Finally... Finally. Your chest heaves with each breath, your lungs and heart burn with the effort of simply keeping you alive. All around you, the regal throne room is a mess of singed carpet, crushed cobblestone and splinters of destroyed furniture. Sitting nearly at the center of it all, motionless and breathless: the mad lord of this dungeon; the very same one that fed your group to a red dragon. The battle had been fierce, your torn clothes stained with the red of the multiple cuts you suffered, but now... quiet. Though braziers once burned and the birds outside did sing, now reigns stasis... Stasis and the large, ornate door behind the fallen ruler's throne, bearing a golden lock that matches the key you found at the Lord's hip. You've gotten this far, might as well see all you can. The delicate metal fits the opening easily, and the click echoes a beat too long in the relatively small space.

An energy courses through you and, for a moment, the door itself seems to warp and shift, only to steady. The inside is much too dark to see properly, but through the gloom, you can barely make out a large silhouette, arms bound to the wall. "Ah... Haven't I given enough? I obeyed..." The plea is broken, deep and feminine and raspy in a way that suggests long-lasting abuse. Who...? Taking your torch and lighting it, you see a woman. No, not that. What is she? Large, twin horns sit curved atop a head of matted golden locks, thin eyes gleaming against the flame even while one is bruised and slightly swollen purple. The snout, fur and tufted tail sitting limp between her legs give the woman a feline appearance, yet the large wings limply grazing the floor suggest otherwise. Despite the sheer musculature to her, the myriad bruises and wounds around her body, coupled with the tatters she wears, make her seem awfully small.

"Wait... No, you're not... He's not here. W-Who are you, what did you do to him?" The prisoner's voice grows more urgent as her eyes capture yours. Those simmering pools of gold are wide and dark, impossibly steady on your gaze as she pulls her wrists up to her chest, rattling the chains. "Please, whoever you are, f-free me! He's kept me here for... for... I can't even remember how long!" The woman seems to grow more and more desperate as she goes, but through it all, her body language remains a little too stiff. Her eyes, when they fall on yours again, hold a gleam that sends a chill down your spine. Why? It's just a prisoner; you've already helped free others exactly like her.

The velvet of your seat cushions your body as you shift, looking out an ornate window at your territory. Your Dungeon. The banners flare alive once again in colors slightly too bright. The flames flicker and roar in their braziers, failing to keep you from the cold air subtly suffocating the room. The red dragon looking in from the ornate window bows its head when you catch its gaze. As it should. "Pardon the interruption, Master. You seem a little too enamored by the wrong sights." A voice comes from behind you, deep and thick with that calm that brings you true warmth. Finally.

Click-clack-click. Her claws tap on the varnished wooden floor as she approaches in measured steps. The instinctive flutter of her aquiline wings spreads the slight scent of honey and nightshade that clings to her fur. The towering woman lays a hand on the golden rim of your throne as she circles around it, a low chuckle accompanying her approach. "Ah, forgive me my greed... or not. You must know how to pamper your subjects to be a proper Master." In a fluid, sweeping motion, the horned beastwoman takes a seat on one of the chair's arms. Her spine curves back in a feline angle, too flexible to be achieved by the ordinary human, solely so she may rest the back of her large head against the top of yours. "After all... we both have grown so, so much since... you... found me."

The Lion stays there a moment longer, simply absorbing your warmth into her much vaster body, until she slides off her seat and effortlessly catches herself, standing upright once more. As she walks to stand before you, you can finally see her: the curved horns, flowing mane and, of course, that ever so entrancing smile. Contrary to when you first met her, your care has allowed her to use part of her might to conjure an elegant black dress. The cloth clings to every curve and muscle, turning to patterned nets at the sleeves. "Your vision bears fruit. It is truly astonishing just how much can change when the right person sits at the throne." She chuckles, a sound that caresses your ears like velvet. "Your realm deserves visitors. Adventurers swarming the halls. Hungering as always." For a moment, a subtle vibration distorts the air before you, her pupils seeming to thin into slits. "They will swarm the halls in search of their greatest dreams. Money and fame and power... and we will grant them. Of course we will. We can do anything, can't we? They need only show us their desires."

"If I may have a word." The words seep into your mind, dragging you out of the veil of sleep. The dark in your bedchambers obscures all but the moonlight streaming in from the gilded windows. Soft wind blows the curtains, wind you tailored to bring the scent of your favorite flower. It feels cloying as it hits your nose. The very air around you seems alien. Impossible. This is your domain. Nothing here simply is, it is because you ordered it to be... no more. Not tonight, dearest. A presence looms at the foot of your bed. Even before five pinpricks of golden light pierce the dark, you could feel it. Warm and inviting and bigger than you could ever be, like a yawning maw. "The hour is not the best, yet..." A chuckle. You recognize the voice, but the tone is indiscernible. "I could simply wait no longer."

I tried. Believe me, I did, but you simply made it so very difficult. Your dreams seemed so vast, yet now that we're here, they are just... stale. The wood groans underfoot as if rotten, creaking as a weight settles atop it with each step closer to your head. My weight. You see then, lit by the pale moon, my arms. All four of them, knife-sharp claws catching the light. Now, I don't know if you prefer this method of communication... "...or this one... But I reckon speaking is more polite than the alternative." The mattress shifts as I settle down atop it. My silhouette is likely taller than you might remember it. "Pay that no mind." Space becomes a scarce luxury as I come closer, close enough that you can feel my breath on your face. Why haven't you moved yet, I wonder... "As of late, I've found myself... concerned." My tone is sweet as it's always been. That quintet of eyes meets yours; unblinking and glowing in the dark.

"This cannot possibly be your end goal. This... decadent decay." I sweep one arm over the room. Opulent and vast, decorated by the plushest rugs and finest decor. Hand-picked by me. Or would you prefer it if I said they were just suggestions? They shift and, even through the dark, you can see their shape distort. A couch becomes a chair becomes a slab becomes a couch. Your bed feels like stone, then water. You sink in just the slightest bit. "You can be so much greater than that. You already are, you just... fail to see it." A presence comes at your cheek. Solid. Firm and tender. You've already felt it there countless times over the course of our partnership, but now... well. "Dream grander. Where is the hunger, the drive?"

Warmth. The concept has become more and more common over the course of the last few... months, at this point. Whether by chance or by design, you can't really tell, especially considering the person this predicament is owed to, but still... it's comforting. The fire crackles in the hearth of your relatively cramped living room, the sparse decor serving not to add needless wealth, but little touches of personality. Even the shackles that once bound her in that damp cell have been kept, repaired and stowed away in one of your bedroom's drawers for... reasons. As you simply take a moment to rest, legs crossed and head resting against the back of your chair, the balance in the room shifts. No door opens, and yet the air blooms with a new presence. That trick of hers never fails to catch you off-guard.

"There's soup on the table before you. You simply rank of misery during last week's cold... so do stay away from disease." Sure enough, steaming and smelling like home in a bowl, a large portion of soup that wasn't there before awaits your hands as you look down at the table. It seems that even after leaving the Dungeon, she still has some of her powers... Despite the relatively important feat, especially for a being that once thought itself bound to those decaying brick halls, the Lion simply stares out the window. Her sharp, golden gaze sweeps over the people above as they go on about their lives, trudging through the snow while carrying flames in their hands or at their hips. If not for the dim orange of the candles lit around the room, the gentle moonlight would be the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. "How? I thought I'd seen it all, tasted it all, and yet... this is enough for you? This plain dish of domesticity?"

Heavy steps carry the woman towards you, thick tail sweeping through the air in wide arcs, and yet the thud of her paws on the wood isn't as oppressive as it once was. Circling around, she traces the back of your chair with a large hand. The gesture is loose and fluid, almost as if certifying herself of the solidity of the furniture. "Every time you open that door and talk of that horrid profession of yours, I feel like wilting. How have you made that into something I look forw-..." The sentence dies in her throat as she stops beside you. Her hand remains there, just behind your head. After a moment of lingering silence, you can feel it, warm and soft, caressing the back of your neck. "So fragile. Soft. When this began, I constantly searched for loopholes, ways to escape this. I once considered slicing this neck." The being's voice is almost a whisper in the quiet of your shared space. She doesn't elaborate on the statement, but the way she frowns slightly and tilts her head suggests she simply can't find the right words. "...Not right now."

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