fire made flesh; and fire is power

Silence fell around the family as they looked out at nature's mural that was painted across the morning sky. Slowly the sun crept above the horizon, the dark hues of the fading night brightening to the familiar tints of morning. Each child's breathing steadied, slowly to normal as their heart rates came back to resting point. Drogon stared directly into the burning sphere of the rising sun while Viserion's eyes continued to slowly pan over every detail he could surmise from this new height in the world. He would remember every detail of this day in sharp relief. Despite the serenity that surrounded them, Rhaegal could feel the importance of this moment. It was his greatest adventure conquered, the highest peak of the mountain, and he had done it with his family. Bi-colored mismatched eyes slid first to Drogon, who did not remove his darkened stare from the sun, then to Kalseru, Daenerys, and Viserion in turn. Something fluttered in his ribcage, his heart swelling - was this what it felt like to stand upon a throne?

The beginnings of a tale that they had heard many times over, through the voice of not only their mother but their uncle and other family members as well, drew the attention of each of Daenerys' children. Rhaegal shifted to mirror Kalseru's placement, keeping the contact between them as she leaned gently against his dark sterling silver form. The searching eyes of Viserion finally settled upon his mother, a knowing smirk just curling the edges of his lips upwards. He knew every detail, in each style that the story had been told to him. The boy felt that he knew his great-grandparents Bonecloaw and Thunderbone, Jackson and Grace, through the narratives of his close knit family. A single black audit swiveled towards Daenerys as she spoke, the garnet eyes of the largest child unwilling to relent their lock upon the horizon. Something about the first burning light of day had him fixated, though he listened carefully to each word that was spoken. He was able to keep his eyes upon the searing sunrise a few moments longer than his mother had, but when moisture began to gather at the inner points of his sockets he knew it was time to look away, before it became truly painful.

Daenerys spoke of their ancestors, and Drogon could not help but wonder what Thunderbone had been like. Was Alcide truly as strong as their uncle Taliesin always painted him to be? Had Jackson been fearless in defending the pack that his son would not someday inherit? Viserion listened closely for new details, always paying attention to the smallest of changes in the account of their lineage's history. And so, when the story took a new direction and their mother began to tell them of her childhood, he was listening with the utmost interest. Rhaegal did not miss the shift in his brother's features when the name Leonidas was spoken for the first time. There was a hint of recognition, traced with awe and suspicion. What did Viserion know about this Leonidas character that his siblings did not? Drogon's ears pricked forward, his face practically deadpan as he stared at his mother, who carried on with her tale. As Kalseru leaned heavier into Rhaegal, he brushed his nose against her shoulder in a moment of comfort for both of them, before lifting his head once more and focusing upon Daenerys. Though her gaze had brushed over them mometarily in preface of this chapter, she did not seek any of their gazes as the saga continued.

It was a strange thing, for the yearlings to see their mother in this new light. She had made mistakes, forgiven a wolf who did not deserve it. Taken someone into her life who clearly could not be trusted. Though the boys all admired their mother for their own reasons, they had one thing in common when it came to their opinion of her - she was a good judge of character. Why then had she continued to let this Leonidas infiltrate her life? She spoke of having loved him and Viserion's white fringed head tilted to the side in puzzlement. The darkened bridge of Rhaegal's nose wrinkled when she spoke of the night when Meryl and Leonidas had met. But Drogon's features never shifted, a stirring of anger mixed with sorrow forming in the back of his mind. At the tale's conclusion, the truth was revealed to them all. Leonidas was their father, though whether he even knew of their existence was a detail that could be neither confirmed nor denied. Rhaegal pressed his forehead against the top of his sister's head as she curled into him for comfort. He was unsure of how he should react to all of this. Did it really matter? Their father had a name now...but did that change who they were? The children of the mountain were just that, raised by a loving mother, a doting family, and a strong pack; a part of the very peaks themselves.

Viserion took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he processed this new information. Before he could compile any words to speak in reaction to all their mother had confessed to them, Kalseru spoke. The tone of her voice elicited the first response of the black brother, the fur over his hackles bristling as he perceived the hurt in her emotions. "Maybe...he did not know how to love," Viserion started, the thoughts still forming in his mind. He did not wish to defend his father for what had transpired, but it was a possibility that was only occuring to him as he spoke the words. "He never really had parents...I don't think he was as close with Alcide as Taliesin became, or I think we would have heard of him before now." That was when a snort sounded from the largest boy's nostrils and he turned away from the group, the turbulent storm of emotions finally coming to the surface. Large paws carried him back the way they had come, angry at Leonidas for just leaving Daenerys. But also, and perhaps more so, angry with himself for sympathizing with pieces of his story. What if...what if Semele's imprint showed up one day, and she no longer wiggled with glee whenever he showed up, because his friendship came second to the completion of her soul? What if some other male walked by her side to block the torrents of wind coming down the mountainside in winter? It wasn't really the same but...would he leave, or would he fight to stay in her life? This metaphorical future weighed heavily on the reality of his mother and father's past. Could Leonidas really be blamed?

At the last moment Drogon turned back, his black fur bristling and the rising sun highlighting the bloodied copper that streaked through his fur. He returned to his family as Rhaegal glanced back at him, then to his mother once more. "Kal is right, though. He shouldn't have left...all those times." He paused, lowering his eyes for just a moment before looking up into her face with a seriousness that was completely foreign on his features. "Mom, why did you save him?" He knew that if she hadn't, they wouldn't be standing here right now. They never would have existed. But at least her pain would have had a solidified ending. Now her children would never know if someday their sire would show up at the borders, wanting to be a part of the lives he had helped to create. Drogon and Viserion looked to their mother as well, waiting and wondering what her reply would be to such a heavy question.

drogon; rhaegal; viserion