"Well aren't you a handsome boy?"

He remembered these words, looking up at a dragon that looked like him, but was not his father. It was an interesting experience, having a father that wasn't really his father, but his mother was definitely his mother, and his real father got along really well with his not-father. Regardless, his Not-Father had lots of scary and sad stories. Of friends dying, of the deities, of war. His real parents never really approved of these stories, but he was entrapped by them. In hindsight, they may have made him a little more empathetic, a little more understanding, maybe even a little more pessemistic than most hatchlings, but how could he not? Wars not fought for glory or fame, but for greed and territory, to survive, fueled by fear.

"Can I be a warrior when I grow up?"

It was a question that made all three of his parents look at him, then at each other.

"I want to end all the wars!"

No he couldn't. War only caused more war. Wars couldn't be resolved. He wold hurt others who would want to hurt him. Violence only spurred more violence. You could never win against the deities.

But the young dragon was so sure of himself. He had a plan. He would amass his own army and find these deity wars, he would make his army known, an army for peace. He would free any dragons under the rule of the gods and he wuld put the gods in their place.

A large plan for one small dragon. Pleas and worries would not stop him.