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Xiao giggles at hushed words Menogias whispers in his ear, a childish laugh that fills the empty air - musical and beautiful in it’s rarity. Barbatos smiles and closes his eyes, humming to himself; these moments are so few and far between. Dvalin slides a sneaking hand to move his playing piece, a polished pebble, towards Menogias’ piece while no one is looking. He glances up and catches his mother’s eye - he has no time to look ashamed of himself before he’s snatched up and cradled like a baby despite his long limbs. He laughs as his sides are poked and his cheeks are squeezed, his mother exclaiming “I saw you!” and he rolls his eyes as kisses are pressed onto his forehead. Menogias laughs at the sight, his older brother held like a baby, held like Xiao! How silly. Xiao pushes himself up to tumble forwards. He too would like to be held.
Golden light streams in through the opening of the cavern as they play, high above treetops, a less-than-lavish safe haven carved roughly into the cliffside, discrete. Dvalin escapes his mother’s clutches and returns to his and Menogias’ fearsome battle of strategy. Xiao falls smiling and joyful into warm arms, content to watch his brothers play and babble his commentary.
Barbatos stretches out lazily, pulling on each of his arms above his head and splaying six, white-feathered wings out wide. The sight never ceases to amaze his children. Xiao spreads his own two wings reflexively, small and fuzzy and completely unsuitable for flying just yet. He’s only a baby, Morax, give him time. Dvalin rolls idly back into his mother’s lap, sleepy and soothed by the shade provided under thick feathers. Barbatos gasps and beckons the children close, whispering softly so they lean in tight, then in one breath they’re cocooned in a hemisphere of strong feathers. Xiao squeals at the sudden darkness, clambering towards his mother, laughing all the same. Menogias lets out a sharp yell, a crack in his voice betraying his newfound motto ‘I’m too big for this now. I’m a man.’ But as much as he protests and parrots his father, Barbatos knows he’ll never outgrow his mother’s love. He’ll grow, certainly. He keeps growing, looking more and more like Morax each day – but he’ll never be too big to be held in his mother’s arms. Barbatos let’s his tattoos glow soft teal in the darkness. More giggles. Dvalin presses closer to his chest, Dragons and their need for skin-to-skin.
He thinks of Morax, fast asleep in the dark recesses of the cavern; tired from the night-watch. Barbatos had offered to keep the children quiet, but Morax had assured him again that the sound of their laughter was far more soothing than silence. He hears the tell-tale scrape of stone and motions to the children, Morax has woken to join them! But when he peeks through his feathers, grinning, he can’t see anything. The cavern is swathed in dark shadow. As quick as he can move, he pulls the children further into the cave. Toys abandoned and legs scraped along the rock floor. At once they stop laughing.
“What is it?”
He shushes Menogias momentarily, breathing hard as he thinks.
He whispers low into Menogias’ ear, “Slowly, go to your father.”
He lifts onto careful, steady feet and very slowly passes Xiao to Dvalin. In an hushed voice he urges the children to move back into the cavern’s recesses, behind the gentle curve of the stone, out of sight of the large face blocking the cavern’s opening. The scaled face of a dragon, its angry maw agape and breathing hot and humid. Short snouted and blunt toothed, it lolls its red tongue out of its mouth and onto their floor. Small streams of sunlight edge in through gaps in its spikes, they cover the dragon’s head like a crown, caging them in. The air is undisturbed. Not flying then. A large, large beast.
Barbatos splays his wings out immediately, the tips of each soft feathered appendage touching the round walls of the cave. He tries to leave no gaps, making himself as big as possible, flickering golden inner feathers in miniscule movements to catch the sunlight and spook the beast. He knows that works for small pests. Will it work for this monster? The thing must have been sent to them, it can’t have stumbled blindly into the family that all Liyuen usurpers are hunting for.
A small hand presses to the back of his leg and his heart sinks. A small voice whispers mama and yep, that’s Xiao alright. “Go wake baba.” He tries not to sound scared. “Go wake him up, Xiao.”
But Xiao has very little sense of survival, barely a walker. He stays, attempting to push through strong feathers to greet their visitor.
Barbatos hears more little footsteps smack across the floor towards them, “Dvalin, Darling, Go wake your father.” Dvalin lets out a humph, Barbatos sighs. “Go wake up Morax, Dvalin.” But it’s fruitless, Dvalin refuses to interact with Morax in any circumstance, why would today be an exception?
“Menogias?” Barbatos’ voice wavers on pleading now, he had hoped he wouldn’t frighten them, but the beast’s eyes are focused on him now. He doesn’t shift his gaze away for even a moment. No blinking. Menogias presses a small hand to his mother’s hip. The joints in Barbatos’ wings start to burn, muscles aching and tense from the miniscule movements. He will keep this up for as long as he needs to. “Please go wake baba.”
Before Menogias can turn, large hands press grounding into Barbatos’ hips. He almost sways back in relief. Instead, he lets one wing part, providing Morax a window to greet their visitor.
“Morax, take the kids inside while I lead it away.”
“Don’t be foolish, Barbatos, you’ll be eaten.”
“Well, what do you suggest?” His tone is less patronising than he intends, the dragon’s unblinking face is unsettling at the least.
“You take the kids. I’ll kill it.”
These days, Barbatos endorses pacifism. He doesn’t want his children fighting in this war, nor himself, nor Morax. But he understands that sometimes, there are no options.
Dvalin, it seems, is tired of waiting, hissing loudly and causing the dragon to lurch forward. Barbatos snatches him up from between his legs and swings backwards. His wings push the other two children backwards, rolling unceremoniously into the cave. He hears the dragon crash it’s head into the cavern’s opening, crumbling rock and gnashing it’s teeth, light comes in flashes between it’s lurches. He doesn’t look back.
Xiao wails. Menogias reaches out for him. Barbatos moves like he’s diving. Not unlike the days in which he flew free, ducking into clear, crystalline water and dragging sparkling droplets through the air in his exit. Three children swept into tight arms, hurried through the length of the abode. Tucked under his chest, under layers of wings, they almost manage to block out the sound of their father. Barbatos’ whispers of it’s okay. it’s okay are shouts – volume raised to combat the noise. Yelling, snarling, crashing. A roar of a dragon so like uncle Azhdaha that their mother tries to convince them it is.
The children nod along, desperate to believe, but they shake despite themselves. The children of gods are still children after all.
Trembling, soothing hands pet over each of their small heads until the noises subside. Until their father returns, injured and too exhausted for anger. Their mother leaves them soon after, reluctantly taking off on white wings, returning quickly with aunties and uncles that tend to their father and then each of them in turn.
Aunt Cloud Retainer and uncle Moon Carver stay to keep guard for the night. In the morning, they will have to relocate; they’ve been found here, it isn’t safe to stay. But tonight, fed and warm and placated by the calm that follows such immense fear, they can rest - Menogias curled into his father, comforted in strong arms that haven’t held him in quite some time; Xiao snoozing easily in such soothing company, tucked in between Dvalin and his mother with his father nearby. For the first time in a long time, they fall asleep as a family.