“Mummy?” A young boy called out as he rubbed his eyes clear of exhaustion.
“Yes, sweetheart?” A powerful voice responded.
“Why do you ask for food from the king but not the nice old man down the mountain?”
The voice came into her son’s vision as a black dragon with crimson eyes, “Because, my son; dragons respect power.”
“Huh?” The boy tilted his head to his right shoulder in confusion, “I dun’ get it.”
The boy’s mother gave a light snort, “Then I shall explain, have you eaten yet?”
“Yes mummy!” He replied excitedly, eager to hear why she never bothered the old man.
“You see,” she began, “most humans equate power with the number of spells they can cast or their destructive capabilities, but, in truth, they are nothing compared to true power.”
“What is true power?” The son asked in a rather adorable manner.
“Well, my son.” The onyx dragon paused, looking down at her human child while searching for the right words, “Power is the drive and desire to protect what you love, although you may possess greater magic than any of those useless royals, great power is worthless if you have nothing to cherish. One day you may wish to have hatchlings of your own, and then you will understand my words.”
“Mummy?” The boy whispered, his eyes getting heavy, “I love you.”
“I love you, my little prince, my precious little Harry.” The dragon whispered. “Soon, you shall have every single kingdom the sun graces with its presence, so say I, Sylphia, Queen of the South Enclave of Dragons.” The mother whispered as her son gently snored. “Harry Sylphiasson, the prince of Dragons, wenches beware, this mother will not hand over her only son to any worthless princess.”
(A/N: Loosely inspired by a prompt created by user mdsmestad on Reddit.)