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Cyrrol didn't play "make believe." It was a silly thing; a waste of time and useless tomfoolery, one which he'd grown out of quickly in his youth. As he observed Falathir with her young companions, making some sort of "heroic speech" or what-have-you, Cyrrol rolled his eyes. How glad he was that his daughter, Anira, did not take part in their games...

Here she was now, in fact, trotting away from them. That was his girl, leaving their fantasies behind.

"Daddy!" chimed her sweet voice. "They're being knights!"

Cyrrol nodded and cast his disapproving gaze back toward the foals. He was about to comment on the foolishness of it all -- romanticizing the brutality of war and the trials of knighthood, truly the ignorance of sheltered youth -- when Anira went on.

"I'm the princess!" she told him. "You're the dragon!"

The stallion looked back to her immediately. "...Sorry?"

"They're coming to rescue me!" said Anira as she bounced on her hooves. "But you don't want them to. So you protect me! Don't worry though, you'll have help!"

It was then that Cyrrol noticed two foals, an appaloosa and a grey, splitting off from the group on the hill. The former had taken the lead, looking dreadfully confident in himself, while the latter struggled to keep up.

"Hail, o' dragon overlord!" yowled the appaloosa as he skidded to a stop. "We will crush the knights in our claws!"

"And... and burn them alive with our fire breath!" quickly added the grey as she finally caught up.

Cyrrol was dumbfounded. He cleared his throat, then turned to Anira, starting, "Ah, well, sweetheart --"

Anira cut him off with a squeal.

"There they are!"

Falathir had risen to the top of the hill. She'd puffed her chest out and thrown her head high; Cyrrol was not impressed, what with her thin frame and spindly legs, though she seemed to believe she looked like quite the formidable warrior.

"Dragon!" Falathir called on the wind, adopting as dramatic of a tone as a little filly could. "Prepare to meet your end! For we, brave knights of the valley, have come to slay you and reclaim the fair lady!"

"Your death is a formality!" added her companion, a fanged champagne, who came trotting up to her side. "Soon the people shall rejoice, for this land shall be free of your reign!"

The remainder of their group -- a spotted colt, a dark-eyed roan, and a maned filly -- all nodded in agreement. The roan looked a tad anxious, but the filly was pawing the ground impatiently, while the colt was practically jigging in place.

"We will restore balance to the land!" they cheered.

Cyrrol glanced at Anira, who had moved behind him and thrown herself to the ground in damsel-in-distress fashion. She was looking up to him expectantly; her deep green eyes were blinking up at him, wide and sparkling, reminding Cyrrol of how she'd looked at him when she was born...

He sighed. Just this once. For her.

The great stallion let out a snort and tossed his head. His long mane flew around him, even catching a bit in the breeze -- a nice touch, he thought.

"Fools," he growled in the deepest, most rumbling voice he could muster. "Your swords may be sharp, but my teeth are sharper! Many before you have tried, and all have failed. Soon you will join them in the ground!"

A few of the foals looked surprised at the massive stallion's threat, as did Falathir -- but she was far from intimidated. She only smiled widely, and with a rear and the whinny of a battle cry, came sprinting down the hill with her friends.

Completed YCH! Happy new year! I meant to post yesterday, but DeviantArt ate my submission and I had to completely rewrite the story, yippee! (((((((':

Featuring: Cyrrol , Anira , Falathir , Swinger , Méline , 267
Guest featuring: Sweet and Mar owned by KelpieMomma , and Sketch owned by BlackDragonArt98
Pose references: Mar , Méline , Cyrrol and 267 , Sweet , Sketch , Falathir , Anira , Swinger

Description
Previous: Words of Wisdom
Next: N/A

Cyrrol didn't play "make believe." It was a silly thing; a waste of time and useless tomfoolery, one which he'd grown out of quickly in his youth. As he observed Falathir with her young companions, making some sort of "heroic speech" or what-have-you, Cyrrol rolled his eyes. How glad he was that his daughter, Anira, did not take part in their games...

Here she was now, in fact, trotting away from them. That was his girl, leaving their fantasies behind.

"Daddy!" chimed her sweet voice. "They're being knights!"

Cyrrol nodded and cast his disapproving gaze back toward the foals. He was about to comment on the foolishness of it all -- romanticizing the brutality of war and the trials of knighthood, truly the ignorance of sheltered youth -- when Anira went on.

"I'm the princess!" she told him. "You're the dragon!"

The stallion looked back to her immediately. "...Sorry?"

"They're coming to rescue me!" said Anira as she bounced on her hooves. "But you don't want them to. So you protect me! Don't worry though, you'll have help!"

It was then that Cyrrol noticed two foals, an appaloosa and a grey, splitting off from the group on the hill. The former had taken the lead, looking dreadfully confident in himself, while the latter struggled to keep up.

"Hail, o' dragon overlord!" yowled the appaloosa as he skidded to a stop. "We will crush the knights in our claws!"

"And... and burn them alive with our fire breath!" quickly added the grey as she finally caught up.

Cyrrol was dumbfounded. He cleared his throat, then turned to Anira, starting, "Ah, well, sweetheart --"

Anira cut him off with a squeal.

"There they are!"

Falathir had risen to the top of the hill. She'd puffed her chest out and thrown her head high; Cyrrol was not impressed, what with her thin frame and spindly legs, though she seemed to believe she looked like quite the formidable warrior.

"Dragon!" Falathir called on the wind, adopting as dramatic of a tone as a little filly could. "Prepare to meet your end! For we, brave knights of the valley, have come to slay you and reclaim the fair lady!"

"Your death is a formality!" added her companion, a fanged champagne, who came trotting up to her side. "Soon the people shall rejoice, for this land shall be free of your reign!"

The remainder of their group -- a spotted colt, a dark-eyed roan, and a maned filly -- all nodded in agreement. The roan looked a tad anxious, but the filly was pawing the ground impatiently, while the colt was practically jigging in place.

"We will restore balance to the land!" they cheered.

Cyrrol glanced at Anira, who had moved behind him and thrown herself to the ground in damsel-in-distress fashion. She was looking up to him expectantly; her deep green eyes were blinking up at him, wide and sparkling, reminding Cyrrol of how she'd looked at him when she was born...

He sighed. Just this once. For her.

The great stallion let out a snort and tossed his head. His long mane flew around him, even catching a bit in the breeze -- a nice touch, he thought.

"Fools," he growled in the deepest, most rumbling voice he could muster. "Your swords may be sharp, but my teeth are sharper! Many before you have tried, and all have failed. Soon you will join them in the ground!"

A few of the foals looked surprised at the massive stallion's threat, as did Falathir -- but she was far from intimidated. She only smiled widely, and with a rear and the whinny of a battle cry, came sprinting down the hill with her friends.

Completed YCH! Happy new year! I meant to post yesterday, but DeviantArt ate my submission and I had to completely rewrite the story, yippee! (((((((':

Featuring: Cyrrol , Anira , Falathir , Swinger , Méline , 267
Guest featuring: Sweet and Mar owned by KelpieMomma , and Sketch owned by BlackDragonArt98
Pose references: Mar , Méline , Cyrrol and 267 , Sweet , Sketch , Falathir , Anira , Swinger