Chapter Text
“Sold for ten gold coins!” The Sandwing auctioneer shouted. Winter had to wince at that. His platinum bracelet with diamond inlays had cost much more than that to make. Then he flinched, watching the pristine metal immediately smear with grime from the new dragon’s talons. It clashed horribly with his scales, but the dusty Sandwing didn’t seem to care, holding his new prize to the sunlight.
“Next up, these beautiful royal earrings with sapphire gemstones!” The auctioneer riled the crowd up. Winter sighed softly, the three-year-old Icewing prince lowering his head to stare at his talons.
He knew he deserved this. If he were better, maybe Hailstorm wouldn’t have been taken. He could have fought together with his brother, instead of fleeing for his life. And after negotiations for his return went bad….
Well, the glimmering six-ring band representing his new rank was already sold for a measly three garnets. Tundra had deemed it necessary that he receive additional punishment. His mother had him pack everything he owned, which wasn’t much. A few pieces of jewelry, some polar bear skins, and a few paintings. Then they flew south, to a town that would buy anything, no questions asked.
“It’s the least you can do.” His mother’s words came back to his mind, and he bit his lip to hold back the sad sigh.
A talon grabbed his horn, yanking his head painfully to the side, and scattering his thoughts. “When I speak to you, you listen!” Tundra hissed into his ear. Winter closed an eye in pain, but didn’t fight back. With another painful tug, she snatched the circlet off his head, then threw his head to the side with enough force to make him stumble.
He had to flap his wings, kicking up a small cloud of sand, to steady himself. Winter’s mother handed his circlet to the auctioneer, who studied it for a second before holding it up. “One more item, scoundrels!” he shouted above the roar of the crowd. “A jeweled circlet from a pompous Icewing! Silver band with sapphires.”
Winter sat up straight once more, trying not to let the emotions show. He didn’t want the dragons to see how much he was hurting, or how much that circlet meant to him. But even more, he didn’t want his mother to see any chip in his stance, or she might hurt him again.
Gazing over the crowd of dragons excited to buy his livelihood, he saw mostly Sandwings, but there were a few Mudwings and Skywings too. No Icewings, of course. You wouldn’t catch one dead in the desert. Unless your name was Winter and you were being punished, of course. A shadow slunk around the dragons in the back, darting from dragon to dragon as fluid as a snowfox. He saw the gleam of coins being pocketed and clicked his tongue softly. Those dragons should have been paying better attention.
“Sold for one diamond!” The auctioneer finished, handing out his circlet. Winter’s heart ached, watching his glimmering sign of royalty disappear into a Sandwing’s pouch. His mother pocketed the gems, muttering to herself in an irritated manner. Probably because she didn’t get as much as she thought she would.
“That’s everything f-” The Sandwing on the stage started to say, before Tundra cut in.
“One more thing.” She said, motioning to Winter. He looked himself over, opening his wings and checking his talons. He even pressed a claw to his ear to check for a stray earring or two.
“Are you sure?” The Sandwing asked, giving Tundra a sharp look. Several dragons in the crowd backed away, shaking their heads in what looked like disgust. A few looked….excited…or hungry.
“He’s worthless.” Tundra spat. “Start him small, I doubt you’ll get too many bids.”
“Alright….We have one more item, dragons of the Scorpion Den! A prime Icewing dragonet! Probably about two…maybe three years old. Suitable for all your….dragonet needs?” The announcer said in feigned excitement. It was plain to any dragon that he didn’t like this particular sell, but in the Scorpion Den, the seller makes the rules.
Winter was getting sold. He tried not to flinch, or sob, or make a noise. He deserved this. He knew he deserved this, but still. He didn’t want to be sold like an object! “Wait! I’m not-”
“Shut it!” Tundra hissed, smacking his side with her tail, leaving a thin line of blue blood leaking down his scales. Winter managed to only whimper in pain at that.
“Goods are slightly damaged but still fresh and ready to help out with any task!” The auctioneer said, glancing back at Winter with what looked like an apologetic smile. “Anybody? No bids?”
Several more dragons walked away, giving Winter a small spike of hope tinged with sadness. Maybe he wouldn’t be sold after all, and he could go back home and try to make his mother proud of him. He could get his rank higher if he worked really hard, he was sure. Or maybe no one would buy him cause they could see how worthless he really was.
A deep hissing voice broke all of his hopes.
“I’ll take him. Two gold.” A large Mudwing spoke. He had an apron covering his front, and he was leaning on one of the nearby stalls, filled with hanging meats, most half rotten. A cleaver stuck in the wood next to him, and he played with the handle as he spoke. “A bit stringy, meat looks tough, but he’ll do,” he said, licking his chops. Winter dug his claws into the sand to avoid taking a step back and showing weakness. He did NOT want to be sold to that dragon. His mother would never do that, right?.....Right?
He turned to look at Tundra and only saw disappointment on her muzzle. Not the disappointment of ‘oh my dragonet is going to get eaten’. But the disappointment of ‘I thought he would be worth more’.
The Sandwing auctioneer shuddered slightly, but his smile stayed on his muzzle. “Two gold! Do I have any higher offers? Aaaaaaanybody else want a nice young dragonet?”
Please. Winter thought pleadingly. Don’t sell me. Don’t make me go to…him!
No dragon spoke up. A couple turned away. One or two glared at the Mudwing, one even stared angrily at his mother, who simply sneered back.
“Going once!” The auctioneer shouted.
Please. Mother! Winter turned to look at his mother again, and all his hopes fell. She was already counting the gold and jewels in her pouch. Everything he was worth, reduced to a bag of treasure. He turned back, facing down the Mudwing. He refused to cry; if it came to it, he would fight his way out!
“Going Twice!” The Sandwing sounded strained, as if reluctant to continue.
Winter took a deep breath. Maybe this was a test. If he could beat the Mudwing, his mother would love him again. He was big, bigger than even his father. His scales were a dark orange and tough as iron by the looks of it. Sharp claws, and knows how to wield a knife. Maybe a well-placed frostbreath?
“Aaaaaaaand……..Sol-” The auctioneer stretched the word out, as if waiting for another offer. And one came, interrupting him at the last moment.
“Three gold,” a new voice spoke up. A large sandwing pressed forward, and dragons scattered out of her way. The few remaining to watch turned away, as if avoiding being seen. Even the Mudwing turned back to his stall, pretending not to notice her.
“And you won’t get a better offer,” the Sandwing spoke. Female, a light golden yellow, and definitely in charge. “In fact, I think I’m the only offer,” she said, looking at Tundra coldly. Winter gulped softly. She looked a lot more dangerous than the Mudwing.
She wasn’t as big as the Mudwing, but she was muscled, with a wicked tail barb held over her shoulder, pointed at his mother. Then he noticed something else. A smaller Sandwing was standing next to her, staring directly at him. He was a slightly darker yellow and had a jagged scar on his snout, and was probably about his age.
The Sandwing gave him a goofy grin. Winter screwed up his snout, returning his grin with a scowl of his own. If this Sandwing thought she was going to buy a babysitter for her dragonet, she had another thing coming. He already got annoying vibes from him.
“Sold to Thorn for three gold!” The Sandwing auctioneer said with audible relief in his voice.
Thorn stepped up to the stage, handing three gold coins to the auctioneer. He gently transferred it to Tundra, who simply scowled at the coins, as if they had offended her. “Whatever. More than I expected, honestly.” She muttered before depositing them into her pouch. Then she shoved Winter forward. He stumbled, catching himself on the sandy stone, before nearly toppling over muzzle first into the dirt below. But the new dragon, Thorn, caught him with a wing, scowling up at his mother.
“You have a lot of nerve,” Thorn said with a growl. Her scales felt warm to the touch, like the sand beneath his talons, and while her claws and teeth looked like wicked weapons, they weren’t aimed at Winter.
“I can do what I want with him. And now, he’s your problem,” Tundra hissed, then turned to Winter. “Don’t bother trying to come home. You were dead to us the moment you lost Hailstorm. If you try coming back, we’ll make it a reality.”
Winter’s wings lost their careful composure, drooping low with his tail. He bowed his head, refusing to meet his mother’s eyes.
“Leave. And don’t return to the Scorpion Den, or else.” Winter heard Thorn growl, deep in her throat. Then he heard the flaps and felt the cold breeze of his mother taking off, and leaving him behind.
Winter curled his wings around himself, his tail coiled tight to his side.
“Thanks for the tip-off, Ivory. Here’s your pay.” Winter heard a bag of coins jingle, presumably trading talons, but he still didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the glinting figure of his mother in the distance.
“Dragons like that sicken me,” the Auctioneer said, tapping a talon on the stone. “You’re in good talons, kid.” Winter felt a light tap on his shoulder from a warm wing. “I’ll let you know if I get any more rogue auctions.”
“Thank you,” Thorn replied. “Kid, you awake in there?” Winter felt a soft knock on his head. He curled his wings closer to himself.
“I think he’s pouting,” a higher-pitched voice spoke up. Probably the young Sandwing. A smaller set of talons landed next to him, before he felt a harder knock on his head again.
“Imnotpouting,” he mumbled out from under his wings.
“What was that?” the younger dragon asked, knocking on his head again. Winter growled low, before flaring his wings open and snapping at the dragonet in front of him.
“I’m not pouting! Icewings don’t pout!” He hissed loudly. And yet the Sandwing had the gall to smile at him as if this was exactly what he wanted.
“So you’re broooooding.” The Sandwing said with a nod to himself. “Thorn, he’s broooooooding.” He repeated cheekily.
The larger dragon sighed softly. “Yes, Qibli, I heard.”
“I’m not brooding either! I just got sold by my mother in case you haven't noticed!” Winter scowled, glaring back at the dragonet.
“So?” He asked, tilting his head. He raised a talon and scratched behind his ear, dribbling sand over Winter’s scales. “Join the club. It's a good club. I’m the leader of it, the ‘sold by your mom’ club.”
Winter took a step back, his muzzle aghast. “Is that commonplace here?!”
Thorn took a step forward, pressing a wing between himself and the smaller dragon, Qibli. “Not anymore. That’s one of the things I’m trying to stop. That’s why I hired Ivory to tip me off anytime one of these auctions happens.” Thorn looked down at him with an expression Winter hadn’t seen before. Sadness? Pity? Something in between the two. Kindness? Maybe that, he didn’t have any experience with kindness from his parents.
“So what now? I will fight back if you try to eat me!” Winter growled up at the Sandwing. Even standing on the stone stage as he was, she was still standing taller than him. And even worse, she started laughing in his face at his declaration!
Qibli walked around Thorn’s wing and grabbed his arm, squeezing it softly. Winter immediately pulled back, hissing at him. “Hmm… too thin to be any good. Maybe we could mix him in a potluck. Might chill the broth, though.”
Winter gulped softly, but bared his fangs, letting out a small cloud of frost in the air. The heat was making it hard to charge up his chilly breath weapon.
“Qibli, stop tormenting the poor dragonet. He’s probably never been somewhere like this! He might actually believe you!” Thorn scolded, but she was grinning just as much as the smaller Sandwing.
“Okay, okay! We don’t eat dragons here,” Qibli said honestly, smiling reassuringly at Winter. Then he stopped and glanced at the Mudwing that had placed a bid on him. “Well, Ox might, but he’s……well, just stay away from him to be safe.”
Winter gulped softly but nodded, taking a step closer to Thorn and a bit further out of the Mudwing’s line of sight.
“To start off, we’ll take you back to the tent. Grab your things.” Thorn spoke, flicking her tail to beckon him. Winter dipped his head a little lower, and his shoulders hunched.
“I don’t have anything left…” He tried to keep the sadness out of his voice, but he didn’t think he managed that well.
“Qibli?” Thorn asked, quirking an eyeridge. The younger Sandwing grinned widely, pulling out a pouch from under his wing.
“I don’t think I got everything. Some of those dragons were veterans, but I got a few things.” Winter looked up as Qibli started pulling things from his pouch. A small earring. A picture he painted of Hailstorm. His royal circlet. All glimmering in the sunshine….and getting dirty on the sandy platform.
“How di-...you-....you're a thief!” Winter observed without accusation in his tone. He gently picked up his painting, holding it tightly to his chest, then the circlet. He almost put it on his head, but then stopped and lowered it slowly. “Thank you.” He managed honestly. He palmed his earring as well, but didn’t put it on. It didn’t feel right after what just happened.
“Anytime!” Qibli said with an over-the-top bow. “Feel free to sing my praises to the moons! Thorn says I need to work on my ego. Apparently, it's much too small.” He smiled wider at Winter. “What’s your name, Sparklesnout?”
“I do NOT sparkle!” Winter scowled again. “If you must know, my name is Pr-” he stopped short, choking on the word. “My name is….Winter…. just Winter.”
“Wow, I think you’re the first ‘Winter’ the desert has ever had!” Qibli snorted at his own joke. “Well, Winter, my name is Qibli! And this is Thorn, the greatest dragon in the Sand kingdom, if not all of Pyrrhia!” Qibli raised a wing, pointing to the larger dragon. “We’re the Outclaws! Prevailers of justice, and rulers of the oasis! We basically run this city!”
“I run this city.” Thorn chided, poking Qibli on the snout. “You just follow me around and annoy everyone until they agree to our demands.”
“So…I was bought by a crime lord?” Winter asked hesitantly. He looked up into the sky finally, but there wasn’t even a glint of skywing scales.
“No. I want to help those less fortunate and clean up this city. Sometimes that means doing dirty jobs, but I am not some bully like Burn.” Thorn waved a talon in the air, as if clearing smoke. “If you’re going to survive here, you’re going to have to learn to think like an Outclaw. Noblescales don’t live long here. You’ll have to get down and dirty, and maybe do some things you won’t like. But that's probably better than returning home and being killed. At least, in my opinion.” She flicked her tail back, down the street where she had come from when she cleared out the auction.
Qibli hopped off the stage immediately and obediently stood at her side. Both dragons turned to Winter, waiting for him to join them. He looked down at his circlet and once more at his painting. Then he looked up at the blue sky once more. There was so much more sun here than in the Ice Kingdom. And so many more colours, just in this small area of the Scorpion Den. More than he had ever seen back home.
He tucked the painting and circlet under one wing and kept the earring clutched tightly in his talon. The last things he had left of home. His old home. He sidled up to Thorn’s other side. Qibli peeked around her with a grin that Winter adamantly ignored. “What’s first. If you bought me, you must have thought I could be useful…right? What do you need?”
“First, you’re going to learn. Then, you can do whatever you want. Stay and help, or strike out on your own.” Thorn replied. “Just try not to die.”
“Or melt. Try not to melt too.” Qibli quipped from her other side. “Welcome to the Outclaws! We don’t have any party poppers, so I hope a talon-full of sand will do.”
“Don’t you dare throw sand at me, or I will freeze your muzzle shut!” Winter hissed. Thorn rolled her eyes, but started leading the two dragons down the street, a wing over each of them.