A/N: Welcome, all, to Chapter 1 and the start of the story in earnest.

A few important things before we begin: Different Threads starts at approximately Part 2 of the Darkstalker novel. At this point, his animus powers are well known, and he has already constructed his scroll. Pretty much, everything in Part 1 of Darkstalker can be considered canon to this work. As such, I am writing this as though it is the next part of the book, which assumes that the reader already has knowelege of the events and interactions leading up to this point. This includes, of course, Darkstalker's relationships to his father and Clearsight, as well as other enchantments and thoughts he's had. The only thing that I have, admittedly, changed a bit is that he uses his foresight more than in the books (because, honestly, why wouldn't he?).

Now, I have to say that in these first few chapters, I am trying to keep closer to the book except in a few places where I spiral off. As such, much of the dialogue and some description is taken directly from the book. Don't worry: there's still a lot that I added/redid/cut out to make it a bit more original, but I felt it necessary to keep this work as close to the original as possible in the opening chapters in order to make the grand scheme come together.

If you like it, feel free to favorite/follow and leave a review. And, of course, enjoy...

Chapter 1

Parties and Introductions

Darkstalker was a dragon that was destined to be a king.

A thricemoonborn dragonet, he had inherited the very best from both tribes. Mindreading and prophecy from his mother's tribe, the Nightwings, and animus magic from his father's, the Icewings. All three of those powers made him quite possibly—no, quite definitely—the most powerful dragon in Pyrrhia. He could both see the future and make the future into anything he wished to see. One day, he knew, that was exactly what he would do to become the greatest dragon in Pyrrhia.

For now, though, he was merely one of the most bored dragons in Pyrrhia.

"You don't seem very excited."

He opened his eyes from where he lay sprawled across his bed and looked at the speaker: Clearsight. The love of his life and the most powerful seer born in centuries, she was one of the only few dragons that he could truly relax around. They were still young for now, but he knew that they had a glorious future ahead of them. It was one that he could hardly wait for, if she could only ever focus on it with him.

He opened his mouth and let out a yawn. "And why exactly would I be excited?" he asked, although he already knew what she was referring to.

She looked up from the scroll she was writing on and gave him a look, as though she wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "The party," she said, "You know, the big one that the queen sent a messenger to you to specifically tell you to come. That party, at which, I'm sure you're more than aware, is when he arrives."

"Ah, yes…that party," Darkstalker spoke with only a touch of amusement in his voice to hint that he'd known exactly what she'd been referring to, "Of course I'm excited; why wouldn't I be to finally meet our best friend and favorite Seawing. I'm just not jumping up and down and blathering on and on about it like a two-year-old."

Clearsight just gave a 'humph' and went back to her scroll. Darkstalker rolled his eyes before closing them again. She was in one of her 'future writing' modes again, where all she could focus on was writing down everything that she had recently seen might happen in about a hundred mutually exclusive futures. Once she went into one, it was rather hard to pull her out, which was something Darkstalker knew firstclaw. Looking over all of those futures was a strange obsession that Darkstalker never could understand—the most probable futures were always enough for him—but she wouldn't be Clearsight if it wasn't for her constant insistence to use her gift to help others at her own mental expense.

He sighed and shifted in on his bed. I just wish it wasn't so boring, he thought to himself as he cracked open an eye to watch her. When she came over to his house and room, it was supposed to be for them to have fun and bond and become the perfect pair they were destined to be, not for her to focus all her attention on a scroll and ink instead of him.

He reclosed the eye he had opened and resigned himself to another half-hour, at least, of no conversation. With nothing else to do, he decided that he may as well check some futures himself. Images, scenes, familiar and unfamiliar dragons filled his mind as he gently maneuvered throughout the most probable futures. Here was one where he and Clearsight had four dragonets, another he saw them with five. He checked one of his favorite potential futures, where he wore the crown with her diligently beside him, and he smiled in the present. So many things were possible for him and Clearsight, he just wished that she could see the greater picture like he could.

Satisfied that nothing in the future had changed (as far as he could see, anyway) he opened his eyes back up and caught Clearsight in a vulnerable moment—one where he knew that he could stop her from writing on and on. She was just finishing a scroll and reaching for a fresh one, and Darkstalker knew from experience that that was the best time to try to get her out of the 'future writing' craze she was in.

"You know," he said, getting up from the bed and plopping himself down in front of her, resting his talons on the desk she was working at and putting them in the way of her placing down a new scroll, "It would be more than just a little nice if you would come to this party yourself. I'm allowed to bring guests with me, you know, not that anyone would stop me if I wasn't. Besides, I always get so lonely without you there to tell me all the consequences my every action could have." He said the last part jokingly, but also as a subtle way of telling her that it was time for her to stop her current bought of ceaseless writing.

Clearsight didn't miss the message. She sighed and looked up at him, resignation in her eyes and face as she knew that she wasn't going to be writing anymore. For far from the first time since he'd given it to her, Darkstalker wished that she wasn't wearing her mind-blocking bracelet so he could see into her mind. It could really help him prevent these kinds of things from happening in the first place.

"What?" he asked, putting on his best charming smile, "Aren't I more stimulating and engaging than a scroll?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but a smile crept onto her face. He allowed one on his own; that line always worked on her.

Clearsight shook her head, her smile fading but still there. "Darkstalker…" she began in the same way she did every time he'd tried to invite her to go with him, "You know I don't like the queen's parties. You know how I—"

"Actually, I don't," he interrupted her, "Because you've never actually attended any. You just foresee that you won't have a good time, so you don't go. I, on the other talon, foresee that you'll have an absolutely fantastic time if you'd only give it a chance."

"I told you," she insisted, "When I go, I want it to be because I was invited by my own merit, not yours or anyone else's. And believe me when I say that there will be plenty of opportunities in the future."

"Exactly," Darkstalker said, "So if you're going to do it, why not begin now? Besides, Fathom will be there. Don't you want to finally meet him for real?"

"Well…yes," she conceded, "…but it doesn't have to be tonight. I'm sure I'll be meeting him soon, but not now, not tonight. You go ahead and enjoy the magnificent excess of wealth and luxury at the palace, I'll be fine on my own. Besides, I already promised Listener that I'd help her with something tonight."

Darkstalker rolled his eyes at the mention of Listener, Clearsight's current best friend. As far as dragons went, he knew that Listener wasn't the worst—at least her mind-reading powers made her somewhat useful—but she was rather dull and annoying. Worse yet, he knew that she didn't trust or think highly of him, and Darkstalker was not the kind of dragon to like those who disliked him. He'd already seen more than one future where he had to 'dispose' of Listener…if he ever decided to follow those paths.

"Fine," he said, letting her win the party argument once again, "But don't get your wings in a twist when you hear about the great time Fathom and I had without you. It's gonna be a blast!"

She rolled her eyes once more at his last-ditch effort to change her mind. "I'm sure it will be," she said sarcastically, "But I think I'll survive." She glanced out the window, where the sun was beginning to set. "Shouldn't you get ready? You won't want to be late for your 'blast'."

"Ha, ha," he answered dryly, with sarcasm of his own.

She was right, though; it was nearly time for him to start preparing. He'd lost track of time when he'd checked the visions earlier and lost most of the evening. So much for spending quality time with Clearsight.

He looked over at his jewelry chest and caught sight of the scroll that was setting next to it. Unlike the other scrolls that Clearsight wrote her futures on, this one was special. Darkstalker had enchanted it so all of his magic was contained in it; it was essentially the entirety of his power. At times he didn't like it that way, what with the inconvenience it brought, but he knew it was for the best. It was the only way he could think of to keep his soul safe from the harmful effects of the magic, as using the scroll to cast spells didn't seem to hurt his soul at all. Of course, Darkstalker himself doubted that the legends of animus dragons losing their souls were actually true, but the scroll made Clearsight happy and that was enough for him.

I wonder if I should enchant anything special for tonight, he thought to himself as he looked at it. Perhaps something for Fathom would be nice. No, probably not. Not so soon after what happened to him. He shook his head at the sad thought of what his future friend had gone through.

He thought for another second about anything he should do, but he came up empty. He already had a wide variety of spells for whatever unexpected circumstances that the future could bring. Not that the future could actually bring many surprises to a dragon as powerful as he was.

He took an earring out of his jewelry chest, a silver one designed to look like a snake twining down his ear. It was enchanted to make every dragon that met him think he was both charming and handsome. Clearsight had made him promise never to wear it around her, as she thought it rather creepy how it made other dragons behave around him. If he was being honest with himself, he also found a bit…discomforting at times, although most if the time it was fine.

He caught sight of Clearsight looking at it in his talons and he quickly put it back in its box. It might not be the best idea to have the first thing I do to Fathom be influencing him with magic, Darkstalker thought, I suppose I'll have to rely on my natural charm and looks to carry me.

He smirked to himself; he knew he had plenty without using a spell.

Moving on from the discarded earring, he selected a different piece—a small, glittering, star-shaped earring without any enchantment. It was less extravagant, but he had a feeling that the Seawing wasn't one for grand displays. After a slight bit of hesitation, Darkstalker also slipped on a silver tail band. It wasn't his favorite piece, but he had a powerful spell on it (for purely defensive reasons) which made it worth taking even if he didn't immediately foresee any problems at the party.

"There," he said, finishing his preparations and showing himself off to Clearsight, "I'm ready to have a good time with my friend, even if I have to go alone."

"Well, have fun then," she retorted, standing up from her desk and grabbing several of the scrolls she had just written in, "I need to get home to get ready to go have fun with my friend, too."

They bade each other goodbye, and not long later Darkstalker joined both his parents in their flight to the palace. He normally tried to avoid going to any event with his father, but in this case they had both been expressly commanded to attend. It was an annoyance, having to spend any more time with his father than necessary, but it was one he'd have to put up with for the night.

As usual, his sister, Whiteout, was staying home and not going to the party. Queen Vigilance tended not to invite her if it could all be avoided. Various reasons had been given, but Darkstalker knew that the truth was that the queen just wasn't comfortable with such an obvious hybrid roaming around her court. It made both him and his father mad that that was the case (one of the few things that they agreed on), but there was nothing to be done about it without making a lot of powerful dragons very angry. Besides, he knew that Whiteout hated the formality and rigid expectations of palace functions, so it wasn't quite so bad that she didn't have to go.

It was a short flight to the palace from their house, and a quiet one. His father seemed to be in a rather good mood, as he didn't snap at them nearly as often as he normally did. In his mind, Darkstalker could see that there was a specific reason for that, one that was directly connected to why they were having this party in the first place.

The palace itself was lit up end to end, with firelight in just about every window shining over the rest of the kingdom. A light drizzle had begun to fall, misting them with wet sparkles as they approached the party. Darkstalker looked at the sky and could see that the rain would end soon.

"Prince Arctic, Foeslayer, and their son, Darkstalker," announced a dragon at the head of the staircase leading down to the grand ballroom as the three alighted on the palace's landing ledge entrance. Darkstalker heard his father mumble something unintelligible under his breath and he gave a small grin; he always enjoyed listening to Arctic's inner frustration at no longer being proclaimed as "Prince Arctic of the Icewings"—it was just one of those things that gave him satisfaction at his father's expense.

Heads turned their direction from all across the room as they descended into the room, and not all out of mere acknowledgement of their arrival. He could see several glares from certain Nightwings who resented his father's presence (something he agreed with) and his own (something he did not agree with). No one said anything—especially because of the power that he and his father held—but the feelings were still there.

He tore his eyes away from the other Nightwings in the room and looked around the room for the Seawing guests of honor. He could see that the room was decorated for them; swaths of blue and green fabric filled the room. He could also smell fish and shrimp, which he knew was prepared for them. Despite that, though, he failed to actually get a glimpse of any Seawing before his attention was dragged away to other matters.

More…regal matters.

"Hello, dear," said Queen Vigilance, sweeping in as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She had decorated herself all over with her prettiest diamonds and was wearing one her largest and most ostentatious crowns. Franky, Darkstalker thought she looked a little ridiculous in all of her 'splendor', but he knew that she had a sharp mind under all of those jewels. She had a reputation of being both shrewd and intimidating, to the point where none of her daughters had even dared to challenge her for the throne despite all being of age to do so.

"Your Majesty," Arctic interjected before Darkstalker could even open his mouth, "You look radiant and regal, as always."

Having already been ousted from the conversation before it even began (not that he minded too much), Darkstalker ignored the ensuing words between the queen and his parents. It's not like they ever said anything important in their conversations; they always skirted just shy of Vigilance requesting that Arctic use his magic in the war with the Icewings and any ensuing arguments. His mother tried to keep the peace, but he could always read the conflict in the other two's minds.

He drowned out their thoughts, too, as the conversation turned to the war and recent battles. Instead he went back to searching the crowd for his future best friend. Surely he was around here somewhere.

"…meet someone," he vaguely heard Queen Vigilance say, and it wasn't until he felt her wing on his shoulder that he realized she was talking to him.

"Pardon?" he asked, rapidly turning his attention back towards her.

"I said that there's someone I'd like you to meet," she repeated, a bit of annoyance in her voice, "Come with me." He followed, his parents in tow, but the queen stopped and looked back at them. "Not you."

She led him across the floor and into one of the rooms adjacent to the grand ballroom. It was still connected to the larger party but was a bit set off from the rest of it, a kind of resting place in the storm. In it was a small roped off section with elaborate couches and tables of sparkling drinks and platters of fish. Inside that was what, or rather who, he'd been looking for: the Seawings.

"Prince Fathom of the Seawings," said the queen, indicating a green dragon that looked to be about a year older than he was. Not that she had to; Darkstalker recognized him instantly. Of course, Fathom had no idea of the beautiful things to come, and as such held himself with an anxious and worried aura that Darkstalker knew would take a long time to shake him out of.

"This is Darkstalker," Vigilance went on, introducing him, and immediately Fathom and the Seawings around him filled with fear.

The other animus, he could hear Fathom think as the green Seawing stepped closer to the dragon beside him, a dark blue dragoness. Immediately, Darkstalker saw flashes of memories going through his head. Flashes of blood and pain and death. He knew what his friend had gone through, but seeing it in his mind actually made Darkstalker a tiny bit sick to his stomach.

He glanced around at the party around him. All this plus me, an animus, he thought, no wonder they're so terrified; this is just like how it was at the massacre. At least someone had the decency to put them a little out of the way from the main goings-on.

"H-hello," Fathom said, trying to be polite despite his fear, "V-very pleased to meet you." He looked back at his fellow Seawings. "This is—these are my guards, Wharf and Lionfish…and Indigo."

Indigo.

Indigo?

That name sounded familiar; it belonged to a dragoness that had come up before in his futures. A dragoness that had potential to spiral the future into many different places that it shouldn't go. A dragoness that Darkstalker had never expected, or wanted, to actually meet.

Indigo, Darkstalker thought, almost in shock, You should not be here.

A/N: At present, my plan for all chapters to be approximately this length. We'll have to see how that goes in the future.