Aegaeon 2: Fire

Aegaeon has never been particularly envious of the human process of procreation, nor of or invested in those associated mechanisms of personal legacy. He has never even been quite so interested as Brighid in preserving a record of his past lives for his future lives to peruse; he relies on the letters he has sent to her, and to the official historical record kept at discretion of the emperor.

(Brighid had been roundly shocked when he'd shaken off Niall's refusal to either meet wih him or do so much as give him a primer on his prior incarnation, as had been their standard operating procedure for centuries, without any sign of distance or disappointment, but it seemed this new Hecatoncheire of hers was more stoic, less emotional than the last had been. Which likely owed to Mòrag, of course.)

Joint penchants for art and sweet things have followed him throughout his various iterations, as has a fascination with the sea and all creatures, great and small, ancient and recent, contained within it.

If a baby is a sweet work of art, the smallest of great creatures and the most recent of an ancient tradition, then a baby should tick Aegaeon's every box. Something to be protected, something and someone to be educated, someone and something to be loyal to.

More importantly than all of that, they're adorable. Tiny, squishy cheeks, miniature frowns and sighs, every little finger and toe a marvel. This much is obvious.

But Aegaeon never thinks of it until Brighid and Mòrag have had a baby of their own, and she is just as perfect as the platonic ideal of true love's child should be.

They'd been between Sena and Elise for the name - both reminiscent of a beautiful idea about heaven returning to earth, or bringing earth up into the sky with it. The rhythm of Sena was what had stuck best, however, so Sena Elise Ladair she had become.

(And later on, Sena would seek somewhere outside, beyond, heaven, to the stars, for comets and meteors and supernovae and other motifs of similar persuasion but alternate evocation.)

Sena's an energetic, fussy baby, eager to speak but also far too easily shushed, even when her parents (all three, as she takes to calling each by a different consonant that appears readily to her unteethed gums) are gentle as can be. She plays well with Nia, Pyra and Mythra's children, and of course Rex is so quickly charmed. She is, once again, perfect, and Brighid and Mòrag grow together alongside their daughter, straightforwardly sired by Mòrag and carried by Brighid.

She puts into perspective all those other issues of lifetimes and sacrifice, purpose and power. The heroes can rest easier, knowing that someone is there to carry forward their intentions and ideals, even though Mòrag has received a part of Brighid's Core and the two will not die, fade, in step with the other humans and Blades, universally awakened, of their time.

Aegaeon, yet bonded to Mòrag, will also last until that twilit day, they trust. Supposing he doesn't, though? Supposing he isn't able to remain with Sena as her beloved advisor until she finally outlives her mothers and proceeds, the proudest vestige of the Ladairs, on her own life's journey?

"Is it true, Baba?!"

Indeed, it is true. Aegaeon has proposed to Brighid that the two of them, Jewel and Crest, Sword and Shield, have a child, and raise them as Sena's sibling (a Ladair or an Ardanach? it remains to be seen).

Brighid had smiled, grasped his hands, drawn him close to her. She, too, was worried that Aegaeon's life would end before hers, without even the brittle promise of another incarnation to come after. The thought of living on without him was...less painful than that of living on without Mòrag, but more immediate, now.

"I have always thought that this world would be better off if there were more Blades like you in it, Aegaeon." She had indeed told him so, but he still blushed at each repetition. "I would be honored to share this undertaking with you."

Unless you counted the mention of "more Blades like Aegaeon", she hadn't even had to hint (with Mòrag, not-quite-oblivious but never-quite-as-perceptive-to-such-matters-as-one-might-hope Mòrag, there had been quite a lot of work to do, on Brighid's part).

"Nia has supplied me with the basics of the genetic data transfer and synthesis," Aegaeon had said. "As you have already borne the burden of one pregnancy, I would likewise be honored to carry the child."

Brighid had had to stifle a pained, sympathetic laugh at the thought of an Aegaeon going through a possibly-arduous pregnancy, without the precedent to complain, as Brighid had never let anyone but Mòrag see it and Aegaeon seldom complained about anything.

"No need, Aegaeon. Mythra once told me that two Blades can avoid the whole messy affair by simply making use of one of the few remaining blank Core Crystals as a vessel for their child's genetic data."

"Ah...that would have been what Nia kept trying to tell me, though I was too impatient to meet with you and wouldn't hear it." He'd wanted to confirm that it was even possible for he and Brighid to join in such a way, principally. Just as she and Mòrag had.

Perhaps Mythra and Nia had not done so themselves out of an abundance of caution to preserve any possible hereditary traits of Nia's sister, who had become Mio's namesake. Perhaps Mythra had wished to mirror the process Rex and Pyra had gone through to have Glimmer, though she and her "sister" were no longer sharing the same body. Whatever the case, it was now up to Aegaeon to decide how long he could wait to meet this mythical creation of a more just architect's world.

So Aegaeon repeats to Sena, their darling girl, "It is true indeed, Sena. Your sibling will be with us any day now."

And because Sena has met so many other babies who've already been born in her short time alive, she of course immediately wants to know her sibling's name. But Aegaeon simply shakes his head; he and Brighid have also agreed not to name the child until they have arrived into the world and breathed, stretched, cried for themselves. Sena's name is completely fitting, and no one could have picked it better, but what could be the odds of being so right twice? Even Mòrag, luckier than Zeke, is not as lucky as Rex.

Sena just knows that Mio, her Mimi, adores her siblings, and cannot wait to have one of her own. Aegaeon trusts that they all will fight, as teenagers, with all associated angst, since Mio is already something of a terror, but for now, it is an idyllic dream.

Soon they will meet with Mythra, who will write their genetic data onto a blank Core Crystal, and then Brighid and Aegaeon, together with Mòrag, will awaken it, leaving their child in this new world bonded to neither but nurtured by both.

Mythra has warned them that she hasn't tried this procedure with anyone else; she only knows it works because of prior experience mucking about with Cole's Core and memories, which he considers to be a fair game passion project for his favorite Aegis and favorite fellow Flesh Eater. They don't know how old the baby will be, or if it'll even be a baby at all. But it will be a perfect storm of the Ardainian duo's configurations and intentions both, and it will be an adventure they embark upon together.

Their plans are upset only slightly by Sena's gleeful impatience: she doesn't bound right up to the Core and lay a sticky palm on it, but she does tug insistently at Brighid's skirt, asking Mama if she can help. Because they've raised her so well!

Brighid eyes Aegaeon, then Mòrag, who raises a thin black eyebrow and sits back in her chair, reminding herself once again of the depth of Brighid and Aegaeon's bond. This is a matter that concerns them all, indeed, but it's not one that requires Mòrag's interference to discipline her, their, daughter.

"You want to help us, Sena?" the Jewel inquires, warmly but with an undertone of gravity. Sena nods, big-eyed and bobble-chinned.

The situation isn't so serious, is it? And if it were, if the lifetime of the soul contained within this crystal were to be permanently staked to the one who awakened it, released it into the world, then wouldn't Sena be as fine a choice as any?

So Aegaeon pushes back his chair, lifts her up into his lap, and waits for Sena to work her little bit of starlit magic. She understands Blades - they'd had to explain the system to her in order to give context to the round blue stone that sits just below her collarbone, currently disproportionate but getting relatively smaller with each passing day and growth milestone. She might still think that Blades "used to" be bonded to their Drivers in terms of lifeforce a thousand years ago, instead of just five, but that is a tale for another time.

For now, all Sena has to do is reach out, clap her hands over two vertices of the Core, and pull it into her arms, toward her chest. While she's still wrestling with the unwieldy object in its silicon casing, however, it begins to glow, and Sena shrieks, nearly dropping it in favor of hiding in the security of Aegaeon's chest.

Thankfully, though, she doesn't, the warmth of the awakening Core reassuring her as new life blossoms beneath her fingertips.

Sena's sibling is a boy, about a year or two older than her in size and stature, but she doesn't have time to contemplate whether or not that's fair, because she's too busy gasping at the sight of him.

He had skin of a human tone, like his mother, but unlike her, his eyes were wide, serious, nearly seeming never to close. Dark, spiky hair jutted out over his forehead, umber that burned in reds and oranges as it came to the tips. Brows darker and thicker than any of theirs only made him seem more serious, and Aegaeon knew in an instant he would instinctively protect Sena with his life. All prayers, however, that he'd never have to.

Sena's curls, bouncing just above her shoulders, erupt with excitement as she realizes that her brother's hair is alight just like hers, and just like Mama's. Once again, she's unfamiliar with the etiquette of meeting new children, just born, whether six seconds or six years old (six weeks or maybe six months is more her speed), so she waves, ignorant of the confusion unfolding around her.

"Hello," says Aegaeon, uncertainly. "I am...your father."

"Hello, Father," the boy nods, nearly bows. "I am Cammuravi."

So he comes with his own name. Frankly, they hadn't even considered that. They'd tried not to consider all the what-ifs of sex, gender, age and temperament overmuch, knowing that this was an uncharted frontier and that the empire that backed Brighid and Aegaeon both had been not just fortunate but positively zealous in obtaining all necessary resources toward success, historically. It was the most human thing they could do to simply be patient.

But when Sena bursts forth from her throne atop Aegaeon's knees to give her brother his first hug, Aegaeon sees his son relax, hugging back, and finally looks to Brighid, to see her beaming at the success of their little caper, squeezing Mòrag's hand.

Mòrag, too, looks nearly smug at this revelation. Aegaeon had been her guardian when she was quite young, and she'd often wondered, as she aged, what it would be like to see him a boy. Brighid a young woman she could almost imagine for herself. But this...

Cammuravi's vestments are simple, underarmor-like, black except where more flames lick through the left shoulder and forearm. Aegaeon determines immediately that he will get Cammuravi a pair of overalls to match Sena's - if Blades are not to be living weapons, and Aegaeon agrees that they are not, then they should be able to be children without being clothed like soldiers. Not that Brighid has ever been clothed like a soldier. And he will wait, to see if Cammuravi has a temper that brims underneath manifest calm, one that meditation can help manage.

It has been a great many years since any of Aegaeon's incarnations have been recorded to lose control of their mastery of water. Aegaeon knows that he will permit his son as many attempts and as much time as it may take for him to master the flames that leap from his body, less crystalline than Brighid's, more active than that contained within Aegaeon's tubes, should they ever cause him distress.

Oh, but he's getting ahead of himself. This is no way to welcome a child into the world, no matter how fully-formed they may appear. "Cammuravi," Aegaeon says, slightly closer to confident. "The happiness I feel in meeting you overflows beyond words."

And see, he has lost control already: "Aegaeon...are you crying?"