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Wei Wuxian stumbles across the egg by accident.
It's a near miss — a white, frosted egg tinged with a blue so pale it's reminiscent of the early morning sky sits, nestled, in the snowbank. Wei Wuxian would have never known it was there if he hadn't, well, ran headfirst right into it.
His forehead stings — the shell is hard as crystal — and his tail twitches in the snow behind him as he blinks snowflakes from his eyelashes. And then he blinks again, because he finds that he’s right in front of an egg. A very large egg.
Wei Wuxian likes eggs — he nicks small, speckled ones from the village at the base of the mountain, sneaking into their hen houses when the night has cast her loving gaze across the forest and the humans are all asleep — but he has never seen an egg like this. He knows, somehow, that this one is not for eating. It is to be savored, yes, but it is not to be tasted.
Wei Wuxian will never know the joy of splitting the shell with his sharp teeth, will never delight in sucking out the sweetness inside, but somehow he knows, deep down, that he has discovered something far richer than the taste of yolk on his tongue.
The wind picks up, whistling through ice-covered branches, and Wei Wuxian shivers. Above, the sky begins to darken. The shadows on the ground lengthen, signaling that it is time for him to return home. He flicks his tail, rests his hand on the shell, then bids it farewell — for now.
***
The next day, Wei Wuxian returns to the nesting site.
He's a tiny thing, only a couple of years old, but he's sure-footed and at ease in the icy wilderness. Snow flurries fall from above and Wei Wuxian pauses for a moment, hand outstretched, to try and catch a snowflake or two — or five, or six — before he scurries through the trees again, eager to return to his new egg friend.
It's a little weird, he thinks, to consider this egg a friend — especially when every other egg he’s had the joy of stumbling across, or hunting for, has been nothing short of a scrumptious meal — but he knows, in his heart of hearts and his tail of tails — that this egg is special. It is to be treasured, and cherished, and never to be eaten.
Wei Wuxian ponders over the inhabitant. Inhabitants? It’s a large egg, so perhaps there is more than one occupant, or maybe it will simply hatch into one very large friend. Wei Wuxian doesn’t particularly care either way. The excitement of a new playmate is more than enough for him.
He simply hopes they will want to be his friend as well.
This time, when Wei Wuxian finds the frosted, glittering egg nestled in the snow, it’s with his eyes instead of his forehead. It shimmers in the early morning light, brilliant and iridescent, and steals Wei Wuxian’s breath away.
Slowly, carefully, Wei Wuxian approaches it. He presses his cheek against the cold, hard shell, and wraps his arms around the middle — surprised to find that it’s so large his fingertips barely touch — and whispers, “would you like to be my friend?”
An amused snort from the other side of the egg sends Wei Wuxian careening backwards in shock. He slips, and falls, then scrambles backwards in the snow as a dragon raises their regal head and fixes him with a stare that freezes Wei Wuxian in place.
The dragon’s eyes are a pale blue, the same color of the ribbon that Wei Wuxian’s mother wears around her wrist, and even though this dragon could snap him up in a single bite, Wei Wuxian instinctively relaxes at the sight of it.
“Little fox,” the dragon rumbles, “where are your parents?”
For a moment, Wei Wuxian is so transfixed by the dragon’s presence that he forgets to respond.
“Esteemed Madam Lan,” comes the voice of Wei Wuxian’s mother from behind him. “Has my son been causing you any trouble?”
With a start, Wei Wuxian turns and looks over his shoulder. His mother, dressed in their family’s red and black, smiles down at him. Behind her, nine tails flick leisurely.
“Not at all,” the dragon answers. “Your son seems to have befriended my egg.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart thrums in his chest. “Does your egg… want to be my friend, too? Can you tell?” He scrambles to his feet, absentmindedly taking in his mother dusting the snow off of his robes, and stares up at the great, big dragon with wide eyes. “They’re so pretty.”
A rumbling laugh comes from the dragon. “We shall have to wait for them to hatch, little fox. If your mother permits, come back two full moons from now. Perhaps you will make a new friend.”
Wei Wuxian, eyes wide and pleading, turns to his mother and finds her smiling down at him. She brushes back his hair with a soft, loving touch, and nods. “In two moons, A-xian, we can come back and visit your new friend. Would you like that?”
Wei Wuxian would love nothing more.
***
It turns out two full moons is a much longer period of time than Wei Wuxian had initially thought. Every morning, he wakes and asks his mother if today is the day he’ll finally meet his new friend. Every morning, his mother smiles, soft and gentle, and tells him, “not today.”
Every evening, before bed, he asks his mother if tomorrow will be the day the egg will hatch. And every evening, his mother presses a kiss to his brow and says, “not tomorrow, my little fox.”
It’s not all bad, though. Wei Wuxian spends his time thinking of thoughtful presents for his egg friend; his mother teaches him how to weave string around his fingers, over and under and over and under, to make a scarf in the same shades of blue and white as the egg. His mother has to help with most of it, to be honest, but Wei Wuxian puts his heart and soul into making sure it's the best it can be.
"Newly hatched dragons," his mother says, "like the comfort of warmth, even if they can endure the winter as well as the Lans."
That makes sense to Wei Wuxian. He may not be a pup anymore — he's three years old!! — but there's nothing better than curling up against his mother on a cold night, and he hopes his new friend will find the same kind of joy from his gift.
***
And then the fated day arrives; the second full moon hangs heavy in the sky, bathing the wintery forest in her soft light. Wei Wuxian’s heart thrums in his chest — with nervousness, anxiety, anticipation — and his mother kisses the top of his head. Her laughter helps soothe his nerves.
“Sweet A-xian,” she says, smiling, “are you ready to see your first hatching?”
He is. He’s been waiting, and wondering, and thinking about today for the past couple of moons and now that it’s finally here, he can hardly believe it. Solemnly, he nods.
Wei Wuxian’s mother takes his hand, her nine tails flicking behind them, and they begin the trek to the nesting site — over frozen rivers, across drifts of snow that nearly come up to Wei Wuxian’s waist in some areas, and through the ice-covered forest, where icicles gleam from tree branches high above.
Madam Lan greets them with a kind smile when they arrive. This time, she’s in human form — her robes are white as the snow falling around them with blue accents the same color of her dragon eyes, and her hair is a beautiful, gleaming black pinned up with a silver hairpin.
“Hello, little fox.”
“Good evening, Madam Lan,” Wei Wuxian says in return. He tries to remain polite, but his eyes drift over to the egg at Madam Lan’s side. It comes up to her mid-thigh, still as pretty as ever, except —
Now there are hairline fractures across the surface. Tiny cracks, like spiderwebs, interrupt the once-seamless blue and white shell.
And then it shakes.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Madam Lan says. She places her hand on the top of the egg for a brief moment before taking a step back. “A-zhan is about to hatch.”
Wei Wuxian watches, enraptured, as the cracks on the surface multiply. He stares, captivated, as a piece of the shell falls off and lands in the snow. And then he gasps as the egg rocks, almost violently, back and forth for a long moment.
It falls over.
Wei Wuxian runs to it. Neither his mother nor Madam Lan try to stop him as he kneels next to the egg and places a worried hand upon its cracked surface. “Are you okay?”
The egg responds back with a chirp.
Wei Wuxian nearly falls over in surprise. He turns toward Madam Lan, who stares down at the egg with an expression of unadulterated love and joy.
“It’s alright, little fox,” she says with a gentle laugh. “A-zhan seems to be excited to meet you.”
The egg shakes again, followed by a loud crack as another piece of the shell breaks off — this time a large one — and when Wei Wuxian peeks inside, he finds a gleaming amber eye staring back at him.
It may be the dead of winter but Wei Wuxian sees only spring reflected in those eyes.
New beginnings. New hopes.
The egg chirps as the little dragon inside of it continues to try and free itself. And then, as Wei Wuxian watches, the dragon wiggles through an opening it had pushed through the side.
A-zhan. Lan Zhan. His new friend.
Wei Wuxian flicks his tail. Lan Zhan chirps. And just like that, it’s the beginning of the rest of their lives.