18: Treated Like a Dress-up Doll
They hauled Lilith into the shoe shop first, like a kite reeled straight into harbor.
Lamter’s clothing trade was outrageously lush, riding high on commerce and tourist tides.
As Lilith stepped in, the displays dazzled her—shelves a mosaic of shoes from every corner of the world.
She plopped onto a soft little stool, dazed, while Nidhogg set out several styles the Little White Dragon had never seen.
By rights, Lilith wasn’t provincial; shoes are shoes, even after reincarnation.
Feet don’t change that much; how many tricks can leather play?
Besides, the Little White Dragon was tiny; her pale, tender feet weren’t even as big as Nidhogg’s palm.
So she usually raided the kids’ section, same as Abaddon, with barely any styles to choose from.
Yet Nidhogg produced pair after pair that fit Lilith’s size like breath on warm glass.
Some had slim little heels; some bared a scandalous sweep of foot.
The Little White Dragon went slack-jawed.
“Why do shoes like this even exist?” Lilith muttered, numb with shock.
“Who besides little girls could wear them? Doesn’t Lamter crack down on creeps?”
“Dwarves vacation in Lamter too,” Nidhogg said, smooth as a sales bell.
“Smithing dwarves brim with coin, so merchants get ready to serve.”
She had a point; height swings wildly between races, and even within one.
For example, her and Nidhogg. Her and Nidhogg. Her and… Nidhogg.
If she didn’t know she’d been pure human, and Nidhogg a pure-blood Black Dragon, she’d suspect giant’s blood in one, dwarf blood in the other.
She shook the thought away like sand off a shell.
The Little White Dragon bobbed her head, then stretched out an ice-cream-white foot and slid it into the waiting shoe.
This first pair looked fallen out of a fairy tale.
Clear crystal cupped her dragon-small feet, like cool spring glass holding soft jade.
Beneath white stockings, grape-round toes hid under a big blue bow, then peeked out shyly like a half-lifted veil.
Nerves hit first, tight as a drum.
With the straw hat on and a white sundress, trying on crystal slippers, she felt like Cinderella.
They fit so perfectly she wanted to stand, take Nidhogg’s hand, and attempt a tango—though she could barely sway to rhythm.
“Does it… look good?” Lilith asked.
She’d thought she wouldn’t care; inside she still swore she was a six-foot guy.
What kind of man worries about pretty shoes meant for little girls?
But the mood ambushed her like exam day.
She felt like a kid waiting on a math grade; her fragile heart squeezed as if the room itself had hands.
She lifted her eyes to Nidhogg, afraid of one wrong word.
“Very beautiful. Perfect on you, my dear little princess,” Nidhogg said.
She went down on one knee, palm supporting the crystal shoe that hung from white silk.
She raised it with ceremonial care and whispered, “Look—you’re a gummy bear slipped out of a picture book. Nothing under heaven outshines you.”
“Where’d you pick up lines that sappy?”
Relief rose first like a warm tide, then she laughed and slid her foot from Nidhogg’s hand.
She puffed a playful breath against the Black Dragon girl’s shoulder, using mock-anger to hide her blush.
“What princess dresses like a pauper? Forget glass slippers; get me something that suits this white dress.”
Lilith ignored the visible drop of disappointment on Nidhogg’s face.
She kicked off the delicate shoes and stepped into black heels.
The heels weren’t as terrifying as she’d imagined, though the slim stem looked ready to snap.
She moved carefully, afraid of twisting a fragile ankle.
After buckling in, she held onto Nidhogg and stood.
These weren’t like the crystal pair; you had to stand to summon their charm.
Her already slender thighs sharpened under the heels’ magic.
Her lean legs looked like flawless porcelain rods; Nidhogg watched with a hunger that wanted to bite.
Lilith seemed to read it.
She lifted her hem a touch and turned in a slow circle.
She paused with her back to the Black Dragon, then sat and slipped the heels off.
Hmph. Flirt with me, will you? Let’s see you keep your cool now.
The best trick of heels isn’t the thigh; it’s how they lift the softness above.
Just now she’d raised her skirt a little.
Now Nidhogg’s mind was nothing but that flash of pure, blinding white.
Feeling victorious, the Little White Dragon happily kept trying pairs.
As expected, the dazed Nidhogg did nothing extra—just slipped them on and off, and sometimes served as a human stand.
Then, right when Lilith thought she’d scored a clean sweep, she wiped out on the final boss.
The last pair was wooden sandals.
They were Lamter folkwear, beloved by the seaside elves—airy, sea-breeze proof, easy to make.
They swept the city the moment they appeared.
Nidhogg chose them to close the shoe-tour.
Small snag: Lilith still wore little white socks.
Lamter sandals aren’t raw wood; else elf feet would be splintered.
Each pair is treated so the first wearer warms a soft layer that molds to the foot and cushions it.
Of course the Little White Dragon didn’t want blisters.
Lilith’s body was sensitive; without that layer, she wouldn’t touch them.
So she had to take off the socks.
She didn’t even need to move; Nidhogg peeled them off herself, then pressed hard into the arch of the dragon’s foot.
“Eek!”
It was like a finger to her softest spot; the tingle crawled from sole to crown.
She shivered, and Nidhogg slid the sandals on.
Lilith shot Nidhogg a wounded look.
Her legs had gone a little jelly.
She held the other’s hand to stand, and let Nidhogg guide her to the shop mirror.
She froze.
She knew this body was beautiful—beautiful past reason.
She just didn’t expect she could be this beautiful.
Nidhogg set the straw hat on her head.
The white-clad girl nestled under the wide brim’s small shade.
Her baby-soft face hadn’t shed its childlike dew; a flower bud about to open, vivid and dangerous.
She wore a simple white dress, simple to the edge of plain.
The cloth’s white was a shade dimmer than her skin and hair.
Aside from that purity, it held no ornament—only a single lily embroidered at the waist, making her handspan waist slimmer still.
The girl was unspeakably lovely.
She looked stepped out of a painting, or like sea breeze given human shape.
Lamter’s fairest beaches would retreat three paces before her; the endless blue sea would offer its rarest flower.
Especially those sandals at her feet.
In theory as unadorned as the dress, they somehow drew every eye to her slender, milk-white legs and to those plump, grape-like toes.
She was like sand lifted by sea wind; every smile and frown carried summer’s own fire.
“See? You’re truly beautiful,” Nidhogg murmured at the Little White Dragon’s ear.
“Why fight your own shine? You’ve always been bright. Come—show me more of your good, beautiful self.”
Against all reason, Lilith nodded.
