Chapter Text
Prodryas is the god of feeling the sun's warmth, of distracting and dazzling patterns and colors. The god of wandering flights in clear skies.
Long, long ago, before the sun god was the twin to the nightmare god, there was a god of the Sun. This was back when the gods of Thunder and Rain were still alive.
The Sun god, called Sol, had never created their own people. Instead, they were generally content to provide warmth and light to the various mortals below.
But the sun god grew lonely. And while they still did not want to create their own people, they did want something. For a long while, they could not think of what they wanted. But then all at once, they realized. A child. Not a mortal child, who while beautiful in their own way, would wither and die. No, they wanted a child like themself.
Unfamiliar with the process of creating life, they besought the God of Rain. The God of Rain plucked a hailstone from their cloak. The hailstone was not large, about the size of the end of a child's thumb. It was tiny in their grasp as they handed it to Sol. Equally small in Sol's hands, they cradled the gift carefully as they waited for some sort of explanation.
"Keep it by your side always, and in your presence, it shall grow," the God of Rain said. "I do not know to what size. But as it grows, it shall lose any trace of my essence, and gain your own. The child may not look like you, but do not fret, as it will be entirely yours. Love it and care for it, and it will do the same." With that, the God of Rain departed.
Now, Sol was a scarab who was a brilliant gold like the sun. But they did not particularly care what their child looked like. It would be enough to have a child to love. So Sol attached the hailstone to their mesosternum, cradled between their middle pair of legs, and carried it with them, always. When the outer layer of the hailstone melted, they fretted. But underneath was a silvery golden pupa.
After five generations of mortals, the chrysalis, as Sol had dubbed it, split open at the bottom. They worried that the being inside would fall, and so they cradled their mid-legs beneath, ready to catch their child. They need nod have worried. Their child wriggled and squirmed, working their way out of their golden container. The child emerged head-first, but a single pair of forelimbs followed. It took days for the child to fully emerge, seeming to make some progress, fall asleep, and awaken to repeat the process.
When at last their child was free from the chrysalis, Sol examined them. Their child was indeed, very dissimilar in appearance, as the God of Rain suggested they might be. The child had long, thin antennae that were clubbed at the end. Their wings, though currently wet and crumpled, seemed to be a rich brown with bright white spots along the outer edges. No, the child did not look like them, but Sol was happy.
After many hours, the child's wings had dried and straightened out, revealing their shape to be similar to those of leaves. Carefully detaching the empty chrysalis from themself, Sol set the paler, but still gleaming pupal casing aside. They waited patiently for their child to acknowledge them. After a last shake of their wings, the child looked up at Sol, and smiled wide.
Sol's answering smile was as brilliant as their namesake, though they were careful not to blind their child.
"Hello, my child, I am your parent." Sol reached down to lift the little one to eye level. Held under their single pair of arms, the child hung there, simply staring at Sol.
When their child responded with "Pa-ma?" Sol laughed, spinning in place and swinging the little one in a circle, and their laughter was soon joined by the child's.
Sol named the little one Prodryas. As Prodryas grew, the dorsal side of his wings gained a shine that would flash golden in sunlight. Sol raised their son with love, and Prodryas loved their parent in turn.
When Prodryas reached maturity, he bid goodbye to Sol, to make his own way in the world, and discover what he might be a god of.