Chapter Text
Spring of 4991 AS
Squall speared a fish with one talon, grasping it and digging his serrated claws into its flesh to give it a quick death. A rumbling sigh escaped him as the small creature ceased its flopping, his eyes raising to scan the dusky horizon of easy waves in a tired manner. Water rushed between his claws, the waves drawing forward and pulling back from the shore in their unceasing cycle. Despite his struggle to stop himself, and despite the nice scenery, a scowl branched across his face, and all he could do was begin to eat his catch in an attempt to smother the expression.
He shouldn’t be so displeased. He knew that his father would have told him to square his shoulders and suck it up, but the tedium of the long months out on the western shores of the kingdom would get to any dragon, no matter how stalwart their loyalty. Nothing happened in the vicinity of Where-the-Whales-Leap-at-Dawn, at least, nothing but the drifting of snowflakes and the lapping of the waves. Even the name of the town was a disappointment, Squall having yet to see a single whale within the chilly seas—though of course his night-watch was likely contributing to that particular qualm.
He tossed aside the scraps of his fish, the scowl coming back to his face as he turned away from the ocean and leapt into the air, pumping his wings as he rose above the forest. It was as good a time as any to check on his dragon-traps.
He remembered just a few years prior, when he’d been so brimming with ambition and readiness to take up a weapon, to join the army, to fight for and serve his kingdom. Needless to say, he hadn’t been expecting this. Of course, he knew his task was imperative to the security of the kingdom, and not once had he faltered in carrying it out despite the crushing monotony. The Ice Kingdom might be protected with the wall in the south, but the shores were still vulnerable, and out of all the directions enemies could invade from, the west coast was the only logical one. Then again, it was a mental exercise to think about why the SkyWings would do such a thing, but Queen Scarlet was known to be… less than predictable. And with their affinity for fire the SkyWings were likely the most capable tribe in a potential invasion of the Ice Kingdom.
He landed in the forest, weaving his way between the trees as he found the first of his traps and began to check it to ensure it was still in proper shape. If only they would actually make that leap towards war, he thought as he adjusted another trap. This one’s ropes had somehow snapped while he wasn’t looking. Would certainly make my job more exciting. Would make me useful for once… What was he thinking? He shook his head, dispelling the thought as he made the rounds on the last few of his traps; it was probably best to not wish for the invasion of your own home. Perhaps his lack of control on his mind was a product of little sleep. Of course some part of him still wanted some action, but obviously a war would only mean devastation.
He tilted his head toward the sky, briefly appreciating the sight of a faint aurora shining across the dark backdrop, before he spread his wings and took off again. In just two flaps he’d cleared the treetops again, silently cursing in his own mind as his eyelids briefly fluttered. Good soldiers needed to stay awake at all times during their work. He shouldn’t be acting this way.
Thankfully, sleep was soon to come, the shimmering buildings of Where-the-Whales-Leap-at-Dawn coming into view as his shift on lookout came to a close. The sight of the glistening snow on the eaves and that curving, beautiful architecture quickly reminded him of why he held his post and why he kept true to his duty. For the home he’d grown up in and the home he still belonged to was almost certainly the first place anyone landing on the west coast would target first. Thus, it needed to be one of the better-fortified locations in the kingdom.
His eyes caught a shimmer in the sky, the sight of silvery wings lifting themselves into the sky clear at the center of his vision. For a moment he wondered which of his comrades was replacing his watch before his eyes caught the deep blue spikes along the dragon’s back that distinguished Boreal. A small sense of relief washed through his mind, Squall thanking the Great Ice Dragon that it wasn’t Frostbite. She would have stopped him for an entire dissertation on the events of his watch—despite the fact that nothing ever happened. As it was, he and Boreal just ended up exchanging a brief nod to each other as they flew past, a glimmer of respect shining in their eyes. Squall couldn’t exactly call the soldier his friend, but they’d always gotten along well enough.
His muscles finally relaxed as he landed in Where-the-Whales-Leap-at-Dawn, his talons digging into the snow that remained packed hard by dragon-steps. He stepped to the right, moving down a side street and turning a few corners before pushing open a door and stepping into the dark interior beyond. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim setting before his talon found the familiar shape of his Moon Globe—a souvenir from his visit to the capital when he’d joined the army. With a quick tap light bloomed across the room, illuminating the assorted furniture and the curled, sleeping form of his grandmother.
He quickly covered the moonglobe with his wing to dim its light, trying his best to ensure that he didn’t wake her. He still didn’t quite understand why she often insisted upon sleeping by the entrance of the home, but he knew it was due to some less than savory events in her past, so he stayed away from the subject when possible. Thankfully the light of the Moon Globe failed to wake her up and he quickly slipped into his room, dimming the glow down to nothing yet again before collapsing on his sleeping place in a decidedly undignified manner. The whims of the flesh cared not for the qualms of the mind, though, and soon enough he was pulled into the veil of sleep.
***
Her wings cut through the water, her powerful tail propelling her onwards into the depths of the ocean as she searched for her destination, the darkness cleared away by her night-vision. There, she thought, picking out the twisted spiral of rock that looked to have practically grown itself from the underwater cliff. She slowed her blistering pace as she narrowed her eyes, her talons grasping onto the stone once it came in close enough and her wings beating to keep her steady. Then she waited.
Current’s late, she thought a few minutes after as the sound of a dragon cutting their way through the water came from above. A quick glance up caught the sight of a teal SeaWing wheeling his way over the top of the cliff, a few quick pumps of his wings sending him rushing down to land on the rocky spiral.
Report? Current questioned in Aquatic, the formal language of his glowing scales not at all lining up with the dumb grin he had on his face.
The storeroom of dragonflame cactus has been neutralized, she replied, her own Aquatic dancing across her dark blue form. No witnesses and no evidence. They’d never suspect a SeaWing to be capable of it.
Perfect, Current said, his grin growing wider. You never disappoint, do you? King Gill will be pleased. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. I assume you remember what your next assignment is?
Intel mission. She nodded as she flashed the words. Should be a good break from the more action-packed tasks.
Just try not to get too bored, he snickered, a few bubbles drifting up from his snout. You have the earring? She nodded again, Current spreading his wings and lifting himself off the rock in reaction. Then I’ll be seeing you three nights from now. Good luck. She watched him go, the SeaWing vanishing beyond the edge of the cliff again, before she gathered herself and slipped back into the rhythm of swimming. She needed to find a place to rest.
***
Squall watched as his grandmother darted through the air, descending upon her prey with the fury of a blizzard as her claws closed around the seal. Even in old age she was the best hunter he’d ever seen, and there seemed to be no chance of her losing such a title so long as she lived. The animal was soon borne aloft in her talons, the old IceWing smirking at the quick catch while Squall felt his hunger grow at the sight of it. He hadn’t had anything to eat since that meager fish last night.
“Well,” his grandmother said. “Don’t just stand there, Squall. You should catch one of your own.”
“I’m already late to my shift,” he muttered, glancing out towards the horizon. “I don’t have the time to be hunting.” He refused to mention that it would likely take him twenty minutes to find a seal and another twenty to even manage to touch it, let alone catch it–a good soldier did not mean a good hunter.
“Then why did you come out to hunt in the first place? My invitation was not a command.” She began to absentmindedly work at the seal with her claws, preparing it for eating yet keeping her eyes pinpointed on Squall the whole time. It was almost unsettling, in a way, or at least it would have been if his grandmother had anything but care in her eyes.
“What, is there something wrong with spending time with one’s family?” Squall finally replied, the other dragon snorting in reply.
“No, but priorities should be kept in order.” Right. Order, duty, keeping to the task at hand. I should be guarding the kingdom right now, not exchanging pleasantries with her. Then again, he wouldn’t mind seeing Frostbite indignant at being left on her shift too long.
His grandmother sighed at his lack of a response, her muscles tightening as she lifted the seal and tossed it to Squall, the younger IceWing just barely managing to grab it out of the air.
“What?” He shot her a confused look, his gaze flicking between her small smirk and the seal in his talons. “You’re giving me this? You’re not supposed to-”
“Squall, have I ever cared for what others think I’m supposed to do? I can always catch another, and those guarding the kingdom should always be well-fed.” Her smile grew wider as he relented and began to eat the seal, the old IceWing nodding in satisfaction. Of course, if anyone knew he was eating a catch that wasn’t his own then there’d be some social consequences, but so long as it was kept between him and his grandmother… Well, he’d never been one to pass up a good meal.
***
Her glide through the currents of the depths was graceful and effortless, the cool waters soothing her mind and any traces of worry she might have had before. She was in her element, and the oceans bent to her will–and that meant any ocean. Her thoughts briefly traced themselves to the earring she wore after that and she silently thanked the moons for that little blessing before she focused back on the feeling of water rushing across her scales. There was nothing like a good swim.
If she could have simply swam forever as her mission then she would have, but unfortunately she knew that the mainland was coming up soon–she could tell from the way the seafloor was beginning to slant upwards. She briefly checked the pouch wrapped around her ankle, nodding to herself as she assured that her rations were still contained within. Then her talon trailed to the more concealed dagger tucked in the crook of her wing, the comfortable feeling of the hilt assuring her of her safety. She didn’t want to harm anyone, and doing so would violate the integrity of the mission, but when it came to unforeseen life or death situations it was always good to have something to defend yourself with.
With a more satisfied demeanor she took her hand off the dagger’s hilt and began to power forward again, faster this time. Better to get a boring mission done fast than slog through it at a snail’s pace because you find it distasteful. At least the Ice Kingdom would provide some good scenery. She’d always heard that it was the most beautiful of all the kingdoms.
***
“It has been a full thirty minutes!” Frostbite shrieked at him. “That is thirty too many!” He internally rolled his eyes, though of course he made sure to not let that motion track to his physical body. He’d hear no end of it if she caught him making such expressions at her.
“I understand that, Frostbite,” he growled in reply. “As I understood it the other twenty times you’ve yelled that at me so far.” Her eyes narrowed at that, and he quickly rushed to recover the conversation. “And you’re right,” he continued. “It was thirty too many, yes. I’ll make sure this is the first and last time I miss my shift.” Sometimes it was better to placate Frostbite than actively confront her.
“If something had happened within that time, it would have been your fault,” she hissed, jabbing a talon at him. “Remember that, and don’t make the same mistake again.” With that, she flew past him, seemingly satisfied by the reprimanding while Squall was just relieved that it was over. She wasn’t wrong, necessarily, at least not wholly, but she still said things in the most aggressive and aggravating way possible at every opportunity she had.
He shook his head, angling his wings and gliding southwards towards the guard-post he knew to be hidden in the trees of the forest near Where-the-Waves-Leap-at-Dawn. Just a quick stop there and then it was on to the patrol. At least his tardiness meant a shorter duration of that.
The flight wasn’t long, his claws touching down on the small platform of carved wood as he ducked his white-scaled head under the branches of the massive tree and looked around at the post and its small collection of supplies. The camouflage that well-hid the place remained intact, a couple spears lay upon the small floor, and the materials necessary for constructing more traps were all present. Not that he planned on building more traps—he’d grown rather tired of the exercise, and these materials were more meant as reserve in case the already set traps broke. Or if they were triggered…
For a brief moment he looked out towards the glistening sea, his eyes narrowing at the horizon. So long spent watching for nothing, and yet there was always a chance, wasn’t there? He growled under his breath, snatching one of the spears from the post before gliding to the forest floor and prowling through the trees. He hadn’t used a spear while at his post in months, deeming it too much of a hassle. But then again, caution would do him no harm, and one day it might just save his life. That was, if he was ever put in a life-threatening position. At the rate things were going he wouldn’t see combat for the rest of his life, but at least he could expect a position as a member of the royal guards after enough service. He merely had to stay dutiful, and-
There was a snap.
It was faint—practically inaudible—but his ears still caught the noise from afar, and his grip on his spear tightened. That wasn’t the crack of a stick from some animal treading its way through the forest. That was the distinctive snap of a dragon-trap. Even after all this time he still remembered it from when the traps had broken or when they’d been tested—much to a tied-up Boreal’s chagrin. He still remembered the look on the older IceWing’s face as he- Stop! Focus!
There was a chance that an animal had triggered the trap, but it was unlikely, and he heard no panic from any creature coming from the place even as he hurried towards it through the trees. His muscles tensed as he checked one of the traps, his mind rushing and his eyes just waiting to see the distinctive red scales of a SkyWing against the bright white of the snow. That trap remained empty and unactivated, and so he hurried on to the next. He couldn’t tell exactly which one the sound had come from, but he knew he was close. His suspicions were only confirmed as he heard a muffled rustling emanating through the forest—again just barely audible, yet growing louder as he drew closer.
The trap here lay at the edge of a small clearing in the forest, he recalled as he wended his way through the trees, his nerves growing yet his resolve strengthened. This was his chance. This was the moment. To think that he might be the one to stop an invasion of the Ice Kingdom. Both excitement and fear filled him before he stamped out both emotions, steeling himself, tightening his stance, and preparing for anything.
Just a moment later he turned around a large tree, his left talon reaching the edge of the clearing as his right gripped the spear tighter than ever. His eyes flicked across the perimeter of the small open space, tracking towards where the trap lay at the other side.
And there, ropes binding the dragon’s limbs, lay a deep-blue SeaWing.