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Hello there, and welcome back to this novel! "Sons of Winter" is a bit of an experiment on my part. It is what I call a "High creative-freedom novel commission" in which the commissioner allows me a great deal of liberty to detail the plot, as well as employ any number of OCs I deem necessary to help guide the protagonist down his fated path. So, the reason why I liked to call this a personal work is because it definitely feels like one. However, after talking with my beloved patron, he allowed me to credit him in order to give proper recognition to his OC, as well as provide an example into how these sort of novel commissions look like ^^

So, without further ado, let's get readin'!

Sons of Winter chapter 8: Aleks of Nothing, Son of No one (novel commission written for Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/ )

Chapter description: Aleks makes peace with his past, discovers an unexpected ability of Nyrisa, and comes across an acquaintance in the woods that might help guide him to safety.

Aleks belongs to Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/

The other characters featured in this novel are my creation

*

Aleks of nothing, son of no one, ate his meal in silence, savoring every bite of succulent meat torn from the charred carcass of a gutted rabbit.

"Didn't know you could blanket this whole thing in a layer of fire and adjust its intensity as you see fit." He raised his half-eaten meal to Nyrisa in gratitude, who squeaked appreciatively before hooking her claws into a liver to drag it over in front of her petite snout. "Magic is truly remarkable. I assumed you can only manipulate the fire's temperature, not that you can also influence its duration. It was snuffed out just at the right time to prevent the meat from drying to a husk."

Nyrisa's eyes shifted in his direction, munching on the tasty morsel, her mouth too full to utter a sound. She practically surrounded herself with the nutritious organs of the two rabbits, the best and most tasty such as the heart and kidneys left for last. She kept those beside her haunches, with the rest of them arranged in a line on the sides of her wings. It must have been her hoarding instinct, or at the very least a technique to guard her food from competition. She but had to stretch her wings over possessions, and nobody could claim otherwise.

Aleks smiled, tearing a chunk of juicy flesh, chewing it slowly to savor its exquisite aroma. His instinct was different than Nyrisa's; it urged him to wolf down the meat by the mouthful, so that they could be on their way in the next minute, but that was just a remnant of Aleks the Snowfang's apprehensive personality. He had always paid attention to the corners of his vision, even in his own dormitory. He chewed every meal briskly, every one of his steps slow and cautious, his words combed and scrutinized by a ceaselessly fretting mind before leaving his tongue.

Aleks of nothing, son of no one, was different. He bore no such burden that squished his desire to enjoy life down to a thin, barely perceptible line. He relished every moment spent in Nyrisa's company, as well as every bite of her generous offering, fully aware that precautions, no matter how elaborate, couldn't account for fate's whims. Too many unknown variables lay outside this abandoned ravine. Without the means to combat most of them due to his upbringing and the series of bad choices that followed, Aleks of nothing, son of no one, simply accepted his reality, determined not to let his past interfere with the present.

"You're such a messy eater," he said to Nyrisa, who scooped another morsel to feast upon. "I wonder what your mother would have thought of your dining habits."

Nyrisa shrugged with her wings, her claws latched on the sides of the second liver so that she could tear a hearty bite from it. Blood drenched her snout and dribbled down her neck, glistening in the stark light of their fire. It painted her not as the cute, affectionate hatchling who used to curl in Aleks's forearms, but as the efficient predator both of them needed to survive out here.

None of them wasted a bite. Aleks nibbled on every strand of meat still sticking onto the bone, while Nyrisa dutifully licked the blood off her paws, after which she dragged her pads along her snout to wash herself off.

"Come here," Aleks beckoned, tossing aside the pile of bones to receive her in his lap. The hatchling shied away from his encroaching muzzle, the task undoubtedly demeaning in her head. Her reluctance only served to draw a soft chuckle from Aleks, his amused growls smothered by her squeaking and squirming.

"It can't tickle that bad," Aleks said before he brought his tongue upon her stomach, sliding it up her neck and across her chin, collecting the flecking, half-hardened grime coating her scales. "You're just doing this to garner attention."

"Reeeeh!" Nyrisa complained, shoving her forepaws against his oppressive nose, pushing against it in unison with the flapping of her wings. "Mrrrek! Rek!" She snapped her petite jaws at him, armed with unnervingly sharp fangs.

Aleks rolled her onto her back, suckling on one of her little forelegs instead. They fit straight between his canines and halfway up his tongue, surprisingly snug. Aleks resorted to this method for its prized efficiency, but Nyrisa immediately relaxed, falling into a purring trance.

That's something your mother cannot do, eh? Aleks thought, caressing her tiny pads with the back of his tongue. But for the coppery tang of blood, the snow had cleaned her body better than a bath. Even her paw pads lacked the usual earthy fragrance mixed with undertones of hay, enticing Aleks to curl the tip of his tongue between every toe, much to Nyrisa's rumbling delight.

He extended the lavish ministrations to her hind paws as well. Those only had feeble traces of blood from where she stepped onto a grimy patch, but given how insistently she pointed them at his muzzle, Aleks had no choice but to obey. After all, she did hunt him a most satisfying meal.

Speaking of which...

Aleks pushed her hind paw out of his muzzle, stroking her chest with his thumbs to tenderly draw her out of her reverie.

"Would you..." he paused to swallow back the reluctance clogging the back of his throat, "be inclined as to hunt us another rabbit?"

Nyrisa's nictitating membranes slid back, her eyes opening fully. She regarded him for a moment, head canted, as if she didn't fully grasp the meaning of his request.

Aleks splayed his ears back, the sudden wave of guilt making his stomach lurch. "You don't have to do it. Forget about it. I spoke out of--"

"Rih!" Nyrisa silenced him, rearing to press her forepaws against his nose to silence him. She leaned forward to slide her little tongue across his dark nose, then leaped off his lap, hurtling into the white expanse stretching at the mouth of the alcove.

Aleks exhaled the pent-up breath he trapped within his chest, deflating like an empty water skin. He did it. He asked of Nyrisa that which had tormented Aleks the Snowfang just moments before. Curious, how such a simple request that made Nyrisa beam at the opportunity to hone her hunting skills had carried such excruciating weight.

"She is already somewhat familiar with this territory by now," Aleks said to harden his faltering resolve, the lingering traces of dread still causing the fur of his nape and tail to bristle. "Besides, she's going to have to do this daily, whether I admit it to myself or not. Better that she gets the practice early in life than live with the lingering regret of never flying out of her comfort zone. Her mother would have wished the same from her."

He couldn't know that, yet for some inexplicable reason, it felt like the right thing to do. Aleks the Snowfang saw Nyrisa as his animal companion, a sacred responsibility to which he sought to devote himself body and soul in order to satisfy her needs. A noble goal, but which ultimately pushed Nyrisa on the path of a sheltered life, unfit for a dragon.

In the eyes of Aleks of nothing, son of no one, Nyrisa appeared as the little, adorable hatchling capable of great at frightening things. He understood her potential, yet feared rushing her towards it on account of her fragile age.

None of them had it right. Nyrisa was more than an animal companion, more than a hatchling. She was a dragon, ageless in her pursuit of knowledge, adamant in developing her set of skills, and relentless with herself. She had pushed herself to the brink of unconsciousness while exploring her magic, and how did Aleks the Snowfang applaud her efforts? With paltry concerns and oaths of safety that would ultimately impede her development?

No. Not anymore. His father had done one thing right, that of pushing his sons off the cliff and into the frigid water below. Those who didn't swim, drowned. 'Better die young than live a worthless life' he used to say, hard words for a hard ruler. Without that shove, Aleks wouldn't have learned how to swim, just like Nyrisa couldn't improve her stalking and ambush technique if Aleks held her back. He might not have discovered his potential yet, but damned he be if he prevented Nyrisa from chasing hers. Unlike him, she needed to live, not fret about the dangers awaiting at every step, lurking past every corner, or lying in hiding above every canopy.

Aleks grabbed the scabbard of his sword, made of fine Ironpelt leather embossed with silver filigree. It was a work of art, as was the sword sheltered within. The opal set into the pommel glimmered in the azure light of Nyrisa's fire, the amethyst veins crawling through the dark gemstone shimmering with a mesmerizing intensity. Aleks gripped the handle softy, reverently, the leather binding wrapped around it more familiar to him than the blade his very hands created.

He pulled it free of its sheathe, resting it across his lap, staring at the swirls running along each edge. For all their sharpness, the metal hadn't been anointed in the blood of the enemy. It had failed to fulfill its purpose, just like Aleks the Snowfang had floundered in his duty.

Toss it aside, Aleks of nothing, son of no one, whispered in his mind. It's a relic from a life that has passed, a memento from a craft now turned redundant, and the weapon of a person who didn't possess the courage nor skill to use it.

If he stared hard enough, Aleks could see the faces of all those he wished--no, vowed--to defend, but couldn't. They weren't angry or sorrowful, but simply...surprised that he hadn't once stood up for what the Snowfangs were supposed to be.

Aleks sheathed his sword to rest his face against his palms. So much pain and disappointment lingered behind him, threatening to cripple him the moment he dared dwell on his shortcomings. It was much easier to embrace his new identity and purpose, yet so long as Sharphorn dangled from his hip, so did his past continued to cling onto him.

The blue wolf opened his eyes, determination shining within them. He picked the scabbard in a two-handed grip and strode outside, climbing out of the ravine to meet the falling snow and distant caws of ravens. He swung his arms to the side, ready to toss Sharphorn away...

And hesitated.

No. That wasn't right. If a person could undergo a change, why not a sword?

"You will be called Oathbreaker," Aleks decreed, strapping the sword to his back in the style of the turncoats. "You shall become everlasting reminder of all the promises I have turned my back on, of each and every soul I have abandoned while overtaken with fear. You shall hold vigil of I, Aleks of nothing, son of no one, and pierce my heart should I revert back to that cowardly, selfish wretch. As of now, you are my last creation, my only witness, and the sum of all of my mistakes."

Aleks turned back to his alcove, only to pause at the entryway at the sound of Nyrisa's guttural squeaks. She caught a silver-backed squirrel this time, big as a beaver and completely black but for the namesake stripe of color.

"Wonderfully done." Aleks squatted to grab her catch from her snout, petting the little dragon, eyes drifting towards her quarry. "This is considered a delicacy among my people. Very few of those squirrels still live in these woods, and you have tracked, killed, and brought this one back faster than any IceHowler hunter I know of."

"Reeeeeeeeeeeee!" Nyrisa cried out in jubilation, rolling her head along his hand like a cat, begging for affection.

Aleks set aside the squirrel and lounged back in the snow, holding Nyrisa by her flanks atop his chest to rub at the soft membrane of her wings. Her frills were generally more receptive, but their miniature size made it difficult for his unwieldy fingers to grab them, let alone give them such thorough stroke. Nyrisa trudged up to his neck, her wings spread to their limits, eyes closed, her purr louder than ever as she settled on her stomach, each of her tiny forepaws placed evenly on the sides of his neck. She extended her neck forward to rub noses with Aleks, both of their tongues unable to keep from interfering in this little game.

"Mrrik!" Nyrisa complained as Aleks's broader and stronger tongue practically twisted her neck this way and that, overpowering the petite dragon. She could have easily pressed a paw against the top of his nose and end it, but the devious whelp secretly enjoyed being pampered, just as Aleks relished the exquisite aroma of her scales. They had a subtle hint of cinnamon mixed with other aromatic barks. Whether Nyrisa acquired this scent out of her own volition or inherited it from her mother, Aleks didn't know, though he could vaguely guess its purpose, that of helping those familiar with her fragrance track her down.

"That's enough loitering, you rascal. We have meat to eat and a long distance to travel still."

Nyrisa's joyous purr became a dour whine, her frills deflating and remaining tucked in protest all the way back to their little den. Her excitement flared to a spark when Aleks signaled her to approach, and the spark ignited into a blaze the moment he set aside his knife to grab her little paw instead.

"It is your kill, so it seems appropriate that you should be the one to gut it. First, you start with what is called an incision."

He tried to direct the paw held between thumb and forefinger down on the squirrel's belly, but the hatchling hissed and slapped his wrist with her tail, head cocked questioningly.

"You can't possibly know how to do this just by watching me on a mere two occasions."

"Hrrrf!"

"Are you certain?"

Blue motes sparked around her nostrils. Before Aleks had the chance to jump back, her fire basked squirrel and blue wolf alike.

Aleks crumpled on his side, writhing in a whirlwind of motion and howls turning into shrills. His eyes instinctively shuttered to block the blinding blaze, yet strangely, the customary heat didn't burn him, and neither did he smell singed fur.

"Kreeeeeeeeeee!" Nyrisa's amused squawk pierced through his panicked vocalizations, daring him to open his eyes.

Aleks yelped the moment he did that, tears streaming down his cheeks, the intense flash still permeating his vision. His thrashing stopped, but before he chanced another glance at whatever Nyrisa did to him, the blue wolf took the more cautious approach.

"What...have you...done to me?" He barely managed while overtaken by panicked shivers.

Nyrisa approached his face, the soft squelches of her paw pads against the hard-packed ground indicating as much. Her snout touched his muzzle, then she drew in a soft, barely perceptible breath, removing the white shroud from Aleks's face. He slowly opened his eyes, one inch at a time, to squint at his burning arms.

"I am burning," he said, certain of how Nyrisa's fire looked and behaved. "But at the same time, I'm not burning."

"Eeeep!" Nyrisa confirmed. She stepped back to encompass the entirety of Aleks's frame in her field of vision. Her wings stretched in focus, and the flames began to gradually chill Aleks until they dispersed in a film of frost patterned after her fiery, azure tongues.

"Did you just made the fire...freeze?" A dumb question, considering he stared at the furless squirrel, its fur all but singed.

Nyrisa nodded, her crest and cheek frills perked in excitement.

"When did you discover this magnificent ability?"

"Rrrik!" She leaped from one side of the alcove to the other, suddenly fascinated with this place.

"I'm glad this ravine offers such ample inspiration for your magical intuition," Aleks said, wincing as he dabbed a fingerpad at the layer of frost coating the sleeves of his tunic, its chill bitter than real ice. "And I am thrilled that you're such a quick learner."

Never mind that I could have ended up as your next steak or an ice sculpture.

He kept the latter to himself, unwilling to spoil Nyrisa's good mood, especially when she zipped in his direction to paw at his chest insistently, begging for cheek rubs.

"Rrrrr rrrrrrr rrrrrrr," her purr vibrated through the soft scales of her neck, warm and comforting. Aleks caressed her back while they brushed their cheeks together, her folded spines facilitating his access there.

Almost as sudden as her burst of affection began, Nyrisa broke off from his touch to gut the squirrel. She drew a set of straight lacerations with her claws, pried open the belly, took a few steps back and settled on her haunches. The squirrel carcass began to jerk in place, the violent motions accompanied by popping and tearing sounds. Organs levitated out of its gut, the blood molded into a sphere that Nyrisa guided outside of their den, where she splashed it into the snow. She breathed her flames over the carcass, guiding them across and inside it, cooking it better than Aleks ever succeeded in a fraction of the time the process normally took.

Her focus dwindled as she attempted to move Aleks's meal to his lap, the little hatchling faltering for a brisk moment. Aleks opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but kept them back as he reached out for the magic-grilled squirrel.

"You'll have plenty of rest on the way to the human lands," he promised instead. "It will take us a month to reach the border, two if we keep to the mountains. The second is safer, but also more daunting. It all depends on how well I can get the lay of the land."

Nyrisa grumbled at the second option, always preferring the riskier choice. To her, getting captured by the turncoats on the way there meant an extra opportunity to expand her knowledge.

Aleks grabbed another bite to stifle his rising frustration. He wished to have brought this matter up later in their journey, but Nyrisa's audacity needed to be tempered if she was to tap into her potential. More than that, she had to be privy to his intentions, and to participate in the decision-making process.

"Would you be interested to visit the humans? To walk their cobbled roads stretching between wide, domed buildings? To visit market squares as big as a village and to join imperial dragons in their lavish eyrie?"

The hatchling squeaked and flapped her wings frantically, jumping up and down. Her forepaw fell onto the liver, causing her to stumble. In revenge, she tore into it, gulping it down faster than Aleks deemed possible in her rush to get going.

Aleks couldn't help but grin. "I'm glad you think so. My second brother thrived there. Have I told you about him? Of what he learned from the humans?"

Nyrisa perked up, her muzzle bloody and stuffed.

"The IceHowler knowledge of magic comes from their bond with their animal companions. Humans, however, study the very source of it. They have schools dedicated to all six types of magic: Earth, storm, spirit, dream, nature and arcane. I only comprehend the basics, but you seem to have explored two branches already, arcane for your levitation and earth for your fire magic."

The hatchling chewed and gulped down, curling her neck in an S shape, pensive, or surprised, or both.

"Earth magic is the sum of all that shapes the land. Do rivers not cross these woods? Are volcanos not a means for the fire bubbling deep beneath us to manifest on the surface?"

Her frills wavered at first as she tried to understand his explanation, only to grow erect as she swung her had up and down in an awkward, comical nod.

Aleks chuckled, her enthusiasm intoxicating. "You'll learn all of that and more. Some of the classes are taught by dragons, from what my brother told me, so you'll practically be surrounded by your kind."

Nyrisa didn't respond to that. Instead, she licked her muzzle clean and ambled towards Aleks to curl in his lap, bloody paws and all, nibbling at the side of his hand to get it on top of her. Aleks relented, discarding his half-eaten meal to cup his precious charge, unable to make sense of her reaction.

"Mrreh," she sighed, digging her head further into his palm, content to be here.

You don't miss your mother, your sister and your brother, he realized from the hearty vibrations of her purr. In fact, your fellow dragons unnerve you, similar to how my brothers and father always made me feel inferior. I wonder what story lies beneath your purr, sweet Nyrisa.

After she fell asleep, Aleks absently gnawed, suckled, and spat each squirrel bone that he brought to his mouth while he planned their journey in his head. The distraction kept his heavy eyelids from fully draping his eyes, his fatigue all the more noticeable on a full stomach.

It didn't help that very few Icehowlers ranged past the Snowdrift plains in the recent past. What used to be considered undesirable territory became the home of the turncoats. As such, Aleks had little notion of which landmarks to use while crossing this inhospitable realm on his way to the west, where the weather turned fairer and the lands lusher.

"The Dragonspine mountains were said to shield the north from the true north," Aleks whispered, picturing the humongous barrier in his mind's eye. "They also shrink to the west and grow to the east, so all I have to do is follow that obvious clue."

It wasn't much, but still a start. He'd also stay away from anything that resembled so much as a path or other signs of civilization, and if these two became increasingly common, the mountains were his second option. Even fully-grown dragons and wyverns evaded their fickle weather and lashing winds, preferring to nest in valleys or gorges, wild or populated by the bipedals.

Aleks gave Nyrisa a little longer before he rocked her to awareness.

"Meeeeeeeeeep?"

"I would love to curl and get some sleep here as well, but the Snowdrift plains are right behind us. Doesn't matter who won the battle; either side will send at least an experienced hunter or two to hunt down stragglers."

He dragged the knapsack closer to him, nodding to it. "I need my arms free if we meet hostiles. They won't see you there, so that puts the element of surprise in our favor."

Aleks strapped the sword to his belt, buckled his knapsack onto his back, then took his first painful steps out of the alcove. The muffled pain shooting through his paw pads reminded him of how much he had traveled today already, as did the incessant tendency of his sore eyes to close. The penetrating cold replaced petty discomfort with a greater, more irritating one, refreshing the blue wolf's senses once lukewarm rock gave way to icy rocks.

Fortunately for them, the skies had cleared during their break, with only a light breeze slithering between the snow-laden firs and spruces. The distant cries of ravens converged upon Lothering, but no dragon's roar or wyvern's shriek rang through the skies. Whatever the outcome, the victor seemed disinterested in pursuing somebody in these woods, a blessing that Aleks sorely needed.

With Nyrisa slumbering on his back, Aleks focused on naught but the rhythm of his gait, accompanied by the sound of snow crunching underfoot. Pleasant numbness engulfed his pads, taking away the dull ache. The burning sensation within his calves and thighs also dispersed gradually, the meat in his gut allowing Aleks to walk until sunset on but a few gulps of water. He could have progressed for a few more hours by moonlight still, but the hint of burning wood forced him to a jarring halt.

It was faint, barely a hint to the keen nose, yet unmistakable in its nature. The wind shifted, blowing from the hill rising in front of Aleks, confirming his suspicion. On the opposite side of that hill, a Lothering survivor or a turncoat had settled in for the night. But which one?

It makes little sense for a turncoat to camp by themselves when they have settlements strewn about this region. Lothering survivors would be more desperate, and thus inclined to take the risk, he rationalized. Common sense urged Aleks to avoid the potential trouble, but at the same time, the reward proved far too substantial to neglect. A Lothering survivor might know the region and its threats; they could save Aleks days--perhaps weeks--of travel by teaching him landmarks and clues on how to navigate west. Best of all, their dragon or wyvern might fly him and Nyrisa closer to the edge of Icehowler territory, away from these prime ambush spots.

Aleks lurked from tree to tree, knees bent, fingers clasped around his sword's handle. He shuffled rather than step onto the snow, the swish preferable to the alternative. Once he crested the hill, the clearing became obvious, as did its overly vulnerable occupant.

Leobard.

The conspicuous absence of his wyvern--Ariuvor, if memory served--unnerved Aleks, as did the questionable choice to lay camp. Even a runt like him could sneak upon him, and that said something!

Or perhaps...he wanted to appear vulnerable. What better way for Lothering's master of arms to coax the enemy out of hiding than to paint himself as a target? Nobody would suspect his skill, nor the ambush of a wyvern lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to pounce out of the shadows.

Hopefully, they wouldn't do that to him. Just like Leobard, Aleks was a survivor. They had that in common, despite their different methods to reach this common location.

Why is he here? Aleks found himself wandering as he made his way downhill, obscuring his movements until he better ascertained Leobard's motives. Retribution seemed the most plausible; the turncoats had attacked Lothering, so he wanted to respond to their treachery in kind, regardless of Lothering's victory or defeat.

There were other angles to this matter as well, ones that slowed Aleks's pace to a stop. Side pressed against the trunk of a tree, he closed his eyes and willed his anxiety back. Leobard didn't come here to seek his demise after Lothering's defeat. Ariuvor couldn't possibly have died. He might not know much about warfare, but somebody who ascended to the rank of master at arms couldn't possibly crack under the pressure applied by mere thugs. Though Leobard wasn't exactly a friend--perhaps not even an acquaintance--his duty demanded that he aid a Snowfang.

He had to take the risk, even if that required Aleks to slip back into the mindset of the incapable wretch who had abandoned everyone to their doom.

END OF CHAPTER 8

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