Archive of Our Own

Troubled Waters

"Okay," Peril's voice echoed from the other room. "We have the food, drinks, decorations, party games…am I missing anything else?"

Turtle's eyes roamed over the house, barely recognizable from the quaint little home that it normally was. Dull off-white walls were covered with brightly colored ribbons and streamers, pictures of seas and mountains hidden behind banners proudly declaring the special occasion. On a side table sat a pair of towering cakes, one a vibrant pink and the other an azure blue, frosting and sprinkles practically glistening and surrounded by confetti. Everything was over-the-top, elaborate and extravagant, to the point where it was almost uncomfortable. If he was honest, it reminded him a lot of his mother when she got into one of her fancier moods.

"Everything looks fine," he answered as Peril walked in, her wide belly barely fitting through the doorway. She was carrying a basket of rolls, it's handle in her jaws, which she set on a table across from the cakes that held several appealing appetizers—sausages and venison bites, skewers of exotic fruits, and dozens of sharp and pungent cheeses of varying colors. Turtle hadn't even known there were that many cheeses out there, let alone where Peril had gotten them all from. On the same table were the drinks, three large pitchers of the beverages that the Skywing had carefully chosen for the evening. One was a normal water, one a delicious freshly squeezed lemonade, and the last a rich snowberry and dragonfruit punch. Turtle had never had the last one, and it took some degree of willpower not to steal a sip.

"Oh shoot," Peril suddenly hissed, raising a claw to her face, "The truffles! Turtle, we forgot the truffles. I was going to order them from the shop in town, but I never got to it."

Turtle's eyes roamed over the already overly decadent display in front of it. "Peril, I think we already have enough sweets. Between the cakes and the cookies you haven't even brought out yet…"

"But still," Peril pouted, the look unbecoming of her usually confident and powerful stature. "I wanted everything to be perfect. I wonder if I could still fly over and get a batch made in a hurry."

"Peril, it's good as it is," he assured her, "There's no reason to go flying halfway across town in your condition, and everyone is due to arrive soon. You wouldn't want them all to show up and you be gone, would you?"

She set a claw on her stomach and gave a soft roll of her eyes. "Yes…you're probably right." She approached gently and gave him a little peck on his check, her mouth comfortably warm against his scales. "I still can't believe this is happening, you know."

"The party?"

"That, and everything else," she purred, gently lifting one of his claws with her own and resting it on her belly. He could feel the hard shells of the eggs beneath her ruby red scales, almost able to imagine the faces of the little lives within. It filled his heart with a feeling of incredible warmth…and his stomach with an unexplainable twist of fear.

Fatherhood, he thought to himself, the very word sounding foreign. Sure, his friends already had experienced it—Moon and Winter had their first dragonet a few years ago, and both Kinkajou and Qibli followed suit not long later with their own partners—but parenthood was something that happened to other dragons. It was the happy ending that heroes got but was never shown in the scrolls his mother wrote and read. Even though he would be liar if he said he never wanted it, he'd never really expected it to happen to him.

"Are you all right?" Peril asked, pulling him from his musings. He blinked, then nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks."

His mate frowned. "Really? Because you had that look in your eyes again. The look that says 'I'm worried about something and am considering grabbing my stick and hiding for a while.' That look. Last time you had it I had to threaten to burn your tail to get you to snap out of it."

Turtle remembered that, although he couldn't quite recall what he'd been thinking back then. It wasn't too abnormal that she would threaten something like that, but seldom was she ever serious. At least he was pretty sure she wasn't. With Peril you could almost never be completely sure, but he liked that about her. And besides, so long as she wore the bracelet he'd given her that reduced her firescales from an inferno to a much more manageable warmth, he knew that he didn't have anything to fear. It was why she was able to live in a wooden house, after all.

"I'm fine," he assured her again, "Just…thinking about the future."

"Like dragonet names?" she asked, arching an eye ridge, "I thought we agreed to wait for them to hatch and see their scales before choosing. I still think going with seabird names will be best. It's fitting for a sky and sea hybrid. I'm holding out for Osprey, if we get a male."

"I wasn't quite thinking about that but…you know what, it isn't important right now," he shook his head, "I'm going to double check and make sure the nursery looks presentable. I want to show that off once everyone gets here."

"Not a bad idea," Peril hummed, her eyes shifting over to the refreshment table. She was beginning to rearrange it for the third time that day as Turtle dismissed himself from the room.

A few seconds later, he was in their nursery, the small room one of the few that had escaped the excessive decorations that littered the rest of the house. Painted with soft blues and yellows, it was a cozy little place. In the corner was a bed arranged like a traditional nest, a large circular cushion with a deep impression in the center. Across from it were a pair of wooden cribs adorned with soft blankets, awaiting their future charges. A window let the sunlight in, illuminating the place with natural light, but there were a few candleholder attached to the wall closest to the door to provide light at night. Along the far wall was a shelf that ran its length. Turtle had already filled with a collection of dragonet scrolls and small stuffed toys, some new and some from his own dragonethood.

Peril had been unable to provide any of her own belongings since she'd not grown up with any such luxuries. She had been even more clueless than he was when it came to preparing for dragonethood. All she'd ever known was the harsh discipline and control that Scarlet had exerted over her, the kind of evil and trauma that she still dealt with near daily. One that she wasn't afraid to express to him.

But for Turtle, it was a much more subtle fear. Unlike Peril, he'd grown up in a somewhat normal environment, he had an actual idea of what to expect with dragonets. But knowing made it worse. Peril didn't know enough to even think of herself of being inadequate, but Turtle knew enough to know that he wasn't prepared. He wasn't ready. He couldn't even hardly stand against Darkstalker without hiding himself by using his magic, how was he supposed to hold up to the expectations of parenthood?

He'd spent many hours pondering that as he'd worked on the nursery, toiling over the cribs and paints and choosing the right toys. It helped to take his mind off things, a hope that maybe objects and work could make up for his lack of qualifications. And he was proud of what he'd created, the room a mix of sea and sky and truly a comforting place that would wrap their future dragonets in a warm embrace. He was sure that it was a room that would hold hundreds of wonderful memories of their dragonets.

Memories.

Turtle had no memories of his own father, save one. He remembered crying—he couldn't recall why—and a large, powerful dragon holding him gently, whispering comfort to him. He couldn't remember the words, or the look in his father's face, but he remembered feeling safe. He remembered feeling warm. He remembered clinging to his father and never wanting to be let go.

Turtle wondered if he'd be good enough of a father for his dragonets to ever feel that way about him.

But then, how was he supposed to? He had only that one memory, that one guide. There was so much that he wished that he could have learned from his father, important lessons that went far beyond anything that could be taught at Jade Mountain. Talks and instructions and small life moments that he would never have to opportunity to learn from and pass on. Even a dragon like Winter, for as awful as his father was, got at least some of that. Turtle had none. Nor had his mother been of much use—not when it took her nearly five years to even remember his name.

Part of Turtle wished that he could cheat, that he could simply enchant himself to be an amazing father. He'd no idea if that would even work, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't. And if it did, he'd hate it, knowing that it wasn't truly him. No, this was one situation that all the animus magic in the world would not be able to help him with.

Animus magic, the Seawing prince snorted at the thought as he ran a talon along the rail of a crib. Sometimes I feel like that's all I even am. Just a vessel for my magic, as if there's nothing more to me at all.

He knew, fundamentally, that the notion was untrue. That he had more value. Peril reassured him of it regularly, and he knew for certain that she didn't love him for his powers. It had taken him almost a year to convince her to let him give her the spell to control her firescales, after all. But there were times when he was with dragons that knew where he would catch them looking at him, just out of the corners of their eyes, and he knew that inside their heads they were thinking about what he could enchant for them just as surely as if he were Moonwatcher reading their minds.

He closed his eyes, imagining the eggs that would so soon be lying before him. What of them? What if one of his own dragonets was an animus, born with an incredible gift but also incredible trials? How was he supposed to help and support them when he still felt like he barely had a hold of his own magic? He didn't want to see anyone he loved going through that like he did, having to deal with the looks and questions and ceaseless temptation.

Or what if they had firescales? Just as with animus magic, it was something that could easily be a danger to themselves and others. It had twisted Peril into being a killer, a mentality it had taken her years to break fully free from. And while he could make a dragonet a duplicate of her charm without too much issue (he could even just use his bowl), he could not force them to wear it or control if they took it off or kept it on. It was just another variable that he couldn't control, something that he felt unprepared for, a story from a scroll made reality.

"How am I going to do this?" he wondered aloud. After everything he'd been through—going to school, getting friends, facing Darkstalker, becoming mates with Peril, finding his own path in life in Sanctuary—he felt like he was right back to being the scared little Seawing who refused join his friends on adventures and hid himself behind enchanted sticks.

A muffled knocking came from the other room and he heard Peril cry out "They're here!" He gave the crib a small pat as if it were an animal that might purr at his touch, then forced a smile on his face as he walked towards the entrance to their house.

"Heeeeey!" he heard the voice of Moonwatcher call out as he entered the living room and saw the Nightwing walking through the door. Peril was there, having opened it for her, and after the instinctual hesitation that came with touching a dragonesses that for much of her life was hot enough to burn scale and flesh, Moon embraced her friend. "Oh, this is so exciting!" the Nightwing squealed in a voice that was far more excited and eager than usual, "I'm so happy for the two of you!"

"As am I," said Winter as he entered behind her, carrying a few well-decorated sacks under one forearm. He spotted Turtle and gave a nod of his head in polite recognition, a gesture that the Seawing was quick to return with an added grin. It made sense that Moon and Winter were the first to show up, what with them being the only others from the old Jade Winglet that also lived in Sanctuary.

And, of course, following Winter was another dragon, one much smaller with a mix of white and black scales. "Hi, Arctic!" Turtle greeted with a wave, and the dragonet immediately perked up and bounded over to him.

"Uncle Turtle!" cried Winter and Moon's son as the little hybrid wrapped up one of his forearms in a tight hug. The dragonet squeezed so tightly that Turtle was confident that he could have easily lifted him high off the ground.

Turtle chuckled and returned the embrace with the claw that wasn't being clung to. "Good to see you, too, Arctic. Excited for the Dragonet Shower party?"

"YES!" the dragonet shouted in excitement, and as if on cue he looked over and spotted the desert table. His eyes went as wide as saucers. "Sweets!" He immediately began to rush over to the table.

"Oh, no you don't," Winter said, appearing just in time to pick up the wriggling dragonet with a claw. Arctic pouted as his father rolled his eyes. "No deserts until after dinner, and only one. If you're a really good dragonet tonight, maybe two."

"Or three, if they're small," Moon added, interrupting the conversation she'd started with Peril.

"Two or three," Winter amended, "Understood?"

Arctic pouted but nodded as Winter set him back down. As soon as his claws were back on the ground, he was off like a shot again, but fortunately not towards the deserts. This time he was headed for Peril, who he quickly embraced as tightly as he had Turtle.

"Dragonets," Winter said with a shake of his head but a smile on his face, "They can be quite the clawful, especially when they get a little bit of sugar in them."

"So I've heard," Turtle nodded, mentally adding that to the list of things he'd need to look out for. Considering Peril's newfound near-addiction to treats now that she could turn off her firescales (before then everything would either burn, melt, or caramelize in her mouth, changing the flavors and consistency of the snack), it was definitely something that could pose a problem.

"I still love him, though. Oh, I set your gifts next to the door. Is there a table I can set them on or…?" Winter said, then with a glance back in the dragonet's direction, "I see you there, Arctic. No trying to sneak any treats, either!"

The small hybrid, who had been inching closer to the desert table, quickly hopped away from it.

Another knock on the door echoed throughout the room. Turtle called out for the visitor to come on in, and a bundle of pink and yellow scales exploded into his house like a miniature hurricane.

"This is so EXCITING!" Kinkajou all but screamed as she twisted around, observing all the ribbons and decorations that filled the house. An infectious grin filled her face, eyes sparkling with unparalleled delight as she took in all the colors and presents and food. "It's sooooo beautiful, you guys, and deservedly so! I still can't believe you're finally having dragonets!"

"It still seems surreal to me, too," he told her as she swept in and embraced him in an overly-tight hug. "It's good to see you again, Kinkajou. I'm glad you could come up all the way from the Rain Kingdom."

"Are you kidding?" she asked with a laugh, "I wouldn't miss this for all of Pyrrhia. Really, I wouldn't! Even if Queen Glory were to look me in the eyes and tell me not to come I would have shaken my head and said 'Nope!'. Absolutely nothing could have kept me away, no way!"

Turtle couldn't help but chuckle, the Rainwing's energy and enthusiasm reminding him just why he used to have feeling for her back at Jade Mountain. She always had that way of making even the most trivial events feel like major milestones worthy of the utmost celebration. It was merely a coincidence that on this occasion it actually was.

"And what about Bromelia?" Turtle asked, eyes searching her back and behind her expectantly. But he didn't see anything, which was quite disappointing. "Is she not coming?"

Kinkajou shrugged her wings. "Ask her yourself."

And with that, a small dragonet materialized nearly out of thin air, right next to his tail, and with a playful grin bit into his appendage. Her small teeth didn't pierce his scales—although he could tell that she wasn't trying too—they only bit just enough to sting for a moment before they released their grip.

"Ha!" Bromelia glowed in triumph, "Got you, Uncle Turtle! You never even saw me coming!"

Turtle rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, Bromelia, you got me," he used his now-free tail to loop around her and pull her close for an embrace, "Are you ever going to stop playing that game?"

"Nope!" she smiled, "At least not until you start beating me!"

That earned a laugh from Kinkajou. "Looks like you're in for it then, Turtle," she joked, "She practices just so she can keep surprising you, you know?"

"I'm not surprised she does," Turtle said as he released Kinkajou's daughter from his grip, "She's been doing it since she was a hatchling."

"Hey, for the record, you're the one who encouraged her," Kinkajou pointed out.

"Yes, yes, to help her learn to camouflage," Turtle said, "I remember. I also remember how sore my tail got."

At his feet, Bromelia tilted her head and looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Sorry, Uncle Turtle," she said.

He could tell she wasn't.

"Arctic is here," he told her instead, and her little eyes filled with excitement.

"He is?" she looked around and spotted him across the room. "Oh! Arctic!" she yelled his name and rushed over to him, tackling the other dragonet to the ground before her presence could be registered by the ice/night hybrid. In a matter of seconds, they were rolling on the ground, wresting and play fighting. Winter, who had still been standing next to Turtle up until then, excused himself to go make sure they didn't get too rough.

"So, have you thought about names?" Kinkajou asked, almost bouncing in place, "If you haven't, I have a few suggestions. I really, really like Seagull, but I also think Pelican could work, too! Or maybe—"

He raised a claw and stopped her. "Peril and I have talked about it," he told her, "We're going to wait until they hatch and go from there, but we do have a few names in mind."

"Ooooo!" Kinkajou whistled, "What are they? C'mon, you have to tell me."

He almost did, his own favorite names running across his mind as if asking for a second opinion. But instead, he shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't. Mate's orders. Peril wants it all to be a surprise when it happens."

"Okay, ugh," the Rainwing rolls her eyes, "But I tell you, Seagull is an excellent name."

"It's okay, but I can say with a decent amount of certainty that it isn't the one they'll pick," Moon's voice cut in. Her initial conversation with Peril had ended and she'd been making her way over towards him, probably also to say hello.

Turtle eyed her with the smallest amount of suspicion. "What? Did you have a vision about it? I'm pretty sure I asked you before not to spoil anything either, unless there's an emergency."

Moon laughed softly. "Nah. Well, I did have a vision once, but nothing major and definitely not an emergency. Neither you or Peril are wearing Skyfire, and I couldn't quite help it. But regardless, I like your names. I think they're good."

"Well, thank you," Turtle nodded. He opened a wing and embraced her in a short side-hug. Nightwings were warm and their scales pleasant, but not as warm and pleasant as Peril's.

"Moony!" Kinkajou greeted her with a wide grin once the hug was done, then quickly enveloped her former roommate in a colorful embrace, "Amazing to see you again! Isn't this all so exciting?"

"Of course it is, Kinkajou," Moon smiled, "Good to see you, too. Everything all right in the Rainforest?"

"Couldn't be better!" she answered brightly, "Glory is as good a queen as ever, and it's been months since the last sloth incident. Nightwings and Rainwing relations continue to get better and better. Of course, my mate's busy with all that stuff and couldn't make it, but he helped pick out a super special gift for the happy soon-to-be parents!"

"How about you, Moon?" Turtle asked, "I know we see plenty of each other in Sanctuary, but how's everything holding up?"

"Oh, things are normal," came her simple response, "I've been helping expand the library, and Winter has been as busy as ever with his scavengers, so nothing new. We are planning to take a trip up to the Sky Kingdom in a couple weeks to view the Sapphire Falls. That will be fun."

"Oh, I'm sure," Turtle told her, the name of the location perking him up a little, "Peril and I actually visited there on our honeymoon. They're really beautiful, especially at sunset."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, then gave a small snicker.

"What?"

Moon shook her head, "Nothing, nothing. Just that I don't imagine you'll be taking many big trips for a while. Not with eggs, and then hatchlings. And if you do…good luck!"

"Hey!" Kinkajou protested, "Bromelia always traveled well, even when she was much younger."

"But she's a Rainwing," Moon pointed out, "All you have to do is make sure she gets sunlight and she sleeps half the trip. Remember, that's what happened on our little day trip that one time."

"Oh. Yeah." Kinkajou pauses and thinks for a second. "Okay, you have a point."

"So what happens if we try to take a trip with a non-Rainwing hatchling?" Turtle felt the need to ask.

Moon gave him a look. "If they're anything like Arctic was, expect at least a dozen extra headaches and twice as many breaks. And whatever you do, don't let them out of your sight. Ever." She gave a small shudder, and Turtle got the distinct impression there was a story he was missing out on.

"We'll be fine," came the voice of his mate as Peril approached, no doubt having heard the conversation and decided to chime in. "No big trips with eggs, yes, but I'm sure a few dragonets won't be more than I can handle. I mean, we saved Pyrrhia from a world-destroying animus. How hard could a family trip be?"

"You'd be surprised," Moon muttered, looking over at her son as he and Bromelia ran circles around Winter. The Icewing seemed to have joined in, an amused smile on his face as he lightly swished his tail as an additional obstacle that they had to hop over or duck under in whatever race or game of tag the two were engaged in.

But Peril waved a claw somewhat dismissively. "Besides, it's not like I don't have any experience. Whenever I visit Queen Ruby, Cliff and I normally spend some time together as she takes advantage of me to do some dragonet-sitting. That always goes well. We only almost burned the castle down once." She paused for a moment. "…or twice."

"Yes," Moon said, a little flatly, "But it's much different when it's your dragonet and your home. You can confirm, can't you Kinkajou?"

The Rainwing nodded. "Yeah, I can. Having a dragonet of your own is a lot more responsibility than volunteering in the nursery or looking after a friend's dragonet. You have to actually take responsibility for whatever happens."
"I'd expect as much," Turtle said, "I mean, at least from what I've read. My mom never had much time to spend with me and my brothers, at any rate. Mainly it was one of our nurses that looked after us and took us places, that or one of our tutors. And even then we always knew we could get away with things when we outranked them." He shook his head and gave a short laugh, "You should have seen how rowdy some of us got back in the day. Thirty dragonets all having a clam-fight in the palace hallways…it was more than they could handle. Honestly, I'm surprised that they didn't go to mom to reprimand us more than they did, but I guess she was rather busy with the war. And her writing."

"Well," Moon said, "Congratulations, Turtle. Now you'll be the one in your nurses' position. Although, hopefully with less dragonets to have to watch over."

"I don't know," Peril purred, stepping around Turtle and raising her tail to stroke the underside of his chin in a way that felt far too sensual for the present company, "Reflecting on the events that lead us to this situation, I begin to realize just why Seawings have such a proclivity to procreate. Perhaps we could make a run for your mother's record."

"Uhhh…" Turtle blinked, not sure if he was hearing her correctly, "You're joking, right?"

Peril just grinned. Behind her, Kinkajou snickered and Moon rolled her eyes.

"She is," Moon said, "And if she isn't, she will live to regret those words. Trust me."

The Skywing huffed and stuck her tongue out at the Nightwing. "You're no fun sometimes, Moon."

"Oh, speaking of fun," Kinkajou spoke up, her eyes shining, "Do you have any party games planned for today? If not, I just recently learned a few that we could try. And it will be a perfect group to play, too! Six makes good teams of three against three, assuming Qibli's coming."

Turtle nodded. "He should be—oh, I bet there he is now!" As he spoke there was a knock at the door, and without even waiting for an answer it was thrown open. In sauntered the aforementioned Sandwing, Qibli sporting a wide grin as he spotted his friends.

"Don't worry, guys, I'm here," he announced confidently, pausing only to set his gifts in the pile that had formed next to the door where Winter had first placed his presents and never bothered to move them, "The party can start now!"

"Oh, no," Winter groaned from across the room in mock exasperation, "Not the sand-snorter."

"Winter!" he half-sang the Icewing's name, "Buddy! How's it going?"

"Good up until now," the Icewing said, but he did not deny the Sandwing a hug after he'd disengaged from the dragonets playing around him. "Desert still as hot and miserable as ever?"

"You know it," came his quick response, "Just as much as the Ice Kingdom is cold and depressing."

Turtle just shook his head at the two. "Do they still go at it like this every time?" he asked Moonwatcher.

She swished her tail and gave a half-roll of her eyes. "You've no idea."

Just then two small heads peeked into the room, peering out from behind the still-open door. Turtle waved them inside and the two Sandwing dragonets smiled sheepishly as they made their entrance. Each carried a small wrapped package that they deposited with the others before venturing farther into the house. Moonwatcher and Kinkajou both smiled and waved at the pair, but they looked up at Turtle with a mix of confusion and wariness.

"Oh!" Qibli said, seeing their looks and rushing over, "Fennec, Jackal, these are Peril and Turtle," he told the two dragonets, "It's been a while, but they were there when you hatched and visited a couple of times when you were hatchlings. Do you remember them at all."

One of the dragonets gave an unconvincing nod while the other shook his head. Turtle smiled down at them, stepping closer. Both of them were the spitting image of their father, nearly identical to Qibli except for the scar on his snout. Aside from that, the only real difference that Turtle could see was that one had a slightly darker brown spines along his back than the other and had a small silver earring, while the dragonet with the slightly lighter spines had a gold earring more similar to the one Qibli always wore.

"Hello Jackal, hello Fennec," Turtle greeted them, "Wow, you both have grown so much. Last time I saw you, you were barely this tall." He raised his claw up just slightly higher than the average height of a hatchling.

"Uh huh!" One of them said proudly, puffing his chest out, "Daddy say's that we'll be big enough to join the Outclaws in no time!"

"The Outclaws, eh?" Peril said, looking at Qibli and raising an eye ridge, "Is that so?"

"It's not like that, not anymore," Qibli quickly said, "The Outclaws do more public works and service, and occasionally guarding duties. Thorn doesn't have them do our old activities anymore."

"I should hope so," Moon huffed.

"So," Turtle addressed the pair of dragonets, mostly ignoring the others, "Which of you is Fennec, and which of you is Jackal?"

"I'm Fennec, he's Jackal," said the darker-spined dragonet, pointing to his brother.

"That's right," said the other.

"No, no, don't try to confuse him, you two," Qibli interrupted them. He pointed to the lighter colored dragonet with the gold earring. "This is Fennec." He pointed to the darker colored dragonet with the silver earring. "This is Jackal."

"Got it," Turtle nodded. There is no way that I don't mess up and confuse the two at least a dozen times tonight.

"Awww, daaaad!" Fennec pouted, "You're no fun!"

"Yeah!" Jackal agreed.

"Honestly, it sounds like something that you would try to pull yourself," Kinkajou added with a giggle, "If there were two of you, I mean."

"Two Qiblis. Oh, the horrors." Winter breathed, then jumped out of the way as the Sandwing batted at him with a wing.

From there the conversation turned away from Qibli's offspring and toward what one might expect for a party between former classmates. Qibli greeted the others, being embraced as an old but good friend. Kinkajou asked how things were in the Sand Kingdom (Qibli said they were fine) while Qibli inquired to the status of everyone's lives in Sanctuary (Peril and Moon said they were fine). Qibli explained that while his mate couldn't make it, he was excited for the party, and everyone complimented Peril on the decorations and the impressive spread of food and snacks. Meanwhile, Jackal and Fennec had joined Arctic and Bromelia in their play, the four dragonets racing around the room, nearly knocking over tables as they pounced on each other and roughhoused. And if Turtle saw Arctic swipe a treat or two while his father wasn't watching, well, Turtle wasn't going to say anything about it.

The sight made Turtle smile. He wondered if his future dragonets would have as much fun playing in this house, or if the future they might even join his friend's dragonets in their games. While all of his friends were already well into their respective parenthood experiences, they weren't so far along that his dragonets would be too young to get to really know and befriend their own.

"Well, dinner is ready, if you all are," Peril announced once there was a significant enough lull in the conversation, "Slow roasted chicken breast. Old Skywing recipe."

"I didn't know you cooked, Peril," Kinkajou said as the group made their way to the dining room. Turtle had previously set up a smaller table for the dragonets, and Moonwatcher quickly interrupted their play and ushered all of them there, to their mild protests.

"Oh, I don't. And neither does Turtle," came Peril's response as she disappeared into the kitchen, "But Bluejay down the street owns a shop and does, and she was able to help out. She did most of the treats, too."

"Well, it smells divine," Moon said as she got the dragonets settled down, "I can't wait."

Turtle followed Peril and helped her with the dishes, plating and bringing them out to their guests. In a matter of a couple minutes they were done and each dragon and dragonet had a gorgeous trio of chicken breasts, browned and topped with a maple-glazed sauce that Peril had raved about. For the dragons in the room there was also a side of asparagus cooked in a delicate garlic butter—they'd decided not to even bother trying to give it to the dragonets to eat. As soon as the food was served and the pair of hosts were seated, everyone wasted no time digging in.

Talking filled the table, conversations breaking out as they feasted. Winter filled in Qibli and Kinkajou on the most recent events in Sanctuary, eventually going into great detail on his recent findings about scavengers. Qibli listened intently, but Kinkajou kept going back and forth between that conversation and the one that Moon and Peril were having about bookshelves and the arranging of different furniture items. For his part, Turtle mainly just poked at his food, taking a bite here and there as he occasionally commented on everyone else's subjects. The food was delicious, of course, but he found that he wasn't very hungry. His thoughts from before the party started had continued to weigh upon him, especially seeing all the other dragonets.

They all seem so good, so happy, he thought to himself, glancing at the table where the dragonets had finished their food and had begun playing again, dipping their claws into their glasses and flicking drops of water at each other. And everyone else seems to have it under control. Moon, Winter, Qibli, even Kinkajou are all great parents. But what if I'm not, or can't be? What if I'm a disappointment, the kind of father that raises dragonets they won't even want to let their own play with?

This whole party was to celebrate the future and the dragonets he and Peril would have. But all it seemed to do was make him feel more and more unprepared and inadequate.

"Are you okay, Turtle?" Peril asked him, no doubt noticing that something was wrong. She was his mate, after all, so she'd know. That or Moon heard something in his mind and cued her off; the Nightwing was also giving him a somewhat concerned look.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he more or less lied, not wanting to make a big deal out of things at a party.

Peril gave him the same look she'd given him earlier that day, when she'd asked him the same question and he'd given her the same answer. She hadn't seemed convinced then, and she didn't seem convinced now. But he gave her a pleading look that asked for her to drop it, and fortunately she did.

…Or at least they were interrupted before she could push any further. Turtle suddenly felt a tug on his tail, a light pull demanding his attention. He glanced down to see Arctic there, the hybrid dragonet looking up at him expectantly. "Uncle Turtle?"

"Yes?" he asked, not sure why Arctic was wanting him for something, as opposed to his parents.

"We want to play hide and seek," the hybrid informed him, motioning with a wing to the other dragonets who still sat at the table, watching the two talk.

Turtle blinked, still not sure why he was the one being informed of this. "Okay…?"

"We can't decide who should be 'it' first," Arctic continued, "We all want to hide. So…can you play? Can you be 'it'? Bromelia says that you're super-duper good at it."

Turtle's eyes flickered to his mate and the line of questioning that might have been about to occur. This was a rather convenient out. Not to mention that maybe a game would take his mind off things.

"Sure," he told Arctic, "I'd love to."

The four dragonets cheered as he excused himself from the dining room and followed them into the living room where all of the appetizers, snacks, and gifts were. They were excited, already about ready to run around the house and hide, but Turtle had to set down the rules first. They each had one hundred seconds to hide, and they had to stay inside the house. The first dragonet found would have to be 'it', and because of this they could not share hiding places. Additionally, they could not "double-hide" themselves, meaning that if they hid in a cabinet or closet they could not have something covering them up while they were in the closet—they had to be visible in their hiding place.

Rules established, Turtle closed his eyes and started counting. He could hear the sound of sixteen tiny claws scampering away before he even could even say "one."

By the time he got to thirty, he heard a number of drawers and cabinets open and slam shut from a few rooms over, followed by a series of yelps and some scratching noises. He really hoped that he would only be finding dragonets, not massive damage to his home.

At the count of seventy he heard a shrill voice yell "I got here first, find someplace else!" and another shout back "No fair! I saw it first!" It seemed like Arctic and Bromelia were quarrelling over a spot. They didn't have much time to resolve it.

There was silence by count ninety, and when he opened his eyes at one hundred, the dragonets were nowhere to be heard or seen. Which was normal, of course, but he half-expected to see one of them still scrambling to find a place and get caught in the open. It had happened to himself or one of his brothers plenty of times back when the played it growing up.

"Ready or not, here I come," he called out, beginning to search the room in slightly more than a courtesy scan. He doubted that any of them had stayed in the same room as him, but that was exactly the kind of mentality that sometimes made it worth the risk to try.

He approached the appetizer and desert tables first, their long tablecloths hanging low enough to possibly conceal a dragonet. He lifted one, then the other, receiving no results on either. But he did happen to notice a few more of Peril's cookies missing than there were when he closed his eyes.

Arctic, he thought to himself, unsurprised. Moon and Winter's dragonet had a heart of gold, but he suffered from the same failings of all dragonets.

He shook his head and headed deeper into the house. It wasn't exactly a big home, and he knew there weren't all that many places for dragonets to hide. And considering it was his living place that he knew well, he doubted that it would take him too long to find them.

He wasn't wrong. His first room after the living room was the kitchen, the place with by far the most cabinets and drawers and small, enclosed spaces in the house. It was only the fifth one that he opened that he caught the sight of a bunch of brown scales tucked within.

"Found you," he said, and the dragonet sighed as he crawled out of his hiding place.

"Was I first?" the little Sandwing asked.

"Yep," Turtle said, "Sorr—" he paused, taking stock of the dragonet. Shoot. Which one is which? He noticed the gold earring and went with what he thought he remembered. "Sorry, Fennec, you'll be it next time."

"I'm Jackal!" the dragon protested. "And I don't want to be it!"

"Oh, sorry," Turtle grimaced, "But that's how it works, Jackal. Go back to the living room and wait for everyone to be found."

Jackal sighed and muttered "okay" before departing. And just like that, Turtle got back to work.

It took him a little longer, but he found Arctic a few minutes later. He'd hidden under the bed in the master bedroom, wedged under the cushions. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't quite been able to get his whole tail concealed. Next found was Fennec, the dragonet hiding in the guest room closet. The Sandwing had been standing so still and so quietly that Turtle almost hadn't seen him even when staring right at him.

The only one that gave him legitimate trouble was Bromelia. Try as he might, he simply could not find her anywhere. He went through the entire house—including the dining room where his friends continued to chat—at least twice before he rejoined Arctic, Fennec, and Jackal in the living room.

"I give up," he said, shaking his head when they asked if he'd found her yet. "Wherever she is, it's a good spot. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she wasn't even in the house."

Which, of course, was when he felt the bite of small teeth on his tail.

"Ha!" Bromelia exclaimed, uncamouflaging herself. "I win!"

"No fair!" Arctic protested, "She cheated!"

"Cheater!" both Fennec and Jackal accused, hopping up and down on their claws. "Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!"

"There wasn't any rule against it!" she defended herself, "I didn't even hide inside anything. I was in plain view the whole time!"

Turtle shook his head. "I guess it's not technically against the rules," he told her, "But it is definitely against the spirit of the game. No more camouflaging, Bromelia. Okay?"

"Okay…" she huffed, "I was only gonna do it once, anyway."

"Good," Turtle said, "Okay, so, next round Jackal is it."

"What?" the Sandwing in question baulked. "Why?"
"Because I found you first," Turtle told him. "That's the rules."

"B—but you didn't," Jackal stammered, "Arctic and Fennec were already here when you found me."

Turtle narrowed his eyes. "No…you were hiding in the kitchen, weren't you?"

"I was in the closet!"

It was at that point that the other Sandwing dragonet burst out into laughter. "Got you!" he cried out, stamping his feet into the ground, "Moons, I knew that would work!"

"Fennec!" the real Jackal cried, tackling him, "You cheater! You told him you were me!"

The two wrestled on the ground, and Turtle took a little comfort in the realization that he actually had correctly identified Fennec at first as he separated them. They really were hard to tell apart since they both were basically miniature versions of their father. But, once they calmed down and Fennec got the laughs out of his system, they quickly refocused and got ready for round two.

His job as searcher done, Turtle made his way back into the dining room, rejoining the adults. Apparently, in his absence the talk had once more gone back to the whole point of the party: his and Peril's future dragonets. Moon was just finishing some explanation about the best way to convince them to eat foods they don't like as he took his seat.

"There's a delicate line between persuasion and force," Moon told them, "Fortunately for us, Arctic isn't too picky of an eater, but Winter has had to punish him a couple of times for refusing to eat his pineapple. My best advice is find the foods that dragonets like, then incorporate other foods into it to expand their palate from there."

"And if that doesn't work, tell them they can't have desert until their plate is cleared," Winter finished for her.

"Good, good. Thank you for all this," Peril said, engrossed in their words.

"Now, do you have precautions for if your dragonet is a firescales?" Qibli asked, "I mean, you're probably the most knowledgeable dragon in Pyrrhia when it comes to the topic, but it still pays to be ready. Especially when you're living in a wooden house."

"We've discussed it, yes," came Peril's response, "Turtle agreed that if that happens we can produce more of these little bracelets," she flashed the jewelry that allowed her to dull her firescales to a much more manageable heat, "but we're not going to eliminate it entirely. We'll leave it up to them if they want to bear that burden or not."

"That makes sense, definitely," Kinkajou nodded, "Kinda like when I have to tell Bromelia to refrain from camouflaging so she's easier to manage, but I would never take away her ability to change her scales."

"Exactly," Peril nodded. "And if it happens, I'll teach him or her how to manage it just like I did…minus the killing and black rocks, of course!"

They all had a little bit of a laugh at that, the following pause just long enough for Peril to suggest that they finally dig into those delicious cakes in the other room. A minute later and the desert was served, each dragon with a large slice in front of them. The dragonets were still involved in their game of hide-and-seek, the only sight of them the occasional glimpse of scales zipping from one room to the other, and Turtle had a feeling that they would give the adults an earful when they found out that the sweets were started without them.

"Mmmm, this is good," Moon said as she took a bite of the pink cake, "Did you guys make this?"

"Nope," Peril said, "Another Bluejay special. But I did do the cookies!"

"Oooo!" Kinakjou chirped excitedly, "I'll have to try those! Did you bake them on your scales?"

Peril blinked. "No? Why would I?"

"Because you can!" Kinkajou exclaimed before noticing that Peril's look continued to be blank. She sighed. "Never mind."

"Well, Turtle, I'm glad that you and Peril have plans for if they end up being firescales," Winter said, bringing the conversation back around. "But what are you going to do if it's an animus?"

At once, the room silenced. Or at least it did to Turtle, the question hitting him with the same intensity as if Winter had loosed his frostbreath on him without warning. He felt in that moment like he was a deer, vulnerable and confused, looking up in horror as a dragon descended down on him with outstretched claws and hungry teeth.

He should have expected the question. He really should have. But he wasn't ready to answer it. Not to others, and not to himself. Even before the party, as he stood in the nursery, all he could do was wonder what he would do, what he could do. To care for and raise a dragonet was an insurmountable task on its own…how could he even fathom the additional challenges that came with raising one that could manipulate time and space and rewrite the very minds of dragons.

Albatross. Darkstalker. Those were the only two words that came to his mind. And they had come from actual families, with parents that knew what they were doing, even if they may have done a poor job. How could he protect and guide his own dragonet with so little idea of how to be a good father?

How could he even begin to explain it?

At once he found himself standing up, rising rapidly and bumping the table, causing several half-empty cups of water to teeter and spill. He was aware of the eyes of everyone else on him, their gazes striking him as if they would rip of his scales and leave him naked and bare. But he only sought one thing: escape.

"You okay, Turtle?" he heard Qibli ask, his mind just barely registering the words. He could see in the face of the Sandwing and the others that his composure had been shattered, unable to keep in what had been threatening to spill out all night.

"I…I have to go," he stammered. Then he fled.

His claws carried him swiftly out of the dining room, just barely hearing a confused Winter ask "was it something I said?" He didn't bother to call back an answer, his mind reeling with the thoughts—the terror—of where Winter's question might lead. How could he look at his friends and tell them that he had no idea? How could he tell any of them that the very thought terrified him? How could he admit that the parenthood that had come so effortlessly to them was something he feared that he would fumble so badly that it would ruin his marriage and family and everything that he held dear?

Moons help me, he cried out silently, tears streaming down his face, What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do?

He found himself in the nursery, in the quiet, the soft blues and yellows soothing as he curled himself into a ball next to the crib. He wished that he had Rainwing scales like Kinkajou or Bromelia and could vanish, hiding from everyone and everything. But he didn't, so seclusion would have to do.

Eyes blurry, he looked around him. There were the cribs, the toys, the scrolls and trinkets that they had spent so much time getting ready. He wanted to hug them. He wanted to burn them. He wished that he could just be happy and excited and that all these worries and doubts would vanish forever.

All Turtle wanted to be was a good father, no matter what. Why did the very concept have to be so cursedly complicated?

The door creaked behind him, and he felt a presence enter the room. Peril. He knew it was her, but he didn't look at her. He was too ashamed, too embarrassed. Both of his thoughts as well as his actions, that he had been silent for so long and broke in front of her.

She said nothing. She simply laid down next to him, her warm scales pressing against his, her calm heartbeat soothing his rapid one, and her comforting wing draped over him. He could do nothing but lean into her touch and bury himself into her warmth. Her tail wrapped around his and she squeezed it comfortingly, wordless telling him "It's okay. I'm here."

What did I do to deserve her? he wondered as his tears turned to sniffles and his body began to relax under her touch, I'm no hero, no mighty dragon that they write scrolls about. She could have had a dragon that stopped a war, that did something with his life. But she picked me instead.

He smiled in spite himself. Despite everything, she loved him. Royal or not, animus or not, coward or brave or foolish or smart, she cared for him as much as any dragon could ever love and care for another. Turtle could only hope that she knew that he loved her just as much, to the very boundaries of possibility.

"Thank you," he said, voice hardly a whisper.

She just held him tighter, until her warmth became almost too warm, the heat of her fire too much for his Seawing scales. He shifted, growing discomforted, and she withdrew her wing from atop him and scooched a few inches away.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, voice quiet and reassuring. It was the third time she had asked if he was okay that night. This time, he would not lie.

"I'm…scared," he told her, the words sound awkward and lame out of his mouth. "I—I don't know what to do."

"About what?" she prodded, although she probably already knew.

"About our eggs, about our dragonets," he sniffed, "Peril, it's too much. I don't know if I can be good enough. I don't know if I can be the father that they'll need."

Her wing returned. Not resting atop him, but gently stroking his back, like she would to soothe a restless dragonet.

"I just…I don't know what to do, what to think. I'm excited for them, Peril. I really, really am. I want to give our dragonets the world, and everything more. I want to love them as much as I love you, and to be an example that they can look up to and aspire to be. I want…I want to be more than I think I can ever be."

His eyes closed tightly, the tension that his mate had relieved returning to his emotionally exhausted body. He felt pitiful, talking to her like this. Pitiful and selfish. Who was he to think that he would be the only one with fears and doubts and worries? He should be stronger, able to bear it, able to trust himself and stand tall. That was the kind of dragon he wanted to be for his dragonets, not some emotional coward.

"Turtle," she said his name softly, her voice a warmth so unlike the harsh heat of firescales. "It's okay."

"No. It's not." He sniffed. "Peril, what if I can't be who they need? What if I mess up?"

"You won't," she told him, and he could hear in her voice the same blunt confidence that so often characterized her voice. Even in the tenderest of moments she couldn't quite conceal it. Yet such flat assurance in that moment was perhaps what Turtle most needed to hear, her words not a dismissal of his fears, but a trust that they were unfounded.

"But what if I do?" he mumbled, "I'm only a dragon, Peril."

"You're right. You are." She exhaled a long breath. "But you're also the best dragon that I know. When you make a mistake, you will fix it. When they make mistakes, you'll help them correct them. You don't have to be perfect to be the father that they need."

"But—but what if one's an animus?" he found himself blurting the same question that Winter had asked minutes earlier, "What if—"

"Then you'll love him or her just as much as you would a dragonet without powers," she answered him, "And you'll give that dragonet as much love and support as your heart can withstand. The same as me." She offered him a claw, and he clutched it desperately, as if it were a rope holding him back from the precipice of destruction.

"I…I want to say that I will, that I can. But I'm afraid, Peril."

"I know. Moons know I'm scared too. I mean, me, the one who Scarlet had burn eggs, a mother? It sounds ridiculous. I know I don't show it—I have a little more experience with fear—but I am just as worried as you are." Her tail, still wrapped around his, gave a gentle squeeze, "But we don't have to be, Turtle. No matter what happens, we will work through it together. For each other, and for them."

Her claw clutching his own claw drifted down against her side, pressing against the stomach and the hard eggs within. His future dragonets. Despite himself, the very feeling of those eggs beneath her scales caused him to smile.

"Besides," Peril went on after a pause, "It's not hard to see just how good of a father you'll be. The dragonets love you, and I'm sure ours will as well."

He snorted. "So we played a game of hide and seek. That doesn't mean—"

"They could have asked any other dragon at the party to play, but they wanted you." Peril said, "You didn't have to humor them, but you did anyway. You may not realize it, but that means a lot."

"I…think I see what you mean. All the same, I—"

"Remember all those scrolls you're so fond of reading," she cut him off, "The ones you made me read, too? Think about all those heroes. Did any of them have all the answers at the beginning of their story?"

"Well, no." Turtle looked down sheepishly. "But they did by the end."

"Exactly," Peril smiled, "And you are just at the very beginning of this story about us and our family. I have no doubts that it will be a very good tale, full of both hardships and successes, and by the end you'll be the dragon that I know you can be—and that I know you are."

"I…" he paused, letting out a shaky breath. "I hope you're right."

"Of course I am," she told him, "Have I ever lied to you?"

He raised a claw to wipe away some of the moisture from his cheeks. "No, no. If there's one thing you're good at it, it's saying what you mean."

"And I mean what I say now," she said, slowly rising to her claws and helping him to his own.

Turtle swayed a little unsteadily as he stood. He felt desperately tired, like he needed a very long nap, but he felt better. He'd let it out, laid his burdens bare, and Peril had not rejected or rebuked him. Not that he'd expected her to, but…it was hard being so vulnerable sometimes. And what she'd said had been what he had needed to hear.

"Together," he breathed.

"We'll face it together."

She set her wing around him one more time, pulling him into a tight embrace. He melted into her like his scales were made of ice.

"Thank you, Peril. I just…thank you."

She smiled kissed his forehead. "I love you too, Turtle."

They were like that for another minute or two, a comforting silence just like she'd shared with him before they'd began to talk. But this time, when he pulled away, he truly did feel better, his heart brighter and his head clearer. The fears were still there, the worry a ghost that he knew would probably never truly go away, but he felt as though he could face it and overcome it. Maybe not now, but eventually.

A chuckle rose to his throat, an unbidden laugh escaping his mouth. Peril gave him a confused look. "What?"

He shook his head. "It's just…you. Being a comforter to me, after everything. Who would have guessed?"

She shrugged her wings. "Well, I guess between the Dragonets of Destiny and my Winglet, a few things must have rubbed off on me."

"I guess it must have."

Peril gave a short hum and stepped towards the door. "Better?"

"Yeah. For now."

"Good," she grinned, "We do have a party to get back to, after all. I don't want to keep everyone waiting too long, and you barely even touched your cake. Would be a shame to let it all go to waste."

He hesitated only a moment before following her. He still wasn't quite in a party mood, but this was a celebration. One for him, for Peril, and for the family they were about to have. That was something to celebrate, and to look forward to, no matter how much fear that would inevitably come with the joy.

And besides, cake sounded good.