The Dragon King's Old Story
Nayro was sitting on the roof of the palace, playing his guitar idly and humming to himself. It was a warm fall day, and he could feel a cool breeze wash over him. There was the distant scents of baked goods being made, and the warm, musty smells of autumn. Up here, it almost felt like the rest of the island didn't exist. Like he could forget everything.
He played away, trying desperately to banish thoughts from his head and just relax. He was a musician, he had music in his soul. It was all he needed, the simple pleasure of playing an instrument, magical or not.
"Nayro! Get down from there!"
Nayro was interrupted by his mother's voice calling from the balcony. her voice rang with worry and annoyance.
"I am fine up here, mother! And I have no plan of getting down any time soon!"
Yanro huffed angrily. "Nayro, your father wants to talk to you! Get down!"
Nayro groaned and let the guitar disappear in streaks of colored magic. The teen slid down the roof and landed on the balcony, giving his mother an annoyed look and walking inside.
"And I'd drop that attitude if I were you. He'll be in no mood for that." Yanro stated, folding her arms with a raised eyebrow. Her ear fans were angled back and she was frowning. A regular expression when dealing with her ridiculously disobedient and unruly son.
Nayro ignored her and walked past the empty throne, and down the stairs. He knew where the King would be. Sure enough, when he peered into the garden, his father was kneeling by the pond, watching the fish.
Nayro softened when he saw his father. His mother was constantly nagging him about wearing poorer clothes, and flying around the city, and sitting on rooftops and playing his instruments.
But his father understood, most of the time. That he was a free spirit, who wanted nothing more than to explore. To be free.
Nayro wandered up and stood behind his father, who was humming softly. "You wanted to see me, father?" He asked.
"Yes, yes, join me." The greyish dragon responded.
Nayro sat down next to his father, who was still watching the fish, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of their movement. His sharp old eyes managed to track them as they swirled around in the water.
"There is something important I need to talk to you about." Zheng said quietly.
"If it's about the flower stand I accidentally knocked over, I already apologized for that." Nayro confessed, already preparing for a gentle lecture on kingliness and royalness followed by a hug.
The King raised an eyebrow at his son as the boy continued. "Besides, that can't possibly be important enough to drag me from the roof and my guitar. You should be resting anyway."
Zheng shook his head, ignoring the boy's dismissive attitude. "Nayro, this is more serious than that. It's something you're old enough to know, although the question of if you're mature enough is why I hesitated for so long."
Nayro shrugged and played with his shirt, trying to ignore the disappointment in his father's voice. "Uh huh."
Zheng rarely got angry, but he was losing patience with Nayro, who was barely paying attention. "Nayro, I want you to listen. This is very important."
Nayro sighed and looked at his dad, clearly still not that intent on paying any seriousness to the conversation. His mind was elsewhere.
Zheng sighed and closed his eyes. "Watch closely."
Nayro watched his dad just sit there for a moment, bored. He wanted to be playing music. Or flying. This was another dumb royal lesson he didn't care about.
His dad began to glow silver. That got his attention. "Whoa."
Zheng opened his eyes, which were glowing white, and smiled slightly. It lasted a moment, then he returned to normal.
"What was that?" Nayro asked.
"The magic of our guardian." The King stated. "I'm able to use it."
Nayro blinked, startled. "Who?"
"Vari. She watches over us. I share a bond with her that allows me to use her power, just like my mother did, and her father, and his father. And so on."
"Well, I'll give you this." Nayro chuckled. "That was more interesting than politics."
Zheng gave him a flat look. "It's time you learned the history of our people." He told his son.
Nayro couldn't suppress a groan. "A history lesson? Really? I could have lived with you only showing me magic."
The King looked annoyed, rubbing his temples. "Please, Nayro. This is-"
"Very important. Yeah, yeah, I know. Everything is, except what I want to do. History, and learning to be a king, and politics, meetings, paperwork, speeches, planning, all thats important, but when I want to go flying around the island, or just sit under a tree and play my guitar, that's not as worth it." He knew he was being a little unfair with his father. The older dragon was usually very patient with Nayro's hobbies.
Zheng sighed again and shook his head. "Look, son. I love your creative spirit. Your music is good. But as I've said a thousand times, you have responsibility as well."
Nayro shrugged. "Alright, fine. Lay the history on me."
Zheng took a deep breath. "Many centuries ago, our people lived far away from here, on another island, with another people. There was peace. One day, the other people decided magic and dragons were no longer allowed to live on the island, and started to kill us all. Our ancestors fled in terror, hiding and trying desperately to leave for their lives. A Xui, like you and me, a very great and brave man, begged Vari, a guardian dragon god, for help. She agreed, and helped him get as many as they could to safety, and only a couple thousand escaped, making their way out to sea."
Nayro had to admit he was invested in the story now, watching his father with wide eyes.
"The few boats they stole were nearly hunted down by their aggressors, but Vari protected them, making sure not a single life was lost. They sailed for months out further to sea, running out of hope, strength, and food. That is when Vari began flying above the boats, and dove into the sea. When she rose again from the waves, the land itself followed her, an island springing above the sea. She made it a home for our people, and they rebuilt themselves here, and named it Aestreovar, or Rock of Vari, after their protector. And she promised the Xui, and all our ancestors, that she would keep us safe."
Nayro was a tad blown away, staring at his father. "But... why didn't they ever leave?"
Zheng blinked, not expecting that to be Nayro's first question. "What?"
"Why hasn't anyone left to explore the world? Surely there's other things out there to explore, if there was another island. Who knows what kind of wonderful peoples and things we could find!"
"That was not the point of the story." The King stated. "We have no reason to leave our home and our protector. We have been safe and well here for generations."
Nayro's jaw dropped slightly. "But why not explore? We're dragons! Most of us can fly! There's so much we don't know, so much of the world we've never even touched in centuries! You mean to tell me not a single curious dragon has left and returned with stories of the outside?"
Zheng looked about to argue with his son about the meaning of the story when he started coughing, clutching at his chest. "Oh, not again." He huffed.
Nayro turned and left to find help, story forgotten. "Father is not feeling well again!" He yelled into the palace.
His mother, who was walking nearby came running almost as soon as he spotted her, and Nayro stood back as she approached Zheng. "I always tell you not to overdo it, and yet here you go again, you stubborn old goat. Come on, let's get your medicine." Yanro let him lean on her as he stood, and walked him inside. Nayro felt his heart sink slightly as they passed him. He stood outside the doors for a while, tears starting to stream down his cheeks.
Why did everything have to be so complicated?
He loved his father, and yet all the old lessons he had to teach seemed so... not worth the time. He knew he was a disappointment of a Xui. He knew he was bringing his father, his family, nothing but shame and sadness.
And yet he couldn't bring himself to put his heart into being a king to be.
How in the great sea could he ever... he couldn't be his father. He could barely even talk to his father, never mind say I love you.
And he was running out of chances, with the old man's declining health.
Nayro sat down by the pond alone, watching the fish and wiping away tears.