There is no bond so close as that spelled eternal.
Ah, yes, the humans will say that there is nothing that will bring two together so much as love. Hate, perhaps as well. But the simple magical ties of a dragon and his ward, is too often misunderstood. Belittled.
You humans will tell your tales of love so powerful that it will cut through any power, no matter how strong, that should be brought against the young pair. Or should the lovers fail regardless, tis a cause to weep for.
But where are the tales of dragon and human, slave to each other, doomed to share the fate of their partner even when that choice will tarnish their souls, yea unto eternity? Why, little ones, do you not weep for me?
If you have wont for stories of noble deeds and lives torn asunder, cease this ignorance and accept our children to associate with yours without shunning them. If you wish to feel a partnering that would move the poets’ quills to ink out tales to rend your soul, then make us and ours not live as the invisible.
Our bonds are tight enough, humans.
Now…listen and think of this tale. Then tell me truly if we are the monsters you make us. For we were but eggs, sharing the warmth of a cobblestone house resting upon a hill.
You could not ask the either of us why we had come to that place, for of course we had not chosen, as none under the skies do. She had been placed in the belly of her mother-human, who tapped about on the wooden planks above me, belly swelled. An anxious woman, she worried about the coming winter, silently cursing the babe that had begun to grow, when the household so needed her to help gather the supplies needed to survive. And if she did not curse the baby, she cursed her mate and his drunken ways. But it was the weight 'pon her back that most attracted her attention.
I on the other hand, was surviving the attacks of chickens, sharpening their beaks on the great yellow “stone” that had rolled down the hill one day to join them beneath the house, fortunate that a dragon’s egg is not so easily cracked as a hen’s. For though I was aware of the sounds outside my dark pocket, I was yet too weak to emerge and brave the world beyond the slick walls. And as the building above cooled over every night, I shivered, blind, and incapable of crying out for the heat to return.
Indeed, how fearful do we seem to hear such beginnings?