"WHO DARES INTRUDE IN MY REALM?"
Fantom trembled slightly, though she'd never admit to it. She felt her heart beating quickly. Sweat pooled on her pale forehead. Escaping the town had been a thing of beauty, and had required countless hours of planning and crafting. She had always had a contingency plan, of course, should she be captured. One of her loyal servants had snuck into her prison and replaced Fantom with a fetch - a construct made of twigs and stone, given temporary life by Fantom's magic. She had slipped out of the town while everyone was busy parading around the captured trio and yelling about their new permanent warning to other rabble-rousers.
Of course, this had taken money - cold, hard specie - and lots of it. She had used up her entire fortune. Fantom didn't have two gold pieces to clink together.
And thus, she had decided to raid the realm of a dragon. Go big, she thought to herself, or go home.
The dragon's white scales made the shining pile of gold glow all the more bright. As it pawed around its mountain of treasure, long trails of pieces collapsed and trickled around the chamber like a mound of sand. To this dragon, though, it might as well have been sand.
She twiddled her fingers and summoned energies from the room. Magical words passed between her lips as she stared at a page in her tiny spellbook. Her voice grew louder and she threw it across the room.
"It is I, Fantom! Your new mistress! Grovel before me, and I might let you live."
Fantom slumped, out of breath. Such a spell took the wind out of her!
The dragon was pawing closer.
"Mistress? That's interesting," said the dragon. "I don't see any mistress here. In fact, I don't see you at all. But if you were to present yourself, I'd see a very interesting, valuable little treasure. Gold and gems are pleasant, but it's been so long since I've had a visitor."
She ran, sprinting across the stone floor of the chamber and up a pillar. The dragon continued to slink along the floor like a serpent, looking left and right for the intruder. Fantom locked her eyes on a glass case half-buried in a pile of copper coins. Within it lie a ruby-red staff - her target, and an item that she could use to rebuild her fortune. Forget filling her bags with coins - that staff would be quite the find!
The dragon was pawing about now, knocking treasure with his tail and paws alike. He was searching inside small hobbit-sized crevasses and muttering spells of his own. "Where are you, little treasure?"
Fantom grabbed a pile of coins and screamed a spell. They traveled at blazing speed through the air, impacting the dragon's hide like bullets. He groaned as they plinked off his scales, denting and bruising his belly. His grunts of pain echoed throughout the whole chamber.
She took the chance. Jumping from the pillar and tumbling through a soft spot of luxurious tapestries, Fantom began sprinting her way up the mountain of treasure. She hopped over coins piled atop rugs atop swords atop wooden chests. She channeled the training that Cynthia had shown, leaping from a stable wooden barrel of wine to another gold sarcophagus to what looked like a circular chest -
...and fell flat on her face. It had been a circular shield, and it had caused her to faceplant into a hard pile of copper coins. She groaned and stumbled to her feet, but didn't get far when she felt a firm claw grasping around her body. She yelped; massive talons were closed around her breast. If he clutched any tighter, she'd be crushed in his grasp.
"There you are! My delightful little treasure, you never even introduced yourself. You said you were "Mistress Fantom, yes...?"
*****
She mewled again.
Fantom hadn't seen the dragon's dungeon, but he had taken his time explaining his plans. He seemed quite pleased to have a conversation partner, though Fantom was a bit too intimidated to provide her normal intellectual discussion.
The ninja still had a valuable bounty on her head. Even without it, she was a valuable asset. Powerful spellcasting abilities and a personal magnetism made her valuable to schemers. A sexy, statuesque marble form made her a valuable asset to those with more basic desires. And, for a powerful wyrm, she made a nice counterpoint to the rest of his treasure; pale skin contrasted so nicely with all that metallic shine.
For now, she was hung near the entrance to the dragon's dungeon. She'd be visible to anyone who entered and audible throughout much of his complex. Gentle moans and helpless grunts could echo throughout the chambers if need be. Of course, reaching her would be nearly impossible thanks to brutal minions and evil traps scattered throughout the dungeon. Even so, the possibility of 'rescuing' her would be an irresistible lure for countless adventurers.
Her pose was practically designed to appear as enticing and sexual as possible. Every curve was visible and vulnerable. Her rear and shapely legs practically begged to be molested, jutting out just as she presented her chest.
Her hair and features were hidden behind a splendid hood crafted from gold. It was, as always, a device that combined superior craftsmanship and arcane skills. The leather padding pressed tight against her face, and it made for a thick and multi-layered enclosure. Fantom felt - and truly was - helpless within it. It blocked out all sight and sound that the dragon wished, and for now, that meant everything. Soon, though, he planned on hosting a scintillating conversation with her. Or at least, letting her listen to him drone on about how beautiful she looked and how she'd never again need to go free.
The hood was locked in place with a series of locks unbreakable by mortal hands; no keyhole was visible. Only an arcane password would grant Fantom her freedom. She had to hope that the dragon possessed a good memory.
"Hmmmph. Hnnngh!"
She bucked and wiggled. She'd been dressed while hanging upside-down, and without any visual or auditory cues she could only hope that maybe she could escape by gaining momentum or freeing herself from the bonds. It was quite fruitless, unfortunately. The dragon held her like a pendulum as she rocked back and forth. It was quite a sight; the way that her golden bonds reflected light across the lair made her better than any chandelier or brazier.
The simple fact was that Fantom was a trophy, with the important bits highlighted by fishnets and straps and careful lighting.
The dragon was quite pleased with his newest acquisition. He had no desire to harm or sell or trade her; a pretty little thing like this would be a permanent part of his collection. Fantom had given a particularly pleasing mewl of helpless resignation when he'd explained it.
After a 'dry run' involving a few of his minions, he was quite pleased with his new dungeon. He took her in for the night, letting her hang above the golden hoard as he drifted back to a magical slumber. He rested his head on the gold sarcophagus, dreaming new ideas and evil plans. Perhaps his trophy could use a nice display case...