#xaaxas

unprompted | always accepting.

"...!" She pulled back on the fur around her hellhound's neck, reigning him in and having him come to a halt, skidding out on all fours across the frozen tundra. Had it not been for his massive shadow looming as he flew overhead, she might not have even heard him over the wind, holding her head high as a rain of snow and ice blew whippets through her hair.

... A dragon? What in the actual Hell was a dragon doing up here, this high up in the Arctic Circle? And here she thought she was going have a nice relaxing ride through the snow. So much for that.

"... Is this a game to you? State your business!" She bellowed, loud enough so that she could be heard over the howling winds.

"Is there something you want? Or are you just curious? Either way, it might serve us both to get out of the wind, before I start to lose my voice."

@xaaxas

"That is where you are wrong."

Was Jonathan glaring, or did he always have such a bold, judgmental, heavy-browed stare?

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— @xaaxas

In the world she was born to, there was little safety to be found - none inherent to being a whelp, no being nurtured and discovering the wonders of the world. Nalice remembers fear the most. She had been too young to properly fend for herself, too fragile; but Onyxia never coddled her children, allowing them to fly or fall according to their own aptitude. The world would never be forgiving to children of the Black Dragonflight, and they had to learn to survive on their own if they were to survive at all.

The mortals hated them, and Nalice learned soon enough not to underestimate them. It was in other dragons, however, that she had to learn to see true threats. There were wars, she is vaguely aware, but her memories are far more simple: being hunted down after carelessness denounced her location, understanding only the other black dragons would tolerate her presence without violence by virtue of what she was. There was infighting, of course, but it was different. In a world where they could exist freely - where they could rule the skies again - there'd be no need to fight each other.

How could she ever fight for anything else?

Her ambitions are inherited; a desire to earn mother's pride, to see her grandfather usher in the new era where they would finally rise. Neltharion is a meaningless name to her. Deathwing, though - Deathwing is strength and power and hope, a world made for their kind above all others, ambition that she would support with everything at her disposal to see bear fruit.

They are right to fear, she thinks. He is powerful and uncontrollable and above them all. Deathwing is everything.