This is a young love story between two video game dragons I wrote as a request for my friend  MiaTheLynx to go with the art above. Only it ended up being WAAAAY longer than I had planned. This is the first chapter of what is probably gonna be a 10 chapter series, so I hope you like Spyro!

This story series is gonna be about Spyro and Flame. Don’t know who Flame is? I don’t blame you. He’s a briefly seen NPC from A Hero’s Tail, that one Spyro game nobody played. If you haven’t played any Spyro game at all, don’t worry. While I reference events and locations from Spyro, this really is a standalone, alt-universe kind of thing.

The premise is simple. The story follows Flame who grew up with Spyro in the Dragon Realms. The two used to be very close before Spyro just up and left on a quest to some faraway realm, leaving poor Flame behind. With news that his old friend is finally returning to Dragon Village, Flame is forced to confront some old memories: some good, some bad, and decide once and for all if that Spyro is a dragon you can trust.

Oh, and that gorgeous art piece itself is by the wonderfully talented  draktau. Go give her a watch. She’s freaking amazing!
Link to her upload! Go there and fave! https://www.furaffinity.net/view/35053756/

View all chapters here

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Heads up, for a better reading experience, you can check out this chapter on SoFurry



CHAPTER 1 – Autumn Plains Glide

Flame had never been the adventurous type. In fact, had it not been for a certain purple dragon, he’d probably be sitting in his cave right now, with a warm cup of tea in his talons. Or maybe he’d be practicing his claw-painting or reading a good book.

He would have never thought of breaking into the old castle in Autumn Plains, the one that stood so high over the surrounding valley you could see all the way to Dragonfly Falls from the roof. And then, as if that wasn’t dangerous enough, to use the magical whirlwinds to scale the southeast tower, which of course was higher up still. So high up, in fact, that Flame could see clouds drifting by below. Nor was he the type of dragon that would consider, even for a second, to jump off said tower, and glide some several hundred feet through the air, only to collect a stupid gem. Yet here he was, with the wind whistling between his horns, and the whole of Avalar sprawled out beneath him.

Flame calculated the distance between the tower and the platform and realized with some dismay that he would probably die today. The gem in question was on a platform, which in turn rested on a thin rock pinnacle far beyond the safety of the castle walls, on the other side of a ravine so deep Flame couldn’t even see the bottom, conveniently out of reach for all but the most suicidal of dragons.

He then carefully, very carefully, peeked over the edge, and immediately regretted doing so, because he realized with a start that the courtyard under him was barely visible behind a layer of clouds. He could just barely make out the pool, a small glimmering square somewhere far below, and those massive gold-crested ramparts, and the great gazebo, all shrunk to toylike insignificance under his nose. That was about all he could make out before his brain realized how very far up he was, and panic struck him. His chest tightened, his vision blurred and the mornings rushed breakfast tried to make a brave escape through his throat. He jerked back from the edge and wrapped his arms around the flagpole, the only solid thing to hold on to on the otherwise flat roof, then clenched his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning. And with his eyes closed, a vision of his cave came to him: Warm and safe with its promise of a wonderfully predictable and boring evening.

But had he stayed in his cave, he wouldn’t be with Spyro...

Spyro the Dragon, the one responsible for his current predicament, had never come across a mountaintop, ravine or tower so high he didn’t want to soar from it. While Flame grasped his flagpole for dear life, he stood perched on the crenellations, leaned so far out over the edge a light breeze might have knocked him off, with his tail twitching in anticipation and a wide grin on his snout. “This is gonna be AWESOME!” he declared, wings fluttering in barely contained excitement. His dragonfly friend Sparx buzzed in agreement.

Flame wasn’t so sure. He had followed Spyro to Avalar, and a great many other frightening homeworlds. This morning, he had promised to try the glide, happily, not realizing until later how very high up they’d be. He didn’t want to chicken out again, not when they were so close, but oh did it have to be so high up?

“Ehm Spyro... Are you sure we can make this distance?” He turned to his friend who had his eyes closed, wings spread wide, as if to imagine the incredible glide that would take him over the courtyard to his gem.

“Spyro?” Flame tried again, and finally, he looked up.

“Sorry, what?” The purple dragon shook his head, then turned to Flame. “Oh yeah, I’ve cleared longer skips than this!” he promised with a reassuring smile. Flame found that doubtful. He doubted there were even longer glides in Avalar, or any other place.

“You okay there?” Spyro asked him, a glint of concern in those bright, violet eyes. “You look a little green.”

“Oh, I’m fine...” Flame said with a talon wave, his quivering voice almost getting lost in the wind. “I was just wondering... why are we risking our lives for a single gem again? I’m sure there are plenty of gems back in the village.”

“Because it’s not just any gem. It’s the last gem.” Spyro rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We have to one-hundred-percent the homeworld!”

“It’s just... it’s a very long drop from up here.” Flame glanced at the rock pinnacle again, partly obscured by fog, with its gem glimmering invitingly.

“That’s why we have our wings, bud!” Spyro said, cheerfully, and he had that look on him, that bemused smile that seemed to say he was being silly to worry so much; that everything was gonna be fine because he was with Spyro after all. And Spyro never failed. Spyro could do anything, so that meant Flame could do anything too, if only he set his mind to it.

But that was easy for him to think. Spyro was tragically born without a shred of self-preservation instinct. He loved nothing more than to hurl himself over endless pits, collect gems in places with names like Sunken Ruins or Volcanic Isle, and fight gnorcs and other nasty things. How he was still alive was a great mystery to Flame. The fact that he for some reason always seemed to want Flame along, useless cowardly Flame who couldn’t breathe fire and was scared of heights, was an even greater mystery. And Flame really wanted to follow Spyro on his adventures, and learn to be a little less useless, but this was too much. He couldn’t do it. He looked down again, at the courtyard with its miniature walls and miniature pool and tiny, miniature trees, and his chest clenched tight again and breathing became hard.

“I’m sorry...” he said, finally. “I’m going back down.”

“Wait!” Spyro who had looked like he was imagining to glide again, bristled instantly and hopped down from his spot on the crenellation to intercept Flame. “Wait, Flames, we were gonna do this one together!”

“Yes, but I think I’ll just sit this one out. It’s late and I’m tired and I could just watch your fly from below. I could see you better that way, anyhow.” And if Spyro was to fall after all, he could go get the elders, he thought to himself.

“Well, okay, I understand... but you kinda have to glide.”

Flame slowly shook his head. “I’m not doing it, Spyro.”

“Well... it’s just...” Spyro sat down on his haunches, running a claw over his yellow frills, looking a little awkward. “Remember, we took the whirlwinds up because the stairs didn’t go all the way...”

“So?”

“So, whirlwinds aren’t like elevators. They can take you up, but you have to get down yourself.”

“What!? You’re telling me this now!?”

“I’m sorry, Flamey! I thought you knew that whirlwinds are a one-way trip!”

“Oh no... oh sweet ancestors no.” In a second he was gasping for air again, feeling dizzy, and he could see before him the elders having to scrape his flattened remains off the cobblestone below, to hand over to his mother in a jar or something. He would definitely, absolutely going to die today, and all for a gem.

He had given up trying to hide his fear and Spyro scrambled for something to say. “Don’t worry, okay? If you fall, I’ll just catch you!”

“No you won’t. You can’t fly any better than me.”

“I don’t have to fly, I just need to fall faster than you to catch up!”

Flame gave Spyro a dubious look. He remained unconvinced. But then Spyro sat himself down next to Flame and draped a wing over his back. “Look,” he said. “Look, if we get the gem. It’s yours, okay?”

Flame looked up. There were two things about Spyro that everyone knew. The first thing is that he loved to glide. The second is that he never shared a gem. Ever.

“But... you’ve been wanting to complete this homeworld forever?”

“Pfft, I don’t care about some stinking gem” he scoffed. “I’m just in it for the glide, baby!” Of course, Flame knew that wasn’t true. Spyro very clearly did care. He’d been talking about that stupid gem for weeks. But then Spyro inched closer, closer than some friendly encouragement should require, and his nose brushed against Flame’s cheek. Flame’s heart sped up again, and this time it had nothing to do with the height. “We’ll jump together... And if I get that gem, it’s yours.” Spyro promised.

Flame sighed. A deep, guttural sigh. He swallowed down his fears, resigned himself to his fate and said, somberly: “Let’s do it.”

“Awesome!” Spyro wrapped his arms around Flame, squeezing the smaller dragon tightly. Then he rushed back to the edge, skidding to a stop between the battlements. “Come on!”

The hug lasted only for a second, but it did transfer some small amount of courage to Flame. Courage that vanished the second he laid eyes on the edge again. Flame took a deep breath. Fighting the urge to run back down the stairs, he slowly crept forward until he was standing side by side with Spyro. He was dizzy again, lightheaded even, and his stomach turned at the sight of that tiny platform in the distance, that was their target. He pictured himself falling to the very bottom of that endless ravine, falling and falling and falling for the rest of his life.

The gentle brush of Spyro’s wing against his scales brought him back to the moment. “Just spread your wings like this.” Spyro spread his yellow wings wide for Flame to see. The red dragon tried to do the same, his own trembling like aspen leaves.

“Hey, that’s great! Maybe just a liiiiittle bit wider, so that you can actually glide.” Spyro said, with a gentle smile.

Flame gulped nervously, then took a deep breath and slowly began to stretch his wings out all the way. With a little help from Spyro’s steady talons, he even stopped the worst of the shaking.

“That’s more like it! So now we just... you know... jump! I’ll go first, and then you can follow me all the way to the platform. And if it gets scary, don’t look down, just look at my tail until we land, okay?”

“And you did say you’ve done this before right?”

“Only like a million times!” Spyro beamed at him, as confident as ever. He could see the excitement brimming in his violet eyes. Oh, how Flame wished some of that infinite confidence could rub off on him. But he trusted Spyro. He always dragged him along on his daring feats like this, but they were always fine in the end, just like Spyro always said they would be. Flame trusted him. So far his purple friend hadn’t let him down.

So far...

Spyro smiled at him again, and this was his softer ‘I know you can do this’ smile he reserved for moments just like these. And then his wing brushed against Flame’s like he did before, and this time it couldn’t possibly be an accident. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking at Flame with keen eyes.

Against all reason, Flame found himself nodding. “But next time we’re doing something I like.”

Spyro chuckled and nodded. And then he leapt off the tower and into the thin air. And then Flame jumped too.

Then freezing water splashed him right in his face.

“What the...?” Flame’s eyes shot open and he brushed the water off his snout, looking around bewildered. He wasn’t in Autumn Plains anymore. He wasn’t even in Avalar. And there was no Spyro to be seen either. Instead, the gray dunes of Dragon Shores stretched out on each side of him. Another wave crashed against the beach, spraying more ice-cold water on his scales.

So what was he doing here, on a cold beach, when he should be snuggled up in his warm cave? Oh, that’s right. He was waiting for Spyro. But why was he waiting for Spyro? Spyro had left the Dragon Village ten years ago, and nobody had seen or heard from him since.

Then he remembered speaking with his sister Ember that morning. The pink dragon had rushed into his cave, rudely awakening him to tell him all about how she had heard from one of her friends, who had heard from Elder Titan, who had heard from his contacts beyond the realm, that Spyro was coming home. The Welcome Home party was going to be on Dragon Shores, and since everyone was going to be there, Flame absolutely had to be on time, or he might miss his chance to see Spyro again.

Had Flame been a smart dragon, he would have remembered the last time his sister came with news of Spyro: like that fake love letter (which she and her friends had written), or that “secret date” in Thornbush Park (it had taken him forever to pluck the thorns off his scales). A smart dragon would have told her to shove her Welcome Home party up her eggpipe and leave him be.

Flame couldn’t be a very smart dragon, because here he was, freezing his tail off on an empty beach in monsoon season February, risking hypothermia or at the very least a nasty cold, all for a dragon he knew would never show. He had rushed down to the beach, planted his butt in the wet sand and scanned the gray horizon for a sight of his childhood friend for hours, at first with burning anticipation, then with fading hope, and at last, with desperation. At some point, he had slipped back into old memories again, and now he was feeling pretty dumb.

“He won’t come. It’s just a prank,” he mumbled to himself. “Haha! Stupid Flame. Always falling for the pranks,” he continued, a little louder now, staring at some nearby bushes. “You can come out! You got me!”

But no laughing sister came jumping out of the bushes, or any other dragon for that matter. The beach was just as empty as it had been when Flame arrived, three hours ago. This only made him feel dumber since he should have realized something was off when not a single other dragon had shown.

He kicked a rock through the sand. It skipped twice on the pooling water before landing in some dragonets sandcastle.

“Stupid Ember...” he mumbled to himself. “Go down to the south beach,” she had said. “Everyone’s gonna be there, so make sure to be early! You wouldn’t want to miss him. I know YOU in particular wouldn’t want to miss him” She had gotten a wink in before he had pushed her out the door. Stupid, stupid Ember...

Feeling that he had spent enough time on the beach feeling sorry for himself, he decided that he'd much rather go home and feel sorry for himself in his cave instead. He shook the worst excess of rainwater off his scales, got off his butt and started trudging up the beach back to the village.

On his way, he passed the portal to Autumn Plains in Avalar, and an image from his daydreams flashed back into his mind, of Spyro with that warm smile on him, brushing their wings together before they took off from the tower. The funny thing is that he barely remembered the glide itself, even though it was quite possibly the most frightening moment of his life. He remembered how relieved he had felt when they landed and they hadn’t died, and he remembered how Spyro had given him the last gem like he promised, even though he had been after that gem for ages.

The memories made his paws feel a little heavier as he walked the wet, gravel road back to the village. He didn’t like to think about Spyro. He had made peace with the fact that he would never meet his old friend again, then his sister had to come and get his hopes up for nothing.

Involuntarily, another image came to him, of an older Spyro, on adventures somewhere off in Twilight Falls or Ancient Grove, any of those mysterious lands beyond The Forgotten Realms where he had gone to do who knows what. Probably saving the world or something. With Spyro, there always seemed to be a world to save.

What would he look like now, ten years older? Would his scales remain as bright purple, or would they have taken on a darker hue like Flame’s had? How would his golden frills look all grown out? Would he still have his weird dragonfly friend of his with him?

Flame wondered if he even remembers that dorky red dragon he used to spend so much time with; and how close they used to be as dragonets, or how they had collected every single gem in the Dragon Realms and Avalar together. Does he remember that weird night in Dark Hollow when he had pressed his muzzle against Flame’s without warning, a warm, wet and awkward moment Flame had replayed in his mind so many times he sometimes wondered if it had actually happened? That was the night he had left, promising to be back soon before jumping through the portal.

Does he remember you at all?

Flame decided that he probably doesn’t. They had been little more than hatchlings then, horns barely grown out. And a lot can happen in a decade.

Since then, Spyro had never returned, never visited, never even sent a postcard. Of course, he heard the tales. Every dragon on the island had. The elders kept everyone updated on Spyro’s great adventures, sharing every little detail that made its way back to Dragon Village, delighting in the fact that a dragon from their realm was actually achieving something of note. He’d heard something about some “dark lord” causing problems in places beyond The Forgotten Realms and how Spyro had teamed up with another dragon to defeat him. The dragon’s name had been Tinder or Cinder or something stupid like that. He remembered him mentioning her the night he left. Maybe she was the reason Spyro had never returned. Or perhaps he and Spyro were never as close as Flame had thought.

The village was mostly empty, which was odd. Even on a winter evening, there were usually one or two dragons out. Was there some sort of holiday or something he didn’t know about? Flame decided that he didn’t care as he made his way through the town center. He just wanted to get home.

His home was a short walk from the village and was the more primitive variant of dragon living: simply a cave etched into the hillside with a wooden door. It’s the cave where he was born, and when his mom decided that Dragon Village was far too noisy of a place to spend her twilight years, he had inherited it. He was just about to nudge the door open and step inside, when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey, aren’t you Ember’s brother?”

He spun around and found himself looking into the eyes of another dragon. She was probably around Flame’s age, had gray scales mixed with a darker shade of blue on her back, and was annoyingly just slightly taller than him. He just vaguely recognized her as one of his sister's friends. How long had she been standing there without him noticing, he had no idea.

Flame cleared his throat. “I guess?”

“Oh cool! Ember asked me to come by and make sure you’re not late to Spyro’s Welcome Home party.”

Oh, so she’s in on it.

“Oh yes, the Welcome Home party!” Flame rolled his eyes. “The one over at Dragon Shores, right? Well, I just came from there, so you can tell my sister that if I see her tonight, I’m throwing her into Crocodile Swamp.

The dragoness looked confused. “The party isn’t at Dragon Shores, it’s at Dragon Beach”

“Oh...”



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(V_2020-07-25 18:11:03)