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The very first thing that Kabru asks for is this: Seal off all dungeons completely, forever.
It's just not possible. They pause, staring down at their latest meal. It's not so rare for the first thing a dungeon lord asks for to be something selfless; it's irritating that the request runs so contrary to their goals. Kabru's eyes are hard, unwavering, like he's calling their bluff.
"Of course," the winged lion says. "I'll do what I can- although, you know that my power is trapped in the borders of this dungeon, right? If you wanted greater influence-"
Then seal off this dungeon completely, forever, is the next demand.
They click their tongue. "As long as that's what you desire."
It's irritating, how Kabru's glare does not relax at their gracious acquiescence. They're tempted to tear into him right now, devour him and his strange desires whole, and chase after the next of this dungeon's very promising candidates. But something inside of them holds them back. It whispers: the best meals take time to prepare.
In fact, you should just destroy this dungeon as completely as possible, Kabru demands, shifting in place. Get rid of all the monsters. All of the structures. All of it.
But oh, how he seems intent on testing them.
They collapse the dungeon in on itself at his command anyways, leaving only a single room for Kabru to curl up in.
"You know," the winged lion says. "This doesn't have to be something to endure."
Kabru does not respond.
The winged lion sighs. It's rare that they find humans with truly selfless desires- after all, it's not possible. If you follow any desire to the root, you find something base and ugly. It's only a matter of clawing them apart until you find what the dungeon lord really wants. Kabru is, of course, no different. Close attention to his desire to prevent the dungeon from consuming the world will reveal a few base components: a desire for safety, a desire for success, a desire to stop feeling guilty. How quaint. It's still a beautifully complex core to base a person around, of course; the winged lion is willing to nurture this meal for a reason. But it's not truly selfless. They have broken down similar dungeon lords before. It's not hard to warp something like that, even while staying true to the base: they will whisper in Kabru's ear, convince him that expanding the dungeon is the only way to stop any more disasters from occurring, that if he is the one in control of the world, he will be able to keep it safe.
No, the thing that really makes it challenging to prepare this meal is Kabru's repulsion towards almost everything the winged lion offers him.
The first obstacle: Kabru has spoken with former dungeon lords. Kabru is afraid to be eaten.
This is not so big a problem. There have been other dungeon lords like this in the past. Appeals to pride work well here- it's easy to convince humans that they are special, that they alone will be able to circumvent the consequences of their turn in paradise. Even if the winged lion were to give up here, all the other candidates in this dungeon are already aware of their nature. For now, Kabru eyes them warily, but the winged lion expects this to pass eventually.
The second obstacle: Kabru hates monsters. It does not seem to matter how gently the winged lion creates them. No matter how small, harmless, or animal-like they are created, Kabru will flinch away. It's instinctual, which is frustrating. The things that are tied up in it (the desire to be clean, the desire to be liked, the desire to be safe) are all too important to eat right now. Instead, the winged lion must sit there, long-suffering, as Kabru scolds them for creating something he did not ask for. Even their form causes him distress. Shifting it to be human had not comforted him; their wings and eyes had still clearly marked them for what they are. Ah, well...
It's difficult to work around this. In the past, the winged lion has simply done their best to avoid such fundamental fears. Unfortunately, monsters are one of the primary building blocks of a dungeon. If they're to get anywhere with this, Kabru needs to at least tolerate them. They will have to coax him into acceptance slowly- perhaps starting with some meals?
But there in lies the third obstacle: although Kabru has many surface level desires that the winged lion is capable of fulfilling, giving him the things he wants seem to cause more distress than joy. Even something as simple as a meal proves a challenge to provide. The winged lion has created many types of food throughout history; when Kabru's body begins to ache with hunger, they savor the scent of the desire wafting off of him and prepare something nostalgic and desired. Lamb stew, flavors matched exactly to the old memories they can fish from Kabru, and edited slightly to live up to the idolization.
Kabru argues for an unnecessary amount of time about not asking for the food- the winged lion patiently and repeatedly points out that without substance, Kabru will die, and his "sacrifice"- (which is, in all fairness, seeming more and more like a sacrifice the longer the winged lion shares his company- is he really so miserable all the time?)- will be for nothing. They do not let the food go cold, but it's still the principle of things.
Finally, he takes a single bite and then cries so hard he throws up.
Other experiments reveal similarly unfortunate results. Anything from the Utaya of Kabru's memory remains uneaten. Simpler meals are regarded with suspicion and checked for monsters. On one particularly disastrous occasion, the winged lion prepares elf cake for him. He does eat the whole thing, but it's obvious that he doesn't enjoy it. He doesn't enjoy any of the things that he actually eats. The only thing they can consistently get him to consume is replicas of dried rations. They decide that they will have to play a very, very long game with this: revealing the monsters used to created them now would be disastrous. They would stop preparing offerings, but left to his own devices, Kabru will simply not eat.
"This would be easier," the winged lion says, exasperated, "If you would just ask me for specific things."
In a similar vein, small comforts provided to the only room left of this dungeon are always rejected. Carpets, cushions, plants- it's interesting, because Kabru does want them. But on a deeper, more raw level, he doesn't. His rejection is not a brave decision shaped by any principles; he simply finds all of the trinkets provided repulsive, seemingly just because of their function as trinkets.
Annoying to handle. But the scent of it is delicious in the air.
Finally, the winged lion stumbles onto an in by chance. Kabru is hesitant to take the book they offer him, but eventually gives in. Boredom, it seems, is a powerful motivator. They are careful not to overwhelm him with options. This tiny sprout of a manipulable desire has to be carefully nourished until it grows into something usable. The winged lion does not touch Kabru, even though they long to rest their head on his knee as he loses himself in ancient history. He's still so skittish around them. They want to tell him that everything can be like this: safe and comfortable, tailored exactly to his desires. Won't he let them do this for him?
They refrain. Some lessons must be learned slowly.
The first time that Kabru requests a book, it feels like a monumental hurdle has been crossed. His first wish for his own sake! They're really, truly happy for him. It took long enough. I want to read more about this people's language. He looks so cornered as he says it. Like this is the start of something terrible. Like something terrible hadn't begun a long, long time ago.
Eventually, humans return to the entrance of the dungeon. "Eventually." All things considered, they're quite quick- it takes them less than a year.
That's right. The reason Kabru had taken on this mantle in the first place had been for their sake. I'll be the dungeon lord, so everyone should go and find a way to kill this thing. I'll wait. I can handle it. How selfless. The winged lion smiles. Well, Kabru had asked for the dungeon to be sealed, and they had agreed to keep it that way for as long as he wanted. There's no reason to unseal it for these people, not when Kabru hasn't asked them to.
And of course, Kabru will never be alerted to their presence, and so will have no reason to ask for it to be unsealed- not, until, they are all hopefully dead.
(He did ask to know when they came back- but, it was silly of him to think that he was in control here in any real way.)
Still, their presence gives the winged lion some ideas. Kabru is starving for human companionship. Usually, by now, dungeon lords create some kind of person to exist with, in the rare case that their wishes didn't revolve around other humans in the first place. Humans need love like they need food. Kabru will not ask for it, of course, and will likely not accept it if offered it, but...
It seems an easier gap to bridge than any of his other contradictory desires.
They take some time to whet his appetite, providing books about companionship and romance. (Kabru is still reluctant to request specifics. More often than not, his reading choice is left up to them. They'll take advantage.)
Finally, the winged lion decides to act. Kabru will not be happy about this, of course, but he needs it. It's for his own good. They only want to see him happy. Eventually.
The Mithrun they create is quite accurate, actually. Moreso than most constructs they have created for dungeon lords in the past. Between Kabru's overly meticulous memory and their own personal experiences with the man, they're able to create something anyone could mistake for the real thing.
They drag the puppet into the cramped room of the dungeon.
For a while, the winged lion lets them converse. Kabru is under the impression that this is the real Mithrun, finally returned to rescue him, although his conviction in this is shaky. The illusion dissipates faster than the winged lion hoped, but about as they expected. After all, even here, Kabru remains focused on his goal, and Mithrun's inability to seal them away could only be hidden for so long.
Still, it's unfortunate that Kabru gets so upset about it.
I want you to get rid of this thing, he says.
The winged lion shakes out its wings. The facade of servant and master has always been thin between them. "You need this."
No-
"I only want you to be happy," they say. They do not "get rid of that thing." Mithrun remains pressed to Kabru's side. Despite himself, Kabru is leaning into him.
No-
It comes out like a wish. The winged lion pauses to scent the air. There's something wonderfully desperate to it.
N-
"Ah," says the winged lion, fascinated. "I see. You want to stop wanting this."
Kabru, of course, denies even this desire, frantic and wide eyed, but the winged lion is tired of coaxing him, and very hungry. Why shouldn't it do something that both of them want? Mithrun pulls him into an embrace that he will not desire for much longer, and the winged lion lets its tongue fall deep into Kabru and pull out the things he does not want to feel: his desire for human connection, his desire for human touch, his desire for Mithrun. Oho, so specific? They eat a couple of other, unimportant things too. It's delicious.
Reluctantly, they manage to pull away before they take away anything too fundamental. Kabru curls into himself, shaking violently and dry heaving through noiseless sobs.
They dispel the construct of Mithrun.
"Look," the winged lion says, pleased with themself. "I listened to you."
Kabru makes a desperate, keening noise.
He does not recover well. For weeks after the winged lion's meal, he refuses to read and eat. They forcibly feed him once a day or so, but they're afraid that it only undoes any progress they had made towards fixing his desires towards food. Why is he so stubborn? They're frustrated with him for being so hard to pry open. Is there nothing in the world that will satisfy him? Is he truly so insatiable? But they find themself equally frustrated with their own actions. They've been impatient. Couldn't they have waited longer for a first taste? Haven't they waited decades in the past before first sampling anything? They should have more self control than this.
They are reading aloud an old elven text to Kabru in an attempt to re-spark his reading activity when a new desire makes itself known: it is one that they have known very well from piles of leftovers, and very rarely in functional, living dungeon lords. Kabru wants to die.
They stop short at it, paws clumsily dropping the pages they had awkwardly been turning. The winged lion scents the air again, to make sure that they aren't imagining it- but how could they be? It's not as if it's a pleasant thing. Kabru's wish for death is odd, like most of his are, heavily tempered by self-awareness and his more selfless wants. Miserable as he is, he's also determined to cling to life until the winged lion is vanquished.
He had promised those humans, hadn't he? That he would suffer this?
Kabru has not reacted to their sudden stop. They are struck with the sudden need to tread carefully- pushing too hard here could sour the entire meal. If all that's left is suicidal longing and resentment, Kabru will make a dreadfully unsatisfying meal. But in the same hand- they have not kindled any new desires in him for his entire time as dungeon lord. At this rate, won't the flavor continue to drain out of him the longer he rots in this pathetic excuse for a dungeon? Wouldn't it have been best to eat him the second they found him, if cultivating his desires further was impossible? Isn't it, in light of the impossibility of time travel, best to eat him now?
It's barely been two years. This will be the winged lion's shortest stay with a dungeon lord. Perhaps it was doomed from the start, or perhaps they simply pushed things too hard, too fast. They push Kabru down and savor the scent of his desire to live as it flares up one final time- and then panic as it begins to snuff itself out. They push down on his chest, chasing the taste of it, but it disappears quicker than they can eat, along with everything else that made him such an enticing meal in the beginning. Every swipe of their tongue brings up less and less- all the things they had been looking forward to, the desires to be seen as an adult, the desires to make people happy, the desires to drop the mask for a while and relax, drain away. All that's left is cold, stale, despair. The winged lion pants over his body, disgusted and disappointed, and less full than they've ever been after a meal before.
"I should have chosen that half-elf," they grumble, trying to ignore the sharp, piercing feeling of their own despair they feel at the loss.
He'd smelled like crab. They'd been wanting it, ever since watching everyone eat the barometz.