Unnamed

Born extremely large for a hatchling, Yabure was often scolded for his clumsiness, and told to be more careful around his delicate, much smaller sister. (Never mind that she had a tendency to needle him with her sharp claws and even sharper words, that wasn't important.) He was told to leave the nest to play with the other, stronger hatchlings, to use up his excessive energy and gain control over his ungainly limbs, but he always refused, and did not even learn how to fly until he had already reached maturity.

Desperate for his father's approval, he spent hours of each day studying the ancient draconian writing in the books his father hoarded in a huge library, poring over the oddly shaped characters until he began to understand them. He couldn't make sense of the complex scrolls and tablets his father could flip through with ease, but he became quite fond of the simpler stories he used to teach himself to read with. These were tales of the birth of the world, of how the gods came to be, and of creatures like them, but different. The first dragons, who took forms different from the established breeds of today, whose powers and lifespans varied wildly as the gods experimented with their abilities.

Most of the stories were written by the first Imperials, who took them as legend, but the ones he liked the best were those that treated them as fact. One collection in particular wrote about them as if the author had seen them himself, impossible as that was. Though this was by far the most difficult manuscript he had tried to read,