Where the Wind Blows

=== Discontinued. no longer part of my alternate universe. if you liked this come to me and I'll tell you how it ends.===
== Prologue ==
Blood roared through the dragon's ears. Roars and screams of fury sounded all around him. How was he still alive? He had no clue. Another gust of flame flew past his ear, scorching the tip. You'd think it wouldn't be that painful, but it hurt, badly. He grabbed his spear, and charged. Through the chaos of the battle, he had no idea how he had got there, and why he was fighting, only that there were enemies, and they needed to die.
He looked down at his talons, warm and sticky with dripping red liquid. Teeth chomped into another dragon's neck, claws sinking into their neck. He was out of control. He needed to get out of there, they were getting overrun. Who were they? Oh, right, his teammates. Red wings, fiery as the sunset, expanded, as he launched into the air, desperate to get out of there. Daggers, flames, and swords whisked by him, one lodging itself into his right foot. Then, a sword in his left wing.
Faster than the hawk, he plummeted from the air, colliding with the forest, smacking through branches, sliding through dirt, and ending up in a small stream. The water was pink, better than red, but still not clear. He washed his wounds, rubbing the cool water onto his shoulders. He waded downstream, until the water looked clean enough to drink, in which he did. He finally had a chance to sit, under the dark shade of multiple oak trees, scanning the horizon for any enemies. Fortunately, there were none. As he calmed down, he remembered who he was and what he was doing here, why he was fighting.
"They have declared war," the commander said. "we must fight, Do not let them win, or their cruelness will spread like an infection over the planet."
The commander sat, curling her tail over her talons. The five other dragons sitting in a semi-circle exchanged glances, whispering to each other. The higher-ups have declared war, they will tear Pyrrhia apart by starting a civil war. And the chances of them winning were very slim. But they had to try. Who knows what would happen if they took over? Nothing good, is what everybody knew. But those who didn't want to die would side with them. Their only hope was the element of surprise.
"We will win this. We are strong," the commander said.
"But will we?" he asked, tipping his head, talons ripping at the carpet the six dragons sat upon.
The splotched dragon next to him looked at him weirdly. "Of course. We have too. We are not cowards, are we?"
He bared his teeth, narrowing his eyes. "Are you calling me a coward, then?"
"Maybe I am."
He lunged towards the splotched dragon, but the blue and purple separated them, with the commander speaking. "Gentledragons, gentledragons, is this really the time and place to be starting a fight? We have a battle plan to form. One less dragon is less chance at winning."
They glanced at each other, and then the commander. "Sorry, commander," they had said at the same time.
Woozy memories, but still there. He couldn't abandon them. He had to go back and fight. This was the battle that would determine the win or the loss of the side he fought on. So many casualties on both sides, on both sides' weak points. He couldn't fail them now. He had to go back. When he tried to stand, he wobbled, looking down at his wounded wrist, pressing a few leaves against it to slow the bleeding, then examining the injured wing membrane. It wasn't quite that bad, after all. He had suffered much worse. Deal with it. Others have died, and you are still here.
You are weak.
He shook that thought away. He wasn't weak, he was merely injured, and there were hundreds of soldiers out them. They were outnumbered, 1 to 10. He looked up, to the horizon. Where were the smoke signals? There were supposed to be smoke signals, wafting up to the west when the sun set. That would be a signal to launch the bombs. Did he miss them? No, he was close enough, he had signed up for this, it was suicide. It was automatic death, the bombs were meant to blow up everything in their path. Their only chance of winning. Millions of thoughts ran through his head.
What happened? Were they killed? Was the bomb supply destroyed? Perhaps there was a mole in our ranks? All could be possible. Perhaps I should go investigate, to see what I could find.
And so that's what he did. He pushed himself up, beginning the long walk there. It was already bad enough, but now that he had a limp, it was only going to take longer. 
Trees passed. The oak forest went to pine, as he hiked west. A few times he stopped to pay his respects to some old friends who received brutal deaths. They died fighting for what they believed was right. Perhaps he will, too. A jolt of fear rocketed through his body, nearly throwing him to the ground. When one doesn't think about it, death seems like a regular thing, it is natural, and it will happen to everyone, sooner or later. But when in the face of death, when one is walking on the tight, small rope of life and death, it suddenly becomes terrifying. No dragon wants to die, and he was no exception. 
But even still, he continued on. He had to find the commander. He needed to know what to do next. What if the commander is dead? He shook that thought from his head, treading through the forest, flicking pine needles out of his wounds. He kept his wings pinned tight.
Suddenly, a blur of black scales flew in front of him. He stepped back, baring his teeth, and growling. It was white, and it revealed itself as a majestic IceWing, shimmering and beautiful, only little wounds on her scales. This was an enemy, he couldn't distract himself with how beautiful she looked.
"Perhaps I should spare you," she taunted, dancing out of the way when he swiped his talons at her. "I usually only fight the ones that give me a challenge. You, however, are slow as a slug. Are you sure you're not an elder in disguise?"
"I'm probably stronger than you," he retorted, standing up straight and flexing his muscles. "I'm still going strong. Even if I am inj-"
CRACK!
The IceWing swiped her tail across his face, a tooth or two knocking out. He knelt over, spitting out blood. Two teeth were knocked clean out, laying on the forest floor. He wiped some of the blood from his mouth with a talon, but he didn't both after that. "Are you so cowardly to only attack when I'm not ready?"
"There is no mood for fighting, you either do or do not, you either live or die," she countered, taking a step forward. The sound of hissing from the IceWing's throat filled the air.
He recognized that sound, his ears pricking. He jumped, the frostbreath on just grazing his tail. "Two can play at that game," he snarled, before shooting a gust of firebreath at her face.
She roared out in fury and pain, clawing at her face. He took the chance to jump forward and deliver a killing blow. He wasn't one to play games, this wasn't cat and mouse. Kill as fast as you can, letting them suffer is only cruel. And if they manage to survive, bad things will happen. In a war, there are no rules and yet rules at the same time. War crimes still exist, and he wouldn't want to be charged of one and put in prison.
The sun drifted into distant mountains, the Claws of the Clouds Mountains. Soon, it would be dark. He didn't have nightvision, as he was a SkyWing. He arrived in the scene. And nearly roared in fury. All the soldiers stationed here, were dead. They walked into an ambush. They knew they were coming. How had his dragons been so, so foolish? There had to be some sort of.. spy, or mole, in their group. He felt so mad, he wanted to rake into a a tree, into a cave, into anything.
So, he resorted to the grass, tearing it up, trying to pull bushes out. Their roots were so deep, and so he could not do anything but tug. It only made him more furious. The adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt like he could just run over to the entire other army and destroy them all. But, he kept his emotions in check. If he was the last one, he could grow a rebellion. He had to stay alive. If he stayed alive, they had another chance at winning this.
But, wait. His head jolted up, head tipping, ears pricking. That was ragged breathing. Was there still something alive, after all? He crept over, talons lightly skimming over the dead fall leaves, the chill picking up and eating into his scales. Then, he burst out, teeth bared, in an attacking position. But there were familiar grey eyes staring at him, complete with dark-colored scales of intermixing blues, purples, and some accents of yellow, leaning against a tree, wings pinned to her sides. Blood was pooled beneath her; a knife lodged deep into her neck, which she hadn't pulled out (in fear of dying of blood loss), and multiple scratches, though the one that jumped out at him was the deep one on her neck.
"..Commander?" he asked, relaxing his battle stance.
"Captain. Good that.. you're still.. alive," she wheezed, a little breathless.
"What happened here?" he said slowly, expanding his wings to indicate the clearing littered with the dead bodies of their comrades.
"An ambush. Slovia was a mole. They spared her, and ambushed us. She ran," the commander rasped, looking down.
"A high-ranking being a traitor? That... that is strange," he exclaimed.
"No, she only abandoned us once she realized that we could not win, once she knew we were outnumbered. She saved her sorry tail and probably got rich so she could watch her comrades brutally murdered before her eyes..." the Commander said, a glazed look in her eyes.
The Captain knew that look. That was the look that the Commander had when she was forced to kill someone she loved. He didn't ask, only turned his head up, muscles rippling in the evening light. He looked around, behind the Commander, until his eyes feel onto the body of a white, pure-blooded IceWing. It stuck out like a fourth moon in the forest, glowing as the moon reflected off its scaled. He sighed. Slovia, you idiot. Slovia's throat was slashed, her eyes practically ripped out. He knew the Commander as efficient and quick, not... not, this.
He looked closer. The killing cut to the neck was rather... jagged. He felt sick to the bone. The Commander had repeatedly scratched her throat, talons digging into Slovia's neck, over and over again. He looked at her warily.
"I did what I have to," the Commander hissed softly, losing strength.
"No, no, you didn't. You wasted time by torturing Slovia," he growled.
"Ah, you're sad that I killed her. I forgot that you liked her," the Commander sneered.
He burned with embarrassment, but shook it away. "I mean that you wasted time torturing her, instead of running away, and now here you are, leaning up against a tree, dying."
She bristled. "Are you saying I should of been a coward? Ran away instead of protecting my comrades?" She spat out blood. "Perhaps you are lower than Slovia. Maybe you're a tr-"
"STOP RIGHT THERE!" he roared, baring his teeth. "You should of been a coward, if that's what you call it. You are the only hope left. You have to lead us against them! You can't leave us. We're all going to die, stay alive. Please."
Her eyes narrowed, glaring at him, before her expression softened. "Captain, perhaps I am not the only hope left."
"You're wrong." His eyes widened, making the connection. "I'm not. I'm not destined to lead everyone."
"Would you do it for the sake of me?" she asked, tipping her head.
He shuffled his talons closer, looking at them, before looking at the clouds. "Perhaps," he said, tongue flicking out and back in.
"Come here, Captain."
He shuffled closer, putting his snout against her forehead.
"Whatever you do, don't forfeit. Don't raise the white flag. That is my last order," she said simply.
"Commander-" he began. "We can get you medical."
"I would much rather die peacefully than have a bunch of dragons poking at me," she said gruffly. "I'm not afraid of dying."
He flashed her a look. There was no way. All dragons are afraid of dying, aren't they? "You're lying. You're scared."
He shot him a smile, growing weak. "Quite right. You see right through my fanatics. You.. always have.. just.. w- never mind. Just let me sleep."
"Typical," he said sadly, putting his talons on her shoulder. "Farewell, old friend."
There was no response. He gently closed her eyes, and watched as her body faded into dust. He collected the Commander's armor, refreshing his own, and grabbed her dagger and long, sharp spear. They would pay. He would make sure. But he needed rest. He couldn't go on forever. And, in the pure darkness with no night vision, now was not the good time to go looking for his remaining comrades now. He was the new Commander, and he would make sure they would know that. He wandered, using his talons as guidance.
Making a fire would be a death trap. The flickering fire would be seen through the forest, and attract enemy soldiers. He could not have that. He stalked through the forest, swinging his head back and forth. He looked up, seeing the field, where multiple soldiers still lay. Previous fires still burned, the smell of heated flesh wafting through the air. It was not pleasant. He crept forward another step. And then, a wire caught his tail, dragging him into the air. He yelped, his talons slicing desperately at empty air.
Two pairs of ice blue eyes stared at him, full of malice.
"Look at this, Icehawk, caught ourselves a little mouse," a sneering, rather goofy-sounding voice sounded from the left.
"Shut up, idiot!" another voice, seemingly Icehawk, with a deep feminine voice, hissed back. "Must you say my name?"
The other one laughed.
"Go get the Commander," Icehawk murmured, the sound of leaves crunching and talon steps in the opposite directions following.
He struggled desperately, but no matter how he tried to reach the metal wire digging into his tail, though no matter what, he could not. And he hated himself for that.
"No matter," Icehawk said coolly. "There is no way to get out, we have tested it."
Now that he has seen the dragon, she was quite.. beautiful. Indigo scales atop a white underbelly, blended in perfectly. Sharp icicle spikes decorate her neck, as on her tail, her smile evil and white.
He scowled at her, just as the Commander of the Enemy stepped out. Jewelry, mixed with armor, draped aer body, aer calculating and cold green eyes scanning the red SkyWing in front of aer. Aer scales were a blank white, and the SkyWing could not pick out aer gender. Ae was practically handsome, but the coldness dimmed the appearance. 
"This is the new Commander of their side?" aer asked, looking at Icehawk.
"Precisely," she replied. "sir."
Ae nodded. "He does not look very strong."
He growled, which was a big mistake. Ae quickly had a knife at his throat, and he went deathly still, staring into aer eyes.
"I will make this quick and easy. Very straightforward, so you shall have no questions. Got it?" ae asked, but continued before he had a chance to answer aer question. "Either you step down and hand your army to me, and raise a white flag, and I might consider the possibility of letting you live, and perhaps a few of your choice, or you don't do the following, and your mouth meets this knife."
He hesitated, before sighing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Commander, but this must be done. There was never a chance of winning, we only prolonged it. Temporarily prevented it. And if we had just stepped down, you could still be alive.
"I will step down. Raise my white flag."
Ae smiled, though it was wicked, it had a bit of gratefulness. "Good, we do not need any more mess." Ae threw the knife at him, and he jumped, closing his eyes and preparing for impact. Though, it hit the wire connected to the tail, resulting with him falling to the ground.
He lay there, tired.
Cold talons gripped him. "Up," Icehawk gruffed.
"Icehawk, take care of him," the Commander commanded. 
"Sir, yes sir," Icehawk responded with a nod. She looked at him as the Commander walked away, vanishing into the trees. "Now, what exactly is your name?"
He looked into her eyes, her stunning . "My name? My name.."
"It is Thevren."
==Chapter 1==
Icy cold. Talon gripping. Blood splatters. Dragon screaming.
A wide golden eye burst awake, pupils narrowing to tiny slits. Just a dream. Another one of those strange dreams.
The Forcian War had been so long ago. She was used to blood, to violence, to death. So why was this sending cold sweat down her spine? She reached over sleepily, left talons resting on her wooden nightstand. Bleary eyes looked up, staring across the room, squinting to see the numbers.
7 o' clock in the morning. Wonderful. Any second now, a pesky mother would saunter through the door and shake her awake. Make her eat plain, dusty-tasting food, then ship her off with her sister to a bland school, where the teachers were like the simple machines, specifically the one that played music, just repeating what they were told in dull tones. They likely didn't enjoy their job. Who would? Teaching dragonets how to grow up to be failures, or, in their eyes, like everyone else. She was not dumb and blind like the rest. She could see through the mist clouding everyone's eyes. Maybe this line of thought should cease to exist, as she usually went down deeper, darker paths..
"Kleopatros. Are you awake or not?"
Kleo's head jerked up. I was just beginning my.. planning, her thoughts grumbled, interrupted by the creature that tried to be a mother. No, scratch that. It tried to be one of those dragons who managed jail. Kleo was a prisoner here, for the deities' sake! If only she could just get out-
"KLEO!" 
She sat up, growling and grumbling to herself. "I am coming, Garvos, calm down."
"Don't speak to your mother like that! You should ..."
She toned her mother out. This was average, the ramblings, the discipline. And it was all too annoying, all too nerve-biting. Kleo ripped the blanket off her, stretching her wings out and gaping her jaws in an enormous yawn, stepping off her bed, talons digging into the soft carpet beneath her feet. She walked lazily down the hallway, shoulder brushing the walls. All too familiar. She did this every morning. Will life ever be interesting? The same breakfast, oats and bread, shipped straight in from Ploshire. It tasted of dirt, and was salty from the sweat of dragons as they desperately plucked wheat from the fields. 
She made her way into the dining room. There Kardis was, wheedling to their mother. The only thing that was similar about the two was that they shared the same last name. Ugly family photos hung in the living room, reminding Kleo of the times where she had to fake smile in front of a camera. The fluffy sofa was very inviting, very... tempting. After messing around all night, on a school night, her body was begging her to just go sit down and rest. But she couldn't. Couldn't have a "mental health break day", had to go to school every day, even if she was bent over, sick and vomiting. That was just Garvos, "teaching her about the world". 
But was she? Kleo didn't think so. 
Her talons eventually stopped walking on the soft carpet, and transitioned to cold rock floors as the living room transitioned into the kitchen and dining room. As usual, it was crystal clean. Garvos was a housewife, so all she did was stay home and clean and cook... which meant Kleo had absolutely no breaks from her. She was like a living parasite in Kleo's side, the parasite that had laid her egg. She hated being related to this disgraced excuse of a dragon, it was shameful. Oh, but everyone loved Garvos, she was just soo kind. Well, she's not. She's an evil idiot with a brain the size of a peanut. 
Garvos wasn't the brightest, that's for sure. 
Kleo dug around in the drawer, pulling out a glass bowl and metal spoon, pouring a bowl of oats and water before sitting it down on the cooking fire, a small fire inside of a rock box. She sat down, curling her tail around her talons and closing her eyes, trying to get a little bit of rest. It was not long before talons tapped her shoulder. Repeatedly. Kleo's head snapped around, threatening to bite whatever was doing that- only to find her little sister, Kardis, annoying her. With those adorable puppy eyes, she could fool anyone. But Kleo knew that this thing was a devil in disguise. Of course, Kleo was one of the only ones who wasn't blinded by beliefs and loyalties, she had a mind of her own. 
She shifted impatiently. Could a dragon ever get a moment of peace around here? Garvos and Char were always chattering like sparrows. It was shocking, really. They had been married for 12 years, and they still had something to roar about. It was annoying. Kleo stood up, sighing and rubbing two talons on the bridge of her snout, before walking over to get her food. Her talons wrapped around it, before a blistering pain show through them. It was quite hot, her talons almost burnt. She quickly stumbled back to the dining table, quickly setting it down. Garvos and Kardis looked up at her with weird expressions. Kleo's ears flattened against her head, as her face contorted into a scowl. 
What's the point of even eating together? We're not all family. At least, I'm definitely not part of whatever chaos they've got going on. 
"Kleo, dear, remember your manners," Garvos said, forcing a smile, though beneath it, beneath the facade, lay a deep sense of hatred and anger. And Kleopatros could see right past it. 
It still hurt. It hurt knowing that this... foul creature, was supposed to be a mother. It loved its youngest dragonet, oh, it loved her very much. But when it came to the older, wiser dragonet, all that love accounted for absolutely nothing, rather revealing a side deeply hidden by the creature. 
"KLEO!" 
She jumped at the yelling, snapping back into the horrible place she called "reality." It appeared that she had been playing with her food, fork dabbling her plate experimentally. 
"At least eat properly this time, you have school soon, and I can't afford you being late-" 
Garvos abruptly cut off as Kleo threw her utensils away and dove into her food like a rabid raccoon. 
... 
Safe to say, it created a huge mess, which resulted in Kleo being late for school, which had been her entire goal. She was incredibly smug as she flew to school. However, her little sister, Kardis, was incredibly embarrased that Kleo was a "dirty pig", according to their mother. Can I even say "our"? It's not like Garvos could be considered by my- she cut that train of thought off. Enough self-pity for the day, enough about her mother. It was time to focus on the things that were actually important. And Garvos is not one of those things. A fat raindrop landed on Kleo's snout. She tipped her snout up. Good, good, I love rain. Something to get my mind off whatever the hell just happened. 
currently on hiatus, working on Entangled. will rework on after finishing entangled. 
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Genre (Adventure)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Content (Roach.png)