Twins… Twin sons. He remembers the jubilee his father had thrown for them over his and Rigel’s birth. It was not common in his father’s house - but his mother’s family had been favored for the blessing. It was said the Mira was blessed, that her mother’s mother was also blessed, that her mother’s father had been a twin himself… it was a long tradition and it seemed born again through himself.

"By the moon's blessings Atair, she has given us a great gift.
“Oh, Eness. We are twice blessed,”
Look at their faces, marked for her and her alone they are."
“The Full and Crescent moons…”

Their words are exchanged as he stares, awed that he might be the first brother to bear sons to their family line. Two sons. Two sons. Two sons. It is a mantra of shock in his head. The red had more fire, was so much like Atair himself as to bring a guffaw from his chest. The star on the red one looks like it thought it was the moon, truly, enormous and round so that it almost ate up the entire brow. Then, as he grew close enough to accept the lips against his neck and lean along the side of his First Wife to support her, he sees on the brow of the black-- a moon in a sliver crescent, true, but a single star beneath it’s lower hook too almost as small as to be called a freckle. Arsu and Aziz, morning and evening stars, brothers of dusk and dawn, one giving way to night and one giving into brilliant red clouds of morning.

He knows already who he will ask his brother to give them to.
He also knows one day they will choose their own gods and wonders who it would be,

Her voice pervades his thoughts of all the dizzying things that goes through a new Miran father’s head, "The honor to name them is yours my husband, whatever you decide I will support and love as well." He looks at her, her warmth stirring in him a great love all over again. This is what it meant to be wealthy in love.

The black colt is not as rambunctious as his twin, also so quiet as to mimic the night itself. Still and quiet, though not dead and not at all as brazen as his appropriately colored brother. The bugling of the red, the way he nudges and encourages the black child to rise to his feet at last and look on his parents properly-- it strikes him that the second born might be so like himself and the other so like his own twin. It was he and Rigel all over again… though Atair also notes that the other makes not a single sound or utterance as often happened.

"Our black son," he says, "he is drier than his twin. He was first?" He waits for acknowledgement, but swiftly smiles. His firstborn son who moans in his throat, but produces no voice. It will concern him later, but for now it determines the name he chooses. "He will be Al Hilal. Crescent Moon." Another burst of noise from the red who prods at him and he grins broadly at the sound that draws him from one son to another… Two Sons. "And you, little hellion… you will be Al Murzim. The star that heralds the constellation of Sirius. No matter how quiet your brother, you will call out his coming as loud as the great behemoths that crossed our desert between savannas."

"Eness, you have borne your Husband not one but two sons," he says to her, though he is looking to Sayyida for her permission, " If our Mira gives her blessing over them, I will submit to your brand and prove your claim of me as your brand proves my claim upon you." His voice should be solemn, should be stoic and stern, but he is brimming with pride, with joy, with eagerness, with so many elated things that he cannot seem that even if he tried. He sees his brothers further off out of the corner of his eye, but his mind is only looking to Sayyida for the permission to take his knee and accept Eness’s final claim.