Dragon: The Lap-Pillow Incident

>Your name is Lahedra Sol Phoebia.
>You are a dragon.
>One of the Gods’ favoured children.
>Inheritor to the greatest powers.
>In your veins runs the blood of conquerors.
>For centuries, mortals have knelt before your kind, either of respect, or fear.
>It makes little difference to you.
>Yet, despite your strength and ferocity, you found yourself more vulnerable than ever.
>Your magnificent obsidian scales, upon which even the very flames of the Earth’s navel are but a minor bother, offered little protection under this assault.
>Your immense knowledge of the arcane, useless against this new challenge.
>In a few words: you were stuck.
>Trapped in your own home, shackled to a mere bench in your imperial gardens.
>Well, figuratively bound.
>But the feelings warring inside you were akin to a mountain weighing on your shoulders.
>All this because SOMEONE doesn’t rest enough.
>You will remember this betrayal.
>Mother was right: kindness, in a ruler, is always perceived as a weakness to be exploited.
>Never again will you bring lunch to this mortal, it’s beyond you anyway!
>…
>That said… he certainly is cute, sleeping so peacefully.
>Tiring himself out so early in the day… For what? “Being a fiancé fit for the Empress?” Don’t overestimate yourself, human! No one in this realm is your equal!
>…
>But the efforts are appreciated. Truly.
>Still. Using your lap as a pillow, the nerve.
>What would the court think of this behaviour?
>Well, if they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay quiet.
>Oh your many gods. The maid saw you.
>Of all the people at your service: Hélène.
>What is she planning, she is just looking at you two, with /that/ smile of hers?!
>Wait, she simply bowed?
>Is she heading back to the exit?
>Hold on!
“Hélène! Wait!”
>Good, she heard your whisper.
>After a brief hesitation, the Kikomora saunters delicately to your side.
>She performs a polite curtsy and leans unorthodoxly close to you, allowing her to listen to your almost inaudible voice.
“Help me.”
>She raises an eyebrow, confusion clear on her face.
>”It seems to me that you have everything under control, my Empress.”
“Hélène, there are appearances a ruler must maintain, I cannot be seen used like furniture.”
>”Oh? Is that what worries you, in such case I shall temporarily close the gardens to all but your most trusted. None shall interrupts your Highness’ tranquillity.”
“But… What about my duties?”
>“Let your advisors take care of it. Should any event of actual importance happen, you will be made aware in due time.”
“…”
>“If all your concerns have been put at rest, I shall take my leave, your grace.”
“Not yet… Hélène… What do I do?”
>“What do you mean?”
“Do I… Do I simply sit here?”
>“Oh. Yes. That is all, just enjoy the moment.”
“But… Surely I can do something for him!”
>“Mmh… I you really must, you could brush his hair, or his face.”
“But… What if… What happens if I need to get up… for…”
>You just can’t put your thoughts into words like this!
>“Well, I suppose it will mean the end of your fiancé’s nap. You do not want to dirty your tights with urine now, do you?”
>That sound you made was nothing a ruler or a dragon should utter.
“HOW- How dare you imply such a thing!”
>“Enjoy your afternoon, Empress.”
>With one more curtsy and sticking her tongue at your, the impish maid flees with a skip to her step.
>You’ll make her pay. One these days!
>Yet, your outrage lasts only for a spell.
>A pleasant breeze brings new life to the gardens, letting the leaves whistle and the flowers dance.
>Idly, you brush a strand of his hair away to better look at your future husband’s features.
>You do not know the name of this emotion blossoming in your breast.
>Why is it so pleasant to merely stroke his head?
>Carefully, as to not scratch his skin with your claws, the back of your hand caresses his cheek.
>You suppose you have no choice but to simply watch over him.
>And enjoy the moment.
>And how enjoyable this afternoon is.