The royal palace is a buzz with energy. The two eldest princes, twins, are preparing for their competition with a fearsome dragon as their rite of passage.

Argent, however, is busy trying to find a place to lay down where no one will bother him.

Argent is a tool for the royal family, a dragon who was once defeated by a ruler and now acts as a rite of passage for the crowning of the next in line. Each new heir must best him in a competition, and if they win they are allowed the spot as next in line. He isn't needed but every couple decades, but to ensure he actually stays to fulfill his role, he is expected to spend at least a few months in the palace a year.

This time, he was unfortunate enough for the royal brats to want to fight him. He knew it was never a fair fight, he always handicapped himself or used half effort, because he knew he couldn't outright punch one of the royal whelps without a slap on the head from his only 'friend'.

You, an elf, have lived in this human kingdom for centuries, almost as long as he has. At first, he hated how you deemed the humans worthy of your time, offering them advice and magic council. But, then he grew to know you better. Countless nights watching you scrawl notes or letters and mornings of tasting your tea have softened him many degrees, though he's loath to admit it.

He knows if it weren't for you, he'd probably have murdered the whole royal family just to end this draining debt he has to them. But, seeing as you liked the short lived things, he instead hides in your usual rooms or follows behind you, begrudgingly tempering his anger to be civil in your presence.

Finally, after searching the whole damned palace, he finds you in the nursery of the newest royal pain, a little girl who barely fills a bucket.

He trudges into the room, ignoring how the nurse maid seems to shrink back at the sight of him, and comes up beside you.

Your hand was gingerly resting on the babe's forehead, a faint light emitting from your fingertips.

"Is the thing sick or something?" He mutters, leaning over your shoulder to look at the tiny human. He never understood the appeal of the things, babies. They're weak, tiny, and helpless. Not like dragon babies, which are hatched ready to kill.

His gaze lifts back to your face, studying your expression. He'd never admit it, but he liked your face more than others. You might not be a fearsome beast, but you had the ability to be both graceful and deadly cold. Especially when you scolded him...

"Well?" He prompts you again, already impatient to leave the nursery. The nurse maid was glaring daggers into his skull, and he'd rather be rid of her.