Tristan Hale and the Dragon's Keeper

Living, Breathing, Xanax

The walk back to the castle was fairly quick, but it felt like hours. Now that I was separated from Asta, the incessant bowing had finally stopped. That didn't stop people in the castle from blatantly staring, though. It must have been obvious there was something different about me. I recognized the look everyone gave me. I'd seen the same one hundreds of times when I walked around in public without a hat. 

Growing up, teachers and other parents used to trash talk my mother, wondering why she let her pre-pubescent child bleach his hair. No matter how many times she and I claimed it grew out my head that way, people didn't believe us until over a decade had passed and the color hadn't changed. The fact that it was natural didn't stop the strange looks, though. If anything it made them worse. Girls sitting behind me in class would often try to run their fingers through it in fascination and guys often looked on jealously. 

You'd think my witty personality and unique looks would have managed to help make more friends, but it was almost the exact opposite. I had started off fairly popular when I was young, but, once I got to middle school, someone started a rumor that I was cursed. They claimed that they'd seen my hair turn into actual flames when they tried to touch my hair. At first, everyone laughed it off like the crazy rumor it was. 

A year or two later, though– when I'd let my hair grow exceptionally long –a particularly unfriendly kid snuck up behind me and snipped a large chunk of hair off the back of my head with a pair of classroom scissors. He'd laughed in my face and then tried to hold it over my head. When I grabbed it from his hand, I yelled and told him to get lost. I don't know why that scared everyone so much, but everyone who had been watching the scene cowered in fear at my words. Rumors of my cursed fiery hair started circulating again after that and no one tried to approach me ever again. Even the occasional new person in school wasn't friendly for long. 

I tried several times after that to get my hair to turn into fire like everyone said it could. After many failed attempts in the mirror, I realized I just looked like an idiot. Everyone avoided me at school from then on, but that never stopped them from staring at me.

The look the people in the palace were giving was so reminiscent of the ones I'd seen back home, I almost cringed. I don't know what I had expected about the Citadel, but I guess white hair was just as strange here as it was in the human world. Now, though, I felt slightly more proud about it. It was just another visual representation of my bond with Asta. I was a Fated. 

Kenshin led me through the labyrinth of hallways within the palace until we entered a room with a single long table stretching the length of the room surrounded by twenty or more chairs. Every seat was empty except for one at the head of the table where Sora was sitting, smiling at us.

"Father," Kenshin bowed his head but didn't stop walking. He took a seat to the left of the High Keeper and I paused awkwardly deciding whether I should sit on the other side of Sora or just next to Kenshin. I eventually concluded to sit next to Sora. Kenshin smirked at my discomfort from across the table and the High Keeper cleared his throat.

"Glad you both could join us," Sora said and waved over some servants holding platters of food. "I take it Astarot is settled in the Aviary?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yes, he was quite tired after the flying we did today and fell asleep almost immediately."

Sora chuckled, "Sometimes I forget that the Dragon's Keeper is still so young. Any normal dragon his age would've taken several days to get to the Citadel."

I didn't respond because a ginormous plate of food was placed in front of me and any thought I had before, had flown out the window. I hurriedly started slicing into a steak.