At long last, a continuation of Friss and Nurth's official backstory. The writing is my own, and the wonderful image sequence is by the amazing  AnotherFatDerg!
Eagle-eyed viewers may have have noticed Frozed uploaded this image months ago.
My apologies for the delay. I wanted to include quite a few new details and developments, but also keep the story from becoming an exposition-packed mess. It took a while, but I think it works. XD

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- This is Part 3 -- (More eventually...)

*****

Nurthaven’s village fountain was a sight to behold.

A whimsical statue -- the great guardian -- was perched proudly upon his pedestal, pristine water spouting from between upturned lips. The flow was so uniform and clear, it played tricks on the eye. The blissful arc seemed to hang frozen in the morning air, defying gravity, rooted in the calm basin pool below. 

Only a faint whisper betrayed the roiling turbulence beneath the surface. 

I was too eager to stop. Familiar lakes and hills helped me navigate the thickening leafy canopy.

A week-long stretch of hard travel, capped with this all-night marathon flight; it barely felt real. Returning to my remote forest clan brought waves of nostalgia. Anxiety. Excitement.

A twitch of muscle memory steered me toward one of several identical-looking ravines, and I discerned the special crevasse that would lead me into the hidden depths; a cave system that plunged beneath the foundation of ancient, nearly impenetrable woods. The route was rather more difficult than I’d recalled, but nevertheless, I pressed on.

They would all finally witness how much I’d changed! A drake with promise. An Honored Guardian, swelling with pride, with the hopes of an entire human village blossoming beneath his wings.

“You think you’ve proven yourself, do you?” 

My father’s contemptuous gaze scanned me from top to bottom, lingering upon my belly for several uncomfortable moments. As the clan’s leader, noble Vendorath’s approval meant everything.

”Aye, you’ve proven yourself…” he finally conceded. 
I dared to relax, sighing the breath I’d been consciously holding.
“…to be everything I’d feared, and worse! Prey-befriending. Dull-fanged. A spoiled-rotten, impotent pet!”
I recoiled in wordless horror, tail suddenly pinched against the cavern wall. My mind scrambled to muster a defense. My honor… and pride… everything had changed! Hadn’t it? Why couldn’t my father see? 
“Despite all my misgivings about you, son, I could never have foreseen this inexplicable yearning to be fattened for slaughter. Sacred Flame only knows how you chanced upon a herd of smooth-skinned monkeys willing to oblige you in such a vile perversion of dignity!”
There was no mistaking his genuine bitterness, or the physical tension in my father’s flame glands; telegraphed in a strangled rubbery creak and an ominous muted hiss. The grizzled dragon hastily swallowed his excess incendiary spit, exhaling in a halting, barely-restrained snarl. Flames of muted yellow guttered between his teeth. 
“You would take credit for these so-called ‘accomplishments?’ Peh! I’d heard rumors that humans could be halfway clever. I’d wager they fattened you up on purpose, then managed to forget the most important step. You are–” he snarled for emphasis,”– well past ripe.”
I slumped in shame, my tear-filled eyes cast downward and firmly glued to the ground between my paws. I was painfully aware of the engorged silhouette of my own torso. Each shallow breath hastened its encroachment upon the border of my vision. 
“Begone, Nurthagus. You taint this place with your flaccid body and spirit. You have proven, without any shadow of doubt, that your clan isn’t here. Return to those repulsive humans. Roll over and present your shameful belly. Wag your tail, fetch a stick. Finish defecating upon the moldering dregs of your honor.”
I dared to look up, facing my father perhaps the last time. There was unfettered anger in his expression… but also an unexpected cocktail of revulsion and sorrow. That sight is what gutted me, most truly, tooth and claw. 
Telltale glints in the shadows revealed there were other dragons who, having borne witness to the elder’s de facto decree, chose to discreetly withdraw. More familiar eyes. Former clan and family. None dared raise any objection.
The dragon I’d called ‘father’, meanwhile, had already turned, stiffly padding away. He spoke without looking back. A deadness of finality suffused his tone. 
“Go. If you’re lucky, one of them will remember what comes next.” 

An impressive heap of evidence supported his father’s bitter conclusion.

Nurth’s legs were trembling. His sack-like chest draped rudely across the fountain basin wall, threatening to envelop a section of the structure entirely. Any self-respecting, halfway able-bodied creature would be perfectly capable of drinking from a glorified water trough… but Nurth’s pillowy forequarters and dangling wattle denied him that simple dignity. He suppressed a wave of irritation, annoyed at such an obvious oversight by the village craftsmen. Should the honorary fountain not have been more… accommodating? 

He lifted his head, and once more clambered bonelessly against the wall, attempting to press what little advantage he could muster. The perimeter brickwork dug even more painfully into his forequarters, audibly creaking as it dutifully withstood what amounted to an awkward humping. Nurth’s intended target, the tantalizing stream of water, hovered just beyond the tip of his parched tongue.

A sight to behold, indeed.

“Thrice cursed fountain!” Nurth fumed. He spared an accusational stare for his water-spitting doppelganger. It was predictably unmoved by his ordeal, in a state of unthinking bliss. Lucky.

Nurth puffed raggedly, willing his aggravation away. His treasonous stomach gurgled at the incoming tide of welcoming aromas drifting upon the morning air. He scented bread rising in hot stone ovens. Rashers of bacon. Plates of eggs and fried potatoes. Steaming hot-brewed drinks of invigorating bitterness that marked the beginning of a bustling day trade. A thin film of drool coated his lips, glorying in the culinary medley at dozens of breakfast tables. All of it was an ecstatic delight to Nurth’s senses, yet at times like this, it also rankled horribly.  

He let out a sigh of resignation, and marked his own foolishness. It was pointless to shift blame. The design for the fountain had seemed entirely reasonable when construction began, even accounting for some predictable, inevitable growth. He overshot those estimates rather impressively. Nurth alone bore responsibility for the bulk of his current challenges, as well as the increasing burden he represented to everyone in the village.

“Fetch a bucket, perhaps?” Frissura offered sweetly, allowing her forepaws to dangle carelessly over the brim on the opposite side. She certainly enjoyed playing the silent observer when it suited her, namely when Nurth was putting on a show.
The overencumbered dragon paused his strained grunting. He teasingly re-deployed his tongue for her benefit, though it obviously failed to reach any farther than before.
“...or maybe I could hold a few slurps in my mouth, and play ‘momma-bird’?” the pink dragoness added innocently.
Nurth involuntarily staggered, releasing a sharp nasal snort while trying not to laugh. So shameless! The outburst only exacerbated his growing urgency to breathe, and he struggled for a moment to regain his composure.

If not for Frissura’s arrival the previous year, he suspected things would already be much different. She had quietly taken over Nurth’s active duties, many of them the core incentives for keeping a “dragon guardian” in the first place: Rapid messaging. Scouting. Search and rescue. Enforcement and intimidation. Aerial support and defensive prowess…
The outspoken feathered princess never complained or even suggested these tasks might be beneath her.

It was increasingly unclear to Nurth what his “Guardianship” even meant. He still commanded an unspoken authority, even if that modicum of respect often came with an extra side of unsolicited treats, scritches, and belly rubs. He seldom saw fit to throw his metaphoric weight around, preferring instead to treat the humans as peers. The previously prim and royally stubborn Friss deferred to him in this. She followed his lead, toning down her lingering entitled royal tendencies. But the question remained: what contribution did he really make any more?

It seemed that for the act of merely being there, he received an almost unshakeable devotion from these people. Was it deserved? Who was fooling who? He feared someone would finally notice the absurd state of affairs, and remember they were hosting a redundant deadbeat dragon -- a very costly and gluttonous one, at that. Nurth clenched his teeth, imagining how things would play out when that day finally came.

“I know that look,” Friss finally said. “Stop with the doubt. These people are lucky to have you. And for that matter, so am I.”
“Do you really think so?” Nurth asked sullenly, far from convinced.
“You know I do. I firmly stand by my ‘greater luck dragon’ theory.”

Ah, the fabled Luck Dragon. Such foolishness. It was a notion that had conveniently spread through Nurthhaven, seemingly overnight. 

Dragons were thought to impart a minor aura of good fortune upon their surroundings. This much, Nurth could readily accept. He knew traditional clan living arrangements stemmed from early efforts to stack and intensify this effect -- but few people would ever notice the difference. Historically, dragons had proven to be fundamentally risky houseguests, minor blessings aside.
But what if one dragon turned out to be an overachiever? A focal point of fair fortune? Friss claimed there was a scholarly paper on the subject in her family’s royal library, though Nurth thought it rather more likely she’d been distracted by a picture book intended for children, full of cute things and pretty colors.

A twisted smile crossed Nurth’s plush features. “In that…huff… case,” he rasped, “tend to the needs of your legendary luck dragon. I demand you cradle an oasis between your paws, and waddle over here like an exotic duck. Try not to spill too much, or you… huff…you’ll end up making extra trips and presenting your shapely rump for further scrutiny.”
The mirth in Frissura’s eyes was unmistakable. “Tempting… but isn’t waddling more your expertise?”
Before Nurth could concede the point, a tall boy practically ricocheted off the door frame of a nearby home, jogging at speed into the open square. A clattering wooden bucket dangled from his grip. Both dragons craned their necks to mark his approach.
Frissura huffed good-naturedly. “Oh, see now, here comes Zeke. No need to practice my waddle! Your little people are always so keen to please.”
The boy arrived seconds later, paying their banter no mind. He wore a simple shirt and trousers, which were part of the allowance offered to new and struggling villagers. Zeke deftly dipped his bucket into the fountain. “A blessed morn’, gard’yun and compan’yun!” he said in an informal and carefree tone, as though it were simply a chance meeting with a couple of friends at the schoolhouse. He tensed his back and shoulders, and smoothly drew a load of water with only a little hiss of effort. The bucket’s weight settled on the fountain brim with a tiny slosh. He turned to face the rotund guardian, considering Nurth thoughtfully. 
“Be glad to trust ‘yer blessing would guide my footing truly, but I’d best not try scalin’ up yer neck, or reachin’ out over open water, I think.”
“Of… of course,” Nurth said after a moment, wheezing as he began placing his paws in preparation to drag his brisket off the groaning stonework. The young man wisely snatched up the bucket and withdrew to relative safety. Frissura flowed like a petal on the breeze, arriving at Nurth’s side to lend her strong neck to the endeavor. With her assistance, they managed to save the fountain from obvious damage, and also avoided trampling the wide-eyed young man.
It took a few more moments for Nurth to get settled into the peculiar half-sitting, half-prone arrangement that passed as his “rest position” these days. Zeke dared to come closer once the lay of the dragon landscape mostly arrived at its final shape. Nurth graciously leaned in to accept the offered hydration, which the boy patiently held at a convenient height.
“M…my thanks, young man,” Nurth allowed between exaggerated slurps. His wet muzzle emerged from the empty bucket after just a second or two.
“Be nothin’ ut’all, Guardian,” the boy assured him, setting the bucket back on the fountain wall. “Though ‘haps the good lady kin draw yer’ next un’? I’ve lessons startin’ right soon.”
Nurth looked skeptically toward Frissura, who did her best to look innocent.
“Oy, behave, lady dragon,” Zeke chided boldly, throwing her a disapproving stare. “Be nice tuh’ Guardian Nurth, if yuh please.”
Charged with the not-entirely-undeserved reprimand, Frissura made a show of pouting. She flicked a melancholy claw in the fountain water, before suddenly brightening. She grinned toothily. “Know that he’ll not want or suffer for anything it is within my power to provide. A little good-natured teasing notwithstanding…”
“I’d prefer ‘with sitting’ or ‘with laying down’,” Nurth declared dryly.
Friss fully splashed Nurth without warning, resulting in a sudden fit of wobble-laughter and sputtering. The huge dragon mostly shielded the boy from drenching by simple virtue of being such a large obstruction, however the nimble young man had also wisely turned on his heels to leave. He turned to favor the pair with an affectionate wave, suppressing a chuckle while striding away to collect his things for morning class.
“W…*cough*...wait!” Nurth called, still blinking, still shedding water from shelves of flesh that clung to each other and seemed stubbornly resistant to draining 
The boy skidded to a halt and looked back.
“Do you think I’m lucky?” Nurth asked, echoing his earlier doubt.
The boy blinked as if the question were a little daft. He seemed to look from Nurth’s well-fed body, to the feathered admirer at his arm’s length. 
“Oh, um… not… not me personally,” Nurth clarified. “Do you think I bring good fortune to the village?”
“Yes,” came the simple answer. “Yes, Guardian. You are lucky. And we are most fortunate.”
Friss caught Nurth’s eye, and gestured to the boy, her look speaking as loudly as words. “See?”
Zeke nodded encouragingly and grinned, then turned and sped off into the next alleyway.
Nurth watched the boy go. The soggy dragon was still dripping, deep in thought. He said to nobody in particular, “maybe the village has truly been blessed. Truth be told, I expected more… ups and downs.”
Frissura tilted her head in an uncannily canine manner. “Are you actually complaining about how well things are going here?”
“Of… of course not!” Nurth sputtered. “I’m thrilled that things turned around. After the horrendous droughts, and those first few disastrous winters... this is what I really wanted. For these people to live well. And have a chance at happiness.”
He tried to lift and flop his belly to one side, easing the load on an unfortunate smothered hindleg, but found lingering wetness had practically glued the flesh together.
“Despite everything,” he continued, ”I have tried to be a good and practical, forward-thinking guardian. I voiced support for construction of new silos. The additional cellars and cisterns. It’s obvious these bumper crops can’t last forever. Nobody can be on the best side of every trade deal...”
“Hmm. Yet the crops have continued to thrive,” Friss pointed out. “Trade has increased many-fold. All sorts of things about this village have been expanding beyond all reasonable expectations.” The pink dragoness’ gaze wandered downward, considering some interesting parts of Nurth’s substantial midsection. 
Nurth blushed in amusement, but this time, her scrutiny also triggered a peculiar feeling of unease. He hurriedly made another attempt to adjust the lay of his haunches. A pins-and-needles sensation was blossoming his still-burdened leg and paw. “It does… *urmph*... seem that way.”
“It certainly does,” she purred. “And it is also rather curious how your humble Nurthaven bounced back, so miraculously, from those harsh droughts. I’ve flown perhaps a couple days in every direction, and overheard discussions that describe conditions further afield. Many are still struggling. We are... very much the exception.”
“Mmmph,” Nurth noted distractedly. “Is that… *hrrrgn* …is that right?”
Frissura leaned in, dropping her neck and angling her horns for a quick, firm, and very deliberate nudge. Her paws dug into the cobblestones, alternately scraping slightly as they each slid a fraction of an inch. Nurth’s belly yielded to the pressure. Frissura’s face nearly sank into it, disappearing along with a goodly portion of her neck as she applied the needed pressure to trigger a slow-motion, yet deliberate cascade of Nurth’s mass. He seemed to accelerate for a fleeting moment, then flop unceremoniously onto his opposite side with a dull smack. 
He fine-tuned his position with an extra little lurch and huff of effort, which kept the residual wobble going. “Th…thanks,” he acknowledged. 
“You know, if you settled here without any idea about the ‘luck dragon’ thing, that just makes it more cute and wholesome. You were making an honest effort.”
“Well… I really didn’t like seeing anybody suffer, humans or otherwise. And I never planned to stick around. I meant to move on.”
“And? Why didn’t you?” she prompted gently.
“They kept coming to me with their thanks, and well-wishes. Some just seemed to enjoy talking to me, regardless of the fact I was some kind of extra-squishy, defective predator. It was refreshing.”
Frissura wrapped her neck around Nurth’s affectionately. “Kind of like family,” she said softly, not quite a question.  
Nurth closed his eyes, and hung his head in a bit of embarrassment. 
“It certainly didn’t help that whenever I so much as hinted I might move on, they magically found a task or problem only I could solve. Or declared I would be guest of honor at some upcoming event, which half the time I'm sure they invented on the spot. When I tried to put my paw down on the matter, I was soon distracted by such well-honed flattery and pampering, it was nigh impossible to recall a good reason to leave.” 
“Sounds awful. Jokes on them, though. Now they’re stuck with you.”
“The horror, I know.” 

For a time, they simply enjoyed each other’s embrace. They took in the sounds of the village together, watching a sweet elderly couple argue at length about whether it was disloyal to see a different herbalist about the man’s poor circulation. No consensus seemed immediately forthcoming.

“You know,” Frissura said gently, “we’ve already proven quite capable of supporting more people. I’d say a bit more diversity will help Nurthaven thrive even more magnificently.”
Nurth nodded grimly. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough. People will be coming. Council has been planning accordingly, with new infrastructure, plots, and construction. I just hope we won't need to start turning people away.”
“Well, on that note, I’ve been thinking about something I overheard last month, while scouting toward the eastern forests. It’s an avenue I wouldn’t have considered, and ultimately… the decision would still be up to you. But it seems to me we’ve already kind of got a proof of concept. Building projects could proceed more quickly, and it could bring a huge boost to the economy of the village…”
Nurth huffed with exaggerated impatience. “Come now, out with it, before I lose patience and start looking for a better secretary. Preferably one who won’t cough up huge pellets of fur and feathers at random hours of the night. And I really don’t think it’s too much to ask for…” 
Friss didn't wait for him to finish. “Rumor is, members of an elusive clan are being starved out of the forest. They mentioned a despot called Vendorath.”
“...a meatier set of fla-- WHAT?”  
Frissura grinned fiercely. “How about some more dragons?”