The Final Storm (Part 3)

A Commander-in-Chief's Gonna Get a Butt-whuppin

Daemon had not been having the best day. Training was pretty much all day, leaving him sore, tired and cranky. Now that he was finally off, he didn’t have the strength to do much else than stomp up to his room and relax with a cool glass of wine. Fraylon was flopped on the floor, his wings spread across the wood in exhaustion. Daemon had ordered a servant to bring up his dragon’s favorite- glazed fruits while he wrote. Daemon wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but he kept a journal, one that he had been writing in for years. It was filled with notes and thoughts, sketches and ideas. In the first page a picture of the baby ice dragon could be found, playing in the snow. Fraylon let his head rest on his Rider’s lap, purring as he caressed his scaly snout and horny crests.

            It was so peaceful, the sun streaming through the window, overlooking a beautiful day in paradise. The birds were singing, Fraylon was happy, and Daemon had his wine. But he was not happy. He paused, his quill poised over the parchment. “I wish I could go back in time, Fray,” he said out loud, “I wish I could go back with you, so that we could be together in Grunde. Just you, me, and Arianna. Not all this mess. Not this war and Arianna missing, and Ralem dead. Not all this heat and training paska. Just flying in the mountains, and eating at Lumi’s and having parties and going hunting.”

            “I wish it too,” Fraylon said softly, “I love Grunde as much as you do. It is the most beautiful country in the world, and I loved staying with you in your mansion. Those were the best days of my life, helping you with your work and breathing in the mountain air.”

            Daemon cringed, remembering the ‘work’ he had Fraylon doing.

            “But we must wait this one out. If the cats have truly killed her or harmed her in any way, then they will face an ice dragon’s wrath. I may be young, but I know I can fight. And I know you can too.”

            Daemon smiled and scratched Fraylon’s chin. “Of course you can fight.” But even as he said these words, his heart sank. He couldn’t shake the depression settling on him like a black cloud. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget it all, just-

            Knock, knock.

            “Yes?” Daemon said offhandedly, quickly closing his journal.

            Knock, knock, knock.

            “It’s unlocked,” Daemon called.

            KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

            “Okay, okay, okay! I’m getting the door!” Fraylon lifted his head and Daemon tromped to the door, flinging it open. “What do you want?”

            Someone he hadn’t seen since he had arrived back in Baroke was standing there, glaring at him. That someone had a long nose, big ears, and almond eyes. And who had oat breath. Daemon’s eyes widened as she poked a hoof into his chest. “You little punk!” she said.

            “What? What did I do to you?” Daemon backed away slowly.

            Sprite whinnied. “Duh! You did everything! You know, I don’t have time for your stupid antics. Do you think I look dumb?” She tossed her mane sassily.

            She’s been watched at all times to keep her from telling her mind to you, Fraylon told Daemon with a hint of- was that humor?

            “Lookit! Just lookit!” She waved her back leg in Daemon’s face. It was bandaged. “I could hardly walk for days! And all because of you, creepy igloo guy!”