Anima (Pluto)

== PROLOGUE ==
Rain. Rain. More rain. The pale dragon was curled up in one of the few trees remaining in the Poison Jungle. His tail wove around one of the thick branches, dislodging a few chokecherries. Snowstorm knew he was out of place here-his bright, blue-white scales, his spiky body, and the feeling of wrongness that surrounded him. Like he wasn't supposed to be here.
This feeling only grew stronger as Snowstorm saw flashes of more spines and light scales. Commander Blizzard, he thought as his heart dropped. The tall, muscular IceWing was talking to a LeafWing farmer. He couldn't hear much, but he heard "traitor", "runaway", and "execution". I can't go back, he realized. I'll never be able to go home.
Perhaps that was for the best.
Perhaps I will be able to see my dragonet.
Perhaps I will be able to see Laelia again.
At the same time, a SilkWing servant had her tail curled protectively around her egg. Lady Mantis had said she "would take care of it" for her when it hatched so she "didn't have to take any time off caring for it", but she was sure that meant "I will break your egg to see the deformed fetus inside to study it." Laelia instinctively gave the pale pink egg a kiss on its delicate shell. The dragonet in the egg wriggled. Oh! Are nine-month old eggs supposed to do that? "Are you going to be male? Or female?" she wondered aloud, weighing the list of names her and Snowstorm had thought of. Snowstorm... Her claw brushed the top gently,
The egg wriggled again. A splinter ran across the top of the shell. "Nonono! Get back in there! You can't hatch yet!" You're not due to hatch for another three months! She gave a stern (hopefully stern) look at the egg. As if it was already an older dragonet in their rebellious years. "Please stop that! You're too little!" she begged.
It kept splintering, tiny claws visible as they scraped at the shell. Laelia rubbed her temples. "Please, little butterfly-please stay in there! You're too little!" Apparently, the dragonet didn't get the memo, because it finally crested its-no, her-head out of the egg. Laelia gasped slightly. "Oh, you're such a pretty little thing," she cooed, helping it out of the remaining shell, forgetting about the panic she had just felt. The dragonet inside looked healthy-three months wasn't that premature, right? Soft, cold, pale pink scales rubbed up against her own pale greens. No IceWing spikes. No cold breath. Maybe we can keep it a secret, Maybe you'll be safe, little Psyche.
== CHAPTER ONE ==
Psyche sneezed quietly. She flinched, her mother flinching at the same time as her. “Try and hold it back, please?” Mother whispered gently. The dragonet nodded, sighing. “Of course, Mother.” She scratched the familiar scar on her wrist, which had been there as long as she’d remembered. Psyche traced her pale pink claw over the curved S. She had asked her mother hundreds of times who this mysterious “S” was, but Laelia had always said some variation of “He was a good dragon. He had to go off and fight.” Psyche had always been puzzled by that-SIlkWings weren’t fighters. They were minor artisans and servants, the background characters. Not heroes.
Rubbing her wrist, Psyche followed after her mother. Psyche, while only five, had her whole life planned out. Go through Metamorphosis, start working for real in Lady Mantis’ palace, maybe find a partner and have eggs, then keep working until death. A boring existence, sure, but a peaceful one. Nothing special, but nothing scary. No rewards, but no risks. Laelia looked back at her. “Come along, sweetie?” Mother often phrased things like questions to get her to listen. Psyche wasn’t quite sure why-she was always obedient. Always followed the rules, no matter how strange they seemed.
Laelia held gently onto her wrist, which the dragonet barely noticed. “Huh-oh.” Mother smiled softly. “Okay, Psyche. I’m going to show you how to correctly clean the plates.” Psyche nodded. “Okay.” She hated being on dish duty-wet food stuck to her claws made her want to cry. The other servants’ dragonets teased her about being so sensitive and such a crybaby, which only made her cry harder. As if sensing Psyche’s disgust at the prospect of wet food and crying, Laelia tilted her head. “Maybe today we can take a break instead. Would you like that? To take…a little adventure!” she said enthusiastically. Psyche thought for a moment. “Sure. That’d be fun!” Psyche replied, trying to match her mother’s tone. “Where? Which Hive?” “It’ll be a surprise,” Laelia explained with a grin. “Let me just talk to the Lady. Go to the library, please.”
Psyche, always obedient, followed Mother’s instructions. Lady Mantis’ library was a sight to behold-oak wood paneling the walls, intricate carvings shaped like insects, and hundreds, probably thousands, of books. Psyche wasn’t much of a reader, but she did love the delicate encyclopedias. Sitting in the library (which was usually empty) was another dragonet. The curve of his pale red-pink back was patterned with layered, dusty diamonds. Oh! She realized the dragonet wasn’t a SilkWing, too-he was a HiveWing. Is that…Lady Mantis’ son? Psyche had heard that the Lady’s son was…strange-looking. He’s so pale…almost as pale as I am. He turned his head. “Oh-hello!” The HiveWing smiled brightly. His eyes were blood-red. Albinism? she thought. That’s what it’s called, right? He tilted his head to the side. “Hello? Anyone home?” he laughed, getting up from the nest of pillows he’d made.
Psyche froze. WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo??? She smiled awkwardly back and bowed her head. “H-hello, sir.” Moons, I hope I’m doing this right. She’d never interacted with any royalty, let alone the SON of her FUTURE BOSS. “I’m Flicker,” he said. “Who’re you?” "P-Psyche."
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Genre (Adventure)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Genre (Mystery)
Category:Content (.planetarypluto.)