I Thought You Were My Brother

This fanfiction is based around the Wings of Fire series, written by Tui T. Sutherland and published/owned by Scholastic Press, USA. All canon characters are from the series, and all fanon characters are a work of fiction.
You may NOT use ANY content from this fanfiction without the author's permission.
However, feel free to edit any and all grammatical errors you notice.
==Author's Note==
The following story contains violence and depressing content. Please do NOT read this unless you are mature enough to handle it.
And as a heads-up...
*Spéir is Irish for "Sky"
*Falsarju means "Forger" in - I believe, but I'm not sure - Maltese
*Berkut is Russian for "Golden Eagle"
*and I totally forgot Nebo, but it's something along the lines of "sky" or "bird".
Click here to read the sequel.
==I Thought You Were My Brother...==
"Spéir!" You're here!" Falsarju rushed to meet his brother as he ascended through the misty, welcoming clouds. Falsarju tackled Spéir mid-flight, leaving their parents to watch a happy tangle of wings.
"I never thought I'd make it here," Spéir panted. "After all I've done... you're forgiving me?"
Falsarju's smile told the whole story. No matter what, he'd always forgive his brother, even after that fateful day.
Thunder crashed through the sky, making each of the twenty-some SkyWings flinch in surprise. They were on full alert; there was no room for error. This may be their only chance to take out the SeaWings. This particular patrol was flying as an escort; their job was to make sure that the supplies and the attackers reached the target safely. Spéir and Falsarju looked around, watching the MudWings out of the corner of their flaming yellow eyes. Both brothers knew that if this mission ended successfully, then they could return home.
"I've got you now!" Spéir squealed with delight as he tackled his brother. They rolled down the grassy hill in a tangle of happiness and joy as their mother and father watched over them.
"You'll never get me alive!" Flasarju yelled as he broke free from his older brother's grasp and took off. The wind tugged at his wings, inviting him into the sky.
"I can't believe dragonets have this much energy," Berkut whispered to his mate, Nebo. "They've been playing like this all day."
Nebo snorted a small plume of flame in amusement. "I hear the army's recruiting," she said.
Berkut gaped at her in surprise. "You can't be serious! Sure, they have a lot of energy, but-"
"They'll be fine. Besides, the two have always been there for the other." Berkut took this into consideration. They would be fine, but what if... "It'll be alright," his mate beamed. "And it's not like they'd make good hunters or subjects. How else would they serve our tribe?"
"Plenty of ways. They could join the breeding program, patrol the borders-" Berkut started, but Nebo laughed.
"All of those are a part of the army."
"Right. Well, they could become architects or constructors-"
"Our sons? Architects and construction workers? Ha! That'll turn out swell!"
"Fine." A thin, stray trail of smoke rose from Berkut's nostrils as he agreed to Nebo's plans. In the distance, they could hear their two dragonets yelling as Spéir victoriously grabbed Falsarju's tail.
"They'll be fine."
"Spéir! We're losing our cover!" Falsarju yelled at his brother. The storm clouds were long gone. The patrol was in plain sight.
"Right!" his brother responded. Spéir turned his head to the lead SkyWing and shouted, "Sir! We've lost our cover!" The red SkyWing nodded in agreement and tipped his wings toward the sky, planning to fly so far above the SeaWings' heads that they wouldn't notice the oncoming attack. They were still several miles away from their target, but only the three moons knew how many SeaWing patrols would be prowling around now that the storm was gone.
The group ascended into the sky, a thick cover of clouds obscuring them. The only thing that kept them from separating from each other was the faint glow of their eyes.
"What?" Spéir gasped.
"What do you mean?!" Falsarju finished, gaping at his parents.
"Come on. We have no time to waste." Berkut said, nodding his head toward the sky.
"But I don't want to!" Spéir and Falsarju said in unison.
"I'm sorry, but it's either this or being a servant." Nebo retorted.
"Same thing." Spéir said under his breath.
   
"Whose genius idea was this, anyway?" Falsarju snarled.
"Queen Scarlet has offered great rewards to those who join the army," Berkut said. "And our family needs it. It's not like your mother and I can do it." Nebo released a small jet of fire from her mouth in agreement as the two young dragons rolled their sunset-tinted eyes.
"Besides, we want to support our side of the war." Nebo added. Flasarju nodded in agreement and defeat.
"Speak for yourself..." Spéir said, but nobody heard him.
"Spéir! Alert the MudWings and start the attack! We've been spotted!" Spéir snapped out of his daze and yanked his head towards Falsarju, the source of the voice. He immediately nodded and banked to the left, heading toward the lead patrol and the MudWings. Spéir's frantic appearance had caught the attention of General Vulcan, who easily read the message. He flicked his tail, ordering the attack on the Summer Palace of the Sea to commence.
Falsarju easily blocked his older brother's kick. Spéir clawed at him, but he grabbed his talons before they raked across his neck. Spéir frowned in surprise, but recovered faster than one might think. He threw his tail and slugged his younger brother on his back, making the scarlet dragon give a small roar of pain.
General Vulcan continued to watch the two fiery dragons scuffle. They were swift and great fighters, and they quickly learned the other's moves, forcing them to try new tactics. Spéir and Falasrju also seemed to support each other and push each other to the finish line. It was like they depended on each other.
Falsarju swooped down to a MudWing and nodded his head. The MudWing understood, handing him a large tree log. Three moons, this weighs a ton, he thought. But it's worth it. It's for our tribe. For my brother. He held the log in his front talons and lit it on fire with a controlled surge of fire, remembering the revenge he'd sworn he'd receive from Blister's alliance. He then beat his wings like his life depended on it, flying over the target island as a high-speed pass. Then he dropped the first log.
Falsarju hit the SeaWing's head so hard that he dropped dead. He then turned to claw at an enemy SandWing that had scarcely missed Falsarju with his barbed tail. The SkyWing kicked the SandWing in the gut, knocking the breath out of him. He then seized the pale dragon's head, breathing a monstrous amount of fire on his face. The charred SandWing fell to the ground the same time Falsarju's brother screamed, the sound of agony bouncing off the ground and into the sky.
The SkyWing whipped around to see Spéir fifty meters away, pinned down by a SeaWing and being clawed violently by a SandWing. Why don't they just kill him, if that's what they want? Falsarju thought as he roared in anger and hurt. He rushed towards his dying brother, adrenaline pumping through his veins like his blood was solely made of it. It's like they want him to suffer. Falsarju grabbed the left wing of the SandWing and ripped it off like he was tearing a scroll. The SandWing howled as the SeaWing that had pinned Spéir leaped off of him and slammed into the attacking SkyWing.
A large, red SkyWing flew overhead, having just killed five SeaWings. She noticed the two injured SkyWings and the oncoming SandWings. She dove towards them, blasting an inferno of fire at the enemy reinforcements. Falsarju gaped at her for a moment, but then remembered a more pressing matter. He threw the SeaWing off of him, knocking the blue dragon into the original SandWing. He then rushed to his brother's aid, who had fallen unconscious from the pain that he had suffered.
Falsarju grabbed Spéir's head in his talons, tears threatening to leak. "No, no, no, no, no....." he mumbled, torn and shaking from the shock. "No! Spéir! You can't! Don't leave me!" Falsarju had buried his head into his brother's bleeding neck and was sobbing like it was a profession. He completely ignored the red SkyWing that had held off all of those SandWings, and she was now finishing off the SeaWing and the SandWing. He continued to cry, shaking his brother and looking for signs of life.
"Well, don't just stand there! Return to battle, soldier! I'll get this dragon to the infirmary!" the SkyWing yelled, shoving Falsarju out of her way. She lifted the smaller SkyWing like he weighed nothing and took to the sky. Falsarju watched her disappear into the sky before taking out his pain on the next enemy soldier he saw.
Falsarju swooped around and approached another MudWing, grabbing a log and setting it ablaze. He flew around and dropped it onto the canopy, catching a glitter of black out of the sea of blues and greens. SeaWings were pouring out of the palace like blood. Falsarju noticed a young SeaWing dragonet who had just downed a full grown SkyWing. Next to her was a small, amber-brown MudWing, a small, golden dragon that he couldn't determine, a NightWing, of all dragons!, and a green SkyWing. Wait... was that a SkyWing? He squinted to get a better look. Before he could identify the dragon, a SeaWing dove from behind, latching his talons onto Falsarju's neck.
"Spéir, can you believe it?" Falsarju asked his brother excitedly.
"Believe what?" Spéir replied, turning his attention to his younger kin.
"General Vulcan says that he expects the war to end soon!"
"Wow, really?" Spéir was suddenly interested, his face lighting up in joy. Would they finally be safe?
"Yes! Blaze's forces are dwindling, and with the combined force of the MudWings and the SandWings, we could easily destroy the SeaWings! He says it'll only be another year at the most!"
"Oh..." Spéir sighed, drooping his head. Why couldn't this war just end peacefully? Why couldn't they just go home and live happily?Every time they were on the battlefield, he feared for his younger brother's life. He did everything he could to protect him. That's how he ended up in the infirmary in the last battle. He was protecting his brother.
Unfortunately, all of this stress was having a negative effect on him. His worry was turning to hate. His protective instinct was turning to murderous desire. He just-
"Brother? Aren't you... happy? Is there something wrong?" Falsarju asked, titling his head.
"No," Spéir answered. "I'm fine."
Falsarju roared, thrashing violently. Two more SeaWing approached, managing to hold the large and powerful SkyWing under their control. They clawed at him as he blew fire in all directions, managing to throw one of his attackers off of him. He continued his thrashing, biting at the SeaWings as they bit at him. Spéir noticed his brother's agony, and something inside of him snapped. How dare they harm the one he loved? How dare they put him through more pain than necessary?   
Spéir was plain tired of the war. Tired of the fighting. Tired of not being able to see his parents. Why were they following Burn? She just fought and fought and fought... just, why? Why?
General Vulcan had called Spéir and Falsarju to the main conference room. He said that he had something important to tell the two brothers. Spéir walked along the stone cave floor, tail dragging behind him. Falsarju peaked his head out of a nearby cave entrance, face lighting up upon the sight of his older brother. He waved his talons at him, calling him over. Spéir hastily followed, walking into a large cavern. The two brothers stood side-by-side as General Vulcan hailed before them, coughing a spurt of fire.
"Soldiers, I have news for you." He finally said. What could it be? Spéir started to wonder. An end to the war? Not likely, as he would be telling a crowd of soldiers. Are we... going home? Hope filled him as the thought reached him. "We have been informed that.... your parents were.... among the casualties of the invasion. I am truly and deeply sorry." He lowered his eyes and looked at the two brothers, who were silenced in shock. Falsarju started shaking, but the general's words seemed to bring rage into Spéir.
Falsarju began crying, but smoke spilled from Spéir's nostrils. He growled softly, the smoke gathering around his horns.
"Brother?" Falsarju whimpered between sobs. Spéir ignored him. He roared, storming out of the room without dismissal. General Vulcan watched his fiery tail disappear, feeling empathy for the soldier. After all, the same thing had happened to him.
Spéir roared in anger, attacking the two SeaWings with no mercy. He latched onto one, throwing him off with one quick motion. He then clamped his jaws on the other's wing, pulling it out of its socket. The green SeaWing screamed as he clawed mindlessly at his attacker. Spéir smirked as he grabbed the SeaWing's head in one talon, putting his claws on the SeaWing's neck. In one quick movement, he decapitated the fearful sea dragon, letting him fall the the ocean below. Falsarju flapped his wings, recovering from all that had unfolded before him. To his utter horror, Spéir turned to face him.
Spéir flew as fast as he could.  He flew and flew and flew until his wings gave out at the valley he used to prance around in as a dragonet. He remembered such times. The times before the war, before his worrying. The valley was not its lush, beautiful self anymore. It was scorched to the root, rivers of ice and blood everywhere. Spéir landed in plain sight, looking around. He broke down and cried the tears that he had been holding for fifteen years.
"Why?" He shouted, his sobbing getting the best of him. "WHY? Why them? Why couldn't... why.... it's not true...." He fell to his knees, the wind tearing at his wings. Nothing seemed friendly anymore. The wind that once played with him was now trying to destroy him. Was this all that the world was good for? Was there any good left? "Falsarju.... I can't protect you.... Where? Where will you be safe? When will you be safe? Is there... any-anything within my power.... how can I save you?"
And that was when it hit him. "Mother and father are safe from this war now. Falsarju.... I know where you'll be safe. You'll be safe with mother.... with father.... without this war."
"Brother!" Falsarju yelled, forgetting the fear that had just filled him. "Are you alright?" He flew to Spéir, inspecting him for injuries. "Oh, thank the moons you're-"
"No." Spéir snarled, interrupting his brother.
"What?" Falsarju asked, taken aback.
"I'm not alright."
"Oh, you're hurt? Where? I'm sure we can take you to-"
"No. It's not..." The time bomb inside of Spéir was ticking. Its fuse had been lighted. He began to sob, tears pouring down his rusty scales. He clutched his face in his talons, refusing to let his brother see him cry.
"Spéir? It's okay..." Falsarju cooed, reaching his talons out to his brother.
"Yeah, you're right..." his brother whispered. "It will be alright!"
"Hmm?" Falsarju mumbled, quickly drawing his talons away. Spéir removed his bloody talons from his face, revealing his eyes. He was bleeding from where his claws had dug into his scales. Tears streaked everywhere. But what scared Falsarju the most was the homicidal glint in his brother's flaming eyes. "No, no! Spéir!" he shouted in shock. What's wrong with you? Could it be...?
"No... don't you know my name? Call me Brother! Yes..." Spéir said insanely. He grabbed his brother's shoulders, whose jaw was quivering in fear. "Come on, little brother! Say my name! You'll be safe!"
The sounds of the battle forging around the two brothers finally reached Falsarju's ears. He shook his head violently, trying to free himself and his brother's mind. What has come to you? What could have possibly possessed you? "No! We have a battle to fight! A queen to serve! A war to win!" He continued thrashing in his brother's grip, but Spéir was too strong.
"That doesn't matter! As long as you are safe!" Spéir snarled, slamming his tail onto Falsarju like a SeaWing. The younger brother fell to the sea, but his brother caught him. Spéir slashed at him, extreme amounts of blood pouring everywhere. He tore up his wings, causing him to cry in agony.
"Spéir! What's wrong with you! Why are you doing this! Stop!" Falsarju cried, but to no avail.
"This is for you, brother!" Spéir replied, kicked his brother towards the ocean. Falsarju reached his talons out to his brother, who hovered above him.
"No! Don't do this!" he wailed, watching the flames gather around Spéir's mouth. Thunder flashed in the sky as the older brother breathed an inferno of blazing fire at Falsarju. It burnt his skin, pushing him towards the malevolent waves below. He crashed into the ocean with an amazing splash, washing his blood away. However, it was all in vain.
Spéir clawed at Falsarju, staining the sea the color of a SkyWing's scales. "Don't you know... how much I've been worrying? I only want for you to be safe! With mother and father!" He tore up his wings even more, removing the previous surface tension that had allowed Falsarju to float.
Falsarju's midsection sank first, his limbs stretched out to keep him afloat for as long as possible. The younger SkyWing coughed up seawater and blood, finally looking into his brother's eyes. "Brother..." he whispered, catching Spéir's attention. He sank further and further, the Kingdom of the Sea claiming the fallen SkyWing soldier, dubbing him an eternal prisoner of war. Falsarju managed to say one last thing before the greedy claws of the ocean hauled him beneath the unforgiving waves.
"I thought you were my brother."
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Mature Content