Machiavelli

Machiavelli wasn't like other boys. He felt..... things.... others didn't. He couldn't accept it, scared to tell anyone the feelings that engulfed him. He couldn't comprehend why he was different. Other boys in his lair noticed the girls. Everyone developed together, all hatchlings growing together. and yet, Machiavelli didn't. Machiavelli noticed his best friend. Darius was beautiful. Strong and the apple in many dragons eye. He was the exact opposite of Machiavelli. yet somehow they had been drawn together. Machiavelli was shy, quiet and unnoticed compared to Darius's smiling gait and his overflowing happiness and optimism. That was one of the things Machiavelli noticed about Darius, admired even. Along with the way that even though Darius got all the attention, he always made sure Machiavelli got enough to feel important too.
That's why Machiavelli's heart broke when the only thing in Darius's eyes was disgust and shame when Machiavelli told him his feelings. he had recoiled from his touch. Darius ran away from Machiavelli and the only time that he ever looked at Machiavelli were sideglances of pity and when Darius talked down on Machiavelli.
His parents were worse somehow. The loving parents he had thought, dropped their masquerade and kicked him out of the lair, their faces masked with a sneer. The last color he saw before the crimson of the blood flowing from the cut that he had received from a swipe to the face from his father, was the dark green of his front door slammed in his face. He sat on the cold stone ground, his tail curled around his frail body. The cold winds frosted the tips of his wings. He cried, giant globules of salty water streaming down his cheeks as he stood up, his jaw tight and his stance shaking with morose sorrow.
A Year Later
He was rugged, his frail wings were scarred and his gaze always mad. Not mad.... just paranoid. He used to be a pushover, people took advantage of him, but he never let anyone close to him. Not even to touch him. The sensation disgusted him now. He wandered the Driftwood drag, taking up jobs guarding caravans that crisscrossed the forest. Until the day he finished a job at the most massive tree he had ever seen. The Yggdrasil lair, a haven for misfits that lived in peace. The place he had thought would only be a stop on a journey he'd never end. Until he saw the most beautiful dragon in his life. A gorgeous male Pearlcather, White with black butterfly wings, glimmering with passion. Bright and Cheery. He was the reason that Machiavelli stayed. And the reason Machiavelli opened up and began to feel again. They grew close, and the boy was never disgusted by him, coming to feel the same.