The dragon had been spotted in the east, toward some hills that were rocky enough for people who didn't know better to call them 'mountains'. Quistis left her chocobos at the village's tiny inn and hoped they would still be there when she got back, otherwise she was going to have to carry the dragon's head all the way back to the Order to prove she'd slain the thing and was worthy of knighthood. Vanquishing some sort of villainous thing was the final requirement in order to become a Holy Knight of the Order of Eden and at eighteen, Quistis was more than ready. She would have been ready at fifteen, except her knight-master was... Well... Frankly speaking, Sir Loire was a bit lazy and hadn't bothered to scout any suitable creatures for his bright young squire to skewer. After waiting very patiently for several years, Quistis had taken it on herself to find a skill-appropriate target, forge Sir Loire's signature on the necessary papers (which was sadly not unusual; Sir Loire hated paperwork and had actually taught Quistis how to sign his name specifically to avoid tedious things), and then equip herself and go off. Now to his credit, Sir Loire had made sure that she'd received all the training necessary to actually dispose of a dragon, so Quistis was sure she could do this without getting maimed or killed. Pretty sure. The reports of the dragon had it small, probably about three times the size of a chocobo instead of ten, but a small dragon was a dragon nevertheless.

After interviewing the villagers for all the details she could get, Quistis set off for the hills in the east long before the sun was due to rise and headed for a cave where several terrified shepherds had sworn they'd seen the creature going in and out of. Since this was a scouting foray, Quistis wore a tunic stained in shifting shades of brown, green, and gray made to blend into the ground and further wrapped her face up in a scarf made of the same material; no sense in letting the sunlight off her hair alert the dragon to her presence. Some of the Order's other female squires cut their hair short but to Quistis it seemed like keeping it short was more work than it was worth, so her hair was down to the middle of her back and twisted up out of her way when she was in the field. When she was done, all that could be seen of her were her eyes and that suited her just fine. Quistis wanted to get as close to the cave as possible to confirm that the dragon was actually there, and once she had done that, she could plan her assault. Years of being squire to an extremely haphazard knight had taught her the value of very careful planning, since relying on Sir Loire to do much of anything was like counting on the sun to set in the west. Not for the first time Quistis wondered if he'd noticed she was gone, or if he'd at least found the note she'd put on top of his journal, under his favorite pen. In the event she died, it would be the least Sir Loire could do to bury her body.

(She hadn't always been so sour on her knight-master. As a child of ten, she'd thought him quite spectacular but then again, he'd been fresh off a beast-killing and all agleam in armor that was beautifully shiny, and Quistis had oh-so-badly wanted to get away from her family of twelve children and totally exhausted parents. Becoming a knight had seemed like a much better option, until she'd realized that Sir Loire's armor gleamed because he tended to run away from conflict and in fact spent most of his days wandering the land and settling disputes between cranky neighbors. More valiant efforts were far and few between. Some of the Order even called Sir Loire cowardly, which made Quistis fume. Didn't he have any consideration for her status? Well, she was not going to be a squire to some laid-back fool of a knight for any longer! This dragon was as good as vanquished.)

The darkness thinned and then lightened with the sky promising a brilliant sunrise to the east. Quistis lay motionless on her stomach underneath a dense berry bush, so still that three rabbits came up to the bush, realized she was there, and ran away so fast that two of them actually kicked her in the side. The rabbits hardly disturbed her calm. She was as still and quiet as deep water, barely even blinking as she kept watch for her quarry, and her discipline served her well when the dragon suddenly appeared.

It was a large dragon, approximately half as long as a block of tight houses in a city, and at the shoulder it was probably two chocobos high. Like most dragons of this region, it was compactly muscled over a skeleton better suited to a deer and its long neck was supple and serpentine. It gleamed like quicksilver, but it had scarlet horns and claws, and the membranes between its wings were a deep red too. It was not a stranger to battle. Scars in silver pocked and crossed its entire body, but there was no mistaking this beast for weak. Quistis's guts trembled. She had seen dragons before and had helped Sir Loire chase one away in a rare heroic moment, but this one was far bigger than that had been. Small, her armored behind! What had the villagers been comparing it to, legends of Bahamut?

Well... Fine. She would have to be more careful, that was all. No straightforward charging in on her war chocobo. She would have to make it sleepy with dragonsbane first and then take off its head while it was fighting off the effects of the weed. There was nothing cowardly about making sure one's victory did not cost one's life; such an overly muscular way of thinking was outdated anyway, and besides, it wasn't like the dragon was going to complain about her lack of honor. But Quistis still worried, now because all the reports had said it was a small dragon, so she'd brought enough dragonsbane for a medium! A large... Well. Fine. She would have to be very, very careful.

The dragon stretched luxuriantly, having no idea that this was going to be its last day on earth. Absently Quistis thought it was a lovely creature, scars and all—the liquid ripple of muscle under its mercury-like hide was hypnotically pretty, and the duller silver scars turned an otherwise blinding shimmer into a glitter instead. Dawn light shone ruby through the thick webbing of its wings, highlighting the intricate tracery of veins inside. Its horns and claws looked like they were made of polished pigeon's blood rubies. By chance it turned and Quistis expected to see a flash of ruby red eyes, but instead there were two points of glowing blue-green under the dragon's horned brow, all the more noticeable for the contrast of the red and silver around it. Quistis had never seen such eyes on a creature before, mundane or mystical... Or human, for that matter.

The dragon was more than three of its own lengths away. Without warning it suddenly flapped its massive wings and leapt off the ground at the same time, blasting dust and debris out from underneath it so hard that from her vantage point, Quistis had to shut her eyes or get blinded by little sticks and stones. The whooshing of wings went further and further away, and when Quistis at last dared to open her eyes, she saw no trace of the dragon on the land or in the skies above her. Shaking from lying still so long and not a small amount of fear, Quistis slowly pushed herself up onto her feet. Dragonsbane might not be enough. And her whip was good—basically a long, serrated, flexible sword in her hands—but the dragon was huge and its hide had looked very thick. This was a much longer shot than she'd anticipated.

Her dedication wavered. There were undoubtedly easier targets out there. Ogres, for example. Or Behemoths. Even human bandits would do if there were enough of them to count as a challenge. Quistis nearly left... Except realizing that she'd have to go back to the Order, back to the Garden's archives, back to researching a fell beast, and everyone would know she had failed, or at best, taken the easy way out. Like Sir Loire.

Quistis exhaled hard and squared her shoulders. She was getting this dragon's head, and none other's. And she was getting it today.

/\

In addition to dragonsbane, Quistis had brought chains and a darkness potion to help vanquish the beast. She retrieved her supplies from town and then went to the dragon's den with the intent of setting traps within; if she could fuddle the dragon with the 'bane and tangle it in the chains, she could then blind it with a potion and then take its head off with a minimum of fuss and suffering. Then she was going to buy a cart in the village, because the head was going to be too big to strap to one chocobo, and come to think of it, she would need more lime to preserve the head too...

All this ran through Quistis's mind as she went into the dragon's lair. Despite Sir Loire's reluctance to do battle, she had been in dragon lairs before. Some had been cavernous and filled with treasure. Others had been tight tunnels filled with... Well, odd things. Sir Loire had told Quistis that all dragons hoarded something, but just because a dragon valued something didn't mean anybody else did. One dragon had hoarded shoes, for example. Another, spools of thread. This dragon had not been in the area long enough to start building one of its own, so its cave was bare and a cross between cavern and claustrophobia—it was big enough for Quistis, but probably very tight for the dragon. It smelled muskily reptilian when Quistis came in and underneath her feet, pieces of the dragon's shed skin crinkled and cracked. She winced at every noise as she went further into the cave, searching for the best place to set her traps, and after a bit of hunting she found the one thing that all dragon caves had in common—a source of fresh water. This dragon had taken the time to carve a bowl around the spring and so it sat, conveniently collected and very easy to drug. Quistis took the dragonsbane out of her pack pocket and shook the powered herb into the water, where it immediately dissolved. Whether the dragon drank it or simply smelled it as the stuff ran through the water, the effect would be the same—it would become dopey, inattentive, and easy to dispatch. Well... Easier. A small dragon could be instantly beheaded with one strike from Quistis's whip, but this one was going to be much more complicated...

"Oh, I should have brought a halberd. Or at the least, an axe. Maybe I can get one in the village."

A blast of air at Quistis's back sent shreds of dragonskin flying around her like leaves and panicked, Quistis turned. The dragon had returned and this cave was not so deep or craggy that there were places to hide inside. As soon as she turned around, Quistis nearly fainted as the dragon's head came rushing toward her, its piercingly blue-green eyes glowing like lanterns in the dark. She stiffened instead, clenching her hands around her whip handle. If this was the end, she was not going to be a coward.

She struck out, her whip a bright blur in the cave's darkness, and the dragon's forward rush halted as she slashed it across the face, cutting an upward track that went between its startled eyes. Immediately it bellowed in pain, making Quistis stagger as its voice filled the cave with captive thunder. Unconsciously she clapped one hand over her ear as she struck again, forcing the dragon to pull its head back. The tight confines of the cave helped her here; the dragon couldn't go any directions except forward or back, and forward only held her whip and its terrible pain. Twirling her arm in a tight spiral, Quistis coiled her whip in a very particular way and flicked out at the right time, and the blade at the end sprang out like a striking snake to take full advantage of its fifteen-foot length. If she could at least blind it, she might still be able to vanquish it. The dragon dodged the blade aimed for its eye, but did not watch the weapon's progress like an animal. Instead it stared intently at her, and Quistis gaped in horror as the dragon struck out with its front forelimb and stepped down on her whip before she could pull it back. Dragons weren't supposed to do that. They weren't supposed to be smart.

Immediately Quistis's priorities changed. She was neither experienced nor strong enough to deal with something she'd never even heard of before, and she didn't even have proper armor on. This was definitely a 'live to fight another day' situation, though her chances were slim. She still had the chains she'd been planning to rig up all over the cave, though. Grabbing one coiled length off her belt, Quistis struck with that left-handed, and though the chain was far too heavy and very unwieldy to respond like a whip, it at least made the dragon look. That gave Quistis time to twist and detach her whip handle, and as the dragon noticed the slack in the weapon under its paw, it did not notice Quistis running forward with the dagger in her hand. Quistis did not strike for the chest right in front of her, which was too heavily armored. Instead, she ducked alongside the dragon's shoulder, her hip scraping the cave wall, and slashed at the garnet wing webbing that stood between her and freedom. She expected it to give like paper or sailcloth. Instead, her dagger bounced off the deceptively fragile webbing and the dragon bellowed again in pain. Quistis choked as the dragon's sides swelled with temper, crushing her into the cave wall and banging her head against the stone. That was bad enough, but then the dragon moved and the crushing pressure rolled over her body like she was a pea between two fingertips. She tried to gasp, but couldn't draw any air in. She tried to struggle, but she couldn't even move.

Without warning the pressure abruptly disappeared and Quistis fell from her position on the wall. Reflexively she swung out for something to hold onto, but her hand slapped slick scales instead of anything more useful and her head hit the cave floor with a CRACK she felt shudder through her whole body. And then the dimness inside the cave turned completely black.

/\/\/\

Fucking squires.

Seifer touched his face gingerly, growling with annoyance. It was a shallow cut and was bleeding a lot, but nothing time couldn't solve. Still, this was his face they were talking about and Seifer did not like the idea of marks on it. Body scars showed he had survived dangerous things, but a facial scar meant someone hadn't gotten close because he'd been stupid, and that was not to be borne. His growl intensifying, he turned toward the annoying pest that had gotten into his cave and glared down at it. It was obviously a squire, having no armor and no support, and smelling young besides. Not even twenty years by Seifer's estimate. It was at least dressed sensibly, which was how Seifer hadn't spotted it until he was nearly all the way in the cave. A petty idea occurred to Seifer.

"One scar for me, one scar for you... Before I kill you, anyway," thought Seifer, settling onto his haunches and pulling the unconscious squire toward him. Spiking its head outside the cave would go a long way in establishing this territory as his, especially if he cut it between the eyes too: then everyone would know exactly who lived here, not just some generic dragon. He pulled the obscuring scarves off its face, his claws already itching to slash the appropriate mark and then...

Glistening, gleaming waves of gold spilled from the stained scarves, making Seifer hiss as the essence of summer sunshine flickered before his eyes. Alabaster skin marbled with delicate blue veins drew him in, gracing a fine-featured face that was soft, yet strong and determined. Lips the color of rubies looked softer than rose petals and dandelion clocks. Seifer breathed and it was like seeing in color for the first time, the way he suddenly noticed how long and elegantly shaped her limbs were, and how the muscles acquired by her training enhanced a beautifully feminine figure. She was the most perfect human he had ever seen, and more than that, the way she smelled was terribly exciting. He could not place the scent as anything other than everything that made him thrilled to be alive, and even with the scents of chocobo, sweaty leather, and iron-conditioning oil, she was still the most amazing bouquet of scents he had ever encountered. Seifer resisted the urge to put his face directly on the squire and inhale deeply, not the least because it would expose his throat to her slashing whip. There was a quickening thud in his five-chambered heart and a flutter in his brain that made him want to sigh, but Seifer resisted those too. His logical mind was dismayed. He had wanted to hoard something cool like weaponry or rare crystal, though Fujin and Raijin had laughed at him when he'd insisted that he would choose his hoard.

"You can't decide what your heart wants, ya know?" Raijin had chortled.

"INSTINCT," Fujin had insisted. "RECOGNITION."

A bunch of hooey, as far as Seifer had been concerned. Hoarding a human had never been in his plans. They were fragile, short-lived, and annoying to maintain. And yet, the yearning and enchanted infatuation he felt when he looked at the squire was undeniable. Seifer curled his paws under his chest, lost in staring at the perfection of the squire's every pretty detail until she at last sighed, stirred, and then sat up with a groan. Her voice was low and interestingly textured, like slubbed silk to his ears. Seifer unconsciously sighed again. This was not fair. Weakly a part of him still protested that jewels were better, but as the squire whipped around and glared at him with eyes bluer than any sapphire, the objection puffed to smoke. Even when she sprang back with her weapon at the ready, Seifer could not bring himself to be anything other than admiring.

Gradually her panic subsided, darkening her eyes with thoughtfulness as she glanced around the cave. Seifer suddenly felt ashamed of his surroundings. He hadn't had the chance to do anything other than claim it yet, so the floor was uneven, the walls were dark, and there was nothing remotely comfortable inside. It was certaintly not suitable to show another dragon, much less keep a hoard in. Seifer fidgeted a little, which made the squire tense up again.

"Calm down," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The squire stared at him. She was so shocked that the point of her weapon actually wavered.

"You can talk?" She exclaimed, her voice reassuringly loud despite her recent unconsciousness.

"As well as you can," said Seifer, both amused and annoyed. "Why? Did you think I was some sort of stupid animal?"

"Well... Yes," she said, charmingly honest. She sounded sweet, not unlike birdsong. Having heard humans talk before (well, run from him screaming) Seifer was glad that her voice did not make him want to poke himself in the ear holes.

"Nothing in the records ever said anything about dragons talking," she said dubiously, now eyeing him with less fear and more curiosity.

"Probably because your people like to come in swinging and nobody asks questions of dead bodies."

"I guess that's true." She looked him up and down. "You're... Not going to attack right now, are you?"

The idea of striking her sent a wave of revulsion down Seifer's skin, making his platelike scales rattle. There was a dark bloom of a bruise just barely visible at the edge of one of her temples and his heart hurt just to look at it even though he hadn't caused the hurt directly.

"No," he said, and then added, "Though if you strike, I will defend myself. I don't fancy another cut on the face."

"Fair enough," said the squire, sounding reluctantly intrigued. "So... Why aren't you attacking? Dragons are supposed to be territorial."

"True... But you're a special case," he said, looking her over. Now that she was awake and standing, her perfection became even more evident. She was quick, strong, and very healthy, unlike the princesses he had heard some other dragons liked to hoard: plus, she had weapons proficiency and that meant she could be left alone without fear of coming back to find her eaten or carried off. Which meant Seifer would not have to tend her like a tiny tree or an inbred wolf (what were those things called... Puppers? Boofs? He didn't care enough to remember).

"Why?"

"Because..." Unaccountably he felt nervous but didn't linger on 'might be's'. In all circumstances, it was better to deal with what was. Firmly and proudly he stated, "You are my hoard. You're mine. And that means, at the least, you have run of my territory."

She blinked at him. Multiple times. Every blink seemed to make a different thought go through her head until at last she said, quite calmly, "Did you say I was your hoard?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Why indeed? Seifer mulled over what he could possibly say. There was no way he could describe the feeling of rightness when he looked at her. "This is something of value," whispered his blood, filling his ears and brain. "This is something that must be treasured above all else."

"Because you're interesting," he said finally.

"So you're... What? Going to collect me?" She asked flatly with displeasure. Seifer immediately realized that this squire as at least as proud as he was and she would try to run away if he pressed too hard. So even though part of him wanted to close his claws around her and hold her tight, he instead curled his paws more tightly under his chest and was as calm as possible.

"No," he said. "You're unique. I don't have to 'collect' anything, provided you don't run away."

"Well, I'm not going to live in a cave forever either," she snapped back, putting her hands on her hips. "For your information, I want to be a knight, which means I'm going to vanquish you or else."

Seifer narrowed his eyes. Slowly so as not to startle her (too much), he uncurled his claws and raised his wings until they brushed the ceiling of the cave. He pitched his voice lower to make it rumble through the floor as well as the air.

"I'd recommend the 'else'," he said, and to her credit the squire did not tremble or run. She set her lips in a hard line and glared back just as hard.

"Settle down," she said, not a trace of fear in her voice. " 'Vanquish' doesn't always mean 'kill'. In this case, it means making it so you don't bother anyone. You just moved in here, didn't you? How do you feel about moving somewhere else?"

He cocked his head. "And why would I do that?"

"Well, this place seems a little small for you," she said, gesturing around the cave and looking pointedly at Seifer's tight, folded-in posture. "And if I'm your hoard, I'll need a place to stay too. Which means a bigger cave."

Seifer grumbled. It was not easy to find a cave with a source of fresh water and he thought this one was pretty nice... Though it was really tight... And shallow... And humans were awfully close by, which meant he'd be dealing with an endless string of adventurers and knights while he was trying to build his hoard and at the very least, settle in...

"I'll talk to the villagers and say I vanquished you," she said, making Seifer grumble again. "And then I'll get my shield and we can find you a much better cave."

"And then you'll stay around and be a proper hoard?"

"We can talk about that later. Right now, I still want to be a knight, and that means traveling," she said, making Seifer scowl. She put her hands on her hips again. "If you want me to be yours, that's the deal. I have to be myself."

Seifer did not like this. He did not like the idea of his hoard going places without him, getting into trouble and possibly hurt (after all, she'd been dispatched rather easily just now), and worst of all getting killed. But he saw at once from the flash in her eyes that if he said these things, she would make it her life's mission to either vanquish him more conventionally or forever stay out of his grasp, because while she was very important to him, he clearly did not matter to her. So... What to do?

"Fine," he said, and she did not detect the silky insincerity in his voice. Or she was polite enough not to comment on it. "So. You want to be a knight, and that means me leaving this cave. Yes?"

"Yes," she said, sounding just a little smug. "I have to be able to prove that you won't be a menace any more."

Seifer growled. Keeping a hoard was not supposed to be humiliating. He considered eating this troublesome squire and collecting jewels, but the thought caused him physical pain. Stupid hoard-longing.

"Fine," he growled. "I'll leave the cave. But you should know I can see further and finer than an eagle can, so if you try to run away—"

"You'll torch the countryside and rampage?" She said jokingly.

"Yes," he said seriously, and she stared at him in surprise. "I am a dragon. And if what I value is taken from me, I will become very upset."

"Well, I don't care to be looked at like a worm under a lens, so you'll have to be content with leaving me alone sometimes," she returned just as seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't planning for you to go far away. In order to prove that you won't be a bother without chopping your head off, I need you come with me."

"What?" Seifer sneered. "Following behind like a tame animal or something stupid like that?"

"It would be convincing."

It would also be humiliating. Seifer growled and flame filled his mouth, smoke furling from between his fangs. The squire looked at the flames and then at his eyes.

"I'm not saying that you should wear a chain or anything like that," she said, and the flames started roiling around Seifer's muzzle.

"A chain would be better! Then it'd be obvious I hated the whole idea."

She cocked her head. "So you'll do it?"

"Eeerrghh... Fine!" Seifer glared powerfully at her. "But if you yank me around or insult me—"

"I will treat you with perfect respect," she said, holding up her hands. "It's very generous of you to do this, really. I'm so grateful. Thank you so much."

She was laying it on thick, but the gratitude soothed Seifer just enough for the flames to die out. Grumbling, he refolded his claws and looked her up and down.

"But in exchange for leaving my cave and looking like an idiot, I need something out of you," he said, and her gaze turned wary.

"I'm going to be your hoard," she said. "Isn't that enough?"

"You have no idea what that means," he said, and she tensed up. "Relax. It's not painful and it won't take away your freedom either. First and foremost, you have to put on some better clothes."

She blinked and then started laughing. The sound of it was delightful—joyful, incredulous, purely amused—and as sweet as her voice was with the added flavor of knowing he'd said something to inspire it. Seifer nearly went cross-eyed with how happy it made him.

"You want me to wear better clothes?"

"Yes," he said, shaking off the hoard-stupor. "Something that displays your talents better. You want to be a knight? That means real armor, at the very least."

"I have real armor," she said, now annoyed. "It's back in the village—"

"Where it's doing you a fat lot of good," he couldn't help but snipe. As she scowled, he said, "Besides, no mortal armor will match what I am going to give you. It'll make you look worthy of having vanquished me. You can even say I gave it to you in exchange for my life or some twaddle... Ugh."

She looked at him warily. "And this armor... It's not cursed so I can't walk away from you or something like that, is it?"

Damn, that sounded like a good idea. "No," Seifer said regretfully.

"It's not going to do something nefarious to my mind or body either, right?"

"Of course not!" Seifer scowled at the thought. This squire was annoying, sure, but her sharpness and brilliance were better than any old diamond. If something diminished any aspect of her, it would be like deliberately scratching a flawless gemstone.

"And it's not some sort of trap?" The squire asked, then shook her head. "I'm being ridiculous. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already."

"Of course."

"So... Armor. Functional armor, right?" She pressed, making Seifer roll his eyes. "It's not some, oh... Metal lingerie?"

"Why would I put you in metal lingerie?"

"I don't know!" For some reason she was blushing. "We just met. I don't know anything about you. Not even your name, come to think of it."

"Seifer," he said shortly, and when she blinked at him he said, "It's polite to give your name back, you know."

"I'm Quistis."

Quistis. It sounded like the chiming of fine crystal. Seifer suppressed an infatuated sigh. This Quistis woman already had too much power over him and if she ever realized it, he was doomed. More than he already was, anyway.

"Well met, Quistis." He fanned his wings as much as the tight cave would allow. "Now, let's get your armor."

"Where is it?"

"My old den, about half a day away."

Quistis pursed her lips. He could tell she was thinking about how this could go wrong for her, but in the end couldn't settle on anything convincing. She nodded once, curtly, and retrieved her whip to put it back together.

"Alright. Let me get my chocobos—"

"Pfft, chocobos." Seifer reached out and grabbed her in a ruby-clawed embrace that went from chest to hip. Quistis went rigid, her pale skin becoming even paler. "We'll fly."

"What?" She yelped. "No!"

"Yes!" Her shock was delightful. Seifer grinned at her, making her eyes go so big he could see the whites all around them.

But then Quistis glared and bared her teeth like she could bite him and do damage. Whacking his topmost claw with the butt of her weapon, she shouted, "Put me down! I don't want to fly!"

"Well I don't want to walk while you ride your freaking birds, and my way is faster," he retorted, turning around and walking three-legged out of the cave. Quistis struggled, but could not get any kind of room to move.

"Seifer, put me down right now!"

"Or what? You can't hit me. You can't hurt me." He was outside the cave now, and the explosive snap of his unfurling wings sucked the words from Quistis's mouth. "Relax. It's a short flight, and Fujin and Raijin won't eat you."

"What?!"

"Here we go!"

"SEIFER!"

He surged into the air, only a little awkward for taking off three- instead of four-legged, and immediately set off for the northeast. Fujin and Raijin were going to lose their minds with jealousy once they saw what he was bringing back, but too bad for them—Quistis was his. All his. And everyone was going to know it.