The snow is melting, burnt away beneath the spring sun to expose rock and hardy shrub beneath. Only the furthest reaches of the Steppe seem safe from the ire of Birdsong, and it is this little patch of winter that the blackened goliath finds himself in. He suffers in the heat, his great size and his ebony fur like beacons for the searing sun, and the last dregs of his winter coat are still clinging on for dear life to compound his sweaty, humid body. It is here, too, where he can find some relief from the flies.

The flies - dear lord, the flies! They are relentless in their persecution of him, and no combination of his tail's swings and Vadir's fire seems to deter them. Indeed, the golden dragon is still working at mastering her flame, and her attempts to immolate the flies around Volterra tend to result in him losing several layers of fur beneath the heat of her badly aimed torrent. Vérzés finds this the height of hilarity, and happily freezes the pests mid-flight with one blast of his own superbly controlled ice-breath. The queen is unamused by this, which only makes her redouble her efforts to incinerate any flying insect that buzzes within a five-metre radius of her bonded's person.

Overall, a combination of the heat, the flies and the constant smell of mare in heat that seems to be soaked into the spring air have all ensured that the stallion is ill-tempered and cantankerous this Birdsong. The far north is the only place he can gather some relief, and there is an expression of almost sexual bliss upon his face as his massive feathered feet sink into the snow. Cold air tickles his sweating, steaming frame, and he allows his fearsome muscles to relax. For the first time in weeks, tension drains from him; his dragons sense his desire to simply mooch around without their endless squabbling in his ear, so leave him to his solitude and fly away to hunt.

After a furtive glance around to make sure nobody is looking (because it wouldn't do to have anybody witness the stern, stoic behemoth doing anything but brooding, fighting and fucking), the beast drops to his knees and rolls happily onto his back. He groans with pleasure as the ice-cold snow presses against his hot skin and sinks its moist fingers deep into the aching recesses of his muscles, like a sensuous massage. Shit, that's better than sex....well, almost. Hell, it's almost arousing how good it feels, but he's quite sure not to let his concentration slip and result in anything becoming more visible than it should be. For once, he doesn't want to think about women, or war, or his children, or his dragons. He just wants to think about the simple enjoyment of a roll in the snow, and by god, has he earnt it.

The beast lays there for a moment on his back, forelegs tucked against his chest and hindlegs waving colt-like in the air, before flopping inelegantly onto his right side. Here he remains, his hindlegs now tucked beneath him and his tail splayed across the snow, a blissfully content expression on his usually hard, stern face. It'd be a dreadful shame if someone was to see him like this, at ease, defences down and simply enjoying his own company...

He feels the urge to drift off to sleep, and it takes quite some effort to resist it. He is relaxed, yes, but he is still a warrior at heart and this would be too vulnerable a position to sleep in. Volterra always takes his rest up against a tree or in a cave, and he always ensures at least one dragon is awake when he is asleep, to ensure he will not be caught unawares. So, as much as he wants to drift into a delightfully cool snow-induced slumber, he doesn't. He simply relaxes, eyes half-shut but ears still turning in circles to detect any noise.

There is a crunch of snow, and the beast's eyes snap open fully. There, approaching him, is Kid; his son, perhaps his eldest. They have met only once, and Volterra's bruises took some days to disappear - the boy can pack a punch, and the proud sire loves this. He thinks how different things would have been if he hadn't got any mares pregnant for a couple more years, until he had a throne beneath his royal backside and an empire at his back. Kid would have been his firstborn, still, and would have been the son he'd have groomed for greatness. Oh, yes, the others would have been trained to fight and to take herds of their own when they were able, but it is Kid who would have been named Volterra's heir, and who would have been trained with that in mind. It is Kid who, many years from now when Volterra is a senile old man, he would have passed his crown to, after countless years of prosperity within his kingdom. For all his flaws, the behemoth has some traditional ideals, and he would have ruled his herd with this in mind - that the firstborn son is the one bred to inherit his father's empire.

But this is all just a dream, now. Kid has been born far too early, when his father is hardly out of boyhood himself. What's more, he was sired before the great black mountain learnt responsibility, before he realised that sometimes sex results in children, and that children are not forgiving creatures when they think they have been abandoned by their sires. Kid does not like him - the venom he put into his kicks and bites made that fact abundantly clear - and that's his own damn fault for not realising the boy existed until he appeared before his very eyes.

So Kid might not be his heir at this exact moment; Volterra still owns no herd, although he one day will, so at the moment the boy has nothing to inherit even if he wanted to. His little story, dreamed of since he was a wet-furred colt, cannot now come to pass, but he likes to think it will still happen, albeit with a few changes to the original plotline. He prays they will reconcile, that the colt can still be the heir Volterra needs, and that when the beast takes a herd he will have his firstborn son by his side to groom into perfection.

Judging by the fact Kid looks like he's just stumbled across a steaming pile of shit on the ground rather than his much-respected and adored father, Volterra rather thinks reconciliation is still quite a distance away.

"Son." He uses the term pointedly, because whether the boy likes it or not, he is his son, a fact he will need to learn to accept. At the lad's remark about his vulnerability, the goliath gives a low, harsh chuckle. "I am never defenceless, dear boy. A wolf still has teeth, even when it rests." Although Volterra will allow his son some liberties (such as throwing a range of kicks and bites at him that would have earnt any other horse a firm and thorough beating), he draws the line at letting the boy literally walk all over him. As the dainty hoof extends to plant upon his shoulder, the giant gives a warning pin of his ears and rises, like a monster from the deep, to his feet. Snow tumbles in an avalanche from his fur and he shakes further flakes from his mane with a hearty grunt, fixing his penetrative red stare on the grullo youngster. The boy is unfortunately small, which is a shame, but he supposes his great size cannot be inherited by all of his offspring. Provided thick muscle grows to lace that petite frame, that testosterone thickens the neck and the quarters, the boy still has potential. Volterra has fought enough short-arses in his life to know that height is not everything when it comes to battle.

At the lad's remark about his fat ass, he raises a sardonic brow. "And what brings your unfortunately un-fat ass this far north?" It is not truly meant as an insult, rather a way to test how easily Kid offends. Does he have Daddy's temper, he wonders?

The lad's wits are sharp, sharper indeed than his father's. Volterra assumes that is Nymeria's influence; his darling sister has always had a keen eye for wordplay. The sardonic acknowledgement of his position as father is noted, but not remarked upon; he focuses instead on arching one scarred brow at the boy's talk of removing teeth. "The man who attempts to remove a wolf's teeth has my best wishes...and also my deepest sympathy for his impending death." Reaching into a wolf's mouth, attacking Volterra...both things that could result in a swift and painful punishment.

Just wait. Kid's words are sharp, but perhaps Volterra has earnt that ire. He swings his tail to rid his flanks of the last vestiges of snow, whilst continuing to scrutinise his son's body. Aside from the eyes (those ghastly pink eyes) he's a well-put-together young lad, and the beast remembers that his mother had been similarly short, stocky but powerful. He prefers tall, strapping sons, but at least Kid is willing to utilise what he has. Zhu's reluctance to join in the training is concerning to say the least, although there is plenty of time for Volterra to hammer that hesitation out of him.

The fact Kid's searching for silence and solitude makes the leviathan wonder why he's so eager to get away from the hustle and bustle of his small family unit. Like Volterra himself, Kid has a twin sister and a mother, a miniature herd which certainly provided the young demon with adequate company and mental stimulation. But there's no time to question why Kid wants to leave his dam and sibling in search of solitude, because the boy is speaking again, solemn and mature for one of his tender age. The stallion senses a shift in the atmosphere, and he also senses that this could be a valuable time to take one step down the path of reconciliation.

Unless he fucks it up, of course, which he is quite prone to doing.

"Yes, we do." His full attention is levelled on the boy, maintaining level eye contact and schooling his face into impassiveness. He shifts only slightly as he contemplates what to say, how to go about it....the goliath is not the best with words and never has been. Nor is he a man who apologises freely - he rarely ever thinks he has done wrong, and even when he has, he sure as hell won't admit it. But if he is to make amends with his firstborn, and have any chance of that dream of his, then he has to make amends. That means eating a healthy slice of humble pie.

"Allow me to speak first, if you will. Now, Kid, I am not a man who apologises often. Humility sticks in my throat, you see - it's just one of my many flaws." He smiles a cold, hard smile. Arrogant he might be when it comes to his physical capabilities, but he has no delusions of grandeur when it comes to certain aspects of his personality. "But this is one of the rare occasions when I know I was in the wrong. It was remiss of me to not know of your existence until recently. No doubt you have formed an opinion of me because of my absence in your early months, which you have every right to do; I will also hazard a guess that simply peppering me with bruises did not particularly ease whatever disgust you hold for me." At this, he laughs, a short, barking sound. He understands that fighting out your problems is not a cure-all for every Helovian as it is for Volterra himself, although it was worth a try.

"I make no excuses for my behaviour. There are reasons for it, yes - I did not know your mother was pregnant, I did not even know that I was capable of fathering children at the age I was when you were conceived. But that does not excuse my negligence. I should have realised that I cannot simply take my pleasure without consequences, and I should have tracked your mother so I was aware when she had you. I grew up without a father too, Kid - I know how hard it is to not have that important figure in your life. For me to then inflict the same on you, your sister and Zhu...fasz, it makes my skin crawl. It is no consolation to you, I know, but now I know that I have children, I have vowed to myself that I will be a presence in each of their lives from the very beginning. Even if their mothers insist on having them in the Dragon's bloody Throat." He huffs, still quite put-out by the fact both Aithniel and Tiva dropped his sons in the Throat, where he had to send his dragons to witness the birth on his behalf.

"So I am sorry, Kid. Such an empty word, sorry, but I pray it will ensure you know that I am capable of owning up to my actions." His throat aches with the talking, something he rarely does. Now all that remains is to hear his son's rebuke.

His mouth feels dirty in the aftermath of the apology. He is not used to saying sorry, and he is not good at it. But he assumes that saying the word will go some way towards making it okay, because that is how it works, is it not? He assumes Kid will accept, as what son would not delight in earning his father's favour?

He is wrong.

It does not cross his mind that the boy could try and manipulate him. For one, he does not think the lad capable - he's too young, too innocent, to have a mind that black and a heart that cruel. And for two, no member of Volterra's family would ever do that to another of their kin, to another horse whom they share blood and flesh with. They will fight, yes, squabble and scrap for dominance as children are wont to do, but they are above such petty cowardice as mental manipulation of their family.

Or so he thinks. Again, he is wrong.

Kid states that there is not to be any more of this, and the gesture of his skull-painted muzzle implies the relationship between them. He then proceeds to repeat back what Volterra had already implied he would do; take care of any and all his children. "That is what I have just said, Kid. Of course, I will show you how to fight - is this not what I began to do during our last meeting? I will teach you my language, as I have taught Zhu, and would have taught you from a far earlier age had I known you existed." Of course he will teach his boys to fight, and his girls too; of course he will share with them he and Nymeria's sacred tongue, so they too can converse in secret.

Of course he will be a father to them, if they will only let him.

It is rare that the mammoth stallion is caught off-guard, but Kid's next words achieve exactly that. "Pull...out?!" His eyes widen, his lower jaw dropping gormlessly for a moment until he remembers himself and snaps it shut. "Pull out? How do you even know what that is? Actually, don't answer that. I would rather not know." He shrivels his nose in disgust - this is not a conversation he imagined he would be having with his son until Kid was far older. Heavens, the boy is far more worldly than even sex-mad Volterra had been at that age! It has never even crossed his mind to haul his body from his lover at the point of ecstasy; to spill his seed onto the ground rather than into her. It seems...unnatural. All those could-be children, wasted in the dirt. Those future emperors, those future queens, never to exist.

Volterra is far from being a prude, but talking about this with his son makes him feel quite queasy. He'd pictured Kid coming to him in a year's time, asking what these urges were in the depths of his loins, what this weight was between his thighs, what to do with it, how to lessen it. He'd imagined growing awkward then as opposed to now, explaining the logistics and the mechanisms and the joy of it. He didn't expect to be having this conversation quite so soon. Just another part of his dream that's inexoribly changed.

The tone turns serious again, and the demon's feral eyes fix on his son's as Kid declares that he won't forgive him. Volterra nods; he had expected nothing more, although he'd hoped...His apology had not been pitiful, far from it - he will grovel at the feet of none, and if Kid is expecting his father to bow and acquiesce to every command, then he is to be sorely mistaken. There is humility, and then there is stupidity. Volterra ensures he stays strictly within the bounds of the former.

The child finishes speaking, and the goliath smothers an exasperated sigh. Had Kid listened to nothing he had just said? Does he really think he needs to tell Volterra to interact with his offspring? The stallion made it abundantly clear that the only reason he did not have a presence in his children's lives before now was because he did not know they existed. The moment he found out about Zhu, he took him under his wing; taught him Hungarian, taught him anything he wanted to be taught. The moment he found out about Kid, he attempted to do the same. The moment he met Tyrath, the same. In other words, the moment Volterra found out he was a father, he embraced it with open arms and began making up for lost time with every single one of his sons. Had he found out about his children and still made no attempt to be in their lives, then that would have been unforgiveable, but that is not the case. Ignorance, not laziness, prevented him training them earlier.

But he crushes his frustration down, clenches it beneath a wall of steel. Saying it would be like talking to a rock, that much is apparent to him. Kid has decided how he wants to feel, and no amount of logic or reasoning or truth will change that. In a way, that stubbornness and indomitable willpower is to be respected - after all, where else has he got it from but Volterra himself? - but it's also a considerable barrier between them and reconciliation.

"Then let us begin now. What would you like to know? Ask of me anything, Kid; I will endeavour to either tell you or show you the answer."

Volterra knows the pain of a mother's bite, too; Confutatis was not a gentle woman, and countless times he felt the sting of her venom upon his hide. She was not a loving dam, not by any stretch, although she performed her duty well by raising her two darling warlords from children with potential to adults with power. And, like Colt, she did it alone. Tyradon hung around long enough to see his foals born, provide Nymeria with a dragon and Volterra with an amulet, and then he was gone; gone to rule his own herd in the wilderness with countless other offspring, with barely a thought spared for his two skull-faced bastards. Whether it was this that drove Confutatis to such harsh methods, or whether it was just her natural desire to purge any weakness out of her children, he does not know. He only knows that he remembers pain, suffering, burning tears against infant flesh. He does not remember love, affection, the tender embrace of mother and son.

So if Kid is to assume his father does not know what it's like to grow up with only a mother around, and only a mother with a penchant for violence at that, then he is wrong. The only difference is that Volterra embraced this burden he was born with; he strived to impress the World Eater in any way he could, and he likes to think he's succeeded.

Maybe she'll return, one day, and find him a king. Maybe she'll be proud of him. Maybe she'll apologise, or maybe his success will be a vindication of her methods. He loves her, of course, and in hindsight he thinks her methods were the correct ones. They certainly worked - look at him now. Look at Nymeria. No weakness dares to burn through their blood, and he has the World Eater to thank for that.

Where were you? asks Kid. He would ask Tyradon that same question. Why weren't you around to show me how to fight? Where were you when I wanted to know if these urges inside me were normal, or if I was an abomination? Why didn't you care enough to show me how to live? "I was not where I should have been." By your side. For the first time, there's a hint of bitterness in his voice; a droplet of shame, a pinch of self-loathing. I should have been there.

He wonders if Tyradon would say the same should Volterra have been the one to ask that question. His lips twist into a humourless grin at the thought; no doubt the warlord would simply have told him to man the fuck up and get over it, to point out that no harm's been done, that he survived, didn't he? What more does he want?

Part of him wants to echo that sentiment to Kid. Man up, boy, you're not the only one in this world who's had a hard life. But he doesn't. Cruel he may be, but he's not that cruel.

His thoughts are disrupted by Kid's next words. Sabre is gone. She's been missing for weeks. He growls, stomps a hoof. "Shit." He snorts, shakes his mane, his muscles thrumming with energy and a desire to hunt down his only daughter and bring her home. He has not even met the girl yet; she cannot be gone. The thought sickens him, not just for his own selfish ends (losing a daughter, a useful daughter, is a colossal inconvenience) but for what it will do to Kid, too. If Kid and Sabre as as close as Volterra and Nymeria....Volterra knows that he would happily trade his own life for his twin to be safe. If Kid feels the same...then Volterra owes it to him to locate the other half of his whole and bring her back.

The goliath disrupts his dragons' hunt to cast a mental bullet into their heads. Find her, he commands. They point out that they don't know what she looks like, and he sends them an image of Kid. Like him, probably. Like me. Just find her. With howls of disgust at having their hunt disturbed, both red and gold fly in different directions to search for a child they've never even met. "We'll find her." He leaves it to Kid's imagination to decide whether that 'we' is Volterra and his dragons, or Volterra and his sons.

There is nothing he can do at this precise moment - he cannot ditch Kid to search for the boy's twin, although he intends to join his dragons in hunting the moment this meeting with his son finishes. For now, all he can do is teach the child that is here what he's requested. "Of course. We can start with the language right now, if you wish. It is easier to learn when you are young." He fixes the boy with his ruby stare, impassive despite the concern held inside for his missing daughter.