fire made flesh; and fire is power

Their mother’s exhaustion had been what had kept them close, a boundary set far closer to home even in the late days of spring than most pups were forced to endure. No matter how much they pleaded, or tried to wiggle their way beyond the clearing where their den lay, someone always caught and stopped them. Whether it was their mother, or Uncle Taliesin, or Jer, there was a constant vigilance over them. Viserion had realized early on that it was not because their mother did not think them old enough or smart enough to venture into the unknown, but because she did not want to miss it. The firstborn brother had looked upon Daenerys that morning with molten gold eyes wise beyond their years and said as much to her. Of course a youthful tone had played through when he then pleaded with her to let them go out in search of the other pups on the mountain. Finally she had given her permission, and promised that perhaps tomorrow she would take all four of them and give them a proper tour of their home. But for today, it was a great adventure the three brothers had in store!

Viserion practically jumped out of the den, taking off across the clearing to where Rhaegal and Drogon wrestled. He skidded to a halt beside them, standing up on his hind legs and placing his forepaws on Rhaegal’s shoulder and giving him a proper shove before yipping playfully. ”Lets go!” he exclaimed, before pushing off his brother and bounding over to a path through the tree line. Drogon looked back towards the den questioningly, while Rhaegal got one last good nip in before leaping to join his golden brother without question. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Drogon sniffed at his brothers, trying to figure out if Viserion was lying. He didn’t smell like he was trying to deceive them, and the golden hued brother was far less likely to pull such a stunt than Rhaegael was. And so he joined them.

Together they set off down the trail, leaping around each other in a battle to take the lead, excitement coursing through their veins. They hadn’t gone far when a clearing opened up before them, and Rhaegal caught the scent of prey. He was in the lead, and stopped suddenly, causing Drogon to run directly into his hindquarters. The painted boy shot a glance over his shoulder at his larger, darker brother, and then motioned towards the clearing. They loved the taste of the meat that Jericho brought back for them, but it was already dead – and partially digested besides. Rhaegal’s adventuresome nature begged him to be the first of his brothers to catch live prey. And so he lead the trio forward toward the network of mouse dens where he smelled the skittery prey. At the first sight of movement each brother began leaping, trying to attack the mice as they ran for cover or abandoned an opening. All but two of the mice had escaped to safety, but when the last two darted right in front of Rhaegael, the boy got incredibly lucky. There was no tact to the way he leapt forward – leaping forward instead of straight up and coming down from above was a rookie error, after all. Instead it was pure chance that allowed his paw to land upon the tail of the second mouse, and in his surprise he nearly let it go again. He reached forward clapped the mouse on top of the head with his other paw, killing it, before grabbing it up by the tail and parading around his brothers. Drogon rolled his eyes and slammed his hip into Rhaegal’s before taking off once more.

They loped along, Rhaegal’s prize dangling in his jaws, taking in each new sight, and yet never satisfied. After all, who knew when they would get to roam so far again! But when Drogon slowed to a jog, his ears swiveling curiously at the sound of other wolves not far ahead, Viserion and Rhaegal advanced forward to flank him as they emerged from the foliage. Someday, that might become a formidable sight. At this point in time, they were three pups clambering through a bush. Drogon was the largest of the trio, but he remained silent as he looked upon the gathering of wolves before them. Viserion, the smallest, was immediately distracted by the one-sided conversation the grey girl was having with the adult. His head cocked slightly to the side when Cae introduced himself and his friend Praetor. For some reason, the name wrung a bell. But Rhaegal hardly hesitated, jogging forward to greet the girl with the golden cape who had caught his eye. ”For you,” he said, with a devilish grin, before setting the mouse at her paws. ”I’m Rhaegal, and these are my brothers, Viserion and Drogon.” He motioned towards each in turn, but his eyes never left her. Behind him, Drogon rolled his eyes.

It was Viserion who walked forward, surveying the scene before approaching the two adults, listening to the questions that poured forth from the grey girl. But his mind kept going back to that name, Praetor. Why did he know that name? And then he recalled a conversation with their mother, one time when they had pleaded their case to leave the clearing perhaps a few weeks too early. She had told them that soon, by spring’s end, a gentleman from the seaside pack would come to take them on a trip that would be full of exploration. And his name was, ”Praetor! You’re going to show us the sea, right?” Excitement had the boy’s tail whipping back and forth. All the while, Drogon hung back, silently watching the encounter, but his tail slowly began to wag behind him as well, curious to see where this adventure of theirs was going to take them.

drogon; rhaegal; viserion