Original A/N: I (proudly?) present chapter 2! I am currently rewriting it (some of the scenes just aren't quite right), but it has been edited so it isn't too bad for now. If you like long chapters, don't fret, they're getting longer as I go. Enjoy.
Edit: I present the almost total rewrite of chapter two. Thanks a heap to my reviewers. If not for all of you I never would have even noticed half the errors I fixed (or tried to) in this rewrite. It's still not perfect, but I think it's an improvement. Unfortunately, I might be biased. :P
Feel free to review or PM me with any suggestions. Enjoy!
Ignitus led Spyro through the winding streets of Warfang, away from the temple and more luxurious buildings toward the outskirts of the large city. Spyro had never been this close to the Warfang walls, with the exception of when he had defended the city from the grublin siege all that time ago, but he tried not to think about that. He had heard that the outskirts were very nice though, especially during the springtime. There were parks, ponds and beautiful cottage-like buildings where dragons and moles had taken up residence.
His eyes were drawn from the smooth road to the buildings and dragons around him. Spyro couldn't help but smile at the warm greetings sent his way as he absorbed the intricate architecture around him. He couldn't entirely work out why Ignitus was taking him this way. Surely there would be other dragons his age in the centre of Warfang, but followed along anyway. The older dragon knew what he was doing.
"Are there more dragons out this way Ignitus?" He asked.
"hmm? Oh no, no. There are dragons all over the city, I just thought the dragons out this way were a…" He paused as he searched for the right wording, "better fit."
Spyro nodded and resumed trailing along as the fire guardian resumed his walk, a new spring to his step. He was finally about to meet some other dragons his age!
Several minutes later, as he admired a particularly interesting mural of a great earth dragon who seemed to be making something large and city-like, Spyro nearly ran into Ignitus when he came to an abrupt halt. Spyro was jolted out of his thoughts and looked around to find himself in a large park, lush green grass and tall pines on all sides. He could see dragons of all ages running or walking around in all directions. It was a scene of pure bliss and it made him wonder how he could have missed such a place in all his time in the city.
Some of the younger dragons seemed to notice their presence as they stopped what they were doing and turned to stare dumbfounded in equal amounts between the guardian and the purple dragon. It was immediately obvious that they didn't often see such legendary dragons.
Recovering from their initial shock flocks of dragons, ranging from barely a few years old to Spyro's age, some even older, ran over to the pair. Ignitus was quick to sate the curiosity of the younger dragons, the ones much younger than Spyro himself, sending them back out to play with broad smiles. Many of the older dragons turned to follow, but Ignitus gave a cough and beckoned them back.
Exchanging curious glances, the scaled beasts lumbered towards the great fire dragon.
"Young dragons, I would like you all to meet Spyro." Spyro almost melted under the sudden attention he was receiving, and by the time he had turned back to glare at Ignitus he had disappeared. Amused by the guardians antics, yet silently fuming at the abrupt exit, he returned his attention back to the dragons around him. He offered a half-hearted smile, some of the dragons returned it, others just snorted and walked off.
Spyro stood uncomfortably as the dragons around him continued to stare. He began to seek out someone he thought would be friendly, but not awed by his presence.
The dragons around him pressed closer, their reverence becoming replaced by childish curiosity. Spyro's eyes flicked over the crowd, no one caught his eye.
The crowd drew closer once more; Spyro began searching frantically, his eyes darting back and forth. Surely there was someone who wouldn't feel threatened or awed in the presence of the purple dragon. Maybe even someone who saw him as an equal.
The dragons around Spyro drew a single step closer in unison. Then, like a dam opening its floodgates, questions poured forth from the maws of over thirty dragons at once. Spyro shrank into himself, but none of the dragons seemed to notice; too occupied asking their strange questions to notice that they weren't going to get a response.
Suddenly, a female voice cut through the tumult, "Give him some room! All you bumbling baboons are going to give the poor dragon nightmares."
The noise died down at once, all dragons turning to look at something out of Spyro's vision.
"Who are you calling baboons?" shouted a large ice dragon.
"Nightmares? Like you can talk. You're the terror of the skies; you've probably given more people nightmares than all of us combined!"
Just like that, all attention was redirected from Spyro to the stranger. Seeing his chance, he made a mad dash through the ring of dragons. Most of them ignored him, too caught up glaring at his unidentified saviour to stop him.
Finally free, Spyro turned and found himself frozen to the spot. There, glaring back defiantly at over thirty dragons, many far bigger than her, was a jet-black dragoness.
She seemed so familiar, like a friend from a past life. Yet still Spyro couldn't place her. Nowhere in his memories did he remember ever meeting with the dragoness, and yet just by looking at her, he felt as if they shared an unbreakable bond.
Probably just thinking what you want to think, Spyro. He thought to himself dejectedly. If there is a dragoness you would remember, it's her.
"Me. Give people nightmares? When?"
"When?" one of the dragons asked, emitting a harsh bark of laughter. "How about when you were all big, and evil and stuff. Back when you served the dark master and murdered hundreds of innocents?"
Cynder didn't show any visible reaction. It was almost as if she was used to such accusations. Spyro couldn't begin to imagine how hurt she must feel.
"I don't know why you all keep accusing me of that. I never raised a claw to another dragon. Not once. You're all deceived." Cynder continued to glare, a renewed edge to her tone.
Somehow, and without warning, every dragon charged the black dragoness at once. Snarls of anger ripped from throats, and elements filled the air. Spyro had to do something! He couldn't just stand and watch as she was pelted with attacks for no reason.
Without a second thought, he sprinted forward, throwing himself in the dragons' path with reckless abandon. Loosing an enraged roar, Spyro confronted the stampeding dragons head on. No one hurt someone else for no reason.
Yet still, in a dark recess of his mind, Spyro had a nagging thought. A thought that told him: had it been anyone else, he never would have done this. He pushed it to the side; he could deal with moral issues later. After he had finished dealing with these bullies. He had seen enough in the dragoness' eyes to know that she didn't do the things she was being accused of. That didn't explain why everyone else thought she had though.
There were gasps of surprise and glares of contempt, but they all were merely a thin veil to cover their profound confusion. Why would the purple dragon defend an evil dragoness he had never met with his life? The dragoness behind him seemed equally shocked.
"Get back," Spyro hissed.
"Traitor!" a dragon roared from within the mass of bodies. There were rumbles of agreement. Emerging from the mass, a large, powerfully built earth dragon strode towards Spyro. He held himself proudly, seemingly oblivious to the eyes on his back. Either he was of noble heritage, or he had one hell of an ego.
"I should have known all along that you were in league with Cynder," the earth dragon spat.
Spyro tensed up, preparing a tongue-lashing to match the dragon's venom but Cynder beat him to it. This dragon had just managed to insult both him and Cynder in one go.
"Go away Quake. This is not the time to accuse me of something I didn't do. Why don't you come back tomorrow?"
"This is the perfect time to accuse you of things," he shot back. "I saw you kill my parents. I was hardly four at the time, forced to cower under my own bed to avoid your wrath." He glared at Cynder with such hatred that Spyro couldn't help but believe him. He couldn't imagine this dragoness doing what they said she had done, but he couldn't say he knew her very well either and the hate in Quake's eyes was hard to miss.
"Quake, no matter how many times you accuse me, the response will always be the same: I don't remember ever leaving Warfang, and nor do I remember bringing harm to even a single dragon. I don't know why you think I killed your parents. I don't know why you all think I killed hundreds. What I do know, is that I'm sick of it. Why don't you all find someone else to pick on?"
"I know you killed my parents Cynder and I won't rest until I have my revenge. You can't fool me with your lies."
Cynder seemed torn between lashing out at Quake and ignoring him. Spyro intervened.
"She's not lying," He said, "I believe Cynder and anyone who disagrees has to go through me first to get to her." He stared hard into Quake's eyes, locking them in a competition of will. Eventually Quake looked away with a grunt.
"Fine," Quake said, "Just wait until she admits to it. How stupid you'll feel then." Without looking back, Quake left, several dragons following after him.
As if he had been some sort of leader, the group peeled away, heading off to different parts of the park. Some left altogether, likely having had too much excitement for one day. Most glared daggers at Spyro and mumbled curses, but some looked at him with newfound respect. It took real courage to support a stranger.
"Are you alright?" Spyro asked turning to Cynder.
She ignored his question. "Did you just… stand up for me?"
"Of course. No one deserves to be attacked without reason."
"But, you hardly know me," Cynder continued, "You don't even know I'm telling the truth. For all you know I cou-"
"No," Spyro insisted. "I might not have met you before but I trust you. Don't ask why, there's just… something about you. You seem so familiar. I feel like I know you, but I know I don't at the same time."
Cynder was seemingly at a loss for words.
Spyro continued the conversation for her, "Spyro."
"Cynder…" she murmured back. "I… feel like I know y-"
"Cynder!" a sudden voice called, "There you are."
"Uh, hi Flame."
"Is that the purple dragon?" Flame asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
Spyro couldn't help but straighten slightly. "Certainly is," Cynder replied.
"No way…" Flame breathed. Then, turning away, he called out, "Ember! Get over here, it's the purple dragon."
There was a squeal somewhere in the distance and seconds later a blur of pink crashed into Spyro's side. He hit the grass and the air left his lungs. For a moment he struggled to breathe and eventually he felt the weight pulled off his side. He vaguely heard what sounded like a scolding.
Cynder hauled him to his feet and he turned his attention to the fire dragons before him.
Flame spoke, "Sorry about that…" he stopped, eyeing Spyro expectantly.
"Spyro," He filled in.
"Spyro, right. Sorry about that Spyro. Ember tends to get a little over-excited about some things." Spyro turned to the dragoness by his side. She seemed so shy yet also full of excitement. "She always wanted to meet the purple dragon."
"Hi." She offered.
Spyro just nodded.
"Well. Looks like we're all here now." Cynder turned to him, "Spyro, welcome to the gang."