The air was crisp, signifying that spring had just begun. Faylin was outside his balcony, his tired shoulders slouched, leaning against the marble railing. He took a deep breath, enjoying the refreshing, cool scent of the season.

His eyes looked up at the starry night sky.

Although late, he could not sleep. Every time he lied down in his bed, his body would shift uncomfortably. There was something about Kalaun's words that haunted his mind.

What did he mean by 'he will understand?' he thought, his curiosity peaking.

Gently taking a hold of the brim of his robe, Faylin lifted it, exposing the mark. Ever since the man had bit him, he refrained from looking down at his wound. He was afraid the dragon's bite would turn into a some ghastly, purplish bruise, but strangely enough, it was quite the opposite.

The teeth impressions somehow made a halo–like arrangement around the flower, enhancing its beauty. When the elf went to touch it, his fingers skidding across his smooth skin, it shimmered a bright golden hue; the same golden hue as the dragon's eyes.

Although weak, Faylin could feel the bond that he made with the man. Every time his hand touched the mark, he felt a slight electrical surge that went through his body. It didn't hurt per say, but it did tingle a bit, and it left him curious to as what all of this meant.

"Can not sleep, my puer?" His father asked, startling the young elf. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I had not seen you like this since your mera had died. What is wrong?"

"Abbas," he said, "do you think I am really the right one to be a guardian?" Faylin remained still, not even bothering to move. His eyes were set on the sky.

"It is fate," his father stated, his voice hopeful. He did not need to see him in order to know that older man was smiling, proud of his son.

"But, what if I do not want to be a guardian?" Faylin's voice was soft, a low mumbled. His father stayed silent for a moment, contemplating on his words. He was not sure how to answer his son's question.

"As I said, it is fate. The goddess has gifted you with amazing abilities, my puer."

"You know abbas, I spoke to the dragon." The man's eyes widened, surprised by the revelation.

"You have a dragon, already?"

"Yes, and it seems he thinks very lowly of elves. But I can not blame him. I saw the way the king tied him to the ground. Did you know that they captured him?"

"I am sorry to hear that," the older man replied at a loss for words.

"He approved of our bond two nights ago, but he told me that it would be only temporary. I do not know abbas, he refuses to speak of the guardians–"

"It will work out." His father turned the child around, staring in his eyes. "I believe in you."

"Thank you, abbas. If only I had the same confidence," Faylin sighed, smiling timidly.

"Sleep, Faylin. You have to wake up early tomorrow, remember? The king requested you."

"Yes, you are right. I will," Faylin yawned, walking towards his bed.

"Goodnight," the older elf said as he closed the door.

"Night."

~~~~***~~~~

Faylin stared at himself in the mirror, displeased with how puffy his eyes were. He felt groggy from the lack of sleep. Getting three hours of sleep wasn't enough to function, and he knew it, but sadly he had duties to attend to. The king wanted him up bright and early for a breakfast with the royal family.

"Faex," the elf cursed under his breath, tying his long, icy blond hair into a high ponytail. Despite him tying it high, it still reached his lower back, dangling freely like a long rope.

He had never cut his hair, most elves never did before marriage, but he sometimes wondered what it would be like to be liberated from the weight of his mane.

He looked in the mirror one more time, his eyebrows shifting up. Grabbing a face towel from the rack, he lathered it in cold water, making it damp. Faylin lied down on his bed, placing the cool towel on his face, hoping the swelling from his eyes would cease.

The young elf wasn't even fully dressed when the servant appeared.

"Do you not know how to knock?" Faylin admonished, covering himself in his sapphire silk robes.

"I am very sorry, seraseen," the servent apologized, bowing. "But it is urgent. The king demands you to be ready earlier than expected."

"Alright, thank you," he sighed, grabbing his clothes from the closet. The servent left without another word, and Faylin hastily put on his clothes. They weren't as nice as his ceremonial gown, but they were still formal attire.

When Faylin was in front of the dining room entrance, he groaned heavily before entering, not enthusiastic to meet the boorish King. He gave the wooden opening a few knocks, before one of the guards unlocked it, greeting the elf with a stern display. The man, clasped in nothing but armor used his jagged staff, pointing towards the direction of the guardian's seating.

He nodded to the guard, who in turn stood at his post, and took a seat, crossing his legs in a graceful manner. The rest of the table was empty, except for the seat across from him. Prince Pharom stared at Faylin dreamily, his eyes smirking slyly as his elbows nearly placed themselves down on the table, his hands providing a comfy place to settle his chin.

The man clearly believed he was sex on legs, despite Faylin's disinterest. But the elf played along with his inane game, smiling endearingly every time they made eye contact.

"My father should be out any moment," the prince said, showing off his flawless pearly whites. "He's just—you know, doing kingly business," he added on, chuckling to himself.

"Yes, as expected." He forced a giggle out, in spite of being displeased, and the man nodded his head. His grey eyes never ceased their intense stare on Faylin.

Stupid, absolutely stupid! Faylin screeched in his head, imagining himself pulling out chunks of his wavy locks.He demands I show up early? And for what? So he can be late?

The sounds of raucous trumpets filled the air, the doors of the dining hall slamming open as the king made his appearance.

"Who's hungry?" The old king announced, his voice echoing within the halls, hands raised flamboyantly in the air.

"Yes, I'm starving," Faylin replied awkwardly, giving a demure smile to the king and his son.

The breakfast began without another moment to spare. Faylin chose his food with hesitation, making sure that none of the food that he was about to consume contained meat. He ate his food quickly, not wanting to waste anymore time. He only spoke when spoken to, but besides that, he did not utter a word.

The boy waited, watching as the royals munched down their food like a couple of slobs. When they were finally done, Faylin feigned a cough, and their eyes looked up, their attention focused solely on him.

"My lord, King Alereez, I must confess something to you." The boy's voice was not demanding, nor was it weak. It was simple statement, one that grasped the older man's curiosity.

"And what do you need to confess, my dear?"

"I've been seeing the dragon," the young elf admitted, and the king pursed his lips together waiting for the boy to continue. "He told me to show you this." Faylin stood up, the rim of his gown exposed so the royals could see his bonded mark, fresh teeth intentions embroidering it.

The old king gave a wry smirk, applauding the guardian as if he did performed an something incredible. "You have made him submit to you already. I am impressed."

Submit? What did he mean submit? Faylin thought, confused.

"Are you not upset that I visited him in the secret dungeons?" He made sure to drawl out the word secret, so the older man would understand the hint.

The king gave out a chuckle. "I knew you would, puer."

"There is no use locking him up now, I suppose," the man continued on, grabbing a vine of grapes, shoving them in his mouth. A couple of the grapes fell onto his wiry white beard, and listlessly he picked them up, and put them back into his rotten cavity.

It was a disgusting scene to watch, but Faylin stood still, and smiled, hiding his revulsion.

"Come now, " the king stated, and stood up from his thrown, "Let us go into the dungeons."