keep keep on running, there's no place like home

The dark was thickening, the dying sun settling behind the western horizon in a blaze of orange and pinks while the indigo, star-speckled velvet came creeping in from the east. A cloudless sky made for poor isolation, and the night would be cold. As the heavy, snowwhite silhouette of Daenerys rustled through the underground, steam was rising from her damp skin, thistle eyes slightly glazed in their reflection of the pain within her. Grunting, her breath hitched in her throat and turned into a groan of agony, staggering forward to her designated clearing. Her flanks had swollen to incredulous width, and there was worry within her heart, fear even. Something was wrong with this child, or with her, she was certain. When she had expected Ahriman, she had only been about half the size that she was now. Pregnancy had been hard, she had not been able to travel far from her shelter in the Deep Forest, but her firstborn had been a great help, though she hated seeing the worry in his youthful eyes.

Stepping upon soft moss into the clearing in the trees, she panted painstakingly and glanced upward. The first stars were already twinkling down at her faintly; it was a beautiful evening, and under the open sky she felt more comfortable. Dropping to her knees, she cried out as another contraction shot through her large body, letting herself fall onto her side and gather strength before the final battle. Her slender, grey nape was already covered with a thin film of sweat despite the cold, tresses clinging to her skin and nares flared wide as she drew in breathe rapidly. Quickly closing her eyes, she tried to gather herself, tried to focus on the task at hand. But when she opened them again, the fear was still within her, and she nickered in distress. Then the pain returned and she knew it was time to push.

Letting her nape fall flat back upon the moss, she gasped from a mixture of agony and relief. For a moment, she just wanted to go to sleep, but instinct forced her to bend around her muzzle to the little life that was lying at her hinds. A filly, beautifully palomino in color, with small strands of orange sprouting in her silvery mane. Large, lavender eyes peered up at her, and as Daenerys cleaned her up, she felt the mother’s tenderness for the small, winged creature. For that she was, a Pegasus, with small wings on her back. The fae smiled, thinking dearly of the resemblance to the filly’s father, but then her smile turned into a grimace. First of pain, then of confusion – she had been certain that she had been done. With determination, she pressed through her exhaustion and bit in another shriek of distress, bringing her son into the world.

He was palomino as well, but with brightly orange mane and a lion’s tail. From his forehead, a small knob of a horn was sprouting, and his electric blue eyes soon found his dam as she caressed him with her velvet maw. He was warm to the touch, more so than his sister, and the filly moved closer for warmth. An exhausted smile was drawn upon the dam’s features; but of course, how could she be so ignorant? It had been impossible for her to determine the gender of the fetus within her, for the simple reason that there had been one of each. A chuckle was emitted, for though she was exhausted, the pride far exceeded anything else. For a moment, she remained on the ground, resting her sore body and tending to her newborns under the starry night sky.