The drake perched upon the abandoned village’s roofs, smoke wafting from its nostrils, its scales shimmering in the dying summer light. The rogue princex, run ragged and weary, looked up to it and flashed a fearsome grin. “What say you to being a help to me for a while? I’ll make sure you get a fair share of treasures and a lair perfect for yourself.”
The drake shook its head as if shooing off a particularly annoying fly. Thinking of a fly sized enough to annoy a drake mildly perturbed the princex. “I wish not for treasures, mortal,” the drake rumbled. “Nor a lair to call my own. You claim to be heir to this wretched kingdom’s throne? Good. That will be help enough. I will tell you when the time comes what I wish from you. Not before."
The princex stared up at it, briefly concerned at what the price might be for this drake’s help, but xe shook its aside. "Then a bargain has been struck,” xe said proudly. And then xe felt the bargain take, the spell binding the princex to the drake. There would be no running from this, not now. The drake gave a fearsome, jagged grin in response.