The trio moved as swiftly as they ever had, covering the ground that separated them from their one true home at an alarming rate. To any onlooker, they would certainly appear as the force that their brotherhood truly was. Each knew the other so well that they were easily able to compensate in length of stride or speed of step so that they moved as a unit. At their head was the most well rounded of the trio - a moderately tall gray male flecked over the back with lighter and darker hues. He was crowned in a ruddy copper hue, with twin black audits pricked forward alertly as he ran. The black mask he wore made his mismatched multi-tonal eyes stand out brilliantly as they fixated upon their destination. The mountain towered on the horizon, and they had begun their journey home as soon as the call to challenge had rang out across Moladion. There was no room in their hearts to doubt the valor of their mother. True, she had been defeated last spring by the usurper, but they believed in her now more than ever before.

In their younger days it would have been the wolf that flanked Rhaegal to his right loping in his place. The immense black wolf whose coat was streaked through with a bloodied red hue had always been at the fore of their procession when they were youngsters growing up on the mountain. But over the past year Rhaegal had emerged as the natural leader of the group. There had been more serious testing between the two brothers, especially when Drogon's misery at Semele's absence could not be tempered. On more than one occasion the smaller male of golden hues, trimmed in white, had had to separate his brothers before they did any lasting damage to one another. Since winter's passing things had begun to calm between the trio. The cold weather was a natural stimulant for dominance trials, but it had been each brother's reunion with their chosen companions that had truly put them at ease. Though they were born to be together, sometimes they needed time apart as well. So when Arthfael had rejoined Viserion at the winter gathering, he'd had a source of distraction from his brothers' constant testing of one another. Spring's arrival had brought with it the return of Semele, casting Drogon into a peaceful state that his sibling had never seen before. And Bastille's call to mischief had distracted Rhaegal from the losses he had suffered in not only his home, but in Sorcha as well. He'd come back to the group with a new shine in his eyes, and as the first buds on the trees had blossomed, there was no longer any question who the leader was in their group.

As the sun worked its way higher into the sky, the trio grew ever closer to their home. Before they had left the spot in the fields were they had been resting for the past few days, they had each sent up a call to their friends - Bastille, Arthfael, and Semele - to join them when they could. When they were within a few miles of the borders, a much stronger howl than even their own chorus had been that morning rose into the air. Daenerys had been victorious. Rhaegal glanced sideways at each of his brothers, a look of pure delight crossing his features, and all at once they put on a burst of speed. Though both Viserion and Drogon were not built for sprints, they tested the strength of their limbs to keep pace with their faster brother, and before long they had crossed into the land of their birth. Home again at last, Rhaegal let loose a burst of energy, leaping over a fallen tree and tossing his head midair, letting loose a bark of excitement that his brothers added their own voices to - even as Drogon rolled his eyes at his brother's exuberance.

Familiar trails led them up into the mountains, and they knew exactly where Daenerys would be waiting for them and the pack. Mature young legs worked their way up the familiar terrain, craving each step into the heights of the mountains and relishing the burn that returned to their muscles. When they came closer to the clearing, they slowed to an easy lope, so that when they entered the gathering area they moved at a nearly synchronized jog. "As we always have, and ever shall be," Rhaegal added to his younger sister's declaration, a mischievous glint in his eye as he winked at her. It wasn't until he spotted the darker girl seated off to his mother's side that he realized the building anticipation of their arrival could be attributed to more than just Daenerys' success in the battle. He felt a jolt in his chest and a drop in his stomach. Viekas, he'd learned her name was. And it hadn't taken much of a discussion with Viserion to work out that she was, in fact, his imprint. Less coy and more formal, he offered her a dip of his head in greeting and a small smile of acknowledgement before the trio honed in on their mother.

They approached her as a group, encircling her for a moment as loving licks and nudges were given, careful not to jostle her wounds. "Your wounds seem trivial enough, but you still should have given them at least a little attention, Mother," Viserion noted, observing the shallow cuts and deeper bite wound. His eyes narrowed for a moment before looking back to her face, but he smiled nevertheless. "Congratulations," Drogon added in a quiet, deep rumble. Pride resonated from the brilliant garnet of his eyes. He was now much taller than her, but he lowered his head out of respect so that it was below hers. With a final, knowing, "There was never any question about it," from Rhaegal, the brothers moved away from their mother. Once more Rhaegal found himself glancing towards Viekas, curious about her, but just as quickly his eyes moved towards the outskirts of the clearing. The young dragons were looking for the fourth number of their litter - where was Kalseru?