Maple [Birthing Thread]

- Birthing Thread -
No post order , Next Round: TBA

She had forgotten how much this hurt. It was a gut wrenching pain that had caused the queen to stagger. Her normal, dignified stance had been tarnished by a sudden contraction. A low, strangled growl had lifted within her throat. The queen, knowing what was to come, had limited herself to the heart of their packlands. Though she often slept beneath the stars, she had fastidiously scraped out a birthing den beneath the roots of a twisted pine. Ravenous, Nassar had intended only to gather scraps from a few carcasses that had been laid out a mile or so from the forest’s center. The queen had not gotten far before she had crumpled from the pain.

The rest had been a red-tinged blur.

Khepri had been the first to find her, though such a thing was fitting. Since the man had worried over her during the search party, she had felt his concerned gaze upon her hide more than once. Being one of the helots, he also had few duties beyond hunting for those left at home. Given that their kind often hunted for themselves, that had left the man as a personal steward of sorts.

Badari had been the next to appear and, through the pain, Nassar had gasped for the girl to fetch Oberon. The Maiden’s Tears were not welcoming to their kind, but Oberon was the father of this litter. If only this once, he would be permitted into the depths of their fold. In hindsight, Nassar would be thankful that Sinai’s flame could be the first to usher in the Fairchild. Badari had a strong heart and an even stronger will. She would shine brightly without losing her head.

Ismailia and Ahkoris were likely still on patrol duty. With Karnak seemingly gone to lick his wounds and Cairo still missing, Nassar had plenty to worry about but less and less of her problems became relevant. More contractions came and, steadily, she was ushered back into her den.

Her breathing was labored. Blood and fluid dampened the dirt beneath her. One pup had been born—a girl of russet and brown, her face ebon’ like Oberon’s. Nassar had hoped that the worst might be over, but the pain did not stop. For the time being, at least, she was allowed to rest.

The sound of paws caused Nassar to look up and peer through the gloom. Amber eyes slid to Khepri, a quiet command for him to greet the unknown.

“my sin, my soul.” 

 STOCK ➤Kati H. of Dawnthieves CODE ➤TWISTY 

all i wanna do is die for you

Khepri had been constantly worrying over Nassar the further into her pregnancy she progressed. She was insistent on continuing with her regular duties, like she wasn't carrying the weight of herself and her young. Despite her vicious attitude and frequent attacks, he followed her, and warned her, and left her food, and tried his best to help her. He didn't know why he was so concerned, but perhaps it was because the father was absent, as were a few of her children that he felt the need to step up. Maybe it was also these things that drove her mood into the ground too, well, that and the pain and discomfort she must be in.

So when she buckled, Khepri was there.

Once back to the den, he gave her proper space, and waited for this mystery man to arrive. He chanced a glance at the first pup, but quickly looked away when he found Nassar looking at him. His ears flicked at the noise outside the den. He bristled lightly, more from fear than anything else. He wasn't sure what he would meet, but he assumed it would be Badari with the children's father in tow. He moved, peering outside to see if it was friend or foe.

Khepri's body tensed with anticipation. He hoped it was not the latter, for he wished not to die today defending Nassar and her newborn children.
It was the scent that had drawn her to the hollow, a secretive place tucked out of the way, deep within the heartlands of the Forest. The grove had been the sort of place she would have avoided, content to wander the more wild terrain that flourished beneath the shadow of the mountain walls; but Badari had been interested in that scent. Perhaps a part of her had already known what it was, a fleeting memory from a time long ago, when she had been naive to the world they had been born into. Blood, fatigue, pain, and something else. Something sacred. The drums sang high on the stone peaks, a thrum of wind and rain; always rain. Here, she had become used to the dampness, her fur awry with molten fire, dark from the humidity. But even the evening falls couldn't wash away the scent. When she arrived, it was too the Matriarch fighting her next great battle, something she would have to win alone or die trying.

Go to the Fairfolk. Fetch their King.

Their King. Never hers. Nassar may have been her Queen, born again of fire and ash, yet, her chosen male would never be Tiamat. His was a world separate from theirs, cloaked in strange and foreign beliefs, following gods who had no place in her life. Two rulers, living divided. It was a strange notion, yet, one Badari was content with, content even, seeing how the bonding had changed little of their way of life. Their border may have been more tolerant to the passing of the star-kissed, but their traditions remained the same, the Matriarchs rule remained unchallenged. At an age where gender had little say in her opinion, Badari didn't care for the companionship that came from having a mate, didn't see its worth for anything other than continuing on the line. The only male besides that of her siblings who should have meant anything to her was little more than a thought, a footnote in the prologue to her story; unimportant. "I will bring him," she had bid, offering no words for luck or victory. It wasn't in her way, nor theirs.

The treck from the Hidden Forest to Maiden's Tear should have taken days journey of persistent jogging had been cut, the phoenix choosing the steep paths through the mountains instead of finding the safer routes in the north and south. Her wandering had proven useful, finding the footholds whereas others would not, the first to transverse the steep cliffs. She should have taken her time, would have, planned too, with the spring dampness drying from the earth as summer set in. But it would hardly be worth the trip, if the father arrived late. It was Nassars' second litter, and from what she understood of the labor, usually, they came faster than the first. Her limbs burned by the time she entered the outskirts of the Falls, the air thrumming with the sounds and weight of the leaping river. Her voice, however, was not to be undone, as she bayed for the Father, haughty with adrenaline and urgency.

A sharp summons, high and utilitarian, echoed across the egress of the Maiden's Tears. Oberon rose to his feet in a single regal movement, reading into the cadence and intonation of the rising song. A flicker of urgency sped his pace, and his heart beat heavily in his broad, muscular chest. He'd known that Nassar was near her time; every time he'd seen her - which had been understandably less often of late, as the weight of the pups wore more heavily upon her - she'd seemed more wearied, her stomach swollen larger. Now that the time had finally come, the Father was struck by a convergent mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The birthing bed was ever treacherous, and though he had every confidence in Nassar's strength, the risk inherent of the process was enough to curtail his otherwise exuberant reaction.

The woman that stood upon the Fairfolk's border was clad in saturated strains of fire and ash. Even had she not been inundated with the tell-tale scent of Ilios, he would have guessed her identity from the color of her pelt and accompanying tilt of her fireborn circlet. Not a crown. Not yet. But she'd dearly like it to be. Pride had never been in short supply where the Tiamats were concerned, and Oberon did not challenge the stranger's presumption. Another time, perhaps. Today, however, the stars would oversee the birth of his children, and he saw no reason to tarnish that fact with pithy predilections of arrogance. There could be only one reason for her presence here; he did not question it, and nor did he question her identity beyond an idle musing that she was not any of Nassar's brood that he had already met. The Father stepped beyond the barrier of the Tears, his powerful head held high as his eyes flashed with steel and starlight. "Lead on," he rumbled.

They ran. Oberon was not a creature born of speed or agility; his strengths lay in brute force, in righteous judgement. His enemies experienced death came on swift wings, yes, but of an expediency borne of sheer power, not any inherent dexterity. Even so, he kept pace with the younger female, determination lending surety to his paws. The trails that the young Tiamat navigated were not wholly unknown to him; before his brother had died, before Oberon had become the Father, he had wandered the whole of Cyrileth, meeting its natives, learning its landscape. It had been some time since he had had the opportunity to waste time with idle exploration, but the months of meeting Nassar halfway between their kingdoms served him in ready stead.

He prayed to the Mother as he ran, that she would shine her light on his children, and oversee their safe birth. He prayed to the Father, that he would keep his burgeoning bloodline secure for the generations to come. He prayed to whichever stars that would listen - for Nassar was his beloved, and she deserved their mercy, for all that she was an outsider to the sacred bonds of Cyrileth.

He was panting hard as they came abreast of the forest's edge. It took him a long moment to swallow his breaths, still following the Tiamat female's ruddy auburn figure as she navigated through the overhanging trees. Nassar's scent was strong here, and grew more powerful still as they moved towards the heart of the forest. Eventually, Oberon sighted a lightly-colored male - and he, too, had some subtle showing of the coveted white flecking throughout his fur - standing at the edge of a recessed den site. He nodded his thanks towards his younger guide, but moved swiftly passed her - and did not accord the other male the courtesy of a second glance. "I am here, Nassar," he offered by way of greeting, stopping still some few feet from the mouth of the den. He could tell by the scent that her labor had already progressed, and he was not so uncouth as to broach the sanctity of the den proper without an explicit invitation. Even so, his voice betrayed him; the deep baritone, the stoic steel, was underscored by an even deeper growl as his love and anxiety was translated into vocal form.


- Birthing Thread -
No post order , Next Round: TBA

Khepri moved to peer outside of the den and Nassar flinched as another contraction rolled through her abdomen. They had begun to worsen and a low whine left the queen's throat. Tension lined every limb, and had the woman been a bundle of corded rope, she would have snapped. Blood flavored her mouth from when she had nicked her tongue with her teeth. Though she could not yet feel the pain over the ache within her womb, the taste painted her senses in red.

Oberon's voice was heard through the white noise that filled her ears. Badari returned. A moment's relief was soon cut short by more pain. Her muzzle wrinkled as she bared her teeth at the imaginary enemies. The matriarch's breaths came in quick, short gasps.

“Come in.” Her voice was strained and more commanding than she had intended. Pain, however, was not worn well upon the woman.




Three pups curled at her belly. Disappointingly, the firstborn had been their only daughter. Considering how poorly her relationship was with both daughters at current, however, Nassar felt at ease. Though a chasm seemed to stretch between her and Karnak, the matriarch still dearly loved her son. She knew that he would never hurt her, and she was still glad to know that he lived.

Two sons.

One had been smothered in ash before he had dared to dip his face in fire. At current, she could not see flecks upon him, though such a detail was insignificant to her. The lastborn had been the most difficult by far. Larger than the rest, he had truly made her suffer.

Though she half felt the urge to nibble him down to a proper size, the love in her heart soothed over any feelings of revenge.

Laying her head against Oberon's shoulder, Nassar allowed for a moment of peace.

Then, slowly, her gaze panned to Khepri.

The small man had helped her to navigate the birth better than she had anticipated. While Tiamat tradition would have had her mother present to ease the transition, she had found the man's womanly features and soothing nature to be a virtue rather than a vice.

“Invite Badari and Ismaila. There is something I must ask of them.” 

“my sin, my soul.” 

 STOCK ➤Kati H. of Dawnthieves CODE ➤TWISTY 

all i wanna do is die for you

To his relief it was only Badari and an unknown man. Khepri looked at him, feeling that this must be the one Nassar called her mate. Oberon. When the larger man's gaze fell upon him, he shrunk considerably and moved aside. He was spared no greeting and no other thought, he assumed, as Oberon disappeared to see his children. Swallowing, Khepri followed quietly.

It seemed like forever before the other two were born and Khepri eyed them with a small smile on his face. Pups were almost always a good thing.

His attention was pulled away when he was ordered to fetch Badari and Ismailia and he nodded, turning quickly and slipping away to do so. He wondered what she wished to talk about with them, but knew it wasn't much of his business. He idly wondered where her own children were. His gaze found Badari, then Ismailia not too far from the den. "Nassar wishes to speak with you," he said softly. With his message given, he returned to the den but waited outside, knowing there was probably not much more he could do for the family.

Oberon was here now and it was his time to be by Nassar's side. Whatever she had to speak with Badari and Ismailia about was family business, he assumed. So he would simply wait outside until he was called upon. The man sat nearby, curling up and looking off into the forest, ears twitching as he watched for signs of danger.

Khepri Exits, unless requested again <3

the slow-burning ember

Ahkoris arrived quietly and with little fanfare. The birth was a tangible feeling, a scent thick in the air: blood, and less definable fluids. Pain. He sensed it, and he came, albeit late. Patrol took much of his time, but he knew his mother would understand. When he arrived, he saw two familiar forms, and one unfamiliar. Badari was present, and Khepri was leaving. The rest of the Tiamats lingered about, though he did not notice them as fully as he noticed the large man who had just disappeared into Nassar's den. He was vaguely familiar, and stars glittered upon his back. Instinctively, Ahkoris knew this to be Oberon. They had not seen each other in quite some time, but he had fond memories of the man for the sole reason that Oberon saved his life.

Ahkoris gave a nod to those who were present as he arrived, and then he sat in the shadow of the den's mouth. He did not enter, for he knew it was not his place. He was forever the guardian, the watchful protector. He did not ask to be seen, and he kept to himself. But his sunset gaze was always alert, and he took everything in like a sponge. He wanted desperately to see his siblings, and perhaps to thank Oberon properly for saving his life. But he remained outside the den, watchful. Waiting.


© DI

Setting this before Cairo finds Ahkoris
Had she been forged in weaker flames, perhaps Badari would have flinched away beneath the attention of such a wolf. Perhaps she would have found him the king he was claimed, crowned in stars and cloaked by the heavens. But to her, he was but a man, a wolf summoned by Nassar to witness the birth of his children, his legacy. It was the sort of situation that cast aside any sense of grandeur, and besides, she had never been the sort to wilt to the shadow of another. Had she, perhaps she would have fled long ago or would have been content with the biting weight of bastard forever ringing in her ears. She took the time instead to look upon him, take in those features that painted him as something other than ordinary. Someone who ruled. The part within her that still lingered in fantasies from her youth, painting warrior kings could see that strength in his eyes, that poise that came from experience and proven conquest; she wouldn't consider him handsome, but perhaps she could see why Nassar had chosen him as her mate.

"The labor had only begun as I set out," she stated, stark as her paws guided her once more back along the path she had trecked. The sun hung upon its peak, passing the hours in an agonizing record of the time since she had left the Hidden Forest behind. Badari had always been a child of wanderlust, entertaining her days with explorations that stretched further and further from her home, first, amongst the oasis of the desert, and then, in this strange new world that had become their home. Cyrileth had in many ways freed her from the constraints of a set land, shackled in place in a bid to keep the secret of the second daughter hidden. But in just as many ways, the eldest of Sinai knew, it was just another cage, the mountains to the north and east, the sea to the west and south. There was no way to escape, not with the crusade seeking to smother any remains of what had once stood in its way. Like a relentless glacier, crushing everything in its path. Maybe it would only be a matter of time, before that very thing that had chased the Tiamat from their home appeared upon the horizon. Until then, she would come to know the secrets of this land, chase precarious paths through the mountains with kings at her heels.

She would not die waiting for her collar to strangle her.

The familiar shadows of the forest rushed forward like a greedy beast, but she had long overcome those petty fears of the dark, drawing her way down the steep incline towards the heart of their land. "This way," she beckoned, sparing Oberon a flicker of a glance, impressed perhaps by his endurance. She may have been younger, but it was that very youth that gave her a spark of seemingly endless energy, whereas he, a giant, had never been made for such a fast, and long run. Strong. Not to be underestimated.

They appeared like will-o-wisps amongst the trees, flames caught in branches and strewn amongst the earths. Tiamat. Badari took note of their gathering, drawn to the den of the matriarch, bearing witness to her battle. Nassar would not be offered the seclusion a lesser wolf would have been afforded, not when her children meant so much, not when they were the future of not one, but two packs. Leaving the man to approach, she found a place upon the barren earth, where she finally allowed her wary bones to rest, deep, heavy pants falling from her breast, heat rising from her as though her molten pelt was about to erupt into true fire. It was silent, a breath held in waiting for the coming announcement, and she couldn't help but find a cold irony in her presence her. Nassar may have changed their laws, but, couldn't help but wonder what those born of the old ways of their people thought of her, and her siblings here, in courtly gathering waiting to glimpse the young lords and ladies of the Tiamat dynasty.

'Nassar wishes to speak with you,' came her soft awakening, fire turning to gaze upon Khepri. Pulling herself from her recline, her steps moved in long strides towards the den, bowing to dug her head in within the quiet sanctuary. There, where the Matriarch laid, her starry king at her back, and three young whelps at her breast. Badari took a moment to cast a sweeping gaze upon them; these... strange naked whelps, with but the barest of fur upon their bodies, a mere whisper of what they may one day be. Truly helpless; it was an odd thought, to imagine that everyone began in the same way. A scorching fire ignited in her chest, threatening to consume her whole, leaving a wash of emotion knotted within her she wasn't quite sure what it meant. "Nassar," she greeted, drawing her gaze back towards the woman, all too aware of her sister's presence as she drew up at her side. "A fine litter. May they grow strong in mind and body in the coming years." Ever curious of what the woman wished to say.

The Queen's voice bid him enter the birthing den, and the Father promptly ducked into the sacred space. The den smelled of blood and iron and pain; his nose wrinkled, but he moved swiftly to Nassar's side, brushing the top of her crown with his muzzle before settling down at her back. With his length stretched out behind her, supporting her, he murmured wordless encouragements, his eyes flashing molten gold in the muted dark. His escort, the young Tiamat warrior, remained outside the circle, clustered with still more others. Like supplicants to the throne they gathered, witnesses to the glory of their legacy. A lone outlier amidst a gathering of flame and fire, Oberon nevertheless stood his ground against the inferno, willing to bear the burn; he ignored the gathered sparks in favor of the growing flame.


Three small forms curled at Nassar's side, when all was said and done. Two males and a female; a worthy offering, and all of them seemed hale and healthy. The female's fur was dark, while both males seemed lighter; russet and ebony and auburn lay all muddied together across their sparsely furred bodies. It was too soon to tell, now, if all of them would be adorned with the star marks sacred to the Fairfolk, but Oberon refused to believe that the gods might find his children unworthy of their blessing. Indeed, though he was unable to name the constellations that marked them - that was not one of his gifts - his faith knew them to be of good standing. He would not suffer a Fool, a Bear, or a Rival to live, and a pup unblessed by the stars would surely only attract the Seven's ire; the gods would not be so unkind as to force his hand in that way. Soon, when they were old enough to be moved, he would present his children to the rest of the Fairfolk, and they would be formally recognized as the stars' Chosen.

All these things and more ran through his weary mind, considerations weighed, possibilities tallied. They drifted out of his thoughts the moment that Nassar lay her head against his shoulder, and he rumbled with pride and love as their children squirmed closer to her side.

His muscles tensed as the Matriarch spoke - not to him, but to bid one of her ilk to fetch another. A steady bulwark at her back, a wall of cold muscle and cultured steel, he could no more deny his nature than repudiate the Heavens. His gaze drifted lazily, dangerously, from the tiny bodies at the Matriarch's side, fixing the two females that entered with a level stare. He was not so foolish as to offer offense in the Matriarch's own home, but nor could he curtail the instinctive response that bid him destroy all threats to his helpless progeny. These pups, their bloodline, were the culmination of a love and a legacy unlike that which Cyrileth had ever seen.

He would drown the world in blood and holy water before he allowed them to be harmed.


The twang of metal whispered from the subtle northern winds. As the sun reigned down upon the dense canopy, Ismailia found herself relishing the moments in the shade. Fringes of light danced from the canopy as she walked the familiar patrol route; it was only when the flicker of what could be said as the brightest flame from the bastard Tiamat litter: Badari, rushed passed. Accompanied by an unknown male, auburn dark, foreboding indeed. Was this the Fairchild male that Nassar had wed? Sapphire eyes grew wide with curiosity. Dallying no longer; bolting for the hearth of Ilios.

She arrived just in time. Already, a small crowd gathered. "Nassar wishes to speak with you. Her eyes found Khepri and a warming smile graced her ice-marred features. Badari-the first to charge in. Ismailia followed in silence.

The smell of blood grew thick within the copious den. Nassar; curled around three fire-kissed bundles. "A fine litter. May they grow strong in mind and body in the coming years." Ismailia's ears flickered; eyes growing wide. “Oh, they are beautiful." Breathing soft, whispering words. “Congratulations, Matriarch." She added. Fire-kissed head dipping as the words seemingly tumbled from her dry lips. They seemed So fragile. So frail. When Ismailia looked upon her newest Cousins; she saw the future of Ilios. The righteous blood that would be treated better than her siblings. Even after everything... Ismailia knew that these young whelps would be the pride. The show of unity and prosperity. A flicker flame started, heating and curling round her breast.

Yet her eyes moved to linger upon the faint, star-kissed male. She now saw why Nassar chose him. That gaze burned brighter than any star she had witnessed. The impending darkness he was cloaked in; the impassive expression. She could almost feel the protective power radiate from him. A King and Queen from opposing Kingdoms. United, the fruits of their love connected them all.

“You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."


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