You know, Fae. You and I are very much alike: so similar in our differences from other people, you more so than I. Yet, this strange bond we share is more than either of us ever had before the other came along, and is more than either of us will have after one of us passes away. Because I am only half a dragon, I will be the first to go.
But that time is very far off yet.
Before you came, I had been alone many, many times. I am older than you, after all (though only by a little). There was the time when I lived with my parents, a brief time. I cannot recall how many years have passed since then; I have long given up numbering them. I believe that it was a happy time, though a little sad, for we were to be separated soon, and somehow we all knew it. I do not remember much aside from that. I cannot recall the faces of my mother and father, and I do not know which one of them gave me the dragon blood that flows through my veins.
It was some years after they had left me at Arcadia that I found out about that inheritance. At the time, it was not so very strange. You probably do not remember, Fae, but around that time, dragons lived in that oasis peacefully with humans. Not so very many, but probably more than any non-Arcadian human had ever seen in one place at one time - unless you were one of the Eight Generals, of course, and by that time most of them had passed away. (Now, the Eight Generals are something else that I did not learn about until the Archsage arrived. I find them fascinating. I will tell you all about them when you are a little older, Fae.)
After a while, the human villagers began to notice that five, then ten years made no difference in my appearance. To the dragons, of course, my rate of aging was not noticeably different from that of a normal human. You were always telling me how fast I was growing up, Fae, until Igrene's little girl was born. Then you knew what growing up fast was! How jealous you were - not in a mean way; there is no meanness in your heart at all - but you have been so tired of being such a tiny little girl, haven't you?
Many people have been born, have lived out their lives, and died between the time you were born and the age you are now. I wish they could have seen you grow up, Fae. You were the sweetest baby; everyone loved you. Your poor parents wandered the desert for so long looking for our village, and they could only persevere to the point when they reached the outskirts. The other dragons in the village began to die too, one by one, and now only those who had been the youngest of them when they arrived are left. The elders say it is because the atmosphere has changed so much since the end of the Scouring. Now even those who were born into the new generations do not live as long as did the dragons of yore.
But we will still live for a long, long time. I have been alone so often - I made friends easily, but I lost them as they grew old and died. For me, these were the briefest flickers of time. After many such comings-and-goings, I became silent. I still loved the villagers; I shall always love them. But I thought it was better if they did not become a part of me. It was too sad.
And after I had been thinking like this for a while, Fae, you happened.
It was the first time I had known anyone remotely close to my age, for whom time also seemed to stand still. But many, many years passed, and I was able to watch you grow from a baby into a lovable little girl. And just because of that, because of you, I was finally able to be a little glad that I had inherited my parent's dragon blood. Because it meant that, of all the many friends you will make, at least I am able to watch as you grow up (even if, for you, it will only be a little while).
So, Fae, no matter what happens, I will protect you, Fa. I will be with you for as long as I live.
And it will be a long, long time.