Do not dream, they told me, of dragons.

Do not waste your time with stories of fire and flight, of golden hoards and soaring freedom. Such ideas are folly; such hopes are weak. 

They told me to forget all that I loved, for this world was much too harsh for one buried in fantasy. Make-believe armor would not deflect the sharp arrows of reality.

So I hardened my skin against them, hardened myself until they could taste the cold steel of my scales, the fire in my breath, and the poison in my veins. They would feel the wrath in my talons and the strength of my wings. 

They could not undermine the might of the queen of monsters.

And they would soon regret believing that dragons did not exist.