As Faylin, the king, and his entrusted guards made their passage down the foul dungeons, Faylin noticed that the torture machines were gone. They had been there nights ago, with littered flesh rotting away on them. But now in their place was nothing but the barren grounds, stone cobble to be precise, and the spot was freshly clean.

The king was trying to hide his sullied secrets, but miserably failed doing so. Faylin knew the truth. He had seen it with his own eyes; he saw the cruelty that rested in the king's heart.

The dragon, like before, hid in the shadows, his eyes piercing outwards to the man in front of him. The old man smirked wickedly in return, rubbing his hands in conniving amusement. He stood far, about four feet away from the dragon's cell, yet close enough to see that the dragon was peeved by his presence. He liked seeing such a mighty beast imprisoned. It made him feel as if he was the one in control of everything, and anything—that his fate was in the palm of his hands.

"Bonded are you not, beast?" the king sang, and the man in the prison, gave a low, hostile growl. The elderly man pursed his lips in return, and his eyebrows lifted themselves in amusement. "I would not be so unkind, foul creature," he mocked. "Your fate lies with me."

The dragon was tempted to throw his hand through the rusty bars and strangle the old geezer but he stayed put in his corner, but he could not because right before the king's arrival, they had drugged him. The drug was strong, but not strong enough to keep him completely incapacitated; he could still move, but they were lethargic movements.

King Alereez began preaching, shouting nonsense at the dragon. "Isn't being a slave to an elf, wonderful?" He prolonged the last word of his comment, and his eyes widened in emphasis. "I mean, what else would a creature like you be doing?"

Faylin noticed that Kalaun's eyes seemed to grow brighter, but the color was slightly different. They were deeper, no longer amber, and instead ruby red. This was a sign that his would was beginning to become exacerbated. Faylin gripped at his clothing. He didn't know how long the the drug would last. He would surely snap out of his stupor soon. If he did kill the king, it would galvanize more problems than resolve them.

Agitated, the elder grabbed one of the guard's staffs, slamming against the metallic bars. "Why won't you say anything, foul creature?" he screeched, nostrils flaring. It was like tantrum, and an awfully embarrassing one at that. The man was more than a hundred moons and he still acted as if he still suckled on his mera's milk.

"If I may, my lord," Faylin interrupted. He could not stand idly by waiting for something to happen. He gently rested a hand on the older man's shoulder, smiling once more." Taunting the beast will not give you anything. He is already imprisoned by you. He is under your rule. Please do not be so harsh with him."

"Harsh? My darling, I am not being so harsh! Merely stating the truth," the king justified.

"My lord, why are we even down here? What are your intentions?"

With the click of his heel, the old king turned himself towards Faylin. "He is yours. He will be at your side. That is the purpose of this little gathering."

"But.." Faylin could not help but gulp, his face quickly converting into that of distress. He did indeed feel bad for the man. It was cruel how fate had him here, locked up in his enemies fortitude, but in no way did he want him to be glued to him. He was afraid of the dragon, and easily, he could snap Faylin like a twig. He would do it willingly too without regret.

"Do not worry. He cannot hurt you if you are bonded. It is one the many perks," the king comforted. "He has given himself to you. You are in control of him. You can bend him at your will. Whatever you say, he shall do."

Faylin nodded meekly at this.

There was a sharp, stringent sound that came from the cell; the guards began prying the rigid cell bars open. Five men stood there, lined up into place, heaving at the cage, and once it was fully opened, Kalaun sluggishly stood up.

The king did not move, and the dragon knew that it would be in vain to try and attack him, but he was angry, filled with ire that could not be explained in mere words. The guards came to the king's protection, but his old wizened hand lifted itself up, stopping the men from doing so.

His sharp claws were not fast, but they were only an inch away at slicing the old man's face wide and open. The king didn't even flinched at the attempted clawing, but instead smiled derisively and spoke nothing.

This, only made the dragon more vexed. He reached out, another time, about to scratch his face, but a hand stopped him. It was the young elf.

He stared at him with compelling doe eyes. Of course, he was forced to stop due to the bond's magic, but there was something about the blond elf's pure, pleading eyes that made him want to cease his killing as well. There was no malice that his eyes held; they were kind, and earnest.

"Please, you will have your chance," the elf said, his soft voice reverberating in Kaulan's mind. "But not like this. I assure you that you will have your justice."

When Faylin shifted his hand away, he looked puzzled, and surprised by the new revelation. He shifted his head in the dragon's directions, but the man's face was blank.

At least he is not angry, the elf thought.

Faylin was stuck, weakened and panicked in his state of exhaustion. The dragon was in his room, unbounded and free to walk. He was looking around, touching and smelling the various perfumes and oils on his makeup desk.

After the whole incident in the dungeons, the king had explained nothing, and had and deserted the two to figure things out on their own; but after having nothing accomplished only mere grunts as responses, Faylin gave up and lead him to his room.

"The shower is there," the elf stated, despite the dragon not regarding him. His finger pointed at the white wooden door adjacent to his bed. "I have asked the maids to bring you fine clothes instead of the tattered ones you wear now."

Kalaun gave a low, mumble that sounded similar to that of a large growling dog. He picked puny vile made of Cantino Crystal, and inhaled it eagerly. The scent was an amalgam of Dulciz mango, and fresh mintes, and Flareberries. He enjoyed this scent the most.

"I made that," Faylin blurted out, instantly regretting it because he had caught the man's full attention. "I–I collect herbs and such and make a concoction. If you would like, you make keep it—" He kept rambling on and on, suddenly feeling his heart swell with lumbering anxiety.

"It smells like you," he stated, his deep voice flat and dulled of emotion.

"Yes, well—I suppose it does." He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but he didn't dare ask.

The dragon gave him one last hard, long stare before moving away from the counter, and into bathroom.

Faylin shuddered when the man passed by him, and hurriedly exited the room.