They were frail.
They could no longer lift a sword, let alone fight.
However, they still took time to converse with the great dragons, though only one specifically enjoyed speaking with them.
Until one day, after the journey upwards had taken just too much and they fell asleep in the snow.
The Sun watched carefully as another of his own died an unexpected, yet expected, death and looked to his other children. The unstable nature of most. And he made a choice.
The Sun crafted wings, talons, and teeth, sharp and gleaming as ice in the sea and placed the soul into it's more appropriate host.
The host with icey grace and horns like a crown. For the Sun did not fear this one going corrupt. This soul has love buried deep in their heart and mind. Love for family and friends.
The reborn woke on the edge of ice. It took a moment. A moment to realize what was happening. Until they stretched their wings and felt the most exciting emotion they'd felt in a long time.
With one beat, they rose, flying to clear water to look in.
The horn-crown of silver and gold caught their eyes first. They dared to touch it, softly, afraid it would shatter. It didn't, of course.
Next the green of their eyes. Like emeralds, the stone they often wore before.
And finally their wings. They stretched them to their full span and marveled. They seemed bigger than the others, but perhaps that is only the excitement.
The other recognize them.
Recognize their father's thought.
And they weren't angry.
One was ecstatic.
Another begrudging answered Hello, excited on the inside.
They were home.