How, of everywhere on the continent, Frostbite ended up trapped in a sandy, blisteringly hot courtyard he couldn't really remember. A few missteps here and there and now he was slumped on the ground glaring at the SandWings that strutted around them; piercing blue eyes hoping to maybe kill them with a look. The heat seared against his dark scales, not made any better by his IceWing heritage that made him that much more susceptible to the sun. The chains that bound him to the ground didn't help either. The weight pulled and tore at the spines that ran down his back. He bit back a growl as one of the SandWings kicked him "accidentally" across the face as she walked by; sending him a smug smirk as she did so.
He had learned his lesson though. Fight back, growl, show any sign that there was any will left within and they would beat it out. He had the gashes and scars to know that much. He was the product of a forbidden union between his father, a NightWing scientist to his understanding, and his mother, the next in line for the IceWing throne, and that made him an abomination. An affront to everything that was pure, good for nothing other than sport.
The sport that currently sent the cheers rising in the arena that was echoing around them. Where Queen Caracal had her fun watching hybrids tear each other apart for her entertainment. He watched the weaker ones get taken away. They would be the starters. The ones that were chased around the arena by the lucky SandWings who won the draw to be killed like little more than animals.
The stronger ones were pitted against each other, bet upon to see who would come out on top. He had only been dragged out once so far to fight, luckily pitted against a scrawnier SkyWing hybrid that he'd hit in the face with his freezing breath. The SkyWing hadn't lived long after that. Frostbite tried not to think about the fear in the hybrid's eyes or the screams as his skin had shriveled and died while he was still alive. He told himself that it was so he could live to see another day, but it didn't stop his stomach from turning at the memory.
He couldn't let anyone know how much he was impacted by the half dead dragons he saw slung back into the courtyard. Instead he kept his face in a permanent scowl and narrowed his eyes at any of the other hybrids who looked his way. There was another SkyWing hybrid, the large wings told him that much, who had the fin of a SandWing and a mix of red and brown scales. Another looked mostly SeaWing, but the daintier head and swirling colors on their scales told him RainWing was somewhere in there. His eyes shifted to a small looking SandWing as she stared at him, and narrowed with slightly bared teeth.
As one of the guards called out to them he noted the change in the scales. RainWing too then. He didn't make eye contact with the SandWing, as much as he postured he didn't want to go to fight. The thought of having to kill another hybrid scared him more than he would ever admit. He also didn't want to die. The plan he'd been working on to get himself, and maybe some of the others if they could keep up, out of the pit was almost there. He just needed a bit more time.