Most slaves taken young eventually learned to fit the role fate had deigned for them. Children were more malleable than adults, and if separated from their parents and familiar home, tended to be much easier to break.<br/><br/>Not so Chioni.<br/><br/>Her village had been raided when she was only twelve or so, pillaged and burned, the survivors rounded up and sold off. Her unique traits had immediately grabbed attention, and she had been ripped from her mother's side to serve a larger, war-mongering tribe far to the south. Some had called the young halfbreed spirited, others merely called her a brat, but none had factored just how difficult a slave she would be. She had let the grief of loss become an indomitable will, and no matter how viciously they punished her, it never seemed to have any lasting effect. Several times through the years, she had tried to escape, and was invariably brought back and disciplined even more severely. She was twenty-two now, and though ost slaves would have simply been killed if they refused to submit after so long, it wasn't every day one saw a half-human, especially one with a supposed dragon for a sire. She had been her master's white elephant of sorts--good for bragging about and displaying, but rather difficult to maintain and control.<br/><br/>He had found his solution when the annual tithing came about one year. Gold, goods, and slaves, all their best spoils of war destined for the kingdom of the dragons. Such a rare creature would be sure to impress, and if<i>they </i>couldn't control her, well, at least he wouldn't be the one who killed her. And so Chioni found herself on the road, shackled and marching alongside a dozen or so others within a caravan heavy with tribute. The grandeur of the dragon's capital hadn't done much to impress her, and now that the material goods had been presented and accepted, it was time for the tribute of flesh.<br/><br/>She was at the head of the line as they were marched in, wrists bound before her. Petite, and human at a glance, her parentage rapidly became apparent once you got a good look at her. Gleaming opalescent scales patterned her brow and cheeks, shining against her pale skin, and under her clothing traced down her spine to end just above her tailbone. Her short hair was a similar color, almost white, but shot through with flecks of color. Her blue eyes carried a similar luster, and close inspection would reveal the vaguely-slit pupils and dark sclerae so akin to a dragon in its human form. Short horns erupted from her skull, raking back with turned-up tips, but unlike the purebreds atop the dais, she could not shift. Chioni was stuck between the two races, belonging to neither and accepted by none.<br/><br/>"My lord," purred the dragon slavemaster presenting them as he swept into a deep bow. "My lady. These are the yearly offerings from the Khitai tribe. Chief Teryn sends his highest regards and hopes these souls are pleasing to you."<br/><br/>Behind him, Chioni rolled her eyes at his cowtowing, then looked up to the throne where the royal family lounged. Most wouldn't dare to look them in the eyes, but she studied their faces without shame, trailing down from the king to his wife (whom she immediately found herself disliking), a few of their brood, and finally the one at the bottom of the dais, who looked just as disdainful of the ceremony as she did.