Chapter Text
The god of Isla Nublar has awakened.
The island was erupting at the very heart of its core.
Sibo was answering the call of Armageddon.
Thick clouds of grey blotted out the sun, sending rivers of ash into the once cerulean skies. Hot steam hissed in rage, rupturing from the earth's crush as it sprayed into the air. The winds roared with an ashen mist, carrying the faint smell of sulfur and charred flesh. Smoke cloaked the island as the hot blood of the island surged forth, relentless and unmerciful as it charred and burned the once lush foliage that covered Isla Nublar. The sea churned and quaked, as if a starving beast lapping upon the rocky shores for those creatures that did not perish by flame and ash. A watery grave for those not put to fire in the crucible.
The whole island seemed to shake as another rupture of liquid flame spouted into the ash laden hell, the earth of Nublar almost groaning in pain as the foundation shook and trembled.
It was such a tremble, that it even caused the Queen of Nublar to fall.
With a surprised hiss, and a pained grunt, Roberta fell to the ground with a hard thud. The brief earthquake had caught the fleeing beast off balance, and with her arms being too tiny to catch herself, she was a victim of her own design.
Hearing the pained grunt of his mate had caused the Bull to cease his stride after righting himself from an almost fall. The Spinosaurus looked back to see his mate had fallen. And she was having difficulty getting up.
Swiftly, hurriedly, Sorna's Spinosaurus doubled back, breath deep and heavy as he hurried to his female's side. Upon reaching her, the male's gait ceased whilst he bent down, nudging the Tyrannosaur with his snout.
Roberta gave out a grumble, almost one of defeat. The noise she gave was far from her normally defiant and triumphant bellows. It sounded small, as if her body could simply go no further.
The Bull Spinosaurus produced a low hiss, once more urging Roberta to rise with a nudge of his snout, her head lightly moving to the side. Nublar's Tyrannosaurus moved not, her nostrils flaring, ash blowing in and out to the rhythm of her breath.
The Bull released a guttural, low growl from the back of his throat. Firmly, urgingly, the Spinosaur nudged his snout under his mate's broad jaw, and lifted her head up as he began to rise with his full height, wanting Roberta to rise with him.
She did not. Rather, the Rex's head simply plopped back onto the floor, Roberta herself giving a fatigued huff.
The Spinosaurus snorted, clawed hands flexing, gripping and releasing, debating. He looked to Roberta, then to Mount Sibo looming in the distance, then to the fires flickering from whence they came, smoke devouring much of the foliage and creatures. Lastly, his emerald gaze fell back upon his mate, meeting her amber orbs.
The Bull's attention broke to the skies as a shrill shriek from above pierced the heavens. A pterosaur, singed and descending with a trail of wisps of grey, crashed into the earth all but several feet from the pair, a singular, loud thud ringing out. The lifeless creature smoldered upon the grassy soil, body broken and smoking.
The male shook himself upon inhaling the rife scent of burnt scales, regaining focus. This time, the Spinosaurus circled around to put his body parallel to Roberta's, lowering himself to her level. The female tilted her head, gaze falling upon her mate. What was he doing? Was he not leaving? No...he could not. He had to. He had to leave!
It was then that the Queen released a grumble, which developed into a bellowed call. One of defiance. One of will. Her legs quaked, attempting to heave her body up, to move. If her mate was going to stay...willing to stay...she would not let her weakness be the cause of both of their deaths.
Upon feeling his mate muster her strength to rise, the Spinosaurus pushed his weight against the Rex, under her, and rose with her. With the support of her mate aiding her rise, Roberta was soon back upon her own two feet, limbs cracking. Rising to her full height, the Tyrannosaurus shook herself, once more releasing a bellow.
The Bull produced a short, almost barking roar as he backed away, and almost immediately began to move, his stride urgent and swift. Roberta briefly watched as her mate began to flee the raging god, before doing the same.
Whilst they traversed the now foreign lands of their territory, the low lying foliage shuttered and danced from fleeing herbivores and small theropods. The few trees that were knocked over by larger creatures groaned as they fell, earth and broken wood erupting from the might of the fallen trees, a brief cloud of dust and ash spreading around them.
The high pitched squeaks of several fleeing Compsognathus weaved in and out of the footfalls of the greater beasts, fleet footed in their flight. It did not stop, however, a few unlucky individuals from getting crushed to death by panicking creatures, leaving their tiny bodies crushed and broken.
Flocks of Pterosaurs flew in hectic droves, abandoning their nests for the maw of the sea as they raced the fiery rocks that streaked across the sky in deafening whistles, leaving a trail of smoldering debris in their wake.
The Spinosaurus resumed to lead the charge, breathing deep and rigid as his sharp eyes briefly flicked upwards towards the various flocks, before back down to his destination: the sea.
Hard earth laden with grasses and rocks soon gave way to the soft and loose sediment that was sand, the gravel not yet kissed by the salt of the ocean's caress. The Bull's calloused feet rushed passed the dry sand, and into damp, before breaking forth the choppy waves that waved to and fro towards shore. Salt water splashed with every quake of his step, the sloshing of the seas strengthening as he became devoured by deeper waters.
Whilst the male lead charge against the battering waves in an attempt to flee, the Queen followed not. Rather, Roberta ceased following upon her feet touching the cold waves. The Rex ceased her progress, hesitant. Roberta looked out towards sea, her mate already battling through the surf. The female, at a loss, called out to her partner with a rumbling bellow, low in pitch.
What was he doing?
Fleeing into the waves?
The Tyrannosaurus assumed her mate did not hear her, for he did not respond, nor turn around to look for her. The Rex shifted slightly from foot to foot, thinking, debating. Roberta looked back behind her to see an angry god's wrath barely withheld, flame and ash slowly consuming the island.
She could not stay.
This was no longer her island.
She needed to try.
At least try.
With renewed vigor and determination, the Queen charged forth to combat the surf, waves battering against her scaled hide.
It was a battle that was not in her favor, for upon losing solid ground, Roberta found herself having difficulties keeping herself aloft and above the ocean waves. Head tilted skyward, her body flailed to keep herself above the surf. But alas, she did not have a build built for water. Not like her mate.
Roberta found herself failing to keep her head above water, fear causing her to struggle more. Spitting water out of her maw, the Tyrannosaur ushered a call for aid. It was a call of desperation. A call of terror. A call that she was about to fall.
Upon hearing his mate's call-a sound that he had never heard before-the Bull briefly looked back from his position, waves sloshing against his form. Through the ocean spray that clogged his vision, he spotted the struggling form of Roberta among the waves.
No!
She was trying to follow him!
Brief thoughts of self preservation crossed the Bull's mind, though his body acted differently. The Spinosaurus instantly turned around, the waves now on his side. The male called out to the Rex, hoping to signal that he was returning to her.
By the time the Bull reached the crest in a wave where he last saw his mate, she was no longer above the sea. The King wasted no time.
He plunged below the surf.
It was then Roberta emerged from the wave, the water rupturing around her as she inhaled, nostrils flaring and mouth agape whilst she greedily sucked in air to cease the burning of her lungs. The Queen was supported by her King, Roberta's head held above the waves by the larger predator, who was now struggling to swim both of them to shore, support his mate, and keep even himself above the churning ocean.
Nublar's Tyrannosaur released a low, quivering call, breath escaping her crushing maw in white wisps. Her call shook with a jagged tone as her tiny arms attempted to desperately hold onto her mate's scales. It was a call of fear. She did not want to drown!
Water sloshed upon the damp sand of the shore as Roberta collapsed upon firm ground, grunting as she did so. The Rex panted, breathing deeply as she struggled to catch her breath from the fright and strain the water caused her. The shadow of her mate loomed over her frame, the Bull Spinosaur himself crouching and recovering from his own fatigue, serpentine tongue lolling from the side of his serrated maw that stood agape.
Never again.
Never again would he do that.
Nublar's Rex, upon recovering her breath, rose to her feet, legs slightly shaking whilst the dying waves of the sea licked her scaled toes.
The King briefly righted himself, looking towards the bellowing god up above, a pillar of ash spouting from its maw. From Sibo, the Bull looked out towards the sea. Taloned hands clenching and unclenching once more, the Spinosaur debated.
He could very well leave this burning land, fight the waves and traverse the seas to whence he came. Leave this territory, and go back to his old one. Save himself from whatever fate awaited him here.
But...
The Bull turned his emerald gaze towards his tan scaled mate. She looked winded. Tired. Frightened, even, under all that might and power that she held, the normally confident and dominant predator now unsure and hesitant.
But it would mean leaving behind his mate. And if she tried to follow him out to sea once more, she would not survive. Never would she survive.
His heart hammered as adrenaline coursed through his blood, pupils sharp and feline. The solution was a simple one. It was the right one. The one that would ensure his survival to see a new dawn. It was an answer that screamed at him with every cell in his body. The one his instincts told him to do.
Flee into the waves.
Never look back.
Ever.
Several times did the Bull think his body moved on its own, governed by instinct and the will to survive. To cast aside all bonds of mateship and loyalty. To cast aside all the clutches of eggs the pair tried to give succor, and thus, birth forth into a new world. To cast aside their offspring in previously seasons-none of which had survived-and thus, cast aside the hope of future chicks.
Were he to flee, and follow his instincts, he would exile himself to a territory of isolation. One of loneliness. One bleak of a future. A future of no creature but himself. And he would spend the rest of his days there, a King to a dead realm, alone until his last day of reign. He would lie there, absent of legacy, and forgotten.
Sorna's Spinosaurus snorted, his nostrils flailing. It was then, he turned to his female, and nuzzled his snout against the Tyrannosaurs' more broad and crushing one. The Bull pressed firmly against her skin, inhaling her scent as a soft and low croon escaped his maw, an almost mournful grumble from the back of his throat that resounded akin to an apology.
Roberta, if a bit confused at first, returned the nuzzling, nostrils flaring whilst she inhaled her partner's stronger musk. When her amber gaze met his emerald, she knew. The Rex released a soft groan whilst she affectionately returned the nuzzling, warm scales pressed against warmer. It was a comfort to her. The warmth of another-even more so, given their predicament.
He knew.
But most importantly, she knew.
Roberta blinked, another low, almost sorrowful noise rupturing from her maw. Slowly, gently, her tongue slipped from her jaws, and glided across her mate's jaw in a type of kiss.
The Spinosaurus released a pleased croon, and moved to firmly smoosh the tip of his snout against hers. This time, the action was not in the typical playful poke he tended to give his grumpy female. Rather, his snout stayed for several seconds, before retreating from her skin.
It was a smooch.
It was then that the Bull turned away from his mate, and took his leave.
Though his footfalls did not carry him towards the beckoning sea.
They carried him inland.
No. He would not leave his mate.
He would not abandon her, his hope, his future.
He would not leave her to die, alone and forgotten, on this isle of fire.
Were she to die, it would not be alone. For the Bull, the risk of dying was outweighed by the glimmer of hope for a continued future. Returning to his previous home may not have been physical death, but it was a different kind of death. It was one he would not want. Not again, as he once suffered.
Nulbar's Tyrannus followed behind her mate, pace swift and urgent as they moved along the coast, seeking to avoid the encroaching fire and ash and distance themselves from the Isla Nublar's awakened god. Her breathing was deep, and swift, nostrils flaring and casting the falling ash astray upon her breath. Glittering ash and embers were now beginning to drift and fall from the blackened skies, gentle in their decent. It would have been quite the sight, beautiful, even, if they did not carry such a toxic and charring scent of death and burnt bodies with them.
Roberta rose her head towards Mount Sibo in the distance, the awakened volcano grumbling and spewing out more ash. The noise of cracking earth popped and echoed across the land, carried by tainted and heated wind towards the shores. The noise Sibo made was far louder than the Queen could ever hope to be. Not even her mate could be louder than that beast.
Feeling the volcanic breeze blow against her skin, and seeing the wind shake the tropical foliage, she knew. Roberta knew that this island was no longer her domain. This was no longer her dynasty. She was never Queen of Isla Nublar. She was just pretending to be.
And now, the fiery rock awakened from its long slumber to reclaim what was its: The isle of Nublar. Nublar was, and always would be, the domain of the beast called Sibo. This was Sibo's dynasty. And it was returning to wipe out the pretenders.
That was what Roberta thought, anyway. For how could she reclaim-and keep-her domain from a beast she could not fight? But it could easily fight her?
Now, Roberta knew what it was like to feel fear. She now knew what it was like to be prey. To be fearing an apex predator.
Roberta paused in her steps to look upon the giant beast, looming in the distance. She looked at the unfamiliar skies. Then to the ground, Nublar's inhabitants running blindly in panic, their instincts telling them to flee. But to where, it was unknown.
A low call from the Spinosaurus brought the female Rex out of her ravine of thought. The male had stilled his pace as well, looking back upon Roberta. Snorting, the Rex once more resumed her pace, moving upward and away from the shore-for a sheer cliff drop now existed where sand once stood. The Tyrannosaur moved towards the yet burnt plains, her pace now far faster than her mate's, who lagged behind a bit in order to regain his energy.
The pair were attempting to move downwind from the blowing soot and ash that rained from the skies. Perhaps other parts of their home would prove to be a haven not yet touched by Sibo's wrath?
High pitched whistles could be heard streaking across the sky, rocks of smoke and flame hurtling and pounding into the ground. Even when they landed several miles away, their impact could still be heard-a loud, booming noise that echoed across the island.
Roberta did her best to ignore these frightening noises, simply focusing upon putting one foot in front of the other. She and her mate did not know what they may face, or what would come. What they did know, was that the further the distance they had from the eruption, the better.
It was then that the god of Isla Nublar fully awakened, and unleashed Armageddon.
Mount Sibo tore asunder the ashen skies in a great flaming pyre, the blast sending forth a shock wave and rocketing fireballs into the heavens. Shrill whistles followed by roars of fire and thundering crashes dotted Nublar, turning the island into a battlefield.
A roar from Sorna's Bull, loud and forceful, was enough to send the Tyrannosaur into a sprint. Despite her forward start, the long and powerful stride of her mate allowed him to swiftly canter passed her. The female's older age-and the fact that the Spinosaur had slowed his pace to conserve his energy prior whilst she did not-was against her.
The pair attempted to flee the erupting world around them, trees and earth exploding in fire and smoke, stone shrapnel and dirt piercing through the air.
Roberta's breath was swift and uneven in terror, her heart thudding and hammering against her chest. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stun. Her throat was tight. Her mouth was dry. Her legs were sore and fatigued. Her scales burned and glowed as embers not yet put out clung to her hide. It felt as if her body was ready to give out.
She couldn't take much more.
But despite her fatigue, instinct propelled her onward.
Ever forward.
Ever desperate for that small sliver of hope.
Ever desperate to be able to keep her life.
If only for a second longer.
Just a little longer.
Nigh breathless, the Rex managed to muster out a weak call towards her mate. It was one of fatigue, and waning strength.
It was a call that her mate answered.
But it was a call she could not hear.
For it was deafened by a whistle.
A storm of heat and smoke blinded Roberta, the force of the impact knocking the Tyrannosaur off of her feet. With a heavy and strained grunt, Roberta landed upon the ground, her great weight being pushed along the earth, only ceasing as she roughly slammed against a tree.
Breathless, the Rex attempted to suck air back into her lungs that was knocked out of her, but found it to be nothing but dust and ash instead. Blinded by the dust and embers, and rendered deaf by the impact of the explosion, Roberta attempted to call. To move.
To do anything but lay there.
If she called out to her mate, she could not hear it. And if she did indeed call, she could not tell from the ash laden and heated air stealing her very breath. If she attempted to move, it was merely a twitch of her legs. She could only feel the embers clinging and burning upon her scales, scrapes and bruises on her softer underbelly from debris. She could not see, for the ash and dirt still stung at her eyes, which caused her amber orbs to water in irritation.
The ringing within her ears was relentless, deafening, even, as it drowned out the chaos around her.
She would not even be able to hear her mate call back!
The old Rex produced a low groan, forcing her body to move. To rise. To keep pressing forward. Once upon her two feet, she shook her body of dust and embers, blinking and shaking her head to clear her vision. The ringing in her ears dulled, and her sight cleared.
A thick plume of smoke rose into the air before her, wafting along the breeze. The air carried something else with it, other than smoke.
It carried along the scent of charred flesh.
Roberta ceased in her movements, stilling. Mind reeling. Gaze staring ahead.
Where was her mate?
He was there, just in front of her.
He was just ahead of her.
Where did he go?
Did he not answer her when she called?
No.
He had answered.
She just was not able to hear at the time.
Perhaps he was not able too, as well?
Briefly sniffing the air, and upon picking up the scent of smoke, Roberta called out. Low, but loud enough for her mate to hear.
He would surely hear this time!
And so, Roberta listened, and waited.
All she heard was the enfolding chaos around her, which now seemed quiet in comparison to her own churning mind.
She waited for an answer.
She received none.
Anxious, and nervous, with a creeping cold fear within her chest, Roberta began to shift her weight from foot to foot, head swiveling as she began to look around.
She had yet to see him.
The Rex then forced herself to call once more. She attempted to be louder than her previous vocal tone, but something stopped her. She just could not make herself loud enough as she would have liked. Her call seemed unable to possess the strength it once had.
Once more, Roberta stood still, and listened.
But she did not want to.
She wanted to flee.
Listen to her instincts.
But she would not!
She would not leave her mate.
She could not...
It was then, the Queen's call was answered.
It was answered!
He answered!
Breathing deeply in relief, Roberta found herself already moving in the direction of her mate's call, eager to reunite with him in the chaos.
Her footsteps shook the earth, even in her unsteady gait across ruined land. The plumes of smoke still thick within the air stunted her vision, breath pushing the tainted fumes to and fro. She took several swift steps forward, and halted in stride.
She found her mate among the wafting smoke, which was beginning to clear-if ever faintly. Her mate, however, stood not. Rather, the Spinosaur lay upon the ground, flesh burnt and charred, sail broken and ruined.
The crator and the remains of the smoldering fireball that struck him were but a few meters away.
Roberta resumed her staring, mind reeling as it struggled to make sense of how such an event could have happened. She did not understand! First her mate was in front of her, and then he was gone! First her mate was fine, and now he was injured!
The Tyrannosaur stood for what felt like minutes, her body cold despite the heat around her. But what felt like minutes, was only but a few seconds.
It was then Roberta shook herself, regaining her senses. It then registered that the scent of burnt flesh wasn't from just any creature. It was from her mate.
Slowly, hesitantly, the Rex approached her fallen companion, legs quivering as her head bobbed and weaved, attempting to better inspect her mate. As she approached, she bent down to nudge her snout against him, attempting to lift his head upwards, if ever so slightly.
A low, soft grumble escaped Roberta's throat.
She wanted her mate to rise.
A low, pained groan escaped the Bull.
He did not rise.
He could not.
His back was broken.
The female lowered herself further to nuzzle against her mate. Her amber gaze met his emerald. It was a gaze she held as long as she dared, for she did not want it to break.
He knew.
But most importantly, she knew.
He was never going to stand again.
Roberta released a low, mournful noise, her breath hitching as her body began to tremble. The Queen pressed herself more firmly against her mate, body wracked with uneven breaths and despair.
She knew what she had to do.
Most importantly, he knew.
But Roberta did not want to.
She did not want to leave her mate.
Even if that very action was what her body screamed to do.
She could not.
She did not want him to be alone.
Herself to be alone.
He did not leave her when he could have.
Her King was a good mate.
A very good mate.
She did not want to be a bad mate...
Roberta simply pressed herself against her male, mind dark and world black. The fires did not exist. The other creatures did not exist. Sibo did not exist. The only thing that did, was her injured mate. The Tyrannosaur released a low croon, pressing harder into her mate, breath hitching and nostrils beginning to seep fluid. A sudden, lurching hitch of breath caused her great body to heave, and Roberta craned her neck to drape her bulky head over her mate. She tried to inhale his musk, and not the stench of his burned wounds. Attempted to nuzzle her scaled cheek against the smooth scales of his own, and not burnt flesh. Attempted to hold upon him, cling desperately to him with her tiny, nigh useless stubby arms as if she were still drowning in the sea.
The Queen closed her eyes, and did not open them for a long time, breath and body contorting in pain. Fluid welled within her eyes, and lazily ran down her tan and ash laden snout.
She did not want to leave her mate.
Her King.
She did not want to say good bye...
Tenderly, lovingly, Roberta caressed his burnt hide with a the warm and slick kiss of her tongue. Then another. And another. And another. She licked his wounds in all her tender fury, as if her affection would be enough to mend his charred flesh. As if her affections would take away his pain. She licked the brunt of his spine, his shoulder, his neck, his brow, his snout...Even his scaled maw, of which the only evidence of him being alive was the faint puff of breath upon her hot tongue.
Roberta never felt so useless.
So worthless.
Never had she felt like this before.
Never had something happened where she could not fight her way through.
If she could, she would fight the angry giant, Sibo.
Fight it, and kill it, for what it did to her mate.
Fight it, and make it take what it did to him away.
The Bull merely lay there, breathing slow and shallow, smoke rising from the burns upon his scales as he closed his eyes in rest. He did not open them for a long time.
He should have left when he had the chance.
He should have returned to the sea, and traveled the current back home.
He shouldn't have been a good mate.
But he was, having acted against what he body screamed at him.
And now he was paying the price.
And for that price, he would not see a new dawn.
He would perish, alone.
For why would his mate stay, and doom herself with him?
It was foolish.
She would not do that.
Not like him.
But feeling her body next to his, scales pressed against scales, was at least of some comfort.
He could at least pretend, if ever briefly, that he was not in the state that he was.
That they were not in the predicament they were in.
He could at least pretend, if ever briefly, that things were as they once were, before.
In a time where they ruled as King and Queen.
In a time where their dynasty ruled Isla Nublar, unchallenged.
That fantasy, however, was ripped asunder by the dominating roar of Sibo, the God of Nublar once more making itself known.
A wall of ash and flame erupted from its maw in the great distance, and it was a roar Roberta could not longer challenge.
The Rex moved to once more stand, and move away from her mate, from the approaching wall of pyre and ash. Hesitant, and torn, her body was half torn-one side towards her mate, the other towards the sea. Roberta shifted, footing unsure as she slowly, hesitantly, unsurely moved sideways, looking towards the Spinosaur, then to the sea.
She did not want to leave.
She wanted to be a good mate.
But she wanted to live.
Yet she did not want to be a bad mate.
She could not be both.
Just as he could not be both.
He was a good mate.
But in being a good mate, he had damned himself to death.
She could be a good mate, too.
But she would need to to stay.
And she could not.
Terror and fear crept into her chest, suffocating her.
Controlling her.
She wanted to be a good mate.
But she wanted to live more.
Instinct took over, and a low, weak and sorrowful noise escaped the Queen in an apology.
And then she ran.
A mindless, feral instinct and primal fear taking control of her body.
She did not look back.
She did not want to.
She ran, even with her vision impaired with smoke, embers and tears.
The Bull called to her, but it was a cry she did not hear.
It was a cry she did not answer in her fear as she left him.
Alone.
The earth shook, and the foliage around him burst forth with panicked, fleeing beasts of Nublar, instincts propelling them towards their only safety-the sea.
The lame Spinosaur grunted and cried as he was trampled, kicked and crushed by the fear mongering creatures, the once mighty beast hapless in the assault.
Wave after seemingly endless wave the Bull endured, and by the end, he was barely-if desperately-clinging to life. Think globs of crimson liquid spout passed his scaled snout, breathing swift and shallow.
He was afraid.
He was very afraid.
He didn't want to die.
All alone.
He wanted to live.
Instinct, and terror, prompted his broken body to move.
To carry on.
To live.
Or at the very least, try to.
He could hear it. He could hear the world exploding around him, hear the ever increasing roar of the wall of ash as it approached.
He could live.
He could live, if he tried.
If just to cling to life for a few more seconds.
A few more, precious seconds.
Breathing harsh, and labored, the Bull forced his sore and tired arms to drag his greater weight against the ground. It was straining, his claws digging into the earth, dragging his own dead weight along the charred earth.
He could see it!
He could see the sea!
Glittering and shimmering, even amidst all this chaos!
It was almost as beautiful as his mate!
It was then that in the Bull's hopeful-yet vainful-crawling that he did what he never should have.
He looked back.
He looked back, and the hopeful fantasy of escaping to the sea was shattered by the roar of fire and ash. The wall of pyroclastic flow was towering, dominating. Devastating. Crushing.
A great form towered over the trees and blotted out the sky, roaring in its approach.
It was coming.
It was coming for him.
It was coming for his mate.
It was coming to obliterate his dynasty as if it never existed.
No...
Not his dynasty.
It was never truly theirs.
They were just pretending it was.
Pretending, and nothing else.
A false King and Queen they were, and would be.
It was then that Roberta did what she never should have done.
She looked back.
The Queen's golden eyes looked upon her injured mate, being trampled and crushed by fleeing predator and prey.
She saw the monster towering above, coming closer.
Roberta then did something against her instincts.
Against everything her body screamed her not to do.
Her powerful legs brought her to a halt as her toes raked the ground and tore through the charred soil.
Her weight shifted, and she urged her weary legs to move-
-Onwards-
-Backwards-
-Towards her mate.
Roberta felt nothing but fear.
But she didn't want to be a bad mate!
She wanted to be a good mate!
She wanted to be by his side!
Her mate's side!
Robert charged forward upon weak and weary legs, tawny scales smoldering and charred from the hot ashes that fell from the skies and burned her hide. She was the the one charging into the many, the Queen defiant until the bitter end.
The Tyrannus could see little of her opposition in her poor sight.
Flickers.
Shifting shapes, fleeting light.
The pounding of the earth and the roaring of the skies.
But she knew they were there.
She knew they were in her way.
The old Queen charged forth, crushing maw opening in a hoarse bellow.
A roar that once held power that now sounded weak and pathetic for a beast so large.
The pained cries of her mate was the only thing that rang louder than the roar of the island.
The crack of a thick, calloused knee hitting against a smaller body—a grunt from Roberta—and a gasping cry from a beast caught in her path.
A shriek, and a small prey was kicked by thick clawed toes.
Another was crushed under her weight.
She barely felt the bones breaking.
It was no different than snapping twigs.
Like the waters of a running river, Roberta ran into more panicking bodies.
More, and more.
Larger, and larger.
Soon, rather than charging forward-the Tyrannus realized with horror-she was fighting not to get trampled herself, and lost within the current of fleeing beasts.
She could not lose her ground!
She could not fall!
A shoulder slammed into her chest.
A tail hit her thigh.
A horned frill pushed her, and nearly sent her under the raging river of raw instincts.
The Queen's muscular legs tensed-struggling to keep her steady-just enough to move forward.
Ever closer towards her mate.
But the battering of powerful bodies against her fatigued and ember burnt body was too much.
Roberta struggled to catch her breath with each hit that was knocked out of her heaving lungs.
She felt something snap in her chest-and bring pain.
The Queen of Nublar produced a weak, desperate plea-a sound too soft and mournful for such a large beast to seemingly emit.
But her sorrow was not heard.
Like her swan song, Roberta was overwhelmed by the river of flesh and fear.
Then she fell into the churning sea below.
A chill colder than Isla Nublar's merciless nights engulfed her body.
Darkness, and failing bodies.
Panicked calls and bellows.
There was nothing but a dark that was blacker than night, down below.
Roberta saw some animals sick deep into the depths.
Cries muffled as bubbles raged from their dying chests.
Others attempted to breach the raging ocean's surface.
Roberta was one such lucky beast.
The Tyrant's head broke through the sea's cresting waves, crushing jaws opening to greedily suck in air.
A roar of horror, and trepidation erupted from her maw.
The torrent of an angry sea sloshed all around her, salt stinking her eyes and blurring her poor vision. The flailing bodies of struggling animals surrounded her.
Her nostrils flared, spouting out inhaled water.
Her pupils were dilated in primal terror.
Her legs kicked.
Her tail thrust and swayed.
Her arms paddled.
Her neck craned skyward, ever trying to keep herself above the waves.
She was too tired.
She was too fatigued.
She was too exhausted.
Her mate was not here to keep her afloat.
Her mate was not here to save her.
Roberta did not notice three Compsognathus that had scurried towards her, and sought succor upon her head.
Seeking to live.
Seeking to cling to life for but a few more precious seconds.
Then the Tyrannosaur slipped under the surf.
Darkness.
Roberta did not know where she was.
She did not smell the scent of home.
She did not smell the scent of her mate.
It was a foreign smell.
With cold steel walls that were too small for her rise-even if she wanted to.
But Roberta was too tired.
Too drowsy.
Too fatigued.
Too exhausted.
Too pained.
The only thing she cared for-was sleep.
And thus, the Tyrannosaur slept her captivity away.
When Roberta emerged from Lockwood Manor-She could smell it.
This land was not her home.
This land was not her island.
Once more, like before, Roberta would find herself in a foreign land.
Once more, like before, Roberta would find herself conquering this new land.
Once more, like before, Roberta would find herself ruling.
Alone.
Just as instinct commanded her to live.
Instinct also commanded her to do what she had done several times before.
Build a nest.
Her King gifted her their last clutch.
Roberta would hope-and fret-that at least one chick would survive.
Soon, Roberta would not be alone anymore.
She just needed to be patient.