"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Ahead of me the soft sweep of the pampas rises toward the soft grey horizon until it becomes hills and then – hazy in the distance – the tall peaks of the Hyalinean mountain range. The rising sun has just begun to paint the slopes with gold, each distant tree casting almost impossibly long shadows. A gust of cool wind sends the flowers around me bobbing their colorful heads and lifts the sweat-stained navy forelock from my face. I am aware of none of this, for my world has narrowed to include only the damp creature that is curled beside me. His small sides heave quickly, each exhale revealing a belly that is stretched wide with milk. As pale as a summer cloud, it is easy to imagine that this boy with his cerulean wings is a creature of the sky rather than flesh or blood. Only my exhaustion and the shape of his father’s nose on his miniature face convince me otherwise, and I heave a quiet sigh before resting my blue chin on the opposite side of his body, feeling his heartbeat where he leans against my side. I’d called out when the stars had still lit the sky, beckoning @[Wolfbane] to the hollow where I intended to bear my son. I could hear the creek gurgling behind me, a comforting chatter as I labored to give birth for the second time. It is almost easier this time. Not in terms of pain – that still wracks my body – but in knowing what to expect. I am quicker now, more responsive, gentler as I brush gentle kisses on the face of my newborn son. “Pteron,” I’d named him, a fitting tribute for this tiny winged creature. The name I’d have had if I were a boy. A name honoring his heritage and his future. My eyes have fluttered closed for a moment but open quickly as the boy beside me rouses. He’s heard the same sound I had, I surmise, and turn my head toward the source of it. It’s Wolfbane, I find, who has probably been there for some time. I open my mouth to introduce him to his son, but just as I glance back at the boy to encourage him to stand… He vanishes entirely.
The world is a blur to the boy and it consists of only two things: warm mother and bright sun. When warm mother is is gone (leaning away from him to look up at his father, though the boy can't know this) the world is suddenly wrong. Perhaps it is a reflex, some instinctual reaction to danger, but the boy feels danger and simply disappears.
This does not go well for him, for as his body vanishes, warm mother pulls even farther away and begins to make distressed noises. Eager to find her again, he lurches forward, only to plant his forehead against a tussock of daffodils in a failed attempt to stand. The pollen aggravates his nose and he is suddenly sneezing, once, twice, three sneezes.
At the final sneeze Pteron reappears, seemingly startled out of his invisibility.
His feathered wings are spread wide to either side of him and he sits, dog-like, on a bed of soft grass. Wiggling his soft pink nose, he stands. Unaware that his blinking in and out of sight is the cause of his mother's panic, the little pegasus is content to simply stand beneath her concerned touches as Lepis reassures herself that her son is still whole, and then turns to his father with a playfully relieved reproach about him being the one responsible for this.
In the very limited way he knew how, Wolfbane was trying his best to be both a close comfort and at times, a distant support to @[Lepis]. He’d wanted nothing more than to smother her with questions and concerns at all hours of the day, to press his nose or cheek into the supple curve of her distended belly and wait for movement, but there wasn’t a need for it. Though their child would be his first he knew good and well that the mare he’d chosen as his own was already a mother once over, and his incessant presence might be seen as more of a problem than a help.
So he’d left with Titus and given her the one thing a mature female desires most in the world: her freedom. That’s not to say he wasn’t close by, however. The two pegasi stallions had made quick work of the circuit, stopped briefly in Nerine, and then promptly headed back to Brilliant Pampas, refreshingly worn-out and eager for rest. That being said, it should come as no surprise that Lepis wouldn’t allow it - or rather, their foal wouldn’t allow it.
Her cry for Wolfbane’s companionship in those early hours of the morning held a sense of urgency, a note of come here, now lingering as a warning call to give her flighty lover a clear idea of why she needed him long before he arrived. Peeling away from his acolyte, the disbanded Lord veered off into a sky blooming with streaks of dawn colors and used every bit of his reserve energy to hastily fly towards the cozy alcove where the creamy blue mare had hidden away.
And there, teetering into a wide circle that brought him steadily down to the carpeted, gold-tinted earth, was his firstborn - cupped perfectly into the arch of Lepis’ side and staring right back at him when Bane finally came to land.
A million overwhelming emotions overtook him in that moment: Pride, joy, a sense of the unknown as well as an instinctual need to protect, all rushed through the very core of his being as he took in the impossibly sublime picture without a word. In the next instant it had changed, the little creature blinking out of existence so suddenly and so unexpectedly it caused the hair atop his spine to grow rigid with shock. Wolfbane lurched forward, a long step driven by that ancient desire to guard and defend accentuated by the equally surprised, gaping mouth of his confused wife, and snorted brazenly with white-rimmed eyes as his mate began to shift and search herself.
He should’ve known! He should’ve guessed it as soon as the first ghostly sneeze broke through their worried grunts and murmurs, guessed that the winged foal was (of course) gifted like his parents, but he doesn’t see the obviousness of it until Pteron reforms himself right underneath their noses.
“I’ll be damned.” The colt’s father announces with a relieved chuckle, shaking a disbelieving head before closing those precious few feet between himself and the two beings that had just become his entire universe. To Lepis he gives a long, appreciative kiss at the temple, eyes closed, and to Pteron he gives the grace of his hot breath, along with the gentle touch of his matching nose so that the boy might learn and distinguish his important scent. “What have you named him, dove?” Lepis’ counterpart asks, fondly calling her by a nickname that he enjoyed even if she detested it.
Call it retaliation for blaming their child’s disappearance on his ancestry, Bane just couldn’t help himself. He’d let her scathe him all she liked because he knew this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be cursing that particular trick. Lepis was bound to have her hands full with his offspring and for his credit, Wolfbane couldn’t wait to start raising their perfect little hatchling.
Though my panic was brief, it was very real. Rapidly brushing touches across the colt to reassure myself he is whole, I feel the fear begin to subside, replaced by a warm sense of relief and even - surprisingly - humor. I know that Wolfbane has this particular gift - he'd shown me at our first meeting - but to see it manifest so easily in a child is something else entirely. Especially when that child is my responsibility.
What if he disappears at bedtime? What if he goes invisible to climb a rock face that we explicitly forbade?
The possibilities seem endless, but rather than let them overwhelm me I close my eyes and lean into the reassuring warmth of my husband. He was a disappearing boy once too, I think, surely he knows the tricks. That is something to talk about later, I think, and instead answer the question that he asks.
"His name is Pteron," I answer, and beside me the colt raises his blue-green eyes and repeats what he can. It comes out a jumble of noises, one that sounds almost like it should, and Lepis repeats back more slowly: "Terr. On." The topic of conversation nods happily, and then bumps his head against his father's chest.
His nickname for me only elicits a playful nudge; there are far worse things to be called.
"It means winged," I add, referring to the name that I had pondered over for most of my pregnancy. "I was hoping he'd have wings." I was hoping he'd look like the both of us, I don't add. He does, with his soft dun dorsal stripe and his father's blue markings, but mostly he looks like himself - a soft little cloud. "I love you," I tell him as he begins to tuck himself in at our feet.
"I love you, too." I tell his father, releasing a soft sigh that I hadn't meant to hold. With him beside me, some of the weight disappears, the pressing responsibility over my child and myself. It is a sensation that has never lost its novelty, one that I am unable to manufacture even with my magics. I can create new emotions, but I have never been able to erase the negative ones. Only Wolfbane seems able to do that, and I smile to myself as I press my cheek against his for a moment.
Pteron would be the third generation (that he was aware of) to exhibit the power of invisibility in Wolfbane’s direct line. It was telling that he should use it so suddenly and so fully, when Bane’s control over it had been patchy at best for a very long time. Their son was essentially perfect in his eyes and clearly adored by Lepis, a very capable sort of colt which gave his stiff-maned father every reason to puff his chest out with dominant, peacocking pride. Here was a child who Bane had imagined countless times before, every bit the wind and sky, undoubtedly a gift from the Gods.
If he were anything like his parents, he’d also be too intelligent for his own good.
Holding still against the added weight of his feathered partner, Wolfbane tilts his head oddly to peer sidelong at Lepis, enjoying the simplicity of this moment and the thrill of her affection while she explains their fledgling’s name. He’s aware that he should be looking at their foal right now, admiring the strong build of pale hips and shoulders, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the soft light that illuminates every corner of her achingly beautiful face. Their love seems to have manifested itself into another living being, taking from each a large part of their hearts and beginning a new chapter in their lives. In some sense you might assume that it would focus his attentions elsewhere or wholly on the boy but the opposite remains true: his desire for Lepis only increases, and he reaches towards her to stroke the curve of cheek and forehead.
Her mention of wings paired with his sons noiseless request for affection finally redirects Bane’s thoughts, bending his neck away and down from the embrace of his lover, nearer to Pteron so that he could ruffle soft baby curls with his lips and bump playfully at a seemingly all-white shoulder. “I absolutely adore you, with all my heart.” He confirms in response to the tender admission of his Queen, shifting back to their original stance beside one another while their child prepared himself for a much-needed nap.
When the heat from her body sinks past his gold fur, sending waves of fire up between his ears and shooting along his spine, Wolfbane finds himself drawn into Lepis once more, wholly attentive to her yet feeling the quiet presence of Pteron at their feet. Their skin rubs gently together, a pleasant friction growing where he rubs the dark length of his nose over and around her own. “Things will be alright, I know it.” He tells her in a low, husky tone. “Sinner wants us to rejoin Sylva and Loess. When this plague leaves us, I swear to raise our boy as a Prince and you,” Her mate pauses, leaning back only to catch one stoneflint eye, “I want your crown rightfully restored. Say that you’ll always be my equal … rule alongside me. Please.” He nearly begs, that ever-present half smirk pulling at his mouth.
The sun rises ever higher in the east, shortening the impossibly long shadows of the distant trees and illuminating the mountains along the horizon. The largest is the mountain, a looming reminder of the changes in our world. The world outside these brilliant pampas spins on, and yet I remain here. A permanent vacation, I have told myself, though from time to time I feel nearly trapped. Never more so than when I pace the border, my homeland a few impossible strides away.
It is easy to forget that now, standing in the warm spring sun with my child at my feet and mate at my side.
I had not felt my best this pregnancy, nauseous and bloated and surely looking like a hippopotamus, but Wolfbane had not left my side. There were other things he attended to, of course, as a king should, but I had never felt like less of a priority. How he does that I cannot fathom, but I have done my best to show my own devotion. Only once, when I was heaving the contents of my stomach onto a lovely bed of poppies for the third time that morning, had I regretted my choice. Yet now, looking down at the sleeping Pteron and feeling Wolfbane's soft touches against my own, I know it had not been in vane.
This is what my mother had wanted for me: a devoted husband and family of my own. This is what I had wanted for me.
When he mentions Sylva, I am too content to mind (perhaps later I will think to remind them who is the subkingdom) and then I am distracted entirely by the offer he makes, the question he asks with that familiar smirk.
"Of course," I reply with a smile of my own - though softer and more satisfied than his. "Nothing would make me happier." Pteron shifts at our feet, easily dreaming as children do, and a "But..." slips out just before I glance back up at my husband.
"You must give me something in exchange." How demanding I must sound, I think to myself, but my blue-grey eyes are narrowed in withheld amusement. I reach out to Bane, pressing my lips against the smooth golden plane of his cheek and feeling the rising heat that never really leaves me in his presence. "I want another one. Another baby. Maybe a girl this time."
Come on, now … by this point in their ever-strengthening relationship Wolfbane really shouldn’t find himself so surprised by her more ‘sultry’ demands. He should be expectant of her desires and needs, being her counterpart and all. Lepis was liquid fire that he drank in with his eyes, watching the contemplative shadows of her face turn into coy, sharp edges that made him swallow hard. How was it that only she could knock him off his game like this?
Softly, her lips come to rest on the rigid skin of his cheek. He melts under her touch, visibly sinking into the pressure without daring to blink or breath for fear of missing a single moment. It still seems so unreal - this passion they mutually share - powerful enough that she could demand just about anything right now and he’d gladly move heaven and earth to make it true. Pteron is all but forgotten, the poor boy, resting quietly beneath them. “A crown and another baby? What next, the moon?!” He toys quietly with his wife, though his tone suggests something altogether different.
He’s practically vibrating, yet motionless. Anticipation buzzes up from somewhere inside of him, the dark secret of his limitless affection thundering loudly in his ears. It was his heart, beating erratically and straining to connect with hers, longing for its other half. Wolfbane curls his short neck, letting the wide flare of his nose drag down the bowed arch of her throat until it comes to rest atop her breast. He lingers there, planting soft, wanton kisses overtop her criss-cross scars before he finally mutters, “Nothing would make me happier.”
She always managed to take him by surprise, and Wolfbane doubted he’d ever tire of that.
![[Image: Wolfbane2.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601918740845559818/696502662816071770/Wolfbane2.png)
![[Image: 3bCHvj.png]](https://img.nickpic.host/3bCHvj.png)