Welcome to Gaia! ::

“There you go…and once more,” Lithian encouraged, his eyes bright and smile broad as he guided his daughter through several, toddling footsteps across the sand. Tanarah cooed, giggling and curling her toes as she moved with him, fingers pinched into his grip and gaze darting about: from him, to the beach, to the ocean, to her sister — sitting in the sand and vacillating between crawling and staring — and back to him.

“Bababa…”

At just over a year old, neither of the girls could talk yet, but both were avid makers of sound in general, experimenting actively with different combinations, and both could toddle around the house for several steps at a time with the support of a wall or helping hand. Neither had quite managed to balance entirely on their own yet, but the moment seemed close in the making. After several more guided steps forward, Lithian paused, moving to a crouch and helping Tanarah to get her balance, working to see how little support he could give before she swayed.

“You’re almost there big girl…do you think you can do it, hmm? You’re so close…” He glanced sidelong, to where Casseth waited, indulging Talarah’s sudden fascination with the sand. “I bet you can do it on your own…make Daddy and Papa very proud and show the world how it’s done, what do you think?”

Tanarah wiggled her toes, crimping the sand and pinching to grip at her father’s hands as she squinted. He was holding on less. She could tell. But a certain sort of bubbly thrill came with the thought, and she gave an intrigued gurgle, attempting to let go for an instant and batting her hands against his — as though flapping wings to fly — before gripping again.

He spoke to her again at that. Soft, encouraging words, and when she heard her other father approach with her sister, Tanarah’s head darted around, attention flicking to observe her new audience. Fans. She giggled, half stomping into the sand before humming and shifting again with concentration. Next time when Daddy let go, she held perfectly still, and a moment later, as the reality that she was upright without support dawned on her, her eyes when wide, accompanied by a triumphant squeal and a lurching step forward.

“Baabababa—!”

Daddy’s laugh was rolling, warm and familiar, and his arms caught her after her lurch, scooping her up as he cooed to her. Pleased, proud words. She babbled happily, winding her fingers into his hair and then glancing over, as though to make sure her sister and Papa had witnessed this historic feat.

Lithian blinked, surprised at the commentary, and glanced in the direction Casseth spoke of as he adjusted his grip on Tanarah. Sure enough, someone was approaching, though he couldn’t make out their identity from the given distance. With the barest push of magic, Lithian focused the beginnings of his transformation on his eyes, pausing there so that — just for a moment — he was gifted with the sharp, feral distance vision of his dragon form. He stilled at the sight that greeted him. Immediately after, he dipped his gaze, blinking and letting his eyes shift back to normal as his pulse stuttered against his chest.

“So there is…”

As they approached, Lithian’s nerves only increased, his breath feeling tight in his throat and legs moving as though guided more by instinct than will. When they made it within range of him actually seeing his mother’s face without the use of his dragon form, a knot lurched in his gut, his exhale dry against his lips. Her eyes pinned him like cool stone, and it wasn’t until she moved for him that he realized his legs had stopped moving.

“Lithian…” Though briefly, her gaze flit away from him to Tanarah in his arms, over to Casseth and Tala and then back. Something in her stare only further aggravated his concerns.

“Lady Bhardvaris,” Lithian murmured, dipping his lashes and chin in the barest bow of acknowledgement, “…to what do we owe the honor of a visit from a noble representative of such a high house?”

Despite a naturally poised and stiff posture, Lithian wondered if he imagined that her shoulders straightened further at the words, lips thinning. “Lithian—”

“These are my daughters, Tanarah, and Talanah,” he said. ‘Your granddaughters, if you had accepted them,’ went unspoken. “They are nearly a year old. And this…” He notched his head towards Casseth, “…is my mate, Casseth.”

Lithian watched as his mother opened her mouth as though to respond to Casseth, then shut it again, her eyes turning to pin him and gaze dishearteningly serious. He resisted the instinct to swallow the lump in his throat, dip his eyes or avert his gaze, as he had when he was a child faced with that stare. Though he matched her in height now, standing an even finger’s width or so taller, he still felt a child under her scrutiny.

“Your sister, Ysette…” his mother began, her voice strangely hoarse in a way Lithian was not sure he had ever heard it before. She paused there, and seemed to gather herself before finishing. “Your sister was executed for treason against the high Lady Aevah Avi in the heart of Astral City not a fortnight prior…we just got word.”

For a moment, Lithian did not breathe. He did not hear. He barely saw, his world shrinking in on itself like too many old bricks crumbling inward to dust. The ground bent, and it was only Tanarah’s uncertain whimper that jerked him from folding in at the knees. Even then, he felt only on the edge of upright.

“My…” When his voice broke, he cleared his throat, a weak attempt to shove through the suffocating noose on his neck. “What…? Father—where is—? Surely they…they can’t—they wouldn’t, we were…she was—what?”

Lithian opened his mouth, intending to answer — somehow — but nothing came to his tongue. Instead, even as Casseth’s tail looped about him, he tucked his face forward, burying a shuddered kiss and exhale to his daughter’s temple while squeezing his eyes shut. If hot tears spilled forward in the process, he barely noticed, only managing to nod and murmur a consoling, “Shhhhhhh, sweetheart, it’s alright…it’s going to be alright…” when Tanarah whined uncertainly.

They went inside.

Through the process, Lithian felt stiff and distant. Mechanical, almost as he forced himself through the ritual of taking the girls to their room and setting them into bed — though it was only midday, their morning had been exerting enough for a nap, at least — but by the time he made it back to the head of the stairs where he ought to head down, he found himself frozen. The stairs looked eternal, blurring out of sight as his eyes filled again with tears, and it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

He had not seen his sister in years. He hadn’t…

His fingers dug into the wood of the railing leading down, his knees threatening to buckle before he took his first step. “Casseth…”

Lithian shuddered, readily caving into the protection of his mate’s embrace the moment it was offered and pressing his eyes shut again as he did. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want to make himself presentable to anyone, let alone the estranged mother with whom he had not spoken in years. But nor could he leave Casseth to do it alone, and thus, after an extended pause within which he simply clung, willing himself to pull his wits together, Lithian shook his head and forced himself to stand.

“No, you don’t hav—I am…well enough,” he said, feeling as he said them that he couldn’t think of any words farther from true. But it didn’t matter. His choices were limited, and this was what was before him. “Just…” His voice dropped, quieting as his fingers pinched in Casseth’s grip, “…don’t let go…?”

Together, they made it down the stairs.

Lady Ahtti’sha Bhardvaris stood beside the dining room table as the re-entered, not sitting, but holding her position, arms folded before her and posture severe, but expression bent around the edges, evidencing that — for all her show of poise — the situation weighted as heavily on her as anything. Aside from that, looked older on the whole than Lithian remembered her, her skin still so dark it was near indistinguishable from black and her brown-gold scales standing out against her skin like smoothed stone. But the years had put creases around her eyes, lips and cheeks, and her once ebony-brown, steel-straight hair showed streaks of peppered white and grey.

“I should have spoken with you sooner,” she said as he stepped into the room. “I…apologize.”

Something caught in Lithian’s throat on its way up. A choked hitch of a sound torn between a laugh and a sob, but the several times that he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came, and so instead of answering, he moved to the kitchen table, allowing his fingers to slip from Casseth’s only to sink into the nearest chair, hand over his face.

“This,” he said. “This—after years of not…” Lithian swallowed, fingers pinching inward to rub over his closed eyes as he drew a shuddered breath. “This is what it took for you to be willing to look at me…”

Footsteps approached. “No, Lithian—”

When fingers reached for him, Lithian jerked away. “Don’t—” But then, her fingers were catching beneath his chin, tilting it up and forcing him to face her as she knelt. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, a broken sob toppling from his lips despite his best intentions. When he spoke, the word was hoarse, and hesitant, almost too small to hear. “Mother…”

She gathered him forward, and he sank against her, fingers digging in to cling at her hips as he cried. Lithian could not remember the last time she had held him.

When at length they pulled apart, Lithian gravitated back towards his mate, reaching without hardly looking in an effort to find Casseth’s hand again. Warm, familiar fingers found his, returning his grip, and Lithian leaned on instinct, resting a fraction of his weight against Casseth’s standing form as his mother began to speak. She explained that his sister had been stationed on Serenia for just over a year, involved as she generally was with Lady Avi’s army and several of the primary politicians active there. There was no word yet on the exact nature of the accusation or how it had come about, but the strongest suspicion was that — with the rising tensions between those in favor of re-bolstering the army in preparation for war and those preaching peace — Ysette’s family ties to one of the largest traditional families to vouch for harmony between all races had made her into a target for radicals despite her loyalties to more militant allies.

Most of the words washed over Lithian like sand, grinding against him, washing over him, but only a few pieces sticking. It left him exhausted and sore in ways that went so far beyond physical, he found it difficult to hold himself upright. He managed, though, to ask the whereabouts of his father and his mother’s reasoning for appearing in his stead. She explained that — in the face of every demand, plea, and suggestion she had thrown at him — the man had insisted on travelling to Serenia himself in order to see to it that Ysette’s body was returned properly for proper ceremony to meet with Abronaxus. She also gave date and location for said ceremony, which would require a trip to the Celestial Plane.

Lithian’s exhale was soft and dry. “Am I permitted, as a dishonored member non-title to the family—”

“You have been reinstated as an heir to the Bhardvaris title,” his mother said. Then, after a pause: “I cannot afford to lose any more children…the name is yours, again.”

“My family name is Fedele now,” Lithian said, and — before she could speak, as she looked about to — he continued, “…but…I appreciate the recognition of my lineage. I…will make every effort to see my sister to our god.”

After some brief further discussion, Lithian saw his mother to their door, and there, she lingered, eyeing him for a long moment.

“You have never stopped being my child, you know—”

“I have not forgiven you,” Lithian said. “You have always and will always be my mother. I knew and know that…but you did not act it. I have since mated and begun to raise two daughters…and I just…lost…my sister. I have missed you…but I do not have the energy now to…” He shut his eyes, releasing a breath. “Thank you for…notifying me. I will see you again at her…” When his throat knotted, Lithian gave up on continuing.

“Be safe here, Lithian…it worries me. If ever you wish to return home—”

“I am safe,” Lithian said, “and home. Here. Goodbye, mother…”

Though she looked, for a moment, as though she might comment, after a pause, she only dipped her head, her expression concerned but resigned as she bid him farewell, and departed. Lithian held his position, keeping himself upright and watching her retreat until she was entirely out of sight. Then, he crumpled in the doorway. Sinking limply to his knees, he clutched to the frame with one hand and his mouth with the other, and sent an unintelligible string of prayer to the god he had sent his to for as long as he could form sentences.