Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~Before The Prophecy~

Queen Holly picked at her teeth with a bone, her razor-sharp tail lazily whipping from side to side. Her court of fools needlessly bickered about Skywing this and Skywing that, going back and forth on matters that neither interested nor involved her. She slouched further against her rigid throne, constructed from ice and diligently maintained. Besides being unimpressed by the solutions her advisors managed to craft with the one brain cell they collectively seemed to share, she had already come up with a plan of her own. A simple one, really, something that should have been the obvious answer weeks ago but for some reason hadn’t been considered. It was a game at this point; Holly held her secrets close to her chest, just so she could see how long it took them to figure it out. Unfortunately for them, their time was rapidly running out. Something had to be done in retaliation regarding the ambassador that had died at the hands of the SkyWing royal family three weeks ago, something that would send a very clear message that the Kingdom Of Ice was not to be trifled with. If they waited any longer, it would make them appear weak: Now, while the SkyWings were just beginning to lower their guard, would be the perfect time to take decisive action.

“What if we destroy their hatchery and everything inside?” Her slimy little nuisance of a tactician, Flake, hissed.

“Ah, yes, kill hundreds of unborn dragons. That will surely show them. Who shall we attack next, their orphans? Oh, I know!” Holly straightened to her full height, an expression of mock delight briefly flitting across her face. “Let’s nip it in the bud and execute all the soon-to-be mothers! What a brilliant plan, Flake. Honestly, what would I do without you?”

“Ah…” Flake shifted his pale wings uncomfortably. “I was merely suggesting-”

“I know very well what you were suggesting, Flake. I’m not an imbecile.”

If it was possible for a milky-white dragon to go pale, her tactician would most certainly have done so. “Of course not, Your Highness! I would never presume to think down upon your superior intellect! I-It is an honor to serve--”

“Oh, stop your blubbering.” Holly threw her makeshift toothpick at his feet, feeling a flicker of amusement at the way he danced out of its path. She languidly slunk from her position on the throne and made her way down the dias, towards where her advisors were gathered in a half-circle. “On and on and on, I grow tired of it. And anyway, I’m simply messing with you. It’s fun watching you squirm.” She stretched her long and elegant neck, glittering with midnight blue jewelry and sapphires that were either passed down as a family heirloom or collected during one of many conquests. Looking down her nose at them, her trusted committee looked more like a group of frivolously adorned children playing at War than a group of high-ranking professionals. “But we are not monsters. I will not resort to violence against children.”

“What do you suggest we do, Queen Holly?” She said a silent thanks to her Secretary Of Treasury, Polar. He always seemed to catch on slightly faster than the rest of her travelling circus, and had picked up on the mischievous glimmer that made her purple eyes shine like amethysts.

“Well, it’s simple, really.” She began to pace in a circle around the gathering of old dolts like a shark in deep water. “A life for a life seems fair, does it not? Of course, we cannot even begin to think about removing the Sky Queen’s daughter from the picture, as that will just end in a war between our kingdoms. And after the stunt they pulled, I highly doubt we’ll be seeing hide nor horn of a Skywing ambassador anytime soon, so that’s out of the question. Killing their queen will just plunge the Sky Kingdom into anarchy, which would be devastating for anyone involved.”

“So,” another voice chimed in, belonging to her defensive strategist, Lichen. “Are you suggesting that we eliminate… Apex?”

She rumbled happily, pleased to see that at least one of her advisors had a brain bigger than the size of a peanut. “Precisely.”

“But,” Polar was quick to intervene, “how do you suggest we get anywhere near the prince? Surely you don’t expect to just march up to the gates and demand to see him? The Sky Kingdom won’t let any IceWing near the western border, let alone the palace.”

“I’m glad you brought that up.” Holly was not deterred. She had, after all, spent weeks planning this. “Because the Sky Kingdom won’t even know that an IceWing is in their castle until it’s too late. Permafrost, you may reveal yourself.”

A small dragon, lithe and quiet as falling snow, effortlessly glided from a high-set window on wings silent as a snow owls’. The air seemed to move through him, as if he was a void that drank up every little noise and left nothing behind. Even as he approached them, his shimmering lavender scales and white underbelly seemed to fade into the backdrop, becoming a part of the surrounding landscape. As suspected, the members of her court looked equal pats astounded and frightened.

“This is Permafrost. He is part of an elite unit of IceWings that devote themselves to mastering stealth and merciless efficiency. He has been training with them since he hatched, and has more than proved himself on various sting operations around the continent. He is our secret weapon.” She tilted her head towards the still assassin, standing at attention a few tail-lengths away.

“An assassin?” Flake gulped, raising a shaky claw to draw the attention towards himself. “How long has he been sitting up there, listening to our meetings?”

“Two weeks.” Permafrost’s voice slid through the room like ice, making the advisors shiver. It was smooth and polished as an opal, with the typical accent of IceWing commoners elegantly threaded through each word. “I am there an hour before you arrive and an hour after you leave.”

No one seemed willing to speak up after that, and most of them had their heads bent down in shame. Holly figured that she would be ashamed as well if her job was to protect the kingdom at all costs and she didn’t notice a potential threat lingering in close quarters for fourteen days.

“No more objections? Well, then. It’s settled.” She turned back to Permafrost, eyeing him appraisingly. “You will depart for the Sky Kingdom at first light. I’ll have a travel bag prepared for you, as well as a map of the Sky Kingdom drawn up to guide your way. I’m putting my faith in you, Permafrost. Don’t disappoint me.”

Permafrost drew himself into a deep bow, spreading his wings out gracefully. “It shall be done, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Parties were, as Condor put it, atrocious. They were an obscene spectacle of primp and preen, fruitlessly wasted resources, and dragons bowing so low that the tips of their noses brushed against the dirt. All the bragging and bootlicking was enough to drive a dragon crazy, if they hadn’t already lost their mind in the process of getting ready for the affair. Hours wasted filing his nails to the desired sharpness and scrubbing his scales until they gleamed; Apex felt as much on display as the gold threaded throughout the cave’s interior. His sister and heir to the SkyWing throne, Princess Condor, seemed almost as disconcerted by the attention as Apex himself. Almost. The crucial difference was the fact that Condor was something to be respected, feared, looked upon with equal parts joy and envy. Apex was merely an ornament on his family tree, serving no real purpose save for decoration purposes. It had been drilled into him since he was a dragonet: He would never grow to greatness. He was destined to watch his sister be adored, and hope that a mere fraction of that reverence was left for him in the aftermath. So… yes. Apex hated parties and all they represented. 

No one would have been able to tell, from the way he carried himself. What Apex lacked in status he more than made up for in talent and power. It practically radiated from his scales and shone like a diamond amidst coal while he mingled with the highborns in attendance. He seamlessly swirled the contents of his cup around, as if the smooth motions of his wrist and careful control of his talons came naturally to him. After years of refining the skill it took to maintain a balance of grace and strength, he supposed it had developed into less of a conscious action and more of a habit. He was a firm believer that the little things in life were the best displays of power, not the brutal shows of force that drove most dragons to war. Which, funnily enough, was exactly the point of this celebration. Her Royal Majesty, Queen Pyre, had just rid herself of a very troublesome nuisance and called out the weaknesses of the Ice Kingdom in one fell swoop. While Apex didn’t approve of the method of execution--that is to say, the IceWing ambassador was tossed in the arena--he begrudgingly admitted that the move was necessary after months of being provoked. Various statues of dragons had been discovered near the Sky Palace, frozen into various positions of terror. Upon closer inspections, these grotesque attempts at art were discovered to be very much real and very much dead. Talk about tactlessness. They could have at least attached a card with these gifts .

“Prince Apex!” A high and grating voice pulled him from his thoughts, but they still lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost, ready to leap out at him when he least expected it. “You’re looking rather stunning today.” 

“Smoke,” Apex greeted smoothly. “I’m afraid that I pale in comparison to you, my lady.” And there it was. The giggle that told Apex everything he needed to know about Smoke. She was less interested in him than the idea of him, but that was nothing new. The shimmering gold of his scales caught in the torchlight, and Apex thought she might feint. Of course he had been lying; her dull red scales and amber eyes made her look downright boring next to Apex, but a little embellishment could go a long way with the aristocracy. It was much better to have friends than enemies, even if the bureaucrats themselves were friends with a mask, not the dragon beneath it. 

“Oh, stop it,” she hissed behind a plume of smoke, her namesake. Apex found it unseemly that she would allow the thick smog to escape from her nostrils, but he hid his disgust behind a charismatic smile. Luckily he didn’t have to make further small talk, as his sister was frantically gesturing for him to meet her in the hallway. 

“Oh, my lady will have to excuse me. Loath as I am to part with a rare beauty such as yourself, I fear the princess is in dire need of my assistance.” The words slipped easily off his tongue; Practiced and polished to perfection. 

Was that… jealousy he saw flashing through her golden-flecked eyes. She was… jealous that his attention was divided amongst her and his kin? What exactly did she think his sister was going to do… No, he didn’t want to think about it. Needless to say, he was willing to bet that Smoke’s family gatherings were, if nothing else, very close-knit. She bowed and took her leave, gravitating towards the diverse assortment of food lined against the far wall, piled on top of golden platters. He assumed it was so that she could fill the hole in her heart left behind by Apex with frog legs from the Mud Kingdom and seaweed truffles from the Sea Kingdom. Before a new parasite could arrive to leech off of his wealth and prominence, he snaked through the crowd towards Condor. She rounded the corner just as he arrived, her pale pink tail slipping out of sight. He followed suit and found her draped over a nearby windowsill in a rather unladylike position. 

“Condor, get down before someone sees you. You know how cross mother will be if rumors spread that you’re behaving like a hooligan,” he urgently whispered. 

“Oh, yes,” she drawled as she fluttered back to the ground on light wings, “because laying down for a moment is roguish behavior. What savagery. Would you lighten up, Apex? My feet were getting tired, and unless you’re offering to give them a massage…” She stuck her foot in the air and wiggled her talons in Apex’s face. He pushed it away, desperately trying to suppress the laugh rising in his throat. He couldn’t help the impish grin that curled at the corners of his mouth, try as he might. 

“Alright, alright! I get the message, you can stop!” condor gingerly placed her foot on the ground with a nearly inaudible gasp, as if her claws actually did ache. After a night of being accosted by suitors begging for a dance and trampling her toes in their fumbling attempts to impress her, Apex had no doubt in his mind that she wasn’t merely exaggerating her pain. He wished he could help, but he certainly wasn’t qualified to give medical advice. “So, what did you need me for?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Condor’s tone was light, airy, and full of mischief. “You just looked so miserable talking to Soot, so I thought I’d save you from that terrible fate.” 

Apex didn’t bother correcting the name, as he had a feeling she had gotten it wrong on purpose. “Did I truly look upset? I must be losing my touch, then. Or perhaps it was an alluring sort of brooding, like I was pondering the mysteries of the universe.” 

Condor snorted and smoke curled around her horns. “More like the mysteries of the female mind. No, brother, you looked as enamoring as always. It’s only because we’ve known each other since we hatched that I can see beyond your amiable facade.”

Though he had been joking, it was still a relief to know that he hadn’t been slipping. One wrong step could put him at the center of a whirlwind of gossip around the kingdom, which was never good for anyone involved. “What would I do without you looking out for me? However, I’m afraid that we should be getting back. We’ll be missed.”

The playful glint in his sister’s flintlock eyes softened into something closer to compassion. “No, Apex. You should get some rest. You look exhausted, like someone hung you out by the tail to dry. I’ll cover for you. Oh!” The lively spark of pep returned to her gaze. “I’ll announce that you’ve eaten bad shrimp! That should put to rest any fantasies your admirer’s are having in regards to spending the night with their dashing prince.” 

“But--”

“No arguing! It’s a royal decree, punishable by execution should my orders fail to be carried out!”

“You aren’t the queen,” Apex pointed out. 

“Yet,” she sang as she skipped away, back towards the brightly lit room and din of excited voices. As much as he hated to acknowledge the truth of his sister’s statement, he was exhausted beyond belief. He had spent the night training with the Master-of-arms, Kite, and had barely squeezed one hour of sleep in before he had to prepare for the gathering. With a resigned sigh, he turned back towards his room and began the long trek down the dimly lit hallways of the Sky Palace. 

The walk back was a rather uneventful one, but he didn’t mind the mundanity. He’d take boring and tedious over rowdy and loud any day. If there was one thing in the world that he hated more than being put on display, it was the raucous demeanor of a dragon too deep in his cups. He supposed he also had his sister to thank for that; Giving him an excuse to leave before the royals in attendance had any real chance to get tipsy was a blessing. He was certain she would come up with some acceptable excuse, as she had many times before. At knew she hadn’t been serious about the shrimp thing. Or, at least, he hoped she hadn’t been serious about the shrimp thing. He didn’t even like shrimp.

He breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching his room without running into distractions or anything else that would delay him from sleep. Apex felt a familiar swell of comfort when he stepped through the velvet curtains, the lush fabric brushing over his scales, and into his mildly cluttered bedroom. This was the side of Apex that no one--not even his sister--had ever seen. Stacks upon stacks of maps and scrolls, the continent of Pyrrhia covered nearly every viable surface. Sure, Apex had been studying maps from the time he was still learning to fly, but this went beyond a mere simple understanding of geography. The truth was, the prince may not have been in love with the dragons that populated Pyrrhia, but he revered the land itself. The dense forests, the rivers that weaved themselves through rocky crags and emptied into the sea, even the mudflats to the east, Apex could spend hours studying every landmark and name that went along with it. He had, as a matter of fact, and probably knew the continent better than the back of his own talon. Even just running his claws over the faded paper made him feel more at home, and he figured he had time for a bit of a cartography session before laying down for the night. But when he delicately slipped his quill into the ink, he felt a crisp breeze blow over his scales and craned his neck to discover that his window was ajar. Strange, he thought, I could have sworn it was shut when I left.

Apex had barely just registered the mysteriously open window when his fighting instincts kicked in and he reflexively rolled out of the way, just as his attacker shot a blast of icy air at the area his head had been. No, not air… Frostbreath , he thought grimly. He didn’t have time to dwell over the fact that an IceWing had somehow gotten past every single defensive measure around the palace. For now, his focus was directed solely at the flash of white that darted by out of the corner of his eye. Getting into a defensive position, he braced for impact while maintaining an agile-enough stance to dodge another icy blast, should one be sent his way. The IceWing stayed hidden for now, something that an experienced soldier would read as hesitation and a smart soldier would read as taking time to size up the enemy. Luckily for Apex, he was both smart and experienced, so he knew his enemy was taking time to reevaluate. He--or she--had clearly not expected Apex to know more than the basics of evasive maneuvers, or had assumed that the prince was too tired to conduct himself well in combat. Apex was willing to wait however long it took, which was approximately two and a half seconds before a flash of white claws darted out from behind and attempted to unbalance him.

 The prince stood his ground, even as they raked against his flank and tore through his scales to the muscle underneath. He cursed the serrated claws that all IceWings possessed, which were about the only thing that could easily pierce his hardened scales. He spun around, attempting to catch a glimpse of this mysterious IceWing, but they ducked out of the way once again. The next attack was more forthcoming, as was every subsequent charge. Apex backed towards his bookcase step-by-step, all the while being harried by the pale figure that seemed to dart in and out of battle like a wraith. The small dragon seemed to make no noise when it moved and carried out its attacks so precisely, it almost scared Apex to think about how this fight would play out on IceWing territory. But this was his territory, not only his kingdom but also his personal dwelling. He knew the ins and outs of this place and was completely familiar with the way his claws scraped against the stone as he moved. Further and further back they moved until Apex was flush against the shelves carved into the stone wall of his room. He twisted around, eyes searching for what he needed as he felt the IceWing closing in on him… closer and closer…

The prince’s talons wrapped around a heavy weight, and he flung it straight at his pursuer’s open maw. It lodged in the Icewing’s throat and successfully blocked their Frostbreath, as well as did the job of incapacitating them as they choked. Apex wasted no time in leaping on their back and pinning them to the floor by their neck; One wrong move and they’d slice their windpipe open between Apex’ claws. Once they had managed to cough up the paperweight, they stopped struggling in the prince’s grip and went limp. The first thing Apex noticed was that this dragon was, indeed, male. Secondly, he found himself mesmerized by the way the IceWing’s lavender and pearly white scales glistened and frosted, like they themselves were made of ice. Lastly, he couldn’t help but marvel at how small the dragon felt under his claws, even though the size of his horns indicated that he was nearly full-grown. 

With a thunderous crash, a whole host of guards filed into his room with spears pointed directly at the prince. Most of them lowered their spears upon seeing that he was in no immediate danger, some began fumbling with the cuffs attached to their hips, and all of them looked baffled. Apex grunted in disapproval and pushed away from the IceWing as they closed in to throw chains around his small form. 

“Seven minutes. Seven minutes from the onset of the attack to the time you lazy lumps of coal finally showed up. That’s seven minutes too late. You all are very lucky that I know how to defend myself, but next time it might not be my life in danger. It might come to be my sister’s life in your hands, the heir to the throne and the pride of her people. You better hope that, should she ever find herself in peril, you don’t show up too late to help. Otherwise, you’ll find that I’ll be far less lenient as far as your punishment goes.” Apex looked down his nose at the assassin, who was calmly staring back at him with pale blue eyes. Even with a bound snout, the effect was unsettling. Apex had faced countless dragons in combat, as well as quite a few jealous exes, but no dragon managed to unnerve him quite as much as the one at his feet. His tail twitched in agitation as he turned away “And take this criminal to a platform. Get him out of my sight, and leave me to my rest.” 

Even as he said it and heard the legion of soldiers draw out of his room, he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. His mind was whirring, trying to piece together who this assassin was. He had faced IceWing opponents before and hadn’t known them to use such evasive techniques. Furthermore, it had been a long time since he had walked away from a fight more injured than his adversary. It was enough to make the prince want to interrogate his new prisoner, but that could wait until the morrow. For now, he had some serious map-making to do in order to take his mind off of the events that had unfolded over the course of the day.

Chapter Text

The first thing Apex noticed was how loosely the ropes hung on his slight ankles. If there had been a guard hovering near the prisoner at the time, he couldn’t say what he might do out of anger for their sheer incompetence. If he had a gold piece for every time they neglected their duties… well, he was already wealthy. He supposed he’d simply have more gold than he knew what to do with. It would be coming out of his ears. But, luckily for them, they hadn’t positioned the IceWing anywhere near the guardhouse. Thus, Apex would just have to save his “stern-talking-to” for later. Right now, the thing that took precedence was the prisoner. They had sent a messenger hawk to Queen Holly, but he doubted that it would be able to harsh the unforgiving climate of the Ice Kingdom. Even if it did, the likelihood of the IceWing queen of sending a response was minimal at best. So, for now. The only lead they had was the dragon on the platform, curled up in a ball and pretending to be sleeping. Apex could tell he wasn’t actually asleep just by looking at his breathing pattern, but it wasn’t exactly easy to spot. Whoever this mystery assailant was, he sure was good at masking appearances. Just like me , Apex supposed. Though, he didn’t go around trying to kill other dragons. 

He landed practically on top of the “sleeping” dragon, hoping that it would force the IceWing to end his guise of being at rest. He couldn’t possibly think that the prince would believe that he had the ability to sleep through being stomped on… right? But even as the thought crossed Apex’s mind, the huddled form beneath him began to stir. Apex hated the relief that blossomed in his chest upon realizing that, as if he had been waiting for the prisoner. If anything, this IceWing should have been anxiously awaiting his arrival, as Apex was the one who ultimately decided the assassin’s fate. Instead, he was the one who was agitated while the petite IceWing was stone-faced. And if that wasn’t enough, the glacial bastard had the gall to greet him, like this was just a pleasant chance encounter or an exchange between friends. 

“Good morning. Can I help you with anything?” The IceWing didn’t even have the respect to stand at attention in Apex’s presence. He stayed in a tiny ball at the prince’s talons, the only change being in that he had opened one pale blue eye. 

“Can you--Oh, I don’t know. How about we start with the fact that you tried to kill me?!” The prisoner didn’t seem impressed: He just fixed Apex with a blank look. The Skywing prince took a deep breath and tried again, this time in a more even and ominous tone of voice. “Listen well, IceWing,” he spat the word like it was poison on his tongue. “Your life rests in my claws. You can either choose to cooperate, or--” 

“Pass.” The IceWing prisoner tucked his head into the folds of his lavender wings, abruptly ending the interaction. For a moment, Apex was at a loss for words. Then, he became furious. 

“You can’t just--”

“No, thank you.” 

“This is not optional--!”

“I’m trying to sleep.” 

“You little piece of--”

“I’m sleeping.”

“That’s it!” With a tremendous growl, Apex reached out and grabbed the IceWing’s tail. At least that seemed to pull a reaction out of the frigid mongrel, who yelped and darted away. “You DO NOT have a choice in this! You gave up the right of refusal when you tried to turn me into a princesicle!!”

“Then why did you say ‘or’?” The assassin demanded, clutching his tail close to his chest. 

“What?” Apex was taken aback yet again.

“You said, and I quote, ‘You can either choose to cooperate, or.’ Why give me a choice if there was no alternative?”

“BECAUSE THE ALTERNATIVE IS DEATH!!” Apex roared at the IceWing assassin. To his surprise, the words didn’t seem to cow the polar dragon. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact; the prisoner straightened to his full height and definitely met the prince’s fiery glare. 

“I choose death, then. Are we done here? I’m tired,” he replied in a voice as cool as his glistening scales. The way he said it was less like he had just sentenced himself to his own demise and more like he was choosing what to eat or which pen to write with. Then, he nonchalantly curled up into a ball once more with an aggrieved sigh.  

At first, Apex wasn’t sure if he had heard the IceWing correctly. Why would any dragon choose death over forfeited honor? As far as he knew, SkyWings were among the most proud dragons in all of Pyrrhia, and Apex would be hard-pressed to find a SkyWing willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of a royal secret. Sure, many of the guards claimed that they would give up everything if it meant the royal family would be safe, but Apex was not delusional enough to think that they meant what they said. It was a part of the oath; That was all. Furthermore, to his knowledge, the prince didn’t know IceWings to be a particularly loyal set of dragons. Dutiful as far as their position required, yes, but real patriotism and devotion came from passion. The IceWings were dull, cold, emotionless, and entirely obsessed with themselves. Therefore, it didn’t make any sense for this mysterious dragon, a dwarf in comparison to most other members of his tribe, to put his queen before himself knowing that he will never be able to reap the benefits of his steadfast allegiancy. 

“I’m sorry?” Apex took a gentle step towards the dragon curled on the edge of the platform, as if he was now treading on unfamiliar territory. Essentially, he was. This IceWing was a mystery in more ways than one, an enigma that Apex intended to unravel. 

“You’re forgiven.” It just kept getting stranger and stranger. Not only had this dragon resigned himself to a pointless death at the claws of his enemy, but he had enough moxie left to banter with the SkyWing prince? Not only that, IceWings were known for being humorless and taking things rather seriously. This assassin’s witty remarks were dry, yes, but the fact that he even bothered to make them at all was astounding. 

“Who are you?” In all his years, Apex had never met another dragon quite like the glittering purple one in front of him, let alone an IceWing. Consequently, he felt very far out of his depth at the moment. His composure had melted away, which wasn’t something that happened often and only served to unsettle him further. After all, it wasn’t every day that Apex got his walls knocked down by the dragon sent to kill him. 

The small IceWing sighed heavily, as if the question annoyed him. It probably did. Most of what Apex said seemed to annoy him. “I am Permafrost of the IceWing kingdom. I was hatched in the southern region, and I will die in the Sky Kingdom. Does that clear up all your questions, or would you also like to know what kind of food I like? Or maybe you’d like me to tell you my favorite color? Oh, perhaps you’re interested in my wing length.” He draped his tail over his snout and closed both of his eyes once more. “If I must die, let me die in peace. I have nothing left to discuss with you anyway.” 

While Apex didn’t want to seem as though he were giving into the prisoner’s demands, he recognized the fact that they really didn’t have anything left to discuss. I mean, sure, he would like answers regarding the assasination attempt and whether Permafrost had been hired by the IceWing royalty. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that any dragon that was ready to relinquish his life for a cause would be unwilling to reveal anything about it. So, instead of pushing the matter further, he spun away in a fury and lifted off of the platform, making sure to whip Permafrost with his tail as he left. He hoped it bled. The stubborn walrus deserved it. Though, as he flew further away from the jutting rock that formed Permafrost’s prison, he felt a strange hollowness seeping into his chest. Like the ambassador before him, Permafrost’s decree likely meant that he’d go straight to the arena to fight for their amusement. It was a cruel fate to bestow upon anyone, even an attempted murderer. Apex knew that given a choice, the IceWing would see his head delivered to Queen Holly in a basket. Still, it didn’t make torturing Permafrost any easier, and it certainly didn’t help that Apex now knew his name. I shouldn’t have asked. Then I wouldn’t care as much. He’d just be some nameless criminal to me, without a personality beyond his malicious intent . Apex cursed his own curiosity. 

What he didn’t know, couldn’t have known, was that Permafrost felt much the same. He had talked to his mark, the prince, far longer than he had meant to. Far longer, in fact, than he had ever talked to his victims before. Permafrost could easily have stayed silent during the prince’s interrogation, but he had chosen to open his stupid maw and have a little chat, had even offered up his name. No one except the queen, her advisors, and Permafrost’s regime knew his name, and even then, it was rarely used. In his travels, Permafrost had created a variety of aliases, and he could have given the prince any one of them, but something about Apex had compelled the IceWing to tell the truth. It scared him, as it had scared Apex, that he seemed unable to put up his usual disguises around the SkyWing prince. 

~

By the time Apex arrived back at the palace, food was already being served in The Grand Hall. One might ask what made this hall so grand, and quite frankly, Apex was still trying to figure it out himself. It was a low cavern located deep within the heart of the Sky Palace, dimly lit by torches and decorated by the various banners of the Sky Kingdom over the years. The gold that accentuated the ballroom walls hadn’t quite crept in here, but that wasn’t to say the royal family didn’t eat off of  gilded plates. It was just the four of them--the queen, Condor, Apex’s father, and Apex himself. As such, Condor abandoned all formal table manners when her brother entered the room in favor of rushing up to greet him. 

“Apex! How did the meeting with your prisoner go?” She asked as she rushed to greet him. Their mother, Queen Pyre, scoffed at the outburst but did nothing to quell it. Condor stopped expectantly in front of Apex, her tail swishing furiously from side to side.

“Condor,” he chided, “it’s rude to leave the table without proper dismissal.” Despite the watchful eye of the queen, Apex couldn’t help but indulge his sister. “But it went… different than I had expected. It’s certainly going to be, erm… difficult to wrangle the truth out of this IceWing.” 

“Do you mean to say,” Queen Pyre drew herself up to her full height at the end of the table, teeth bared in agitation, “that he told you nothing?”

“No,” Apex began defensively. “I got his name.”

“His name?” Her Grace’s grip tightened around the edge of the table, talons digging into stone. “Oh, lovely. What was I even worried about? You got his name, problem solved! I’ll send a letter notifying Queen Holly of the end of our feud once I retire to my chambers tonight, because my son found out the name of her assassin!”

“It’s Permafrost, by the way.” Apex had long since grown used to his mother’s raving, and besides, a member of the royal family was expected to face everything with dignity and poise. 

Queen Pyre, however, was not amused. Her yellow eyes glinted and her tongue flicked over her fangs, a surefire sign that she was either killing something or thinking about killing something. “I granted you an audience with the prisoner, and he has rebuffed the generosity we showed him by giving him an option. I do not give second chances.”

“Please, let me talk with him again,” Apex entreated. He side-stepped his sister and turned his desperate stare on his father, who was hiding his face behind a gold-inlaid goblet. Well, he’ll be of no help to me, Apex thought bitterly. “He will tell the truth, I just know it. All I need is a bit of time.” 

“Time? For what? For Queen Holly to send another minion to separate your head from your shoulders?” Queen Pyre slithered down from her place at the head of the table, lips pulled back into a snarl. “This IceWing had his chance. Now, he is at my mercy. I would like to see him in the arena tomorrow, to determine how well they train their mercenaries. After all, it has been such a long time since my champion had a challenge.” 

Apex couldn't believe what he was hearing. Permafrost was to be sent straight to the champion, without a proper trial? His incredulity must have shown on his face, because his mother looked extremely pleased with herself. “We needn’t resort to unnecessary violence,” Apex sputtered, desperately looking for a way out of this situation. He knew the IceWing would have to die one way or another, but he didn’t think he could stomach watching another dragon be torn limb from limb by their champion, Whirlwind. 

“Yes, just as Queen Holly didn’t need to resort to having my only son slain in the night, like the back-handed hoodlum she is. She doesn’t have the decency to discuss her grievances face to face, and instead hides behind her weapons. Perhaps if I send her hit dragon back to her in pieces, she’ll finally realize how much of a mistake it is to cross the queen of the Sky Kingdom!”

It was clear that she wouldn’t be moved to change her mind. Having suddenly lost his appetite, Apex turned on his heel and stormed out of The Grand Hall. Once again, Apex knew that he would be too inundated with thoughts of what was to come to sleep soundly. Ultimately, this arctic conundrum was bound to see the prince to his grave one way or another. 

Chapter Text

Permafrost didn’t need to be told what fate awaited him when the guards came that morning. He had been watching the arena from above and the deadly battles that took place there. Queen Pyre was almost always present at these fights, unless the prisoners in question had committed some minor infraction, such as thieving or assault of a commoner. However, for Permafrost’s transgressions, the SkyWing queen was certain to be in attendance. Well, he thought as the guards unhooked him from the ring of convicts, I’ll have to put on a show for her. Judging from the way most of the dragons here had fought, he’d have no problem facing whatever challenge she decided to throw his way. Most of the skirmishes Permafrost had witnessed were won using brute strength, and the IceWing had been trained for years to use his opponent’s strength against them. The failed assasination of the prince was more of a fluke than anything; Permafrost was ashamed to admit that he had underestimated the prince’s intelligence, especially given the sheer size of the muscular SkyWing. He had assumed Apex was like every other brute he had faced in the past, particularly because SkyWings weren’t usually known for their quick-thinking. They were hotheads; Or, they were supposed to be, anyway. 

Given that his wings were bound tightly to his side, he had to be carried down to the arena like a dragonet. It felt humiliating, but he kept his face stony and cold so as to keep up the illusion of indifference. Emotions got in the way, anyhow. He’d spent the last twenty years of his life learning how to keep a level head, something that had saved him from many perilous situations in the past. Once his talong were firmly planted on the ground and the guards had flown off to their posts on the balcony jutting out over the arena, he spun around in a circle to carefully document what kinds of dragons were mingled amid the crowd gathered on the bleachers. He saw mostly SkyWings, of course, but there were also a few MudWings and SeaWings present. No IceWings, but that was not surprising in the slightest. Beyond that, the only other dragons of note were the ones on the balcony: Queen Pyre, as expected, followed by an entourage of her mate, her children, and a handful of royal attendants. Permafrost’s eyes met Apex’s, who just as quickly looked away. 

 How strange, to think an assassin’s target would feel sorry for one sent to end their life. Yet here Apex was, subverting Permafrost’s expectations once again. It seemed the prince had an uncanny ability to do so while maintaining a regal air about him. He was simultaneously exactly and exactly the opposite of what Permafrost had expected upon setting out for the Sky Palace. Well, he didn’t have much time to dwell on the prince’s unpredictability. For now, he had a competitor to face, most likely a SeaWing or, if he was particularly unlikely, a NightWing. Still, he knew how to keep his mind clear from all intrusive thoughts that might enter his head during melee. And yet, the guards didn’t seem to be taking flight from their posts at the queen’s side. No dragon was moving, in fact; The whole arena had gone still, as if everyone knew what was coming and held their breaths in anticipation. Permafrost couldn’t even begin to imagine what seemed to excite them, but he knew it couldn’t be good news for him. And just as the thought entered his head, it was confirmed by a hiss to his left, deep within the dark depths of a tunnel leading out of the pit. About a half a second passed in the span between that warning hiss and a plume of fire as it arced out and grazed the tip of Permafrost’s wing. The IceWing bit back a curse and jumped back a few feet, skillfully landing in a fighting stance meant to maximize evasion and minimize offense. If he was to be fighting against a dragon that favored fire as its main weapon, he’d need to be able to dance out of the way of the blasts. 

All hope of total avoidance left when Permafrost’s opponent finally slithered into the arena, crouched low to the ground. She was a SkyWing of a pinkish hue, covered from the tip of her snout to her tail in both scars and wounds still healing. If that wasn’t a good indicator of her experience in the stadium, Permafrost didn’t know what was. For a brief moment, the IceWing’s focus snapped from the SkyWing to the stands, where thousands of dragons were practically tripping over themselves in an attempt to get closer. Another strike to Permafrost’s luck, it would seem. The chances that his adversary was just a filler pitted against him for a quick match was dipping dangerously low with every delighted cheer and impassioned holler from those witnessing the event. Unlike his blunder in regards to the SkyWing prince, he would not underestimate his foe once again. Accordingly, he carefully tracked each and every one of the pink SkyWing’s movements, fluid as they were, and tuned out the jeers and prodding from the audience. 

“So,” she rasped, “they’ve given me a lump of snow to melt, have they? How… unsatisfying.” Her words were punctuated by her tongue, which flicked out from between her teeth as she talked and flicked over her fangs.

 Permafrost said nothing in reply. She was obviously unaccostomed to her prey being unresponsive to her goading, because her twisted smile soured into something akin to a snarl. She didn’t waste any more breath on Permafrost, instead focusing on the sliding of her talons against the course sand of the arena. The IceWing watched where she placed her feet, as well as the way her tail leaned to the right, and knew exactly how to stay one claw ahead. So, when she was through with the way they pointlessly circled each other and drew herself up to pounce on Permafrost, he easily stepped out of the way of her charge. While she was still unaware of where he was, he struck her right leg and watched as she lost her footing, skidding to the floor. Just as he had suspected: She had lost her vision in her right eye. To make up for it, she tread lightly on her right front foot and swung her tail in that direction at all times, most likely a habit borne from having to catch any threats before they could blindside her. Frustrated, she spun around before she had a chance to properly right herself and was consequently easily knocked over once again. As Permafrost dove out of the way of a blast of fire, he couldn’t help but think that this was exactly how he had expected a SkyWing to behave. Solely focused on strength, with a sheer lack of tact or poise when things didn’t work in their favor. 

“You little brat!!” She roared, claws digging into the soft earth in an attempt to stay solidly on all fours. The SkyWing swiveled her head around, craning her neck just to locate Permafrost, who was crouching across the arena. He saw the cruel lines of her mouth pull into a sneer, and that was when he knew she had spotted him. 

He was a bit less fortunate this time. She charged headlong at him, but this time, she had a strategy. Rather than trying to hit him straightforward, when he scrambled away from her snapping jaws, she caught the tip of his tail in her teeth. The spikes protruding from the end of it dug into the roof of her mouth, but she did not relent. Surprised as he was, Permafrost didn’t even make an attempt at a counter before she was flinging him from side to side. He repeatedly hit the sandy floor and felt something tear, though the pain that radiated from each and every one of his scales prevented him from determining the exact source of the injury. When she was done slinging him around like a ragdoll, she chucked him into the nearest wall with a resounding crack. He managed to avoid the claw that came swiping out at him following her attack, but not the burst of fire that hit him square in the shoulder while he tried to scurry away. Permafrost bit back a yelp and put as much distance between himself and his SkyWing adversary as he could before observing the damage. An angry red hole had been seared into his flesh, as large as a boulder. The leg itself was useless, and would remain dysfunctional until Permafrost could get it properly healed. Even then, he was sure that it would leave a large and very telling scar. 

“Had enough?” She cackled from a few feet away, her swagger in full force after regaining the upper claw. Permafrost’s blue eyes began searching for a way out and, once again, his eyes landed on the prince. Peculiarly, the imposing SkyWing looked like a mere dragonet, wings cast over his eyes to prevent him from seeing the fight below. No one else on the podium seemed to notice; They were much too focused on what was happening between their SkyWing and the Icewing challenger. But Permafrost saw, and knew then that the prince didn’t want him to die. 

Something about the sentiment filled Permafrost with an unfamiliar burst of energy, like new life had been breathed into him from some mysterious source. He propelled himself forward, which seemed to catch both him and his opponent by surprise, and sucked in a breath of air as he felt frost building within his chest. And then, before the two of them could collide, he launched himself to the left. She had obviously been predicting him to attack her blind side, and was wholly and ironically unprepared when he targeted the strongest side of her body. A hush fell over the gathered dragons in the split second that passed between the moment Permafrost’s feet hit the ground and the instant his Frostbreath hit her body. As she came crashing to the ground, her supporters seemed to be holding their breath once again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Permafrost himself was holding his breath, hoping that he had done enough damage to keep her grounded. As confident as he was in his combat capabilities, the wounds he had received from her fire and from her claws were beginning to ache and his stamina was at an all-time low. 

For a second, Permafrost thought that he had won the fight. Then that second ticked by, and his Skywing competitor stubbornly hauled herself off the ground. They were both in bad shape, but the threat of a painful death loomed over their heads and kept them on their feet. Permafrost was getting ready to let out another blast of icy air in her direction when she spoke, a low grumble that was clearly only meant for his ears.

“So, you figured it out, huh? You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, IceWing.”

Permafrost stayed low to the ground, his muscles bunched and ready to spring into action at any indication of movement from her. 

“It’s been a long time since I met someone worthy enough to use all my energy on. And since you don’t have a blind spot…” A deep rumbling started in her chest and filled the air around them with a buzz of tension. “I’ll just have to make one!!” Dragging herself onto her hind legs, she opened her maw as wide as it could go and unleashed a catastrophic inferno of flames directed entirely at Permafrost’s face. He tried to move out of the way, but his limbs weren’t responding as quickly as they had been before. He felt like he was moving in slow-motion when the fire struck him, and all he managed to do to circumvent the searing heat was turn his head away and dive to the ground. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he couldn’t. The sounds of battle drifted in and out of his ears, as if he was hearing everything happen in the distance. Why won’t they open? No matter how hard Permafrost tried, all he could feel was blistering agony and all he could see was red. 

Apex looked down on the fallen IceWing, desperately scratching at the ragged burns that now marred the delicate scales of his face. He saw his champion--No, his family’s champion--strutting towards him like the proud predator that she was, her steps unhurried because her prey was subdued. The game of cat and mouse was over, and for an added dash of cruelty, she was prolonging her victim’s suffering. Apex felt sick. This isn’t an execution, the thought came unbidden to his mind. This is torture. Before the rational part of his brain had time to stop him, Apex had lept to the crest of the platform, his fiery golden scales reflecting the sunlight and catching the attention of over half the dragons below. Those that weren’t watching soon stopped their chanting, because a low warning growl was now issuing from deep within Apex’s throat. It echoed throughout the arena and washed over the legions of dragons in the stands, making some bow in deference and others to glance in his direction with confusion written plainly across their faces. It wasn’t enough. The champion, Whirlwind, was too intent on her next kill to pay him any heed. She raised her bloody talons towards the sky, oblivious to the silence of the arena, and swiftly brought them down for the killing blow to her opponent’s neck--

They stopped a mere centimeter away from piercing the Icewing’s lavender scales and hovered there as Whirlwind snapped her head towards the torrent of fire on the balcony, and the prince at the source of it. He let the fire out in waves; a beautiful, bright, brilliant blaze surged from his mouth and into the sky, silencing even the chirping of the birds nearby. He now held every eye in the arena, and felt a white-hot shame wash over him in waves when his flames died down. If his scales could change color like a RainWing’s, he was relatively certain that he’d be a brighter shade of crimson than the bombardment of sparks he had just rained on the dragons closest to him. But underneath all of that was pride; Pride, and a righteousness that vigorously burned in his heart and told him that his actions were justified. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if a quick death would have been more merciful than what he was about to do. 

“Stop the fight, Whirlwind! This is madness! He is incapacitated. You’ve won.” 

Smoke poured from the corner of Whirlwind’s mouth, and glowing pools of molten embers fluttered to the ground when she spoke. “I haven’t won until he’s dead. Those are the rules.”

“And who makes the rules?” He responded haughtily, taking some small amount of satisfaction in looking down his nose at her. He had never liked their champion, addicted as she was to brutality and power. 

She stomped her foot on the ground, clearly frustrated. “I suppose that would be the royal family, My Prince. But this is tradition we’re talking about. And tradition--”

“Can be changed,” he finished calmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but never got the chance. “Guards, escort Whirlwind back to her room. Take the IceWing to the medical ward, and see to it that he receives the proper treatment for his wounds.” 

“What are you doing?” Condor hissed in his ear. “The fight wasn’t over. The prisoner is still alive.” 

“And I intend to keep it that way.”

“Apex--”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?!” Queen Pyre screeched from behind him. “This is not up for debate! You can’t just interrupt a timeless tradition because of a twisted obsession with your would-be killer!” 

Apex held his ground against her jabs and judgement. “I just did.” They stared into each others’ eyes; amber clashing with yellow, both attempting to wrest power away from the other. 

Finally, she turned her eyes away with a harrumph, and Apex knew that he had won. “Well… I’m not guiding it around like a lost puppy, and it will not receive any food from the kitchens.” 

“That will not be necessary,” Apex replied smoothly, “as I will hunt for him, and once he is recovered, I will keep him in my chambers. Did you really think that I expected you to help me with this?” He rounded on his mother, startling her with the impassioned fire that burned behind his slitted pupils. “You call my empathy 'twisted’, Mother? You refer to it as an obsession? Then, pray tell, what do you call your desire to see heads roll? Insanity? Because that’s what I call it. You scream at me for showing mercy, but all I hear a poorly disguised lust for blood and gore. Your psychopath is showing, Mother, and it is ugly.” 

Leaving his family in stunned silence, Apex swept down the tunnel towards the palace, already imagining the millions of ways that his outburst would come back to bite him in the rear. But for now, he had bigger problems to worry about. He had just accepted the responsibility of caring for a dragon with irreparable eyesight and crippling injuries, one that had recently tried to wipe Apex from the face of the earth. The ironic insanity of the situation didn’t escape him. His new IceWing pet (glorified personal prisoner, really) would need to be taught everything from scratch and would likely need to be confined to the prince’s chambers at all times. Apex supposed that the private peace of his sanctuary would have to be sacrificed for the price of keeping his conscience clear. And, now that he thought about it, he was beginning to realize how ridiculous it sounded. What have I done…? After what he had said and done, there was no going back. A part of him cursed himself for trying to play hero, when the IceWing clearly didn’t deserve or want his help. But a small fragment of him, a voice barely above a whisper, told him that he had done the right thing. And as long as that voice was present, even if it wasn’t near as loud as every voice telling him that this was a fool’s errand, he would listen.

Chapter Text

“Calm down, Apex. Your pacing is giving me a headache.”

Condor watched her brother wear tracks into the stone floor of her bedroom with a good deal of exasperation. She was worried, of course, but the feeling was overshadowed by a deep desire to go to bed already. Almost any sister would be happy to know that their sibling could come to them in a time of crisis, but this was bordering ridiculous! Apex had been haunting her room for the past two weeks, practically biting his own claws off over a stranger than had tried to murder him! Condor didn’t see why he was so upset, but then again, there were a lot of things about her brother that she would never understand. Still, she welcomed him with open arms and listened to his insane ramblings on a daily basis, usually after the work of the day had been completed and they were both free to relax. These nightly sessions had been steadily eating away at Condor’s leisure time and making her as irritable as a… well, as a SkyWing. She wished that he would either get over this stupid obsession or that the IceWing woke up soon, because any more of this and she might kill Apex herself. 

“Sorry.” He sat down with a heavy thud. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, do IceWings sleep super long? Are they like polar bears? Do polar bears hibernate, or just regular bears? Do you think--?”

“I think,” she cut in with a sharp-edged grumble, “that you should get some sleep. You look awful. Like a MudWing dragged you through the marshes and then threw you off the nearest cliff.” Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but she wasn’t lying when she said he needed sleep. He was visibly slowing down, which showed weakness within the royal family and left them vulnerable to scrutiny. But first and foremost, she worried about his health.

His tail began to rhythmically tap against the floor, starting at a meere twitch and progressing into a full-fledged thwacking. “I look awful? I look awful?? What about the IceWing we almost killed? He lost--!”

“Yes, yes,” She sleepily murmured around a yawn, “We know. IceWing this and IceWing that and what about the IceWing? Permafrost, Permafrost, Permafrost. Would you stop beating up my floor? I know you feel like fighting something right now, but the ground is not your enemy.”

The tail stopped in its tracks and lowered abruptly to curl around his front talons. “I know,” He said miserably. “It’s just… I think he’s really hurt. And it’s my fault. And before you ask, I can’t explain why I feel so attached to him! It’s so… so frustrating!”

She sat down across from him and leaned forward, peering into his golden eyes. “Well, sitting around here and slowly wasting away certainly isn’t doing him any good. Take a break, Apex. You’ll feel better after a nap.” 

His eyes stayed glued to the floor. At first, she mistook this as silent acknowledgment that she was right and felt a flutter of pleasure in her chest that he had finally come to his senses. Sweet, blissful sleep… Here I come! No sooner had the thought entered her head when it was brutally murdered by the shimmer in Apex’s eyes when he looked up. “Apex, I don’t like that look.”

“No, Condor! Don’t you see it? You’re right!”

“Apex--” She warned.

“I’m not doing any good just standing around, moping!”

“Listen, whatever pigheaded plan you’ve got--”

“Thanks for the advice!” In a flash of gold and a flurry of wings, Apex scuttled out the door and disappeared down the hallway. He was like a fireball, unable to be extinguished or otherwise contained. 

She inwardly sighed. “What have I done…?”

~

The royal medics ignored the prince. Apex appreciated the solitude, and was equally impressed with the way they went about their work as though nothing had changed between the moment he had walked in and before then. It allowed him to direct his attention towards the IceWing, who lay separated from the other wounded dragons in a cave off of the main one. While he was covered in chains, it hardly seemed necessary to restrain a blind, injured, comatose dragon. But that had been the condition for healing him, and if a bit of metal was the cost for saving his life, Apex was willing to allow it. Besides, he thought as he eyed Permafrost’s dormant form, he certainly doesn’t mind. 

He was vaguely aware of a cramping in his wings, but he didn’t pay it much heed. He was too intent on monitoring his undersized prisoner. He felt strangely possessive and protective of the helpless creature, and it honestly scared him. He had never cared about something this much before; Or, perhaps he had and had just never noticed it before. He tried to think back on every significant thing that’s happened to him, and if he had even felt a flicker of the blaze that burned brightly against his mind whenever he saw Permafrost’s lavender scales shine in the lambent torchlight. The color was somehow dull and beautifully colorful at the same time, like a muted rainbow. They glistened like they were defrosting, and a bead of water rolled across them to the cave floor with every shuddering breath. His face half-hidden in shadows, but from what Apex could see, the IceWing’s face was in ruins. The features had largely been burned away, leaving disfiguring scars twisting across his muzzle and obliterating his eyes. Part of his mouth had been burned away, leaving Permafrost with a permanent scowl. The rest of him had been spared, with the exception of a few jagged scars winding their way across his torso and tail, but he would forever be seen as hideous. Apex would like to think that karma had brought what was inside the assassin’s cruel heart to the surface, but truthfully… he knew next to nothing about this IceWing. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. 

Maybe he was weak. His mother would certainly think so, as well as most of the SkyWing court. But if being open-minded made Apex soft, then so be it. He couldn’t see what was so superior about the alternative--violence, hatred, and life-long grudges that severely stunted emotional growth. His father had always told Apex that he was not born to be a SkyWing, but the prince had never understood the gravity of those words until he was expected to behave as such. When Apex was a dragonet, the heaviest burden that weighed on his mind was whether he or Condor would get the biggest slice of mutton at dinner, and even then, it was friendly competition. Apex had never wholeheartedly longed for anything in his life--his childhood was a free-spirited one in which he allowed himself to be honest and vulnerable. Perhaps that’s why he felt the need to protect this IceWing. Permafrost had made him feel like a little dragon again, frolicking in the valleys and tumbling with friends who didn’t care whether he was royalty or just some common peasant. 

He snapped back to attention when Permafrost’s ear gave a little twitch. His left ear had escaped the majority of the damage, but almost nothing was left where his right ear had been. The healers were fairly confident that he could still hear out of both of them, but nothing could be confirmed while the IceWing was under. Apex’s tongue flicked over his teeth: It was a bit of a nervous habit for him. At the very least, he consoled himself, he’s not hanging on the brink of death. He just refuses to wake up. The thought was almost enough to make Apex laugh. Even when severely injured, this IceWing was as one of those big-eared creatures that humans seemed so keen on imprisoning. It was refreshing to know that this quiet resilience didn’t come from the will to survive, but rather, a blatant refusal to look death in the eyes. Or, at least, that was the thought that Apex humored himself with in an attempt to calm down. It was an amusing image; Permafrost literally turning his back on fate, like he had done to Apex when the prince had visited him. 

Condor had told him that he was being a useless lump of scales while he was hanging around her like a rain cloud, but he didn’t feel any more helpful here. He only seemed to take up space wherever he went, but it wasn’t like he could just do nothing. The IceWing prisoner was his responsibility now, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. While he didn’t know what he would do after Permafrost woke up, he nevertheless wanted to be one of the first dragons to witness it. He wished he could explain his own actions--It would make it easier to face his family. 

Speaking of the devil, the little IceWing was beginning to stir under Apex’s claws. The prince hadn’t even realized that he was touching Permafrost, but as he looked down at the sleeping dragon, he realized that he was practically digging his claws into those soft-looking lavender scales. That was certainly counterproductive to the recovery process, so Apex made an effort to extract his talons as quickly as possible without drawing blood. His excitement was overlaid by dread creeping up the back of his throat as he imagined the assassin’s confusion. The world, to him, would be nothing more than darkness and excruciating pain as the slashes stretched with every movement. Not for the first time, Apex couldn’t help but wonder if keeping him alive had been showing mercy or denying him peace. Not that it mattered. The decision was made, and Permafrost’s fate had been sealed. Besides, Apex had a few questions for him. The SkyWing prince doubted that the answers had changed between the time he had first interrogated Permafrost and now, but he could give it a shot. 

The miniature mercenary let out a rumbling groan that resounded against the cramped walls of their cave. Apex let his regal mask fall back into place and puffed out his chest, then reminded himself that Permafrost couldn’t even see him so it didn’t really matter. Tone of voice would be the thing driving this conversation, so Apex sucked in a deep breath and prepared to launch into a presumptuous speech that clearly defined his superiority over the Icewing--

--and let it all out in a woosh, like it had been driven from his lungs, at the pitiful mewl that the assassin let out. Apex didn’t know what to do. He was awake, which was exactly what the prince had wanted, but now he wanted the distressed dragon to go back to sleep. Call Apex a bleeding heart, but it was devastating to watch the tiny dragon swing his head around in dismay. He was visibly confused and frightened, like a dragonet separated from its mother. Apex wanted to comfort him somehow, but had no idea what to do. He didn’t know if anything could console a dragon who had just discovered that, not only were they in an immeasurable amount of discomfort, they had also lost the ability to observe their surroundings. Permafrost was most likely being assaulted with the unfamiliar sounds of cave echoes and the smell of strong medicinal herbs. Apex hadn’t thought it possible to feel more useless than he already did, but those whimpers damn near shattered him. 

“Sh,” he soothed. For all the good it did, he might as well have just left the room. Medics rushed in, calming Permafrost down so that his screeching became more of a keening, and even that died down into an unsettling silence. 

“Can you talk?” One of the medics, a dragon of a pinkish hue, pulled on his tattered wing as if he was nothing more than a specimen to be examined. Permafrost yelped, snatched his wing away, and spoke in a voice hoarse with disuse. 

“Yes, and I can feel too!” He snapped, seemingly recovered from his momentary lapse in callousness. “And hear, and taste, and smell! The only thing I can’t do is see! What the hell did you sick imbeciles do to me?”

It was Apex who stepped forward, having regained some of his bravado. “ They didn’t do anything. In fact, you wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for these wonderful dragons. I demand that you apologize right this--”

“Oh, you demand, ” Permafrost taunted. “Or what? You’ll make me fight to the death? Blind me? Come on, pretty-boy, tell me exactly what you’ll do that you haven’t ALREADY DONE!!” He roared the last bit, and if he had been just a little colder, Apex was sure he would have sprayed Frostbreath all over the wall above his head. 

And… he had a point. “Fine. Don’t apologize. But don’t expect them to nurse you back to health next time.”

“Next time?! NEXT TIME?!” Okay, so Permafrost was a little upset. Understandably. It was fine, Apex could handle a bit of shouting. Nothing he hadn’t faced from enemies before. And Permafrost was still an enemy. Right? The lines were becoming very blurred, and it was probably Apex’s fault. “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE SAVED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!”

He didn’t even have a comeback to counter that one. In all honesty, Permafrost had actually specifically requested to be killed. “Well,” Apex finally said, “consider this your punishment, then. For trying to take my life, I’m forcing you to continue yours.” 

Permafrost’s mouth snapped open and closed, unable to form words in his fury. The IceWing let it sink back into his chest and spread like frostbite, darkening his heart and cutting away the circulation. Staring at the wall in silent resilience, he brooded. Sensing that his big wings were just getting in the way--and, more importantly, his desire to secure the IceWings mind was thoroughly sated--he backed out of the dim cave and into the hallway. Exhaustion tugged at his aching limbs, sore from being pent up in one position for hours on end. He judged that he’d have a few hours to rest before his duties officially began, and thank goodness for that. Apex would have probably fallen asleep at the dias, had he neglected to sleep any longer. Now, the thought of sinking into his soft nest of feathers and lichen carried his feet away from the medicinal cave, into his room, and onto the bed, where he flopped down and didn’t move until the sun had risen above the mountaintops. 

Chapter Text

Apex was roaring at him. Again. Honestly, Permafrost couldn’t care less. Something about “applying himself.” It was the same routine every week, but the fact that he never seemed to improve didn’t dishearten the prince as Permafrost hoped it would. In fact, it only seemed to invigorate the infuriatingly optimistic SkyWing. This is more painful than death, he inwardly groaned. It had him wishing that he was back in the arena, facing off against the pinkish SkyWing and her fireballs. The same fireballs that had made a ruin of his face, if Apex was to be believed. Permafrost wouldn’t know, because he couldn’t see. Though, perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps he didn’t want to see. His attention snapped back to Apex’s so-called “training” when claws closed around his tail. 

“You have a nasty habit of grabbing that,” the prickly IceWing growled out past clenched teeth. “Do it again, and you might lose a talon.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Fool. He had the audacity to be excited. “Passion! Spark! Fire! Or, I guess in your case, ice. Come on, try it again.” 

Permafrost lacked the patience to go through this tedious drill again. “Why? So I can kill you faster? Tell me, what exactly hinges on my recovery that you seem so infatuated by my progress?” He tried to inject as much venom as possible into his words. 

“I just want to see you back on your feet, not moping around like a sack of mud!” Apex must have felt the IceWing’s scrutiny. “... and I may or may not have made a bet with my sister. Hehe.”

“Okay,” Permafrost floundered, trying to get a grasp on the situation, “first off, who puts mud in a sack? Second off, you think that a bet is appropriate in this situation? I wouldn’t even have to recover, if it wasn’t for you!” 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have even met you if you hadn’t tried to kill me!” Apex fired back with a contemptuous snort. 

“I wouldn’t have tried to kill you if your lot hadn’t killed the IceWing messenger!”

“We wouldn’t have killed the messenger if you IceWings hadn’t gone and frozen those dragons!”

“And we wouldn’t have had to freeze those dragons--!” For once, Permafrost seemed at a loss for words. Apex was celebrating his victory, until he noticed the confused crease of Permafrost’s brow. “What dragons?” 

“What do you mean-the dragons! The-The frozen ones! That you left on our doorstep.” Something was wrong here. Apex could feel it. Still, he wasn’t about to back down.

“That… wasn’t the IceWing kingdom.” Before the SkyWing prince could argue, Permafrost cut him off. He almost felt angry, until he remembered that the IceWing literally couldn’t see that he had rudely interrupted Apex. “I mean, why would we openly attack the Sky Kingdom? That would only cause chaos. Did… did no one consider any other possibility?” 

Of course they had! Or, er… Apex wished he could say that. Thinking back, they had just assumed that it was Queen Holly who had ordered the assault, and wrote off the reason as a declaration of war. Rather, his mother and her advisors had decided that it was a threat, and her word was law in the Sky Kingdom. And what else could it have been besides a message of hostility? No one questioned her back then, but now… now her story was beginning to unravel. Details fell out of their proper place, and Apex couldn’t help but wonder why he had never asked himself these questions before today. Had he been so eager for war, for a chance to prove himself in combat, that it had clouded his logic? 

“I guess we didn’t,” he replied truthfully. “To be honest, I think my mother might have been looking for reasons to hate all of you. To make the realm hate all of you.” 

“We have a genius on our hands,” Permafrost muttered under his breath. Apex was sure that if he still had eyes, they would be rolling right now. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, defensive. “Look, I was young and stupid when it happened! I never questioned her, I kinda just assumed that she always knew what she was talking about.” 

“Yeah, I was young once too. But I was never stupid enough to unquestioningly follow where I was led, like a lost sheep!”

And back to arguing it was. “Oh, is that right? And I suppose you chose to be sicced on random dragons like some rabid animal?”

Permafrost stomped his foot and roared, effectively silencing Apex. “OF COURSE NOT! I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE, NONE OF US DID!! WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE TO LIVE LIKE AN OUTLAW, FEEDING ON THE SCRAPS OF THOSE ABOVE US?!”

Apex sat onto his rump from the sheer shock of being yelled at by a glacial gremlin about half his size. No one had talked to him like that in--well, ever. No one besides his mother, Queen Pyre. Though, it wasn’t exactly news that the IceWing wasn’t afraid of the SkyWing prince. Accordingly, it wasn’t the tone that shocked him into silence so much as the words themselves. He had never really thought about it, but the life of an assassin probably wasn’t really glamorous. Hiding in the darkness, never allowed to make significant relationships, being ordered to kill for the sake of others… It wasn’t a life that anyone would want, let alone choose. 

“I… I’m sorry. I guess I just never thought about it,” He replied sullenly. 

“Yeah, you don’t think about many things, do you?” This little IceWing was infuriatingly stubborn! Here Apex was, humbly making a formal apology, and all he had to do was accept it! Then again… Maybe I don’t deserve to be forgiven. 

“You know what? I’m trying to be nice to you. I’m trying to extend an olive branch, but you refuse to take it!”

“Well, maybe I’m not taking it because I can’t see it,” Permafrost seethed. 

“Would you stop with that?! I get it, you’re blind!”

“Are you kidding me--”

“Girls, girls, you’re both adorable, stop bickering.” Condor strutted into the training room in all her regal glory, bedecked in jewels and the delicate wildflowers that covered the grassy slopes. “You know, you two fight like an old couple. It’s amusing, until I hear it from dawn to dusk while desperately trying to run a kingdom. I think you both need to start considering each other’s perspective, or you’ll never get along.” She plopped herself right next to Permafrost, fearless as she was. 

Apex broke the following silence. “I am not--”

“Rephrase!” Condor howled at the top of her lungs. “You will cease your squabbling, or I will have you both sent to the bottom of the mountain to collect goat dung to fertilize my garden!!” 

That certainly silenced all further protests, The two boys had the decency to look scolded, with hanging heads and hunched shoulders. Condor clapped her claws together, satisfied with their newfound silence. The two were like little fur-beasts, she thought, that needed to be taught how to behave. It really was ironic; She was forced to mediate between them whenever an argument such as this broke out, and she hadn’t been the one to save the blind bimbo in the first place! It wasn’t her mess, and yet here she was, cleaning it up day after day after day. The routine had frayed her nerves to the point of splitting, and she worried that she would go mad. And while SkyWing queens already had a history of teetering off the deep end, she wasn’t exactly eager to be just another crazed monarch in a history scroll. That was precisely when the idea hit her. 

“You know what I think would be wonderful?” Condor masked her intentions behind a layer of sickly sweet inflection. 

“What?” The IceWing, Permafrost, spoke sullenly. 

“I think you two should have a little adventure together!” She exclaimed in false-cheeriness. A devious plot was constructing itself in her mind, one that would get these two numbskulls out of her scales for at least a couple weeks. 

“Hey, you said that if we stopped arguing, you wouldn’t send us to collect dung,” Apex protested, petulantly. 

“Oh, no, not that.” She waved a claw at them in dismissal, as though she had already forgotten about her threat. “This is something else. It’ll be loads of fun, I promise.” 

“Fun? Remember that time when we were dragonets, and you told me that it would be fun to jump off the mountain and into a pile of snow at the base? Yeah, my wing still doesn’t close right.” Apex flexed his wing for emphasis, and Condor noticed that he wasn’t lying about it being subtly twisted. “So forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your idea of ‘fun’” 

“Oh, this one will be very exciting. And you probably won’t get injured.” From within the folds of her wings, she produced a small metal tube. Made from solid gold, it gleamed in the weak sunlight that filtered through the nearest window. Within was, undoubtedly, a scroll. “Would you two be so kind as to fly this over to the MudWing kingdom? I have an urgent message for Queen Copperhead, and I simply do not trust those messenger dragons. You cannot convince me that they aren’t the ones who started the drama between Flare and Crest, back when word got out that Flare was sending love letters to Crest’s suitor.”

Permafrost had wandered to the opposite end of the cave, but Condor knew he was paying attention. The way that he stood by the hole in the cavern wall, waiting to catch a breeze blowing in, seemed wistful. Condor leaned forward until her and her brother’s snout were practically touching, and in her best guilt-tripping voice, she whispered, “Look at him. He wants to go outside.” 

“Yes, outside. But to the Mud Kingdom?” He whispered back vehemently, nose crinkled up in objection. “He can’t even fly. If he had the ability to see, he’s still too injured to walk correctly!”

“Then carry him,” she contended with a hiss. “Look at how small he is. Perfect carrying size, he’s like an accessory. A very pretty, purple, shimmery accessory. You can sling him over your big, strong shoulders. You brag about your muscles all the time, himbo. Use them.”

“Him-what? Don’t answer, I probably don’t want to know. If something were to happen to us while in the Mud Kingdom--”

“I would be perfectly fine,” Permafrost drawled from behind them. Both prince and princess jumped at the silent approach and sudden intrusion. “I can handle myself, Apex. And if you two are going to gossip about me, at least do it when I’m not in the room.” He sat on his sparkly rump and brought a talon up to scratch behind his ear. The motion was awkward, as the loss of his sight had greatly affected his claw-eye coordination. 

“See?” Condor recovered from her shock and bumped Apex with her shoulder. “He says he can handle himself!”

“He says a lot of things,” Apex muttered. But, as she knew he would, he finally conceded. “Fiiiiine.” He snatched the golden tube from her hand and stuffed it under his wing for safe keeping. “But don’t expect me to stick around for a reply. I don’t want to stay in the Mudwing Kingdom for longer than I have to.”

“Now that,” Permafrost allowed, “is something we can agree on.”

Pleased with her brilliant manipulation--erm, rather, her tactful mediation--Condor spun around on her heels and practically danced away. She had two weeks to herself, finally! And her first order of business would be catching up on all the sweet, sweet slumber that had been evading her since Apex had adopted his new pet. With a dark chuckle at the thought of Apex being forced to sleep in the mud while she slept soundly on her own bed of moss and feathers, Condor sped back to her room like the overly energetic dragonet she once was.

Chapter Text

“This is all just a huge misunderstanding!!” Apex’s feet pounded against the marshy ground, scrambling to find purchase in the loose rocks and soil. “We weren’t trying to steal anything!!”

The queen’s guards were on his tail, driving him away from the MudWing castle and, most importantly, Permafrost. Spears hung heavy in their jaws, the tips of which grazed against Apex’s scales with every forward stride. How do MudWings run so fast?! They’re all built like boulders! Big, heavy, stupid-- ”Gah!!” That particular train of thought abruptly went down in flames when he ran smack-dab into the massive chest of Queen Copperhead. Well. Life was fun while it lasted. 

But, wait. How did Apex end up abandoning his prized IceWing and running for his life from the leader of the MudWing tribe? Well, as previously mentioned, it all stemmed from a giant misunderstanding. To understand how this kerfuffle began, however, one would need to look further back in time to see the events that took place beforehand. More specifically, when Permafrost and Apex had arrived in the mud flats and set out towards Queen Copperhead’s humble abode. 

~

“Why are you so heavy?” Apex griped, beating at the air with his wings just to stay aloft. “I’m putting you on a diet when we get back.”

“What was that?” Permafrost draped himself out against Apex’s back, tongue poking out from between his teeth in contentment. 

“I said--”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m blind.”

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to stop using your blindness as an excuse for--Hey!! That’s not how it works!” 

“You got me. Detective dragon strikes again. I just can’t trick you, can I?”

Apex got the distinct feeling that he was being mocked. He waited for a particularly powerful gust of wind to flow past his ears, and then tilted his wings so as to make them lift upwards at an alarmingly fast rate. Permafrost, alarmed by their swift ascent, clutched onto Apex’s neck desperately. 

“You idiot!” He roared past the howling of the wind in their ears. “I could have fallen!”

But Apex was too busy laughing to pay him any heed. Perhaps their relationship was antagonistic to an extent, but Apex knew that Permafrost wasn’t really mad. After all, his IceWing counterpart had every opportunity to open up his neck right here, right now. Of course, he would go down with Apex, but Permafrost had already proven himself willing and capable of dying for his queen. 

“In my defense, I needed to catch an updraft. If I kept flapping like that the whole way there, I would have gone into cardiac arrest the moment we landed.” 

“Ohhhh nooooo,” Permafrost drawled sarcastically. “That’s awful. Well, by all means, do whatever you need to do. Wouldn’t want you dying on me.” 

“Oh, har har. You know, you don’t have to remind me that you want me dead every five minutes,” Apex snapped back. 

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

Apex snorted and continued flying in silence: Arguing with him was pointless. Instead, he focused on making Permafrost’s ride as bumpy as possible. To his credit, the prickly IceWing didn’t utter a word of complaint. Then again, halfway through the journey, Apex could feel his icy spikes being driven into the prince’s shoulder blades, hard enough to bruise but not to bleed. Henceforth, the journey was one based on mutual discomfort and frigid silence. Eventually, Apex decided that the two of them were in dire need of a break. He landed on a rocky outcropping jutting out from a grassy hill. It didn’t provide any shelter from the sun beating on their scales, which must have been uncomfortable for an IceWing accustomed to subzero temperatures. Good, Apex thought indignantly. He shook Permafrost off, ignoring his protests and settling down for a nice nap. 

“Hey! Where are we? Apex?” Permafrost wandered around the rock blindly, patting the ground directly in front of him in an effort to better identify his surroundings. “Are we--Is this a rock? Apex? Answer me!”

The SkyWing prince just rolled over, trying to block out Permafrost’s snippity comments. 

“I swear, I will bite you when I find you!” He walked in a full circle around Apex, his lavender ear pressed firmly against his head. If he listened to my breathing, he’d know exactly where I was. He isn’t very good at being blind, is he?

  “Apex! Where--” Permafrost broke off, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. “Did you… leave me…? I c-can’t… I can’t see... “

Apex popped his head up at the change in tone, just to see Permafrost sitting a few feet away, his jaw wide open as he desperately tried to force air into his deprived lungs. His chest wasn’t moving, like he physically couldn’t breathe, and a primitive whimper tore through his throat. His serrated claws dug into the rock, leaving large scars in the smooth grey surface. Something’s wrong, Apex thought, alarmed. He pushed himself to his feet and ran to Permafrost, his claw hovering hesitantly over his prisoner’s wing. He wasn’t sure whether or not to touch him, if it would just freak him out more. And if making contact would help Permafrost calm down, where should he nudge him? Apex felt like a big, clumsy beast. 

“Hey, Permafrost? It’s okay, bud, I didn’t leave! I’m here, I was just going to take a nap! I promise, I wouldn’t leave you like that. I’m not that cruel.” He chuckled weakly, but it didn’t seem to help. Permafrost was still hyperventilating, and he was beginning to look like he’d fall over if a strong wind hit him at the right angle. “Hey, seriously, look at me. I mean… don’t look at me--Oh my Phyrria, I need to shut up. Okay, uh.. Screw it!” He reached out and soothingly ran a talon down Permafrost’s wings, which used to soothe him as a dragonet. “Hush… You might not be able to see me, but you can hear me and you can feel me. I am here, Permafrost. Right by your side. And I don’t plan on leaving. Nothing is going to tear me away from you, I promise.”

Thank the stars, that seemed to calm the panicked IceWing down, if only marginally. He began taking breaths that were slightly less shallow, and a lot less pained. Still, he didn’t speak. What’s more, Apex didn’t expect him to. He had never experienced such a violent bout of panic, but the prince could sympathize with his pitiful companion. Not being able to see must be terrifying, more so if it’s an ability you’ve had all your life. And to be constantly surrounded by your sworn enemies? For all his bravado and aloofness, Permafrost was probably scared out of his scales with every little thing that was out of the ordinary or unexpected. Apex resolved not to scare him like that again, even if it meant feeding into the little assassin’s feisty attitude. 

“Okay,” Apex breathed out, “that sucked. I won’t scare you like that again, okay? This has been hard on you, I know. And I’m only making it worse by being a stuck-up jerk all the time. That doesn’t mean you get to be a bullheaded gremlin all the time, but just because you’re rude to me doesn’t give me the right to be rude back. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Permafrost was quiet for some time before responding. “Are you keeping me alive just to kill me later…? Or is it fun to see me suffer?”

The SkyWing prince was taken aback. He hated the way that his bleeding heart conflicted with his heated temperament; It made him a mess of mixed emotions. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” He slid his claw off of Permafrost’s back, letting it slump to the stone floor. “No. Of course not, Permafrost. I’m keeping you alive because…” Apex’s brow scrunched as he realized that he didn’t exactly know how to finish that sentence. “I guess I just… feel like I need to. Like fate’s telling me that you’re important. Do you believe in fate?”

“I believe, ” Permafrost sniffled, “that you’re a great bumbling oaf who still has faith in fairytales.” 

Apex rolled his eyes, grateful for Permafrost’s cantankerous tendencies. “Glad to see that you’re back to normal.” 

“Normal? If I was back to normal, I’d have my eyes!!” He jabbed a talon towards his forehead, which made Apex snicker. He flicked the IceWing with his tail as he turned away. 

“You’re pointing to your forehead, idiot.”

“I thought you vowed to never be a jerk to me again.”

“That was when you were crying. Now, you’re fair game.”

“That wasn’t,” Permafrost sputtered indignantly. “I wasn’t crying!”

“Sure you weren’t.” His impertinence rubbed Permafrost’s scales the wrong way. He hissed in vexation and clambered onto Apex’s back. 

“Just--Shut up and fly. We’re going to be late because someone was too much of a baby to keep flying.”

“Babies cry,” Apex pointed out. “And I’m not the one who was bawling their eyes out. So who’s the baby now?”

“Jokes on you,” Permafrost huffed. “I don’t even have eyes, so I logically couldn’t have been crying.” 

Apex, with a sharp-toothed grin, took off into the crystal blue sky. The world was beautiful from this high up, but Apex found that he wasn’t focusing on the atmosphere. He was too busy looking over his shoulder at the IceWing on his back, settled comfortably between his shoulder blades. 

~

By the time they arrived at the Mud Kingdom, the sun was hanging low in the sky. The sky itself was the color of a fire; Red bleeding into a vibrant orange, then settling into a soft yellow. It would be pretty, to someone who hasn't lived around those colors for the entirety of their life. As it were, Apex found himself loathing the vividly violent crimson and the painfully vibrant orange. The only color that he found holding his interest nowadays was a soft purple, just like… well, like the glittering scales of his new roommate/prisoner/pet. But it wasn’t because of Permafrost. That would just be ridiculous. It was just a pretty color. Soft, easy on the eyes, just colorful enough to be aesthetically pleasing… Yes, lavender was truly the pinnacle of perfection on the color spectrum. 

Even now, Apex was too busy admiring Permafrost’s scales to focus on where he was landing. Coincidentally, he ended up knee-deep in a giant puddle of sinisterly gurgling mud. Apex scowled as it squished between his toes, pulling himself out of the gloop that resisted his tugging. He looked half a MudWing himself by the time he dragged himself out of the muck. 

“Ick.. How do they live in this stuff?” Apex asked himself. Even though he was trying his hardest to be quiet, his words still reached Permafrost’s keen ears. The IceWing sleepily lifted his head, nose twitching. 

“Oh, are we here? It smells like decaying plants and filth…” 

“Yes. we’re here,” Apex replied fondly. “But make sure not to say what you just said in front of the MudWing court. They aren’t nearly as prideful as us, but they have a great deal of respect for Queen Copperhead. Insulting her land might be seen as an affront to her, and I have no doubt that her drones won’t hesitate to send us horns-first into the nearest mud puddle.” 

“Okay, just because I don’t have eyes doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Like any young IceWings, I was forced to undergo rigorous training on the subject of courtly behavior for every tribe in Phyrria.”

Apex figured the conversation led to a dead-end, so he stayed silent in the hopes that Permafrost would read that as a concession to his point. After what they had just gone through, Apex didn’t want to argue with him. Besides, the prince had heard tales of the IceWings’ focus on proper mannerisms, so he knew that Permafrost wasn’t just spouting nonsense. The only reason he had brought it up was because his irritable little IceWing friend didn’t seem to have any reservations about disrespecting other dragons. Or, perhaps it was just that Permafrost liked to treat Apex himself with contempt. Whatever the reason for his misbehavior, Apex wasn’t about to start yelling like a lunatic in the middle of a sludgy field. 

“So,” Permafrost interjected to fill the silence, “Which way do we go now? I mean, I’m sure you know the way to the queen’s home, but why didn’t we just land there in the first place? Why… wherever we are now?”

Apex was about to answer when a small dragon, a mere dragonet by the looks of it and wrapped from head to tail in rags to boot, came flying past them. The mystery dragonet dropped something that flashed golden in the sunlight, swung back around, and flew away. Too stunned to move, Apex just blinked at the brown dot on the horizon, drifting further and further away as the dragonet frantically flapped away from the duo. Then, slowly, his talons found the golden object--already sinking into the mud--and closed around it. He heaved it from the swampy earth with a grunt, perplexed when he gazed into its polished surface and saw his own reflection. It was a mirror, gilded with precious metals and embellished with gleaming jewels. He turned it over in his claws, examining the fine craftsmanship of the item. 

“What--” Before the question had left Apex’s mouth, his ears twitched in response to a sudden shout in the distance. 

“THIEF!!!”

Chapter Text

“Heeeeey,” Apex drawled out. “Listen, uhm… this is probably a bad time to bring this up, but I really have to use the bathroom.” The guards either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. It was likely the latter. He tried again. “You know, my mother will be furious when she finds out you’ve wrongfully imprisoned me. SkyWings tend to have quite the temper, and Queen Pyre isn’t known to be lenient.” He was ignored again. Worse, even, they tossed him into a stinking cell full of moldy straw and mysterious brownish stains. Apex tried not to think about those too much. He scrambled to right himself and spin around, just to watch them slam the door shut in his face. Literally. It hit his snout so hard, he was afraid the force of it had broken something. A quick little rub with one of his talons told him that nothing had been fractured, but it would bruise, if the soreness that radiated from the point of impact was any indication. He flung himself against the bars, his wings drooping in dismay, and cried out to his jailers. 

“Please, you have to let me go! I’ll pay you back, whatever the goblet was worth! Twice! Triple! The SkyWing kingdom doesn’t lack for gold, I promise!” Finally, his pleas reached the ears of a nearby guard. Judging by the deep chuckle that rumbled from his throat, however, the reaction Apex received was not going to be the one he desired. 

“Oh, you’ll pay alright,” the MudWing grumbled in the rough accent of the moors. “With your life.”

But it wasn’t his own life that Apex was worried about. It was a certain feisty IceWing, prone to peevishness and discourtesy. Sensing that he wasn’t going to get much but growled threats and silence from these thick-headed thugs, he pivoted around and began pacing in his cell. His tail slithered against the ground as he walked, sending piles of musty fodder and hard-packed dust scattering out of it’s way. Apex tried his hardest to think logically about this situation: What did he know? Obviously, he had been framed for theft. Evidently, these pig-headed hooligans didn’t care whether or not he was royalty--this one made no sense, considering that Condor was one of Queen Copperhead’s closest companions. It was odd that she would treat him with such contempt, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that point. He had no idea what dark hole they had stuffed Permafrost in, or what his current status was. The little IceWing could be hurt, or worse, dead. A lump formed in Apex’s throat, and he shook it off. Getting emotional at this point in the game would only serve to cloud his rationality, and he would need every ounce of logic to worm his way out of this sticky situation. 

“Ugh.” With an aggrieved sigh, he plopped onto the ground in a giant heap of golden scales and despair. Some dragon was hissing something at another dragon, probably one of the guards harassing another prisoner. The hissing progressively got louder and, to his surprise, closer. Close enough to make out the words. 

“Hey. Get up. Come on, you lazy bumpkin, don’t you ever move? You’re worse than a Rainwing!” 

Slowly, cautiously, Apex stretched his neck upwards to see who was speaking. His yellow eyes met green ones, casually staring back at him. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Apex saw that the green eyes belonged to a Seawing; A very green Seawing. Their wings and underbelly were a light aquamarine that blended nicely with the dark jade scales that carpeted their head and torso. Flecks of emerald were bejeweled across their muzzle, strewn like stars across the night sky. 

“What is a SeaWing doing in a MudWing prison?” The Kingdom of Sea and the Kingdom of Mud didn’t get along, sure, but this dragon looked to have been here for a long time: They were thin, and their scales--while beautiful--had been dulled down from the usual polish with which Seawing’s flaunted. 

“I think the more appropriate question is: Why is the SkyWing prince in a muddy cell? Admittedly, I don’t know much about you. Still, something tells me that you aren’t the type to be rebellious, or scandalous, or… fun.” A wrapped his seafoam-green talons around one of the many bars separating their respective prisons. 

“Well, you’re right about--Wait, did you just call me boring? I am not--!” Suddenly, Apex seemed to recall a similar conversation with a certain snippety IceWing. The thought of him was enough to take the wind out of Apex’s sails, and his head thunked back against the dirty straw. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter why I’m here.”

“Woah, okay, that got depressing really quick! What has made you so desolate, my golden roomie? Spare no detail, I have all the time in the world.” Apex shot a glare their way and gently laid his whip-thin tail over his snout. It didn’t do anything to block out the SeaWing, but maybe it would let them know that he wasn’t interested in talking. Unfortunately they seemed to be either ignorant of social cues, or else they didn’t care what codes of etiquette they were broaching. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sorry, do you have somewhere to be? Do I have to schedule an appointment with His Majesty? I beg your pardon, I am but a humble peasant--”

“Stop!! Just… stop.” Puffs of smoke drifted out of Apex’s nostrils and floated towards the ceiling in a hazy mist. “You might see this as a joke, but I don’t. Who are you, anyway?”

The SeaWing regarded Apex with a shrewd look, as though deciding whether to tell him the truth or not. He must have passed the green dragon’s test, because he spoke after a brief moment of contemplation. 

“Starfish. My name is Starfish.” Their viridian eyes seemed to burrow under his scales and see through every princely facade he had ever created for the sake of appearances. He shifted uncomfortably: This dragon was too similar with Permafrost for comfort. “There. I gave you information, now it’s time for you to give me some info.” 

“Like… what? I don’t even know how I wound up here. And you obviously already know who I am, so it won’t do any good to tell you that.” Apex let his tail slide off his snout so that he could see Starfish, and was surprised to see them pacing, deep in thought. “Are you listening--?”

“Ooo, I know! Tell me your favorite color. That’s always a wonderful indication of who a dragon is, and what they stand for.” 

“I’m getting really tired of being interrupted,” Apex grumbled. Still, he answered the proposed question. “It’s lavender. Like… A light purple.”

“I knew it. You SkyWings are all the same, obsessed with gold and rubies and--lavender?” They stopped their pacing, standing stock-still for a moment before swinging around to face Apex. “Did you say lavender?”

Now, the SkyWing was beginning to feel his patience wearing thin. “Yes, are you deaf? If you want to be a parrot, move to the rainforest. I’m sure some RainWing will be delighted to keep you as an exotic pet.”

“I’m just… surprised. Pleasantly surprised, to be sure… but you’ve obviously been exposed to outside influences. The prince doesn’t live in a bubble, does he?” Apex had a feeling his fellow inmate wasn’t talking to him, but if not him… then who? As far as the SkyWing could see, there was no one in the surrounding cages. He was beginning to feel like, perhaps, his acquaintance was a talon short of a full claw. 

“Uhm… no, I don’t live in a bubble. I live in the SkyWing palace.”

He couldn’t see how his response was comical, but it had the forest-green draggin practically rolling on the ground with laughter. “You--haha! You take things way too literally, my ferocious friend!” 

Apex watched them wheeze with growing exasperation. “Can you stop laughing for half a second? I can’t hear myself think. How have you not been executed yet? These MudWings,” he flicked his tail towards the sentries posted outside their kennels, “don’t exactly seem like the tolerant type.”

His blue-green counterpart took a few minutes to catch their breath before answering. “Oh, whew. You are a hoot. But, no, you’re right. I doubt they’d be willing to put up with me, were it not for the fact that I’m very important to the queen.” They puffed their seafoam-green chest out in Apex’s direction, but their expression was one of mock pride. “I am Queen Copperhead’s personal courtesan. It’s a very prestigious position, as you can tell from the premium straw coating the floor of my enclosure.”

Apex stared at this mysterious SeaWing in an entirely new light. “ You?” He blurted out stupidly, his ears flicking back in shock.

“Aha! Look who’s the parrot now, Mr. Prince! Another point goes to Starfish!” They pranced around in an obscene show of joyousness. “But yes,” Starfish settled down a few feet from Apex, curling their feet underneath them. “Me. I know, I know, it’s shocking. Why doesn’t she just find a MudWing, right? Well… a long time ago, my father had a habit of making bets he couldn’t win. This habit developed into a debt, which demanded a favor. And that’s where I come in. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, my dear Princling? To grow up, being groomed to be nothing more than a way to pay off your forebearer’s debts?”

“Your father… gambled you to Queen Copperhead?” Apex was having a difficult time wrapping his head around this, not that that was anything new. “But that’s--that’s so illegal! And-And wrong!”

“Thank you for noticing,” they drawled. “Most people would say that it’s nothing more than natural selection. The strong feed on the weak… But I guess you’re different. Speaking of… I’ve told you my sob story. Now, it’s time you told me yours. Why are you here, wasting away in these mucky dungeons when you could be ruling from a gilded throne, cradling a silver spoon between your teeth?” 

Apex swung his head away, partly out of shame and partly because he did not want Starfish to see his expression. “I was framed. We both were. It isn’t fair… but life’s not fair, I suppose. You would know that better than anyone.” 

“We?” There was too much interest in the SeaWing’s voice. Apex didn’t like it one bit. “Did you also have a companion of sorts, Your Majesty?”

“No! My relationship to Permafrost isn’t like that… well.” He couldn’t really speak towards their relationship. It was unlike anything he had ever known before, but it certainly wasn’t like that. “He’s a friend.”

Starfish looked as smug as the cat that ate the canary. They opened their mouth to reply, but were ultimately silenced by an indistinct voice just outside Apex’s cell. They listened in uncomfortable silence to the sound of locks clicking out of place and the door swinging in on rusted hinges. The prince hissed at the burly MudWings who barged in, each holding a length of chain within their monstrously large mitts. 

“Alright, pretty boy. Playtime’s over,” the head warden rumbled. “You have a date with the headsman. He’s positively dying to meet you.”

Chapter Text

Permafrost thrashed against the guard’s firm grip, hopelessly trying to tug free and reach his endangered companion. The guard held fast, and Apex’s voice slowly faded into the distance. That was when the panic set in, as Permafrost realized that he had no means of navigating his surroundings or perceiving possible threats. Calm down, he thought to himself. It was a challenge to rationalize the situation, but once he had, he found that he could glean clues based on what he heard and smelled. It wasn’t much, but he was able to deduce--from the scent of a cluster of MudWings and the sound of clanking armor--that he was currently surrounded by royal guards. Not a good place to be, he knew from experience. 

“What do you want from me?” He growled, assuming a defensive stance. Well, to the best of his ability. His movements were limited by the brute holding him in place. 

“We follow orders, kid. We don’t question them. Queen Copperhead needs you for something, and that’s all you need to know.”

He swore, MudWings were as dumb as a bag of rocks. They were infuriatingly loyal, both to their families and to their queen. That might seem like an admirable trait, but the problem lay in the fact that their loyalty led to ignorance. If their leader paraded a troop of them off a cliff, they would follow without hesitation, never stopping to question why. 

“Let. Me. Go.” It was a pointless demand, he knew, but it made him feel a little less helpless. As he predicted, Permafrost was only laughed at and tossed over some dragon’s shoulder like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. 

“He’s got some spunk. I like it,” One chortled. 

“I hate it,” Another hissed. 

“I hope it gets him killed,” The third said. Permafrost could already tell which one of them he would receive the least amount of sympathy from. 

“I haven’t done anything against the MudWing kingdom. It’s outrageous to detain me without a valid reason,” Permafrost argued, snapping at a claw that wandered a bit too close to his mouth. 

“Ooo,” The first one cooed. “He knows big words! That’s adorable. He’s kind of like one of those satchel pets. Don’t you agree, Noroi?” 

“Don’t let his puniness distract you from the fact that he must be taken into custody, Newt,” Noroi--who sounded as if he was the eldest among the three--snapped back. Without further ado, they took off with their pint-sized prize and flapped noisily towards the castle on the distant horizon. 

~

Queen Copperhead stared disdainfully down her snout at the uncooperative dragonet before her. Her informers told her that he was fully grown, but he looked like little more than a child. It made her loath to harm him, but she would do what needed to be done, as she always had and always would. Her people’s fate, though they were blissfully unaware of this, rested in the claws of the willful little brat that was hogtied and laying below her throne. He had stopped thrashing about fifteen minutes ago, most likely from sheer exhaustion due to the fact that he had been wriggling about like a fish out of water for nearly two hours beforehand. His captivity did nothing to soften his resolve; He simply wouldn’t budge. What he wanted in return for information was the one thing Queen Copperhead couldn’t provide him with: His associate’s location. 

“All I ask is that you tell me what you know about the SkyWing royalty, Permafrost.” She was growing weary of these games. “It’s a simple request, is it not? Just give me a little insight, and I’ll undo those pesky chains. They must be digging into your scales, which I imagine is awfully uncomfortable.”

“I’m not stupid, like your little cronies in the hall. You won’t let me go, just because I indulge you with a bit of gossip. Besides, why don’t you just ask Princess Condor about royal life? No… You want something else.”

This tiny creature was beginning to vex her. He was too intuitive for his own good. Heaving a heavy sigh, she decided that it would be pointless to continue this guise of freedom for the sake of intel. Besides… A bit of truth sprinkled into a lie gave it a better flavor, made it much easier to swallow. “Admittedly, you wouldn’t be permitted to leave the Mudlands. However, you’ll be free to roam the castle. That much I can grant you.” Until I send your head rolling. 

“Where is he?”

Back to this. “Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Tell me what I wish to know, and I will arrange a meeting with you and your partner.” A meeting in the underworld. What a touching reunion that will be.

“You want information? Fine. Give me some information first. Where. Is. He?”

She could tell that this was just going to keep cycling back to the subject of the prince’s location. As much as she was loath to admit defeat, nothing would be able to convince the arctic runt to loosen his jaw. Nothing… save the one thing she had been hoping to avoid. At the sound of her sharp whistle, her personal guards swiftly jostled into the room and heave Permafrost up between them. With a renewed vigor, the little IceWing began to wrestle against them, but their grips held fast. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Permafrost, but you’ve left me no choice. Guards, take him down to the isolation chamber. A few days free of social interaction ought to make him a bit more willing to talk.” 

Permafrost had the decency to look scared. He slung curses at her as he was dragged out of the massive chamber, which soon turned into desperate pleas that faded into nothingness the further he moved away. She wrapped her tail neatly over her claws, admiring the way her coppery scales glinted in the low light. “Condor, my dear… you’re oh so lucky I like you,” She murmured with a wicked smile. 

~

“Are you familiar with this process, boy?”

“I’ve seen it performed hundreds of times. Trust me. My mother has a special place in her withered husk of a heart for beheadings.”

So there he was. The Prince of the SkyWings, forced into a crouch by the MudWing bearing down on top of him. His neck was stretched out against a block of packed earth, like the fact that he was currently being pressed to the ground wasn’t humiliating enough. His head, which would soon be relieved of all thoughts, was swimming with speculations and apprehension, but not for himself. Still, even when his life hung at the tip of the headman’s talons, his mind was solely focused on one thing and one thing only: Permafrost. They would most likely execute him as well seeing as they had no need for him. Apex couldn’t help but wonder if his sister's letter was at the heart of all this; the looming death, that is. He knew why he had been imprisoned--the theft he had been framed for--but Queen Copperhead didn’t just go around sentencing dragons to death over a cup. At most, a thief could expect about five years in the slug-infested cells and hard labor, if they had stolen something of extreme importance. Sure, the ornate drinkware had likely been from the queen’s personal hoard, hence why she took such offense to it being taken, but the punishment still didn’t match the crime. Perhaps Condor’s letter had been offensive, and now he was on the receiving end of the queen’s fury. Even then, one would think that Queen Copperhead would demand an audience with Condor to sort the matter out, rather than taking it into her own hands to exact revenge in such a sanguinary manner. 

Undoubtedly, he’d be able to puzzle it out were it not for Permafrost’s absence. He always seemed to think better in the presence of his little companion, like the pure white of his scales wiped away any intrusive thoughts with their innocent brilliance. Or, alternatively, Apex forced himself to employ the use of every brain cell in his conversations with his IceWing friend so as not to make a fool of himself. It was most likely the latter, though the former was a nice concept. 

“Before you kill me, do I get any final words? A will and testament? A complaint for the suggestion box?”

“Shut up,” his soon-to-be murderer growled at him. 

“You know, I’m not feeling super welcome. Really, your attitude is giving off some seriously bad vibes. If you want to know what I think--”

“I don’t.”

“--you guys should get a better chopping block, if you insist on removing your guests heads’ from their necks. It’s only common courtesy. My mother, for example, hers is made of marble. It’s not anything fancy, like gold or obsidian, but I’m certain that her victims feel just a bit more respected than I do right now.”

“You won’t be feeling anything soon, princeling.”

“Ah,” Apex drawled in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “you sure know how to comfort someone, Mr. Executioner. Maybe you should have looked into that as a career instead. I can’t imagine how mundane it must be to perform this incessant cycle of killing… it’s the same thing, over and over and over again. Surely, you must be bored out of your wits by day’s end.”

“I quite like my job, actually.” The MudWing on his back got dangerously close to his ear, breathing into it, “I get you knock people like you down a few pegs. Watch you squirm, try to keep yourself calm by squabbling like a wounded pigeon, and--eventually--beg for your life.”

“W-wait!” Apex could feel his time draining away, like the sand in an hourglass. “Let me have an audience with the queen! Please, at least grant me that!”

“There it is.” Apex could hear the resounding smugness in the executioner’s voice. His last thought before sharp claws closed around his neck was; Huh. Permafrost didn’t act this conceited when he tried to kill me. 

Chapter Text

Darkness. It pressed in on all sides, rendering him unable to move, speak, or breathe. It shoved itself down his throat and asphyxiated him. He could not cry out, and, even if he did… who would hear? Who would care? Certainly not his mother. Not his coward of a father. Not even his sister would be able to save him from the gathering dusk of his own demise on the horizon, the daytime flickering into nothingness like a dying star. Nothing existed when night fell, not until the morning reared its head and recreated the universe out of twigs and twine. His thoughts tumbled out of him in an endless cascade, leaving a gaping hole in his head--in his chest--that widened until it consumed every part of him. The line between life and death blurred, and Apex succumbed. 

.

.

.

No. He wasn’t allowed to fall just yet. The pitch-black world welcomed him as if he was kin, but he couldn’t yield to its false hospitality. Why? Because as much as the shadows flooded his vision and held his limbs steady, a light pulsed in the back of his mind. It was dull, barely more than a whisper of luminescence, but so long as it was there Apex could not let go. He began to thrash against the gloom obscuring his vision, opening his ears and his eyes against the murky stillness. Slowly, it dissolved into little more than a fog. The fog dissipated, swirling in the air as the hazy mists began to clear from his consciousness, and he was left with only pain. Pain didn’t stop the one he fought for; Nor would it stop him. Apex claws against the agony, fighting an unseen enemy to make it to the unidentifiable light. Who was he fighting for? Why, when it was so much easier to give in? What was he hoping to gain from living to see another day?

Like a flash, the light filled his mind and burned the last of the fog away with its white-hot brilliance. That was why he continued onwards, with no promise of anything but torment when he awoke. 

Permafrost.

~

“What do you mean when you say ‘He’s escaped’? Surely you aren’t sitting before my throne, informing me that your foolhardy assumption that he was thoroughly deceased has led to you misplacing his corpse?” 

Queen Copperhead’s dimwitted executioner stood before her, draped in chains and limping from the bashing her guards had given him. His ugly brown head was bowed towards the hard-packed Earth below his feet, and his tail rocked sullenly from side to side. It took every ounce of self control in Copperhead’s body not to launch herself at the fool who had just released her one shot at leverage over the IceWing Kingdom. Without a body, how was she to blame the murder on the lovely little vermint that was languishing in her dungeons? 

“Sorry, Your Highness. Nobody’s ever survived my cuts before. I swear by it,” the fool pleaded, entirely in vain. Queen Copperhead had no intention of forgiving him, let alone allowing him to go free after this. She would just as soon see his head rolling across the ground at her feet, but there were customs in place that she’d have to perform, lest the trial be labelled ‘unjust.’ 

“And how are we to know that you didn’t simply let Apex go? Perhaps your loyalty has been compromised by riches offered by the prince, or maybe you're too much of a coward to spill royal blood? I assure you, it flows just the same as any other dragons’.”

“N-No, Sire! There was no money involved, and I would never even dream to disobey an order from one such as yourself.” The snivelling nitwit lowered himself to the ground in humility, hoping to show his loyalty through deference, no doubt. “I only wish to serve.” 

“There you have it, court. He’s a simple fool, that’s all. No treason was involved,” Queen Copperhead began sarcastically. “If the world worked like that, Mallard, we wouldn’t have any need for trials. I need proof that you aren’t plotting against me. Do you have anything that attests to your innocence?”

He seemed to shrink even lower to the ground. “No, My Liege. I do not have any evidence. B-But--”

“Silence!” Queen Copperhead snapped. “I’m not in the mood to listen to excuses all day, Mallard. Leaders have many responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities include keeping the kingdom safe from traitorous scum such as yourself.” She waved a dismissive claw, and her guards surged forward to seize Mallard. “Take him to the isolation rooms, and leave him there until he withers away or confesses to his crimes.” 

Mallard pleaded with her until his voice faded down the long hallway that separated her throne room from all the others on this floor. His cries fell on deaf ears, however: She was going to sentence him to death no matter what argument he made in his favor, and the rest of her court of yaysayers and admirers weren’t likely to protest her decision. Yet, even though she had gotten her way, it didn’t exactly feel like a victory. Permafrost remained as tight-lipped as ever, even though she could see the emotional strain of social isolation showing in shadows that lingered on his face. On top of that, her princeling was now at large somewhere in her kingdom, undoubtedly plotting an infiltration and grand escape for him and his wretched companion. 

Wait. 

A wicked smile spread across her face, and her mood elevated considerably. The little birds had just flown within throwing distance, and she had just the right stone to knock both of them out of the sky. Permanently. 

“Starfish, dear,” she called out sweetly. An emerald-green dragon, as beautiful as the ocean they had been stolen from, sauntered up to the throne with confidant strides. Queen Copperhead adored that about her personal plaything. “You were in the dungeons with our princling, weren’t you? In fact, I believe he was your neighbor.”

“He was, Your Highness. A dull one at that. Went on and on about his IceWing… pet? I don’t know, he said their relationship was complicated.” 

“Wonderful.” She clasped her claws together in delight, and Stawfish glowed at the praise. “I need you to tell me everything you remember about Apex. All of his mannerisms, his habits… What he's willing to do for the IceWing..”

“Why would…? Oh…” Starfish smiled a wicked smile and bent their heads in acceptance. “I’ll do my best to tell you everything you need to know, My Queen.”

~

He sent a silent prayer to all the great dragons of Pyrrhia, past and present, that Apex wouldn’t be foolishly gallant enough to come charging head-first into an impossible situation. The dragons spit in face with a laugh, as it were. Permafrost listened to Apex shimmy his way through the small circular skylight above his head with growing frustration. Even he--however--found it hard not to burst out laughing when he heard Apex’s grip falter, and he plummeted directly onto his tailbone--It would, undoubtedly, bruise later. That is, if Apex hadn’t just signed his own death warrant. 

Any reasonable dragon should have been able to see the conspicuous trap. Unfortunately for the both of them, Apex was not a reasonable dragon; Not when it came to Permafrost, at least. He waltzed right into it, completely oblivious to the fact that he was in any danger. And, on top of that, the idiot was probably proud of himself. Permafrost would have  rolled his eyes (if he had any) and wondered how many spears pointed at his chest would make him realize how screwed they both were. That thought, however, just served to turn his anger into sadness; Then, like a cycle, it morphed back into anger. Not directed at Apex and his buffoonery, but at the unfairness of the world. For stealing his home, his sight… his best friend. 

Warning him to run would be a moot point. Permafrost knew they were surrounded, even if Apex himself wasn’t aware of it yet. Still, he thought, if I can get these ropes undone, I can help him fight. I won’t let him go down silently. He might not have been able to see his enemies, but he could feel them: Every shift in the MudWing’s armor, every clack of their claws against the earthen floor, every breath that left his enemies’ mouth. He could hear it all, and could consequently create a mental map of every dragon in their proximity. The irony that a blind dragon could see better than one that wasn’t visually impaired didn’t elude Permafrost--He just wished that their lives weren’t at stake so he could revel in it a bit more. 

“Psst, Permafrost,” Apex whisper-yelled. “I’m here to get you out, bud. Don’t worry, I got this.” 

How reassuring, Permafrost thought. He swore up and down that Apex must be part Rainwing, given that he was such a lazy lump of asinine--

“I know. You don’t have to tell me. And I have a plan, you just have to trust me. Do you trust me?” 

For a second there, it almost sounded as if Apex was fully aware of the perilous situation he was in and had willingly walked into it knowing that there was only a small chance he’d be leaving with his life. Apex reminded himself to clean his ears out if he ever got the chance, because he the SkyWing prince couldn’t possibly be foolhardy enough to think that he’d be able to take on fifteen dragons at once. Then again, he had mentioned a plan… but what plan could Apex possibly have, in a hostile environment with no connections and no way out? Nevertheless, as much as Permafrost hated to admit it… he trusted Apex more than he had ever trusted anyone in his entire life. So, in the end, the IceWing conceded with a nearly imperceptible nod. 

“Great. I need you to play along, then.” Before Permafrost had time to think about the implications of that sentence, Apex was let out a ferocious roar with what must have been all the air in his lungs. When he was done, he began to speak. “Permafrost, my love! What have they done to you?!”

My… what now?! Permafrost couldn’t help but wonder what the MudWings had done to Apex for him to turn him into the stark-raving lunatic in front of him. Then again, what did the little IceWing have to lose if he entertained the idea that they were mates? He was a dead dragon either way. So, without further ado, he flopped to the ground at Apex’s feet as though revering his lost love for being his savior. As dramatically as possible, he began to scream nonsense words against the gag stuffed into his mouth, “warning” Apex of the danger all around them. 

“What’s that, my dear? I can’t understand you. I’ll take this gag out immediately!” With delicate talons--which Permafrost appreciated--Apex extracted the cloth stuffed between his companion’s razor-sharp teeth. Permafrost fought the urge to bite him, as was his instinct whenever he felt someone’s claws get close to his snout. Hurting his so-called “lover” was sure to shatter the illusion, even if Apex deserved it for being a bumbling oaf all the time. 

The moment his gag was gone, Permafrost spat at the ground, trying to remove the bitter taste in his mouth. Apex brought a claw up to his face and caressed the burnt scales and scars lovingly, adoringly, sickeningly. It was all Permafrost could do not to blast ice into Apex’s face. Thank goodness the exchange was interrupted by Queen Copperhead: Any longer and Permafrost would have started gagging. 

“Well, well, well,” She began. The typical launching point of any villain’s speech, Permafrost mused. “The princling does care for his pet! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, but now I know that my little bird was telling the truth. Or, should I say… little fish?”

Permafrost didn’t see anyone come in--obviously--but the atmosphere of the room changed entirely. Nothing was capable of altering ambience so much as an infamous dragon. So, when Permafrost heard a peppy, twinkling voice coming from the other side of the room, he wasn’t surprised by the intrusion. Through context clues, he could glean that the source of the noise must have been this “little fish” character. 

“Heeey Apex,” they drawled. “Sorry for ratting you out, bud, but Queenie made an offer I couldn’t refuse. Five months of freedom for a simple tidbit of gossip? Score!”

“How could you?” Apex growled. Obviously, he knew this dragon. “I trusted you, Starfish. I told you about Permafrost because I thought.. I thought you would be sympathetic, given your current situation.” 

“Welp! You thought wrong, then,” the other dragon said in a sing-song voice. “See, I value my time with the queen. But, hey, everyone needs a little room to fly every now and then. You feel me?”

“So, you’re saying you value your independence above all else, and would do anything to achieve it?” Apex’s voice had an edge to it, as if their lives hung in the balance of that one question. 

“You bet,” Starfish chirped conspiratorially. “Anything.”

“Even… betraying the queen?”

“What’s a little bit of treason, if it guarantees a lifetime of freedom?” Starfish responded lightly, as if the words held no weight to them. Permafrost was beginning to see where this was going, and a wide smile split his ruined features. 

“Wha--” Queen Copperhead didn’t have a chance to voice her confusion, because an earth-shattering crack echoed through the chamber and silenced the gathering of dragons almost instantaneously after Starfish had said their spiel. It sounded like someone had just snapped a branch in half, amplified times ten. Then, it came again. And again. A heartbeat passed between the last burst of sound and the chaos that ensued, but it was just enough time for Queen Copperhead to let out a strangled, “What have you done?!”

Dragons roared and scrambled about, shoving Permafrost this way and that in their haste to get somewhere--anywhere--else. Heat washed across his lavender scales as an unidentifiable dragon let out a plume of flames nearby. He shrunk lower to the ground, feeling the rumbling of hundreds of dragons running about under his claws: Never had his lack of vision feel more impotent than at this moment. Vaguely, the IceWing realized that the ambush had been ambushed and that dozens of dragons were flooding in through the doors by the minute, but he could hardly think rationally with panic rooting him to one spot. He nearly screamed when someone large wrapped their arms around his lithe body, until Apex’s soothing voice reached his ears. 

“Woah, hey, don’t freak out. I’m going to get you out of here. Starfish created a diversion--I’ll explain later--but it won’t last for long. Come on, let’s go while they’re too busy dealing with the escapees.”

Permafrost nodded numbly, and together, they scrambled out of the MudWing castle and into the open air beyond. 

Chapter Text

Condor was in her study when the letter came. Her eyes did a quick two-second scan over the words, but it took her mind an additional thirty seconds to fully catch up with what she had just read. When it did, she crumpled the paper up in her talons and launched at the wall out of fury. 

“Those numbskulled MudWings! Gah!! I should have known not to trust them with Apex’s life! I suppose I can’t even trust my closest companion!”

For a moment, Condor was so overcome with paranoia that she could do naught but throw furtive glances at every passing shadow. They seemed to contain the forms of dragons within their murky boundaries, laughing at her, taunting her. Then, the moment passed and she was able to fully focus on the task at hand: Queen Copperhead needed to be taken care of, and swiftly, before rumor got out that she and Condor had been exchanging private correspondences for nearly a year and a half. Who knows what the MudWing queen would do with the treasure trove of information she had in her big, ugly claws. After all, you know what they say. Two can keep a secret…

~

“It feels like we’ve been walking for hours,” Permafrost complained behind him. Normally, Apex would snap back at him. Now, however, he merely sympathized with the little IceWing’s plight. He likely hadn’t been fed very well, if his emaciated figure was any indication, nor did he receive proper exercise during his time with the MudWings. Additionally, a hacking cough seemed to be creeping up on Permafrost, immobilizing him for a few minutes out of every hour as they wracked his gaunt body. Apex suspected that it was a result of the dampness of the MudWing cells, which meant that Permafrost’s recovery would be long and hard. Apex would do all that he could, but for all his power and influence, the SkyWing prince was useless to help his friend at the moment. 

“Just a little longer,” Apex reassured.

“You said that forty minutes ago! Remind me again why we aren’t flying,” Permafrost demanded. 

“It’s too risky,” Apex spoke soothingly. He knew Permafrost was frustrated, but yelling wouldn’t help them escape the marshes and it certainly wouldn’t help the IceWing’s cough. “A giant golden dot in the sky? We’re sure to be discovered. It’s not exactly like we bled in. Trust me, it’s safer on the ground, where we can hide amongst the weeds and mud.”

Permafrost grumbled something unsavory under his breath, but no further complaints came from him as they marched on through the muck. Apex honestly didn’t know how the MudWings lived in this. The mud sucked at his claws and made every step ten times more laborious than it needed to be. Though, he reasoned that any dragon out of their element would wonder as to the mentality of that land’s inhabitants. He had no doubt that Permafrost found the harsh winds and high elevation of the SkyWing palace to be unpleasant, though the IceWing never seemed to complain. More likely than not, though, his lack of complaints about the location of his prison were overshadowed by the fact that he was a captive in the first place and that his captor had--indirectly--blinded him. Ironically, the one to pull Apex out of his thoughts of Permafrost was the little spitfire himself, having stubbornly stopped a few paces away from where Apex was standing. The weeds rustled as Apex tramped back around to face Permafrost to encourage him to keep moving, but the look on the IceWing’s face stopped him. It was equal parts pain and concentration, as though he was trying to will away the aches in his body. Eventually, as it usually does, the pain won. With a heaving gasp, Permafrost began sporadically coughing, so violently that the force of it dragged him into a sitting position. Apex watched, helpless against whatever had made its way into his companion’s lungs. 

When the fit had passed, Apex shuffled forward, placing his claws on his companion’s shoulder. For once, Permafrost seemed too out-of-it to pull away. That was worrisome; There was nothing that the IceWing hated more than being touched. Even worse, the lavender-colored dragon leaned into the touch, as though he was no longer able to support himself. Apex--who was willing to carry most of the burden--figured that it’d be easier on Permafrost and faster overall if he just carried the tiny dragon. And that’s what he did--lugging Permafrost up onto his back and trudging forward, jaw set in determination. 

However, keeping up a steady pace on nothing but adrenaline was taxing, and bound to become nearly impossible as soon as the energy melted into exhaustion. Apex hadn’t eaten in a day or two, and had just spent the last few hours single-handedly undermining the prison system of the MudWing kingdom, releasing every innocent person that Copperhead had wrongfully imprisoned. Well, he hadn’t quite done it alone. Starfish had proven to be of a great deal of help to him, and it eased Apex’s consciousness to know that he had helped get them out of that horrific situation. They had most likely snuck out during the frenzy that had ensued during the coup, and were probably on their way back to the ocean at this very moment. He wished them well, and hoped that their journey wasn’t nearly as onerous as his was turning out to be.

On his back, Permafrost groaned and shifted. He felt hot--much too hot for any dragon, let alone an IceWing. His scales gave the effect of melting, as they often did, glinting in the dying light like morning dew. The SkyWing prince turned his attention back to marching, one laborious step at a time, and eventually made it to a clearing. Needing a moment to catch his breath but not wanting to stay for too long, (lest he be discovered and dragged tail-first back to Queen Copperhead) he laid down and curled his legs underneath his body, to ensure that he wouldn’t fall asleep. 

Sparrows flitted from branch to branch high above his head, and Apex’s mouth watered at the prospect of a roasted duck. It wouldn’t do much to fill him, but maybe there was one nearby… But these thoughts led nowhere. Apex was much too tired to hunt, and besides, he couldn’t leave Permafrost on his own. The little dragon was sleeping so peacefully on his back, and the prince doubted he would have the strength to fight if someone should discover him while Apex was away. Permafrost was skillful, yes, but not invincible. Nor would his stubbornness get him very far in the state he was in, though… Apex had underestimated his perseverance in the past. Still, Permafrost looked like he had one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel. Apex was running out of options, and fast. The sun was setting, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to complete the journey back to his homeland without at least some semblance of food in his stomach. Permafrost would need food to, if he was ever going to pull himself out of this sickness in a timely manner. On foot, their journey would take over a month… and Apex didn’t think his frosty friend could endure that much walking as it were. 

As Apex lay in contemplation, unbeknownst to him, a dragon was ever-so-slowly creeping towards him, their green tail lashing. They hopped from bush to bush, easily blending into the foliage thanks to the camouflage afforded to them by their scales. They zipped between the trees, emerald eyes focused on their prize: The shimmer of gold behind the drooping leaves of a willow tree, the muted lavender draped over it. They were a yard away. Then, a foot. Then, just a few inches… 

“AHA! I found you!” They yelled, jumping out to startle the overgrown golden nugget laying in the mud. And surprise him they did--Apex leapt up with a roar, effectively knocking Permafrost off his back and abruptly waking the IceWing. 

“Hey!” The lavender dragon protested weakly, scrabbling after Apex’s warmth. “What the--I was taking a nap! I had a dream we were flying back home… But now I’m glad we weren’t in the air, you bumbling oaf!”

“Yeah, Apex, that was so uncool,” Starfish chimed in. “Talk about rude awakenings. You should totally apologize.”

“Me?! Apologize?! I wasn’t the crazy dragon who leapt out of the brush to scare the perfectly peaceful ones!” Apex fumed, smoke curling around his nostrils.

“Woah, cool your jets! I was just kidding,” Starfish attempted to smoothe Apex’s ruffled feathers, so to speak. “Besides, your smoke signal is gonna alert every available patrol as to our location, and no one wants that. So deep breaths, kay?”

Apex, crossing his eyes to see the smoke wafting up from his snout, quickly snorted to stifle it. He took a deep breath, letting the angry embers in his chest grow cold and stagnant, and successfully got control over his own temper. Stupid SkyWings let their emotions dictate their actions, he thought to himself, and I am not a stupid SkyWing. I am the prince. “I’m glad to see that you escaped okay, Starfish. But, I have to wonder… why are you coming this way?”

“Huh?” They tilted their head to the side like they didn’t understand the question. “Well… I’m catching up with you guys, duh. How else am I going to get into the SkyWing palace? I doubt they’d let me in just because I told them that I saved your sorry rump.”

“Starfish,” Apex began gently, “you’re your own dragon now. You can go anywhere you want, see anything you want. Aren’t SeaWings most happy… y’know… in the sea?”

Starfish shrugged. “I don’t really remember the sea. It’s an unfamiliar place, where I’d be alone and surrounded by strange dragons. I know you, though…”

Apex swung his head from side to side, disbelieving. “Wait, wait. You want to go live with the first dragon you meet? Do you even hear yourself?”

Starfished ears flattened against their head, and they shuffled their claws uncomfortably. “That’s… That’s not the only reason, I swear. You were… well, you were the first dragon who’s been nice to me in a long time. And I… I really want to make it up to you. Plus, I guess… I just trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone before. I get good vibes from you.”

“This is--!”

“Can you hunt?” Permafrost cut in, and the words died on Apex’s lips. 

“Yes,” Starfish chirped in reply, instantly brightening when they saw an opening. 

“Perfect. Then you’re in. I like fish, by the way.” Permafrost spun around and began poking around in the mud, leaving Apex gaping. He was surprised to find that all his protests had died in his mind the moment Permafrost had spoken in favor of Starfish joining their ragtag group. Apex hadn’t really considered the sheer impact that the IceWing had on him, but he was starting to grasp the totality of it. The prince was, truly, wrapped around his companion’s claw. 

He sighed, wings drooping in defeat. “Fine. You can join us.” Starfish squealed in delight and Apex rolled his eyes, preparing for the longest road trip of his life. 

Chapter Text

“Are you enjoying your fish, my love?”

Apex snorted, nearly hacking up a piece of catfish that lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed difficulty, forcing it down so he could speak. “What,” came the breathless response, more a statement than a question. Permafrost felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Starfish--sensing piping hot tea--instantly looked up from their own pile of fish. 

“I just asked how your food was,” Permafrost said coyly. 

“O-Oh…” Apex stuttered out. “I just thought you…”

“I what?” Permafrost tilted his head to the side innocently, his tongue flicking over his pearly white teeth. 

“N-Nevermind… It doesn’t matter…”

The IceWing shrugged, returning to his own food. He let the awkward silence build up, just for the sake of making Apex squirm, and then muttered, “Whatever you say, darling.”

The reaction was immediate. Apex scrambled to his feet, pointing an accusatory claw at Permafrost, even though the latter couldn’t see it. “See?! There it is again! You keep calling me these pet names, and--”

“Apex,” Starfish cut in, confusion lacing their tone, “what are you talking about? Permafrost is just asking you how the fish is.”

Apex’s head swung back and forth between the two innocuous faces staring at him--or, in Permafrost’s case, in his general direction--and stomped his foot in frustration. It made a squelching noise in the mud, and Apex shook the sludge out from in between his toes with a disgusted shake. “That’s it! All you two do is mess with me all day long, and I need a break! I’m going for a walk before I end up pushing you both into a pit of quicksand!!” On that note, he absconded into the tangle of reeds surroundingthe mud pit they had stationed themselves in for the night. Starfish flicked their tail in unease: They hadn’t meant to scare their only protection away. They had just wanted to poke fun at him a little. Besides, Apex was the one who pretended to proclaim his undying love for Permafrost in the Queen’s castle, for the sake of the ruse of idiotic passion. 

“Think he’ll be back soon?” They murmured to Permafrost, who lay just a few feet away. He pretended not to hear Starfish, even though the SeaWing knew that his perception was impeccable. Though, they thought, he hasn’t been at the top of his game ever since he got sick. Even now, Permafrost looked like he had been dragged through the mud and laid out to dry: His movements were stiff, and every time they thought he had beaten his fever, it always seemed to return with a vengeance. Additionally, his hacking cough had progressively gotten worse until he could hardly travel more days than not. Starfish knew that Apex was worried, even if he tried his best to appear indifferent towards Permafrost’s fate. 

Starfish was starting to think Permafrost had fallen asleep on his food. His eyes were closed, and most of his fish was untouched. That was another thing entirely: He had begun to lose his appetite. Apex was close to forcing food down the other dragon’s throat, Starfish knew. And while they were no doctor, Starfish was pretty confident that they’d have to stop somewhere and find a doctor pretty soon. At this rate, Permafrost would starve to death, if the cough didn’t take his life first. The thought made Starfish exceedingly unhappy; In spite of themselves, they couldn’t find it in their heart to treat these dragons as if they were nothing more than a couple of strangers. They had always been good at masking or pushing away emotions. They had to be, to survive years of living with Queen Copperhead. But these two had brought something out in Starfish, and fierce protectiveness and loyalty that they hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hey,” they probed, trying to get Permafrost to look up. He didn’t. 

“Come on, I knew you were tired of Apex’s grouchiness, but I didn’t think you meant literally, ” they joked, attempting to get Permafrost to laugh. He maintained his silence. 

“Permafrost,” Starfish grew serious. “You have to get up. We’re only stopping to eat, remember? We have to get moving, or it’ll put us back another day.” Nothing.

Equal parts fed up and concerned, Starfish hauled themselves to their feet and softly stepped closer to the IceWing, so as not to disturb him if he was asleep. They twisted their head to look at him from different angles: A little lavender bundle, curled up around a pile of slimy brown fish. Starfish couldn’t tell if he was awake, thanks to the absence of open eyes, but his ear twitched when she placed a claw on him. He was cold; Perhaps naturally so? Or maybe… his ear had remained stationary, and it had just been the wind that had shifted it. Maybe…

“Permafrost? Permafrost?!”

~

Apex slithered over the mud, crouching low in the reeds so as to avoid detection. The whole time, he muttered about the idiocy of his companions, and questioned why he even bothered to stay with them in the first place. The journey would be much faster, if it was just me, Apex reasoned. As soon as the thought entered his head, however, he shook it off. He hadn’t come so far with Permafrost just to abandon him in the middle of some random swamp. And Starfish… he owed them a great debt. They were the only reason he had been able to make this journey, after all. It only seemed fair that they be allowed to tag along, especially since they were willing to take the load of watching Permafrost off of Apex’s shoulders. The two of them alternated the responsibility of hunting: Some days, he would go out while Starfish watched their tiny spitfire. Other days, Starfish would be the one to go out. On those days, like today, they usually ate fish ( bleck) . Apex was grateful for the food, and he would never complain, but he preferred a good cow. Maybe even an alligator. 

Trapped in his head, reflecting, Apex didn’t notice the dragon in the underbrush until he practically fell on top of them. His claws knocked into something that felt like solid rock, and he scrambled away just before he stepped on whatever he had touched to get a better look. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a MudWing and silently cursed fate for leading him to this moment. They were going to get discovered and turned in, and it was all his fault. He just had to go for a walk! He made to stutter out an apology and retreat as quickly as possible, but the giant brown dragon hadn’t moved. Experimentally, Apex poked their amber scales. Still, no response. Furthermore, they were so cold. Dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, he wrapped his talons around the MudWing’s shoulder and hefted them onto their side. Blank, dead eyes stared back at him, and he had to bite back a yelp. Carefully stepping over the deceased dragon, he pushed further through the reeds towards a gathering of brown mounds he spied over the tops of the reeds. 

The eerie silence permeated the swamp. No crickets, no cicadas, no squeak of mice underfoot; The endless melody of the marshes had been silenced in this place, and Apex could feel the tension building with each step he took. Slowly, forcing his talons to remain steady, he pushed back the last curtain of weeds separating the wild bog from this little sector of civilization. 

What he saw, he knew, would follow him for the rest of his life. 

They were all dead. A hundred dragons, laying in the mud, in various states of decay. An entire village, with no sign of struggle in sight… no blood, no wounds, as if… 

“Permafrost!”

~

The letter reached Queen Holly in her bedchamber. Exasperated and bone-tired, she ripped it open with a talon in agitation, her eyes blankly skimming the words written there. Her gaze drifted to the bottom of the page, and her wings snapped open in surprise. 

“Queen Pyre? Why on Pyrrhia would she be writing to me, of all dragons??”

In an attempt to answer this question, she let her eyes travel back to the top of the page and reread the words she had briefly scanned the first time around. The more she read, the more she felt anger blossom and swell in her chest. By the time she had finished it, the paper had crumpled around her bone-crushing grip. In a fury, she tore it to shreds and tossed the pieces in the air. They drifted down around her, swirling like snowflakes in the wind as they floated towards the icy ground. 

“Permafrost,” she growled, eyes burning with hatred. 

Chapter Text

Weeds pulled at their claws as they raced along the twisting path, obviously unused by dragons for centuries. Besides its overgrowth, trees had sprouted in the spaces where there should have been a clear passageway, forcing Apex and Starfish to diverge from it and rejoin it wherever it started up again. A number of obstacles stood in their path, including fallen trunks, rocks, and pits of quicksand deep enough to submerge a dragon to their elbows before they even realized what was happening. It was a treacherous journey, made even more so by the limp dragon strapped to the prince’s back. It was nigh impossible, but Apex was nothing if not devoted to his cause. They had always found a way out of trouble before, so why would now be any different? This was the hope he clung to as he zigzagged between rotten stumps and pools of stagnant water: Permafrost would be okay, just as long as they could get out of the marshes. His lungs burned in protest with each step, and Apex had no doubt that Starfish was also feeling the strain of this desperate scramble in their muscles. Just a little longer. But that was exactly what he had told Permafrost, rather than own up to the fact that he was utterly and completely lost. In the end, his pride had cost them precious time. It had cost Permafrost precious time. 

He broke out of the grove of trees he had been powering through and into a shady hollow; In fact, he nearly fell over the lip of it and tumbled into its shallow depths in his rush to plow onwards. He stopped just in time, claws digging into the edge. A cascade of pebbles rained down into the. It appeared they had reached a river basin, once flowing with water and now all but dried up, except for a few patches of mud here and there. Starfish ran up beside him, stopping at the edge and looking down into the pit of land less than a foot below them. They were panting, letting their tongue loll out of their open maw. 

“Why did… we stop…?” They asked between gulps. 

Apex swiveled his head around, buying himself time as he pretended to examine the surroundings. It was no use. He had no idea where they were, where they were going, or why they were even running. He just knew he had to get out of MudWing territory, and soon. A sense of erroneousness had set into his bones, telling him that it was past time he left this swampish nightmare. “I don’t know,” he whispered a breathless response to Starfish, hoping they would have some advice to offer. They didn’t.

“Well, we’re screwed.” They plopped onto the ground, heaving a heavy sigh. “This place all looks the same! Tree, mud, brown, dark green, that’s all I see!”

“Haven’t you lived here for years?” Apex asked scornfully, his snout wrinkling.

“I’ve lived in the palace for years,” they corrected. “It’s a lot different than actually… being here. It’s kinda surreal, actually. I never thought… well, I never even imagined what the world would look like beyond the bars of my cage. In my dreams, the mud flats were always… obscure.”

Apex fell silent, scratching at the rock under his talons. It was the only solid ground he had seen in miles, and even then, it was crumbling under his touch like it was nothing but packed sand. He heard Permafrost’s breathing--hollow, rattling, shallow--and recalled his panic when he had discovered his friend in his current comatose state. 

Immediately after discovering the village of dead dragons, he had raced back to where he had left Starfish to care for his sickly IceWing. Only one thing could slay a community of dragons so quickly, kill without leaving its mark upon the victim. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Every MudWing he had seen in that village was practically skeletal, as if they hadn’t been eating well… from that point, it was only a matter of putting two and two together. 

A plague had struck the MudWing kingdom. 

And Permafrost was about to be another victim of it. 

“Well,” Starfish hesitantly broke the silence stretching between the two of them, “neither of us have any knowledge of medicine, right? I think our best best would be to find some sort of witchdoctor, or… doctor-doctor. Or… you know… anyone who might have even a semblance of an answer. An educated guess? Anything is better than just watching him…” They let the sentence drift off, unfinished, but the implication rang louder than any words. Die. 

“I know that,” Apex snapped back, peevishly. “I… I know. I don’t want to see him suffering, trust me. If you can tell me how to find a doctor, I’ll gladly do whatever I can to reach them.” 

Starfish gulped, held their breath. They could tell that all this helpless floundering had Apex’s nerves worn down to the point of snapping, and they hadn’t meant to provoke him further. Still… the prince didn’t have a plan, or even a suggestion. They were both running on empty, literally and figuratively, and they wouldn’t get very far without a plan. So, the SeaWing tried again, standing up and softening their tone so as not to create further conflict between them. 

“I don’t,” they said slowly, “but I know someone who might.” 

“... and you couldn’t bring this up earlier, because…?”

“I just now thought of it!” Starfish hissed defensively, drawing their claws to their chest. “Also, it’s sort of hard to talk to you when you were flying through the forest like a bat out of hell!”

“That’s--! Fair…” Apex sighed, letting his mind wander for a moment. He only snapped back to reality when Starfish poked his shoulder. 

“We should go… I’ll lead the way.” 

“Yeah,” Apex muttered grimly. Starfish twisted around and began making their way around the hollow, and Apex followed with his head hung low. He watched the grass crumple beneath his talons and resisted the urge to drag his claws through the muck in frustration. He hated this place, and all its inhabitants. Some part of him knew that his enmity was misplaced, that Copperhead should be the only recipient of his vehement loathing, but he didn’t care at this very moment. He could be reasonable later. 

Starfish’s march took them by bogs and foggy mud pits, through fields of squishy grass and sluggish, brown rivers. They travelled for miles on a seemingly endless trail. Permafrost was getting heavy on his back, and his spines were starting to dig in-between his scales. The ragtag group was running low on food, time, and the strength to keep going. All of this weighed heavily on Apex’s mind as they wound their way through the forest, almost as pressing as the physical weight of a full-grown IceWing on top of him. The prince was, in fact, just about to voice his complaints when Starfish stopped suddenly in front of him, coming to a complete and abrupt halt. Apex nearly ran into her backside, and felt indignation swell in his chest upon recovering from the shock of it. 

“Hey, why--!”

“ShshshsSHHHHH!!”

Apex obeyed, snapping his mouth shut. He would have liked to give Starfish a piece of his mind, but he had known them for long enough to figure that there was a good reason they were telling him to zip his lips. And so they waited. The sounds of the bog drifted around them, fading in and out of earshot as the sun sunk below the horizon and nocturnal creatures began to rouse from their slumber. Apex heard the buzzing of a mosquito by his left ear, and an owl screeched in the distance as its talons hit their mark on some unsuspecting prey. The thought made his mouth water. Frogs croaked and the wind rustled the drooping leaves of the willows around them. So far, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Starfish, however, had their ears perked up and their head swivelling around in every direction, as if hearing something that Apex couldn’t. He was beginning to think that this was just more of Starfish’s antics when a branch snapped behind them. A large branch, snapped by a large animal. Apex ran through defensive maneuvers in his head, rooted his feet firmly on the ground, and swung around to pin whatever it was to a tree. 

“GAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

The piercing screech took Apex by surprise, and he was further mystified by Starfish’s attempt to pull him off of the intruder. He looked down at the burly MudWing under his claws, cowering in fear with one wing pulled up over his massive head. The scream couldn’t have come from him; Or, at least, that’s what Apex thought until the dragon began speaking. 

“I-I-I’m sorry… D-Didn’t m-mean to sc-scare you…” The MudWing said softly, ears drooping remorsefully. Starfish finally managed to drag their golden companion off of the brutish MudWing. 

“It’s okay Bullfrog, you didn’t do anything wrong. Apex’s just a little… hot-headed.” 

“A-A-A-Apex?!” The MudWing, Bullfrog, squealed. He instantly dipped into a low bow, forehead pressed against the dirt in reverie. “Your M-Majesty! Please for-forgive me for s-sneaking up on you like th-that!” 

At least someone cares who I am in this accursed kingdom, Apex thought ruefully. “Don’t call me that,” he hissed. “Not here. I don’t want to be dragged back to Copperhead’s house of horrors because someone hears you.” 

“Queen Copperhead,” Bullfrog whispered, as if something had just occurred to him. “Starfish, how come you’re not with her? Sh-She didn’t let you out of her sight l-last time I saw you.”

Starfish hung their head, as if ashamed. “It’s… a long story,” they breathed out past a sigh. Bullfrog didn’t push the matter any further.

“O-Okay… Well, wh-what are you doing so deep in the bayou…? Especially th-this late at night… wh-what if you fall over a branch and get h-hurt? What if you come across an alligator, and-and step on its tail, and it eats you?? What if--”

“Bullfrog, Bullfrog,” Starfish soothed. “Don’t fall down the rabbit hole of possibilities. Nothing good comes from that, remember? We hope for the worst, plan for the best, and take deep breaths. One thing at a time.” Bullfrog nodded and began to breathe a bit deeper, though it just sounded like he was gulping air to Apex. “As for why we’re out here… well, we have a bit of an issue, and I was hoping you’d be hanging around these parts.”

“I-I-Issue?”

Apex presented the timid MudWing with Permafrost, who remained draped over his back, as he had been for the past five hours. Bullfrog gasped softly, examining the gaunt figure. Permafrost’s lavender scales shone dully, and his white underbelly had taken on an ashy shade of grey. He was barely breathing, Apex knew; He could feel the shallow breaths and weak coughs. They were the only indication that Permafrost was still holding on. Bullfrog’s eyes flicked up to take in the strange collection of misfits he’d run into--A SeaWing running away from the sea, the prince of the SkyWing kingdom, and a dying IceWing. His eyes fell on a scar running down Apex’s neck--it looked fairly recent, if the blood crusted around the edges was any indication--and he took a step away, fearful. 

“Y-You have to promise me that Coypu won’t get in any t-trouble for helping you…”

Starfish held Bullfrog’s gaze for a moment, then let it drop. That seemed to be all the answer he needed, and he turned to amble away. Apex, desperate, shouted after him. 

“W-Wait! Please, Bullfrog, we need your help!” 

“I c-can’t put my teacher’s life in danger,” he responded over his shoulder, though the answer seemed to make him nervous. “Please understand... “

Apex felt his claws itching to move. He wouldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t let it end like this. So, without thinking, he raced towards Bullfrog’s retreating form, ignoring Starfish’s shouts behind him. When he was about a foot away, his muscles bunched up, every one of his nerves charged with potential energy. A moment passed--a brief lapse in time, where the world seemed to stand still--before Apex leapt over Bullfrog’s head and landed neatly in front of his path. The MudWing stopped in his tracks, yelping in surprise. 

“Please,” Apex begged as he whirled around. “I can swear to you that so long as I am with you all, to the best of my ability, I will protect your teacher. Even if it means my death.”

Bullfrog’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You would die for your IceWing?” He whispered in amazement.

“I would do anything for Permafrost.”

Starfish finally caught up to the two males, just in time to hear Bullfrog say, “Alright. I’ll take you t-to Coypu…”

Chapter Text

Coypu was in heaven. 

She had finally managed to rid herself of that numbskulled clod, Bullfrog, for an entire afternoon! He was always on her heels, stumbling over his words to tell her about… a village, or something? She had stopped listening to him about five years ago, when the apprenticeship had been thrust upon her by his parents, who hoped it would force him to make something of himself. At the time, she hadn’t minded the thought of having another dragon around to fetch her whatever she needed, whenever she needed it, but she soon learned that he was more of a bother than he was useful. He bombarded her with pointless questions about existence, and had grown big enough to occupy about one-fifth of the space within her hut. That might not seem like a lot, but one-fifth becomes significant when you get wacked with a tail everytime he turns. 

Now, though…

Now was her time. She was spending her much-needed relaxation time in the hot-springs by her secluded hovel, warming her too-cold scales in the pleasantly bubbly water. Everything was going her way that afternoon: She had snagged an idiotic rabbit that morning and made a nice stew from it, which she finished in five big gulps. The naive village-mongers nearby had laid out their monthly tribute to her--some doing so fearing her ability to heal as animus magic and others out of respect for her accomplishments--and she had received a mango among the offerings. She had no idea where someone had gotten a mango of all things, but it was certainly a refreshing change to the usual coins and fish. Yup, today was going to be perfect. 

“Coypu!”

She didn’t hear it. 

“Coypu!!”

Maybe if she just ignored it, it would go away.

“COYPU--”

“WHAT?!” She splashed out of the warm water and made a lunge towards her rapidly approaching nuisance of a protege. 

He stopped in his tracks, frightened by the rage in her eyes, as she had hoped. Some small part of her felt bad, and she reflexively squashed it. Before he even had a chance to explain his intrusion, her eyes fell upon the other dragons he had brought to her humble abode: A SkyWing that looked to be carved out of pure gold, a SeaWing greener than a frog’s rear-end, and a bedraggled IceWing hanging limply on the gilded dragon. 

“Okay, Coypu, I can explain--”

“UuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUGH!” She let out a long, low groan, claws digging into the squishy mud. She nearly flung it directly into Bullfrong’s eyes: He deserved it, not only because he had disturbed her rest, but also because he had led a troupe of troublemakers to her only haven of relaxation. He was lucky she was merciful. 

“Okay, y-you’re mad,” he mumbled shyly. “I-I understand… But hear me out! Th-These dragons need help, and you’re the best healer in the swamp!” 

“You won’t find sympathy in flattery, you useless lump of--!” She hissed at Bullfrog. 

“ This is the dragon you were trying to protect?” The shiny dragon, completely ignoring Coypu’s protestations, strolled forward like an arrogant peacock. He swung his massive head around, eyes scanning the perimeter for any potential threats. 

“Protect? Me? Ha!” Coypu laughed sardonically, stepping in the giant dragon’s way to prevent him from moving further into her territory. “That sack of cow dung can’t even protect an egg, let alone a full-grown dragon. Now, just what do you think you’re doing, coming into my land as if you own the place? And why are you here?” Apex opened his mouth to speak, but she shoved a talon in his face to silence him. “No! Nevermind! I don’t want to know. She waved a claw in dismissal, sniffing disdainfully. “Go away.”

“B-But Coypu--!”

“That’s enough out of you,” she snapped. “I’m up to my ears in your ludicrousy on a daily basis, and you still manage to make my life harder with these asinine requests of yours. Just sit still, so I can pretend that you don’t exist for an hour.”

It was at that moment that Permafrost groaned on Apex’s back, giving a weak wheeze as he struggled to catch his breath. Apex carefully pulled the limp IceWing off of his back and massaged the space directly under his ribcage, as Bullfrog had instructed him to. Permafrost soon fell back into a normal breathing pattern and drifted back into a deep sleep. Coypu looked on with narrowed eyes, her tail twitching near-imperceptibly. Finally, she headed over to the small band of travellers and pushed Apex aside, in order to get a better look at the sickly dragon he had been caring for. Apex was about to protest, but he was silenced with a warning nudge from Starfish.

Coypu took her time examining Permafrost, listening to his breathing and checking his reflexes. “Bullfrog,” she finally said, her voice sounding distant as if she was deep in thought. “Grab honey and ginger. I should have some left over from last time.” 

“Last time?” Apex questioned, stepping forward despite Starfish’s insistent tugging. “So you’ve seen this before?”

“Yes,” Coypu said grimly, “I have.”

“Please, tell me what it is! I haven’t seen anything like it before!”

“That’s because the parasite that causes this can’t survive in the mountains. But before I tell you anything more…” She paused, absentmindedly pointing a talon in Apex’s direction. “ You tell me why the prince of the SkyWings is hanging around some run-down swamp in the middle of MudWing territory.”

“It’s… a long story,” Apex breathed out. “To give you the general gist of it, we were delivering a letter when we were both wrongfully imprisoned. By the queen. I-I think he might have picked this up in the dungeons, or--” 

Coypu snapped her head up, staring at Apex in an entirely different light. Her brow creased, and she turned her attention back to the afflicted IceWing below her claws. “The isolation rooms,” she said softly. 

“The… what?” Apex replied, confused. 

She shook her head, as though dismissing a memory that creeped into her consciousness. “They must have put him in there. It’s the only explanation, unless the two of you have been traipsing around in MudWing territory for over a year.”

“Over a year? What’s significant about a year?”

Apex was starting to get the sense that she was talking in riddles on purpose. Bullfrog silently came up beside her with the ingredients Coypu had requested, and she got to work: She forced Permafrost’s jaws open and stuffed a clawful of the honey inside, massaging his throat to get him to swallow it. Apex flinched, involuntarily thinking of how much his IceWing companion would hate this treatment and wishing he could hear his snippety protests. Instead, Permafrost remained dead silent as the herbs were forced down his gullet. 

“There,” she muttered, stepping away so Bullfrog could swoop in to pick Permafrost up; He did so effortlessly, as if he didn’t register the new weight draped over his broad shoulders. As much as Apex loathed MudWings due to recent events, he had to admire their strength and tenacity. 

“Is he healed?” Apex asked in a tentative voice, probing for a response from the seemingly distracted dragon. Luckily for him, Coypu had snapped back to her senses. 

“No, he’s not healed, you great blop of swamp mush! That was to ease his breathing, so we can make our way back home.” She rolled her eyes and whirled around, her tail flicking against Apex’s face in admonishment. Without warning, her and Bullfrog began to trot away and it was all Apex could do to force his tired legs to keep pace with them. He heard Starfish trailing behind him, and a quick glance back confirmed that they were following, albeit slowly. 

“Wait!” He called out to the two MudWings, who were about five feet ahead. “Does this mean you’ll heal him?”

Coypu grumbled over her shoulder, “The only thing that can heal him is time and fate. All I can do is soothe his pain, or ease his passing. But… I’m going to try. So hurry up, you dimwitted son of a donkey!!”

Chapter Text

This was a disaster.

An utter, indisputable, humiliating disaster. 

Fatechanger charged through the ranks of idle NightWings, jostling through the crowd to reach her beloved queen. Queen Ebonyshadow was addressing her subordinates, graciously taking time out of her busy schedule to attend to the miniscule happenstances that aggrieved the gathered mob of underlings. They don’t deserve her, Fatechanger thought. But she could worry about the queen’s too-soft heart later: Now, she was on a mission. 

Fatechanger fought the urge to wince every time someone’s wing brushed up against her own, deigning to focus on the sensation of the scroll encasement digging into her palm with each squeeze. It was a good distraction, and a reminder of the weighty subject contained within its cylindrical golden walls. Finally, she reached her queen, who didn’t so much as glance at her favorite attendant in the world. It was as if she wasn’t aware of Fatechanger’s presence, but the twinkle in the queen’s amber eyes said otherwise. Fatechanger sat and waited patiently, unlike all the imbeciles chattering for her attention. 

“Queen Ebonyshadow!” One of them, a slim Nightwing with midnight-blue scales, clamored. “What Bonecrusher says is preposterous! How can I steal something he never had in the first place?!” 

“Ohoho, is that the game we’re playing?” Another, a coal-black NightWing with a gray underbelly and broad shoulders, hissed back. “Riddle me this, Stygian: How did you come to possess my ancestors' heirloom, hm? I suppose Riftwhisper came back from the dead and handed you his favorite horn ornament??”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Stygian cried back, voice shrill with fury. “My grandfather’s name was Rainwatcher! The initials ‘R.W’ don’t exclusively belong to your family, so the engraving isn’t evidence! Do you remember being given this treasure by your parents?”

Bonecrusher shuffled, suddenly uncertain. His massive size only served to make his bashfulness comical. He looked like a giant dragonet, chastised for being a bully. “Well… no… because you stole it before it could be given to me!”

Stygian stared at him for a good forty seconds, sharp yellow eyes unreadable. Then, he muttered in a dark tone, “Bonecrusher, your parents died twenty years ago.” 

“Yeah.”

“And we’re twenty-two.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“So you think… that as a dragonet… I snuck out of my cavern, into yours, and stole your gold band? And I’ve kept it for twenty years, but you’re just now noticing? Don’t you think that your family would have brought it up if something as precious as a family heirloom was stolen?”

“N-No,” Bonecrusher stuttered. “Because my family isn’t full of a bunch of whiny babies! We take what’s ours, instead of complaining about it!”

Stygian was about to respond, when Queen Ebonyshadow raised a perfect, shiny claw to silence him. “Wait,” she rumbled in a melodic voice. “I’m thinking.” 

Silence permeated the hall, unbroken but for the steady drip of water from the stalagmites to the floor of the cave. Fatechanger held her breath in anticipation, staring intently at her liege. Punish them, she willed. Punish them for wasting your time, my queen! This dispute clearly isn’t worth your attention. Send them away! No, even better, exile them! Banish them from our sanctuary, never to return--

“Have you tried splitting the band in half?” Queen Ebonyshadow leaned forward, eyes bright and innocent. The enemy dragons looked at each other, confused, and turned back to their leader. 

“N-No,” Stygian stuttered out. He was going to explain that it would ruin the precious accessory, but before he could get a word in edgewise, he was interrupted by the queen’s cheerful voice. 

“Well, there you have it! Try cleaving it into two equal parts, so you can both own it!” Stygian and Bonecrusher were sent away with a wave of her claw, and the heavy doors to her chamber were shut behind them. With a huff, Queen Ebonyshadow gracefully slipped off her dias and padded towards her bedchamber. Fatechanger raced after her, admiring the way the deep violet of her scales seemed to absorb the faint light of the glowglobes ensconced in the walls. The thought of how those scales would feel under her talons--cool, smooth, flawless --excited her beyond her capacity to express. Of course, those desires would remain firmly rooted in Fatechanger’s head: As a measly messenger, she didn’t deserve the right to soil the queen with her lowly touch. But… there was no way to tarnish something that wasn’t tangible. And so, Fatechanger maintained her dreams. 

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Fatechanger meekly forced out, just as the queen reached the door to her private quarters. The queen whirled around, perplexion written across her face. It was soon replaced with delight, once she laid eyes on the little messenger flitting around underneath her. She loved her couriers: They were all so small and thin, like twigs that she could easily snap between her powerful jaws. She supposed that their size made them speedy, but regardless of the reason, it amused her to see the tiny dragons run around delivering packages and postage. 

“Well, hello, little birdling! What have you brought me today?” She held her talons out expectantly. A little tube was placed in the palm, and as Ebonyshadow’s grip closed around it, her talon just barely brushed against Fatechanger’s claw. The feeling sent electricity down the sycophant’s spine, and it was all she could do to suppress a shudder. “A message? Let’s see what it contains,” the queen continued, but Fatechanger was barely listening. She was too busy watching the shadows dance around her queen, overtaking the meager halo of light around them until the world seemed to be filled with nothing but the exquisite darkness. Suddenly, Fatechanger was brought back to her senses with a surprised yelp from the empress. 

“What is it, My Liege?” Fatechanger stepped forward, observing the panic written in Queen Ebonyshadow’s expression. A powerful loathing overtook her: She vowed to destroy whoever had made her queen’s blissfully pure expression twist into that of fear and anger. 

“The IceWings,” she whispered back, absently. “They’re in trouble.” 

~

Apex was getting déjà vu. He nervously fussed over Permafrost, reluctantly moving out of the way whenever Coypu approached with a new concoction that would (hopefully) ease Permafrost’s pain. He felt like a hurricane; Everytime he moved, he inevitably knocked something over in the cramped hut. Coypu didn’t kick him out, as she was secretly touched by this clumsy dolt’s devotion to his companion’s well-being, but that didn’t mean she didn’t give him a firm wack across the snout whenever he knocked something important to the earthen floor. By the fourth shattered pot, Coypu was beginning to think that she had overestimated Bullfrog’s ungainliness and thanked the stars that she hadn’t ended up with someone like this as a mentee. Still, the only punishment Apex received was a cuff or a crack on the head with a wooden object. 

Starfish and Bullfrog were hanging around outside the door, acting as guards--except for when one or both of them were sent into the bog to retrieve more supplies. Apex watched Coypu tirelessly work from dusk until dawn, only taking small breaks here and there to eat or drink. About five hours into her work, when the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, Permafrost began to wake up. It took him an entire hour to shake off the last dregs of sleep from his hazy mind, and even then, the IceWing couldn’t quite seem to form words properly. Coypu said that this was a natural side effect of the illness, and that Permafrost’s wakefulness was a good sign, but that did next to nothing to soothe Apex’s distress. The prince talked to his friend for nearly an hour, getting nothing but nonsense babbling in return, until Permafrost succumbed to sleep once more.

“He’s asleep,” Apex murmured thoughtfully. “I thought you said it was a good sign if he was awake? What does it mean if he falls back asleep?”

He didn’t receive a response.

Another hour passed by, with the sun climbing higher in the sky. Apex filled his time with a little investigation of the hut, carefully cataloging the unfamiliar spices, herbs, and strangely colored mixtures in glass vials throughout the room. The shelves on the wall held a variety of skulls, and Apex tried his best not to think about the purpose of those. Eventually, he moved on from probing his surroundings to interrogating Coypu. He figured he should know a bit more about the dragon who just saved his closest friend’s scales--that is, if Permafrost responded to the treatment. 

“So, how long have you been healing?”

“I’ve been doing it for long before you were born, kid, and I’ll be doing it long after you’ve died if the scars on your neck are any indication of the trouble you get yourself into on a regular basis. How did you get those, anyway, and why haven’t you let them heal properly?”

“Ah…” Apex was unprepared for Coypu to turn the cross-examination around on him. He shuffled uncomfortably, his voice lowering to a husky mumble of embarrassment. “Well… the queen’s executioner…?” 

Coypu didn’t even blink. “Is that a statement or a question, boy?”

“Statement. We were…”

“Falsely accused of a crime and sent to Queen Copperhead’s palace to die?”

Apex’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “How did you…?”

Coypu sighed, setting down the jar of honey that she had been trying to work down Permafrost’s throat. “Been there, done that. The benefit about being as old as I am, bucko, is that I’ve seen a lot. I’ve been through a lot. I recognize the executioner's method of choice when I see it, because I’ve disposed of the bodies that bear those marks. What I meant was: How did you get those and survive? ”

“I… don’t know,” Apex admitted with an uncertain shrug. “I was dying… and then I wasn’t. Maybe someone saved me.”

“Unlikely,” Coypu huffed. “Perhaps the odds are in your favor. Maybe the great dragons of the past are looking down on you, protecting you from harm. Or perhaps you're just too stubborn to die.” Apex took that as an insult, until her face split into a grin. “I like that. Never give in, kid. Fight until your last breath. The world’s never going to be on your side. Even when things look sunny, that’s just the sun blinding you so you don’t see the knife at your throat until it’s too late.” 

“That’s… dismal,” Apex got the sense that Coypu was trying to motivate him, but she was doing a very poor job of it. 

“Yeah, well…” Her expression darkened. “Take it from someone with experience. The world sucks, but it sucks a little less when you have someone like that little IceWing pet you keep by your side.” She inclined her head towards Permafrost pointedly. 

“He’s not my pet. At one point, he was nothing more than an accessory. But now…” Apex felt a surge of emotions rise within him, and hurried to quell them before they threatened to overtake him.

“Now you don’t know how you feel,” Coypu finished. 

“Exactly. He dominates my thoughts, like a parasite. But… a good parasite. Almost like a… a…” Apex floundered for words, waving his talons in the air as he fruitlessly wracked his brain for a way to describe how he felt about his companion. 

“A paramour?” Coypu looked equal parts unimpressed and amused.

“Yes! That’s--Wait, no! No, no, no, back up! I’m not… in love with him, I just--”

“Think about him, even when you’re not together? Fuss over his health? Long to stay by his side, through thick and thin and everything in-between?”

Apex sat down heavily, his heart beating out of his chest. He was worried Coypu could hear it, as though that was some sort of special skill that witch-doctors alone possessed. “I’m screwed.”

“No, boy, you’re in love.” Coypu sat down with him, patting his golden scales reassuringly. “Don’t waste this feeling. You may never get it again, and with the adventures you two get into… well, you can never truly know how much time either of you have left.”

Hearing her say it like that, Apex realized that she was right. He couldn’t be sure he’d have another opportunity to confess his feelings to Permafrost… that is, if Permafrost pulled through. He opened his mouth to respond when Bullfrog poked his massive head into the hut.

“M-M-M-M-”

“Spit it out, fool!” Coypu snapped at him. 

“MudWing patrol!!” 

Chapter Text

“Have you taken leave of your wits? Why in the world would a SkyWing and an IceWing be traipsing around in a swamp committing crimes?? Do you even realize how absurd you sound?”

“Ma’am, I just need to know if you’ve seen them, not a psychological evaluation.” 

“Of course I haven’t seen them,” Coypu snapped. “But my apprentice, Bullfrog, thinks he might have seen a three-legged frog the other day. Might want to go investigate that.”

“Do not mock a member of her majesty’s royal guard. We--”

“Oooo,” she hissed sarcastically, “how terrifying! A member of the royal guard! I’m shaking!” 

“Ma’am--”

“We think highly of ourselves, do we?” Coypu’s voice dripped with scorn as she advanced on the block headed buffoon attempting to intimidate her into a confession. If there was one thing she hated above all else, it was dragons with an inflated sense of self-importance. “For every minute of my time you occupy, sir, you’re preventing me from performing my job. Do you know what my job is?”

The guard nervously tried to edge around her, into the hut that she was currently barring from all entry. “I really don’t have time--”

“You don’t have time,” she barked out, sharp enough to draw his attention back towards her. “Would you like to know who else doesn’t have time? The dragons who are wasting away, thanks to your preoccupation with interrogating the only person that can hope to give them a chance of survival!” 

The stubborn MudWing set his jaw and shouldered past her. “I need to check inside your dwelling. If you truly haven’t seen them, then you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh, I have nothing to worry about. I’m immune to The Rot. You, however…” 

Her words made him stop in his tracks, claw poised in mid-air as he was just about to draw the curtain away from the entrance. “The… what?”

“You haven’t heard of it? I’m not surprised, since your level of education seems… dismal.” Coypu sidled up to the larger MudWing’s side, inclining her head towards her hut. “Inside the hut, you’ll find a sickly dragonet. She has an infection that is commonly called The Rot among MudWing clans, as it slowly eats away at a dragon’s neurological cells and causes them to behave erratically. Eventually, it kills the victim. This is why I became a doctor, you monkey-brained clown. It took someone I loved from me, so I’ve dedicated my career to researching a cure. Once you go in, the infection will enter your lungs through the contaminated air that you breathe and work its way towards your brain. I’m trying to help you, you foul leech. On the other hand… I could use another test subject.” She began to push the guard towards the makeshift doorway, and suddenly, he didn’t seem all that eager to enter. 

“Wait--No, no, no, wait! I believe you! I’m sorry for taking up your time!” He dug his claws into the mud, snapped his wings open, and took off faster than Coypu had ever seen a MudWing move. Sometimes, she reflected, being the cranky old swamp lady has its perks. 

“It’s all clear, you yellow-bellied cowards,” Coypu called over her shoulder. A minute later, her flock of problem children skulked out of the hut like foxes, as if hesitant to believe that the coast was truly clear. A collective sigh passed through the ones that were awake--her harebrained apprentice, the annoyingly bubbly SeaWing, and the royal pain of the SkyWing kingdom--and the sleeping IceWing remained blissfully ignorant that he had ever been in danger. 

“Thank you, for--”

“You should go.” Coypu cut Apex off sharply, nodding towards a line of cliffs in the distance. “They won’t stop until they find you, so you need to get to safer ground. Once you pass into SkyWing territory, you’ll be untouchable; Queen Copperhead is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them. She wouldn’t dare start a war with Queen Pyre.”

“But… wouldn’t it have started a war if the execution had worked, regardless of where it took place?” Apex was confused, but that wasn’t anything new. He had felt like he was in waaaay over his head for the entirety of this cursed journey. 

“If it takes place on her lands, she can justify it with some random crime that was committed while you were here. Therefore, if your mother declared war on her, she  could potentially declare war in return without it looking suspicious. In that case, she could use her alliance with the SeaWings against you. If you’re in SkyWing territory, however, she doesn’t exactly have any proof that you ever even set foot in the marshes. Except eyewitness testimony, but your mother doesn’t strike me as the type of person to listen to what others have to say when her honor has been impugned.”

“Yeah… you’re right about that. You seem to know a lot about politics.” Apex glanced back at Starfish, who was having an animated conversation with Bullfrog. “How did you come to meet Starfish, anyway? Bullfrog and her seem… close.”

Coypu sighed through her nose, letting her eyes wander towards the distant horizon. She appeared lost in thought, and let the silence brew as she contemplated her answer. Finally, she settled on the truth. “I was called to the royal palace a few years ago, to attend to my sister when she fell ill. But… I never got a chance to truly cure her. All I could do was slow her sickness.” 

Slowly, lights were blinking on in Apex’s brain. “So… your story--”

“Was true, except for the fact that it’s not exactly transmissible through air. Me and Bullfrog were the first people they came to when she fell ill.” Coypu’s face was hidden in shadows, but the downward tug of her mouth and waver in her voice spoke of palpable sadness. 

“Oh… I’m so sorry for your loss. Was she… a member of the royal court?”

“You could say that,” Coypu sniffed. “And she isn’t dead. It’s just been eating away at her mind… driving her closer and closer to the brink of insanity with each passing moment. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, she always proves me wrong. You’re living proof of that, Apex. I guess I helped you because I felt… responsible, in some way. It’s my fault that Copperhead is the way she is. After all, if I had found a cure in time…”

“Wait,” Apex cut in, his voice little more than a mystified murmur. “The queen is… your sister?!”

“Why don’t you say it louder, huh?! I don’t think the whole world heard you!”

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Aren’t you older than her?” Apex ignored her warning to keep his voice down, his brain still stuck up on the fact that the grumpy old dragon in front of him was royalty. Like him. 

“Hey! Never ask about a lady about her age! But if you really want to know how she came to be queen, I conceded the throne. I never wanted to pick up the torch from our mother, and besides, could you imagine me ruling over an entire population of idiots? I can barely deal with Bullfrog!” She has a point, Apex thought, his eyes flicking towards Bullfrog. Him and Starfish had moved past talking and were now chasing each other in circles around the hut. At least they looked happy--or, er, Starfish looked happy. Bullfrog looked terrified. “Copperhead always handled all of the pomp and fame much better than I did, so I thought it was only fit that she ascended to the throne. But the MudWings would never accept her if she didn’t become queen through a trial by combat, and it was our mother’s wish that I succeed her. She wouldn’t let Copperhead win the fight for the throne, I knew that, but…”

“She would let you win,” Apex finished. Coypu nodded. “But how did Copperhead get the throne, then? Isn’t the succession ritual a fight to the death?”

“It is. I devised a plan to get my sister to the throne, by any means necessary. When I told her about my scheming, she was horrified. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t defeat mother the proper way--I suppose she could, but I didn’t want to see her get hurt and I certainly didn’t want her to put her life on the line so that I wouldn’t be trapped in that aristocratic cage. So, I found out when she planned to challenge my mother and got to it before she had the chance. I won the throne, as anticipated, and Copperhead was furious with me. Knowing that she wouldn’t take her rightful place as ruler unless she thought that she defeated the current ruler, I mocked her in the hopes that she would challenge me on her own terms. It wasn’t long until she did--three days, to be exact. And on the fourth day, my reign as queen of the MudWings ended. I hated hurting her, but I had to make the fight seem real and took a small amount of pride in the knowledge that she would have been hurt far worse in a fight with our mother. But something went wrong, and she didn’t finish me off. I guess… she just didn’t have it in her at the time.”

Apex cocked his head to the side. “So… what happened, then? The MudWings wouldn’t accept her until she… you know…” 

“Finished me off? My thoughts exactly. I collapsed for her sake, hoping the final blow would be swift, but it never came. Instead, she leaned over me and whispered: ‘Run.’ So, I ran. Nobody but her knows that I’m still alive, and I doubt they would bother looking for me if they did know. Now, I’m just… Coypu. Not Princess Coypu, not Queen Coypu, just the old hag of the bayou.”

“Do you ever miss it?” Apex questioned.

“The royal life? It’s nice having food given to you on a silver platter, but… no,” Coypu concluded firmly. “I love my work, and the liberty that comes with it. I feel more free than I have in a long time, like I can finally breathe again. I just wish that Copperhead hadn’t gone cuckoo.” 

“You and me both,” Apex said, bitterly. “Are you ever going to explain Permafrost’s illness to me?”

“I could try, but you’re too much of a dunderhead to understand. All you need to know is that he has a twenty percent chance of pulling through, and you have to keep feeding him honey until it’s coming out of his ears. The only way to beat the cough is to soothe it for as long as it takes for his lungs to recover. He’ll probably be wheezing for a long time, even after he gets it out of his system.”

“That sounds less like an if, and more like a when. ”

“Yeah,” was all Coypu said before twisting away and shouting at Bullfrog. “Hey, sea slugs! It’s time to go! Say your goodbyes and skedaddle!” 

Apex waited for Starfish to pull Bullfrog into a tight embrace and scurry over to where he stood. As they walked away, the sun rose higher above their heads and flashed off of Permafrost’s radiant scales. The effect was dazzling, and only served to make the sharp pang in Bullfrog’s heart more poignant. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Coypu rumbled. “They’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” Bullfrog responded softly. 

“I just do. Those three are trouble, and trouble always seems to find a way to return to me.”

Chapter Text

“Are we there yet?” 

“No.”

“How about now?” 

“Can you drown a SeaWing?” Apex asked, holding his claw up. “Because I am this close to doing so!” His talons nearly pinched together, leaving about a fraction of an inch between them. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried it. Buuuut… now I’m kinda curious. Bet! Drown me at the next waterfall!” 

“Are you insane, Starfish?! No! I’m not actually—You know what? Just… try to keep quiet. You’re driving me crazy.”

Silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of their claws crunching on gravel. They had entered SkyWing territory after about a week of traveling, and both of them were visibly exhausted by it. Starfish’s emerald scales now flowed a dull seaweed-green, and the dried mud compounded on Apex’s body to turn his golden scales a murky bronze. Apex felt like he would never be warm again, after days of sleeping on cold rocks with an even colder companion. But no matter how heavy Permafrost got, nor how cold his scales felt as they slid against Apex’s back, he bore the IceWing’s weight with renewed invigoration. He had resolved not to hold back any of his feelings, and they were what gave him strength beyond what he thought possible. Love truly was a powerful force—And dangerous, under the right circumstances. 

“Uh… Apex?” 

The prince ignored Starfish, too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay the SeaWing any heed. Insistently, they tried once again to garner his attention. 

“Apex??” 

This time, he heard them. However, his face showed no sign of it: If anything, he looked even more clueless to the fact they were speaking to him. Apex hoped Starfish would get the hint and shut their yap, but it seemed that the SeaWing was determined to annoy him. 

“Apex?!” They yelped.

“WHAT?” He roared back, stopping in his tracks to stomp his claw against the ground. “Why can’t we walk in peace without you bringing up some sort of trivial observation?! ‘Apex, look at the bird! Apex, that mountain looks like you! Apex, Apex, Apex!’ I’m sick of it! There’s better be good, or I swear—!”

Suddenly, something icy smacked into the top of his head. “Honestly, Starfish, how do you put up with him? If I didn’t need him to see, I’d tie him up and leave him for the mountain lions.” 

“P-Permafrost,” Apex stuttered out, relief and awe leaking into his voice. “You’re awake! Starfish, why didn’t you tell me he was awake??” 

Starfish opened their snout, then snapped it shut, deciding that they wouldn’t win this argument. Luckily, Permafrost was there to check him. Oh, how Starfish missed the one dragon who could keep Apex in line. 

“That’s what they were trying to tell you, you dolt! Why do you have to be so obstinate all the time…?” 

“Oh,” was all Apex could think to say in response. He was entirely, unequivocally, much too shocked to pose any of the questions flitting around in his mind, such as: Are you alright? How do you feel? Are you hungry? And so on. Luckily, Permafrost answered the unasked questions of his own accord. 

“How long have we been traveling? The air feels thinner here, so… I’m guessing we reached the mountains. What kind of prey lives in the mountains? I’m starving.” The scary thing was that Permafrost wasn’t exactly exaggerating. He was starving, giving the fact that he hadn’t eaten real food in a week.

“Astute observation,” Apex grumbled. “We’re in the mountains. I could find a goat for you, but then we’d have to stop for the day.” 

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry that I’m such an inconvenience. Maybe I should have died, then, and saved you the trouble,” Permafrost bit back bitterly. 

This wasn’t how he wanted it to go at all. Apex wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when Permafrost woke up, but he had somehow envisioned it to be much more sentimental than this. He didn’t know why he had expected their bond to be deeper somehow—it wasn’t as if Permafrost could suddenly sense how Apex felt. Coupled with the fact that the SkyWing prince had a hard time expressing his true emotions—he had been taught from a young age to push those aside, that they were just distractions and that strong dragons didn’t feel anything—any mutual feeling other than loathing between them would take time to develop. More time than they had. Apex was beginning to wonder if he was just trying to compensate for the fact that he had ruined Permafrost’s life by justifying it with the promise of love. 

“... Apex? I’m sorry,” Permafrost murmured. “That was rude. I know you’ve been worried about me, it’s not fair to say that you don’t care. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been drug through the mud and stomped on several times. My head hurts, and it’s too bright, and my lungs are on fire. The thin air isn’t helping.” 

And there it was. Permafrost always seemed to manage to crumble Apex’s walls with a single phrase, spoken softly but powerful as a hurricane. He knew that he’d have to tell the IceWing, and soon, before he lost his mind imagining the hidden meaning behind every word. “You know what?” Apex said, cheerfully. Starfish gave him a strange look, as if to ask, Why’re you so happy? “You’re right, Permafrost. We should pace ourselves. Plus, this is Starfish’s first time in SkyWing territory! We should acquaint them with it before continuing on. How about we go to that overhang?” He pointed towards it for Starfish’s sake. They gave him a strange look, due in part to his strange reversal in attitude and the fact that they really didn’t have the luxury of taking a break at this point. Still, Starfish shrugged and did as they were instructed, figuring that Apex had a reason for veering them off-course. Surely, the SkyWing prince wouldn’t drop everything and make an irrational decision, simply because his friend complained of being a bit sore, Starfish thought. 

They would be wrong. 

Apex felt like a coward. Every time his proclamation of ardor rose to his mouth, he couldn’t seem to push it past his firmly locked jaws. What is happening to me? Apex asked himself as he slipped underneath the overhang. He felt as though his mind and his tongue were at odds with one another. He was an enemy unto himself, caught in a deadlock between what he wanted and what was right. Apex knew he shouldn’t love Permafrost—that was just common sense. Thinking about it logically, there was no way that a relationship between them would work. Furthermore, would Permafrost feel pressured to say he returned the feelings, simply because he had been held captive up to this point? Was it stupidity or selfishness that made Apex want to try anyway? 

Permafrost was just settling down, curling up into a ball with a pleased look on his face. The birds soared past the cave, singing their love songs to one another in melodic harmony. It’s now or never, Apex knew. So, before he could second-guess himself, (because doubt meant silence) the bulky SkyWing opened his mouth to confess.

And was horrified by what came out instead.

“Permafrost… I’m going to take you back home.”

Chapter Text

“What?!” Starfish exclaimed, tugging Apex away. “What were you thinking?! Why would you suggest that, huh?? I hope you don’t seriously believe he wants to go back there!!!”

“It’s his home,” Apex reasoned, albeit without much conviction. “Of course he’d want to go back. I’m the one who stole him from there anyway, the least I can do is give him his freedom.” 

“He doesn’t want freedom, he wants you,” Starfish hissed. “And even if he did want to go back, how do you think he’s gonna survive on his own, huh? He’s blind and practically mutilated! You know how IceWings treat another dragon that’s outlived their usefulness!”

Unfortunately, Apex knew all too well. IceWings were customarily cold to their own kind and even colder to outsiders. The best welcoming gift Permafrost could expect to receive from his people would be a swift death, to put him out of his misery and make room for functional dragonets. They approached kinship like they approached most things: with chilly, calculated logistics. Almost no emotion was involved in decision-making, Which was part of what made them so quick to act in the face of a dilemma. All this and more, Apex had studied in his diplomatic training. 

“Well, what do you suggest I do? He can’t stay with me, he’ll be miserable!” Apex groused, stamping his foot on the ground. A cascade of pebbles rained down the ledge they were standing beside. 

“You want to send him home?”

“Yes!” 

“Apex,” Starfish chided, “not everyone sees the place that they were born as home. Do you feel like you’re home whenever you walk through the halls of the palace?”

“I—“The words caught in his throat, and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me!” 

“You’re right. This is about Permafrost. I know what it's like to be a pawn for those in power, Apex. I don't ever want to go back to it, but I don't want to go to the sea either. Home isn't about where you're from or where you live: It isn't a place. It's a feeling. Do you think Permafrost feels any more at home with the IceWings than you do with the SkyWings?” 

Apex was taken aback by the bluntness of their words, but he knew that they were right. Permafrost had often expressed how unhappy he had been in his old home, how he had felt trapped by the whims of those higher in the food chain than himself. It would be bordering on cruel to send him back now, especially if Queen Holly had already received the vehemently angry letter that his mother had sent out a few weeks ago. Even now, Permafrost was gloomy sitting in the corner with his head bowed to stare at the ground below his claws; even though he wasn’t actually seeing anything, it was nevertheless an effective method of pouting. 

“I don’t know where his home is, Starfish,” Apex breathed out. “I obviously don’t even know where my own home is. I don’t know what to do. I just wanted him to be happy, but I only ever seem to mess up.” 

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that.” Starfish tapped one of their green claws against his chest, directly over his heart. “You and Permafrost will be just fine, but you have got to stop assuming that you know what’s right for him. He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions. He’ll tell you where he wants to be, when he wants to go, and how he wants to get there. Besides, you two are in a wonderful position right now.”

“We are?” Apex asked, dubiously. 

“Yes,” Starfish hissed conspiratorially. Apex hated when they got that look on their face: the one that practically screamed trouble. “You're in a perfect position to elope! Find your home together!” 

“I--”

“Are you two talking about me?” Permafrost had lifted his head up and swung it in their general direction, his good ear swiveling towards them to better catch their voices in the wind. “Why are you whisper-yelling?”

“No--” Apex started.

“Yes,” Starfish said over him. “We are talking about you.”

“Is this about what Apex said earlier?” Permafrost dragged himself to his feet with some difficulty, swaying a little. He was still a little weak from his sickness, but he wouldn’t let that keep him down. “It’s not a big deal. I get it. I’m a liability. Nobody wants to keep something that isn’t either amusing or useful to them.”

“Yes! No! Wait!” Apex floundered for words, feeling desperation clawing at his chest. “That’s not what I meant, Permafrost. I’m not trying to get rid of you--”

“I know.” Permafrost padded towards him on nimble feet. He stopped in front of Apex, the hollows of his face hidden in shadow. “Which is why I have to do it for you.”

“Permafrost… you don’t seriously think you’re a burden, do you?” Apex’s question didn’t receive a response, other than a half-hearted sigh. He tried again. “I would have left you on that rock if I thought you were a hindrance. You’re so much more than that!”

“Apex, what do you think was going to happen to me after I assassinated you? Once I returned to my homeland?”

Apex shuffled his tail uncomfortably. “I don’t--”

“I would be killed. Swiftly. Less evidence, and the queen gets to keep her claws clean. No one would know, no one would care. It’d be like I never existed. I know the score, Apex. I’ve only survived this long because I served a purpose. There are hundreds of others just like me, just waiting for a chance to prove themselves.”

Apex didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Permafrost continued on. Starfish stared at him intensely, green eyes unreadable. 

“They take that from you, you know. They teach you how to distance yourself from ambition, desire, and greed. You become little more than a machine. And once you break down, that’s it. Everyone in my guild understands how expendable we are, but nobody cares, because part of us is already dead. They kill our consciousness and strip us of our identities. I don’t fear death, Apex. It’s simply the end of my mission. You’re the only thing keeping me from finishing my last job in life.” 

No sound but the wind whistling through the various nooks and crannies in the rocks permeated the deafening silence around the three of them. The words hit Apex like a boulder--in equal parts saddening and fearful. Had Permafrost really lived his life like that? With the knowledge that his life was as easily thrown away as it had been brought into Pyrrhia? Had that cruel reality truly been perpetuated in his mind from a young age? Finally, Starfish was the first to speak.

“You still haven’t killed Apex, though. So technically, you can’t move on from this mission until you finish it, right? As long as Apex is alive, you’ve gotta hang in there.” 

Permafrost swung his head towards her, shock playing on his delicate but imperfect features. He opened his jaw, snapped, it shut, then opened it again in what looked like a poor imitation of a fish gasping for breath. Someone, in some way, the mood among the gathered dragons seemed to lift from dismal to lively. Starfish inclined their head towards him, grinning conspiratorially, as if they had just won a gamble. 

“Checkmate, Snowcone! Now that you’re done wallowing in misery, my stomach as the grumplies and it demands grub! So, Apex, either you go find food or I’ll eat you myself!”

Apex smiled, shaking his head ruefully. “Okay, Okay. I get it. You’re so needy.”

“You know you love me,” Starfish teased. 

“Are you taking requests? I still want a goat,” Permafrost cut in. 

“You two will be the death of me,” Apex grumbled, but he was happier than he had felt in a long time. “Alright. I’ll look for a goat, but you better eat all of it!” Permafrost waved him off non-committedly, and Apex took off with a playful scoff. 

Chapter Text

“I’m back!” Apex called, swooping onto the outcropping where they had made camp for the night. Dusk had long-since fallen, and the last rays of light were fading beyond the horizon, turning the sky into a pastel myriad of color. It would have been pretty, had Apex not been worried about flying in complete darkness. Even for him, who was so accustomed to rocky terrain, flying in pitch-black conditions wasn’t ideal. A heavy frown crossed his face as he peered into the shadows of the shallow cave underneath the overhang, having not received a response to his announced return. As he was setting the mountain goat onto the ground, however, he caught a blink of light within the shallow cave and heard a stifled giggle. “Okay,” he began, amused, “come out. I’m too hungry for games.”

“Uggghhhh, you’re no fun!” Starfish padded out of the darkness and into the rising moonlight, their scales sparkling like emeralds. “I just wanted to do a bit of morse.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can play glow-tag later.” Apex was about to tear into the carcass, but something stayed his claws. It started as a feeling, an absent curiosity that made him feel as though he was forgetting something. That thought only seemed to snowball until it nearly consumed him with the awareness of a missing piece of the puzzle. He felt hollow, as though someone had reached into his chest and pulled a vital part of him away. Then, in a flash, it hit him. “Hey… where’s Permafrost?” 

“Where’s what?” Starfish questioned, their mouth full. They hadn’t waited for his hesitation to pass, their hunger overriding their concern over his perceived trepidation. 

Apex blinked at them, incredulous. “You know… one-third of our entire party? The one who’s been sick this whole time? The reason we went to Coypu??”

“Ooooooh.” Starfish sat back on their haunches, wiping blood from their mouth with the back of their claw. “I guess I just got used to him being absent from meals. He’s probably sleeping.” They twisted around, calling into the shadows. “Hey, Frosty! Soup’s on!”

No sound came from within the cave. Starfish just shrugged and continued eating, assuming that the IceWing either hadn’t heard or didn’t care, but something felt wrong to Apex. The big dragon stood, shook himself off, and walked towards the eerily silent alcove. 

“Hey, aren’t you going to have some of this?” Starfish asked from behind him, probably referring to the goat. 

“Later,” Apex replied absently. Right now, all thoughts of food were long gone. He plunged into the gloom, claws scraping against the floor as he padded around in a wide circle, wing brushing against the wall. Every step only made the feeling of loss worse, until he completed his rotation and rooted himself in the spot he had begun his search. Apex was torn between panic and an objective calm that served to dampen the calamity of thoughts whizzing through his mind. He’s gone, he observed, at the same time as he internally screamed. 

“Is he gonna stop pouting and come eat?” Starfish goaded near the entrance. Apex turned in a slow circle, wondering halfway into the light. Immediately, Starfish could tell that something was horribly wrong. Apex’s face was frozen, half hidden in shadow and half stone-cold. 

“Apex?” They said, tentatively. Probing for a reaction. Anything was better than that look of utter stoicism. 

Starfish, however, soon learned that they were wrong. 

Because the next thing Apex did was dog his claws into the ground and roar loud enough to shake the mountains. 

~

“Is this the right one?” 

Queen Ebonyshadow slid her eyes up from the letter she was writing to see a small dragon, beaming in delight as she presented her beloved queen with an IceWing… dragonet? His horns were fully grown, but he was abnormally small for his apparent age. Her gaze dipped back down to her desk, whereupon lay a letter from her cold-hearted compatriot: Queen Holly. Hastily scribbled onto its surface was a description of the dragon that Queen Ebonyshadow was to hunt down, and the ruler of the NightWings was all too eager to oblige. The physical characteristic on the paper aligned with the little dragon that she was being presented with, with the exception that he appeared a bit more emaciated than one might imagine. I suppose being imprisoned by the SkyWings will do that to you, Ebonyshadow thought, idly fiddling with the corner of the parchment. 

“It appears so, birdling! But before I inform Holly, I’d like to confirm his identity.” 

“Ah,” her little messenger appeared reluctant to obey. “What if he tries to hurt you, my queen? I will protect you, of course, but--”

Queen Ebonyshadow drew herself to her full height, casting her shadow over both of the other dragons in the room. Her voice boomed against the cavern walls. “Do you doubt my ability to defend myself? Do not forget your place.”

Immediately, the little twig of a dragon fell into a low, subservient bow. “Of course not, my liege! I’ll untie him immediately!” With one last dip of her head in reverential respect, the queen’s minion set to undoing the bonds that kept Permafrost in place. One by one they fell to the ashen floor, but the IceWing stayed perfectly still under the feather-light touch that was swiftly freeing him of his bonds. That changed when the mouthpiece was removed, however, as Permafrost couldn’t resist lashing out at the talons brushing against his face. He received a smack on the snout in response; not gentle, like the ones Apex used to tap him with, but a stunning blow that left Permafrost momentarily startled. 

“Welcome to the NightWing palace, my friend! As you can see…” The voice trailed off, and Permafrost felt warm claws making contact with his cheek, tilting his face one way and then the other. “I suppose you can’t see,” the voice amended. “Then, I’ll just have to explain it to you! But first, are you hungry?”

“I’m getting really sick of being kidnapped,” Permafrost muttered darkly. The claws on his cheek dug into the skin, but he didn’t give his captor the satisfaction of showing his pain. 

“I’m not your first, then?” The voice held a pout in it. “That’s a shame. The first one’s always special.” While he couldn’t see their expression, he was pretty sure he was being winked at. His lips pulled back into a snarl, contorting his already disfigured features. “Oh, don’t do that. You were ugly enough as it is.”

“What do you want?” Permafrost spat back. 

“Did you honestly think that there wouldn’t be any repercussions when you miserably failed the most important job in your pitiful existence?” The mysterious dragon laughed contemptuously. “You’ve made Queen Holly very upset, you little nuisance. And any problem of Holly’s is a problem of mine.”

“Who are you?” Permafrost was wary now. He was uncomfortably aware of the tightrope he was walking, and the yawning abyss stretching below his talons, should he falter. 

“Hm,” the voice hummed. “You don’t recognize my voice? I’m Queen Ebonyshadow, supreme authority among the NightWings and one of the most powerful dragons in Pyrrhia. Though, I suppose it isn’t surprising that a simple.minded peon such as yourself doesn’t know who I am.”

But Permafrost wasn’t listening to her. 

Because, despite her insults, he did know who she was. He recognized the subtle cadence of her voice. The lofty tone, the poorly-disguised contempt.

It was the same voice he had heard on the day his world had changed. 

The day the IceWing rebels had been massacred in their sleep.

The day he had lost his brother and became enslaved by the IceWing’s assasination corps. 

~

“I… I fell asleep,” Starfish murmured, shamefully. “I didn’t even notice him leaving… I’m a horrible friend…” 

“No,” Apex sighed tiredly. They had been fruitlessly searching for hours, striking camp to wander in the darkness. Logically, the prince knew that this would do nothing but exhaust the both of them, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he found Permafrost. “Don’t blame yourself, Starfish. It’s no one’s fault. I’m more concerned with the fact that he left in the first place. Did I make him feel unwanted?”

“Look who’s blaming themselves now,” Starfish weakly joked. “But seriously… it wasn’t you, Apex. Trust me. He always seems happier around you.” 

“Really? He always seems kind of cranky to me.” 

“That’s just his personality! He’s perpetually moody. It’s what makes him so lovable!”

Apex smiled to himself, carefully stepping over a prickly bush growing up through a cleft in the rock below. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“I mean, honestly, he’s lost without you. You should have seen him in the MudWing dungeons, he was worse than you were! All mopey and lonely. It was super sad, which is why I laughed so hard when he told me about how you two met. It’s hilarious that he tried to assassinate you, and your response was to fall head over horns for him. I mean--”

“Wait. What did you just say?”

“That you… fell for him harder than a bag full of gold bars down a cliff?”

“What? No, before that,” Apex mumbled distractedly, claws brushing over a shiny black object on the ground. It almost resembled…

“The whole assaination thing? That’s in the past, right? Wait, whaddya got there, buckeroo?”

Apex held up the scale for Starfish to see. It was exactly as he had feared. A stone seemed to sink in his stomach, making him feel queasy. 

“I think Permafrost is in danger.”

“And this scale has something to do with it,” Starfish concluded, a question lingering in their voice. When Apex didn’t clarify, they prompted him for more. “What do the NightWings have to do with Permafrost? Don’t they refuse to get involved in the affairs of other dragons?”

“Usually,” Apex’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. “But recently, their newest queen has been getting rather cozy with Queen Holly.” 

“Queen Holly?” Starfish scrunched up their snout. “But what--” Understanding crept into their eyes, and the realization was powerful enough to knock them back a step when it hit them. Their eyes met Apex’s molten ones in the dark. “Oh, shhhhhhellfish.”

“Shellfish,” Apex agreed. 

Chapter Text

Since she was a child, Condor had always heard things she wasn’t supposed to hear. Knew things she shouldn’t know. Had been places that she couldn’t have gone to. Of course, she had never shared this with anyone--not even her beloved brother, Apex. Everyone had their secrets, and Condor felt entitled to hold her own close to her chest. Granted, nothing remained a secret to the princess herself: Even if the dragon in question wasn’t even aware of what they were keeping locked in their subconscious, Condor saw through the cognitive bars keeping whatever it was shut away from the world. She saw what lay beyond, deep within the hearts and minds of dragons. It used to scare her, when she was a dragonet. 

She was not a dragonet anymore. 

Her claws clicked against the stone as she evenly walked towards her mother’s chamber, making her stride as ponderous as possible to show that she wasn’t concerned by the summons. Her mother’s spies were watching her every step, she knew. It wouldn’t do to have them feeding her the tales of Condor’s apprehension, how she had practically slunk to the cavern with her tail tucked between her legs; No, Queen Pyre would love that. Condor was not about to give her that satisfaction, not anymore. She was a grown dragon, capable of levying war and proclaiming peace and she was not afraid. 

But when she reached the room and the gilded doors swung shut behind her, Condor felt her traitor of a heart flutter in her chest. Her mother almost never called her for a meeting, especially one as personal as this. Their encounters were always brief and usually only occurred either at the dinner table or during events which required both the queen and the princess’ attention. For Condor to be called so suddenly could only mean two things, both of which would end in eventual death. The deadly game of succession between mother and daughter; Neither side played fair, and neither side truly won in the end. 

“Condor,” her mother greeted, without much warmth. She was sitting at her desk, reviewing documents which had been presented to her in court or through mail carriers. 

“Mother,” Condor returned the chilly greeting, sitting on a nearby ledge before she had been given express permission to do so. Queen Pyre’s eyes narrowed fractionally. It was a game within a game that the two of them had played, just another step in the routine they had been building since Condor had been brought into the cutthroat and unforgiving world of bureaucracy. 

“I see you’ve been rather relaxed in the interim of your brother’s absence.” Her mother looked away, and Condor took a moment to celebrate that small victory. The war was yet to be won, but each successful battle tipped the odds in Condor’s favor. She didn’t have long to celebrate, however. “Perhaps I should send you to look for him. He’s been gone for abnormally long, has he not?”

Condor was agitated. It would only complicate things if her mother began to suspect that something was amiss. Though, the pillars the princess had built were too strong to be taken down by a little tremor of doubt. “You know how he is. Galavanting around the world, spending an obscene amount of time admiring landmarks… Perhaps he’s found an interesting rock formation.”

Her mother, having purposes other than discussing her son’s well-being, just snorted in contempt. “Perhaps. Well, it’s no matter. So long as he arrives in time to meet his fiancée, he can ponder the earth to his heart’s content.”

The mood in the room shifted at the mention of Apex’s soon-to-be partner. The dance turned into a waltz, slow and deliberate, each party trying not to step on the others’ toes. Condor affected an air of indifference, nonchalantly scraping her talons against the floor. “I suppose you’re right,” Condor hummed absentmindedly. 

Her mother dragged herself away from her work to stand in front of Condor’s perch. “I wanted to discuss that particular business with you, my dear. I can tell you don’t approve of her, and I wanted to give you a chance to air your grievances before the ceremony commences.”

Give you a chance. Before the ceremony. Condor’s acute ears picked up on the implications, and they dug into her like claws. As if her mother was permitting her to express her opinion. As if her opinion didn’t matter. Before the ceremony commences. It was clear that the union would continue as planned, no matter what Condor had to say on the subject. “I don’t think Smoke is the correct choice. Would it not be more logical to wed him to the SeaWing princess? Their pact with the MudWings is feeble at best, compulsory at worst. If we could just align ourselves through--” 

“That fish?” Queen Pyre wrinkled her snout, making her look four times older than she usually looked. “I’m not interested in Princess Carp. We must keep the bloodline pure.” 

“Princess Clam, mother,” Condor corrected. She didn’t like Clam any more than her mother did, but she--at least--treated her fellow monarchs with a basic level of respect. “And I’ll keep the bloodline pure. It doesn’t matter, since my daughter will be inheriting the kingdom.”

“Dear,” Pyre said sweetly. Fakely. “I know you don’t know much about running a kingdom yet, so I’ll excuse your ignorance. You must foresee threats from all angles, whether or not they are legally able to remove you from a position of power.” 

“Are you implying that Apex’s children will attempt to overthrow my reign?” Condor bristled. It irked her that her mother thought that she hadn’t already considered this scenario--and prepared for it, for that matter. If Copperhead had just done her job…

“Anything is possible. That’s all I’m saying.” Queen Pyre raised her claws defensively, talong twitching reflexively. “And the last thing the SkyWing kingdom needs is a half-breed ruling over it. Can you imagine the instability that would cause? There would be a movement to assassinate the usurper, and then the kingdom would be in absolute chaos… I’m simply looking out for my people.” 

Condor masked her derision behind a mask of understanding. “Of course.” She dipped her head in respect, though it was mechanical and feigned. “Have you informed Apex that he’s to be marrying Smoke?”

“I haven’t had the chance, what with him prancing around Pyrrhia with that ridiculous pet of his. I do hope he gets rid of it soon. It’s an eyesore, and a reminder that he’ll never be strong enough to rule the kingdom. A leader must be prepared to get their hands dirty, and he seems to think that showing mercy will encourage kindness. Mercy is weakness, and inspires rebellion.” Finally, Condor thought, something we agree on. Though, Condor wasn’t about to outwardly concede to her mother’s point. Besides, she almost felt bad for her naive sibling. It was clear he was trying to be noble, but the path of gallantry was paved in betrayal. Give the masses an inch, and they’ll take a mile.

“Is that all you needed, mother?” To boast about your plot and issue a poorly concealed threat upon your only heir? Condor didn’t bother trying to conceal the hidden meaning behind her words with a cheery tone. Queen Pyre, as was expected of the SkyWing queen, didn’t take the affront well. But, for now, she said nothing of it. Merely turned to gaze out her window, not eager to give Condor the satisfaction of seeing her tongue flick out in agitation. 

“Yes,” Queen Pyre replied. “You may go.” 

As Condor was leaving the chamber, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the letter her mother had been working on before Condor had entered. She didn’t pause to read the contents, lest she alert her mother to her snooping, but she did manage to read the opening line.

‘Queen Selkie,

In response to your proposal…’

Ah, so that was the game her mother was playing. Yes, Condor reflected as she caught her mother’s eye out of the corner of her own, now I see it. The web of lies were tangling, amassing, taking shape. 

Poor Princess Clam. She’ll arrive in the kingdom, expected to be courted by a suitor of significant social strata. Instead, the only thing to touch her heart will be the icy claws of Death. What a tragic romance. 

Chapter Text

“I believe I’ve won.” The SeaWing held his claws out expectantly, talons twitching greedily at the prospect of promised gold. When it wasn’t provided immediately, his gills flared in agitation. “Oi, squirt. Pay up.”

“I think you’ve read the board wrong.” She wasn’t a sore loser. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being in that she was expected to lose, she had learned to accept defeat with all the grace befitting a queen. But she refused --absolutely rejected the idea--of losing to the sexist pile of blubber that sat before her. 

“Eh? I ain’t read anythin’ wrong. Maybe you’re the one who’s read it wrong.” Again, the dragons talons twitched. This time, however, it was at the possibility and imagination of violence. There’s nothing more dangerous than a prideful dragon, she reminded herself. A quick survey of the situation made it clear that she was outnumbered: Several patrons of the run-down tavern were looking her way, eyes drifting towards the cloak draped around her shoulders, most likely wondering who she was underneath the roughspun cloth. It wasn’t often that she got the opportunity to come onto land and visit the guards posted here, and each time, she remained unimpressed. 

“You’ve read it wrong,” she simply stated once again, making no move to point out the mistake he had made. If he didn’t see it by now, it was useless to try and explain. Or… perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, and was trying to gip an innocent dragoness--barely more than a dragonet, mind you--out of every coin she was currently carrying in the pouch by her hip. Luckily, it seemed as though gold was the only metal he was interested in. He didn’t seem to see the way her claws gleamed unnaturally in the low-lit lounge, the way the silver refracted when it caught the flicker of a candle’s flame in its reflection. 

“I’m not playin’ games, kid,” the SeaWing growled out. A few of his friends began to rise at nearby tables. She pretended not to notice. 

“I thought that was exactly what we were doing.” She swept her claws towards the board, catching the way his eyes narrowed as she moved. Did he see? No, he’s just anticipating an attack. Tch. Nobody who's scared of getting hurt should incite a brawl. 

“You think I’ll go easy on you, just because you’re a kid?” They were all up now, standing at a cautious distance as they awaited their leader’s command. These are the brutes that guard the royal palace? Chivalry truly has died, she thought, bitterly. They were nothing more than a pack of beasts, hanging on their alpha’s every order. Rabid pack animals, unable to think for themselves. Their leader, unable to think beyond his own profit. 

She let herself lean forward, the deep indigo of her scales blending in with the dark atmosphere and casting shadows across her snout. “Are you threatening me?”

“You wanna test that theory?” The SeaWing smiled, then. Actually smiled. As if he wasn’t about to brutally assault and mug another dragon over a simple board game and a few spare coins. 

“Are you sure you want to make that move?” The line was one used often in the particular game they had just finished, one used to instill doubt in your opponents. If used correctly, it could be a powerful weapon: Words were often the most powerful ammunition one possesses. If used incorrectly, it’s little more than an empty intimidation. Now, though, a flicker of hesitation broke through the Seawing’s resolute facade. And, in the face of uncertainty, dragons panic. 

When dragons panic, they make rash decisions. Stupid decisions. 

Rather than cue his companions--his pride having been affronted--he made the mistake of taking it upon himself to make the first charge. She saw it coming in the way his muscles bunched, his webbed claws scratching the stump they were playing on until deep furrows were gouged into the soft wood. 

He’ll jump at me, hoping to catch me unawares. 

He did. However, her surprise was merely a feint. As he closed in, her talons flashed out, each of them gilded in sharpened silver. They were merely enhancements made to her existing talons, metal claws that fit snugly over her organic ones. They moved swift as a river and smooth as the current. 

Now, to the left. 

She pulled right as he leaned left, relishing in the glimmer of surprise in his muddy blue eyes when his target wasn’t where it had been mere seconds before. Time seemed to slow to witness this one moment, to hold it like it was something to be cherished. The air crackled with energy; That of the good-for-nothing thief, his companions, and her own rapid pulse contributed to the electricity of this instant. Then, in a flash, it was over. She hadn’t aimed to kill, but one would have thought that she had hit his heart, from the way he keened. Her claws were sunk about two inches into the soft scales of his chest, scraping against bone as they found his ribcage. With that, the fight was over before it had even begun. 

His little minions scattered, some discreetly leaving the tavern while others scrambled towards exits. The royal guard, ladies and gents, she thought, sarcastically. A whimper left her opponent as her talons slid out and away, and she rolled her eyes under her hood. 

“Disgusting,” she murmured, wiping her now-slick claws on a nearby napkin. The SeaWing guard seemed to think she was talking to him, and pitifully moaned about being injured. “Oh, would you stop complaining? It’s not fatal, but if you keep whining, I’ll ensure that it is. ”

“The queen will hear of this,” he gasped. “You cannot expect to attack her majesty’s guard and get away with it! I’ll have your head for this!”

She mocked him under her breath in a high-pitched voice, adding a few choice words to her mimikry. “Shut up,” she groaned, when she could no longer stand it. “You aren’t going to tell Her Majesty anything.”

“And why’s that?” His voice took on an incredulous, challenging tone. 

“You claim that you protect the royal family, yes?” 

“I serve Her Majesty and…”

“And? Last time I checked, the royal family consisted of two dragons. Here, allow me to help you refresh your memory.” She flicked back the hood of her simple brown cloak, letting the low lamplight wash over her indigo scales, the grey eyes that seemed to bore into him, just as her claws had moments before. 

“But… it can’t be… you’re…”

~Elsewhere~

“PRINCESS CLAM?!”

Finnigan was so getting fired for this. 

A whole dragon. 

Twelve hours. 

He had managed to lose a whole dragon in twelve hours. 

But his suffering didn’t end there. 

Oh, no. 

That particular dragon just happened to be the second most important entity in the SeaWing kingdom. 

The only heir to the throne. The first of her name. The only surviving descendant of royal blood left. 

“Princess Clam!!” Finnigan called out, desperate. It wasn’t as if he expected her to pop out of nowhere in response to his summons, but it felt better than just staring, dumbfounded, at the spot where she had disappeared. At least he could tell himself that he was trying. He turned over a rock, watching a disgruntled crab scuttle away as it’s home was disturbed. He didn’t think she’d be hiding under a rock that was about one-third of her size… but, again, checking every nook and cranny in and around the royal family’s shore-estate made Finnigan feel slightly less useless. 

“Princess--!” He choked on his own words, forcing them back down as a member of the royal guard came into vision. The dragon stared at Finnigan strangely, as though he looked extremely out of place. He probably did, holding a rock and sweating like an icicle in the summer sun. “H-Hello, sir! Ma’am! Nothing to report, everything is in tip-top shape!”

The guard in question just shrugged and walked off to their post, leaving Finnigan a nervous wreck. If he didn’t find her soon… if the queen found out that he had lost her again … 

“This is bad. This is so very bad. This is so so so so baaaaaddd,” he hissed under his breath. “If she finds out, she’s going to hang me out to dry, like a piece of seaweed. And then the seagulls will peck my eyes out, and I’ll shrivel up in the sun, and--”

“I always knew that you had an active imagination,” a voice behind him mused. It almost sounded like…

“Princess!” He yelped and spun around, beaming in relief. “I was so worried!”

“About me? Or about yourself?” Princess Clam stood behind him, holding herself as a royal should: dignified, elegant, with a slight air of superiority hinted in her posture and the way she gazed down her snout at him. He trembled under her gaze, shrinking lower to the ground, as if that would absolve him of his self-centeredness. 

“B-Both, princess... “

She stared at him for a long while, eyes glinting like hidden daggers, before she blinked lazily and looked away. “At least you’re honest. Are the preparations for my journey to the SkyWing kingdom underway?” She stalked down the hall, away from her “advisor”--really, Finnigan was nothing more than a glorified babysitter. 

“Yes,” he scrambled after her, nodding in affirmation. “Your bags are being packed as we speak. Now, about where you were…”

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, the air around her growing chilly. Finnigan shivered, involuntarily. “What about it?” 

“It’s my job to know where you are at all times…”

“I’m right here.” She turned, raising an eyebrow at her advisor like he was speaking nonsense. “What more is there for you to know?”

“Well… I’d appreciate it if you told me what you’ve been doing all day…”

“Noted.” She gracefully swung around the corner and out of Finnigan’s sight. He raced to trail after her. 

“Princess--” They were nearing the door of her personal chamber. Finnigan began to grow desperate. 

“That’s me.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Unfortunately.”

“If you could just--”

“I can’t.”

“But I really need to--”

“You don’t.”

“But--!”

She swung the door closed in Finnigan’s face, letting out a low groan as she heard his muffled pleas through the doorway. I’ve had a long day, she thought, plopping into her nest of plush cushions. But, in the end of the say, this is all a political game. And, with a low chuckle, she eased herself deeper into her bed, I’m quite good at winning games. 

Chapter Text

Four full hours of following a NightWing, and the only information they had gleaned was that he preferred the color blue over purple. Four. Tortuous. Unending. Hours. Apex couldn’t fathom how a dragon could be so incredibly boring. 

But boring wasn’t the right word. Not exactly. 

The coal-black NightWing that he and Starfish had been tailing was far from ordinary. His scales were smooth and unblemished, like they hadn’t been exposed to the outside elements in years. By the way he had examined every plant and misshapen rock he happened to come across, he probably hadn’t left his cave in a very long time. He kept a diary, scrawling down every miniscule detail such as the color of the sky at a particular time or the way a certain leaf smelled compared to another. 

Starfish was the only thing standing between their inquisitive subject and Apex’s wraith, ironic as it was. Normally, the spunky SeaWing’s attention span was less than that of a salamander’s, but they seemed entirely focused on finding Permafrost. Perhaps it was guilt over losing him in the first place that motivated them, or maybe Starfish felt the heaviness of the silence that had taken the place of the IceWing’s snappy retorts just as much as Apex. Nevertheless, the fact remained that Starfish kept Apex in line, all so that they could follow this NightWing back to his queen. 

It was a task that was proving easier to say, harder to perform. 

“Oh!” The NightWing had made another discovery. His dark claws probed at a nearby tree, long-since eaten from the inside out by mites. A couple of them scuttled out from the shelter of their shell, only to be plucked from the bark by the same claws that had prompted them to investigate. To his watcher’s horror, the NightWing then proceeded to pop one of them into his mouth. He bit down with a sickening crunch that made Starfish wince and Apex shutter. “Hm,” he hummed, thoughtfully, as he chewed. Then, he got out the notebook--that accursed notebook--and started scribbling something down.

Starfish tried not to gag, so as not to give away their position. They knew that MudWings sometimes ate bugs from their time in the swamps surrounding the palace, but she had never seen a dragon actually consume one, let alone a lofty NightWing. Unless Starfish had been specifically instructed that they had to eat it, they wouldn’t touch an insect with a five foot pole. They couldn’t even imagine how Apex must feel, having never even heard of such an absurd aspect of dragon cuisine. Even thinking about eating a bug must have been too foreign a concept for him to comprehend. 

“Do you two want some?”

Apex’s head whipped towards the NightWing, golden eyes narrowing. Several minutes of silence passed before the prince decided that he was probably talking with the voices in his head that told him to stuff critters in his maw. He was just starting to relax when--

“No? More for me, then. Though, you should eat. Ever since you started following me, you haven’t been able to properly hunt. You know, a dragon’s health is the most important thing that they have. It really should be maintain--” Apex was on him in a second, front claws cutting off his air supply and back claws holding the dragon’s wings close to his sides. “Hello,” the NightWing wheezed. 

“How did you know we were following you?” Apex demanded, pressing his claws closer against the soft scales covering the dark dragon’s neck. He coughed, and Starfish had to drag Apex off before he accidentally strangled their only lead. The dragon came up for air in a great gasp, rubbing their neck where Apex’s talons had wrapped around it. 

“Well, they told me, of course!”

“Who told you?” Apex felt panic surge within him. Did the NightWings send this dragon out, specifically to send Apex and Starfish on a wild goose chase? How did they know that the kidnapper they had sent had left a scale behind? 

“The world's whispers.” He padded in a slow circle. “Don’t you hear them? They’re all around you. They gossip through the treetops and make quite a clamor in the valleys, where they know they will echo. Listen,” he prompted, suddenly stopping his rounds to tilt an ear towards the sky. 

Starfish glanced at Apex, waving a talon in a loop beside their head. This dragon is nuts, the gesture said. Apex nodded in agreement. At least he knew that the NightWings weren’t onto them. “Okay,” the prince began slowly, “I hear them.” He decided to play along for now, just to see where it got him. 

“Oh, that's concerning, because I was lying to you! Or, perhaps you were just trying to gain my favor by pretending to know what I was talking about? What a fun little strategy!” This dragon, despite having called out Apex’s bluff, didn’t seem angry in any way that he had been lied to. His tone held no trace of sarcasm, no hint of bitterness. Who the heck is this weirdo, Apex thought. 

“My name is Reaper! Pleased to make your acquaintance! I’m… I'm a NightWing,” he added, as if Apex couldn’t tell. Starfish shouldered past the prince, who was currently staring at Reaper with his jaw practically brushing against the floor. 

“I’m Starfish! Nice to meet you, Reaper!” They extended a green claw towards the NightWing, who stared at it for a minute, unsure. Then, he picked up a nearby rock and placed it in Starfish’s grip. Starfish stared at it for a moment, visibly going through fifteen stages of confusion before reaching the conclusion that they shouldn’t question it. “Uhm… thank you…” But Reaper wasn’t listening. He had already moved on to examine a twig. 

“Uhm,” Apex interjected, “Do you mind telling us what you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Everywhere is somewhere, unless, of course, you’re nowhere! But everyone’s somewhere at some point in time, until the time at which they’re called back into nowhere!” The NightWing sat down heavily, lifting the twig up to his eyes to examine it closer. 

“Right… well, can you tell us why you’re here, then,” Starfish prompted. 

“Where else would I be? You SeaWings sure are silly creatures, asking such obvious questions.” 

“What are you currently doing?” Apex asked. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. 

“What are any of doing? In the endless cycle of war and peace, life and death, love and loss, what do any of us truly do? Sure, some dragons come along and make a ripple in the endless river of time, leaving their clawprint etched firmly into the surface of dragon’s minds, but--”

Starfish and Apex shared an aggrieved look. Regretting that he had even asked in the first place, Apex held up a talon to silence the NightWing. He trailed off slowly, but not because he could see that Apex was about to rip his tail off and feed it to him; No, he simply stopped speaking because he had lost interest in the topic of discussion, Now, his sights were set on the deep, jagged scars that ran across Apex’s neck. Reaper sat down with a heavy whump , mimicking Apex’s pointed talon by lifting up his own and directing it towards the half-healed wound. 

“You should be dead,” he said, nonchalantly. As though the sentence was one that would normally come up in a casual conversation. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Apex bit back, “but you will be if you don’t tell us what you’re--HEY!”

Ignoring the prince's threat, Reaper swiftly got up and stepped closer, much too close for Apex’s comfort. He was prodding at the wound now, and Apex felt sharp stabs of pain each time his talons poked the torn scales. “Intriguing… Do you feel like an animated corpse?” 

“Wha--no! Stop touching it!” Apex waved him away, all his bravado and threats giving way under the NightWing’s curiosity. “I feel fine, thank you very much. I’m still breathing, I still feel pain, I still have a will of my own, and my heart is beating! So, yes, I am still alive!”

“Well, someone certainly prevented your death. Only one dragon can do that...”

Suddenly, Starfish interjected, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Hey, let’s stay on track here, alright! We need to find out where Permafrost is!”

“Permafrost? Permafrost… Permafrost!! The little IceWing!!” Apex’s head snapped back towards Reaper, yellow eyes burning. 

“Do you know where he is?” The prince asked. 

“Of course? What kind of researcher would I be if I didn’t?” 

“Can you… take us to him?” Apex couldn’t believe it was that easy. It was never this easy. Permafrost was within their grasp, and all they had had to do was ask some little weirdo about his whereabouts. 

“Oh, sure! But first, I need help with something!” 

“With what?” Starfish pressed, leaning forward expectantly. 

“I’ll need an animus dragon.”

Of course. 

It was never that easy. 

“Where are we supposed to find an animus dragon?!” Apex complained. “Those are as rare as…” His voice died in his throat as he watched Starfish step forward, their eyes glimmering with a determined light. 

“I know one.” They said. 

“Oh, delightful,” Reaper cheered. “Take me to them at once!”

“You’re looking at them.” Starfish kept their head facing forward, so that they wouldn’t have to meet Apex’s eyes. They didn’t know what they would see there--bewilderment, fear, awe--because it no longer mattered. They had just wanted to be normal, but if they couldn’t have an ordinary life… well, they’d settle for helping their new companions with this power they had been cursed with. 

Chapter Text

When he laughed, it was quiet. 

Like the snow drifting in flurries around them, dancing with their brethren, floating to the ground… he was quiet. 

Some dragons would say that it was disturbing, seeing someone laugh but hearing no sound come out. But it wasn’t that there was no sound: The problem was that they only ever listened with their ears. 

Had they been truly hearing him, they would have felt the warmth suffusing through their scales. The unexpected burst of heat racing down the ridge of their back, from the top of their horns to the tips of their tails. The silence replacing the space where sound should be, a silence that was so loud that it was a noise in and of itself.  

Permafrost’s brother was mute. Permafrost never knew the true reason for this. Had he been born this way, or had something compelled him not to speak? Was he physically incapable of speech? But the little IceWing had learned not to question it long ago. Besides, his brother could still communicate. He just made himself heard in a different way. But, once you learned the language, Permafrost’s brother was positively full of words. 

A twitch of the tail. A stray glance. Intertwined claws, stolen moments, nudges that were so natural they almost felt accidental. But Permafrost knew how to read these things. He had always known how to read his brother like a scroll. 

So why… 

Why couldn’t he see the thoughts swirling behind his brother’s empty eyes?

Why had his tail gone limp? Why wasn’t his jaw moving? It hung open, blood dripping onto the snow, staining it red. Why wasn’t his breath hitching anymore? Why was he just laying there? Why wouldn’t he get up? Why? Why? Wh-

Claws closed around Permafrost’s neck. 

“Look what I found, Snowdrift!”

Permafrost mewled, pathetically. He wiggled in his attacker’s claws, unable to escape their vice-like grip. 

“Put it out of its misery, Bonecrusher. It’s impolite to play with your prey.”

“But it’s so small! Do you think it’s a baby?”

A face drifted into Permafrost’s vision, scrutinizing him. It was another IceWing, his scales a rich blue characteristic of the northern lands. A vine-like scar ran across his jaw, glinting in the dawn light and twisting when he tilted his head. 

“Look at the horns. It’s at least one year old. Must be a runt. Which of these rebel scum was carrying a child around a battlefield?” The big IceWing nudged a few of the bodies scattered around the camp, both IceWing and NightWing alike. Permafrost felt rage surge in his chest when those talons scraped against his brother, who didn’t so much as twitch. He twisted out of his captor’s grip and swiftly pounced on the big IceWing’s back, teeth gnashing against the hard scales at the back of his neck. 

He was easily thrown off, and landed in a snow drift a few feet away. 

“Oh?” A NightWing swam into view, smaller than the IceWing from before. He looked young; Only a teenager. “It’s a fighter! I kinda want to keep it!”

“It certainly has spunk.” The IceWing brushed the spot where he had been bitten, as if the remnants of Permafrost’s touch needed to be wiped away. As if he was nothing more than trash to this imposing dragon. 

Suddenly, Permafrost felt a surge of fear in his chest. He didn’t yet know what frightened him about this IceWing: Not yet. Later, he would learn the true reason for his fear. He would discover how to turn that piercing terror into a weapon. But, for now, he was simply a scared child. “I’m not an it! I’m Permafrost,” he squeaked, trying to sound brave. 

“I was beginning to think it couldn’t speak.” The IceWing, Snowdrift, regarded him with those cool blue eyes. His gaze scraped over Permafrost like ice, so strikingly different from his brother’s warm green eyes, flecked with gold. He wasn’t even acknowledging Permafrost: He was simply assessing a product, weighing the costs of maintaining such a burden and what could be gained by letting it continue its existence. In that gaze, Permafrost got the first taste of his own disposability. 

“Stop it!” Permafrost shook snow from his lavender scales, baring his teeth, as he had often seen other dragons do when he or his brother had gotten too close to them. They may have been travelling with a group, but they were never a part of it. Not truly. That was why, when the children had been hidden away during the assault on the camp, no one had bothered to check if the little lavender dragonet was included among the bodies of the other squirming hatchlings. 

“What are you going to do? Cry??” The NightWing laughed cruelly, wings shaking with the force of it. It was so… harsh. And loud. So loud. Too loud. Permafrost flinched, pressing his claws against his ears. 

“Stop it! Stop laughing!!” But the laughing only got louder. It seemed to be inside his head now, echoing off of the caverns of his mind. 

So loud. 

Too loud. 

Suddenly, it was silent. Everything was silent. But this wasn’t the easy silence that he had shared with his brother. This was staticky, forced, like cloth had been stuffed into his ears. Slowly, his senses began returning to him, and Permafrost was aware of a sharp pain in his head first. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer standing, audaciously facing the indifferent dragons who had stolen his world from him. He was on the ground, something warm and wet flowing from behind his ear. When had he gotten on the ground? Why couldn’t he move? Then, his eyes landed on a rock laying nearby, one of the sharp edges stained with red. His vision began to blur. 

Someone had thrown a rock at him.

But… who…

“I’ll take that off your claws, Snowdrift.” This voice was new. A deep, rich sort of voice. One that almost sounded saturated. 

“Oh, are you going to take in another misfit? Orphans make the best servants.” Another new voice. This one was unmistakably feminine, the words smooth and polished. Completely different from the rasp of the IceWing soldiers, and unlike any commoner's voice Permafrost had ever heard. It had the unmistakable edge of royalty in it: prideful, pompous, and graceful as an arctic fox. 

“My queen!” The NightWing dipped into a low, reverential bow. He was ignored, as though he were nothing more than an insect, buzzing around noisily. 

Snowdrift begrudgingly dipped his head towards the elegant voice in respect. Well, at least, obligatory respect. It was clear he wasn’t sincere in the way his tail twitched, betraying his aggravation. Without addressing the “queen”--as the NightWing had named the silky voice--he, instead, directed his words towards the one who had said his name mere moments before. 

“Tempest,” he greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you out here. What brings you to the battlefield?” His words had a hidden meaning, but Permafrost hadn’t had the knowledge to read into them at the time. They were simply words, edged with a sort of caution that spoke of a tension between two rival forces. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was simply observing from afar?” But when Tempest spoke, her voice betrayed no emotion. Well, that wasn’t entirely true… there was a hint of amusement lying underneath a layer of chilly formality. 

“No,” Snowdrift decided, after a pause. “You’re always involved, somehow.”

“You know me so well.” A new dragon came into the picture. Permafrost felt enraptured by what he saw: A cream-colored dragon, just a shade away from being entirely white, with slanted eyes the color of obsidian. She moved like her feet barely touched the clumps of snow beneath her claws--and when Permafrost listened, he was shocked to find that the snow didn’t crunch under her step like it did with others. It was like she stepped in another plane of existence, far removed from the dragons stomping around about her. She made them all look clumsy in comparison; Perhaps that was why Snowdrift seemed so disgruntled by her appearance. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

“Are you going to order me to disclose that information?” It was clearly a challenge. After a moment, Snowdrift lowered his eyes in concession. Tempest seemed satisfied, and turned her inky stare on Permafrost. The little dragonet felt everything else melt into the background: All that mattered was her eyes on him. He scrambled to his feet, no longer feeling the pulsing ache in the back on his skull. “Well, hello there,” she purred. 

“...”

“Not much of a talker? That’s fine. It’s better for stealth.” She stepped closer, and Permafrost found himself unable to move. When she inspected him, her thoughtful assessment didn’t cause him to shiver as Snowdrift’s had. It didn’t fill him with warmth, either. He simply felt… nothing. Like she wasn’t even there, staring him down. Something itched under Permafrost’s scales, a feeling of wrongness that he couldn’t quite place. “Yes, we’ll take him.” She must have found what she had been looking for in him. Permafrost sensed a finality in those words, as if they had been a sentence to a long imprisonment. 

“Pity. I was hoping to have him dipped in molten gold, and use him to adorn my throne room.” The NightWing queen’s voice floated towards Permafrost, and if he looked hard enough, he could just barely make out her smooth, dark scales outlined against the bloodstained snow in his peripherals. 

“I’m sure he would make a lovely ornament. However, I have bigger plans for this one.” Tempest dipped into a crouch in front of Permafrost, forcing him to return all of his attention to her. “Let’s go, little one.”

“G-Go…? I have to stay with my brother…” Permafrost’s voice was weak compared to all the other dragons--it held none of the splendor of the queen’s, no hint of resolute fortitude of Snowdrift’s, and was filled with fear where Tempest’s was completely devoid of emotion. 

“Ahaha!” The NightWing from before, Bonecrusher, let out a thunderous laugh. “Your brother? Is that the one you were cowering next to when we found you? Breaking news, kid: he’s dead!”

A roaring filled Permafrost’s ears. He had known, of course. Had known that his brother was gone. Had known that his vacant eyes were those of a dragon whose life had long since fled their body, moved on to whatever plane of existence awaited them after this one. But to hear it said… to come to the sick, startling realization that the only dragon remaining to care for him had left him here, alone… Permafrost felt the world tilt dangerously under his claws. He felt impulsivity swiftly take over his senses, tunneling his vision to exclude the past and the future--all that mattered was the present. 

And, presently, he leapt at Tempest with a fury to rival even the most contentious SkyWing. His teeth, not yet blunted with use, easily sank into the soft scales of her chest. His claws scrambled uselessly in the snow, unsure of what to do now that he had latched on. Tempest’s words were lost to him in the haze of his ire, but he thought he heard her mention something about his instincts. 

None of it mattered, in the end. 

He was brushed aside as easily as if he were a stray bit of dirt, nothing but an inconvenience. He caught one last view of his brother--throat gashed from ear to ear, red and yawning like a mouth--before his head was slammed back into the hard-packed layer of frost covering the ground. He heard a pop, and like the last embers of a fire crackling into nothingness, his vision collapsed in on itself. 

~

He woke, gasping. For a moment, he thought that he was back in IceWing territory, and panicked when his vision didn’t return as it had in the past. In the past… It took a moment for Permafrost to separate his thoughts into remembrance and occurrence, but once he had, he became uncomfortably aware of the stifling heat of the room. His mouth felt like cotton. The symptoms of his slow dehydration hit him in waves; the headache, the nausea, and the inability to muster the strength he needed to look for an escape route. Why was it so hot? 

Apex, he thought, selfishly, please come for me. I don’t know how much longer I can last...

Chapter Text

To what do we owe our kin?

He waited for the dark. 

Our thoughts?

They came just after dusk, as he knew they would. 

Our emotions?

When they tried to cry for help, they found that blood replaced the words flowing through their throats. 

Our lives?

And so it was done. More lives, snuffed in the name of familial fidelity. Anubis cleaned the blood and buried the bodies, sending silent gratitude towards their freed souls. There had been four of them; they hadn’t put up much of a fight. Perhaps they had sensed the inevitability of the situation, or maybe they could see the resignation in Anubis’ eyes and took comfort in knowing that their killer acknowledged the value of their existence in this moment. In turn, they had taken pity on him. 

It hadn’t been messy. Anubis was thankful. 

When he was done doing the proper rites, the ones he afforded to each individual life he claimed, he wrapped a strip of wool--dyed black--over his eyes and tied it behind his horns. There it would stay, until his blind justice was once more in need of sight. He liked to look each one of them in the eyes, so they could see his sorrow and make peace with their untimely end. 

Perhaps such things were pointless accommodations to criminals. Still, does a dragon become a scavenger when they steal something? Do they not still bleed, think, and feel? So long as they remained sentient, Anubis would not deny them the acknowledgement of a respectable death. 

He would cry for them, if he could. Those did not know how. He had asked, once, when one of his targets had begun to sob. 

“How does it feel?” He had whispered to them.

They hadn’t answered. He supposed they thought he was mocking them. He wasn’t. 

His step light over the shifting sands, Anubis left the tent and faded back into the landscape: The backdrop of beige on beige, nothing but the drab dragons who inhabited the land breaking the consistent pattern. There was no oasis here, and there wouldn’t be one for miles. His family had chosen a remote location, perhaps because of the scene his brother had caused last time. 

Even moving with the sand, it seemed as though Anubis stood out amidst the other market-goers. He supposed it was the cloth, so dark against his pale scales. Or perhaps it was the dark stripes along his back, jagged like scars and deep as ink. They had always been abnormal. His brother thought that, perhaps, Anubis was part NightWing. 

He doubted it, but anything’s possible when you’re an orphan. 

They were arguing again, when he pushed back the tent flap and slipped inside like a ghost. His steps made no sound as he moved across the room, but his sister didn’t rely on sound alone to locate her prey. 

“Anubis agrees with me! Don’t you, Anubis?” Her tone brokered no argument. He was fairly certain that if he didn’t agree with whatever point she had made, it would be a good idea to sleep with one eye open. Luckily, his brother spared him the choice. 

“Don’t drag him into this,” Pharaoh broke in. He was the eldest of them all, though the smallest by comparison. Anubis couldn’t see him through the blindfold, but he had memorized the rich, dark bronze of his scales. It was flecked with red in places, little scales tinged a vibrant hue around his eyes and the ridge of his back. He could have been mistaken for a MudWing, if not for his lithe figure and barbed tail. 

“Why not? He’s a part of this family, he should be involved in all decisions.” Anubis’ other brother, Hyena, broke in. The statement was not made with Anubis’ best interests in mind, he knew. The pale Sandwing, with his shockingly white eyes, had always known himself to be inferior and strove to make Anubis’ life harder at every turn. It wasn’t vanity that made Anubis think this; It was an objective fact. Still, Anubis’ words were stolen from him by his sister. 

“Anubis, don’t think that one should ask before they touch something that is not theirs?” Vera drew herself up with all her dignity and poise. Her overly-large wings nestled into the hollow of her back, her tail with it’s dark rings encircling it wrapped elegantly over her claws, and her tongue flicked out in agitation. All this and more, Anubis could tell from the way the sand shifted around her. That, and it was a stance he had often witnessed her adopt when the answer to a question she had posed was abundantly clear and she expected a specific answer.

“That is stealing,” Anubis confirmed. His voice was quiet, but it seemed to draw the others into a bated silence as they listened for his concession. 

“Yes! Thank you--”

“I did not say that I agreed with you. Is what we do not the same as stealing under the guise of judgement?” If they were waiting for more, Anubis did not give it. There were few subjects in life that were deserving of more than a few words--this was one of them. The others knew better than to interrupt as he settled onto the velvety cusion near the back of the room and began his meditation. 

What do they owe us?

His eyes fluttered shut behind the blindfold. 

Their words?

He took a deep breath and held it, letting the strength seep out of his muscles as the oxygen flooded from his system. 

Their time?

When his mind began to dim and his lungs began to ache, Anubis welcomed the darkness with open arms. He greeted it, let it in, wallowed and sunk in its promises of eternity. 

What, then, do we owe to ourselves?

His breath tumbled out of him in a whoosh of air, the darkness whispering to him as it turned its back. Not yet, it said. Not yet. 

~

“At least someone can do their job,” Holly muttered to herself as she resealed the NightWing queen’s letter. After about a week of waiting, word had come back that Queen Ebonyshadow had been successful in her attempts to capture the little rat that had wandered a bit too far from his burrow. From what Holly understood, the little wretch was blind now. Serves him right, she thought, for being so useless. 

The IceWing queen had much occupying her mind, from the impending war with the SkyWings to the disharmony in her own court. It was all building up like a headache behind her eyes, pounding against her skull each time she thought of the work that was ahead of her. It came as a small relief that Permafrost would, at last, be interrogated and silenced once and for all. The last thing she needed was him babbling to the SkyWing queen of all the IceWing’s defenses and assault patterns, especially now of all times. 

And then there was the matter of her own descendancy… 

She knew she’d have to choose a viable candidate to give her an heir at some point. There was just one problem: All dragons she had met up until this point had been blundering idiots. Heaving herself onto her throne, claws scrabbling against the ice, she groaned as she sat down. 

I’m getting old…

Before she could go through the list of suitors for the billionth time, she was--thankfully--interrupted by a messenger poking their head into the vast chamber. She gestured for the scroll in their claws somewhat impatiently, and the messenger scurried to obey. No words were exchanged, as no words were necessary. The sender needn’t be declared, as Queen Holly could read just as well as the next dragon. 

She unrolled the scroll and stared at it for a moment, the gears in her head turning. 

A royal wedding…

A SkyWing wedding…

The union of Apex and the SeaWing princess…

A sharp smile cut across her features, tail flicking in delight, and she called out to the messenger just before they disappeared through the semi-transparent doors. “Wait. Send a message in reply to this SkyWing princess. Tell her that I would be honored to attend. She wishes to end the hostility between our families, and I think that’s a wonderful idea. Oh, and send two more messages, one to Queen EbonyShadow and another to Tempest. Tell the NightWing queen that I will personally come to retrieve Permafrost. And to Tempest, wherever she may be, tell her that I am in need of her services once again. Tell her to finish the job that Permafrost started.” 

The messenger hesitated, but at the behest of a silent glare in their direction, they scurried away to do the queen’s bidding. 

“They must not have contact with him, if they think he plans to return for this wedding of theirs. They wish to fool me, do they? I’m willing to bet that this wedding is a ruse, a front to lure me in.” She slipped off of her throne, shrugging away her weariness like it was little more than a coat of fur draped over her shoulders. “If it is me they want, then it is me they shall have. The groom, however…” Her claws scraped across the ice as she paced the length of her throne room. “He’ll be too busy dealing with a sudden case of cold feet!”

Chapter Text

“So, let me get something straight. You want to dissect Starfish?”

“Well,” Reaper responded, twirling his talons in the air with a dismissive flourish, “yes, but no. I just want a sample.” 

“Oh, just a sample! You hear that, Starfish? It’s fine, he just wants a piece of your heart! I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Apex’s voice dripped with scorn and sarcasm. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even more unbelievably, Starfish didn’t seem in the least bit fazed by this development. 

“And you’ll tell us where Permafrost is, and how to get there?” For Starfish, a small part of themselves was the least they could give to find the friend they had failed by not paying enough attention. This feeling was amplified by the thought of what the NightWing queen might be doing to him, and how he was probably hopelessly alone in a strange place. 

“What?” Apex’s fiery eyes flicked back and forth between Starfish and Reaper, unsure of which one to direct his incredulity at. “You can’t be serious, Starfish. You could literally die in the process!”

“If I die… so be it. Permafrost’s life is worth ten of mine.” Starfish tried to hide the quiver in their voice, to put forth a mask of bravery that they didn’t feel, but a hint of uncertainty crept into their words. Immediately, they hated themselves for it. It was their fault he was gone, so it was their responsibility to get him back, no matter the cost. Besides, even if they were scared of death… they were more fearful for their missing companion. 

“Wha-but-no! That's not true at all, and I won’t allow it! This is madness, Starfish,” Apex reasoned. Reaper watched the interaction from afar, amused. “Listen to me. You’re of no help to me or Permafrost dead. And how do you think he’ll feel, knowing that he was the reason you were unable to achieve your dream?”

“My dream was finding a place where I belonged, Apex. I’ve found that. Even after finding out what I am, you’ve stayed by my side. You haven’t looked at me differently, or shrunk away from my touch like I was diseased. That’s, like… the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Besides,” they waved a claw in the air, as if to dispel the cloud of Apex’s doubt, “it’s not guaranteed that I won’t pull through. It’s not like he’s taking my whole heart, or anything. I mean, surely I can do without a little piece.”

“Actually, your heart is probably the most vital organ in your body,” Reaper cheerfully cut in from across the overhang. “So cutting out a part of it would likely cease the functionality of every other organ due to blood loss! You have, by my calculations, a three percent chance of survival!” 

Apex and Starfish stared at him for a moment. Then, Apex said:

“Absolutely not.”

At the same time as Starfish said: 

“That’s better than I was expecting.”

The two dragons blankly regarded each other, green eyes searching gold. Then, unexpectedly, they both burst out laughing. The differences between them had never been so prominent, and the two of them realized for the first time that they were like a perfect disharmony. A cacophony of random noise that was so wrong, it almost sounded like a melody, a chaotic verse. When they had both recovered, they were smiling despite the circumstances. A mutual understanding passed between them. 

I have to do this.

I know.

“If you die, I’m going to kill you myself, blubber-head.”

“You can certainly try, barnacle-butt.” Starfish stuck out their tongue and looked towards Reaper, whose claws were twitching eagerly, as though greedy to get his claws on his prize. 

“You both have quite the fascinating relationship,” he proclaimed from his spot in the distance. “I’d love to study it, if the SeaWing pulls through.”

“The SeaWing’s name,” Apex hissed, “is Starfish. And you will do everything in your power to save them, or you’ll be joining them in the afterlife.” 

“I’d love to go back there one day, actually. It’s quite a lovely place.” Apex stared at the NightWing blankly, as if trying to process the absurdity he had just spouted. “I’m just kidding,” Reaper assured.

“Oh, okay. I thought you meant that you had died bef--”

“It’s a dreadful place,” Reaper finished. 

“Guys,” Starfish cut in, “let’s not get caught up in who has and has not died, alright? We’ve got things to do and places to be, places that only Reaper can show you. So, Apex, if you kill him, please promise me that you’ll only do it after you find Permafrost.” They were only half-kidding. 

“Yeah, sure,” Apex said, distantly. “Hey, Starfish, speaking of death…” He claw floated up to the scars criss-crossing his neck, the only visible mark that his imprisonment had left on him. His eyes asked a silent question, one in which Starfish answered with a nod. They figured that they owed him that, at least. He responded by lowering his gaze, as if he had known all along and had been denying it. “We both owe you our lives, then.”

“The things I do are my choice, Apex. I’m not doing you any favors that I expect reparation for. I’m doing all that I can for the only dragons who’ve treated me as nothing more or less than I am. Who’ve embraced me as Starfish. Not an animus, not a pet; as Starfish.” 

“Don’t forget Bullfrog.” The SkyWing prince gently placed a talon over their chest, where their heart was. “Think about how sad he would be if he never saw you again.” 

Starfish’s eyes clouded with emotion, and they clasped Apex’s talons between their claws. “You’re right,” they concluded. “I guess I have no choice but to beat all the odds, then. Apex… thank you for not letting me give up.”

“All in a day’s work.” He bumped his horns against theirs affectionately, and they smiled in response. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, they let go for perhaps the last time. Apex watched them disappear into the cave with Reaper, giving the prince one last smile before they were gone. 

~

Queen Selkie was beginning to find her daughter’s tardiness to be quite vexing. In the past, she had chalked it up to the disregard of time that seemed to be prevalent among all young dragonets, an inability to distinguish between one moment and the next that could only result from the ignorant thought that one had unlimited seconds to spare. Now, as Princess Clam had bloomed into adulthood, her unwillingness to appear in court could not be excused as the foolish wiles of one unaware of her own position in life. 

She sighed, fighting to maintain her composure. What Queen Selkie really wanted to do was leave the room and drag her daughter out of her chambers by force, but such an action was not befitting of a queen. Nor would it do any good for her court to watch as she hauled their future queen into the throne room by her tail, most likely wailing her distress and displeasure at the forced intrusion upon her hibernation. 

Queen Selkie was beginning to think she had raised some sort of unpleasant fur-beast, what with how frequently her daughter took to sleeping through entire afternoons. It was as if Clam was nocturnal, sneaking around at night and face planting into her pillows by day.

Finally, thankfully, her daughter entered the room and bounded up the stairs to join her mother at the dais. Not the most gracious entrance, but Queen Selkie knew that it was the best she could expect from someone who was most likely sleepwalking. Without giving her daughter a chance to speak--not like last time , when Clam had announced that she was leaving if the court had no interesting news to report--she began the meeting in a carefully controlled monotone.

“It seems that everyone has arrived. Then, let’s begin. I’m sure you all know the topic of the discussion that we shall be commencing, yes?” She waited for the grave nods of her retinue before continuing. “Good. I’ll start us off with the escort, then. Have the dragons who will be delivering my daughter to the SkyWing palace been selected?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Star, the Head Commander of the SeaWing troops, growled in his gravelly voice. “Only the best for Princess Clam, as dictated by Her Highness.”

“Good.” Queen Selkie didn’t dare look back at her daughter. She could feel the murderous gaze burning the back of her neck; she needn’t see it to know Clam’s fury. “Have the gifts been packed?”

“All but the pearls,” Cobalt, the head of the Treasury, confirmed. Her voice was playful, twinkling, as if she was constantly on the verge of laughter. Hearing it tended to put Queen Selkie in a good mood, since her joy was as contagious as it was pleasant to listen to. 

“Excellent,” the queen sighed in contentment. All was going according to plan. All… except…

“Uhm, hello? Excuse me?” Clam stepped forward, claw raised in dissent. “Is anyone going to ask me if I’m prepared to surrender my freedom to some seaweed-brained prince in a distant kingdom, hundreds of miles from the shore? No? Because that seems like a pretty important piece of information to obtain before you ship me off to the middle of nowhere!”

“Ahem,” Queen Selkie cut in, feeling the beginnings of a headache throb behind her eyes. “We’ve talked about this, beloved. This is important for our people. Besides, you can always visit the ocean if you wish, and perhaps move a tad closer to it after Princess Condor had ascended to the throne. Now, if you’ll let us proceed--”

“No, I won’t let you proceed!” Whatever foolish exclamation Princess Clam was working on, it died in her throat when she saw the look in her mother’s eyes. With a gulp of trepidation, she lowered her head and stepped back to let her mother finish talking to her advisors. There were very few things in Pyrrhia that frightened Clam; her mother was one of those things, when she was no longer in the mood to put up with her daughter’s callousness.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur. They discussed visitation after the union, briefed Clam on her duties as the life-partner of SkyWing royalty, and drew up a list of customs she was expected to follow on the wedding night in accordance with SkyWing tradition. When it was all over and the SeaWing court had filed out of the room, Princess Clam found that she wished it had dragged on for just a bit longer. Yes, she hated these types of things… but she hated being scolded by her mother even more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Queen Selkie’s mouth open and heard the ragged intake of breath as she prepared to launch into yet another didactic speech. 

But what Clam had expected, she didn’t receive. 

“Dear,” Queen Selkie said gently, the word dripping like honey off her tongue. “You know I love you.” 

Clam hesitated. Was this a trap? Was her mother trying to make her feel guilty? “Yes,” she replied, carefully. “As do I… but--”

“No buts,” her mother interrupted. “I’m not going to tell you to be grateful for being gift-wrapped and tossed into a pit of vipers. You deserve better than this.”

If Clam was waiting for the catch, the contradiction, it never came. Her mother simply looked… weary. And sad. Clam, in spite of her stubbornness, felt a wave of pity wash over her for her mother. As difficult as it was to lose your only daughter to a foreign ally out of necessity, Clam knew that she wasn’t making it any easier by being obstinate. 

“I’m sorry, mother,” she soothed. “I will visit. And, who knows… maybe I’ll actually like this one.” 

Queen Selkie cracked a mischievous smile, wholly undignified for royalty. “Twenty-three, Clam. You have turned down twenty-three suitors, all for miniscule details such as a discolored spot on their scale or a condescending attitude. What would make this one any different?”

“Well…” Princess Clam searched her mind for a silver lining. “I suppose I won’t know until I meet him. He’s a SkyWing, for one. They say he’s the color of polished gold, and that he would gladly sacrifice his life for his honor. They say he’s the perfect prince. Loyal, regal, and responsible. They also say he disobeyed his mother to save a prisoner.”

“Perhaps this one will be different. You both have something in common.”

“We do?” Princess Clam wrinkled her snout as her mother tapped it with an extended talon, like she used to when Clam was just a dragonet. 

“You both love giving your poor mothers conniption fits. Now, I believe you have some packing to do. Don’t let me catch you sleeping fifteen minutes before you’re to depart.” 

“Ay, ay, captain.” Princess Clam saluted her mother and left the throne room, her step a tad lighter than it had been when she entered. This won’t be so bad, she tried to convince herself. And if I really don’t like him, I’ll just have to become a widow at a very young age. 

Chapter Text

It appeared the rumors were true. 

The NightWings really did reside within a volcanic system, stifling hot and covered in a thick layer of ashy soot. Queen Holly shook her claws to get the pebbles that had lodged between her toes out, sending them skittering across the rock. 

“This place is vile,” she muttered to herself. Holly made a mental note to destroy the entryway to this horrid place on her way out, so no one had to suffer the uncomfortable atmosphere and black flakes that drifted through the air in an obscene imitation of snow. One landed on her snout, and angrily wiped it away with a talon. 

“Flake,” she called out to one of her many advisors, who came slithering up beside her like the lowly serpent he was. 

“Yes, Your Highness?”

She cut a glance towards him, weighing how well he would perform in a fight, should the NightWing queen decide that she wished to keep her little IceWing pet. I suppose that doesn’t matter, she thought. If we’re faster than him, there’s a chance Ebonyshadow will be too enthralled with ripping him to pieces to chase after us. And she isn’t smart enough to be plotting an ambush. “Is our escort being truthful when they say that they mean us no harm, do you think?”

Queen Ebonyshadow, everthe helpful hostess, had sent a handful of her goons to show them to the throne room, as if Queen Holly couldn’t spot the massive structure from a mile away. It was carved into the wall, grand steps leading towards an even grander room. Little pockets in the rock’s surface gave Holly little peeks of what she could expect inside, including suspended lights that seemed to float around of their own accord and a high-backed throne. An empty throne, she observed. 

“Is anyone being truthful when they say that they mean no harm, Your Majesty? I think the very nature of that sentence alone indicates that one or more parties feels threatened by the presence of another. There’s a reason for that apprehension.” Suspicion and prudence were Flake’s specialty. This is the only reason he continues to be of use to me, Holly reminded herself. 

“Keep an eye on the one in the back. She looks like trouble.” Queen Holly had spotted a particular dragon that rubbed her the wrong way, and she couldn’t quite put her talon on why . It could have been the way the slight NightWing was boring holes into the back of the queen’s neck with her sharp, flint-colored eyes. Or, perhaps it was the air of ominousness that seemed to hang around her like a stormcloud, threatening rain at any moment. 

If Flake was surprised by her assessment of such a seemingly-insignificant dragon, he knew better than to express his doubt. He simply nodded and faded into her peripherals, rejoining the retenue she had brought with her. He might make a viable candidate for… Holly almost burst out laughing before she could even complete the thought. It was a fun idea, to be sure, to make a partner out of such a simpering worm. He wouldn’t talk back, if nothing else could be said for that rat of an advisor. It also may be amusing to toy with his emotions, to see how far he would be willing to go for the sake of his liege-turned-lover, but… Holly wasn’t ready for the scripted lines and empty rituals he would shove down her throat. 

Finally, they arrived at the bottom of the staircase, wherein the question of who would be allowed to go came in. Holly knew that Ebonyshadow didn’t let just anyone into her throne room. She was highly selective of the dragons that dirtied her hall; they must make up for it through their own beauty, or by virtue of their reputation. She took careful note of how the NightWing escort peeled away from the visitors, all but one: the little devil in the back. It appears I was right. There is something different about that one.

The walk up was a dull one, with nothing but the sounds of scales scraping against stone to follow their party up to the throne room. There was no energy here, as if all of it was sucked out of the NightWings and used to fuel the hellscape they called home. Queen Holly tried her best to look dignified under the pool of sweat that was collecting on her brow, and hoped that it looked like little more than a glisten in the dim light. 

The throne room was, thankfully, a bit cooler than the rest of their forsaken habitat. Queen Ebonyshadow had even gone through the trouble of fetching Permafrost and tying him up in a neat little package, laying him down next to the throne like an exotic piece of furniture. He looked like little more than a slug, with his wings and legs tucked close to his body. Fitting, she mused. 

“Where is Queen Ebonyshadow?” Holly wondered aloud, slightly annoyed by the queen’s tardiness to such an important matter. She knew, of course, that Ebonyshadow had never been too fond of following proper customs… or, perhaps she was too dimwitted to understand the social cues surrounding this particular occasion. One day, I shall have to show her how to kneel. That would wait, however. Today, more important matters took precedence over manners. 

“Welcome!” The NightWing queen’s voice boomed across the hall, making Holly flinch. Queen Ebonyshadow entered the hall from a doorway behind the throne, adjusting a few pieces of jewelry that had been displaced. “I’m so glad you came, I’ve been anticipating this visit for weeks! You don’t know how happy this makes me--oh, you know, we should have a feast!”

“Ah…” Queen Holly resisted the instinctual denial that rose in her throat. “That would certainly be…” She searched for words, trying to ignore the expectant eyes of Ebonyshadow and the little NightWing’s shrewd gaze leveled on the back of her head. “An eventful occasion,” she finished. 

“Yes, indeed, but I know better than to subject you to such an ‘eventful occasion’” Ebonyshadow leapt gracefully onto her throne, tucking her wings behind her back in one fluid motion. Queen Holly envied her youth, and the ease of motion that came with it. “There are only two reasons you would come here, and one of them is that little cutie-pie squirming beside my throne.”

“Yes.” Queen Holly thanked the stars that Ebonyshadow didn’t wish to waste time dancing around the subject, but she couldn’t help but wonder what else the other queen thought she would make a special trip for. It wouldn’t do to waste time questioning everything Ebonyshadow said, though; she was, after all, not the brightest fire in the hearth. “Have you managed to get anything out of him?”

“He’s surprisingly resilient!” Ebonyshadow’s claws clacked against her obsidian seat. “We questioned him for hours, subjected him to a few days in a cave beneath the lava pools, and even plucked scales from him until he was screaming!”

“Yes, he’s quite a stubborn vermin. He was trained to die before divulging secrets, so it’s no surprise he was able to resist your... best... efforts. However, I think I know someone who could undo all of those mental blocks, if you’ll just hand him over to--”

“Here’s the thing,” Ebonyshadow cut her off, twirling the tip of her tail around with her talon. “I like him. He’s so sparkly, and you know how much I like sparkly things! Plus… his screams are just… so melodic. Like music to my ears. He suffers so beautifully,” she sighed, wistfully. 

Queen Holly was beginning to get the feeling that she had made a mistake in coming here. Does she actually presume to humiliate me? Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a handful of NightWings blocking the entryway of the throne room. Fine, then, she thought, training her eyes on the door behind Ebonyshadow’s throne. “Well, that may be a problem. As you and I both know, I came here specifically to fetch him from you. If you’d like, I can send you his corpse when we’re done with him so that you may peel off the rest of his scales and make a crown out of them.”

Permafrost growled against the muzzle clamping his mouth shut, and Ebonyshadow lazily flicked his snout with her tail. “Oh, hush,” she soothed. “I have no intention of giving you to the big, bad Ice Queen. Don’t you worry your pretty little lavender head.”

Queen Holly weighed her options. She was instantly put at a disadvantage when it came to terrain and climate, as she wasn’t sure how much Frostbreath she would be able to summon in the intense heat. She had also not been particularly prepared for a fight--even though she had briefly considered it--so she hadn’t worn any sort of protection that would prevent mortal injuries. “I hope you aren’t planning on sending me home empty-clawed.” 

“Oh, of course not!” Ebonyshadow chuckled to herself, as if the mere suggestion were ridiculous to her. She leaned forward in her throne, dark eyes settling at a point just above Queen Holly’s head. “I’m not planning on sending you home at all.”

Before she could get a word in edgewise, a whole host of NightWings fell on the gathered party, slamming into her entourage like a tidal wave of darkness. Distinctly, Queen Holly heard the twinkling sound of Ebonyshadow’s laughter above the clamor and confusion of the assault, but she had no time to dwell on the other royal’s betrayal. Now, she had to focus on staying alive. 

She carrened to her right and found herself face-to-face with a burly NightWing that appeared to be charging her head-on. She braced herself for impact and sucked in a deep breath of stifling air, feeling the cold building in her chest and creeping up her throat. Only when he was inches from her did she unleash it, directly into his gaping maw, freezing him from the inside out. He fell like a ton of bricks, but Holly didn’t have time to celebrate before yet another NightWing had descended on her. 

Meanwhile, Queen Ebonyshadow watched the brawl like it was little more than a game. Her forked tongue flicked out from between her teeth in delight whenever a dragon went down, regardless of tribe. She knew she would win; she had already been told of the outcome beforehand. So, all of this was merely spectacle to her. 

“Your Highness.” Her little messenger had snuck to her side, where she belonged. Ebonyshadow didn’t spare her a glance, but acknowledged her presence with a nod. 

“Little gem,” She purred. “What information did you manage to snag from the frozen vault of Holly’s mind-palace?”

Fatechanger felt a thrill go through her at being able to help the one dragon she adored the most in all of Pyrrhia. Ever since birth, she had been called a freak and outcast because of her abilities. And her queen… her gracious, beautiful queen… had celebrated them. “She has no descendants, my queen, so that shouldn’t be a problem in the assumption of power.”

“Is that all?” Queen Ebonyshadow glanced at Fatechanger, and the little messenger could feel her interest slipping. She searched the crags of her mind, as well as those of Queen Holly.

“She… was invited to a wedding. A royal wedding. A SkyWing wedding. I apologize, but that’s… all I can see.” 

Queen Ebonyshadow seemed more than satisfied. As she watched the last dregs of resistance die out from the safety of her throne, she couldn’t help but be reminded of one particular day--years ago--when she had first taken the crown as the ruler of the NightWings. She had  assisted Queen Holly in the decimation of the joint faction that threatened the icy throne with rebellion. Slowly and deliberately, she hopped off the throne and stepped off of the dias to stand in front of Queen Holly. Holly, who was bruised, bloodied, and pinned to the floor. 

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” she purred, tracing her talon down Holly’s jawline. Queen Holly tried to snap back, but the NightWing holding her in place just slammed her muzzle to the ground. “Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. ‘I’ve been betrayed!’” She gasped dramatically and flung her claws towards the stalactites hanging from the ceiling like icicles. 

“Actually,” Fatechanger broke in, sidling up to her queen’s side. “She’s thinking about how much she wants to kill you. She has quite a few… creative… methods. Shall we try one of them out on her?”

Queen Holly’s eyes snapped towards the lean, child-like NightWing. She had known that something was off about her… but to think that she had the rare ability that had long since faded from the NightWing bloodline… 

“Oh, she can read minds, yes,” Ebonyshadow confirmed, as if she was also capable of seeing Holly’s thoughts. “I forgot to mention that bit. I also forgot to mention that I quite like your crown.” The queen’s dark claws skimmed over Holly’s crown, the blueish silver catching in the light and reflecting onto the cave walls. 

“She’s thought about this, my queen. An ambush to remove her from the picture,” Fatechanger explained, then bristled. “She’s underestimated you.” 

No thought is safe. Holly tried to close off her mind. 

“Oh? Just like little Permafrost. You’re all so prickly, like the spikes on your head!” For emphasis, Ebonyshadow poked one of the sharp spines that grew along the ridge of Holly’s spine. Holly growled at the touch; Ebonyshadow just laughed. 

“She’s thinking about how the IceWing’s will never accept you as their leader.” Fatechanger’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “I don’t think she’s realized yet… that you’re much more cunning than she believes you to be.”

“I have no intention of forcing your beloved subjects to accept me as their queen,” Ebonyshadow stated. “You’ve already provided me with everything I need to create a puppet, however. A dragon who will follow my orders without question, who will be beholden to me… after all, they say the strongest bond in the world is that of a mother and her child?”

Queen Holly cast a panicked look on Permafrost, who had gone completely rigid. Oh, great dragons of Pyrrhia, what have I done? This was her last thought, Fatechanger noted, before the guard pressed her head closer to the ground. There was a crack, and then… silence. 

Long live the queen, Fatechanger thought, gleefully.

Chapter Text

Apex was a nervous wreck. 

He paced back and forth, claws clacking against the stone as if they were just as impatient as he was. Light and sound danced behind his eyes, giving him a pulsing headache that began in his temples and seemed to spread all the way down his spine. 

I have to do this. 

I know. 

But he didn’t know. Why had he let Starfish get roped into this? Why did he constantly and consistently fail to keep Permafrost safe? Why was he such a failure, as a prince, as a brother, as a--

A what? Lover? He had never confessed his feelings, might never get a chance to confess his feelings. What if he showed up at the NightWing palace, and Permafrost was long gone? What if this was all some elaborate ruse, meant to distract him for long enough to keep him from discovering where he was being held? 

The flurry of questions blurred and ran together in his mind, their jagged edges snagging on his conscience until he wanted to bang his head against a rock to silence them.

How could I have chosen him over them? Is their life worth less, because I don’t love them the same? Am I selfish for letting this happen? 

Over and over the cycle went, doubling back and filling Apex’s throat with regret. Apologies lay on the tip of his tongue, apologies to dragons that he might never see again. 

And it was all his fault. 

A few months ago, it would have been so simple. It was around dawn, with the sun peeking just above the horizon and turning the sky a pale shade of pink. Around this time, Apex would have been drilling the soldiers right about now. Condor would have woken up to the sound of him chastising one of them for a slip-up, and forced him to take a break for breakfast. Life would be repetitive, easy. A routine existed, and all he had to do was fall into it and follow it for the rest of his life. 

Instead, he had chosen to interrupt the execution. 

And now, here he was, head clutched between his claws as he desperately scrambled for an answer to the impossible situation he had gotten himself into. Was there even an answer to be found amid the crumbling rock and twisting shadows within the ravine they were hiding out in? Was there a way to solve a moral dilemma in which, no matter what you chose, you were wrong? 

They wanted to do this, he rationalized. 

And you let them, he accused. 

We have to get him back. I have to see him again. This can’t be the end of us, he insisted. 

Is your love story all you care about? He scorned. 

Stop, he pleaded. Stop what, he didn’t know. Stop thinking? Stop over-analyzing? Was there an amount of analyzing that this situation required? No, there was no logical solution to an emotional struggle. Apex was in turmoil: no remedy existed for the ache in his heart, and there was no shoulder to lean on. 

They’re on death row, he reminded himself. Both of them. And it’s your fault. Some small part of you is relieved that Starfish is doing this, because you’re glad you don’t have to sacrifice any of yourself for your selfish romance. 

No! He groaned out in pain, curling his talons into a tight fist that he slammed into the ground. He heard something crack. The rock, his bones, he couldn't tell. He felt as though he were drifting out of his body, watching himself fall apart, helpless. The pain was distant, dim, a mere echo of what he knew he must feel.  

How much are you willing to sacrifice for Permafrost? You barely know him!

But… 

His blindingly bright smile floated in front of Apex’s eyes. He reached out, but it faded before he could grasp onto it. Still, it served to ground him. That smile… his laugh… his cleverness, his quirks, his failures and successes… Apex wanted to share all those moments with Permafrost. 

That is why I’m doing this. Not because I know who he is. Because I’ve seen glimpses, and I want to know more. I want to hear his voice in the morning, groggy from sleep, greeting me. I want to walk through the palace halls with him by my side, quibbling and correcting me at every pace. I want to teach him how to fly again-- really fly. And I want to see that poorly concealed grin when he finally does, half-hidden behind a mask of solemnity. That’s all love is, really. You don’t fall in love because you know everything about someone. You fall in love to figure it out throughout a lifelong journey of triumphs, hardships, and unity through all. 

“Uhm.”

Reaper’s voice startled Apex out of his own head, for which he was grateful. Getting absorbed in self-loathing would do nothing, not now, not when everything had already been done. At the moment, all Apex could hope to do was keep it together for long enough to find Permafrost and hightail it back to the SkyWing palace. Hopefully, with Starfish in tow. Which he assumed was the reason that Reaper had left the cave, after disappearing into its darkened depths for about three hours of nonstop work. 

“Well?” Apex tuned his attention on the NightWing, forcing all other thoughts out of his head. “Are they alright?”

“Define… alright,” Reaper choked out. 

“If you--”

“The SeaWing is alive,” Reaper added hurriedly. “Don’t worry about that. But they will need medical attention, and… I’m not a doctor, so…” 

“You just performed a dissection, and you don’t know basic medical procedures?” Apex began, incredulous. 

“I know how to take things apart, not put them back together,” Reaper defended. “It’s much easier. If you know any dragons with medicinal knowledge, I’ll be happy to transport the SeaWing to--”

“The SeaWing,” Apex bit out, “has a name. It’s Starfish. And what makes you think I’d trust you to take my friend anywhere without me?”

“You’re welcome to come,” Reaper cheerfully explained, “but it seems to me that you have more important things to attend to. Didn’t you mention that there was a dragon you needed to rescue. Pear… Pertinent… Polar bear….” 

Apex shook his head. Was this NightWing crazy, forgetful, or just plain odd? “Permafrost,” he corrected. “And, yes, I do need to find him. You were supposed to show us the way, after you played surgeon.”

“Yes, yes, the IceWing. I remember, I was just making sure that you remembered! You see, some dragons fade from our memories the moment they leave our lives, and our perception of them tends to be rather distorted. The moments we shared with them can change in our cognition--”

“Reaper.” 

“--actually quite fascinating to study the relationship between a figment of our imagination and the reality with which it was formed around, and it usually has to do with a chemical process in the right lobe of--”

“Reaper!”

“--how we can perceive and remember the things that our mind deems as impertinent information, the way it’s stored and transferred to various parts of the brain, and how it can influence the production of hormones at specific periods of--”

“REAPER!”

“--which leads me to the fact that I’m not actually allowed back in NightWing territory! It’s funny how I didn’t remember up until this point, when you brought up the fact that I’d have to enter NightWing territory with you, but that’s why I’m proposing… this…” Reaper trailed off at the murderous look in Apex’s eyes. 

“What,” the prince hissed, “are you talking about?”

Reaper poked at the ground, as if discreetly asking it for help. “Uhm… funny story! It was actually a bit unjust, the way they just tossed me out of my only home. You see, I didn’t actually do anything that bad.” 

Apex was pretty sure his jaw was brushing up against the ground. He snapped it shut and marched forward, forcing Reaper back until his tail touched the rock wall of the ravine. “Can you at least tell me where I should be looking for this mysterious hideout that no dragon except the NightWings themselves knows the location of?”

“Well, actually, I think the IceWings have knowledge of--”

“REAPER!”

“Okay!” He whined. “No need to yell, I was getting to that bit! It’s an island near the northern side of Pyrrhia, but there’s also… erm… an enchanted tunnel connecting it to the rainforest,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. 

Apex couldn’t help the breath of relief that left his chest in a woosh. “Alright. I’ll take Starfish to the MudWings, and then I’ll head towards the rainforest.”

“The mud flats? That’s pretty far from the rainforest,” Reaper pointed out. “If you would just--”

“I’m not letting you--”

“Guys!” A voice broke into their conversation, followed by a very tired Starfish, who came hobbling from the cave on unsteady legs. A scar ran from the top of their right shoulder to their left shoulder, still crusted with blood. Apex felt a twinge of annoyance at the fact that Reaper hadn’t bothered to clean Starfish up after it was all said and done, but that was outweighed by the fact that they were up when they should be laying down. “I can take myself.”

“You can take yourself to bed,” Apex protested. “But, beyond that, you aren’t going anywhere by yourself. You can hardly walk!”

“I’ll be okay, I promise--”

“No!” Apex rounded on Starfish, holding their sea-green gaze with his own ferocious glare. “When will it be enough, Starfish?! When will you stop sacrificing for us?”

“Don’t you want him back?!” They shouted, desperation making their throat raw. 

“OF COURSE I DO!” Starfish flinched at the anger in Apex’s voice. He lowered it to a low murmur, shaking with barely-contained emotion. “You think I don’t? I want him back more than anything in this world. I want him safe. But that doesn’t mean that I have to stand here and watch you tear yourself apart for him! I should be the one doing that! This is my fault, he’s my responsibility, and I should be the one who puts myself in danger for his sake! Not you!”

Starfish was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, they proceeded to set a gentle claw on the prince’s shoulder. “I know that this is hard, Apex. I know.”

“You know nothing, ” he growled back. “How could you? You’ve only known us for… what? Two weeks?” Apex wasn’t sure why he was lashing out at Starfish. Perhaps it was because he was upset with himself, and directing his harsh words at the SeaWing in front of him was much easier than directing them at himself. Perhaps he was trying to drive them away, rather than watch them continue to labor under burdens that should rightfully be Apex’s to carry. Either way, Starfish looked hurt by what he had said, and took a step back. Instantly, the prince regretted what he had said. “Starfish--”

“No,” they said, cooly. “No, you’re right. I haven't known you for long enough to care, is that it? I’m just a naïve little SeaWing, making friends with the first dragons to cross my path. I know nothing of loyalty, nothing of trust. I. Know. Nothing, ” they finished in a hiss. 

“That’s not what I--”

“Not what you meant?” Starfish flicked their tail in contempt, as if to brush away the notion. “Sure, Apex, sure. Want to know what I think? I think you’re possessive and self-obsessed. I think you believe--truly believe--that Permafrost belongs solely to you, and you can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone else cares for him just as much as you do! You think that I’m doing this so that you don’t have to, you think that I’m putting myself in harm’s way to protect you!” They laughed, a harsh bark of contempt in the back of their throat. “It was never about you, Apex. And if you love him even half as much as you claim you do, you’ll let me take myself to see Coypu and hightail it to NightWing territory!” 

Apex stared at Starfish for a long moment, levelling them with a serious look. While their words had had their desired effect, had made Apex doubt himself, he knew what the SeaWing was doing--driving him away. And he refused to let them part like this. “You’re right,” he relented. “I’m sorry… you’re right. But I still don’t want you to go alone. Think you can hold your own in a fight with that guy?” His tail twitched toward Reaper, who had long-since lost interest in the argument and was sampling beetles from a rotten log. He'd have to trust that Starfish knew what they were doing. 

Starfish rolled their eyes. “That wackjob? What do you take me for?”

Apex gave them a weak smile, but they didn’t return it. Maybe they had been serious about what they had said. Maybe those wounds would take a long time to heal. Maybe the two didn’t have a long time to close the rift that stretched between them. They were so vastly different, connected primarily by their shared care for Permafrost, who would probably give them both a thorough pummeling for risking their necks at every available second. 

Still, the prince wanted Starfish to know that he didn’t blame them. Just in case this was the last memory they had of him. “I’ll be off, then. Don’t get lost.”

Starfish snorted and whirled around, leaving Apex lingering in the latter’s absence for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. Perhaps he was waiting for the emerald-green SeaWing to wish him luck, or give him any indication that they weren’t too mad. No such luck. They stormed away, ignoring Apex. Reaper looked up and scrambled after them, casting one last mournful glance at his bug-infested log. 

He sighed, forcing his feeling--and the lump in his throat--down. Trapped between love, friendship, and a looming sense of ominousness…

He just wanted to go home. 

That’s when Apex heard a branch rustle, and spotted a flash of something light out of the corner of his eye. An animal? A dragon? He heard quiet steps making their way towards him, and felt a slight chill invade the air. He recognized those cold claws that seemed to scrape down his back, at once disturbing and exciting. Dumbfounded, he whirled around to face the dragon. 

“Permafrost?! But how did… you…”

But the dragon that stood in front of him wasn’t Permafrost. 

It wasn’t anyone he knew.

But it was an IceWing, and it was looking at him like one might look at prey before the kill. 

“Hello, Princey~” They said in a smooth, thick accent. 

Apex didn’t hesitate to take to the sky and fly as far and as fast as possible. He knew enough about IceWings and enough about hunting to know that he was being targeted. 

Not again, he groaned, internally, as he heard her lift into the air after him. 

Like a shark in the water, he knew he had to keep moving, or she would eventually catch up with him. 

This is going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

His wings flapped, uselessly, desperately, against the torrential rain and gusting winds whipping at his face. Apex had flown directly into a raging storm, hoping to lose the IceWing that was surely riding his tail by now. 

Right?

He hadn’t stopped to look back, and he couldn’t hear the wing beats of a pursuing dragon behind him. Then again, he hadn’t heard much of anything in regards to the off-white IceWing. She had seemed intangible, impermeable, moving with an elegance that the prince had never witnessed until that day. 

And he had thought that Permafrost was the definition of stealth. This dragon barely made an impact on the things she made contact with; no pebble knocked askew by a straw swipe of a claw, no rush of wind disturbing the treetops when she beat her wings. Or, at least, Apex assumed her ability to silence her movements extended to flying. Either that, or she had lost interest and was league's away, but he wasn't willing to stop and risk being caught unawares.

Which led him to this moment. A scramble against a possibly-imagined enemy, one who may or may not be about to claw him to pieces the moment he falters. So, the obvious solution is to not give her a chance to pounce. 

Or… dive? She could be above him. Or below him. Behind him. For all he knew, she knew exactly where he was going and was waiting for him there. Could this IceWing have the ability to read minds? Apex didn’t think so, but anything was possible when your enemy was unprecedented. Still--it would be a feat for her to know where he was headed, when the prince himself had absolutely no idea where this storm system would take him. 

His head was as foggy as the mass of clouds that swirled and arched around him. The jagged claws of the storm tore into him, mentally and physically, until it was all Apex could do to keep himself aloft. At this point, he didn’t know how far he had travelled, but he would keep going until…

Until…

Until what?

As if his question was heard by some cruel deity, the wind was pulled out from under his wings like a rug. There was a moment--a brief lapse of confusion, realization, and panic--before he began plummeting to the ground. 

The eye of the storm?

His legs kicked uselessly towards the sky, and he swiveled so that his head wouldn’t be the first thing to hit the ground. That was the worst case scenario, however. With any luck, he could still save himself from the fall. Blood filled Apex’s mouth, and it took him a moment to register that he had bitten his tongue--hard. 

Has time ceased it’s forward march?

His wings pumped at the still air, unable to drum up enough momentum to right himself. A flurry of sand rushed up to meet him, kicked up by the storm, and a surge of fear rose in him as the gray sky disappeared behind a yellowish cloud of those fine, crystalized particles. 

Have my wings given out on me?

The ground rushed up to meet him. 

Is this where I die? 

He caught one last glimpse of the sky. The storm system had moved on, leaving a small gap through which the night sky seemed to smile down on him. The stars twinkled, watching him fall, laughing. He reached a claw towards the heavens, as if to grab a hold of one of them and cling to it like a lifeline.  

I’m not ready. I’m not ready to go! Not until I find him, not until I repay my debts! 

And he was falling, until he wasn't. Until the ground had finally captured him in its earthen embrace. 

And fear left him. 

And darkness flooded him. 

And it whispered: 

Not yet. 

~

They had been forced to leave. Again. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault: not specifically. They stood out too much in such a small village; Pharaoh, with his unusual amber color, Vera, with her overly-large wings, Hyena, with his white eyes and pale complexion. And Anubis… 

Anubis was the strangest of the flock. His brothers and sisters often lamented his usage of the blindfold, claiming that it certainly didn’t help the strange ‘vibes’ he naturally gave off. He just shrugged and told them that it was a necessary sacrifice. No one forced him to take it off. It only came off when Anubis was making an execution. If the blindfold was off, one could be sure that a nearby dragon was unwittingly breathing their final breaths. 

His tail slid over the shifting sands, orienting him in a nearly soundless land. The only indication of life was the sounds of his siblings crawling over the hot earth, and the hiss of snakes slipping through the scruffy underbrush. They were undoubtedly searching for shade to soothe their tired scales--both the snakes and his siblings. 

Our purposes align with those of serpents, Anubis mused. What does that make us?

“Ow! Quit that!” Vera shouted out, rather angrily. The party of conspicuous SandWings stopped their advance. 

“Quit what? I’m not even doing anything!” Hyena, ever the immature dragonet, exclaimed. Anubis wondered if the dispute would solve itself, or come to blows. Last time those two got into a heated argument, Pharaoh had to pull them from each other’s throats. 

“Oh, don’t you dare play dumb,” Vera growled. “You know exactly what you were doing.” 

“Guys,” Pharaoh sighed, listless. “Can we not do this right now? We need to find shelter before night-fall. Besides, you know what our assignment is. Father entrusted us with a very important mission, and we can’t afford tedious distractions.”

At the mention of Father, the gathered dragons went silent. Everyone recognized his paternal authority, and not one of us dared question it. The statement was a powerful one; we did not fear Father. We simply did not wish to disappoint. He had trusted us with something very important, after all. 

A wedding. 

Hyena had balked at the idea of attending a wedding. He had never been one for all the pomp and pristine of celebratory events, and had done his best to stray away from any type of formality that may demand the adoption of some semblance of manners for an extended period of time. In other words, Anubis’ brother was a buffoon, as Vera had not-so-lovingly referred to him as on multiple occasions. 

But, having had been promised the rich blood of royalty at this union, Hyena reluctantly agreed to attend. They had received the message from Father a few days prior, and were now making steady progress towards the SkyWing kingdom. By foot, per Father’s request and to Vera’s enormous despair. 

“Pharaoh is right,” Anubis chimed in, voice solemn. “Though, perhaps we can make a detour. If that is alright with all of you.”

His siblings shifted in the sand. Anubis could practically hear the cogs turning in their heads: a suggestion from him was not to be ignored, but the way he had phrased it had made it sound as though the subject of such a detour was something beyond Father’s foresight. They always acted according to what their Father wished of them. 

“It will not take long,” Anubis insisted. “I hear something calling to me. I have reason to believe that it is important.”

“Will it,” Vera began, then hesitated. “Will it distract us from our duty, brother?”

Brother. The pretense was dropped, and ritual was adopted. Anubis was no longer being asked as a singular dragon, with wishes and desires: he was being interrogated as a member of the family. As such, he must make his answer as honest as possible, while remaining humble and devoid of personal interests. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I do believe that, while taking us off of our original course, it will put us on the path down a new course. A faster course. The ends will be the same, the present will be mildly altered.”

His siblings sucked in a collective breath and held it. This decision was Pharaoh’s to make, being the oldest among them and the peacemaker in their group. To concede would mean to risk angering Father with impotence. To disagree might create disharmony, or worse, disregard a potentially efficient plan in favor of tradition. Anubis knew he was putting his brother in an atrocious position, but he couldn’t help the feeling that itched below his scales. A whisper crept along his spine, a suggestion: Go East. What would they miss if they didn’t listen?

Finally, after a long contemplation, Pharaoh answered the question hanging in the air with another question. “Did the darkness say this to you, brother?”

Anubis nodded in affirmation. He heard his siblings shuffling their wings, eager to get moving and break the tension building around this scene. But no one would move until the question was answered. 

The decision, in the end, took little more than a few seconds to make. But those moments felt like they spanned the length of hours, with all four dragons waiting in baited silence to hear the final verdict.

“Fine,” Pharaoh answered. Changes could be made. Changes had been made, once before; Father had approved of it in the past, so long as it came from Anubis. Why would now be any different? “How far do you have to go?”

“Seven hundred paces to the East,” Anubis replied. 

No one was excited to take the unplanned detour, but no one complained. Every now and then, Anubis could feel the spiteful eyes of Hyena screwed up against his back, but he ignored it. Pharaoh had been right--they couldn’t afford distractions. 

Eventually, as Anubis had predicted, they came upon a lump lying in the dessert. It was partially covered with sand, and unmoving, but Anubis caught the glint of gold beneath the beige, even through the thick folds of the cloth wrapped around his eyes. He knew, without even touching it, that this was a dragon. An important dragon. 

“Uncover him,” Anubis ordered. It wasn’t his position to be directing the group’s actions, but no one questioned. All of them, he sensed, were too caught up in the mystery of what this strange dragon was doing in the middle of the desert, and whether or not it was alive. 

“Anubis,” Pharaoh murmured in wonder, halfway through the process of excavating the dragon, “you might want to take the blindfold off for this.”

“I cannot,” he replied. “Who is it?” He asked instead. 

“It’s…” Vera began. 

“The SkyWing prince,” Hyena finished, amazed. 

“He comes with us,” Anubis decided. 

“What, back to the palace? Isn't this his wedding we're attending??” Vera asked. 

“Yes, and yes. That is where it will begin, and where it will end.” Anubis walked forward a couple paces, until he was standing in front of the prince’s limp form. He could hear the shallow sound of breathing; he was alive. Anubis rested a talon on him, and felt the raw potential radiating off of his golden scales in a beacon of light and warmth. “He will show us the way.” 

“Did…” Pharaoh hesitated. “Did the darkness tell this to you?”

“No,” Anubis said. “This prediction comes from my own intuition. I beseech you, siblings: heed my advice, and we will not be lost.” 

A heartbeat. Two. Silence. 

“Please.” A hint of desperation crept into Anubis’ voice. He couldn’t fulfill the prince’s destiny on his own. “I would not suggest this if I wasn’t certain. You all know that.”

“Well,” Hyena sighed, “I guess we can’t just leave him.”

“Yes,” Pharaoh declared in a distracted murmur. “What is done, is done. We stepped onto this path, and now we mustn’t waver. Come… let’s deliver this wayward prince to his castle, and the dragoness that awaits him.”

Chapter Text

Fatechanger felt… perplexed.

Why would her queen ask this of her? 

Sure, she understood that something had to be done, but why did he have to have feelings for her? There was a fine line to be drawn between love and obligation, and Fatechanger thought that the arrangement involved strict obligation. Not that the little IceWing had much of a say in this. 

He stood before her, practically shaking, but not--infuriatingly--out of fear. It was a shake in his bones, borne from the after-effects of a debilitating illness and what he had been through over the past week. Fatechanger could see how much of an effort it was for him to stand, and felt a kind of begrudging respect for this failure of an assassin. He may not be good at the execution stage of his job, but he had a lot of resilience in the face of capture.

In fact, a stupid amount of resilience. As if he didn’t care what happened to him, as if he had long-ago resigned himself to be subject to the slights of other dragons. It made Fatechanger want to pry open his head and take a peek inside, just to see what was going on up there. There must have been something making him tick. 

But that wasn’t what her queen wanted. Her queen wanted a loyal consort, a slave… a companion. The word made Fatechanger feel ill. 

“It won’t work,” he murmured under his breath. They hadn’t put the clamps around his snout, mainly because he was too exhausted to summon and Frostbreath anyway. However, he was still held firmly to the floor by chains that snaked around his wrist and shackled to stalagmites. 

“Be quiet, prisoner.” She was in no mood for his snappiness today. With a flick of her tail, she began preparing what she’d have to do. She didn’t know if it was possible, but--no. She’d make it possible. She’d do anything for Queen Ebonyshadow. 

“Harsh. Here I am, trying to make conversation, and you’re only interested in playing the part of a perfect little pet.”

“I am not a pet.” She didn’t mean to reply to him, but she couldn’t help the words that escaped her mouth. He seemed satisfied, like he had finally pinned her down. 

“Aren’t you? You trail after her, listen to her attentively, do what she asks… sometimes she even looks your way. You must feel so special.”

“I am special.” She could feel what little patience she possessed wearing thin. “Unlike you.”

“Ah, and there it is,” he nodded to himself, like she had confirmed something. Instantly, in spite of herself, she felt curiosity build in her mind and fought to suppress it. In the end, however, she gave in. 

“What is??” When he didn’t reply, she snarled. “You know I can look inside your mind, right?”

“The jealousy,” he answered, simply. 

“I’m not jealous,” Fatechanger defended, indignant. Who was this IceWing to suggest that she, a proud member of the NightWing tribe, would stoop so low as to feel envious of a dragon who was currently gift-wrapped in chains and about to be drained of every last memory he had left in that ugly head? “You’re trying to stall me. I won’t let you.” 

“You know, I’ve learned in my life that the dragons who are most adamant about something have just as much doubt as they do passion. The two go claw in claw, really.” Permafrost shifted into a more comfortable—as comfortable as he could get—position, a conversational stance. His voice, when he spoke, was cool and unworried. But Fatechanger saw past his tone and expression. Fatechanger saw beneath his scales, where he was just a frightened child with nothing more than a desperate hope and memories of a different time left to him. 

“And I’ve learned that the most fearless dragons are the ones who are the most scared. Or stupid.” Fatechanger pulled away from his thoughts, afraid of getting too immersed. This IceWing let his mind fly by at a fast pace; it made it difficult for her to track the flow. “You aren’t stupid,” she observed, “and you’re very frightened.” 

“I am.” She was shocked by his admission. “I’m terrified. Wouldn’t you be, if someone was trying to erase your memories? Reboot you, so you could be recreated in someone else’s image?” 

“If that’s… what my queen desires.” Fatechanger hated the hesitation in her voice. “I will do anything for my queen.” 

“And we’re back to that.” Permafrost seemed to draw back, both physically and mentally, as if disgusted by her devotion. 

“Hypocrite,” she murmured, darkly. 

“Hm?” 

“I was just reflecting on the fact that you like to judge people for doing exactly what you do,” Fatechanger said, loftily. 

“And what do I do?” Permafrost looked amused. Fatechanger wanted nothing more than to smear whatever was left of his face into the ground.

“Devote your life, your soul, and your body to your queen. You would die for her—don’t lie. I’ve seen it in your mind. I’ve seen the callousness and intensity with which you carry out your assassinations. You—what?” She would have continued, but Permafrost was making a strange wheezing noise. After a moment, Fatechanger recognized it as laughter. A perverted version of it: It was all he could manage in his weakened state. 

“Oh,” he sighed when the fit subsided, “that’s rich. You sincerely believe that I disregard my life for the sake of the royal agenda?” 

“Well… yes. You’ve shown on multiple occasions that you would rather suffer than risk giving information to your enemies. You can’t tell me that it was because it never affected you. I see the fragments of your mind, the way they bury themselves in your body and paralyze you with terror. You’re afraid, but you’ve never once betrayed your allegiances.” 

“Wow.” Permafrost shook his head, ruefully. “Do you know what it’s like… to know that nothing matters? To know that each day you’re going to wake up, and it will all start over again? And you wish you could just end the cycle, you wish you could… but you’re crippled by fear. Fear of them, fear of what comes after... And then someone takes that choice from you. Some dragon decides to come along and end the cycle, and no matter how bad it hurts, no matter how horribly you suffer… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because all you can feel… is relief.” 

Fatechanger was, to say the least, perplexed. And a tad troubled. A sense of helplessness had clearly set into this dragon’s bones and wouldn’t let up, not even for long enough to consider the possibility of a better future. She had never before experienced that type of doubt, and hoped she never would. Her future was bright—it had to be, so long as she continued to work for her benevolent queen. “You are the most pitiful dragon I’ve ever met.” 

Finally, her words seemed to reach him. The IceWing hung his head and heaved a sigh. She could see his ribs straining against the chains with every ragged inhale, but she couldn’t feel pity for this wretched creature. He had done this to himself. Satisfied that he was done trying to distract her, she focused her energies inward and prepared to enter his mind. Once inside, she planned to rip apart everything that made this dragon who he was. Her queen would do the rebuilding; It was her task, and her task alone, to demolish the palace he had built around his mind. 

“Have you ever loved anyone?” His voice came again to her ears, but it was quiet and defeated. She knew she shouldn’t speak with him. Yet… 

“I have. I do.” Fatechanger sucked in a sharp breath and began flipping through the contents of his mind. Images and sounds flashed by, some of them bled of color and devoid of life. Over it all was a tone of numbness; like a cold setting into her scales, permeating through her sinew, Fatechanger felt the void that yawned within Permafrost’s heart. She dug deeper. 

“Who?” His spirit was gone. His fire was gone. He sounded… tired. 

“My queen.” Deeper. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “And you? Have you ever felt love?” She would find the answer herself, at his core, but none of his memories had the soft edge of affection. They were all crisp, chilly, and sharp, like an icicle. 

He huffed a laugh, legs finally giving out on him. “... I don’t know how,” he answered honestly. “But I want to learn. I want him to teach me.” 

“Him?” Fatechanger arrived at the deepest parts of his heart, the well of his emotions, the epitome of his identity. And there… she saw it. She saw him. Apex. And as she destroyed his memories, she realized… she felt remorse over what could have been.

~

“Are we there yet?” Clam felt her wings cramp with each beat. She wasn’t used to flying long distances, since most of her time was spent in the water or walking around the shore. The fact that each flap took her further and further from her home certainly didn’t motivate her to try harder, either. 

“Almost,” her advisor (babysitter), Finnigan, reassured. “In about five minutes, we’ll be coming up on a geographical monument to the late queen,—“ 

“Do you hear that?” Clam interrupted him, angling her wings downward so she could drift slowly and steadily away from him. 

“W-“ Finnigan, ever the blockhead, couldn’t seem to take a hint and swooped down after her. “Princess! What do you hear??” 

“I believe,” she said, tilting her head to the side as if listening closely to some imaginary noise, “it’s the sound of me not caring.” 

“B-b-but,” he sputtered, “you have no interest in learning the history of the great dragons that came before us? You could learn a lot from the faults and triumphs of our ancestors. The rock formation is said to commemorate the actions of Queen Augusta—“ 

“If they were so great,” Clam interjected, “then they wouldn’t have died. Leave me alone, before I turn you into a cautionary tale.” 

Finnigan gulped and finally, blissfully, let a draft carry him back towards the main procession. Alone and at peace—as much peace as she could be in, considering she was about to enter the belly of the beast—she had some time to ponder what her new life might be like. She had heard talk of his charming wit and courteous actions, but had never taken the time to actually listen to the stories themselves. She clocked out the moment anyone started to speak of Apex, because every conversation started the same. 

Oh, yes, the prince. A gentleman, indeed. One time, when I was visiting the SkyWing palace—

Perhaps she should have listened. Then, she would know more about her enemy. His faults, his weaknesses; Surely, he had weaknesses. No dragon was that perfect. Yet, she had never heard someone speak ill of him. However… the dragons with the most to hide, she knew, showed the least. The less anyone knew of him, the better. If he didn’t show his bad habits and faults, it didn’t mean he didn’t have them. Just that they were too ugly to show. 

Maybe he will be interesting. I’ll have fun playing with him, before I kill him. 

“Uh…. princess…” 

“What now, Finnigan? Can’t you see I’m thinking?” 

Clam looked back to see him flapping towards her, looking absolutely ridiculous. His mouth snapped open and shut, and finally, he simply pointed downwards. She tilted her head to see whatever he was seeing—probably another monument—and nearly stopped mid-flight. Her procession slowed, as did she, until they were hovering over the scene on the ground. 

NightWings. 

A whole host of them, marching their way towards the SkyWing palace. 

While she was fairly confident that they hadn’t been invited to the wedding, this wasn’t the fact that shocked her. The thing that made Princess Clam do a double-take was the fact that nobody had seen one NightWing in thirty years, let alone an army of them. 

Why here? 

Why now? 

And who the heck was the IceWing they had with them, obediently trailing after the party as though he was one of them? 

Chapter Text

Starfish, decidedly, liked trips with Apex and Permafrost much better than they did with Reaper. 

It wasn’t that he was a bad travel companion, he was just a bit… oblivious. Both to the dangers they faced on the road and the urgency of Starfish’s situation. It wasn’t like they were complaining of the pain, so he had no real way of knowing that the dull ache in the SeaWing’s chest had steadily been evolving into a sharp stab into the very centre of their being for the last three hours, but still. One would think that he’d be able to take a hint when they began to rapidly pant and struggle to stay adrift.

The pair of dragons had only stopped once, and even then, hadn’t stuck around long enough for Starfish to properly catch their breath. It had simply been a small detour for Reaper’s sake, so he could collect a “sample” of some slime covering a willow tree. But, still… a willow tree meant that they were getting close, and Starfish knew they’d be able to get some proper rest under Coypu’s roof. 

“Hey!” Reaper let his wings pop open, catching against a draft that tugged him backwards, towards Starfish. Once he was by their side, he angled his wings down and flapped to keep pace. “I have an idea! Let’s play a game.”

Normally, Starfish would jump on the opportunity to break the monotony with any sort of distraction. They hated flying over long distances, and lately, that seemed to be all they were doing. But now, with the pain in their chest creating starbursts behind their eyes with each wingbeat, they were not in the mood for fun. “Uhm. No. We should focus.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fun!!” Reaper beamed at the SeaWing, cheerfully. 

I’m about to deck this NightWing, they thought. “I can’t, really. We need to focus on flying. We can play a game when we get there, but now, we really need to--”

“Hey, that cloud kind of looks like you!” Reaper pointed a talon towards the sky. “It also looks like an ugly furbeast.”

Starfish wasn’t sure if he was insulting them or if he was just a oblivious—most likely the latter. They grit their teeth and mumbled something unkind, then turned their attention away from him. Their peace, however, didn’t last long. Reaper didn’t pull ahead, like he usually did when the SeaWing started ignoring him. Instead, he began poking them. 

“Hey. Hey Starfish. Hey.” 

They wished they could cover their ears, but they had to remain vigilant. So, instead, they turned their attention towards the ground and attempted to tune Reaper out. 

“Hey. I have a question.”

If you don’t give him attention, he’ll stop bugging you. Don’t feed his attention-mongering. Don’t respond. Don’t look at him. Don’t--

“Starfish!”

“What?!” They finally broke, and stopped mid-flight to face the little NightWing. He snapped to a stop as well, jerked backwards a few feet by a sudden gust of wind. With wide eyes and a bashful expression, he pointed towards the horizon. 

“Well, I was just wondering--”

“No,” Starfish cut in, “we cannot stop for more swamp guck!”

“But--”

“No,” They repeated, more firmly. Reaper shrugged. 

“For the record, I tried to warn you,” he conceded. 

Starfish, who had been ready to launch back into flight, abruptly stopped what they were doing and snaked their head around to face Reaper. “You what?” They asked, quietly. 

“I just thought you’d like to know that we were flying directly towards a fire. But you don’t seem concerned, so obviously the Mudflats go up in flames regularly,” Reaper said, without a hint of sarcasm. Does he really not know anything about the outside world? 

Starfish whirled around to see it: tendrils of smoke rising to the sky in a dark, ominous cloud of ash. Dread settled in their chest like a weight, and without any preamble, they launched towards the source of the fire faster than they had thought was possible. I completely missed it, Starfish despaired. I was too focused on ignoring Reaper! I hope that some dragonettes accidentally set a tree on fire, and that it’s not what I think it is…

Reaper sped along behind them, if only to keep pace with his animus acquaintance. It was coming into view now. The fields surrounding the burnt husk of a hut were smoldering, twisting under the intense heat of the fire. The smell that wafted from the hut was a sickening mixture of charred meat and herbs. Starfish was horrified by what they saw. Coypu’s hut, once a proud landmark of the bayou, now crumbled under the intense heat of the flames that licked its walls. They could use magic to put it out, yes… but what good would that do? The damage was done, and they didn’t have the strength to save someone’s life again, if…. 

Starfish didn’t even want to think about it. 

Thankfully, they didn’t have to. Because within the span of the next three seconds, something hard and heavy hit their head, and they went down like the rock that had just crashed into them.

~ 

Condor had spent years preparing for her ascension onto the throne. 

It was a long, tedious process, full of useless rituals and sucking up to dragons she despised. 

But being the princess, heir to the SkyWing throne, it was a necessary sacrifice. And if it meant she’d have the power to change the world when all was said and done, she’d gladly swallow the customs they spoon-fed her on a regular basis.

This evening in particular, she was being forced to engage in a specific “royal” activity that she was pretty sure had been designed specifically to torture her: A banquet. 

They had had one of these the night the IceWing had come and ruined all her preparations, so imagine her surprise when her mother suggested hosting another one mere months after the first disastrous gathering. Needless to say, Condor was not thrilled about it to begin with. Nobody likes to relive the night of their greatest failure. But, still, her pain wasn’t enough. Oh, no…. she had to suffer. 

How? Simple: Courtship. 

What better time, Queen Pyre had said, than now to choose a husband? The irony was astounding. If Condor wasn’t so humiliated, she would have laughed. A husband? Perhaps Condor was being played for a fool. After all, weren’t they planning on killing the couple at Apex’s union? Was the suggestion of finding a life partner have some sort of deeper message, or could it be that Queen Pyre just wanted to ensure the continuation of her lineage before her death? 

Regardless, Condor had no plans to select a royal consort at today’s soirée. She had only agreed to it to buy herself time—time to execute the plans she had built around the crumbling structure of all her other failed plots. 

That obnoxious little IceWing, she thought to herself. He somehow manages to thwart all of my plans, just by existing! 

She had specifically informed the medicinal dragons to give him poison, but Apex had chosen to stick his snout where it wasn’t wanted, and they had felt much too intimidated by his presence to directly betray his orders in front of him. She had tried to explain, afterwards, that he wouldn’t know the difference between a fern and a stick, let alone poison and medicine, but they had insisted that he was watching their every movement. 

And then the MudWing plan, by some miracle, had failed to produce the desired results as well. And, according to all who were present to witness it, her brother had actually died that time. If Copperhead hadn’t decided to toy with a trained assassin, and trained her servants to be more loyal than ‘quirky,’ then the job would have gone off without a hitch. Instead, she had placed her trust in the wrong dragons and made decisions that gave Condor cause to question her rationality. Condor sighed. She should have known better than to trust a MudWing.

No. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. That’s where she had gone wrong, that’s why her plans never seemed to pan out properly. It was because she was relying on other dragons, when she should have been relying on herself. It was the way she had always performed in the past; Why should now be any different? 

Slipping silks over her neck and wrapping them around her torso, Condor appraised herself in the mirror. A fine dragoness, confidant and composed, the light shimmered off her vibrant red scales. She resembled an oleander, she thought: beautiful, delicate, and yet, dangerous. Deadly. 

Hiding her inward smirk behind a mask of innocent regality, she stepped out of her chambers and ascended towards the hall to greet her guests. 

~

Permafrost had a headache. 

He didn’t know why, not exactly. Fatechanger said that it had something to do with their marching. He suspected that it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t remember anything. But given that he had no personal recollection of the events leading to this moment, he thought it best not to question the one person who seemed to have all the answers. 

Permafrost had woken up not four hours ago, frightened and surrounded by the smell of unfamiliar dragons. The smallest among them (though he didn’t know it), a dark NightWing with tear-shaped silver scales at the corners of her eyes, had patiently explained that he had accidentally fallen and hit his head a few days ago. That explained why his memory was so… nonexistent… but it didn’t tell him who he was or why he was not with other IceWings. Or why he couldn’t see, for that matter. 

That was something he remembered. IceWings, NightWings, SkyWings, a whole lot of Wings. And his name. Permafrost. Beyond that, really… nothing. Not his age, nor his background, nor family. 

Luckily, aforementioned NightWing provided a wonderfully helpful story to fill in the gaps of his own. 

He had been found as an egg twenty years ago by the former NightWing queen, alone and abandoned. No one knew who his family was: indeed, his family had come to be the NightWing community. He grew up among them, and became a powerful warrior—and, eventually, the queen’s sweetheart. Unfortunately, he had been wounded in battle with the SkyWing prince, who had viciously marred his face until nothing remained of his sharp eyes. 

The pieces aligned themselves perfectly with his situation. Almost too perfectly, as if they had been designed to answer Permafrost’s questions. 

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, he was swept into a party of NightWings making their way along the coast towards some mysterious destination. They claimed that they had been waiting until he woke up to travel, and that they were already late, but they wouldn’t tell Permafrost what he was late for. Fatechanger had just said: ‘It’s a surprise!’ 

Permafrost didn’t think he liked surprises, for some reason. 

Then, of course, there was the matter of being royalty. Technically. If he was the NightWing queen’s chosen partner, why did he feel more like a prisoner? She had come into the room shortly after he had woken up to dote on him, to adorn him with jewels that felt less like luxury and more like weights to hold him down. He expected to feel some sort of emotion upon hearing her voice, something that spoke towards the love he must feel for her… and found nothing. No emotions welled to the surface when she caressed his scales, nothing except a deep desire to pull away. He stood his ground, for her sake. Maybe the feelings would return in time; Perhaps he just wasn’t back to himself yet. 

It will all be okay soon, he told himself. Just wait. Be patient. 

If he truly loved her, the feelings would return. He knew they would.

They had to. 

Presently, however, Permafrost couldn’t think much beyond the ache in his claws and the pebble lodged between his talons. He could complain to Fatechanger, but despite the suggestion of influence behind her name, she couldn’t actually do anything to help him. She was simply a hyped-up messenger, the queen’s personal delivery-dragon. A fact she seemed to begrudgingly accept. 

Instead, he asked, “Are we almost there? I hate to be that dragon, but I need to use the bathroom.” 

Fatechanger sighed, muttering something he was sure was unkind under her breath. Permafrost didn’t know what he had done to offend her, but the NightWing had been a tad prickly towards him ever since he had woken up. Maybe she simply didn’t want to play caretaker for a decrepit dragonet-sized IceWing. Permafrost supposed that he wouldn’t want to be someone’s nanny either, though she was doing an admirable job. She didn’t lose her patience—not completely, at least—and always seemed to heed her ward’s requests. 

“I see,” she ground out. “Well, we’re going to stop for a quick break soon. The vanguard is flagging, and we don’t want to be tired out before we reach the wed—the event.” 

“The what?” Permafrost’s sharp ears picked up on her broken sentence, tilting towards her in interest. “What did you say?”

“The event,” she sniffed.

“The wedding?” 

“The event,” she said sharply. 

An urge to rebel broke out in Permafrost, a detestation for being kept from answers. Another one of my personality traits, unbeknownst to myself until now. They failed to tell me that I had issues with authority, unless this is new. Without thinking, he blurted, “Who’s getting married?”

“Nobody’s—Would you drop it?” Fatechanger hissed at him. “I don’t want to have this conversation. You aren’t supposed to know yet.” 

“Why?” He challenged her. “There must be a reason! You didn’t just decide to exclude this information from me, there’s some sort of purpose.”

“It’s. A. Surprise. The whole purpose of a surprise is for you not to know. If you must have a hint, then I’ll tell you that it’s the queen’s present to you for your birthday.” 

“My birthday? Nobody knows my birthday,” Permafrost replied. He didn’t know how he drew this conclusion; indeed, the words shocked him. But as soon as they left their mouth, he knew them to be the truth. “Nobody knows my birthday,” he repeated, in awe. 

“N-no,” Fatechanger stuttered, “which is why we’re celebrating it now.” 

Something didn’t add up. Permafrost felt a sense of distrust towards Fatechanger. He could tell she was lying, that much was obvious—but why? If what she had told him about living with the NightWings and becoming the queen’s consort had been true, why would she lie about where they were going and what purpose their trip served? 

The headache was building behind Permafrost’s forehead once again. It pushed all other thoughts out and commanded his attention, so much so that he lapsed into silence and Fatechanger bustled away before he could ask her any more questions on the subject. 

The party soon slowed to a stop, as she had promised. Thankful for the respite, however brief, Permafrost was allowed to slip away for a moment; well, he was accompanied by guards, but he was distanced from the main body of NightWings. He could hear their scales slither over stone, but they stayed a safe distance away, like they weren’t currently following. Suddenly, inexplicably, Permafrost felt suffocated. He had to get out from under their watchful gaze, if only for a moment. 

So, he felt around for something large enough to hide him and eventually happened upon a large boulder. As innocently as possible, he sniffed around it as though he was simply exploring it, then dove behind it and straight into a thornbush. 

Even as the thorns dug into his rump, he didn’t cry out. The IceWing held his breath, waiting for the guards to investigate. He felt around, trying to get an idea of how big or little the bush was, and carefully tucked his wings against his sides. Inevitably, the guards began to feel anxious at his taking so long to investigate the large rock and wandered a bit closer to peep around its stony face. Permafrost felt as though the tension in the air was so thick, he could feel their movements. 

One of them swore under his breath. Apparently, he had managed to conceal himself enough to fool the guards. Either that, or it was dark out and hard to see. Though he supposed NightWings most likely had some sort of night vision, he assumed that they didn’t suspect that he was hiding in the very uninviting prickle-bush near the base of the boulder. They trotted off, and Permafrost crept out from his bush.

Fatechanger would be mad at giving them such a scare, but he could worry about that later. For now, he was just content with how his metaphorical shackles seemed to fall away, leaving him feeling free—if only for a moment. 

Permafrost carefully trod downhill, towards what smelled like a tree. Rock turned to grass underneath his claws, and unyielding gravel gave way to soft earth. Flexing his talons, Permafrost relished in the way they sunk into the rich dirt. It reminded him of the sensation of sinking into a snow pile—a snow pile? 

But… he had never been to IceWing territory. So why… why did he remember what snow was like? 

Before he could give it any more thought, he thought he heard a rustle amid the leaves overhead. He didn’t think much of it, assuming it was an owl or some other bird of prey, but it came again a few moments later. He sniffed around the trunk of the tree and smelled… fish? That was strange. There were no oceans—

Thunk. 

“I got him!” A voice announced triumphantly. Permafrost squirmed under the sudden weight, until he felt something sharp poke his neck. Something sharper than a talon, but the way it curved around his throat made it seem like one. 

“Princess, please!” Another voice, male, pleaded from above. From the sound of the air swishing around heavy wings, Permafrost guessed that this dragon was hovering above them. “This is folly. If the NightWings discover—“

“You can’t tell me that you aren’t curious! I just want to ask a few questions! We’re far away enough, they won’t find us until sunrise.” So it is nighttime. “Just let me have this. Don’t be a wet sponge, Finnigan.” 

“Princess—“ 

“Okay, let’s put it this way. Let me talk to the IceWing, or I swear to shellfish, we are turning around and marching right back to the sea!” 

“With all due respect, you don’t have the authority to—“

“FINNIGAN! One more word, and I will skin you and string you up on the mountaintop, so the vultures can pick at your corpse!!!” 

“Eep—“ There was a rustle of wings, and the other dragon’s voice faded into the distance, words snatched by the wind. Permafrost thought he caught the words: ‘unruly youth’ and ‘disrespect.’ 

“Well, now that the sea urchin has been removed from my rear end, we may speak in peace,” the strange voice announced. 

“Are you a SeaWing?” Permafrost asked, bluntly. “You smell like an octopus. I think. I don’t know what they smell like, but I assume it's like the sea.” 

“Oh, so presumptuous! I like it.” A cold talon tapped his cheek suddenly, and Permafrost was taken aback. Without thinking, he snapped at the strange sensation, and the other dragon pulled her talon away with a hiss. “And a biter~” 

“Don’t touch me,” he growled out, taking a step back. However, he misstepped and bumped into the tree. A light laugh rang in his ears. It’s nothing like his. Wait… like who’s? His brow crinkled in confusion, and the SeaWing took it for uncertainty in his addled movements. 

“You really can’t see, can you?” The dragon moved closer, and the smell of brine nearly overpowered Permafrost’s sensitive nose. He wrinkled his snout in distaste. 

“What gave it away?” He snarled back. He got a bad feeling from this dragon that had nothing to do with the sharp smell permeating the air, but the scent certainly didn’t help calm his nerves. In fact, it had the same tang as the smell of blood. 

“And cynical? Every word that leaves your mouth, I find myself liking you more and more. Be careful,” she lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper, “I might just have to keep you, if you keep talking like that.” 

Permafrost held his tongue, feeling himself shiver. It had nothing to do with the winds howling around them. 

“Oh? Heeding my warning, hm? Tell me, did you get those scars at birth or did you win them in combat? I do love a dragon who’s suffered. They always know how to enjoy life, when it’s given to them.” 

He still didn’t answer. At this point, he was afraid to move. But it wasn’t because she was threatening; she was, but that wasn’t what kept him frozen in place and locked his jaw. It was what she had said about his scars. He had been told that they had been given to him by the SkyWing prince—but why? And how? What was he doing in SkyWing territory, if he had lived with the NightWings all his life? It wasn’t as if the SkyWings knew the location of the NightWing hideout. Or… did they? 

The headache beat a rhythm in Permafrost’s head, and it was all he could do not to groan. Something was wrong. 

“You know what? I think I will keep you, after all. You’re a dragon who knows how to hold his tongue, perhaps because you’ve already lost your eyes and wish to closely guard your speech. I admire a dragon who knows how to value the little things.” The talon touched his face again, but this time, Permafrost didn’t lash out. He was in too much pain. 

“The NightWings—“ He managed to choke out, but was cut off with a sharp laugh from the other dragon. 

“The NightWings can go eat a pufferfish. Why are you traveling with them anyway? Are you an envoy, or… a captive?” 

Captive? The moment the thought crossed his mind, the headache began to overtake him. He groaned, unsteady, and wobbled directly into the mysterious dragon before him. She gave a little noise of surprise, then—almost protectively—delicately wrapped her wings around Permafrost. If he had been able to focus on anything other than the sharp, stabbing pain in his skull, he would have pulled away in disgust.

“There, there,” She cooed. “They must have done quite a number on you. Let’s get back to the rest of my entourage, and we can get you nice and rested. I promise, I’ll treat you well, pet. In fact, maybe I can give you to Apex as a wedding gift! How romantic. Here, husband, I got you a bedraggled IceWing! Have fun maiming him!” 

Apex, he blearily thought as his tired brain scrabbled for purchase against the torrent of agony. I need to see him. But… why? 

It was his last thought before he succumbed, falling into the steady lull of a fitful sleep as he was carried back to the host of SeaWings, waiting for their princess about ten miles south of where the NightWings were camped.  With that, after Clam had put down Finnigan’s arguments against it, they embarked once more on the long journey to the SkyWing kingdom. 

Chapter Text

Apex woke up with a gasp. 

And was immediately confused by what he saw. Or, rather, what he didn’t see. 

The SkyWing prince had expected to wake up to miles and miles of nothingness, stretching in every direction. Or, worst case scenario, there was no afterlife and he wouldn’t wake up at all. His head was pounding, an ache that went from the top of his head to the tips of his talons. And, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was lying in a grove of trees. 

There were no trees in the desert. Not to Apex’s knowledge, at least. Unless…

His mind flashed towards the hundreds of maps he had spent his youth studying, and one word popped into his mind: oasis. It was the only explanation. But, then, had he crash landed in an oasis? Somehow, he didn’t think so. 

With a mighty groan, Apex lifted his head and wobbled to his feet, only to be immediately pushed back into a prone position. He struggled against the weight pressing on his back, but his heart wasn’t in it. The larger part of him was exhausted, and forced him to give into the gentle touch. 

Gentle. Good. They weren’t trying to kill him, then. I hope, he thought, blearily. 

“Not yet, prince. You’re too weak. You need water. Your body isn’t built like ours, you don’t store water as effectively.” A feminine voice was speaking to him. She sounds nice , he thought. 

“Ugh. This is wasting time. I knew we should have abandoned him,” A decidedly less nice, gruff voice huffed. Apex internally frowned and opened his eyes—he hadn’t realized that he had let them drift shut until he forced his eyelids apart—and spotted an unusually pale SandWing frowning down at him. 

“Hyena. Hush.” A deep voice, coming from somewhere out of Apex’s line of vision, placated the pale one. “This is our responsibility as justicianers. A grave injustice has been committed against this dragon, and it is our job to liberate him.” 

“Yeah, according to Anubis,” the pale one hissed the last word like it was a curse. Apex thought that it sounded like a name, and mentally filed it away for later. 

“He’s never been wrong before! You know he has a sixth-sense or whatever!” The one holding him down protested. 

“What, the darkness? How do we know that he’s not just out of his mind and exceedingly lucky?!” The pale one stomped his claw against the grassy ground. Apex decided that he should probably try to get some answers, rather than just lazing about like a lump of coal. If he was going to die at these dragons’ mercy, he should at least know who they are and what they want.

“Darkness?” He croaked. The other dragons went silent, completely still, and the pale one was staring at him like something disgusting he had just stepped in. 

“Oh, great. He’s lucid. I thought he was delirious,” the pale one commented, bitterly. Apex couldn’t figure out what he had done to upset this stranger. 

“He was,” the one on his back said. “And now he’s not. That’s how recovery works, dingbat. It means we’ve been taking care of him properly.” 

“Oh, goodie. Maybe he can walk by himself, instead of making us drag him around.” The pale one grumbled and ambled away from the rest of the group, muttering something about ‘dead weight.’ 

“Don’t mind him,” the dragon on his back stated. Her voice held a twinge of annoyance in it, and under that, a bone-deep exhaustion that had little to do with physical exertion and much to do with mental taxation. “He’s always crabby. It’s nothing personal.” 

“Who…” Apex’s throat felt impossibly dry. He coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Who are you? I…” There was something he was supposed to be doing. He just couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what. “I have to…” 

Another dragon came into view, a SandWing that was smaller than the rest but gave off the impression of largeness and maturity. He crouched down beside Apex, running his tail soothingly over the prince’s heat-baked scales. “Save your words, Your Highness. We’re almost at your wedding. You're lucky you didn’t miss it.” 

Wedding? He shook his head. That sounded wrong. He wasn’t trying to get to a wedding… no, he didn’t even remember anything about a wedding. “What are you talking about?” His head was starting to clear, and he pushed up against the dragon pinning him down. She held fast, unwilling to let him rise just yet. 

“Don’t try to stand,” she warned. “You crashed pretty hard back there. You need some time to recover. In the meantime, we can get you where you need to go.” 

“No,” Apex said, firmly. “ No,” he repeated, hoping that they would understand. He may not know what he had been doing before the fall, but he could tell by the beating of his heart and the panic in his veins that it was urgent. “I have to… I have to go… somewhere…” 

“Yes,” the one holding him in place reiterated. “Your wedding. We know. We’re going to get you there.” 

“What… what wedding?!” Apex snapped back. “I don’t… I’m not getting married! There was something I had to do, I have no time to waste at a wedding!” 

The gathered dragons fell silent. Apex thought that it was his words that had stilled them, until he felt a chill wash over his scales. This chill, however, was undeniably different from the one he felt in the presence of IceWings. It was internal; just as searing as it was freezing. He felt like he couldn’t move in the sudden pressure that filled the space under the softly swaying leaves. 

That was when he saw the cause of the sudden shift. 

A large dragon, ponderously strutting towards them as if walking through water. His movements were undeniably smooth, and he was as sure-footed as some of Apex’s best commanders back at the SkyWing palace. Long black stripes raked across his back, giving him the appearance of a hornet. But the most unusual thing about this dragon was not the pattern of his scales, nor the attention he commanded without having uttered a word—it was the bandana, tied loosely around his eyes. It was as though he was hiding something; or, alternatively, hiding from something. 

“He’s awake,” he said by way of greeting. His voice was like silk: soft, smooth, elegant without being pretentious. Apex felt captivated by this strange… SandWing? He looked like a SandWing, and had a barbed tail to boot, but everything else about him screamed foreign. Unknown. 

“Sorry,” the female dragon skittishly apologized. “We were going to get you, but—“

The new dragon, the striped one, held up a talon to interrupt her. “It’s quite alright, sister. You did the right thing. One should not be disturbed when one is communing with the darkness.” 

Nobody said anything in response, and the room filled with a tense air. The smaller, older dragon stood off to the side, still in Apex’s line of vision but more distant than he had been moments before. The prince briefly wondered when and why he had moved away. Finally, Apex could no longer take the silence. 

“Could somebody,” he began, loudly, “explain this darkness to me? You’ve been talking about it like it’s an entity, but last time I checked, it was a descriptor.” 

The female dragon hissed, the older dragon’s head lowered. The striped one was the only one that didn’t react. His stillness was, pointedly, disturbing. Finally, he tilted his head towards the SkyWing prince. 

“Indeed,” he said. “You would be correct, in normal circumstances. But in this particular instance, I was referring to the deity that exists in the minds of all mortal dragons. It dwells within our heart of hearts, the crevices of our mind that are much more shadowed than any deep cavern or crannog of this plane. Have you ever felt it’s steady presence, beating a steady rhythm in your mind?” 

Apex stared blankly at the striped SandWing for a good minute before responding. “Is that why the back of my head is pounding? Is this what the rhythm is supposed to feel like? Because if that’s the case, I think I’d rather just stick to worshipping my ancestors.” 

The striped SandWing cracked a smile and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “It is not your headache, friend. The darkness is much greater than any malady that may befall us. It rules the realms of life and death. Indeed, we are all servants to it. You would not be alive without it’s gentle guidance.” 

“Gentle guidance,” Apex echoed. “You mean to tell me that some mysterious force chooses whether we live or die?” 

“No,” the SandWing repeated, more firmly this time. “A dragon chooses whether they live or die. The darkness aids and abides by that choice. If your will is strong and your heart is pure, you will live in harmony with it. If you are malicious and cruel, however, it will leave you to your own devices. Given that the darkness wishes for you to live, I’m willing to bet that you fell from the sky with a strong will to accomplish a task, and that the task was one with true intentions. Am I correct?” 

Apex scrunched up his brow. He felt like beating his head against a palm tree—maybe that would knock some memory back into his foggy brain. “Yes,” he murmured in response. “But I can’t remember what.” 

“It will come to you, friend. If the quest was not misbegotten, you will remember it in time. You must first rest, however—you took quite a blow to the back of the head. The sand may feel soft when you are treading across it’s shifting surface, but it can become dangerous when impacted with enough force.” 

But Apex wasn’t listening. At that moment, all he could focus on was that name that kept popping up in his head: Permafrost. It was coming back to him in bits and pieces, flashes too fast for his tired brain to follow, but the urgency that came with the realization built in his chest regardless of his own understanding of it. 

NightWing. 

Kidnapped. 

Danger. 

Permafrost. 

“I have to go back,” Apex choked out, hurriedly. With one final heave, he managed to unbalance the dragon holding him in place and struggled to rise to his full height. His head pounded, demanding that he lay back down, but his mind wasn’t quite as ready for rest as his limbs. It was racing behind his eyes; thoughts and scenarios, fears and doubts. And, on top of it all, a sense of failure. 

“Go back? To the desert, where you crashed?” The eldest dragon, a SandWing the color of deep bronze flecked with vibrant red, spoke softly. “There’s nothing for you out there. Your place is at your wedding.” 

Apex had heard quite enough. He roared, startling the gathered dragons: all but the one with the stripes. In fact, two dragons—also stopping to rest their weary scales—on the other side of the oasis gave them all an alarmed look, whispered something to each other, and quickly took off into the cloudless skies. 

“What wedding?! You keep mentioning a wedding, my wedding, but I have no idea what you’re talking about! I haven’t even been home in months!!” Apex panted, shaking with fury. The eldest SandWing quizzically glanced at the one with the stripes, and the female SandWing could be heard shuffling her wings somewhere behind Apex. 

“You mean,” the eldest broke in, “you haven’t given your consent to be married?” 

“Consent?” A shadow fell over Alex’s eyes, and he limped towards the bronze dragon. “Riddle me this: How do you expect me to have given my consent to a marriage that I didn’t know was happening until five seconds ago? Furthermore, where do you think I’ve been all this time? My life has been in danger from the second I left my palace to now! In fact, you could all be plotting to kill me as we speak! I have had no time to think about getting married while me and my friends have been tortured, maimed, kidnapped, and—“ 

“Yes,” the striped SandWing interrupted. Something in his voice had changed, something vital. He sounded hollow, like the words were flowing through him instead of from him. “We have seen all that and more. The darkness watches its loyal servants. It knows your hardships, and knows what you want most.” 

“What I want is—“ Apex began, but was interrupted yet again. 

“The damaged IceWing.” The striped dragon tilted his chin upwards, as though revelling in a breeze that had yet to blow through the copse of palms. “I have seen much and more of this IceWing. I would not be so insistent on attending this wedding, if it did not align with your goals.” 

“Align…” Apex  shook his head. This dragon might as well have been talking in tongues, for all the sense he was making. “What are you talking about? Permafrost is—“ 

“Going to the wedding.” The striped dragon tilted his head back down, head fully facing the SkyWing prince. He got the eerie feeling that he was being watched, despite the thick blindfold that covered the SandWing’s eyes. 

“But…” Apex rubbed his head, hoping against hope that it would somehow clear up in the next five seconds. Am I missing something, or is he being purposely vague? “That doesn’t make any sense! He was with the NightWings, and…” 

“Yes,” the striped dragon conceded. “I cannot hope to explain the situation, as I have not seen it clearly myself. There is confusion within the void, but the darkness has shown me one thing for certain: your companion will be at the wedding. But he will be in danger.”

“You don’t say?!” Apex shouted, stomping his foot against the ground. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and spotted a SandWing with comically large wings sidling up towards his left side. “He’s been in danger for a very long time!! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” 

“We know,” the small, older one soothed. “We know he needs help. Anubis,” he nodded towards the striped dragon, “has seen it all.” 

“The water is muddy, but it clears in the path of the snake.” Anubis stepped forward, sweeping his tail across the ground and sending a shower of sand onto a nearby lizard. “There are many twists and turns, and too many outcomes to conceive. Even I cannot possibly see them all. One thing is clear, though. We must not let the Red Viper get her way, or all will be lost. Do you understand how dire this situation is? One wrong move, and this mission will crumble.” 

The SkyWing prince couldn’t grasp onto his thoughts. They slipped through the claws of his mind like water, refusing to stop or slow their incessant current. Red Viper? “What…” He felt like there was an iron vice clamped around his neck. His throat was dry, and his tongue felt like a weight in his mouth. “What are you talking about?” 

“We,” the female SandWing stepped forth and made a sweeping motion with her talon, “have to get you to your bride. You,” the talon came to a stop, pointed directly at Apex, “have to have faith in us. And the IceWing. We’ll set this world right. It’s our job, after all.” 

Apex’s tongue flicked out of his mouth. The air was acrid, a result of the dry terrain of the desert and the sour taste coating the roof of Alex’s mouth. He didn’t like the sound of this. “Those are some pretty vague instructions, coming from dragons I don’t know in a mysterious place.” 

The big-wings dragon tapped her chest. “I’m Vera. You know Anubis and Hyena, and that,” she motioned towards the one with the darker scales and smaller form, “is Pharoah. We’re members of The Order of Scorpions, a group of orphaned dragons adopted by Father and trained to establish justice throughout the harsh and unforgiving desert. However… sometimes, on special occasions, we have to step in to prevent larger conflicts outside our sphere of influence that threaten all the kingdoms of Pyrrhia.” 

Anubis was pretty sure that his brows had receded onto the top of his skull by the time she was done with her monologue. “Oh… is that all? Just a handful of glorified assassins, prowling the sand-dunes for cutthroats and thieves?” 

“Got a problem with that?” The pale dragon had returned from his short trot to the watering hole; or, at least, that’s what Apex assumed he had been doing since his snout was covered in glistening beads that slipped down his scales and dripped off his chin. The large-winged dragon—Vera—scowled at his appearance but said nothing. 

“I just…” Apex drew his talons over his eyes, rubbing circles against the sockets. Dismayed to find that the strange band of SandWings was still standing in front of him when he opened his eyes again—which, by the by, were now crusted with a thick layer of grainy sand—the prince resigned himself to the fact that he was still very much awake and very much alive. “I have to stop meeting other dragons in life-threatening situations. It’s becoming harrowing. I never know who’s out to help me, and who secretly wants to dispose of me as quickly as possible. Also—why do I know so many assassins?? This can’t be healthy.” 

The pale dragon—Hyena—rolled his off-white eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo. You—icke!” He yelled out in pain as Vera closed her talons around his muzzle in a vice-like grip. She smiled sweetly at Apex as Hyena struggled in her grip, grunting and groaning as his legs uselessly scrabbled against the patchy earth for purchase. 

“I completely understand,” she said. “But you don’t really have another choice but to trust us. No offense, but you’re kinda a mess and we’re the only ones who know how to help.” 

Apex felt his ears dropping, pressing close against his head as he took in her words. They stung, but only because she was right. “Fine,” he finally said. “But what do you want in exchange? Money? Land?” 

Anubis spoke again after a long bout of silence. “This is bigger than monetary gain, Apex. You have a great destiny. I can feel your potential. You are a rock in the ocean, the cliff that breaks the tidal waves as they crash upon it.” 

“I don’t understand,” Apex despaired. “Why me? I’m just a random prince from the SkyWing kingdom! All I’ve done my whole life is look at maps, command border patrols, and attend frivolous parties! Why do I have to go to some mysterious wedding with mysterious dragons who tell me that I have to stop the world from crumbling at the claws of some mysterious foe?!” 

“We don’t choose our future or our family,” Anubis said softly. “We are sorry that you have this responsibility on your shoulders, but it would not have been bestowed upon you if you could not bear it. I wish I could tell you that you were special; merely, you carry a special destiny within you. Not many dragons have the ability to make change, and even less are born with the determination to see their wills exercised on the world. Most merely live, exist, and die without leaving hide nor scale of their own efforts.” 

Apex thought about all he had been through up to this point. Permafrost’s trial, the imprisonment, the trek through MudWing territory, Coypu and the escape, the kidnapping and now… a universal turning point that he was supposed to prevent. At his own wedding, that he hadn’t been invited to. And apparently, Permafrost would be there as well. He sucked in a deep breath. “You realize how absurd this all sounds, don’t you?” He breathed out a sigh. 

Vera nodded sympathetically, while the older dragon just shrugged apologetically. Hyena snorted and glared, and Anubis fixed Apex with that unnervingly hidden stare. “Will you trust us?” The SandWing asked. 

Apex watched a scorpion scuttle across the ground, tiny legs carrying it across the tufts of wind-blown heather at alarmingly fast speeds. Apex didn’t want to stay in this place any longer than he had to, and if it meant gaining some help in getting Permafrost back. “What have I got to lose?” And, there was also… “Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention this, but I’m currently being hunted to the death by a crazed IceWing. I don’t know if it changes anything, but it’s probably a good idea to keep an eye open for her.” 

Vera opened her mouth to reply.

“Like I said,” Apex cut in, not giving her a chance, “My life’s been a little precarious lately.” 

Chapter Text

“You numb-skulled numpty, how could you not recognize your own friend from a mile away?!” 

“I was trying to keep us safe!” 

“Oh, yes, I’m sure they’ll appreciate that excuse when they wake up with a concussion! Let me worry about keeping us safe!” A pause. “You’re still a dragonet.” 

“I’m not that young, and I can help out! I-I’m strong! I have thick scales, and-and-“ 

“A thick skull, that’s what you have!” A sigh. “Just… go get some rest, Bullfrog. I can’t imagine how tiring it is to be in a state of blissful ignorance or abhorrent stupidity twenty four hours a day, for seven days a week.” 

There was a shuffling noise, and suddenly, the room felt a bit more empty. Starfish heard, in their sleepy state, the clinking of bottles and sweeping of a tail against a hard-packed earthen floor. They smelled the mud caking the walls, the earthy aroma soothing their mind into a sense of familiarity. They felt something soft beneath them, soft and distinctly squishy—most likely moss. And when they opened their eyes, they saw a small brown dragon squatted near a table covered in plants. 

“Uhm.” Starfish heaved to their feet, shaking off the dizzy cloud clinging to their brain like wet straw. “Coypu…?” 

The small brown dragon turned around, expression caught between surprise, guilt, and resignation. “Listen,” she began in a grumbly voice, hoarse with lack of sleep and old age, “don’t  freak out—“

“Actually,” Starfish cut in, “I was looking for you guys.”

Coypu grimaced, as if she had already known. “Figures. I knew you’d come back eventually.” She heaved a sigh, eyes growing distant for a second. Starfish hung onto her words, leaning forward slightly as though waiting for her to continue. The frail MudWing snapped back to the present, gesturing at Starfish with an impatient and expectant motion. “Well?” She huffed. 

“Well what?” Starfish asked. 

“Don’t give me that. You show up at my old hut, sans an IceWing and SkyWing—unless that absurd NightWing is Apex in disguise, and he’s carrying the grumpy ice goblin in his pack—with a giant scar on your chest, and claim that you need my help. So. What do you want?” 

Starfish scratched the back of their neck. If they told the truth, would it freak Coypu out? Would she be mad that they hadn’t taken care of Permafrost? That Starfish had given up a piece of themselves? Their mind flashed to Apex, and their parting conversation— You know nothing— and they cringed. “It’s… complicated.” 

Coypu made a gruff sound that was either a cough, a laugh, or something different altogether. “When is it not? Dragonets like you three are always on the move, endangering your lives at every turn for the thrill of it. If you ever make it to my age, it’ll be a miracle. Now, stop wasting my time and tell me what you need.” 

Starfish thought back on their flight here, and as if it was summoned from the recesses of their memory, a headache began to pound against their left temple. “I was attacked on my way here! Did they follow me?! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ 

Coypu waved a talon to cut Starfish off. “You were attacked by our resident rockhead, Bullfrog. Don’t worry, he’s been thoroughly scolded. We have a lot to explain, but first, you need to tell me what you’re here for. Then,” her old, wise eyes flashed, “I can decide how much you’re allowed to know.” 

Starfish was confused, but they knew better than to question Coypu. The grumpy MudWing would spill her secrets when she was ready, and not before. “Alright,” they said, looking for any flickers of emotion over the other dragon’s face. It remained impassive, so she plowed on. “Well… Permafrost is kind of… kidnapped. Again. It’s kind of getting ridiculous, if I’m being honest. It’s like… there’s some malicious entity that doesn’t want him to go home or something. Anyway, he was taken by NightWings, and we found one who told us where their hideout was. But… he asked for a piece of my heart in return. We… split up. I was actually looking for you, to—“ 

“You can stop there.” Coypu was nodding, as if Starfish had said something agreeable. The SeaWing was, needless to say, even more befuddled than before. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” 

“Uh…” Starfish tentatively stretched her neck forward. “Did I… pass?” 

“This wasn’t a test, but… yes.” Coypu raised a talon and scratched at a spot behind her ear. A bit of dried mud flaked off and fell to the dirt floor. So much dirt, Starfish thought with a pang of faint disgust. They preferred clean water. 

“So… are you going to divulge your precious enigmas, O’ Wizened One?” Starfish was beginning to feel relief spread through their scales, but something was still pricking at the edge of their consciousness. Reaper, she realized. He was absent from the hut. Did they not knock him out as well, or did he get away? Or did they separate him, and for what reason?

“Ey, watch it. I’m not some old croak in the middle of the woods, telling fortunes and selling spells.” She says down, and a nearby vial wobbled from the force of it, threatening to teter over the edge of a low-legged table. “I’m sure you’ve seen our hut by now. Still smoldering, right?” 

“Well,” Starfish began, “not this one. This one looks totally whole and completely un-burnt. Did you rebuild while I was asleep?” 

“What? No. Don’t be stupid. This is a backup, in the slim chance that my sister would finally decide that she had had enough of my haunting presence.” She tapped her claw impatiently against the ground, creating a frantic rhythm that somehow came across as vexation. “Anyway, that coward sent soldiers to finish us off. We were able to sneak away, and use a bunch of meat stored in the hut to make it seem as though we had perished in the flames.” 

“That… sucks,” Starfish said, lamely. Coypu fixed her with a very unamused look. 

“You don’t say?” She snapped back. “We’ve been watching my old hut, in case the soldiers returned to search the remains and found nothing but burned hides and soot-covered antlers. My idiot of an apprentice mistook a bright green SeaWing and a small , dark NightWing for a couple of large, brown MudWings.” She emphasized each descriptor, as if to point out the obviousness of his mistake. 

Starfish couldn’t be mad at her old friend. Bullfrog was many things—kind, caring, nervous, shy—but observant? He was about as perceptive as his namesake. It would be endearing, even, if Starfish’s head wasn’t currently being wrenched open by a splitting headache. Honestly, it was a miracle that they had even survived thus far, with the amount of injuries they had sustained since leaving the MudWing palace. 

“Right,” they said, dubiously. “And where is the NightWing I was traveling with?” 

Coypu’s face darkened and, for a moment, Starfish genuinely feared for the little scientist's life. Then, she heaved a sigh and responded in a voice laced with equal parts venom and apathy. “He’s out in the bog, licking moss and making friends with every toad he comes across. He acts like he’s never seen the world. Spent nearly an hour hounding Bullfrog with questions, which would have been amusing, if that giant oaf hadn’t told the NightWing that I knew more about the bayou.” She paused, thoughtfully. “He’s right, of course. Still. It meant that I didn’t get peace and quiet until I threatened to tie his muzzle shut and roll him into quicksand. He slunk outside like a prairie dog after that.” 

“Yeah…” Starfish was just relieved to hear that he was okay. Despite all of his faults, Starfish had a soft spot for the little oddball. Then again… they were a bit of a bleeding heart, so it wasn’t like they were surprised to find that they cared. “I’m sorry. He insisted on coming. Well, er, Apex insisted I needed an escort.” 

Coypu looked Starfish up and down, then gave a derisive snort. “Look at you. You’re more bedraggled than a half-digested squirrel. I poked around at that wound while you were unconscious, and it was a butcher job. I undid the stitches and closed it back up, but I can’t promise that you’ll be able to swim for very long anymore. Your heart won’t be what it used to be anymore, so you won’t be able to pull oxygen from water.” 

Starfish wasn’t surprised, nor were they very upset. They felt the sting of those words, sure, but they had never been to the ocean. Or, rather, they were too young to remember it. Besides, they’d be going to the mountains anyway, which was leagues from any large body of water… that is, if Apex still wanted them. Suddenly, Starfish felt inexorably weary and despondent.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. You’re the one who gave a piece of a vital organ away, apparently.” Coypu mistook Starfish’s downcast eyes for sadness over the loss of the sea. 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” They softly rubbed their talon in soothing circles on their mossy bed. “Ugh. Boys.” 

“I agree,” Coypu laid down beside Starfish with a grunt. “I don’t even know the context behind your statement, but I agree. Boys. ”

“Coypu, have you ever… met someone really unique and thought… ‘Wow. I wanna be by their side. I want to see them shine, and I want to be part of the change they create.’” 

“‘Course.” Coypu wiggled into a more comfortable position. Her scales radiated heat, like she had just been basking in the sun. 

“Who?” Starfish whispered. 

“My sister,” Coypu answered, just as soft. “Queen Copperhead. Back then, we weren’t queen and subject. We were two parts of the same snake. She was the head, biting everything that got in our way, and I was the body, moving us along at a steady pace. Then… she took ill one day, and… well, she’s never quite been the same. It moved to her brain. I tried to save her… I tried to find a cure. But I couldn’t.  And now there’s another sickness ravaging the swamps, and I once again find myself unable to move. After all… a snake can only get so far without its head.” 

Starfish was silent while Coypu wove her tale. A cricket chirped outside, and was answered by the harsh cry of a crow. Starfish leaned against Coypu. “I said some awful stuff to Apex before I left. I hope he’s not too mad at me. I just got frustrated… he’s so inconsistent! Bouncing from worry to worry, like he cares and doesn’t care at the same time! I wish he could just… choose a priority!” 

Coypu made a decidedly un-royal-like ‘snrk’ noise. “Apex is a case study, I’ll give you that. Sometimes it seems like his heart is in the right place, and sometimes he seems impossibly distant. Let me tell you right now, Starfish: that boy is not an enigma. Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s so flighty because he cares, he just doesn’t know how. ” 

“How?” Starfish echoed, not quite understanding. 

“Yeah,” Coypu drawled back. “How. He doesn’t know how to care about a dragon like he cares about you lot. I’ve seen it in his eyes. All that pent-up longing, all the times he opens his mouth to say something and shuts himself down before the words reach past his throat. It’s like watching a frog trying to eat its own tongue.” 

That made Starfish laugh, even though it only made the pain in her head sharper. Coypu seemed to notice, and hauled herself up to reach for something on a nearby table. When she settled back down, wings tucked close to her body, she was holding a bundle of herbs. “You aren’t going to like this part, but you gotta eat this. It’ll help with the pain.” 

“Why am I not going to like it?”

“Because it tastes like a cow’s rear end smells.” Starfish gave it a testing sniff, and grimaced. “Got honey if you want something to mask the taste.” 

“No, I got this,” Starfish said, determined. Before they made a move to gulp down the plant, they were thoroughly distracted by a cacophony of noise outside. Coypu sat up sharply, wings unfurling in alarm. 

“What in the name of Pyrrhia—!!” 

Something banged against the wall of the hut. It shuddered—but, miraculously, didn’t collapse on top of their heads. A heartbeat later, Reaper rolled in through the wall of moss at the entrance. A mess of flailing wings and tails, once he had come to a stop and untangled his limbs, he looked… frazzled, to say the least. What concerned Starfish had less to do with his flamboyant entrance, and more to do with the devilish smile curling at the corners of his mouth. 

“I found it!” He announced. 

“Care to share with the class?” Coypu asked, impatiently tapping a talon on the ground. 

Reaper dug around in his satchel in response, talking adamantly as he searched. “Well, theoretically, I thought that it might be possible—no, not that—for a dragon to create some sort of elixir that would make their flames warmer,—nope, that’s for next year—by ingesting a powdered form of a firescales scale! Turns out—definitely not, but almost—I was right!!” He cried, pulling out a reddish-brown scale. Starfish felt like they were missing something. 

“I feel like I’m missing something,” they said. 

“Is that,” Coypu broke in, “a fire-proof scale?” 

“Ding ding ding!!!” Reaper waved it around like a trophy. “I figured that if ingesting a concentrated powder made from the scale of a firescales dragon, then this should have the opposite effect, shouldn’t it? It would dampen the flames of a dragon,” he looked pointedly at Starfish, “assuming that they had flames to begin with, of course.” 

Coypu didn’t seem interested in the logistics of fire breath. Instead, her eyes tracked the movement of that scale on his hand. “Where did you find that?” She hissed. 

“This?” Reaper brought the scale closer to his eyes. “Oh, there were a bunch of dragons who were very dead about a mile away. Like, a hundred of them. I figured they wouldn’t mind if I collected some samples.” 

Coypu cursed and Starfish felt panic rise in her throat. Reaper looked, for his part, confused at their distress. Shrugging it off, he went back to admiring his scale. 

“Not another village…” Coypu hauled herself up, sweeping her brown eyes over her table. “So many dragons die, and I do nothing for them.” 

“Well… why are you immune to it? When Permafrost had this illness, you mentioned something about… transmission…?” Starfish sat up as well, though their head spun with the effort. A moment later, Bullfrog followed Reaper into the hut, but he stayed silent as he watched his mentor fuss over herbs and eavesdropped. 

“I’m not immune. Just careful. It’s in the food,” Coypu said. “Only transferred via the intestinal tract—gimme that.” She snatched the scale from Reaper, who looked dejected but didn’t try to take it back. “If you make an elixir from this and give it to a dragon, they’ll die from the sickness it carries.” 

Reaper scoffed, plopping down onto a moss bed. “Would not,” he defended. “Of course I’d add Griffins’ Root to the mix, to offset the effects of the contagion present in the DNA, though I’d have to find a way to get my claws on one. And I need a workspace, someplace where I can put all my tools and experiment with the various—“

“What,” Coypu’s claw shot out and clamped around Reaper’s muzzle. His words died in a whine. “What did you just say?” 

He mumbled around her grip, and she released him. “—because I have a lot of different things that I need to put precisely where they must go, so that when I reach for them, my claws don’t find empty air instead of the instrument with which I—“ She clamped her claws around his jaw once more. 

“No. The thing before that. What would you add to this mixture?” She released him. 

“Oh, Griffins’ Root? I did a bit of experimentation while I was in the village, and found that the parasite that is consuming these MudWings lungs is actually a form of amoeba common in the flat lands because of the many pools of water in and around this type of area. But this strand was slightly different because it was no longer content on feeding on plant matter. This led me to wonder why it had become carnivorous and harmful, when it had coexisted with dragons in the past. So!” He sat back on his haunches. “I opened up the lungs of one of the dragons to take a sample, and found that the air sacs were filled with water! Crazy! Which, by the way, reminds me of the time—“ 

“Point!” Starfish shouted. “If there is a point, please get to it!!” 

“The problem,” Reaper concluded, “is not the amoeba! They weren’t attracted to dragons, they’re attracted to the water in their lungs! These dragons just have a rare strand of pneumonia, which is easily curable with Griffins’ Root.” 

All gathered dragons—Coypu, Bullfrog, and Starfish—stared at Reaper like he had three heads. The NightWing was either too self-aware, or not aware enough, because he didn’t pay their incredulous gazes’ any mind. 

“Since when,” Starfish croaked, “have you had medicinal knowledge?” 

“Oh,” Reaper waved a talon dismissively, “I don’t. I just happen to have experimented with something like this before. About… seven years ago, I believe. You know what, that reminds me of the time—“ 

“I had no idea he knew anything about this,” Starfish whispered to Coypu. 

“—and he was obviously very angry, though I had no idea why! So I made sure to attempt to placate him with a deal, I said ‘I get to keep the plant, and you get to keep your horns’ but he thought I was threatening him!! So—“

“Does he ever stop talking? He’s giving me a stomach ache,” Bullfrog whined to Coypu. 

“—unless I had the stone with me, which I didn’t, which made it very difficult to run from a swarm of vultures when they smell something dead on your person, they assume that you’re dead and wait until you stop for a break to swoop down and—“ 

“No,” Starfish sighed to Bullfrog. “But I think I know a way. Reaper!! Look, a five-legged frog!!” 

Reaper’s jaw snapped shut and he practically broke his neck from how fast he turned it in every direction. His tail began rocking back and forth, like an excited fur-beast. “Where??? Where is the frog??” 

“Oh, no, it got away,” Starfish shrugged. “That’s too bad, maybe next time.” Reaper opened his mouth to say something, but Starfish beat him to the punch before he could go off on a tangent about some experiment or the other. “Anyway!! Where would we happen to come across this magical root?” 

“I’d hardly call it magical. If anything, you’re more magical than any sort of substance you might find growing in the nooks and crannies of the mortal world—“ 

“AHEM!” Starfish coughed, hoping that Coypu would just assume that when Reaper had called them ‘magical,’ he had simply meant ‘enchanting’ and not ‘animus.’  “Just answer the question, Reaper!” 

“It grows in the mountains,” he answered in a slightly wounded tone. 

“The mountains we were just in, Reaper?” Starfish seethed. 

“Yeah, you know what, I think it was those mountains! That’s kind of funny, because this is exactly the kind of thing that DeepShadow used to do all the time, where he’d remember stuff waaaay after it was relevant. Like, once, he gave me a plant for my birthday but didn’t tell me that it was poisonous until after it almost killed me! It was really funny, he actually kind of seemed angry that I had figured it out—oh, maybe it was a riddle!! Maybe he was trying to tell me something, or maybe—“

“Maybe he was just tired of hearing you blabber about nothing and everything at the same time, and took matters into his own claws,” Coypu suggested. “At any rate, it sounds like I have to pay a trip to SkyWing territory.” 

Starfish’s brown scrunched up in worry and confusion. “But… who will watch the hut?” 

Coypu stared at the SeaWing for a long moment, as if thinking about something. She leveled Starfish with a hard, unyielding gaze. “You and Bullfrog. I have to take the rambly one, because he’s the only one who knows what he’s talking about.” 

“But—“

“No,” Coypu said, firmly. “You’re staying.” 

“I can help!” Starfish protested. “And SkyWing territory is dangerous, and—!” 

“Starfish,” Coypu interrupted. Her gaze softened and her voice smoothed from an irritated snarl to a low rumble. “I know you want to be useful, honey, but you don’t have to risk your life all the time. We don’t want you to sacrifice yourself because we love you. This is dangerous, and you’re injured, and I refuse to watch you continue to destroy yourself.” 

Starfish lowered their head, green eyes dark and stormy. “Is there… anything I can do?” 

“You can rest,” Coypu answered. “And you can run, if you see MudWing soldiers. Don’t try to fight them.” She turned to walk away, but paused at the entrance. “Oh, and… no more animus magic. It’s dangerous.” 

Before Starfish had time to process her words, Coypu dragged Reaper out of the hut by the nape of his neck and they were off. They sat in stunned silence for a while, thinking about Coypu’s parting words: No more enchanting. Had Reaper divulged their secret? Something told Starfish that he hadn’t. That Coypu had just… known. 

She had known that Starfish was an animus. 

And she hadn’t cared. 

Maybe I was wrong about other dragons, Starfish thought as they settled down for a nap that night. The thought filled them with hope. 

~

Her sister was playing tricks on her again. 

Tempest wasn’t worried. They always played hide and seek before their parents came home, and her sister was too young to care whether or not Tempest had been notified about the game before it began. 

It was all an elaborate scheme to capture her attention, Tempest supposed. Her sister had always been frustrated with the lack of attention she received from Tempest herself, even though their parents more than made up for it with gifts and praise. 

No matter. 

Tempest knew where her sister would be hiding. It was the same place she always hid: In the abandoned polar bear den by their family’s cove. 

The ice was slick that day, not yet covered by a thick layer of snow. Tempest didn’t slip—she never slipped—but she made note to take her sister home on her back instead of making the dragonet walk. Her sister’s claws were not fully formed yet, still soft and hardly serrated. It wouldn’t do for her to slip on the ice and dislocate her shoulder, which would inevitably be blamed on Tempest rather than her sister’s clumsiness. 

She remembered the entrance to the bear’s den, dark and deep and dripping water from the icicles that hung menacingly overhead. The cave itself looked quite like a bear, maw open and ready to bite down on anything that entered. 

Tempest had walked into the cave that day, as she had many times before, to cry out for her sister and scold her—gently, so as not to scare her—until she looked thoroughly abashed and ready to go back to the comfort of their home. 

She remembered the difference: the sharp and foul smell, the clatter of something hollow scraping against something hard. She remembered kicking something aside in the darkness, listening to it skitter into a nearby wall. She remembered screwing up her eyes against the pitch-black interior, squinting to find the source of the smell. 

She remembered the growl, savage as it was, as it echoed around the cave and reverberated tenfold. Tempest remembered seeing it—large, scarred, bloodstains on white fur—before it leapt at her. 

She remembered a fight, the way it’s claws had dug into her throat until she could taste blood, the way she had wrestled it against a wall and sunk sharp teeth into soft skin. 

She remembered spitting out blood (hers or the bear’s?) and standing triumphantly over her kill. 

And she remembered turning her head to the right. Such a small movement, such a big moment. If she had just left the cave, she could have deniability. She could have run, she could have claimed she was simply a bystander. She could have said she was hunting, and didn’t know until it was too late. 

But when her eyes landed on her sister’s body—dead eyes staring at nothing in particular, stomach ripped open and right leg conspicuously missing—she knew that she would never be able to escape from what she knew. 

She remembered, in a detached sort of way, carrying her baby sister back home. 

She remembered the look on her mother’s face. The answer in her father’s eyes. The intent was clear. To the detached parents, she was nothing but a leech. They had loved her sister, but held no love for the eldest or the corpse she dragged through the snow. 

No.

Tempest was less than the bloodless infant on the floor between them. 

So, Tempest was not surprised when her father attacked her. She was not surprised when his jaws closed around her neck. She was not surprised by the way her mother turned away, averting her eyes, ridding herself of it like blood off her claws. 

But her father was old and her mother was naive and Tempest was not surprised. 

She remembered how little it took. 

A short, quick stab into the chest. A tearing noise. A shudder, and her father was gone. 

She remembered her mother, barely able to utter a gasp before she joined her mate and precious child. 

To this day, Tempest remembered how easily they had fallen. How numb she had been, watching life bleed into snow. 

She truly was a leech. 

“Well,” Tempest mused, dark eyes fixated on her wedding-bound prey. “The little princeling has made some experienced friends. That complicates things.” A breeze swayed through the patches of dead or dying weeds, sending a drift of sand swirling across the barren terrain. Tempest crouched lower against the ground, moving with it to conceal her presence. “Good,” she whispered. “It’s no fun when they don’t fight back.” 

Chapter Text

“This is degrading.”

“You have no choice.” 

“I might not be able to see, but my legs work just fine. Remind me why I can’t walk again?” 

“Because I’m the princess of the ocean and I hereby declare that you must be carried!” 

“Pass.” Permafrost replied, slipping off of the slimy SeaWing’s back. Princess Clam had tied him down to someone named Finnigan—a repulsive, stuttering mess of a dragon who couldn’t decide whether he revered or hated Princess Clam. He went from fear to annoyance in the span of a heartbeat. It was getting on Permafrost’s nerves, so he cut the ropes while Clam wasn’t paying attention—at least, he hoped she wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t exactly see what she was focusing on.

“You can’t pass on—hey! Get back on there, you’ll fall!” 

Permafrost was relieved to feel solid ground beneath his talons, but his exuberance was soon accompanied by disgust as he felt another dragon slip into step beside him. Judging by the fishy smell and the polished feel of the scales, Permafrost guessed that it was the Royal Pain herself. His suspicions were confirmed when her voice purred in his ear: “Stop being so naughty. I might have to punish you.” 

He scowled. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t find much satisfaction in any punishment you dole out to me.” 

He could practically feel the princess pout. “You’re no fun! At least try to act intimidated!” 

Permafrost sighed, wings drooping and ears pressing against his skull. He stuck his snout in the air and, in a monotone voice, yelled, “O, woe is me. I have fallen prey to the SeaWing Princess, cruel mistress of the ocean, the pelagic predator, the maritime marauder, the saltwater scourge! What am I to do?” 

“That’s much better,” she chirped in return, “but don’t you think that I’m less of a marauder and more of a hustler?” 

“I think you’re a thorn in my side,” Permafrost quipped. Finnigan gasped, like the spineless sea urchin that he was. 

“D-Don’t speak to the Princess like that! Her highness is—“

“Her Highness can choke on a barnacle,” Permafrost snapped. “I woke up a few days ago with a pounding headache and almost no memory of the past twenty years of my life, only to then be kidnapped by a fish with a superiority complex, so excuse me if I’m a little cranky!”  

There was silence. In the oppressing soundlessness, Permafrost was pretty sure he could hear a pebble tumbling down a nearby ravine, probably disturbed by one of the guards bringing up the rear of the SeaWing party. He was just about to open his mouth and test the waters of his luck with more peevish comments when something lashed out at him, raking across his snout. Pain blossomed across his nose and jaw, and he cried out from the sheer surprise of it. 

“I like you, pet, but there’s something you should understand.” Something cold and hard wrapped around his snout, squeezing it shut and tugging him forward. The smell of salt and seaweed filled his nose, so strong it was stifling. “I’m nothing like any dragon you’ve ever met before. If you think that you can get away with murder, just because I prefer my toys to be on the spunkier side, you’ve got another thing coming.” The princess’s voice was beside his ear now, whispering. “I have no intention of letting you continue to disrespect me. The tougher they are, the harder they fall—I want to break you. I will break you. You’ll be a simpering mess by the time that I’m done with you. That’s all!” She pulled away, and Permafrost gasped as he was released from her grip. 

He stewed in anger as they continued their ceaseless march, carefully checking himself whenever he felt a snide comment rising to the surface—not out of fear, but to create the illusion of obedience. The meeker he appeared, the more surprised Clam would be when he escaped. 

“And now, we’re coming up on the monument to Queen Crag. She was famously friends with the most infamous SeaWing animus in history, Blubber. It was—“ 

“I’m sorry,” Princess Clam interrupted Finnigan’s rambling, “but did you just say blubber?” 

“Well, yes,” Finnigan awkwardly confirmed. “I did. He was—“ 

“Blubber. The most infamous animus in SeaWing history was named Blubber.” 

“Yes,” he confirmed again, more strongly this time. “I really don’t see what’s so funny about that. Blubber is a very useful type of fat found in whales and seals that can provide insulation in dangerous situations. Now, if you’ll let me finish—“ 

“Princess!!” A guard flapped down from above, falling into step with Clam without missing a beat. Permafrost could practically feel the heat from the steam that must be pouring out of Finnigan’s ears. “We’ve spotted a SkyWing patrol! What should we do?” 

“Let them find us. We’re supposed to be here, right? I’m sure they won’t have any objections.”  

“Roger.” The guard flapped off, and Permafrost was left feeling awkward. 

The SeaWings had been invited to some sort of wedding, he had managed to glean thanks to Finnigan’s blabbermouth. What did that mean for him? He honestly didn’t know. Was Clam serious about him being a wedding gift to Apex? The dragon who, according to the NightWings, ruined his face in combat? For some reason, he balked at the idea of a wedding between Clam and Apex. Why? Was it resentment? He felt a strong rush of emotions whenever he thought about it, but he couldn’t quite place them. There were too many, and they were much too unfamiliar for him to name. 

“If I were you,” Permafrost spoke up, “I wouldn’t let them find me.”  

“Oh?” Princess Clam’s voice curled around him, enveloping him in its cold purr. “And why is that?” 

“They’re going to want to escort you.” 

“The mountains are dangerous,” Finnigan corrected, “and we may need an escort to navigate them.” 

“You don’t,” Permafrost shot back. “The mountains are dangerous, but nothing that the SeaWing princess can’t handle. Honestly, Finnigan, I’m surprised that you think so little of her. Are you of the opinion that your dear Clam is too frail to fly herself out of a ravine or take on a mountain lion? No, they won’t be escorting us because of the danger. They want to keep an eye on Princess Clam. In fact, if I had to take a guess, Clam will be in more danger once they find her.” 

“Why,” the princess gasped dramatically, “whatever do you mean?” She seemed to be pulling the answers from Permafrost, as if this was exactly what she wanted to hear. Well, you know what they say. It takes a liar to know a liar. The fact that she senses a trap tells me much and more about her personality, not that I didn’t already know how cruel and cunning she is. 

Permafrost gave an all-suffering sigh. “The SkyWings aren’t exactly a welcoming bunch of dragons. During my stay—“ He broke off with a choked noise and a cough, his words catching him by surprise. My stay? But despite his best efforts, his tongue was more yielding than his mind. He couldn’t bring forth any memories when he pried into what he had just said, and indeed, the only thing he succeeded in summoning was a headache. However, the princess wasn’t about to let him get away with this chance discovery. 

“Your stay?” She practically drawled, the words dripping from her mouth. “That’s a new one. So you’ve stayed with NightWings and SkyWings, hm? You sure do get around. Oh, I suppose this means that Apex won’t find you very surprising, if he’s already seen you sulking around his kingdom.” 

Permafrost didn’t provide an answer, mainly because he didn’t have one. Silence was the only option. Better the princess thought he was simply hiding something from her, than let her discover just how little of his own life he actually remembered. She was the type of dragon to expose any flaws or weaknesses in another, sticking her claws in the cracks and prying them open like… well, like a clam. How ironically poetic, Permafrost thought. 

“Princess, what should we do? I think that this IceWing is lying to us. He’s hoping that we fall off a cliff, o-or encounter bandits, or—“ 

“Finnigan,” Clam broke in, “one more word out of your slimy snout and I’ll have you spit-roasted over a fire and eat you for dinner! We can fly, so I’m not worried about falling. As far as bandits go… I can handle myself in a fight. And so can you, I presume?” 

It took a moment for Permafrost to realize that she was talking to him. He startled, ears swiveling towards her. “Erm…” 

“It’s just that,” she continued, latching onto his hesitation, “you’ve been on high alert ever since I found you, like you expect to be attacked at any moment. When I first grabbed ahold of you, you loosened all of your muscles so that I would lower my guard—it didn’t work, of course, but the point is that your movements are not instinctual. They’re purposeful. A normal dragon would have stiffened or struggled at an unfamiliar weight on their back, particularly if they couldn’t actually see the threat. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that you’ve been in plenty of life-threatening situations and either learned how to survive on your own, or someone taught you. Am I correct?” 

Permafrost’s headache rammed against his head, pain mounting behind his skull. “I… I d-don’t…” 

“Don’t try to lie,” Clam hummed. “I’ve seen the way you move. It’s entirely unnatural, like gliding over snow. You don’t interact with the world, you use the world to conceal yourself. If I had to guess, I’d say that you’re also accustomed to killing, as you are with fighting for your life. Sound familiar?”

Did it? Permafrost tried to dig up something, anything, one single memory of his time before this point. His mind seemed to be cleaved in two: what he knew before, and what he knows now. Finally, with some effort, he pulled some semblance of recollection from the muddy swamp that was his brain. It was…

“Yes,” he choked out. “Yes, I… tried to kill the SkyWing prince. Why?” His voice seemed to scrape against his throat, leaving it raw and sore. “But… I don’t know why.” 

The princess stared at him for a long moment, as if she had just found a missing piece of the puzzle but lost some other piece. “I see,” she finally sniffed. “Well, try to remember before we get to my wedding. I’d hate for my future partner to think that I was trying to have him assassinated by bringing you along. Or worse, mocking him. There is nothing in this world more fragile than a male dragon’s pride. They have so little to begin with, they guard it as jealously as one would guard a valuable trinket.” 

“Or you could just… let me go?” Permafrost suggested. “Then, there would be zero chance of my presence causing the prince offense.” 

Princess Clam laughed, and Permafrost flinched. It was so sharp, like a seal barking. “You’re such a little minx! No, the only time you’ll be free of me is when you’re dead. I do enjoy your tenacity, though. Please, keep trying to talk yourself out of this. It’s amusing to listen to, much more so than Finnigan’s ramblings about the history of dragons.” 

“My ramblings are important to understanding—“ 

Before Finnigan could get another word out of his mouth, Princess Clam rammed into his side and gracefully shoved him off the cliff. Or, at least, that’s what it sounded like to Permafrost. His yelp echoed and faded, like he was falling, before Permafrost heard wingbeats in the distance. 

“Barnacles,” Clam swore. “I was hoping he’d hit his head. Then, maybe I could build a monument for him in these mountains. I can see it now: ‘Here Lies Finnigan, so obsessed with burial sites and commemorations, he became one himself.’ Such a poetic ending, it’s enough to make a grown dragon cry.” 

“Uh-huh.” But Permafrost’s attention was elsewhere. He swiveled his head around, as if searching for something. After a second, his nose caught wind of something sharp. Nostrils flaring, tail rasping over the rocks, he attempted to sneak off to investigate. As per usual, Princess Clam saw what he was doing and trailed behind him. The rest of the party must have been confused by the sudden change in directions, but nobody raised any protest.

“What is it, boy? What do you smell?” Clam crept up beside him, crouching a little so that her mouth was right beside Permafrost’s ear. 

“Don’t treat me like a pet, and I don’t know yet.” Despite his words, Permafrost got the feeling that he did know. Or, at least, he should know. Some bone-deep instinct, some muscle memory, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t feel tense or alert, so whatever this was, his mind had already disqualified it as a threat. The sharp smell developed into something earthy, coupled with the scent of something burning. It sort of smelled like mud, and… A NightWing?

“I already told you,” a voice angrily grumbled, “we aren’t equipped to handle such a heavy tree trunk, and I don’t want bugs crawling all over me the whole way back. Do you want to carry a tree back to the mudflats?” 

“But,” another voice interjected, “you’re a MudWing! MudWings are supposed to like bugs and manual labor!” 

“Oh,” the first voice snapped, peevishly, “and I suppose you, A NightWing, knows all about what it’s like to be a MudWing. I’m sure that you know everything about us, down to our favorite food and favorite places to take naps. In your infinite experience, I’m sure that you know everything there is to know about every tribe in Pyrrhia!” 

“Well, actually—“

“Shut it!” 

“But—“

“No, seriously, child! Silence! I hear something!” 

Princess Clam slunk around a rock bringing them face-to-face with the source of the noise. Their clamoring had left Permafrost dizzy, his head pounding so loudly that it felt like a drumbeat in his ears. “A bit too late,” the princess crooned, “for silence, don’t you think?” 

“Aw, now look what you’ve done! Idiot NightWing, why did I even take you?” The voice that spoke now was gruff, rumbling, tinted with the accent of the mudflats and common among the MudWing tribe. Wait, Permafrost thought, how do I know what MudWings sound like? 

That was not the reaction Princess Clam was trying to draw from the group, apparently. Awe, yes. Fear, maybe. Admiration, likely. But anger? Vexation? In one brutal swipe, this strange MudWing had made the princess feel like less of a danger and more of a hindrance. Permafrost was almost scared to see how she would take that. 

“It’s not my fault that your head's so big!” The second voice cried out in protest. This one’s voice was slightly shriller, and it had a guttural sort of quality that Permafrost easily recognized. It was an accent only found in the NightWing volcanoes. But why are a NightWing and a MudWing traveling together? 

“What does my head have to do with your loud mouth? You better check your tone, or I swear I will drown you, resuscitate you, and drown you again!” 

“Quiet!” Princess Clam barked. The two mystery dragons shut their traps so fast that Permafrost could hear their jaws clicking shut. “It seems you two don’t comprehend the situation that you’re in. Do you even know who I am?” 

“Yes,” the NightWing confirmed. “I’ve known you for a few seconds now, but I can already guess a few things about you. Such as the fact that you’ve always been told that you were gifted, which gives you a superiority complex. Nobody bothers to challenge you anymore, which leads you to boredom. Boredom breeds two things: inactivity and hyperactivity. My guess is that you engage in both, and judging by the tired lines under your eyes, I would venture that you’re usually active at night and sleep during the day. At night, you most likely look for challenges in the form of other dragons, perhaps engaging in duels or provoking someone in the belief that the darkness lets you unleash your true self. You—“

“Permafrost?!” The MudWing barked in disbelief. Permafrost’s head snapped towards the sound of his name. 

“You know me?” He demanded. 

“Know you?” The MudWing let out a sharp wheeze that sounded a bit like laughter and a bit like a scoff. “I healed your scrawny hide!” 

“Healed? Healed what? What was wrong with me?” Permafrost’s head swam. The pain bursting behind his eyes was so intense, he felt himself sway with every pulse. It was all he could do to stay steady, and it took an immense amount of effort to take a step forward without crashing to the rocky ground. 

“Why are you with these SeaWings? I thought—Starfish told me that the NightWings had gotten ahold of you!” The MudWing replied, confusion lacing her tone. 

Starfish. 

The name rang crystal-clear in Permafrost’s mind. Like water, it slipped through his grip each time he tried to dig his claws in, forcing him to scrabble for purchase in his own mind. The world seemed to tilt forward dangerously, and the pain redoubled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I lived with the NightWings, I am—I’m one of them!” 

“You don’t look like a NightWing,” the NightWing from before stated matter-of-factly. “In fact, you look like a very scrawny, underfed IceWing.” 

“I—I know I’m an IceWing! But… but I was never… I never lived…” Permafrost’s heart was in his throat. It seemed to want to punch a hole through his throat, with how fast it was beating. He could barely breathe around it, and struggled to retain air in his lungs. “I’m not… I can’t…”

“Permafrost?” The MudWing said, alarmed. Her voice sounded like it was reaching him through a tunnel. “Permafrost!” 

Distantly, he felt his foot slip. And then, he was free-falling. Distantly, he felt the cool air whip across his face and thought about how nice it felt. Almost like the time when he was riding on Apex’s back, but… Apex would never have let him fall. 

He cradled that thought close to his chest as the world brightened, ebbed, and went silent. Whatever happened next, he couldn’t say. His mind was elsewhere, lost in dreams and memories of golden scales and a gilded heart. 

Chapter Text

The sun beat down on his scales like steel scraping against gold. He felt as if each step cost him a lifetime, and he conquered them as one might conquer a foe. His own ragged breaths seemed to betray him, escaping in gasps that tore up his raw throat. His only respite was when they stopped for water; in those brief moments, Apex felt as though he could drain the entire oasis and it still wouldn’t quench his insatiable thirst. 

Was he weak because of his inability to adapt to such a dry, harsh climate? Hyena seemed to think so, though… Hyena seemed to think that everything about Apex made him weak, down to the color of his scales and the way the claws on his right foot were slightly longer than those on his left. 

It was getting redundant, hearing him proclaim his superiority with every spare breath. Apex wished that the SandWing wasn’t so accustomed to desert heat—maybe he would stop talking if his throat felt as ruined as Apex’s. 

Vera, however, proved to be an absolute delight. She was just as chatty as Hyena, but her words were used for idle pleasantries rather than venomous barbs meant to lower Apex’s self-esteem. Her cordialness served to ground the SkyWing prince, and he managed to hold onto some semblance of sanity during their endless trek through the twisting, sandy landscape. 

Anubis was another story altogether. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then, he sometimes didn’t respond at all. Vera said that this was normal for him, but Apex found it a tad unnerving. He could tell that he wasn’t being ignored whenever he asked Anubis a question and didn’t receive a response; there was, he knew, another voice in the SandWing’s head that took precedence over his own. The thought was a tad alarming. Almost every dragon had a voice in their head—a consciousness—that guided them on the path of right and wrong. Rarely, however, did a dragon spend hours upon hours listening to that voice, or give it a name besides their own. The Darkness. 

Apex had been learning a bit about this faceless entity from Pharoah, who also seemed to be mildly disgruntled whenever he spoke of it. Apex couldn’t tell if it was because he was intimidated by it, or because he feared that Anubis was simply fabricating it to hide his own madness. Apex guessed it was a little of both: uncertainty mixed with trepidation, paired with a little bit of awe. 

Even now, the eldest SandWing was discussing this topic with the prince.

“I suppose you could call it intuition, if it makes you more comfortable labeling it with something familiar. It is a bit of a foreign concept. A strange entity, silently coexisting with all dragons.” Pharoah said, in response to some query that Apex must have asked. He had forgotten exactly he had wanted to know.

“Ah,” the prince returned. “I’m sorry, I’m still not following. So, it tells you where you need to go to do your… justice thing?” 

“Oh, no,” Pharoah replied instantly. “Father tells us where we must dispatch justice. The Darkness speaks to Anubis alone. He has been its vessel for years, carrying knowledge that no dragonet should have access to. He was separated as a child from the rest of us, which is why he may seem a bit… strange.” 

Strange is an understatement, Apex thought. He literally hears a disembodied voice telling him the secrets of the universe. Or so he says. 

“Right,” Apex said instead. “So, it’s never really been relevant until now?” 

“Only once before,” Pharaoh answered. “And even then, it was never something as big as this. Until now, it was simply something that separated him from the rest of us… a branch of study that he devoted himself to, so to speak. Father favors him because of it, but the rest of us didn’t really believe that it was anything more than a quirk… until we found you. Now… none of us are really sure what to make of Anubis,” Pharaoh confessed. “He clearly knows things that he should have no way of knowing.” 

“And that doesn’t… bother any of you?” Apex asked. It was a loaded question. He was weighing the eldest SandWing’s words against his facial expression, which was distant. 

“Well…” He hesitated. “A little, yes. But what can we do? Anubis is one of us, whether we like it or not. He’s not dangerous… I don’t think so. Just different.” 

“Uh-huh,” Apex plowed on, dubious. “And what about that cloth over his eyes? Does he always insist on wearing that?” 

“Oh, that,” Pharaoh laughed, seemingly relieved that they had moved on to a different subject, despite the fact that this one was not easily explainable either. “He says that he likes to be enshrouded in darkness at all times. He doesn’t take it off unless he’s working. Even then, he puts it back on immediately after he’s done his part.” 

“And his part is… assasination?” Apex questioned. 

“I guess you could say that. We prefer to think of it as—“

“Exacting justice, yes. You’ve said that,” Apex said, a tad reproachfully. “What exactly do these dragons do that they deserve such a, uhm… shady elimination? Pardon my wording, but your executions take place in private, don’t they?” 

“Are you asking if our work is justified?” Pharaoh’s conversational tone took a dark turn, and his mouth tugged downwards. Still, Apex wasn’t deterred. 

“Yes,” the prince confirmed. “Permafrost worked as an assassin for a long time, and it sounds as though the things you do are similar to what he used to do. Hiding, waiting to strike, and taking them down before they even know what hit them. Is it not unfair that they aren’t given a chance to explain themselves first? Don’t they deserve a chance to—“ 

“You are guilty of the thing you are accusing me of,” Pharaoh sharply sluiced through Apex’s words, “and not giving me a chance to defend myself before condemning me as a murderer. We do not simply kill for pleasure, or because of some petty contract with a vengeful patron. The dragons we eliminate have committed crimes beyond your comprehension, crimes against all dragonkind.” 

“Beyond my comprehension?” Despite his weariness, Apex drew himself up to his full height, towering over Pharaoh. “Are you suggesting that I’m not smart enough to understand what these dragons have done?”

“No,” Pharaoh replied, unintimidated. “Simply that your mind wishes to see the best of dragons, and you would have a hard time comprehending the evils that they have committed. It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment. I wish that my eyes could see as yours do. Sadly, they are seasoned with years of violence and malice. I can see nothing but what a dragon is; no longer what they could be. It is this quality that makes you so special, Apex. In a world filled with disbelievers and corruption, you are as pure as the gold of your scales.” 

“Uh…” How was he supposed to take that? “Thanks, but… I’m not perfect. I say the wrong things, and I can never manage to do the one thing that is physically within my power and protect the people I care about.” 

Pharaoh gave Apex a look filled with so much pity, it scared the prince a bit. Then, without another word, the SandWing fell back and let his sister—Vera—take his place walking beside the SkyWing prince. 

“Hey,” She greeted. 

“Hi,” Apex responded, somewhat shyly. Vera was, easily, the most friendly out of every dragon in the bunch. Her comically large wings and mild attitude made Apex feel the least intimidated by her: As he had learned from years of being groomed as the prince of a hostile nation and surviving multiple assasination attempts, he was overly cautious about the dragons he let himself get comfortable with. Apex could feel himself drifting closer to this SandWing in spite of his better judgment, and that was a dangerous game to play. She could always be hiding something—she was, after all, an assassin. 

“Couldn’t help but hear you brooding about not being good enough. Mind if I say a few words?” 

Apex opened his mouth to reply, but it was a moot point. She plowed inwards without even giving him a chance. 

“I’m going to tell you a story!” She declared. “It’s a story of betrayal, treachery, a forbidden friendship, and most of all… the triumph of love!” Hyena gagged in the distance. Without missing a beat, Vera picked up a nearby rock and threw it directly at the back of his head. He shrieked in protest and muttered vehement curses under his breath. 

Apex was skeptical. “The triumph of love?” He crinkled his snout. “I’ve never heard a story like that.” 

“Oh you poor, sweet boy.” Vera shook her head out of the corner of Apex’s eye. “Of course you haven’t! Why would your mother ever teach you such a story? She would have nothing to gain from that tale. I’m assuming what little fables you grew up on had much and more to do with death, conquering, and looting.” 

Apex opened his maw to contradict her statement, but no words rose in defense of his upbringing. Heaving a deep sigh, he felt his ears droop a little. “Yeah, okay, you’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t have a very gentle childhood.” 

“I know,” Vera soothed, “and it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m proud of you. Look at where you are now, trying to save your IceWing friend! This is your choice, Apex. Not your mother’s, not your ancestor’s. You are not them, and every decision you make is proof of that. Anyway, story time!!” She cleared her throat, and her voice took on an ominous tone. “Once upon a time, there was a war between two Scavenger kingdoms.” 

“Wait. Scavengers? What do they have to do with all of this?” Apex interrupted. 

“Shush, and let me tell the story!” Vera snapped. “Ahem. Anyway. Like I said, two Scavenger kingdoms. They were feuding over territory, as they were wont to do back when they ruled the Earth. It’s not too unlike dragons. We constantly fight for petty reasons as well. I’m sure you know this, Apex.” 

“Yes,” Apex said, apprehensively, “but I still don’t see how this—“

“So!” She said, loudly. “One day, a very feeble Scavenger showed up at the doorstep of the more hostile of the two kingdoms. They, of course, turned the puny thing away. However, unbeknownst to them, the child of the hostile kindgom’s ruler started sneaking out to bring the ragged Scavenger food. They took pity on the poor thing, and over time, they started to form a type of friendship. This friendship blossomed into love.” 

“Okay,” Apex drawled, “I can see where this is going. Let me guess: the puny Scavenger was from the other kingdom, and the child of the hostile kingdom’s ruler convinced them to end the feud, and everyone lived happily ever after?” 

Vera scrunched her nose up. “What? No. They both died.” 

“That’s exactly what I—excuse me, what?” Apex nearly stopped in his tracks out of shock. 

“What, you thought it would be a happy ending? No. The ruler of the hostile kingdom found out what their child was doing and made an example out of them. Then, the hostile kingdom slaughtered the other kingdom and lived to be the greatest power until dragons came to Phyrria.”

“Why,” Apex choked out, “would you tell me that? That’s awful!” 

“Yeah,” Vera agreed, “because the truth isn’t pretty or easy. There’s not always a morale to every story you hear.” 

“But I don’t understand how that helps me at all!” Apex said incredulously. “You said that this story was about a triumph of love!” 

“It is,” Vera insisted. “Think about it. The child of the ruler knew what they were risking, and wouldn’t compromise their own beliefs, even at the threat of death. Neither did you. You’ve been an unwavering force for the entirety of your journey. And yes, sometimes your story wasn’t  picture-perfect. Maybe you haven’t obtained the fairytale ending that you want, maybe you never will. But you will try, and it’s the trying that matters.” 

“How encouraging,” Apex said, dryly.

Vera sighed. “You’re impossible, Mr. Cynical. Think about it, why don’t you? Give yourself a little bit of credit. Nothing is easy, nothing is given to you. You could have let Permafrost be killed; it would have been much easier.” 

“Yes, but—“ Apex broke off, brows scrunched in thought. “But… I couldn’t just watch him die like that. It was unfair, and besides, he was just doing his job. He didn’t want to kill me, he just had no choice.” 

“Exactly,” Vera nodded approvingly. “Just like the Scavenger in the story. It would have been easier to let the starving Scavenger die, but they knew it was an unfair end and acted to prevent it. So you’re bullheaded, oblivious, and a little smelly—“ 

“Thanks,” Apex snorted. 

“—that doesn’t matter! Because you’re you. And you owe it to yourself to not be so hard on every action you’ve taken. Believe in yourself. What you’ve accomplished so far is pretty awesome.” Vera finished. 

“You think so?” Apex considered her words. “I still feel like all I do is mess stuff up. I’m glad that I don’t look like a complete and total buffoon to you, but I think that rather than succeeding, I’m just goofing stuff up in the most disastrously elegant way possible. Misfortune falls heavily on my shoulders.” 

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Vera mused. “You’re still being too hard on yourself. Things’ll start looking up, especially now that you have us on your side!” 

Apex opened his mouth to reply, but his words were lost in a sudden gust of wind. The SandWings, used to the grainy sand whipping against them in sudden bursts, simply dug their claws into the ground and let it buffet them around for a minute. Apex, unfamiliar with these happenstances, felt himself be pummeled to the ground by the sheer force of it. When he opened his eyes, he could barely see through the cloud of sand that had been lifted by the wind. How do the SandWings put up with this, he thought to himself. 

“You okay, Your Highness?” Pharaoh called back. 

“Yeah,” Apex answered as he struggled to his feet. “Just didn’t expect to be assaulted by the breeze.” 

“We should take shelter,” Anubis said, somewhere to Apex’s left. “The sky is yellowing, and this wind will become a full-fledged storm soon.” 

“Seriously?” Apex huffed, exasperated. “It was fine a moment ago!” The sand was beginning to thicken, and the SkyWing could only see the outlines of the rest of the party. 

“Such is the nature of sandstorms,” Pharaoh pointed out. “You are far from home, Your Highness, so I do not expect you to have known this. But Anubis is quite right. We can withstand such gusts, but you will undoubtedly be tossed around by the magnitude of it, if not buried under a mile of sand.” 

“I hate the dessert,” Apex muttered, darkly. He saw Vera heading towards him, and rooted himself in place as the sands swirled around him. Her dark shadow moved closer, distorted by the earth lashing against the sky. Huh, he reflected. Her wings look kind of small. 

“The prince is slowing us down,” Hyena barked. “We should just tie him to one of our backs and move forward.” 

“Are you kidding?” Vera snapped back. “He weighs, like, a ton! He’d crush us! No offense, Apex.” 

“None taken,” he responded distractedly. But, in truth, he wasn’t really listening. Because her voice had come from behind him, not from the shadow that was approaching him now. Through the sand, Apex caught a glimpse of a cream-colored horn. “Guys,” he warned. But before he could issue another warning, an off-white dragon was on him, tearing at his throat. 

They rolled through the sands, writhing on the desert floor as both struggled to get a grip on the other. Apex felt claws dig in dangerously close to his soft underbelly, and threw the dragon off before they could do any more damage. Something red stained the sands, and Apex couldn’t tell whose blood it was. Adrenaline prevented him from feeling the sting of any potential wounds. 

Somehow, the off-white dragon managed to pin Apex a moment later. They towered over him, a giddy delight lighting up their smooth, unblemished face. That’s the IceWing from earlier, Apex realized with a jolt. He didn’t know why he was so surprised—he knew she had likely followed him, but was hoping that he had lost her in the storm. Of course I didn’t, he thought, bitterly. This is just my luck. 

“Apex!” Vera called over the roaring winds. “Where did you go?!” 

“Your friends can’t save you now, prince,” the IceWing hissed. “Tell you what: I’ll do you a favor. I’ll send a message to Permafrost, right before I kill him for betraying me. For betraying his Queen. For betraying his kind.” 

Apex spat in her face. “His kind abandoned and tortured him! His kind doesn’t deserve him!” 

Her cruel smile morphed into a frown, and she stomped on his windpipe. He made a choked noise, tears springing to his eyes. “Deserve?” She laughed. “He’s a rat and a coward. You speak of things that you don’t understand. He didn’t tell you what he did, did he?” 

Apex scrabbled at her claws, desperation pounding in his chest and rising in his throat. His tail whipped against the sand, but without something solid to brace against, he wouldn’t be able to right himself. 

She exalted in his struggles. “Of course he didn’t. He’s a liar and a thief. He stole his own brother’s life.” 

Apex, out of shock, stopped struggling. Surely not… he wouldn’t hurt someone close to him. Still, the seed of doubt was planted… or so she thought. In reality, Apex didn’t even consider the possibility of Permafrost killing his family. And if he had, perhaps it was for a good reason. The cream-colored IceWing purred in delight at the faux confusion and outrage playing across the prince’s face, amused by how open his expressions were. For a moment—just a moment—she let her guard down. The crushing force on Apex’s throat was lifted marginally, barely more than a hair. 

And that was all he needed. 

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Apex called forth the fire from deep in his chest. Too late, the IceWing realized her mistake. A burst of fire slammed into her chest, and she scrambled back a few feet. Apex quickly got to his feet, not wasting any time in case that shot hadn’t downed her. He saw the IceWing get up, wings dropping, sides heaving, blood dripping into the sand. With an animalistic screech, she thundered towards Apex, who instantly took up a defensive position and began summoning more fire from within. 

As it turned out, it was unneeded. 

A barb shot out through the sands, digging into her leg. A dragon followed it—An unusually pale SandWing with a disgruntled expression. 

“Hyena?!” Apex exclaimed, skepticism lacing his voice. This was the one dragon who had come to his aid?

“You idiot, can’t you do anything right?! Do I have to save you every time you almost get yourself killed?” The pale SandWing screeched in return. Yup, Apex confirmed, definitely Hyena. 

The storm began to clear, and Apex could see Hyena clearly. He hadn’t even realized that they had gotten caught in the storm until he could see the sky from between the faint leftover wisps of sand. 

“Thanks,” Apex panted. 

“Don’t,” Hyena warned. “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing my job. I don’t like you, I don’t care about you, I won’t cry if you’re murdered due to your own mediocrity. Don’t start getting chummy with me now. You don’t owe me anything, you hear?” 

Apex nodded. He didn’t want to be indebted to this dragon anyway. “What are we going to do about her?” He said, nodding towards the IceWing, who was twitching in the sands. 

“Leave her,” Hyena replied, coldly. “The sand will bury her. She’s as good as dead anyway, once the poison reaches her heart. We don’t have time to waste.” 

“Alright,” Apex said, but he still wasn’t satisfied. This felt… undignified, somehow. No matter what this dragon had done, he had always believed that every dragon deserved a proper burial. Slowly, he dipped his head towards her and silently asked her ancestors to look over her… whoever they were. As he passed, he whispered a quiet apology. Then, he and Hyena moved on to find the rest of the group. 

When they were long gone, Tempest’s eyes rolled around in panic. She felt—couldn’t feel her leg. Slowly, coming back to full consciousness after being knocked out by the shock of the barb and blood loss, she lifted her head to see her leg. It was turning colors and swelling, morphing into a sickly purple. Dimly, she remembered hearing a voice… apologizing. 

Gathering her resolve, she clamped her jaws around her leg—still numb—and wrenched. 

She was not done yet. 

Chapter Text

The queen was livid, and it was Fatechanger’s fault. 

She should have known better not to let that slimy IceWing out of her sight. He was too cunning for his own good, and as slippery as… well… ice. 

That’s how she ended up on a rocky plateau, miles away from the main party, nursing the bloody retribution her queen had given her in a fit of rage. “An eye for a dragon,” she had shrieked. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”

Fatechanger didn’t feel lucky, especially when she opened her left eye and was met with nothing but pain pummeling into her skull and a dull blur. She wasn’t sure if her vision would return in that eye. No… she knew it wouldn’t. When the claws had raked against the side of her face, leaving her with deep gouges running from temple to snout, she had known. 

“This is… what I deserve,” she reaffirmed, for the fifth time that night. “I let the IceWing escape,” she reasoned.

Then why did she feel so… conflicted? It’s probably the IceWing's fault. He did something to me. Ever since she had spoken to him about love, ever since she had dug into his memories, she had felt this battle raging inside her. Everything she had previously accepted as her duty as the queen’s messenger suddenly seemed to set off red flags in her mind. Nothing made sense anymore. 

With a hiss, she removed her claw from where it had been resting over her eye. It came away wet and sticky. It hasn’t stopped bleeding, she thought, grimly. Perhaps it will never stop. Perhaps I will be stuck like this, eternally bloodletted for my crimes. 

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Have you ever loved anyone?”

She groaned, claws scrabbling against the rocks for purchase as she swayed. Get out of my head, she thought. 

“I want him to teach me.”

“No,” she hissed. “Love cannot be taught. It has to be earned.” She loved her queen, yearned for her queen’s affection… and she had earned it. Right? That was why she was being punished. It was for her own good, because her queen cared for her. That was why she was blinded, that was why she was outcast, exiled. It had to be because her queen wanted her to earn back the love they shared. Fatechanger clung to that, but even as the thought entered her mind, another rose to dispute it. 

“Come back when you’ve found the IceWing,” Queen Ebonyshadow had said. 

That’s it, isn’t it? Fatechanger thought. She wants him. Not me. That’s why I’m out here, looking for him. She’s not mad at him for leaving. She’s mad at me for losing him. Fatechanger felt something swell in her chest, something bitter and vile. It made her heart beat faster. At first, she took it for devotion. Love for her queen, so potent that it pooled and burned in her stomach, making her feel sick. But she had never felt like this before. At least… not when she thought about her liege. 

Still, this emotion was not foreign. The only reason she didn’t recognize it sooner was because she didn’t want to, didn’t want to admit to the bubbling hatred in her bones. But it was impossible to deny: she felt… resentful. 

Towards Her Majesty? 

Fatechanger shook her head, and droplets of blood splashed on the ground. They soaked into a nearby patch of hard-pressed dirt, right at the base of a scraggly little weed stubbornly growing through the rocks and infertile soil. I’m like that weed, she thought. Unwilling to move, unwilling to give in, nourishing myself on the blood of other dragons. Taking what little scraps I can take, and giving nothing back. I’m a blemish on the smooth face of an unyielding, powerful mountain. Minuscule, too unimportant to be considered a threat. One day, a stronger animal will come and uproot me, or a larger plant will strangle my roots. This is my fate. 

And that’s when it occurred to her. A little voice in her head whispered: Then change it. 

She stood, unable to quell the rising tide of a tremendous shift taking place inside of her. It made her shake with its force, cower at its magnitude, shiver as she felt the threads of her soul detach, unwind, and form a new shape. A better shape. Her shape. 

Now that it was started, a flurry of realizations reached her mind. 

She never loved me. 

She never wanted me. 

I was just another plaything to her.

She didn’t know my value. 

She didn’t know how special I am. 

She never cared. 

Fatechanger groaned and bashed her head against a rock. She felt something hot rising in her throat, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, much like the ones that marked her as a mind reader. They rolled down her cheeks and dropped to the ground, mingling with the blood to create a pinkish liquid beneath her. She opened her maw, expecting to scream, but no noise left her. Instead, a jet of flames scorched the earth, enveloping the scraggly plant in an incinerating inferno. 

When her flames had sputtered out, she gazed upon what she had done. The landscape before her was doused in fire that caught against the brush and spread rapidly across the earth. It leapt up to the sky in arcs, reaching for the stars overhead. She tilted her head up to the sky to see those stars—millions of her ancestors looking down on her, seeing this moment, seething with rage at the treatment of their descendant—and roared. 

The sound filled the valley, echoing through the rocks and bouncing back to her. It sounded powerful to get ears, full of fury and defiance. 

“A perfect little pet,” he had called her. 

“I will not be her pet any longer.” Fatechanger growled, claws sinking into the ground. “And neither will you. One way or another, I will get you back to your lover, Permafrost. I promise.” 

~

A storm gathered on the horizon, and her name was Condor. 

She stomped through the halls, tearing off pieces of jewelry and ornamental silk wrappings as she went. 

The night had been absolutely humiliating. It had opened with being objectified by dozens of male dragons, and ended in a bloodbath when one of them dared to touch her. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. No, she was too proud to cry. 

She wasn’t a dragonet, and she would not cry. 

They were a minor inconvenience, just a stepping stone in her ascension to the throne. What they did or thought didn’t matter to Condor. She was a strong, independent dragon. She did not care. She did not care. I do not—!

With an oomph , she impacted something soft and large directly in front of her. The sheer force of it was enough to knock her back a few paces. Incredulously, she tilted her head up to see what stood in the way of her rage, and met the eyes of a large, pink SkyWing. They stared down at the Princess, ears pricked up in surprise. 

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry, Princess, I didn’t see you there!” The unknown dragon, presumably a guard, dipped into a bow that seemed too graceful for her size. It must have taken hours of practice. “I was daydreaming. Are you… alright?” They asked, tentatively. 

“I’m fine,” she said, a bit sharper than she intended. The guard flinched, and she instantly felt a genuine spike of remorse. “I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’m just tired. I’ve had quite a night, entertaining all the suitors.” 

“Those dragons?” The strange guard wrinkled her nose in disgust. “No offense, but… I don’t think you have chemistry with any of them. I mean, they’re great and all… but they share one collective brain cell.” 

“Yes, well,” Condor nonchalantly brushed some dust off her shoulder and studied this guard. It was hard to make out her exact features in the dim lighting of the moon that streamed in through a nearby window. “They’re my only option, I’m afraid. I’ll have to settle down with one of them. No way around it.” 

“Life must be hard for royalty,” the guard sighed. “I can’t imagine having to choose between what’s best for my people and what’s best for myself.” 

Condor blinked. “You… really? Most people think that my life is all sunshine and rainbows and gold and servants.” 

The guard shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no! I can’t even imagine the weight of those expectations, they would literally break my back! And you’re able to carry them without faltering! I can’t imagine that it doesn’t take a great deal of effort.” 

“Yes…” Condor murmured. “Don’t tell anyone that, though. Especially since Apex has gone… all their eyes are on me. Sometimes… I wish I could just hide. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the princess. Then, maybe… things would have to be the way they are.” She surprised herself by speaking the truth. I’ve never done that, Condor realized. Not even with Apex. And here I am, opening my chest to this random dragon. I don’t even know her name. 

As if reading her mind, the dragon’s eyes widened and she dipped into another bow. “Oh, I apologize. I don’t mean to pry… or make assumptions. I’m glad I haven’t offended you in any way. My name is Starling.” 

“Starling,” Condor said to herself, imprinting that name into her memory. She didn’t know why. She would probably never see this strange guard again, but… some small part of her wanted to. “Well, Starling. Thank you for indulging in my complaints. I should head to bed. I have a lot to sleep on.” 

“Of course,” she replied, standing at attention. “Goodnight, Your Highness.” 

“Goodnight.” Condor swept past her, giving her one last glance before she left. Was that a spark of amusement she caught in the other’s eye? As the Princess trotted back towards her chamber, she realized that she no longer felt nearly as frustrated as she had upon leaving the party. That was, until…

“Oh, yeah,” the guard called down the hall. “I forgot to mention. Your brother’s back, and he’s brought a few friends.” 

Chapter Text

“Do you think he’ll live?” 

“Shut up and let me find out.” 

“Don’t you already know? You’re a witch doctor.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t usually deal with head trauma. This wouldn’t be a problem if you had just caught him.” 

“Eh, I tried.” 

Permafrost hissed under his breath. Who were these dragons, and why were they so loud? He felt like they were splitting his head open with their words, prying his skull open every time they yelled. “Could you both be quiet?” He croaked. “I’m trying not to die.” 

“Oh, he’s alive!” An unfamiliar voice cut through his eardrums. Permafrost covered his head with his claws. 

“Shut your stupid trap,” A more familiar, rough voice scolded. “Go find a bug to eat or tree to lick.” 

“You know, that reminds me of the time—“

“Stop talking yourself into your own grave. I am this close to sending you back to your queen—“ 

“That might be quite nice, actually—“ 

“IN PIECES!!!” 

“Eep! Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll go!” There was a scraping noise, and then the unfamiliar voice was gone. 

“Alright, the nuisance has fled.” The gruff dragon moved away from Permafrost, her voice growing distant. He heard the clinking of glasses, and his ears perked up in recognition. “Coypu?” He murmured under his breath. 

“You remember?” The voice was laced with surprise. “You didn’t remember back when we saw you with that overblown pufferfish of a princess.”

Permafrost’s head whipped around. “She’s not here, is she?” 

“If you’re asking whether or not she heard me say that, then no, she didn’t. Don’t worry.” The familiar dragon tsked and waved something in front of Permafrost’s face. It smelled like mint and honey, with another odor that he couldn’t quite place. It was a pungent mixture, and he crinkled his snout in confusion. 

“What is that?” He asked, a tad repulsed. 

“You don’t wanna know,” she replied. Coypu replied. Permafrost had no idea how he knew that name, but… something in his mind was unraveling, and he was following the string. “Just drink it and you’ll fell better. Maybe. Or you’ll throw it all up and I’ll be forced to gather more ingredients for a second draught, but really, we don’t have any time to lose. So drink it and keep it down, or I’ll force it down your throat and chain your muzzle shut.” 

Permafrost didn’t doubt that the this dragon would do just that if he didn’t listen to her. She was taking care of him, yes, but he could tell that she wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. Wordlessly, he tipped his head back and let her pour it into his mouth. Immediately, he was met with a burning sensation in his nostrils and the back of his throat, and felt the urge to gag or cough. He fought it, remembering her words, and the feeling began to fade mere moments later. Warmth pooled in his gut. 

“Feel anything?” She grumbled. 

“No,” Permafrost choked out. “Except pain. What was that? Acid??” 

“No, but it might as well be. Like I said, you don’t want to know, or you might regurgitate the contents of your stomach.” 

“How pleasant,” Permafrost replied. “So, did you just give me poison?” 

She barked out a laugh. “See, this is why I like you. Action first, questions later. Consequences and suspicion only hold a dragon back.” Coypu scuttled away to some other part of the—presumably, based on the cool surroundings and lack of animal noises—den they were in. “No, I didn’t poison you. Apex and Starfish would kill me if I did that. And then Starfish would bring me back to life, so Apex could kill me again.” 

“Apex… Apex….” Where had he heard that name before? “The one who… who blinded me?!” He yelped, sitting up in alarm. 

Silence met his ears in return, and he worried that this dragon was somehow offended. But she just shuffled around the den some more and inhaled sharply. “So, they did do something to your memory. That’s problematic. I can’t fix memory problems as easily as a gaping wound.” 

“Memory problems…? Wait, let’s backtrack.” Permafrost felt his headache returning, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was probing the muddy waters of his memory or because of his fall. “How did I get here, who exactly are you dragons, and who told you that I had memory problems?” 

The other dragon slapped their tail against the floor in frustration, startling Permafrost. “Nobody told me anything. You’ve called me by name, so you have an idea of who I am. I’m a MudWing. My loud partner that woke you up is a NightWing. His name is Reaper. Don’t feel like you should know him, he’s a stray that your friends picked up on the side of the trail, so to speak. You didn’t get a chance to meet him before you were kidnapped for the upteenth time.” 

“Kidnapped?” Permafrost felt like he was trying to jam an ill-fitting key into a lock. It would go in eventually, but right now, it was resisting. “By who? I can’t have been kidnapped, I was… I was living with the NightWings my whole life.” Even as the words left his mouth, they tasted bitter and wrong. Holes were torn into Fatechanger’s story. Why did I leave the hideout, and get blinded by Apex? Did I challenge him? And why do I have memories of Coypu, but I didn’t have any of Queen Ebonyshadow? 

“I just came here for herbs,” Coypu hissed, “to save my people. And now it looks like I have to escort you back to His Majesty. I tell you, just because MudWings like the dirt doesn’t mean they like to do the dirty work. It’s be nice if someone got a SeaWing to do the grunt work for once.” 

Permafrost’s ears pricked up. “Speaking of SeaWing, what happened to—“ 

“Barnacle butt? We ditched her,” Coypu sniffed, indifferent. “I picked you up and we hauled tail to find this little hollow. We’re almost at the palace now. You don’t mind if I drop you at the front steps, do you? I really don’t want to go inside. I’ve had enough royalty to last me a lifetime.” 

“Drop me off?!” Permafrost sat at attention now, doing his best to stay upright when he just wanted to lay down forever. The aching in his head was compounding into a steady thrum of pain that didn’t ease up for a second. He was beginning to think that Coypu’s draught hadn’t worked, and he had swallowed the nasty substance for nothing. “Have you been listening to me?? He’s the one who did this!!” He poked a claw towards his face, but misjudged the distance and ended up pricking his forehead with a serrated talon. A line of blood ran down, separating at his muzzle into two streams. 

“Oh, honey,” Coypu grumbled, wiping at his head with something soft. “Don’t get yourself all worked up about what you can’t remember.” 

“What are you talking about?!” Permafrost raised his voice. It echoed around the small cavern they had tucked themselves into for the night. Or day. He couldn’t tell. 

“I’m talking about your memories, dimwit,” Coypu huffed in exasperation. “Do you actually remember Apex doing this to you? Directly?” 

“Of course I—“ Permafrost nearly choked on his own words. He was suddenly, horribly aware of a gap in his recollection. He had been told how he got his scar, and was permanently blinded. Why was I outside of the NightWing island? He searched his mind. Why would he do this to me? Why don’t I remember what he did?? It should have been a prominent memory… and the more he thought about it, the more he uncovered in his tattered consciousness. There was a SkyWing, yes… but not Apex. Not the prince. 

“Mh.” Coypu’s scratchy voice was sympathetic. “It’s alright, don’t try to remember. I’m worried you’ll fall over. You look a little unsteady on your feet; must be a side effect of what they did to you.” 

“What they…?” Permafrost hadn’t even noticed his weakening legs until she pointed it out. “I don’t… but… how do you know me?” He asked, urgently. 

“I don’t think—“ She replied, but was cut off. 

“How do you know me?!” Permafrost demanded. “I have to know who I am and how I got here! Something isn’t right, I can feel it! I’m missing something, and you know something!” 

“Permafrost!” Coypu barked, harsh. “Sit down for Phyrria’s sake, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack! I’ll tell you everything I know, but you have to calm down!” 

Permafrost followed her instructions and sat, tail thumping impatiently against the ground. “There, I’m sitting. Will you let me know who I am now? It’s kind of important for me to have a good idea of what I’m getting myself into before you dump me at the steps of the SkyWing palace, considering that I just figured out that the crown prince didn’t try to violently kill me!” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re still as grumpy as ever,” Coypu muttered gravely. 

“There! See!” Permafrost stomped his claw against the floor and blew a sharp breath of air out of his nose. “A piece of myself that the NightWings didn’t know, but you somehow do!”

“I know that because I know you.” Coypu tapped her talons against the stone floor. It echoed around them. “I guess I should explain from the beginning, huh? Well, I only know the version that Apex told me. Well, then. Let’s start with how you met him, shall we?” 

~

“Brother!!” Condor squealed, throwing herself into Apex’s waiting wings. He wrapped them around her, running his claw against the ridge of spikes near the base of her neck, like he used to when they were children and she needed comforting. 

She was not a dragonet, and she was tired of being treated as such. 

Still, her sickly sweet smile stayed pasted on her face like a mask, so big that it hurt the corners of her mouth. Apex was the first to pull away, staring at her for a long moment with level eyes. He wasn’t smiling. 

“Hey, sis.” His formal tone had become conversational while he was away, she noticed. He must have spent too much time with the MudWings, she thought. Those slimy vermin don’t have any inkling as to how to approach a situation with grace and poise. 

“Sooooo, how was your trip?” She grabbed him by the shoulders and snaked her neck around them, as if looking for something. “And, uhm… where’s that IceWing?” 

Apex pulled away again. Condor felt her smile dropping. He’s never pulled away twice. It’s almost like… he doesn’t want to be touched. “He’s… gone,” Apex sighed. 

She felt her smile return full-force, but this time, it was genuine. Good riddance. Apex looked confused, so she masked her glee in naivety. “Gone? Like, on a vacation? Oh, did you dump him at some random MudWing’s hut?! Naughty! I told you two to get along!” She tapped him on the snout and laughed. The sound was like chimes in the wind. 

Apex leveled her with a stern gaze. Behind him sat four unusual looking SandWings—one dark as copper, one with enormous wings, one with stripes along his back and a blindfold over his eyes, and one that seemed to have been desaturated by the sun. “I have no time for jokes, Condor. I’m sorry, but this is serious.” 

Condor felt her smile morph into a frown, and she very narrowly avoided sneering at him. Well, isn’t he all high and mighty? No time for my jokes, hm? As if I’m nothing more than a silly dragonet, flitting about his heels, begging for affection. He’s forgotten his place. It’s all because of that stupid IceWing. “Is he… alright?” She asked, burying her agitation under apprehension. 

“We don’t know yet,” her brother sighed. “He was kidnapped.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here and not out there, looking for him? He means so much to you, I’m just surprised—“ 

“I would have liked to,” Apex interrupted, “but these dragons seem to think that he’ll show up at my wedding. Plus, I should probably meet my soon-to-be mate, don’t you think?” His words were sharp, and Condor felt a stab of panic course through her. Does he see through us? But his eyes held a general sort of anger, not the pointed kind. He was mad about the wedding—that much was plain to see—but he didn’t suspect any ulterior motives. 

“Oh!” Condor pretended that she had been so caught up in reuniting with her brother, she hadn’t even seen the gaggle of dragons behind him. Swiftly, she shifted her attention to face them. “Hello! You must be Apex’s new friends! I’m his sister, Princess Condor. It’s nice to meet you!” She extended a claw out towards them, but none of them took it. In fact, the one with the blindfold recoiled a little and the pale one rolled his eyes. She lowered her claw awkwardly. They dare disrespect me? Why does my brother have an affinity for picking up the worst dragons? 

Eventually, the big-winged dragon stepped forward. She’s like something out of a fairytale, Condor reflected with an internal smirk. “You’ll have to apologize for my brothers. They’re not very personable—especially that light one. His name is Hyena, and you’ll know him from his whiny tone. My name’s Vera, I’ve actually been looking forward to meeting you! Apex has been telling me a bit about you, and how you must be anxious for him to return home after all this time.” 

“Oh, yes!” Condor gasped, perhaps a bit too dramatically. “I’m so sorry I sent you on that mission, brother, I had no idea that Queen Copperhead was that crazy! In hindsight, I should have suspected something from the letters she sent me. And I did protest the wedding, you know—but you understand how mother gets when her mind’s set.” 

“Yes,” Apex said, stiffly. “I’m well aware. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can’t be married at this time. As I mentioned before, Permafrost is missing and it’s up to me to find him.” 

“I’m glad you bonded,” Condor chirped, “but is it really necessary to leave right now? Because you look so tired, and I just got you back! Why don’t you and your friends stay for the night? It’ll be like a sleepover, come on!!” 

“I have to go—“ 

“Apex,” a voice purred from behind Condor. Instinctively, both the prince and princess felt the spines rise across the ridge of their backs. “Welcome home!” Their mother, Queen Pyre, stepped lightly down into the entrance hall from a cavern up above. “We’ve been so eagerly expecting you. I see that you got rid of your IceWing friend and replaced him with four more… strays. Ah, well. We aren’t currently at war with the SandWing kingdom, at least.” 

“We aren’t at war with the IceWing kingdom either,” Apex responded. Queen Pyre leveled him with an icy gaze. “Mother, we aren’t at war with the IceWing kingdom. Don’t tell me you did something while I was gone. We can’t afford a war with the IceWings—“ 

“Policies, policies. Enough of that.” Queen Pyre waved Apex’s insistence off, like water off a duck’s back. “I tire of discussing politics. Let’s show your new friends to their rooms, shall we? I’ll make sure that the guards are aware that they will be attending the wedding.” 

“About the wedding—“ Apex began. 

“Oh, and you’ll want to meet the princess you’re engaged to, of course,” his mother continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “She’s not here yet, which is probably a good thing. You’re a mess right now, Apex. You’d make a very bad first impression. Come.” She swept away, tail rocking casually behind her with every step. Apex watched her go, but didn’t follow. 

Condor felt the tension growing the further the Queen travelled down the hall, unaccompanied by her son. She slid her gaze towards Apex to catch a glimpse of his expression, and was surprised to find no nervousness there. Where he once might have shuffled anxiously or cowered, she could only find a firm resolve, tempered by months of hardship in his time away. She tilted her head towards Queen Pyre to see that she had stopped her forward march into the cavernous depths. 

“Apex,” she called back. “Are you coming?” 

Apex flicked his tongue out in the queen’s direction and ponderously turned around. “No,” he finally said. “You’re out of line, presuming that I’m going to get married on your whims. I’m not a puppet.” 

“Excuse me?” Pyre whispered venomously. “I am your mother.” 

“You were never my mother.” Apex’s eyes flashed as he walked towards the ledge and pushed off into the sky. His entourage of SandWings followed, wordlessly. 

“Get back here right this instant, or I swear I will—“ 

“What? Kill me?” Apex twisted around in the air. “Don’t follow me, mother. And remember that your line of lineage hangs by a thread. Soon, you’ll be nothing more than a name in a dusty old history text, and Condor will be the rightful ruler of the SkyWing kingdom. I will control my own life. My marriage is not your choice to make.” With that last parting line, he took off, leaving Condor to deal with their mother’s rage. Still, he was not followed. 

Chapter Text

“You know that she’s not fit to rule, right?” 

“Look at her, in those rags! She might have put some effort into her adornments, considering that this is her own mother’s feast!” 

“Did you hear what she said? Preposterous. I think she has something wrong with her.” 

“I think Whitecap was secretly glad she didn’t choose him. I mean, look at her. She has the personality of a sea urchin—and looks like one too!” 

Princess Clam pricked up her ears, creeping forward through the brush. 

“I feel bad for Finnigan. He didn’t ask to be assigned to the most difficult SeaWing in this kingdom. He was pretty much doomed to fail from the start.” 

“She ripped my pearls off my neck, just because I tried to help her put some makeup on to cover those hideous scars!” 

Her tail rocked gently with the breeze, mimicking the swishing of the grass as it brushed against her scales. The rabbit in front of her suspected nothing. It continued on with its feast, oblivious that the threads of its life were being cut with every forward step. 

“A monster, that’s what she is. She isn’t the right fit for this kingdom. She’ll never be able to suck up her pride and be what the people need.” 

The rabbit was only a few inches away. Her shoulder muscles bunched, prepared to spring on it at any second. 

“It would be a shame if something were to… happen to her.” 

A second too early, and the bunny noticed her presence. She attempted to pounce on it, but it was too fast and wriggled out of her talons. She grunted in frustration and tore up the grass, sending tufts of it flying through the air in her rage. “These scars are your fault!!” She yelled to the sky. “You think I asked to be the target of your pathetic assasination attempts?! You think I want to be a princess?! I DO NOT EXIST TO PLEASE YOU!!” With one last screech, she gouged a scar in the soft Earth with her metallic talons. 

“Wow. Nice. You sure showed that dirt. I bet it won’t mess with you ever again.” 

Clam whirled around, lips curled back into a scowl. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she refused to let herself be intimidated. “Who are you?” She asked, warily. The dragon had completely snuck up on her—it was a rare feat, especially for a dragon as bedraggled as the one she saw now. It was a strangely colored IceWing, still bloodied from a recent fight. The closer Clam looked, the more injuries she saw. Bites, bruises, and… one of the stranger’ swings was lowered, so as to cover their entire right side. This will be a quick fight, the princess grinned to herself. 

“My name is Tempest,” the dragon dipped into a bow. Despite their injuries, they moved exceedingly gracefully. “And you’re the heir of the SeaWing kingdom, Princess Clam.” 

“Yes,” Clam replied, cautiously. “Let’s cut this short. Either my mother sent you, or you’ve come to assassinate me. I really have no time to waste, so tell me which one it is so I can determine the best way to go about killing you.” 

“Cute,” the other dragon replied, “but I’m not in the mood for games. I was just wondering if Her Highness has seen a large SkyWing walk by here? The prince, mayhaps?” 

“Oh, the plot does thicken,” Clam trilled. “And why, pray tell, are you searching for my soon-to-be lover? Tell me he did something dreadful! That would be simply delightful.” 

“Oh, no, he’s perfectly righteous. I’m the one who’s going to do something dreadful.” Tempest ran her ridged claws across the ground idly. Even a small scratch left a deep gouge. Princess Clam imagined that a fight with her would not be as easy as she had suspected, and in the spirit of a true youthful dragon, immediately wished to test her theory. 

“How dull,” the princess pouted. “I was hoping he’d hurt me, and I’d be forced to kill him in self defense. My mother would never force me to marry again, if that happened.” 

“Oh?” Tempest drew her claw up. The white point gleamed in the sun like jewelry. “Are you in the business of seeing him dead as well, then? What fun. It sounds as though we have a common goal.” 

“This is a surprise. What a small world.” Princess Clam’s eyes darted over this other dragon, and noticed that she was standing with more weight on her left side. Perhaps paralyzed? No, she doesn’t seem to have any problems moving. 

“And yet you’re still trying to figure out how to take me down. I can see it in your eyes.” Tempest sighed. “Young dragons these days are so eager to tear things apart.” 

“It looks like somebody’s already done that job for me,” Clam observed. “Where, pray tell, did you get all of those injuries? Did you chance upon a particularly large and brutish bear on your way here, or perhaps get in a fight with an overgrown porcupine?” 

Tempest’s expression morphed from smooth and serene to cold and callous in a fraction of a heartbeat. She stepped forward, black tongue flicking out from between sharpened teeth. “If I was you, I would learn to hold my tongue. Your brashness was endearing at the start, but I find that it is getting quite tiring.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clam whispered, “but did you just command a member of the royal family to shut up? A less forgiving dragon than myself would have you lying on the ground by now, watering the weeds with your blood.” 

“Forgiving?” Tempest scoffed. “No. Curious? Yes. I do not fool myself into thinking that if I was a less interesting dragon, I would still be alive. I see you counting my wounds, sniffing out my blood like a shark. If you must know, it was a dragon who did this. Specifically,” she purred, “your prince.” 

Princess Clam felt her stomach drop at the same time her heart soared. “My prince did this,” she confirmed, more to herself than the dragon before her. “Oh… oh. This ought to be fun, then. I was worried he’d be a wet blanket, but—does that mean he’s not at the palace?” 

“No. He has not been home in a while. In fact, I do not think this wedding was made with his consent. My Queen sent me to track him down and finish him off.” 

“My, my. IceWings are so conniving,” Clam hummed. “My condolences, by the way. She will be missed—not by me, but I’m sure someone out there misses her.” 

“Condolences?” For the first time, the IceWing faltered. Her expression slipped into something a bit less composed, a bit more panicked. That expression will never get old, Clam thought, amused. The moment right before the realization hits… beautiful. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“Haven’t you heard?” The question was, by nature, rhetorical. Of course Tempest was in the dark. Holly's death had spread through the political world like a wildfire. It should have been forefront in the minds of all dragons, not just IceWings. If this one didn’t know, it was probably because of this wild goose chase her queen had sent her on, before being torn to pieces by the NightWings. Clam smirked and leaned forward ever so slightly, for added effect. “Queen Holly has been murdered.” 

Tempest’s eyes flashed, but otherwise, there was nearly no reaction to the SeaWing’s princesses' words. “Ah,” she finally replied. “I see. Well, I suppose I won’t be receiving my payment, then.” 

Unable to hold it any longer, Princess Clam let her glee trickle out in the form of an elated giggle. “Hah! Is that all you care about? Payment??” 

“I was promised a large sum for the golden prince’s head,” she said, simply. 

This dragon is more angry that she didn’t know about the death, rather than the death itself, Clam mused. “You know what,” Clam said through a suppressed chuckle, “I like you. Tell you what: why don’t you work for me? The job remains the same, and the benefit is that I’m rich and not dead.” 

“And the rewards?” 

“A place at my court, of course,” Clam responded as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “I know that you won’t want to go back to your mess of a kingdom, given that you didn’t immediately think to return when I told you of the queen’s passing. My advisors are quite boring anyway, and I have a feeling that you’ll be able to make decisions without pesky emotions getting in the way. This benefits the both of us, really.” 

Tempest pondered for a long moment. Then, with a casual shrug of her shoulders, she finally lifted the wing covering her right side like a veil. Princess Clam was not a squeamish dragon, but even she was impressed by the fact that this dragon was still standing. Her right leg ended at mid-calf, blood crusting over her white scales to create a wonderfully gory contrast. If the scars and bruises on Tempest’s body told a story, then the inconspicuously missing leg was an entire novel. And, still, Tempest looked at it like it was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Clam was enraptured. 

“Do you still want me, if I am broken?” She asked. 

“Oh, darling,” the princess intoned, “I love a good scar.” 

Chapter Text

Reaper had seen many things in his lifetime, but nothing like the scene before him now. 

“What do you think it means?” He whispered to Coypu. 

“Probably a warning for dragons like yourself,” she whispered back. 

“NightWings?” He asked. 

“Nuisances,” she responded. 

“Do you think the goats did this?” He nervously glanced back towards the goat watching them from a nearby crag. She didn’t answer. He took that as a yes and shied away from it. “I always knew they were evil. Their eyes are so cold… and dead…” 

Coypu scoffed and ambled forward. “No point sticking around here. These dragons aren’t coming back to life anytime soon to tell us what happened.” 

Permafrost, the prickly IceWing that Coypu claimed to know—Reaper was dubious—tentatively stepped over the body of a nearby RainWing. He said he was blind, but Reaper didn’t believe him. He heard every noise the NightWing made—or was that deaf? Reaper didn’t know, and he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He would just forget anyway. With a shrug, he followed.

“So, a bunch of dead RainWings on the ground and ‘Turn Back’ written in blood on a rock pillar,” Permafrost reiterated. Coypu had to describe the scene to him, and he didn’t seem phased when he heard of the massacre. “If I had to guess, I’d say some rebellious SkyWing teens decided to pull a little prank.” 

“Six dragons dead, and they call that a prank?” Coypu snorted. “SkyWings are beasts. No offense to Apex, but they are truly awful creatures.” 

“It isn’t their fault,” Permafrost said. “I never told Apex, but I don’t think he realized how much his mother’s propaganda affects her subjects. They genuinely believe that they’re above all species, particularly RainWings. Nobody would punish another dragon for killing a RainWing. In fact, when I was staying at the palace… well, once I snuck out to get some fresh air while he was doing his princely duties. I ran into a group of SkyWings returning from lessons. They did not care that I was the prince’s property, and decided to throw stones. They called me a hideous monster.” He said it without emotion, and his face was carefully arranged into a blank slate. “The scary part was that they genuinely believed they were in the right, and no one bothered to stop them.” 

“Yikes,” Reaper chimes in. “Way to brighten the mood, sunshine.” 

“Reaper!” Coypu snapped. 

“Whaaaaaat? I’m not wrong, am I?” He defended. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet, Coypu,” Permafrost tsked. “You’re not exactly the type to put up with dragons like him.” 

“Yeah, well, he’s easily distracted. Listen to this.” Coypu picked up a rock and hefted it in her claws. “What’s this? A sedimentary?” 

“A what?” Reaper perked up. “Lemme see!” 

“Go get it, boy.” She threw it, and it clattered to the ground in the distance. Reaper crouched and pounced, pounding towards the rock like an excited fur-beast. His voice faded into the distance, shouting something about ‘timeless’ and ‘accumulation.’ “Apex has awful taste in dragons,” she stated when he was gone. “No offense.” 

“None taken?” Permafrost replied. “I hope you know that this is all still so bizarre to me. Like… why me? Why would Apex choose me? Couldn’t he have found some other, more entertaining dragon to keep around?” 

“I think he felt bad for you,” Coypu sniffed. 

“Oh.” Permafrost scuffed a pebble across the ground, ears peeking up to listen to it scatter softly into the distance. “Yeah. That… checks out, I guess.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she huffed. “You IceWings are so sensitive. In the beginning, he probably felt responsible for your injury—“ 

“Because he was.” 

“—and wanted to make you comfortable for as long as he could. Honestly, they probably didn’t even expect you to make it this far.” Coypu finished. 

“Thanks, I feel much better now,” Permafrost replied sardonically. “So far, the only reasons I have for Apex’s kindness are that he’s a bleeding heart and he thought that I’d be dead soon anyway.” 

“Do you need your ears cleaned, boy? Have you not been listening? I said in the beginning,” Coypu emphasized. “And then it became something… more. I believe that certain dragons are destined to meet, for good or for bad, and you and Apex are two such dragons. He began to see a softer side of you—you let him into your world. And he’s a brute. Doesn’t know how to hold fragile things, but he forced himself to learn so that he could pick you up when you fell down. He’s not perfect—no men are—but he would give his left leg if it meant you would be able to see again.” 

“It’s so weird—it’s like I have memories of him, but I can’t seem to recall what specifically happened. It’s like a dream. I just… can’t quite remember it. Only how I felt.” Permafrost—as if on queue—felt a blaze of heat across his side, a phantom pain from when a faceless memory had burned him. The fire was all-consuming, and ate at his insides as much as it did his scales. “I didn’t know NightWings could tamper with memories.” 

“I didn’t either,” Coypu admitted. “What? Why are you making that face? You think that just because I’m a billion years old, I’ve seen and heard everything?” 

Permafrost fixed his features into a more neutral expression. “I forgot you could see that. The world would be so much easier if every dragon was blind.” 

Coypu let out a huff of laughter, more of a wheeze than anything. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. By the way, I wanted to talk to you about that. Do you remember anything from when you were a prisoner at the SkyWing palace?” 

“Is this post-blind or pre-blind?” Permafrost asked. Instinctively, he felt his hackles rise. “Because pre-blind, I was on a rock about a million feet in the sky. Post-blind, I was… with Apex most of the time.” 

“Most,” Coypu grunted. “Not all, huh? Do you remember anything about those snippets of time when he wasn’t by your side?” 

Permafrost could feel his patience wearing thin. “Is there a point to this story, or are you just asking me questions to distract from the fact that we just walked through a RainWing graveyard and are on our way to see a dragon who may or may not want me dead?” Wind whipped over the mountaintop, whistling past Permafrost’s ears and filling his nose with a clean scent. The cold rush of it grounded him, and he could feel it soothe his burnt scales with every gust. 

“I’ll be blunt with you, since you don’t seem to appreciate minced words,” Coypu cut her speech short, like talons slicing through dirt. Permafrost felt a bit like he was hanging over a precipice—her tone had taken a turn from conversational to chopped. “You weren’t blinded in that fight against the SkyWing.” 

Permafrost held his silence as they continued onwards. Reaper reappeared in the distance, but he didn’t rejoin them. The IceWing could hear him scrabbling over the rocks, muttering about nothing and everything at the same time. Finally, Permafrost uttered the most profound thing that came to his mind: “Wha?” 

“You weren’t blinded by fire,” Coypu reiterates. “Your eyes—they’re still intact. Completely unharmed. You instinctively protected them when you saw the fire coming near you.” 

“Uh…. Okay, so, why can’t I see??” Permafrost fluttered his eyelids, just to make sure… what? To make sure that they were still there? They still worked? He didn’t know. “I feel like you’re messing with me. It’s not nice to mess with the blind dragon.” 

“Har har,” Coypu grumbled. “Well, the only thing that I can surmise is some sort of neurological damage.” 

“And that means…?” 

“Someone tried to poison you.” 

“…” 

“Hey guys!!” Reaper exclaimed, pounding towards them in a frenzy of excited energy. “I found it!”

“The herb?” Coypu strode forward to greet him, and Permafrost was left to process what he had just been told. That makes no sense. It must have happened after I was in the fight, but the only dragons who had access to me were the medicinal dragons and… and Apex. From what Coypu told me, Apex isn’t the type of dragon to attempt assasination through poison—especially immediately after saving me. But, then… who else wanted me dead? His mother, the queen?

“Was I supposed to be looking for that? Actually, I found a rare species of caterpillar, one that only grows in dark clefts and under rocks. Look, if you cup it in your claws it glows—ow!! What was that for?!” 

“For giving me false hope, you dingbat! Don’t say I found it until you actually find what we came here to find in the first place!!” 

“Oh, yeah, I found that too,” he replied. 

“Why wouldn’t you lead with that, you overgrown lizard?!” Permafrost could feel the annoyance seeping from Coypu’s scales, but he detected a slight hint of amusement in her voice. She’s a softie, he realized. 

“What’s this herb that you guys keep talking about?” Permafrost questioned. I can think more about my lack of sight later, he reasoned. Right now, I have bigger things to think about. 

“Remember when you had that bad cough and nearly died, and your prince had to come crawling to me for help?” Coypu returned. Permafrost shook his head. “Ah, well. Guess all your memories aren't back. You might not remember it at all, though… you were very sick. Terminal, almost. You pushed through, but many dragons aren’t so lucky. A plague has infected the lower regions of the swamp due to their proximity to a specific type of water. Amoeba are feeding off of the water in their lungs, causing irreparable damage. This herb is supposed to kill those amoeba without harming any of the cells in the process—essentially curing the victims. They will probably still have scarring, but they won’t die.” 

As if on queue, Permafrost instinctively coughed. “What? I had little bugs living in my lungs? See, this is why I liked the IceWing kingdom. Too cold for anything but polar bears and arctic foxes. We don’t have mosquitos that buzz in your ears, or alligators, or lung-eating amoebas hiding in our water supply.” 

There was a dip in conversation after that, as if Permafrost had just thrown a wrench into the flow with the mention of the IceWing kingdom. He couldn’t see it, but he had grown up with the creeping feeling of discomfort that accompanied two dragons exchanging a look due to something he had said or done. 

“What?” He huffed. “What are you two hiding? Spit it out.” 

“Well,” Coypu sighed. “We weren’t sure whether or not we should tell you, or if you would evencare. But… I guess now is as good a time as any. The—“

“The SkyWings have declared war on the IceWing kingdom!!” Reaper blurted out. “What? Ow! You were talking too slow!!” Permafrost could almost see Coypu smacking him in his mind’s eye, but he was too distressed for that image to be amusing. 

“What?” He breathed out in a hoarse whisper. “But… no. Why?” 

“That’s not all,” Coypu responded. “Your Queen has gone missing. There are rumors that she, along with all of her advisors, were killed on their visit to RainWing territory.” 

Without warning, Permafrost dug his claws in the ground and came to an abrupt stop. He heard noises—cries for help rang true in his memory, as loud and desperate as the day it all went down. It took him some time to realize that these were merely memories, and what this meant: that he had been present during whatever tragedy now replayed in his mind. “No, they… they weren’t in the rainforest,” he managed to push out through clenched teeth. “They were with the NightWings. Queen Ebonyshadow…” That familiar ache crescendoed in his temples, driving out the noises and replacing them with pain. He lost his grasp on the memory, and was once again plunged into blankness. “I’m sorry. I thought I had it, but… the NightWings did something. I heard it, I heard Queen Holly cry out.” 

“It’s strange that the SkyWings declared war on the IceWings right after their Queen died and the IceWing kingdom was plunged into a confused power struggle,” Reaper observed. “Very convenient timing, am I right?” 

“That’s… you might be onto something, as much as I hate to admit it,” Coypu reluctantly admitted. “Do you think Queen Pyre has any correspondence with Queen Ebonyshadow?” 

“I don’t think Queen Pyre has correspondence with anything but her own reflection,” Permafrost shot back with a derisive snort. “But maybe one of her advisors… if Reaper’s right about this, then it could mean that the NightWings and the SkyWings are plotting together to start a war with the IceWings. Maybe… you know, Apex mentioned something strange when he first met me, something about a frozen dragon on the palace’s doorstep. Maybe this goes deeper than we’ve thought, but—but it doesn’t make sense, why would the NightWings and the IceWings be enemies? Years ago, they… they teamed up to… to…” The words stuck in his throat, shriveling before they even reached his mouth. All he could think about was the red—the red of the fire hurtling towards him, the red of his brother’s life bleeding into the sodden snow, the red line of Condor’s smirk as he lost the fight. 

“That’s it,” Permafrost mumbled, shocked. 

“What’s it?” Reaper asked. “What is it? What are we talking about?” 

“It was never the Queen,” Permafrost drew in a breath, as though preparing for his next sentence. “It was the princess.” 

“And what have we here?” A new voice added from the shadows. Permafrost couldn’t see what exactly was happening, but he heard Coypu’s small intake of breath and the hiss of embers gathering in the back of this dragon’s throat. She sounds… familiar. “Remember me?” The voice asked. 

And that’s when it hit him. 

The one dragon he was searching his memory for, trying to piece together who had made him into what he was now. The dragon that had started all of this, that had destroyed Permafrost’s life in every way possible. Now that they were in front of him, memories flooded his mouth and filled his throat like bile, making speech impossible. Besides the overwhelming relief that accompanied solving a mystery, dread and shock weaved it’s way through his bone marrow, restricting his movements like the strings of a puppet. 

Because if Whirlwind, the Royal champion, was out here seemingly waiting for something or someone… who had sent her? But he already knew the answer to that question. The bigger, much more pressing question laid heavy in his mind: Will we survive this? 

Chapter Text

Queen Ebonyshadow was not impressed—for not one, but two separate reasons. 

The first being that the NightWing quarters for the Royal wedding were on the lowest floor of the castle, and they reeked of fish and mildew from the underground river that ran below their talons. 

The second being Fatechanger’s tardiness. The Queen expected to see Permafrost wrapped up in chains and delivered to her like a gift by now. Instead, she was forced to wait in a seemingly unbroken silence. No word came back as to her little messenger’s whereabouts. 

Perhaps she was killed, the Queen thought. That’s a shame. I could have used that beautiful power of hers to make everyone love me, but I suppose I’ll have to go about it the old fashioned way now. A dash of dependency and overwhelming charm. 

A charcoal colored NightWing with flecks of red in his scales marched into her personal chamber. Embereye. He was one of the guards assigned to keeping an eye—no pun intended—on the Queen for the duration of the wedding. Of course, the NightWings had never truly been invited in the first place, but that was neither here nor there. Queen Ebonyshadow wouldn’t put it past Pyre to try assasination at such a distinguished event, so precautions were necessary. Of course, they did have a little informant in the SkyWing palace… but that alliance was tenuous at best, and one dragon couldn’t protect a host of foreign dragons against their own people. 

“My Queen,” Embereye greeted graciously, as was customary of every NightWing that crossed her path. 

“Embereye,” she greeted warmly. He didn’t puff up with pride like her other messenger had, and she found herself missing the way in which one word of praise could send Fatechanger into a spiral of happy delusions. “Has there been any trouble? Any word of the wedding?” 

“No,” Embereye grunted. He was a dragon of very few words—what words he did utter were short, chopped, and brisk. He got straight to the point; whether or not that was a good thing depended on the dragon receiving his news. For Ebonyshadow, she appreciated not having to dance around a subject. Though, her talks with him lacked a certain finesse that she had come to enjoy. Once again, she found herself cursing Fatechanger for being so late. 

“Truly? Well, perhaps we should spice things up a bit.” The Queen was never one to wait for a scandal to start, not when it was so easy to start one on your own. However, before she could start scheming up some sort of plan to make her evening more interesting, a voice drifted down the hall and into her room. 

“I wouldn’t recommend that, if I were you.” 

“Who—“ The Queen turned her back on Embereye and faced the arch separating her personal quarters from the hallway at large. A dragon—smaller than her with blazing red scales—slipped inside like a snake. “Oh, Princess! Well, if there’s anyone who would know all the juicy castle gossip, it’s you!” 

“I’ve been trying to avoid it as of late, actually.” The Princess was a tough dragon to pin down. As Queen Ebonyshadow watched her pace around the room, scraping her claws along the rock as if to sharpen them, she found herself trying to psychoanalyze Condor for the fifth time since they had first met. “It’s bad for my complexion,” the princess added. “Rumors, gossip… it can truly stress a dragon out, particularly if the rumor is about them.” 

“I didn’t take you for the type to worry about your complexion. You’ll lose more than your beauty if someone were to find out what you’re doing under the queen’s nose,” Ebonyshadow purred. 

“Is that a threat?” Condor responded, coolly. “No matter: it’s not in your interest to tell anyone. You’d lose an informant and make enemies in all the wrong places. The SkyWings don’t respect traitors, but their respect for snitches is even lower. At least, when you betray someone, you’re doing something interesting. When you’re a snitch, you’re simply piggybacking off of someone else’s deed.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of telling a soul,” the Queen responded, voice carrying through the small chamber. “Perhaps you have trust issues. It can’t be helped, what with that mother of yours. What was her name again? Queen Craggy?” 

“Pyre,” Condor corrected, “and I will not allow you to insult her. She may be a nuisance, both to my life and my ascension to the throne, but I cannot stand for an enemy tribe to come into my palace and talk badly about my mother in front of me. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.” 

“Yes, Yes,” Ebonyshadow sighed.

“And while we’re on the subject of responsibility,” Condor drawled, “perhaps you’d like to explain to me why a certain IceWing is conspicuously missing from your company? I thought, and correct me if I’m wrong, that the rules of our deal were that you would deliver the runaway to me, and I would put you into place as the ruler of the IceWings once I’ve thoroughly obliterated their resistance.” 

“Well, that wasn’t the original plan. The original plan was to start a war by framing the IceWings, but Permafrost decided to shake things up a bit and derailed that particular plan. And now that Holly is dead—“

“—which is your fault,” Condor added. 

“—everything is a little… complicated.” 

“Well, make it less complicated by telling me where he is,” The princess hissed. “I’m confused as to how a blind dragon is eluding you, one of the most powerful and mysterious queens in Phyrria.” 

“Oh, darling, you flatter me.” Queen Ebonyshadow chose not to focus on the underlying insult and, instead, placed a bejeweled claw over her heart with a tiny clink. “And it’s not so much that he’s eluding me, it’s just that I… haven’t found him yet. Rest assured, I’ve sent the best of the best to locate and retrieve him. He can’t have gone far. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say he… fell down a hole, or something. He wouldn’t have tried to escape.” 

“What?” Condor wrinkled the bridge of her nose, smoke steaming from her nostrils. “What do you mean by that? What have you done to him? If there’s one thing I know about Permafrost, it’s that he’s always looking for a way out of every situation.” 

“Oh, my, you’re a sharp one.” Queen Ebonyshadow tapped a claw against her nose, then elegantly made a dismissive sort of gesture. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re planning on killing him anyway, correct? I’m just trying to get some good use out of the poor thing before you break my toy.”

“ Your toy?” Condor emphasized in disbelief. “He was never a toy, he was a means to an end. I never gave you permission to—“ 

“Permission?” Queen Ebonyshadow dropped the playful tone and adopted one with a sharp, cutting edge. “Since when did a Queen need permission from a princess? Last I checked, you’ve barely seen even a fraction of the years that I have. You’re a spoiled little dragonet, playing where you shouldn’t be playing. You’re in over your head.” 

“Over my head?” Condor parroted. “I’m the one who came up with this plan in the first place! Do not call me a dragonet. It’s true that you’re far more ancient than I am, and yet I’m the only one of us with more than half a brain cell! Perhaps you’re losing your intellect in your old age.” 

“Old age!” The Queen gasped. “Perhaps working with you was a mistake after all. My advisors warned me that you were nothing more than a vengeful parasite, but I was hoping to see something… more. Now I can see that they were correct.” 

“Ohoho,” Condor laughed, “is that right? Well, then, I suppose our contract ends here. And I assume that you won’t mind if I tell everyone where the NightWings have been hiding all this time?” 

The Queen opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. I’ll have to have Fatechanger wipe that annoying piece of information from her mind. But… she’s not here. I suppose I’m forced to play nice… for now. “Fine,” she ground out to the princess. “I… apologize.” 

“Good.” Condor could tell that their alliance was ragged, barely hanging by a thread. That didn’t matter to the princess, however. She had learned that the longer you keep someone in confidence, the more opportunity they have to betray you. Therefore, she had never meant for this tenuous safety between them to be permanent. It was only a matter of time before Queen Ebonyshadow’s usefulness expired, and Condor would have to look for a new source of information. “Well, then. We’ve got two days until the wedding and my idiot brother is still wandering the palace, skulking around and waiting for his IceWing to miraculously show up. And I don’t like the way those SandWings he brought with him look at me. So… what are we going to do about it?” 

“We?” Queen Ebonyshadow flicked the tip of her tail from side to side idly, lazily. “It sounds like this is more… your department, wouldn’t you say? I’m here for espionage, not treason. If someone needs to be killed, well… you have claws, don’t you?” 

“Oh, you know what, you’re right. I forgot. Silly me.” Condor paced in a circle around the Queen, like a shark. The NightWing was not impressed. All she seemed to see was a fly buzzing around her head, which irritated Condor to no end. The princess stopped directly in front of her. “I’ll make you a deal.” 

“Another one?” The Queen quirked a bejeweled brow. “Haven’t you already offered me my ultimate goal? What more could you possibly have that could even hope to entice me—“ 

With an imperceptible twitch of her ear, the chamber became filled to the brim with dragons—one in every nook and cranny. They clung to the wall, the ceiling, hissing in spite. The flares behind their ears shook and they pulsed with color, from red to blue to yellow. Queen Ebonyshadow turned in a slow circle. 

“You can’t mean to threaten me with RainWings . They can’t fight,” she said. 

“Maybe not. But last time I checked, the sheer power of twenty dragons against two,” Condor nodded towards Embereye, who was squaring off against the largest of the RainWings, “well… you get what I mean. And I’ve promised them something that they’re willing to fight for, should they do their job correctly.” 

“And what might that be?” The Queen asked. She was trying to put on an indifferent face, but it was clear from the way her claws tightened around nothing that she was uneasy with this turn of events. 

“What do I offer them? Their freedom. Their job? Well… that’s between me and them. It’s for me to know, and you to… hopefully… never find out. Just know that they’ll always be around, watching. You won’t see them, but they’ll be there. Unless the night NightWing Queen is frightened by the presence of a few RainWings,” Condor mocked. 

“This is an outrage.” The Queen, afraid of losing face, rose to meet the princess’ challenge. “But if you truly need a gaggle of RainWings to feel safe in your own castle, I suppose they aren’t doing me any harm. They are quite pretty to look at, in fact. Do you mind if I take one home with me?” 

“To add it to your grotesquerie?” Condor scoffed. “I think not. My RainWings will stay right where they belong, until their contract is over. Or… well, they’ve seen what happens when they fight back against me or refuse to do what I say.” 

Queen Ebonyshadow gave Condor a very unflattering look, then sniffed and turned her head. “We will find him. As I mentioned before, I have sent someone very special to look for him—he can’t hide from her. She knows everything. All of his habits, all of his strategies, and all of his fears. It’s only a matter of time. We will negotiate what happens to him after we have him safely in our claws.” 

“Oh, he’ll be in my claws,” Condor said, “but he will not be safe.” She turned and squeezed past the queen’s simpleton of a guard to make a not-so-graceful exit. Her entourage of RainWings pooled after her, and the Queen was left silently fuming. 

Chapter Text

Starfish could smell something fishy, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were at a beach. They were a bit of an expert on recognizing when something about the universe was… off—when the tables tilted and the balance was thrown awry. So when they felt something slide out of place in their chest—not literally, though their heart had been acting up lately—they knew that something was terribly, horribly wrong. 

“Uh oh,” Bullfrog fretted from his perch on a nearby boulder. “I don’t like that look. Get that look off your face, Starfish. Don’t you dare—“ 

“Something is wrong,” Starfish shouted back. 

Bullfrog let out a low, prolonged groan. “Stooooop. Whenever you say that, it means you’re about to put your life in danger. Can’t we just have a nice little beach getaway? We’re away from the MudWing kingdom, finally out of danger, and all you want to talk about is jumping into a raging f-fire!” 

“Bullfrog,” they reasoned, “my friends need my help!” 

“Aren’t I your friend?” He whined. He knew it was an unfair question—of course Starfish was his friend, but it was more complicated than who mattered the most. Starfish cared for everyone in their own way, but no dragon took precedence over the other. Bullfrog knew that if he was in danger, they would be jumping into the metaphorical flames for him as well. 

“Can I just… use my powers for a second? Just a little bit, just to check up on them,” Starfish pleaded in vain. 

“Uh, no. Absolutely not. You’re going to literally destroy your own heart.” Bullfrog replied, unimpressed.

“Ugh! What do I have stupid abilities for if I can’t help my friends?!” Starfish moaned in frustration. “This sucks!” 

“Do you even remember why we came to this beach in the first place?!” Bullfrog hauled himself up, the rock wobbling precariously underneath his weight. “Coypu told us to stay safe, and that’s exactly what I intend to do! We fled the hut and flew out to the middle of nowhere so that we wouldn’t draw attention to ourselves!” 

“I know, ” Starfish stressed, “but this is bigger than you and me! This is the reason I’m an animus, I can feel it! I’ve always wondered why I was born differently, and I used to think it was a curse, but now I know that it was for a reason.”

“You gave your heart—literally—to a random dragon who doesn’t care whether you live or die, just because he might have had a tiny piece of an unsolvable p-puzzle! You would give yourself away until there was nothing left if I let you.” Bullfrog not-so-graciously tumbled from his perch and slid to Starfish. “Take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.” 

“This isn’t fair, Bullfrog. You’re asking me to sacrifice my beliefs for the sake of keeping myself comfy. That goes against everything I believe in—!” 

“Sh.. safe.” Bullfrog placed a talon over Starfish’s mouth. “I’m asking you to stay safe. If it bothers you that much, y’know… maybe we can use a little bit of magic. But only a l-little bit! And only for this! If it’ll keep you from jumping into a nightmare zone, then I guess the benefit outweighs the costs.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Starfish squealed in delight, promptly traipsing their way towards a still puddle of water underneath the shade of a rocky outcropping. They swirled their talons across its surface, feeling the thrum of their power beat inside their chest—or, alternatively, their heart was pounding with equal parts excitement and apprehension. They couldn’t tell the difference. They felt Bullfrog join them at their side, peering into mirror-like water only to see his own reflection. 

“I don’t see anything,” he said. 

“That’s because I haven’t started yet,” Starfish replied. “But I see your reflection!” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Bullfrog deflected, defensively curling his tail over his talons. “J-just… tell me what you see. There’s some clay by the seagull nests, and I want to check it out.” 

He whisked away, and Starfish was left by their lonesome. They didn’t mind, as they didn’t want the overly cautious MudWing to see the strain on their face and call the entire thing off. And, indeed, it was a struggle. The power wasn’t quite so easy to call anymore, and when they did manage to bring it surging forth, it came out like a fire: blazing, hot, and above all, hard to contain. Once it started, it didn’t want to stop. It consumed Starfish until it was all they could do to push through the fire and catch a glimpse of something distinctly red… before they had to douse it, and let it putter out. 

When it was over, they were left wheezing for air. Red? That tells me nothing! They were absorbed in their thoughts, shifting through things that the color might signify, when Bullfrog returned from his clay pile. Strawberry? No, too harmless. Poisonous berry? No, that’s not right. Red signifies danger, but I already knew they were in danger. Blood? That’s… more of a possibility than I’d like to believe. 

“You saw something bad, didn’t you?” Bullfrog asked, apprehensively. “Please tell me it wasn’t something bad, and you don’t have the overwhelming urge to go find them at this very moment. We made a d-deal!”

“Relax, Bullfrog. I’m not going to go find them.” Starfish’s ears flicked back, flattening against their skull. “I don’t need to.” 

“B-because they aren’t in any danger?” Bullfrog ventured, voice saturated with a disbelieving hope. 

“Because I already know where they are.” Without warning, Starfish snapped their wings open and let the updraft carry them into the sky. Bullfrog watched, too flustered to move for a good five seconds. By the time his brain had caught up with his body, Starfish was already coasting inland. 

“W-wait!!” He shouted, lifting off after his friend. “Wait!! At least wait for me! Oh, god, I’m going to get into so much trouble for this…” He let out an all-suffering sigh and chased after Starfish’s viridian tail. 

~

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Hyena, decidedly, hated the SkyWing palace. All of the dragons here walked with their chest puffed out and their tails swaying pompously. They paid no attention to anyone but themselves, so whenever they stepped on the smaller SandWing darting between them—like right now, for instance—they were shocked and appalled. Hyena would be delighted if one of them accidentally stepped on the barb at the end of his tail, but Pharaoh had specifically instructed him to play nice. Still… these dragons were so absorbed in their own mindset, would they even notice if dragons mysteriously started disappearing? 

“Oh, look at that! It’s one of those SandWings!” The large, pink dragon (who had nearly trampled him five seconds ago) spoke as if Hyena wasn’t directly in front of her. She bent her knees so that she’d be eye level with the smaller SandWing, who was beginning to feel like a dragonet. “Are you lost, little guy?” 

Hyena hissed at her, but she didn’t seem phased. The scars crisscrossing her snout and the tears in her wings made it easy to see why: this dragon had most likely seen a lot of action in the past, and was now as resilient as they come. “Get out of my way. I don’t need your help.” 

“Hey, hey, the SkyWing palace can be confusing!” Hyena pushed past her and trundled onwards, but she tailed after him relentlessly. “My name is Starling, by the way. I saw you all come in, and informed the princess. I have to admit, it’s a little weird seeing SandWings here. They like dry, hot climates. We have a very windy, cold climate here. Not suited for SandWings at all. Of course, we sometimes catch a glimpse of their Queen whenever she comes for a Royal banquet, but those only last for one day and nobody else but the royal families are allowed to avoid assasination attempts. The life of the Royal family, y’know? Expect the unexpected. Which is exactly what our dear prince had to live through, with a slimy IceWing sneaking in through his window—“ 

“Do you ever shut up?” Hyena groaned, listless. “SkyWings love to hear the sound of their own voice. It’s perpetual torment. Just let me get where I need to be.” 

“And that is…?” The SkyWing—Starling—pried. 

“None of your business,” Hyena snapped back. “Can’t a dragon walk to their destination without making it the whole world’s problem? Do you people always find the need to talk about pointless things?” 

“Well, the only reason I ask,” Starling began with amusement lacing her voice, “is because you’re headed towards the dung-pit, and I highly doubt that it’s the place you’re looking for.” 

“The what?” Hyena stopped in his tracks, casting Starling a venomous look over his shoulder. “Why on Phyrria would the SkyWings have a—a dung pit?” 

“To fertilize Her Majesty’s flowers,” Starling responded fluidly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She likes to collect plants from exotic places to spruce up her hall, but not many of them can survive the harsh climate here. So, we make sure that they’re as healthy as they can possibly be—soil-wise.” 

“Here’s a concept,” Hyena began brightly, “how about you don't take exotic plants from their home for the sake of decoration? Don’t you dragons use skulls and bones to spruce up your dining hall?” 

“You would prefer for us to kill other dragons and use their bones as party streamers, rather than take a flower or two from the rainforest?” Hyena snorted in response to Starling. “You are quite the strange one, I’ll admit. And here I thought I was the biggest weirdo in the palace.” 

“Yeah, well, I won’t be staying long.” Hyena stopped in his tracks, nearly causing Starling to crash into his backside. An earthy, acrid, and distinctly disgusting smell was wafting down the hallway. In spite of the fact that he was trying to keep his emotions discreet and concealed, Hyena couldn’t help the way the bridge of his snout crinkled. 

“The dung pits! I told you they exist! So, are you going to suck up your pride and turn around, or are you going to keep walking until you fall into one of them and I have to fish you out?” Starling sounded far too elated at the prospect of spending her afternoon digging through dung to find a stubborn SandWing. Decidedly, Hyena swung around on his heels and tried not to look at her smug face as she watched him walk back the way he came. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re looking for, and I can get you there quicker?” 

“What’s the matter? Something you guys don’t want me to see in this forsaken mess?” Hyena goaded. He knew the answer—every palace ruler kept their secrets as close to their chests as possible. It would be quite a feat to stumble upon something he wasn’t meant to see in a place where guards sat waiting at every important doorway. 

“Seriously, this is painful to watch. Your aimless wandering makes me feel itchy. In the time it took you to realize that you were going the wrong way, I could have taken over the RainWing kingdom in a coup d’etat.” 

“ Anyone can take over the RainWing kingdom. They aren’t exactly, you know… very difficult to defend against. I mean, what’re they going to do, sleep on you?” Hyena scoffed. “Don’t you have things to do? Places to be, people to kill, etcetera?” 

“Ow. You wound me.” Starling snaked herself around Hyena and parked herself in front of an ornately carved door of reddish wood. “Scurry along, now. You’re looking for Apex, aren’t you? He’s on his balcony, scrawling away at those maps of his.” 

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Hyena snapped, aggrieved. 

“You never asked. You were too arrogant to accept help.” Starling studied her claws impassively. They contrasted harshly against the stoney ground, like rivulets of blood running across its well-worn face. 

“You haven’t helped.” Hyena narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t looking for him. But… since you mention it… yes, maybe I should visit. But not because you told me where he is.” 

“Sure,” Starling sighed. “And I’m a lizard,” She gently murmured under her breath. 

“You are!” Hyena called back. “A pompous, overgrown, stuck-up lizard!” 

“I’m pretty certain that stuck-up and pompous mean the same thing. But points for trying. It was adorable.” 

Hyena let out a sharp, high-pitched growl as he rounded the corner and disappeared from Starling’s sight. The SkyWing guard flicked her tongue over her teeth in delight, savoring the last lingering taste of holding the final word. It was like victory. “He’s amusing. If only I didn’t have to kill him. Oh, well.” Starling smiled serenely. “Princess’s orders. Just doing my job.” 

Chapter Text

“Let us go!” Permafrost shouted at nothingness—or, rather, his perception of nothingness. He had to assume he was yelling at a dragon, and not just aimlessly shouting at empty air. From the contempt snort off to his left, he was forced to assume the latter. 

He and his companions had been tied up with some sort of iron, though in truth, Reaper hadn’t seemed too interested in escaping anyway. In fact, he was so eager to be taken captive that he wouldn’t stop talking about it—to the point where Whirlwind had had to gag him with moss to keep him quiet. Now he was in the corner, chewing on it as happily as a SeaWing  would chew on seaweed, while Coypu stewed silently in her own anger. 

“Are you IceWings always so predictable?” Whirlwind’s scathing voice scraped against his eardrums like stone against… well, more stone. “What are you going to say next? You won’t get away with this!” The ornery SkyWing cackled like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Permafrost guessed that she was used to entertaining herself, given that no one wanted to hang out with the Royal champion after watching her rip another dragon’s tongue out and shove it down their throat. 

“ No,” Permafrost emphasized, “I was going to ask what you were doing out here in the first place. You’re the Champion—shouldn’t you be throwing prisoners around by their tails?” 

Whirlwind hissed, and Permafrost was hit with a blast of hot, stinking breath as she crept closer. “Oh, and you have firsthand experience of what I can do in that ring, don’t you? Would you like to go back? I haven’t finished the job quite yet, even though you’re just kindling now. A pitiful little twig to ignite, unable to see where the flames are coming from or avoid the blasts of—“ 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just realized… I don’t care.” Permafrost would have rolled his eyes, if he had better motor controls of his own features. “You haven’t killed us yet, and it’s not because I’m stalling you with idle chatter. So you probably have orders not to kill us, and because you’re hanging out amongst the corpses of RainWings—not creepy at all, by the way—I’m going to go ahead and say that you’re the one who caused this whole mess. Again, most likely acting on a single dragon’s orders.” Permafrost took a breath, then finished. “You only take orders from one person in that forsaken palace: The Queen. The real question is, why would Queen Pyre want us taken captive and a bunch of RainWings dead? Were the RainWings truly a warning, or simply a diversion? Or do they serve another purpose entirely, were they a separate task or an independent project?” 

What Permafrost received in reply was decidedly not what he had expected. Whirlwind pelted them with a breathy chortle that only rose in pitch and hysteria the more she laughed. Finally, when she had gathered enough breath to speak, she said: “You think you’re so smart! Well, since you’ll be dead soon anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter whether or not I confirm your theories.” She cleared her throat of the last vestiges of her crazed laughter, then continued. “You’re half right. I am acting entirely on orders from a member of the royal family. The Queen, however, is nothing more than a pawn in a game much larger than herself.” 

Permafrost sat in stunned silence. Not only had the champion confirmed the fact that she was acting without her superior’s consent, but that she was actively conspiring against Her Majesty with another force—and this force was, supposedly, also a royal. 

“Oh, come off it you giant lump of scales,” Coypu said from somewhere behind Permafrost. “I came to the swamp to get away from this. Fights between royalty, treachery and betrayal, ascension… it’s all just a pipe dream. No one wins in the end. It’s not a game, it’s a bloodbath that sets son against daughter, daughter against mother, father against—“

“Say that again,” Permafrost said in a rush of breath. 

“… it’s a bloodbath?” Coypu suggested. 

“No, the part after,” Permafrost corrected. He didn’t know why he needed to hear it, but he felt like her words made something click in his head. He was on the verge of an epiphany, but he needed to hear it one last time to confirm. 

“Son against daughter,” Permafrost nodded along with her words, “daughter against mother—“ 

“That’s it!” The IceWing shouted. 

Silence filled the clearing, but he didn’t seem to notice. Permafrost could practically feel the gears clicking in his head, energy thrumming under his scales like electricity. He almost vibrated with the tension. 

“Uhhhh…” Whirlwind, for once, didn’t have a snarky retort. She seemed dumbfounded. Instead of addressing Permafrost’s outburst, she instead turned to Coypu. “Are you sure he’s okay in the head?” 

“Questionable,” Coypu said. “He did recently have his brain scrambled by a NightWing.” 

“I…” Whirlwind brought her wings closer to her body, straightening her posture. Her tail shuffled against the ground, and she shook her head. “Care to share with the class, IceWing? I fail to see what Royal ascension has anything to do with the fact that you’re about to die an excruciatingly painful death.” 

“It has everything to do with my impending death!” Permafrost was on a trail now—something told him that if he followed it deeper, he would never make it out of the woods. That was fine by him. He was willing to get tangled in a mystery in order to unravel it, walk into a fire in order to abate it from the inside out. With one final, hesitant breath, he took the last step in his head. “Princess Condor ordered you to do all of this.” 

“Princess Condor?” Coypu croaked, dubious. “She’s the prince’s sister. Apex didn’t talk about her much, but he didn’t complain either. To my knowledge, she’s always maintained a peaceful image. Why in the world would she order something like this?” 

“I’m not finished,” Permafrost insisted. “She ordered you to do this, but the dead RainWings are just casualties of a higher order. She wanted you to kidnap them, that’s the only reason they’d be this far out of the rainforest. You obviously didn’t kill them there and drag their bodies back here, as I smell no rot and the trip from the rainforest is long enough that the bodies would begin to decompose. So obviously, they travelled with you up until this point and then you disposed of them. Maybe they put up a fight at this point, or maybe you were just itching to get your claws on something.” 

“He knows a lot about dead bodies,” Reaper chimed in, unhelpfully, after swallowing the thick ball of moss that had been stuffed in his mouth in an attempt to shut him up. 

“And since the live ones aren’t here, I'm guessing you brought them to the palace. Maybe for a gladiator fight? In any case, the Princess then gave you orders to go back to the clearing where the massacre had been committed and wait for me—I’m almost positive she expected me to be with someone, since I can’t travel alone—and when I came, you were to take me to her. But where does Apex play into all of this?” 

“Is he always like this?” Whirlwind complained to the empty air. “You’re such a loud mouth. Pity I didn’t take your tongue when I took your eyes. Oh, well. There’s still plenty of time for that. The princess just needs you to do a little something for her, and then I get to have a bit of fun with you. As for the rest of them…” Permafrost could tell from the way her scratchy voice drifted away that she had turned towards where Reaper and Coypu sat. “She didn’t specify. Give me a good reason I shouldn’t kill you two right here, right now.” 

“I’m a healer,” Coypu replied, begrudgingly. 

“We have healers at the castle. What makes you special?” Whirlwind snorted in contempt. 

“Because I’m—“ Coypu cut herself off with a somewhat-pained cough, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I’m royalty, Aight? You might be able to use me for something, I don’t know. Get creative. If you don’t believe me, then ask Copperhead. Her look of disgust when she sees me will tell you everything you need to know.” 

“Oh, it gets better and better! And you?” Whirlwind slithered up to Reaper. “Why should I keep you alive?” 

Reaper, in his infinite wisdom, decided to answer her question with another question. “Did you know there are actually forty-seven ways to kill another dragon, simply by using your bare claws and a bit of determination? It’s a fascinating subject, really. For example,” Permafrost heard what sounded like chains clinking together, then dropping to the rocky terrain with an echoing thud. “I could have killed you by now in at least thirty different ways, plus five more if I used the chains. These really should have been tighter, I can teach you if you want.” 

“You were free this WHOLE TIME?!” Coypu shouted. “Hurry up and untie us, boy!” 

There were more clinking sounds and a ferocious growl. Permafrost couldn’t see it, but he felt heat wash over his face and knew that Whirlwind was gearing up to give Reaper a taste of what he himself had endured in the arena. As quickly as possible with chains overlapping around his torso and ankles, Permafrost leapt towards the source of the heat. It was a moot point, however. By the time he was able to get into action, Reaper had already begun to talk himself out of his sticky situation. 

“Woah, that is some serious heat you’re packing! But before you blast me into the sun, I should probably warn you against doing so. Y’see, I have some things in my satchel that might explode if they get too hot, filling this clearing with poisonous gas or causing a landslide… but if you’d like to take that chance, I’ve actually been curious about the potential combustion properties of quite a few of my—“ 

“SHUT! UP!” Whirlwind roared at Reaper, who let his voice trail off into muttering. “You dragons are infuriatingly insufferable! I mean honestly, have you all made it your life mission to make every dragon you come across want to gouge their own eardrums out??” 

“Hey, I’ve barely said a word!” Coypu defended herself in an indignant tone. 

“Whirlwind,” Permafrost appealed, “this isn’t your job. Kidnapping and sabotage and shadow dealings… What Condor is asking you to do is ludicrous. I know dragons like her—if she’s gone this far already down the path of betrayal, she won’t stop here. When your job is finished, she will dispose of you. Less witnesses that way, less chance of being overthrown. This is coming from someone with experience, trust me.” 

“You’ll say anything to get yourself out of those chains,” Whirlwind snarled. “I promise that my Princess will take good care of you three, just like she takes care of her RainWings. And when your job is done, IceWing, she’ll give you one last look at her brother’s corpse before letting you join him in the afterlife.” 

“Job?” Permafrost felt something wicked building in his gut, clogging his throat and making his words thick and his tongue feel as though it was glued to the roof of his mouth. “Apex? She wants to kill Apex??” 

“Why,” Whirlwind drew out every syllable in a sickly-sweet voice. “Don’t be silly! Of course she doesn’t want to kill Apex!” Shadows passed over Whirlwind’s ridged face, washing her pink scales in darkness. Clouds blotted out the sun, and the pitter-patter of rain began around them. “She wants you to kill Apex.” 

Chapter Text

Stories are supposed to start with the introduction of a protagonist. At least, that’s what Fatechanger had been told all her life. She had been told a million and one lies, each more fantastical than the last. This had constructed a reality that she had built around herself, one where she was merely a side character in her glorious queen’s unfurling tale. She had devoted herself wholeheartedly to the role, going so far as to study the supporting characters in popular scrolls and legends passed down through all the generations of NightWings to ever live on their sacred island. 

Now, however… Fatechanger was no longer trapped in her volcanic prison, in every sense of the phrase. She was free—but what did that mean? She didn’t know how to live for herself. She didn’t know the first thing about being the protagonist of your own story. It was all guesswork. And though the resolve in her heart ran deep, that didn’t stop her from tripping on her own ignorance. 

This was when Fatechanger learned a very important lesson in life. 

You don’t have to be a hero to be a protagonist. 

“Sure. I seen him.” The dragon she spoke to was a SandWing, scales a molten gold that glinted in the sunlight—almost as much as his sharp-toothed smile. Fatechanger did not know much about the outside world or her place in it, but she did know how to recognize a liar when she saw one. “But I forgot where he was, exactly. Might be you could jog my memory?”

“Sure,” Fatechanger replied. Entering his mind was easy—it was a weak one, driven only by greed and desire. He involuntarily shuddered as he felt the presence slip in and out, leaving as quickly as it had come. “There’s nothing to jog. You haven’t seen him,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He eyed her warily now, like a predator sensing danger from his prey. He could tell that something was wrong, like an itch in the back of his mind. “Who are you?” He asked instead of answering. Before giving her time to answer, he followed with: “Get out.” 

The Red Market bustled around her, crowded with SandWings in silken wraps around their heads to keep sand out of their eyes and disguise their identities, should authorities show up. Despite the fact that this golden SandWing’s stall was set out amidst the crowd, the clamor of voices seemed to fade into the background as the tension between him and Fatechanger mounted. 

“I suppose I don’t have any business with you,” Fatechanger replied. “But I can’t just let you continue to scam dragons out of their money with your falsehoods.” 

The vendor barked a harsh laugh. “Hah! These clientele expect to be lied to, it’s part of the charm. You’re in an illegal marketplace. What did you think was gonna happen? Now leave my stall, or—“ 

“Or what? You’ll call the authorities?” Fatechanger’s demeanor changed. Suddenly, she didn’t seem like the small NightWing trying to blend in, surrounded by glamour and gold and dangerous dragons. She looked more confident in her surroundings than anyone else at that moment… at least, that’s the front she tried to put forth. The vendor didn’t seem phased by it, so Fatechanger dug deeper into his mind to find a weapon to levy against him. Instead, she found something that made her blood boil. “Give them to me.” 

There was a pause before the vendor answered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No? Shall I jog your memory?” Fatechanger reached past the booth separating them and wrapped her claws around the golden SandWing’s throat. Lines of blood beaded up to the surface where her claws dug in, and the vendor gave a choked gasp of surprise. No one even glanced at the two of them, locked in a battle of wills and power. “Five dragonets. You kidnapped five dragonets, stole them from their mothers in the dead of the night, and plan to sell them at an auction when the sun sets. Two IceWings, one SandWing, one SeaWing, one SkyWing. Am I correct?” She released him to let him speak. 

The SandWing was fully on his guard by now, spikes rising along the ridge of his spine and tail rattling ominously. “Who are you?” He asked again. He didn’t seem interested in Fatechanger’s name, so much as whether or not she was here to arrest him. “Listen, if you’re part of that Order or whatever, you can’t prove nothin’!” 

“Is that so?” The NightWing tilted her head curiously. She had heard talk of this ‘Order’ around the market; they seemed to be a buzzword. They were on the forefront of a lot of criminal’s minds—which must mean they struck fear into the heart of wrongdoers—and Fatechanger figured that if she was going to be playing the part of justicianor, she might as well embrace it wholeheartedly, regardless of the fact that she didn’t exactly know what the Order was or did. “You and I both know that the Order does not need to have proof. The truth lives inside of us, and we follow it until the thread leads us to whosoever decides to twist the whims of fate in their favor. I do not need proof to bring order to the universe once more, but I will give you a chance. Set them free now, or you will meet your death on the morrow.” 

The SandWing studied her. His rich brown eyes no longer seemed scared… they were greedy. Fatechanger barely had time to take a cautious step back before his tail whipped out and grazed her shoulder. “The Order never gives dragons a choice,” he said, smugly. “But because I’m nice, why don’t I give you a chance? These dragonets need a caregiver before they go to auction, and I can’t think of anyone better for the job than you! After all, you seem so concerned about them!” The effect was immediate. Fatechanger was starting to feel woozy. The market flashed around her, dangerous blurs of gold and red silk. She stumbled on her feet, trying desperately to stay standing long enough to fly away. She tried to unfurl her wings, but they weren’t responding to her and she felt too sick to stay airborne anyway. 

“What did you do to me?” She choked out past the bile rising in her throat. 

“Nothing that will kill you. Yet.” The vendor made his way around the booth, closing in on Fatechanger. “I have the antidote, of course. If you be a good little girl and go quietly, I’ll give you some. I bet an elusive NightWing, especially one so pretty as yourself, would fetch a high price on the market. Or, I could let you die a horrible death for prying into things that aren’t your business and posing as a member of the Order.” 

Fatechanger helplessly swung her head from side to side, searching desperately for anyone who might be willing to step in and help her. Nobody even gave her a second glance—in fact, it looked like everyone was actively trying to avert their eyes to the scene happening before them. Fatechanger felt a flash of anger at the passivity of them all. That anger was enough to feed the molten core of pent-up rage at the pit of her core, a suppressed fury developed from years of taking pointless orders from a dragon who could care less whether she lived or died. “No,” She ground out past clenched teeth. “This isn’t a negotiation. Give me the children, or I’ll kill you and take them myself.” 

“You’ll die before you even make it a few steps.” The vendor raised a ridged brow at Fatechanger. “Just a little tip for you—don’t go into a pit of vipers and expect to come out unscathed.” 

“How fitting,” Fatechanger said with a pained laugh. “Vipers. Yes, you’re all slippery and heartless… this whole market. But I’m not a small furry animal that you can swallow whole. I’m not innocent either. There’s blood on my claws and in my mind.” Fatechanger took deep, controlled breaths. She felt the poison now, singing her veins as it travelled from her shoulder towards her heart. Still… she had made it this far. Fatechanger controlled her heart, slowing its pace and focusing on the movement of the poison. Her shoulder was numb. “Your name is Gila. You live under a nearby sand dune and have been selling dragons for about seven years now to help cover the cost of your gambling debts. Your parents sent you away when you were young to train with the royal guard, but you were dishonorably discharged from service. You’ve resented the law ever since, and have lost ties with your entire family.” 

The SandWing took a step away from Fatechanger. “H-How did you..?” 

“You’re pathetic,” Fatechanger spat. “And you’re lucky I’m not in the mood to destroy you and leave you a mumbling oaf that doesn’t even know his own name. I have abilities beyond your small comprehension of the world. This whole continent does not revolve around you, and no actions exist without consequences. Well…” Fatechanger spread her wings out to make herself appear more imposing. The silver scales twinkled in the fading, scarlet light. “I am the consequence. So I will say it again. Give me the dragonets and the antidote or I will kill you and get them myself.” 

Gila stared blankly at her, almost as if he was looking through her. His dark, beady eyes fixated on the scratch at her shoulder, and Fatechanger almost let herself falter. The poison was doing its job, truth be told, and her little act was taking all of her energy. But she refused to lose face to a dragon as low as this vendor. It appeared, from the way he cowered, that her charade was working. 

“Fine,” He sneered at the sand below his talons. “But then you leave, and never come back. If you ever show your face in this market again, I’ll—“ 

“You’ll what?” Fatechanger wanted to step towards him, but she was afraid that if she moved she would fall. “All I’ve done is threaten you and you’re a sniveling, frightened wreck. For all you know, I could be lying… but something inside of you tells you I’m serious. I’m warning you right now—do not test me. I am in no position to choke down your empty threats. No longer will I be stopped by an invisible hand.” 

Gila hissed at her, but didn’t seem interested in further protest. Perhaps he knew that it wouldn’t get him far, or maybe he just didn’t want to push Fatechanger’s patience. Either way, grumbling, he fished a vial of some pinkish liquid from somewhere under his booth and passed it to Fatechanger. She raised it to her lips, but he stopped her before she could do anything more. “Woah, woah,” he exclaimed, “don’t drink it! Pour it on the wound. Jeez, don’t you know anything about treating a venom wound?” 

Fatechanger said nothing in return and followed his instructions. She didn’t foresee that he was lying to her. Even if she hadn’t read his mind, his swindler’s expression was gone, replaced by begrudging fear. He would have no reason for lying to her at this point anyway, short of trying to flat out kill her. But from what she had seen in his past and present, he never intended to kill her. He was many things, but a murderer was not one of them. 

“It’ll sting a little, but you’re a big girl. You can handle it,” Gila snorted in contempt. “Do I also need to get you something to dull the pain, Your Highness?” 

Without warning the glass shattered in her claws and she wiped the excess shards and droplets of antidote off on the vendor’s booth. “Don’t call me that, and give me the children so I may return them to their proper parents.” 

“Ha, right! Return them.” He rolled his eyes. “I realize what you’re doing now. We coulda just shared the profit, you and I. If you really wanted in on it, I’d give you a cut. And with that power you claim to have, we could produce even better dragonets! You could make them hollow vessels. No resistance. No backtalk.” Fatechanger’s eyes brimmed with a hellfire that silenced Gila in an instant. 

Fatechanger rolled her eyes. “I’m a very busy dragon. I have no time to peddle dragons, and if I did, I wouldn’t be nearly as desperate for money to stoop that low.” 

“And how do you know that I won’t just go out and get some more?” Gila’s surprise turned into a serpentine smile. “You can’t keep coming back to the market and threatening me all the time. You think you’re helping these dragonets? You’re just making a small ripple in a cycle that’s much bigger than yourself.” 

Fatechanger could see that she was losing control of the situation, so instead of responding to him, she reached inside his mind for answers. There she saw glimpses of his thoughts, both previous and current, and the doubt gnawing at his bones like a rabid animal. He was putting on a brave face, having collected himself. But just beneath the surface, if she dug a little deeper, she could see that the doubt stemmed from something much bigger than his fear of what Fatechanger would do to him if he disobeyed. “Your sister,” the little NightWing responded.

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Your sister,” she repeated. “She was a dragonet when you left. You should visit her again. You two got along well together. What would she say if she knew you were doing this?” 

“I—what? No, that’s—she has nothing to do with this!” 

“Really?” Fatechanger’s words were broken glass, jagged and sharp. “Next time you kidnap a dragonet and sell them to some lowlife who’s bound to use them for their own personal gain, see her face in every dragonet you sell. Imagine if someone like yourself, a stranger, stole her away and forced her into servitude.” She could see the impact of her words in the way his expression twisted. “Now… show me where they are, and pray that we never cross paths again.” 

“Alright! Don’t get your tail in a twist!” Gila heaved a heavy sigh and turned towards a row of tents in the distance. Fatechanger followed at a safe distance, keeping her eyes trained carefully on the vendor’s back. He didn’t try any tricks that she saw or sensed, and she didn’t think he was intelligent enough to clear his mind to prevent her from prying. In fact, she saw exactly what was on his mind: his sister. She was a darker gold than he was—or maybe it would be more accurate to say that her scales were a richer, warmer hue. The most stark thing about the dragonet in his memory, however, was her big wings. She practically stumbled over them, and they dragged behind her when she walked. Absently, Fatechanger murmured her name. 

“Vera…” 

Gila stopped in his tracks in front of a plain-looking brown tent. “I always knew that NightWings were supposed to have some serious powers, but I never knew the extent. Kinda always thought it was a lie, since nobody ever sees you guys.” 

“You care for her. A lot.” Fatechanger, for once, felt pity for Gila. Life had been hard for him. It didn’t excuse what he was doing, but it did explain why he resorted to such extreme lengths to bury his memories. “But you can’t see her? Why not?” 

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Gila hung his head. “And even if I did, she wouldn’t remember me. I’m a distant memory. Just the loser of a brother who slacked off in his guard duties and got kicked to the curb. She was always ambitious. She probably leads the same guard that threw me out by now, it wouldn’t surprise me.” 

“The one thing I’ve learned is that it’s never too late to try. Redemption may be unattainable, but you’ll never have a chance if you don’t try, and you can always try until you’re dead.” Fatechanger ducked inside of the tent. There, she found the promised dragonets all huddled together in a tight ball of wings and multi-colored scales. “I wish I could tell you where to start, Gila. It took me a while to realize that I wanted something more from life. It’s enough to want something better. You build from there,” she called from inside while surveying the dragonets. 

Gila entered the tent behind her. The sight of him immediately made the younger dragons recoil, the bravest of them—the SkyWing—going so far as to hiss at the towering vendor. “It’s alright,” Fatechanger soothed, “I’m here to take you home. We can start at the SkyWing kingdom and go from there. I have business with Queen Pyre.” 

“We’ll pass.” The IceWings gave her a chilly look when one of them spoke. They appeared to be twins. They were the same blue hue, and their tales were intertwined in a helix pattern. Out of all of them, Fatechanger got the worst vibes from those two. Whenever she tried to read their minds, it felt like plunging into ice water, and she couldn’t submerge herself for too long for fear of freezing. “We do not need saving, NightWing,” the other said. 

“Ignore them!” The SeaWing, a coral-colored girl, yelped. “They’re crazy! ” 

“Crazy is a state of being.” The SandWing hummed thoughtfully. He was the calmest of them all. “I’m relatively certain that no being exists in their minds. They are hollow vessels, waiting to be filled. They cannot be something if they are not anything.” 

“What kind of mumbo-jumbo nonsense are you spouting now?! ” The SkyWing was rapidly filling the tent with smoke from their nostrils. She was orange with a red underbelly. “We get it, you spent a day in the RainWing forest and now you’re enlightened or whatever! Stop prattling on about useless things and help me figure out a way to beat the snot out of these overgrown lizards!!” 

“Here’s a hint,” Fatechanger said, “Don’t talk about mutiny plans in front of the dragons you’re rallying against. I can see that you’ll all be fairly difficult. I promise that I mean you no harm, and I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go.”