MANY YEARS LATER:
The ocean waves rose and fell as the early morning breeze blew across the surface of the northern sea, kicking up a cold spray with each gust.
The heavy ocean fog had yet to lift from the night before, filling the air and clouding the surface of the water with mist; the first beams of sunlight were starting to pierce through the haze, though, splitting through the clouds and shining down on the sea with a beautiful golden glow. Seagulls lazily circled the foggy air, searching for anything to snap up for breakfast, while dolphins breached and dove through the waves, chirping playfully back and forth as they swam.
The serenity of it all was broken by the distant sound of a ship's bell ringing three times, signaling the time of morning to all in hearing range.
As the bell rang across the sea, the large, unmistakable shadow of a royal frigate formed within the fog. Then, with the crashing waves against the sides of the hull, the blade-like bow of the mighty ship sliced through the water and fog like a knife through melted butter, the glorious sight of the vessel coming into view. The dolphins quickly dove out of the way as it came through, the strong southern winds pushing it along to its destination, undeterred by the waves.
The Veil Piercer, a fitting name for just a glorious vessel, was the pride and joy of Avalon's Royal Navy; built and carved from the strongest and healthiest of Feywild's Golden Oak Trees, it was as powerful as it was beautiful, and by far the largest ship in the entire fleet, well over two-hundred tons and almost a hundred-and-fifty feet from stern to bow.
True to the name of the trees, the wood used to build it was very light in color, almost akin to Birch Wood, but with a strong golden-yellow hue to it; under the right light and distance, every part of the ship made of wood, from the slim hull to the three main masts, could appear to be made out of gold. Though due to the Fair Folk's aversion to iron, nothing of their ship was made of any kind of metal: all the parts that would've traditionally been made out of iron or steel (pulleys, plating, spar, rudder ,etc.) were instead either forged out of magically-hardened tree amber or carved flawlessly from a sparkling silver-colored crystal, giving the Veil Piercer an outright fantastical appearance of a ship made entirely out of treasure. The silver-crystal figurehead was that of a mighty pegasus in flight, mane whipping along the forward sail and wings spread behind it to hug the stern of the hull, its fore-hooves each a glowing crystal that served as the forward lanterns, piercing the fog with an ethereal light. The stern of the ship was a tall-set one, more akin to that of a Galleon's than a Frigate's and was decorated with many beautiful statues of flying griffons, swimming mermaids, wise treants, and other magical creatures, with a grand stain-glass stern window of a mighty dragon breathing fire as the centerpiece.
It was a ship that, to the eye of mortal man, embodied the very essence of magic and fantasy, and all the stories that were born of it.
Which made it all the more fitting that it would be the one to carry the most famous of all mystical beasts across the sea; back to a home it had been away from for far too long.
Standing on the forecastle deck, leaning causally on the starboard railing, was another of the more famous mythical creatures; a lone female fairy, silently watching the ocean as the fog began to clear under the warmth of the morning sun.
Her appearance was very beautiful and similar to Avalon's in a lot of ways, though an eladrin she was not; with fair skin, chestnut-brown hair, and teal-blue eyes, she was far more human in appearance and size than the more elf-like king, standing at roughly the same height as the average human pre-teen. Her ears were long and elf-like as well, but it was her non-human features that made her stand out among her fellow fairies: her tailbone continued past her rear and into a medium-length tail resembling the sleek-yet-bloated abdomen of a wasp, yellow in color with a dark-lavender dorsal stripe running all the way down to the currently-retracted stinger at the tip. Growing out from between her shoulders, a large pair of bright-purple butterfly-like wings rested together in a folded position, their sparkling veins carrying a glittering magic through them with each heartbeat. And on her head, poking out from under her hair, a pair of small dragon horns curved backwards and up in a slight S-shape.
She silently basked in the cool morning wind that blew across the ocean surface, clearing away the last bits of fog and bringing a welcomed cooling sensation to her face, neck, and collarbone. Her current attire consisted of a petal-dress with a light-orange corset that had a modest amount of cleavage, yellow elbow-length sleeves that parted into flower-like openings at the ends, and a knee-length skirt made of several layers of flower petals, orange on the outside and yellow underneath, the interior lined with a third petticoat layer of pink petals. The skirt flapped softly in the breeze, as did her hair, which was tied back into a high-set ponytail that was still long enough to reach her shoulders; only the long bangs on either side of her head hung free from the pink band that held the rest of it in place, curling at the tips to almost meet her chin.
A particularly soothing breeze blew from the sea, flowing across her face and through her hair; she closed her eyes and sighed with contentment, even allowing a genuine smile to grace her lips. A rare sight for most to see on the face of Zoeandra Autumnleaf, Feywild's only native Dragon Fairy; a blessed Fae that held the deeply-envied honor and privilege of being kin and caretakers of the mightiest of all beasts...and it was for that very reason she was here. Eternally accompanying her bestowed charge on his journey through life.
Which, right now, was a long overdue return to a homeland neither of them had seen for a long time.
Her pointed ears picked up uneven footsteps from behind, and her warm smile turned into a sneaky smirk as she cracked an eye open to see who was approaching her, barely turning her head. From the corner of said eye, she saw the captain approaching her; an old yet muscular rat dressed in an old captain's uniform and hat (the latter sporting a large green feather tucked in it), both of which were as tattered and raggy as he was. The fur of his face was long and scraggy, forming a large bushy sailor's beard and equally-bushy eyebrows, the former of which having been stained a muddy-reddish color from his meals and choice of ale. His rodent teeth were yellow and chipped with age, the left tooth partially missing. His right leg had been lost, replaced by a rather bizarre peg-leg designed for a digitigrade species (the source of the odd footsteps) and supported by an old crutch he held under his right arm, while a notable notch in his tail gave it a crooked bend near the end.
All-in-all, he was the opposite of the Veil Piercer in just about every aspect. Still, a better captain in all of Nimh could not be found than Captain Redbeard (a nickname he had been given by his peers and crew alike), one of the few Rodentkin of Nimh to have ever seen the world beyond the Northern Sea.
Zoeandra didn't say a word as Redbeard hobbled over to the railing and wordlessly stood a few feet away from the fairy, leaning against it as a weary sigh escaped his chapped lips. She watched from the corner of her eye as he reached into his coat and pulled out a rather large bottle of his favorite rum and promptly took a few chugs from it; he drank so sloppily that some spilled from the bottle, the red liquid running down his face and into his beard. Hence the nickname.
Her mischievous smirk curled across her face as she glanced at him. "Little early to be hitting the bottle, wouldn't you say?" she asked in a snarky manner.
The old rat coughed a ragged breath before spitting a blob of what looked like tar over the side of the ship. "Ye and yer lizard be what drove me back ta the bottl' in the first place." He snapped with an irritated glare. "The sooner we pull 'ta port, the sooner I can be rid of ya livin' nightmares."
"Awwwww, you're saying that as if we weren't friends." The fairy cooed with a fake pout, leaning toward to him and fluttering her wings in a deliberately-teasing manner. "Admit it: you'll miss us once we're gone."
"Like a mouth misses a toothache." Redbeard grumbled, taking another swig of his bottle; Zoeandra's puppy-ese pout twisted into a Cheshire Cat's grin, revealing teeth that were far too sharp and cat-like to be those of normal fair-folk (another trait of her dragon-fairy nature). She then turned back to the ocean, neither of them saying a word for a good while, the only sound between them being the splashing of the waves against the hull and the cries of seagulls circling the ship.
Then Redbeard broke the silence. "So...ten years, eh?"
The grin fell from Zoeandra's face again, her expression and eyes alike becoming hard and wings drooping. "Yee-up." She popped humorlessly. "Give or take a year or two."
"Long time ta be away from home." He stated simply, overlooking the sea.
The fairy scoffed. "Made even longer when you fail your reason for leaving in the first place..." She snarled sarcastically, her abdomen tail swishing back and forth with agitation. "Ten. Years. Ten bloody years, and for what?" She gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. "Nothing...well, unless you count being dragged into a war over a petty insult something."
"Could be, giv'n how everyone was celebratin' o'er it," Redbeard offered as he took another drink. "Did the world a favor, yer beastie did; riddin' it of that green blowhard."
"Easy for you to say: you're not the one who has to report it all to Oberon himself." Zoeandra muttered bitterly, propping her right arm up to rest her head in her palm. "I can already hear the Council's reaction once they get the details. As if they don't have enough reasons to object to Spyro's choice of familiar..."
The rat cocked a bushy eyebrow at that. "Spyro? That's what they be callin' 'im nowadays?" He asked. When Zoeandra simply gave him a sideways smirk, he shrugged. "Eh, easier ta say than all that fancy jumbo you bugs come up with." He said with a grin.
"Glad you vermin finally have something you can pronounce." She quipped back with her own grin, not missing a beat. Redbeard merely gave a toast with his bottle, kicking it back to swig down the last mouthful.
"LAAAAND HOOOOOO!"
The fairy had been anticipating those two wonderful words for days now, so much so that she had often heard them echo in her head, altering her hopes only to dash them in self-disappointment. So, to suddenly hear the lookout in the crow's nest shout them for all the ship to hear…to actually hear them with her own ears instead of in her thoughts.
It was outright euphoric.
At long last, they were finally home.
"Ah, Neptune be praised!" Redbeard exclaimed as he promptly chucked the empty bottle over the railing of the ship, sending it to the eternal depths of Davy Jones' Locker. "'Nother day with ye lizard makin' a circus outta me crew and I would've walked the plank myself!"
He adjusted his crutch under his arm and turned about; said crew, made up of both Rodentkin and fair folk, were already scampering about the ship with gusto, adjusting the sails to pick up what speed they could, ready and eager to feel dry land beneath their feet. "Ye best wake 'im up so I can get ya both outta my hair as soon as we make port."
"Sooner than you might expect." Zoeandra stated with a cheeky smile, wings unfurling from their folded shape; a brilliant magenta glimmer flowed from the base of her wings out to the tips, a glimmering dust of the same color blowing about as she took to the air, her wings fluttering like those of a butterfly. She turned to follow the captain's instructions for one last time, but before she took off, she gave Redbeard once last glance over her shoulder; her smile remained cheeky but developed a sincere glow. "Been a pleasure sailing with you and your crew, Redbeard."
The old rat gave a huff of disagreement, yet a warm twinkle in his faded eyes remained. "As much-a pleasure as scabies, Zoeandra," he told her. "Best of luck to ya two."
"Thanks..." The fairy said, her wings shining in the morning sun, "...and call me Zoe."
The old rat merely waved her off as he hobbled away, heading to take his place at the helm. Zoe watched him go for a moment before she flipped backwards in the air and zoomed off, flying across the deck with impressive agility, weaving back and forth through the masts, rigging, and crew before slowing to a landing stop in front of the doors that led to the lower floor of the stern castle.
Unlike most other ships, the captain's quarters were located at the upper floor of the stern castle, making it double-function with the navigation room, while the lower floor were completely refitted and repurposed to serve as the chambers of this voyage's passenger of interest. The deck stairs leading up to the helm were built to line up with the very sides of the ship, to allow for as much room to the lower chambers as possible. The doors of the lower chambers had also been designed with such an idea in mind: a massive set of double doors as wide as the walls and stairs would allow, made to be able to open the entrance to the interior as widely as possible.
A wise design choice, considering for what kind of passenger this ship was originally made to carry across the ocean.
Not even bothering to so much as to knock, Zoe opened the doors and stepped into the darkened room. A soft clinking crunch beneath her shoes brought her attention to the dozens of gold coins and a small number of gemstones scattered across the floor. Looking up, she saw that nearly the entire floor of the room was covered in treasure, with a massive pile in the middle that reached as high as half-way up the walls in some places.
One could mistake it for a pirate's plunder, but in reality, it was perhaps the most expensive bed in all of Nimh. A bed that only one kind of creature would find comfortable.
In the center of the room, half-buried within a bed of gleaming gold and sparkling gemstones, she spotted him. His powerful chest rose and fell with every breath, each breath crackling out between his teeth with a low flame, as he lay curled upon his hoard. His long tail wrapped around the pile of gold, protectively guarding it as he slept, while his limbs remained tucked at his armored sides, talons lightly scrapping against the coins and gemstones. His fiery-orange wings shifted in his sleep, creating small gusts of wind strong enough to scatter a few of the loose coins, while his horns and spines scraped against the pile as he ground his head into the gold, eyes closed in dreamless slumber.
The muffled sound of waves mixed with the creaking of wood as the hull of the ship bobbed with the movement of the sea provided a slow, soothing motion that helped the beast sleep. This was how he preferred to spend most of the voyage, as it was the best way to pass the long weary days of sea-travel, whenever he grew bored of terrorizing the crew.
She shook her head in amusement at the thought; fun times, indeed...but thankfully, those times were over.
"Rise and shine, sleepy-heeead!" she called in a sing-song manner, making absolutely no effort to be gentle about it.
A deep growl of frustration escaped Spyro's jaws as his fairy's, currently-obnoxious, voice flooded his ears. Her every word was like the blows of a gnorc's mace to his skull, pounding his still-half-asleep brain into mush. With the shimmering shift of gold coins, he lifted himself up on his front legs just enough to turn his spine-covered back to his intruder before promptly flopping back down with a heavy thud. The ship rocked from the impact, the deck creaking dangerously beneath them.
There was a panicked scream from outside, stretching long and loud until it was promptly cut by a loud splash, quickly followed by angry shouts from the rest of the crew.
"You knocked Riley outta the crow's nest again." Zoe stated flatly, not even bothering to turn around and look.
Spyro snorted, twin streams of smoke shooting out of his nostrils. "I'm not waiting 'til New Year's Eve for him to take another bath." he grumbled, his voice drumming with a growling reverb and crackling with the sound of open flames.
The fairy rolled her eyes as she entered the 'Dragon's Den', which the lower cabin had been renamed, gingerly making her way across the loose treasure. The young Safi'jiiva growled a half-hearted warning as she approached, but otherwise made no effort to stop her from sitting down next to his head and fondly scratching the side of his left eye-ridge. He gave another groan as he pushed his head up against her right thigh, rolling it over just enough to squint open a bleary gold-and-magenta eye at her amused expression.
"You planning on sleeping the day away?" She asked.
He huffed in annoyance, closing his eyes and rolling his head back to rest, "I might, if there's no reason to get up."
To that, Zoe grinned in anticipation as she shifted around to face Spyro directly. "How about 'Land Ho'?"
She could feel his body suddenly tense as her words caught him off guard, his crackling breath catching for a split second, before turning his head around to look directly at her with wide, alert eyes.
"...What?" he asked in a near-silent whisper.
"The barrelman just announced it a few seconds ago," she told him eagerly, outright bouncing with excitement, wings fluttering rapidly. She paused for a second. "Well, before you knocked him overboard..." her hands cupped the stunned dragon's chin, bringing his massive head up to meet her gaze. "We're back, Spyro...we're finally back home! Nimh!"
For a moment, Spyro seemed frozen on the spot, staring at her as if he was unable to grasp what she was telling him...then, as if struck by lightning he practically sprung to motion, outright leaping to his feet with a flurry of wind and gold; the treasure pile that he was buried in outright erupted with him in a burst of gold coins and gemstones, spraying forth in a great explosion of treasure that scattered across the room, clattering against the wooden walls and floor. His body and tail whipped around as he outright clawed his way out of his makeshift hoard, his horns and spines scraping long grooves in the ceiling, and his tail whipping around so fast it nearly smashed into the stain-glass window.
Eventually he caught his footing and, like a massive sea-serpent rising from the depths, he pulled himself out through the doorway of the Dragon's Den in a serpentine slither before standing up on all fours and lifting his head to full height, eyes wide and searching for the long-awaited promise land of home.
The small, cat-sized wyrmling the Nocturnal Patrol had found wriggling helplessly in that small, cold cave was long gone, now standing tall and strong as a healthy juvenile Safi'jiiva, just shy of becoming a 'teenager' by elder dragon standards yet already as almost as large as Dragon, the great Monster Cat of Nimh, towering well over most species of fair folk and all species of rodentkin. His appearance had also changed over the many years as well, having long outgrown most of his 'hatchling' features. He was no longer a stumpy little wyrmling by any means, though enough of his youthful attributes remained to show that he wasn't done growing. But even then, he was still a truly intimidating sight, every part of him, down to each single scale, shaped to be as primal, fearsome, and draconian in appearance as possible.
Truly a Safi'jiiva in his prime: an Elder Dragon born and forged for the eternal primal war that was the Realm of Primordia.
But right now, in this long-awaited moment, he was but a homesick child that had finally come home.
The other rats barely had time to pull Riley back on board before the ship was rocked again as Spyro bounded across the deck like a giant cat, sending the lot of them sliding across the deck or even screaming back into the briny blue with more splashes. The dragon ignored the commotion he was causing, though, only paying enough attention to avoid stepping on anybody; his focus was locked on getting to the bow of the ship, serpentining through the masts, leaping over the capstan, and ducking under the rigging until he made it to the front, propping his front paws on the base of the figurehead to look out as much as possible.
By now, the last bits of morning fog were fading away under the heat of the rising sun, revealing what the barrelman had called for all to see: the distant shores of Feywild, with beaches as white as snow, a massive field of tall grass and flowers waving in the wind behind the shore, leading up to the massive trees of the great forest filling up the horizon view like a second ocean of leaves. The glow of the morning sun broke through the clouds above, casting the shore and forest in an outright mystical light, as if to welcome the lost, weary soul of this dragon back home.
Nimh. The Isle of the Alchemists. The Land of the Rodentkin.
Home.
Spyro stood atop the bow of the Veil Piercer unmoving, staring at the land of his birth with unwavering eyes. Ten years... he had dreamt of this moment for ten years, ever since he had been taken from his happy life of old and watched it disappear over the horizon behind them. Every day he spent in the so-called "Dragon Realms", forced to go along with the Council's wishful thinking, only to be dragged into a war with the green-skins that kept him away for far longer than anyone had intended. And for far, far longer than he wished to stay, up until he finally, personally, sent their idiot leader straight to the depths of the underworld. He had been overjoyed when they announced they would be returning soon, and the subsequent journey home had been torturous; every day was a day closer, but it felt like an eternity of longing.
He had waited for this moment for so long that, now that it was here, it almost didn't seem real. Like it was a trick of the longing heart, wanting to see something that wasn't truly there.
Then a flickering shadow passed over him, and he looked up to a sight that purged all doubt from his mind and brought a blooming fire of joy to his heart: a giant Swallowtail Butterfly, with a body as large as a German Shepard and wings as large as the ship's sails, fluttered down from the heavens.
Spyro watched in almost-hypnotized awe as the massive insect landed on the rope strung between the bowsprit and the foremast, above his head. The massive wings opened and closed with the creature's heartbeat, casting a rainbow of colors upon the deck and dragon alike when open. Still as if in a trance, the drake shifted his weight back on his hind legs and 'stood back' on them, much like how a bear rears up on its hind legs, stretching his neck upwards towards the visitor and sniffing it curiously. The smell of Nimh's giant flowers filled his nostrils, his nervous system firing wildly as long dormant memories from a life left behind awakened to full clarity; memories of a world much larger than the one he had been trapped in for so long. The butterfly, as if in greeting, uncoiled and extended its proboscis down to him in turn, licking up the droplets of the sea-spray that had gathered on the dragon's facial scales.
A gurgling croon bubbled from Spyro's throat at the touch as an indescribable wave of joy filled his flaming heart, his eyes glowing with a bright starlight of emotion.
He was back: after ten painfully-long years of violent war, wishful dreaming, and great suffering, followed by two months of an outright agonizing wait...he was finally home.
Once satisfied, the giant butterfly retracted its tongue and took to the skies once more, wings fluttering as it retreated back to the distant shore. If Spyro's wings had been developed enough, he would've flown after it; to just jump off this confining ship and soar as fast and as far as he could until the ocean was no longer in sight...
...you know what? He couldn't fly, but that wasn't a bad idea at all. He was sick of this boat, sick of the ocean, and sick of waiting any longer.
Zoe, who had been letting Spyro enjoy the moment from a respectable distance, nearly choked on her own tongue when the Purple Safi'jiiva suddenly hopped up onto the figurehead and, with an outright explosive kick of his hind legs, promptly leapt off the Veil Piercer in an arching jump, diving headfirst into the water with a thunderous splash and disappearing beneath the waves.
The sheer recoil shock of the jump split the keel of the ship straight across the curve, and with a splintering tear of wood the entire front of the bow, figurehead and all, fell forward into the water with its own massive splash. With the keel broken, the entire ship began to split under its own weight, snapping clean in half with a thunderous tear of wood, amber, and crystal. The masts fell like great trees, crashing into each other and tearing the sails from their rigging, ropes snapping, and pulleys being flung like flails. All the while, the crew was scrambling about like a flurry of panicking chickens, screaming curses as the ship slowly began to sink into the shallows; those of fair folk were clawing for the lifeboats, trying (and failing) to avoid any contact with the salt-filled waters, while all the rodentkin did little more than fall overboard, surrendering themselves to the fact they were swimming to shore.
The dragon fairy watched the entire thing unfold beneath her with a stunned silence, having flown out of range when she heard the keel snap. She just hovered there, watching the mighty Veil Piercer, the pride and joy of Avalon's Royal Navy and King Oberon's personal ship (which he had poured a king's ransom worth into building), sinking into the shallows of Nimh's northern shores. It was almost as if the ship itself, after enduring so much after a four-month round trip at sea with a restless purple dragon, had finally been freed of the burden of dealing with Spyro's antics and was finally just collapsing with relief, sinking into the depths for a long, well-deserved rest.
She gave a long, tired groan, running a hand down her face in exasperation. She could already hear the verbal chewing out she was going to get when she returned to the palace.
But, as she spotted the dark, serpentine shape of her dragon beneath the distant waters, already well on his way to shore, she decided that it could be someone else's problem to report.
She and her dragon were home, and as far as she was concerned, that's all that mattered.
So, without so much as giving the sinking Pride of Avalon's Navy another glance, she simply left, leaving a trail of magenta pixie dust behind her as she flew to catch up with her dragon. As she did so, Redbeard, thoroughly drenched and clinging to a piece of driftwood, grumbled many a half-hearted curse upon the dragon and his fairy under his breath as he and the other rats began paddling to shore themselves.
"A pox upon both of ye!" he shouted after them. "...and best'a luck ta ya both, ye scrappy sea devils."