Terror of Talons ✦ A Wings of Fire Fanfiction

Chapter Three

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The tension in the palace was palpable as the SkyWing royals awaited Queen Markhor's decision on the MudWings' proposal. Shrike found himself bombarded with questions from Prince Ptarmigan and Prince Condor.

"Do you think they'll go for war?" Ptarmigan pressed, his voice laced with an uncharacteristically nervous tremor. Shrike shrugged, his own stomach churning with unease. "It's hard to say, Your Highness. The queen will make the final call."

"Ugh, this waiting is driving me crazy!" Condor whined, flapping his wings dramatically. "Can't we just get this over with already?"

Shrike shot him a look. "Easy for you to say, Prince. You're not the one who'll be on the front lines if there's a war."

Condor flinched but mumbled a sheepish apology. Ptarmigan, however, narrowed his eyes at Shrike. "You seem awfully close to those MudWings, guard."

Shrike bristled. "Just because I exchanged a few words with one of their delegates doesn't mean I'm 'close' to them, Your Highness."

Ptarmigan's gaze remained fixed on him. "That MudWing warrior, Kaolin, wasn't she? Be careful, Shrike. Politics make strange clawmates, and war even more so, hybrid."

A heavy silence descended upon the trio of SkyWings. Prince Ptarmigan's words hung heavy in the air, laced with suspicion. Shrike clenched his jaw, biting back a sharp retort when suddenly, the grand double doors at the end of the hall swung opened with a flourish, shattering the tense silence. A tall, regal SkyWing with piercing violet eyes entered, her every step radiating authority. It was Queen Markhor.

The princes straightened, their nervous fidgeting replaced by forced composure. Shrike felt a surge of relief wash over him – the queen would finally end this agonizing wait.

Queen Markhor swept her gaze across the room, lingering for a moment on Shrike. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes before she addressed her sons. "The MudWing delegation's offer has been considered," she announced, her voice echoing in the vast chamber.

Ptarmigan and Condor leaned in eagerly, their breaths shallow with anticipation. Shrike braced himself, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Their proposal for an alliance," the queen continued, pausing for dramatic effect, "is... acceptable. Additionally, we have decided to not officially declare war on the RainWings, at least not yet. For now, we will deal with the border skirmishes, and nothing more."

Ptarmigan and Condor exchanged surprised glances. Maybe they had been secretly hoping for a fight.

Shrike, however, couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Kaolin and the MudWings. War had been averted, but the peace felt fragile, built on a foundation of concessions. He wondered what sacrifices Queen Markhor had made to secure this fragile truce.

Queen Markhor turned back to her sons, her expression hardening. "However," she said, her voice sharp, "this does not mean we are to befriend these MudWings. We remain vigilant. We remain prepared."

Ptarmigan and Condor straightened, their chests puffing out in a show of bravado. Shrike, however, couldn't shake the feeling that Ptarmigan's earlier words still held weight. The political landscape was treacherous, and war might not be the only threat lurking in the shadows.

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The following days were filled with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. The SkyWing guards buzzed with nervous energy, their training sessions taking on a new urgency. Shrike, however, found a sense of solace in his unexpected friendship with Kaolin.

One afternoon, he found her wandering through the palace gardens, her gaze fixed on the vibrant flowerbeds. "Beautiful, aren't they?" she remarked, her voice soft.

Shrike landed beside her, taking in the riot of color. "They are," he agreed. "So different from the Mud Kingdom, I imagine."

Kaolin chuckled, a warm, gentle sound. "Mud may not be as flashy as flowers, but it's fertile and strong. It grows life, Shrike."

They fell into a conversation, discussing their home kingdoms, their hopes, and their fears for the future. Kaolin spoke of her family's farm, her voice filled with a quiet pride as she described the rich, fertile land. Shrike, in turn, shared his memories of his mother, his voice thick with emotion.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the gardens, a heavy silence settled between them.

"We should probably head back," Kaolin finally said, her voice strained.

Shrike nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "The MudWings leave tomorrow, don't they?"

Kaolin's expression turned melancholic. "Yes. It's been... unexpected, getting to know you, Shrike."

"For me too," Shrike admitted, surprised by the pang of sadness in his voice.

"War may be brewing," Kaolin continued, her amber eyes meeting his, "but that doesn't mean there can't be friendship, does it?"

Shrike shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely not." A sudden idea struck him. "Before you leave," he said, "would you like to... exchange letters?"

Kaolin's eyes widened in surprise. "Letters? You mean, write to each other?"

Shrike nodded eagerly. "It's a way to stay in touch, even when we're far apart."

Kaolin considered this for a moment, then a bright smile lit up her face. "I like that idea, Shrike. A way to share stories, not just of war, but of life back home."

Their conversation was interrupted by a harsh cough. Prince Ptarmigan stood behind them, his face a mask of disapproval. "Seems the hybrid guard has gotten friendly with the MudWing," he sneered. "Where do your loyalties lie, Shrike?"

Shrike felt a surge of anger, but Kaolin placed a calming talon on his arm. "Just discussing the terms of the new... understanding, Your Highness," she said coolly.

Ptarmigan's eyes narrowed. "See that you both remember your place. War may be averted, but alliances are fragile things. And friendships with MudWings," he spat the words like venom, "are even more so."

With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. Kaolin sighed, her smile fading. "He doesn't trust us," she said, her voice laced with disappointment.

Shrike squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Let him. We'll prove him wrong. Here," he fumbled in his pouch and pulled out a small, smooth scroll. "Write your address on this. I'll have a messenger find you when you return home."

Kaolin's eyes softened. She took the scroll, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "Thank you, Shrike. It was nice getting to know you... Keep in touch?"

He gave her a firm smile, nodding surely. "Of course. Keep in touch." He paused for a second, and just as she was turning away, he said one last thing. "Don't forget, the skies are always open to our MudWing allies. Safe travels, Kaolin."

The next day, the MudWing delegation departed, leaving behind a fragile peace and the promise of something new. As Shrike watched them disappear into the distance, a single thought echoed in his mind. Ptarmigan may be right about the dangers of war, but Shrike would never, never let the prince get in the way of his friendships.

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A/N: jeez louise what's stuck up in ptarmigans ass. what is that guys problem anyways