Lucky Vasilisa

To think I could kill a dragon, with scales like these, by simply breaking a needle.

It was harder to believe than the ghost she had seen with her own eyes. Though she couldn’t confirm the truth of his words, she trusted the skull’s conviction, a conviction that mirrored her own.

She couldn’t bargain with the dragon with something as insignificant as her body or honor.

The dragon must value his own life as well. To bargain with him, she needed to offer something of value to him.

* * *

Her mind was hazy with lingering pleasure.

She had become accustomed to having her belly pressed to expel his seed, a faint pleasure accompanying each release. As if proving her vulgar, vagrant blood.

She no longer had the strength to stand on her own two feet.

Strangely, she wasn’t hungry while her belly was full of his seed. Hunger would return after it was emptied, but soon, new seed would fill her, satiating her.

Considering the skull had materialized from seed-soaked remains, the slick fluid must contain some sort of life force.

Vasilisa clutched her stomach as a rumbling sound echoed from her empty belly. The dragon, who had been nestled against her, lowered his massive head and asked,

“Is that sound coming from your belly?”

The rumbling had woken him just as he was about to fall asleep. She needed him to sleep so she could search for the needle, but the dragon, full of energy, continued to ravage her for days and nights. Vasilisa looked up at him with a dazed expression.

“It’s been at least a week since I got here, and I haven’t had a single drop of water. Isn’t it natural to be hungry?”

She had finally learned to express her displeasure.

Perhaps it was because she realized how relentless the dragon’s curiosity was, or perhaps it was because he seemed to tolerate her defiance. The dragon rested his massive head on his folded forelegs and looked at her.

“I’ve never raised a human. They’ve all tried to stab me with their blades.”

His burning golden eyes slowly blinked, scanning her body. Every time he thrust into her, he would look at her with those intense eyes. His unwavering gaze seemed to pierce through her, body and soul.

“That’s because you keep taking their treasures, Koschei.”

A rounded claw nudged her gently. Even that small movement made her sway.

“What you call treasure is my kin.”

“…What do you mean?”

Frowning, Vasilisa was bewildered by his words. She had thought his scales resembled metal, but she had never heard anything like this before.

“We live for eons, then die of our own volition. Our flesh becomes the soil, and our bones and organs, over time, transform into gold, metal, and jewels. You, living on dragon territory, unearth the remains of my kin, crafting them into trinkets and armor.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating his white underbelly.

“You call dragons greedy hoarders of treasure, but if that were true, why wouldn’t I mine the gold myself? I have claws far more suited to digging than your pickaxes.”

Koschei’s ivory claws tapped impatiently against the pile of gold, as if boasting. 

Now that he mentioned it, his logic made sense. The treasures piled high in the cave were all crafted by humans; there were no raw materials.

It was clear that the dragon hadn’t collected the treasure, but reclaimed the remains of his kin.

“Humans assume all life is like theirs. Greed is a human trait. I merely gather the remains of my kin.”

He lay atop the remains of his kin, presiding over their eternal funeral rites. Having grown up without parents or family, he seemed strangely lonely. The tales of the greedy dragon seemed like a false accusation.

Even as she was offered as a bride, she had never questioned the rumors about the dragon.

Vasilisa had considered herself lucky just to be taken in and raised, despite her vulgar, vagrant blood. She had believed the villagers’ claims of her incredible luck, even while sleeping in a barn-like room and eating the Countess’s leftover bread crusts.

It was her own fault for blindly accepting her situation, for misunderstanding the dragon, for her lack of judgment.

Vasilisa shifted uncomfortably and asked, 

“Then… why don’t you drive the humans away? Aren’t they no different from grave robbers, digging into your mountains?”

Koschei let out a low, dissatisfied grunt. Her hair fluttered in his breath.

“The same reason I’ve kept you alive. Curiosity.”

Koschei blinked slowly. His slitted pupils, like burning suns, seemed to search through distant memories.

“It was a long time ago… I was awakened by the noise of humans. The first ones to settle in the valley were bandits. They built their homes and bred without a second thought.”

Vasilisa swallowed hard.

It was different from the story she knew about the village’s origins. The village, nestled within the harsh mountains, was built on barren land. She had always believed it was founded by a nobleman exiled from the kingdom.

“They didn’t farm the land, but roamed the mountains, killing other humans and stealing their belongings. I watched them for a while, then descended upon the village”

Vasilisa swallowed nervously.

“I was young then, so I didn’t realize how much humans feared me. Some fainted at the sight of my true form.”

Vasilisa bit back a retort as Koschei scoffed. He was the size of a house, with claws large enough to impale her head and wear it like a ring. It was a naive statement to say he hadn’t realized humans would be afraid of him.

“I told them to stop causing trouble and leave the mountains. Their leader offered to pay tribute. Looking back, it was a very bandit-like proposition. Amused, I accepted, and they offered me the gold and jewels they had stolen.

I took their tribute and warned them to stop spilling blood. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, as I gained the remains of distant kin. I continued to collect tribute, watching their numbers grow.”

Vasilisa remembered watching anthills as a child.

She used to bring them crumbs of bread and watch them diligently carry them away. One day, annoyed by the Countess’s complaints about ants invading the mansion, she had kicked over a small anthill.

She had heard there was a device in the kingdom where ants were kept in a glass box for observation. The humans who settled near the dragon’s lair were like those ants. They neither harmed nor benefited him.

“It was amusing to watch them breed, kill each other, and steal, yet live huddled together. Dragons are solitary creatures, and I’m intrigued by what I don’t understand.

I was curious about what bound them together, so I left the mountains to visit your kingdom. But I quickly grew tired of watching them repeat the same patterns.”

His previous comment about her not acting like a noble must have stemmed from his observations during that time. Just how many centuries had he lived?

He awakened every half-century, so seeing the dragon’s messenger twice in a lifetime was a rare occurrence in the village.

“This village, however, continued to amuse me. The descendants of bandits now called themselves Counts, and everyone acted as if they were citizens of the kingdom. I was growing bored of watching them mimic the kingdom, when you arrived.”

Vasilisa, who had been listening silently, fidgeted with the gold coins, feeling a strange sense of awkwardness.

The Count and Countess, who had criticized her for her vulgar, vagrant blood, were descendants of bandits themselves. A tightness constricted her throat.

It was Koschei who had allowed them to thrive in the village, simply for his own amusement. He observed beings different from himself, without intervening in human affairs.

He showed no human desires for progeny or possessions.

“Koschei… what do you live for? Your long story doesn’t say anything about you.”

Koschei chuckled, amused by her question.

“Dragons don’t have ‘life goals’ or ‘dreams’ like humans. We are born, we live, and when the time comes, we leave offspring and return to the earth.”

Vasilisa pressed her chapped finger against a gold coin.

The hard metal remained unmarked. The dragon would likely live as long as this gold coin, for eons. No matter how amusing he found her, that was all it was. Her resentment was no different from the ramblings of a skull.

She had no time. The dragon’s interest in her was but a fleeting moment in his long life. He could lose interest at any time.

Appealing to his emotions and seeking his understanding was a naive, human notion. She had to create an opportunity. Vasilisa compared what she had heard and knew with what the dragon didn’t know.

Licking her lips, Vasilisa spoke.

“But now, Koschei, you have a responsibility to care for me, since you’ve taken me. I can’t live for eons like you. I doubt I can satisfy your curiosity in my short lifespan.”

“Responsibility…”

Koschei scoffed, as if bored, but Vasilisa interrupted him.

“You said it was for those who can’t bear the consequences, right?”

His golden eyes narrowed at her audacity, a mere human daring to interrupt him. The air shifted, becoming heavy, and Vasilisa nervously dug her nails into her palm.

The slight pain grounded her. She was human. She couldn’t survive by simply existing, like the dragon or the gold coins.

“Can you bear the consequences of my death, Koschei? The oldest woman in the village lived to be sixty. That means I have less than half a century left.

And if I’m constantly ravaged and starved like this, I won’t last half a century, let alone a year… or even a month. Can I satisfy your curiosity in such a short time?”

Koschei clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

“What are you trying to say?”

Vasilisa parted her tightly pressed lips.

“If you’re not going to let me go, then at least bring me something to eat. I’m starving.”