TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 4

When Andrea woke up next, she felt cooler, if not fresher. The shower beckoned and she followed its call, feeling barely wobbly at all and practically, honestly chipper. The dreamy aspect of the past days was still there, but it had been bothering her less and less.

She stopped a moment to grab a set of clothes from her overnight and wondered what, exactly, had happened to original PJs. It was entirely possible that Miranda had burned them, though, probably more likely that they were just somewhere in a wash hamper. The thought that her jammies had met flaming death, however, had amused Andrea. She debated the wisdom of putting on day clothes, but justified it as necessity. She was going to be out in the snow, at least for a little bit. It would probably cut her fever in half.

Yeah.

The shower was bliss, once she got the temperature right. She hadn't been in good enough shape in previous encounters to really appreciate the size and beauty of it. By the time it was done, she felt as if she'd had a great massage and desperately wanted one of these things for herself.

She liberated a fluffy, dry towel and patted dry, before wrapping it around herself. Now it was time to get down to business.

By the time she was dressed, her hair was dry and styled and her makeup on. She realized, as she finalized the look, that this had been one of her secrets. One reason she had managed to live a Miranda-less life, was that she could disguise it. She could fake it.

Now the only thing she was faking, and that was only because she really wasn't, was the fact that she was under-the-weather. Her life, at the moment, was much more Miranda-ful.

She paused at the mirror, considering. "Wow. The difference a day makes."

- TDWP -

"Still warm," Miranda commented as she brushed her lips against Andrea's cheek.

Andrea leaned into that brief kiss, and settled at the breakfast counter. "I know. But things to do, if not places to be. I'll be more productive dressed."

Miranda hummed in understanding. "I agree. Are you planning on going outside?"

"Thinking about it. I promised Ms. De Vil some pics."

"I see."

"You're dying to know." Andrea wasn't really hungry, but she accepted that she might need something to keep up her energy. She nabbed a banana and began stripping it.

"Not dying, simply curious. I haven't had much contact with Ms. De Vil, even professionally." Miranda placed a full glass of ginger ale in front of Andrea.

"She's got a good sense of humor at least. I asked her if she was a Dragon and she didn't bite my head off."

Miranda cocked a brow at her. "You asked her if she was a Dragon?"

"It occurs to me she didn't say no."

"Andrea..." Miranda sat down on the opposite side of the counter.

Andrea raised her hand. "I know. I know. You've been humoring the sick girl, which I duly and truly appreciate. I told her I wasn't feeling my highest best."

"Andrea…"

"So, I think she let me off on that one. You wouldn't happen to know a good PR person, near London would you."

"I know several, but Andrea…"

"Cool. I might pick your brain, if that's okay."

"We need to talk." Miranda said firmly.

Andrea had lifted her glass to drink, but set it down. Her expression turned neutral, attentive. "Okay."

Miranda folded her hands together on the counter top and gazed at Andrea for a few more seconds. "Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes."

"I am really a Dragon, Andrea."

"Miranda, don't call yourself…."

"Andrea, are you listening or interrupting?"

Andrea propped her hands up on the counter, mimicking Miranda's form. "Listening."

"Good. Now, this is very important. Do you remember when Emily was sick while you worked for me?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall ever being sick while at work for me?"

"I…" Andrea considered and then shook her head in the negative. "I think that was one of my better years. Health-wise, I mean. Normally I'm a pretty healthy person, but if I compare that year and this year, then this year has been just utter crap, from a not-feeling good point of view."

"Andrea, return to focus."

"Right."

"The reason you never caught Emily's cold, or anyone else's for that matter, during that year was that you were – for intents, if not purposes – with me. Perhaps not the way we should have been together, but I suspect it was an approximate side benefit…" Andrea was blinking at her, "Don't try to think too hard on this one, Andrea, I'm offering you fact, not fiction."

"Wait. You're saying…"

"I'm a Dragon, Andrea. A living, breathing, Dragon."

"You don't look like a Dragon, Miranda. And, I'm not sure I'm getting the health benefit thing, here. Quite."

"It is fairly obvious that shape shifting would be involved. And magic. You do understand the concepts? You said you played Dungeons and Dragons."

"I did. I did. I'm just …"

"Trying to decide whether you think I'm joking or not. Or whether I think I'm joking or not."

Silence drifted between them.

"You're not joking."

"No. Andrea I'm not." Miranda took a deep breath. "And, I realize you are still not feeling well, but you are feeling better, and we simply don't have time to waste."

"Miranda, I…"

Miranda raised her hand. "Do not move Andrea. Stay right there."

"I… Okay." Andrea watched in puzzlement as Miranda left the room. She gazed down at her glass of ginger-ale and decided as she did not have something stronger, it would have to do. She drank it down, hoping that it would help clear her head and provide a kick-start to her brain.

By the time she set the glass down she still didn't have an answer, but Miranda had returned.

The woman held a thick, white, decorative candle in her hand. "Thank you for waiting for me."

Andrea shrugged. "It's you. Of course I was going to wait."

Miranda, "Meaning, whether you believe me or not, you are willing to lay yourself down to my whim, because I am who I am. To you."

"I think we both know I have a massive crush… No. I think it may be more than that."

"It's more," Miranda said, as she set the candle down on the counter between them. "But that is not important at the moment."

Andrea arched a brow at Miranda this time. "It's not?"

"No. For us to work, for this to work, you must believe. In me. In what I say."

"You want there to be an us."

Miranda's lip curled in a one sided smile. "You always seem so surprised by that."

"I was your assistant, Miranda."

"Details. You were my gorgeous, younger assistant. I'd be the envy of many, if all we were to be was an affair."

"Were we headed that way, Miranda?"

Miranda considered the candle and then looked at Andrea, "Not then. Denial has its place and it allows much of the world to function." She knew that one for a higher truth.

This time Andrea laughed a little. "Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I could have functioned if I'd realized how much I… really wanted you, Miranda."

"You realized. You didn't admit. It's a much different thing."

"True."

"But, now I'm delaying and your eyes must be opened."

"And if I said I believed you?"

"I'd be touched, but you wouldn't understand the whole. You need the benefit of the whole." She lifted her gaze to Andrea. "You may need a little distance after this small demonstration, but it is in our best interest not to wait too long."

"Too long for what?"

"To make love, Andrea. To bond more fully."

"We have a bond."

Miranda looked pleased. "You begin to perceive. We have, and apparently did have, a bond. How it happened?" Miranda shrugged. "It could have begun the first day and I wouldn't have recognized it."

"Not in your interest to do so at the time."

"Nor in yours. But, it is far easier to recognize the bond in another Dragon, than in one who is not a Dragon."

"Mm. I'm not sure if I should be offended by that or not." Andrea mused.

Miranda rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "Are you ready, Andrea?"

The brunette considered. "Sure."

Miranda shook her head, and without quite smiling, indicated amusement. Then, she opened her mouth, just the tiniest bit, pursed her lips and blew. A sleek, tiny stream of fire flowed from her lips to the candle. The red yellow of it cast a brief glow on Miranda's face, and part of the counter. Then Miranda closed her mouth and the fire stopped abruptly. The candle remained lit.

Andrea was preternaturally still. Her widened eyes kept flickering back and forth between Miranda's face and the candle. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.

- TDWP -

"Andrea?" The young woman heard her name as if she were under a fog. "Andrea."

"I'm…" Her eyes flickered open. "I'm here." She opened her eyes and saw Miranda gazing worriedly at her. She realized her head was in the older woman's lap and drifted for a comfortable moment in that awareness. Then memory sparked.

Miranda saw the change immediately and managed to move out of the way as Andrea nearly levitated up and into a standing position. The younger backed away and pointed a finger, first at the still lit candle, then at the silver-haired woman, then at the candle again. "You're…. you're a Dragon!"

Miranda, by that time was also standing, and she cocked her head as if to say, 'Obvious.' Then she started towards Andrea.

"Stop that sexy walking thing right now." Andrea demanded. Miranda most certainly did not. She kept moving forward. Andrea backed up again. "I'm not going to be distracted from this. You. Are. A. Fire-breathing. Dragon."

"I did tell you." Miranda said easily as she finally closed the distance between herself and her intended.

"Yes. But. But." Andrea stared into Miranda's azure gaze and was momentarily lost in clouds there. Then she caught a flicker and her gazed moved right back to the candle. "This isn't… Miranda… there are possible things and impossible things."

"Really? So, which is more impossible? That? Or this?" Miranda took Andrea's face between her palms, leaned forward, and pressed her lips against the brunette's.

Andrea's lips parted, to allow the sigh to escape, and the kiss deepened, sweetened by a gentle invasion of Miranda's tongue. The younger woman hummed into the kiss, found all her focus drawn into it, as she returned the knee-melting offering in full. She felt the loss of Miranda's lips immediately as the other woman drew back and let go of her face.

Andrea floated in the silence, seeing a hundred impossible things suddenly coalesce in her mind's eye. She blinked, not at all sleepy, but trying to process it all. "Miranda."

"Yes, Andrea."

"I need a little time to think."

"I know."

"You did tell me."

"I did."

Andrea nodded. "Did, uh… Has Roy been by?"

Miranda's expression turned to one of annoyance with the universe. "The roads aren't cleared yet. He," Now she used air quotes, "'Can't' make it."

Andrea couldn't quite hide the smile. "Well, no problem. I am a champion digger. If you have a snow shovel, I can probably clear the steps and the sidewalk, at least."

"Andrea, you are still recovering…"

"Details. I'll stop if it gets too much for me. But it'll also clear my head. Say, can I borrow the girls for a little bit?"

Miranda's gaze measured her. "As long as it's not too strenuous. The girls are in the family room."

"Excellent. Shovel in the garage?"

"I don't know where else it would be."

"You could join us, if you'd like."

"I thought you said you needed time to think."

"I do. But I wouldn't mind looking at you while I did it."

Miranda's smile was full and genuine. Then she waved her hand, "I shall pass. I have no interest in shifting snow."

- TDWP -

The garage was not obvious from the front and attached to a back alley. Andrea and the girls were thoroughly bundled up, standing inside the garage together. Andy held the snow-shovel, and one of the girls pressed the button. The door ached itself open, slowly revealing a foot of snow, a second foot of snow, a third and on. By the time the door was fully open, they were all somewhat slack-jawed.

Andrea managed a weak smile at the girls. "Well, I think we might need that chair after all."

Cassidy said, tone respectful for the snow, if not for Andy, "We could just make a tunnel."

"Yeah," whispered Caroline.

"It will probably feel like one anyway, but I'm not making anything that has a chance of falling in on you two. No way."

Andrea stepped forward and considered logistics. She looked around the garage and spotted a short-step ladder. "That will do." She pointed at it.

A few moments later, they had the ladder set up. "Who's got the camera?"

"I do!" Caroline said.

Andy stood by the ladder and held up the shovel to provide a sense of measurement. "Okay, take a pic!"

As soon as the flash was done, and Andrea's vision cleared, she got up on the ladder and got started. "This ought to be fun."

"You have a strange idea of fun," said Cassidy, who held the ladder still.

Andrea just grinned. "Well, look at it this way, once we get out of the house, the opportunity to play with fire grows exponentially." Both girls' eyes widened. "Yes, my dear Dragon kits, I am about to lead you down the primrose path." Then she glanced down and said, very seriously, "Don't tell your mom."

- TDWP -

Andrea fell down, rather, sunk down into the snow, laughing. Her cheeks were flushed with both merriment and the glow of effort. The girls toppled in, piling near, but not quite on top. They had spent a good portion of the morning "clearing," the snow. They had managed a pathway from garage to sidewalk and sidewalk to the front of the door. They had made a small path to the street, but that was it, reasoning that by the time the snow plows did their job, the path would be covered anyway. Not that one could really tell, at that point.

It probably had gone quicker than it should have without a professional snowblower, but they had applied secret weapons, the twins. Flame plus snow did equal melting and it gave Andrea a chance to get used to the idea. The key was not to get discovered and not to over do it. So the shovel was still applied quite liberally. Not that there wasn't some evidence. The camera had been used to take about a zillion pictures of them goofing off, building snow men, throwing snow balls, measuring the snow by using various objects - including a quarter, which they all agreed was silliest of all. Still, it had been less work than a long, but tiring game, with Andy or the alternate sister keeping lookout on the step ladder to make sure that their shenanigans remained non-visible to outside (and inside) viewers.

"I'm so tired," Andrea groaned happily. "Pooped. I should feel much worse."

"Well, we did all the work..." Caroline dared to joke.

Andrea grabbed a handful of snow, "Oh did you?" She lifted the snow threateningly, then pretended that it was too heavy to maintain and dropped her hand back down in the fluff. "I'll have you know I did my share," she huffed, blowing her bangs away and enjoying cooler feeling of the snow on the back of her coat.

"Sure you did," Cassidy quipped. She sighed happily. "The door is too far away."

"You guys ready to go inside then?"

"Any time now."

"Yeah."

"Okay. You go first. I'll just lay here for a minute. Maybe twelve."

"Nope. If we go in, you have to go in. Mom said."

"Argh."

"Mom said she'd make cocoa."

"Oh. Well, if you put it that way. Come on then, pull me up. I'm in a weakened state." It took a few more minutes than it should have, as for a few of those times they would pull her up, she'd fall back down again. But eventually they made their way back inside again, laughing all the way.

- TDWP -

Andrea sat on the couch, in fresh PJs, wrapped in blanket. The empty cocoa mug was still in her hand and she glared at it as if it might refill itself. Her thoughts were in a whirl, as everything she'd learned so far, shifted everything she knew about life.

She looked up as Miranda liberated the mug from her hands and placed it on a coaster. The older woman said, "Your thoughts?"

"All over the place, but I think I believe you."

"You think?" Miranda took a seat beside her and settled back, tucking her legs in. She laid her arm along the edge of the couch, not quite at embracing range, but close enough to make contact if she wanted to. "You needn't answer. I will accept progress, as you well know." She extended a piece of paper towards Andrea. "For you."

Andrea took it and glanced down at the page. Handwritten names and numbers graced it. "I've always liked the way you write," Andrea commented. "It's so like you, beautiful, but with clarity."

She then looked up and asked, "What is this?"

"I decided that I wasn't interested in living life as a zombie and would much prefer it if my brain remained unpicked."

Andrea just looked at Miranda for a moment, before breaking out into a laugh. She lifted the paper. "You didn't have to, but thank you."

"Of course I didn't have to. But, I thought, given the amount of time you spent with my daughters and my plans for later, that you might want to conserve your energy."

"Plans, hmm." Andrea contemplated. "Do they include necking?"

"Beg pardon?"

"If you're not interested," Andrea set the paper down and opened up the covers, "We can always just cuddle."

"Oh." The older woman slid closer, and then was drawn into the embrace. For a half of a second she stiffened, and then she abruptly relaxed into Andrea's arms.

Andrea hummed and closed her eyes. "Have you noticed, Miranda, how much better this feels. It's like..."

"A well being filled."

Andrea whispered, "Yes. I didn't even know the well was empty." The young woman pulled back to gaze at Miranda. "This is what you were talking about, what you meant."

"Somewhat. It is fundamentally more complicated." Miranda did not mention that her well, in particular, had been emptied and then emptied again until she'd felt like a black hole was constantly within her. Until Andrea. She practically wrapped herself around the young woman. It was a sensation that the young woman was becoming more and more used to. Miranda rarely let her roam far in the bed without some touching point between them.

Affection colored Andrea's expression. "As always. But if it were simple, it wouldn't be you."

"On the contrary, things are very simple with me. Hermes scarves…"

"Molten lava coffee."

"Yes."

"Thank you for the cocoa. Thank you for rescuing me from freezing to death at my place."

"Enlightened self interest, I assure you."

"So. No necking?"

"No. Saving your energy, remember."

Andrea realized that Miranda's eyes had closed. It made her think about something the twins had said to her previously; that Miranda hadn't been getting much sleep until very lately. She was still catching up. Andrea hugged her Dragon closer.

"Right. Of course. I'll just close my eyes then."

"Mm."

Miranda's breathing evened out and then, with no hesitation at all, Andrea joined her in slumber.

- TDWP -

"Wow." Andrea meant that most sincerely. The walk-in closet was as big as the front room of her apartment; possibly bigger and certainly much more organized. "When you said you had plans for me, I don't think this is what I pictured. But I'm game. What are we doing here?"

Miranda handed her a notepad, "I'm borrowing your expertise at note-taking to start planning for the ball. You may sit there." She pointed to a soft padded chair, one of a set, and turned her attention to the matter at hand.

"Ah. I charge $22.95 an hour. Or a lot of kisses, depending on what you're willing to pay." Andrea joked.

Miranda smirked at her, "We shall discuss payment later."

"Later. Later. Later." Andrea flounced into the chair, putting one leg over an armrest and putting the notepad in her lap. If she was going to take notes, she was going to do so comfortably.

Miranda ignored the grousing and reached and grasped a hanger from one of myriad racks. "We will begin with classics for daily wear and the smaller parties, then move onto the masquerade. The ball wear we shall work on last."

"There's going to be costumes?"

"Of a sort." Miranda said as she sifted quickly through options, refining choices. "Some will be wearing near to nothing, covering only what must be covered and the mask. It will be that kind of event. The ball is more," she pursed her lips in thought, then shook her head, "traditional. But then it would be, as it is normally the celebration of consummation. Not that passion does not strike there, also. It is simply flavored differently. Note this down..."

"Dare I ask what you mean?"

Miranda turned a smoky gaze to Andrea, "You may always ask. Perhaps you might dare to guess."

"Oh. I should have realized you'd turn that on me."

The older woman cocked a knowing brow at her.

"I imagine that a Dragon can see through many disguises. The masquerade will give some a chance to indulge in, let's say player switches, if they want. But that indicates that any deep connections Dragons make can be very long term."

"Indeed. A good mating lasts a lifetime, hundreds and hundreds of years. I imagine with that much time involved there might need be some opportunity for guiltless surprises. That said, I lost Jeffery to a masquerade." Miranda said, allowing the distraction. "Then again, I found him in masquerade too. It caused some drama."

"Should I worry?" Andrea's voice quavered, despite herself.

"We shall be attending under much different circumstances, my Andrea. Spend no time worrying. Instead, consider that the claim will be staked, and the outfits you wear will reflect it."

"Oh!" Andrea's gaze narrowed. "Wait. Not another make over."

"Welcome to life while near fashion."

- TDWP -

Miranda was in the bath, regrouping after a couple of hours of arduous planning. She wouldn't let Andrea join her. So, the younger woman opted to use her time for something meaningful. After she tapped out the notes in her laptop and shot an email to Emily, Andrea decided it would be the perfect time to send the information Miranda had given her and a few select photos, with some explanation for each. She also decided to call, intending to leave a message to let Cruella know the email was on its way.

She didn't actually expect to make contact.

- TDWP -

Cruella's day had been swerved by one single phone call. After finishing her talk with Andy, Andrea Sachs, of the New York Mirror, she concluded that some investigation might be worth her time. With Alonzo gone on that errand and no other assistant to call - something she realized she would have to change - she was tied to the desk for a moment anyway.

She had come, over the years, to appreciate the uses of the Internet as a research tool. She found the New York Mirror online almost immediately and started scanning for the articles the young woman had written. She was absorbed quickly into the reading. Andy was versatile, covering both serious content, such as the blown oil wells and their long term effects, and fluff, such as socialite parties. She wrote with eloquence and humor, apparently unafraid of expanding her readers' vocabularies. Her articles were not for the lowest common denominator. Cruella found that charming.

Inevitably, she discovered the Andrea Sach's biography – slash – vita. That was reading which had caused her sit back and contemplate the ways of the universe. It had proved most enlightening, providing not only details of the young woman's beginnings, but of her ascent into the heady heights of fashion as an assistant under the tutelage of one, "Miranda Priestly."

Cruella whispered the forbidden name as if it were a magical enchantment prone to delivering that which was called. It was a habit, established from early on. It was impolitic to utter the Priestly name in family halls, specifically her cousins'. Her parents had thought Cruella's fascination with the Dragon who so ruthlessly emasculated one of theirs, in public, no less, had been merely another part of her blond phase. That, as far as they knew, was when she had discovered La Priestly. Certainly it was when she had discovered Runway; the magazine, which in all its local and non-local forms, continued to capture her attention. The fact that the enemy of her cousin Drakon happened to be the editor-in-chief of one of the top fashion magazines was merely icing on the cake.

Her teen infatuation with Runway's editor was not the real first time that Miranda had been brought to her awareness. It was merely the most visible. No, that Dragon, the one whose great house had been so shattered and broken, the one who had rebuilt from the ashes like a phoenix, the Queen Dragon who should have been Dragon Queen, had been a part of Cruella's life for a very, very long time; since her first Dragon's ball.

She could still remember running through the great hallways of that convocation. She was fleet and strong, running towards some destination, playing a game with the other Dragon kits in an environment that had, for the most part, been declared safe for them. She had been mostly paying attention, but it was all delightful chaos. She remembered bounding off walls, being followed with laughter, and practically throwing herself through a set of doors, which had stayed opened oh so briefly.

An elevator is a very small space to come to a full halt. The only saving grace was that she had not been in Dragon form. It did not stop her from colliding with the sole person within, knocking both of them down in a calamitous heap.

She was too young to understand what had happened, too young to really even apologize. "Whoops! We fell."

Those had been the introductory words. Then they had made eye contact.

The other Dragon, a young woman, with bright silver hair and an even brighter blue gaze, had stared into Cruella's amber for what seemed like a hundred heartbeats. Really, it probably wasn't even that long. She had gasped, a mild, "Oh," of surprise.

Cruella, remembered touching the woman's face, drawing her fingers through moisture on her cheeks. "Someone has made you cry." She had not liked that. "Shall I bite them?" She exhibited her teeth in a Dragon's smile. Small they might yet be, but like all Dragons, the incisors were more pointed and longer, the smile more dangerous. The promise to bite for another was an act of allegiance, affection.

Miranda gripped the girl by the shoulders, examined her with a quick assessment. "Aren't you remarkable" She had exhaled slowly, then she said, "We mustn't, though. You must forget this, young one. It can not be."

"What can't?"

Miranda had not answered, but had gathered her strength and drew them both up into standing positions. "It is not important. You needn't worry."

Cruella had slipped her hand through Miranda's as natural as if it belonged there. "I'm not worried."

Miranda had squeezed her hand gently, but as soon as the door had opened, had sent her on her way. "Go now. Return to your play. Grow up in joy."

She had pushed her out, and then quickly closed the elevator doors before the young Dragon could rush back in.

Cruella had not understood then what Miranda was trying to do; It should have been impossible, but with Miranda, the impossible somehow often made way.

Except in this one case.

Cruella had grown up. There had been, as in all lives, some joy. Some sorrow. But she never forgot.

It was a very long time before she understood what really had happened. The Bond, that mystical event which so many sought and so few received, was magical in essence and permanent in nature. The magic, once awakened, began its weaving with quick, sure strokes. It needed only one sense to start, one moment of true contact between the persons destined; sight, sound, touch and so on. Cruella had been, by all accounts, inundated by their first contact. By the time Bonding was explained to her, she had already known that there were fundamental and unbreakable ties that must never be revealed and could not be acted upon. Certainly not at her age and not in the then that was now. The only saving grace was that the actual first event happened so young, that other than provoking a certain bristly personality, which everyone took to be her Dragonish self, she had not suffered withdrawal. Perhaps having a continent between them had helped. Or perhaps learning self control had. Or maybe Miranda had a deeper magic and it had worked enough to protect them both. Maybe she had even managed to forget.

Cruella honestly did not know, as for all she could tell the thread had never fully taken root on the other end. Despite understanding more once she got older, that sense of confused loss, which had infused her growing up years, had never quite left her.

Neither did it stop her from living her life to the fullest. She went on, formed alliances and enemies of her own. Built her own modest empire, independent of her clan. Occasionally, usually when her mood was blackest and her rage was at its peak, she would feel a curious tug, then an icy calmness would sooth the fire of her temper.

She did wonder, sometimes, what stupidity perpetrated by Drakon had caused the falling out between their Clans. She had no doubt that it had been his, and not Miranda's, as she was unimpressed with her cousin's inability to think past his own needs. But it was not something ever revealed, certainly not to youngsters like herself. Now it lay buried in the past, one of those unimportant, life-changing events. She was glad, for if Drakon had not failed, her life would have been misery compounded.

Cruella didn't much like Drakon and felt no allegiance to him. He had slighted her often during her childhood. He wasn't the only one. She didn't much like any of her cousins, as they had been very aware of her differences. Most of her family ran to raven black hair coloration, with a few reds, or at the very least a single color. But now that she was grown up and Drakon had an interest in her, circling around her like that idiot Reginald; he assumed she had forgotten. He was waiting. She was chafing at the assumptions that hovered in the air around her.

She had not been oblivious to his intentions. She was loathe to disappoint her parents by behaving too terribly, but she didn't care what the cousins thought or wanted. She had other wants and needs and that did not involve adding to the family bloodline. There were plenty of other kits to choose from should she pass early; not that she would. Yes. She had plans.

The Ball was coming. Everyone had to attend. Herself. Her family. Others. It was a time where councils met, deals were brokered. Clan houses were built, honored or broken. It was a time of mating. Politics and more. It was a very dangerous time indeed, and if it wasn't for the possibly very real threat certain interested parties represented, she would have been truly looking forward to it.

And Andrea Sachs, Andy, who had a sudden interest in a life across a whole ocean, had just called and was with Miranda.

Cruella was absolutely sure it wasn't just any Miranda. It was her Miranda. The goddess Dragon. La Priestly.

Lucky. Lucky. Girl.

She tried hard to be jealous, but there was just something; something that was tickling at the back of her brain and circling lazily around Cruella's warm spaces, like a forgotten memory or desire unspoken. Fingertips traced the image of Miranda Priestly on the screen.

They were both older now, both women of power and experience. Times had changed. The world had changed. Miranda's house was on the rise. Magic was in the air.

The doors swinging open as Alonzo struggled with a multitude of objects broke her concentration. She offered him a baleful glare. "It's about time you got here. Do you know how many phone calls come to this place!" It was practically a scream. "For god's sake pick someone else to get them before you got traipsing off. Are we understood?"

Alonzo shaken, and stirred, nodded vehemently. "Yes. Ms. De Vil."

Cruella smiled. Then, she said, almost pleasantly, as she extended a hand, "Well?"

For once, Alonzo moved with alacrity.

- TDWP -

Cruella's cell rang. At last.

She answered it with a lazy smile, "Andy. How good of you to call."

"Cruella!" Andrea's voice squeaked in surprise. Though she managed to normalize her voice to continue, "Did I wake you? It's 2 am there..."

"Technically no. I've been awake."

"I was only going to leave a message, since I was just calling to tell you that your list of possible PR reps and some photos were on their way."

"Ah, but I've been awaiting this call."

"You haven't been staying up for it, have you? I thought sure I still had a few hours. I might have lost track..."

"Andy," Cruella said, amused. "I did not stay up for the call. I was merely available for it. I'm thinking about some new designs. And yes, you still had plenty of time."

"Oh. Well." Andrea paused, trying to gather her thoughts and wondering if she should continue the conversation. Finally she asked, "Do you like where your designs are going?"

"They are pedestrian and frustrating. I want flamboyance, without giving up classic lines. I have been receiving, instead, offerings of towering ineptitude." Papers shifted in Cruella's hands as she examined them.

Andrea felt the stirrings of warm familiarity. She knew that kind of talk. "That bad, huh. Need an ear for a few minutes?"

- TDWP -

"Andy?" Cruella paused, sensing that the younger woman's world had tilted somehow. Or maybe the cell phone battery had given out, though she had charged it. "Andy, are you still there?"

"Miranda just walked in."

"Oh? And you stopped talking because?"

"She's nude. She's never come to bed nude before."

Cruella drew in a deep, extraordinary breath, and breathed it out in a nearly prayerful command, "Tell me, Andy. What are you seeing?" It shocked her that she even dared asked. Yet, how could she resist the opportunity when it fell in her lap like this?

"I see her." Cruella's well practiced mind could imagine it. But this was reality. She wanted it. Badly.

"Colors?"

"Gorgeous."

"Andy, darling," Cruella offered in amused response, but kept her tone carefully modulated so that she wouldn't draw the other woman's attention back fully to the conversation. She needed those aforementioned 'socially appropriate filters' to stay down just a little bit longer. "Describe it for me, luv, from top to bottom."

"A halo of white, hint of gold in the silver. Her hair falls into place even when not quite dry, a small wave over eye, like its waiting for someone to run their hands through it. She's light skinned, the palest pink and pearl tipped with red rose. She curves in all the right places. In a hot-damn kind of way, in the kind of way that when she walks, your thoughts can't help where they go. Her lips and her nipples match and they are so achingly beautiful. I want so much to taste them."

"Mm. Go on," Cruella purred. It was an after effect of the unconscious sensuality in the younger woman's voice, and of her own senses becoming charged in response. It had been... a very long time. She was hungry, starving for this.

"Azure eyes, they've gone darker, like the sky at night when you look up high and feel like you could drown in ecstasy. Her cheeks are flushed."

"Rose again?"

"Yes, but not too pink. Just hot. Very, very hot." It was a molten whisper, laden with desire, which sizzled through the connection and curled into Cruella. "Muscles, but smooth and sleek like a cat."

"Or a Dragon." Yes. She remembered Andy's unusual question earlier. The implications became suddenly clear and Cruella thrilled to it. She knew.

"Yes." It was a hiss, one of pure, molten possessiveness. "My Dragon."

"Does she mind that you're telling me this?"

"I don't... I don't think so. She's amused by it, I think. She's giving me this arch look." Andrea said. "You know, she can do that. Miranda can knock you over with a cocked eyebrow and tear down worlds with it. Or make them. My body aches for her. Did I tell you that? A year of ache. Every day. I've only been feeling some better recently..."

"We haven't been acquainted that long, Andy."

"Really? It seems like we've known each other forever. How did that happen?"

Cruella's breath hitched. "Does the... Does she match all the way down, Andy?"

"Yes. Yes. She does. So neat. Trim." Andrea licked her lips, and there was hardly a sound that could be associated with that, but it was heard by a Dragon's ears very easily. "I think she'll be rose there too. Maybe a little pinker. I can hardly wait."

"You sound so urgent. Are you?"

"Yes," Andrea said in a haze. "I want her very much."

She couldn't bear to let it go, but had to. Must. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Yes. I will."

"You have given me enough for today. Hang up the phone, Andy."

"Bye." Andrea snapped the phone shut with a single click. Her gaze never left Miranda.

- TDWP -

Andrea may have hung up, but the phone was immediately forgotten in her hand. She was too lost in watching Miranda.

The older woman grasped the phone and laid it on the bed-stand. She did not ask who Andrea had called. She knew. She'd heard. It had quickened the fire in her that had already been burning and she knew had played a dangerous game by not stopping it. Without speaking, she grasped the edge of Andrea's pajama shirt. The younger woman's breath caught, but she lifted her arms. The garment slid off in one smooth motion.

Andrea had intended to stand, but Miranda leaned in until she could feel the other woman's body heat settle over her. Miranda always ran warmer. Now Andrea understood why. She basked in the heat, melted into the older woman's space. She could smell the clean womanly, spicy scent of her. The heady mix coursed through her senses, spiraled her need higher. Andrea felt the backboard of the bed against her shoulders, used it to brace herself as their lips crushed together. Miranda leaned in further, using her arms to support the position, until she was much farther in. Andrea could feel the Dragon's knee against her center, pressing against pj bottoms and moistened panties. She opened to the tender assault, surrendering to the kiss, spreading her legs, wishing she were as deliciously naked as Miranda was. Her hands wrapped around her lover's back, and she gasped at the smoothness of her skin, the sleek heat that seemed to tingle from the contact. She stroked, not petting, but exploring, wanting to feel as much of Miranda's skin as her mind had earlier imagined.

She would have lost herself in that kiss, but Miranda pulled back, not too abruptly. She offered a wicked smile to Andrea and rocked back enough to shift so her hands were on bands of Andrea's underpants and her pjs. The young woman moaned, high in her throat, at the sound of cloth being cut, sliced off. The clothing fell off of her, no longer held by seams. Miranda grasped her hips, pressed in with her talon-sharp nails, not quite digging, yet enough that Andrea stilled at the pressure.

"Understand, Andrea Sachs, after this, there will be no turning back," Miranda said in that low, vibrating tone that always to got to Andy, the one that always made her body clench whenever she heard it. "Things between us will be fundamentally altered."

"They were altered," Andrea panted, desperately wanting Miranda's hands to move – not because they were painful, but because she wanted them touching her everywhere, "the first day I saw you and you saw me."

Miranda's lips turned up before she leaned in again, and summoned Andrea forward. The brunette's body arched toward her, legs splayed again, and this time, when there was contact, she felt the desire slicked skin of Miranda's thigh. Her hips pushed up and then, she felt the brush of curls, an open pressing as connection was made. She felt Miranda's taut pearl, and gasped in frank pleasure as the buds of their desire brushed together. She did not think she could feel any hotter, but then Miranda began to move in achingly slow motion, pressing in and pulling away. She dragged Andrea into another burning kiss and another. Her arms wrapped around the brunette and Andrea felt the bite of nails against her shoulder blades. It was a hint of things to come.

"I'm going to taste you now," Miranda said, and her kisses slid down Andrea's neck. Andrea gasped at soft nips, and tender suction. "I've been waiting for ages to hold you like this." The longing in Miranda's voice cured any fear that Andrea had been alone in her need. Her breasts ached, pebbled as the dragon's palms skimmed along her body. Andrea returned touch for touch, loving the way their bodies felt together, moved in heady rightness.

"Then taste me," she demanded, "I want you to have me, Miranda. All of me."

An animal growl slipped from Miranda, thrilled through Andrea, coursed lightening through her veins. They moved as one, until Andrea lay prone on the bed. The older woman held Andrea's hands down by the wrists. Miranda's lips covered a breast, laved it with tongue, and teased it with her teeth, until Andrea was bucking to be touched elsewhere. Then she switched to the other breast and owned it, just the same. By the time she released Andrea's wrists, the young woman was clenching the headboard, arching in aching need for Miranda, who kissed her way down following the sleek line of Andrea's abdomen to umber curls.

- TDWP -

Cruella lay motionless in the dark, on her bed, sleepless and aching from the mental picture that Andrea had painted for her. The picture, in some ways, was very familiar to her - Miranda's image had been with her a long time. Overlapped with that, however, was a new face, one less familiar, but no less beautiful. "Andy," whispered Cruella. "Who are you?"

Her body responded to the query as if it already knew, already craved. She felt a heated need forming in her center, as her mind carried on, envisioning the possible aftermaths of their ending discussion. She closed her eyes as erotic scenes canvased her thoughts, unstoppable and each more potent than the last.

She turned, trying a technique of changing her position that sometimes worked. It didn't. It only made her aware of how uncomfortable she was feeling in her clothing and how awake she still was.

She could force herself to sleep. She had in the past. But as an adult, she had long ago accommodated herself to the realization that she was a woman with needs. She was not that prone to ignoring them.

Decision made, she stopped trying to fool herself, and sat up. She quickly stripped, taking off all hindrances - of which there had actually been few. She covered her breasts with her palms, feeling the nipples tighten in excitement and pleasure. She was already wet, clenching and unclenching in receptive readiness. She lay down on her bed. Closed her eyes. Let her hands drift, pluck, caress to the mental images scoring her. Silver-haired woman leaning over brunette, kisses so hot that they steamed and fogged Cruella's thoughts. Her hands drifted lower, touching slick silken spaces. Her heart thundered and her need pulsed. Her legs opened, receptively. Her fingers trilled along the sweet spot. She gasped her need, her desire, envisioned them. Spiraled higher, far past want into something else, something new, something that burned.

- TDWP -

Andrea's ardent demand to taste her lover too provoked a shift in Miranda's purpose. They lay side by side, opposite to one another, legs arched intimately. The brunette clasped Miranda to her with one arm, anchoring her into place, while making delicate contact with her tongue in the place she most needed. She supped there, dipping and swirling into her white-gold dragon like she was fine wine. She lost herself in the taste, feeling primal exultation, even as she couldn't resist Miranda's summons. Every touch, every connection, every sweet taste and scent and sound, stirred their pulses, deepened in them. They lost themselves to each other, drew out the song of their names in each other, and became more daring. She moved to the older woman's touch, felt the spread of fingers deep within, rocked into the push and pull; to the delicious sweet torture of Miranda's mouth.

A white line of fire scrolled under their skin, blazed. It coiled and swirled, flowed between them. It brightened them, brightened the room. It chimed, sang through them. They felt it, but did not notice it, as it undid ties and binds and reformed them, looping through them in erotic cascades. They were on the tip of orgasm, not quite toppled, and infinity stretched out to catch them. Waiting. Power pooled in the room around them. The wind blew, shook the snow from the roof outside, light flashed across the sky, followed by the sound of rolling thunder. They heard it as the hammer of their hearts, felt it as the need to fill and be filled. Andrea drew away, just to take a moment to look at Miranda, found her looking back with blue flames in her eyes. She was unaware of the white flame in hers. Her breath taken, she grasped it back by pursuing her course, savoring the hub of Miranda's center, plundering her with long fingers even as a the mighty spiral of Eros and magic stirred her until there was no going back, no point of return. They cried out, screamed, into maelstrom of pleasure that was too intense to carry alone. They arced as pointed lights jazzed between them, scoring through them like a needle with lightening as its thread. They were unfashioned, fashioned again, redesigned.

They lifted off the bed, beribboned in light. Miranda, conscious enough to do the only thing that could be done, as they had been flipped until they were face to face, grasped Andrea to her and held her tightly. Their legs entangled. Their bodies pressed. Andrea's long hair was standing straight up and fanning out, as was Miranda's shorter hair. She whispered sharply into Andrea's ears, because she needed her to hear it before the finish, needed her to know what she had known for so long. "I love you."

Andrea shuddered, opened her mouth to reply, but no words commenced. Light poured from her mouth as her body arched away. Miranda captured her head, grasped her by the hair and dragged her back, kissed her fiercely. Kissed her as only a Dragon could, and claimed what was hers. Andrea kissed her back, claimed her in return, as lightening struck in succession around the house.

And then they dropped, in slow motion, tired and breathless, settled by a universe with loving hands onto the bed.

"You're glowing," Andrea whispered. Her fingertips traced the lines she could see under Miranda's skin now.

"You are as well," Miranda whispered back, in awe. "My Andrea. My Lady."

"Yes."

- TDWP -

Cruella fell to the bed, gasping and shuddering, orgasming in full, but savagely weeping at her incompleteness. Lightening scoured the sky, refused to strike ground, rumbled with every shudder she took.

What she had just witnessed was more than just imagination. She could not deny the vision, wouldn't have even if she'd been able to, nor could she deny the aching fire it had so viciously awakened in her. She would have raised her fist at the universe, but had no strength to do so. Instead, as pleasure finished its cascade, she turned her head on the pillow and let the tears slide.