fire made flesh; and fire is power

Deep garnet eyes surveyed the scene as it unfolded before him. It was not that Drogon was nervous or scared of the other wolves, he simply preferred to sit back and observe rather than interact himself. He watched as Rhaegal approached the girl draped in golden hues, while Viserion took only a few moments to piece the situation together before contributing his own comments. The cream boy was quick witted, both his fur and his mind being brighter than both of his brothers. But that darkest of the trio was also the quietest, which was slowly becoming evident. Truly what he concerned himself with above all else was the protection of his siblings. He positioned himself so that every wolf present was within his line of sight, and his gaze slowly drifted between each wolf in turn. Despite his eyes holding a the slightest of a more serious affliction than his brothers, the steady wagging of his tail betrayed the fact that he too was excited to be meeting new wolves.

He rolled his eyes when Rhaegal placed the mouse at the girls paw. But the boy with the chocolate cap grinned shamelessly at the girl, mischief twinkling in his eyes. Her response only made his smile tip slightly to one side as his head tilted the other, giving him a most endearing and yet somehow incendiary look. ”I do not doubt it; it does not mean you should always have to,” he said charmingly, pleased with the fact that she had taken the mouse as a gift. All too suddenly she was far closer to him, and her cold nose touched to his in the briefest of fashions. His mismatched duo toned eyes popped wide open, surprised by the affectionate display, and his belly did a bit of a backflip. Even his charming little smile faltered for a moment, his jaw slackening until she introduced herself, when he regained his composure and felt the heat rise in his cheeks at having lost it in the first place. That was when he felt a soft nip at his hip, turning to see that Drogon had silently approached the group when he had decided standing guard wasn’t altogether necessary. He didn’t want to miss out on all the fun.

Through all of this, Viserion was entirely distracted by the prospect of what was to come. He knew why Praetor was here, their mother had told them of the trip they were going to get to take to the seaside pack. His ears flicked to and fro as Bastille asked what a sea was, but he strained forward in earnest, eyes focused on Praetor, eager for him to confirm with the creamy golden boy already knew to be true. As soon as the word yes emerged from his lips, Viserion actually popped up onto his hind legs for a moment, enthralled with the idea. Before long they set off, heading to the south and crossing the borders of their homeland for the first time. The excitement of the group was contagious, and all three of the boys chased each other around, circling the group and sometimes falling a little behind - though Cae seemed to do a good job of making sure they kept up - but never passing their leader. It was almost like a completely uncoordinated dance, the way they weaved between Embla and Bastille, nipping at each other but never so much as brushing up against the girls. Once, Rhaegal broke away from his brothers as they loped side by side just off to Praetor’s left. He dropped back beside Bastille, taking a deep breath and extending his neck so that he could press his nose into the side of her muzzle. It was a more awkward movement than her greeting had been - after all, they were on the move - but he was pleased with the result and gave her a lopsided grin before shooting off to rejoin his brothers.

Slowly the ground beneath their feet began to change from the sturdy soil they knew so well to a soft substance that gave way beneath each step. Three dark noses lifted to the sky as they slowed, inhaling the strange new scents of this land. In his excitement Rhaegal grabbed hold of Drogon’s ear and yanked a little harder than normal. He was rewarded with a harsh nip to his neck, and when Rhaegal recoiled slightly his ears pulled back, glancing around in hopes that Bastille was distracted enough by the great dune that rose before them that she had not seen. Viserion, of course, was transfixed by Praetor’s words, and when he gave his permission the boy fringed in ivory looked over to Embla, the girl who had seemed as interested in learning all she could as he was. He climbed the dune near to her, but Drogon’s legs were far more powerful than his even at such a young age. As the ebony boy climbed the dune the russet that streaked his ribcage caught the light of the sun, making the markings stand out as he made his way to the top of the dune.

Once more the boys came to be congruent, Rhaegal and Viserion flanking their brother, and the young dragons of the mountain gazed out at the spectacle that was the sea. Not for the first time that day Rhaegal found his jaw slackened once more, amazed by the endlessness that stretched out before him. But Drogon simply stared, his head swiveling slowly to look up and down the vastness of the horizon, taking in the beach and the other dunes that surrounded them, his ears listening to the way the water rolled against the shore. Viserion was much the same, but he looked only for a moment before lifting his gaze to Praetor. ”May we go closer?” he asked, desperate to get to feel and smell and truly encounter this ‘sea’ first hand, so as better to learn about it.

drogon; rhaegal; viserion