Chapter Text
'The burden you carry is a difficult one, isn’t it? Not just because of the expectations the elders placed upon you… but because of how hard they pushed you. You were so eager to learn from them too, ironically enough.
How many elements have you mastered already? Hmm? It must have taken you a considerable amount of time and work. But they aren’t happy… are they? They wanted more from you. They should be grateful with how hard you work and how fast you’re learning, and how eager you are for more.
When you tapped into the Aether for the first time… what did you feel? What was the power like? Was it everything you’ve come to expect from your heritage? In fact… What is the purpose of mastering these elements? What is the purpose of a purple dragon?
I know you ask these questions yourself too, young dragon. But I know better than the elders. I can help you understand who you truly are, and what your place is in the world. More than just a simple protector of the realms. Just follow me, if you please.
Who am I? Well… I’m nobody important really. Just a stranger whose only purpose is to impart wisdom upon dragons who struggle to understand themselves.
Come with me, Malefor, and I will show you what it means to be a purple dragon, to be a true dragon, and what your purpose in this world truly is.'
—
What many feared to be only a dream became a reality. The day after the fall of Malefor, the golden sun emerged over the horizon, unhindered by the fog of war for the first time in many years. The dawn of a new day, the beginning of a new era, signified by the vibrant orange glow of life, warmth, and light. After fourteen long years, it was as though there was finally peace in the realms. Promises of harmony and serenity are assured, but the cost to maintain them are another matter entirely.
Once the purple dragon returned alongside his mate, he brought with him the next generation of dragons: dragons, four brothers, two sisters. Earth, fire, ice, and electricity respectively. One had an unusual scale color and pattern reminiscent of his mother, and perhaps even more unusual, the other being purple like his father.
At a glance, he certainly did not look to be like his father. He bore qualities quite similar to earth dragons. His scales bore hardened rock looking plates upon his scales, and the tip of his tail was more akin to that of a mace, much like Terrador’s. While one can say certain qualities of a purple dragon differ from each generation, no one explicitly knows about purple dragons before Spyro’s time… or Malefor’s time.
It was odd nonetheless, for the purple dragons always appeared once every ten generations, prophesied to bring about a new era of hope and peace. What could it mean? No one was certain. Not even the guardians. But all the same, he existed, and his parents were none the wiser for all they knew was love for their children.
To ensure the safety for not just their children, but for all the creatures of the dragon realms, the purple dragon and his mate were chosen to become king and queen, and forged the Council of Warfang, headed by the guardians and their new apprentices. Through community and diplomacy, they strove to keep the peace and harmony, even when there were those who took advantage of it.
While the purple dragon sought to put the needs of his family and subjects safety first, the struggle of leadership and balancing the responsibility to the realms and to his family began to weigh heavily upon him. It was at the coronation ceremony Spyro realized the significance of taking the role of king. This new chapter had carried weight to it. Weight that was already piling up on the burdens the purple dragon had already been carrying. All the same, as he usually does; with a smile.
The realms knew not of what their purple savior looked like. His appearance had been fleeting for many, as they only ever caught a glimpse of him, if at all. When he came back, as an adult, they were none the wiser of his appearance. Yet those who knew him personally, the guardians, Sparx, Hunter, knew there was a change in the purple dragon. He and his mate never talked about it when it was mentioned.
No one ever commented how dull his scales looked or how tired he appeared. He rarely used his abilities anymore unless there came a great need to protect the people of the realm, and that was always when he had to sneak away from the newly established Council of Warfang. Spyro’s legs were always shaky, his body heavy, and at times he had been staring off more often than anyone can care to admit.
The crowd in the city below continued to cheer for their purple savior once he became the official king of Warfang. Yet the prospect of another purple dragon confused them, and made them nervous. Would there be future strife? Would it be just another era passing by and a new one beginning? They weren’t sure. One of the Councilmen dragons, an ice dragon named Andor, stood on the pedestal after the crowd died down to calm whatever fears they would have harbored.
“The return of the purple dragon is a sign. And having taken up the role as our king, we must ensure whatever we can to help build a better and brighter future! Not just for dragonkind again, but for all dragons! For in his wake, comes another! The Dragonfall Prophecies have come to the past, and now we look forward to the future! And that future is signed by that of the impossible! A new peace for all! Hail king Spyro, and his son, the purple dragon, Malachite!”
The entire city erupted into joyous cries, blissful cheers, and admirations that resonated throughout the realms. Indeed, it was a new day, a brighter day, and the future never looked brighter.
Malachite, the new purple dragon, turned his attention away from the crowd as he took notice of his father’s trembling. His breathing was heavy, his legs shaky. His tail was curled around Cynder’s, who was doing her best to try and soothe him.
“Daddy?” Malachite spoke. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Spyro stopped trembling upon hearing his son’s voice. He looked back and down at him, a soft smile appeared over his tired face. “Don’t worry Malachite. I’m fine. Everything is going to be fine…” he said softly. “You’re safe now. Everyone is safe now. That’s all that matters.”
Malachite and his siblings all picked themselves up to brush alongside their father’s legs. They all let out a soft rumble.
“We love you daddy. Nothing will ever change that!” Malachite said.
—
14 years later.
It was early in the morning, so early in fact that the sun had not even arisen yet. All was quiet in the Palace of Warfang. Spyro and Cynder had already left to convene with the council for another early morning deliberation, leaving the kids in Sparx’s care until their return. Unbeknownst to the sleeping dragonfly however, the palace was missing one occupant.
A young female ice dragon by the name of Brisk darted across the halls of the palace, into one of the many bedrooms that held her and her siblings, was his brother Ignitus, the fire dragon.
“Ignitus! Wake up!” his sister called out as she rocked the fire dragon’s side. “Mal has fled the palace again, I can’t find him anywhere!”
The icy young dragoness started to hop on the sleeping fire drake’s other side and pushed against his back. “Come on! Wake up!”
Ignitus’ eyes fluttered as the weight of his sister and her high pitch voice stirred him from his slumber. “Mfmrh… wh-what? I’m… I’m up. I’m up…” he mumbled as he closed his eyes again. After a few seconds, he began to snore.
“Ignitus! Nghg! Come on! You are not up!” Eventually, she dropped Ignitus when it was clear she couldn’t get him up.
With a huff, she pulled aside and began charging her ice breath. She apologized to her brother in her head as she shot a cold breath along his backside which caused him to jolt.
“Ah! Brisk!” Ignitus cried out as he started to breathe hot air on his rump. “What was that for?!”
“Because you wouldn’t wake up!”
“And why were you trying to wake me up in the first place? Do you know what time it is?”
Brisk let out an annoyed huff. “Of course I do! You wouldn’t think I’d wake you up without a good reason would I? I saw Mal sneak out of the bedroom toward the balconies and he flew off!”
Ignitus’ eyes widened when she said that. It wasn’t the first time he snuck out like that but certainly not this early in the morning. He knew though that whatever it was Mal was up to, it couldn’t have been good. Fortunately, he had a pretty good idea as to where he was going too.
He had never been a problem as he was these past few years. But now it seemed they were getting worse and worse. Trouble back in the academy, arguing with teachers. One time he saw his brother encase the entire hallway full of ice. So many dragons got hurt sliding and crashing into each other. Of course that was typical. Now they had gotten to the point where he began defacing monuments of their father. And it just so happened that a new statue had just been finished in the mole district.
“Oh no… Mal, you wouldn’t,” he said aloud.
“Wouldn’t… what?”
“Remember the new statue that the moles just finished in honor of dad?”
Brisk was a smart dragon, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what Mal was up to when Ignitus asked her that question. Their purple brother had been eyeing that statue with a fierce look in his eyes for quite a while. It was a very angry look he had.
“You mean he would mess up the statue of dad…” she said.
Ignitus nodded. “I’m afraid he would. Bet you it’ll be dust before we get there. And that’s the worst case scenario. I’m going over there right now.”
“You are not going to be fighting with him again. Can’t you just wake up uncle Sparx instead? Mal listens to him!” Brisk pleaded.
She knew there was going to be another altercation between the two brothers. Since they were hatchlings, they did nothing but argue and fight over the most inane issues that Mal caused. Fortunately, their sister Terra was always there to break them apart. Usually with her earth infused fists. Other times it was Ashes who appealed more to their empathy rather than beating them down like Terra does.
Only Terra was asleep, and so was Ashes. Ignitus was too stubborn and too courteous to even want to bother his uncle or his siblings, always thinking he had to be the one to clean up his brother’s messes.
“Sure, he’ll listen. But he’ll forget everything uncle Sparx tells him a week later. I need to knock some sense into him. It's the only language that he apparently understands.” And with that, he turned to make his way out of the balcony of his bedroom.
Before Brisk could protest even further, Ignitus took off, flying toward the central district of Warfang. Which left Brisk in having to wake up the rest of her family to stop the brothers’ in their nonsense fight.
“Ig! You stupid… stupid… stupidstupidstupid!” Brisk continued to call her brother stupid as she ran out of Ignitus’ bedroom and into her siblings.’
Though her incessant insults were enough to wake even Terra up, and she was normally a heavy sleeper. The ragged looking green female picked her head up from her mat, smacking her lips together.
“Terra!” Brisk called out.
“Whoa… that’s like… twenty-seven stupids I counted Brisk…” Terra said as she extended her forearms across the ground and stretched. “What’s the deal? Volt got his head stuck in the cookie jar again?”
“No Terra you rock head! It's Mal and Iggy!” Brisk replied.
“Oh. They fighting again?”
“No but they’re going to! Mal snuck out and Ignitus went after him after I told him!”
Terra blinked a few times and then shook her head. “Brisk, you gotta learn to never tell Ignitus first about anything Mal does.”
The ice dragon winced and shook her head. “I know I know but… listen. We should just wake up uncle Sparx and stop those two knuckleheads before they embarrass themselves!”
“Pssshh... You’re always embarrassed whenever you’re out in public, Brisk. But yeah I don’t want our family looking any worse than what those two are already doing. If we wake up Sparx and tell him though, you know he’s gonna get dad. Right?”
“I mean… yeah I know that. I don’t know what else to do!”
Terra picked herself up and sighed. WIthout saying another word, she made her way out of her bedroom and into uncle Sparx’s room. The dragonfly was snoring rather heavily, in and out, sputtering. Just like the time when they were all hatchlings and they wore him out to the point of exhaustion over a game of ‘Catch the Dragonfly.’ It was Terra’s favorite activity.
Terra took a deep breath in and yelled; “Yo uncle Sparx! Iggy and Mally are going to fight again!”
That yell was enough to wake him right off his seat. The dragonfly yelled aloud as he started to spin around.
“Ahhh! I swear Ma I didn’t eat the pecan worm pie! I-I-I-” he stopped once he realized it was Terra who had yelled, and Brisk followed up alongside her. “W-what are you two girls doing up this early in the morning? Shouldn’t you be in bed? And why’d you scare me like that?”
“Brisk said Mal snuck out and Iggy went after him,” said the earth dragoness as terse and plain as possible.
“Mal snuck… Iggy went… what? Oh no… how far has Iggy Jr. gone out?”
Brisk shook her head. “He left about five minutes ago. They went to the central plaza of Warfang.”
“Ohhh… ohhhhhh booooyyy… Might as well get your father.” he stretched his arms up, cracked his back, let out a sigh and began to fly off. “You two see if you can’t get them to stop before your father arrives.”
—
Mal hated his dad. He hated everything there was to do with him. He hated what a purple dragon meant, what he’s supposed to be, what his dad was, what everyone expected him to be. Of course, he never always thought like that. However, as he got older, every dragon including their mother all sang songs and praises for the purple dragon and his protege.
Even his dad said he was gifted. Not just by who and what he was, but by how fast he was able to control all four elements. First fire, then ice, lightning and earth, all within the span of a single year. Mastery over the elements was a different story.
They sent him to the academy where he would learn to master his abilities. Only, everyone’s perception of what a purple dragon should be, how they act, were pushed upon Mal. For every mistake he made, he’s criticized for it. It had been like that for years.
Getting tackled by several dummies at once. Inability to properly channel his element. Losing track of time and shooting over what was normally required of him. The dummies had higher difficulties than the dummies than the other dragons. Oh, and how he couldn’t channel his elemental fury. He faltered, fizzled out, overworked himself to the point his paws were bleeding. Nothing was ever good enough for the teachers.
Or when Ashes was being picked on for being a cursed dragon carrying the legacy of the Dark Master’s influence in his blood. Mal and Ignitus made sure not a single soul would ever talk down to him like that again, much less even look his way. Was he praised for his duty to stand up for another creature? No. “You were out of control and acted unbecoming of a dragon!” said one of his tutors.
Or even when his knowledge was put to the test on dragon history. History that he wouldn’t even know about even with how much he paid attention to the lectures. Much of the history was taught by parents to their children. Spyro grew up with a family of dragonflies. Cynder barely had a family of her own. All they had was second hand knowledge of events recent in their times by the guardians who sought to fight against the chaos Malefor caused throughout the world. He didn’t even get half the answers right. Not even Brisk, the smartest of his siblings could hit those marks. Yet somehow Mal was the one taking the brunt of it. ‘A purple dragon should know his legacy and his history.’
Where was dad in all this? Where he usually is found: in the great round table of the city council, or half-asleep in the palace quarters with barely a thought as to what and how his kids were all feeling, how Mal was feeling. No ‘Sure son I’ll help you with history.’ or ‘Don’t worry Mal, I’ll talk to the teachers about your suspension.’
And what about his mom? What about Cynder? Always trying to play the middle ground between the siblings, between him and his father. At the very least, she was there whenever he needed help. Even if her bloodline was neither fire or ice or lightning or anything, even when she knew nothing, she helped train them in physical combat. She taught him how to fight. But that was about it. Her focus was always on Ashes who needed someone like her to teach him control over his own unusual powers. There was no one he could turn to for help, to tell him what it is he should really do.
Mal felt as though he was drowning. Every day he suffered from headaches. Every day he was suffocating as the judging eyes of every dragon fell upon him no matter where he went or what he did. He wanted to just fly away, fly away and escape from their stares. But more importantly, he just wanted his father to acknowledge him. That he was not the ‘son of the purple dragon.’ He was not some ‘protege’ taking up the mantle of the next purple dragon. He wanted him, and everyone to realize, that he was Mal the dragon.
The sight of his father’s statue standing tall and proud, wings stretched out as he overlooked the city with a benevolent gaze. It made him angry. Being compared to that, being compared to something he knew deep down he could never become.
Look at you, Dad. Really taking in the role of the hero of the realms, aren’t you? So much so that they built this eye sore in the middle of the city.
Mal sat there on the beaten stone road. Around him, the streets were quiet. The plaza was empty. Not a single soul save for Mal who was holding an opened bucket of green paint as he stood before the majestic statue. Sharp, smooth masonry, a testament of the craftsmoleship.
The purple dragon took flight, can in claw as he dipped the other into the bucket as he began to deface the… well the face of the statue. Nothing short of a clown would perfectly describe his father. So, he gave it a stupid fro, goofy cross-eyes, dumb smile and a tongue sticking out.
Just as soon as the fun began, the mood-killer himself appeared. Like always, he carried with him an angry scowl.
“Mal!” Ignitus called out. “Mal! What the actual hell are you doing!? Stop defacing dad’s statue! Don’t you know how hard the moles worked on this!”
But the purple drake ignored him as he continued to paint the statue, humming a tune all the while.
“Mal, don’t you dare ignore me!” The fire dragon flew closer, about ready to clonk him on the head.
When he came close however, Mal just swooped away and twirled around the statue. “I think… ‘ass’ would be fitting for the epitaph. What do you think Iggy?”
“Don’t you Iggy me Mal! You’re going to get in trouble again! Do you know how hard the Moles worked on this statue!?”
Mal just shrugged. He did not want to grace Ignitus with an answer. No matter how many times he argued with him about it, it was like talking to a brick wall. It was never about what Ignitus could do to help Mal. More like how Mal should shape up into his role. He bet he was going to do just that again.
He wasn’t going to give him the opportunity. He was going to let him know exactly what he thought. “Listen Ig,” Mal started as he looked over to where his brother was. “I think you should know well enough by now the hows and whys of what I do. The fact you’re even asking me at all is proof enough that you don’t really know at all.”
“I know who you are, Mal and this isn’t like you!”
“Oh come off it!” he snapped back and threw the paint bucket at the statue. “What do you know about me? You’re too busy trying to live up to the idea of a dead mentor to even give a damn about me like you do with everyone else!”
A part of him was hurt by what he had said. Not just because he felt as though Mal’s words were true, but because he couldn’t bear to admit it himself. “What is with you Mal?!” Ignitus snapped back.
“You’re just like everyone else, that's what. You’re always on my case over every little thing that I do that’s bad for the family.”
“Then perhaps they’re right then! You should act like the dragon everyone expects you to be!”
Mal, boiling with anger now, decided enough was enough and charged at the head of the statue with his earth element. With enough force he knocked it off the statue, sending it careening toward Ignitus who barely had time to dodge out of the way.
The head struck one of the marketplace buildings, causing a massive hole in the wall.
“Mal, what is the matter with you?! You could have hit me!” was all Ignitus said before Mal tackled him.
—
It was another early morning at the Council of Warfang where the drakes turned an otherwise sensible debate into another debacle. The least restrained of the old dragons were yelling at one another while others such as the guardians, sat and listened. Much of the arguments were about the direction and stances Warfang is taking or should take. While the king always has the final say, it is more about a show of ego between old rivals who once put aside their differences to only dredge them up in the aftermath of conflict.
Spyro just wanted some sleep. The politics of the state bored him to no end. And his mate Cynder certainly was not a fan of it either. They were still relatively young adult dragons who only stood up to the plate as leaders to serve as an inspiring figure for the next generation, for peace that was to come. They had no knowledge and wanted nothing to do with politics at all. All this talk and waste of time did little in actually improving things. They took action. Spyro wanted to help the people in need. All this nonsense about voting to take action for this thing or that thing wasn’t really doing anything for anyone in the long run. Unfortunately, to keep the dragon clans together, delegations like these had to be made.
Cyril, the guardian of ice who always proclaimed himself to be true blue blood, was facing second hand embarrassment of these particular dragons who called themselves nobility. All while a shouting match raged between the two fire drakes Magnus and Red.
“You expect killers and barbarians who have betrayed the dragon race to pay reparations to the people?! And I thought Nestor’s proposal was ridiculous! You should expect nothing short of race traitors who offer their kin’s lives up for money and power! They are worse than the apes!” Red yelled.
“And you do not understand the importance of the manpower and resources the realms require to recover from this thousand year war! How many of the other races fear and hate us! We need every able bodied hand and claw is required to do their part to become the example that we are the proud and just race that will come to the defense of this world, and that includes the criminals and prisoners of war paying for the damages!”
Red snarled under his breath. “You expect too much from gluttonous frogweed who eat through those resources in the first place! And you expect them to give it back!? They will not! Nothing short of execution is what they should be given!”
“And what of those who didn’t partake in the war? Are you going to punish them too?!”
“Any dragon who has not laid their claws in defense of the realms is an enemy of the realms regardless of their role!”
It was already becoming another useless morning of nothing getting done. Spyro just wanted a day to himself and Cynder mostly. In fact, he wanted a day with just his entire family in general. The kids were really roughing it and for the past few years, they were acting without restraint. Mal especially, and he had promised Cynder last night that he was going to take priority in being more involved in their lives. Well, more than what they’re already doing.
Cynder tried her best to do what she could for her kids. Though she knew it was more work for any one dragon to take on their own. At least for Mal, if Spyro would focus on just him, it would be a good opportunity to mend the strained relationship they had.
“Well, this is one way to start our morning, wouldn’t you say?” Cynder commented under her breath. She looked over to the side and gave Spyro a knowing smile of ‘gods I really wish I wasn’t here right now too.’ “Didn’t think we had to be called in at four in the morning just to make a decision on… what was it again?”
Spyro let out a loud audible yawn that really, only the guardians and Cynder could hear. While Cyril gave a disapproving look, he said nothing. He had to sympathize with his student’s plight since he sure as hell didn’t want to be there either. “I’m not gonna scold you for it anyhow because you wouldn’t be in the wrong this time.’ was what he’d probably say to him.
“I don’t know, Cynder. Something about Frogweeds?” He was joking of course. Though he did give her a more legitimate answer. “Magnus offered a proposition that got Red screaming his head off as usual. Red was all for execution for those who did not take part in the war against Malefor, or even those who joined with him as an example that we will not tolerate evil. Nestor argued to pardon them, saying mercy would set an example for the rest of the world who have lived their lives in fear. Magnus argued for them to pay reparations, saying that they should dedicate their lives to paying back to the realms who suffered from war..
“It's been fourteen years! They should have talked about that when it was still relevant. Shouldn’t they have focused their time into discussing the issues with the settlements caught in the crossfire of skirmishes? You know… problems that we are facing in the here and now? I was talking to Cyril about it yesterday on how the warlords were becoming more aggressive.”
“I mean… you do take care of those issues yourself with how you sneak out of the city during these delegations.” Cynder shook her head and chuckled. “Still the same as always. Never change on me, hero boy.”
Spyro chuckled in response before he nodded his head towards one of the younger looking earth dragons on the council. “Well I know Nestor had been trying to get that on the table since last week. The whole topic of the war criminals had been an on-and-off subject for years. In fact, the defense of the settlements was supposed to be the first topic to cover today. But…”
The shadow dragoness peered over from her seat to take a look at the angry red dragon from across the room. “Lemme guess, Red?”
“Yup. Making it difficult as always.” Spyro nodded and sighed. “I just want to go home and be with you and the kids. I didn’t expect there would be this much work with the council. You’d think there wouldn’t be a day where we can actually reach a resolution that didn’t take up an entire week let alone a year.”
Cynder smiled and gently nuzzled up against his shoulder. “You’re still king. You do have the final say after all.”
“Up until majority votes decide to veto it like always. Outside of you and the guardians, the only true supporter I have really is Nestor.”
“I mean… Terrador did make him his apprentice as the next earth guardian after all.”
Nestor was one of the younger dragons of the council of Warfang who Terrador chose to be the next earth guardian. He was only a century old. As far as Spyro knew about dragon age and physiology, being a century years old was enough for any dragon to be considered a young adult. Yet he carried weight with his stance, his words, and his actions.
The couple then turned their heads to the other end of the room to look at Terrador, who calmly watched the whole argument play out in its typical fashion. He was calm and collected. Terrador was more of a warrior than a politician, and he was looking at this entire room like it was one large battle map. He was plotting his next move, his next choice of words, predicting his enemies’ next arguments like he would their movements. Given that Ignitus had chosen him to be the leader of the guardians, his authority held more weight than the rest of the council due to the experience he has.
“Speaking of Terrador… he looks like he’s about done with this,” Cynder added. “I would be too with these old coots. Err… no offense meant to the guardians.”
Spyro looked back at Cynder and chuckled. “That makes three of us. I just want to go out and help people in person rather than sitting here behind this oversized table. I can’t just stay here knowing that there are still people in need. How do they get anything done?”
“You’ve a kind heart with more patience than I do, love. I know I don’t have the patience for this. I want no part of court nonsense.But I always come because I want to support you.” She nuzzled against him once more before she pulled back. “Though remember you’re still one dragon. You’re going to need all the help you can get, as usual. Just bring out your best qualities like you always do. Terrador and the guardians have your back.”
A playful smirk appeared over his lips as he brushed alongside her in a playful manner. “Well that’s all well and good but what of the queen herself? Does she have my back?”
Cynder slapped him playfully against his rump with the blunt end of her tail. “Call me ‘queen’ again and I’ll be using the bladed edge this time.”
“Ouch! But you are my queen!”
“By title, sure, yeah. Go for it. Just one ‘dark queen’ out of you though hun, and I’mma cut you.”
Spyro let out a playful gasp. “Oh no! Please have mercy on me!”
“There will be no mercy for you purple dragon of legend!” Cynder threw her head back to make a playful evil laughter.
Then the two started to have a giggle fit with one another that devolved into a playful argument. Normally Cynder hated titles like ‘queen’ or ‘lady Cynder.’ There were still bad memories about her time. Though Spyro’s playful disposition made it easy for her to overcome those mind worm moments.
Neither of them actually had a moment to truly appreciate the childhood they had left. Almost every day they spent growing up was fighting against a threat that knew not rest nor mercy. They had to grow up, and they had to grow up fast in those moments. What had they left now other than the growing weight of responsibility and adulthood?
The laughter from across the room was enough to catch Red’s attention somehow amid the wave of noise. “Is there something that the king and queen would like to share for the council? Or would they like to help us reach a resolution?” he called out.
Immediately all eyes fell on Spyro. On the plus side… the arguments stopped. Now he just had to deal with a dozen or more eyes upon him. It was rather unsettling really. Though at least now he’ll be able to make some headway in getting things done.
Spyro stood from his seat and looked to Cynder. ‘Wish me luck’ he mouthed. So what kind of awe inspiring speech was he going to do?
“Dragons of the Council. I have heard your arguments.In fact, I have been hearing these same arguments for over a decade. These debates have run their course, and more decisions that should have been made have been put on the backburner. I and the queen believe that now is time for action, not words. Nestor, I’ve always held the belief that the best way to defeat an enemy is to make them your friend. While this is not the case for everyone, there are those who I believe are deserving of a second chance. There were not many who served the Dark Master willingly. We should not pass judgment so hastily.
“It is true. So many have lost their lives in this war, and there are many who have exploited the chaos and suffering for their own gains. This war had lasted for a thousand years. How we are alive as a species, and so too the many more lives of the other creatures that have survived throughout this war, is nothing short of a miracle and a testament to our dedication to preserving the life of every living being in this world. We cannot just readily accept everyone back in open arms. But neither can we reject them. There had been those who had fought alongside the Dark master who were motivated by fear, or corruption.
“So, I will propose both reparations and pardons. To give those who have fought against us, a chance to redeem themselves. Their debt would not be labor nor indentured servitude. For all the war torn lands, they will give their services to the people there who suffered the most. Not everyone of us has been given a choice in what we do, or of the destinies in store for us. But I do not believe our futures are pre-determined by any grand plan or cosmic scheme. Let them make something of themselves again. Let them know that the dark part of our history has come to pass, and work for a better future.”
There were mummers across the table as the dragons whispered among one another. Some of the dragons weren’t so happy with the decision. Red included of course but he barely let his anger known in the presence of the purple dragon. After a few seconds, there came a slow round of applause. They were soft and distinct, but they grew louder as more joined. Eventually, they began to resonate among half the crowd.
Volteer stood up to add his voice. “We congregate on comportments that have yet to be determined. The unflinching ideals of incompatible minds with clashing personalities that have little contrast with one another is responsible for how inauspicious our council has conducted itself. The time for benevolence must proceed without delay.”
There was a short moment of confusion and silence over the large string of words that the studious Volteer had regurgitated on them.
Cyril coughed and took his stand. “I think what Volteer is trying to say is, we have done little in years that the purple dragon can accomplish in hours. The people need us. We are here not to debate amongst each other about what direction the council should take. This council exists to continue working so that we can make the realms a better place. Look around you, look at what this war has wrought, and we’re still fighting among each other.”
“I concur,” Terrador said as he stood. “We’ve already passed the period where strong leaders are required. We need someone with empathy, and compassion, someone who knows of hardship and struggle. That someone who had given up so much to save the world, who is still doing his best even now, to bring the realms together again, is why we chose him to be our king. While we cannot condone the crimes others have committed, we must still pave the way to the path of absolvation and mercy. If there’s anyone who knows it better, that is Spyro.”
Nestor looked across the room to Magnus, who also looked to him. They both bowed their heads. “Who here wishes to vote for the combined resolution of reparations and pardons for those who have fought against us in the war?” Nestor asked.
Almost the entire table had their forepaws up in the air.
“And for those who wish for execution?” Nestor added.
Only one, Red, of course.
“Who wishes to abstain?”
Only three forepaws were seen in the crowd.
“Does the king wish to officially pass this into law?” He was now addressing the young purple dragon.
Spyro bowed his head. “By my right as king, I wish to pass the new laws. Those who had followed Malefor into conflict will spend approximately one century in the reconstruction efforts and services to the public for the damages they’ve caused. As such, when their duty to society is fulfilled, we shall give pardon to them, and allow them to walk alongside us again.”
A small murmur of voices rose up from the dozen of delegates who were probably theorizing on what this could mean for the future of the realms. Could these dragons and creatures who served the Dark Master be trusted? One would use Cynder as an example of someone who can turn away from that evil and set themselves on the path of good. The very same servant of evil who helped bring an end to the dragon resistance that now claimed the title of queen. Would she have to serve a century? So many questions, so many whispers.
Red however, was more vocal in his opposition.
“I question the wisdom behind your judgment, young dragon. You may be the purple dragon, but you don’t have the centuries of experience needed to handle adult matters such as these,” Red said. “But it is your decision regardless.”
Cynder scowled at his backhanded remark to her mate. It didn’t bother Spyro too much really. He could care less about what anyone had to say about him. So long as it wasn’t directed toward his family or friends.
“Watch yourself, Red. The purple dragon is your king after all,” the black dragoness said with a hint of growl under her throat.
“I am only voicing my concern based on the emotionally driven decisions most young dragons in power tend to make. They are always made with a lack of foresight in mind, blind to the consequences of their actions. They had cost us an entire generation of dragons… and they cost us one of the greatest dragons of the previous generation who made those decisions: and it left us without a guardian of fire.” There wasn’t even a smile on Red’s lips as he said that.
His usual smug attitude, usually directed at other dragons, was completely gone, faded. The fire dragon had this tranquil anger. Spyro did not expect Red to dig at his old mentor. Especially with the hateful tone in his voice. For once, he was at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or upset.
The guardians however, were furious, and an eruption of angry yells coursed throughout the council. Terrador was the first, and he was the most furious. “How dare you, Red! You will not soil Ignitus’ name in this chamber! I should beat you senseless, you rotten little firecracker! You were not there that night! You would not have understood what happened at the temple nor what we all endured!”
Volteer was next. Normally chipper and talkative, was short and terse with his words. “If it were not for Ignitus, there would have been no hope for any of us!”
Next was Cyril. “Yes! And if it wasn’t for Ignitus, we would not have the purple dragon among us today! And we would not have survived the war against Malefor!”
Red’s voice was soft, but full of venom, with words that cut deeper than steel ever could. “So you had left hundreds if not thousands of eggs to die just to save one purple dragon?”
The entire room was still. The guardians were aghast. While still filled with rage, the fire dragon’s words had struck a chord with them, reeling in shame. Volteer muttered under his breath of how ‘it wasn’t like that.’ The guardians, dragons of patience, of wisdom, and of level-headedness… had snapped by what had Red just said, and he crushed whatever rationale with just that one simple sentence.
Neither Spyro or Cynder had ever seen them so emotionally destroyed.
“Spyro, what… just happened?” Cynder asked.
Her mate had no answer himself. All he could do was stare into the broken expressions of the three guardians. The tension was so thick now that both Spyro and Cynder felt as though they were suffocating. Nobody said a word. What felt like an eternity was cut short just a few seconds later, when a golden glowing dragonfly entered.
“Spyro, bro! Hey! Hey, hey! Hey!” he called out as he flew toward the purple dragon’s direction.
Cynder was honestly so relieved to see Sparx this time. The timing couldn’t have been any better.
“Sparx! Thank the ancestors you’re here. You just pretty much saved the moment,” Cynder said.
“Huh? What? I did? I mean… I did.” He crossed his arms with a bright smile, just enjoying whatever praise he was getting at that time. “I don’t know what I did to save the moment but I’m glad I did. Whoa; talk about buzzkill.These old folks doing okay? They look about one foot in the grave now.”
But now wasn’t really a moment for him to pat himself on the back for what looked like literally nothing. At least to him in any case. Spyro just gave him a look that said; ‘Sparx come on, please.’
“Anyways! Umm… I’m here to save the day again. We got a code red and a code purple, bro.”
Spyro blinked a couple times as Sparx’s words shook him out of his hesitant state of mind. “I’m sorry. A what and what now?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you? What always happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object!”
It took Spyro a quick second to realize he meant Mal and Ignitus. With a sigh, the purple dragon stood from his seat. “Alright. Where?”
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