Quilyan

If he hadn't insisted on remaining close to the World's Edge, he might never have known when the time came. The stallion had spent much of his time at the borders of the land, not wishing to encounter its inhabitants and their questions. He had no wish to make Myrrine's life more difficult than he had already made it, and so he remained close without forcing himself into her herd. He would be there for his child, of course; it was his duty, and whatever foal emerged from his one night stand would be a little royal worthy of his love and devotion. But Myrrine... would she even want him around in the long-term?

But today was the day, and it was no longer the time for such worries.

He came upon her fragile form crumpled upon a bed of of pine, drawn at a gallop by the sound of her screams. An unimaginable panic struck him as he slid to a stop beside her; he had not seen birthing before (he had, remember, forgotten about Resplendence and the child they had brought to life) and could not imagine such a normal process bringing such desperate cries to the mare's lips. A chord of unease struck him - what if something was wrong, what if he had doomed the baby, doomed her, to a horrendous death - and he began to pace, chewing the inside of his cheek with anxiety. Should he go for help, should he try to do something, should he just leave her be and trust that nature would take its course?

But before he could decide what to do, a gush of blood and fluid and life fell from the mare's hindquarters, and within moments the butterfly-mare was grooming the babe. The stallion relaxed then, if only slightly, and stepped tentatively forward to make his presence known. He smiled encouragingly at the new mother, then looked adoringly at the child. She was black and white, taking her pattern from him and her color from Myrrine; small brown spots, reminiscent of her mother's coat and her father's hues covered her body. Delicate butterfly wings colored in various pastels adorned her shoulders. She was beautiful.

A new, fatherly love flooded him, surprising him with its ferocity. He knew, suddenly, that he would do anything for this child, would insist upon being a part of her life, no matter what. "Myrrine," he murmured, attempting to reach out to brush her cheek with his muzzle. "She's beautiful." He leaned closer to the child, exhaling softly near her muzzle, introducing her to his scent. The stallion did not notice that the mare continued to bleed, so entranced was he by the magic unfolding before him.

"Talk talk talk."