Let The Chaos Continue

You Asked For This

Stream, Willow, and Thistle took Coal's advice and headed back to their little island. Thistle's mysterious stalker, he'd said, was a bad dragon and it would be a wise idea for them to get far away. Their sudden disappearance would confuse and disorient Sirocco, and seeing as their home was in the middle of nowhere, it was the safest place for them to go. 

So they left, and even though a feeling of uneasiness stayed with Thistle throughout the whole trip, nothing happened. Coal's insistence that they leave only confirmed Thistle's fear that he was, in fact, related to the strange Sandwing. But if Coal knew him, and knew him to be a bad dragon, then it only made Thistle worry a bit more about where he had come from, and why he'd been left at an orphanage in  the first place. 

But that didn't matter anymore. He was home, the Sandwing was gone, and he'd probably never see him again. Problem solved.

Thistle settled back into his old routine on the island, a relatively lazy one of climbing the palm trees, chasing after crabs, swimming as far out into the water as Willow would let him, until he eventually fell asleep basking in the sunlight in the sand. It wasn't nearly as warm as Possibility had been, but the sunlight and hot sand made it good enough.

He woke up to the sight of the strange Sandwing before him, and for a half a second, thought he was still dreaming.

"Hello Thistle," Sirocco offered, smiling eerily at him. Thistle screamed.

Stream and Willow practically teleported to him, and, as if they had practiced for this exact scenario, Willow grabbed him, tucking him behind her protectively while Stream stood in front of them, growling. Thistle knew she recognized him just as much as he did.

"How did you find us, you creepy stalker?" Stream demanded. Sirocco shrugged.

"Simple. Followed you." He replied. Suddenly, the uneasy feeling Thistle had been having made a lot more sense. 

"Who ARE you? What do you want?" Willow questioned. Thistle tried to step around her to see better, but Willow's talons held him in place behind her, ever the protective mother.

"The name is Sirocco," He said. "And I'm here to take back my son." They all paused.

"Son?" Thistle echoed. "I'm not your son."

"Yes you are," He objected. "Took me ages to find you, but I did." Willow stared at him, stiffening with fury.

"So YOU'RE THE BASTARD WHO LEFT HIM TO STARVE IN A MARKETPLACE, I SHOULD-" She started towards him, and Stream held her back. Willow drew a talon across her throat. "I don't like you."

"And I'm NOT your son," Thistle repeated. "And I'm not going anywhere with you. Willow and Stream are my parents."

"Exactly, so go jump on a cactus and leave." Stream added.

"He is MY son," Sirocco said. "You two have no claim to him. "I do. Therefore, he's coming with me. End of story."

"How about no," Willow proclaimed. "You abandoned him, and we saved him. If anybody has a 'claim' to him, it's us, and he's not going anywhere with you."

"He's my son-"

"WELL HE'S MINE TOO!" Willow snarled. Sirocco flared his wings, glaring at them.

"Fine. I tried to do this the nice way, but if we can't be civil, then we can't be civil. Thistle is coming with me, whether you like it or not."

"Over my dead body," Willow warned. 

"If that's the way you want it," He countered, drawing a small dagger. Thistle had never seen anyone move as fast as Stream moved in front of Willow. He had heard the promise she'd once made several times; "Anyone who touches Willow dies," but he never thought he'd actually see it in action.

But then Sirocco lunged towards them with the dagger and Willow screamed. 

It happened so fast that it took Thistle a minute just to understand. To process the flash of blue and sandy scales, and how Willow had ended up on the ground, a dagger protruding from her chest, and how Stream had screamed, she had screamed a sound so painful to the ears, and she had launched at Sirocco.

Thistle didn't pay attention to their fight as he sunk back into reality and dropped beside Willow, panic in his eyes as she writhed in pain. 

"No no no," He whispered. Willow couldn't die. She was the glue, she had saved him, she loved him, she was the first dragon to ever show him a shred of kindness. She was the first dragon he had ever cared about.

There was a roar from the fight and then Stream collapsed on Willow's other side. She was covered in blood, but didn't seem to be injured.

"Willow," She urged, her voice breaking as she grabbed the Mudwing's talons. Willow smiled at them, and then her eyes closed. Stream's breathing came in panicked gasps as she shook her slightly. "Wil- Willow!" 

But it was no use.

Willow was dead.