She was not his first by any mile.
In fact, by the time he met her, he was what many would consider a veteran in the luxury of women's delights. The term lady killer was hardly fitting; a new term had to be coined just for His Majesty: The Lady Slayer. If one surveyed the frequent customers of Madam Rose's Ladies' In Waiting, they would have seen one not unlike the prince.
It wasn't until he met her, however, that he became a Dragon Slayer. Most knew him for the feat of actually slaying a dragon. He had killed one after all, the head displayed in the Royal Museum as proof of the feat. But few, if any, knew of the "slaying" occurred later that night.
He worked hard to keep it that way.
Illicit as it were, he could not stop himself from going back to her night after night.
There was something about her that was so perilously addicting.
At first it was the way they made love. So primitive and fiery, two blazes raging to overpower the other, yet growing, feeding the same flare, mounting larger and stronger with each touch until the flames burst into explosion.
If he were more in touch with his emotions, he would have realized that his affections for her transcended mere infatuation and lust. Nonetheless, the depths of his oblivion were matched only by his immense ego.
He could still remember their first encounter. It had only been a few years prior.
It was his newest quest for glory: to slay the dreaded fire-breathing beast that had been wreaking havoc on the countryside just south of the Great Barrier. With his hand-picked squad in tow, they had strut valiantly, proudly on their mission. But now the task had become entirely menial. Parading a squad through sand dunes of Shurima and the jungles of Kumungu had taken its toll. Jarvan IV was weary. His men were weary. Worst of all, it seemed they'd never find the beast.
Jarvan laid his weapon on the weapon rack, and sat down at the bar with a thud. He and his men had found a small town in the middle of this God forsaken garden and his men wasted no time hitting up the local saloon. They were probably the only visitors the town would get for the next year, and the townspeople were scrambling to meet their needs.
He sighed heavily, and watched as his men struggled to unload their baggage while the innkeepers of three different inns bickered over their potential "clients." Why they had three inns in this remote village, he didn't know, but for now he wanted just wanted to relax.
It had been almost seven months since they'd embarked on their journey, and it seemed all the leads to the mysterious beast had dried up. He hated to admit it, but the whole thing was quickly becoming a waste of time. Sure, there were some side quests they took up along the way, saving a small town from bandits, thwarting a werewolf, and raiding a secret Zaunian laboratory, but these feats were little compared to the task they set out for.
The embarrassment of having to return home empty handed was not an option. He grumbled and ordered a drink. Better make the best of this pit stop. It had been three weeks since they last saw a town, and he doubted they would find another any time soon. He lingered, hoping to hear some worthwhile gossip.
"Hey, didja hear? She took over that creepy ol' cabin! Holed 'erself up real good in there!"
"Gross. How dare that damn lizard Halfling invade our town! She should go back to her own kind! Those fire-breathing abominations!"
Now this was news. He couldn't be completely sure, but Jarvan was pretty positive he knew exactly what kind of beast the townspeople were whispering about. He stood abruptly, and eased his way into the domain of the two speakers.
"What's this about a dragon?" he inquired, standing over the heads of the two men.
"None of your concern, stranger."
It seemed they were in need of some prompting. He slid two gold coins across the bar, as the two strangers grinned.
"Half dragon livin' in our town. Dun' quite remember whereabouts… memory's real foggy these days…"
Two more coins appeared.
"One league west o' here inna lil abandoned cottage near the waterfall. You'll find 'er there. Can't miss it."
Perfect. He had his prey. Curious, though; nobody had mentioned the terrorist was a half dragon. Either way, a dragon was a dragon, and he couldn't return empty handed.
The hunt was on.