One True Queen: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

41.

content warning: the sharp-eyes dystopia, mention of harm toward children, brief and super non-graphic talk of blood, some potentially anxiety-provoking situations

Fathom

"Fathom. You need to get up."

Indigo always gets up at sunrise like clockwork. She tried to get me into it many years ago, but I've never been a morning type--and besides, I think she likes having a couple hours to herself.

"Five more minutes..." I murmur, rolling over to her side of the bed and burying my face in her pillow. "Leave me alone..."

"You want me to wake you up at lunch?" she teases. "Or should we just go straight to dinner?"

I throw the pillow at her, and rub the sleep out of my eyes. "You're mean."

"I'm right," she says, giggling.

Light streams in through the window, and I can see the teal water outside; a few NightWings swimming in the sheltered bay. I'm tangled up in our beige blanket, with little blue waves I embroidered on the edges a few years back. A faded tapestry hangs from the ceiling. (That one, I didn't make, just traded a lot of fish for with a RainWing. It has ocean waves on it, and I think it's very pretty.) Indigo's ever-growing weapons collection is mounted on the wall beside the small, scratched-up mirror. (Every year for her hatching day, I get my partner a new one--last year, it was a trident, and the year before that, a cool spear.) Seashells line the windowsill--an urchin, a perfectly preserved crab, a dried-up starfish, and a wilted vase of flowers I need to get rid of.

"Thanks for dinner, Indigo!" Infinity chirps. "Oh--hi Fathom!"

At first, Indigo tried to set up some boundaries with the NightWing dragonets. (Such as: do not barge into our house at eight o'clock in the morning.) But it never really stuck--and they're all too cute to get mad at. Even if last week, Infinity decided she desperately needed to wake us up at three in the morning, her afternoon--because she was bored. Most of the little ones don't quite grasp that we're on a different sleep schedule than they are. (I guess it's good practise for when our dragonets hatch; Darkstalker said that for the first year of his kids' lives, his sleep schedule was all over the place.)

A lot of these kids were orphaned during the war, so I think they've just latched onto the first vaguely parent-shaped adults they could find. (And then, some of them do have parents here--they just think it's fun to make our lives difficult.)

"Aw, of course," Indigo says, nudging Infinity affectionately. "Now go and check on the mango trees—I think they might be ripe today. You remember how you tell?"

Infinity nods eagerly. "Of course I do! I'll be back in a minute!" She runs off, and Indigo sighs.

"I can't believe Darkstalker just dropped hundreds of dragons on us like this and didn't mention half of them are little kids! I can't parent all of them!" Indigo exclaims, letting out a heavy sigh as soon as the dragonet is out of earshot.

"I... don't think he said anything about that," I say, pushing her playfully. "I'm sure there are adults who can take care of them—and like, half of them are here with their parents, we really don't have to do much beyond making sure they don't die--"

"Oh, are they gonna parent their kids?! As well as I do?! Not likely," she mutters. "I'm gonna look after them. Make sure they have a great time here. Teach them everything I know. The whole nine yards. I just don't like it."

"You like it a little," I tease.

Indigo huffs crossly, looking away. "I have no idea what you're talking about."