Just try to have a conversation, for once. (Male, Non-Anthro, Gold).

No hoard is worth all this trouble, you think to yourself. Constantly harried by knights and other righteous do gooders of the realm. Hunted for your hide and for sport. Sequestered in dank caves and crumbling ruins, kept from all the bright, nice places of the world. All for what, a measly pile of gems and gold? Yeah, not worth it. Might as well head this knightly schmuck off now and get it over with so you can sit down and have a good long think about what you’re going to do with the rest of your life. Because it sure as hell isn't this. That’s for damn sure.

With a stretch you climb to your feet, the powerful muscles beneath your hide rippling in waves of corded energy. You prowl through the halls of your home with feline grace—a once beautiful, majestic dwarven city now long since abandoned and left to ruin. Your sharp claws gouge jagged lines into the gilded tile. Many of the elegant bridges and staircases connecting the winding passages have eroded away, but you use your massive wings to propel yourself across gaps you otherwise couldn’t manage.

You take your sweet time, letting the knight stew in his righteous ire, eventually coming out of the top most entrance to your domain. A small outcropping well out of his reach. You languish across the cliff edge, drape your forelimbs over the lip and bask in the feeling of the warm sun on your scales. In the harsh sunlight they gleam a brilliant, dazzling gold, and you know they look absolutely stunning because you make it a point to keep them immaculately clean whenever you can. Dragons are, if anything, extremely proud, vain creatures, and you share with them that trait at least.

The knight must see your glaring brilliance against the grey rock of the mountain, because he blusteres at you and raises his sword in your direction.

“Dragon filth! I have come to strike your vile presence from this world and reclaim what is rightfully—”

“Can we not do this today?” you drawl, your thick tail thumping the ground impatiently. “I’d really rather not have to eat you.”

The knight seems taken aback by your lack of conviction. He lowers his sword a smidge. “What… No!” He stomps his foot, jabbing the sword at you with renewed vigor. “You know what you did. You kidnapped the princess! I’m here to get her back you savage monster.”

While his accusations are pretty run-of-the-mill, that one gives you pause. You have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. You haven’t touched a maiden in years, let alone a princess—much to your own consternation. Your head cocks in confusion. “What are talking about? I’ve only just got here. I haven’t had time to do anything of the sort.”

“Don't lie to me!” He yells at you. “We saw you flying away from the city not a week ago. Golden hide and all. It could only be you that did it!”

“Oh for the love of…” you mumble under your breath. “That was the day of my arrival. I had no lair. No home. I was fresh from across the sea. Why would I steal a princess without a place to take her yet? What do I look like to you, an amateur?” To his credit the knight doesn’t say anything in response, he just sort of shuffles his feet, looking bewildered. Poor sod probably never anticipated something like this. Most of them usually don't. Who expects to talk to a dragon? They’re usually dead by this point.

“Well, if you didn’t take her, then… who did?”

“Yes, who indeed,” you say, your voice rumbling low in contemplation. Everything considered, this missing princess could very well be the opening you're looking for. Successfully rescue her and the kingdom would certainly welcome you as a hero, or at the very least tolerate your looming presence a little easier. Or you could always… not, you guess. Find another way to engender adoration and respect.

It can’t be that hard.