Chapter Text
(The Ice Kingdom)
King Winter of the IceWings… no longer Prince Winter of the IceWings, the useless nephew of Queen Glacier who always struggled up the rankings. No. He was a King now, one that would make sure his dragons would always love him, respect him, and never regret what they had done to get him on the throne. He would take care of them, listen to them, keep them safe, happy, and fed. He would prove to them all that their efforts were worth it. He'd be better than Snowfall, he knew he would be. He had to be, for their sake.
His thoughts were interrupted as three quick knocks sounded from the other side of the two ice doors of his room. His new room, originally designed for Queens, had been rearranged to accommodate him, the first King of the IceWings. The title still felt strange to him. Maybe it always did for new rulers.
“Your Majesty?” A voice asked, “I have a message for you.”
Winter opened the two ice doors of his room. Two guards were stationed on either side of the entrance, stone faced and ready to attack and die for him at any moment. “What is it?” He asked, stepping out of the room, his tail spikes resettled as he moved towards the messenger, scraping against the ice. The messenger and the two guards bowed to him and he felt a little bit awkward. He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel strange to him when everyone bowed to him. The messenger hurried to open his bag once he stood back up, slipping out a slate that he quickly shoved into Winter's talons, which would have been seen as improper behavior towards a royal and also frankly, quite rude. But he ignored it and started to read. As he read, he could hear the messenger's claws scraping noisily against the ice and by three moons, it was annoying. But he didn't say that, he instead kept his mouth shut and continued to read.
“Hm…” he hummed once he finished, his wings flicking back a little in a strange, confused way. “Thank you,” he said to the messenger, who bowed deeply and hurried away, not waiting to be excused. But Winter didn't particularly care, he was too busy thinking about what the slate had said… an old friend, wanting to meet in a small town with all types of dragons — friend or foe. And without any guards or weapons? Not suspicious at all, totally safe. Maybe if whoever the genius who wrote it had at least left a name. I would be a little bit less sketchy. Of course not. Fool. Once the doors shut behind him he snorted. “Very smart. Like I'd trust that.” He said aloud, although really, he wouldn't exactly trust it if it had a name on it anyways. It could easily be someone pretending. He wasn't that dumb!
He rolled his eyes and walked over to the window in his room and rested his head on the sill, knocking a piece of ice loose and watching it disappear into the dark abyss below, swallowed by its shadows… he would figure out who it was. How would he do that? He wasn't quite sure about that yet. He sighed, tapping his tail against the icy floor of his room. The spikes on his tail making soft clinking noises against it. The cool north wind blew in his face as he sat there, watching the snow fall until he was quite RUDELY interrupted.
Loud aggressive banging against his door startled him violently, making him stumble and hit his head against the icy floor. He groaned, gingerly touching his head where it throbbed. He frowned and stood, shaking out his wings before walking over to the door and listening for a moment. He could make out the sound of hushed voices and low hisses, then a familiar voice shouted above the others. “WINTER. COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!!” Lynx's voice shouted, followed by another aggressive bang against the door.
He quickly swung the doors open, wondering what in the world could be so important she had to give him a heart attack. “What in the THREE MOONS are you banging and screaming about?” She didn't answer for a moment, she was having trouble catching her breath like she'd just flown across the entire continent. She held up a talon for a moment while she tried to figure how to breathe again, clutching her chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Finally, once she gained the ability of speech again, she spoke, her voice breathless and filled with worry, “Queen Thorn is dead.”