The Dragonet Prophecy (But With Fantribes)

The Dragonet Prophecy is a well-known and beloved book.
But what if the dragonets in the prophecy were from official fantribes?
Most of this writing is by Tui T. Sutherland, with significant changes by me.
Fantribes belong to their respective owners, if any owners of the fantribes used in this book take issue with this, please inform me and I will remove your fantribe from the book.
== The Dragonet Prophecy ==
When the war has lasted 20 years,
The Dragonets will come.
When the land is soaked in blood and tears,
The Dragonets will come.
Find the DriftWing egg of deepest blue,
Wings of Death shall come to you,
The largest egg in mountains apprenticed
Will give to you the Wings of Tempest.
For Wings of Mortar, search through the grass,
For a red egg belonging to the Roach Class.
And hidden alone from the rival queens,
The LightWing egg awaits, unseen.
Of three queens who blister, blaze, and burn,
Two shall die, and one shall learn,
If she bows to the fate which is stronger and higher,
She’ll have the power of Wings of Fire.
Five eggs to hatch, on brightest night,
Five dragons born, to end the fight,
Darkness shall rise to bring the light,
The dragonets are coming…
== Prologue ==
A dragon was trying to hide in the storm.
Lightning flickered across the dark clouds. Hvitur clutched his fragile cargo closer. If he could make it over the mountains, he’d be safe. He’d escaped the tempest dragons’ palace unseen and made it safely into the Sky Kingdom. And the secret cave was so close. . . .
But his theft had not been as stealthy as he thought, and eyes as black as obsidian were already tracking him from below.
The enormous dragon on the mountain ledge had pale gold scales that radiated heat like a desert horizon. Her black eyes narrowed, watching the gleam of silver wings far up in the clouds.
She flicked her tail, and behind her two more dragons rose to the sky and dove into the heart of the storm. A piercing shriek echoed off the mountains as their talons seized the moons-pale ice dragon.
”Bind his mouth,” the waiting dragon ordered as her soldiers dropped Hvitur on the slick, wet ledge in front of her. He was already inhaling, ready to attack. “Quickly!”
One of the soldiers grabbed a chain from the pile of smoldering coals. He threw it around the ice dragon’s snout, claiming his jaws together with a sizzling smell of burning scales. Hvitur let out a muffled scream.
”Too late.” The sand dragon’s forked tongue slithered in and out of her mouth. “You won’t be using your freezing-death breath on us, IceWing.”
”He was carrying this, Queen Burn,” said one of the soldiers, handing her a dragon egg.
Burn squinted at the egg through the downpour. “This is not an IceWing egg,” she hissed. “You stole this from the TempestWing capitol.”
The IceWing stared back at her. Hissing steam circled his snout where the hot chains met cold silver scales.
”You thought you got away unnoticed, didn’t you?” Burn said. “My TempestWing ally is not a fool. Queen Nightshade knows everything that happens in her kingdom. Her lookouts reported an IceWing thief sneaking away, and I decided finding you might add some violence to my visit.”
Burn held the large egg up to the light of the fire and turned it slowly. Purple and gray shimmered below the pale, smooth surface.
”Yes. This is a TempestWing egg about to hatch,” Burn mused. “Why would my sister send you to steal a TempestWing dragonet? Blaze hates any dragon younger or prettier than she is.” She thought for a moment as rain drummed on the edge around them. “Unless. . . The brightest night is tomorrow. . . .”
Her tail flicked up like a scorpion’s, the poisonous barb inches from Hvitur’s eyes. “You’re not in Blaze’s army, are you? You’re one of those insipid underground peacemongers.”
”The Talons of Peace?” Said one of the soldiers. “You mean they’re real?”
Burn snorted. “A few worms crying over a little blood. Unwrap his chains. He won’t be able to freeze us until his scales cool down.” The enormous sand dragon leaned closer as her soldier pulled the chain away. “Tell me, IceWing, do you really believe in that pompous old NightWing’s prophecy?”
”Haven’t enough dragons died for your war?” Snarled Hvitur, wincing at the pain in his jaws. “All of Pyrrhia has suffered for the last twelve years. The prophecy says—“
”I don’t care. No prophecy decided what happens to me,” Burn interrupted. “I’m not letting a bunch of words or baby dragons choose when I die or what I bow to. We can have peace when my sisters are dead and I am the queen of the SandWings.” Her venomous tail dipped closer to the silver dragon.
Rain pattered on Hvitur’s scales. He glared up at her. “The dragonets are coming, whether you like it or not, and they’ll choose who the next SandWing queen should be.”
”Really?” Burn stepped back and turned the egg slowly in her talons. Her forked tongue slipped in and out of her smile. “So, IceWing. Is this egg a part of your pathetic prophecy?”
Hvitur went still.
Burn tapped lighting on the eggshell with one long talon. “Hello?” She called. “Is there a dragonet of destiny in there? Ready to come out and end this big bad war?”
”Leave it alone,” Hvitur choked out.
”Tell me,” Burn said, “what becomes of your precious prophecy . . . If one of the five dragonets is never hatched at all?”
”You wouldn’t,” he said. “No one would harm a dragon egg.” His blue eyes were fixed desperately on her talons.
”No ‘wings of tempest’ to help save the world,” Burn said. “What a sad, sad story.” She began tossing the egg from one front talon to the other. “I guess that means you should be very, very careful with this terribly important little — oops!”
With an exaggerated lunge, Burn pretended the wet egg was slipping through her talons . . .and then she let it fall over the side of the cliff into the rocky darkness below.
”No!” Hvitur shrieked. He threw off the two soldiers and flung himself toward the egg. Burn slammed her massive claws down on his neck.
”So much for destiny,” she smirked. “So much for your tragic little movement.”
”You’re a monster,” the IceWing gasped, writhing under her talons. His voice cracked with despair. “We’ll never give up. The dragonets— the dragonets will come and stop this war.”
Burn leaned down to hiss into his ear. “Even if they do— it’ll be far too late for you.” Her claws ripped through the silver dragon’s wings, shredding them as Hvitur shrieked in agony. With a swift movement, she stabbed her poisonous tail through his skull and flung the long, silver body off the side of the cliff.
The ice dragon’s screams were cut off long before the echos of his corpse slamming into the rocks below.
The SandWing turned her black eyes to her soldiers. “Perfect,” she said. “That should be the last we hear about that stupid prophecy.” She held out her talons so the rain could wash away the glistening dragon blood. “Let’s go find something else to kill.”
The three dragons spread their wings and lifted off int the dark clouds.
Some time later, far below, a large dragon the color of rust crawled over the rocks to the broken body of the ice dragon. She nudged his tail aside and lifted a shard of eggshell from underneath it, then slipped back into the labyrinth of caves under the cliffs.
Stone walls brushed against her wings. She breathed out a plume of flame to light her way along the dark passage, deep into the mountain.
”I stand with the Talons of Peace,” hissed a voice in the shadows. “Kestrel? Is that you?”
”We await the wings of fire,” answered the red dragon. A blue-green SeaWing emerged from a side cave, and she tossed the eggshell at his feet. “Not that it’ll do us much good now,” she snarled. “Hvitur is dead.”
The SeaWing stared at the eggshell. “But- the TempestWing egg—“
”Broken,” she said. “Gone. It’s over, Webs.”
“It can’t be,” he said. “Tomorrow is the brightest night. The three moons will all be full for the first time in a century. The dragonets of the prophecy have to hatch tomorrow.”
”Well, one of them is already dead,” Kestrel said. Rage flickered in her eyes. “I knew I should’ve stolen the TempestWing egg myself. I know the Sky Kingdom, and that’s where they found Hvitur. They wouldn’t have caught me a second time.”
Webs grimaced, scratching one claw over the gills along his neck. “Asha-Hearth is dead, too.”
”Asha-Hearth?” A spurt of flame shot from Kestrel’s nose. “How?”
”Caught in a battle between Blister and Burn’s forces on the way here. She still made it with the MortarWings egg, from the Roach Ban, but she died of her wounds soon after.”
“So it’s just you, me, and Dune to raise the little worms,” Kestrel growled. “For a prophecy that can never be fulfilled. Let’s break the cursed eggs now and be done with it. We’ll be long gone before the Talons of Peace return for the dragonets.”
”No!” Webs hissed “Keeping the dragonets alive for the next eight years is more important than anything. If you don’t want to be a part of that—“
”All right, enough,” Kestrel snapped. “I’m the strongest dragon in the Talons of Peace. You need me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about nasty little dragonets.” She eyed the eggshell on the floor, rubbing her scarred palms together. “Although I thought at least one of them would be a TempestWing.”
”I’ll find us a fifth dragonet.” Webs pushed past her, scales scraping against rock.
”There’s no way back into the Sky or Tempest Kingdoms, brainless,” she said. “They’ll be guarding the hatchery closely now.”
”Then I’ll get an egg somewhere else,” he said grimly. “Like the AviWings. I could take one from the Kingdom of Feather.”
”Of all the horrible ideas,” Kestrel said with a shudder. “AviWings are wretched creatures. Nothing like SkyWings.”
”We have to do something,” Webs said. He hissed as his tail sent the eggshell skittering across the floor. “In eight years, the Talons of Peace will come looking for five dragonets. The prophecy says five, and we’re going to make it come true . . . Whatever it takes.”
== Part One: Under the Mountain ==
Six Years later…
== Chapter 1 ==
Puma-Rock didn’t think he was the right dragon for a Big Heroic Destiny.
Oh, he wanted to be. He wanted to be the great MortarWing savior of the dragon world, glorious and brave. He wanted to do all the wonderful things expected of him. He wanted to look at the world, figure out what was broken, and fix it.
But he wasn’t a natural-hatched hero. He had no legendary qualities at all. He liked sleeping more than studying, and he kept losing chickens in the caves during hunting practice because he was paying attention to his friends instead of watching for feathers.
He was all right at fighting. But “all right” wasn’t going to stop the war and save the dragon tribes. He needed to be extraordinary. He was the biggest dragonet, so he was supposed to be the scary, tough one. The minders wanted him to be terrifyingly dangerous.
Puma-Rock felt about as dangerous as cauliflower.
”Fight!” His attacker howled, flinging him across the cavern. Puma-Rock crashed into the rock wall and scrambled up again, trying to spread his dark brown wings for balance. Red talons raked at his face and he ducked away. “Come on,” the red dragon snarled. “Stop holding back. Find the killer inside of you and let it out.”
”I’m trying!” Puma-Rock said. “Maybe if we could stop and talk about it—“
She lunged for him again. “Feint to the left! Roll right! Use your horns!” Puma-Rock tried to duck under his wing to attack her from below, but of course he rolled the wrong way. One of her talons smashed him to the ground, and he yelped with pain. 
“WHICH LEFT WAS THAT, USELESS?” Kestrel bellowed in his ear. “Are all MortarWings this stupid? Or ARE YOU JUST DEAF?”
Well, if you keep that up, I will be soon, Puma-Rock thought. The SkyWing lifted her claws and he wriggled free, his thick fur catching on the sharp rocks.
”I don’t know about other MortarWings,” he protested, licking his sore talons. “Obviously. But perhaps we could try fighting without all the shouting and see—“ he stopped, hearing the familiar hiss that came before one of Kestrel’s fire attacks.
He threw his wings over his head, tucked his long neck in, and rolled into the maze of stalagmites that studded one corner of the cave. Flames blasted the rocks around him, singing the tip of his tail.
”Coward!” The older dragon bellowed. She smashed one of the rock columns into a shower of sharp black pebbles. Puma-Rock covered his eyes and almost immediately felt her stamp down hard on his tail.
”OW!” He yelled. “You said stomping tails was cheating!” He seized the closest stalagmite between his claws and scrambled up on top of it. From his perch near the roof, he glared down at his guardian.
”I’m your teacher,” Kestrel snarled. “Nothing I do is cheating. Get down here and fight like a SkyWing.”
But I’m NOT a SkyWing, Puma-Roc thought rebelliously. I’m a MortarWing! I don’t like setting things on fire or flapping around in circles biting at dragon necks. His teeth still ached from Kestrel’s jewel-hard scales.
”Can’t I fight one of the others?” He asked. “I’m much better at that.” The other dragonets were his own size (nearly), and they didn’t cheat (well, most of the time). He actually liked fighting with them.
”Oh, yes? Which opponent would you prefer, the stunted LightWing or the lazy AviWing?” Kestrel said. “Because I’m sure you’ll get to choose on the battlefield.” Her tail glowed like embers as she lashed it back and forth.
”Harp isn’t lazy,” Puma-Rock said loyally. “She’s just not built for fighting, that’s all. Webs says there’s not much to fight for in the Kingdom of Feather, and AviWings don’t like fighting which is why they stay out of the war-“
”STOP YAMMERING AND GET DOWN HERE!” Kestrel roared. She reared up on her back legs and flared her wings so she suddenly looked three times bigger.
With a yelp of alarm, Puma-Rock tried to leap to the next stalagmite, but his wings unfurled too slowly and he smacked into the side of it instead. Sparks flew as his claws scraped down the jagged rock. He let out another yowl of pain as Kestrel snaked her head between the columns, seized his tail in her teeth, and yanked him out into the open.
Her talons closed around his neck as she hissed in his ear. “Where’s the violent little monster I saw when you hatched? That’s the dragon we need for the prophecy.”
”Gawp,” Puma-Rock squawked, clawing at her grip. He could feel the strange burn scars on her palms scraping against his scales.
This was how battle training with Kestrel always ended— with him unconscious and then sore or limping for days afterward. Fight back, he thought. Get mad! Do something! But although he was the biggest of the dragonets, they were still a year away from being full grown, and Kestrel towered over him.
He tried to summon some helpful violent rage, but all he could think was, It’ll be over soon, and then I can go have dinner.
So, not the most heroic train of thought.
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Content (TheSilkWingCakes)
Category:Alternate Universes
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Genre (Adventure)