Mandatory (Annoying!) Disclaimer: Mighty Ducks, etc etc, aren't mine. (Blinks) Wait! I CAN claim the concept for my characters! Happy dance! That is pretty cool... (nods to self)

THANK YOU! To my wonderful beta-reader (you know who you are!), who encouraged me, supported me, bore with me, and complimented the living daylights out of me (whether she knew it or not) - thank you! Without you, I would have never gained the confidence to actually write anything without tons of reviews. Thank you, thank you, and I hope your summer is as wonderful as you are!.

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The More Things Change…

(Chappie Two!)

2027 C.E.

"By the power vested in me as Drake Ducaine's descendant, I, Wildwing Flashblade, do formally bind you to the Bloodied Oath of the Ancients. As of this moment, you shall, above all else, serve and protect me and my … clan with every shred of your existence. You shall be bound to your lord in this life, in the next life, until your lives have run out and I release you from this Oath. Before the witnessing deities of both our worlds, do you hear and obey, vassal Dragaunus?"

Baleful eyes glared furiously upwards from the bent-kneed position, and sharpened teeth ground out the fateful words.

"I hear and obey, my lord Wildwing."

2976 C.E.

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Tsukiyo

He distantly registered the presence of a soft, non-threatening pressure on his shoulder, and so Tsukiyo began the swim back into consciousness. Soon, reluctantly, he opened his eyes, only to stare at the enigma that was Drakewind.

What was it about this…being…before him? Certainly Tsukiyo could not figure it out. He'd tried and tried; yet all he could manage to find was a deep-seated, physically throbbing need to be with this one. It was as if something inside would not let him go, would not let him escape from Drakewind's presence.

And yet.

And yet, casting his grim thoughts back into the avidly learned past, he didn't think anyone from his race had been happier. How odd. How perfect. How utterly and completely paradoxical. Who would have guessed? Who would have thought that Dragaunus' most hated adversary would turn into his descendant's most trusted comrade?

The friendship shown by Drakewind – and his little group of do-gooders, of course – was a nice gesture of pity. Otherwise, Tsukiyo was sure that he would have gone mad. After all, it wasn't possible to live in slavery, surrounded by contemptuous weaklings who should be obeying his orders and not the other way around.

On the other hand, it made it near impossible for Tsukiyo to hate the group as much as he knew he should. He was positive that the ultimate ancestor, Dragaunus himself, would not have experienced this odd sense of…belonging. The glorious Red Dragon would not have felt surges of affection for the Mighty Ducks who had surrounded him and captured him in their web of truth.

Or would he? Tsukiyo wasn't sure. When it came down to it, Drakewind was a diluted version of the original Wildwing, whose emotions and interactions would have been a hundredfold, nay, a thousand fold stronger to a reluctant Saurian overlord.

So, would Dragaunus have felt worry for those around him? Was Tsukiyo disgracing the Saurian Empire by living as he did? He prayed that he was not. The Saurian Empire was held on a pedestal to him. If Drakewind was the sun that he orbited, then the Empire was the moon. Just as the moon controlled the tides on this simple planet, so, too, did the Empire control his actions and deeds and thoughts. There had been so many nights where he'd stared, sleepless, at his silent ceiling, longing to return to his true home. He knew the Empire was out there, probably wreaking havoc on the chosen star system of the day. He could almost taste the sweet scent of fear that would come from the hapless inhabitants. Better yet, he could almost feel the pulsing adrenaline that would course through his body after a delicious, hard-won fight…

The funniest thing was, though, that Siege's descendant had actually travelled from the Empire for him, not too long ago. The acting-prince had offered him joys unimaginable, pleasures insurmountable, if only Tsukiyo would rejoin the clan. Tsukiyo would resume his rightful place as ruler, the Saurian had said, and all Saurians would gladly follow him faithfully into the many anticipated battles.

Tsukiyo remembered that he'd stared in slack-jawed shock as all of his dreams had suddenly manifested themselves. He'd gone to move a foot forward, only to find that he couldn't. The deep–seated throbbing had seared him to the side of an anxious, hovering Drakewind. The throbbing was the fealty of the Oath, he now knew. And as long as the Master lived, he could not leave. He would not leave. If someone physically branded him in order to mark him as the slave he knew that he was, well, that would just be gloating. Rubbing his face in the obvious filth.

And even if one Master died, there were four others to take the place as his Master, whether they knew it or not. And, Saints forbid, if they all died, there was Canard.

Blast it; there was always Canard!

After all, Wildwing hadn't remembered to remove him from the Oath. Of course not, since he'd been too caught up in angsting and trying to defeat his former friend. Unfortunately, that left Canard as a technical member of the Mighty Ducks. Tsukiyo, therefore, had to obey him, no matter how much his heart screamed in denial.

It was not fair! After all, the weakling Canard had killed his glorious ancestor. Killed and murdered him in the most unfair, cruel manner imaginable. The forbidden dark arts were forbidden for a reason; didn't Canard care?

Still, it gave him mild satisfaction every time the immortality of Canard was weakened. Oh, who was he kidding? It gave him a huge satisfaction. After all, Canard had mispronounced one critical word, which left him vulnerable to physical destruction. One particularly unspeakable day, Tsukiyo had actually managed to gain the upper hand, and had spent hours dragging knives through the blood-splattered feathers and pulling various limbs apart. He was sure that the leg he'd thrown had broken some sort of record!

It was never enough, though. Not for all the humiliation he'd inflicted upon Dragaunus' bloodline through his cowardly action.

…and for the pain directed against the Mighty Ducks. Of course.

It was just a shame that Canard was always able to live on. Always, he would come back with that trilling, high-pitched laugh. Always, with his limited control of the Puckworld magic at his fingers, always with his devious plans, always with the promised pain and agony for everyone…

And Tsukiyo knew, without a doubt, that Canard wouldn't waste a minute before branding him as his personal slave. To that, a shiver ran down his spine, and he unwillingly stuck out his tongue to express his complete disgust.

At least with Drakewind, he wasn't –

"Tsukiyo? You okay, buddy? You're usually racing to get the bad guys by now!"

All too late, Tsukiyo's eyes focused. With a sinking feeling, he realized that Drakewind had been talking to him all this time.

He was still talking, Tsukiyo saw. He watched with an unwilling, increasing predator's awareness as Drakewind's lips moved in seeming slow motion. He gazed at the lips without really listening to what was being said. His stare drifted down to Drakewind's exposed throat, where the blood pumped and raced tantalizingly close to the surface. How easy it would be, he suddenly thought. How incredibly easy it would be to rip out his throat, to shred the skin, to taste this duck's essence, as pure and untainted that it was. To eat the quivering body, whose garbled screams would eventually be cut off when he reached the voice box, or the heart, or maybe the tender lungs—

But that was just the predator in him thinking. Tsukiyo knew he was above it. After all, he'd suppressed it for eight years in a row. What was the rest of his life?

All bemused, he watched as Drakewind suddenly rolled his eyes and pulled him to his feet. He was turned around and was slowly, but steadily, shoved to the doorway.

Siege, Wraith, Chameleon… Dragaunus would have torn their hearts out if they'd even tried this.

But Drakewind wasn't them. And he wasn't Dragaunus.

And Tsukiyo knew, without a doubt, that he'd never been happier. He allowed himself a grin as an increasingly exasperated drake's descendant pushed him forward.

Then, just because he could, he suddenly crouched and twirled, tripping Drakewind and then sprinting down the hall. He laughed out loud at Drakewind's familiar yell of mock outrage.

He might be a slave, after all, but he was also a friend of this group. And the latter would be defended to the death, so important was it.

And the six of them, together, would beat Canard and his lackeys. They would – one bright, shining day in the future.

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A/N: All done! Thanks again for reading - and reviewing! Hint. Hint. Hint. (Wicked grin) I think I'll eventually write a cute l'il story that tells of the equivalent to an MD eppie. (Grins some more) Angst, action and adventure shall abound! ... I'd love to put romance in it, too, but I can't decide for a pairing - they're all so cute!

And yes. I shall go to sleep now. (Saunters off)