This chapter is just...absolutely silly lol.

Dracen is being Dracen and driving everyone he runs into nuts.

If you're NEW to this series, then I would suggest starting from the beginning, which is here:
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/5918826

If you don't read through "The Dragon" and "The Mortal" you will miss out on many humorous things that are involved in this story AS WELL AS SPOILERS!!! SO MANY SPOILERS!! GO READ THOSE FIRST!

MINE.

~Angel~

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His mate was going on about something again, her “yammerings” as he called them in his head. He didn't like to vocalize his terms for Rayne's behaviors because they only upset her and that meant even worse things than just yammerings.

He was watching her walk back and forth on their well paced rug, deciding to stop trying to coax her to come to bed and simply rest there himself. Eventually she would realize he wasn't listening, become frustrated and jump into bed to hit him to get his attention. It would take longer than simply scooping her up and making her rest, but Magnus would let her continue her thought processes, he didn't mind watching her move in her large, cotton shirt.

But the last sentence she spoke caught his attentions.

“What do you mean you could help him with his dragon problem? I thought you HAD already,” Magnus murmured as Rayne's body turned towards him and crossed her arms, a dangerous gesture. It meant she was set in her ways, she had only a few more points to prove what ever SHE wanted was the correct path.

“Its a tundra dragoness, Magnus! An ice breather!” Rayne clarified as if her current yammering hadn't been about that very thing. Honestly, Magnus didn't understand what was fascinating about the ice-chomping savage creature. “I've never, ever heard of one this far down, and trust me...I tried looking for one once in the high northern provinces.”

“You would like me to let you go with Dracen and see the Ice Breather? Trust DRACEN with your life with a dragoness that he couldn't take down in the first place?”

“I can take care of myself—”

“Fine,” Magnus interrupted calmly and laid back onto the mattress out of Rayne's sight with the wooden frame blocking his body. He heard Rayne's shocked sound, before he felt the wooden frame shake with climbing limbs. Her face and shoulders leaned over the edge with a deep frown.

“Fine?” she repeated him, which made his mouth purse in an annoyed manner.

“Yes,” he answered, “Fine. You can take care of yourself, and I can tell you have already made up your mind about this.”

Her head tilted as her frown turned to deeper suspicion. He merely gave her a slow, side grin and raised a brow to counter the tone of her gazing.

“You would have Ryre for a few days,” Rayne felt the need to tell him, her mind beginning to take that fact into account.

“I know that,” he responded with a small, calm sigh. “He and I do fine without you. I have a few thoughts already on what we can do together with your absence.”

Then her suspicious gaze turned to a deeper glare, crawling into the bed and landing hard on his hips with her rump.

“You are not taking him flying again,” she declared.

“I wasn't aware you would be here to stop me,” Magnus shrugged, putting his paws behind his head and glancing at the ceiling.

“Magnus!” She fumed and slapped his shoulder hard. “You are NOT taking him flying!”

“He is three years old, he needs a proper first flight,” He said still in his calm, even tones. “The first time was far too short.”

“He doesn't have wings! WHY would he need to have ANY flying lessons?!” Rayne ranted a bit in his face.

“Because he is my offspring, and it is a part of a dragon's upbringing,” Magnus answered her, watching her breath intake for another long shout. “—AND he LIKED it.”

“It is too dangerous—”

“Our son is not SAFE with me?” He contested, more snarled at her with narrowing eyes. She clammed up quite nicely with his words, but her evident reddening cheeks and the growl in her throat told him all he needed to know. She wasn't going anywhere, which was his plot entirely. She would have to keep an eye on him until she was certain Magnus and Ryre would do safe, indoor activities while she was away for longer periods of time. That meant she wasn't leaving at least this time, which was alright with Magnus.

“You are a cheater,” she growled at him and leaned forward onto his body, blanketing him even though she was angry about his sly way of making her stay.

“I am a dragon, we do not cheat. We use what ever means necessary to make others see the error in their ways,” Magnus whispered, running his fingers through Rayne's loose hair and rubbing her back slowly.

“Exactly,” she whispered back, resting her chin on his chest and pouting heavily. “Cheater.”

***********************************************************************

Dracen scented the little monster before he truly woke from his sleepy state, knowing full well that his nephew had escaped the confines—or lack there of—of his bed and his parents inattentive eyes to seek out his uncle. He peeled one eye open and observed the tiny cub-hybrid perched on his guard scales like he belonged there, red-eyes staring far too intently at his beloved uncle. Ryre was somewhat more like Dracen than Magnus in the respect he liked to “pway” with others for mild amusement. That alone gave Dracen a few little teasing jabs towards his big brother as who actually sired the cub. Dracen always wondered if Magnus had the same streak of mischief in him before Dracen's hatching, and their older sister knocked him down a peg or two.

“Unck,” Ryre greeted, a showing smile as his tail swished back and forth across Dracen's nostrils, tickling them mildly.

“You do know that its a very long distance from your hatchery, don't you?” Dracen asked in mild annoyance, which Ryre only tilted his head in silent inquiry. “Oh...very long time—to walk here.”

“Yuss,” the little hatchling agreed, but didn't do much more than that. “Unck up, Unck up!”

“Ryre, Unck is VERY tired,” Dracen yawned to prove his point, sending the furred cub straight into Dracen's forehead. “And injured.”

Ryre crawled up into Dracen's black mane and bounced around on his head, nothing really harsh about the light impacts but it was somewhat like a tick crawling across skin, very hard to ignore when one knew it was there.

“Come now, pest,” Dracen mumbled angrily, “Why don't you go bother the one who sired you?”

Grumbling and complaining did little to charm the cub from his current act of playing, running on all fours across Dracen's scales with quick, honed reflexes. His nephew may have looked like a tiger cub, but his kinetic development was far more hatchling.

“Alright, fine,” Dracen murmured as he raised his head up and felt Ryre slide down the back of his long neck, settling in between his wings and shoulder blades. “You want to play a game?”

“Game! Game!” Ryre chimed in excitement, sliding down Dracen's shoulder to his arm and bouncing clear off of the high height like it were a mere step.

“Into my claw,” Dracen smile widely as he presented his opened clawed paw, Ryre crawling into it immediately without question. Dracen tilted his head a little to listen for any other signs of life, before he closed his paw around his nephew and sat back onto his haunches. “We call this game, 'Can Ryre Fly?'”

Ryre grinned happily, before Dracen tossed him effortlessly into a high arc in the cavern! Ryre squealing in delight as his four limbs spread out to steady his mock flight! Dracen caught him in his other paw, the hatchling landing gracefully on all four of his own paws and looking up at Dracen.

“Agin! Agin!”

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Rayne had lost her son. He wasn't in his bed, nor was he in his parents treasury which was where the avid three-year-old usually sneaked off to early. She had a pretty good idea where her son had ended up in the wee hours of the morning. Ryre had an odd affinity for his Uncle, or perhaps any large dragon that he knew was immediate family. If there was someone visiting the large lair homestead, Ryre was sure to be with them versus waking up his parents for entertainment. The old gods knew all too well that Ryre loved to be sneaky and cunning, even if he didn't know the meaning of either of those words.

Rayne trekked the distance to the opposite corridors of the cave system, hearing small echoes of high squeals from a good ways down the torchlit tunnel. She sighed as if someone could hear her, telling herself she should just turn back and wait for Dracen to return Ryre to her, knowing the blue dragon could only take so much, but she couldn't. Her motherly instincts always outweighed her common sense and prior knowledge.

Her son was different, although she didn't have much knowledge of a mortal's development besides what she could remember herself, and that was not much if any. She still felt her son wasn't a normal cub. If she had spoken any of that aloud to her mate, he would have simply said it was because he WAS different from every other species on the lands they knew. He would also say it in his very prideful and factual way just to make sure Rayne understood how special his male offspring was. Currently, Rayne wasn't really speaking with the blow hard after he pulled the flying card last night. He didn't know she wasn't speaking to him, but he would when he finally rose.

Rayne walked forward until the large mouth of Dracen's guest cavern came into view, but not what was going on inside it. Once again, Rayne's rational mind told her to turn around and trust family with the little hybrid cub, especially since Ryre was going to keep seeking them out in the first place. Trusting family seemed to become an oxymoron since the birth of her only child however, and she was certain she should go with her gut in this instance as well. Rayne stomped forward to just get herself moving again, watching curiously as a shadow moved across the floor from the torchlight in the guest cavern, moving much like a bird's shadow across a road. Her brows drew down before peering into the room.

Dracen had Ryre in one large, blue claw, Ryre on all fours and looking ready to pounce his older and far larger uncle. Dracen obviously knew the cub was there, so why was Ryre coiled like a feral bear waiting to launch?

“Good morning, Dracen,” Rayne greeted, which set off a chain reaction of muscles and consequences Rayne nearly fainted at.

Dracen's paw flung her son high into the air towards the ceiling, Ryre jumping at the same moment to give himself MORE height! Arching by—thank the gods not into—several stalactites and torches, Ryre squealing in delight the entire way! Rayne ran under him as he began to slow in the high air, all his limbs stretching out as if he were merely going to land like that and break several valuable body parts. Rayne reached up as her son began to gain speed back to hard, unforgiving rock ground, snatching him out of the air as he giggled. He wrapped his paws around her neck and bopped his nose with her own in greeting.

“Mama,” Ryre grinned and gave her a peck on her mouth.

“Very nice catch, Lady Morsel,” Dracen praised eagerly. She could feel the former wave of shock and cold features of her face gave way to fresh, heated anger, turning to the large blue and silver scaled idiot who had just nearly killed her son!

“What do you think you were DOING?!” Rayne yelled before she could contain herself, gold eyes tracing daggers across the dragon before her. “My SON! YOU THREW MY SON!”

”He said 'Again', or at least I think he said it,” Dracen defended, pointing a black claw at the cub in her arms. “And you surprised me.”

“What do you mean, AGAIN?! YOU THREW HIM MORE THAN ONCE?!”

“Well, yes,” Dacen answered like that was what anyone would have done with an infant. “He's very persuasive.”

“HE'S THREE YEARS OLD!”

“Alright, for a three year old he's very persuasive.”

“You're all insane,” Rayne finally comprehended aloud, her voice shaking in worry, relief as well as realization. “Every last dragon is not SANE!”

“I'm perfectly sane, Lady Morsel,” Dracen responded. “Otherwise I would have eaten my dearest nephew when he entered here. See? Blood does not eat blood—usually.”

“You don't THROW THREE YEAR OLD INFANTS IN THE AIR, EVEN—NO ESPECIALLY IF THEY ASK YOU TO!” Rayne shouted at him, looking Ryre over carefully before holding him possessively to her shoulder.

“I'm not going to coddle him,” Dracen responded with some disdain, “it's not my job to coddle your young, it's my job to be fun and mischievous and possibly teach him those things if he is clever enough.”

“IN-SANE,” she yelled sternly, turning with Ryre in tight arms to leave before she started to tear white, glistening teeth from the dragon's jaws. Her fur was standing on end as it prickled with her worn and angered nerves, making sure to keep from turning around when Dracen said smugly,

“Goodbye, Ryre.”

“Bye bye, Unck,” Ryre bid, waving at his uncle animatedly.

***********************************************************************

She was on her way back to the lair and territory she was inhabiting for the time being, having fed on a few cows to tied her over for the rest of the day. She knew how much she needed to eat in order to merely sustain herself but she couldn't help from eating a little heartier with all the available sources of food.

It was torture being this far south, the mostly stillness of the light snow, the scent of the wild-looking foreign trees, moss, mold. Where she was from, the snow shifted like sand or ocean water with the currents of harsh winds. The trees pointed only at their tip and smelled of clean evergreen needles, never looking as dead and bare as their southern cousins. The ice was packed thickly underneath the sifting snow storm flakes and under all that ice lay the caverns of her kind, being able to dig into them to create or find their own ice lined caverns. The food sources here were far more plentiful though, and the mortals here had most of their livestock in tight, fenced in places. The herdsmen of the north wouldn't do such a foolish thing, the only way the few sheep, yaks and goats that could survive were moved around quite frequently to make sure her kind wouldn't keep swooping down to munch them up. Perhaps the more steady food source would prove helpful to her problem, if she were going to grow to a normal size this situation would encourage it.

She was classified as a “runt”, too small for her current age and therefore unworthy of having males fight for her, have her as a mate. Where the fire-breather cannibalists of the south did not exist in large familial groups—due to the fact they seemed to enjoy killing each other and eating other species of dragons—the tundra dragon lived in tribes. The tribes consisted of only four families, usually four sets of breeding couples and their offspring. When the offspring became of age, the females would be sent to another tribe just before breeding cycles, and any available male who wanted to take a mate would be able to fight for her, becoming a part of that tribe. This kept the bloodlines from becoming tainted with relations blood, and helped males prove their strength to be one of the family leaders or even choose to start a tribe of their own.

The problem was, no male would want to fight for her. What kind of offspring would she bare because she was a small-one? Would they be even strong enough to live the first year of life? To hold their own against their much older tribe hatchlings? She barely kept her horns when she was young, the last of her parents brood and the youngest of her generation born. Her eldest brother was currently the head of her family's tribe, her sire and mother settling down in their older age to stop worrying about the fight for food or territory with other tribes. It was for the younger, strong generation's job to take care of the rest of them until death. That, however did not stop them from worrying for her. Even though she had proven her hunting skills were far above some of—even most of her own generation, she was still a runt, and runts had one real chance of surviving into proper adulthood AND having offspring of their own.

They were cast out of the tribe for a year, and if they survived on their own, they could return home with the promise of at least the protection and connection of their kin. Breeding rights would only be earned if they kept up with the needs of the tribe but runts seldom had mates in tundra dragon society.

Most runts did not survive the year, being killed by neighboring tribes or mortals or starving to death if they didn't—or weren't taught how to hunt for themselves. She was too smart for all that, to be picked off like a lost hatchling.

So she headed into the south to ride out her exile, knowing the threat of fire breathers was bad, but they tended to keep to themselves unless truly threatened. She was not here to take gold or treasure or secrets, she was mostly just trying to stay in a very small area of territory for the short amount of time she would be in the heated landscape. Besides, one fire breather she could handle, as she had done only a week prior. A tribe of five male tundra brethren that weren't kin? They would rip her to shreds and scales for treading where she didn't belong, stealing food and resources that they claimed as their own in their marked territory.

Ice breathers didn't have the luxury of being lenient, especially about their resources. Their homeland may be vast, but food was always a problem when the tribes grew too large. Some herding wild animals would travel near and across the northern tundra lands during what she considered summer, but other than that game was small, and in small groups, and tended to be very good about changing their traveling paths as to not tread on the same game trail twice save for a couple times a year.

If anything, her year in exile would make her fat, maybe that would win her family over in order to present herself for breeding. It wasn't that she didn't want to be with her tribe anymore, but she actually wanted a family. She wanted to be able to raise hatchlings, having helped raise several of the offspring that her siblings and their mates had. She would miss them greatly, but she was tired of raising others offspring and wanted her own. She would just have to find a way to be attractive enough for a male to actually want her even for her smaller size and want little ones.

She landed lightly onto the powdered snow and continued to ponder her supposed short comings. The intake of breath was what snapped her out of her hard thoughts and made her focus on the moments she was supposed to be living in. The fire blast hit her square in the chest and sent her tail over head backwards, sliding through the thin layer of snow and coming to a stop in chaos of limbs and wings. She felt the heated burn on some of her hide, her guard scales blocking most of the attack but some of her smaller scales definitely ached with new pain.

“Somehow I thought getting the upper hand would take far more work,” said the male voice, the familiar docile and sultry tones making her urge her body off her back and at least onto her belly. The fire breather? Back? Hadn't she almost killed him already? Hadn't he learned his lesson the first time? She had out-witted and out-fought three of her brothers the same size he was, if not bigger. At that moment he was just giving her more reasons to be pissed off, which always helped her become more focused and deadly. She bit back the pain of her hide and stood up, turning around to face the blue dragon with the piercing silver eyes and black, shaggy mane.

He was lounging in the lair's entrance on his side as if she weren't the dragoness who nearly killed him the last time they met, and might she add had every opportunity to. She thought that nearly disemboweling him would have surely made him bleed to death somewhere, but apparently this fire breather was far more hearty than she had first thought.

“I dare say, at least I was aware of your presence,” he murmured to her and cast what she assumed he thought was a charming smile. “You would have thought with me being a hot-gas bag you would have scented me sooner.”

“Are you planning on turning tail again?” she growled at him as she slammed her front paw into the ground like an angry stag. “Because I will make sure you are dead this time round.”

“Roar-growl-hiss,” the male said in a bored tone, making his front paw look as if it were speaking to add insult to his lack of fear. “Just move along, ice-chomper. You have to leave my lair at some points just as I do, and we could play the lie-in-wait game until—”

“I kill you and wear your horns like jewels?” she suggested with a large, happy grin. There was that brow draw, the expression he had last time. It wasn't quite irritation, or confusion, nor even a mixture. It was common for her kind to offer such suggestions to enemies before killing them off, but none of them bore that expression.

His eyes were wandering to the large charred mark he had left on her sparkling scales as well as the rest of her, far too inviting for her taste.

“It must sting a little,” he replied back in his even-silk tones. “I can't imagine what a blast like that would do to your pretty face.”

“Are you really going to sit there and try to get under my tail, hot-head?” she asked in mild amusement and disbelief. “Do you not know I would like to just rip out your eyes with my tail spire? Or freeze your limbs then break them a part while you scream in agony?”

“You ice breathers and your torture ideas,” the male muttered but seemed highly amused. “Is that what you do all day lounging in my lair? Thinking up ways to kill other dragons? Are you planning on taking over and killing off every fire breather in these provinces?”

“I will do what I want in my lair! Its none of your business!” she almost roared at him in frustration.

“Is that a yes, then?” he questioned.

“Are all your kind this unbalanced?!” she demanded in frustration, stomping her foot again. He gave her a very shocked expression and was almost offended with her words.

“I assure you I am perfectly sane,” he snapped aggressively. “Everyone else seems to be getting angry and short tempered for no apparent reason—and I am taking that as a yes.”

“Please just—stop,” she strained to say without shouting again, “Get out of my lair and let me kill you.”

“Very convincing, I am overwhelmed with the need to come out and roll on my back just to let you finish me off,” he responded with such sarcasm it was a miracle he didn't choke on it, not moving an inch from his current spot.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are obnoxious and annoying?” she barbed at him, before raising her claw up to stop his retort. “Wait, you're a fire-breather, those are standard in your breeding.”

“Haha!” He laughed heartily, his sarcasm vanishing with her insults. He must have been insane, he was laughing at his own expense as if it were the most entertaining joke in the land. “You are quick, I will give you that. Must be all that ice-breather bravado those males tend to talk about, then loose when their heads are severed from their necks.”

“AS entertaining as all this talk is,” she growled out, resisting the urge to grind her teeth together in her already clenched jaws. “I would really just like to get this over with—”

“What is your name?” he interrupted, his head tilting in an inquisitive manner. Her jaw still hung open from the fact she was going to finish her sentence, if she had remembered what she was going to order of him.

“Why would I tell you—”

“I am just curious,” he responded calmly, checking one of his claws over carefully. “If you're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm in me knowing?”