Neverwinter Forest dreamers of day are dangerous men

Lotte’s moonbright eyes glisten with unshed tears as she regards her son. “How can you take something that already belongs to you, talvella?” she counters gently. “You are a Fearghal because you are Arturo’s son, but you are an Ansbjørn, too — because you are mine.” Her smile wavers at the corners with the force of her emotions. By all the gods, her children have grown up to be perfect — Roarke, with his steely strength; Mallaidh, with her soft vulnerability; Ceallach, with his fierce protectiveness; and even Eirlys, with her staunch independence. “I am so proud of you — all four of you,” she whispers, the tears spilling over to be lost in the black velvet of her cheeks. “I was so worried when two of my little bears were lost. I searched for you and Mallaidh every day, but I never found you. I never found you.” She shakes her head, tries to smile. “I should have — ”

She trails off, tacks on an alternate ending, and weaves it together seamlessly, earning her name. Hämähäkki. “I should have known children of the Fearghal and Ansbjørn bloodlines would persevere no matter the odds.” She moves forward toward her son, heedless of her own safety, and nuzzles his cheek. “Be Drogon, if that is what you wish,” she urges him gently, “but sometimes…be Roarke. They do not have to be separate, you know — they are both part of you. There is no Teaghlaigh now, and part of protecting your family now means protecting who you were, not just who you have become. As for me, I will love you and know you no matter what you call yourself.”