A/N: So at this point I've just about given up 3-4k word chapters. At least this one isn't 6k, at least not as I write this author's note (okay, the author's notes pushed it over). Ah well, I won't apologize for doing my best to tell a good story.

I also got this one out a bit faster than I expected. It's always a good feeling when that happens, as I'm sure you'll all agree, be you readers or writers yourselves. No promises on the speediness of the next one, but considering a large side project of mine just finished, I'm hopeful that it won't be too long coming. But more on that side project in a bit...

Anyway, feel free as always to favorite/follow and leave a review if you like the story so far. Enjoy!

Ch. 18: Frustration

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before," Fathom said angerly for about the third time in as many minutes, "I mean really, Darkstalker, trying to work around the boundaries of animus magic can't just be that simple!"

"You're one to talk," the Nightwing hissed back, "You won't even try!"

Indigo sighed as she listened to the two argue. After Queen Vigilance had dismissed them, they'd returned to Fathom's room instead of the party in order for Darkstalker to calm the prince down from the panic he'd been in. In order to reassure Fathom that he had not in fact enchanted Quickdeath in a horrible way causing irreparable damage to his soul, Darkstalker had finally chosen to reveal his scroll to him, telling him all about the object that held his magic.

She had a feeling that Darkstalker had expected that sharing the idea of a soul-protecting scroll to cast spells would be an amazing revelation that would reinvigorate Fathom's own confidence in spellcasting, but nothing could have been farther from the truth. Fathom was unimpressed at Darkstalker's little idea; in fact, he was flat-out furious.

"But you're still using magic!" the Seawing prince yelled, "Do you really think that it has no effect on you just because you now have to write it down to use it? Do you really think that if it was as simple as just enchanting an object to protect your soul or just enchanting your own soul to not be damaged, that no other animus would have come up such an idea by now?"

"It's worked so far," Darkstalker argued back, "Just look at your soul reader."

Fathom did just that…again. The first thing he'd done when they'd returned to the room was grab it and point it at the Nightwing animus, and he'd been checking it every other minute since.

"Maybe, maybe not," Fathom said, "How do I know that you didn't enchant it to give me the reading you want, like Indigo said back when you first made it? How can I trust any of it?"

"Fathom…" Clearsight began to say, the fourth of the only four dragons in the room, "He was just…"

"No!" Fathom stopped her, "You can't speak for him, not now. He's been casting spells this whole time unchecked, and you never even bothered to tell me." He looked back to Darkstalker. "Was everything I told you ignored? Did you ever even listen at all?"

"I wanted to tell you, Fathom," he answered, "But the time was never right. I wanted to avoid…well…this."

Indigo gave a bit of an amused huff at that, then was taken aback as Fathom's gaze landed on her. "And you," he growled, "Indigo, you knew too, didn't you? Is that why you were so calm with things out there tonight? Because even though Darkstalker didn't feel he could trust me with knowledge, he told you?"

She looked down, a bit ashamed. "Yes…but—"

"And you never told me!" he shouted at her, furious.

She'd never seen him like this, so angry and mad, and she cringed at his words. Fathom had never raised his voice like that to her before. It hurt. It hurt very badly. Especially when he turned the soul reader on her and looked intently at the reading.

"It wasn't my secret to tell," she said softly, not meeting his eyes, "I promised Darkstalker I wouldn't."

"And so Darkstalker is more important than your own prince, now?" Fathom spat, "You had a duty to tell me! You—"

"Leave her out of this," Darkstalker cut him off, "If you're going to be angry over this, be angry at me. I made my scroll to try to protect my soul, to try to keep from becoming the monster you fear I can be. I thought that you would appreciate that effort."

"Well, maybe I would have if you'd bothered to tell me before, not after informing everyone else," Fathom lashed his tail in frustration, "All this time I've thought that I was having some impact on you, slowly making you see what might happen if you used your magic too much, and now I find out that you've been casting spells this whole time and thinking absolutely nothing of it."

"That's not true," Darkstalker bit back, "I've put a lot of thought into it, Fathom, even with the scroll. For your sake I've not done a lot of a things that I could have with it. Just because I use my gift doesn't mean I'm carefree with it, nor does it automatically make me a killer like your grandfather."

"But you're still using it," Fathom groaned, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head, "It's still your magic, Darkstalker. Putting it in a scroll isn't going to wondrously erase the impact on your soul."

"Assuming there even is an impact on your soul," Darkstalker huffed, "I'm still not sure if—"

"Of course there is!" Fathom didn't let him finish, "Why else would the Icewings have their limitations? Why else would the Skywings kill off dragonets that showed the same power we do?" His voice grew more strained and frantic as he spoke, tears in his eyes. "Why would my grandfather kill so many dragons I cared about if animus magic wasn't the cause?" The tears streamed down his face as he finished. A tired, worn-out look filled his eyes.

Darkstalker's wings drooped, and so did Indigo's. "Fathom…" they both said softly at the same time, taking a step forward, but the Seawing shook his head and stepped back from them.

"Tell me this," he asked Darkstalker, "What happens if your scroll is destroyed? I'd bet all the wealth in the Sea Kingdom that your magic wouldn't just vanish, would it?"

The Nightwing animus gave a shake of his head. "No," he said, "It returns back to me."

"As I thought," Fathom said, shaking his head again, but much of the anger gone, now just tiredness and sadness in his voice, "It's still connected to you, Darkstalker. The only way to save yourself is to not use it. Until you don't…" he trailed off, looking down.

"Until I don't, then what?" Darkstalker asked.

Fathom gave a long sigh. "I…I just can't…" he raised a claw to his talon and gave a pained sort of whimper. "I'm sorry, but I'd like to be alone right now," he told them all, eventually choosing not to answer Darkstalker. "I think…I think I need some time."

Darkstalker opened his mouth to say something, but Clearsight put out a wing to stop him, giving him a look. They fought with their eyes for a moment, and the dragoness won. He mumbled an "okay" even though he looked like he wasn't okay and turned to go with her, leaving Indigo alone with Fathom.

She reached out a claw to him, but he looked away from her with a snort. "You too," he told her, "I'll be fine on my own."

The words felt like he'd slashed her heart with his claws. She took a hesitant step back. "I—" she tried, wanting to say something in her defense.

"Go," he told her before she could say more than that one word, "I told you, I want to be alone!" he finished with an angry growl.

Wings limp against her side, she left him there, joining Darkstalker and Clearsight in the hallway outside, closing the door behind her. She looked at the two Nightwings who stared at her in confusion in a moment, then Clearsight gave a loud sigh and shook her head.

"Well, that went well," Darkstalker huffed sarcastically, "You'd think that he'd—"

"Shut it," Clearsight snapped, "If you wanted him to trust you about something like this, you should have told him back when he arrived, not waited until he found out the hard way."

"Hey," it was Indigo's turn to snap, suddenly and maybe irrationally displeased with the tone Clearsight suddenly had for Darkstalker, "He can hardly be blamed for wanting something so powerful to remain a secret. Can you imagine if his scroll fell into the claws of the wrong dragon?"

"I don't know why you're suddenly so for him," Clearsight retorted, motioning her head towards Darkstalker, "I thought you agreed with Fathom that he shouldn't use it at all."

"And I don't know why you're so upset," Darkstalker told Clearsight, "I thought that you've been wanting me to tell him for some time now. Didn't you say that I do in all the bright futures?"

"Well, unfortunately, none of those futures saw you pretending to enchant a dragon to give himself a horrible death right in front of Fathom," Clearsight growled, "You can't expect to do something like that with no prior explanation and expect no reaction from him."

"You never saw…" Indigo huffed and half-rolled her eyes, "Wonderful, a fallible future-seer. Tell me, how many futures did you see where I was too focused on the game to react and Quickdeath killed Darkstalker while you sat and watched?"

Clearsight shook her wings, exasperated, "I can't see everything," she whined, "Minor futures make it through sometimes, especially when I'm not looking for them, and especially when I've been focused on the war with every glimpse of the future I do look for. How could I know that a random dragon like that would choose that exact time and moment to try to kill him? I mean, Darkstalker's a seer too, and he didn't see!"

"Calm down," Darkstalker told her, reaching out a wing and touching Clearsight's with it. For some reason, Indigo bristled a bit at that, seeing her clam down at his touch, "I don't blame you for it. It wasn't your fault."

"I—I'm sorry," Clearsight deflated, looking down at her claws and letting out a long sigh, "It's been a rough night, Darkstalker. I don't know if you saw like I did, but there were so many futures…if something had been said a little differently or you acted a bit more hostile…this night could have ended with so much blood. Then Fathom reacted that way and…and…" she shook her head, a tear escaping her eye.

"I know," he told her, his wing still touching hers, "It's already been a long night."

And the night's not over, Indigo thought. The celebration had only just begun when the assassination attempt had occurred, and between their confrontation with the queen and the talk with Fathom, only about another two hours at most had passed.

A short silence fell as the three looked at each other, each taking a moment to collect themselves. Indigo glanced back at the door behind her, wishing she go back into the room. She couldn't remember a time that Fathom had thrown her out like that. No matter what, she'd always stood at his side before, as a friend and as a guard. To know that he was right now going through something and intentionally didn't want her…it continued to sting very badly.

"Do you think he'll be okay," Darkstalker asked her, following her gaze to the door.

She nodded. "I think so. He's Fathom; he's never been able to stay mad at anyone for long. By the end of the night I'm sure he'll be able to talk to you again."

"And you…?" Darkstalker asked, giving her a slightly concerned look.

"I'll be fine, too," she said with a sigh, "If he's mad that I kept a promise, then that's his problem."

Darkstalker nodded and looked back and forth between her and Clearsight. "Well," he said after a moment, "I guess I'd better go check on Whiteout, then. No reason to just stand around here. Not when we're not wanted."

Clearsight agreed and so did Indigo, and soon the three were making their way down the hallway, then to the landing platform and into the sky. The trip back to the pavilion where everything had happened was a short one. Somehow, however, everything looked a bit less bright and fantastic to Indigo's eyes. She realized that she'd become a bit lax in her duties the longer she'd been in the Night Kingdom, no longer paying as much attention to her surroundings as she should have. There had been an assassin waiting to kill and she'd never noticed until he'd struck, and that was completely unacceptable to her.

Now, as they made their approach, she looked over the scene with different eyes. Behind every decorative curtain there could be another killer, each bush could conceal a knife or dagger. That it wasn't Fathom she was protecting didn't matter; it was her duty to keep others safe. She'd nearly failed that horribly, and she wouldn't again.

They landed just outside the pavilion and found that Arctic and Whiteout were gone. Darkstalker looked around frantically for a moment, but relaxed as they found the pair on the other side of the courtyard. The two were looking at one of the large glass statues, Arctic's wing around his daughter almost possessively. There was another dragon there, too, and Darkstalker recognized the third as Thoughtful, standing a bit off to the side from them but still present.

"Have you had any problems," Darkstalker asked, approaching his father, who looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

"No," the pureblooded Icewing prince said, "Everything seems normal, for Nightwings at least. What happened to the assassin?"

"Vigilance is taking care of him," Darkstalker answered with a huff, "I doubt he still lives," he paused for a moment, "He said the Icewings hired him."

Arctic gave a snort and let go of Whiteout, turning to face Darkstalker fully. "That…doesn't seem right," the Icewing said, "My mother has never been one to use assassins. She finds it dishonorable and distasteful. Are you sure he said the Icewings?"

"Completely," Darkstalker told him, "And I must say it doesn't feel out of character. After all, didn't she offer you a place back in her tribe provided you kill us?"

"Yes, but…" Arctic ruffled his wings, "That felt odd too. Queen Diamond—"

"Wants me dead," Darkstalker finished for him, "And she almost succeeded tonight."

"But she didn't," Clearsight suddenly felt the need to say, "That's what's important."

"Do you think she'll try again," Indigo wondered aloud, speaking up for the first time, "It might not be the best idea to stay out here…"

"I find that doubtful, at least for tonight," Arctic said, "If my old tribe did hire a Nightwing assassin, it's difficult to believe they got more than one to work for them. And if they did, typically multiple attempts aren't made in one night. They lose the element of surprise."

"You sure know a lot about that," Indigo said before she could stop herself.

"I live in a tribe where half the dragons hate me for the color of my scales," Arctic hissed, "I need to know about these things."

"Do you think it's safe to enjoy the party, then," Darkstalker asked, "I mean, despite what happened…"

"It's probably fine," Arctic said, putting his wing back around Whiteout, "But Darkstalker…" his voice softened, "Be careful."

The Nightwing animus nodded. "I will."

The three left him and made their way back to the game pavilion. Being out and about didn't sit completely right with Indigo, but she wasn't going to argue. Despite the danger, it was a nice celebration, and all festivals like it had some inherent danger. She'd just need to be more vigilant to make sure Darkstalker stayed safe.

"So…" Clearsight asked as they kind of regrouped themselves, getting some snacks from the food table, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Darkstalker gruffed, "Enjoy the party, I guess. Not that I feel too much like celebrating right now…"

He was probably thinking the same thing Indigo was right then, wishing that Fathom was with them. His absence was unusual for them being together, and it suddenly felt palpable. Indigo was almost never alone with Clearsight and Darkstalker without him.

Then again, there had been several times recently where she'd been alone with just Darkstalker, and those time had been fun enough. Maybe the night could still be salvaged a little. Then again, with Clearsight there, it could get awkward. She couldn't help but feel a little out of place alone with the two who were supposed to be soul mates and her an outsider in more ways than one.

"I guess we could—" Clearsight began to make a suggestion, but was interrupted by her name being called.

"Clearsight! Clearsight!" the dragoness Indigo recognized as Listener, the annoying one Clearsight had arrived with, came bounding into the pavilion, "Good, you're back from…whatever that was. Come on, you need to see this!"

"See what?" the Nightwing dragoness asked even as her friend grabbed her claw and began dragging her away, "Listener, you can't just—"

"There's some music in one of the other courtyards," Listener insisted, "And there's a whole other collection of statutes there, practically hidden away! Including one of…well…you need to see it. Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

"Well…" Clearsight said uncertainly, looking at Darkstalker and Indigo, "I guess I can…"

"Come on!" Listener said once more, and Clearsight gave the two of them a sorry expression as she was dragged away by her friend, leaving them alone as they disappeared outside the pavilion.

They watched her go, and Indigo shook her head. "I have a feeling that look was for herself, not for us," Indigo joked, and Darkstalker snickered.

"Yes, I don't envy her," the animus said, "Listener is…well, she's a dragon," he said it as though it was the single best thing that he could say about the Nightwing.

Indigo gave a snort at that. "Should we follow?" she asked him.

"Maybe. Eventually," Darkstalker said, "There's something I need to get, first. Here, come with me."

She followed him out of the courtyard to a landing and takeoff area, then took off into the air. His course took her over the capital city, and she got a good look at the festivities going on throughout. It looked like the entire tribe was out, in the streets and out on rooftops, and music and singing rang up through the air from every direction. The glass stars she'd seen being placed on the streetlights before were lit up brightly, casting light all across the city like a miniature night sky. It was a beautiful sight to see.

They landed in the marketplace not far Darkstalker's house. Most of the stall were closed, their wares gone, but a few were out selling different items for the festivities. Their stalls were full of star shaped earrings and tailbands and little sticks covered in a coating that would shimmer and spark like miniature stars when a dragonet breathed their fire on them. Indigo had to dodge around several small dragons running about and waving them as she followed Darkstalker through the packed streets.

They made it his house and slipped inside, escaping some of the noise and bustle of the party outside; even if the sounds were still audible, they were at least muffled now. Darkstalker said nothing as he made his way across the house and into his room, and Indigo followed him in.

She'd been in his room once before, back on that day when she'd helped save Foeslayer, and it looked the same as she remembered it. A bit messy, but not too much so, with most of the clutter being on his desk. He immediately went to one of his chests—a jewelry one, by the looks of it—and pulled out a plain silver bracelet that he slipped on without any fanfare. It was a familiar one, one she'd seen him wear many times.

"What's special about that?" she asked, pointing to it as he raised his arm up and looked at how it rested on his wrist, "Is that all you came to get?"

"Yes," he answered, "And as for what's so special: it has a protection spell on it. So long as I wear it, my scales are invulnerable to all attacks. I made this not long after you showed up, in case you tried to kill me again," he paused and gave a short, amused laugh, "It figures that once I stopped wearing it around you, that's when someone else tried."

"Huh," she said, looking it over, "Pretty useful, I imagine." She wasn't sure if it was technically a good or bad thing that he no longer felt the need to protect himself around her. On one claw, it was nice for him to be trusting of her. On the other claw, if he thought that way, then it may mean that she wasn't doing an exceptional job of being an intimidating bodyguard for Fathom. Of the two claws, however, she felt a bit more pleasure at the positive one.

"What?" Darkstalker asked, "No 'you shouldn't use magic' speech?"

She shrugged her wings. "If it's done, it's done," she said, "I'm sure you made it for a good reason, even if it was defending against me."

He gave her a look but said nothing. Instead, he moved to a different chest, opened it, and pulled out his scroll. Moving over to his desk, he laid it down and unrolled it, then gestured for her to join him. She did so, sitting down next to him as he pulled a jar of ink out from where it was hidden under a different scroll already on his desk.

"I'm trying to decide whether I should do another one," he told her, "For Whiteout. I can't be around her all the time, and neither can Arctic. I don't want anything to happen to her, especially not if I could stop it."

She looked at the scroll, her eyes roaming up and down the list of spells. "I…guess that's not a bad idea," she said. How could protecting your little sister be evil? her mind told. Certainly it wasn't a mark of an insane killer to care for his sibling.

Her eyes continued to scan the scroll, searching for something. Ah, there it is, she thought, catching sight of the two spells, both practically the same. They were the ones he'd used to enchant the rocks to give them the speed and stamina to save his mother. And she noticed that they were down at the bottom of the list, last save for one or two.

Huh, she thought to herself, He really hasn't been using his scroll that much. Since that day—assuming the list was all done chronologically top to bottom—all it looked like he'd done was enchant a bowl to never allow the fruit in it to spoil and a candle to never burn down. These were hardly the enchantments of a psychopath like Fathom feared.

Her eyes went up the list. In fact, most of these things bespoke no horrible tidings. There was a spell for a blanket to always stay warm, one for a toy to always return to his sister, and a cloth that could heal any scratch or scrape. She saw the one for the soul reader—which did not have any extra words telling it to show Fathom a good reading no matter what—and the one for the bracelet he'd just put on.

In fact, of all of them, only one was unnerving. "What's this?" she asked, pointing to one scroll towards the top of the scroll, "Enchant this tail band so that when I touch a dragon with it, intending to kill them, they will immediately be killed."

"Oh, that one," he said, frowning, "That one's also for defense. A more offensive defense if you will. I almost used that on you when we met."

She blinked and gave him a hard look. "You almost killed me?" she asked.

"I thought about it," he nodded, not looking at her, "I had no idea what to expect from you, then. But you need to understand, as an animus, my very existence makes me have a lot of enemies. You saw it tonight yourself."

"Yes, but…to just kill," she said, shaking her head in frustration, "Darkstalker—"

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't really use it anymore," he told her, "I mean, I never actually used it to begin with, but I haven't worn it once since you and Fathom arrived. I guess I don't want that temptation to do it around me anymore."

Any anger and frustration melted away. "Really?" she asked, softly.

"Yeah," he nodded, a little tensely, "Despite what Fathom thinks, I have thought a lot about what he said. He and you both. I don't want to use my magic for bad things, Indigo. I don't not want to use it either, but if there's a chance that I could end up with a white and awful soul…well, let's just say that I'd rather be cautious. I don't want to risk that killing may destroy my soul where magic itself doesn't, so I suppose I'm trying to avoid it if possible."

"I…I think that's a good idea," she told him, hesitantly reaching out and touching a claw to his. He relaxed a little at her touch.

They stayed silent for a moment, then a different spell caught her eye. "What's this one," she asked, pointing at it, "You want to be able to communicate in someone's dream?"

"Oh, the dreamvisitors," Darkstalker exclaimed, standing up, "I'd forgotten about those. I made them back for Clearsight's hatching day, but with everything that happened, I completely forgot and then never got around to it." He made his way to the same chest his scroll had been in and pulled out three sapphires, glimmering as though they gave off a light of their own. "With these, you can walk in the dreams of any dragon you know or have ever seen, able to talk to them and interact even in dreams. You could visit anyone, even the whole continent away. I made these so that we all could visit each other in our sleep and talk even if we got separated for some reason; I thought it would be a pretty cool experience."

"That does sound fun," Indigo said, not quite as enthusiastic as he was. She frowned as she counted them. "Huh, there's only three. Do you already have yours somewhere where you use it?"

"Three?" Darkstalker asked, "I don't…oh," he gave a small hiss, more so at himself, "No, I…uh…only made three. For Fathom, Clearsight, and me."

"Oh," Indigo's wings fell, and she mentally kicked herself. Why would she expect to get one? Why would she even want one? Of course she wouldn't be included among them when she was just Fathom's bodyguard.

"This was before you helped me with Foeslayer," he told her apologetically, "At that point, well…I don't think I need to say much more. Neither of us were exactly friends at the time."

"Yeah," Indigo said, not quite keeping the disappointment out of her voice, even if she shouldn't be disappointed in the first place.

"But," he said, suddenly a bit more energetic, "Considering that Fathom probably wouldn't even want it, especially right now…Catch," he threw one of the sapphires towards her and she caught it with a claw, "Have a dreamvisitor, Indigo."

She looked at the gem, glistening in her claw, then back up at him, "Darkstalker, I can't accept this. It's beautiful, yes, but I don't think I can take it good conscience."

"Nonsense," he said, giving her a charming smile, "That's yours now. Don't try to give it back."

"But it's so exquisite," she said, turning it over in her claw "And besides, who could I visit?"

"Your family, your queen, Fathom," Darkstalker began listing, he raised an eye ridge, "…or me…" he said slyly.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, unable to resist him. "Fine," she relented, "I'll take it. It'll be your own fault when I haunt your dreams, though."

"That's the spirit," he grinned as he put the other two sapphires away, "But remember, I can haunt yours too, so be careful."

"Somehow, I don't think that you'd be a very good haunter," she teased, "You'd be more apt to make someone laugh than scream in terror."

He put a claw to his chest in mock offense, "I'm very good at being scary," he said with playful indignation, "My very name frightens the darkness. I chase it away and it flees from me."

"Whatever you say, Dreamhaunter," she couldn't resist the playful shot, and she laughed at how he grumbly muttered the fake name back at her.

A stupid grin still on his face, he made his way back over to the desk and took another look at the scroll. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind for a second, then he set the ink aside and began to roll it back up.

"I think Whiteout will be okay for now," he told her, "Besides, I'd need something of hers that she keeps on always, and if there is such a thing than its probably on her now. I'll talk to her about it later and see."

He picked up the scroll and went back to the chest he kept it in. Opening the lid, he began to put it away, then paused and looked at her.

"Unless there's anything you'd like…" he offered, holding it back up.

She hid the sudden shock as she shook her head to politely decline. Did Darkstalker really just ask me if I wanted something enchanted? she wondered as he put it away and closed the chest. Had that been a joke she didn't get, or was it sincere? He'd sure sounded sincere. And it seemed so surreal. Of all dragons, he'd asked her if she'd wanted anything.

Maybe she was thinking too much into it, but that seemed like an awful intimate thing to do, offering his magic like that. Not even Fathom had ever offered her a spell of her own choice back before the massacre. It felt so deliberate, too, as she had a feeling Darkstalker was not one to just make an offer like that thoughtlessly, despite using his magic more carefreely than Fathom would like.

She looked at him snout to tail as he finished putting the chest back where he'd gotten it from and covered it up. Perhaps she'd been a little hasty to think of herself as just a bodyguard after all. And, unless she had been reading him wrong the past few days with the time they'd spent together and the flights they went on, perhaps there was an opportunity to become even more than just friends.

As she looked at him and thought about their little exchange and the sapphire in her claws, it definitely didn't seem like a horrible idea. Or even a crazy one, either. In fact, it felt rather desirable.

"Okay," Darkstalker said, finishing up with everything and turning back to her, "Back to the party?"

"Sounds fun," she grinned, thoughts of Fathom's frustrations from earlier gone from her mind.

They arrived back at the pavilion a few minutes later, landing side by side. They got a couple of drinks and some food at one of the larger refreshment tables outside the game area, then made their way across the courtyard to where a band was setting up for a few songs. The band began playing on odd instruments she didn't recognize, long pieces of what looked like wood with strings across them that gave noise when another, shorter piece of wood with a string was scraped across them, but the noise they gave was not unpleasant and the music as a whole not horrible.

She didn't recognize any of the songs, of course, but she found her tail tapping along to the rhythm as they played and she drank her cup of whatever drink the Nightwings drank at these parties. It tasted fruity, odd but good, and she just finished he last swallow when Darkstalker tapped her wing.

"Care to dance?" he asked her, and she almost laughed before she looked at his face and realized he was serious.

"I…sure!" she answered, hesitant but enthusiastic, "I'm not sure I know the steps, though. Seawings may do it a bit different…"

"That's fine; I'll lead," he said, sweeping her up as they reared back onto their hind legs, their foreclaws grasping each other's as they began to spin around the courtyard, joining a few other couples of dragons that were doing the same.

Indigo was suddenly glad she'd had a palace rearing; she'd learned how to do this at a young age, even though it had been a while now since she'd last done it. And while it was one thing for a dragon to dance, it was another to dance properly as they were. Not all dragons knew how to dance in the more sophisticated style that she and Darkstalker did, keeping their foreclaws off the ground and on each other. Indeed, it was a delicate thing, requiring complete trust in your partner to keep from losing balance and falling. It required both dragons to be in synch with one another, lest their tails or wings trip up the other and both collapse. Yet despite her lack of practice for some time, she found that trust and rhythm in Darkstalker, and the two twirled around the courtyard as though they'd done it for years.

She rested her head against his and got no protest from him as they went, moving to the music as he gently led her along. She even closed her eyes, fully trusting him with her body and movement. Talons touching, chest to chest, breath to breath, it all felt wonderful and right and she didn't want it to end.

Briefly, she thought of Clearsight and wondered what the other dragoness would think if she saw them, but she decided she didn't care. If the Nightwing dragoness had wanted him, then she shouldn't have left him alone for her. After all, if Darkstalker was worried about it himself then he didn't show it, so neither should she.

No, for now he was all hers and she was all his, and in that moment she wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: I think it might be safe to say now that they're properly smitten with one another. I know many of you have been waiting for this for a while...

Anyway, more on that side project I touched on at the top. Immediately after positing this, I'm also going to post the start of a new story that I've been working on for some time now. Actually, it's the one non-WoF I mentioned doing all the way back in chapter 7 of this story. It's going to be called East Meets West, a medium-length story in which Sisu of Raya and the Last Dragon encounters a western dragon and the interactions that ensue. If you've enjoyed my work so far on these other dragon stories, I encourage you to check it out.