This story is also posted on AHA and DWG by me, the author.

This story is still a WIP, however I am very close to the end, so by any luck it will soon be a PIP instead! I will probably post once a week, pending on school and betas.

Major thanks to my betas, dreeem, priscillalts, noagnes, Karin E Lb, and Lily. Could not have done this without you fine ladies!

Blurb:
In his younger years, Thomas Bennet was a defiant adventurer. He was one of the best mages in his class and was in many brawls throughout his years at school. Once he graduated, he did not hesitate to throw himself at any problem, trusting in his magic and his intelligence to get him through. He made many enemies, but believed himself to be free of any retribution. One day, he made a fatal mistake, and received a lineage curse that would affect his first born child. Badly shaken, Thomas Bennet retired from the active field. He found an insignificant, non-magical woman to take to wife. When she became pregnant, he cast every spell he think of to protect his unborn child. To his relief, the spells were effective, and the child was born normal. However the curse was not beaten, only dormant. When his wife became pregnant again, Thomas let his guard down, and his second born received the full brunt of the curse. Thomas never let his guard down again.

Prologue

The sky was a bright, cloudless blue. The sun was almost directly overhead, shining down on a dry, dusty lane. A young lady walked along the road, her bonneted head bowed with the heat. She was but eighteen. Her simple and modest dress showed her to be a gentleman's daughter, but not one which could afford the best materials. She carried a book under her arm, her movements listless from the excessive warmth. Eventually, she looked up and saw the house she called home, but instead of making her way to the door, she took a winding path through the small park attached to the place.

There was a smaller cottage behind the main building. It was this dower house that she approached. The house looked uninhabited. It was in mild disrepair, overgrown with ivy, the windows dark and bare of any coverings. She opened the door and stepped into the cool, shadowed interior with relief. The thick walls kept out the worst of the heat, making the temperature in the dower house bearable even at noon time. She shut the door and leaned her forehead on it, her body slowly relaxing.

Something hissed from within the house. The young lady gasped in shock, and whirled around. She gave a short scream, pressing back against the door when huge shadows stirred the darkness.

There was a dragon in the house.

It was huge, its body as big as a carthorse, not counting a considerable length of tail and neck. Its great wings were even more massive, furled tightly against its sides in the cramped space of the dower house. The scales of its back were a glossy pitch black, fading to deep midnight blue along its sides and belly, which then became beautiful violet-indigo on its lowest points. The wings, too, were black closest to the head and blue-violet at the tips.

The young lady got a good look at the deadly beast—and sighed in relief.

"Oh, it is just you," she said with a laugh. "You are home early."

The dragon groaned, then scratched at the dirt floor. It pushed the exposed, damp dirt under its belly and tried to shift its bulk. It lifted its wings; the lady had to duck out of the way. The dragon laid its neck along the ground and sighed heavily. Hot breath gusted over the young lady.

"You poor dear, the heat is really difficult for you, is it not?" she murmured to it.

The dragon sighed again in response.

"If I come back in a little while with a bucket of water to pour over your wings, would that help?"

The dragon tipped its head up and down in a humanoid nod. The corners of its mouth pulled upward. It reached forward and nudged the young lady under her chin, very gently so as to not cause injury to the lady. She wrapped her arms fearlessly around the dragon's head and placed a hand on its muzzle.

"Oh Lizzy, I am glad you have returned."

Six Years Earlier

"…And so it was that King Henry V won the battle of Agincourt," Thomas Bennet concluded, looking over his book at his three daughters. Golden Jane, only sixteen and already starting to show the curves of womanhood, continued her serene embroidery sampler. Lizzy, fourteen and still coltishly slim, met his eyes defiantly. Twelve year old Mary was breathlessly rapt, eagerly waiting for the next chapter. He was tempted to go on, but he had already kept his daughters later than usual for their evening reading. The pounding on the door, muffled by his sound-proofing spell, was another indication he had kept them long enough. "Here endeth the lesson," he said finally, and shut the history book.

"Please, Papa, not there! Do go on, I beg you," exclaimed his youngest daughter, gratifying his soul. Mary was the daughter of his mind, bright and curious. She loved stories of heroes and knights, and could be absorbed by them for hours. Unfortunately, she was also the daughter of his appearance, taking after his mousy-brown coloring and his dependence on spectacles. Unlike him, she did not have magic she could use to correct her vision without the use of glasses. He hoped she outgrew her plump, rounded frame in the next few years.

"I fear I have kept you up past your bed time," he answered regretfully. "Surely your mother would have you sleep now, or she would have my head."

Mary's eyes opened wide with imagination. Jane murmured, "If you are up too late, Mary, you will be tired for our journey tomorrow."

Mary shook her head quickly, and looked ready to retire to bed at once. The mildest threat of being left behind made her instantly contrite. Mr. Bennet smiled gratefully at his eldest. Jane was the daughter of his conscience, and his patience. She was the best at not losing her temper, which was vital in the Bennet household. "I am only surprised that Mama has not called already on us," Jane wondered aloud.

Mr. Bennet hid his shame as he glanced at his middle daughter.

Lizzy stiffened imperceptibly at the mention of Mrs. Bennet. If Mr. Bennet had not been watching for it, he would not have noticed.

She has been pounding at the door for the last half-hour, Lizzy said silently, in the way only those with the gift of magic could communicate. Your spell has kept her out.

You could have undone my spell and let her in at any moment, he replied softly.

I do not want that woman in this room, she retorted harshly.

I will not have you speak ill of her, he barked at her. She is your mother, and you will respect her as such.

Color touched Lizzy's cheeks, but the hard light in her eyes did not fade. All children needed discipline and accountability for their actions, but it was vitally important for Lizzy. Normal children said hurtful things and perhaps threw a tantrum in which they broke some items.

Lizzy could burn down the whole village.

Of all his daughters, Lizzy was the child of his heart, the only one to share his ability with magic. She was also the child of his guilt, for of all his daughters, she was the one who suffered the most for his transgressions. It was hard for him to remain stern with her for long. Softening his tone, he added, She also gave us Jane and Mary, remember that.

Lizzy put her arms around her sisters. It was a protective gesture, reminiscent of a mother dragon using her wings to shelter her young. Jane continued her sampler, while Mary looked back and forth between him and his middle daughter. Neither of his other daughters could hear or use the mental speech, but they were used to these silent exchanges.

And Kitty and Lydia, Lizzy pointed out with a hint of anger that made him fear for the lives of the youngest girls. He would be setting spells around their rooms tonight. They would not stop Lizzy—she would sense them almost at once—but it would alert him in case she moved towards Mrs. Bennet's daughters. In the wild, rivalry between dragon siblings was harsh, even to the point of death. Mr. Bennet loved Lizzy unconditionally, but he feared he was losing her to the dragon-curse.

"I should like to say good night to Kitty and Lydia," Lizzy said aloud, glaring at him.

He suppressed a shiver of trepidation. "Not now," he said firmly, "I am certain they are asleep already and there is no need to disturb them."

That was the real reason he had kept his daughters so late, making sure Mrs. Bennet would have settled her daughters in bed long before his girls—Lizzy especially—were released from his study.

It began as an innocent observation yesterday, when Lizzy wondered why Kitty and Lydia did not smell the same as Jane, Mary and herself. Mr. Bennet knew. He had always known. The times, though close, were not quite right. He had said nothing, for it gave Mrs. Bennet comfort to have her daughters, and it was but a small payment for what he had put her through with the curse on his middle daughter. Lizzy had remarked that the Lucas children all smelled the same—and that was when she worked it out on her own.

The tenuous respect she had held for Mrs. Bennet was shattered. And Mr. Bennet, knowing wild dragons would push the eggs of different clutches out of the nest entirely, had immediately separated Lizzy from Kitty and Lydia. Unfortunately Lizzy's patience with him was running short. He knew that if she forced the issue, he could not restrain her. It had nothing to do with his love for her, and everything to do with the dragon she became for one-third of the month.

The curse had not been so long when she was younger. As an infant, when her dragon form was the size of a cat, it had been a mere three or four days. By the time she was nine years old, her dragon form was larger than the pony his other daughters were learning to ride on, and had taken her for a week. Now it was at least ten days that she was forced into her dragon form. The curse was progressing, and it worried him to no end. How long before she would have no time left as a human? He had adjusted well to raising his three daughters—one of them a dragon-child sometimes—but if he could not break the curse, it would crush his heart to see his middle daughter transform wholly into a dragon.

Mr. Bennet waited until Mrs. Bennet paused from trying to break down his door and then undid both his lock-spell and the silencing spell. Mrs. Bennet burst into the room.

"Mr. Bennet, you are very cruel to keep a mother from her daughter," she shrilled.

"You have three daughters in this room," Mr. Bennet pointed out quietly. She ignored him, as always.

"Come along, Jane! You must have your rest if you are to look pretty for your trip to London tomorrow. You must convince my sister and her husband to take you to the theatre at least once a week while you are there. Mr. Bennet, the pin money you have allotted for Jane simply will not do! I demand that you increase it—double it!"

"What about Lizzy and Mary's pin money?" he asked sharply.

"Oh Mary, it is such a waste on her! I suppose London might have one bonnet that would look decent on her head, but she surely needs no more. Come, Jane, we must put the cream on your face before you sleep."

"May I have a little cream, Mama?" Mary asked desperately, longing for a little attention from her mother. Mrs. Bennet scowled, but—at a fierce look from Mr. Bennet—conceded with bad grace. Mary's face fell as she felt Mrs. Bennet's disdain. It was Jane who took Mary's hand and promised to rub the cosmetic into her skin. Mary brightened at that.

As usual, Mrs. Bennet left the room without ever looking at her second daughter. Nor had Lizzy looked at the woman who gave birth to her. Mr. Bennet tried to speak to his middle daughter, but she tossed her head and rose with a preternatural grace. He watched her go, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. It felt like his family was falling apart around him. The only physical manifestation of the curse was Lizzy's transformation into a dragon, but the effects were felt far deeper than that.

It was with a heavy heart that he walked down the hall to the cold and empty master's chamber. He set the spells in place inside Kitty and Lydia's room, praying he could reach them if—when—Lizzy triggered his spells.

It happened in the middle of the night. He had managed to sink into a deep sleep when suddenly alarm ripped through him. Lizzy had absorbed one of his spells. And she had done it quickly, meaning she planned to use her speed to beat him to her quarry. There was a reason dragon hunters never accepted mages into their ranks. Common lore held that dragons were immune to magic, but he knew it was more than that. Dragons, being creatures of immense magic themselves, absorbed magical energy like bread sopping up milk. Any spell thrown at them only made them stronger, and so it was with Lizzy.

Mr. Bennet had slept in his shirt and breeches, knowing he would not have time to dress when Lizzy moved. He darted down the hall to Kitty's and Lydia's room. His heart sank to see Lizzy already in place, crouched on top of the bed between the sleeping children. What could he say to make her leave them in peace? There were no spells that could deflect her; even if there had been, he would not be able to use them against his daughter. He was scarcely over forty years of age, but at that moment he felt like an old, old man. He could not move fast enough to stop Lizzy if she struck. He could only hope to talk her out of any rash action. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach did not bode well for his chances of success.

He reached out with his magic to ascertain the young girls were at least still alive, but Lizzy swallowed his magic easily, preventing any spell from reaching them. And then he paused, and truly looked at Lizzy for the first time. Faint moonlight from the window reflected eerily in her eyes. The irises that were violet during the day shown green-blue at night. She perched like a falcon on the bed, but her arms were stretched wide to cover the small girls. Exactly like a dragon using her wings to protect her brood. His heart clenched, stopping for a brief moment of time, and then began to thunder loudly in his ears. As the fearful tension left his body, he realized the extent of his error toward his second daughter.

"Oh child," he whispered remorsefully, "how I have misjudged you."

Lydia could sleep through anything, but Kitty was a light sleeper. She turned over, coughing fitfully. Lizzy glared at him, even as her hand stroked down Kitty's back. She crooned to her younger sister, still watching him warily. Mr. Bennet eased his way into the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Lizzy tensed. She did not relax until he reached out and helped pat the nine year old Kitty back to sleep.

They are not your blood, Lizzy thought to him in confusion.

He shook his head. As if blood was everything that made a family. No, but they will bear my name. That is enough for me.

The fourteen year old clenched her jaw. She betrayed you! You could—

Do nothing, he interrupted firmly. They are her comfort, as you, Jane and Mary are mine. Any action I took against her would also reflect on Kitty and Lydia. Would you wish that on them?

No! She shifted the sleeping girls closer to her, following her dragon instinct to protect her family. Her brows drew together. They are my sisters as well, even if they smell like—

Do not tell me! Mr. Bennet paled. I do not wish to know.

Lizzy tilted her head and peered closely at him. Whatever she knew, she kept it to herself. Mr. Bennet felt fresh guilt at laying this burden on her as well. Something changed in Lizzy's expression. He saw her straighten her shoulders as she accepted the weight he should have borne. He wished he could take it back, but she would not let him. That was the problem with having a dragon for a daughter: she was so strong, stronger than him.

I will stay here tonight, she said, easing from her crouch into lying on the bed between her youngest sisters. Her abnormally high temperature seemed to ease Kitty's cough.

Do you have the time? he asked gently. They tried to maximize her time as a human by having her spend most nights as a dragon. The problem was that dragons were nocturnal, and she rarely slept more than a few hours at a time. It did not help that her dragon form was already nearly as big as a cart horse, and she continued to grow. Soon she would no longer fit inside the house as a dragon. Mr. Bennet had plans to build a cottage for her, but he loathed the idea of banishing his daughter outside.

I have some time, she said, snuggling her sisters against her. A look of aching tenderness crossed her face as she stroked Lydia's hair. Mr. Bennet was struck by the knowledge that she would be a good mother someday—if she remained human long enough to bear children. He had tried every conceivable method of breaking the curse. Nothing had made the slightest difference. The last avenue available could not come to fruition for some years yet.

Love was a powerful cleansing force. If she could find love with a young man, and he accepted her fully in return, it might be enough to break the curse at last. But what young man would accept a dragon as a wife? He scowled to himself. What young man could ever be worthy of one of his daughters, let alone his precious second daughter?

Papa, Lizzy said plaintively, do we have to leave Mary in London with Jane? I know Jane does not enjoy our journeys so much, and Aunt and Uncle have the new baby she is fond of, but Mary prefers to come with us. Cannot she be included?

It was true: under the guise of visiting their London relations, he and Lizzy took much longer journeys, researching wild dragons for clues to Lizzy's health, or chasing rumors of curse breakers. Jane did not crave the adventure like Lizzy and Mr. Bennet did, but Mary's longing to accompany them was palpable.

Mr. Bennet hesitated. It was already unwise to take a fourteen year old girl on such journeys, though said fourteen year old could become a dragon larger than a full grown racehorse at will. Did he dare take a twelve year old who did not have magic to defend herself? Mary was smart and hard-working. She would be an asset to their research if the limitations of her youth did not stop her.

He looked at his second daughter, and was caught by the pleading in her eyes, and the strength of her arms as she held her youngest sisters. He knew he could only capitulate. There were still times when only he and Lizzy could press on—as a man and a dragon they had far greater physical stamina than a child of twelve—but for the shorter journeys, they could bring Mary. He nodded his assent.

Lizzy smiled in relief. Good. Then on the way back, I am sure we can find far more than one bonnet that would suit Mary very well. She would enjoy it very much.

What about you, Lizzy? he asked curiously. Could we not find a bonnet that would suit your head as well?

Oh, Papa! she laughed joyously. What need have I of a bonnet when I have wings?

So said the child of his heart, the child of his guilt. His heart and his guilt clenched in pain. When she made such a statement, he did not fear he was losing her to the dragon-curse.

He feared she did not want to be saved at all.