Chapter 1

Author's note: Hey guys! Decided to post my Wattpad story here for others to read. As you guys read in the summary, this will be an AU I envisioned of Darkstalker's life. A lot of "what if's" will be explored here so I hope you'll enjoy the ride.

P.s. - some of the lines were taken from the book directly. Credits goes to Tui T. Sutherland for those lines and the canon characters in this fanfic. Thanks for the reviews for reminding me, I promise it'll never happen again :)

Arctic

Animus dragons are so rare; appreciate your gift and respect the limits the tribe has set. Only use your power when told so by your Queen. NEVER use it for yourself. Don't think I am not aware of your little escapades away from the palace whenever I'm not looking. And to think that I could have raised you better than this. Better than that ungrateful father of yours.

Always follow the rules set by the tribe. By the Queen.

Those were the words that were continually repeated to him over and over when he was just a dragonet. His father and mother never forgot to remind him of the dangers that came with being an animus.

The animus test, a simple test in which dragonets from the royal family will order a scroll or any object the queen chooses to levitate using their animus magic. It was held every year. Or whenever a dragonet from the royal family turns four. He vividly remembers his animus test. That year, only he and Snowfox were the only dragonets chosen for the test. And it was no surprise that he passed the test, being the only son of the animus Icewing Queen.

After that, his father prepared animus lessons wherein he wouldn't actually be enchanting objects, no, instead his animus lessons with his father, King Polar, as his tutor, were filled with boring lectures and "scary" legends about animus dragons from the past going insane or evil because of selfishly using their magic.

When he turned seven, a mysterious plague suddenly spread across the Icewing kingdom. Not one healer was able to cure his father as he slowly died on his death bed. After his father's death, the lessons abruptly stopped. No one was there to teach him anymore. His mother was too busy with her queenly duties and council meetings to replace his father as his tutor. So she just hired an ordinary tutor to replace his father. She felt bitter at his father then, only finding out after his death that he's been secretly seeing the Icewing in charge of recording his biography. Every member of the royal Icewing family upholds this pompous tradition, though Arctic never saw the importance of recording one's role in the family for everyone to read about once you pass away.

It was no surprise that his father fell for another dragon, especially with how his parents marriage had been going lately. His father was a quiet dragon, yet he was the kind who secretly yearned for adventure in his life, who in turn was forced into marriage to his mother, who was just an heir for the throne back then.

Arctic felt constricted with the way his life is now. Every move that he made, every word he spoke to anyone was bound by rules, restrictions and such. Especially with his status as prince of the Icewings, every noble, especially his mother, had high standards and expectations on how he should act towards certain dragons.

The dragon by the doorway shifted in her talons, her gaze plastered to the floor. After a few moments, she looked up at him, expecting his reply.

Arctic let out a sigh, sending a puff of tiny crystalline ice shards out of his nostrils. "Tell my mother that I am busy preparing for my gifting ceremony," he said with a dismissive wave of his talons. "I only have three more weeks to prepare."

"She did mention that..."

"But she doesn't care," he finished when she trailed off.

The poor dragon looked profoundly uncomfortable, her talons planted to the floor, half-guessing how the Queen will react to that kind of reply. Arctic sighed in defeat.

"Very well," he resigned, standing up from his table. "I'm coming."

He followed her out of the resting wing, where the Queen's and her family's sleeping chambers are located. They then continued through a series of hallways, decorated with random carvings of different animals found in the Ice Kingdom, with the occasional scavenger popping up here and there.

It's already been a month and yet he couldn't seem to come up with a gift to present to the tribe in his Gift-giving ceremony. Yet, whenever he does think of one, he just couldn't stop himself from comparing it to the gifts of past animi. Theirs always seemed more grandeur and useful than his. Maybe he can think of something no other animi has ever thought of conjuring before. Something like...

The gift of time. The power to return to any point in history or in any past memory in your life and relive it again.

The thing that bothered Arctic the most was whether the Icewings, his mother especially, would actually like his enchanted gift, at the very least appreciate it.

Or maybe the other noble Icewings would just find a way to abuse that power. Especially those planning to take the throne for themselves.

"What would you give the tribe? If, in working theory, you were an animus thinking of an enchanted gift to give to the tribe?" He asked her.

"Oh, well... I don't know..." She breathed.

"Well, try to think about it," he pushed. "I'd really like to know."

"All right." She answered. The walk to the flight ledges was filled with awkward silence between the two, with the occasional 'crunch' of talons stepping on the thin layer of snow on the cold, icy blue floor. About a minute later, Snowflake said, "Sorry, I can't think of anything."

Irritation flashed across Arctic's face. "Really think about it," he said with irritation lightly glazing his voice. "You can tell me whenever you come up with something."

She gave him a look that was nearly as irritated as his own. "Seems like a waste of my time," she surmised. "Unless you're having trouble coming up with an idea for yours."

"No, no," he said quickly. "Of course I already have a plan." Well, Mother does. Which is why I am trying to come up with one better than hers.

Snowflake didn't bother asking what it was. Instead she stopped at one of the flight ledges and nodded down at the dome below them. The ocean was streaked with different shades of orange and gold as the sun set on the distant western horizon.

They landed with a crunch on the snow, but just as they were about to enter the tunnel into the dome, a dragon came charging out.

"Sorry!" she cried breathlessly as she narrowly avoided knocking them over. "I just needed to be outside for a moment. Look at that sunset! Great kingdoms, it is freezing out here! But obviously I can't go back inside and miss this sunset. I mean, the inside the dome is just as cold as it is outside, right? If I just... keep... moving..." She began stamping furiously in a circle, whacking herself with her wings.

She was a Nightwing — the first Nightwing Arctic had ever seen. He'd known she would be black, but he hadn't expected the underscales of dark green on her chest, the silver scales that glittered here and there across the underside of her wings. Her eyes seemed a little closer to dark green than to black, and caught his without any fear. Her movements, though lacking in grace, were filled with so much vigor and energy Arctic has never seen before in any dragon he's ever met in his life.

Arctic told Snowflake to go inside without him, her face wrinkling into an irritated expression again as she left without even a bow or ritual farewell. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to be married to Snowflake. Maybe she does have a personality: repressed fury. Or maybe she's as unexcited about this match as I am. I'm not sure how to improve that situation.

"Who stuck an icicle up her snout?" asked the Nightwing. She started jumping up and down in place, grinning at him.

"I'm afraid that was me, probably," he answered. "It took me far too long to remember her name."

"So?" replied the black dragon. "Dragons forget names sometimes. I'll never get your tribe's very strict formalities."

"Well, I'm not supposed to forget anyone's" he replied. "Also, we're kind of engaged to be married."

The Nightwing started laughing so hard she had to sit down, which immediately made her leap up again with a yelp, shaking snow off her tail.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Just c-c-cold," she said, stamping her feet again. "All right, I'm on her side. That's pretty terrible. You're the worst."

"I am not the worst!" he protested. "We've only met once and I barely know her! Also, she is extremely unmemorable!" he added.

"Seriously the worst!" she cried, laughing again. "That poor dragon! I pity whoever gets tricked into marrying you. You'll be like 'Happy forthieth anniversary... what's your name again?' and she'll be all 'It's our FIFTHIETH you slime weasel, and my name is you're sleeping on an iceberg tonight!"

"I promise to remember that name," he joked. "Sticks in the brain a bit better than Snowflake."

"And what's your name?" she asked. "Or I can keep calling you slime weasel, although I suspect that would get me kicked off the peacekeeping committee on my first delegation."

"My name is Arctic. Prince Arctic"

"Oh, so how are you–" she stopped, pondering for a moment where or when she heard that name.

Her eyes suddenly widen with realization as she realizes who he is. "Oh! The Prince Arctic!" she gasped. "I'm... uh... sorry, I should–"

"No, it's alright" Arctic reassured. "You're lucky my mother isn't here."

"Well, I guess. But Queen Vigilance wouldn't be too pleased once she finds out that I didn't recognize you and called you a slime weasel, even after the thousand of times she made me recite and memorize all of the members of the royal Icewing family before letting me join the delegation committee. Weeeell, to be fair, it was by accident and I was only joking," she said.

"Well, what's your name, then?" he asked, sitting on the snow-covered land.

"Oh, you'll only forget it anyways," she jested. "Or do you only forget your girlfriends' names?"

"I remember any dragon who seems likely to change my life," he said.

"That's not me!" she cried, looking genuinely startled. "I am under strict orders as a delegate not to damage or break any ice palaces or corrupt Icewings or change any lives. Then again, I'm not known to obey all orders given to me, so... watch your back, ice palaces."

She has the guts to disobey orders, he thought, enchanted and mystified. How is that possible? For him, life was nothing but a series of orders; if you disobey even just one of them, you'd either be dropped to the bottom of the rankings or, worse, be thrown out of your tribe. Imagine disobeying an order — any order. Where would I even start?

"AAAAAAH, why is it SO COLD?" The Nightwing leaped into the air and started doing vigorous somersaults.

"Because this is the Ice Kingdom," he explained, standing back out of her way. "It's true, though, our climate is one of our best-guarded secrets."

"Well, maybe you guys have an extra one of those bracelets that keeps your guests from freezing?" She asked, righting herself and landing again.

"That's the gift of diplomacy. It keeps our guests warm and helps them travel safely over the Great Ice Cliff. The tribe only has three bracelets — are there more than three of you?" he asked, surprised.

"I'm the fourth," she said sheepishly. "My mother and I are sharing her bracelet; there was some back and forth silliness to get over your cliff. I probably should have asked for it before I came outside."

"We could go inside," he offered reluctantly. Inside there would be other infinitely more boring dragons, not to mention his mother, more rules not to break, and probably an irritated Snowflake who definitely didn't want to see him right now. "Or we could stay to watch the rest of the sunset..."

"The sunset is great, but honestly I had to come out here because my mother is driving me crazy."

He couldn't control nor stop the smile that split his face like ice cracking. How could he? He'd never heard an Icewing say anything like that about his or her parents; it was beyond forbidden to complain, talk back or to criticize your elders in any fashion.

"Please tell me all about it," he requested, leaning forward like an eager dragonet.

"Oh, she's always nagging me on how I should be this perfect dragon she pictures in her head. Foeslayer, make sure those stacks of paperwork are done by dusk. Foeslayer, the Queen didn't place you in her council just to lay around all night! Foeslayer, you smiled at the wrong dragon at the Queen's party last night! Foeslayer, if you mess up your first delegation at the Ice Kingdom by wrongly talking to the Icewings I swear I will mount your head on a spike in the council chamber." She snapped her mouth shut as if she'd just understood that last instruction, then gave Arctic a rueful look. "Um... oops."

"Aha," he proclaimed, with a thrill like the first time he touched fire. "I have cleverly deduced that your name is Foeslayer."

"Oh no," she fretted. "That's just how my mother starts all her sentences."

He laughed and she smiled and he thought perhaps nothing would ever be boring with her.

"So really, no secret extra magic bracelet?"

"Sorry," Arctic apologized, wishing he could offer his own wings for warmth — but his scales were as cold as the snow underfoot.

She sighed. "Then I guess I do have to go back inside."

"Wait," he said. He didn't stop to think about it. It was as if it were an instinct that was pulling his talons as he unclasped the diamond earring from his ear. He knew his mother would never hear of this if she found out; his tribe would consider it treason. But he would do anything if it meant another few minutes with this fascinating and charismatic Nightwing.

As he held the diamond earring between his talons, he softly said "I enchant this earring to keep the dragon wearing it warm no matter the temperature... and to keep her safe no matter the danger."

Her dark green eyes were wide with disbelief as he leaned over and gently curled the earring around her ear. His talons lingered there for a moment, brushing against the smooth warmth of her long, dark neck. Her shivering slowed to a stop, and she cautiously held out her wings to the cold air.

"Whoa. That — that worked," she exhaled. "So the rumors are true — your tribe does have magic."

"Only a few of us," he admitted. "And so does yours, doesn't it?"

"Only a few of us," she echoed, "and not like that. I don't have anything, for instance. You just — can you enchant anything? To do anything?"

"Animus power," he said, taking a step closer to her. "That's how it works."

"Then why forge an alliance with us? You could easily overpower all of the other tribes in Pyrrhia, couldn't you?"

He shook his head. "The tribe has strict rules. We're only allowed to use our power once in a lifetime."

Foeslayer's talon flew to the earring and she stared at him, shocked into stillness for the first time.

"Well," he started with a shrug "perhaps I'm not much of a rule follower either." He felt another thrill at the idea of being seen that way by this dragon. He reached out tentatively and brushed her wing with his. She didn't pull away.

"Why?" she whispered.

"It's these old legends we have, warning us of the dangers of animus magic — use it too much, you lose your soul, something like that. Once there's a law set down in the Ice Kingdom, everyone better follow it with no questions asked."

"No," Foeslayer muttered, touching the earring again. "Why did you do this — for me?" She wrinkled her snout, half teasing, half serious. "Aren't you worried about your soul?"

"Not anymore," he confessed. "It's yours now... if you want it."

Foeslayer hesitated, then reached out and took one of Arctic's talons in hers.

This is the VERY WORST idea. Whispered Arctic's conscience. Neither of our tribes would ever allow it. My mother especially.

All the more reason I won't let them crush our entire lives between their claws.

It's my life, my magic, my heart.

"I'm going to say something really cliché," Foeslayer warned him.

"More cliché than what I just said?" he chuckled. "I'd like to see you try."

"I just — I have this strange feeling," Foeslayer said, looking into his eyes, "that our lives will never be the same again."