Chapter Text
The night I hatched was chilly.
I shifted inside my egg, my limbs aching to break out and feel the wind under my talons, I pushed my claws against the thick shell and slowly made my way out from the warm darkness.
I shook myself, shaking the last few shreds of my shell away from me, sitting in a pile, making sense of my surroundings.
The wind whistled around the cliff ledges, dancing and twisting through the darkness. Above me, the moons were faint.
Empty.
Hollow.
Drained of whatever power and light they were supposed to have.
I knew I was too late.
I had lost my chance.
My chance to have power. My chance to be cloaked in wonder.
I didn't know why I knew that. I simply did.
A slightly larger dragonet nudged me with his snout. I knew he was my brother. I didn't know how I knew that either.
He had a silver teardrop scale beside his eye. It caught the moonlight whenever he moved.
Behind us a green-tinted black dragon gasped softly.
"Arctic, look! She's... beautiful."
The white dragon beside her muttered under his breath.
"About time."
He turned and looked down at me.
I stared back.
Then I flared my tiny wings and chirped.
The dragon called Arctic froze.
His eyes widened.
"She's... perfect."
I did not know what perfect meant.
I decided it probably meant something good.
Arctic lowered his head until his pale blue eyes were level with mine. His expression was strange.
Almost like he had expected something else.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Neither of us said anything.
Then the green-tinted dragon moved closer.
I assumed she was my mother.
I assumed this because she wrapped one wing around Arctic and me, and because there was a warmth in her that felt familiar.
My father.
That was what I decided he was.
My brother climbed over the broken pieces of my midnight-coloured shell, poking at them with one claw.
My mother nudged my father.
"I kept my word, you can name her" she murmured into fathers ear, her voice silky and soft.
Arctic didn't answer immediately.
He was still looking at me.
Then his eyes moved to my wings.
"Look at her wings," he murmured. "They're white, she must have more Icewing than your little Darkstalker"
He smiled.
"Whiteout."
That was my name.
Whiteout.
I didn't know what it meant.
I didn't know who I was
I only knew that I was cold.
And that my father was smiling. His eyes a warm shade of blue.
I loved him. He is my family.