"I kind of suspected," Prometheus said honestly, not looking up from where he was digging his fingers into Aza's plush fur. It was incredibly thick - maybe Prometheus's prolonged stay in a frigid climate prompted his offspring to counteract that. Dragons were insanely skilled in subconsciously adjusting their genetics for spontaneous and dramatic mutations in single generations.

"The age your son died, meant he was at a breeding age," he continued, "With how humans are... I'd be surprised if he didn't have children. Since we haven't been introduced, that means you've either abandoned them, or you're hiding them from me for fear of me getting jealous, right?"