Chapter Text
Winter
His wings hurt. His wings hurt. They were flapping and flapping as hard as they could, but the pale-blue dragonet struggled to keep aloft as the merciless desert sun beat down on him. He wasn’t built for this. He was meant for the cold and the ice and the circles of endless competition that beat him almost as hard as the sun did right now. Once I get someplace where I can rest, I can continue on and return to the Ice Kingdom, It was wishful thinking, really.
Months had passed, and no one had come to save him from the clutches of the SkyWings. Part of him regretted telling Hailstorm to leave without him, to get help as fast as he could. Part of him regretted thinking that help would actually come. No, he thought to himself bitterly, don’t wish that Hailstorm was here. You’re practically wishing he got captured instead. That’s not what he meant when he wished his brother was here, of course, but the only way to keep himself awake through the long flight… was the painful sting of self-loathing. Nonetheless, there was nothing Winter wanted more right now than to run into his brother’s arms and cry and cry and cry, regardless of how much he’d drop in the rankings. Tears began to prick his eyes as he thought about it. Why hadn’t his brother come yet? Maybe it’s taking a little longer to organize a search party, or maybe… Maybe Hailstorm realized what a liability I am, and decided to save himself instead of risking it for my sorry scales.
That made sense. Winter was a disappointment. It was his weird obsession that got him and his brother caught by the SkyWings. And Hailstorm was a hero with a bright future. The Ice Kingdom didn’t need Winter, they needed his brother. Nobody needed Winter. Most of the dragons back home were probably elated he was gone, now finally out of the way, forever kept from tarnishing his siblings’ honorable and bright futures.
But still—his time in the SkyWing arena was beyond what you would call horrible. The bloodcurdling screams and shrieks of dying dragons had engraved themselves so hard into his mind he was sure they’d left dents. The worst battles were the ones fought with the Queen’s champion, the dragon whose scales were hotter than the sun and could burn you and make you shrivel up into a black pile of ash in mere seconds. The gnawing, terrifying fear that he’d be next plagued him for the months he was there. He wanted to cry and hug Hailstorm or Lynx or Crystal or his Aunt Glacier or even his cold hearted sister, Icicle. Anyone. But he couldn’t. He had to act like a proper IceWing, even as a prisoner. Even when he was starved and hurt. Because there were other IceWing prisoners there too, and Winter didn’t know if that made it worse or better. They knew who he was and were watching him, wondering when Queen Glacier’s nephew would step into the arena sands, and what he’d do, how he’d fight.
He was lucky he’d never.
His chance to escape came when one of the guards forgot to lock his cell after delivering his food, and he made a run for it. The SkyWings caught up to him soon and attacked him. Winter was sure he was going to die, but he somehow made it through because of how seemingly inexperienced most of the guards chasing him were in fighting IceWings. He froze off a few ears and tails and claws and then flew up and up and up into the sky, as high as his sore, wounded wings would take him.
His body was littered with cuts and wounds from the guards, that horrid blue color seeping out from under his scales as he felt the stings of pain all over him. His talons were bruised and his strength was almost fully depleted. At one point, he felt bile growing in his throat from the pain and how much he wanted give up, crash down, and sob until death took him. But he couldn’t do any of those things, so he took off towards the Kingdom of the Sand, planning to cross the border as soon as possible and make it back to the Ice Kingdom. But his wings ached and his muscles were giving out. He had to rest up somewhere.
Reports of a city in the Kingdom of the Sand, one not aligned with any of the three rival sisters, lay near the Sky Kingdom, not too far of from the border between the SkyWings and the SandWings. The Scorpion Den. A city filled with assassins and lowlifes and dragons who probably had no idea what the word decorum meant. As much as it made Winter shiver at the thought, it was the safest place he could go right now, other than the Ice Kingdom, which was too far away. Most of the SandWings in the territory were allied with Burn, so an IceWing from Blaze’s side of war probably wouldn’t be taken kindly in most of the cities, making the unallied Scorpion Den the closest and safest option. Safest might be a slight stretch for a city filled with assassins and mercenaries… Winter realized, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.
The hours he flew for blurred together in a haze of night and day, sun and moon, heat and chill, with all one thing in common. Pain. It wasn’t just the hours blurring together, everything was blurry. His memories felt vague and soft around the edges, and when he tried to think, another sharp sting of pain from one of the wounds or his aching wings would keep him from doing so. All he could think about was fly, fly, fly. Winter could barely even remember why he was flying in the direction he was, it was all just… foggy.
The Scorpion Den, or, at least he hoped it was, started to come into sight, the vague, blurry lights glowing dimly as he approached the city. When he finally got close enough, his wings started to spasm with pain and exhaustion as he began descending.
With a yelp, he crash landed into the sand as black started creeping into his vision from the sides. His wounds stung horribly as the sand got into them, illuminated under the moonlight, soft and gritty, but painful at the same time. Surprised shouts came from in front of him as tears finally made their way out of his eyes, pained sobs wracking his body. “What the—?! An IceWing?!” “Qibli! Get it together and help—“ “Six-Claws, he’s bleeding! There’s so much blue—“ “I SAID HELP YOU IDIOT—“. Something of pale, sandy yellow ran up towards him and gripped his wings in worry, but he could barely care as the darkness took him.
The worried shouts and yells almost surprised him. These strangers were worried about him, which was weird. Strange other tribe dragons… why are they worried..? About someone like me, no less… His last conscience thought before the world went dark, before his life left him and everything about being an IceWing was thrown into the darkest abyss…
Hailstorm… brother… where are you…?