And the dragon comes, a whirl of obsidian feathers roosting upon the engraved withers of my aunt, no less intimidating even though he was certainly not the biggest of dragons. He could still do his deal his damage with slight of hand— his size did not matter for that. Lilómiel rests permanently upon my aunt's rugged shoulders, signs of his previous roosting littering her stone grey back— multitudes of scattered scarring marking the resting place of his talons.

I nod my head solemnly at the forgotten meaning of the black dragon's title, that it was no longer something she had given to him, but something he had claimed as his own— that his name meant what he so wished, and nothing in her power could change that, even if it was she who named him. And what does my name mean? Depending on the context there is a variety of things, a child, a young goat, or a joke. "Can my name be my own?" I ask, almost pleading in the sense that I do not want my name to be associated with something that I am not, that it is only a temporary state of being that I will soon abandon for adulthood (a stage I would much rather be at now than later). Never do I want for my name to mean nothing— or something I do not want. I want to make it my own as Lilómiel has, to redefine it for myself, to forget its old meaning and make it anew it with my own.

She corrects me, scolding in a not at all harsh tone— something less negative, something forgiving. She is not old enough to be called such, that Aunt or Nymeria is a better term to refer to her as, that she is too young for such titles of respect. My ivory masked head bobs in understanding, eyes flicking over her figure closely— she certainly wasn't old, not worn and hunched with age, but she wasn't Mother either. Mother was at her prime, her peak maturity in which her body was fittest, her mind sharpest, and temper worst.

"I will try my hardest to best them all— even if I have two areas of expertise this will not deter me." I speak valiantly, confidence dripping gingerly from my proclamation. This will not make me stray from these two paths, that I will manage to excel in both and prove everyone with their specific skills that I have achieved the impossible because I am willing. My determination to be better (something I was born with that my ever expanding ego only feeds into) compels me to learn carefully and devote myself to these things at an early stage— a head start. "Will you teach me to be a good spy?" I ask her then, wondering if she will ask more information of me, information I do not have.