FSE

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Flame loved to fly. He loved to launch himself into the air and watch the many castles, hills, and rivers that made up their realm shrink into insignificance below his wings. The wind was cold and strong, and raindrops drizzled against his scales, but the tangerine glow from the setting sun warmed his wings and painted the surrounding clouds a vibrant purple. It was beautiful, and he made a mental note to paint more sunsets.

On his left, the ocean sprawled out under the cloud-streaked sky, an endless body of water no dragon could ever hope to cross. Spyro would often talk about flying over the ocean, to some far-away place he imagined would be on the other side. Flame had told him that attempting such a flight would be suicide, that it made no sense to want to leave when their own realm was perfectly fine and much safer. But Spyro wouldn't stop talking about it.

Flame had never been able to make sense of it back then. It wasn't until many years later he had realized what Spyro had meant; that it was never about flying over the ocean and finding another realm. It was about getting away, seizing the chance to start fresh someplace new. Nobody had known just how badly Spyro wanted to leave the island, how cramped he had felt under the watchful eyes of the elders and how much he had yearned for a world big and free enough for him to explore and be himself. Not even Flame had fully realized how deep Spyro's longing had been. If he had, he'd know that insignificant little him could never compare to all that freedom. Spyro would need a dragon that could keep up with him, and that would never be Flame.

Perhaps if he had realized it sooner, things would have been different? But Flame quickly shook that thought away. It was in the past, and now was not a good time to think about it.

The irony, of course, was that Flame's outlook had changed in later years, that he had come to see the beauty in flying somewhere far far away and leaving everything behind. It was a calming thought. Today, that longing was stronger than ever, but he forced himself to stay on course.

"I think I see the beach!"

The call came from his right where Ashes was flying, beating hard against the wind with her smaller wings. She hadn't said a word since they took off. In fact, when she wasn't asking about Spyro, his gray companion could be remarkably quiet, making her all too easy to forget - especially for Flame who was used to being alone.

She was pointing toward the coastline where a thin stretch of sand was just barely visible. "Can you see it?"

Flame could see it. He could almost make out the great elder temple in the distance. His heart quickened. They must be close now, only a few minutes away at most. And somewhere down there, Spyro was waiting for him.

Or at least he hoped he would be waiting for him. He stared anxiously at the setting sun. It had been midday when he left the beach. Worry welled up in his chest and he started beating fast toward the coast. Behind him, Ashes was panting hard, struggling to keep up.

It was her idea that they should fly the last part to make up for lost time, and Flame had noticed with a twinge of pride that he was a much faster flier than she was. Her wingbeats were too quick, and she was fighting the wind rather than letting it lift her. But then again, Flame had more airtime on his wings than most dragons on the island. In the years since Spyro left, Flame had made his business to beat all of his old speedway high-scores.

On top of that, he'd been racing ahead most of the way, afraid that they'd arrive too late, leaving poor Ashes behind more than once. Yet, she hadn't complained, even as she lagged behind and had to flap extra hard to catch up with him. Just like she hadn't complained about his freak-out in Dark Hollow, or all the other delays he had caused along the way.

Flame looked at her struggling, then back at the beach, the back at Ashes and with a sigh lowered his wings to let her catch up. She gave him a grateful smile and Flame found himself smiling back. While he wouldn't say it, she was glad to have her along. Somehow, her presence made him feel a little calmer.

Like seemingly everything in the dragon realms, Dragon Beach was an ill-fitting name for the place it referred to. Steep cliffs raised most of the coast high above the water, and the one place where the cliffs gave way for sand was shrouded with ruins. It was the remains of a great city that once stood there before the ocean had claimed it, a maze of half-crumbled towers and chest-high walls, which was also the reason the place was often called Coastal Remains. Flame had never liked the place.

Today, however, the beach gave an entirely different impression. Pavilions were raised all over the stretch of sand, lit up by the warm glow of hundreds of torches lining the beach. He could hear music over the beating waves, faintly smell the roasted pigs. And dragons! So many dragons, more than Flame could remember ever seeing in one place.

Were they all here to see Spyro, the little dragonet he had used to collect gems with? It was surreal! Flame turned to Ashes and could see the same shock on her face.

They spiraled down outside the temple, right in the middle of the sea of visitors. He saw young dragons, old dragons, little dragonets running around their parents' legs. He even saw a few elders from the neighboring Artisan homeworld, where dragons walked on their hind paws and wore odd, colorful costumes made out of silk and leather. Hundreds of dragons, chattering excitedly among themselves and making so much noise that Flame felt like shoving sand in his ears.

The elders knew how to throw a party, he had to give them that. They had even raised a "Welcome Home, Spyro!" banner, his name embroidered with golden yellow against fine purple silk. Flame figured this piece of extravagance must be Tomas' idea. The elder was probably somewhere nearby, running around and telling everyone about how he used to be Spyro's old mentor and teacher. It was just like when Spyro had defeated Red, only cranked up to eleven.

He caught sight of the Homeworld Gateway standing on the courtyard, and couldn't help noticing how the portal itself was deactivated. Why would the elders turn it off? It could only mean that Spyro had already arrived, or worse, that he had arrived and already left.

He saw dragons everywhere, but there wasn't a purple scale in sight. His heart started pounding as his eyes flicked from dragon to dragon in the sea of visitors. With every dragon his gaze ran past that wasn't Spyro, he got more anxious until his stomach was knotted with worry.

"Where is he? Do you see him?" he asked Ashes when she caught up with him. Her nose darted back and forth as she scanned the crowd. "They're too many dragons," she sighed, stated by the chaos. "Maybe we're too late?" She looked warily at Flame, but the red dragon only shook his head.

"We can't be too late. He has to be somewhere on the beach," he said, to convince himself as much as Ashes. "We just need to find him, that's all!" He took off in the direction of the beach, the gray dragoness bounding after him.

The beach was packed even worse than the temple grounds. The party seemed to consume every square inch of it, a sea of pavilions and campfires, of noise and light and the great swell of dragons that seemed to have no end. They were gathering around buffets, drinking and laughing while their younglings played in the sand. A dizzying jumble of horns, tails and scales of all colors. Every now and then, fireworks lit up the dark sky.

The pungent, mouth-watering smell of food assaulted his senses and he saw several tables stacked with all sorts of roasted meats and juicy fruits. His growling belly reminded him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. But he wasn't there to eat. He needed to find Spyro.

He rushed through the festivities, slaloming between attendees and tents, diving under the wing of one dragon, pushing past another with a quick "excuse me". There were times when his smaller, slender form could be an advantage and this was definitely one of those times. At some point during all the running, he lost Ashes, but it didn't matter now. He'd find her later. He had to locate Spyro.

Suddenly heard loud cheering and whistling emanating from the crowd near a pavilion. He heard, or thought he heard, someone, exclaiming "Spyro!"

He scuffled through the dragons towards the voice's direction like a little Spyro-seeking missile, shouting "Out of my way!" at the ones who wouldn't move away quickly enough. He ran faster and faster, a little too fast maybe, and suddenly the mass of dragon bodies cleared before them but before he could tell what was happening, he had slammed headfirst into some big dragon's chest.

SMACK!

The impact was enough to throw him back in the sand and white dots appeared before his eyes. He blinked and rubbed his aching snout, sneering to the stranger that he should watch where he walked. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he saw the dragon had purple scales. Purple scales and a golden underbelly and crest, and bright, violet eyes that regarded him with a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Sp... Spyro?"

He looked like Spyro, but was at the same time completely different. The dragonet he remembered from his youth had come back a full-grown dragon. He stood at least a neck-length taller than any of the other dragons around them. His little square-cut nose had grown into a long handsome muzzle, and the horns that adored his head were three times as long as when he had left. His crest had grown too, shooting up between his horns like a golden mane and following in spikes all the way down his back and out his long tail. The years had given him a lean, lithe body, but with a broad chest and densely packed muscles visible under his scales.

And his wings! Adorned upon him was the most striking cloak of enormous wings Flame had ever seen on a dragon, drawing his own wingspan twofold or more. His scales were a deep amethyst that looked even brighter than the scales on the Spyro he remembered from his youth, and his talons had grown sharper. The towering dragon would have been an imposing sight if it wasn't for the baffled expression on his snout.

Flame gasped. He sat there, just staring stupidly as if paralyzed, utterly unable to form into words all the thousands of things he had wanted to say to his old friend if he ever saw him again. Spyro, for he must be Spyro, didn't seem to know what to say either. Why didn't he say anything? Didn't he recognize Flame? Was he embarrassed? Whispering rose around him, the glaring eyes of a hundred dragons burning on his scales.

"I, I'm..." Flame started, stammering. "I...ehm..." But then another dragon appeared beside Spyro. She was a black dragoness and looked like Spyro's exact opposite, skinny and slender with black scales, a thin snout and six spiky horns on her head. "Who's this?" she asked dryly, looking at Flame with piercing green eyes that seemed to stab into his very soul. And the way she was standing right next to Spyro, when all the other dragons kept a respectful distance. She wasn't just another fan. She was someone special to him.

He wanted to say that he was Flame, Spyro's oldest friend and hatchmate, but his mouth dried up and his tongue wouldn't move. Then he felt a hard nudge against his back.

"Hey!" a gruff voice said. "Either ask for an autograph or beat it, pal. There's a line you know!" A yellow dragon was standing behind him with a piece of paper in his claws, looking very annoyed, and even more dragons were lined-up behind him. Everyone was gawking at Flame now. He was causing a scene.

He suddenly felt dizzy, heart pounding in his chest, and he decided that he needed to get out of there and fast too. Before Spyro or any other dragon had the chance to say anything else, he jumped onto his claws, whirled around and ran right into a buffet table which he knocked over with a yelp. He quickly got up on all fours again, now covered marinated ham and honey-mustard eggs, then pushed his way through the crowd, away from Spyro, the black dragoness and all the staring eyes.

~ ~ ~

He ran and ran until he reached the cliffs at the end of the beach, where there were no other dragons. Once there, he sank onto the wet rock and curled himself into a small, quivering ball. He stayed like that until his breathing had calmed and his heart had stopped pounding in his chest. Magnus had once taught him how to take these really deep breaths, to fill his lungs with air and count to five before exhaling, and that usually helped. It helped today as well, but it did nothing to unravel the knot of dread in his stomach, or stop his mind from replaying the scene of Spyro looking at him like a complete stranger, over and over again.

He couldn't have made a worse impression if that was his intention! And worse yet was the fact that it was all Flame's fault too! Rushing head-first into Spyro like that, right in front of everyone, then bolting like a maniac without saying a single word. But not before taking diving head-first into the banquet.

He pushed himself to his haunches with a deep sigh, shook some marinade off his scales and picked a slice of ham from his horn. Back on the beach, the party seemed to go on and he was pretty sure nobody had seen where he went. At least he could wallow in his misery in peace.

For a second, he wondered if the large purple dragon had actually been Spyro after all. He looked so very different. But he knew it was Spyro. He recognized those eyes from his youth: bright, violet eyes that always seemed to hold a glint of playfulness to them.

And who was that black dragoness next to Spyro? His new mate, perhaps? She certainly didn't seem to have recognized Flame, and the way she had looked at him, pinning him under her eyes like he was a bug to be squashed... Flame was sure he had never seen such a frightening dragon in his life!

And Spyro hadn't said a word - as if he truly didn't recognize Flame (or just didn't want anyone to know he recognized Flame). Or maybe he was about to say something but didn't get the chance? Looking back at the event now, Flame realized that he had only been in front of the purple dragon for a few seconds before he had screwed the whole thing up.

He desperately wanted to go home, to run back to his cave where things were warm, safe and familiar. It wasn't too late for that cup of tea he had promised himself several hours ago. Oh, how nice it would be to leave and forget all about this stupid homecoming party.

But then he might never see Spyro again... This disaster would be his last memory of him, and Spyro's last memory of Flame would be of him scrambling to get to his feet, dripping with covered in ham slices and dripping in marinade.

His belly still coiled at the thought of going back, but he couldn't stay here. He had to see him. Talk to him. Attempt to explain himself.

In the distance, the mass of dragons had started moving towards the temple, and Flame couldn't see either Spyro or the black dragoness among them. He decided to move towards the temple himself to get a better look, sticking to the tree line so he could observe things safely from the shadows.

He reached a hill overlooking the temple about a minute later. The crowd was now gathered on the courtyard outside and from his new vantage point, spotting the purple dragon was easy. He was right in the middle, surrounded by fans, still with that black dragoness by his side. Who was she and why was she so important? He suddenly remembered Tomas mentioning something about a dragon that Spyro had teamed up with to fight some dark lord in some faraway realm. Her name had been something stupid with a C. Cinder or Cider maybe.

They were making their way towards the temple, albiet very slowly since they had to constantly stop to shake claws with someone or wave to a fan. At one point, a dragonet came running from the crowd and Spyro leaned down to give the little dragon a hug, coaxing a series of "awwws" from the crowd.

Flame rolled his eyes at the corny scene, but still felt a sting of jealousy. He would have given his left horn for a hug from Spyro right about now. But even worse was how incredibly close Spyro and that black dragon were standing. She must be his mate, there was no other plausible explanation. And if she was Spyro's mate, it would explain why Spyro didn't want her to know about his thing with Flame. Flame's heart sank as the pieces fell into place, painting a picture he didn't like at all. One where he wasn't included.

When the couple finally reached the temple gates, Flame could see elder Tomas, Magnus, Titan and even Astor there to greet the returned dragon, all too happy to give him a hero's welcome despite the fuss they made about him leaving. Watching Astor throw his arms around Spyro like a long lost son was especially amusing. The elder had never made a secret of what he thought of Spyro's unruliness and attitude, and Spyro had returned the favor by skipping most of his lessons and disrupting the ones he did attend by wowing the class with his tricks.

Flame had always listened to the elders, always done his best to help when help was needed, like his ill-fated attack against Red. He had stayed in the village to take care of his mother as a good dragon should. Spyro had never listened to anyone, left the village to its fate for a decade, and yet he was the one who got the parade and fireworks. It didn't make sense to Flame.

He had waited for an opportunity to catch Spyro alone, preferably without that black Cider-dragon nearby too, since the things he had to say were best said in private. But that moment, he quickly realized, would never come. He would have to approach Spyro with all his fans around him.

And just when he had gathered enough courage to go down and face the crowd, the great temple doors opened and Spyro stepped inside, followed closely by the dragoness. A few selected fans along with the elders were allowed into the temple as well, before the order was given to close the doors to the loud dismay of the dragons left outside.

Before the gates closed, he could see the purple dragon look back over the crowd with a longing expression on his snout, almost as if he was expecting to see someone among all the dragons.

For a second, Flame hoped that he would double-back and come looking for him, but Spyro didn't. Instead, his dragoness friend appeared at his side and whispered something to him, and then Spyro followed her inside with a wide smile on his muzzle. The last thing Flame saw of him was his tail-spire pulling inside before the gates closed.

The party seemed to continue in the temple, judging by the warm glow from the windows and the cheerful music he could just faintly hear over the wind. The remaining dragons who had not been granted entry were now leaving as quickly as they had arrived, heading off in their various directions and leaving behind a trampled beach full of junk and a few empty tents.

Only Flame remained, watching the temple with a sinking feeling in his chest, not sure whether to go down there or go home. Before he could decide, he heard an all too familiar voice cut through the silence:

"There you are, little bro!"

He swiveled around and saw the last dragon he wanted to see in the entire world galloping towards him. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground with his sister on top, her one arm locking his head in place while she rubbed her knuckles between his horns with the other. "Where have you been hiding all day, you dork? You're sooooooo late!"

"GET OF ME!" Flame threw Ember off his back with a growl. He was not at all in the mood for her games. Especially not when, as he noticed, she wasn't alone. One of Ember's friends was with her. A brown dragon with a wide snout and pale, amber eyes that Flame vaguely remembered as Ember's old wingmate. His name had been... Umber maybe? Beside him stood Ashes, timidly shuffling her talons.

Ember, who had landed on her tail glared angrily at him, rubbing her butt with a paw. "Ouch! What got you so cranky?"

Flame fixed his red eyes on his sister, brimming. "You told me the party was at Dragon Shores, not Dragon Beach, so I waited there for hours! Can't you tell north from south!?"

"I said on the shore, not Dragon Shores, you dolt," his sister said, wiping some sand off her flank. "It's not my fault you got the wrong beach!"

"I almost missed him because of you!"

"Missed him? I'd say you hit him head-on!" Ember snickered and elbowed her brother, who was sizzling in anger, smoke coiling from his nostrils. Behind her, Ember and the brown dragon exchanged wary glances.

His sister, unfazed, just sat down in the sand next to Flame and laid a wing on his shoulder. "Don't worry lil bro," she said in a softer tone that might almost seem sympathetic had it not come from her. "I'll let Spyro know that you got here late, that you're out here waiting for him. I'm sure he'll want to talk to you! Once he's done talking to me at least."

"What are you on about?" Flame snarled, removing his sister's wing from his shoulder, his anger temporarily halted by confusion. "Why would Spyro want to talk with you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ember shrugged but flashed his brother a lopsided smile that was probably meant to seem casual, but could barely contain the satisfaction simmering beneath. "He just said he wanted to talk to me. Privately. He must have really missed me, huh?"

Flame just blinked, his mind trying to make sense of her words. What could Spyro possibly have to talk with Ember about? As far as Flame knew, the two had just been friends, if even that, and certainly nowhere near as close as Ember had wanted them to be. At least that's what Spyro had told him. He promptly decided that Ember must be lying. She was just teasing him, like she always did.

Ember, who must have noticed her brother's skepticism, turned to Ashes. "Tell him," she demanded, and Ashes gulped uncomfortably and looked like she'd rather throw himself into the ocean than being a pawn in their sibling rivalry. Her eyes shifted from Ember to Flame, as if to preemptively apologize for whatever she was about to say, and the genuine regret in her eyes made Flame's heart pace with sudden worry.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "He did kind of say he wanted Ember to come by later," then looked down in the sand and added, "So they can talk... privately."

Flame didn't know what to say. Instead, he sank down in the cold sand, unmoving, even as Ember nudged at his shoulder.

"Hey, don't take it so hard, lil' bro. I'm as shocked as you, really! But I guess absence really makes the heart grow fonder and all that. I'd ask you to come with me, but I don't think you're on the list. But hey, I'll let Spyro know you're out here!"

She smiled at him, but even the smile was laced with such smugness that Flame had to keep himself not to punch her in the face, and probably would have, had she not hurried off towards the temple gates. She was followed by the brown dragon, and only Ashes stayed behind with Flame.

Flame saw her glancing warily at the temple. It was her one shot to meet Spyro. "You can go if you want..." he said with a talon-wave. He didn't feel like he could move, his mind still processing everything.

Ashes was quiet for a while. "He did ask where you were," she said, then ran down to join the other dragons.

And just like that, he was alone again. So Spyro had asked for him after all? He felt like that fact should give him some small amount of comfort at least; assurance that he wasn't completely forgotten, but instead it felt like his heart had been replaced by a sinkhole that swallowed into it every rational explanation he could come up with, leaving him with only one undeniable fact: that Spyro, after ten years in the Forgotten Realms, wanted to see his godforsaken sister before he wanted to see Flame. And wanted to see her privately, for some reason he couldn't imagine. He had thought that the black dragoness had been Spyro's mate, which had been bad enough, but now Ember? Maybe they had been closer than Spyro had admitted back then. Or maybe Spyro was collecting females like he used to collect gems now.

Was that it? Was Flame just another "gem" to him? Another clueless fan for him to manipulate and lead on to eventually add to the same collection he was now seemed to want to add his sister and that new dragoness?

He remembered too well the old Spyro. Spyro the way he'd been before the well-incident, riding around on that stupid skateboard with those stupid shades and bragging about himself to any dragon who would listen. Maybe that was always the real Spyro. Suddenly, all the moments they had shared, like the night in Dark Hollow, or the kiss, felt fake.

He heard voices and turned to the temple. Ember, Ashes knocked on the gates. The doors opened and they were promptly let inside.

Flame's heart sank as any last hope that his sister had been lying vanished. Spyro must really have asked for Ember. There's no other way she and her friends would have been let in otherwise, not when the temple was already overflowing with dragons and so many others had already been turned down.

He started pacing back and forth under the palm trees, trying to decide between rushing right up to the gates and demanding to talk to Spyro, or rushing back home.

After a while, he had decided that going home was the better option. Only, his paws wouldn't move. Instead, he stood there, staring at the temple with the light from inside glowing between the pillars, his talons digging deep into the dirt.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't right.

Even if he and Spyro were never truly mates, even if Spyro loved that new black dragoness now or even Ember, Flame knew he deserved better than this. If they were never more than friends, they had at least been something. But here he was, left outside, uninvited without getting as much as a courtesy "hi".

Maybe Ember would tell Spyro he was waiting outside. Maybe he'd come out to give him a polite handshake or something. Or maybe Ember wouldn't even do that for him. It didn't matter. Flame didn't care. He was done waiting for other dragons.

He was walking towards the temple now, anger pumping through his drumming heart as each step brought him closer. He was about to march in there and let everyone know what a selfish, narcissistic asshole of a dragon their big hero was.

He walked right up to the large wooden door and swung it open. He was a little surprised to see elder Tomas standing on the other side. "Flame?" the elder gasped. "What do you think you're doing here? And what were you thinking, ruining poor Magnus' buffet and running right into dear Spyro when he..."

"Where is he?" Flame interrupted. He had no patience for Tomas today. "I want to see him."

Tomas was so taken aback he had to compose himself before answering. "By the Ancestors boy, what has gotten into you!? If you're talking about Spyro, he's in his booth, but he's busy with some friends right now and does not wish to be disturb.. Oof!"

Flame pushed past him and into the temple, leaving the elder blinking in shock.

The first thing that struck him was the heat, generated by all the bodies crowding the closed space and the torches lining the walls. The temple seemed much smaller on the inside, and it was crammed full of visitors.

Servant dragons were drifting around, refilling cups and offering little pastries. The whole place had an air of exclusivity to it that only added to Flame's anger.

He saw Astor and Titan sitting by a pillar, talking amongst themselves and sipping wine. He spotted a few other dragons that he recognized, and eventually, as he pressed deeper into the crowd of mingling dragons, he even saw Spyro.

The purple dragon was lying on his side on a couch in what appeared to be his own private corner of the temple, elbow resting on a stack of pillows. He had his sunglasses on and was talking to a pink dragon. As he got closer, Flame realized to his horror that the pink dragoness was indeed Ember. He also saw Ashes and the brown dragon sitting a bit further away, talking with the black dragoness who was leaning back on a pile of pillows herself. But it was the purple and pink dragon that had Flame's attention, and whatever they were whispering about, it had to be private, because they were sitting so close that their muzzles almost touched.

Then he saw that Spyro was blushing. He recognized that slightly pinker hue on his cheeks because he had seen it before, after their kiss in Dark Hollow, and seeing him flush like that in the company of his sister was like a sucker punch in the gut. Ember's cheeks were flushed up as well.

Flame wanted to walk up to them and knock that blush out of Spyro's face. He wanted to but he couldn't. He tried to feel the anger he had walked in with, but instead, he only felt a twisting pain in his heart. He just wanted out of the temple. He pushed himself through the other attendees, out the gates and into the night where he could spread his wings and take to the sky.

---

Oh Wow, thanks for giving my story a read! If you liked it, give free to give me a fave or let me know what you think in the comments.Feedback, whether positive or negative, is great because it helps me improve!It usually takes me between one or two chapters to finish one of these so expect the next part out either this weekend or the next! (I always post on weekends!)'