"What do you mean 'I'm not permitted entrance?!' I'm the prince of Nimbus!" The Dragonair's serpentine shape contorted in indignation.
"I'm sorry, your grace," said the large green dragon guarding the door with more than a small bite of sarcasm, "but only kings are permitted entrance. This is an important tactical meeting, and details can be trusted to nobody but them."
"And if I ordered you to permit me entrance?"
"King Rolf's orders supercede yours, your grace, and he has given me orders that nobody but the kings and their top generals may be allowed in."
The prince spluttered about for a moment in an attempt to use wit to pry his way in, but he found every possible scenario that he could think of ending in either his arrest or in a shameful exit.
Or both.
So he bid a frustrated "good day" to the guard and descended from the clouds. His lithe form twisted about gracefully despite his anger. In fact, that was his one strength; he channeled his anger into greater focus.
Unfortunately, that focus was about to take him directly into the jaws of trouble and he knew it.
I shouldn't be thinking about doing this, and I really shouldn't be so determined to do it, but it has to happen.
Once he was sure that the guard had stopped watching his descent, the prince wheeled back around and slipped underneath the massive cloud castle in which his father was attending a tactics meeting. It was, by many standards, unimpressive; a simple cumulonimbus cloud was its main body, and given its nature as a cloud, it had no defining features. This served the Stratos Dragon Tribe perfectly well; all the Rayquazas slept while flying within the cloud, and it provided a disguise from the land dwellers below.
However, the prince was familiar enough with the castle to know roughly where the dragon lords would be having their strategy meeting.
What he wasn't familiar enough with, though, was how close to the bottom of the castle these meetings took place. It had been his intent to merely poke his head up through the floor and eavesdrop, but the young Dragonair unwittingly flew entirely into the room before he realized his error. He suddenly found himself twisting through the middle of the room in which the strategy meeting was being conducted. He was completely surrounded by the most influential and powerful dragon lords on the planet, and he had just popped through the floor into the middle of a top-secret assembly.
"Prince Falthor," his father's voice boomed through the heavy silence, "what is the meaning of this disturbance?"
Falthor flattened himself against the soft floor of the room and placed his nose against the floor in the traditional posture of submission.
"I apologize, your highness," said Falthor as he fought back tears of embarrassment. He could feel his skin burning in shame, and he knew that his underbelly was suffused with the heated red of a deep blush.
"What made you think that it was a good idea to intrude on this meeting?"
"I dared him to do it." The voice came from above, and Falthor felt one of the kings who was not his father bristle.
"Prince Devaar, what possessed you to do such a thing?!" The only Dragonite other than Falthor's father spoke to the Dragonair that lazily twisted down from the top of the meeting chamber.
"Seemed like fun." Falthor sensed that Devaar had only dipped his chin slightly in a show of flippancy. "Oh, sorry," he dipped his chin again.
"I mean 'it seemed like fun, your highness.'"
The Rayquaza king, King Rolf XIII, chuckled. "Kings Da'mor and Vola, this is hardly a significant incident. They are young; this was to be expected." He looked to the amiable Garchomp on his right. "I don't know why we didn't officially prepare for this."
Rolf then turned his attention back to the two Dragonite kings. "Dismiss them; no harm has been done, and they will hardly be in any position to distribute our secrets."
The two kings swallowed their pride and glared at their sons, making it clear that this was not the last that would be said on the matter.
"Be gone; this meeting is no place for children."
Falthor pulled himself upright and bowed his head in acknowledgment of his father's command. Devaar merely snerked and dove through the floor. Falthor hurriedly left then flew off in pursuit of Devaar.
When he finally caught up to the much faster Dragonair, Falthor quailed slightly.
What if he thinks I'm being childish? However, that thought is exactly what restored his resolve.
I am not a child, and I will stop letting people treat me like one!
"Excuse me, Prince Devaar."
Devaar snorted and turned his head to meet Falthor's insistent gaze.
"Yes?"
"Why did you lie for me?"
Devaar faced forward again. "Because you're cute."
Falthor felt a heavy blush rush through him and his flight faltered for a moment. Millions of thoughts rushed through his head at once; but instead of being meaningful, they merely served to make a white noise that prevented any rational thought. The chaotic fuzz effectively killed any chance that Falthor had of speaking a coherent sentence.
The other suddenly burst out in raucous laughter.
"No, I just thought it was too funny that you just burst into the room like that, and I felt bad for you."
Oh, thought Falthor as the din in his mind suddenly clicked off, leaving a noisy silence in its wake.
There was enough coherence left in Falthor's brain to form a curt but courteous "thank you" as he changed his flight path to take him back to the cloud that had been set up for him, his mother, and his father. Falthor decided that he would willingly await his imminent scolding and be sure to set the record straight as to the reason for his popping in on the meeting.
I won't have Devaar taking credit for my mistake. He chuckled.
But now I know; I just have to stay on the bottom edge. Falthor resolved that the next day, the final day of strategy meetings, he would eavesdrop without being discovered.