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Chapter Text

It was a normal day in Warfang. This city, formerly a military city in ancient times, was now a peaceful place where everyone could live their lives without the threat of war looming over them.

Warfang was a melting pot of uniquity and famous for its multi-cultured society. Over hundreds of years, weary travelers or prospectors trickled in and decided to make the city their home. Creatures of all kinds lived there; it was a city built for dragons, so naturally most of its population was draconic. But there were also cheetahs, moles, apes, and wolves as well as fantastical creatures like fauns, centaurs, and golems. Every single soul there was alike in at least one way, and that was that they had their own dreams and ambitions.

Usually within a species the same kind of profession was chosen by its members. For example, cheetahs preferred servitude or roles of guidance, and moles preferred working with the earth. In reality, anybody was free to choose what they pleased as an occupation. In days long passed, dragons commonly picked professions that would lead to roles of leadership or war, but nowadays the same unspoken rules of freedom applied to them as well; a dragon could be a servant to a high-class family or could work in construction like any other.

One particular young dragon, one named Spyro, would take advantage of his freedoms. After all, he never had to worry about fighting in a war.

The Frosted Dream was a very well-known bakery in Warfang. It was decorated with bold colors of red and golden and sat in the middle of a busy avenue within the central part of the city. It had a lot of regular customers and its constant high income spoke well of its popularity. Inside were rows of glasses, stands, and shelves filled with cakes, muffins, scones, and other countless sinful pleasures that would make a full stomach growl. All kinds of creatures visited the bakery and the line often extended outside and halfway down the block.

Many attributed the bakery's success to its owner, Apollonir Fireheart.

"Three more Strawberry Dreams, four Cheetah's Eye cupcakes and another round of Sugary Bouquets, please!"

A crimson dragon ducked into the kitchen with the call, wearing his usual warm and proud smile. Apollonir was a towering and bulky dragon with a mane of dark-red frills around his neck, curled horns, and a fiery orange-yellowish Mohawk with matching scales that traveled the length of his spine. Steam often traveled off this dragon's maw, for he had an unusually hot internal temperature that gave him the local nickname of "Flame Biter". His dark red eyes were always mellow and friendly.

Apollonir took a moment to adjust the white apron tied around his neck and behind his wing joints. His bakery was bustling as usual with its spirited workers mainly consisting of cheetahs and he walked through, checking on each of them to make sure they were prepping things correctly. He was also looking to see if they were there mentally, ready to lend a helping hand or a nudge, maybe with a few (or sometimes more) genuinely uplifting words. To him his workers were like family and he never hesitated to make that known.

His workers were so good that they knew recipes by heart, so already the large order was well on its way to being prepared for baking. The Strawberry Dream was his bakery's keystone and was his pride and joy; it was simply a large cake made of white and pink cream topped with two kinds of fresh strawberries, one cultivar being dubbed "The White Princess". The Cheetah's Eye was a cupcake prepared with caramel and special berries found in the Valley of Avalar, decorated to look like its namesake; its demand was seconded only to The Strawberry Dream. Finally the Sugar Bouquet was a collection of cookies decorated with caramelized sugar and edible ink, made to look like different flowers—each with their own colors and flavors.

Apollonir watched his bakers prepare the dishes, whip pastries to make the cakes, work the sugar to caramelize it, and bring together all the ingredients to prepare the desserts for baking. He paid attention to one in particular, a fellow dragon.

There were not many dragons working in the bakery; there was an earth, an ice, and two fire dragons. However, one last dragon stood out with his purple scales and golden underbelly. This was the dragon named Spyro, aged nineteen, and he was the youngest employee at The Frosted Dream.

Currently Spyro was decorating a few flowers of a Sugar Bouquet order and Apollonir could tell he was putting his usual dedication into it. The young purple dragon was balancing into his hind legs, using his tail to support himself as he used his forepaws to work. It was clear by the smile on his face and his energy that Spyro loved his job.

To Apollonir, Spyro's joy was contagious and uplifting.

Speaking of uplifting, Spyro had moved on and was soon done prepping a set of Cheetah's Eyes. By flapping his wings he generated a steady flow of air that suspended the tray of cupcakes above his head. Spyro craned his head around to breath a low and steady stream of flames underneath the tray.

That was another thing special about Spyro—his different mastery of elements. All dragons had their own elemental powers that were typically indicated by their scale color. Apollonir, for instance, was a fire dragon, which was good since his fire element aided him when it came to baking and cooking. Yellow dragons were in charge of the element of electricity, green dragons were living, breathing personifications of earth, wind dragons were gray-scaled, etc. Purple dragons were very rare and special because they were able to learn more than one element. It was even said their potential was boundless and they could master all elements in the known universe.

Apollonir had often seen Spyro use Fire and Wind elements, but also knew the purple dragon could use other elements like earth, ice, and electricity. As such, Spyro was a very versatile worker and with his positive attitude, one of his best employees.

After a few minutes Spyro finally lowered the cupcakes into his forepaws, slowing down his wing beats to cool them slightly. They were nice and warm, right at a perfect temperature for eating. Spyro didn't notice Apollonir behind him until the older dragon spoke up. "May I?" asked Apollonir, gesturing towards the cupcakes.

"Sure! Be my guest!" Spyro chirped.

Smiling, Apollonir picked up one of the cupcakes and gave it a bite. He chewed them lightly as he let the flavor spread to his mouth and all over his tongue. As he chewed, Spyro looked up at him, expectation clear in his eyes.

There was a moment of silence until Apollonir swallowed. His smile grew. "Very well done, Spyro, it tasted delicious."

Spyro's face brightened and he had to stop himself from dancing on the spot. Sure, Apollonir had complimented his cooking skills a lot by now, but it was still hard to not get so happy each time it happened.

"Good to see you're still improving more by the day!" Apollonir exclaimed, to which Spyro answered, "All thanks to you, sir!"

Apollonir could still remember when Spyro first began coming to his bakery years ago. The purple dragon was a curious one who would stay a while looking at all the different sweets. Then, one moment a little over six months ago, they had an interesting interaction that would lead to Spyro becoming his apprentice.

One day he'd caught Spyro trying to sneak into the kitchen. In a bit of an awkward moment, a blushing Spyro confessed that not only did he want to see the sweets being made, he wanted to learn how to make them. Apollonir had asked him if he knew how to bake and Spyro meekly admitted he tried the best he could. The elder dragon surprised the younger by asking him to bake something for him.

Spyro hadn't had any idea what he was going to make for Apollonir at first, but then decided on a recipe he was confident with. It was a recipe for homemade sugar cookies, so nothing special, but he'd read it out of an old book and had been practicing it for quite a while. At first, Spyro was nervous as he got ready to work, but he seemed to relax while prepping the ingredients. Apollonir watched him from start to finish and Spyro eventually presented the finished product to him.

All the nervousness Spyro had come back twentyfold and he looked dreadful as Apollonir took a cookie and tasted it. While it wasn't the best he had ever eaten, Apollonir had been surprised at how good it still was despite being made from a simple recipe and a fledgling baker.

Spyro had revealed he knew a few other recipes from an old cookbook and had tried to add his own little flavorful twist to them. He admitted it took a while with plenty (as he recalled with a wince) of unpleasant taste tests.

Apollonir was very impressed with Spyro's tenacity and passion; indeed, this young dragon had all the qualities that were attributed to very skilled bakers. He saw the potential in the purple dragon and invited him to work as his apprentice in the bakery. He still got a chuckle every time he recalled Spyro's stupefied and astonished look. The next thing he knew Spyro was hugging him tightly, saying 'yes!' over and over.

After that, their mentor-pupil relationship had been firmly established. Spyro was eager to learn, and while he was still inexperienced with the commercial aspect of baking, he proved to be a very flexible and fast learner. He quickly learned few tricks from Apollonir on how to use his elements to help with baking and also took tips from the other employees there, dragon and non-dragon. Everyone began to see Spyro grow with knowledge and capability in quite a short amount of time.

Coming back to the present, Apollonir petted his young student's head with pride, making Spyro beam with happiness. They were never without work at The Frosted Dream; they had to constantly keep up with the demand, but that was the price of being successful and they wouldn't trade anything else for it.

As another sunset began, marking the end of the workday, Apollonir addressed his workers. "Alright, my friends! We've had another wonderful day thanks to you all. Make sure your workstation's clear before you head home, and get some rest! We've got another round of it all in the morning!"

Weary but tired, the employees there went through with their end of shift duties before beginning to trickle out the door. As usual some were glad that the day was finally over while others talked about what may've happened during shift, but all of them were anxious and ready for their next paycheck. The advantage into working in a place that was so big and successful was that the payment was worth all of the hard work that they had to do every single day. In the end they all enjoyed working there. However, there was someone who was never happy at the end of the day.

Spyro stood in a corner of the kitchen with his head hanging low. Apollonir approached him carefully. "Spyro? Time to go home."

Spyro sighed. He helped Apollonir secure and close the bakery. Unfortunately, The Frosted Dream was a constant target of theft—if not for the money, then for Apollonir's recipes that made it famous. It was well known that there were rival bakeries trying to get their claws on the latter, but the crimson dragon made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. "Always keep your personal recipes safe," was one of the first lessons that Apollonir taught Spyro.

Once they made sure the bakery was secured, Spyro smiled at his mentor. "I'll…be back tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll see you then. Be safe, and goodnight."

Spyro gave one last pause before spreading his wings and taking off, flapping up into the night. Apollonir hefted a sweltering sigh, raising a paw to massage his head. Anyone who saw Spyro at the end of the day would assume he was sad because he couldn't bake anymore. But Apollonir knew the true reason Spyro was upset at having to leave.

His father is such a dastard, but I understand the agony of wanting to make one's parents proud, Apollonir thought with a frown. Why can't Exedra just accept Spyro for who he is and what he wants to be? Does his son's unhappiness mean nothing to him?

Apollonir took off to go home himself...with hopeful thoughts that Spyro and his father would just come to terms with one another.

Chapter Text

Spyro landed in front of the two-story gothic-styled house that he called home; as always, a pair of stone gargoyles leered at him from the roof, overseeing his approach up the grungy stone path. "I'm home!" he called out as he stepped inside, closing the door with a hind foot.

Soon, a dragoness was stepping into the living room. Her scales, like her eyes, were dark-blue, and she had a white underbelly. There were yellow speckles dotting her hide like miniature stars in a dusky sky. Strapped to her back with a harness was her special staff emblazoned with the design of an intermingling sun and moon.

"Hello, sweetheart," Galaxia, Spyro's Mother, said to him. "How was work today?"

"Hard and hot as usual, mom. That kitchen's always moving."

"Well, you made it in time tonight. Dinner's ready in fifteen. I hope you haven't ruined your appetite with all those sweets at work," she said, winking at him.

"Oh, Mom, c'mon," Spyro said coyly. He was nineteen and sometimes she still talked to him like he was ten years younger. Maybe it was a motherly thing, but he figured he'd never stop being her little hatchling.

Eager to rest after work, Spyro passed through the living room, shrugging his bag off as he did. A voice asked, "So, back from another day making candy, huh?"

Spyro held back a groan and briefly closed his eyes; there was another dragon sitting in the corner of the living room, reading a book. This gaunt dragon was a dark, dark gray, almost black, and had a lighter shade of gray for his underbelly and horns. He was wingless, but as a master of the Shadow element, could still fly using dark magic. This dragon was battered with scars and had a very prominent one on his flank. His coiled tail ended in a scythe. He wore a skull-like mask that covered all of his face except for his dark red eyes.

Exedra, Spyro's father, was not a dragon one would like to see in a dark alley—or at all, really. Spyro knew him quite well of course, so he didn't have any reason to be afraid of him anymore.

"Hi, father," Spyro spoke in a very formal and cold tone.

Exedra ignored that. "Don't you get sick of the smell of sugar?"

"I'm used to it. Besides, it's a job like any other."

Exedra scoffed, turning a page in his book, briefly shifting his red eyes to his son. "Yes, indeed. What a job."

Spyro held back a grumble and turned his attention to whatever he could, be it the paintings, the carpet, or the ceiling. All he needed was something to keep him distracted from his father. He just needed to make it until dinner, then he could go to his room and avoid another nasty fight.

So of course, Exedra doubled down. "For how long do you plan on working there? I understand the pay is good, but it's time for you to find a more suitable job, don't you think?"

Spyro dug his claws into the wooden floor, struggling to keep his tone under control. "We've already had this talk a few times by now, haven't we?"

"We have," Exedra said with infuriating calmness. "Still, you're into that same job. I'm just wondering what it means."

"Maybe it means that I've found direction in my life."

SNORT! Exedra shook his head, puffing smoke out of his nostrils. "Well, you could've tried harder to find a better direction than this. It isn't too late."

Spyro knew that if this went on for too much longer they would have another fight, just like the previous night. Why dinner was taking so long? He just stayed silent. Exedra finally seemed to be done talking, but left one last scathing remark: "I just wish this 'candy maker' phase of yours ends soon and you find a real job for a normal dragon."

And I wish you'd take that mask off and show your real face like a normal dragon, Spyro thought ferociously. At least they hadn't been reduced to yelling at each other again, so he was happy with that. Spyro was thankful when the tense silence was eventually broken by Galaxia's call.

"Exedra, Spyro, dinner is ready!"

For a few minutes dinner was silent and uneventful as the dragons ate their roasted sheep. Galaxia tried breaking the tension.

"So, how was your work today, Spyro?" she asked.

"It was nice! We had lots of clients and plenty of things to do. Apollonir says I'm getting better at baking. I can already make all of his recipes from my memory!"

Spyro was happy to see Galaxia smiling at his success. It was a true smile, not the mocking kind his father usually gave him. It was good at least one of his parents approved of what he had chosen to do with his life. Naturally, to balance this out, Exedra scoffed lowly with a shake of his head. The other two dragons shot him a glare.

"Exedra," Galaxia said sternly.

Exedra said, "Honestly, Galaxia, I don't think that is good to encourage this."

"Exedra! You're not helping."

The dark gray dragon simply shrugged and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

But Spyro was done. Before he lost his temper he quickly finished eating, wishing his parents a good night before heading upstairs. He could still hear their voices.

"Exedra, why do you act like that?"

"I already explained myself. That kind of behavior is not to be encouraged."

"What is wrong with what he does? It's a profession just like any other!"

"Excuse me if I can't see making candy all day as a profession."

Spyro stopped dead. It took all his willpower to not go back downstairs and scream in his father's face.

"This kind of 'profession' is not fit for a dragon like him." Exedra continued. "He should search for a more suitable job, like joining the guard or even better, entering the Dragon Corps. Now that would be a real profession!"

"No. I don't see any problem. He likes to bake and it pays him well."

"The problem is that a dragon like him should not restrict himself to this kind of job. And he knows it. You'll see. This is all just a phase and at some point he will lose interest in it and will search for a real job. Then we all can move on and leave that nonsense behind."

Spyro clenched his teeth. He slammed his door shut to block out the rest of their conversation and threw himself down on his purple mattress, seething. Why?

That was all that Spyro could ask. Just why?

Why did his own father have so much trouble with Spyro doing what he wanted to do with his life?

His father's conservative views were unshakable. He'd never consider baking to be a dragon's job. Spyro also thought it had to do with him being a purple dragon, a rare breed with a vast amount of potential compared to other dragons (though, he never thought himself as being above other dragons); Exedra likely thought his potential was being wasted on baking, of all things. He always made it known that he wanted Spyro to find a more fitting profession in the dragon guard, or to be in the Dragon Corps, the special force that explored unknown areas, hunted down dangerous criminals, and provided humanitarian efforts. More than once Spyro heard Exedra said he could even join the Guardians.

But Spyro was just as stubborn and knew he didn't want any of that. Since he was little he'd always had a passion for baking and that was that. End of story. Spyro still remembered when he first told his parents he was going to work in the bakery with Apollonir Fireheart. His mother was really happy for him. Spyro had seen that, even behind the mask, his father had pulled his face into a harsh frown. He remembered that he and his father barely talked to each other for the rest of that day. Whenever they did have conversation it was mostly about Exedra trying to convince Spyro to drop the baking job and search for another one. Of course, that went nowhere.

Spyro sighed as he picked up a book to distract himself. He knew that if he let himself stay bothered he'd have a hard time falling asleep. He'd rather distract himself and let his father think whatever the heck he wanted. After all, Exedra was owner of his own thoughts, but he was never going to be the owner of Spyro's.

Spyro knew what he wanted, and that was to become as good of a baker as Apollonir. That was his dream. It'd take a while for him to attain his goal, but it was something he would fight for and defend to his last breath. He didn't need his father's approval. Really, all he needed was Apollonir's. That was going to be more than enough for him.

That night, Spyro went to bed with a smile on his face.

"AARGHH."

Spyro stretched himself awake with the groan, shielding his eyes from the light. It was morning already. He yawned wide, flashing his white teeth to the world, and hopped out of bed. Once he got his room straightened up he headed down towards the bathroom. Exedra met him on the stairs.

They both stared at each other for a moment. Spyro went around him. "Good morning, father."

"Good morning, Spyro."

Snorting, Spyro locked himself in the bathroom and started drawing some water for a bath. After one good scrubbing he'd be on his way to work. Well, after he had breakfast with his parents.

Several times before Spyro had asked Galaxia to pack his breakfast for him so he could eat along the way to work, but she insisted they all eat together. Spyro knew it was so he and his father could have a chance to talk with one another. Galaxia meant well, but she didn't seem to understand the two dragons were at a stalemate and simply wouldn't give in to the other.

As he dried himself off and exited the bathroom, Spyro exhaled through pursed lips. Breakfast shouldn't have to be so stressful, but he could make it through. Then he'd be out of there as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Spyro walked downstairs slowly as if he was the condemned walking to his execution. Galaxia smiled at him and offered him a spot at the table. The good news was, he didn't have to sit next to his father. The bad news was that Exedra and Spyro were oriented face-to-face. Spyro kept his eyes down and began eating his breakfast.

It was quiet at the dining room table for a few minutes. "So!" Galaxia piped up. "I bet things are going well at work for you, Spyro."

"Yeah, they are," Spyro said without raising his head. "Apollonir says that I'm getting better and that I have a lot of potential. We might have a busy day today, there were some orders we didn't get to yesterday."

"So, you'll spend more time making candy," Exedra chimed in. "You know, this idea of you being a baker was cute when you were a hatchling, but you should have dropped it long before now."

"Exedra!" Galaxia warned.

Spyro stood up, slamming his paws on the table. "Sorry if I'm not some mindless dummy that dances when you play the music, Exedra."

Exedra snarled and showed his teeth slightly. "You'd better watch your mouth talking to me."

"I will when you stop criticizing everything I do." Spyro jumped down, leaving his breakfast half eaten as he stormed away.

"Spyro!" Galaxia called.

Exedra snapped, "And just where do you think you're going!?"

"I'm going to work!" Spyro snapped back.

"Don't you dare give me your back, Spyro!"

"I'll be back late tonight. Lots of work. Don't wait for me."

That was a lie. Spyro wouldn't have that much work. But he wouldn't feel like coming home tonight after work. He knew he'd have another fight with his father and it'd be spectacularly uglier than normal. He wasn't going to be in the mood to face that today.

"But… your breakfast…" Galaxia said helplessly; another one of her attempts to make her husband and son have a talk and possibly reconciliate was crumbling down like a house of cards.

"I lost my appetite." Spyro said, shouldering the door open. Before it shut behind him he heard Exedra say, "This talk is not over yet!"

Oh, but it was. It was over and maybe for good this time. Spyro knew that he wouldn't be able to live there for much longer if things keep on like this. Living with his father was starting to become unbearable. Spyro did not understood why that stupid old lizard couldn't simply accept that he had his own dreams in life.

"I'm late, sorry!"

Spyro entered the bakery's kitchen, first greeted by Apollonir himself. "I'm glad you made it safely. We have a lot of work today," the crimson dragon said.

Spyro smiled at that. He had plenty of things to do to keep his mind busy and off the topic of his father. He wasted no time in putting on his white apron and jumping into work; the first order was a round of Cheetah's Eyes. No matter how many times he made something he loved doing it. He was even able to make all of Apollonir's recipes from memory by this point. So he got to prepping and mixing the dough, using his elemental abilities combined with swift paw-work as he filled each cupcake liner. Anyone watching him could tell he adored what he did and by seeing the quality of his work. His passion was contagious.

Why wouldn't he be happy? He was doing something he loved around others who, in general, loved it as much as he did. And he could receive approval from those who mattered. His father didn't matter to him. Not anymore. As long as he was in the kitchen, everything was perfect for Spyro.

Time passed as he completed order after order, lost in the grind of work. Spyro finished making some candies to put atop a cake, floating them in the air with his wind powers and freezing them solid with his ice breath. The candies themselves resembled the common emblem for the fire element. The cake was for a young fire dragon's birthday party, and so it was decorated with reds, golds, and oranges, streaked with designs of flames. It was beautiful to look at. Spyro finished adding the last decors to the cake and double-checked to make sure it would be stable enough to survive the trip to the party.

Soon the delivery workers came to take the cake and Spyro made sure they were extra careful. He didn't want his good work to be for nothing.

After they left Spyro hefted a slight sigh of relief and got back to work. He had a Strawberry Dream to do. He started by cutting the Snow Queen Strawberries into smaller portions and mixing them with the dough and sugar. After that it was a matter of heating the cake and letting it cool to perfection; Spyro also loved being able to use different elements. It was as if he was perfectly equipped to be what he wanted to be! The Strawberry Dream was done in no time and Spyro prepared its decorations. A few pink sugary flowers here, and a few Snow Queen Strawberries there…done!

The Strawberry Dream was taken to the counter to be displayed, and Spyro knew it wouldn't be long before he had to make another. They were in high demand over all of Warfang. He loitered in the front for a little while to see if someone would buy it while he was there. He liked to see the excitement and joy in the eyes of people who saw his creations and hoped he could make someone's life a little brighter. That was the main reason he had wanted to be a professional baker—so he could bring happiness to others.

But his father didn't understand that.

For Exedra making the world better meant risking your life in service to the crown or fighting dangerous criminals to bring them to justice. It meant fighting in battles, spilling blood for the sake of glory and honor. What Exedra didn't see was that there were other ways of helping the world be a little better, just by making something that would bring a smile to people's faces.

Spyro clenched his teeth as he thought about his relationship with his dad. He was away from his father and Exedra still found a way to ruin his day and his mood.

"Spyro?" Apollonir was over his shoulder with a concerned expression. "Your wings are twitching. Are you upset about something?"

"It's… it's nothing…"

But he wasn't convincing, nor to Apollonir himself.

"Oh, alright." Spyro hung his head. "It's my dad."

Apollonir nodded in understanding.

"I mean…I don't get it. Why it is so hard to him to be on my side? Would it kill him if he just once said something like 'Hey son, you're doing great', or maybe 'I heard you are making progress. I'm proud of you'. Man, I would be happy even if he said, 'Easy on the workload, son!'"

Apollonir spoke, after a few moments of respectful silence, "Spyro, can we go to my office? I need to talk to you in private."

"Spyro, it has been great having you in my bakery. You are one of the most talented young minds I have ever met. You love your craft more than most others I've seen pass through my shop and believe me, I have seen many."

As the two dragons sat, separated by a desk, Apollonir earnestly looked into Spyro's eyes. "You're such a promising young dragon, and I can see a great future ahead of you. I'm really proud of you."

Spyro was able to smile. "Thank you. I wish my dad would say something like that. Apollonir, you've given me support and encouragement ever since I came here in the first time, and you're always being kind to me. You understand me a lot." He scoffed. "While Exedra can only think about criticizing everything I do, or telling me that I'm not doing things good enough. Now what's left for him to say to my face is that I'm his biggest disappointment. The truth is, Apollonir, you have been much more a father to me than he has."

Silence.

"I…mean," Spyro stuttered, "You care for me and my future. You support me in my choices and you encourage me to do what I love to do. And…since we're always together, I can't help but feel that we're a little like family."

"It's because we are a family, Spyro. Everyone in this bakery. We always work together and support each other the best way we can," Apollonir looked downwards, wearing a tentative smile. "You know…the funny thing is, I've never had children of my own. So, I always tried my best to share what I know with everyone who I teach, and they have to come to be my family. I did it for all of them. Including you. And Spyro, I see a lot of myself in you. It's almost as if I'm looking at younger version of myself. You are like the son I never had."

"Oh," Spyro expressed modestly, turning red.

Apollonir continued. "And what's more to consider, I've been worried sick about the problems you're having with Exedra. I had to think hard about this. It just may be able to happen. But I don't know."

"Huh?"

"You're nineteen. An adult. So if you decide to accept, there will be no issues and Exedra will have no legal say in the matter. It all depends on what you want."

"What I want? What are you talking about, Apollonir?"

"Spyro," Apollonir spoke the words the purple dragon never expected to hear, "I want to adopt you."

Chapter Text

Spyro was taken aback. He could only look at Apollonir with wide eyes.

He was sure he'd heard wrong, that his boss couldn't have really meant what he had asked. It was clear from Apollonir's expression that this was no joke, which just compounded Spyro's disbelief. The purple dragon sputtered, shaking his head. "W…What?"

"I said that I wanted to adopt you. I have thought a lot about it and consulted a few trusted others on the matter. Like I said…you're legally an adult, so you can decide for yourself if you want to be adopted. If you accept, you will come and live with me and be my rightful heir in all the proper aspects. That's only if it's what you want to.

"Spyro, I know you're unhappy at home. Make no mistake. I am not trying to steal you from your family. I just want the best for you. I always have," said Apollonir. "So…what do you think? Would you like for me to adopt you?"

Spyro still couldn't speak a single word and only stared. Apollonir let out a breathy, heated chuckle. "Yes, I know it's the last thing you may've expected to hear today. And I'm sure you don't want to leave your mother and your childhood home. I'm sorry…I was selfish in asking you about a decision like this all of a sudden. But if…you want to take some time to think—"

"I accept."

"You—what?" Apollonir asked, surprised.

"I want you to adopt me." Spyro said firmly. "It doesn't even feel like home anymore. Exedra doesn't understand me, so I want to go with you. I want you to adopt me."

"Spyro, I know that you are upset with your father, but I don't want you to accept my offer only because of that."

"It's not the only reason. You've always been more supportive of me than Exedra has been. You understand my feelings and you want me to be happy doing what I want," Spyro said. "You've been more of a father to me than he ever has been…it'd be much better if I just left him behind. For awhile now, I've been wanting to not go back home anyway…I know Mom will be sad and I'll miss her, but I can't live under the same roof as Exedra anymore."

Even if it was sudden, him leaving his house and his mother, Spyro was insistent on Apollonir's offer. He knew he would have a much happier life.

"So…yes. I'm serious. I want you to adopt me," Spyro finished.

"Oh, well…it sounds like you've decided for good, then. I won't doubt it," Apollonir said. "It might take a month or two to complete the proper legal proceedings, but that won't be an issue."

"Good! I can't wait until it's all sorted out! So…you said I'm going to live with you now?"

"It doesn't have to be right away, unless you really want it to be."

"I do," said Spyro.

"But what about your things?"

"Can't we send someone else to get them? I really don't want to step foot back in that house. Or…tell Exedra he's no longer my father. I don't think I'd make it out alive," Spyro said with a rueful laugh.

"Mm, okay. We can work that out."

"Sounds good…father," Spyro said, wagging his tail a little. He hopped on the desk suddenly and hugged Apollonir with his wings, much to the latter's surprise. After a moment Apollonir returned the hug, his great jaw quivering. They embraced for several long moments and separated, smiling at one another. Apollonir sniffled and wiped away the tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I…didn't mean to get so emotional," the crimson dragon said.

"It's okay. There's nothing wrong with that," Spyro said brightly. "…well…I guess I'd better get back to work now?"

Apollonir cleared his throat. "Yes. We can talk again tonight when we…go home."

"Sure!"

Apollonir waited for Spyro to leave. He quietly locked the door and then laid down on the spot, hanging his heavy head. Sweltering breaths came from his maw and more tears burned in his eyes. His heart was racing like it was powering a steam train.

"He said yes, Stark. He said yes…"

It was easy to notice the uptick in the already cheerful Spyro's mood as he got back to work.

"What's got you walking on clouds all of a sudden?" an ice dragon named Frostlight asked.

"Oh, um…I'll tell you later," Spyro had said.

A cheetah named Cheela asked, "Did the boss give you a pay raise or something?"

"Oh, no…nothing like that," Spyro had told her.

Spyro worked with more enthusiasm than normal, spurred along by thoughts of his bright future. He prepped, baked, and sent out orders faster than ever with no drop in work quality. All Spyro could think about though was when he'd go home tonight with a dragon that wouldn't criticize or constantly reprove him. He felt like he'd be walking into a house with a welcoming ambient and that he wouldn't have to sacrifice any part of himself for anyone else.

The day passed as normal, otherwise. Spyro had just finished another Strawberry Dream when he received a notice that their deliveryman (a Cheetah named Strider) had to leave for a family emergency. It meant there would be less deliveries made for the day.

Okay. I mean, I guess I can at least do one, Spyro thought. I hope everything ends up fine with Strider, though.

He finished his order and prepped the cakes to be transported. He was good with directions, so traveling throughout Warfang wasn't going to be an issue for him. On top of that, he was so wired that he could've flown three times around the city if they asked him to. Soon he was on his way, carefully carrying two cakes in his forelegs as he flew from the bakery with a smile on his face. Thirty minutes later he was on the other side of the city, handing the delivery off to a pair of polar bears who would soon be hosting a party at their house.

"Thank you!" said Mama Bear.

"We're celebrating the birth of our nephew," Papa Bear said, unwrapping one of the cakes carefully. "Ahh, these look wonderful!"

He tipped Spyro a few pricy gems, much to the dragon's delight. Mama Bear leaned aside, tilting her head. "Oh? What's going on at Warstrong Park?"

Spyro looked around and was startled he didn't notice as he was flying over the park—there was a large group of creatures crowding around something. With a hasty and polite goodbye he took wing, flapping over to see what the deal was. As he got closer, other creatures raced along with him on the ground, talking excitedly to each other.

"Have you seen it already?"

"It is for real?"

"I guess so!"

"Man, this is awesome!"

"Count me in!"

"I'm gonna win it, that's for sure!"

What's going on? Spyro wondered, coming to the edge of the crowd.

"Man, I'd love to win this!"

"They only accept the best. They only take a handful each year..."

"Talk about high standards, geez!"

"You know, they say that Apollonir Fireheart himself studied there."

Apollonir? Father? Spyro perked. He began squeezing through the crowd, holding his wings tight to his body. "Excuse me. Pardon me—oh, sorry miss!"

It took some effort but he was able to worm his way through the sea of creatures there and finally get a good look at what it was they were looking at. There were two dragons, an indigo and orange one, that were holding a poster between themselves. The poster seemed professionally made and on the front, in big letters, it said: GREAT BAKING CONTEST OF THE SCHOOL OF THE CULINARY STRONGHEARTED.

And right beneath it, was written: Win a chance of studying in our school! Apply soon!

Of course, Spyro knew about The School of the Culinary Stronghearted. Any chef or baker with self-respect would know about it. It was simply the most famous and renowned school of culinary arts in all the kingdoms, famous for having made some of the best chefs and bakers in the country. With a funny feeling in his guts Spyro read the sign erected nearby.

This year, the renowned School of the Culinary Stronghearted is going to hold a contest in Warfang.

The contest is open to everyone who has experience with baking. The entrance fee is 20 gold coins.

Those who win will receive free scholarships and will be admitted to the school!

The contest is going to be held in Warstrong Park and will last for two weeks.

So, do you have baking skills? Then come! We are all waiting for you.

Spyro was trembling by now and his legs had turned to jelly. It felt like a sign that the Ancestors themselves had given him. He knew his chance at studying at such a prestigious school was one in a million because the standards were so high. They only took around twenty new students each year. It didn't matter if one was rich or poor; as long as they had the skills and talent, they would be accepted. But never before, it seemed, had the school held a contest to determine its new clutch of students. It was literally the chance of a lifetime.

He couldn't wait. He had to go tell someone. Apollonir. His new father.

Spyro didn't want to be rude so he squeezed back out of the crowd, but as soon as he could he flung open his wings and took off. His future was now, and he was going to do everything he could to earn it.

Chapter Text

Spyro didn't stop flying until he reached the bakery. He was so excited that he rushed right in, shooting through the kitchen like a purple missile and eliciting surprised exclamations from his co-workers. He went straight to Apollonir's office, nearly crashing into the door. "Apollonir? Apollonir! Can you open up!?" Spyro yelled, knocking raptly several times until he heard the click of the lock.

Surprised, Apollonir stepped out of his office. He was shocked to see Spyro short of breath but extremely happy. The first thing he did was offer Spyro some water, and the younger dragon was so excited the cup shook in his front paws. Spyro told him what he'd seen in Warstrong Park and Apollonir was just as thrilled.

"Why! This is a fantastic opportunity! I can't believe it," Apollonir quipped. "Of course from my own experience, the school is number one at what it does. I never would have become who I am today had I not studied there. It's not just about studying and learning, it's also about having the dedication and passion to bake."

Spyro was ready to take on the competition and win. "The sign-ups start in two days and costs money," he said, bashfully scuffing a paw on the floor. "Could, um..."

"I'll pay," Apollonir said with that tender smile of his.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Spyro cried. "So what kind of challenges should I expect from the contest?"

"There will be creative and technical challenges. For the former, your ability to make something original will be judged and for the latter, your ability to follow recipes and directions will be criticized. We both know you're very capable of both. But this is competition. You will be up against many others who are just as skilled and possess the same dream you have."

That sounded scary to Spyro, but he knew he had to focus. Baking a cake that impressed a customer was one thing, but trying to impress a hard-nosed judge would be another. He would have to bring his all to even have a chance at rising above the rest.

Apollonir and Spyro spent so much time discussing things they didn't notice the time passing until someone knocked on the door. A cheetah named Chase stuck his head in, eyes filled with curious wonder. "Sorry to interrupt—we've got some orders. Can you help with them, Spyro?"

"Oh—yes! Sorry, here I come," Spyro said, hopping to the ground. Just like earlier when he'd left Apollonir's office, there was another bump in his work speed and passion. He had to be careful not to let his excitement affect his quality however. When asked again about his good mood, Spyro merely said his life was turning for the better. His co-workers were happy for him and so, let him be.

The day went on.

"Good work, everyone! Let's pack up and head home!"

At the end of the day, Spyro didn't feel anxiety or dread. This night would be different—he didn't have to go back to his old home because he had a new one.

Once they made sure the bakery was locked up safely for the night Apollonir asked, "So, ready to go see your new house, son?"

"You bet I am," Spyro answered happily. Soon both dragons were flying away from the bakery, leaving it and the city proper behind. Apollonir lived near the outskirts of Warfang close to the walls. After close to forty minutes Spyro was surprised to see they were on approach to a great manor. One complaint Exedra always had was that bakers never made enough to become wealthy.

I bet he'd change his mind if he saw Apollonir's house, Spyro thought, his eyes gleaming. They flew over the grounds; before they even landed, the manor's doors were opened, revealing an entourage of servants. Five were cheetahs and one was a dragon.

"Mr. Fireheart, welcome back home," the dragon said, bowing.

"Thank you, Stainwing," Apollonir said as he and Spyro landed, nails clicking on the white-stone porch.

"We have a guest tonight, I see."

"Yes. A permanent guest. I'll explain later, but first, I think that Spyro would like to unwind after a long day."

"Yes, sir, of course." Stainwing bowed to Spyro, "Follow me, please."

The inside of the manor was beautiful and glimmering. It reminded Spyro of the old castles he sometimes read about in his favorite novels; one other thing that stood out to him was how big it was, and it was obviously built with dragons in mind. He could even comfortably fly through the hallways if he wanted to. Apollonir may have been a baker but obviously had a taste in décor and art as well. His halls were filled with busts and statues, and the walls were decorated with lineups of oil paintings of the natural world. There were also portraits of dragons and dragonesses; some depicted a younger Apollonir and others, Spyro guessed, were of his family members.

Spyro began to notice one commonly reoccurring dragoness. She was a purple-eyed, slender magenta dragon with sunflower colored underbelly and horns. Her wings were broad for her size and build, and her tail ended in a lance shape that split into two ends curving inward towards each other. In every portrait Spyro saw of her, she had a serene look and a gracious smile.

She was often depicted in portraits with Apollonir; in one they were nuzzling each other. In another they were sitting side-by-side, with Apollonir having a wing around her. Spyro stopped to study one particular portrait in which Apollonir was wearing a long ruby-colored mantle with a golden tie around his neck. Golden rings were on his horns. She was wearing something similar, but her mantle was pink-colored and she wore silver rings on her horns. They were both together in front of an altar, smiling. Spyro had never known Apollonir was married.

"Her name was Stark."

Stainwing had joined him at the painting. "She was Master Apollonir's wife. She died years ago."

As they continued walked, Stainwing gave a sad sigh. "Master Apollonir loved her so very much. They were married and happy until the day that she died. That almost destroyed him…we avoid mentioning her, because it makes Master Apollonir very sad. Even after all these years, her death still haunts him."

"Oh," Spyro muttered, as they passed another picture in which Apollonir and Stark were in a loving embrace, "I never knew…"

"I understand. I'm letting you know so you don't need to ask Master Apollonir about her."

The last thing Spyro wanted to see was his new father sad, so he made a promise he wouldn't bring Stark up no matter what. Unless, of course, Apollonir himself did so for any reason. Spyro looked at new portraits on the wall and reflected on the ones he'd passed, feeling a warm sensation in his heart.

They really loved each other. You can tell, he thought.

They remained in silence until Stainwing opened a door to show him into a bathroom. Spyro marveled at how big even the bathroom was. Its walls and floor were made of polished marble and the gold-rimmed bathtub was large enough to fit ten adult dragons in it.

"Here we are. Dinner will be ready in an hour, so you may take all the time you need in here. Do you see that rope?" asked Stainwing. "Pull it and a bell will sound. Someone will come to assist you. Enjoy yourself, young sir."

Spyro didn't waste any time. There were a dozen faucets and he turned all of them on, gushing hot water into the tub. There were also shelves with different kinds of soaps and bath salts, presenting many different options and scents that he never even knew existed. He dumped a bottle of bath soap in the tub to make as much bubbles as he wanted, then hopped in when the water had risen high enough. A warm bath really put his muscles at ease and the scent was heavenly.

He lost track of time, but no one came and got him, so he figured he'd still be early as he finally left the bath. He pulled a towel from the drawer, dried himself off, then ran and looked at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. His purple scales glimmered like diamonds.

He cheerfully cleaned up after himself and trotted towards the door before stopping, realizing he didn't actually know the way back to the main hall or the dining room.

So, he went and pulled the rope. Only a few seconds later knocking came at the bathroom door.

A cheetah was waiting for him. "Good night, Master Spyro. My name is Sunspots. How may I serve you?"

It felt weird being called 'Master', but Spyro took it in stride. "Um, I just finished in here and wanted to go to the dining room, but I'm afraid I'll get lost. Can you show me the way, Sunspots?"

"Of course. Follow me, please."

Sunspots walked at a very brisk walk, but maintained a respectable distance so Spyro didn't have to jog to keep up with him. Spyro did his best to memorize the hallways they took, but there were enough twists and turns to make that difficult. They went down a staircase and into the dining room, which itself was bigger than his old house. The long sprawling table was big enough to serve a feast to dozens. Apollonir was seated already.

"Sorry for taking so long!" Spyro said, sitting next to him.

"You're perfectly fine. I admit, my home is rather big."

The food was soon brought to them on silver platters—braised lamb shanks with rice and potatoes. It was the best thing he'd ever had (with all due respect to his former mother's cooking) and Spyro was convinced Apollonir had some of the best chefs around, which only made since Apollonir himself was a master baker.

"Do you wish for something more, Master Spyro?" asked Sunspots.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." Spyro said uneasily.

Apollonir asked, "A bit uncomfortable?"

"I'm just not used to the whole 'Master' thing." Spyro said, to which Apollonir chuckled and said, "Yes, I myself live trying to make them drop the formalities. But anyway, I have already told them that I've adopted you. That means that from now on you will be my rightful heir, and so, they all owe you the same amount of respect they owe me."

As they continued eating the topic shifted back to the contest. "You will need to prepare. This kind of contest is not going to reflect what you're normally used to in the kitchen. As for your training, we must increase your workload—but not to the point where it's unbearable. I will also give you new recipes to prep and bake on the fly, and that sort of thing is not easy. But! You will be mentally and physically prepared for what's to come. It's time to start treating you like a professional."

Spyro nodded, determined, though he was feeling a little nervous and intimidated already. He was about to start working more than he ever had in his life and that was his only chance of winning that scholarship. But, at least he knew he wouldn't be on his own or unprepared. His now-father was going to be there for every trudging footstep he took forward on the path to becoming the best baker he could ever be.

Chapter Text

Dinner moved on with them discussing the training sessions they were going to start to help Spyro improve. Apollonir even talked about closing the bakery for a day or two, a suggestion that Spyro heavily disagreed with. He was thankful Apollonir wanted to do all he could to help, but he didn't want to see his new father's business hang and lose money just for the sake of a contest.

"We don't have to do that. We can find more free time to help me practice," Spyro said.

Apollonir refuted, "My business is flourishing. There will be no issues leaving it closed for a few days. Even a week! This is a chance of a lifetime for you, remember?"

Spyro felt like he was already becoming a bother, being Apollonir's new son, but was beat. They settled on Apollonir closing the bakery in the following days for their practice sessions and decided to turn in for the night. Another servant, a black panther, was called to lead Spyro to what would be his new room.

"Goodnight, son." Apollonir said, and Spyro smiled back at him. "See you in the morning, father."

It took at least ten minutes of walking through hallways and up and down staircases until they reached the right door. Spyro's brain was fried trying to memorize the route they'd taken, but assured himself he'd be going that way often, anyway.

His new room was in the vague shape of a crescent and ten times bigger than his old room. There were three beds, (as it used to be Apollonir's guest room) each of them four-poster, with lush-looking blankets and pillows. There were bookshelves filled top to bottom with all genres and manners of books (as it turned out, Apollonir was a fan of fiction) along the side walls; the floor was carpeted with velvet and a rug ran from the door, splitting off into three directions towards each bed. There was a study corner with a writing desk and chairs (I can't wait to hop over there and read all night long! Spyro thought). There was also a fireplace, which was currently ablaze.

To Spyro, it still looked a tad bit empty without his personal belongings in there. Thinking about his old house was strange to him. He'd left behind the place where he'd grown up, where he'd once had a very good life with his family. On the other paw, he was leaving behind the place that, as an adult, caused him nothing but stress and frustration due to his flagging relationship with Exedra. Homes weren't supposed to make one feel adverse to living in them, Spyro thought.

He didn't know if he should've been truly happy about leaving his old life behind to start a new one…or if he should have been ashamed that he had left his old home in favor of a better one.

…what was he thinking!?

That's not the reason I accepted this! It was because of Apollonir.

Apollonir, who felt like a true father even if he may not have been Spyro's birth father…

"Master Spyro?" asked the black panther servant, whom Spyro had forgotten was there, "Is there anything else you desire?"

"Uh, oh no. I mean, that's all. Thank you," Spyro said.

"Very well. Would you like to be woken up in the morning at the same time as Master Apollonir?"

"Yes, please." Spyro said after a moment of thought. He and Apollonir would be going to work together now, after all.

"Of course, as you wish."

"Thank you, um…"

"My name is Vant, Master Spyro. Good night," the black panther bowed himself out, leaving Spyro in his new fancy room. The purple dragon just looked around for a bit more, letting the gravity of his new living quarters sink in, and picked the middle bed. The covers and the softness of the mattress were heavenly. He drifted off into sleep quickly and with much more peace than he'd had in a long while.

"Apollo—uh, I mean father?"

"Yes, Spyro?"

They were at The Frosted Dream, ready to open it for the day. As Apollonir fumbled with his keys Spyro asked, "Why do you like being the one to open the bakery each morning? Wouldn't it be easier to have someone who lives closer do it?"

"I like to do it myself. It always reminds me that I became a baker not for the money, but because it's my passion. It's the simpler things that make me happy."

Spyro felt like there was a lesson in that. That day, Apollonir not only expedited orders, he did a lot more paws-on work with Spyro in the kitchen. Spyro couldn't stop grinning the entire day; there they were, father and son, baking together as a family. He had never, ever seen anything like this coming. Baking with his father had been a feeling he'd wondered about and of course never experienced with Exedra, who saw being in the kitchen as 'a female's duty'. Exedra and his views didn't matter anymore to Spyro, who spent that day laughing and having fun with Apollonir as they worked hard. He was feeling happier than he had been in years.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully and as promised, Apollonir dismissed the staff and closed the bakery earlier so he and Spyro could start to train.

For starters Apollonir gave Spyro a handful of recipes pulled from an intermediate cookbook. They were recipes Spyro had never seen before and were much more complex than the ones he had grown used to. Apollonir wanted to make sure Spyro did these recipes in a reasonable amount of time and stressed the importance of watching the clock.

"The quality of what you make counts," Apollonir told Spyro as the purple dragon furiously mixed batter, "but timing is just as important."

Spyro wanted to obey that logic, but in the quest of trying to follow every minor detail of each recipe overshot his time limit for over half of them. For the very last thing he made, a chocolate meringue, he went over his time by almost five minutes. By the end of the day Spyro was covered in flour and was miserably hanging his head. Apollonir tried to cheer him up and reminded him that they still had plenty of time for him to train and get better.

That was how it went for the next two days, with them closing The Frosted Dream early and working late into the night. On another matter, Spyro's new bedroom was steadily filling up with his possessions. Apollonir had sent a group of his servants to Spyro's old home to fetch his things and communicate that the purple dragon was never going to return. They didn't say much about how Exedra reacted to the news but Spyro heard that his mother was devastated and that put a heavy weight on his conscience.

The days started to fly by and before they knew it, it was time for the sign-ups. Apollonir went with Spyro and everyone marveled at the interesting pair—a very famous baker and his apprentice. A green dragon accepted the payment from the pair and looked at Spyro over the rim of his glasses, but made no personal remark.

"You can sign your name there," the dragon said; his voice was deep and strong, like the rumbling of an earthquake.

And so Spyro Nightwing was signed on for the great contest as the apprentice of Apollonir Fireheart.

This lead to talks around Warfang. The gossip Spyro picked up on put pressure on him because as an apprentice of Apollonir, much was expected of him. Spyro was aware of his advantages but wasn't at a level of confidence to where he felt he could live up to what others thought of him. Apollonir encouraged him to try to ignore all the talk, and that Spyro would be judged just the same as everybody else during the competition; that was what really mattered, in the end.

"Three. Two. One. Stop!"

Spyro took his paws off the cake and groaned. His time was up but he wasn't done decorating it fully.

"Very well. You were almost done. It looks good, but remember what I said earlier? That you were spending too much time mixing?" Apollonir asked, slicing a piece of cake and tasting it. "…good, good! Next time, use a little more milk. Other than that, it's wonderful."

Spyro was still having problems in trying to do all the things he wanted with the recipe and doing it within the right amount of time. He was worried that would be his downfall in the contest.

"Don't worry," Apollonir said. "You're improving soundly. You just need to be able to focus on the details and do things with more attention without losing time—that's in general, not just for the contest. You're doing great, Spyro."

"Thank you, father," Spyro said, feeling a little better.

Apollonir picked up the cake wearing a proud smile. "You are absolutely welcome, son. Go ahead and take a break. I'll put this up and we can have it for dessert tonight."

Spyro left the kitchen in a cheerful mood. He decided to find the library to read and pass the time a little. He'd been living there for about a week now and was beginning to get used to the labyrinth of corridors. He was having to ask for directions less and less, at the least.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Wha…"

Spyro stopped and listened. That didn't sound right. Someone was banging on a door nearby like they were trying to break it down…

"I'm coming!" a servant called distantly; Spyro recognized it as Sunspots' voice.

Then soon, there was another unmistakable voice thundering through the halls.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

Spyro froze and his insides did a triple flip. He dashed through the halls towards the front door, panicking. He was praying to the ancestors that he was wrong and it wasn't who he thought it was.

"Sir—what is it you want?" Sunspots was heard demanding.

"Tell me where he is, now!"

"Stop! You can't just enter—"

"Shut up!"

Spyro arrived at the entrance hall and almost tripped to a stop; Sunspots was being confronted by a dark gray dragon wearing a white mask.

The cheetah refused to back down. "Sir, if you don't calm down, I will call the guard!"

"I AM the guard!" Exedra snarled down at him. "Now tell me where my son is!"

Spyro just stood there, shocked, and it took only a moment for Exedra to notice him. Never before had Spyro seen the amount of rage in his former father's eyes…and it was all directed towards him.

"You," Exedra snapped, swatting Sunspots away with a paw.

Spyro cowered back. "G-Go away!"

"I won't. You're coming with me. You have a lot to explain—but first, I'm going to take you back home!"

Chapter Text

Spyro had dreaded this kind of reaction from Exedra; he could be stubborn like no other and was the kind of dragon to take matters into his own paws. Spyro tried to reassure himself that there was nothing Exedra could do to him according to the law, but deep down he knew if his former father was truly angry, the law would be the last thing on his mind.

"Go," Exedra approached Spyro, off-balance. "Get your things so we can go home."

"Stay away from me!" Spyro cried. He could tell the other dragon had been drinking, but Exedra was not the type who drank more than he should. "Just leave me alone!"

"Enough of this! You wanted my attention? You've got it! Now stop this nonsense so we can go!"

Furious, Spyro slammed a front paw to the floor. "This is MY home now! I'm where I'm supposed to be! SO YOU LEAVE!"

Exedra lunged, snatching Spyro by one of the horns, and began dragging him across the foyer. Spyro's nails scraped against the floor as he fought and struggled. Even after all of the grief Exedra had given him, Spyro still didn't want to use any of his elemental abilities on him.

"Stop it!" Exedra hissed.

"Let me go! Sunspots! Apollonir!?"

"WHAT is going on here!?" A voice thundered from the hallways; Apollonir was running into view, Sunspots by his side.

Exedra snarled at the crimson dragon. "You. You're the snake that influenced Spyro. You're the one who tried to take my boy away from me!"

"You must be Exedra," Apollonir said wearily, standing tall as he approached the pair. "Let Spyro go. Right now."

"I'm taking my son back home."

"He's not your son anymore."

"I'm his father! His FATHER!" Exedra roared. "And I will decide what is better for him!"

Heat leaked from Apollonir's jaws. "Release him this instant, or else."

"Or else what!? You'll throw a pie in my face?"

It, in fact, was not a pie Apollonir threw, but a concentrated ball of flames. It exploded into Exedra's masked face and the dark gray dragon stumbled back with a roar, letting go of Spyro. The purple dragon ran over to Apollonir, who asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but—"

"Damn artisan!" Exedra bellowed, tearing his half-melted mask off and flinging it aside. The other three recoiled at the sight of the dragon's full visage. His face was a leathery quilt of stitching and scars, reminders of the past in which Exedra had served in the army. He charged, snarling, "He is MY son!"

Apollonir, out of pure reflex, pushed Spyro away and leapt aside. Exedra flew right past him, stumbling and almost falling flat to his face. The dark gray dragon wasted no time in breathing a pillar of what seemed to be black-colored fire. This was shadow, Exedra's element. It was the pure manifestation of darkness created from the purest and deepest of shadows, said to create burns that would last for life. Apollonir spat a gout of powerful flames and the two attacks collided, making the walls shake. Sunspots held back Spyro, who watched in complete and utter horror.

Exedra found out that Apollonir's ability with fire wasn't limited to baking. Apollonir had harnessed his natural abilities nearly to their max and had reached a level that could rival skilled users of fire within the dragon army. He wasn't at the level of a Guardian—but he still was not the kind of dragon to push the envelope with. That was what caught Exedra off guard.

Within moments both dragons abated and ceased fire, taking a second to catch their breaths. Apollonir waved a foreleg, thundering, "Get out of my house!"

"Only after I take my son with me!"

Exedra jumped towards Apollonir, fangs bared, but the crimson dragon once again showed he was much more agile. He seized Exedra by the foreleg and threw the much slimmer dragon over his head in an arc, slamming his back to the ground. Exedra scrambled up drunkenly, his red eyes widened in disbelief.

Apollonir sneered, taking a wider stance. "What? You thought that because I stayed in the kitchen that I didn't know how to fight?"

Exedra leapt for him once more.

Being one who'd taken self-defense classes, Apollonir was more than able to keep up with the exceedingly drunk dragon. As Exedra was thrown on his back time after time, he got up even angrier than before—which made him even less efficient in battle. Spyro wanted to jump in and help.

"No, no, Spyro!" Apollonir called, dodging a swipe from Exedra, "Stay out of it!"

He turned, whipping his burning tail and scoring a blow against Exedra's shoulder. Exedra's attacks started to turn more aggressive and feral. Apollonir began to bleed from the scratches and bites on his hide made by the other dragon's claws and teeth. Spyro winced at each new wound that appeared on his foster father's body.

"It's going to be okay, Spyro! I promise!"

Both dragons scrapped for what seemed like forever and neither was ready to give up. Exedra just couldn't accept that some "candy maker" was better at fighting than he was. After a hit that made Apollonir waver Exedra lunged for the crimson dragon's neck. Apollonir just barely caught his claws before they dug gashes into his jugular and leaned his head back. He smashed his horns right into Exedra's face with all the force he could muster. Exedra let out a cry as he went down, clutching the bleeding gash on his forehead.

Apollonir watched the dark gray dragon roll on the ground, snarling from the pain of trying to get up, before turning away. He limped back over to Spyro and Sunspots, both of whom regarded him with haunted expressions. Apollonir knew he probably looked scary from the hard expression he wore and his bleeding wounds.

But Spyro was amazed. He had always thought of Exedra as being a dragon that could beat anyone at any time and had been afraid that he would seriously hurt Apollonir. The outcome was miles different; he never expected Apollonir to be that good in a fight. It only made him admire his foster father even more.

"Sorry you had to see that, you two," Apollonir sighed. "This is the last thing I would've wanted you to witness, son…"

Though Exedra was still in pain, he was not completely unaware. Hearing Apolonir's words made his already boiling blood sizzle with hate and fury. Panting, he staggered back up to his feet. "No…" he hissed to Apollonir's back. "He is my son…"

He scraped his scythe-like tailblade on the ground as if sharpening it; it was made of bone but strong as iron, powerful enough to cut off the limb of another dragon. With a monstrous snarl Exdra charged, aiming a fatal blow towards Apollonir's neck. All the crimson dragon heard was the whistling of the scythe through the air…

Spyro had seen it coming. He forced himself away from Sunspots and with strength he didn't know he had, butted Apollonir in the side and out of the way.

THWACK!

The tip of the tailblade struck, piercing purple scales.

Chapter Text

It seemed like nobody twitched a single muscle for several moments. Spyro was panting slightly, looking right where the tip of the tailblade had struck; blood was running, dribbling from his shoulder. The burning pain began to spread to the rest of his body but despite how intense it was, Spyro didn't feel like screaming or reacting. His mind was still numb as it tried to process what had happened.

Shocked, Exedra finally pulled his tailblade free. He could only stare at Spyro like he had woken up from a hazy dream. "…Spyro?"

Spyro tried to respond. As soon as he took a single step forward he felt dizzy and sick. Spyro wobbled on his feet and as his vision blurred, he began to fall, landing into Sunspots's arms.

"No—" Apollonir's breath was coming out ragged as he studied Spyro's shoulder wound, which was bleeding profusely now. If something wasn't done then the purple dragon would bleed out right in front of their eyes.

Apollonir couldn't let it happen. Not again, as it had happened with Stark.

He only knew of one thing to do and raised a paw, breathing flames over it until his claws burned bright as a branding iron. He lowered his claws and pressed them tight to the wound in Spyro's shoulder. Steam hissed into the air and Spyro convulsed in pain as the wound cauterized.

"Talbain! Stainwing!" Apollonir roared for two of his servants.

Exedra came closer, shaken from what he'd done. "Spyro—"

"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

At Apollonir's bellow the dark gray dragon stopped and even took a few steps back. Apollonir's expression was one of pure hate as he stared at Exedra, teeth bared.

"You still call yourself his father?" Apollonir snarled. "You attack and hurt him if you don't get what you want?"

"It was an accident! H-he jumped in the way…"

"Shut up! This all happened because you couldn't accept the choices that Spyro had made. Why is it so hard for you to accept that he had found something that made him happy? Why didn't you accept that baking is his passion? His dream!? You think that's something unbefitting for a dragon!? What is the matter with you?!

"If Spyro was born my son and he wanted to join the military, I would have supported him. A father's main goal in life is to see his children grow and become strong. If joining the army, or even being a Guardian would've made Spyro happy, I would've been happy for him and helped in any way that I could! That is what a real father does! Not some pathetic fool like you. You are not fit to be his father!"

Exedra sat down weakly, unable to respond. Disgusted, Apollonir turned his attention back towards Spyro. "Someone—come here, now!" he called, though his first summons had already been answered. A bulky bear and an indigo colored dragon made their way into the foyer, briefly startled by the scene.

"What happened to him?" Stainwing cried.

"No time to talk! Get Spyro to the infirmary now! Sunspots, go fetch as many red crystals as you can! Now!"

Talbain the bear picked Spyro up carefully and transported him away. As his servants left to do their duties Apollonir faced Exedra, whose head was hanging low.

"And you. You are lucky that I have to worry about my son," Apollonir said, his voice shaken. He bared his teeth hatefully. "Don't think this is over. You don't know what I'm capable of. Now get out of my house."

Exedra looked like he was ready to speak or plead.

"OUT!"

In that moment, Exedra did something he never did before: he ran. He ran as though he was trying to save his own life, barely minding that the action was a huge hit to his pride. It took everything in Apollonir's power to not blow a hole in the dark dragon's back with a fireball.

He couldn't worry about Exedra anymore, though. Apollonir ran towards the infirmary, hoping they weren't too late.

Hours later…

Spyro woke up, groggy and disoriented. He groaned at the throbbing pain in his shoulder and brought a paw up to it.

"Take it easy, son," Apollonir said. "Your shoulder is still healing."

Spyro blinked until he could made out the reddish shape hovering over him. He tried getting up, but Apollonir gently forced him back down again.

"You lost a lot of blood. We used mana crystals to stabilize you, but they only work to a certain extent. You still need to rest to recover fully," Apollonir said with a slight smile.

"Lost blood? What happ…" Then, Spyro remembered. "Exe—AGH!"

He had moved weirdly and tweaked his shoulder.

"What did I say about taking it easy?" Apollonir questioned, annoyed. "You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Why? What happened?!"

"I put him out. I needed a lot of self-control to not go after him and make sure he doesn't come back."

Apollonir had chased Exedra off? How was that possible? Exedra never ran. Spyro could only look at Apollonir in awe. His new father, his real father, truly was amazing.

Chapter Text

"Here," Apollonir took something from a nearby table, "drink this," he said, offering a small bowl to Spyro. It was filled with a thick syrup that had such a strong scent of mushrooms that it made Spyro want to sneeze.

"What is that?" asked Spyro, disgusted.

"Medicine. It will help your shoulder heal faster."

From Apollonir's tone and expression Spyro knew he had no choice. He took the bowl and quickly turned it up, drinking it down as fast as he could. He almost gagged over the taste of spoiled fish.

"Water!" Spyro cried, and he was passed a bowl full of it. He drank it hard and fast, trying to wash away that terrible taste. Why did medicine have to taste so bad?

"Thank you for standing up for me," Spyro said. "Most dragons would've run away from Exedra in fear…"

"He was very intimidating. But of course I had to step in when I saw him dragging you like that; it's my duty as a father to protect you."

Spyro leaned forward to wrap a foreleg and wings around Apollonir. "Thank you, father."

Apollonir was extra careful as he returned the hug, trying to avoid jostling Spyro's shoulder. "So…how long have I been out?" asked Spyro.

"The entire night. It's morning now."

"The bakery!" Spyro realized. "We should be at work!"

"Absolutely not. You're not going anywhere in your condition. Besides, I sent Hunter to look after things while I'm gone. He's got enough secondhand knowledge to manage the job."

"But I need to work. And I need to practice for the competition!"

"Yes, I know, and we will get back to those things once you get better," Apollonir reassured him. "Your health is my main priority. And once you're better, I'm also going to deal with Exedra. I'll turn him in for attempted murder—he could've killed you!"

"I don't think you should do that."

Surprised, Apollonir beheld Spyro with a raised brow.

"I just started my new life and I'm glad it doesn't have so much fighting and anger in it," Spyro said. "I want it to stay that way. I don't want us to get involved in any more trouble, even if it is because of Exedra. He ruined the good family the three of us had because he was a stubborn moron, and I'm not going to let him ruin my new chance at happiness."

"But, Spyro…"

Spyro shook his head, firm. Apollonir still wanted to protest but then gave a heavy sigh. It was going to be hard for him to just move on and forget what Exedra had done, but Spyro did prove a point—getting involved with the guard and other legal matters would disrupt the new family dynamic they were trying to build. Apollonir was still ready to fight for justice, but the look in Spyro's eyes made his desires back down.

I won't forget this, Apollonir thought grimly. And I won't forgive you, Exedra! Not until you pay!

Apollonir was not the dragon to hold grudges. But a grudge was all he could salvage after the previous night.

Thankfully, Spyro changed the topic to a better subject (before Apollonir changed his mind, anyway) and they began sharing ideas about recipes Spyro could practice on for the competition. The young dragon wasn't a master baker but had the refined taste and intuition to know which ingredients would work best together. Apollonir once again felt a spark of pride in his chest that the young dragon, a promising artisan, was calling him 'father'.

They both talked, smiled, and laughed, soon letting the events of the previous night slip away from them. Exedra Nightwing was becoming only a distant memory to them. They were surely not going to let the dark dragon have the satisfaction of knowing that he had made trouble for them…

Exedra was sprawled on the countertop, clutching his head. His hangover was hitting him with the strength of a thousand bricks, and he hadn't forgotten what had happened the previous night. He'd almost killed Spyro. Dread had wrapped around his heart, squeezing it like a cruel hand of iron.

How could that have happened?

How could everything go so wrong?

He was unable to even think straight; for most of the night, after he had flown from Apollonir's home, he had crashed in an alley and laid among the filth and trash. He had only recently drug himself out and to his favorite bar, where everyone, so far, had been avoiding him. Exedra was glad he was being treated like garbage. He didn't deserve anything less. He had almost ended the life of…his son, whom he had once seen hatch from that purple egg…

He could still see the shocked look on Spyro's face and hear the things Apollonir had been saying to him…Fireheart's words seemed to gain more weight every time Exedra thought of them.

"Exedra."

Exedra raised his head. Standing near him was a dragon with neon-blue scales and a tail shaped like a scorpion's stinger. This dragon's eyes were a deep red, similar to Exedra's, but had a much kinder look in them. He was wearing the official armor of the dragon guard. This was Shock Deathtail, a poison dragon and a great friend of Exedra's before the latter retired from the army.

"You look like bad. Like, really bad," Shock remarked. "Where's your mask?"

"Burned."

Shock sat down next to his friend, worried. He'd never seen Exedra look so depressed and defeated. "E, what happened?"

"I blew everything up…"

Shock ordered two cups of water, one sugared, and a helping of mutton. Exedra didn't feel like eating. While they waited for their order, the dark gray dragon explained what had happened the previous night, unable to look at his friend's stupefied expression.

"Whoa…that is pretty bad, man," Shock said as the bartender gave him his food and drink. "Thanks. Try drinking that sugar water, it might help with the hangover. But yeah, I think that Apollonir guy is right about one thing."

Exedra's forepaws shook as he took the sugar water. "About what?"

"I know you have your opinions, but what's wrong with Spyro wanting to be a baker? If it makes him happy it should make you happy, right?"

Exedra groaned. It was all that he needed, one of his few and oldest friends also telling him that he was an awful father.

"Come on, you know he's speaking the truth. Look, it's Spyro's choice and it's his life. He can live it the way he wants," Shock said. "You can't stop that. And anyway, he's an adult now. A grown dragon. You can't keep treating him like a child and expect him to respect you back. And…you might be afraid of losing him, but what you did last night just might push him away from you forever."

Shock may as well have stung Exedra in the heart with his tail. The dark gray dragon could only drop his head to the table, saddened.

"What must I do?" Exedra said, really wanting an answer. He was never the kind who asked to others for guidance, for he had always been sure of himself and independent. This was a rare moment where he was vulnerable and weak; Exedra truly did love Spyro and didn't want to lose him.

Shock put a paw on Exedra's shoulder. "Hey. First of all, you have to let Spyro know that you are sorry," he said quietly.

"How?"

"By talking to him, of course!"

"Spyro won't want to talk to me. And after last night, Fireheart won't let me near him."

"Meet him alone, then. Let Spyro know that you're sorry for what happened and that you didn't want to hurt him."

"He won't listen to me." Exedra cried. "I spent years fighting him and his dream. Yesterday was the last straw! He wouldn't want to look at my face even if I turned into gold."

"Maybe you're right. You did screw things up majorly." Shock was a very blunt dragon. "But you've gotta try, you know."

He dropped the last bone on his plate and drained the rest of his water before standing. "Well, I've gotta get back to patrolling. Think about what I told you, okay? You, Galaxia, and Spyro were a happy family in the past once. There's no reason throw that all away, is there?"

Shock walked away, leaving Exedra alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Two days passed before Apollonir would let Spyro get out of bed. The purple dragon had the best at-home care, but walking on his injured foreleg was an absolute nuisance.

"Careful. We're approaching the stairs," Apollonir said, following behind his stubborn son. "Make sure to shift your weight to your back legs like we showed you."

Spyro hesitated at the top of the stairs. There were a lot of them. Slowly, he batted a paw down until he touched the first step and then lowered his injured foreleg. There was a large, ugly scar where Exedra had stabbed him.

"Ow," Spyro muttered under his breath, forgetting to adjust his weight. He turned sideways and went down that way.

Apollonir nodded, impressed. "Clever. It's your non-dominant foreleg that's healing, isn't it?"

"Yes. Thankfully."

"Thankfully. Was there something you wanted to ask me before I left?"

Spyro smiled guiltily. "I was only going to ask to do light work at the bakery today. Nothing too strenuous."

"Very well! I suppose that won't be an issue, as long as you stick to that agreement."

Two cheetahs were flanking them; one of them, Hunter, inquisitively eyed Spyro's leg. "Hm. Pardon me for saying, but I still feel as though it's too early, Master Spyro. I've been so afraid that permanent damage has been done."

"I don't feel that bad. I mean it hurts, but it's nothing I can't handle!" Spyro said.

He missed a step. Surprised, he tumbled sideways down the stairs and landed in a heap at the bottom.

"That's one way to gracefully take the stairs." Apollonir said. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride is," Spyro groaned, pulling himself to his feet. It was early in the morning and time for them to leave to open the bakery. Hunter, being the worrier he was, insisted on coming with them.

Apollonir asked Spyro, "How do you think your take-offs and landings will be?"

"More of the same," Spyro answered, flexing his wings. After Hunter jumped on Apollonir's back the two dragons took a running start; Spyro had to jog with an awkward limp before he successfully took off. He was glad to be in the air after being restrained to a bed for several days and was especially thrilled to finally head back to work. He had the worry that his injury would impede his training and the competition, though.

I'll just have to work through it. There's no other way, Spyro thought, determined. He wouldn't let the Curse of Exedra damn his hopes and dreams.

He couldn't help but wonder what Exedra had been doing for the past several days. Spyro was worried his former father would try to come back to Apollonir's mansion and instigate another conflict, but it'd been peaceful with no signs of the dark dragon. Spyro hoped it stayed that way. He could go without seeing Exedra's face for the rest of his dragon days.

"You're coming in too fast," Apollonir warned. Spyro quickly snapped out of his thoughts and slowed his descent, wavering to get his balance right. Hunter quickly leaped to the ground, holding his arms out as if Spyro was going to just drop out of the sky like dead weight.

"I've got it! I think," Spyro called, leaning back and fluttering the rest of the way down. He touched down to the ground lightly, stretching his foreleg out. "Can I open the bake—"

He cut off, whipping his head aside. Something had just moved out the corner of his eye.

"I saw that as well. It may have been a stray dog," Hunter said, peering into the shadows. "At least, I hope it was…"

Spyro thought he could handle being the designated assistant for the day, but it was torture watching the other bakers get to work while he stood aside. Apollonir took his place in the kitchen and Hunter expedited orders once more, so business still flowed evenly.

"Oh..." a fire dragon named Scarlett was around checking her workstation; she was always forgetting to stock up on her supplies. What she forgot the most was—

"Sugar!" she cried, when Spyro came up holding a bag of it in his mouth. "Thanks, Spyro! I don't know how I keep doing that."

Spyro skulked around the kitchen, stepping over tails, avoiding getting trod on as he searched for someone else to help. There was a splat and a loud groan from the edge of the room; he limped over as Apollonir called, "No worries, Cheela. Just find a different spot and remake it."

A half-decorated Strawberry Dream was splattered on the floor. Spyro wanted to cry at the sight. He went to go grab the broom, a dust pan, and a mop but Hunter beat him to it. "I've got that, Spyro. Can you help Cheela gather some supplies and take them to her new workstation?"

"Sure!"

Spyro tried not to rush, but it was hard. As the peak of the day neared, he'd been in and out of the commissary numerous times to get supplies as the orders started piling in. It was the weekend, so they were experiencing a heavier flow of customers.

He'd stayed off his healing foreleg the best he could, but it was still sore and achy by the time he asked Apollonir for a break from the kitchen. Winded, Spyro went to the front desk to help Hunter take and pack orders. Packing required his forelegs, so it wasn't long before his injury really started to hurt.

"Master Spyro, please," Hunter whispered. "Just take a seat for me. Get some ice from the commissary and rest for about thirty minutes."

"Deal," Spyro said miserably. He made himself an ice pack and sat in the front, watching the customers trickle in and out. Then, when Hunter had left to go call in a delivery order, a dragon came into the empty bakery. She was a dark gray dragon (though not as dark as Exedra, Spyro noted), and wore a magenta blouse with a matching sun hat. Spyro thought she was cute.

"Uh, hi," he said, hopping off his chair. "Owch! How can I help you today?"

"I was just coming in to take a look around. Is that alright?" she asked.

"Yes, of course!"

"Thank you. I like to bake myself, so I've been visiting a bunch of different places in Warfang. This is the most popular one, I think."

"You like to bake? What's your name?"

"I'm Cynder. Cynder Windstar. Oh, I'm not famous," she said, hiding her face under her hat. "What's your name?"

"I'm Spyro Night—uh, Spyro Fireheart."

"Fireheart?!" she exclaimed, leaping back in surprise. "Apollonir Fireheart has a son?"

"He does now. He just recently adopted me," Spyro said frankly. "You know, I first started coming here because I was interested in baking, too."

"So now you work here, and…okay. I think I get it now. I think," Cynder said, tilting her head. "Well, how good are you, then? You're not in the kitchen."

"I…I can't work right now. But I'm getting up there in terms of skill. In fact, I'm joining the competition to get into that prestigious school. Have you heard of it?"

"Yes. I've entered the competition as well."

"Whoa! Hey, who knows? Maybe we'll both end up winning!"

She smiled shyly. They both talked for a while about their experiences with baking and discovered they both had parents (or previous parents, in Spyro's case) who didn't approve of their career choices. However, Cynder revealed she came from a wealthy family that still supported her decisions regardless.

"Wow, nice. I wish I could see you make something," Spyro said, curious.

"I bet you're good, too. You do work here, after all. But what happened to your foreleg?"

"Oh…it got hurt in a fight. I really don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Cynder said evenly. "Can I place an order while I'm here? I think I'd like to try a Strawberry Dream, but just one slice of it."

Spyro nosed open the display container and carefully cut her a slice of cake. Apollonir's voice rang from the kitchen. "Spyro? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Hunh?" Spyro looked around with the plate in his mouth; Cynder gasped a little and turn-tailed, running out of the bakery.

Apollonir only got a glimpse of her tail as he came out of the kitchen. "Oh, was someone just in here?"

"Yesh—she's…"

Spyro looked around, surprised. He set the plate down, puzzled. "…Cynder?"

Hunter joined them, looking at an order ticket. "Spyro, since Strider is still out delivering that large catering order, we decided to send you off with this one. But…"

"You'll go with him, Hunter. Just in case." Apollonir confirmed.

"Huh? Wait, where am I going?" asked Spyro. "How big is the order?"

"It's just one slice of Strawberry Dream, if you can believe that." Hunter said. "The destination is several miles away by the main road, to…The Sugar Boutique."

He and Apollonir had serious expressions. Spyro didn't get it.

"Uh, okay," the purple dragon said. "That sounds simple. What's wrong?"

Apollonir said, "The Sugar Boutique is a rival bakery, Spyro. And it's run by an ape named Gaul Warmight."

Chapter Text

Spyro burst into laughter. Apollonir and Hunter glanced at each other.

"I'm sorry! I'd expect someone with a name like Simon Sweetooth to run a place called The Sugar Boutique, not Gaul Warmight!" Spyro cried.

"He's aware of the irony. The Warmights are a well-known lineage that have had most of their members in a branch of the military," Apollonir said. "Gaul himself is ex-military."

Just like Exedra. It sounds like this Gaul is just as pleasant, Spyro thought. "Okay. So…he placed an order here to go?"

"He does it about once or twice a year. It gets quite tiresome," Apollonir said. "Most times after a delivery is made, he'll make claims that it wasn't good enough or find some other petty thing to say. Basically, he makes it seem like we have wasted his time."

"Oh...so he's one of those people. How good is his business, do you know?"

"It doesn't hold a candle to Master Apollonir's," said Hunter said with a catty smile. "We think that is why Gaul is so very bitter."

Spyro wasn't afraid of some petty rival. He and Hunter got the order ready and were soon setting off.

"Be careful," Apollonir warned.

"Is there something else I need to know about this place?" asked Spyro, curious.

"No…no, there isn't."

So Spyro and Hunter left in the heat of the day, with the former almost forgetting about the dragon that had vanished on him so suddenly.

Oh, right. I wonder why Cynder didn't stick around, Spyro thought. She left so quick. Huh.

"So, how do you like it?" asked Hunter.

"Oh! What's that…living with Apollonir? It's great," Spyro said. "Well, not just living with him. Having him as my father really makes a difference I never thought I deserved!"

"Hm, well. I'm glad to hear that. All it takes is one opportunity and you can find your life being switched around," said Hunter, looking at the sky. "I grew up in the Valley of Avalar. Compared to the others in my tribe, I was more accepting of non-cheetahs…I believe I was the only one in about a decade to have left the valley? And I love it here in Warfang. I never knew what to expect when I first came here, but I've been blessed, much like you have been."

He extended his arm like he was reaching for something, then lowered it. "Oh, no. Force of habit."

"Stretching?" asked Spyro.

"No. I work with falcons. I thought I saw one of mine up above…I sent her ahead to scout for us."

"Okay, so...what's wrong with this place? You guys make it sound like…I don't know. A place where people go to be tortured."

Hunter grimaced. "Well, Master Apollonir doesn't like to make statements without verifying them first. But we suspect that Gaul has been the perpetrator behind the break-ins at the Frosted Dream…"

"What!?"

"Mhm. Master Apollonir hasn't specifically said why he thinks Gaul may be behind them, but I believe in his suspicions. It can be a very dangerous and uncertain world sometimes. That's why it's best to go with backup sometimes."

"Oh. Wow," Spyro said, now feeling a touch more intimidated. And vulnerable, with the limp he walked on. They walked for a while, navigating the busy noon-time streets, and Spyro was soon feeling an ache in his limb after half an hour of walking.

Hunter held out his arm again. A falcon descended over the rooftops and landed on the cheetah's wrist.

"Was there anything suspicious that you saw?" Hunter asked the bird. Spyro stared, but he didn't see how the two were communicating. Then, when the falcon flew off again, Hunter mused, "Hm."

"Did she see anything?" asked Spyro.

"No…absolutely nothing. That's odd."

"How?"

Spyro soon saw how a minute later. He let out a groan once they made it to The Sugar Boutique; unlike The Frosted Dream, The Sugar Boutique wasn't decorated with flashy or eye-catching colors. It in fact blended in with the rest of the buildings and it was quite easy to pass over.

And it was closed. Spyro sat down on his rear, tucking his aching foreleg close to his body. Hunter scowled to himself, shaking his head. "Of course…no one's here to receive the delivery. We walked all the way over here for nothing."

Spyro knew the policy; if no one was there to receive the delivery, they would have to return it back to the store and send a refund to the recipient later on.

"It's just another one of his jokes. I'm sure he's got eyes on us right now," Hunter said, looking around. "Master Spyro, it looks like your foreleg is paining you."

"It's…I promise it's getting better, I think I just overworked it a little…"

"Well, it's a good thing you have a pair of wings," Hunter was saying distantly, "I suggest flying back…"

Deep in the shadows of an alley, two shapes watched out from behind a dumpster. The larger one chortled deeply.

"'Good thing you have a pair of wings, Master Spyro'," the large ape mocked, waving his hands. "Dragons. Can't stand 'em."

The smaller shape sighed. "Are you forgetting I'm one, Gaul?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Sorry."

Sorry what? Cynder thought spitefully. That you said something rude, or that I'm a dragon? Probably the latter.

"Anyway," Gaul continued, "So that purple hornhead has an injury, does he? I'm glad I saw it with my own eyes. Look, he's taking off now. Must really be hurting him. Good."

Disgusted, Cynder shook her head. "How can you say that?"

"Are you forgetting that they're who we're fighting against just to survive? And you're going to be facing off against him in that competition! We could both do well with one problem out of the way, hah hah hah!" Gaul's laugh was deep and throaty, sounding like gunk coming out of a pipe.

"We're not the only ones competing with The Frosted Dream. Why do you have to antagonize them so much? And this! This was just petty!"

"Cynder, you just don't get it. You're not in the position to, really. So don't worry about it, keep your head down, and keep doing what you're doing. You're pretty good when it comes to gathering intelligence and coming off as innocent."

For a brief moment, Cynder hated herself. She forced the familiar feeling down and had nothing to say.

"You know, it really stinks. You put your whole life into somethin' and sometimes you get diddly-squat," Gaul grunted. "All because someone doesn't know how to share the good fortune. Warfang's a place where we help one another make it, isn't it?"

"Maybe you should try not being underhanded," Cynder muttered.

"Nah, why should I?"

Gaul glanced up at the sky and hefted up the rock in his hand. He'd picked it up earlier when he'd noticed Hunter's falcon circling overhead.

"Doing things the 'right' way takes too much time and resources. If we did things like that, we'd be run into the ground by now. It's how things work for underdogs like us," Gaul said, picking his way out of the alley. "Not all of us are rich like Fireheart is. Or you. Psh! Like I said, you don't get it. You won't."

He tossed the rock away and spit on the ground. "But anyway, I can grant you a good job on today. Never knew Fireheart would stoop to adopting a grown dragon just to ease his own loneliness, but here we are."

"Maybe they have a bond?" Cynder said sarcastically.

"I'm sure they do. Absolutely disgusting."

"You've said that about your marriage, you know."

"I meant it then and mean it now."

"Then why endure it?"

"Misery loves company," Gaul said with a sharp grin. "You'll understand when you're older."

"I won't," Cynder said stiffly. "I won't be like you."

"Sure, sure you won't, ah hahahahah! Oh, don't tell me you're upset because you like that purple dragon."

"Like him? I just met him. I can't be upset because you're actively planning on sabotaging some innocent soul before the competition?"

Meanwhile…

Spyro fluttered down to the bakery. Apollonir met him at the entrance.

"Are you okay? Where's Hunter?" asked Apollonir.

"He's coming, I just flew back because I didn't want to walk again. There was no one there," Spyro said, limping inside and setting the delivery down. "Hunter said they were playing a joke on us."

"Mm. I see. How's your leg?"

"I need to rest it for a minute, but…when can we resume training? I can't let this injury get me down."

"Well, I wanted to give it at least several more days, but…"

"Several days!? That's a lot of time lost!" Spyro cried. "I can't wait that long!"

"I thought you'd say that. You're a grown dragon, so I won't argue," Apollonir said with a heavy sigh. "But whenever we do start training again, let's say, tomorrow. You must take periodic breaks. That will be important while your leg is still healing. At the same time you won't get a break during the competition, save for intermissions."

"Exactly," Spyro said obstinately. "I've been set back, so I've got to do all that I can to at least perform on the same level as everybody else."

"Well, I can't argue with that truth. It will be harder. We're just going to have to work more than the others, aren't we?"

"We sure are, father. We sure are!"

Chapter Text

"Alright, Spyro. We have a little over three weeks before the competition."

Apollonir paced raptly in front of his adoptive son, wearing a gruff expression that wouldn't have been out of place on a military commander.

"What we've got to do is make the most of the time we've got, so, I've come up with a strategy; I call it TAP—Time, Aptitude, and Poise. What we're going to work on this week is time management. It can't be overstated on how important your ability to finish baking within the allotted time is. I'm sure it's obvious that you need to hustle, but we also need to work on prioritization.

"You're going to have an hour to prepare and bake things for the competition," Apollonir said, checking the table full of prep materials. "For training, I'll split the hour into three twenty-minute increments to help you establish a flow. You'll have your prep, the baking itself, and then add the finishing touches to the product. Are you ready? We're almost at the top of the hour."

Spyro bent his forelegs, spreading his wings a little. Apollonir silently watched the clock.

"Annnnd…go!" the crimson dragon barked.

Spyro sprang from his starting position and immediately caught a cramp in his sore foreleg. "AGH!"

"Pace yourself, Spyro."

Spyro was distracted by his bad start. He snatched a bag of flour from the table and was surprised when it tore underneath his teeth.

"Go on, go on," Apollonir urged, as Spyro left a trail of flour along the ground. "But take note, spilling ingredients will cost you time and points."

Spyro tried to be quick in remembering and picking up the rest that he needed, but his rough start made it hard for him to regain his focus. Apollonir warned him the longer it took for him to get the ingredients, the less time he'd have to prep.

Splat! Splat!

A nervous Spyro dropped several eggs on the floor. Apollonir lightly whipped his tail, exclaiming, "Hurry, Spyro! Don't get caught up by your mistakes! Remember and move, remember and move!"

Spyro ran as fast as he could towards his workstation. He tore into the ingredients and began tossing them in the mixing bowl, giving pause when he noticed he may've been missing something.

"You can't make chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate chips," Apollonir said wisely.

The chocolate chips! Spyro quickly ran and grabbed them. He slipped on the egg-covered floor and screeched across the ground until he crashed into his workstation.

"I'm okay!" he cried, scrambling up. As he worked on his prep Apollonir paced around him, occasionally glancing at the clock.

"You've got a minute left," Apollonir said, all too soon.

"B-But I'm not finished laying the dough out!"

Apollonir shrugged. Spyro doubled down, trying to ignore the pain in his foreleg. When his time for prep was up he still wasn't done, but Apollonir stopped him right on the second.

"Time for baking! Go on and toss them in there," Apollonir said cheerfully, opening the oven. "Here's a secret—judges love clean workstations. What could you be doing while these are getting ready?"

Spyro rushed to his workstation and began cleaning it up, removing the prep materials, throwing away trash, and packing the rest of the dough up to be stored for later. Even with him moving as quickly as he could, it felt like time was going by way too fast; before he knew it Apollonir was calling three minutes left on the clock.

Spyro went to check on his cookies and pulled them out; they were done.

"Twenty two-minutes left for putting the final touches on them, Spyro."

But Spyro of course had to let them cool a little before adding the last two things—a caramel and chocolate drizzle. He fidgeted, paced, and fretted for all of five minutes before checking on their temperature again.

"Don't…you have ice powers?" Apollonir asked innocently.

His ice powers! Spyro wanted to curse himself. He carefully, carefully blew a gale of cold air across the cookies so they wouldn't cool too fast, then decided to put the finishing touches on them. His front paws shook as he added the drizzle and when he was done he dropped the pastry bag with a groan. He was about six cookies short of what the full recipe called for.

"Are you finished? Yes, you're short some. That's alright, we can work on your efficiency," Apollonir said. "But you notice, if I hadn't stopped your prep when I did you may've gone over your time? Fight the compulsion to dwell on mistakes or details. You've got to finish what you can in the time you have, even if that means you have to cut corners."

Monday

In an attempt to speed things up, Spyro tried carrying too many things at once. That ended in a disaster.

"Ah—! Careful, now," Apollonir scolded the purple dragon, who was now covered head-to-tail in all sorts of ingredients. "You've got to learn how to carry things quickly and without fumbling them, Spyro. With us being quadrupeds, we're at a disadvantage."

Spyro sighed. "Right…I guess I could be a quadruped and not have opposable thumbs…"

Tuesday

"Fantastic!"

Apollonir hovered over Spyro as he bustled on his workstation. "You're ahead of time and it looks like you're not stopping. Carry on, carry on—no, don't worry about the shape of the dough, it'll settle once you put it in the oven! Forget minute details! I assure you they seem important initially, but they're just little devils trying to distract you! What have I said?"

"Fight the compulsion?"

"Fight the compulsion! Carry on, you're doing great!"

Wednesday

"Alright, good! You didn't waste time there!" Apollonir roared. "Fantastic! I'm starting to see a difference in how you're working!"

It was difficult for Spyro to not worry about the minute details the moment they presented themselves. But he thought it had become easier to keep the main project moving. He still had an issue carrying eggs quickly, too.

Splat! Splat!

"Oh!" Apollonir tsked. "You just lost seven thousand points."

"Seven thousand?!" Spyro cried, stopping to scoop up the eggy mess. "But—"

"And you're losing time now! Look at you, becoming distracted!"

Spyro groaned. Now he had to make sure he wouldn't slip and bust his tail with the eggs on the floor.

Thursday

On Thursday Spyro tried something different on the outset. Apollonir was impressed to see the young dragon carrying ingredients on his wings and using his tail as an extra limb.

"Oh, my! That's a very advanced idea, there!" Apollonir said, thrilled. "How long have you been working on that?"

"This is my first time trying," Spyro answered, focusing on shifting his weight the right way and accommodating for his foreleg. Which, for all intents and purposes, was aching him less day by the day.

"Ah, I see. But can you prepare yourself to carry your ingredients so diligently and quickly in front of the judges?" Apollonir tested.

Crack! Crack!

Thud!

There went the eggs, rolling off Spyro's left wing, and the bag of sugar he carried in his tail slipped out as well. Apollonir tried not to chortle to himself as Spyro sighed, running back to the commissary to get more supplies.

Friday

On Friday, Apollonir stayed on Spyro, barking at the back of his head for every minute of the hours they were working. The purple dragon worked feverishly but efficiently, though his stamina started to drain from the intensity of the day and the entire week, really.

"Come on, you're slowing down, Spyro. Don't lose focus! Find your flow and maintain your composure."

They were on the last project of the day, which was a three-tiered caramel cake. Spyro was beginning to sweat during the last ten minutes as he layered on the butter cream filling. He dropped the piping bag right as Apollonir called, "STOP!"

"Ohh!" Spyro dropped to his rear, rubbing his face with his front paws. "Oh, my ancestors…"

"Was that you finishing or fumbling at the end, there?"

"I finished. Just barely."

"Just barely doesn't matter as long as it's done! That was very good, considering you fell behind on your prep at first. You picked it back up."

Apollonir went and fetched Spyro's ice pack from the cooler. "How does your foreleg feel?"

"Still slowing me down, but not as much. At this rate it should be manageable by the time the competition happens…as long as I don't overwork it."

"Well, congratulations. You're progressing very well. Let's take a bit of a break tomorrow. And come Sunday, we're going to start the next leg of training."