The dragons flew high overhead, swirling together and apart again on the warm air. Gwyneverre moved brilliantly, opalescent wings and scales glistening in the sun. Brienne moved swiftly, her golden body gleaming with beauty. Something different had happened with Brienne, she had aged rapidly, and was able to fly nearly overnight. It amazed Abraham, but he dismissed it. He attested it to her golden blood, and the time she had spent inside of her egg. It had been a great task, acquiring her, so it was only right that she age quickly. Nonetheless, the white was still larger, older, wiser. She taught the young gold day in and day out how to survive, thrive, be a good dragon. Abraham was proud of his fierce queens as they soared above him, dancing on the winds as masters of the sky. Soon, he knew, Brienne would be able to breathe something dangerous. Gwyneverre released hellfire from her jaws, but Tinek released ice and lightning. What would Brienne have trapped within her? Abraham mused that it was frost, for she had been trapped in a clutch in the northern tundra. Only time would tell, he knew, but a growing stallion could speculate.

The sun shone down on his inky pelt, the rays warming him through. The darkling prince did not like this land--it was too hot and sticky, and the red sand clung to his feathers relentlessly. He yearned for a calmer climate, something neutral and comfortable. Even the north called to him. Alas, he was here, because this is where Macaria and Reginald were. Abraham was loyal to his blood, and so he stayed. His loyalty did not keep him from wandering, however, and he frequently sought key-holders to release him from the confines of the island. He had wandering bones, like his mother, and their hunger needed to be tended to. Besides, nothing interesting happened here. He had heard on the grapevine the on-goings that had been discussed during the herd meeting. Promotions and nothing that dealt with him, except one thing.

His father had marched to war.

His father had marched to war without him. Without Reginald.

Snorting, Abraham turned his body to march toward the oasis. Gwyneverre and Brienne swooped down from the sky and glided lazily at his side, chirping and trilling to one another.

Only mere seconds had passed since the young stallion began to walk towards the oasis when he was joined by something tiny. Dark brows knit together as Abraham turned his head to look down on the baby pegasus. The white-marked boy snorted, his eerie gaze blazing down on the child. He was smaller than the last colt they had met--Volterra--and certainly younger than the arrogant boy had been when they first met. Abraham's first thought as how this boy would react to the burning flame of his white dragon companion, and Gwyneverre chuckled and let a small flame dissolve from her lips. Brienne looked to her older sister with wonder, head filling with the memories of the moment from both Abraham and her sister. The golden princess smiled darkly and looked down to the youngster. She opened her jaws some, but nothing came from her young jaws. Scowling, she continued to glide for a few paces. Her young wings grew tired, however, as they neared the water. Landing on Abraham's croup, she rode her bonded comfortably. Gwyneverre, older and higher in stamina, still glided above the young titan. When Hawk went to sniff at Abraham's flank, however, Brienne leapt forward and spread her wings, hissing loudly and aggressively toward the colt. Even in her young age, she was protective of Abraham above all else.

The darkling prince smiled, but calmed Brienne through their bond. Gwyneverre smiled proudly, trilling exceptional praises to the young gold. "I am Abraham, and this is Gwyneverre," He motioned to the white, "and that is Brienne. They are dragons." The behemoth boy looked at the colt's own companion, and his eyes clearly displayed the pity he felt. Sure, owls were predators and had their own ability to maul, but they were nothing compared to the dragons that bonded to the monstrous stallion. Snorting again, the monochrome prince turned his eyes. In the distance, a familiar body waded in the water. "Hello, Mordecai." Abraham greeted coolly, stepping into the water and lowering his muzzle to take his fill.

It all happened too quickly.

Magic overtook Abraham and he felt woozy, like he had just been flipped over onto his back. The crowned prince lowered his head and spread his legs out. His mismatched eyes slammed shut and his breathing increased.

Rage, hot and clear, blew up over his bond with both dragons. Gwyneverre was the first to scream out as she took to the sky, but her golden sister was just a moment behind. Eyelids flickered open to see Gwyn's belly ignite in orange and yellow before, from the pool of her jaws, fire blasted towards the colt that had sent the magic towards Abraham. Brienne swooped quickly, her sleek body carrying her towards the little owlet on the colt's back. Her jaws opened wide, her rowed teeth revealed, as she went to chomp down on the hatchling.

Before he knew it, however, the feeling past. Shaking his head fiercely, Abraham boomed his call through their bond. Brienne snapped her jaws closed, no owlet as her prize, and Gwyneverre stopped her hellfire assault. Both dragons recurved and glided to land on Abraham's back. "BE GONE!" the prince of dragons harshly demanded of the winged colt, taking a leap towards him with his teeth bared. Dark ears pinned into equally dark mane as Abraham chased the boy off, the wariness of the magic still tickling the back of his mind and leaving him with a residual headache. Grumbling, Abraham turned his body to approach Mordecai.

Most children were stupid, like the boy. Mordecai was not. She was fierce and questioning, and Abraham wanted nothing more to do with the colt, so he focused his attention on the dark filly. Gwyneverre still glared at the colt and his owlet, but Brienne turned her attention to Mordecai as well. Slipping from Abraham's withers, the golden princess glided towards the filly and attempted to land on her crest, in the dark folds of her mane.