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There were two eggs in a nest atop a mountain, not quite at the mouth of the cave, but near it. There were woolen blankets surrounding the eggs to make sure they were able to stay incubated; their parents weren’t always home, and they couldn’t ensure the safety of their hatchlings.
It seemed they also couldn’t ensure being there to see the hatching commence.
One of the eggs shifted in the nest, almost leaning into the other in its haste. There was a small crack, then a bigger one, and it continued to spread all around the top half of the egg until it fell off. A small head poked just above the cracked shell, looking slightly damp and wary. He wasn’t quite human, but not quite dragon either.
He took a deep breath of air, looking around. He didn’t see his parents anywhere, so he assumed this wasn’t a safe environment. He shrunk and little and stayed low, trying to stay warm as a gust of wind traveled into the entrance of the cave and blew towards the nest.
There was another crackling noise and the small chick turned to his side, staring at the other egg. Curious, he raised a soft hand, patting it gently.
A sharp crack suddenly sounded and he retracted his hand, shrinking down, his ears drawing back to the side of his face. When he had summoned enough courage to see what damage he had caused he saw the egg shifting around energetically as well as a tail wagging around near the bottom of the egg. Another crack and there was a hand grabbing at the air and wiggling as if it was struggling to get out.
The newborn wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure what to do, looking around frantically.
Until the top of the egg popped off, the head of his sibling pushing out unexpectedly. The oldest squeaked and hid behind his hands, shivering as he peeked through at the other.
There was a chirp, then another, then an onslaught of chirping coming from his nestmate. He fell over on his side, the bottom of his eggshell trapping him upside down. He continued chirping, reaching out for the eldest.
The older brother chirped in response, albeit warily - he didn’t even know he could make such noises. He carefully tilted his egg so he fell down beside his brother and together they started chirping, having an unintelligible conversation only they could have. The youngest had managed to get out of the cracks his tail and hand were stuck in and the two used each other’s body heat to warm themselves up instead of the egg. The blankets were nice, but they both agree that having a sibling beside each other was much better than some wool.
Eventually, the youngest sat up and chirped loudly, turning to his brother.
“M-mama?” he asked, though the other didn’t know what he was referring to.
“Mama?” he asked back.
He pointed to the entrance of the cave and the eldest did a double-take, squealing and hiding under the covers - he made sure to drag his brother back down as well.
A large dragon was at the mouth of the cave, tall and long, with four legs and antlers for horns, as well as no wings. They started walking over to the hatchlings slowly, a soft grunt of surprise before hurried footsteps.
They leaned down, nosing gently at the cowering brother, then at the youngest, who was still sitting up, reaching at the large dragon with a giggle.
In a flash, there was something akin to the light of the sun, as well as mist, then, another was standing in the place of the dragon - a man.
“Hello little one,” came the deep voice of the supposed man. The youngest blinked wide and hobbled towards him, tripping on his tail every so often. The other, still cowering in his blanket, started to peek out, seeing the man - though not quite one - give him a kind smile.
“So you two are my sons,” he said with pride, the youngest sitting on his father’s lap, his tail wagging happily. He chirped at his brother to come over with him, and, with caution, the eldest clambered down from the nest and joined him, the blanket trailing beside him.
“Mama?” asked the youngest, but instead of an answer, he was given a sudden sad expression.
“No, I’m not your mama little ones, but I am your bába,” he commented lightly, brushing away the hair covering his sons’ eyes.
“Baba,” cooed the older softly, resting his head on his father’s leg as he sat, the youngest making himself comfortable on his father’s lap.
“Right, we need names,” he said softly. Looking at his sons, he pondered for a bit, before turning his attention to the one in his lap. “I think Remus would be a good fit,” he said quietly, the dragonet nibbling on his father’s finger. It earned a chuckle from the parent. “You are a fighter, you will grow up to be strong and fierce.”
He turned to the firstborn, taking longer to come up with a name. He wanted to have at least one of his offspring carry the traditions of his kind and culture, but the memory of Her wouldn’t let him and he let out a soft sigh. “Roman,” he said at last. He bent down and kissed his son’s forehead. “Your mother wanted to name you that,” he whispered.
Roman tilted his head and crawled beside Remus in the lap space, the two cuddling under the blanket. Their father let out another chuckle and he sighed contently. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you both,” he promised. “As if your mother never left.”