I was tense, staring up at the ceiling while Meilin slept next to me. Meilin had fallen asleep as quick as ever after telling me that he was going to protect me. I had been lying stiffly at the edge of the bed, trying to fall asleep but knowing it was impossible since the breathing and fuming Dragon was sleeping next to me. I kept my distance from him and made sure that we didn't accidentally touch each other. It was hard for me to fall asleep.

After what felt like forever, Meilin stirred and sat upright in bed. I froze and turned my head to watch as he yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes.

Had he been planning on napping, not actually sleeping?

I must've made a small noise because he turned his head sharply to me. "You're awake," he noted flatly.

"Y-Yes."

"I told you I would protect you," he said in a clipped tone. "I'm not going to kill you in your sleep."

I slowly sat up and licked my lips nervously. "That's not—"

"Hmm." He shrugged and rubbed the side of his head, weaving his fingers through his thick straight hair. "I have to go—"

"Y-Your Majesty," I managed to say once I mustered all my courage. "I wanted to . . . to ask you s-something."

"What is it?" he asked casually as he sat crisscrossed on the bed. He rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement, malice, and darkness within his ebony tinted eyes. "Are you going to lecture me about death once more?"

I flinched back at his words. "N-No."

"Hmm. So what is it?"

"I-I . . . " Although what he did was wrong, there was a part of me that had moved on from that. I couldn't focus on the way he thought since I didn't know his life yet. Like Atreus had said, I needed to understand his life before I could judge him.

"Well?"

"U-Um." I twiddled my fingers together and nibbled on my lower lip. Our argument before his brief nap had left me more confused about him and his personality than before, adding more complexities to him. "I want to know more about your life."

"My life?" His brows came together and he watched me with an obscure expression. "Ok, what do you want to know?"

"I don't know; I just want to know . . . something."

Something that would make him feel more human to me, something that would change my image of him. I wanted to see him in another light and as much as he scared me, I didn't want him to be scary to me. I didn't want to feel like this around him.

I didn't want to think of the Dragon as a terrifying, fuming, monster.

He leaned back on his elbows as he half-sat half-laid on the bed, watching me with a neutral expression. "Ask me something. I don't know what to say."

"Um." I thought for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "What was your favorite food growing up?"

Meilin frowned and thought for a moment, clearly caught off guard with the random question. "My mother's rice pudding. I would eat it a lot as a child. We couldn't afford to buy ingredients for it, so whenever there was leftovers meant to be thrown away, she would bring it to me."

"Leftovers? Was your mother a cook somewhere?"

"Yes, she would cook for other people," he answered, absentmindedly brushing back his black hair. "I also liked drinking honeyed milk. Honey is expensive so she only bought a little bit on my birthday. I like honeyed anything, really."

"Your mother sounds sweet. What was she like?"

He stiffened and I instantly regretted my words.

He killed his family, so didn't that include his mother?

"I'm sorry—" I started quickly, not wanting to spoil the mood we were creating.

"My mother," he said softly, "was a kind and sweet woman. She smelled like flowers and she would always kiss my forehead when I was sad or upset. She was funny and kind and she gave everything she had to raise me." The corner of his lips lifted as a faraway look entered his eyes. "When I was six, she would sing lullabies to me but they never made me fall asleep. She always slept in the middle of the lullaby and I would just stare at the ceiling. I would pretend to fall asleep, so I don't think she ever realized that the lullabies didn't work. That's the type of person my mother was, someone who worked hard and was kind."

I stared at him for the longest time, shocked that he could feel so . . . real? The way he spoke about his mother told me that he loved her, but how could that be since he had killed his family? Had she died before he had killed the rest of his family? What had happened to his family?

This side of him was such a contrast to the brooding, malicious, and ill tempered part of him.

"Your turn," he said abruptly. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Um, well—" I thought for a moment before I spoke. "Speaking of lullabies, I would sing them to my little brothers and sisters. I think they enjoyed them, but I'm not sure if it made them fall asleep or not," I said with a smile. "My older brothers used to sing to me whenever I was sad, and I think that's why I would always sing to my little siblings during nighttime, to make sure that none of them would go to bed sad."

"Is it really that nice to have brothers and sisters?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"I think," I said, picking my words carefully, "it depends on the person. Some people are not meant to be brothers, while others are not meant to be sisters. Sometimes, blood isn't what determines kinship."

"You miss your family, don't you?" he said suddenly.

I swallowed, staring down at my hands. I missed them all so much; it had been a couple of weeks since I last saw them and I wanted to talk and see them again. "Yes."

"I want to meet them," he said. "When this is all over, maybe we can go and see them."

I raised my head, my eyes wide. "Really?"

He nodded. "You'll have to go with either me or one of the Peccata, since I don't want you to get kidnapped again."

The excitement must've been evident on my face because he watched me in amusement, a half tilt of a smile playing on his lips.

"You're easy to read, my little rabbit," he said.

"Can I ask you something else?" I said unexpectedly, surprising myself.

"What is it?"

"How old are you?"

He blinked. "My age?"

"Yes."

"I'm older than I look," he said vaguely. "Much older than what you would think."

"You look like you're twenty," I said quietly.

The corner of his lip lifted and he nodded. "Unfortunately, I looked like I was seventeen for the longest time so that makes me happy that I at least look like I'm in my twenties."

I swallowed. "So, how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven," he said simply.

I gasped, my eyes widening as I took in his expression. I searched his face for any indication that he was lying but found none. "Y-You're that old?"

"It's not that old, but yes I'm thirty-seven. I don't look like it, though," he said with a laugh. "I have dragon's blood in me, so I age differently than I used to."

Dragon's blood?

My eyes became even wider at this new information. It was impossible for anyone to survive from having even a drop of monster's blood, dragon's blood, demon's blood—any type of creature's blood. The only legends of people surviving it were legends like Raia, the Golden Hero from Arile, or Myskia, the red-haired villain.

"Real dragon's blood?"

"Yes."

"Were you . . . born with it?"

He raised a brow. "Of course not. I was seventeen when it was infused into my bloodstream, which is why it's been a struggle getting past that age. It took me twenty years to finally be in my twenties."

" Shouldn't you be dead?"

"I should be dead, but I'm not." He shrugged. "Because of the blood, I'm faster, stronger, and better than everyone else. I can fight dragons, monsters, even demons if I wanted to."

When he saw my flabbergasted expression, he laughed softly.

"Is that how you were able to beat so many people in the war? Is that how you ascended to power?" I had thought that the claims that Meilin had defeated 'hundreds and hundreds' of soldiers on the battlefields were nothing but falsified 'facts' meant to shed a heroic light on the new emperor.

He bobbed his head. "It's easy fighting people that aren't even one-tenth of your strength."

"And that's how you fought a dragon?"

He nodded once more.

"Can you show me?" I blurted out, all thoughts of fearing him leaving me as I stared at him in awe.

He scrutinized me carefully and I suddenly blushed under his gaze, my heart racing in embarrassment at the excitement I was showing. Before I could retract my question, he smiled ever so slightly. "Maybe tomorrow when we're outside."

"Really?"

"Maybe."

"Is dragon's blood really that amazing? I've heard that it kills everyone that has even a drop put in their bloodstream."

A muscle on his jaw twitched and his eyes grew somewhat haunted, like he was thinking back to something unpleasant. "Little rabbit," he said carefully. "Dragon's blood is not something to take lightly. It kills just about everyone. Only one in a hundred million or so people can survive it. It's rare to survive."

"But you survived."

"Yes, I did, but have you heard that it's a very painful and gruesome way to die?"

There were rumors that having any monster's blood—which included a dragon—was one of the worst ways to die. People would torture their enemies by infusing it into their bloodstream and causing a very agonizing death. Since no one survived it, it was commonly known as a way for really rich people to torture their enemies—if they could get even a drop of a monster's blood.

Though, it was only rumors.

"It's the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my whole life." He shivered. "Ten whole days I went through that agonizing torture. I wished someone would kill me. If I could've moved my body, I would've crushed my heart. That's the price you pay for this power. The pain is so intense that even when someone stabbed my wrists and pinned me somewhere, I didn't feel anything but the pain of the blood burning my entire body."

My mouth went dry.

"R-really?

"Mmhmm." He rubbed his wrist and showed me both of them, where two circular white scars were on either wrist. He flipped his wrist to show that they went through the other side. "See, the nails went right through my whole wrist but I didn't feel a thing. It stung, but everything else hurt so much that I barely felt it."

My eyes were wide as I stared at the scars.

He pulled his sleeves over his wrists before he swung his legs around and jumped off of the bed, stretching for a moment. Giving me a wry smile, he ran his hand through his hair. "Morbidity aside, I have to go now. Good night, little rabbit."