"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
Spring had arrived and as the air around her warmed her insides had begun to tighten with the force of her contractions. Pain had driven her away from the others and as she stumbled through the brambles the life inside of her writhed. Desperately she searched for a safe place to give birth, the shadowy forms of her vision making it difficult to ascertain the exact direction she was headed. Still, she pressed on – relying solely upon her own strength as the pain gradually worsened.
It felt like it’d been a life time since she’d last felt the familiar twinges of childbirth. Her labor with Reshi had been similarly agonizing but the joy of looking upon the face of her daughter had been unparalleled. A familiar ach took hold of her heart as it usually did whenever she thought upon her daughter. The guilt that plagued her was almost constant as she struggled to comprehend the pain of abandonment she must have put her beautiful child through.
The baby within her moved once more, his hooves kicked viciously at her sides as he moved his way deeper into the birth canal. It wouldn’t be long now. The urge to push was becoming almost unbearable and her progress halted as she fought against the instinctive motion. She wasn’t ready, she realized, to bring forth another child. Though she’d aged she felt like she’d only just delivered her firstborn. Those dark years had stolen more than just time from her – they’d stolen experiences and she was loath to surrender the experience of her second pregnancy. She’d only just realized that a new life was growing inside of her – and now he wanted out.
Another contraction tightened her belly and she fell to her knees with the force of it. Tears pricked at her eyes as she marveled at the weight of her new foal. He felt larger than Reshi had and more demanding somehow. Before she could stop herself, she was pushing once again, the motion rippling through her body as she began to feel parts of him exiting her body. She felt his hooves as they entered the world, followed by his nose, head and neck then, one final push and he was delivered.
Exhausted and heaving she mustered her strength and nuzzled him affectionately, smelling the musk of his gender upon his coat. Tenderly she licked his nose, clearing them of the afterbirth. Moving upwards to clean his eyes she breathed in his scent. Although she couldn’t see him she imagined that he looked like his older sister, a blue roan like herself as well. Traveling towards the top of his head now she paused, her tongue coming in contact with two dull horns protruding ever so slightly out of the top of his head. Smiling she nuzzled into him once more, emotion pouring from her eyes as she reveled in her moment with her son.
“Welcome to the world little one,” she muttered softly as she planted kisses upon the soft of him. “Welcome, Drustan.”
VI
lights will guide you home
@[Scorch] @[Drustan] @[Hestoni] The baby is here!!
Content. At first his little bubble had been quite comfortable: it was warm and safe. He had been content like that, his consciousness barely registering those key elements of security. However, before too long, his little bubble had become constricting. He had grown, and while the bubble expanded, it never grew large enough to give him more space. In an unconscious haze he moves, kicking out against the sides of his bubble, but it only results in moving towards an even tighter place. He wants out.
Cold. It is the first thing in this much bigger world that he experiences, and it hits him hard. The shock makes him draw in his first breath, only to find his nostrils covered by some kind of membrane. It does not only cover him there, his entire fluffy coat is all slimy and wet. Instinctively he snorts, trying to clean the stuff out of his nose, but it is a gentle touch that effectively gets rid of it.
Affection. Blinking, his unfocussed gaze (the bright light hurts his eyes) moves to meet a dark face. Softly he whinnies at her, his little neck expanding to ghost after her touch. She does not hesitate to give him what he wants, and like any child, he contently leans into his mother’s touch. His head rests against her lips, unaware of the bumps on his head that she’d found, and how remarkable they are.
Ache. He does not know what the unfamiliar, aching feeling in his stomach is, nor does he know what it is caused by. It stands in contrast to how comfortable he’d felt before, but it is strong enough to drive him too his feet. Cramped from the time in his bubble, they refuse to cooperate. His first attempt to stand is clumsy, he crashes down back against his mother and the ground the moment he manages to get his weight lifted off the ground. The ‘oof’ sound leaving his lips is soft, and to him distant, he does not yet link the sound to his own voice. His ears twitch, and move around, in an attempt to determine where it had come from. It definitely isn’t the sweet voice that belongs to the dark face he’d seen the moment he had opened his bright blue eyes.
Satisfied. His next attempt to stand goes much smoother. Though unsteady, he manages to keep his dark body up in the air. Instinctively he presses close against his dam, small muzzle affectionate against the round curve of her belly, before pushing further underneath her. He takes what his instincts tell him. The creamy taste is more than anything he could have ever imagined to taste. His eager – and demanding – drinking has him full, and content, in no time.
There was no exhaustion similar to the one experienced after childbirth. Lying in the still silence of the aftermath her sides heaved in rapid succession, her lung filling with the sweetness of spring air. As still as stone she is waiting, taking in the moment – afraid that it would pass all to quickly into the next. The waves beating against the sandy shore of Nerine played out the soundtrack to her first meeting with her son. How perfect, she marveled, that she would first have a daughter and then a son. She imagined every inch of him, similar and yet distinctly different to his older sister. Feeling once more she noted the soft protruding of his budding horns, a feature Reshi had lacked.
Content, though she was, to remain there lying beside him, instinct bade her to stand. Clumsily, and ever aware of his fragile body crumpled in the grass, she drew her legs up underneath her and, with one giant heave, she lurched to her feet. She hears, rather than, sees, his struggle as he attempts to stand for the first. A soft grunt follows a gentle thud as his first attempt ends in failure. Smiling she draws near to him, offering her body as aid for his next attempt. She could feel him fidgeting beside her and she chuckled and nuzzled him affectionately.
“Come on,” she said encouragingly. “Try again.”
Standing firm, she doesn’t budge as he attempts once more to stand. Steadier than before she marvels at his height. Despite her malnourishment, she could feel the strength of him and was relieved to tell that he was a very substantial colt. Although a bit wobbly he moves along the length of her body, easily finding the source of her milk. As he latched her tail swished at the sudden and unfamiliar twang of pain associated with the first feed. Greedily he suckles and her heart warms.
“I promise, little one,” he crooned as she nudged his rear end in encouragement. “I will never leave you.”
Not like how I left her.
Regret and longing filled her with determination. She would be there for her son and though she could not remember who had fathered him, she liked to imagine that her beloved Astray’s blood ran through his veins.
Vi was not the only one to feel that pang of guilt at the thought of abandoning a child because of death, or something akin to it. In fact, she herself was a product of this event, a child left in a world where her parents no longer existed - and Scorch begrudged herself that fact every day. I should have been stronger, I should have been there for Vi instead of obsessing over Volcan, I should not have died. But these thoughts were futile, and ultimately, her child had returned to her; parabolic. Every day that she got to spend with Vi, feeling the swell of her stomach and gently bringing smiles and laughter to her blue daughter's somber face, was a gift. A blessing.
As she traveled from her thicket, Hestoni's scent heavy on her skin, she wondered if perhaps today would be the day for her youngest child. The duties of queenship were forgotten that morning as the sun shone with the strength of a new season, warming her hide in a not unwelcome way. Eager to find out, she made her way across the short distance between her thicket and Vi's usual clearing. But her daughter was not there when she arrived, and the scent of pre-birth fluids told the rest of the story.
Slightly panicked and feeling her guilt double at the thought that she might miss the birth, Scorch tracked the scent as quickly as she could through the kingdom, stumbling just as her blind daughter had until at last she found them. Or, almost them - when she arrived, the babe's hooves had just begun to peak out of his mother's opening. Breathtaken at the sight of her daughter's struggles, Scorch kept a distance from her that allowed them to bask in the deep-seated intimacy of the post-birth haze.
Maybe she can't remember right, but no - this is the first of her children's births that she has ever witnessed.
As the child began struggling with the weight of himself as they all do at birth, the crispy rat pushed through the bracken and came wordlessly and tearfully to her daughter's side. Smiling with trembling lips, she reached out and pushed back Vi's forelock which stuck to her eyes sweatily, a mother's - and grand mother's - pride radiating almost tangibly from her big, sappy heart.
"I'm so proud of you sweetheart," She muttered emotionally into the dip of her daughter's jaw. Planting a kiss there, she waited a moment before turning to face her grandson; beautiful, beautiful boy that he was.
"Hello little Drustan," She murmured, reaching out to add her own technique to the grooming of the colt. "You will do well on this earth."
Still sniffling as her maternal emotions overflowed, she looked back up to her blind daughter, her heart squeezing painfully with the next words she spoke - but still, happiness prevailed in this exchange. "He's beautiful, Vi. Blue roan like you, blue eyed, as cute as a button. He's already strong - just like you."
NIGHT WILL FALL AND DROWN THE SUN
WHEN A GOOD MAN GOES TO WAR
Scorch leaves his side as the morning arrives, off to an early start with the business of a queen’s life. He cannot deny he is a bit of a house-husband at this point (patrolling the borders of their home, encouraging his daughter and searching for the rest of his children, rubbing the tension out of his wife’s shoulders when she returns home from her day’s work) but he does not find shame in it. Their life together has a surprisingly familiar rhythm to it, even after death and revival, and he falls under the hum of their song easily.
So he presses a few sweet kisses to her bare shoulder as she leaves their thicket, perhaps more loving over his wife now that they have been separated for so long. Eventually, he too leaves the cool embrace of their thicket to investigate Nerine’s borders. He’s a protective, nosy son-of-a-bitch and it’s become his morning routine — wishing Scorch off, spending a few more sleepy moments in the thicket, then enjoying a lope around the perimeter.
Yet, as he is heading toward the border at a warm-up trot, he spots his hairless queen stumbling along a trail with her nose so close to the ground he wonders if her lungs are full of dirt. Confusion and, the heavier emotion, fear work through his body and the russet stallion turns to follow her closely, no doubt in his mind that his patrol with have to be postponed. “Scorch, what in the hell are y…?” His words are cut short by the sounds of childbirth ahead of them.
Pride nestles close to worry as he spots Vi’s blue body through the undergrowth. He steps closer to Scorch, his strong shoulder sliding against her side, until he is side-by-side to his wife as they watch the birth of one of their grandchildren. It’s a beautiful sight, one that pricks at the edges of his heart and brings the thought of tears to his eyes. The liquid doesn’t drop from his brown gaze, but there is a glitter that shines to suggest they could.
Had it really been long enough for Vi to give birth to her second child? He’s been gone that long? His youngest blue daughter had only been a child when he’d curled himself alongside Scorch’s body so many years ago and took his last breath. Yet now he is able to witness his baby girl (his beautiful, darling, sweet baby girl) labor through the delivery of her own child.
And, dammit, that child is beautiful. Although slick with afterbirth and his nutrition for the past months, the russet stallion can tell the colt will be a deep blue roan just like his mother. A deep, almost sickening, warmth fills the stallion and he presses a heavy kiss to Scorch’s shoulder, expressing the overpour of his heart onto her burnt skin.
He is not a man of motherly instinct (never has been, never will be) so he waits while the two females share a moment over the swoon of a newborn. He can understand their deep love on a superficial level, in the same way a deer might understand a rabbit’s behavior, but there is no need to wipe his tongue over the fluids of his daughter’s body. So, before he moves past the undergrowth, his brown eyes scan their surroundings for any signs of danger. Besides the songs of spring around them, there is little moving in Nerine’s landscape.
Satisfied, the russet stallion steps forward. “He will grow to be a stunner for sure.” There’s a chuckle riding on the tune of his low voice as his eyes watch the mother-son pair. “I’m very proud of you, Vi. You did so well.” He thinks of her precautions, especially after what he’s heard of her firstborn, Reshi. “You will be a great mother to Drustan… Don’t doubt yourself.” With that, the russet stallion steps forward to touch his nose to the boy’s blue rump (now clean of afterbirth and slickness, but still damp and ruffled from the tongues of both his mother and his grandmother). “Hello, boy,” he whispers, a deep croon of a volcano’s lava. “I’m your grandfather, Hestoni. Your family loves you very, very much.”
Hungry. His whole being is focussed on one single thing, and that’s the ache in his stomach. Later he would learn it is the urge to feed himself, his desire for food. And right now, that need is fulfilled through the mare he would soon learn to refer to as Mother.
Sweet. From the first taste, the blue roan boy decides that he likes what she tastes like. The thick substance eases the ache in his growling stomach, and with the speed in which he it is taking it from her, he soon finds himself full. Content even. How could things get better from this point? He was no longer cramped in a small space and although it is a little too bright and too cold for his liking, he is pretty happy to be standing – leaning – against Vi’s soft side than being stuck inside of it.
Beloved. His ears twitch in the direction of the soft voice. To his ears, it sounds like the sweetest melody every imagined, and automatically he finds himself bending his neck to look at her. His rear is still at her shoulder, but that does not stop Drustan from trying to bend all the way around to touch her muzzle, that just touches his rear. He nickers softly, high pitched like any child, and it’s the first sound coming from his vocal cords. He basks in her attention, and care, and loves every minute of it. Was this what it meant to be outside of the bubble that had been his world for as long as he remembers? If that is true, he would never want to give it up again.
Confusion. What happens next goes too fast for him to follow, or understand. He does hear them speak, but as young as he is, he does not understand their words other than the emotions that come with them. He stands tall, refusing to cower, but Drustan is unable to hide his uncertainty. They’re all so tall, and speaking so rapidly, and they touch her too.
Mine. He snorts surprised, as another is suddenly touching him. Blue eyes take in the hairless creature. She looks, and smells, the same, and thus does he not pay attention to it other than the first initial moment. He reaches out to touch her, finding her skin feels different from Vi’s, and lips it experimentally. Soon she is gone, and touching his world instead, but Dru doesn’t get any time to ponder over it. Before he knows it, another is standing beside him. Or has he been there all along? He smells different, more of musk, than the sweet fragrance of spring and flowers.
Masculine. Unable to keep his curiosity contained, he takes a wobbly step away from Vi’s side. His haunches are still pressed against her barrel, but he has turned ninety degrees and is now facing the red male. Extending his neck he reaches for him, nostrils trembling slightly as he breaths in. His dark framed ears point forward, only twitching and turning to catch the woman’s chatter. He knows he is their subject, but he wouldn’t know what it exactly they are saying until he learns their language. “F-fam..ily..?” is his first attempt, copying the word Hestoni’s voice had been centered around. Or at least, that was how it sounded like to Drustan.
Guilt runs in her family, it would seem. The bitter taste clung heavily to the tongues belonging to her parents and, now, their daughter had inherited it. With every waking moment she’d delved deep into the darkness of her memory, begging herself to trace that trickle of a laugh back to it’s owner. She wanted so desperately to be able to ease their minds. To assure them that her disappearance was of no fault of their own. Daily still, however, she was met with nothing but a shadow belonging to some unseen figure as it loomed just beyond the grasp of her mind. She could feel his breath hot upon her neck as he chuckled manically, mocking her efforts and congratulating himself on the years he’d stolen from her. Even the magic of her son’s birth had been tainted by the music of his bone-chilling laughter.
In an effort to calm her nerves she busied herself with her clumsy attempts to clean Drustan. Lovingly she traced the outline of him, committing the smell of his fur to her memory. So, engrossed in her task is she that she hardly registers the approaching scent of her own mother. Her voice falls upon her like a warm blanket and her familiar touch is received with a soft smile. Proudly, Vi stands aside to allow Scorch a full view of her son, her heart warming at the sound of her affectionate greeting. Emotion is thick upon the balded mare as she described the colt to her sightless daughter. He was exactly as Vi had pictured him to be. A blue-eyed twin to Reshi. Perfect and strong she knew he would be a great force upon the land.
Again, another scent drifts down from the hill a short distance away. Hestoni was near and watching and Vi’s heart swells to be surrounded by such love. He stays back awhile, respectful of the women as they bond with the newborn colt. Once assured that they would not ask him to help, he makes his way towards them cautiously. Vi smiles welcomingly in his direction and listens intently as he speaks to her. He is proud as well, but a nagging voice at the back of her mind fills her with an unexplainable guilt and as he turns to speak to his grandson Vi feels as though he should not love the colt as strongly as he does.
Her ears turn towards her son, however, before she could allow the thought to overtake her as her son wastes no time in muttering his first words. ”Family.” he says and Vi’s heart swells with pride. Lovingly she nudges him, holding him tightly for an extra moment before pushing him towards the spot to nurse.
”Yes, my love,” she agrees. ”This is your family. We will always be here to love and protect you. No matter what, sweet boy.” No matter what.
And in a heartbeat, their family felt almost complete. A breath she hadn't known she'd been holding released upon Hestoni's unexpected arrival to the birth, leaving Scorch leaning into him for support and to admire the beautiful process as a unit. It's the first time they get to watch something like this; of course, when it had been Scorch in the throes of labour, he'd never once been absent (except for darling Rain - but that situation in and of itself was extra-ordinary). She tears up at the thought, moving to press her nose to her red titan; they'd tried for another child last autumn, but it hadn't stuck. They'd never been unsuccessful before - but she supposed that it meant little.
Pushing the sadness of that fact aside, the queen concentrated on her daughter and her grandson.
Vi was proud, proven by her upright posture and the way she allowed her son full exposure to his grandparents. Doubly so, Scorch was proud too; she'd been a grand mother for decades now, but never like this. Noori and Kaida were cool and offhand with her; and it was different with Shahrizai and Ilka, since Ilka was their daughter in law whom they didn't know very well. And Ea - well, she'd always been reserved to begin with, but the real problem had been that she lived across the continent, in the Dale, birthing royal children left and right.
Like mother like daughter, hey Ea?
Shut up mom.
I looove yoooou.
Focus on your alive daughter you big freak. I love you too.
Smiling as tears threatened to fall, Scorch perked her ears to catch Hestoni's deep, masculine rumble of affection and love. No matter where Drustan went or who he became, he would always be able to rely on his grandfather as a source of wisdom and guidance, especially in the realm of all things male. Being the best house-husband in the whole land didn't make her lover any less of a man - in fact, she admired his masculine charm all the more for his willingness to be everything she needed. And in return, she was his - their dynamic hadn't changed since their returns from the dead. They were stable; reliable; and they would be for their newest grandson, too.
Feeling overwhelmed by happiness and warmth, the mutilated mare reached and pressed her nose fondly to Vi's neck as the new mother spoke loving words to her son. And in the wake of those powerful words, Scorch found that there was nothing to say; they needed only to bask in the perfection of this moment, for once in their lives allowed to be at peace.
![[Image: drustan_by_devinsxdesigns-dclvkwd.gif]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/ed69/f/2018/245/1/c/drustan_by_devinsxdesigns-dclvkwd.gif)
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