Chapter Text
Winter stopped and rubbed his eyes, having been pouring over documents for the better part of three hours. Normally not an issue, but these came from humans. Which meant their print was small. To make it worse, it wasn’t anything vital. Statistics, sure, but nothing that required immediate attention. Most of it was ‘as discussed with Sky, here is blank’.
Sky was great as a wandering diplomat, as he was somehow able to keep them happy with the assistance of Wren. In fact, his letters were the only ones Winter could read clearly. It certainly helped that Sky’s language wasn’t as verbose and technical as normal reports.
Unfortunately, when it came to monthly reports, it meant Winter was locked in a room for a day. His eyes could only take so much tiny print before they put him to sleep.
“Winter.” Cricket’s voice came from across the stone table. She had taken half of his workload, saying she ‘needed something to do’ so she’d stop fussing over her eggs.
“Yeah?” Winter blinked a few times and returned to reading.
“I think it’s about time we had that talk again.” Cricket stood up and lowered the report he read.
“Which one?” He eyed her warily.
“That you ,” she poked him in the chest, “need reading glasses.”
“No, I don’t.” Winter frowned slightly. “I can read this fine.”
“Winter, you squint so much reading these reports it looks like your eyes are closed. It’s straining your eyes.”
“It’s because humans write small, nothing else.” Winter’s frown intensified. “I’ve never had an issue before.”
“Yeah, but you’re getting older. Can’t do this as much without assistance.”
“I’m going to be twenty six next month. That’s not old.”
“Tell you what,” Cricket moved toward the door. “I have a spare set. If I give them to you, and you read better, will you listen to me?”
“And if I don’t, you’ll agree to drop it?” Winter counter-offered, knowing full well that she’d bring it up again in a month or two.
“For now.” Cricket winked. Winter ruffled his wings with a sigh.
A minute later, she returned with a set of half rim spectacles. This pair, Winter could wear from his ears, as Cricket’s normal set hung from her center horn. He had doubts it’d work, as his eyes were much different than hers. But, she explained them to be a generic set of reading glasses.
“Well?” Cricket prodded after Winter read a report.
“I… can read better with these.” Winter admitted slowly and very begrudgingly. The text was about half times larger and he did not need to squint much at all.
The worst part was that he’d never, ever live this down. No matter how eye opening - quite literally so - this was.
“I knew it!” Cricket’s wings began to buzz happily. “I told you!”
“Yes, you did. You can stop gloating now.” Winter grumbled.
“Oh, don’t be so pouty! You look quite handsome in a pair of spectacles. Really gives you that scholar look you wanted.” Cricket nudged him playfully. As she did, Blue stood by the door. “Blue, I got him to admit it!”
“I wondered what the buzzing was about.” Blue smirked and leaned against the door. “Haven’t heard her do that in over a week.”
“But, Winter, your eyes are still very keen elsewhere. I know they are.” Cricket returned attention back to Winter. “But like I said, you’re not getting any younger. And humans don’t write very big. You just need a little assistance. I don’t see you wearing lenses all the time like me. I can’t even see my nose without mine!”
“I’ll… think about stopping by the glass crafter.” Winter sighed reluctantly. He needed to go there anyway at some point, as he’d dropped a glass and just never went to get it replaced. “Lensecrafter, whatever he is.”
“Kinda does everything glass. Needs to make that his slogan.”
“Clay?” Blue turned his head around at the sound of something loud and heavy landing. “Are you okay?”
“I am, but Sandrunner’s not.” Clay held a look of grimness uncharacteristic of the MudWing. Winter’s heart rate accelerated. “Darkstalker did something to him. Moon asked me to get you all. His mind’s broken from what I understand.”
“Broken how?” Cricket’s energetic demeanor switched off so fast Winter barely registered.
“He didn’t remember where he was. I dunno, I’m kind of hoping you all and Fatespeaker have an idea.” Clay shook his head, frowning. “It’s bad, though.”
Without wasting any time, the four of them flew out of the cave and toward where Sandrunner was staying. Nothing seemed to be off on the outside. No signs of forced entry. It must have been the projection of Darkstalker that came to him.
Inside, Winter opened the door and found Moon laying with a wing over Sandrunner. She was wide awake. She reacted to his presence like a wounded animal, claws ready for any attack and fangs slightly bared. It all disappeared in a flash, replaced with tired relief.
Moon explained once prompted. Apparently, Darkstalker had come to Sandrunner, asked him to make some sort of enchantment, and it went wrong. Winter couldn’t help but scowl deep in thought at this. It didn’t make sense.
Why was Darkstalker trying to sabotage his own cult? He was prone to acts of spontaneousness, but not like this. The motivations clashed so hard that it felt like two different dragons were behind this phantom.
Only… the phantom was real. Winter had seen first-claw the IceWing plague. Darkstalker was all over the map in terms of motivation and Winter could not fathom why . Something had to have changed.
“I don’t care,” Moon said when Winter questioned it aloud. “I’m going to kill him and that’s final.”
“Moon…” Winter’s mouth creased into a thin line.
“Don’t ‘Moon’ me.” Moon glowered at him. “I’ve tried to do it every other way, Winter. But now he’s won. He’s broken Sandrunner, and he’s shattered my resolve. The only thing left is to make him choke on his victory.”
Winter kept his mouth shut. He knew arguing with her right now would only end badly. She was - rightfully - livid and agitated and in her protective parent mode. After she had a chance to process this and Sandrunner was allowed to recover, he’d approach it again.
On the subject of her son, he was lucid, but his eyes were distant. They locked onto him, and for the briefest of moments, the vitriol Winter had seen in the Rain Kingdom some time ago surged back. Then, it softened, replaced with confusion. Just by looking at him, Winter could tell that Clay spoke the truth.
A tap on Winter’s shoulder alerted him to the arrival of Fatespeaker and her egg. Her exhausted face was creased with worry and horror, only intensifying at the sight of Sandrunner. Winter stood aside and let her in.
As she entered, Winter felt someone else brush against him. This time, it was Kinkajou, who had poked her head in worriedly. This time, it had nothing to do with him.
“Hey,” Fatespeaker approached at Moon’s nod of approval. “Do you remember who I am?”
Sandrunner’s brow furrowed. “I… I know you, but not your name. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s Fatespeaker.” The NightWing forced a smile. “Do you remember your name?”
Sandrunner did not reply at first. The seconds that ticked by grew more and more agonizing as he remained quiet.
“Sandrunner.” He shifted, speaking with uncertainty. It was only when Fatespeaker nodded did he seem more confident in his answer.
“Correct. Do you remember where you are, Sandrunner?”
“Sanctuary.”
“And do you know what time it is?”
“No. But it’s night.”
“Right. Again, sorry for stupid questions, but I need to assess what your cognitive state is.” Fatespeaker apologized. Sandrunner’s growing annoyance, evidenced by his tense posture, faded at this.
It went on like this for a good twenty minutes. Sandrunner stuttered and stalled for a fair bit of the questions, but once he was able to focus, he could remember. It was when, say, Cricket moved to the side and he watched her that his memory completely failed and they had to reground him.
“Moon, I think it would be a good idea for you to stretch your legs while I write some notes,” Fatespeaker said to Moon.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Moon responded with finality.
“Moon, I get it. I really do.” Fatespeaker held up her egg for emphasis. “But any distraction and your son loses complete focus and we restart. I need to speak to him with minimal distractions so I may accurately assess his mental status.”
“I’m not saying a word.” Moon did not budge.
“No, but any movement you make, however minor, is a distraction. You don’t have to go far, but I need him to focus on one thing and one thing only.” Fatespeaker spoke with clipped professionalism. It was strange to see such a bubbly and upbeat person so restrained.
“I’ll be okay.” Sandrunner mumbled out. “She’s right.”
“No.” Moon’s eyes narrowed.
“Moon,” Cricket spoke next. “Mom to mom, you have to let professionals do their job. Ask Blue how often I nested over mine and fussed when a doctor came to inspect.”
“... I can’t.” Moon admitted. “If I leave, I’m just going to worry and drive myself crazy.”
“I’ll stay with you.” Winter offered without hesitation.
At his words, Moon shifted her gaze to him. As many thoughts ran through her mind as there were scales on her face. At the same time, Winter noted Sandrunner staring at him with those same eyes. There was an understanding there that wasn’t before.
“Alright.” Moon relented after a moment. “But I’m not going far.”
“Nobody asked you to.” Fatespeaker smiled back.
Gently, Moon picked Sandrunner up and placed him on the bed. Winter saw that it was partially damaged, with intense claw raking and droplets of blood from when he slashed his own face. Once he was settled, Moon slowly moved out.
True to her word, Moon refused to leave eyesight of the hut. Winter did manage to get her down to the river, however, where she proceeded to throw her face under the water. Bubbles accompanied a garbed shriek of rage and anguish.
“Don’t try and talk me out of killing him.” Moon glared when she resurfaced. “I saw that look.”
“I’m not,” Winter said.
“Yes, you are. Maybe not right now, but you will.” Moon regarded him with a knowing stare.
“I’m just concerned,” Winter responded truthfully. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. If you weren’t in ‘mother bear mode’, as Cricket calls it, I’d be concerned about that too.”
“Then what, exactly, are you worried about? Because it kind of feels like no matter my mood, you’d look at me the way you are now.” Moon snarled slightly.
“Moon, you are one of the kindest and compassionate dragons I’ve ever met.” Winter stated with his usual IceWing bluntness. “Everything you’ve done before, even when you’ve flown into a rage, was born out of a need to protect. This is the first time I’ve seen you act with vengeance.”
“I couldn’t protect Sandrunner.” Moon averted her gaze. “The only thing left is to hurt the one who hurt him.”
“And what happens when you do?” Winter questioned.
“I don’t know, Winter!” Moon snapped at him. “But I’m out of options! Do you think I like being this angry!? This spiteful?! I don’t have anything left!”
“I understand.” Winter went to place a claw over hers before hesitating. He wasn’t sure if she would react well to physical comfort right now. “I do. But something’s not right with this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am going to ask you not to react to what I say until I finish.” Winter glanced back to the hut. “Think about Darkstalker’s actions so far. They don’t make sense. First he wanted to kill Sandrunner, then he spares him. Now he’s offering him the power to enchant? Do you remember what Qibli said about his time in the Sea Kingdom?”
“That Darkstalker wanted to take him from us, yes.” Moon nodded slowly.
“If that was the case, then it’s reasonable to assume that Darkstalker did not intend to shatter Sandrunner’s mind.”
“I have considered that.” Moon grimaced. Her stance was calmer, but the fire of anger still churned in her eyes. “But it does not change what he did. He never considers anyone else. Sandrunner was vulnerable, and now he’s more so now. Even if I did - and I won’t - forgive him for the enchantment, he still crippled my son. He nearly took him away from me.” Her claws dug into the ground. “I don’t know how I didn’t break then.”
A deep breath escaped her.
“Sandrunner’s all I have left, Winter.” She flicked a few rocks into the river with her tail, her rage simmering into sorrow. “Yes, I have you and the Winglet is being repaired, but I can’t just… walk away if I lose him. Quite literally a piece of myself will die, and that is the part tethering me here.” A pause. “You… don’t seem surprised about this.”
Winter’s grimace had intensified the more she talked, but as she said, he did not react with surprise. “You’ve said it before.”
“When?”
“After the Night Palace. You stood over where Sandrunner nearly died and confessed that to me.” Winter remained stoic as he spoke. It was the only way to keep himself grounded. “You were half awake, stressed, and probably very drunk. It makes sense if you don't remember.”
“Ah,” Moon said, a hint of shame crossing her face. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear that.”
“I do.” Winter spoke with forceful affirmation. “I care about you, Moon. I… do not express that verbally very often, but I do. I know I’m not the best at emotional support as well, but this is… something I want to know about.” Winter took a step closer. “You aren’t a burden. Not to me or anyone else.”
“I know. It doesn’t make it any easier to say.” Moon’s tail tapped the ground, talons drumming on a rock. “I guess that’s why you’re not so verbal, huh?” She added with faint humor.
Winter nodded slowly. That only got her to laugh quietly. “What?”
“You didn’t do that on purpose?”
It took a moment for him to realize what she meant. “No.” He admitted.
“Oh Winter, what am I ever going to do with or without you?” Moon’s shoulders slumped as she shook her head. “Y’know, it’s funny. Twenty years ago, our places were reversed. You had so much anger and were lashing out and I tried to help you. How the tables turn.”
“I had reasons to be angry then. You do now.” Winter sat next to her as she turned her attention to the river again, lost in thought. “I just don’t want you to lose yourself like I almost did.”
“I still want to kill him. I still will likely do so.” Moon spoke in a much more defeated, sad voice. “But maybe you’re right. I just don’t know.”
“I think it’s okay not to know. I learned that the hard way.”
Moon leaned against him, sagging slightly. Winter went rigid at the motion and did not know what to do. He should have anticipated this. But, again, positive affection and physical touch were still things he hadn’t quite gotten used to.
He could almost see the reflection of himself twenty years ago shrieking to do something about this action.
“Winter, can I ask you to stay with me and Sandrunner?” Moon asked after a moment of quiet reflection.
“Yes.” Winter smiled thinly. Moon sighed happily at that. “But, on that note, should we tell your mother? I believe she will want to know.”
Moon swore and sat straight up. “I need to tell her, you are correct. Although, I’d be surprised if she’s still asleep after hearing everything. She’s got a place nearby.”
“Shall we find her now?”
“Yeah, probably. Saves a headache from her demanding why I didn’t tell her earlier.” Moon ruffled her wings. “Come on. Like I said, it’s not far.”
“Are you sure you want to venture too far? I can find her.” Winter offered, gesturing back to the lodge.
“It’s better if it comes from me and I can still see everything.” Moon spoke after a moment of thought. “I just hope Fatespeaker has a few answers when we get back.”
Secretkeeper’s reaction was as expected. The instant Moon woke her and informed what had happened, there was no stopping the two of them from bolting. Winter even found it a little hard to keep up. But not too hard.
“How is he?” Secretkeeper demanded of Kinkajou, who had remained outside.
“Um, no idea. Fatespeaker hasn’t come out yet. Cricket went to go get some books for her, though.” Kinkajou glanced toward the window. “Wouldn’t yell, though. Distracting Sandrunner is a bad idea.”
“Sorry.” Secretkeeper deflated slightly. “Do we know anything at all?”
“No. And that's the worst part.”
And so they waited. It felt like an eternity. Winter could hear Fatespeaker asking muffled questions and writing something. Sandrunner’s voice was largely quiet, so hearing anything was next to impossible even for him.
A minute turned into five and then into thirty before Fatespeaker stepped out of the lodge. Moon sprang like a coil and was in front of the other NightWing faster than Winter could blink.
“Oookay, let’s all take a deep breath.” Fatespeaker took a step back and raised her wings to calm the larger NightWings. “I’m just going to come out and say that I don’t have a concrete treatment plan or even diagnosis yet. This is going to take time.”
“Well, what do you know?” Moon demanded.
“From the discussion I had with him, it seems Sandrunner is experiencing a disconnect between himself and the environment around him. He will on occasion not react to outside stimuli or be unaware of his surroundings.” Fatespeaker looked both Moon and Secretkeeper in the eyes. “This isn’t uncommon in high stress environments or situations. Lots of scrolls and reports from the War of SandWing Succession talk about this. But what worries me is that his mind is already in a weakened state from his coma. The self-mutilation is also very concerning.”
“Well, what’s the solution? How do we help him?” Secretkeeper questioned in a more subdued way than Moon was about to.
“Well, he’s okay right now, but I don’t know what he’ll be like when he wakes up. I need to monitor this closely.” Fatespeaker grimaced. “Once he does and I take a look and do more research, I’ll have a better idea. I’ll also need to speak to Moon, Kinkajou, and Clay soon, as they were the ones who witnessed this.”
“Okay. Then what can we do now ?” Moon took a deep breath before asking.
“Now? Let him rest. Let him wake up on his own. Monitor what happens when he does and then tell me.” Fatespeaker looked to the window of the lodge. “Just… don’t be surprised at what happens is all I’ll say.”
“Will he be okay? Will he recover from this?”
“I have hope.” Fatespeaker grinned brightly. “From what I understand, he forced himself out of a coma. I’m sure he can do this given the time.”
They were allowed inside, so long as they kept quiet. None of them had any trouble with this. Moon slowly padded toward the bed, standing over Sandrunner. Winter could tell she wanted to reach out and stroke his face. They’d have to find Turtle’s rock tomorrow to heal this.
Winter stayed a respectful distance as the two NightWings silently spoke to each other. After a moment, they seemed to agree that rest would be the best option. Once Moon curled up on the floor beside Sandrunner’s bed did Winter approach.
She leaned into him when he curled next to her. One eye on Sandrunner, the other on himself. Then, both slowly shut as exhaustion clung to her.
“I don’t need to threaten you, do I?” Came a barely audible, somewhat wry whisper from Secretkeeper, who watched this unfold.
“No.” Winter shook his head.
“Good.” Secretkeeper laid her head on the floor, shutting her eyes.
Winter followed suit. He had slept in harder conditions than a creaky wood floor next to a very large and warm dragon. In fact, if the situation weren’t so dire, Winter may even call this quite comfortable…