James nods and pets her very carefully. "Should I continue?"

She considers this, then hums an affirmative.

"I'm continuing from here, though," she says, muffled by his chest. "Not letting go and you can't make me."

"Sounds good to me.

"A few years later, there were tremours all over Tyria, and a subterranean race called the asura emerged, driven away by fire creatures called Destroyers. Turns out they had been living underground all along. A group of asura, as well as norn—a species that used to live in the far north—and charr fought them alongside the dwarves. Oh, and about the charr—it turns out they were being led by a faction called the Flame Legion whose magic and power came from the Titans. The other Legions were not the happiest about this, and when the Titans were killed some time later they united and banished the Flame Legion."

"Good for the charr, then. Uh, are the destroyers still a problem?"

"Yes and no. The dwarves had a legend about the Great Destroyer, who was the antithesis of their god, the Great Dwarf. So, according to a prophecy, they performed a ritual to become creatures made of stone and live forever in the underground fighting the Destroyers. And they have been doing that ever since."

"That's... very extreme, but I have to admire their dedication? And I'm very impressed with their sacrifice, um. Go dwarves."

"I have only ever met one, a dwarf named Ogden Stonehealer. He is aboveground, member of the Durmand Priory—but I should explain dragons.

"It was discovered that Tyria has six Elder Dragons—Primordus, Jormag, Zhaitan, Mordremoth, Kralkatorrik, and... I have no idea what the deep sea dragon is called. They wake in cycles, consume all the magic in the world, then go into hibernation and leak magic back into the world. During that time, civilisation exists. We were in such a time until about two hundred years ago."

"... Right around the time when the gods left," she says, blinking.

"Yes. The dragons wake in order; the first one is Primordus, the fire dragon. His main lieutenant is the Great Destroyer, and his minions are the Destroyers. So for as long as he's alive, Destroyers will exist."

"Okay," she agrees, nestling closer.

"Next is Jormag, ice dragon; it was hibernating in the far north, and it forced the norn farther south than they'd ever lived. Then Zhaitan rose, and lifted Orr when he did, flooding the old Lion's Arch and much of the coastal areas around. After Zhaitan came Kralkatorrik, the crystal dragon. Whenever he flies, the area under him becomes crystal, and living beings in his path are converted into his minions. I can take you to Ascalon sometime to see the brand. It's gorgeous, if you forget what caused it, and terrifying, if you don't."

She shivers a little, and is pretty happy to be snuggled in his arms.

"And you killed two of these things?"

"I can't say I killed Zhaitan. The Pact killed Zhaitan, three years ago. The guild is called that because it was the union of the three main guilds that were working against the dragons at the time: the Order of Whispers, the Durmand Priory, and the Vigil.

"Mordremoth I did kill. He was the plant and mind dragon, and he awoke last year. The sylvari, it was discovered, were originally meant to be his minions, but somehow the Pale Tree was purified and started creating them before Mordremoth ever rose. When he did, his influence was too strong for some sylvari, and they succumbed to him. We killed him personally—Caithe, Canach, and I—by entering his mind and slaying his avatar there—" He pauses, here, and closes his eyes. "And then by killing a dear friend of ours, Trahearne, the Marshal of the Pact, because the last sliver of Mordremoth had lodged itself inside him."

"Oh," she murmurs. She shifts in the hug so she can pet his hair and snuggle the everliving shit out of him. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

He nods, purses his lips, but presses on. "And yesterday I was at the memorial of another friend that Mordremoth killed—Eir Stegalkin.

"I should also mention, because it's relevant—Glint turned out to be Kralkatorrik's daughter, and she turned against her master at the time of the dragons' last awakening thousands of years ago. I... don't know what caused her change of heart, but she was a strong force against him until he killed her in a fight between a guild called Destiny's Edge and himself. That guild—Caithe used to be part of it, and Rytlock, too, as well as Eir, a human called Logan Thackeray, an asura called Zojja—she's Taimi's mentor—and another asura called Snaff, who was killed by Kralkatorrik when Glint was. They are all legendary heroes in their own right."

"Yeah, I can see how. Your friends were all very competent, I'm kind of proud that I managed to keep up at all. Well, maybe I didn't quite, I was rather a bit more vulnerable."

He smiles, a bit. "I think priorities in battle strategy must have been quite different when resurrection was cheaply available."

"Ha. No kidding. I'm going to work to be less... made of paper and spite... in the future. Because resurrection is not cheaply available."

"Don't worry, princess, you did amazing."

"Eeee," she squeaks, nestling happily in his arms. "Good. I felt like I was contributing! I certainly convinced a lot of people to try to kill me! That usually means I'm contributing."

He laughs, and kisses the top of her head. "I believe the last bit of history is—well, not history, closer to current events. Before Glint died, she left one egg in the care of a group of humans called the Zephyrites. Mordremoth crashed their airship, and the egg—imprinted on me. I became its guardian. And then Caithe—she stole it from me. That was what had looked like a betrayal, that I talked about earlier."

"Ah. Yeah, that would look like one, wouldn't it." Snuggle. "Is, um, the egg okay, did she eventually return it, or...?"

"I got it back from her. The reason for it was—some sylvari have a mission thrust upon them when they are born, called a Wyld Hunt. It calls to them throughout their lives. Caithe's was to kill Zhaitan—and she fulfilled it.

"And then, unprecedentedly, she got a second Wyld Hunt: to protect the egg. And between Mordremoth's voice and the Wyld Hunt, she did not know who to trust, and she ran. But eventually I did get it back from her, and in the Maguuma Jungle we found a city, called Tarir. It was built by followers of Glint who had shed their mortal forms to become beings of energy and guard her legacy. The egg is there." He lets go of her hand to reach into a pouch and grab—a small round golden stone. "This portal stone will take me to the egg chamber if I want. I will show you it sometime."

"Okay. I think I'd like to see it, if you're willing to show me and the various followers of Glint won't poke holes in me for being there." Snuggle. "Poor Caithe. Poor all sylvari, actually, for having Mordremoth in their head. I'd find having a Wyld Hunt oppressive, too, but maybe they're different."

"I don't know what it feels like, but some do find it oppressive, and try to cut off all contact to it. They are a minority, though."