Chapter 12: Aftermath

"I can't believe it," Flame said, still looking over a newspaper, with a stack of magazines and other newspapers on the table.

The purple dragon looked away from the stove to glance at the fire dragon, "What? Is it that hard to believe that I know how to cook?"

"No, it's- actually I still can't believe it," Flame said before continuing his original thought, "Everyone is already trying to guess what your ranking would be if you were to enter the League. Also, a few are trying to give you titles."

Spyro looked over to the black dragoness, who was pulling out glasses for drinks, "What's wrong with him?" he asked softly.

Days had passed since the Exhibition Match and the group of dragons were waiting for Cynder's next official match. Ever since the Exhibition, everyone has been hounding Spyro to do interviews and events, and Ember was more than happy to have Gale book his and Cynder's appearances. The purple dragon was still not a huge fan of all the publicity, but he was happy with Cynder at his side.

The black dragoness laughed, "He's just a little jealous because his only title is 'Ember's Fiancé,' or something similar."

"You may have a point," Spyro replied, "I mean, you have a few that suit you. Although I'm not sure about 'Terror of the Skies'… there did that come from?"

Cynder shrugged, "After a match where I showed how skilled I was in the air. It kind of stuck."

"I still think Obsidian Beauty fits you best," he said, then blushed as the words repeated themselves in his head.

The dragoness giggled, "I think that's why Ember chose that for my brand."

The pair were getting lunch ready for them, Flame, and Ember. Gale, however, would be busy and would not be available.

Cynder set the glasses on the table, filling them with wine and water, "Where is Ember anyway?" she asked the fire dragon.

"She should be here any minute," Flame replied, "She had to make stop at Heart Diamond for a bit."

"That's fine," Spyro's voice called from the kitchen, "I'm not quite done yet."

Cynder looked over the piles of papers near Flame, "So, what ranking are they giving Spyro? And what are some of the titles they are throwing around?"

"Do you want me to include 'Cynder's Future Mate' on the list?"

The dragoness rolled her emerald eyes, "You can drop that one."

A knock came from the door, "And that must be her," Flame said looking to the door.

"I'll get it," she said, walking away, glancing back to Spyro, "Ember's here."

"Alright, almost done."

Cynder opened the door, the pink dragoness standing in the hallway. The two exchanged pleasantries and Cynder gestured for her guest to enter. Ember was hit with an aroma of cooked meat that caused her mouth to water. She glanced over to Spyro, who was nearing the end of the cooking.

Spyro looked to the dragoness, "Hey Ember. Perfect timing, I am pretty much done."

"It smells good," she replied, taking a seat next to her fiancé.

The purple dragon took the meat off of the stove, setting it aside to extinguish the flames. Cynder had come over and moved the pieces onto a plate and walked it over to the table. Spyro, meanwhile, cleaned off the counter and followed the black dragoness to the table.

Flame could not wait to try Spyro's cooking. He had been curious about it since Spyro first cooked for Cynder. Another reason was that Cynder had bragged about how great of a cook he was, so Flame was ready to see for himself.

Ember was much more patient. She was used to having the best meals in the best restaurants around the realms. She figured that the purple dragon's cooking was good, but maybe overexaggerated.

"Alright," Spyro said, "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I went ahead on cooked some steak and lamb."

"It smells great!" Flame said, taking a piece of each type of meat. Ember did the same, however, her fire dragon had already put a piece of steak in his mouth. The taste was as if the Ancestors personally gave Flame's taste buds a gift, "Wow…"

Cynder smiled, "I know, right?"

The fire dragon looked to his pink counterpart, "Em, you have to try it."

The pink dragoness took a bite of her steak and politely chewed her food. When she swallowed to glanced to the purple dragon, "Spyro, I have eaten at many restaurants in the past and if you were any better, I would hire you in a heartbeat."

The purple dragon smiled, "It's not over or under cooked, is it?"

The dragoness smiled, "Not at all."

Flame added, "Her word matters more than mine. She's a picky eater." Flame felt a jabbing touch in his side, causing him to jump slightly. When he glanced at the dragoness who obviously did it, he was met with a glare, making him chuckle.

Ember then took a bit out of the lamb, "Where did you learn?"

"One of my students' parents own a restaurant in Warfang. His mother showed me a few tricks and it was something I picked up."

"I told you he was good," Cynder piped up, victory clearly written on her face.

Spyro looked away, embarrassed, as Ember replied, "I should take a look for myself next time I'm in Warfang."

Flame looked to Ember, "Hey, Em? Have you seen the papers?"

Ember rolled her azure eyes, "It's part of my job to look over the papers."

The fire dragon looked to Spyro, "So as I was saying earlier; everyone is trying to rank you if you entered the League, also give you titles and I wanted to hear what your thoughts. Ember is pretty good at that stuff."

Ember shrugged, "A ringing name is part of the game."

Spyro raised a brow, swallowing a piece of cooked lamb, "My thoughts on rank or name?"

"How about name?" Flame replied.

"Sure, what do you got?"

"Well, obviously, there is Cynder's Fiancé and the Purple Dragon."

"How original," Cynder muttered, continuing to eat.

"Anything… else?" Spyro asked.

"Well, how does Legendary Purple Dragon sound?"

Spyro spun the idea in his head, it definitely sounded better, however; "What makes me so… legendary? All I did was fight in a match."

"Maybe," the other male said, "But some are trying to get ahead and even some that talking about where you would be placed in the League."

Spyro raised a brow, "Really, how can you possibly judge someone after one match?"

Ember spoke up, "Welcome to the Fighter's League spectators club," she said, taking another bit out of her lamb.

Flame continued, "Anyway, so there is 'Legendary Purple Dragon,' which I think is alright. There is also 'The Purple Flash of Warfang.'" Spyro tilted his head up and to the side in thought. Flame added, "Because of how you countered Cyrus' ice blades in a flash. Personally, I would just keep it as 'The Purple Flash,' but titles are usually grandiose."

"I'm a simple dragon," Spyro said, "Is there anything simple?"

Flame took another bite of lamb before saying, "I mean, sometimes dragons will get a title based on their hobbies or other professions."

Spyro blinked, "I'm not sure; 'The Teacher'? 'The Tutor'?

"Hey," Flame said, his eyes bright and a silly grin, "whenever you win, you could say that you took them to school!"

Spyro groaned at the bad pun, placing a paw on his face. Meanwhile Cynder and Ember giggled, the pink dragoness with a raised paw to cover her maw.

Flame continued, "We need something that's a little… more…" He thought for a second, "How about 'The Master'?

Spyro scratched the side of his head with a claw, "That sounds a little conceited; don't you think?"

"Many titles are," Ember said, "It's a matter of living up to it."

"By the way," Flame said, looking to Spyro, "Where did you learn to do an afterimage? You don't usually see that until the Fighter's League, and most don't have it down until about the upper half of the standings."

The fight with Cyrus repeated in Spyro's head as he tried to remember that point in the match. Cyrus had lunged at him after shooting some ice shards, and Spyro had little time to safely dodge.

Spyro shrugged, "Volteer, the Guardian of Electricity taught me how. I don't have it mastered like him, he can use an afterimage and immediately follow up with a counter. I need a brief moment, and while it may look simple, it actually requires great control."

"Yeah, you did make it look easy," Flame replied, "Based off that alone I would rank in the top half of the Fighter's league; easy."

"I do have to agree," Ember added, "The beginning of your match was a bit slow, but once you got started, you always had the advantage." She added a laugh, "A few of the spectators and even League Fighters thought Cyrus was going to win purely on the basis of the first part of your match."

Cynder smiled at Spyro, "And you sure showed them."

It was nice to win, the purple dragon could never deny it. However, it was the adrenaline he felt in the fight, the excitement and the fun. He had fun. Not as much as he did when he sparred with Cynder, but he still enjoyed himself. Participating in the Fighter's League was something he had floated in his head, however, knowing that no one would want to sponsor him stopped his drive. Yet here he was, though not in the official League, fighting dragons that were in the Fighter's League.

"It was fun," he said, now picking at the remaining pieces of meat on his plate. "I enjoyed it."

"What is there not to love?" Cynder asked rhetorically, "The roar of the crowd, the adrenaline pumping though your veins, and not to mention fans cheering your name?"

Flame added, "If you're lucky, a few more poor souls will challenge you and you can show more of what you are capable of."

"It could be great publicity," Ember added, "but it is a double-edged sword. One loss could completely damage your image."

"What image?" Spyro asked.

"What do you think?" Cynder asked him, "The kind and generous dragon, who is also very talented with the ways of combat. The things I keep telling you that you are. And soon everyone will know it."

The purple dragon smiled, "The more you say it, the better it sounds." Spyro took another bite of his steak, silently patting himself on the back for both his victory and the great meal he had prepared.

"What?!" the ice dragon asked, taken completely aback.

"We are no longer interested in sponsoring you for your jump into the Fighter's League," a wind dragon answered again, picking up a paper, ignoring the dragon before him.

Cyrus' world came crashing around him. He a spend the last two days checking on the different sponsors that showed an interest in him. However, each one had concluded that they would not be willing to sponsor him. Every one of them had the same reason.

"Why?" he asked, desperation in his voice. This was his last chance to make it to the Fighter's League, and if not, he might be doomed to spend his career in the Minor League.

The dragon looked up at Cyrus, his face stern, "Hydrapowers would be better off with a dragon who knew what he was getting himself into, rather than mouth off and be humiliated in front of hundreds."

"He was the purple dragon, the ability to use four eleme-"

The wind dragon cut him off, "Yes, everyone knows this, and yet you challenged him anyway; and lost. That shows me that you pick fights that you can't win."

Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. This could not be happening to him.

"Please," he begged, "give me a chance."

"I did," was the reply, "now get out of my office."

Cyrus hung his head, leaving the business-dragon to his own devices. As he walked thought the hall of the headquarters, he could hear the whispers. Everyone was talking about his loss to the purple dragon, how he was so confident up until the tables had turned. And the dragon managed to not only beat him, but unleashed a Fire Fury and was ready to continue.

The streets were no different. He grew weary of the stares and whispers as he continued on to his home. The journey feeling miles longer than it was.

Eventually he entered his one-bedroom home, spacious for guests that he knew would no longer come. He led his disheveled form to the bathroom to clean himself up. He turned on the faucet, water running into the sink. The ice dragon sat on his haunches, cupping his paws, and rubbed the water in his face. Afterward, he dried face and looked into the mirror. He saw his reflection, and the longer he looked, the more the anger boiled. He snarled and for a brief moment, he saw the purple dragon staring back at him. He roared, ice covering his right claw, and he lashed out at the mirror, shattering the glass. The right side of the mirror was broken, only a few pieces clinging to the wall. The left side was intact, reflecting the left half of his face.