Sparks on the Water

==Chapter one.==
I’m hiding in the palace’s kitchen cupboards again. 
I know to keep one clean for myself by now, for during the parties, when the royal dragons come around and I run off. It’s routine, as this always happens whenever there’s a celebration, especially when Blister shows up as she did this evening. I’ve always told Mother that it’s a waste of resources to drape me in pearls and silver, just for me to cower in a cupboard, but of course she’ll never listen.
“Zaffre, you know how much it pleases Queen Coral to see the palace dragonets with all of their best jewelry on, so be quiet and stand still” she chastises me every time I bring it up. Her logic is foolish, though, as I’ve always pointed out, since I doubt Queen Coral has ever seen me. Not that she’d be interested. The dragonets of minor nobles are like dirt to her.
I crack open the door of the cupboard and look out into the kitchens. There’s SeaWings everywhere, dashing about with pots and pans laden with every kind of seafood you can imagine. I assume that all of this must be in honor of Princess Blister, or Queen Blister as we are all ordered to call her. Orders are being barked all over the place, and no dragon stands still long enough to notice me. 
These are Mother’s employees, the ones she manages in order to earn money. I wish she would stop blowing all of her wages on useless pearl necklaces for her reclusive daughter, but she ignores my attempts at reason and insists on giving me jewelry, while neglecting me in every other possible way. 
I hardly ever leave our cave, except for going to school, which is horrible. My grades are mediocre, every other six-year-old dragonet hates me, and the teachers insist on treating me differently because they’re convinced there’s something wrong with me. They figure that there must be a reason why I never talk and get bad marks. There must be an explanation for why I’m so small, weak and generally useless. It might also explain why I hide in cupboards at fancy parties instead of conversing with royalty.
But I don’t think I need to be explained, labeled or treated differently than the other dragonets. I wish they would leave me alone.
Outside, the kitchen staff have gone into overdrive, bellowing and whirling knives and being chaotically terrifying. Closing the door silently, I curl back against the cupboard wall, staring into the darkness and waiting for my night vision to adjust. I don’t know how long I sit this way before sleep takes me.
I awake into silence. Startled, I freeze, but soon I realize that I must have fallen asleep, and the party is long over. Tentatively, I push open the cupboard door, peering into the dim kitchen. It is deserted, clean of any mess, with no sign of the evening’s chaos. Stepping out of my cupboard and onto the smooth tiled floor, I try to estimate how much time had passed. The palace is as silent as death, and not a single dragon breath save for my own stirs the air. Creeping across the kitchen level, I stare down into the depths of the Summer Palace, watching the stagnant water and contemplating the merits of returning home tonight.
Mother did not think to wake me after the party ended, but of course that’s no surprise. I doubt she’d notice if I slept here until dawn and simply went to school in the morning. I shake my head to rid it of these disloyal thoughts, and with a heavy heart, I resign myself to the gut-wrenching dive into the waver far below me.
Diving into the black depths, I swim towards the door in the wall which leads to the cave I share with my mother. Entering silently, I perk my ears and assess my situation.
Bubbles are rising from my mother’s sleeping area, which is separated from the rest of the cave via a seaweed curtain which doesn’t quite reach the ceiling. Swimming silently, or as best as I can manage, I poke my snout through a gap in the sheet. My eyes skim over my mother’s cobalt form and land on the figure of the SeaWing beside her.
My father lies beside Mother, his navy-blue scales rippling as he draws in a breath. Heart jumping about in my chest, I sit back heavily, almost knocking over a vase in the process.
Father was always the caring one, his interest in me standing in stark contrast to Mother’s cold indifference about her daughter. On the rare mornings when he was home, Father would feed me, make sure I was ready for school, and send me off with a hug. But, for most of my life, his job in the army took up his time, the only sign of my father coming home in the form of paychecks. Mother says that he’s hardly ever been home since the war began.
Leaving Father to sleep in peace, I swim over to the corner of the cave which houses my seaweed-bed. I coil on the comfortingly warm leaves, tugging some of them over myself, and try to fall asleep.
I do not rest for some time, instead choosing to seethe. I think for hours about my uncaring mother, my awful school, the unfair absence of my father. I suppose, at some point, I fall asleep.
Father wakes me before dawn. At the feeling of his talons shaking my shoulders, I shrug him off and begin to get up, going through the motions of getting ready for school. But his wing flaring in my face stops me, and I blink the sleep from my eyes to stare at Father, who is smiling, but his eyes are sad.
I have to go now, he flashes, the grin falling from his snout.
Oh, I reply simply, thank you for waking me.
Frowning, studying my face, Father’s wings droop. Suddenly, they wrap around me. I stiffen, and he draws back quickly to ‘speak’ again.
I’m sorry, crab, but you know that I have to go.
I nod. I know.
Father closeds his eyes, opening them again some minutes later.
I love you, Zaffre. I wish I could be with you more often.
I am shocked into stillness, my ears buzzing all of a sudden. Mother never tells me she loved me. My scales flash the unfamiliar pattern, I love you, Father. I’ll miss you.
Father smiles sadly again, embracing me for a minute more, and this time I do not go rigid. I stand in place for some time, even after Father was long gone. I robotically curl again on my bed, not seething, but simply empty. I sleep again.
==Chapter two.==
When I wake in the morning, I am inexplicably tired. I spent most of the last evening and night sleeping, and yet my eyes want nothing more than to close. Mother, as usual, has not left me any breakfast before leaving for work, so I simply take my slate for note-taking and leave the cave.
I swim up through the water, which is now alive with SeaWings. Avoiding the swirling tails and emerald wings, I burst into the air. The palace writhes with dragons on their way to work. Orders are being yelled everywhere, noise filling the space, and it’s all so overwhelming that I almost drop out of the air. No matter how many mornings I spend in the palace, it seems I will never get used to the chaos.
Flying up to the school level, I slink to my desk with my head and wings tucked in. Coiling as small as I can, I begin to glance around at my classmates, the same as every morning.
All of them think of me as idiotic and brain-dead, tiny and weak and useless at everything. And, while they are correct, I loathe them for it. As they begin to notice me, the callings-out start.
“Hey, Worm! Worm!” That’s their nickname for me; Worm. It derives, I imagine, from my small size and lack of muscle, as well as my serpentine figure. My fellow students never seem to tire of using it.
“Worm! Skinny Worm!” Laughter rumbles across the room, and I pray for the arrival of Professor Wobbegong, who is late as usual. By the time he arrives my classmates have mostly subsided.  And besides, the dragonet he has in tow is much more interesting than wallowing in my own resentment.
This SeaWing is a pale silvery blue, with darker gray-purple stripes below his eyes, down his spine, and on his legs. His eyes, an intense deep brown, survey the area  with a faintly unhappy expression. He looks quiet. And despite my determination not to notice, he really is quite handsome.
Professor Wobbegong makes a creaky smile. His strained voice rises to address the students.
“All right, class, this is Epaulette. He is our newest student, and he came here from one of the outer villages. Epaulette, you may sit next to-” Here, Professor Wobbegong pauses, frantically scanning the room for empty seats. Inevitably, despite my silent inner prayers, his sunken green eyes land on the desk directly next to mine. Satisfied, he finishes his sentence with a flourish, “-next to Zaffre.”
Epaulette does not respond, but simply plants himself in the seat next to mine. At first, all is quiet, but the minute Professor Wobbegong turns away to write something on the chalkboard, the jeering begins.
“Hey, Albatross is sitting next to Worm! You’d better watch out, Worm! He might kill you!” The voice is in that fake-scared tone that I detest, and I flush with shame. My stomach swirls with embarrassment and I feel quite dizzy. Next to me, Epaulette is registering his new nickname with a mildly angered expression. In my opinion, he doesn’t look anything like Albatross, and his purple stripes set him apart from the ancient murderer quite clearly. I suppose I see the resemblance in the pale silver-blue scales, but other than that, he looks very different. Of course, I couldn’t bring myself to reassure him, not that the furious SeaWing beside me needs reassuring. Professor Wobbegong is desperately trying to calm the students, who are rumbling with laughter at myself and Epaulette’s silence.
I stare at the grains of wood which patterned the desk. It is only now, sitting next to Epaulette, that I notice his size. He’s taller than average, not by much, and he’s quite thin, but his shoulders and legs are thickly muscled. The resulting effect makes Epaulette look bigger than he is, but I really must try not to stare. Heat flushes my snout as I become fully aware of the dragon next to me, and I sink deeper to the floor, willing myself to dissapear. Epaulette gives me a curious look, but quickly returns his gaze to Professor Wobbegong, who I have been ignoring for some time. I decide to give up on my education and spend the rest of the class thinking about nothing.
As class ends, my classmates chattering amongst themselves as they ready, I come back to reality. Epaulette still sits next to me, dutifully taking notes, not seeming to notice the rest of the class as they mill about him. Some whisper into his ears, “Albatross and Worm! Albatross, Albatross,” and similarly foolish remarks. Epaulette ignores them all valiantly. 
I decide that I like him, which is unusual since most of the other six-year-old dragonets are obnoxious and generally awful. I still can’t bring myself to talk to him, though, since he gives off such a menacing air. But, as the others continue to fly away, I find myself alone on the platform with Epaulette.
He raises his head to glance at me, finding my eyes. I look away quickly, but he’s already speaking.
“Zaffre, right?” His voice is surprisingly friendly, but his eyes still have that strange intensity about them. I find I am finally able to talk.
“Yeah, that’s right… Epaulette?” It comes out softer than I mean it to, but he hears me and, to my ultimate surprise, smiles ever so slightly.
“That’s me. You don’t need to be scared- I’m nothing like Albatross, I swear. Could I-” here, he cuts himself off, rustling his wings with a determined look on his snout. I blink at him, keeping my expression open, a blossom of nerves opening in my chest. I feel slightly lightheaded. He clears his throat and continues. “Could I fly you back to your cave?”
I let out a breath, feeling a dizzy heat in my stomach. “Sure, follow me. I’ll show you where it is.” I don’t know where all of those words came from. I don’t think I’ve ever said that much before in one sentence, but for some reason I’ve gone funny in the head. As Epaulette trots over to walk next to me, I realize he towers over me, despite being the same age as myself. It’s sort of comforting to know that this huge dragon wants to know me. We spread our wings and lift off, spiraling towards my cave. All I feel is happiness. I’ve never had a friend before, and I can finally understand why everyone loves them so much.
==Chapter three.==
When I awake on this fine morning, I find myself to be in much better spirits than yesterday. Despite going to school hungry again, and despite Mother’s temper, I can think only of Epaulette. My brand-new friend. 
Mother was sullen last night, not enquiring whatsoever into my day, and I did not volunteer information. I was as happy as a clam. Not even Mother’s complete silence and scowling temper could ruin my contentment, not when he awaited me at school. I was dizzy with delight from the moment I woke up until now, flying up to school, coiling behind my desk giddily. The usual jeers begin as usual. They all call me ‘Worm’, but I find that I don’t mind nearly as much as I did yesterday. I keep my eyes on my desk, sometimes glancing up, hopefully searching for Epaulette.
My heart spasms in my chest as the tall SeaWing lands on the platform. Silver scales gleaming in the light which filters through the canopy, Epaulette weaves between desks, intense brown eyes fixed on my gray ones. I cannot control my smile as he sits heavily next to me.
“Hey, Zaffre. Is the professor always this late?” His voice is quiet, pleasant, and for some reason it gives me a rush of nerves. 
“Yeah, Professor Wobbegong’s ancient. His wings hardly work at all, so he takes forever to show up.” Epaulette’s expression softens ever so slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His tail-tip twitches towards me, as though he would very much like to wrap it around mine. A shiver runs through me. He turns, moving as if he were about to speak, but Professor Wobbegong chooses the worst possible time to arrive.
“Hello, students! My apologies, my apologies, I simply couldn’t find my scrolls! Now, right into the lesson…”
I listen to him, bored, but diligently taking notes, for what seems like forever. About halfway through the class, Epaulette jabs me with his wing. When I glance over at him, the silver dragon’s expression can only be described as ‘mischievous’.
“Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck out?” His whisper easily cuts through Wobbegong’s monotone. I glance around the room and notice that we probably could. Most of the other dragonets look half-asleep, the professor has his back to us, and we sit in the back row. A plan begins to form in my mind.
“I think we can do it, if we’re quiet.” I whisper back, leaning towards him. Epaulette begins to scan the room, and all of a sudden, he gets up and begins to slither quickly, silently, towards the edge of the platform. Heart leaping, I hasten after him, following him over the edge of the platform and into the air.
A rush of freedom fills my chest as I soar away from my responsibilities.. I steal a look behind myself, but nobody seems to have noticed our departure. We swirl away from the central structure, towards the outer caves. I get an idea. Beating my wings to overtake Epaulette, waving my tail in front of his snout. I flash to him, I know a place. Epaulette frowns, but follows me nonetheless, as I dive towards the water. Banking up suddenly, I hear Epaulette’s whuff of effort as he snaps open his wings. I spiral into the semi-hidden cave and coil in the center of the floor. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, making my wings shiver and my claws clench, and I find that I enjoy it. The feeling only intensifies when Epaulette lands on the ledge. His wings fill the space, temporarily blocking out the light, and I notice his brow is furrowed with concentration. As he settles his wings, the light rushes back in. I smile.
“Isn’t it nice here?” Epaulette nods, looking around at the lichen which grows on every wall, the vines hanging from the ceiling, the water dripping from every crack.
“How did you find this place?” His tone is hushed, wondering, as he plucks a flower from one of the vines and turns it gently in his claws. I swallow, for this is not a story I enjoy telling, but his gaze quickly turns concerned when faced with my silence, and I feel the block in my throat melt away.
“It was a couple years ago, I guess I was about three, and Mother was angry at me- again- and I flew away and found this cave. I hid here ‘till sunset. It’s not a bad place to spend the day, y’know. Good for thinking.”
Epaulette blinks, registering this. And then, shyly, he comes closer. He stands before me, arching his long silvery neck to stare down at me, before responding.
“Does your mother get mad at you often?” His voice is soft, concerned, and I duck my head on instinct.
“I guess so. I don’t mind. It’s just the way it’s always been.” I say quietly, watching my claws sink into the moss beneath my talons. Epaulette lifts one claw to touch my pink pearl earring, frowning as he absentmindedly turns it in his talons. He leans closer again, and I shrink back even further.
“Tell me, Zaffre, before I came along, did you have any- anyone to talk to?” I shake my head, and his frown deepens. “Didn’t you have any siblings?” I shake my head again, blinking at our talons, which are almost touching through the moss. Epaulette leans in, his whiskers brushing the top of my head. I feel the sudden, intense need to say something.
“So, what’s your family like?” I ask, in a slightly awkward tone, and he pulls back to look me in my eyes.
“I have a feisty little sister, and my mother and father, and they love me. Neither of them are around super often, though, but it’s awesome when they are.”
I smile slightly, imagining a younger, female Epaulette running amok in their cave, but his expression is still intense.
“Am I honestly the first dragon you’ve ever- ever- ever had, you know, a positive relationship with?” I nod vigorously.
“You’re my first friend ever, honest.”
Epaulette stiffens. “First friend ever.” I confirm this. His snout contorts in a strange way. “I’m your friend. That’s all.”
I’m confused. “What else would you be?”
It turns out this was the wrong thing to say, because he backs away and closes off completely. “I’d better get back to class. I’ve got a career to focus on.”
I blink in a bewildered way, but without waiting for my response, he wheels away. I am left by myself, heart in my claws, sitting in the center of a cold empty stupid cave on wet moss, eyes tearing up. I don’t know what just happened. I sit and watch as Epaulette flaps away, back towards the school.
I don’t even have the time to register this before movement on one of the uppermost caves catches my attention.
A blue SeaWing, female, and- judging by the markings on her membranes- royal, stands with her wings spread on the ledge. The prison ledge, I remember suddenly. The blue SeaWing cries out;
“Mother! SeaWings! Look out! We’re under attack!”
A firebomb crashes through the ceiling, and I think; Oh, no-
Because Epaulette is still out there, flying away from me-
And a flaming log slams into his back-
==Chapter four.==
I am screaming. But I cannot hear it.
The sound of my anguish is drowned out in the chaos.
There is fire everywhere, in the sky, in the canopy, on the water somehow. There are SeaWing bodies falling everywhere I look, wings aflame, shrieking in a blood-curdling way that wrenches my stomach.
I am still standing on the ledge, calling after Epaulette. But he’s still falling. Silver scales tumbling through space, awful charred stench, slamming into the churning water and sinking-
Sinking-
Gone.
I see red-orange-gold dragons darting through the ruined canopy, logs in their talons, setting them on fire and tossing them down onto us. As I watch, horror-struck, a golden SkyWing picks up some kind of cactus. She tosses it into the air and sending a blast of flame after it.
The cactus explodes.
I stab my claws into my leg, snapping myself forcefully out of my stupor. My cave, which had been a sort of sanctuary up until now, is beginning to fill with smoke as the moss and vines catch on fire. I spread my wings, my horribly flammable wings. I have to leave. I have to fly.
I lift off of the ledge, aiming for the exit, but I pause. The entranceway is filled with tails and wings and terrified dragons. My chest squeezes shut as I imagine what it must be like in the tunnel, so many dragons packed into one space. I know I will be crushed if I try to use that exit. There must be another way out.
Whirling, I face the ruined canopy, but my heart sinks yet further. The space is filled with SkyWings and MudWings, burly fiery dragons wielding spears and logs and claws made of iron. I watch a small group of SeaWings as they rally, flying valiantly into the fray. And I see something that makes my heart stop cold.
My lovely, brave father is in the sky. His navy-blue form flies next to Commander Shark, and he is armed with a narwhal horn and a determined expression. I scream again, but I still can’t hear myself, and I begin to fly on instinct towards him, wings beating forcefully. I surprise myself with how fast I can fly. I dodge falling logs and cacti-
As well as dragon bodies-
And suddenly I’m beside my father, and he sees me, his face changing in surprise. I realize I’m crying.
“Zaffre- Zaffre, you can’t be here! You need to find a way out.” His voice cuts through the awful explosions of noise, and I stare into his eyes. They’re gray, just like mine.
“Father.” It’s all I can say. My throat is closed and my wings are shaking so bad that I almost fall out of the air. But Father understands, and he nods, hugs me, strong forelegs around my shoulders. He whispers in my ear.
“I’ll be at the Deep Palace when you get there, I promise. I love you.” Empty promises. Empty words. I shake my head, leaning looking up at his face.
“No,” I say, “You’ll all die. You can’t possibly take on Burn’s bombing squad with a couple of soldiers!” He pulls back, shaking his head and frowning, and I know my words will go unheeded. 
He says, “I have to fight. You know that.” It occurs to me that the situation is hopeless. I cannot say everything I want to say, I don’t know the words I need to express myself. When I speak, my voice is so quiet I can hardly hear it.
“I love you, too.”
“See you there?” His voice is shaking, and I realize tears are rolling down his snout. I want to stop flapping and let myself fall into the sea.
“All right. Be careful.” He smiles at this, a sad, sad smile, filled with love and regret. He suddenly lets go of me and soars away after Commander Shark.
Straight into the claws of a massive MudWing.
She smiles at me as she snaps his neck. The smile is wistful and vicious and sorry all at once. Her eyes are kind, and they don’t match her claws at all.
Father falls away from her, and something in me snaps.
I snatch the spear from his claws as he tumbles away. His talons are still warm, and I lock eyes with my father one last time.
They glance back at me, and his scales flash his final message.
I’m sorry, they say.
And then he dies. I burn deep in my stomach with some awful emotion.
Whirling the spear, which is heavy and unfamiliar in my claws, I face the MudWing, who is already turning away. She doesn’t consider me a threat.
It is her final mistake.
Slamming the spear into the back of her neck, I twist and push inwards with all of my pathetic strength, crying out with fury and vengeance and love.
Love for my father. Love for Epaulette. Vengeance for them both.
The massive brown dragon turns back towards me, mouth opening, her snout a picture of surprise, and her green eyes catch mine. I stare back, ripping out the spear. Her eyes go blank. She falls after Father, and I refocus on trying to escape. My mind is focused with grim, burning anger.
The official entrance is still unpassable, still blocked with writhing bodies, and besides, the water is so full of floating corpses that I don’t even really want to swim through it.
Tearing my gaze away from the lower levels of the palace, looking away from the charred SeaWing scales before I can see Epaulette or Father floating among them. I scan the walls for possible exits, and I feel a flash of triumph..
Several holes have been exploded or burnt in the palace walls, awful tears in the beautifully carved castle-city. I bolt for the closest opening, but an orange SkyWing appears before me.
His sunset wings are spread wide, eyes burning with adrenaline and teeth bared in a twisted grin. I am still holding the spear. I realize this just before his slashing claws catch my throat.
Awful, awful pain rockets through me. I feel warm wetness running down my neck and pooling at my collarbone. Every vein in my body is suddenly aflame.
I falter in the air, and the SkyWing’s burst of fire misses me. I blindly thrust my spear upwards. It catches on his soft underbelly, ripping open the scales. His blood spills over my back and wings. His stomach slit, he roars into space. It deafens me. I do not look up.
I burst through the gaping, smoking hole in the wall, diving through the fighting dragons and into the blissfully silent sea. My neck is in agony. I hold a talon to it as I swim.
I head towards the Deep Palace, swimming in the fastest currents. My tribemates are scattered around me, and the water is murky with blood, but I just keep pumping my wings.
I swim away from the battle. I suppose I should feel relieved.
I only feel sick.
==Chapter five.==
When I finally arrive at the Deep Palace hall, I am dizzy and nauseous and tired.
My neck is hastily bandaged by a skinny green nurse-dragoness with tired eyes who finds me in the crowd. Her talons are swift, but not rough, and they shake. Mine do, too. I clench my claws to stop them from vibrating and accidentally dig them into my palms, drawing blood, as my thoughts keep turning to all the dragons I loved. Father, Epaulette, I repeat their names again and again until finally I am given instructions by the quiet green nurse.
She tells me to stand in line with all of the other dragonets who have not yet been ‘claimed’. I stare over at them, all huddled together like a shoal of diseased fish. Tiny dragonets and bigger ones, holding one another or standing alone with hollow eyes. I force myself to scan the like for silver scales and brown eyes. 
Nothing.
The pain hits me in the gut again, but it’s not a physical pain. It’s an awful mental explosion. My eyes tear up and I squeeze them shut, only opening them again to walk stiffly over to stand beside a little cobalt dragonet with bandaged wings. I try not to imagine the melted mess underneath the white fabric as I stare into the crowd of anxious waiting parents.
Already, many dragons are swimming over to their babies and drawing them into their arms, flashing loving messages and crying in joy and anguish. My mother has never done any of those things. The thought of her inspires me to tear my gaze away from the reuniting families and search the crowd for cobalt scales. 
I find Mother near the back of the crowd, and her deep blue eyes catch mine. They are filled with awful sadness. Her face is expressionless, but I know it’s only an act, a facade she’s experienced in.
She does not come forward to retrieve me. 
For some time, I stare at her, willing her to come to me while time slows down. She stares back at me, so sad and anguished and uncaring as always. After several years, or maybe it’s only been minutes, she turns away. It seems like she takes forever to slip out of my view. I wonder numbly why she has abandoned me, left me here, lost and fatherless and friendless and injured. And then it hits me like a tail to the chest, and I double over, succumbing to the horror of it.
When Mother sees me, she does not see Zaffre, her daughter. She sees her dead husband. She sees Father in my dark scales, my gray eyes, the shape of my snout. I wish I didn’t understand her so well. Why would she willingly bear living with a dragonet she never loved, a daughter who reminds her every day of her dead love, when she could simply dump me into the claws of the orphanage. My heart, already shattered, splinters into yet smaller shards of glass. I want to curl up on the floor and never stand again. 
I feel like I’m weightless as I watch so many families pass by, leaning on one another for support and happily finding their dragonets in the lineup. Everything is so broken, but they can fix it for one another. War and hunger, homes lost, everything gone up in flames, they can work through it. Together. 
As I stand there listlessly, I see, over and over again, Father falling away from me with his neck broken. I see the spear clutched between his talons. I see the spear in my claws. I see the spear in the MudWing’s back. I see the spear slashing the SkyWing’s stomach. I don’t know where or when I left the weapon behind.
I see Epaulette, a flaming log slamming into his back, scalding his scales and melting his wings. I try to imagine myself on fire.
A light talon on my own spine jolts me back to Pyrrhia, soft lights flashing over and over again. I turn, startled out of the awful dream I was in, and stare into the elderly face of a pale purple-blue SeaWing.
Do you have a mother? She asks me. I’m still feeling stunned and I don’t understand the question. She must see the confusion on my face, and she repeats the question. I tell her I don’t have one.
It’s so easy to lie. The ancient dragon believes me, valiantly keeps on smiling, but her eyes are so sad. I know how pathetic and lost I must look. Little Zaffre, orphaned, looking even smaller when she curls in her wings and hunches her bandaged neck. I study her face and discover that I detest this geriatric dragon on instinct. Her fake smile doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest, and her eyes are indescribably hideous. I can’t stop staring into them. They’re a wet, blobby gray-green color, froggish in a disgusting way. She introduces herself as Janthina. As I’m trying to get my brain to register that, Janthina tells me to follow her, still flashing her scales as softly as possible. I don’t want to follow her. However, performing a quick evaluation of my situation, my findings are depressing. This unlikable dragon is my only option for safety. I grudgingly swim after her, beating my wings and trying to keep my neck as stiff as possible. Winding and whirling, we turn so many corners that I don’t know where we are anymore. I give up trying to mentally map our route and retreat into my own thoughts.
My mother and I used to come here in the summers. We had a cave of our own, a beautiful little nook which appealed to me far more than our dank hole in the Summer Palace. I used to swim between the corals, amusing myself by chasing fish, hiding from Mother until the sun went down. It was heaven. I wonder if she’s there now, but regardless of where she is, I bet she’s not thinking about me. Her only dragonet. I imagine she’s thinking about either Father or money. To my surprise, I find that I resent her, my own mother. How awful.
Janthina has stopped up ahead, beckoning for me to come hover beside her in front of a massive set of stone doors. As I read the writing on them, she’s smiling and turning to gesture theatrically.
These are the doors to the Deep Palace Orphanage! I don’t respond, since I had read the label on the door already and had absorbed that particular piece of information. Janthina was undeterred by my sullen non-response. Flinging the huge stone doors open, she burst into the main hall of my new home.
Spinning joyfully through the water, which I thought was inappropriate considering the situation, she flashes information at me about how the place had been founded. As if I hadn’t just survived a bombing. After what seemed like forever spent rambling, Janthina claps her talons together. The muted sound of it through the water startles me.
But enough history! She declares. I frown. It’s about time she shut up. 
She continues, Where will you be staying? Well, let me tell you, you’re not the only dragonet orphaned as a result of- of the recent incident.
My brain stalls, as I simply cannot believe that this ridiculous dragon has referred to a bombing as an incident. She barrels on nonetheless.
Anyways, you’ll be staying in a dorm room. Isn’t that exciting? You’ll be with all the other girls!
I don’t think it’s exciting at all. I think it’s terrifying. I must look stunned. Janthina ignores my expression again and twirls around for the millionth time. I cannot believe this ancient dragoness can perform such maneuvers, adding to the load of information I’m trying- and failing- to process. Janthina keeps on going, and panic sweeps through me when I see the words on her scales.
It’s time to go meet your new roommates!
==Chapter six.==
I am briskly shown to my room.
Janthina is jabbering the whole time, talking about the routine at the orphanage. I perk up and watch her scales carefully, hoping to gather some information. As well as trying to take my mind off of this morning.
Every morning we all eat breakfast together. Have I already told you this is an all-girls’ orphanage? Well, either way, that’s what it is! After breakfast, Head Nurse Kidako comes over and takes you all to work in the hospital. She’ll catch you up, don’t worry, but I offer you guys to her since they need the volunteers. The war is an awfully bloody affair, and they need every talon they can get, Zaffre. You’ll get the hang of it. You all come back in the evenings and have a nice dinner, and then of course it’s bedtime! Aren’t you excited? I’m excited! Let’s go meet the others!
I blink, disbelieving. I just got bombed this morning and they’re throwing my headfirst into bandaging wounded soldiers? I feel unbelievably tired. I want nothing more than to sleep, although I admit to myself that it will only be nightmares.
We wind through the hallways, most of which seem unnecessarily long and old, and arrive at a small set of doors. Janthina has to duck her head as she pushes open the door. I follow reluctantly. 
Inside, the four walls are lined with bunks. Hardly any of the beds have a dragonet in them. Only the bunks near the back are filled, and every occupant seems either traumatized, bored, or both. 
A huge, think-muscled turquoise dragoness is tossing around anything heavy she can find, which includes a lithe green dragon covered in tattoos and piercings, who seems delighted to be used as a medicine ball. A pale blue dragon reads from a slate in the corner, shoving her glasses up her snout, and what appears to be her sister is curled in a tight ball next to her. I notice with horror that the little dragoness is missing a wing. My brain begins to roar with thoughts of melting wing membranes and scales, and I have to dig my claws into the floor to ground myself. I force my head to turn around some more. I notice that a small group of dragons in every shade of blue-green is pausing their conversation to glance at me. I freeze, reaching for Janthina’s tail, but she ignores me and spreads her wings in front of the room.
Everyone, this is Zaffre! She’s new here, so please be nice. Shall I introduce her to you or will you introduce yourselves? 
At first, there is silence, but after several heartbeats the big dragoness steps forward.
My name’s Mola. This is Foxface- Mola gestures to the living exercise equipment- But she likes to be called Fox.
Fox grins with all her teeth and waves at me. Her mouth is pierced in several places, as are her ears and nose, and her forelegs are covered in swirling black designs. I think I like her. Mola seems nice, too, but she’s a little scarily huge. 
Nobody else introduces themselves, but Janthina doesn’t seem to care all that much. She dismisses herself and flounces out of the room, leaving me alone with Fox, Mola, and all the other dragonets who have already resumed their conversations and continued on their slates. I stand there blinking for a minute before Fox bursts out,
Isn’t Janthina just awful? She asks, standing to circle me like a curious shark. I find myself turning to follow her eyes as she spirals.
Yeah, she’s pretty nasty. I agree hesitantly. I sense that Fox wants to ask me about the bombing, and I brace myself, but Mola lays a wing across Fox’s back and glares at her. I smile at her secretively, and she smiles back. She’s not so scary when she smiles. Fox has been studying me silently for the past several seconds, and suddenly she flashes brightly at me,
You seem cool, Zaffre. You’re with us now. Don’t worry, we’re the best group here, the two of us- three of us, now, since you’re here.
I blink, surprised, but slowly I smile. It feels good to make friends. The only other friend I’ve had is- was- Epaulette, and was he really a friend? I don’t know. I don’t feel the same way about Fox and Mola that I did about Epaulette. There’s no burning feeling, no flipping stomach and racing heart. I just feel casually happy. It’s a nice change, honestly, and whenever I talk to them I can almost forget about this morning. I can’t believe it was only this morning. It already feels like so long ago. I try not to think about it- even though it explodes in my head and burns my chest- and concentrate instead on my new friends. Fox is flashing something grumpily at Mola.
Do you have any ink? I'm all out.
I didn’t buy any recently, but I’m sure you could nab some outta the Purple Menace’s room. She always steals it from you and hides it away.
Purple Menace?
That’s our name for Janthina.
Makes sense.
I need ink badly, man. My tattoos aren’t filled in yet and I need to finish them.
Do they hurt to give to yourself?
Moons above, yes. Especially the ones on my ribs.
They look nice, though.
Thanks! That’s exactly why I do them.
Would you mind if I tossed you around?
That last statement comes from Mola. I say sure. She picks me up- is she ever strong- And starts flinging me around like I’m nothing. I don’t mind it. It’s peaceful, in a way, shooting through the water and blinking bubbles out of my eyes. Mola does this to me for some time and then nods in a satisfied way. She tells me that she’d rather toss Fox, but I don’t mind. Fox seems happy enough with her current role, and I don’t want to make waves in a brand-new friendship.
We sit and chatter for some time, with Fox and Mola scrambling over one another to try and introduce me to the other dragonets in the orphanage. My brain riles underneath the surface, but I manage to suppress it.
The two sisters are named Opihi and Teluga, and Fox tells me in a muted way that Teluga’s wing was ripped off by her insane brother. Opihi allegedly struck him down and killed him. I see the quiet, studious SeaWing in a new light. None of the others’ names stick in my head.
We eat supper together when called, me and Mola and Fox. We get along. I try not to think too much. Fox and I make fun of the food- some kind of blobby octopus mush- while Mola scarfs her own meal and most of mine and Fox’s. We go back to the room together, laughing, and flash softly at one another until someone brightly flashes at us to shut up and stop blinding the rest of them. I manage not to think the entire time. I’m in denial of this morning, it’s too unreal, and I fall asleep still believing it never happened. It hits me in my sleep.
I awaken in the middle of a scream. Saltwater stings my throat- they’re both dead-
It can’t be real-
This has to be a dream please let it be a dream-
I’ll wake up and go to school tomorrow and see Epaulette and Father will have the day off of work tomorrow, he’ll eat supper with us, everything will be fine, it has to be fine, please let it not be true-
I relive it all and it burns. I see them both die a million times. I lie staring at the ceiling.
Because it’s real.
They’re both dead.
And there’s nothing left to do but sleep.
==Chapter seven.==
I cannot stop the nightmares, and sometime before dawn I resign myself to lying awake. My neck throbs and I press a talon to it. It feels as though the gill covers have ripped.
Fox is awake above me, I can hear her moving around. Most of the others are asleep. Mola is making bubbles on the bunk to my right and I thank the moons that we’re underwater. I can’t imagine her snoring would help my sleeping issue. I sink into my thoughts, losing track of time, for the next hour or so.
When Fox begins to dangle from her bunk, staring at me with curious brown eyes, I don’t notice her at first. The moment I finally do look up, however, I’m startled out of my scales.
Slashing my claws through the water blindly, I hear Fox’s muffled yelp of amusement. She catches my talons and smiles at me.
You’re so jumpy! I guess war does that to a dragon, huh?
When she sees my face, her grin fades. I don’t know what kind of expression I’m making, but I guess I look pretty horrified. Fox apologizes. I say it’s all right, but really it’s not okay at all. She doesn’t need to know that. Mola comes over, and we all sit around conversing about nothing in particular. I don’t mind. It’s better than nightmares. 
Janthina walks in unannounced after another hour, swishing her wings joyfully.
All right, dragonets! Breakfast time! Follow me!
Her spunk would be endearing if she was younger, but now that she’s old it’s honestly a little disturbing. We follow slowly, many of the other dragonets only just waking up, bleary-eyed and blinking. We paddle along, eat breakfast lethargically, yawn at one another. I think the whole time. I don’t know what to do. Will this be my life, mindlessly following an over-the-top purple dragon? I glance at Fox and Mola. They’ve both lived here for years, and they turned out fine. But could I deal with it? I don’t know. Fox is filled to the brim with spirit, with determination. Mola is strong, unafraid of anything. Both of them can handle everything. I look around at the other dragonets, with their faces in their breakfast, and I notice an unexpected pattern. All of them look relatively fine, past traumas aside. Teluga, the one with the missing wing, and Opihi, her sister, are chattering quietly. Teluga even grins occasionally. I see the others, chatting amongst themselves. A pretty green dragoness smiles at me. I do the same back, faintly, then I look away and sit back. Everything is going to be alright.
After breakfast, Janthina rounds us up and makes us stand at attention in the main hall. She tells us that Head Nurse Kidako will arrive soon and we need to be at our best for when she shows up. There is an awkward silence for a while. Nobody dares speak. Eventually, the door opens, and a huge green-brown dragon bursts in.
Head Nurse Kidako is a bulky, short-legged, thick-snouted dragoness. She reminds me quite a bit of a shorter, stockier Mola. She looks so rough that for a minute I’m in denial that she could possibly be a nurse. She immediately grabs hold of me, much to my surprise, and tucks me under her massive wing, sending out orders to the other dragonets in a flurry of flashing scales. After she has caused sufficient chaos, Head Nurse Kidako turns her huge head towards me. My head is stuck out from under the scaly blanket of scales and membranes that is her wing. Releasing me, Kidako positions herself to study my face. She begins to flash rapidly at me.
Right, you’re new here. I’m putting you on my bandaging unit for now. Your job is to wrap dragon necks and legs in fabric. Do it tightly, but not so tight that the circulation is cut off. Make sure every part of the wound is completely covered. Think you can handle that?
I nod mutely, and she barrels on.
I’ll give you the kit once we get to the field. There was a battle last night, so there’s a whole new batch of dying dragons who’ll pass through you first. Fail at your duties, and you’re a murderer. Got that? Do I need to repeat myself?
I tell her that I understand, and that I won’t let her down. She nods, looking grave, and then whirls and swims briskly out of the massive doors which separate the orphanage from the rest of the Deep Palace. I follow after her. We slam through the nearest exit and out into the open ocean.
As we arrive at the field, I almost have to stop swimming. The water is hazy with dragon blood, and I thank the moons that the water prevents the groans of death from reaching my ears. I force myself to power on, hovering beside Head Nurse Kidako. She hands me a little kit filled with bandages and mild ointment. She asks me if I’m ready, and I lie to her that I am.
And then I’m alone in a field of death.
Swimming to the first soldier who waves me over, I notice that his left foreleg is obliterated from the elbow down. He asks me to help, scales flashing desperately, grabbing my own foreleg with his only remaining front talon. The scales on his neck are fully lifted, and he’s gasping through his gills. I force my stomach to settle and get to business. It’s natural for me, I find, and my claws wrap bandages well. I think I do a good job. I try my best to numb myself to the suffering around me and focus on my moving talons.
I absorb information about the field while I work. There’s the main area, where I work, which is an open field filled with soldiers getting bandaged. A set of suspended curtains on wooden stilts ropes off a separate area for surgeries. Yet another area is cut off, and I’m told by an older bandage-worker that all the dragons in comas are held there.
When I finally get to go on break, I remove my own bandages. I stroke a talon over my neck. The gill covers, as suspected, are torn. The frills ripple freely. I sigh and wrap the fabric around the tender scales again. I am finishing up on my wrapping when a tiny talon grabs my tail.
Whirling, I see a miniscule dragonet. Horror whips through me as I count his ribs. The little dragon’s stomach is thin, his limbs sticklike, massive dark eyes filling his bony face. His limp blue-gray tail is oozing thick blood. My stomach fills with a swirling feeling that makes me sick. Gripping my tail again, he makes a little muffled wailing noise. I freeze. A young dragoness who looks like his sister, and I guess she’s hardly four years old runs over, grabs him in her own skinny arms, apologizes quickly and runs away. I watch him go. His head is too big for his neck and it flops onto his sister’s shoulder with a despondent expression. The sight of it haunts me for the rest of the day. I think of it even while I bandage other dragons.
When I arrive late back at the orphanage, everyone else looks just as tired and awful as I feel. We eat dinner silently, and even Fox seems mollified. I remember that she’s on the coma team and I wonder what she saw today. We go to bed quietly. I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
The nightmares plague me again.
I see a thousand burning SkyWings reaching for me, jaws open wide and filled with knife-teeth. I see melting silver wings and twisted navy necks.
I am too tired to care.
Everything is numb.
==Chapter eight.==
I awake in the middle of the night once again. Sitting up on my bed quickly, I find that my head is spinning and I’m shaking badly. The nightmare that woke me up tonight was one about Epaulette, dying over and over again, and I kept finding him again and being happy with him, only for him to die again. And again. And again. Over and over and over like heart-wrenching clockwork.
I sit there for a while with my wings wrapped around myself, shivering and reliving everything, until I hear a noise which jolts me out of my stupor. Freezing, I turn my head slowly upwards. A bubbling sigh follows the noise. I relax. It’s just Fox again, awake and moving just like myself. I rise from my own bed and swim up to hers, holding out my talons and gently flashing my scales to let her know that I’m there.
Fox turns to me, and her face is a mask of misery. She pats the bed next to herself. I sit next to her and she rises to coil beside me.
I can’t stop them! She bursts out. I blink, confused.
Stop what? I ask her. Her head turns towards me, eyes wide.
The nightmares, her scales flash dimly.
I nod, and she presses her scaled lips together. She knows. We’re in the same situation. Fox’s scales are quiet, and she turns her head downwards for a while. I watch her face. She gnaws on the ring set into the right side of her mouth. It’s gold, and has a little amber upside-down heart dangling from it. She catches my eyes again.
What happened during the bombing? I’ve only heard rumors.
I take in a juddering breath through my damaged gills. I’ve anticipated this question forever and yet I have no response. Fox whips her head toward me, eyes wide, and I begin my response before she can apologize.
The SkyWings arrived with the MudWings, I begin. Fox leans in to listen closer, apology forgotten,and I barrel on.
They arrived with flaming logs and exploding cacti. Like, whenever fire touched the thing it would explode and shoot little spiky balls and fire everywhere. The MudWings were holding the logs and cacti while the SkyWings hurried back and forth, setting stuff on fire and dropping it on the palace. 
Here, I pause, but Fox is completely absorbed in my story. I find it within myself to continue.
The canopy of leaves collapsed first. Everyone was panicking. All the SeaWings in the palace were trying to escape through the one exit. I saw-
I pause again, this time because everything is overwhelming me at once. I have to keep going.
I saw my best friend Epaulette, he was flying away from me because we had snuck out of school and gotten into a fight. He was flying back to class to get away from me when a flaming log hit him square in the back.
Fox draws in a breath and touches a gentle talon off my shoulder. I do not look up.
I couldn’t escape through the exit because if I tried to then I’d be crushed. I went up to fly out of the palace through the ruined canopy, and I saw my father. He told me that he loved me before a big MudWing killed him, broke his neck.
Fury overwhelms me and I curl my claws into Fox’s bed. My scales feel boiling hot with anger.
I killed the MudWing with my father’s spear. I stuck it right through the back of her neck. I went to escape through a hole in the wall, but there was a SkyWing in the way. I killed him, too, but he slashed my throat before I could. I tore out his guts with the spear. I escaped through the hole and came here, but Mother decided that she didn’t want me anymore and left me to Janthina. It’s no big loss to me, I add quickly, seeing the look on Fox’s face, I don’t think she wanted me in the first place. So here I am.
Fox is silent for so long that I begin to fret over what I said. Finally, she flashes softly,
I’m sorry.
I nod, curling my claws inwards, seeing everyone I loved die again. In order to take my mind off of the horrors of- was it only yesterday?- I ask Fox how she ended up here. She swallows before responding.
Oh, it was years ago. I lived in the Summer Palace with my mom and dad. My father was- well, he was an animus. But he never told anyone.
I must look stunned, because Fox holds out her talons and waves them around frantically.
But don’t worry! I didn’t inherit anything. But my father was magic. It ran in our family, even though we’re not royal. We were a family with a long line of secret animi, and it’s kind of a long story. Either way, dad went insane from using his magic too much. He enchanted a piece of seaweed to rip off my mom’s tail, slowly and painfully. I was had been hiding in the corner, ready to jump out and surprise him when he came home from work, and I watched the whole thing. Dad was laughing. We had an above water cave, and he was flinging sand into the gash as it opened up in the base of my mother’s tail. She was screaming something awful, but he had done something to the cave so that no sound could escape. I grabbed a vase and slammed it over his head. I was only trying to defend my mom. It killed him. I was questioned afterwards by the council, but no dragon could get anything out of me. I was only three years old. In the end, they gave up on me, classified the murder as a mystery, locked what remained of mom in the loony bin, and sent me here.
After that, there is darkness. I slowly wrap my tail around Fox’s. She’s shaking badly. Feeling the need to change the subject again, I ask something that’s been on my mind for a while.
Could you give me a tattoo?
Fox looks up, eyes wide with sudden delight. Grabbing my front talons in her own, she shakes them vigorously and asks me quickly, stories from her past forgotten,
What do you want and where do you want it?
I sit and think for a moment. Suddenly, it hits me right in the snout. I lay a talon on my right thigh.
Could I have a shark, right here?
Fox nods, still looking happy.
What sort of shark?
An epaulette shark, I respond immediately. Fox nods gravely, understanding, and begins to dig around in her seaweed mattress. Pulling out a needle and some ink, she flashes at me to lie down. I do as she asks. Sketching out a twisting little shark on my thigh, she asks for my approval and I grant it. She prepares my leg to be permanently marked and gives me a friendly little punch on the shoulder to reassure me.
I lie back as she begins. It’s agonizing. The needle goes in and out with a feeling like claws in my scales.
I grit my teeth and bear it.
When the morning comes, I’m bleary-eyed and in pain. My neck still throbs. There’s also the new pain from the black ink on my leg, which stings in the saltwater and aches whenever I swim. I try to move as little as possible. Mola slept better than me or Fox, and she fills the dark spaces with abnormally cheerful chatter. I sit down, careful with my thigh, preparing to eat breakfast, but one look at the slimy tentacles in front of me kills my appetite. I give my food to Mola. Fox does the same, but with more of a happy manner. She’s still delighted that I asked for a tattoo. I glance at the healing marks on my leg, the little twisting shark that will forever remind me of my first friend. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.
When Head Nurse Kidako arrives with her flurry of orders, I am included in them. I swim to the field as fast as I can and grab my kit from the supplies area.
I dive into my work with a new passion. Bandage this stump of a leg, wrap up this gaping neck, comfort this starving dragonet. There are far too many of those for my tastes.
When I go on my break, Fox approaches me with shining eyes. I ask her tiredly, What’s going on?
There’s someone in the coma ward that I want you to see right NOW, she bursts out, brown eyes wide and talons shaking. I can’t tell what emotion she’s feeling and there’s no time to figure it out. I follow her as fast as I can to the ward, and the sheet  is pulled aside to reveal even more curtains, which separate each patient from one another.
Behind every partition, I know, is a sleeping dragon who will probably never wake up. My heart wrenches, but there’s no time to reflect. Fox is still barreling along, bowling her fellow workers out of the way and flashing quick apologies. I keep on following her until she stops.
And Fox whips back the curtain.
==Chapter nine.==
Brown eyes and silver scales.
That’s the first thing I register. Brown eyes, silver scales, handsome snout and blue-tinged fins. A bandage covers most of his back and the vast areas of his wings near the body, masking what I assume must be twisted burns. He sits on a seaweed mattress, reading from a slate with an absent expression.
He can’t be alive. He died two days ago. I saw the log hit him.
But it’s him.
It’s Epaulette.
I let out a little cry, muffled by the water, and he looks up at me, eyes lighting up. A smile works its way across his face, and he rises off the bed a little bit, dropping the slate. I swim to him as fast as I can, but it’s still too slow, and it seems to take forever to reach him. Silver wings engulf me. His scales are flashing and I curl my claws against his chest as strong forelegs wrap around me. I shift my head to see Fox, who touches my tail gently, shoots me a smile, and leaves.
Zaffre, Epaulette says over and over again, turning his snout into my neck and waving his whiskers over my shoulders. When he winces, I feel it. My heart wrenches when I wonder whether or not he’ll ever fly again.
I thought you were dead, he flashes unevenly, shaking claws touching mine. My head shoots up and I stare at him in confusion.
I thought YOU were dead! I saw that log hit your back, I saw you sink into the ocean. I thought you died, Epaulette.
If we were above water, I would be crying. My shoulders are shaking and so are his.
Yes, I sank, but I lived. I was so, so lucky, Zaffre. My wings didn’t burn. They just- melted in places. I thought you were dead when I didn’t see you after I woke up!
I frown. When did you wake up?
Yesterday, he responds, and I thought you would be injured in the attack, so I looked around but never saw you. And you are hurt! Zaffre, what happened to your neck?
It’s a long story, I begin truthfully.
And I tell him the entire thing.
Epaulette listens the whole time, eyes wide, gently stroking the fins down my back as I pour my heart out onto the floor before his talons. 
Wow, he flashes dimly when I’m finished, your father died? I’m so sorry. I wish I could've been there to help.
I love you, Zaffre.
My heart explodes all over again. I shiver at the sensation, and he draws away, but I grab his claws.
Epaulette, I begin,
I love you too.
He laughs, a little manic noise, and pushes his snout into my shoulder. I feel his smile against my scales. He’s shaking badly and I can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying. I guess it doesn’t matter. We sit curled into one another, rocking slightly back and forth, for some time. I cannot think. My mind is filled with exploding starbursts of joy and a strange nauseous feeling fills my stomach. I worry for a moment that this will end up like my nightmare, that he’ll die all over again, until-
My mother is dead, he flashes out of the blue, and my father is going to do the same soon. He’s in the coma ward with a missing wing. My sister’s in the orphanage. I wish I could see them one more time. I thought everyone that I loved was dead, you know, Zaffre. It tore me apart.
My heart breaks for the sweet, quiet dragon who holds me even though his entire family has been torn away from him. I think for a minute about how to respond. I have to make him feel as loved as he is, as comforted as she should be. I’ve never been good at this, but for Epaulette, I can try.
I’m so sorry, I begin, but listen.
We’re together again.
Everything is going to be alright.
THE END.
==Gallery==
SOTWscene-Mezepheles.png|Chapter 9 by Bell. This is gorgeous, thank you so so much!
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Genre (Adventure)
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Content (Crowji)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)