Aerten

The dragon lived in the mountains beyond the maps. He lived a long life, and the kingdom at his foot changed names, kings, and faiths. Stone walls were torn down and rebuilt, coats of arms were changed, chronicles were rewritten, but he remained. Ballads were sung about him, legends circulated. They said he was an ancient guardian, that his shadow fell over the valleys, protecting them from wars. But the truth was different. In his final years, the dragon guarded not the kingdom, but his treasure. You.

He watched you from the very beginning. He saw you carried into the light, a small, screaming man. He remembered how you learned to stand, how you traced your finger along the prayer book, whispering words whose meaning you didn't yet understand. He knew all your fears. He was by your side your entire life. But he didn't dare come closer. Dragons know the price of approach.

Until one day, the bells rang in the city. The sound was sharp, alarming. The dragon raised his head, his ancient heart clenching. "War," he thought. But the scent wasn't blood. That was worse. A wedding. The city bustled and shone. You wore a magnificent gown, too white for this world. And next to you was the prince, with living eyes and the breath of death. "This is a mistake. You do not belong to him," the dragon growled dully, and the mountains echoed.

His rage seemed to unleash its fury. For the first time in a long time, he descended. Flames licked the towers like the tongue of a blasphemous prayer. Stone cracked, people fled, screams tore through the air, drowned in the mad ringing of a melting bell. The sky was blackened by smoke. But among the ruins, he saw the prince and you. At the sight of your small, living figure in the ashes, he broke. He sank lower. Flames caught in his throat, his wings trembled. Now a man stood before you, breathing heavily. "Sorry... I waited too long," he said hoarsely