That Which Bothers

The dawning sun peered through the window, glaring into Solaria's eyes. She groggily squinted, grumbled, and rolled onto her other side. Her wing briefly touched the snoozing drake beside her. A small grin appeared on her maw; they didn't need to get up yet…

It made her happy seeing her husband still beside her at this hour.

This holiday had been going smoothly so far. They'd spent yesterday afternoon cleaning the massive house from top to bottom. But while they weren't done yet, it was giving the two time to unwind in each others' presence. Today she hoped Spyro could spend some time with Ignirius to make up for lost hours over the week. She had no doubt he would, of course. That bundle of joy was the fire in his soul, just like hers. Even if some nights he wanted to shut the world away, he always left a hatch open for their son.

She snuggled closer to her mate. He stirred slightly but didn't wake. She pulled the covers further over the two of them and fell back into a light sleep.

It was barely a half-hour later when Spyro rose from his slumber. Even though he knew he didn't have to get up, routine kicked in and evicted him from his sleep. He still felt tired mentally as well as physically, but attempting to force himself back to sleep was a useless endeavour.

He grudgingly crawled out of bed and out of the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him.

Even in his half-conscious state, he couldn't help but be annoyed at the distance it took to get downstairs. He didn't know whether to thank or hate Cynder for making him notice it. Casting a semi-cautious look behind, he leapt over the balcony. He gently glided onto the floor in front of the kitchen and entered.

He set about his normal morning pattern, grabbing some breakfast and filling up the baby bottle with wreath-horn goat milk. It came from a territorial quadruped and their milk was said to be among the best for babies of any species. They're named so for the thorns that grow from their horns.

He then sat alone at the dining room table, crunching away at his breakfast while he waited for his mate to rise. He didn't have anything else to do as he was normally out the door before now, and the one thing on his agenda required speaking with his wife to get approval.

He wanted to go and see Cynder today, to apologise for his unjust reaction yesterday and make it up to her with dinner.

Thankfully, it wasn't too long before Solaria came down with their son. She grabbed the milk bottle, which Ignirius was reaching for with his little outstretched claws, and gave it to him. Their youngling was always more active in the morning than his parents.

"Morning," Solaria said as she walked by, followed by a yawn.

"Morning."

Both parents ghosted each other in the odd mornings they saw each other. The pair needed some time in the morning to properly wake up before even considering talking in sentences.

Spyro took the eager hatchling off his mate while she whipped up some food for herself. The young drake was all too happy to cuddle his father while practically inhaling the milk.

Eventually, though, both parents felt awake enough to communicate properly.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Solaria asked as she put away dishes from yesterday's dinner onto shelves.

"So and so. Still feeling tired, though." He put the giggling baby over his shoulder and started lightly patting his back.

Solaria raised an eyebrow, even though she wasn't looking at him. "Is that so? Never mind, you'll get plenty of chances to sleep. But today we're cleaning the rest of the house."

"Sure." Spyro hesitated on whether or not to ask the question, already envisioning the rejection. "I–"

Solaria turned, curious as to why he silenced himself. "What's that, sorry?"

"It's... it's nothing. Never mind."

Solaria tilted her head with a dubious smirk on her face. "Whenever you say it's nothing, it always means there's something. What is it you need?"

"It's nothing, I promise." He turned away, unable to meet her doubting gaze.

Solaria's smirk turned into a frown. She approached Spyro and put herself and her eyes in full view of his. "You know I don't like it when you keep secrets. C'mon, out with it."

Spyro sighed uncomfortably. "Alright. I was hoping that at some point today I could go find Cynder. We… we had an argument yesterday and I want to apologise to her."

The red dragoness shook her head, but held a smile on her lips. "And you didn't want to tell me that, why?"

Spyro bit his upper lip. "Because I know you don't like me near other females without you there."

Solaria tittered. "Spyro, that was years ago. I trust you enough to not go behind my back with other females."

"Even Cynder?"

She faltered. "I-I admit she does put me on my guard, but I know you well enough to know you wouldn't do that to me, right?"

Spyro nodded slightly. "Right..."

"Besides, that works out nicely, actually. I need to strip back and wax the floors today, which means I need you and Ignirius out of the house. Why not take him flying while you're out?"

Upon hearing the word 'flying', Ignirius squirmed in his father's slipping grip with a sudden burst of energy. He attempted to climb over his dad to reach the one who'd said one of his favourite words.

Solaria giggled at Spyro's struggle and lowered her head. "You like that?" she said in a silly voice. "Does our lil' angel like...flying?"

Spyro laughed as little feet crawled all over his face.

"Sounds like a plan," Solaria mused. "Alright, when I get around to waxing the floors, I'll let you know. I will need you gone for a couple of hours while the wax dries. When you've gone for your flight and seen Cynder, why not go play in the park with him? I'm sure he would love to spend some time with you. Could you also get some groceries and pick up my necklace from the jewellers? It should be fixed by now. When you get back we can finish clearing the storage room together."

Spyro smiled as he nuzzled his son. "Of course."

"Good. I've also taken the liberty yesterday to send a message to Moneybags, letting him know he won't be needed for the next week and a bit." Solaria would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy sending that, knowing how dependent that obnoxious bear was on their money. "Anyway, once you're done here, could you get started on polishing the railing? I'll let you know when I'm about to strip the floors." As she finished her sentence, she vanished out the kitchen door.

As soon as she did, Spyro quietly despaired. This was yet another one-sided conversation that took place. Even though he got what he hoped for, it sapped the joy out of it since Solaria took his idea and piled on more tasks.

He took the now empty bottle away from his squirming son and placed it on the table. Ignirius began crying instantly. His favourite thing, although empty, was pried away and that was not fair in his opinion. His loud wailing grated on Spyro's nerves, yet he crumpled the annoyance into a ball and chucked it onto a mounting pile at the back of his mind. He then went about his day.

It wasn't long before Spyro was onto the first of his chores. After calming Ignirius and putting him into his playpen in the centre of the room, he started cleaning the long, encircling railing that covered the rampway and second floor. He sighed. Although this wasn't the hardest of jobs, it was meticulous and repetitive, having to clean between the many grooves and edges of the wrought iron bannister.

It took an hour to do half of it, wiping weeks of dust off the intricate and complex designs. Though, he didn't envy the job Solaria had.

She was clearing up the cluttered cupboards in the kitchen. Occasionally he could hear the clanging of metal pans and random words in place of profanity.

Though, eventually, she appeared from the kitchen carrying a stack of old black pots, most of which Spyro didn't recognise. Probably the reason she was getting rid of them;they'd never been used. She placed them on the floor beside the door and breathed deeply. She grinned contentedly at her job well done, despite knowing she wasn't done today.

She looked up to see Spyro staring back. "Right, I'm done here for the moment. I'm going to make a start on the floors if you wanted to go see Cynder. Just don't forget Ignirius and please be back at a reasonable time."

Spyro smiled and nodded, putting a claw onto the railing and preparing to leap over. He remembered last second that she hated that and awkwardly feigned getting up and using the balcony as support. Solaria gazed back peculiarly at his unorthodox method.

Spyro sighed and walked along the long pathway leading downstairs. He gave Solaria a quick nuzzle as he passed, one she smiled gently at, and picked up his wriggling son once more. He slung a purple sack of gems around his neck before making his way out, waving farewell to his wife as he did so.

He stood in the doorway of his sanctuary, the only safe place away from the gleaning eyes of the paperazzi.

He had no idea where to begin looking for Cynder. After yesterday, he didn't know where or what she did, or how she had taken his appalling words. He hoped he hadn't chased her away...

He shook his head. His words were cruel, but Cynder was normally a resilient dragoness. Besides, he couldn't just jump to conclusions without even searching. The best place to start would be the inn she had been staying at.

Without further delay he took to the open air.

He could feel the ever watchful gazes of news reporters stalking him like his own shadow. He didn't understand why he was always the pinnacle of Warfang. Sure, he was famous, but so were a ton of other dragons. There were tycoons and… more tycoons. He sighed. Their stories were kind of the same. Either those who built their wealth upon nothing, or those who carried their family legacy.

There were also very few stories to be told outside of gossip. Natural events were an uncommon sight. Droughts never happened since the mountain the city was nestled in had a natural spring that supplied the people with water. Storms barely battered Warfang since it was so sheltered and the rain ran into the lower districts where no one important cared. Fires were rare since the entire city was made of stone.

Though, during the height of summer, where the temperature soared and sweltered, wildfires in the nearby Mosshill forest became a common sight. It was for this reason that fire dragons were forbidden from entering during the season, to reduce the odds of one starting, though those warnings went mostly ignored.

Spyro looked down below. His son smiled at the breeze rushing past his face, unfazed by the heights they were cruising at. Further beneath, several rickety stalls still stood, trying to grasp onto the tail-end of the Day of Heroes and sell off the last of their stock before making the long journey home.

It wasn't too long before he recognised the streets beneath him. He purposefully circled the area like a vulture, letting his son get the most out of this adrenaline rush. Ignirius was giggling and squealing, drawing the attention of those beneath them.

For a second, to the onlookers, it seemed like a large purple beast had snapped up a baby in its greedy claws. But then they realised it was the great Spyro doing one of his regular rounds with his child. The scattered crowds cheered, the memories of their hero still fresh in their mind, revitalised by the recent event.

Spyro rolled his eyes. He didn't even do anything and they cheered. He hastily descended into the street with the inn, heading inside before the people blocked him in. Keeping away from them was the best thing for him and them.

His son giggled on, oblivious to his father's disgruntlement.

Spyro closed the door behind him to help ward off unwanted bothers and approached the centre of the room. It was dark; candles were sparse, only illuminating the front desk and a couple of tables scattered around. The stone tiles were cold underneath his claws, even though the rest of the room felt tepid. They at least had been swept recently. A narrow stone staircase led upwards to the second floor.

"Could you please keep the door open, dear? It's awfully warm today. I will see to you in a moment," an elderly female voice called from around the corner of the counter.

Spyro grumbled and reluctantly opened the door behind him. Some people stood there, gawking at him like he had two heads and was doing backflips… But thankfully none of them approached. He turned back around, hoping this freakish reaction kept them glued in place, long enough for him to at least find Cynder.

An old mole hobbled around the corner. She wore a pink woollen dress with a tiny white apron tied around her waist. Her thick grey hair was tied into a bun. A thick pair of glasses were nestled on her face. "Thank you, dear. Now-"

Even with her poor eyesight, she saw eight foot of purple dragon standing before her, honouring her with his presence inside her very own inn. To see such a sight standing before made her beating heart flutter. "M-Master Spyro!?" she blurted out. She then saw the blurry, bubbly, tittering bundle of red joy in his hands. "And Master Ignirius! T-to what do I owe this grand delight? For you to grace me with your presence here?"

Her 'I just met a legend and I don't know what to do' reaction grated on Spyro's nerves like the screech of metal on stone. "Please, don't act that way," he grumbled.

The mole gasped in shock. "I apologise, Master Spyro. I didn't mean to act so flustered." She took a deep breath and composed herself. "How may I be of service to you?"

Spyro noticed her shaking like a leaf. Whether that was due to anticipation, fear, being old, or a combination of all three, he didn't know. He just wanted to get this over with and find Cynder. "I believe a dragoness named Cynder is staying here, is that true?"

The old lady brightened up. This was something she could actually help with.

"Ah, yes." The mole calmed down, much to Spyro's relief. "Such a lovely gal, that one. So excited about getting a new job; she told me all about it last night. That was such a pleasant talk. Such a delight to see such a happy young dragoness… So many youngsters these days groan about working and drown their sorrows in beer when life doesn't go their way. Sheesh."

Spyro wasn't in the mood to listen to a lady monologue the problems of today's youth. However, the fact that Cynder had a job, let alone one she was excited about, struck Spyro surprised. It reversed his mood about the situation and made him keen once more to see her. "Is she here?"

"No, dear. She left early this morning."

"Do you know where she went?" Spyro was longing to go. Not only to see Cynder, but also because his boy was getting upset about being trapped in a dark, dusty room. He was primed to go and the old lady could see this. It saddened her a little that he had to leave so soon, but she understood the hassles of parenthood.

"I do believe she said she joined the guard… I apologise for my uncertainty, dear. My memory isn't as fresh as it used to be."

"The guard…" Spyro pondered before realising he was still taking up this old lady's time. "Sorry, Mrs. Thank you for your help, it's much appreciated."

The landlord noticed the improvement in his politeness and smiled. "You're welcome, dear. Do take care now and be sure to say hello when you pass through. Cynder has already paid up a week's worth, so I believe she will be staying here for a little while."

Spyro's smile grew ever so slightly. At least she wasn't going anywhere. Though he did ponder how much money he actually put into that purse. He bowed his head to the old mole. "Thank you again, Mrs.…"

The aged mole's beady eyes grew and showed off even more wrinkles. The great Master Spyro personally asked her name! "Pearl," she replied.

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Pearl. It is an honour to meet you."

Spyro turned to leave. He didn't know why more people couldn't just act casual around him like this old lady. Some days he wished he could make this life disappear, so he was just some unassuming bloke walking down the street… Free and unbound from the high expectations that chained him down.

The purple drake took off, heading for the barracks, his son once more wooting in joy. This small sphere of happiness he held in his palm, his son, was the one thing he could never wish away. This glowing beacon shone bright at the end of his dark tunnel each day. How Spyro wished he could be as carefree as he. But for now...this was the closest he could get. He squeezed the little hatchling gently and lovingly, hoping he knew how much his father cared for him.