Chapter Text
It was pure instinct that drove me to harness my power, nascent though it was.
No time to think or doubt. My younger self only had time for one enchantment.
All I could do was disguise my NightWing heritage, invert my coloration, so that the guards would take my sister instead of me.
Queen Diamond must have thought it would be poetic to kill one and spare the other, the least hideous of the two hybrid hatchlings. Plus, the fact that only one of us was born an animus.
I didn’t fully understand what had happened until much later, but the damage was done, and my broken family was broken further still.
I remember the light of the three moons, that which gave me the strength of two tribes, and the will to surpass them both…
A long time ago, an animus IceWing Prince broke tradition by falling in love with a visiting NightWing.
He was miserable with his loveless arranged marriage and she was cheerful, so they fell in love and she became gravid with two hybrid children.
They agreed to abandon the IceWing Kingdom for the NightWing Kingdom, but their escape was cut short.
He hesitated to enchant nearby spears to stop the IceWing guards, unsure if the spears would restrain the guards or kill them.
He told the spears to stop, and then they stopped... for roughly one second.
The Prince was punished for his betrayal, imprisoned, and forced to pass his animus powers to the sole daughter born from that properly arranged marriage, and the NightWing was spirited away to parts unknown for some time.
The Prince and the NightWing were briefly reunited, only so that Queen Diamond could kill their newborn daughter in front of them.
And so, the son of Prince Arctic and Foeslayer grew up an only child, never fitting in with the IceWing nobility, his stepmother, Snowflake, his half-sister, Frostburn, his cruel grandmother, Queen Diamond, and their equally cruel relatives among the nobility.
Not that he would have ever truly cared about IceWing rigor and their fancy Circles, even if everyone hadn’t made it abundantly clear that outlanders and half-breeds have no place atop the gift of order.
Lowlier than the most shameful of the Seventh Circle, lowlier than the commoners and peasants who would seek prey from the gifts of sustenance.
And so, with his hidden powers and his visible animus gift, he schemed and he plotted and he dreamed.
He dreamed of dark futures, but he focused solely on the event set to take place on his seventh hatching day, the gifting ceremony.
“They’re all waiting for you, brother dearest…” came a sly, feminine sniff.
The pale white, shimmering Princess Frostburn was beautiful, proud, regal, dignified, and haughty.
The sole daughter of Princess Snowflake and the prodigal, disgraced Prince Arctic, she had had a lot to prove as a dragonet, especially given that her father was made to transfer his animus powers to her via a gifting ceremony enforced by Queen Diamond.
The gift of transference, made to punish an IceWing animus who dared to break tradition and dilute the blood of his offspring.
The proud princess had climbed her way to the First Circle as though it were effortless, even though it wasn't.
In short, she was everything that a proper IceWing noble was expected to be.
Darkstalker took a deep breath, prepared his mask of carefully practiced IceWing stoicism and got to his feet, having bundled a talon-full of coins and some various knickknacks into his traveling pouch.
“Oh? Are you are planning on going somewhere? Need I remind you that if grandmother is displeased with your gift to our noble tribe, you will not need those possessions where you shall be heading, Darkstalker.” Frostburn chuckled.
Darkstalker steadied himself.
“It is customary to have a few gold coins in your pouch to pay the ferry-dragon’s toll for crossing the icy river into the Great Ice Dragon’s domain. You may excuse your not-prince, half-breed, half-brother’s silly indulgences at such a critical juncture. Each animus is only permitted to have one gifting ceremony, after all.” said Darkstalker, smoothly.
From a glance, he would have appeared to be an ordinary IceWing noble, if not for the pitch black scales where his wings met his body, his eyes that were as dark as pitch black caverns, and the silver teardrop scales decorating the outward corners of his eyes, and his infamous name, as it was gifted to him by his NightWing mother before she was separated from her eggs.
The sole living child of a disgraced IceWing animus prince and the female NightWing sent to seduce him away from his tribe, Darkstalker was permitted to exist for the amusement of true IceWings, and to offer a gift when he came of age.
A living, breathing cautionary tale of the consequences of impurity and indulgence.
To make the other IceWings feel that much more secure in the knowledge of their own frigid blood purity.
Together, the half-siblings walked along the frozen corridors of the IceWing Palace, towards the place of the ceremony.
“If I weren't a noble, I'd bet that your gift is going to be silly and disappointing that grandmother chooses to execute you on the spot.” said Frostburn.
“And yet you secretly hope that my gift is so spectacular as to fuel your desire to outshine me, to craft an even greater gift, and then slay me in a trial of grievance to further prove the strength of your pure yet tainted blood, tainted by father’s infidelity and adultery. At least I feel no shame in displaying my impurities for all to see, Frostburn.” said Darkstalker, humming.
Sarcasm. The primary indulgence permitted by the rigors of IceWing culture.
Frostburn tutted at that.
The two IceWings entered the large chamber where countless IceWing nobles were all gathered.
The gift of order was on full display, having just been adjusted by the regal Queen Diamond.
Darkstalker and Frostburn approached the gathered IceWings.
To the Queen’s right stood Princess Snowflake, stepmother of Darkstalker and mother of Frostburn, as well as Snowflake’s companion, Princess Snowfox, the sole niece of Queen Diamond herself.
The IceWings all waited for the Queen to speak.
“Princess Frostburn, not-prince Darkstalker… I greet you.” said Queen Diamond.
“We greet you, Queen Diamond.” said the half-siblings.
“Darkstalker. Are you prepared for the ceremony?” said Queen Diamond.
Are you prepared for your final judgement?
“I am.” said Darkstalker.
Darkstalker stepped forward and lifted his pale head high, black eyes betraying no doubt or fear.
“Let us begin. Animus powers are so rare. Appreciate your gift and respect the limits set by your superiors. Never use your power frivolously. Never use it for yourself. This power is extremely dangerous. The tribe’s rules are here to protect you. Only we, the noble IceWings… have figured out how to use animus magic safely. Save it all for your gifting ceremony. Use it only once in your life, to create a glorious gift to benefit the whole tribe, and then never again. This is the only way to be safe…” said Queen Diamond.
From you.
“Darkstalker. Son of the disgraced Prince Arctic, my son, the former animus, and Foeslayer, the NightWing harlot sent to seduce and steal him from his family. You are not truly one of us. You are a half-breed, an outlander. The impurity of your foul red blood is also visible in your dark scales, along with your eyes that gape like wretched caverns. You have never held a place in our esteemed rankings, and you never shall. But you have followed our ways, and you have committed no crime in the eyes of the Great Ice Dragon, aside from being born from an impure union. Today, we shall determine whether or not you are fit for continuing to exist in the presence of true IceWings, or if the only honor you may find in this life, is the honor in a swift death. Are you ready to submit yourself to my judgement, to the will of the Great Ice Dragon?” Queen Diamond continued, her tone betraying more than a bit of excitement.
“I am… Grandmother.” said Darkstalker, betraying no weakness.
Queen Diamond’s eyes lit up as she bade for him to present his one and only gift to the IceWings.
No turning back… here we go.
“My fellow IceWings… for seven long years, I have toiled, I have learned, and I have risen above strife and shame to stand before you all today, to present my one and only gift to our grand tribe. I have walked among esteemed nobles and wretched commoners alike. I have hunted reindeer, whales, penguins, polar bears, walruses, fish, the hawks from my father’s dragonet-hood memories, and even seals from the gifts of sustenance. I have shared the roads of our kingdom with wandering librarians, storytellers and bards. I have honored the Great Ice Dragon through songs and recitals. I have witnessed parties, talent shows, and competitions meant to elevate and inspire us all to the highest pursuit of betterment and enlightenment. I have carved statues from ice, and I have memorized countless recipes for cold cuts served with berries, tart sauce and cream. Our heritage is truly rich, vast and grand. We are naturally superior to all other tribes, who tremble before our ideals, our diligence and our power.” said Darkstalker, turning his attention to the high, circular walls of the gift of order and the seven circles.
All of the other IceWings waited for him to continue, for he held the spotlight for the first time in his life, all seven years of it.
“However… our tribe has grown stagnant. When a dragon masters a mountain peak by climbing to the summit and roaring for all to hear, there is no higher point to reach. And so, he or she must find a new peak to master and ascend, or else they will grow lethargic and forget the endless pursuit of true enlightenment. To honor the spirits, our ancestors and the Great Ice Dragon herself. We have conquered the tallest mountain in Pyrrhia, and we struggle to attain higher mastery due to our complacence, our absolute faith in the cornerstone of our society, the gift of order. And so, I will create an even grander peak to conquer. It shall be known as… the gift of freedom. Allow me to demonstrate how it works.” said Darkstalker, finally allowing his mask of IceWing stoicism to lift slightly… betraying a subtle grin.
That was the only warning that the IceWing nobles received... before the gift of order collapsed into stone dust.
Gasps rang out, and then, every amulet displaying a Circle insignia… turned into dust as well.
The gasps turned into shouts and roars… and then every other IceWing present aside from Darkstalker screamed and fell to the floor, clutching their heads as though their minds were being shredded.
The screams abated somewhat, and one unnamed noble had one peculiar, damning question.
“What Circle am I in? My hunts and trials... I must have passed them but... why can’t I remember?”
As one, the nobles realized that they could no longer recall if they were in the First Circle or the Seventh, or any Circle in between, and any memories that would have provided such context… were almost impossible to recall.
Darkstalker’s grin grew wider and wider as Queen Diamond got to her feet and glared at her prodigal grandson.
“What have you done…” Diamond hissed.
“May the Great Ice Dragon grant you the strength to overcome the next peak, Grandmother.” Darkstalker bowed with a smirk.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? YOU IMPUDENT, ROTTEN, HALF-BREED BASTARD SON OF A BASTARD SON!!! I ENCHANT-”
“THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!!” Princess Snowflake shrieked as she lunged to attack the distracted Queen.
Princess Snowfox shrieked as well as she attacked Queen Diamond in unison with her paramour.
Darkstalker, having predicted such a reaction from the three angry female IceWing nobles… turned to look at Frostburn.
His half-sister was sobbing and wailing as she clutched her head, rocking back and forth on the floor as everything she had worked for, all her life, had suddenly turned into wisps and rubble.
Darkstalker laughed as he turned and rushed out of the chamber, brushing past countless IceWing nobles who were shrieking and wailing, many of which had begun to scream and lash out at one another, not knowing how to comprehend an IceWing society with no Circles.
Of course, Darkstalker, who never had a rank in the Circles, was completely unaffected.
Prince Arctic had spent seven long years imprisoned for his disgrace, flayed, shamed, and tossed aside after he was forced to create the gift of transference, an ironic circlet enchanted to strip him of his animus powers and transfer them to the firstborn child born from the arranged union between himself and Princess Snowflake, who hated him as much as he hated her. An unwanted child born from seed and womb, but not love.
The newborn Whiteout had been executed by Queen Diamond herself, torn apart and beheaded right in front of the forbidden couple, to further break Arctic and Foeslayer before the female NightWing was taken away from him and never returned.
His new daughter, Frostburn, in some ways, was just was just as haughty and cruel as their wretched relatives.
In some ways, she wasn't, as it takes earnest effort to act hateful, to be hateful... and it wasn't as if her fellow aristocrats particularly cared either way, especially the father and mother who never even wanted to have her in the first place.
The sole renaming child of himself and Foeslayer, his son… was named Darkstalker, from Foeslayer’s last wish.
From what little he had heard while rotting in a cell, Arctic had heard that Darkstalker primarily looked like an IceWing, but with black scales where his wings met his body, and pitch black, cavernous eyes.
A hybrid freak born from a disgraced prince and a NightWing harlot, as he was described by Arctic's jailers.
Arctic couldn't confirm this, because Darkstalker had never come to visit.
The disgraced IceWing had become used to the unending misery and desolation… but one day, seven years after his life was ruined by his vengeful mother…
Arctic screamed and clutched at his head in pain, and then he felt woozy and disoriented, no longer recalling what Circle he belong to, and his related memories of the rankings felt… disconnected.
The nearby IceWing guards all screamed and collapsed as well.
Within a few minutes, Arctic had caught his breath, right as a panting IceWing came rushing into the prison complex.
He was an IceWing with pitch black eyes, caverns that shimmered with a sense of nervousness and longing alike.
And thus, Arctic instantly knew who he was.
“Darkstalker? My… son? What… what have you done…” Arctic whispered.
“I did what I had to… Arctic… Father.” said Darkstalker, swiftly opening the cell door and releasing Arctic from his restraints. “C’mon. Let’s go get Mother. I know where Diamond has stashed her away.”
Foeslayer…
Despite the confusion, the nausea and terror of forgetting so many details about his life… there was one thing that he couldn’t forget. Something that burned deep within his cold heart, independent from his strained relationship with the nobility and the gift of order...
His love for Foeslayer, his one and only mate.
“Take… take me to her… please.” said Arctic.
“Follow me, and stay close. We need to hurry.” said Darkstalker.
The newly unfrozen Foeslayer gasped and roared, already preparing to fight off Queen Diamond as best as she could.
“WAIT, MOTHER! IT’S ME, YOUR SON! DARKSTALKER!!!” the IceWing in front of her cried out, already fending off her vicious assault with the narwhal horn spear he was holding.
Foeslayer paused, seeing the apprehension and the nervousness in the IceWing’s black eyes.
The eyes of a NightWing, not an IceWing.
“Darkstalker… that was the name I picked… I…” Foeslayer gasped.
She turned to see a disoriented Arctic, and then she looked down to see the three frozen pieces of her newborn hatchling, Whiteout, as they had been left for her by Queen Diamond.
Foeslayer began to wail, until Darkstalker broke her manacles and chains with frost breath, and then gently pulled her to her feet.
“We… we can take with us, but we need to go, now. We can’t stay here, mother. Can you move and fly?”
Darkstalker was the first to touch down on a frozen plateau, some distance away from the IceWing palace and the Diamond Caves.
He mentally reviewed the enchantments he had previously cast (one to disguise his scales as a newborn hatchling, and the second was the gift of freedom), and he now cast a few more, silently.
I enchant myself so that I will not suffer negative effects from the use of animus magic, soul damage or otherwise.
I enchant this twig so that when it breaks, every existing pureblood IceWing animus will cease to be an animus dragon, and they will permanently lose all of their animus powers.
There, that should be enough to handle Diamond and Frostburn, if they somehow managed not to die during the pandemonium. Assuming that neither of them managed to cast their own enchantments by fighting through the nausea and their strict one-gift tradition. I doubt they managed it, but I’m going to have to examine the futures carefully for a while, plus figuring out if I want to reach out to... Clearsight and Fathom? Oh dear, looks like they've had their own difficulties to deal with while I was busy preparing my gift to the nobility. And besides, Snowflake and Snowfox, if one or both of them are alive, they’ll likely have a hard time figuring out what to do with their wretched system now that I’ve broken it. They’re in no shape to start a war with the NightWing Kingdom, not that it’s my problem in particular. Unless they're able to rally the nobles and press the commoners for the sole purpose of... hm.
Arctic touched down along with a still sobbing Foeslayer, hugging what was left of Whiteout close to her chest.
Darkstalker’s parents were quite tired and numb, not believing the events that had led to this current situation.
“Hey. Are you two holding up okay?” said Darkstalker, gently.
“What kind of question is that!?” Arctic spat.
“I had to ask.” said Darkstalker. “See, this is why I never came to visit you in your cell. I saw that any possible conversation between us would start and end in hostility, and I already had enough on my frozen plate.”
“Wait… you saw…” said Foeslayer. “Those silver scales… you hatched under the light of the three moons?”
“Yes. I remember it clearly. I’m not just a hybrid animus. I am a thrice-moonborn, IceWing-NightWing hybrid. I have empowered mind reading and empowered future sight.” said Darkstalker.
With that, Darkstalker sensed an angry barrage of negative thoughts coming from the minds of his parents, hostility, doubt, fear, disbelief, and a bit of pity from his mother…
“Oh, Darkstalker…” said Foeslayer, her gaze turning pale and haunted. “They must have treated you so horribly…”
“Yes, they did. IceWing culture… it sucks, especially the gift of order. I understand why father always hated it here. I had to destroy it. To give myself an opening to rescue you both, and because I wanted to destroy it. To show them all what I truly thought about their noble, perfect society. Honestly, I got the idea from speaking with commoners and peasants from the outskirts and the remote villages, who never had a place in the rankings to begin with, like me. They were happy to share seals from the gifts of sustenance with me, and I figured I’d do something that would make them smile. I plotted for seven years, and it’s all come to fruition.” said Darkstalker.
Foeslayer looked down and murmured at the frozen dragonet pieces in her talons.
“So… what happens now, Darkstalker?” said Arctic, growling.
“I don’t know. The futures from this point… they all diverge. I haven’t decided what I want to do with my new freedom. Maybe I’ll go reconnect with my NightWing roots, make some friends or something. Because, as you both know, IceWings don’t have friends, we have rivals, tch.” said Darkstalker.
He willed his first animus enchantment to fade into the background for a bit, and his body shifted and rippled, colors inverting, until he had transformed into a male NightWing with some icy blue scales where his wings met his body, retaining his black eyes and teardrop silver scales.
“Gah! That’s a frivolous use of animus magic! Are you crazy!?” said Arctic.
“Relax, father. I originally gave myself to the power to alter my appearance to suit my goals. I’ve enchanted myself to not suffer negative effects from animus enchantments, soul damage or otherwise. I feel like it helps, if only a bit. And you’re not the only IceWing that hates IceWing tradition, Arctic.” said Darkstalker.
“Is this… I can’t shake the feeling that this is what you were meant to look like. As a hatchling.” said Foeslayer, already having a bad feeling.
“If I had continued to look like a newborn NightWing instead of a newborn IceWing, well… I don’t know if Whiteout could have gotten you both out of prison in my stead, with or without powers. Deep down, I doubt it. When I was born, I had countless flashes of the future. If Diamond had disposed me instead of her... Whiteout would have grown up with a very peculiar mind, and strange verbal insights, and the aristocrats would have relentlessly tormented her for her weirdness and her oddities and her visible hybrid nature. She easily could have lost the will to carry on, if it were her responsibility to survive such a harsh, lonely existence...” said Darkstalker.
“How can you say that about your own sister? What’s left of her…” Arctic hissed.
“What’s done is done. The die has been cast and there’s no going back. Look, if you want, I can try to see if I can bring her back to life. The wording would have to be very specific and anything could-”
“NO!!! YOU… You’ve done enough, Darkstalker. You’ve done more than enough.” said Arctic.
“I see. So, that’s how it is. I figured you’d say that, but still… you don’t have the right to boss me around, Arctic. Not after everything I had to deal with for seven years of ice and misery and fending for myself, alone with the wretched aristocrats. You’re not even an animus anymore, same for our relatives, if they weren't quick enough on the draw.” said Darkstalker, willing himself to transform back into the IceWing form that he was more comfortable with, and preparing himself to fly away and never look back.
“Wait, Darkstalker… my son… will you be okay on your own?” said Foeslayer, reaching out.
“Well, I can’t ask the two of you to come with me. I already know that you’re going to find some remote place, away from the kingdoms, to cherish what little the two of you have left, such as your love for each other. Besides, I’m used to fending for myself, hunting for myself, like a true IceWing, raised as a natural born outlander and a filthy hybrid. When I was two years old, I took down a giant orca whale all by myself. When I was one year old, they sent me out to kill an enormous female polar bear and her cubs or die trying. Obviously, I handled it, even when my spear broke due to petty sabotage from Frostburn, but... I’ll be fine. One day. There are only a few happy futures out there, and I honestly don’t know how they’re even possible, but… they… exist. If you’re worried about not seeing me again, I can use my future sight to come visit you every now and then.” Darkstalker sighed.
Foeslayer took a shuddering breath, set down Whiteout’s remains, and walked forward to hug her son with her wings.
“Darkstalker, my son… you are proud, strong, and brave… so very brave. As an IceWing, and a NightWing. May the Great Dragons, Lady Rime and Lady Nyx… both see you safety to your destination, no matter how remote. Please… don’t forget to take care of yourself…” Foeslayer sobbed.
Darkstalker leaned into the hug.
It was his first hug, the first experience of familial, maternal affection that he had received.
Becuase... IceWing aristocrats don't do hugs... or affection.
He knew it was coming, months in advance, but it still felt... quite nice.
“Thank you… mother. The same to you, as well. Don’t worry, this isn’t the end. I’d be… happy to visit sometime, if you’ll have me.” said the hybrid.
“Of course, Darkstalker, my little champion of the night.” said Foeslayer, pulling away.
Arctic turned away when he saw that his mate and his son were both crying.
“Father.” said Darkstalker.
Arctic looked up.
“… Take care of mother, would you?” said Darkstalker, smiling.
“Yeah. You already know I will. Now… get out of here, would you?” said Arctic, shaking his head.
And so, Darkstalker took to the air on pale, icy wings, flying towards the NightWing Kingdom and what lay beyond.
Foeslayer and Arctic quietly watched him go, and they turned to discuss their own plans, for a quiet burial, and finding their own place to be together, forever.
And thus, the thread of fate was broken...