Sleeping Dragon Fire

"Warbone," he said in answer to her query. "That is a hard-earned title where I am from, not the name I was born with." The stone of his face softened as he regarded young Gyda— brimming with as much potential as he saw in the Dragon's other queen— and to him she appeared all silver and blue in the night, like a true moon to sit in holy reverence above her wolves; but she was not quite so invulnerable. He did not often choose to reveal his true name, not that he kept it a secret, he just hardly ever found a need or a want to. The feeling was absent even now, as he refused to divulge on the obvious next question before she could ask it, his grey face seeming mischievousness if one could see past the heavy layer of stoicism. "Are you only Gyda, the silver regent, or are you more?" he purred, eyes stolen with a disappearing sheen in the darkness.