Phecda

_-Why not me..?-_

The noble son of two kingdoms, Phecta is pushed to the highest of standards. He himself is a twisting hurricane, urging to burst and cause havoc. In both courts, the young prince is considered “new blood”, someone new to the game and yet to understand his place.

Phecta wants his place to be higher. He wants to push beyond his blood parents goals- to shun their puny standards and climb above them, ruin them. He’s better in many ways, and two kingdoms under one king would be so much simpler than alliances.

Despite this, he still ‘cares’ for his siblings, but doesn’t want to grow attached. They get in his way. Belnan, his elder full sibling, was an example. Fathers favorite, even amongst the children he’s had with his actual wife. Even if his brother is kind, and gentle, Phecta has grown to hate him. He was first to be born, so he got all the attention firsthand. Why was he better? Because he’s fathers first and only Imperial son?

The jealousy was all he could feel when he was sitting amidst the books of the library, watching as his father sat and talked adoringly with Belnan, like he never would with Phecda. He was a real father, but not to his other son…

When Phecda lingered in the Court of Thorns, not much was different. Mother was brutal, expecting and unforgiving. He was disgusted with how many would try to court her. No one could catch on that she could never settle down, even his own father was a special case, because she came back to him more than once. But they weren’t “mates”.

He wanted someplace different. Some place he could escape, and tend to himself, his own needs and perhaps even get what he was so often denied.

Some nights he lurked from the crystalline castle, walking the streets of the twisted insecure kingdom. Some would stare, and some would scoff. The B@stard son, that was all he was. Belnan couldn’t possibly be as bad as this one. Zekka, Belnans nestmate, was better. He was smarter, and bolder.

The tension was too much sometimes. When it got to the point of exploding, he’d venture outside of the kingdom walls, into the icefields. He’d scream, and screech and writhe. He’d shriek and sob and claw and tear until his limbs were sore and his claws were numb.

Then, when he was unable to limp home, he’d settle for a small den on the outpost of the territory. He wasn’t missed there, and it was quiet. Cold, but it was his. Only, his.

Generation 1 I am a Frozen Thorn! These dragons are born to violence, descendants of two tyrant rulers' secret trysts - King Konungur of the Trapped Pearls and Queen Guinevere of the Court of Thorns. The King's wife smuggles all their children from the palace for their safety, but Guinevere holds no such softness for their offspring. Vanity, pride, and rage run rampant among these dragons. To learn more, click the button!