Gen 3
Ossie only laid two eggs, but she was not disappointed. She understood that less children meant that there would be more time to spend training them. They would become better than her and her sisters. She had two boys, their scales the same colour as their mother, with a red stripe running their bodies the same as their father. The only difference between them was their wings. One had wings of faded blue, and he was named Glace. The other had wings of a deep purple. His name was Plum.
The two boys did everything together, as their parents raised them and expanded the lair. It was still small, but the rough edges were smoothed out by Ossie’s small hands. New additions were built by Keir to house food and equipment.
With a safe space to train, the boys were introduced to combat far earlier than Ossie had been. They trained and battled in basic forms, and studied words of magic. They too were told the story of their linage, and what it would entail. Glace was determined that he would be the one who would usher in the next generation, but Plum was less enthused. He did not want his brother to die, and he did not want to have to kill his parents.
As their desires for the future grew apart, so did the brothers, and the love Plum once felt for Glace turned to bitterness. The night before they were to challenge their parents, Plum snuck in the dead of night and broke his brothers wings. He had meant it as both an act of mercy and as a way to crush his brother’s hopes. With his wings broken, Glace surely couldn’t be expected to fight.
And he wasn’t.
The next morning, Ossie dispatched her wounded son without so much as a moment’s hesitation. She tore his throat out with her claws and turned to Plum.
“There is only one of you.” She said. “We will fight after breakfast.”
Plum knew he couldn’t take on both his parents in a fight. Not head to head. So he nodded and told his mother, “This may be my last day in the world, let me fetch breakfast. Then we will see what my fate has in store for me.”
He slipped from the lair, and went hunting. He knew the insects his parents favored and collected plenty. Then he found small berries that grew in the bogs, and he plucked them, crushing each and smearing a bit underneath the wing sheaths of his parents breakfast.
Once his claws were cleaned thoroughly, he collected his own food. Lesser insects, his parents wouldn’t want to claim, and brought them back. It was not a complex plan but it was effective. Halfway to the battlegrounds, his mother dropped from the sky.
His father, turned on him instantly, guessing what had happened. “This is not the way things are done!”
Plum sneered, “Like it matters.”
It was easy to defeat his father. Weakened by the poison, and unprepared for a full on assault, it was almost too easy to dispatch him. Despite himself, Plum felt a little thrill of victory. He had succeeded. He would carry on the next generation. He promised himself he would do things differently, but that was a promise he could not keep.
The world outside was cruel to Plum. He was small, and his upbringing had not prepared him to deal with clan politics. He was taken advantage of, and exploited, but he had a sharp mind and he learned. He adorned himself with pretty things, and downplayed his expertise in battle. His tongue, already practiced in lying, became irresistible.
This is how he found his mate. Hermetic, a pearlcatcher, dark and iridescent. Weighed down by glittering stone growths, some considered her ugly. Plum did not. He considered her useful.
It was easy to convince her to elope with him. He told her nothing of his plans for their children, or of his family’s history. Of course, sooner or later she would find out. When she did she had no words, she left, and tried to take her precious eggs with her.
“You can go, and leave the eggs,” said Plum, “Or I shall kill you and smash them all. I will start again if you deny me this.”
Hermetic knew she could not defeat her mate in a fight, so with a heavy heart she left her children behind. Hoping that perhaps, they would not be twisted into an image of their father.
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Plum: Next in a long line of Terrible Dragons!
Posting the hatchies next and then we're done until they age up!
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