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

It's about as appealing a prospect as getting someone to remove all your teeth with a hammer and chisel, but there's no use trying to wriggle out of it. Mother will make it worse. Mother always finds a way to make it worse. You clutch the scroll tight enough to crumple it in your claws, grinding the screwed-up mess into your brow hard enough to polish it smooth.

"Don't bother," you say at last. "We're heading out right away and we'll beat you back to the city anyway."

"Fair enough." Ilyana pauses, clearly considering making some attempt at consolation, despite her extremely removal from the affairs of dragons. You throw the twisted-up ball of paper into your jaws and chomp and chomp and chomp until not a trace of Mother's message is left. The champing fangs seem to give her cause to reconsider, and instead she politely takes her leave. You throw an irritable 'see you at the lodge' at her retreating back out of obligation, then spit out what sad little remnants there are of the note.

"So I notice you said 'we'," Jun-ho says eventually, wringing his claws.

"Mrgh. Trust me. I'm no happier about it." You shift back up to your true form and get to work sweeping all your mis-aimed treasure-vomit back towards the pile with your tail. It's calming and you need every scrap of that right now. "But she expects you there and she expects to hear all about what fun we've had courting, and the less cause she has to suspect what's really been going on the better." You glance at the others. "We should be back no later than tonight. If we're not, feel free to assume that Mother's finally eaten me."

"Best of luck," says Issachar.

"(We'll need it,)" you mutter.

The sooner you get this over and done with the sooner you can come back and reward yourself by flopping down on top of your even bigger treasure pile. And fantasise about how much even bigger-er it'll be once that expedition you sent out through the Guild comes back. That's what you tell yourself, over and over and over again, as you set off for the city with Jun-ho in tow. He wiggles along through the air behind you, unwilling to break the silence. You really don't relish having to bring him along, that much was more than true. He may be a terrible excuse for a dragon with no idea what's going on half the time, but he's guileless and well-intentioned, and that much is enough to at least not like the idea of leaving him in the splash zone when Mother inevitably gets to work. But hey - what does she have to criticise this time? You're actually doing what she asked! More, even! If anything she should be proud of you for once! Yeah, Jun-ho's going to be fine, no reason to worry at all.

When you set down just outside the city limits you're worrying intensely.

"Alright," you say. "While I've been... recently informed that my true identity is something of an open secret in Söfnun, they've never even seen you yet and this is hardly the time to be causing a stir. Let's see your best mortal disguise."

"O-oh, right here? Right now?" he asks.

"... yes? We need to look like we belong so we can get past the gates and go to the Plutocracy quarter. What's the issue?"

"Nothing I just... haven't really done it much and you didn't give me time to think of something," he replies sheepishly.

You make an exasperated gesture with your head. "It doesn't matter what you turn into! Anything and everything fits in in Söfnun so just pick a mortal and shift!"

He follows your command a little more immediately than you expected, shrinking down to a more conventional height with a sudden schworp of air rushing in to replace all the space he just vacated. Standing in his place is an aquean of a little over average height, lean and athletic and bordering on what you might call 'gangly'. He's kept the same basic colouration as his true form, flame-orange on the back and flanks and shoulders, cream-white on the chest and belly, under the arms and inside thighs. He awkwardly scratches at the edges of his gills with one webbed claw, long shark-tail swinging back and forth in the dirt behind him. You heard from someone once that sharkskin is actually made up of incredibly tiny abrasive scales, which makes Jun-ho's choice extremely valid in your book.

"Good try," you say. "But maybe some clothes. Söfnun's not that permissive."

He blushes. It's only really visible on the cream-coloured half of his face. "(I knew that)," he mumbles, a pair of rough-spun trousers rolled up to the knee appearing around his hips. It's accurate to the aqueans you'e seen coming and going from the docks - chronic aversion to shirts due to lack of sunburn risk and increased drag. "I mean it's not like you can see anything!"

"No argument from me," you say, shrinking down into your Lord Elding guise out of habit. "But mortals tend to get all precious about uncovered bodies. Honestly that may be why I'll continue to use this form - the day I go out in public as a dragon wearing pants is the day I lose all self-respect."

"But then what about the chest?"

"What about the chest?"

"Are these scandalous too?" Jun-ho asks, helpfully groping his sharkskin pecs just in case you missed what he's talking about. It takes you a second longer than you'd like to tear your eyes away and meet his gaze.

"No, that's just for the ones with the chest-mounted milk-sacks," you say bluntly. "For some reason the sight of them drives lesser minds to complete distraction. I've never seen the appeal, myself."

"Ah."

Jun-ho adds a loose-fitting sailor's shirt to his ensemble just in case. It does the job and keeps you from staring too much as you head into town.

It's somewhat strange for an aquean dressed like he just popped out of the sea to be seen coming by land but the looks are only those of mild curiosity. You get your fair share of looks but at this point you'd prefer not to think about what they mean so you do your best to just tune them out. It's a quick trip to the Plutocracy quarter and yet it feels like crossing an ocean, more traditional stone buildings with sloped, tiled roofs giving way to more angular high-rises of glass and steel. The guards keep casting Jun-ho odd looks, but whatever their reasons they don't dare accost him in your presence and thus the way to Apex Towers couldn't be smoother.

They're a pair of towers, rising high enough that a mortal could almost leap off the cliff above and survive the fall onto one of the roofs. They dominate the skyline completely, a silent challenge for anyone else to so much as try to match them, let alone truly compete. Relatively recent - only a couple decades old - and constructed specifically to appeal to wealthier and more landed clientele whenever they have cause to visit Söfnun. Not necessarily just dragons, but... well when you talk about a certain class of clientele you're usually trying to mean dragons without having to say it. And if your mother's there, the rumours can't be anything but true. You wonder what it'll be like up there. Maybe there's a complementary bar full of virgins to snack on.

The lobby is as opulent as you'd expect. Wouldn't look out of place next to where you found Lyrros really. All highly-polished marble and brass fixtures, mirrors all over the place to make the space look even bigger, expensive electrical lights with tinted bulbs running at all times to give the place a warm, golden glow. The dwarf behind the counter seems bewildered when he spots Jun-ho, but once his eyes alight on you he's all smiles.

"Good day, sir. How may I help you?"

"I'm here to meet the woman you have staying in one of your penthouse suites," you say, resting one hand on the cool stone surface of the front desk. "I'm expected - Lord Elding?"

"Mm. Ah." Recognition dawns on his face. "Yes, the Lady Frida. However I was instructed to let no one by the name of 'Lord Elding' into the premises under any circumstances as she will only be seen by someone by the name of 'Eldingar'."

You stare, not at the man but through him, a thousand miles away and into the afterlife which you so desperately long to be a part of. He seems to realise what's going on almost immediately, but for the sake of his job he waits for you to say it. You sigh, soft and sustained, and stare at him with your electric-blue eyes.

"My real name is Eldingar. Now. Please. Just let us up."

"Of course sir, I'll buzz you right through."

He presses something under the desk, hidden from your view, but you can guess pretty well based on the subtle ripple of magic you feel through the air. There's some kind of warding glyph over the lifts, invisible to all but the likes of you, trained to admit those with permission to rise. Probably nothing strong enough to actually bar entry, maybe a simple alarm trap, maybe it spits out magic spiderwebs to stick you in place. Either way you give the receptionist a curt nod and beckon Jun-ho onward, past the threshold and towards the waiting lift. You prod him forward and step in behind him, pulling the iron grate shut behind you and pressing the 'P' stud at the very top of the panel. The box begins to rise with little more than a shudder, whisking you and Jun-ho away towards the summit of this particular manmade mountain.

You let out another sigh, a lot louder and harsher, folding your arms as you rip through your illusory clothes and shoot up a few inches into your bipedal form. You feel the ripple in the air as Jun-ho follows suit, albeit still aggravatingly about a head taller than you. You tap one talon against your scaly bicep in the quiet, trying in vain to plan out some sort of foolproof strategy for when you reach the top.

"What should I say?" Jun-ho asks, cracking the silence like a pane of ice. "Yesterday pretty well proved I'm a bad liar."

"Nothing," you reply, still staring at the floor number indicator as it steadily ticks over. "Let me do all the talking. She won't care what you have to say anyway."

The lift rises with a muffled mechanical hum, ratcheting higher and higher on arm-thick cables.

"... that came out wrong what I meant was-" you start

"No no, I got it," he cuts you off. "Trust me, it was pretty much her idea and her show from the start. I just went along with it."

"Why did you go along with it?" you finally ask, half-turning to get a better look at Jun-ho's face. He tips his head in a silent 'well what can you do?' gesture.

"She was scary and I didn't want to turn her down?" he replies. Shrugging, emerald eyes darting down for a few moments. "And I was curious to meet another dragon, anyway."

"Oh. Well." There's a long, uncomfortable silence as you try to come up with an answer to that. "Good thing I'm the one you met, then."

Flawless, perfection, couldn't have done better. Now that that's all done and squared away, back to figuring out how to push Jun-ho out at one of the intervening floors before you cut the cable and sent the whole car plummeting back to ground floor, killing you instantly. Unfortunately you run out of time, feeling the lift slowly come to a complete stop at the apex of its long climb with a soft ding. You wrench the grille back and step through, angrily digging your toe-talons into the soft carpet beneath as you trudge your way up to the front door and knock.

"Enter!" she calls from within, only a little muffled by the sheet of wood between you and yet more torture. You glance over your shoulder to check that Jun-ho is still with you - he tries to cheer you up with a nervous smile and two thumbs up, the thought is something you guess - and shoulder your way inside.

The suite inside is, to put it bluntly, a lair. You've heard the jargon in passing before and you know that they call it 'open plan' as some kind of modern new-wave architectural thing, but no, you know it when you see it. There's barely an interior wall in sight, floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere they'll fit, and most of the floorspace is taken up by a central recessed area that would be perfect for storing a great big pile of gold. There isn't any there now, but you're sure Mother's come up with her own solution there. The furnishing is just as minimalist, entertaining guests far from anyone's mind during the design of this room, and so what there is stands out even more. A single chair in which your mother sits in her bipedal form, elegantly draped as if posing for a portrait - which she is - and an easel that rests a short distance away atop a well-used drop-cloth. A young woman with rabbit ears is painting something on the canvas, her face is a mask of pure concentration, such that you suspect she doesn't even notice the pair of you come in.

"Ahhhhh, Eldingar," Mother says at last, turning only her gaze to meet you. "So wonderful of you to join us. I hope you'll forgive me, you caught dear Camellia and I in the final stages. So tell me, how have things been progressing?"

"Fine," you say, braced and resolved to give only the mandatory details in the tumultuous storm of probing questions to come.

"Excellent," she says, eyes forward once more. It feels a lot like the time you picked up a gold-bound treasure chest expecting it to be heavily laden with treasure, only to pull too hard and crack the empty thing open on your own face. She waits to hear the full measure of your silence before one azure slit-pupilled eye swivels back around to bore into you. "Did you think this would be an interrogation, darling? I have the utmost confidence in your ability to turn your life around, I've always said as much."

"It's done, ma'am," the artist says during the lull.

"Well turn it around, let us all see."

She carefully picks up the easel, rotating it not towards her patron, but to you and Jun-ho. Mother rotates her chair in kind, sitting side-by-side with an exquisite oil-painting of herself shooting you a disappointed look. Were it not for the brush-strokes you'd have difficulty figuring out which is real.


(( art by @Camellia obviously ))

"Marvellous work," Mother says, her eyes fixed squarely on you. "You may go, payment has already been arranged.

The rabbit-eared artist collects her things and hurries past, no doubt eager to get out of a big empty room where her only company is dragons. The silence goes on and on, her footfalls the only sound in the cavernous space, until at last you hear the lift grille rake back and the car descend back into the bowels of the tower. Leaving you and Jun-ho alone with both Mothers.

"Now, on to what really matters," she says at last, elegantly curling her tail around the chair legs so that the tip rests just by her feet. "Nana Illvithri's birthday is coming up in an increasingly short time, and these things don't just spring up overnight. It's a big affair, Eldingar, and big affairs require big plans. The kind of plans where everyone pulls their weight in their own special way."

"You... asked me to renovate my cave because that's where you want the party?" you ask.

She bursts out laughing. "Oh good Aži no, Nana Illvithri alone would topple that silly thing into the sea trying to squeeze in, let alone to present it in the state it's in for all the clan to see. But it is so sweet of you to offer."

"(I always strive to be generous, Mother,)" you say through gritted fangs.

"And while you are in that generous problem-solving mood, we have to discuss the distribution of the workload," she goes on, somehow both listening to you and not at the same time. She counts off on her talons. "Menu. Venue. Entertainment. Decoration. Security. And someone to manage all these disparate elements into a cohesive whole." She pauses. "And of course, those unable to snag a highly-prized role in the staging of this event will have to make a substantial cash donation to Nana Illvithri's hoard as a birthday present."

You wonder to yourself what her role will be, but you imagine it mostly involves day-drinking and brainstorming new ways to be the absolute worst. The look she gives you tells you that she knows, and she thinks that sounds like a damn fine evening. She hasn't looked at Jun-ho yet and you can hardly turn to check if he's still there, but you vehemently hope he doesn't have any explosions of honesty in the near future.

"You needn't make a choice right now," she adds out of the blue, crossing one leg over the other as she idly sharpens her talons. "Believe me, I understand any hesitance to make such an important choice so soon. If you want more time to perhaps reconvene at home and discuss the matter with your betrothed, I would be happy to oblige. I'd only like to add that the longer you take to decide, the more my hand is forced to find another whom I can trust to do the job right."

She gestures to the portrait. You swear it shifted to match her more closely while you weren't looking. "And you wouldn't want to disappoint either of us, would you?"

"Not at all, Mother," you say as neutrally as you can while your brain wildly kicks into high gear. What does she want you to say? What does she not want you to say? Is this a test about taking on too much responsibility too early and making an ass of yourself or not taking enough and embarrassing her? Is just donating to the birthday fund a trap option or is it a real option? Having Jun-ho in the room flusters you even more and you don't know why, you can't even see him and it feels like your neck is locked forward-facing in a brace but just the sensation of his presence is enough to put you on edge. How can you respond?

[ ] Take responsibility for the menu. You'll figure out how to keep an entire extended family of blue dragons fed and happy for a whole day.
[ ] Take responsibility for the venue. You'll figure out what place could contain a single elder wyrm and an entire extended family of blue dragons (albeit the latter will only be in bipedal form for a number of reasons) for a whole day without anyone killing each other.
[ ] Take responsibility for the entertainment. You'll figure out how to keep an entire extended family of blue dragons amused for a whole day.
[ ] Take responsibility for the security. You'll figure out how to keep the party free of riffraff, onlookers, hangers-on, opportunistic thieves with deathwishes and rogue dragonslayers for a whole day.
[ ] Take responsibility for the organisation. You'll figure out how to keep... every other aspect of this massive sprawling abomination of a party on-task and liaise with all the others Mother drags into it.
[ ] Flake out and promise a gold donation in lieu of helping with the party. It has to be substantial enough to be worthy of note to a dragon who's had a thousand years to assemble her own hoard but... you can make that work, right?
[ ] Ask for more time. Mother will undoubtedly think less of you and will almost certainly give up one of the previously advertised job to some cousin or another while you try to decide, but maybe the others back at the spire can help you pick from what's left?