The Dragon Prince

You leaf through the book, trying to find something interesting. The Bastard Prince? As amusing as that may be, you remember from somewhere that being a literal bastard was something a bit more serious back in ye olde medieval days. The Marauding Prince? The illustration shows what you presume to be eponymous prince slicing some poor dude's head off while he rides on by him on a ferocious-looking horse. That's pretty metal... but you don't know how to ride a horse.

Flipping around the book a few more times, you're finally greeted by a picture of a sort of winged reptile-man, surrounded by a gaggle of women wearing skimpy costumes. That's... interesting. And is that a... very obvious bulge in said reptile-man's pants? Nah, can't be. Costumes like this are for kids. And you think you can do that - put on a neat costume and keep the kids happy, or spook them if that's what's needed.

To be a prince is still to be a mere human - unless you're a dragon prince! Sure, you'll have to deal with anger, avarice, and lusts beyond that of a mere mortal, but to be a dragon is truly GLORIOUS!

Your head swims and you sway in your seat. You slap a hand on the table to steady yourself, feeling like you started day-drinking waaaay too early. That headache resurges with a vengeance, like someone's driving hot nails into your temples. Wincing, you check the "Yes" box before your face falls towards the writing surface. The last thing you remember is a strangely lucid thought of "My face is probably gonna hurt when it hits the table..."

And then everything goes white.