Dragon Harem Quest - Or: Saying You Were Gay Wasn't The Conversation-Ender You Hoped For

"... I'm in," you say at last.

"Exquisite~" the mystery-woman breathes, rising to her tip-toes as if to reach your lips as she leans in even closer.

"But before we go any closer I really have to mention that I'm gay!" you blurt out as quickly as you can. She stills mid-movement, studying your face, your panicked eyes, clearly searching for the truth in your outburst. Slowly pushing back again, hand on your shoulder, until she's flat-footed again.

"Oh," she says.

And then her breasts deflate with the short, sharp pop of a pair of balloons being pierced. You stare, wide-eyed, blinking rapidly as your gaze flicks down to her now-flat chest and up to her face and back again.

She rolls her eyes. "Really darling, you're a dragon. A shapeshifter shouldn't shock you this badly."

"I am not shocked I just need a few moments to adjust!" you protest. You pause, shooting her one more dubious look. "So you're... not a woman?"

"Nope."

One more beat of silence and it clicks together in the back of your head. "And not a man, either?"

Her -their- perfectly-plucked eyebrows slowly arch up. "Ohhh, we've got a conscientious one~" They pat you delicately on the shoulder. "In all honesty I don't much mind how you think of me, I slide this way and that as the mood takes me. But points for observation, dear."

"I met a wizard the other day and they mentioned not being either before they inspected my magic map that points to potential boyfriends," you say a lot more matter-of-factly than you feel. "So-" you sniff "-you know, horizons have been broadening quite a bit recently."

"Quite the dragon of mystery," they say in a tone that's just impressed and just teasing enough that you can't quite tell which they're actually intending. You just frown.

"And I fail to see how you discovered my true nature."

"Sweetheart..." They shift their hand down and pat your chest, just over your heart as they lower their voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "(Your true name is Eldingar and your elf disguise is named Lord Elding. Everyone in the city knows.)"

You make a face like they just pried your ribs open and took a shit inside of your chest. You helplessly splutter out a few false starts to a sentence you don't know the end or middle of.

"And mine's Takara," the mystery person says with a grin as if you weren't currently trying to bug your eyes right out of your skull. "Now let's go back to my place and plan us a heist."

You've never taken part in heists before, so you wouldn't know for certain, but Takara seems to have planned this out pretty well before bringing you on-board. Still reeling from what they said about your primary guise you assume a different one that no one will bother you in - a native Arosan orc, seven feet of silver-blue-skinned brawn and ivory tusks - and follow them back to their hideout, a disused townhouse on the water they broke into and made themselves comfy in while the owner was away. The minute they're inside they kick off their sandals and sprawl shamelessly across the couch, leaving you to awkwardly sink down into an armchair too small for your chosen form. Your pride prevents you from picking a third, smaller one, so you stay perched uncomfortably in your seat like the true thug you've become.

"So," says Takara, whipping out a scroll and unfurling it dramatically across the coffee table. It appears to be a copy of publicly-accessible plans of the House Rosso enclave with some shockingly well-drawn additions, no doubt based on what they've been able to piece together in their investigations. They produce an engraved gold fountain pen that almost certainly belongs to yet another business rival and sketch out guard patrol patterns on the plans in a confident hand, neat little circle-people with arrows pointing to and fro. "I've been doing my homework for a while, watching the guards, pumping them for information-"

"Must you emphasise 'pumping' like that," you interject.

"-yes-" they wink "-and I'm certain I can get us to the vault. It'll have a slew of magical defences no doubt, but I can handle those no problem. It's the mechanical ones that are bugging me - they really spare no expense protecting their loot, and I haven't the first idea how to deal with electricity-powered things beyond brute-forcing it. However, if I were to by happenstance befriend that one blue dragon that lives nearby and has been seen multiple times intercepting strikes over the northern lightning farms..."

"That... may be me, possibly, yes," you say reluctantly, still smarting over the whole identity debacle.

"Which means I just need to get you to the lightning junction so you can suck it dry-"

"Stop that."

"-and plunge the whole thing into chaos. We slip by in the confusion, and we're in the vault," they snap their fingers, "just like that."

"I see," you say. You look down at the plans and try to seem thoughtful, being a rank amateur at doing crimes. Once you judge you've spent enough time seemingly thinking things through with your keen analytical mind, you nod. "Alright then. Which way are we entering the complex?"

A wide smile slowly spreads across their face.

"... what?"

Approximately twelve hours later you find yourself flying high above the rooftops of Söfnun with Takara clutched tight in your arms, following the shadow of a cloud as it passes across the moon.

"Prepare for aerial insertion!" Takara declares proudly.

"Stop. It."

The wind whistles as it rushes past, forcing you to spit out locks of Takara's hair each time an errant gust blows it up between your jaws. It's already uncomfortable enough having to cuddle up to them like a weird ambiguous teddy-bear, you're stressed out keeping on high alert thanks to the rather cramped conditions up near the overhanging cliff faces that surround the city, and on top of everything else you're uncomfortably crammed into the 'sneaking suit' they prepared for you (suspiciously in advance). There are still lights on down below of course, the city never truly sleeps, but at this hour it's more like a sleepy dog - ready to wake and bark up a storm, but stay light on your feet and you can get away with murder.

Takara taps your crossed arms to remind you that, yes, the innuendo was also an order, and you slowly dip into a dive. The wind rushes past faster and faster, practically howling in your ears, fit to blind anyone not built for such conditions, the cold alone fit to chill any mortal man to the bone. After a moment the speed begins to worry even you. There's only a limited window until the darkest shadow passes but slamming headfirst into the roof will probably give away your position a lot more, so you pull up early and flare out your wings into a gentler glide.

"Going soft this early?" Takara asks.

"I will drop you," you retort.

It gets close. Very close. So close that you find yourself making a constipated 'hnnnnnnnngggggg' sound of tension and effort as you angle your glide and try to hit the main building roof before the moonlight reveals you. You can practically feel the silver rays dance across your flicking tail but you touch down, tiles clacking softly beneath your feet as you stumble to a stop and set Takara down. They immediately motion for you to crouch and you do so, trimming your wings and folding them tight against your back - gods your heart's already hammering and you've barely started, if things ramp up any further you're likely to pass out. Slowly slowly Takara creeps down the sloped rows of ceramic tile to the edge of the roof and you follow close behind, peering furtively over their shoulder. Your hunched movements are a lot more restricted and involve a lot more quiet, rubbery squeaking.

"(May I ask why these suits again?)" you whisper.

"(Well for starters, no proper thief would ever be caught dead outside their proper attire,)" Takara replies. "(And for another, you're already sweating like a hooker in church. If it weren't for all that rubber insulating you you'd be sparkling like a firework.)"

You lapse into a momentary stubborn silence as you register the wisdom of their words. "(But... then why the navel-length plunging necklines?)" you ask.

"(Ventilation! Very crucial. This material really does not breathe well.)"

"(And the heels?)"

"(Absolutely essential aesthetic touches!)" Takara glances at you and gestures down at your feet as if slowly karate-chopping the air. "(Which you are... shockingly natural at moving in, what is your secret?)"

"(I... walk digitigrade in this form anyway,)" you answer with a shrug. "(It's really a sideways step if anything.)"

"(Lucky. Anyway, back on task.)" Takara points to several places along the exterior wall, and then the small fenced-in power station nestled inside the northeast corner in the shadow of a guard tower. "(There are four guards within sight of there we'll need to take care of before we cut the power and not a lot of shadow to work with.)"

"(We might've been less noticeable if you'd polished these 'sneaking suits' less,)" you grumble.

"(Shush. You need to hear the plan.)"

"(Which is?)"

"(Wait here and watch, then glide down and meet me once I've taken out all four guards by myself.)"

You pause, then give them a thumbs-up. "(Excellent plan.)"

"(Good boy. Now watch me work~)"

Takara just seems to flip over the edge of the roof and vanish all at once, momentarily startling you before you lurch forward and catch sight of them rapidly scrambling down the side of the building. The minute they reach ground level they're off like a shot, swarming across the interior space on all fours with almost disturbing familiarity, their lowered profile easily concealing them behind low walls and shrubbery. They hit the exterior wall and just swarm up the side, gloved hands flying across every inch of stone within reach, bare fingers hooking into handholds that you can't even see from this distance even with your enhanced sight. They reach the top and ascend via some kind of... slow-motion front-flip type thing, incredibly sinuous and graceful, a product of insane core strength, and unmistakably another show-off moment just for you. You have to admit the 'sneaking suit' really does phenomenally compliment their-

No, bad Eldingar. No getting distracted just because they don't have breasts any more, you are not that easy to please. You are a classy and distinguishing dragon of wealth and taste and you will not salivate over any half-masculine rear in sight even if it is vacuum-sealed in rubber.

You pay attention to what Takara's doing again. They appear to have just gotten done with some kind of elaborate acrobatic knockout throw to the first guard and are now sitting astride the second's shoulders, suffocating him with their thighs.

This is... not how heists are meant to go but a part of you is so very far from complaining and it is a shameful pervert part that should go away immediately. Definitely. No good at all. You blame Belial honestly.

You think you zone out again because when you return to your senses with a start Takara is standing in front of the power station, waving their arms and jumping up and down. You guiltily lurch into action, unfurling your wings from the special-cut slits in the back of your suit and glide down beside them.

"(Enjoying the show-?)"

"(Shuttup.)" You're already moving past them, mind focused on nothing but the task. Your suit leaves your talons free and you put them to good use, slicing through the thin steel fencing like paper and casually peeling the split spars apart. You step through - careful, careful, the thing you're wearing'll probably burst like a balloon if you snag on something even slightly pointy - and approach the machinery in question. It's something very complicated with lots of tubes and wires and blinky lights that you absolutely cannot make heads or tails of.

"Problems?" Takara asks, one eye on the rest of the darkened complex for any signs of alarm or investigating guards.

"Uh..."

Well... it's all lightning in the end, so...

You just plunge your talons straight through the casing and into the bunches of wires beneath. It shears like foil and an entire enclave's worth of lightning leaps into your body through your hand. Your eyes fly wide open with a barely-stifled "(whoaheynow)" as your markings shine bright even through the suit, horns glowing like lightning rods as you draw every last spark inside yourself. The rest of the panel explodes outwards in one last dying blast of blinding white-hot sparks and darkness falls like a thick, cloying blanket. You gingerly extract your hand from the ruined console and wiggle your talons, blinking as your greyscale night-vision kicks in.

"... nope?" you finally finish.

"Exquisite," Takara replies, their amethyst eyes not lost a drop of their vibrant colour as the pupils lengthen into wide, sharp-edged ovals that shine with a reflected inner light.

It's absolute bedlam inside without the supply of lightning. It seems in their pride at the extensive and expensive system of power wired throughout the complex the Rossos and their associates neglected to adequately prepare their people for an emergency should that system go down. The people are scrambling to get so much as an oil lamp lit, so blind it's almost too easy for even the likes of you to thread your way between them all. Takara makes sure to lean over and blow out someone's match along the way, eliciting the kind of terrified scream that almost certainly comes hand-in-hand with the utter ruination of one's trousers.

In no time at all you're descending the long flight of stairs to the vault ("Really, your first time in heels?" "I think you're missing the essential point of 'my feet naturally bend like this'.") side by side with Takara. The door itself remains stubbornly shut before you at the landing, flanked by a pair of security constructs that remained studiously at their posts even in all the panic. Their eye-crystals shine a bright warning-amber that pierces even the darkness and they ready themselves, sweeping their long House-colour cloaks aside and readying their shock-staves. Child's play.

Takara produces a long slip of paper from gods-knows-where and hurls it at the construct on the left, the projectile adhering itself to the thing's chestplate with an audible sticky smack. A moment later it erupts with the glassy keening of crystallising moisture as ice sprouts from every inch of their target, freezing the steel guard in its own little glacier. Takara crosses the remaining distance with a lazy leap and kicks the block of ice square in the middle, impressively shattering it and the construct along with it.

You, you just walk right up to yours. The smack it aims at your cheek is dulled to nothing by your scales, the hungering elemental furnace inside you swiftly draining away the shock it was meant to deliver. You reach up and repay the favour, clasping the construct by its faceplate and send the charge right back into it. The guard seizes almost like a real person, twitching and and jerking as its joints lock up and it simply topples over with an almighty crash. You dust off your hands, feeling very much pleased with yourself.

"How do you throw paper like that?" you ask, following Takara to the vault door. "Any time I've tried it just flops over all useless."

"It's wonderful of you to set me up like that but I really must concentrate right now," Takara replies, kneeling by the tumbler and twiddling their fingers in a discomfortingly dexterous fashion. "I need all my concentration to work a different sort of magic right now." They press their ear to the metal and begin to turn, listening intently for the mechanism within. "But practice, my dear. Lots and lots of practice."

You shift your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, waiting for Takara's latest show of 'magic' to kick in. They seem happily dead to the world, sticking the tip of their tongue out as they gently caress the locks. Just as you sarcastically think something about whispering sweet nothings to them too, they start doing exactly that. This heist has made you feel a lot of very weird things and you'd like to go home now.

Click. "Aha!" Takara withdraws with a triumphant grin. "Now my dear, feast your eyes~"

The vault door swings inwards. You start forward immediately, crossing the threshold before you even have time to consider anything heartstopping like 'oh no what if they lock me in here and run'. But no, despite the stab of fear, you whirl only to find Takara stepping in and shutting the door behind you, ensuring you won't be disturbed. They flash you another grin, silently shooing you away to go enjoy your spoils. You remain stubbornly still for exactly five seconds, a true feat of will worthy of the highest echelons of dragonkind, before whirling back around and sprinting into the heart of the vault to take a look.

Oh it's just wonderful, an absolute treasure such that you'll even forgive yourself for the pun. Someone in the upper echelons has some real taste, willing to compromise between keeping everything nice and orderly for ease of cataloguing and just letting it all spill out on the floor like any self-respecting hoard should. There's enough clear space to walk around but every disused corner is coated in sweeping mounds of gold and jewels, every spare bit of space you check has shelves of priceless art, crates of rare materials, boxes of the finest spices, cases of jewels cut to mouth-watering perfection, the list goes on. You can even smell magic lingering in the various corners of this playground of wealth. You dig your way through one pile in particular, tossing some kind of cowskull fertility idol and the deeds to some plot of land in the western Beyond for ship lumber, before finally finding a diamond big enough you need both hands to hold it.

"Ohhhh this is good this is very very good," you say with barely-contained glee, practically jiggling as you turn around to face Takara again. "Ohhh I had no idea this heist thing was so fun, I'd have started doing it sooner."

"There's the attitude I was looking for," Takara replies playfully, producing a pair of leather bags before tossing one to you. "Here, Bag of Holding but it's only a cheap one and we don't have forever in here. My advice? Pick something nice and high-value and transportable, like those bearer bonds."

They point and you follow their finger, spying a box full of yellow-brown papers with very large numbers on them. You grimace in distaste.

"But paper money is awful," you grumble. "It doesn't shine and it gets crushed if you lie down on it."

"Paper money's good enough to save your House, sweetie," they point out.

"... mrgh."

They're right. Not about the paper money thing, it's an affront to nature and you'd eradicate it from the world if you could. About the needing to move quick thing. Much as you'd like to literally clean this place out so they know never to fuck with a dragon again, expedience is for the best and there's a limit to what you can carry. So what should you burgle?

[ ] The art. You've always wanted to feel a bit more like a refined dragon of wealth and taste, and art is a refined and distinguished sort of thing. And worth lots.
[ ] The magic items. Sniff it out with that beautiful dragon nose of yours and stuff it all in the bag. What's valuable will be worth a lot and what's not will at least entertain you with its gimmicks.
[ ] The jewels. The shiniest of shinies, the only reason you don't have more already is that you can have too much of a good thing and coin-to-jewel balance is utterly essential in good hoard-building.
[ ] The gold. Fuck it. Just start grabbing dripping clawfuls and shoving them in the bag, you're a thief for a night so you will abscond with a literal sackful of money!
[ ] The bearer bonds. The idea disgusts you as a dragon on every conceivable level, but Takara does have a point that it's more value per pound, and by design you can use them for whatever the fuck you want by virtue of holding them in your hand.