Spyro and Spike walked home after their little father-son talk, the festivities once again coming to a close and stalls packing up for the night.
The sun set for the night, evening came, as it often did and Cynder was exhausted. She after dealing with that Torch forsaken idiot Sludge just wanted to go home and take a nice hot bath. Not that anyone could blame her, and her fellow Peace Keepers tossed her a few sympathetic looks.
“Coffee?” Maximos asked walking over to her with a purple beverage in hand. “Fresh from the Green Dragon. Gavin’s specialty.”
“Thanks,” Cynder muttered tiredly. “...I swear, even if nothing’s happened aside from some unruly guests I feel like I just went ten rounds with the Sorceress without my dragonfly by my side.”
“That bad huh?” Maximos said nodding in sympathy. Crickets and frogs began to croak and chirp in the background beginning their evening songs. Cynder closed her eyes even as Maximos continued to speak, the nightly tunes quite relaxing to her. She swore in another life she was probably a Beast Tamer. “...Look on the bright side, least you weren’t tasked with playing babysitter to the younger kids. I adore the little sprouts, I do, but Torch above can they be rambunctious!” Maximos exclaimed.
“Well, at least in a few days it’ll all be over and the monthly festivities will pack up again and it’ll be five more years before we have to deal with this nonsense,” Cynder said sighing as she took a sip of her beverage. Tasted like heaven to the tired dragoness.
“...Aww, surely it can’t be that bad, right?” Maximos commented. “I mean, look around ya, we’ve had creatures from far and wide come to have a bit of fun and immerse themselves in dragon culture. I mean, hell, even the kirins as keep to themselves as they normally are were here!”
“I suppose there is that,” Cynder muttered. “But it’s not like I’ll be sad to see certain idiots go. ...Oh Torch, I just remembered. Bubba said he’d be here tomorrow. Now he’s fine, but his nephew Garble on the other hand…”
“Ugh,” Maximios muttered with a small trace of disgust. “...He’s a punk, that’s what he is. Needs a good solid smack to the head if you were to ask me. And even then, I’m skeptical of that actually working really…”
“Yep. He’s got a skull as hard as a diamond from all that I’ve heard, but nowhere near as good looking as them really,” Cynder commented. “He’s eighteen now, same as me and Spyro and yet the ass is still a troublemaker. It’s like he’s stuck as an unruly teenage delinquent. Punkass.”
“Look on the bright side, where Garble goes his sister follows really,” Maximos said. “Cute little thing, fairly spunky and always manages to keep him in line. And cute in more ways than one from what I hear. At least, your son certainly seems to think so…”
“...Do all we do is gossip about my son and whatever he gets up to? I mean, surely we’re better than the damn tabloids…” Cynder growled. “...Listen, I don’t mind the possibility of my son having a little crush or whatnot but don’t you guys have anything better to do than just gossip like a bunch of little girls?”
“Sorry, it’s just it’s fairly boring around here right now, no enemies to get into any scraps with,” Maximos commented. “And yes, while being at peace is in fact a good thing for us Peace Keepers it means we have very little to do. So we talk about whatever happens to be the most interesting at the moment. And for right now, and actually, most of the time, what’s interesting is you, your mate and now your son. Dragons do love to talk about their local heroes and legends, and make no mistake that’s what you and your family are Mrs. Terror of the Skies.”
“I’m flattered, really,” Cynder deadpanned. “But quite honestly, I’m fairly certain under all this attention my son would probably crack. He’s not Spyro or me really. He doesn’t want the attention. He’s not actually going out to be a hero or go for glory like you or me.”
“You want him to be his own drake then?” Maximos asked cocking an eyebrow. “Good job on you Cynder, you’ve really grown up. A far cry from the rather angry and somewhat unsure of herself dragoness that crash-landed in Dark Hollow 5 or so years ago…” he said with more than a hint of pride. Maximos, he’d sorta become an honorary uncle to Cynder over the years teaching her how to be a proper dragon and when she wanted to become a Peace Keeper he’d been over the moon. Cynder didn’t mind, she liked Maximos and saw him as family. If Nestor was her second adoptive father than Maximos was the cool uncle.
“...Don’t you have some griffon to go off and romance?” Cynder asked as Maximos gave her a noogie. She laughed a little at this, though she would fervently deny it if she was ever asked. Maximos gave out a deep belly laugh before they both saw Spyro and Spike walking up the path. Spike had collapsed atop his father’s back, and Spyro seemed to be in an even more chipper mood than normal. Cynder didn’t even think that was possible, though every day threw her new surprises.
Finally, the violet dragoness decided enough was enough and it was time to satisfy her curiosity. She couldn’t help but smile as she tried to get her mate’s attention. “Alright, I’ll bite; what's got you so giddy right now? And where were you and Spike actually, as a matter of fact?” she asked smiling impishly at him.
Spyro’s only response was to smile brightly and used his tail to stroke his son’s back in a gentle manner. “Let me guess, it’s got something to do with Spike?”
“He finally said it, Cyn,” Spyro said in a low whisper, careful not to leap his sleeping son. “Nestor was right, just give it a bit of time and some patience and out it would come!”
It took Cynder a minute but then she realized with slowly widened eyes. She was being careful to contain herself. she was a grown dragoness, and the Terror of the Skies after all. She had a reputation to uphold! Need not shatter it now by acting like a giddy little hatchling. “...Let’s just hope Nestor doesn’t rub it in our faces really… He does like being right after all. Well in any case, this young one needs to be put back in his nest and I need a nice long sleep…”
Cynder had to suppress another smile as she watched her sleeping son’s slow rise and falls of his chest. She then felt another familiar sensation rush through her. Love really. Her eyes narrowed briefly as she looked to the timberlands beyond the festival grounds, where darker things lurked. The gnorcs, if they even dared tried to disrupt her new family would be in for the shock of their lives. The last mistake any gnorc made, it was said, was angering a dragon. And that held all too true for one who now had a hatchling to protect.
Spike for his part in all of this did sorta feel like he was on a bit of a high, not that he knew he could describe it as such. But he had a family again. A family! Sure, they were a bit of an odd family but still, they were a family.
If the young drake could put this current feeling into words, he’d probably describe it as ‘awesome’ or ‘epic’ or something like that. Certainly not euphoric at any rate, as he wasn’t quite old enough to know those kinds of words. Heaven forbid when he did grow up enough to learn them, even if he was already a young teenager. It was simply a matter of the fact that Cynder didn’t want her little baby boy to grow up any faster than he already had. If she had her way, she was quite intent on letting Spike cherish every last remaining moment Spike actually had of his childhood. Not that Spike particularly minded per se, but there were those moments when his mother got that slightest bit overprotective.
Take for example his Uncle Hunter. He was the cool, crazy uncle everyone in the family liked in small doses, except for perhaps the brother in arms. That brother in arms, in this case, being of course, Spyro. Spike liked him as well, so Cynder figured it was probably just a guy thing. She still didn’t like him anywhere near her baby boy for any lengthy period of time, no matter what her mate said.
Her point in her mind at the very least was proven, of course, when she found the cheetah skateboarding atop some house roofs early one morning.
“...Uh, hey Cynder…” Hunter stammered out as he saw one very annoyed dragoness staring him down. “What’s up? Besides, you know the birds, the bees, and the clouds and uh… things…”
In retrospect, he should have realized that with the Year of the Dragon festival coming to a close Cynder would now be sleeping in later to catch up on her Zs. So skateboarding on the top of her house -didn’t matter how he quite exactly got up there to begin with- and making a hell of a racket in the process was inadvisable.
“...Do you have any idea what time it is, for Tiamat’s sake?” Cynder grumbled really not wanting to deal with this particular type of thing this early in the day. “...Please just tell me you don’t have any utterly bonebrained ideas about doing this with my son?”
“Cynder, listen. I may not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but even I know what kinds of stupid that would be,” Hunter said in reply. “I’d teach him to skateboard, yes, but not skateboard on my level just yet, or if at all!” he said quickly backtracking upon seeing the look Cynder shot him. “I’d just take him to the regular skate parks, and keep an eye on him at all times. Two eyes really, as often as I can spare them.”
“...I’m sorry Hunter, I really am,” Cynder muttered to herself. “Goddess, I must seem like the world’s most overprotective mother don’t I?”
“No, trust me. It’s cool. It’s cool,” Hunter said as he leaped down from the rooftop onto the grass below, with Cynder following. She glid down into the courtyard and tucked in her wings as she walked with the cheetah. “Personally, I can completely understand. If Bianca and I ever had a kid, we’d react the exact same way if he chose to… say, take up swordplay.”
“Think there’s a staunch difference between being a daredevil and being a warrior, but yeah, I see your point,” Cynder conceded. “It’s just my first kid y’know? I’m not sure what to do half the time, and even when I’m doing something I don’t know if it’s the right things.”
“You’ll figure it out Cynder,” Hunter said reassuringly. “I know you will. I know you and Spyro, anything you set your minds to… you do.”
“...Thanks, Hunter,” Cynder smiled. “Like really, thanks.”
“Anytime!” the cheetah said tossing her a salute before leaping off to Tiamat only knew where. Cynder chuckled to himself. Such a dumbass…
Spyro for his part in all of this when he had heard Garble and Smolder were coming was unsure what the hell to think. Okay, he knew two things. One, a known bully was coming to Artisans and two, Spike’s presumed crush was coming as well with him. Joy of joys. Cynder would probably smack him if she had even the faintest idea of what was going through her mate’s mind but she wasn’t here now was she?
He had to play the overprotective dad, he couldn’t let Cynder do everything relating to parenting really. He knew it, he just knew it. He would have to keep that little dragoness’s paws off his son. Somehow, he would have to find a way to keep the two of them from meeting. He just knew it.
Of course, while he made his way around this problem in his head he found himself running right into his second problem. One tall, crimson red cauldron of rage known as Garble.
“Hey, watch where you’re walking, hero!” Garble said poking Spyro in the chest. Spike took a few steps back swallowing nervously with an audible ‘gulp’ as he sized up the older dragon.
In the background, one orange dragoness watched. “...Oh no, here we go again…” she thought to herself. She had hoped her brother would be able to contain himself. Evidently, she was wrong.
“So, who’s the little pipsqueak?” Garble asked.
“That little pipsqueak as you call him is my son,” Spike hissed out small embers snorted from his nostrils. “...You got a problem with that?” he asked. A small crowd was beginning to gather as they always did.
Spyro had to groan. Ever since he was a little kid, Garble had been nothing but trouble. He and Spyro had always had this sort of… rivalry you might say. When one tried something, the other tried to outdo them. And Garble often went overboard, often scaring away shepherds from their flocks just so he could toast more sheep than Spyro. The two brought out the worst in each other and today was hardly any exception.
“Yeah…” Garble started. “Just didn’t know someone like you even had the props to raise a son at all. Respect dude.”
Spyro blinked. Was Garble being… nice? No, it couldn’t have been.
“Shame he turned out so shrimpy though!”
Ah, there it was. The backhanded compliment, a favorite of Garble’s. And more was to come.
“So, what, you couldn’t give it all to Cynder, so you had to adopt?” Garble mocked.
“...You couldn’t be half of the dragon I am…” Spyro hissed out. He knew better, just turn and walk away. He was better than Garble. “You want to shut up now?”
“Oh, sorry, did I offend you?” Garble asked. “...I never realized the great and powerful Spyro was such a special sn-”
That did it, and Spyro pounced on Garble punching him several times. A few gasps echoed before Spyro pulled himself up off Garble and winced at his handiwork, the dragon now sporting a black eye amongst other things.
“...Dad?” Spike asked before Spyro sighed.
“...Just… let’s just go…” Spyro muttered to himself before flying off not missing the look Smolder had shot him.
“...Um, okay, what was that about?” Smolder asked. “...I know my brother and your dad have always had a bit of a problem with each other, but Tiamat above… That was something else!”
Spike for his part had no real answer. “...Seems like a really personal thing, to be honest…” he murmured. “I… I uh, apologize for any of that Smolder. Please don’t let my dad and your brother’s little… thing ruin your day okay?”
Smolder blinked. What was with this dragon? He was too damn nice really, no dragon should have a right to be this nice. Especially after finding out what a dick the brother of one of their best -okay, only- friends could be. Yeah, she decided then and there, Spike was definitely his father’s son.
“...Jeez, were you knocked on the head or something? No need to apologize for my brother being an ass,” Smolder muttered. “Man, what he said was so uncalled for…”
“Eh, those two will work it out, hopefully,” Spike said although his tone indicated he didn’t really believe it. “Come on Smolder, you came here to enjoy the festival right? I see no reason why you should stop just now because our relatives are going at it…”
“...Yeah, I suppose…” Smolder said with her wings drooping slightly. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Spike asked.
“It’s just, well… I hoped Gar-Gar and your dad would have worked out this crap by now… That’s all…”
“Gar-Gar?” Spike said with a small snigger.
“Shaddup, he’s my brother and I can call him whatever I want okay?” Smolder muttered before her eyes sparkled as she saw a stall. Next, she grabbed a very confused Spike by the arm “Oh, look. Milk bottles! You better win me one of those plushies, Spikey!”
“...I have no idea what’s going on anymore…” Spike muttered to himself. Not that he really minded, spending time with Smolder was… fun really. She was fairly cheery for her age. Sure, her brother was a bit of a bad egg, but she was pretty fun to be around. “Okay, what the hell’s wrong with me? You thought she was a jerk, dude. So what the hell just happened?”
He was even more confused by why his heart beat faster when Smolder grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug upon winning a plushie that looked like a sheep. He groaned. Girls were so confusing at times. First, she was sniping at him with snarky remarks, now she was hugging him. A little bit of consistency, that’s all he asked for.
But all the same, he hated seeing her frown whenever she thought of her brother. It just looked… wrong on her, even if Spike wasn’t entirely sure why really. “Well, Spike old boy, guess that means it’s now YOUR job to make her crack a smile again, or make a snarky remark at you for being a bit of an idiot or something…”
He definitely had his work cut out for him, Spike decided. But it would be a fun challenge at least. And it was his job as Snolder’s friend -was that what he was now?- to make her smile again. “Come on Smolder, you want to meet my mother again? Like this time, properly?”
“Meet the Terror of the Skies? Your kickass mom, a real legend of a dragon?” Smolder asked. “Um… yes! How dumb do you think I am if I’d want to pass up on such an opportunity? Catch me, I think I’m going to faint…”
Spike laughed to himself at Smolder’s obvious fangirling. Huh, so you learned something new every day. Who knew she was such a fan of his mom? Well, she was awesome in that regard Spike supposed.
Garble, Spyro thought with a groan. He could not sink to his least favorite dragon’s level again, not after that public display, Even if he did admit to himself that it was fairly cathartic to send him running for the hills. But still, it was in no way a dragon should ever act, at least if one wanted to impart good lessons towards his son.
He was supposed to be above such acts of pettiness and yet he there he went sinking down to the very same levels Garble often stooped to. Apparently, Spike had picked up on the tension with him on the way back and had asked if anything was alright. A few quick reassurances that everything was fine and Spike said no more on the subject. But everything was definitely, almost certainly not fine at all.
Gods above, he was such an idiot of possibly cataclysmic proportions. Yeah, there was no greater feeling in the world than becoming a father, but with it came its own set of hurdles.
Nonetheless, there was really only one course of action Spyro knew he could and for that matter should take at this point. And that was, he had to make amends. He hated Garble, yes, but no reason for his own personal prejudices to affect his son’s life. He had spotted the disappointed glance Smolder had sent him. A broken pedestal, it had seemed. Apparently, she had thought the legendary Spyro above such things. But how? It wouldn't be as simple as apologizing to Garble could it, the two had hated each other equally since birth. But right now it seemed that it was the only possible recourse of action. Still… Nestor had always said to give others the benefit of the doubt, and maybe Garble wasn’t that bad of a dragon. He just needed a friend. Yeah, that was it!
Nestor’s philosophies had always worked out for him well enough, mostly. In any case, it couldn’t hurt for Spyro to at least try to work out the issues between him and Garble. Apologize, and hope the worst-case scenario doesn't come to pass. The worst-case scenario, of course, being Smolder never wanting to even be near his son ever again. He laughed bitterly at the irony. An hour or so ago he had been trying to keep the two apart and now he wanted them to be friends at the very least.
The whole idea sounded simple enough on paper really, but Spyro’s past prejudices and his own inner pessimist seemed to keep him from going through with the act really. Simply put, he was afraid, as much as Spyro loathed to admit it. He was too afraid to own up to a mistake he’d made and had justified it at the time as showing to his son you should never be afraid of anyone. ...Oh, this was going to bite him in the ass, he just knew it. He hoped Spike didn’t get any ideas about going after his parent’s killers now. The only reason Spyro had gone after gnorcs at his age, aside from being young and foolish was that he was simply the only one around at times to stop Gnasty and his band. His small size saw to that.
So there Spyro was, finding himself gliding over the swamplands that made up the Beast Tamers realm and flying down in the boggy wetlands and deep jungles below him. The sweltering heat brought up flies, which he simply swatted out of the air with his tail.
His own monumental lapses in judgment aside, Spyro liked coming here on a normal day. Always something going on and the dragons here were friendly enough. Sadly, today was not a normal day.
And as it happened when he met up with Garble again, the two once again found themselves exchanging punches and kicks as they wallowed in the mud. This was totally Garble’s fault by the way. Spyro faltering in his apology had nothing to do with it. So caught up in their frenzy were they, that they failed to notice a massive shape rising out of the water. Spyro’s eyes widened as a massive reptile of rock and earth rose up out of the swamp waters.
“Cragadile!” he thought before grabbing Garble by the arm and running. Spyro sucked in a breath and let out a blast of pure frost and ice freezing the rock creature solid before it broke out. And then it gave chase.
Eventually, the two managed to delve deeper into the swamps, Spyro managing to lose the massive beast.
“...You idiot, we’re dragons, we should have stood and fought that thing to the bitter end!” Garble snapped.
“And that would have worked how…?” Spyro asked. “You know better than anyone its almost impossible to even damage cragadiles with flame!”
“I’m still a dragon, and running doesn’t sit right with me…” Garble muttered.
“...Yeah, well, you’re alive aren’t you?” Spyro asked.
“For however how long… Cragadiles never give up the hunt!” Garble said. “That’s the second thing we know about them. ...In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t shown up again…”
“Yeah?” Spyro panted out. “Well… well, maybe we got lucky this time…”
“Doubt it short stack,” Garble muttered. “I doubt it so very much…”
He was proven right when the sound of trees crashing echoed through the swamps. There it came again, snarling and snapping at the twosome. Spyro and Garble ran for it, this time having to dodge flaming geysers of ignited swamp gases. Foxfire, the locals called it. No matter the name, the geysers made it that much harder to outrun the massive beast.
“...Oh, I cannot believe I’m going to die like this,” Garble muttered. “My sister would be so ashamed of me, going out like a wimp instead of a boss and dying alongside you!”
“...Yeah, well trust me it’s no pleasure for me either!” Spyro said before he got an idea upon watching the geysers. The wheels began to turn in his mind.
“...Uh, just so you know, because we’re about to die and all, I… I’m going to reveal to you a secret I’ve never told anyone else…” Garble whispered.
“Uh, dude, it’s not that you love me or anything? Because seriously, I do not swing that way. I’m flattered if you want to jump my bones and all but…”
“NO!” Garble snapped bashing him atop the head. “You doofus! Where and why did your brain go there of all places? You’re such a dumbass… Okay, truth be told, I was always… jealous of you I suppose?”
That did it, and Spyro screeched to a halt in spite of himself and the danger of one very pissed off cragadile.
“...Wait, what? J-Jealous, of me?” Spyro stammered out. “...I… Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”
“Should you be so surprised?” Garble asked. “I grew up here, in nowheresville with only the local idiots to be friends with, while you grew up with the oh so cultured artisans! You became a friggin’ hero man, multiple times over while I have to work in a dead end job with a pack of morons as my coworkers!”
“Talk later, defeat cragadile now!” Spyro said, his throat glowing orange. The sign of an oncoming flame of fury.
“...And how are we supposed to do that? Man, you are such an idiot, like I always said! I’m going to die before I recited any of that poetry I practiced to myself…” Garble whispered.
“Wait… what? Oh, never mind! Just on my mark. On three! Ready your flames, man!”
Garble shrugged. “Oh well, the enemy at the gates and all that… Blood pumping, Et cetera...” he muttered before on cue, he breathed out a torrent of flame. Spyro soon followed. And then the swamp gases ignited exactly as he’d planned. The cragadile was sent skywards before Spyro flash froze it with his ice breath and when it came back down it shattered like glass.
“...Dude. Okay, I take everything back. You are awesome…” Garble said before hugging tightly.
“...Yay. Okay, no hugs please? ...Please?”
“...Just one favor, okay? Just do me one favor, alright?” Garble pleaded and Spyro let out a deep sigh as he was released.
“...Name it.”
And so, later that evening Smolder and Spike were treated to one very weird sight. Both Spyro and Garble wearing little hats, Spyro on bongos of all things as Garble recited this.
“Eggs, come. Burst into that light. Break through shells that bind.
Break free, explore. Stuck! ...Between rock and... hard place.
Freedom, come! Don't be shy! Look those others in the eye!
Stake your claim! Don't stop! Just do! Be the one and only... you!”
“...You know Gar-Gar, I think I speak for all of us when I ask… What? Just simply… what?”
Garble could only smirk. “...If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“...My brother’s such a moron.”