He should have been excited to go back to Daer'Ishaan, but Zeneth was more like home to him. 

The sky's are crowded to today. 

Mostly with the Alimenam who had made their way to Zeneth from Daer'Atesh for the announcement. All hoping they would be included in En Zahut. He needed to get permission from his father to approve his temporary stay in the palace city. 

Most of them were red or black in the usual Daer'Ishaan standard. However many of them, were much larger than he was. As the Djartte's size increased with age until fifteen hundred years, at the latest.  

A dragon's childhood, or shapeless years 

He flapped his wings bit to give him greater lift and fly above the traffic. 

He was still more than an impressive specimen by Zheragon standards. His body was long and lean, yet clearly muscular. His fangs dripped down and under his long maw. With red scales and black claws and horns a line black feathery fur going down his back with gold tips. A gold design seemed to dance around his body. 

His bright wings things that were covered in large bright red feathers with black tips were golden on the bottom. Unlike the others flyers of his Gyn ;they gleamed in the light as they flapped, the shine belying his royal origins. 

For the next five years all fifty participants would slowly trickle into the city so they could scope each other out. 

Both for potential targets, and potential rivals. He wanted to get a jump on things, since he already had a temporary residence there, but in order to get registered for work - he still needed his father's approval. All Zheragon need their parents permission for basically anything until they are over five-hundred.  There were a multitudinous array of reasons for this, but right now Mars didn't like any of them. over half of it had some er to do with the hierarchy. 

Since Dragons lived an average lifespan of two thousand years,  elders were those over fifteen hundred.  You weren't really considered an adult until five-hundred, and that was still often considered a young adult. Especially seeing as a Djartte didn't reach full size until around a thousand years of age.  One was considered a young adult from two-hundred and fifty until around five-hundred. Nonetheless, one could not have an official position until seven-hundred and fifty-two years,  so you were basically treated like a cub until then.  There were still arguments around the mental maturity of Zheragon under that age.  

Mars wasn't sure he could stomach another seven-hundred and two years under Agamemnon.  It was already killing him at fifty. Though, to be fair, most Yzhen didn't have the same form of strains on their relationships. 

He felt warm inside when he remembered what he did have to look forward to. His youngest siblings, the twins Jammel Aleksander and Isisya A'mahliah. Though, Alek was the quiet sort and probably would only give him a smile - Mahliah was vibrant and would run up to him and probably ask a million questions. They were just seven - and wouldn't be invited to any formal events until the next year. 

Agamemnon and his mother Persephone, had both stayed behind. Usually his father never passed up a chance to go to Zeneth. A fact he not had much presence of thought to consider until earlier that morning.

"They must have known" 

Mars had wondered why his Agamemnon and his mother didn't attend. Now he was fully aware. His father already knew about his placement in The Chase. 

The question is, was it something he didn't approve of, or was it something he helped orchestrate?

The answer would completely alter the upcoming reunion.

He tried his best to activate his drakeseed as he transformed back into his Savvadi so his clothes would materialize on him quickly. He was still slightly aggravated with the amount of time he was nude. Though nor more than a few seconds, it was still more than he liked. His back was scarred with a plethora of burns and slashes. Some looked as if they happened all at once but others seem layered, screaming out that they were older, or much newer. 

Zi'Venam never wanted anyone to see his scars, to see anything so much as a hair that could be labeled imperfection.

"Zi'Venam!" A little voice called out. "Ziv!"

Ahh, this is the part I love about home, his inner mind spoke.  

Alek and Maleah came to greet him. Aleksander with a more demure hurried walk and A'Maleah with a full gallop.

Soteramose Zi'Venam DjanoGaehar. 

A regal name though it were, was tainted multiple ways with parts he didn't like. 

Except the twins, no one who used his gifted name did with any respect.

 It was usually spat at him with the harshness of a slur.

 Usually by the person, he was most nervous to see. 

"The great Aleksantegon and Amea 'Leah!" he called out as they hugged him. He always played with their names like that, and sure enough the always enjoyed it. If it weren't for the grand differences between the garments of princes and princesses you sure wouldn't never tell them apart. They both had long hair, big orange eyes and little-chins. They were only slightly darker in tone than Zi'Venam (Mars) was himself. 

"Ama and Abba said to come see them right now." Maleah said pointedly. Alek nodded head fiercely beside her. 

"Ohaa, I guess there is no time to delay."