Whitepaw

8th Generation Naomi Descendant - 4th Generation Ignis Descendant



Bloodlines

Naomi --> Willow --> Erroneous --> Code -> Dorrin --> Roark ->
Delilah -> Me

Ignis > Marduk > Rymir > Me!




Story

There had always been dangers in uniting the bloodlines of Ignis and Naomi, but Delilah and Rymir hadn’t been thinking about that when had been caught up in the heat of their passions. They both had wanted each other and that was that. However, after Delilah had laid three eggs and the two lovers had decided parted ways, the dangers soon became very apparent in their second eldest son, Whitepaw.

Thanks to his mother’s ability to blend into her surroundings and his father’s ability to shapeshift, Whitepaw could turn completely invisible. Although that really was the tip of the iceberg when it came to Whitepaw’s parent-stress-inducing powers. The hatchling could teleport from place to place when only when his powers were at full force thankfully. He was capable of accidentally breaking dragon bones with his uncontrollable strength and sprouting blue translucent limps around his wings to help him hold and grab things. Although, the worst of Whitepaw’s talents were his powerful explosions. These explosions were a direct result of the power of Naomi and Ignis churning in one body. Whitepaw’s litter siblings, Ryku and Varina, hadn’t shown signs of being able to create such blasts and Delilah and Rymir were thankful because these burst of energy couldn’t just kill dragons—they could kill gods as well.

And there were dragons that had been looking for that kind of power for centuries.

Now, Delilah and Rymir tried to hide Whitepaw’s deadliest power, but their son could only go so long while holding his overflowing magic inside of him. Whitepaw honestly did try his hardest to hold it in too, but as he grew older and his power became more abundant, he eventually had to release his magic in one giant blast or else his own power would destroy him. His parents wouldn’t allow the latter so they began to take their son to a deserted place in the Shattered Plains monthly to give Whitepaw a chance to blow off his energy. However, as the parents took turns taking Whitepaw from the Shifting Expanse to the Dragonhome and back, many eyes saw them. Even more eyes got a look at the massive craters in the earth that Whitepaw left in his wake.

It wasn’t long before hunters came looking for Whitepaw in the dead of night. They attacked Furiku's Clan, which was where Whitepaw had currently been staying at. The hunters set fire to the dragon’s homes and tore apart Whitepaw’s room. Fortunately, Whitepaw quickly turned invisible and pressed himself in the corner of his room. The hatchling wanted to teleport, but having expelled his magic in another giant explosion only a couple of weeks ago, it was nearly impossible.

“Come out, come out wherever you are little Whitepaw.” One of the hunters, who was a mirror dragon with scars covering his back and a psychotic grin, drawled as he looked under Whitepaw’s tiny bed.

The hatchling pressed himself furthered into the wall and started shaking violently.

“You know I can see your heat signature.” The mirror purred. The other hunters chuckled behind him.

Whitepaw’s heat stopped beating.

The mirror dragon step towards Whitepaw and looked directly at him, still grinning wildly.

“You’d be surprised how much some dragons are willing to pay me to bring you back—alive. And how many others just want your head. However, none of them have said why exactly they want you so my curious,” the mirror continued as he stretched out a talon and touched Whitepaw’s invisible snout. “why exactly do they all want you so bad?”

“Whitepaw!” The trembling hatchling heard his father roar in the distance.

“Let’s hurry up and bag him, Crowvar.” One of the others hunters muttered to scarred mirror.

The mirror turned his head back to his companions.

“Let the hatchling answer the simple question first.” Crowvar replied and dragged his talon up the hatchling’s snout to his forehead. The mirror looked at the hatchling with narrowed eyes.

“Tell me, child, or else I’ll slit your throat.” The mirror growled

“I-I-I—” The little imperial stammered.

“Speak clearly.” Crowvar ordered.

Instantly, Whitepaw sat up strait.

“I-I can create explosions th-that can kill anything—even g-gods.” Whitepaw piped up.

The mirror dragon wickedly smiled again.

“Why thank you.” The scarred dragon said before he threw a sack over Whitepaw’s head.

~

Crowvar carried Whitepaw several weeks on his back and only removed the sack from the little imperial’s head to force feed him some scraps of meat. Although, the worst part of the journey was Crowvar stories. The mirror dragon loved to tell the imperial hatchling about how he dismembered many dragons and skinned them alive. Sometimes Crowvar would drag his talons across Whitepaw’s sides and promise that he would slowly cut Whitepaw apart too if he ever chose to run or teleport.

And Whitepaw believed, with every fiber of his being, that the mirror would keep to his word. The hatchling didn’t ever fight against the hunters either because he feared Crowvar and all of the horrible things he could do him.

Fortunately though, that terrifying trek Whitepaw, made with Crowvar, came to an end when the mirror dragon brought Whitepaw to a place he called “his master’s castle.”

~

Crowvar threw Whitepaw onto the cold marble floor and took his time taking the sack of Whitepaw’s head.

“Master,” Crowvar spoke as his talons stroked the imperial hatchling’s neck and Whitepaw began to tremble. “I have brought you, Whitepaw.”

Instantly, the sack came off of Whitepaw’s head and the little imperial dragon saw a massive guardian dragon, with a sleek black hide of metallic scales, lounging on a massive throne of onyx. The hatchling noticed that there was a golden crowd resting on the guardian’s head as well.

The black dragon looked the hatchling up and down with his pupil-less white eyes. Whitepaw began to tremble more. Crowvar had told him that his master loved eat hatchlings with little white paws.

“Why are you trembling, child?” The guardian asked, softly.

“Cr-crowvar s-said you were going to eat m-m-me.” Whitepaw squeaked.

The white-eyed dragon looked over to Crowvar and narrowed his eyes at the mirror.

“What?!” Crowvar scoffed. “You told me to—“

“What else did he tell you, child.” The guardian asked without breaking his gaze from the mirror.

“H-he told m-me how he likes t-to cut dr-dragons open and see what’s inside th-them.”

There was a small pause of silence.

“Arrest the mirror. Now.” The guardian bellowed. Instantly, the soldiers flanking either side of the guardian dragon’s throne pounced on the mirror dragon.

“Master!” Crowvar pleaded as the soldiers cuffed him and began to drag him out of throne room. “There must be some mistake! I did everything you asked—“

“Silence, Crowvar.” The guardian commanded.

“Master! Please! I beg—“ Crowvar’s words were cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut.

With Crowvar gone, silence filled the throne room. Whitepaw went completely still—not out of relief, but of fear of what Crowvar’s master might do to him.

“Come here, child.” The guardian said as he extended a gleaming black paw. “I promise no one will harm you.”

Whitepaw quickly walked towards the dragon who could easily swallow him whole, but hesitated when the dragon gestured for the imperial lay beside him on his throne.

“It’s alright, child.” The guardian assured.

The hatchling looked up into the guardian’s strange alabaster eyes. There wasn’t an kindness or rage in those eyes. There was nothing at all actually, but the little imperial trusted the guardian’s words and hoped onto the throne.

“You may rest now.” The guardian dragon assured.

The hatchling didn’t have the energy to fight the sudden exhaustion he felt come over him so he leaned into the guardian dragon’s warm scales and let his eyelids slide over his pupils. Crowvar’s master watched the imperial hatchling’s eyes close. Then, the guardian dragon grinned more wickedly than Crowvar ever could.

He had waited a millennia for a hatchling like this to be born.

~

Crowvar’s master, as Whitepaw had soon learned, was actually known as King Nightfear, but the guardian dragon insisted that Whitepaw call him “Father.” Whitepaw innocently told the king that he already had a father, but the king explained that Rymir didn’t qualify as a father anymore because Rymir hadn’t searched Whitepaw after Crowvar had taken him.

“Wait, you mean he didn’t look for me at all?” Whitepaw asked, lightning eyes wide as he looked up from his bowl of soup.

“No, I’m afraid not.” The king said.

“What about Ryku and Varina and Mother?” The hatchling asked.

The black dragon shrugged.

“They didn’t seem to care.”

Tears welled up in Whitepaw’s eyes.

“They didn’t miss me at all?”

The king reached out and gently brushed away Whitepaw’s tears with his claws.

“They didn’t, my little paws, but don’t worry. You will always have me.”

Whitepaw hadn’t realized then, but it was much more of a threat than a promise.

~

In the days that followed, Whitepaw ventured through the halls of King Nightfear’s castle in the morning and spent the evenings practicing using his magic and fighting techniques with the king. When nightfall came, King Nightfear would tell Whitepaw stories of the eleven gods’ horrible deeds and the heroic dragons who had rose up to defeat them.

Whitepaw liked his new life in the castle...but there were times when King Nightfear scared him. It normally happened when Whitepaw accidentally referred to Rymir as Father. King Nightfear would shout at him and sometimes strike him. The king would get mad at Whitepaw for failing to cast certain spells correctly too. However, King Nightfear would always apologize to Whitepaw after each outburst and sometimes give him small gifts.

Whitepaw always forgave King Nightfear because the guardian dragon was really the only thing he had left.

That was why Whitepaw killed Crowvar and many other enemies when his father asked too. Why he excepted the new name Bloodpaw even though he despised it. Because the black dragon was the only thing keeping him from monsters like Crowvar and the eleven gods. So Bloodpaw killed and killed.

And, eventually, he forgot what it was like to be truly loved...

~

After having reached adolescence within the walls of King Nightfear’s castle, there wasn’t much, other than his father’s rage of course, that scared Bloodpaw. Not much surprised him either, but that fateful day in the peak of winter, when his father summoned him to the throne room—that was something different all together.

Bloodpaw arrived only a few moments after his father’s summoning and didn’t even flinch at the sight of some bloody nocturne dragon lying on the floor before his father’s feet. Bloody corpses as a common sight in the throne room actually. Although, when the battered nocturne lifted up her head and the imperial dragon looked into her beautiful blues eyes, the wind was suddenly knocked out of him.

She was his bloodlock.

He felt it deep in his very soul.

“Kill this one.” His father ordered, his voice clipped with unusual urgency. “Now.”

Bloodpaw couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His father, King Nightfear, had told him that bloodlocks were a myth. A lie Naomi descendants had spun to encourage unnatural inbreeding, but here she was. His bloodlock.

“Are you hearing—“ The king started to say, but stopped once saw how his son was looking at her.

The nocturne fixed her eyes on Bloodpaw and spat at his feet. The imperial dragon winced at the sight of her saliva and snapped out of his trance. She hated him. Of course, she hated him. He was Bloodpaw, the cold-blooded killer and the former hatchling no one thought was worth searching for.

“Guards, I want her back in the dungeons.” King Nightfear commanded with false calm.

The guards hastily grabbed the nocturne and began dragging her out of the throne room. Bloodpaw desperately wanted to follow the nocturne, but his father’s paw on his shoulder stopped him.

“Don’t.” His father snarled.

Bloodpaw bowed his head and remained in place. He didn’t deserve that nocturne.

~

King Nightfear had beaten Bloodpaw for hesitating to kill that nocturne. The guardian had kept beating him too until he went unconscious. However, as soon as the imperial regained his ability to walk, he rushed down the dungeons to see her. He didn’t care if his father killed him for it. He had to do it.

The nocturne didn’t say anything when she first saw him. She just stared with dead, lifeless eyes.

“Have you come to kill me?” She croaked as dried blood broke off her neck and cascaded onto the ground.

Bloodpaw looked down at his paws, which were always caked in blood since his father never allowed him to wash them. This was a mistake. A terrible mistake.

“I just wanted to know your name.” He admitted, his voice no louder than a whisper.

The nocturne chocked her head to the side.

“Is this an interrogation then?”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Bloodpaw squeaked, still unable to meet her eyes.

“Why are you even bothering to ask then?” The nocturne questioned.

Bloodpaw wanted to disappear and teleport away in that very moment, but somehow managed to find the courage to look into his bloodlock’s eyes.

“I want to know.” He admitted, honestly.

The nocturne leaned her head back against her cell’s bars to get a better look at the massive imperial. Her expression was devoid of all emotion, but her eyes held so many questions as they looked him over and lingered at his bloody paws.

“You’re still not really answering my question.” She told him as she kept her eyes focused on the blood that caked his talons. Bloodpaw shifted his paws behind his tail, self-consciously, which made the nocturne look up at him again.

“Is that your blood?” She asked, her voice all too quiet.

Bloodpaw looked down again at the floor and lowered his head.

“No.” He whispered.

There was a terrible silence that followed when the nocturne didn’t reply. Bloodpaw hated every single minute of it, but he didn’t move. He deserved the shame and the hate from his bloodlock, even if it killed him.

“My name’s Naona.” The nocturne offered.

The imperial’s ears and wide-eyed gaze flicked towards the nocturne. Naona. It was a beautiful respelling of the name of Naomi, the ancestor that they shared. It was probably a tribute to the Glitch Queen. Although, the best part of it was that it was his bloodlock’s name.

“Thank you.” The imperial told her before he quickly teleported back to his chambers. There thousands of other things he wanted to say to her, but he knew his father would call on him soon and he couldn’t refuse his father’s summons, regardless of how badly his heart wanted to.

~

“Do you love me, Bloodpaw?” King Nightfear asked his son as they both stared down at the map of Sornieth. The king had circled each shrine where the eleven deities resided and traced the quickest routes to and from them.

Bloodpaw shallowed hard. That was the question his father always asked before he ordered Bloodpaw to go on a mission to find and kill someone.

“Yes.” The imperial answered.

“Good.” His father said, his horned head still turned down towards the map. “I need you to do something then.”

“To prove my love?” Bloodpaw echoed his father’s classically phrase.

His father wickedly grinned. His alabaster fangs that were so at odds with his obsidian snout.

“Yes, indeed my son.” His father purred. “Although, this will be the last time you will have to prove your love.”

Bloodpaw jerked his head up from the map to look at his father. He had to have heard him wrong.

“F-father?” The imperial stuttered.

“You heard me clearly.” King Nightfear answered, still grinning and already sensing his son’s question.

Bloodpaw blinked at his father in disbelief. He had never dared to dream his father would stop asking him to prove his love. He never thought there would be a time when simply being with his father would be enough. A time when he wouldn’t have to cut and slaughter to stay alive.

“What must I do, Father?”

In response, King Nightfear pressed a talon against the dead center of the map of Sornieth.

“In a month from now, the ten of the remaining deities will be meeting at the crossroads to discuss the Tidelord’s disappearance. I want you to kill them all.”

Bloodpaw blinked. All ten remaining deities. Together. Most dragons wouldn’t even dare to take on one god, let alone ten. Although, for Bloodpaw it would be so easy. So undeniably easy.

And it would earn him his father’s undying love. For good.

“I will do it, Father.” Bloodpaw promised.

“Good. I expect you to begin preparations for you departure immediately.”

“Yes, Father.” Bloodpaw obediently replied before he got out of his seat and started towards the doors that marked the room’s only exit.

Although, a single word made him pause: Naona. He be leaving her if he went to kill the elemental deities. Leaving her to his father.

“Father,” Bloodpaw started to say. “What of the nocturne?”

There was a long pause full of roaring silence that made Bloodpaw wish he could shove his question back into his maw. He was risking everything he had ever hoped for by asking about Naona and practically asking for another beating. He knew it was stupid to be doing this. And weak. So unforgivably weak. And yet, here Bloodpaw was—daring to ask a question that could very well end him for a dragon he barely knew.

His father probably should have allowed Crowvar to kill him.

“That street rat,” his father stared slowly with a voice that was low and lethal, “who tried to attack our home and subdue you will be dead by morning.”

There was a threat and a challenge laced behind those words. Bloodpaw knew he had to back down then and shut down any thoughts he had about what his father had said. It was never his place to question his father. He had stepped over a deadly line. The imperial quickly averted his eyes to the ground and lowered his head.

Morning. Dead by morning. The weight of those words pounded inside him.

“Understood, father.” He mumbled. The imperial dragon then turned towards the door—an escape from his father’s wraith, just a few feet away.

Four feet to go.

Bloodpaw starting walking towards the exit yet again, with his head lowered and heart pounding. His father remained silent and seated. The calm before the storm.

Three feet to go.

The subtle scrape of his talons on the stone seemed nearly as loud as a griffin’s shriek in the heavy silence. Bloodpaw knew his father was waiting, testing him.

Two feet.

He wished he could teleport away, but that wasn’t allowed in his father’s presence. Once during a training session, his father had gotten so angry that Bloodpaw had teleported away from him in fear. King Nightfear had found him afterwards and beaten him until he saw stars. Teleporting to escape danger was weakness.

One foo—

“Bloodpaw,” the king said.

Bloodpaw instantly stilled every part of his body, except his racing heart. The imperial dragon squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for his father first strike.

“You will stand by me when I kill the rat tomorrow.” He ordered.

Bloodpaw shallowed hard. That was it. She was going to die. Tomorrow. And he’d never see her again. The punishment was much worse than a beating ever could be.

“I will,” the son croaked as his heart broke.

~

When he hastily unlocked Naona’s prison door in the dead of night and told her to be quiet, she gawked at him.

“Why are you doing this?!” She demanded, after overcoming her shock.

“I don’t want you to die.” He replied. It was the truth technically. “Now, be quiet.”

~

By some miracle, Bloodpaw got the nocturne to main balcony without being detected. Bloodpaw half expected the nocturne to take to the skies the moment he opened his balcony door...but she didn’t. Instead, she lingered there and listened to the wind.

“You’re Whitepaw, aren’t you?” She asked as she stared out at King Nightfear’s vast kingdom.

Bloodpaw stiffened at the sound of his old name.

“Where did you hear that name?” He questioned.

“My older sister, Nova, was your godmother. She wrote to us about you a lot and how she missed you so terribly after you disappeared.”

“She missed me?” He squeaked.

“Missed you?” The nocturne looked at him with a head cocked to the side. “Whitepaw, both of your parents’s entire clans tore the world apart for you.”

“It can’t be. The king—he told me you didn’t care.” Whitepaw stammered with tears glistening in his eyes.

The nocturne grabbed his paws with her own and squeezed them.

“Come with me, Whitepaw. Let me prove it to you.”

Whitepaw looked into eyes of his bloodlocked. There was so much hope and light in those beautiful blue eyes. Whitepaw realized he himself wanted to live. Not survive. He wanted to wake up to a new day full of possibilities. Not a series of pre-planned events. He also realized that he wanted to be with his bloodlock—more than anything—and that he’d be willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

“Okay.” He whispered as his heart began to pound.

There would be no going back from this, but the imperial knew in his heart that he was ready.