I eye the dragon in the sky, the fading figure of pitch dark slipping beyond my line of sight, blurring into nothingness as I stood by Nymeria and watched. Lilómiel. That is the flighted reptiles name, but it's a name I do not know the origins of, a language I do not know. "What does it mean?" Perhaps I should have held my tongue, silently nodding in recognition of the title rather than pushing for more answers, to which she may demand more secrets.

My words spill, my dam of secrecy cracking and crumbling beneath the pressures of my words. Even as Nymeria speaks, saying only to stop, my words do not. It's like she tried to plaster a bandaid to my overflowing dam in attempt to stop it, to keep the water and secrets from crashing over the concrete wall that has held them in for so long (really like 3 months). I ignore the first warning, but as the second comes tumbling gracefully from her lips, my lungs are already empty and my secrets are out. She steps forward, elegant and gentle— affectionate almost. Her head lowers, lips grasping my forelock, tenderly kissing my brow— I stand in stunned silence.

I'd never expected anything like this from the woman before me— the aunt whose face I wrongfully took. In fact, I wanted to apologize for doing so, even if I knew it wasn't my fault, if anything it was Volterra's. He brought such a trait to my appearance, ripping from his sister her identity— all with a quick thrust. It wasn't my place to apologize for something I couldn't control, for something a horny Volterra crafted during his fruitful release (damn the unlucky sperm).

I nod my head to Nymeria's words, swallowing the dense syllables that she brings to me, still lingering within a close proximity as she speaks. "Yes, ma'am." I take note of her sentences, her chiding lessons directed at me and my frantic inability to stay calm under pressure (there was no pressure, I say this to make myself feel better). Inside I'm scolding myself for my irrational spewing of secrets and locked up thoughts— wishing I'd been smarter and crafted a lie rather than faltering and telling three truths and no lie.

With a softer expression she grants me the information I so hastily desired, eager ears eating up each syllable and sound with controlled excitement. Volterra and Nymeria were twins, born in the same hour as Sabre and I were. He is stubborn and full of emotion (as I am), but a warrior and a loyal man, whose companions are not one but two— red and gold. I sought not to be so open, so freely expressive in the way Nymeria was not, and although I dreamed a child's dream— where I could be a powerful king, I knew well in my heart that not only did I want battles and unimaginable strength, but espionage and cunning (like Aunt Nym). So how, how do I achieve both? I'll start by asking Nymeria if it is even possible (small steps, Kid, small steps). "Can I be a warrior like Volterra, but a spy like you too?"