Sleeping Dragon the halls of æsir trembled

Within the womb, he'd had no conscious sense of self. He'd been but a hardly formed entity floating in what one could only describe as an endless void of darkness. Yet, with each day—hour? minute? second?—the space seemed to decrease. It had become cramped, but he had not known this, for his mind hadn't been operating at that point. There was nothing but also everything, and had he any capacity for true thoughts, perhaps he would have questioned his location and the meaning behind the lessening of the room. Yet, he was not and did not, for the likes of such things remained as being far too complex for him. Eventually, though, there had come a calling. It was another thing that he could not understand, the reasoning for it falling just out of his reach, but his body seemed to know exactly what to do. Thus, he'd allowed for it to happen, offering no resistance as he was pushed from the place he'd not known, straight into a new world that he also did not know. Of the bodies that had come before him, and the single one that had followed afterwards, he knew nothing, as there was nothing to know. They were new to the world, to living, and while he could not understand this just yet, the thoughts would eventually hit him and become something relatable.

Hvitserk could not understand what it was that he was feeling or doing, but he seemed to know that there was a difference. The new world was colder than his previous one had been, but it mattered little to him yet as he'd been moved towards a place of warmth. Instincts drove him to latch onto the first teat that he'd been nudged towards, the liquid that begin to fill his stomach soothing him. Often did he release a squeak or sigh of content, acting with the unknown intent to inform the being that would eventually be known as his mother that he was happy where he was. Even when she'd moved, jostling him slightly as her body had worked to push out his final sister, he'd not complained. It hadn't taken long—or so he would someday assume, given that the concept of time was rather foreign to him—for his source of food to be returned to him, and so he'd been fine for the time being. Soon after that he'd fallen asleep, the stress of being born having taken its toll on his small body.

I rambled... but yay, they're born < 3