fire made flesh; and fire is power

They are a mess of grays and blacks, blondes and whites, a smattering of color that seemed to rise and fall with the breath of a great beast. But upon closer inspection they are four separate entities, legs entwined and heads rested upon each other's backs and sides. Peacefully do they sleep, even if one is cast in dreams of grandeur and another of fighting off a darkness he does not fully comprehend. So fully encompassed by one another, they did not so much as stir when Daenerys extricated herself from the den to survey the darkened world beyond their doorstep. Even as Kalseru turned to drape her head across Rhaegal's shoulders he only sighed softly in his sleep, content in all things. It was the firm pressing of a nose into a shoulder of blonde that saw the first child woken, blinking sleep from molten gold eyes as Viserion lifted his white marked face to gaze blearily up at his mother. And though Drogon became aware of his mother's desire for them to wake and rise, blackened lids remained closed, unsure of what was waking reality and what had been only dream - or nightmare? It was not prodding or pushing that brought Rhaegal to consciousness, but words of adventure. Mismatched duo toned eyes opened and looked to their mother as she licked Kalseru's head, observing the mother daughter exchange and grinning at the way she tried to deny their mother's attempts. He waited for his sister to begin to move herself before he shifted his own body.

Three of the four children were upon their feet, stretching and giving in to whatever plans it was their mother had made for them. Viserion's eyes lingered upon her silvered pelt, tracing the lines of the mask upon her face, ever curious of her intentions. But he remained silent, thinking that perhaps in this case it would be best to just wait and see. As Daenerys herded them from the den Drogon's eyes finally opened, his nostrils flaring and realizing the true absence of his siblings. A final lick upon the bridge of his nose affirmed the difference between his dreams and this reality, and he refused to be left to languish in the fading warmth of his siblings. Without stretching or shaking out his pelt he lifted to his paws, a slightly concerned look from his mother seeing him turn away and exit the den to join his siblings. Daenerys emerged last, and without a word turned and set off up a familiar path.

Kalseru was the first to follow, closely trailed by Rhaegal; Viserion was next and Drogon took up the rear. They made their way along paths familiar to them, ones that climbed high with the peaks of the range; these were places they had explored at length through their first year of life. But always Drogon had searched higher, looking for a place that Daenerys had spoken of on occasion with reverence. Due to the distraction his dreams had caused him, he did not even realize that perhaps today that coveted spot would be revealed to him. Rhaegal, too, did not comprehend it at first, engrossed only in the idea of adventure and what might lay ahead. It seemed that only Kalseru and Viserion were the ones to piece together the possibility early on in their trek.

They travesered the familiar trails with ease, the drowsiness of their early morning start finally giving way to excitement at what was to come. Rhaegal's tail waved out behind him and Viserion's ears pricked forward, eyes darting about to take in familiar surroundings and wondering when they would diverge from the well worn path. Drogon was more focused on the bounding forms of his siblings and mother before him, so much so that when Kalseru's steps faltered for but a moment he nearly pushed past his brothers to ensure she had not lost her footing. But his attention was quickly refocused on the trail Daenerys had turned upon, though it was hardly a trail at all. She cut through the underbrush, and Viserion's nose quickly went to work, trying to decipher the different scents that had gone through here. There were not many, and it was perhaps the overwhelming scent of the juniper bushes that had masked the boys discovery of this path that was hiding in plain sight. After a slight dip in their progression, the way became very steep. For a time Rhaegal plowed onward, determined not to slow down, but finding that more than a jog in these areas was not possible. Viserion, however, slowed early on to preserve his strength for the duration of the climb. And even Drogon, who so often trekked high with the mountains in search of the secret place to which they traveled now, began to feel the burn in his muscles as they continued onward and ever upwards.

Then, all at once it seemed, they came to their journey's end. Rhaegal's maw parted ever so slightly with the sudden realization of where their mother had brought them. He shadowed Kalseru's movements, coming to stand beside her along the edge of the rocky outcropping and gaze upon the shadowed world that sprawled out before them. It was like seeing it for the first time, even though he had looked upon Moladion from on high so many times in his life. This was different, special in an intangible way. Viserion moved around Kalseru and Rhaegal to Daenerys' far side, sidling into the small space left between her and the rise of rock that lifted to the very peak of the mountain. This was as high as a wolf could get in Spirane, he realized as he glanced around and down rather that out. As the last to move out onto the rocky outcropping, Drogon actually stopped short, garnet eyes expressing his disbelief in where they had been brought to. Daenerys offered him a sly smirk and her son's nostrils flared, disappointed in himself for having worked so hard in an attempt to spoil this moment for his mother by finding it first. He was swept over with an inkling of guilt, but also relief in that he had not discovered this place for himself. Moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Rhaegal, he took a deep breath and appreciated, for the first time, the highest view a wolf could get of Moladion.

drogon; rhaegal; viserion