for these spells...and they’re so old, would they even work? Did they ever work?” After several different attempts of spells of all kinds, you stop and look at all the different tomes set around you, a vein in your temple pinching from stress. Nothing had worked, and the only effect from any spell you had cast was a cramping hand, oh, and the headache in your temple. Rhythan returns from his hunt with a deer and a few more bushes of berries. He steps around the pool to where you are studying behind the waterfall and sets the deer to the side, licking off some of the blood from his jaw. “Had some luck hunting?” you ask him, happy for a break. “Quite,” he says. “And you, my dear?” “I can give myself a headache apparently,” you say with a soft laugh. “You wouldn’t happen to know any magic, would you, Rhythan?” He lays down beside you with a grunt: “I do not believe Draconic magic and Human magic are even compatible...and human spellbooks are often way too small and delicate for me to handle. “What I know about our magic is that its inherent, and different species of dragons are equipped with different magical abilities, but it is not always obvious. I have red scales, so I have heat and fire-related abilities...but depending on my lineage, I could have had different colored scales with the same powers...or the same-colored scales and different powers.” “Hmm,” you hum. “Red suits you.” “I guess I’ll keep it then,” he replies, voice lilting with amusement. You smirk down at the book you are flipping through and then look up at him: “Rhythan, what was your family like? Do dragons have families like humans do?” The pause he takes before answering is subtle, but you can almost feel his mood change, like a gate dropping down to protect a castle. “Rhythan?” “I did not have one,” he says. “So I do not know.” You put a hand on him: “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.” Rhythan looks at you with soft eyes: “You did not cause this, little flower.” You give him a small smile before a sound of cracking interrupts the moment. Rhythan puts a hand in front of you as both of you look over at the frozen pool that is growing white cracks that spread out like a ripple of lightning and crawl up the frozen pillar until all the ice shatters, leaving a warm freshwater pool and a flowing waterfall. “Did...it get...warmer? While you were out?” Rhythan drops his hand: “I think that your studying has paid off, young magician.” You stare at him and then back at the pool as he turns to take his kill into the cave, flicking you with his tail. “H-hey!” He turns to look back at you—some of the deer’s limbs poking out of his mouth as he carries it—and gives you a goading expression. What are you gonna do about it?
You start jogging to catch up to him: “Hey! I could turn you into a frog if you’re not careful!” Rhythan glances at you with a raised eyebrow. I’d like to see you try!
...
A couple days of preparation: practicing, testing, sewing, and organizing.
That morning you give a warm smile to Rhythan, pull up the hood on your cloak, and start walking.
Although it was the only time you had made the trip, you knew the way well enough from watching the forest from the mountain. And you had a feeling in your gut that you would be safe.
After everything, that was good enough for you. And really, the walk through the woods was a stabilizing kind of tranquility.
As you step onto the familiar dirt path that leads to your old town, you pull your hood forward even more to shroud your face. The townspeople start to notice the ominous approaching stranger and begin to whisper to themselves, some racing ahead to tell others. You notice all of it, but you hold yourself dignified and do not quicken your pace to satisfy their desire for more.
“Look at the detailing on the cloak...”
“....never seen a design like that before...”
“...far traveler, perhaps? It bothers me to why are they alone...no one travels through thick forest unguarded! The horror!”
“I may not be wealthy, but I know authentic gems when I see one! Must be royalty—!”
“Don’t be foolish, a royal, psh! Coming here? Alone? You must be absolutely—-“
“Shh! She’s right there!”
By the time you reach the town square, the mayor and her son are already waiting outside of their house to confront you, but you stop at the still-burning bonfire in the center of the square instead of paying them any mind.
The mayor’s son takes initiative: “You there! What business do you have stirring the townspeople with your presence? I demand you show your face at once!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely...”
You grasp the edges of your hood and carefully reveal your face to the people that have gathered around—staring directly at the mayor’s son as you do. You watch as it takes him a second to recognize who he is looking at, and his hardened exterior gives way to wide, fearful eyes. Scattered gasps from the villagers reveal their collective shock. Someone shouts your name from behind a wall of people.
“What is the meaning of this! Imposter!” he shouts, making his way toward you and drawing his sword.
“Surprised I’m not dead? I thought you would be, since you tried so hard to kill me...even going as far as to kidnap me and lie to the villagers.”
“Silence!” He shouts, raising his sword. “What sort of trickery!”
“Are you upset that the dragon frightened you so? Were a few sacrifices enough to make you feel like a hero?”
Two bodies drop from the sky and into the clearing: the two guards that had accompanied him on his quest to stop the dragon, untouched besides the many puncture wounds that adorn their armor.
Some of the villagers shriek in panic but one of them shouts above them: “Look! It’s the arm! The one that he lost! Right in the grip of his fellow knight!”
The mayor comes forward, trying to protect her son: “Can’t you see this is a trick! If it weren’t for him we’d all be burnt to ash from that blasted dragon!”
A thunderous roar shakes the world, and Rhythan comes crashing down onto the mayor’s house, reducing it to rubble. People scream in terror, but Rhythan does not make another move.
“Ah, yes, that blasted dragon that kills for fun...” you start, eyeing your companion, who lies down and folds his hands patiently, doing his best to look as harmless as a large fire-breathing thing can. “It’s almost laughable, you were so afraid of a dragon, when you should’ve been afraid of a witch.”
“You…” she spits, pointing a derisive finger at you. “...bring this monster here, and you have the nerve to blame me for protecting MY FUCKING TOWN!?”
“The town was safer when you were not a part of it...the only monster here is you,” you say firmly, feeling the vile words on your tongue.
“Filthy, lying harlot,” the mayor says, pushing herself in front of her son. “You dare think that yourself better than your superiors just because you give up your body as freely as a martyr! You would’ve been lucky to serve as carrion with a body as dry and hollow as yours!”
You glance over at Rhythan, who is tensing up.
“Dry...Hollow...” you whisper, noticing the feeling of your feet on the ground. “Is that it?”
You feel yourself smirk like you just thought of the best insult: “Wow, I’m a little disappointed...that’s all you got?”
“What’re you——“ she starts, only to choke on her words, coughing and hitting her chest as if to pound them out of her. She starts to look a little more old and withered.
“Being tied to a tree with no food or water, left to die, really makes one thirsty...dehydrated, even...” you start, staring at the woman that allowed her son to abuse you. “But I can’t....”
Her lips go dry and cracked.
“Even imagine...”
Her body thins, skin going dry.
“What it would be like...”
The mayor coughs out dust, and her body grows brittle.
“To be...”
She falls to her knees and gasps like a fish out of water.
“As hollow and heartless a person as you...”
She collapses to the ground, a skeleton as dry and barren as a field in the winter.
“You——!“ the son swings his sword at you with a desperate ferocity in his eyes, but his sword does not strike true—for the blade’s metal drips to the ground like warmed butter, and he is left with only a hilt.
“The fuc—“ Rhythan slams him to the ground with a claw, caging him in and then dragging him through the dirt, the son shouting as he does. Rhythan then holds him up, his grasp not easing up in the slightest.
You walk up gently towards the person that tied you up and left you to die, held strong by the dragon he was so afraid of, but not before picking up the remnants of the mayor’s body—which was as light as a dried corn husk—and toss it into the bonfire.
“Y—you...fuckin’ cunt...” he sputters. “You’re nothing!”
“You must be even weaker than I thought then,” you tell him. “If a nothing like me bested someone like you.”
“You...you think they’ll listen to you after all this?” He scoffs. “You’re a dumber bitch than I—ugh!”
Rhythan squeezes a little tighter to shut him up. You walk right up to this asshole’s face, smiling angelically.
“You think I care about this town?” You tell him with a whisper. “You think I care about what the people here think of me now?”
You grab his face: “Y’know, I was upset at first about you leaving me to be a sacrifice against my will, but actually what I hated the most was the fact that you even believed you had the right to touch me...”
You squeeze his face a little tighter, a dark purple rash beginning to spread out from where you grabbed him.
“What’re you…” he coughs. “What’re you doing!”
You release his face, the purple rash giving way to black, crumbling ash that fell from his face like lobs of coal. He screams as the rash spread and his skin and clothes become scorched like an overcooked pastry. Rhythan then throws him onto the bonfire to join his mother, setting the fireplace ablaze with an angry roar, disintegrating everything in that circle to black powder.
You place a hand on Rhythan’s side, telling him that you were ready to go, but instead of holding you in his claws like usual, he sets you onto his back, right between his wings. You look down at the frozen and awe-stuck crowd below you that emits no sound, and say: “I never want to see any of you ever again, understood? Now actually go and make something of yourselves.”
Rhythan takes off without waiting for a response from the villagers, just as you planned...
It wasn’t your town anymore; their everyday matters did not concern you.
Not anymore.
As you are taken above and beyond the clouds, you can’t help but cry out in victory!
“Woohoooo!!! Rhythan!! We did it!!” You shout, putting your hands in the air and feeling the currents play with your fingers. “And I didn’t throw up once!!”
He glances back at you with pride in his eyes: “Do not jinx yourself while you are riding me!”
You laugh, and you laugh without heaviness.
...
You return home—that’s what it was now—and Rhythan glides right through the waterfall while you are on his back, completely soaking you.
“Hey!!” you cry, wiping the water from your eyes.
Rhythan circles his main treasure pile and lands softly on it. You roll right off of him and into the pile of gold coins, your cloak wrapping tightly around you.
“Rhythan! We did it!” you say, sitting up fast.
“It was all you, little magician,” he insists. “It was your bravery that let you complete what you set out to do.”
“I guess, but you helped!”
He snorts hot air at you and lays his head down as if to rest. You clamber up to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waking him.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, though,” you say, eyes filling with tears.
“Thank you,” you whisper into his scales. “Thank you so much.”
His neck moves under you and his head looks down at you with what you can only tell to be regret.
“I wish you did not have to lose your old treasures, little one.”
“My old treasures...have no more value to me,” you promise him. “And, don’t you know I have found a better one?”
“Something amongst these old things?”
“Yes, even amongst thousands of worthless gold coins and cut gemstones and century-old artifacts...” you tease, looking around in the pile for something. “Aha! Here it is...but you can’t laugh!”
You hold up something sleek and silver to show him.
“Hmf...a silver plate? Is that all?”
“You gotta look closer!”
“The object remains the same.”
You angle the plate a bit so his reflection is displayed.
“It’s you, dummy!”
His tail sweeps your legs out from under you and you land on your back on the pile gold coins, still clutching the sterling tray.
A warm laugh beats from Rhythan’s chest: “You have chosen well.”
You sit back up just in time to see his full magnificent wingspan and watch him fly effortlessly up to his alcove to rest. But instead of enjoying the splendor, you notice something that you hadn’t before: a large scar that tears across Rhythan’s left wing.
But you decide to leave that question for another day.
