Anemone (albatross AU)

Anemone, in this dark AU, is a profoundly tragic and terrifying inversion of the spoiled but ultimately good-hearted princess she is in canon. She remains a young SeaWing princess, with pale turquoise-blue scales, a lighter underbelly, delicate fins, sweeping horns, and the luminous bioluminescent markings characteristic of her tribe. Her appearance, however, has become increasingly unsettling as her animus magic consumes her. Her eyes can take on an unnatural, almost feverish glow, and her expressions often shift between regal composure and something disturbingly exited. She still carries herself like royalty—chin raised, posture elegant, and voice controlled—but there is now an eerie wrongness beneath that confidence. In moments when her magic is active, the air around her may seem distorted, objects can move without being touched, and her enchanted creations can possess bizarre, almost living qualities.

Originally, Anemone is intelligent, ambitious, proud, spoiled, and accustomed to being treated as extraordinarily important. She craves admiration and desperately wants to prove that she is powerful enough to matter. In this AU, however, those traits become the foundation of something much darker. Rather than merely being frightened or corrupted by animus magic, Anemone becomes obsessed with understanding it. She begins studying the history of SeaWing animuses and eventually becomes fascinated with Albatross, her ancient ancestor. Albatross represents everything Anemone fears and secretly admires: immense magical ability, resentment toward those who controlled him, and the conviction that his power made him superior to everyone around him. Anemone initially tells herself that she can learn from his mistakes—but gradually begins repeating them. The more magic she uses, the less she distinguishes between what she wants and what the magic wants. Her mind becomes increasingly alien, filled with impossible thoughts, fragmented memories, and an obsession with creating a “perfect” world through enchantment.

Her madness isn’t simply ordinary insanity. It has an eldritch quality, as though animus magic has allowed her mind to perceive things that a dragon was never meant to comprehend. She may stare at enchanted objects for hours because she believes they are “speaking” to her, recognize patterns in the stars that aren’t really there, or casually discuss ancient animus dragons as though they are standing beside her. She becomes frighteningly happy about things that should horrify her. She is unpredictable, going from calm to incredibly violent in seconds, but she can also be eerily polite and affectionate while saying something deeply disturbing, and will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Her greatest danger is that she still genuinely believes she is helping everyone. To Anemone, free will begins to look like a flaw: something chaotic and painful that a sufficiently powerful animus could simply fix. The tragedy is that fragments of the old Anemone remain buried underneath the madness, occasionally surfacing when she remembers her family or realizes what she has become.

Her relationship with Turtle becomes especially heartbreaking. Turtle is one of the few dragons she still instinctively trusts, because he is her brother and remembers who she was before the magic consumed her. But her relationship with him becomes twisted by her obsession. She sees his animus abilities as something precious that must be protected, yet simultaneously becomes resentful that he refuses to embrace their shared potential. She might speak to him with genuine affection one moment and then casually suggest enchanting away his fear or uncertainty the next. Turtle is horrified by her transformation and desperately wants to save her, particularly because he understands better than anyone what animus magic can do to a dragon’s life. Anemone, meanwhile, cannot understand why he is afraid of her. In her mind, everything she does for him is an act of love. That makes their conflict far more painful than a simple hero-versus-villain relationship: Turtle is trying to save his sister from becoming Albatross, while Anemone believes Turtle is the one preventing her from saving everyone.

Her relationship with Darkstalker becomes equally complicated. Rather than simply viewing him as a powerful dragon to admire, Anemone recognizes something of herself in him: another animus who believes extraordinary power gives him the ability—and perhaps the responsibility—to reshape the world. Darkstalker would likely be fascinated by how far Anemone has fallen and might attempt to manipulate her, expecting her to become another useful pawn. But this AU’s Anemone is no longer the naïve princess he can easily control. Her eldritch understanding of animus magic makes her increasingly difficult even for Darkstalker to predict. She can admire him, fear him, resent him, and regard him as a potential kindred spirit all at once. Their relationship could eventually become a disturbing intellectual rivalry: two animus dragons convinced they know what the world needs, each believing the other doesn’t understand the true limits of their power. Darkstalker may even realize, with growing unease, that Anemone is becoming something he cannot simply enchant into obedience.

Her relationship with Queen Coral is perhaps the source of her deepest emotional damage. Coral always treated Anemone as exceptionally important because she was an animus and therefore potentially capable of protecting the SeaWing kingdom. In this AU, that pressure becomes one of the reasons Anemone breaks. Every command to use her magic, every expectation that she should be stronger, every reminder that she is the kingdom’s “special” princess reinforces the belief that her value comes entirely from her power. Anemone still desperately wants her mother’s approval, but that desire has curdled into something possessive. She may eventually tell Coral that she doesn’t need to worry about protecting the kingdom anymore because Anemone can protect everyone herself. Coral, realizing that her daughter has become dangerously similar to Albatross, would be forced to confront the possibility that the expectations she placed on Anemone helped create the very monster she feared.

With the rest of her family, Anemone becomes increasingly distant. Tsunami would likely be one of the few dragons willing to confront her directly, refusing to treat her like an untouchable princess even when Anemone’s magic becomes frightening. Anemone may respect Tsunami’s courage while simultaneously finding her refusal to submit deeply irritating. Auklet, meanwhile, could awaken some of Anemone’s remaining protective instincts; the innocent little sister she remembers might occasionally break through the madness when Auklet is involved. Her relationship with Orca’s legacy is similarly complicated: Anemone knows that the SeaWing royal family has already produced dragons destroyed by power, ambition, and expectations, yet she convinces herself that she will be the one who finally succeeds where they failed.

Ultimately, this version of Anemone is frightening precisely because she isn’t simply evil. She still loves her family. She still wants to protect the SeaWing kingdom. She still remembers being a spoiled, ambitious princess who wanted everyone to admire her. But animus magic has distorted those desires until love becomes control, protection becomes domination, intelligence becomes obsession, and confidence becomes godlike arrogance. Albatross isn’t merely her ancestor anymore—he has become the shadow hanging over her entire identity, and the great horror of the AU is watching Anemone slowly realize that she has spent so long trying not to become him that she has unknowingly become something even stranger.

She is incredibly obsessive, if she wants something she WILL get it. Her current goal is to be seawing queen, by killing her mother, coral, and seizing the throne by force. And with romance, she is equally as needy, desperate to get a lick of approval, combined with being an intense yandere.