The crowd of half-dragons were none the wiser; as they threw themselves at their would-be saviors, one man took advantage of the distraction.

He didn't know anything about magic, or scripts, or really anything that was going on in front of him. All Giriko knew was his back pocket was heavy with the jingle of gold, courtesy of a certain striped meister, and it was his job to hold up his end of their bargain. Luckily enough for the little twerp who paid him, he was more than capable of doing just that. No one else could have tracked his quarry through a goddamn blizzard, let alone past the edges of civilization to the footsteps of some kind of dragon utopia. He was the only one crazy enough to try.

He loved his job.

With a sneer, Giriko kicked away his newly loosed dragon; an otherwise fine specimen of a black breed he'd lifted off some poor sap during his travel that had a habit of annoying the crap out of him with its hovering. He'd called it Mosquito this whole time, and he made it very clear how happy he was to be rid of the thing. With a flare of fire from its nostrils, the overgrown lizard spared Giriko no glance before spreading its wings and taking off. Quickly it became just him, much to his relief and delight. Infiltrating would be difficult with a dragon at his side. Besides, he hated dragons.

With the crowd still pointed in the direction of Soul and Maka as the partnered pair made their way up the slope towards the base of Mt. Grimm, Giriko made a break for the script. He had no way of knowing if the gates were open, so to speak, or if he needed an invitation to enter like the chief's daughter. Regardless, it was no use hesitating. Whether he was running towards his grave or to further his mission, there was no turning back now; not when his only means of transportation was gone. The only route left was directly in front of him.

With a sneer, he took it. In the fastest few seconds of his life, he came to the barrier.

He held his breath as heavy feet skidded over ancient runes and...

...Nothing happened.

No fire, save for the one that burned in his chest the moment he realized he was still alive. Giriko dove for the first cover he could find; a conveniently placed bolder large enough to hide his imposing frame. He poked his head out and spied the villagers from relative safety and found them still distracted. They weren't the ones he was worried about, however. Those big bastards at the top of the hill were still there, though they thankfully hadn't seen him enter. Despite their feigned apathy, they were just as interested in Soul and Maka as the rest of them.

All Giriko had to do was wait them out. They hadn't seen him, though that was only part of the problem. Dragons could smell damn near anything, and he'd taken measures to keep himself hidden while tailing Spirit's brat. Giriko grunted as he looked down at the mud and salt still caked on his clothes; lingering remnants of sea and clay he'd smothered on himself to hide his scent. Tracking was a dirty job. His first priority would be to get cleaned up after sneaking into town so as to not draw attention to himself. Then, the real mission would start.

Giriko collapsed tiredly and let his head roll back against stone. He fished out a metal flask and popped the top off before letting the cool burn of alcohol singe his throat. He'd hold up there for a while and let the excitement die down before heading out. He wasn't too concerned about losing Maka and her dragon. Even if he didn't know their exact location, there were really only two places they could go; either the big palace-looking place at the top of the mountain, or the village at the bottom. Anywhere in-between was inconsequential. Giriko would find them regardless.

"Suppose I'll ask for a bonus when all's said and done," he grinned lazily while looking out at the sea's horizon. "Assuming Kidd and Spirit don't get cheap on me."

Hurried steps. Incredulous gasps. Head snaps, faster than a dragon turn mid-flight.

The frantic pace of a woman on a mission, though it wasn't the mission they had gone there to fulfill. Even so, Soul watched his mesiter with great interest as she hopped from building to building with wonder in her eyes. The street was littered with different stands and vendors, all lined with foods and curiosities unheard of back home. Such was what Shiscepa Village was known for; any goods or services from lands conquered by the dragons could be found there, regardless of whether or not those producing them were human or dragon.

Soul didn't know all the specifics. His brother was always more involved with the day-to-day runnings of their father's empire than he was. All Soul knew was that things weren't so cut-and-dry as the meister's had everyone believe. Of course that wasn't to say Balerion the Black Dragon wasn't a psychotic asshole (because he most certainly was), it's just that the dragons didn't outright murder everyone they conquered because...well, that's just not how things worked. When humans conquer new lands, they let the people stay in order to rule over them. Same thing applied to dragons.

Maybe that was why no one really cared that Maka, a human, was running around town like it was nothing. Soul was hesitant at first to let her explore; all he wanted was to announce their intent to fix the script, then get the hell out of there. The less time they spent around the common folk, the less chance there would be of him needing to defend her from any possible threats. His meister, however, quickly convinced him otherwise. It was hard to say no to her when she looked up at him with big green eyes and a frown, all while begging to explore the village just for a while before heading up to the palace above. How was he supposed to say no to that? It wasn't in him, not when Maka was the one tugging at his reins both literally and metaphorically.

He followed dutifully on her heels, making sure to stay close by in order to both protect and not lose track of her. She failed to give him any warning whenever something new caught her eyes, and his own boggled at the speed with which she dashed towards her next interest. He'd never seen her run this fast before, not even during training. As Soul struggled to keep up, he kept warily looking around at the other people going about their business. Half-dragons littered the bazaar, and he could even smell a few regular humans peppered throughout as well.

"Soul! What's that?" she asked him without waiting for an answer. Before he knew it, she was gone again. The dragon growled a little in dismay.

He followed in her footsteps and answered her questions as best he could. Whether it was a strange looking fruit or a piece of clothing found only in lands conquered by the dragons, Soul found himself the reluctant tour guide. Maka would point at something and look at him expectantly, and once or twice all he could do was shake his head and shrug. Some things were new to him, too, and on top of that it's not like he came down here often when he was younger. Most of his time was spent up in the palace. He was barely less of a stranger to Shiscepa than she was.

"...Can I eat this?" Maka raised a brow as she held up a spiky-looking fruit to Soul's face. Ignoring the incredulous look from the vendor it belonged to, Soul sniffed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You probably wouldn't want to, though. It isn't ripe."

"How dare you!" the vendor gasped, offended. He motioned to the rest of the fruit on his stand. "Hiro's Sundries provides only the best, top-quality food this side of Mt. Grimm!"

"You eat it, then," Maka shot back quickly. She swiveled her outstretched arm from Soul to the vendor named Hiro. The latter blinked.

"...I'm not hungry."

"Then just take a bite?"

"...But you didn't pay for it!"

"I've got coin?" Soul raised a brow. He fished out Maka's coin purse that he'd stowed away for safe keeping. Hiro's eye twitched.

"How about..." The vendor leaned away from both the spiky fruit and Maka's increasingly smug grin. "...I just give you the fruit, and you can let it sit for a while if you so choose?"

"Deal!" Maka beamed. She tucked the food away in her side pouch for later and promptly turned heel, though not before offering Hiro a pleasant wave goodbye.

Soul gave Hiro a lazy grin before taking off after his meister. The blonde-haired merchant could only shake his head in exasperation at what just happened before refocusing on more customers as they came to peruse his wares. He quickly moved on from the troublesome pair, and they likewise visited other stalls that tickled their fancy.

After that, Soul eased up a bit. He found himself smiling more as Maka entertained herself exploring, and he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't curious as well. Some of the things he remembered about the village had changed in the years he'd been gone, and there were still things he had yet to discover with Maka. For instance, the biggest thing that attracted her was also something Soul had never got to experience himself; the Aerie. It was situated right in the middle of Shiscepa, and loomed over the village with its vast, metallic frame.

It was like a giant, circular cage. At least three times taller than the largest nearby building, even from far away it had seemed so imposing. As Soul and Maka finally approached and came up next to it, both felt like ants in comparison to the impressive structure. Maka gaped as she threw her head back to marvel at its scale, while Soul ran his hands along the outside for the first time. A firm mesh filled the gaps in between steel beams, separating everything inside from out. The holes were fine, so they couldn't really see through it.

Soul knew what was inside, though. "This is where dragons are free to fly around in."

"Can they not fly around wherever they want?" Maka looked to Soul. He gave a wishy-washy sort of shrug.

"Well, yes and no," he explained. "If all the dragons flew around at the same time it'd be crazy, so it's frowned upon. This is where they can spread their wings and cut loose for a while."

Maka's eyes widened. "Can we go inside?"

Soul paused. He thought about it hard for a moment; could they? "Well...I don't think there's technically any rule saying a human can't go inside...?"

"Then let's go!" she quickly grinned, which only made her dragon's stomach churn. "I wanna see what it's like inside!"

"Wait, just hold on a minute, Maka-!"

A hand reached out and grabbed Soul's before he could protest further. The uneasiness in his gut only grew as Maka pulled him along, around the circumference of the Aerie towards the entrance on the other side. There was a swirl of thoughts going through his head, though his meister didn't give him any opportunity to stew on any of them. Before he knew it they had arrived at an imposing door of metal and mesh. A lone, hulking man stood as the doorman and he eyed the pair as they approached. There were other people there as well, but they kept their distance.

The doorman sniffed the air around Maka. He made an interesting face. "Human?"

Maka nodded. Soul gaped at her in disbelief; she was way too calm about all this. "That's right. May we please enter?"

The spiky-haired guard scratched the scruff on his chin. He peered at Soul with his one, unobstructed eye. "Are you dragon-blooded, at least?"

Soul nodded. He'd say nothing more than that, for reasons he suspected would become apparent should the doorman actually allow them into the Aerie.

"Hm." Soul and Maka looked to one another. "Yeah, you reek of pure blood, that much is plain. Hard to misplace that stench, now that I got a good whiff of you."

Soul's eyes narrowed; was that supposed to be a knock against him? Big talk coming from a half breed! Soul glared at the hulking half-dragon in front of him, and did little to hide it from him. The latter picked up on it almost immediately, and a wry grin chiseled into his hardened face. He leaned down a good ways in order to bring his face closer to Soul's.

"Oh, did I not address you properly, your majesty?" the doorman sneered, causing Soul's glare to burn hotter. "Vhalgaryus, am I right?"

Maka looked to her dragon as he started to mount a growl from the back of his throat. She quickly jumped to run interference. "We don't want any trouble!"

The doorman quickly abandoned Soul and turned towards Maka. His sharp grin eased into a genuine smile. "No trouble at all, miss. The name's Free. Nice to meet you!"

"Um...likewise," Maka blinked. She wasn't sure if Free was being malicious, at least not at first. She quickly surmised that wasn't the case, though. "My name is Maka Albarn."

"Can we go in, or not?" Soul interjected. He seethed as eager fingers twitched at his side, ready to curl at a moment's notice. Free ignored him.

"Humans are welcome inside, though there ain't much to see. Just some pretty trees to admire, for the most part," Free explained.

Maka looked to her partner. His red eyes were still fixed on Free, and she frowned. "We'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Free nodded. He proceeded to turn back to Soul, and switched back to his haughty sneer. "Hope this one keeps an eye out for you. Can't ever tell with these noble types, though."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Soul snarled. Maka threw an arm out to reel him in, but was promptly swatted away.

"It means you pure bloods are too busy worrying about whose loins you crawled out of to give a rat's ass about anyone else besides yourselves!" Free rumbled back darkly.

Both men gave each other wild looks. Maka's eyes grew wide as, before she knew it, her partner quickly shifted before her eyes. White hair became fair scales, and red eyes became even larger spheres of blood. Air rushed past her as wings beat beside her, though it wasn't from Soul. Her head snapped to Free who, at the same time, had also morphed into a dragon. Unlike Soul, however, his change was far more drastic; even in his human form he was heads taller than she and Soul, but that size difference was increased threefold once the claws and fangs came out.

It was a species she'd never seen before. An Unknown, or maybe it was known, just not to her. Shades of black colored Free's backside, while grey lined his stomach. Instead of the armor-like scales that Soul wore, Free instead sported...fur? Tufts of it accentuated his overly-pronounced forearms and torso, along with a good portion of his head. His form seemed far unlike that of any other dragon Maka had encountered, and gave her more of an impression of some kind of wild animal. His wings were practically non-existent; his body lent itself entirely to running with giant, muscular legs.

Free dwarfed Soul in every aspect. He opened his maw, and Maka shuddered in fear and surprise as words came out. "I guard the Aerie for a reason. Stand down, little prince."

He could talk?! What kind of dragon could talk? A bestial snarl erupted from the back of Soul's throat, and Maka half-expected him to give some snide remark in reply; no words came from her friend, however. He was the same dragon he always was. Normal, at least relatively. There were still things she had yet to learn about these half-dragons, but any questions would have to wait till they got out of this mess. They needed to leave, now, but Soul showed no hint of backing down. The white dragon widened his stance and roared back in defiance. Free did as well.

"Soul! Cut it out! That's an order!" Maka shouted angrily. She came up to smack his side as hard as she could, though his thick hide ended up hurting her more than it did him.

The growling stopped on both sides. Soul and Free looked to Maka, and she in turn flinched.

A moment later, and the latter of the two started rumbling again. This time however, Maka recognized it as laughter. "A human? Ordering a son of Balerion? I love it!"

Soul's heavy skull swung back around to unleash another snarl at Free. It was longer this time; there was a pitch and tone behind it, and even though it sounded like nothing more than grunting to Maka she could tell he was saying something to Free. Despite whatever he might have said however, the hulking black dragon only continued to rumble in amusement.

"Blood means nothing," Free rebutted. He rose higher on his powerful legs. "Look at me. I'm a dirty half breed, and I could crush you in an instant."

More roars. Another smack came from Maka's hand, and at that point she'd had enough. The muscles in her forehead twitched in fury. "I SAID CUT IT OUT SOUL!"

A crowd started to form around the three of them. The large door that stood behind Free opened a little as several individuals tried to leave, though it promptly closed when they realized there was a commotion going on outside. Free moved not an inch, and he continued to loom over Soul and Maka as the latter tried desperately to reel in her dragon. He was stubborn, though. Red eyes twisted in blind anger, there was little that could assuage Soul's desire to lash out at Free. He started walking forward, even as Maka suddenly pulled out her ax.

"Soul, I'll bash you, I swear!" she threatened. Maka spun her weapon to its flat side and brandished it towards Soul. "We're not here to fight! We have a mission, remember?!"

"Fix the script and leave," Free commanded. "Run away again like the child you are, and while you're at it tell your horny brother I hope his concubine was worth abandoning us over!"

There was a pause. A lull, brief though it was, fell over everyone gathered. Free's words echoed across the Aerie terrace. All of Shiscepa seemed to freeze, though none more so than Soul. His wild eyes remained, even as his body became stiff at Free's goad. Instinct was the driving force of his dragon form, but his very human brain ran in overdrive; don't do it, he thought to himself. Maka was right. Free wasn't worth it. He had some sort of vendetta against Balerion, and him and Wes were just caught up in it. Stand down. Back away. Leave.

Fix the script and leave.

Free's face appeared again in Soul's thoughts. He looked up. The same face was there to greet him. Immediately, anger erupted in the young dragon's chest once more.

No.

Rip him in half.

Soul's blood boiled, more so than any other point in his life. He didn't run away. Vise didn't abandon anyone. Everything was their father's fault, and yet even now they were the ones getting stuck with the mess. Soul was disowned. His own uncle tried to kill him. Even after all that though, he still came back. Maka made him, but regardless he was here. And this is what awaited him? A filthy half breed with a chip on his shoulder? Screw him. Fuck him. Free was nothing. He had no right to say anything, no right to condescend. What did he know?! That fucker!

His veins burned. It wasn't a metaphor this time; Soul could feel every ounce of blood in his body start to roil, and with each passing second the hiss in the back of his throat grew exponentially. Maka had no way of knowing what was happening. She was oblivious as he shuddered. She thought it was just him getting ready to pounce, and in a sense she wasn't wrong. Soul slowly revved like a steam engine. His eyes fixed on Free. His heart pumped. Nostrils flared. He'd never felt like this before. He wanted nothing more than to kill Free. Part of him was scared.

Mostly, though, he was furious.

The lull, the pause, the silence, it passed. At the snap of a finger, everyone came crashing back to reality. Soul took a step forward and before either Maka or him knew it, the white dragon barreled forth. He spread his wings as wide as they would go, but stayed firmly on the ground. Maka screeched and took off after him, but he was much faster than her. In an instant he lost her, leaving her there to stand there and bear witness like all the others. He was going to put Free in his place. Tear into him. Rip him. End him.

The earth rumbled as he neared. Free made no effort to move. He remained completely still as Balerion's son went in for the kill. That alone should have been enough to make Soul wary, but he wasn't himself at the moment. He was normally so good about keeping a level head. Whatever was controlling him at the moment seemed the opposite; throw caution to the wind. Getting hurt didn't matter. If you get to Free first, there would be no need for caution. One strike, that's all he needed. Once to the throat, like he'd seen his brother do once before. He just had to get there.

Soul approached so quickly it seemed like nothing could move fast enough to meet him. His maw opened. He readied a bite as he entered Free's zone.

He went in, and before he knew it there was pain.

It didn't register in Soul's head. Not until he suddenly found himself pinned to the ground, a massive paw the size of his head planted firmly at the top of his skull. The force and speed with which Free slammed Soul was enough to crack the cobblestone at their feet. In an instant, everything changed. The crowd gasped. Maka screamed. Words were spoken, though Soul could make out none of it. He was too busy reeling. That, and trying to keep his thoughts from escaping him. The burning in his veins ceased as quickly as it came. All that was left was pain.

The corners of his vision blurred. Despite all the armor and thick scales he had, Soul could feel the full weight of Free as he continued to grind his paw into him. That's all it was though; there was no followup attack. Free didn't take advantage of the situation. If anything, he knew he had already won. The single strike that Soul had tried to take him down with ended up being turned against him. One hit. That's all it took. And as Soul lay there, humiliated beneath the heel of a half breed, he could swear he felt something else besides the obvious concussion that slowly started to sap his consciousness away. It grew more obvious as the blurriness became worse. His hearing failed, and as darkness started to swallow him Soul's last thoughts were on that feeling that penetrated his body and soul.

It wasn't hate like he expected.

Behind Free's paw, all he could feel was envy.

"Wes...?" The question came slowly, and the woman asking it frowned as she reigned in loose strands of purple hair. "What's wrong?"

Red eyes stared down at the table. A plate of hot food steamed in front of Wes, though his attention was far from dinner at the moment. He sucked in air as sweat beaded at this forehead, and absently the tall man ran his fingers through white hair. He was aware of his surroundings; he knew his wife sat in front of him, and beside her their son. His internal monologue told him to look up and reassure them everything was fine. Even in the worst of times, he always kept his wits about him. Wes was the pinnacle of calm and collected, usually.

Right now though, not so much.

His veins burned. A familiar feeling, though he held no fondness for it. It'd been a long time since he'd experienced such discomfort, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why it plagued him now of all times. At least, not at first; once the initial shock subsided, Wes' usual analytic mind returned to him. The pain remained, but he masked it well. Enough to where he quickly brought his head up and feigned a smile to Blair. She tilted her head. Little Micah, meanwhile, paid neither of them any mind. He was too busy devouring the plate of fish papa had cooked for him to care.

"Nothing, something just hit my stomach," Wes reassured his wife. He pretended to be embarrassed at his own bodily functions.

Blair's eyes narrowed. Her cheeks puffed up a little. "No more wandering around in the maiden's woe! You and Micah both!"

"...Wait, what?" the smallest one at the table snapped his head up. "But mama! How else are we supposed to train?!"

"You can train inside!" Blair replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, I'll always be stronger than you. I'm your mother!"

A teasing sneer tugged at the side of Micah's mama's face. The little boy gaped incredulously at her, not at all understanding that she was just trying to get a rise out of him. He begged his mother to reconsider, which only caused her to come up with more reasons why he could never go outside again. The swamp had mosquitoes. There were diseases. What if someone found out he was a dragon? Or worse...what if he met some pretty girl, fell in love, and left his mama forever? That last one caused Micah to sputter, and Blair giggled at her son's total disgust.

Wes smiled on the outside at his family's antics. Meanwhile, his mind ran a mile a minute in secret. The burning had subsided for the most part, but there was a lingering feeling left in its place that hadn't been there before. Something had changed in him. It was small, minuscule even, but significant enough for him to take notice. The only problem was he couldn't understand what that something was. Had he bothered to spend more time studying like he was supposed to, perhaps he could have figured it out. Unfortunately, matters regarding his family's blood were one of the few things he skimmed over before separating from dear old mom and dad.

Regardless of the what, Wes at least knew the why. It actually ended up being quite obvious; the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. A face he hadn't seen in years suddenly came to mind, and he couldn't help but let his smile soften at the thought of it. Vhalgaryus. He was nineteen now, right? A little late to be getting into his first family squabble, but...wait a minute, who was he fighting? He was supposed to have run away from home...why on earth was he getting into death matches so far from Mt. Grimm? Unless...?

Something was wrong. Wes' eyes narrowed; he'd known all along his brother was alive and well. He knew it in his gut. Vhal was a spitfire. If anything he'd probably long since found a place to call home, along with a pretty young woman to settle down with like him. All the more reason why Wes became concerned. Vhal should have been far away from the rest of their family. He should have been safe. So why then did his blood boil just now? That was the sign that another royal had awakened. It only ever happened when one fought another to the death.

Wes continued to go through the motions. Smile at his family. Cut into his food. Eat. Pretend to be merry. All the while, his heart nearly beat out of his chest with worry. At a certain point his wife tended to Micah as the latter spilled some of his food, and Wes immediately seized the opportunity. He snuck his hands underneath the table and changed one of his fingers into a claw. He had to test something. Wes pricked his finger lightly and waited for blood to draw. If his fears were correct, then the drop would appear black. Royal blood. Magic blood. The blood of a kinslayer.

He looked down.

It was red.

His eyes twisted, and he again looked up at his family.

The charade was on again, and he pretended like nothing happened. Back to an innocent dinner with Blair and Micah none the wiser. Now though, Wes was even more of a wreck on the inside than before. He didn't understand it. If something had happened, if a royal had been slain, the black blood would be present. It wasn't, and yet his blood burned regardless. What was going on? There must have been an explanation, but Wes couldn't look for it at the moment. Not without worrying his family. For the moment, all he could do was smile and continue on as usual.

Watch yourself, little brother. Wes looked to his son as he took a drink of water. His stomach churned. You still haven't met your nephew yet.

Crow's Note:

I know I know, it's been a couple months, sorry. Kinda got wrapped up in other stuff, plus life's been a bitch the past few weeks. My goal is to update at least once a month. More dragon goodness soon to come!