Sleep does not come easy for Annalei. Between the sparring match and the in-flight battle, Xeraxes up-ended her worldview succinctly. She knows what everyone in Faraley knows about dragons, and it's beginning to feel like she's been woefully undereducated. Could she truly consider Draconia an ally if she knew nothing about its inhabitants?

Worrisome thought leads to her drifting down the stairs on soft-slippered feet. She wanders the halls, unsure of where she is heading, but hungry for knowledge and discovery. She finds herself gravitating towards the throne room where Xeraxes first received her, and towards the peculiar painting she and James had been mesmerized only a few days before.

She lifts a lit candle, leaning in closer to examine the artwork again. The black dragon breathing its deadly black flames seems nearly alive, with each brushstroke illuminating a wingtip there, and defining a patch of scales here. She wonders if this is some artistic representation of Xeraxes himself when a deep voice in the darkness snaps her out of her ruminations.

"That was my ancestor, King Xelephon. He was the first dragon to take on the 'Black Flame' moniker, and the first to ever learn to control Ebonfire." Xeraxes' eyes shine like hot coal embers in the gloom. He steps closer into the candlelight, and the flame seems to dance and jump higher in his presence. He glances at it out of the corner of his eye, and leans away slightly.

"We aren't born breathing fire, nor as shapeshifters. It's something we're taught over time, from hatchling to adolescent. Not everyone grasps it right away. Then others well...others are like my ancestor, and like yours truly." He grins, showing off his pointed canines. Annalei swallows down the nervous shudder that races through her chest.

"So..what is it?" She asks, pointing at the black fire. "You attacked the other dragon with it today too. You burned him but Ja-Captain Reargan says you're fireproof."

He sighs, and prepares a tart reply about her inadequacies, but manages to bite his own tongue and start again. "Again, princess, it was more of a display of power than a real attack. Had I wanted him dead, I would have done it, but then I would have to explain to my cousin why I murdered his son." He pauses, sniffing. "Anyway, Ebonfire. It's an ancient magic, one discovered by the first of my line." He nods towards the painting. "It is also very deadly. It can burn anything at all that it sets alight, not because it burns like normal fire, but because it burns through the very fabric of the thing." Annalei stares at Xeraxes, not fully understanding what he says, but fascinated by the very aspect of the information he's sharing.

He shakes his head when she has nothing else to add. "I can tell I'm confusing you. That will be a conversation to carry on at a later time." He goes to leave her in the hallway, then turns back towards her. "I have other paintings in my study, if you'd like to see them."

Annalei scoffs. "Right. So you can corner me and make me feel small again? What are you doing anyway, walking around the halls at night?" Annalei knows she shouldn't be this antagonistic towards him, but after the past two humiliations, she's not sure she can stand another.

"I could ask the same of you." He replies cooly, tension building within his chest and up through his nostrils. He will not let her get the better of him this time.

An abashed look crosses her face. "I...I couldn't sleep. Not that it matters to you." She turns away, and begins heading back upstairs.

Xeraxes groans inwardly. "Please princess, allow me to entertain you. You yourself admitted you don't know half as much about dragons as you think you do. Who better to teach you than their King?" He holds out his hand, smug mockery blatant in his stance.

Annalei hesitates, knowing refusing could provoke him to greater lengths to win her over, but also knowing she has no interest in learning whatever this beast thinks he can teach her. She is certain there's plenty of books at home or a knowledgeable historian that would be more than happy to elucidate the subject for her...most preferably ones that weren't dragons.

Still, despite her better judgement, she takes his hand, and allows him to lead her through the halls towards his study. She keeps her mouth shut, half in fear, and half out of disgust. Xeraxes appears calm and in control of himself for now, but she's seen how quickly that can change, and how deadly he could be.

Xeraxes' study isn't quite what she was expecting. It's well furnished, and softer than the rest of the castle's decor. It's still strongly masculine, bathed in red wall hangings and mahogany wood, but it lacks the harsh, black lines of the castle stone. A fireplace crackles in the corner, warming the room considerably. She shivers, rubbing the gooseflesh rising on her arms. She hadn't realized she was so cold. Perhaps running around in her nightgown and a thin robe at night during winter hadn't been her strongest idea.

He puts a palm on her shoulder, the heat from his hand radiating through the thin fabrics. "You're cold. Are humans always this fragile?" He mutters, stepping into an adjoining room and returning with a thick brown, fur wrap. It falls heavy yet supple around her shoulders, smelling of animal hide and spicy musk. She subconsciously breathes a sigh of relief, and tries not to let his snide remark about the fragility of humans bother her.

Xeraxes then grabs her by the shoulders and steers her towards a chair in front of the heavy wooden desk. She sits down, sinking into the cushion, but more than a little confused. "Xeraxes..."She starts, her voice soft.

"Yes, princess?" He turns back around, taking down one of the wall hangings in the process. A picture stands behind him of a gleaming, golden egg. Even in the dim lighting she can see the ornate carvings along the shell, and the extra decoration resting at the top of the egg that she feels vaguely represents the shape of a twining serpent.

She shakes her head, forgetting what she was going to ask. "Nothing."

He looks perplexed for a moment, and she watches his expression fall from hard and aloof to a more pliable and curious one. His pupils dilate large again, as if he's trying to take in more information from her posture than he was previously. Annalei thinks for a moment, then decides his face can be quite charming when he looks like that, too-large pupils contemplating her like a particular black tomcat she remembers from home. She also watched that same tomcat eviscerate a rat more than half his size.

Xeraxes clears his throat, then brings her attention back to the painting he's just revealed. "Did your father ever tell you exactly why I agreed to host you?"

Annalei bites her lip. "N-no, and I didn't ask. It didn't seem relevant at the time." What she doesn't admit is that she was too busy fighting her father about the arrangement that the conversation never progressed beyond that it was occurring whether she liked it or not.

Xeraxes expression turns hard again, and he withdraws back into whatever shell she had inadvertently coaxed him out of before. "Well, I can't say I find that surprising. You didn't even know I am a dragon, after all. Your father is many things, but I certainly can't say that he's attentive to the needs of his child."

"Don't talk about my father like that." Her voice is cold, stony.

Xeraxes eyes flick to her for a moment, considering, then turn back to the painting. He makes no move to apologize, but none to criticize either. He brushes her off without a second thought, and moves on. "I agreed to have you here, to protect you, and promised you father the use of my forces to protect his kingdom because of this." He gestures toward the egg. "The Gilded Egg is our most precious artefact, and was lost long ago when we were forced to flee our homeland. He's promised me that if I see you through this war alive, I can search Faraley for it to my heart's content."

"But why would we have it?" Annalei blurts out, confused but also intrigued. How important was this artefact exactly, that it could convince a dragon-king to bend to her father's will?

"Because, princess. Faraley was once our home. Faraley is the birthplace of dragons, and I can tell by the look on your face you weren't aware of that." He turns away from her, broad shoulders rolling with pent-up rage. "You would think your father could have told you at least that. Some king he's proving to be. Not only can he not keep the land his forefathers stole through trickery and blood, but he doesn't even teach his own daughter the history she'll have to one day bear on her shoulders."

"What do you mean, Xeraxes? My people have lived in Faraley for millenia now." She doesn't like the tone he uses when he talks about her father, who in her estimation, is far more noble and deserving of his crown than this creature ever could be.

"Yes, they have, but my people had lived there far longer before you little hairless monkeys even showed up on our shorelines. My people may have lost all our history except for what we've kept alive through oral tradition, yet you know so little about your own." He turns to her then, his yellow-orange eyes glowing, the reflection from the fireplace crackling and sparking within them.

"It is not my duty to know your ancient history, dragon. And besides, if you hate us so much, then why would you even agree to this allyship in the first place?" She leans forward out of her own chair, tired of his beleaguering of her homeland and her people.

A hiss of steam escapes his nostrils, and he bares his teeth. His form somehow fills more of the room than it used to, and she can see the pointed edges of his canines looking sharper than they did previously. "Have you thought perhaps we sought to solve our issues through diplomatic means? You may carry the sins of your ancestors, yet they are sins you did not commit. If I truly hated humans, do you really think I'd let them so much as set foot in my castle?"

Annalei leans back, begins to feel cowed, but then doubles down and knows that the right thing to do would be to defend the honor of the people and country she loves so dearly. "Well, when it comes to dragons, I have only known your kind to be barbaric and without reason. Before this alliance, before this war, your kind had a tendency to harass the good people that lived along our borders. Many a noble knight has fallen victim to your kind's poisonous treachery. And you, Xeraxes, have done nothing to absolve my estimations of your kind."

A harsh hiss escapes him, rattling in her ears. His long pink tongue lolls out of his mouth, curling and twitching, and his pupils have drawn down to razor-thin black lines. "Well, if that's all you've had for an education it is no wonder you think so little of my kind." He snaps his jaws, pulling himself into better decorum, into more semblance of a human when she jumps back away from him.

"All you have ever done is given me a reason to hate you." She mutters, shaking off the heavy fur and letting it fall to the ground. She raises her chin in defiance, half afraid to die, but brave enough to go down fighting.

"Have you ever thought that is what your father wants? That he gave you what information he did because he wants you to hate dragons?" He asks, rage still simmering within him, but quickly dissipating. He wishes silently he had a better control of his temper but, oh, could this woman get under his skin.

"You don't know my father. You don't know what he has said or what he has done, and I'd tell you kindly to stop insinuating anything about him, but frankly, I don't have the strength to muster it. Goodnight, beast." And with that, she whirls around, jerks open the door to the study, steps through, and promptly slams it.