Bauble

Once, he was a greedy little Fae.

Like the wild dragons of old, he had become obsessed with treasure. He had spent his entire life gathering and hoarding as much as he could, be it coins, gems, or jewelry. He wanted it all.

He took to sleeping in the pile of treasure, and some of it stuck to him. He became less animated, less connected to his fellow dragons, and gradually the force of his greed turned him into a brooch. Unable to move, he had watched in helpless fury as his precious hoard was dismantled and passed from dragon to dragon. His body was included in that treasure; no dragon knew that he had once been a dragon, and now was trapped in an inanimate state.

His lightning-blue eyes shone like jewels; his body, once shining gold, became tarnished and worn. He continued to be passed from owner to owner, and as he watched, he became aware of something he missed.

Surrounded as he was by cold, hard treasure, only taken out to be worn on occasion, he began to realize that he missed the feelings of community that came between dragons. As he was passed down, from generation to generation, and from lover to lover, he realized that he had not ever taken a lover or had children, or any family at all.

Cold, hard treasure was what he had wanted; cold, hard treasure was what he became. And as he contemplated that, a single tear formed in his eye.

The tear shone like a diamond on his face as he was passed to his next owner, a Plague Necromancer. The Imperial looked the trinket over carefully, and started. He realized that the thing he held had once been a dragon.

"I wonder..." the Imperial muttered. He had heard of such trinkets being used as repositories for Plague, and he immediately began testing the theory.

The former Fae had not felt such pain in ages. He rejoiced in it, for at last he was feeling something again instead of nothing. One day, he even managed to move a little bit, and a few days later, he was flying. His eyes gleamed with hope and joy. He'd never expected such a second chance.

He was, however, still no better than an animate object. The Imperial passed him on to his mate as a love token, just as he'd experienced for centuries. But the Fae did not mind. He reveled in his new purposes: to promote the loving bond between mates, and to collect and capture as much Plague as his tiny frame could hold. In a way, he was alive again.

~Bauble, Ghoulery Box Fae