The scent of mushroom stew drifted through the lower chambers, mingling with the mineral tang of stone and the acrid bite of brewing toxins. Rou-ya sat cross-legged on a flat stone, her fingers working carefully with mortar and pestle. The poison paste she was preparing would coat the tribe's arrows and traps. She ground the nightshade carefully, watching the purple-black berries release their oils.
It was simple, mindless work. Easy enough, even given her limited interest in the task.
A princess had many duties, apart from wearing the crown and making more goblins. Unlike the societies of the big people, princesses in goblin communities were expected to also contribute in some more mundanely pragmatic fashions. Perhaps this was simply a matter of resources. Goblin societies live on the fringes, in scarce, harsh places. A tribe couldn't spare the manpower lost compared to a spoilt human royal who had no duties at all.
She added spider venom to the mixture and stirred it carefully, then held the bowl up to examine the consistency in the dim glow of the phosphorescent moss that clung to the cavern walls. It was thick and even. Exactly the kind of competent mediocrity that had defined her entire life before the dragon.
Her golden eyes tracked the movement of goblins passing through the chamber. Three warriors heading towards the surface with crude spears slung across their backs. Two juveniles were hauling baskets of ore toward the forges. An elder carrying bundled herbs towards the living quarters. All of them were busy and all of them seemed rather purposeful.
All of them were, really, completely fine without her.
And yet, she was nonetheless cursed to be stuck with them forever, wasn't she? Rou-ya felt like a third arm on a body of the goblin tribe that only needed two. She would rather not be attached, but the metaphorical body was seemingly insistent on her not being amputated off. She couldn't escape them, ever, could she?
Rou-ya set the bowl aside and reached for the next batch of ingredients in her pile. More nightshade. Another simple poison. She began grinding the fresh berries, her mind wandering while her hands moved through familiar motions.
This was supposed to be better.
She had schemed to flee her tribe's expectations, thrown herself at a dragon's feet, and somehow stumbled into exactly the same place she began at despite it. She ran from one trap straight into another. But really, it was better here for her. Here, she had freedom from some of the burdens of her role at least. Safety from the endless demands of being a princess. No more councils. No more disputes to settle. No more expectations to meet.
Things were, surprisingly enough, more peaceful here than back at the village. She slept better at night. Even with the big people's attack on the dragon's den, it still felt safer. After all, they attacked their villages and outposts too. This place was much more secure in comparison. And after the last attack was repelled so viciously, Rou-ya was certain it would be a little while before any outsiders came sniffing around again.
The dragon had taken all of those worries from her. Barjuchne ruled the goblins now. The tribe looked to the dragon queen for protection and guidance. They brought their problems to the Dragon Queen, not to the useless princess sitting in a corner making goo or a theoretical chieftain to whom she would have been forced to be married.
Really, it was, in theory, almost perfect. She had gotten almost everything she wanted, apart from a full separation from her tribe.
Except it did not feel almost perfect.
Rou-ya accidentally got some of the slime acid on her finger, burning the tip. She hisses, placing the tender end of the digit in her mouth to ease the pain.
Stupid.
She was being stupid. This was what she wanted. Freedom. Comfort. A safe position as consort without the crushing weight of responsibility. So why did the sight of Veliah organising tribute payments with calm efficiency make her want to throw something?
It was the contrast, she thought.
The elf was useful. Smart. Analytical. She could look at a problem and break it down into neat little pieces that made sense. She managed the hoard, negotiated with emissaries, and kept the dungeon running smoothly for Barjuchne. It was not a question in Rou-ya’s mind. Even barring her advantage of time, the elf was certainly the favourite bride of the Dragon Queen; she was just more useful.
After all, what did Rou-ya do?
Make poultices, poison. Such trivial tribal matters surely meant nothing to a powerful creature like the Dragon Queen. In a way, apart from being sworn to the dragon, she was no different than any other goblin down here, right?
Rou-ya took a stone jar, carefully bottling the mixture she had made. Although she was somewhat careless sliding it across the floor to its resting spot after doing so. It almost tipped over.
“Careful. That looks like dangerous work.”
Rou-ya's head snapped up. Veliah, of all people, stood at the chamber entrance, barefoot and composed, her hair pulled back in a simple braid. She wore the practical travelling clothes she favoured for daily work and carried a rolled mat of thick fabric under one arm.
The goblin princess felt her hackles rise automatically at the sight of her competition. She moved a hand away from the bubbling toxins she had been grinding. “I am not afraid of a little poison,” Rou-ya replied, her voice coming out more defensive than she intended.
Veliah’s violet eyes swept over the collection of filled apothecary pots, then moved to the goblin’s pale green face. Something shifted in her expression.
“Don’t mind me,” said the elf. “I needed to find a quiet space. Things outside have gotten hectic lately,” she says, pointing back behind herself toward the central chamber that is buzzing with activity.
Rou-ya opened her mouth to tell her to go find her quiet somewhere else, then closed it again. She couldn’t show weakness in front of her rival and making it clear that they were enemies would be an establishing of that weakness. Instead, the goblin had to pretend that such things were beneath her. The proper social etiquette would be to act as if the thought of Veliah being her rival was laughable and not even worth considering.
After all. She herself was an actual royal by blood.
The elf was just a common elf, if the information she had gathered was correct.
Veliah stepped into the chamber and unrolled her mat on a flat section of stone. She settled onto the surface and began stretching, extending one leg while folding the other beneath her with fluid grace. Elves were known to be graceful by their nature; goblins, in contrast, were not offered such generous perceptions.
Seeing her watching, Veliah turned her head. “Want to join?” she asked.
Rou-ya blinked. “...What?”
“Stretching. Meditation. It helps clear the mind.” Veliah bent forward, her forehead nearly touching her extended knee. “It’s easy.”
The goblin princess bristled. Is this a challenge? She watched the elf suspiciously, wondering if this were some kind of trap.
“Get over here,” Veliah said, smiling.
Surely, it was a challenge from her rival bride. The elf was trying to posture her dominant position by showcasing her physical prowess over her. Rou-ya recognised the manipulation for what it was, yet found herself setting aside her alchemy and moving to the mat. There was no way to back down from the challenge. She settled onto the stone beside Veliah, her skin's tone stark against the elf’s fair complexion.
“Copy what I do,” Veliah said, shifting into a new position.
Rou-ya tried. She extended her leg and bent forward, reaching for her toes. Her fingers made it perhaps halfway down her shin before her muscles screamed in protest. She was strong and healthy, but flexible? Absolutely not. Veliah, meanwhile, folded herself into positions that looked anatomically impossible.
Rou-ya muttered, struggling to reach further.
Veliah shifted again, moving through her routine with calm precision. “I do this every day, and I was thinking it would be fun if I had a partner,” she noted, sounding hopeful.
“Ask the dragon queen,” replied Rou-ya, straining as she tried to reach her toes. Her back felt as if it were going to rip in half. What sort of elven treachery was this madness?
“Barjuchne is not… uh,” Veliah started. She leaned in closer. “She’s a little scary sometimes, you know?” she mused. “I’ve gotten used to pretending I’m not scared of her, but I really am still, now and then." Her eyes wandered away in thought. "It’s complicated.”
Rou-ya looked at her, nodding quietly.
It was, indeed, complicated.
She returned to her routine, and Rou-ya forced herself to try again. Extend. Breathe. Her body protested every movement, muscles trembling with the effort.
They worked in silence for a time, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the distant drip of water.
“So?” asked Veliah, still kneeling as they reached the end of the practice. She placed her hands on Rou-ya’s shoulders from behind, rubbing them. Rou-ya tensed up further, expecting a dagger to pierce her side. “I could really use a friend in here,” said the elf instead, her expression almost hopeful.
Rou-ya studied her, still searching for a scheme.
Was she offering a truce?
“...I will try again tomorrow,” replied the goblin tentatively. It was an answer that allowed her to keep her distance but remained affirming.
The elf smiled.
Rou-ya left the chamber feeling lighter than she had in days. The tightness in her chest had loosened enough to let her get past her feelings and really think about the subject matter at hand.
How could she be useful?
She made her way through the lower tunnels towards the living quarters, her mind already going through many possibilities.
The living quarters came into view, carved chambers branching off the main tunnel where the tribe had made their homes. Cookfires burnt in stone pits. Juveniles played crude games in the corridors. The scent of roasting meat and unwashed bodies filled the air with familiar goblin musk. She hated being around other goblins, even if they were her people. She’s just… always felt different from them.
And standing directly in Rou-ya's path was her mother.
The goblin matriarch was shorter than her daughter, broad across the shoulders, her face lined with age and authority. She wore practical leather and bone jewellery, her grey-streaked hair braided in the style of the tribal elders. Her golden eyes fixed on Rou-ya with the kind of maternal intensity that made the princess want to turn around and flee. She had done well at managing to avoid her so far.
"There you are," her mother said.
Rou-ya forced herself to stop walking, every instinct screaming at her to run. "Mother."
"We need to talk."
Four words. Innocuous on their surface. Absolutely terrifying in context. Rou-ya knew exactly what this conversation would be about. It was always about the same thing.
"I am very busy, Mother," Rou-ya tried.
Her mother stepped closer, lowering her voice so the nearby goblins would not overhear. "You have been here for weeks now. Married to the Dragon Queen. Living in comfort and safety. When are you going to fulfil your duty?"
"I don't have tribal duties anymore," Rou-ya said quickly.
"I'm not talking about tribal duties." Her mother's eyes narrowed. "I'm talking about heirs. You're a princess, Rou-ya. That means offspring. The dragon is powerful, yes, but a fire needs fresh wood, or it dies."
Rou-ya's stomach dropped. This was worse than she thought. She wanted grandchildren. Goblin-dragon hybrid grandchildren, apparently, because logic had no place in maternal expectations.
"The dragon and I —" Rou-ya began, searching desperately for an excuse. "It's complicated. I can't just. I mean, she’s a dragon and, you know, a w —"
"- How complicated can it be?" Her mother crossed her arms.
"It's not that simple!" explains Rou-ya, not even sure where to begin.
Rou-ya had specifically chosen this path to escape exactly that kind of pressure. But she could not say that.
"The dragon queen is very busy," Rou-ya said weakly. "With the territory and the tribute and the dungeon expansion. There's no time for –"
"Oh, please. There's always time. Your father conquered the entire mountain and still had time to make your litter and six others." Her mother's expression softened fractionally. "I know you're young. I know this is all new and probably frightening. But you have responsibilities, Rou-ya. To your bloodline. To your tribe."
The goblin princess felt the walls closing in. This was exactly what she had wanted to run from. The assumption was that her only value was in producing heirs and continuing traditions she had never wanted any part of.
"I need to go," she said abruptly.
"Rou-ya —"
"My duties are waiting. I'm sorry. We'll talk later," she lied.
She fled before her mother could respond, hurrying down the corridor with her heart racing. Behind her, she heard a heavy sigh, but mercifully no footsteps following. The confrontation would come later, again. It always did. But for now, she had escaped once more.
Why couldn’t the dragon have just taken her by herself and left the rest of the village behind?
Barjuchne found her an hour later in the treasure chamber, hiding from the others in the steamy air of the depths of the core. The dragon's approach was silent despite her size, her claws clicking softly against stone. Rou-ya looked up to find glowing eyes fixed on her from the shadows. Her heart jumped into her throat. The dragon queen loomed above her, massive and terrible in the firelight. Scales gleamed like polished obsidian. Claws scraped against the floor with unconscious menace. The heat radiating from Barjuchne's body made the air shimmer.
"You," Barjuchne said.
The single word rumbled through the chamber with draconic resonance that made Rou-ya's bones vibrate. She swallowed hard, her mind racing through what she might have done wrong. Had she offended the dragon somehow? Failed in some duty she did not know she had?
Barjuchne moved closer, her tail sweeping across the treasure hoard. Her head lowered until her face was level with the goblin princess, those burning eyes boring into Rou-ya with unblinking intensity.
"The bones," Barjuchne said.
Rou-ya's breath caught. The dragon's claws moved. Rou-ya flinched, expecting pain. But the touch, when it came, was careful. One massive claw rested against the base of her chin with surprising gentleness, the sharp tip angled carefully away from her skin.
"You did very well, coming up with that idea," Barjuchne said. “I hadn't told you yet because it had been so hectic since. Thank you.”
…Huh?
That hung in the air between them. Rou-ya blinked, confusion cutting through her fear.
The dragon's expression did not change. Her eyes remained fixed and predatory, her posture radiating barely contained violence. But the claw on Rou-ya's body was steady and almost reassuring.
"The siege," Barjuchne continued, her voice rumbling through words with obvious effort. "Your idea is what saved us in the end. You’re clever, a quick thinker," praised the Dragon Queen. “That’s very useful. That’s another treasure,” she said, her slit pupils widening.
What?
Understanding crashed over Rou-ya in a wave of relief so intense she felt dizzy. Praise. This was praise. "Y-you're welcome," Rou-ya only just barely managed, her voice small.
Barjuchne's eyes narrowed fractionally. The goblin's heart hammered. Had she said something wrong? Was gratitude offensive to dragons? Should she have prostrated herself instead?
"Give me more ideas," the dragon demanded. "I’ll be needing many more ideas like that from you in the future." Each word came out with a sincere tone of authority. "You know this land better than most. You know how to survive in it. My Veliah is smart and great with processes,” said the dragon, speaking of the elf. “But you’re clever and long-thinking and accustomed to ruling over lesser things," explained Barjuchne, the tip of her massive claw rising up to rest against Rou-ya’s forehead with just enough pressure to emphasise the point without causing pain.
"Share with me another gift of yours," said the dragon. “Give me another good idea.”
That certainly wasn’t an ask. It was an order. The kind of command that expected immediate obedience. But beneath the terrifying delivery, Rou-ya caught something else. A thread of desperation, maybe? There was the tiniest hint of need in those words.
The dragon was asking for help… in her own, terrifying way. She was just catastrophically bad at it.
As Veliah had said earlier about Barjuchne, it’s complicated.
Rou-ya's fear began to ease, replaced by that familiar feeling of opportunity. Of seeing the opening that others would miss. Barjuchne needed someone who could think quickly when plans fell apart. She needed exactly what Rou-ya was good at.
The dragon needed a schemer, not another planner.
And she was asking her for it.
"I have a lot of ideas!" Rou-ya said eagerly, sitting up straighter. She grabbed the clawed hand from her forehead, holding it tightly in both her palms as her goldenrod-hued eyes began to light up with a rare excitement.
Barjuchne's eyes gleamed brighter in turn, as if they were connecting somehow. "I'm listening."
The goblin princess took a breath and began, going through an entire barrage of things that simply immediately came to her. The villages paying tribute were vulnerable to bandits. The dungeon's outer defences were desperately weak compared to its inner defences. The goblin tribe needed better integration with the dragon's authority structure, perhaps needing some sort of ritual worship or practice to solidify themselves as being the new Dragon Clan, rather than just being goblins that lived in a dragon’s den. An entirely new culture needed to be created. She spoke quickly, barely able to keep up with her own thoughts as she began laying out schemes and strategies and plays for the power of the regions.
It was actually exhilarating. She felt like a rider on the hunt, her heart racing as she talked and talked and talked.
Somebody wanted her to do something that she herself wanted to do. Somebody wanted her to do something that she was good at, rather than just do what they expected her to do. It made her heart flutter between words. In between desperately excited paragraphs, the goblin found herself consistently becoming light-headed as her nearly manic ramblings came faster than her breathing could maintain.
The dragon Barjuchne listened in absolute silence, her expression unchanging. To anyone else, she would have looked bored. Disinterested. Maybe even just a little bit potentially murderous. But Rou-ya was learning to read the subtle signs of the Dragon Queen’s face. The slight tilt of the dragon's head indicated attention. The way her tail stopped lashing when an idea interested her. The faint shift in her eyes when something made sense.
She was listening and she was interested.
And so they sat together in the treasure chamber for hours, the goblin speaking and the dragon looming in seemingly terrifying silence. But with every suggestion Barjuchne accepted with a curt nod, with every idea that made those burning eyes brighten fractionally, Rou-ya felt her own confidence returning.
When the one-sided planning finally ended, Barjuchne rose to her full height, towering over the goblin princess with the kind of dominating presence that could make kings kneel. She stared down at Rou-ya for a long moment.
"Beautiful", is all that the dragon said, paralysing Rou-ya with that. “Thank you for these beautiful new things that you have given me,” said the dragon, speaking of Rou-ya’s ideas, of all things. Not of her body, her skin, her hair, her eyes, or the wealth of her inheritance. She’s heard those things a thousand times over, to the point of them meaning nothing, if not even being insulting at this point. But Barjuchne said it of the princess’ inner workings, of her ideas. That has never happened before, ever, and it’s pierced her like a knife.
The goblin princess was stuck there, frozen and confused again now in a new way, as she felt something really strange and complicated knot up inside of her guts. She could feel it in real time. It was like somebody took thread and pulled her intestines together inside of her own body.
What was happening? She didn’t understand it.
A kiss reached her lips, simple but sure. Then, just like that, the Dragon Queen turned and walked away without another word, her tail dragging across the gold and gems of the many piles as she left, apparently eager to implement some of the ideas she had just been given.
Silence fell over the dungeon’s deepest den for the first time in many hours that had simply flown by.
Looking around, the goblin princess stared at her reflection in the water of the hot springs. A confused face gazed back at her from the shimmering water below.
Quietly, Rou-ya leaned down by the water’s edge. She decided to stay there for a while, suddenly feeling very tired. Her legs gave out beneath her. But strangely enough, the very exhausted face in the water smiled back at her.
It hadn’t ever done that before.
How strange.