1 - His Children
There they were. His children. Tiny bits of twilight clinging to the dried fibres of the nest, and to the even darker flank of his dear Limelight. They seemed insubstantial as shadows in the moonless night, and Percy couldn't resist gently touching each, taking care not to wake them, just to make sure they were real.
His children.
An overwhelming sense of joy and pride and protectiveness drowned him. Suddenly, they were all that mattered. The nightmare their hatching had startled him out of mere minutes ago – forgotten. The loathing his clan would look at him with if they ever found him again – forgotten.
Not even the thing that Percy had been told defined his life's purpose mattered anymore. He didn't care that the blood of these hatchlings would run in the dragon that would save the Seas.
His children.
All that mattered was that they were safe and happy.
Limelight shifted tiredly. She'd been keeping watch that night – their eggs had been glowing brighter than usual, keeping the would-be parents on edge.
"We need to name them, guppy," she whispered, caressing his chin with a whisker. It felt as if his ears couldn‘t perk any more. But at her touch, somehow they did, standing up straight from joy.
"Indeed, we do,“ Percy replied quietly. „I think I want to name them something... good. Something that will protect them."
Limelight shook her head with an amused ear-twitch. "You and your penchant for prophecy. I‘d almost think you came from the Sea of a Thousand Currents, if I didn‘t know better!“
Something stung, deep in his chest. He pushed it away.
„But why not. Their names should be as beautiful as they are." She paused, searching the clear night sky above with a ponderous gaze.
"I heard a poem once. It spoke to good fortune as a dragon herself, courting for her favour. Perhaps if we name her," she gently poked the sleeping little black mirror's head with the tip of her other whisker, "after fortune, she will be fortunate as well."
Mischief sparkled in her eyes. Percy knew she was only doing this to appease him. There was every chance she‘d made that poem up right this second.
But he didn't mind. "What was fortune's name, in this poem you heard?"
"Felicity."
"That's beautiful indeed."
"Felicity she is, then," Limelight murmured, love in her voice.
Percy stretched a paw from where he sat, reaching out to nudge the second, lighter-coloured mirror that lay curled up against his siblings. He was stirring slightly, clumsily stretching his legs and reaching around with tiny paws, yawning.
"And what's your name, minnow?"
The term slipped out of his mouth before he noticed. Suddenly, Percy was his son‘s size again, curled up in his own nursery, that green-lit cave deep beneath the waves. He heard the broodmother quietly chatting as she tended to him. Minnow. She‘d called everyone that.
It was a warm memory. So why did it hurt so much?
"SQWEE," his son squealed. Percy's ears twitched in laughter. The bright sound brought him back into the present surely as if he'd been dragged by a fish-hook.
"Squee? Is that your name? I don't think so, boy. How about... Weal?" he asked, eyes sparkling. He looked up to Limelight, who watched the exchange with one ear folded back skeptically.
"Well… it does sound like that's what he introduced himself as!" she chuckled.
Percy licked Weal's head. "Weal you are, and weal be on your path."
He could almost feel fate changing, somewhere at the edge of his senses, laying out his sons path to match his name. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Still… there had been a reason they had named him Perseverance.
A reason I ran away from.
Percy shook his head, as if to chase away the old memories like flies. His gaze fell on his third son, with the lightest violet hide of them all. This one was smaller, more slender than his siblings. His ears were short and rounded, not the big fins that adorned Percy‘s own head. Tiny tufts of hair ran down the back of his neck. A Pearlcatcher, like Limelight.
„And who are
you-“ Percy asked, only to be abruptly silenced by Limelight wrapping a whisker around his snout. „Hold that thought, guppy!“ she said, somehow both stern and teasing. „A pearlcatcher needs his pearl before he can carry a name, else it won‘t stick to his soul!“
Percy stiffened, waiting for her to release his maw. Then stayed quiet, even once she did. His ears fidgeted self-consciously.
Of course there was something else they needed to do first. How had he been taught so much about everything, yet never learned cultural knowledge like this, the kind that would actually be useful?
Did he dare
ask her how pearlcatchers got their pearls?
As he debated about that, Limelight was already moving. She nudged the unnamed hatchling awake – large pale golden eyes blinking up at her like tiny moons – and coaxed him toward… his eggshell. The light that had shone inside was extinguished, as it now pulsed within the hatchling‘s heart. The dark remnants of the shell lay shattered at the edge of the nest, like shards of milky glass.
In an instant, Percy reached out and grabbed his son with a paw, holding him back as he tried to toddle over. „What – those are sharp; won‘t that be dangerous? What is he supposed to do with them?“ His voice rang strange and shrill in his own ears.
Limelight tilted her head, looking at him strange. „… No. They aren‘t. He'll eat them, to make his pearl. It‘s
totally natural for pearlcatchers to do that.“
Percy let his paw sink in embarassment. While he debated how to save face in this situation, jaw hung half-open, his eyes focused on his little son. The hatchling had used the moment and slinked his way over, grabbing a piece of the eggshell and crunching away on it, seemingly guided by instinct. The sound was something between bone splintering and glass shattering. He swallowed, and threw a level, utterly unconcerned look Percy‘s way.
Percy closed his mouth and decided to stop talking for the moment.
He lay down next to Limelight again, ear twitching at a stray mosquito who‘d thought to try its luck on dragon scales. She nuzzled him, and intertwined her tail with his. Quietly, he alternated between admiring her and watching his new family, until his son finished his strange meal and curled up at their feet again.
Silky white sand dunes stretched to the horizon all around them. The soft rustling of palm trees and rippling of the oasis pond a few dunes over textured the darkness. The sky was open and nothing sheltered them from above, yet it felt as if they were shielded under boughs of stars, not a soul in sight to take their joy from them.
A long while of cozy silence later, Limelight whispered in Percy‘s ear. „His pearl is building. Now is the best time to give him a name. That way, it will enter the pearl as it grows!“
Who‘s the superstitious one now? he thought, stifling a chuckle. But she had humoured him, so he‘d humour her. Perhaps he could even invent a poem to go along with this one as well.
Only that she didn‘t like any of his suggestions.
Ordinarily, Percy would have been irritated, but this was far too perfect a night to ruin with such pettiness. So he waited patiently.
And finally, she suggested one of her own. „Providence.“
Percy‘s stomach clenched. It sounded so much like… like…
Prophecy.
The starlight reflected in Limelight‘s eyes. She looked so deeply happy at all this.
He couldn‘t bring himself to deny her. And even if he could, what reason did he have to dislike the name?
Except for… something she couldn‘t know.
"You're Providence now," he whispered, gazing down at his third son. Providence, stirred by their conversation, blinked and stared back from eyes so pale they almost seemed white. So starkly they shone in the gloom, it felt as if Percy were being sucked into them. For just a moment, his head spun, and he couldn't feel the ground beneath his claws anymore.
Then he blinked and tore his eyes away from his son and the feeling disappeared. The hatchling tilted his head curiously, and burped.
Conscious of Limelight's observation, Percy carefully resettled his eyes on Providence, taking care to look at his flank rather than his head. Something still felt queasy about that name. Weal and Felicity, now those were names that promised happiness, fortune, and a life of freedom and joy.
Providence... so much rested on the shoulders of this little hatchling. He already seemed oddly serious, for being only a few hours old. Percy was probably imagining that.
But that name.. it felt as if it foretold a time when he'd have to admit to one of his children that the prophecy was now dependent on
them. On
their lies. On
them sacrificing their free will. On them putting the same burden on
their children in turn.
He felt the weight settle on his shoulders again, crushing him. All the magic of the night couldn‘t hold it at bay. The stars suddenly seemed less bright.
Limelight purred beside him, wholly wonderful and wholly oblivious.
He‘d ran. He‘d lived a life of freedom. But it had caught up to him, through his own doing. His children. They were here now, and they weren't going away. They would need training, guidance, testing to determine which of them would be the best for the bloodline. Could he put that on them, after fleeing it himself?
He‘d betrayed his destiny once. Could he do it a second time?
What happens next...
