A/N: Hey guys, Shade coming to you live! xD

Anyways, I decided I was going to continue this fic because of the potential it has. I was browsing about, and noticed how sweet this fic was looking, so here's another chapter for you all.

I decided that I'm going to work the relationship up slowly, so people, you will all have to enjoy the joys of a long build up with a lot of cock blocks! hahahaha! Damn I'm evil. But don't worry, the lemon will come! xD

Anyways...

Chapter Two: Awakening -

The dragon rose with a sudden and violent jolt as a cracked yelp escaped his dry throat. Spyro sweated heavily, and his tense body hurt from the nightmare he had had but a moment ago. The air was hot about him, aside the fact that they were in the midst of the Season of Ice. The savior looked about for a moment, wondering if he had caused any disturbances in the room with his small cry.

The room was made purely of stone, as it was what had once been the guardians' temple in Warfang. The fine adobe colored room was dark, aside the small lights that glowed dimly about the frame of the magic-powered door. The soft yellow glow was soothing to the dragon, for it had been a costume of him to sleep with some kind of light upon him. If there was something the purple savior hated, it was pitch black darkness.

The dragon's eyes scrolled through the entire room. They went from the door to the scattered scrolls on the floor, and from the ink splotch that could hardly be seen in the low illumination, to his hay stack. He then lifted his head higher as he peaked towards Sparx' small resting nest. The dragonfly turned to his side with the noise he had heard, but aside that the room was peaceful.

Spyro sighed softly as he looked down and closed his eyes. His body slowly relaxed, and the cool of the season could now be felt in the slightest of manners. But even if the dragon would have loosened up entirely, rest would not come back. The horrid dream still struck his mind, and danced through the very edge of his imagination. He tensed up once more as he remembered that last torturous moment; the smell of blood mixed with the winds chill, and the cries of the victorious apes. The thoughts were pure terror to him.

As he rose from his hay stack, unable to remain in the spot in tranquility, an even more frightening thought crossed his mind: he was unable to protect Cynder in her moment of need. He knew that it was nothing but a dream, but if the moment came, could he actually save her life? The idea was ever torturous.

'B-but I've been able to save her before,' he remarked to himself in thought. 'I've protected her before… Why couldn't I do it again?' The dragon began to move, and headed himself towards the door instinctively. As he reached the entrance, the lights about the frame lit up, and the two stone flaps slid out of the way as to give the purple dragon access to the hallway ahead. The dragon walked out silently, and the door that was now behind closed quickly. The hallway was lit by the crystals of the walls, and the smell of stale stone could be sensed in the surroundings. Snow had been late this Season of Ice, and the air was nothing but dry.

Spyro's half lit eyes turned to the left, and he began to head in that direction of the hall. The dragon's claws made a loud tap in the perfect silence that the night held.

'But… why am I worrying so much about Cynder?' he asked himself. 'I've been over-worrying for over a week now, but I don't understand why." He remember the past week, and how when it came to working on rebuilding Dragon City, the purple dragon was always concerned about the black dragoness' well-being. He always made sure that she could do what she was assigned, and that if anything was a little too difficult for her to do, or too heavy for her to lift, the dragon was always there. Something about aiding her in times of needs pleased him. It had gotten to the point where it was hard for the purple dragon not to think about the dragoness.

'But then again,' Spyro concluded in thought. 'Haven't I been thinking about her constantly ever since I saved her?' The fact was true; his thoughts had been surrounded by Cynder ever since that moment. The moment the dragon saved the former terror of the skies from her star-crossed fate, seeing that she would be happy and well became one of Spyro's main priorities. Perhaps it was one of the reasons that Sparx hated the dragoness so much; or at least used to.

But this concern towards her was different. The worries that came to him weren't the usual ones; and then again, there was that new 'attraction' to her. It was so new, so exhilarating to Spyro's being. Every time the feeling rushed to him, he felt heavy, but light; weak, yet strong. The slightest touch or feel by the winds cool chill would make him lift his chest, and he could do nothing but to allow the emotion to devour him.

'But it's not right to allow that feeling to take me, or is it?' Spyro pondered. He sighed. 'I don't even know exactly what the feeling is.'

As the savior came to a stop, he suddenly realized that his unconscious steps had led him nowhere but Cynder's dormitory. The dragon had entered without even paying attention, and as soon as he did catch himself, he simply stared about dumbfounded.

He wondered why he had come here, to Cynder's neat and very clean room. As he began to move into the center of the room, the clean scent of dried 'dragon's flower' filled his nostrils, and sunk into his lungs. He breathed out in pleasure as the sweet and fruity smell of the flora escaped him, and slowly he breathed in again. Cynder loved flowers indeed, and if she had the chance, she would cover the entire temple with them; time was scarce though.

Spyro scanned the room as he searched for Cynder. Organization was more than a present aurora in the room. Opposite to Spyro, all of Cynder's scrolls and books were neatly arranged and placed delicately. The black dragoness' coquet mannerisms were present in the perfectly placed flowers on the table by the window. Her hay stack was placed finely upon the floor atop a mat; not a single straw was out of place. All was perfect, and nothing but perfect.

But Cynder was not in the room, and that troubled the purple savior. He rose his eye ridges up in concern, and searched in vain once again. She wasn't present.

"Where could you be… Cynder?" he asked himself in soft whisper. It was then when another thought struck the feeble tranquility that the room's ambience had placed him in: What if Cynder had escaped from them again. He knew it sounded odd to think of her doing such a thing, but then again… What if she had left them because he never reacted towards those words on the day of destruction.

"No… No." He remarked to himself in a trembling voice, as he moved in circles about the room. "She couldn't have left us… I mean… no!" The dragon's fear quickly turned into panic, and he searched franticly. It wasn't until he heard a soft noise in the balcony, accompanied with a muffled grunt, that the purple dragon ceased his searching rampage. He looked towards the door of the balcony, and with much care, silently began to walk towards the opening.

As soon as he was out on the wood floor of the balcony, he turned his eyes directly to the dragoness. Cynder slept uneasily on the side opposite to the entrance of the room by the finely crafted railings. Spyro gave a worried look as he noticed that the black dragoness trembled from the burning cold of night. She trembled and breathed unsteadily, the cold air making each and every of her breaths into a foggy mist. Spyro suddenly felt a sudden urge, and very rapidly went back into room to retrieve a blanket from the perfect stack that Cynder had by what appeared to be a small drawer. The purple savior moved to her side as he grasped the blanket with his muzzle. He carefully sat on his haunches next to her, and stealthily placed the sheets over her.

But Cynder became aware of Spyro's presence the moment he sat by her side; being the dragoness she had once been made it impossible for her to rest without being in an alert state. Fear of murder still realmed the dragoness' subconscious, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The former Terror of the Skies shifted as the blankets landed on her back, and quickly she looked up only to meet the purple dragon's warm and caring purple eyes. He looked at her with such sweetness, and love that her sudden jolt of panic fell. She simply blinked, and sighed softly.

"Spyro," she spoke out. "What are you doing here?" The male looked directly to her emerald eyes with a worrisome look.

"You're out all alone in the cold, Cynder," he responded in a soft tone. "I don't want you to catch a cold." The two dragons remained in the same spot for a moment, plainly looking at each other. The delicate glances became some kind of bonding moment. They could do nothing but stare at each other, reading themselves. It was only after the sound of some strange creature street creature became that the two ceased. "Why are you sleeping out here anyways?" the male dragon asked. "The Season of Ice is here." Cynder swung her head down, as she rested it in between her paws.

"I simply fell asleep here," she answered as she blinked slowly again. "I haven't had a good night's sleep though." Spyro showed a small smile, as he chuckled slightly. The feel in the air from the sharing of glances had made him uncomfortable; he needed to lighten it up a little.

"Well, I can't imagine anyone that could rest well out here in the cold," the dragon commented, as he looked up towards the celestial sky. The stars were beautifully than he had ever seen them before. They glowed brightly aside the two moons that were now precisely above them. Spyro's grin grew. "Even if it is a beautiful night." As he looked back down, he suddenly froze. The dragoness before him was as beautiful as she had been in his dream. Her perfect green eyes twinkled vividly under the glow of the night, and the ebony of her body could not fit the darkness any better. He relaxed his shoulders, as if mesmerized by the exquisiteness of the dragoness "Everything tonight is beautiful," he remarked.

Cynder looked to Spyro as he said those words, and blushed the moment she noticed that the male looked to her. Perhaps he was talking about her, she thought. She gazed up to the stars as to avoid direct eye contact with Spyro. "Yeah, everything sure is beautiful tonight."

It was then that the purple dragon quickly and suddenly laid down aside Cynder. There was some body contact now, as Spyro had laid down and pressed his side against hers. Cynder closed her eyes as she felt his perfect warmth. It was like some kind of fire was dormant in him, and like the flames of any bonfire, it gave of the perfect warmth. His strong, yet gentle body beside her only gave the dragoness a sense of tranquility.

"Mind if I lay here?" he asked in what to Cynder's hearing sounded like a coo. The dragoness smiled, in pure bliss, and shook her head.

"I don't mind at all, Spyro." She looked to the dragon, and noticed that their snouts were closer than ever. Cynder blushed more furiously as their eyes crossed paths again; Spyro was no better. They both pulled their glances away from one another immediately, as they flushed a fine crimson color.

It was then that Cynder's eyes began to give out on her. She could not be any warmer, or comfortable; so sleepiness began to fall upon her. She yawned as she pressed her body closer to the purple dragons.

"Spyro?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me the story of the dragon princess again?" she suddenly asked, unaware of what she said. Spyro smiled ever sweetly.

"The one I used to tell you when we were young?" the male asked with that goofy, crooked smile of his. As Cynder looked to the dragon, she suddenly caught herself, and realized what she was asking for. She stared at him, with yet another gentle blush on her visage.

"Y-yeah… That one," She remarked, nervously. "Y-you don't have to tell it to me if don't want to." Spyro shook his head as he chuckled again.

"Nonsense," Spyro replied. "I would love to, Cynder." His smile shifted from being simply friendly, and slowed some signs of attraction towards the dragoness. Cynder was not aware of such a thing, though. "It's the best I can do for my friend." Cynder looked down, and placed her head between her paws. Friend… The term fell to Cynder like a heavy boulder in the water. If only he could understand what she wanted.

…If only she could understand what she, wanted…

"How did it start again?" the dragoness asked. Spyro laid his head over his forearm, as he began to think, and remember.

"There once was a dragoness with perfect black scaled… A beautiful dragoness she was indeed…"

…If only he could tell her that without the use of the story…

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