As Isopia appears, the irony is, again, not lost on the young stallion. This is the third time they have attended the hatching of each other's dragons, and as she lands on a branch in raven form beside her bonded, a familiar question reaches the beast's ears. What does that mean? "Absolutely nothing," he says simply, a sparkle in his eye. He'd heard the name mentioned once, a dragon of legend, or perhaps something that had come to him in his dreams - either way, it's a name he's had in mind since the moment he began coveting a gold. Unlike Vérzés, she will not be plagued by a name picked by a boy, instead receiving one chosen by a man.

At the sight of another royal dragon, Vadir tilts her head and glances up at him. Volterra can feel her interest, like a sharp stab in his mind. At the same time, he can feel Vérzés' attention on the bronze as well, remembering his hatching, remembering flying away so that Hubris wouldn't get the urge for the wild and abandon Isopia. He hadn't moved away this time - he hadn't needed to, as the stallion had ensured he was the first thing the hatchling clapped eyes on - but Volterra can feel him musing over whether he should have made sure he was the first thing the gold saw. That would have got rid of her - turned her wild. Simply hearing Vérzés think this makes the stallion's ears pin, aghast that the red would even consider doing such a thing. How many times must I tell you, Vérzés? This is for the best. You can learn from each other, and we can become a team. Stop being a brat, and realise that she is one of us now. It's surprisingly hard to concentrate on speaking to one dragon and not the other, and he can feel Vadir's consciousness tingling towards his conversation with Vérzés, eavesdropping.

The red feels it too, and hisses. He erects sharp walls around himself, walls of steel, so the gold cannot hear what he says back to Volterra. "She is she. We not respect female. Why you want one in our mind? Gold scales not strength make." The stallion's brows knot together, cursing the red's stubbornness. Then, he remembers, the dragon probably got said stubbornness from him. Perhaps this is all his fault - his red picking up bits of Volterra's personality. His jealousy, his stubbornness, his temper, all things the beast knows are flaws and yet which he has unwittingly passed on to his mind-partner. If he was a nicer creature, perhaps this wouldn't be happening.

Then there's a flash of silver, and the giant's jowls split into a smile as he sees Tinek and Ophelia. A sudden memory comes to him - he and Nymeria, in the snow, with Tinek bounding nearby. Him, adoring the silver dragon, fan-boying all over him. Like Solomon, Argen's bronze, Tinek is an image from Volterra's youth that holds a special place in his frozen heart. His aunt congratulates him, and the beast dips his head in acknowledgement. Her words are kind, this coming from a woman who his sister so foolishly picked a fight with for no good reason. That still puzzles him even now - twins they may be, but he does not get much of an insight into Nymeria's mind, her plots and plans. "Thank you, Aunt. Hello there, Tinek, it's good to see you." He huffs a greeting towards the silver dragon, and feels not one but two stabs of jealousy coming from the creatures inside his mind. Less so from Vadir, as her emotion is more curiosity - to have two royal dragons attending her hatching is an honour, and she fixes her level amber gaze on Hubris and Tinek in turn.

The gold shifts, unfurling her wings, examining them. She pads through the fallen leaves, and Volterra can feel her interest as each new foreign material is fondled beneath her paws. Already her personality seems calmer than Vérzés, more considered, less...wild. At this point in his own hatching, the red had already been bounding around, adventuring, hitching himself up onto his bonded's back, but Vadir seems content to take things slow. Perhaps she knows she has a whole lifetime to do whatever she wishes. She moves to Tinek, sniffing him thoroughly, discovering how dragon smells. Dragon that isn't trying to attack her, at least. The red still sits hunched on Volterra's withers, tail swinging side to side like an angry cat, watching the royals interact - his mind is a battlefield, which makes it somewhat harder for Volterra to focus on watching Vadir's careful movements.

Another arrives at the scene, then - the white filly he'd met here just after his second birthday. She doesn't look entirely happy, and the stallion frowns. "What's up, kid?" he questions, tilting his head. Of course, he doesn't really care - that would imply he's going soft - but social niceties dictate that he should ask, at least. With a grunt, he feels the weight of Vérzés leave his back, soaring towards the little girl who had so idolised him that day at the pool, the way Volterra once idolised dragons. He circles around her, landing in front of her and chirping up at her, studiously ignoring the goings-on behind him. "See?" comes his mental voice. "White hatchling happy for just one dragon. Not need two. Nobody need two." And he settles himself down in front of Erthë, giving her his full attention, as if to prove a point.