Chapter Text
Winter has been surrounded by other dragons his whole life, though with only the cutthroat love of his berating family he felt alone in a frostbitten corner of his mind. His routine was a constant, one he didn't mind despite rigid training for hours on end and lethargic high class dinners and meetings that only left him exhausted at the end of each day. His spot in the icewing army gave him a purpose at least, and that was enough for him. It was.
He didn't make an effort to befriend any of his peers, he had more important things to do rather than making a feeble attempt at talking to the sheer ice that were his classmates. he of course made a point to know everyone on a surface level as the rankings demanded it, though. Dragons did try to include him at points, the few who weren't insecure ice blocks. Lynx was always friendly to him, though it didn't mean anything as she was like that with everyone. It didn't matter anyway, everyone gave up on him when they realized he wouldn't come through. Of course his brother Hailstorm was always too busy for him, and Icicle ignored him. Winter ignored them too. He didn't care. He didn't want to plead with his brother or deal with his sister's superiority complex.
Now Hailstorm was presumed dead and it was winter's fault. His fault that they were in skywing territory and his fault that Hailstorm was captured. Winter continued to complete his duties every day, careful not to show his hurt and ruin his position on the rankings. In the biting dark of his room at night though, he let himself weep for his brother and for his bruised heart. Only when he was sure everyone was asleep and no one would walk in, as if anyone might check on him anyways, he would take a jagged shard of ice and bring it to his left forearm, drawing piercing beads of blue along thin lines. He would do this as a punishment for what happened to Hailstorm, as if his name dropping to the bottom of the rankings wasn't enough. He would cut and cut through cold iceberg scales and it would ease his head and tear apart his heart at the same time. He spattered cobalt stark against pure snow, and covered the wounds with a floral-engraved silver arm cuff. It started as a punishment, but soon It became a little habit, running off and removing the cuff just to blow off steam. Then it became a dependency, turning to pain at any little mistake.
He curled into his bed, hot pain lancing his arm and chafing uncomfortably against the cuff, and he drew a polar bear blanket over his shoulders. He didn't need it, but it provided a sense of safety and security that he never had. He turned towards the window. light flurries drifted through and left constellations of snowflakes across his room. The sky was vastly deep and inky sapphire. stars clustered and glittered cruelly, mocking him for being so pathetic. he doesn't even try to hold back his tears.