Sunbeam Lair eventually, the world stood in our way

Back dated an indeterminate amount of time. @Asterr. @Shiori, @Airi, and @Kaori are welcome to pop in or cameo but know it takes place probably within the first week after the first.

It is routine the first few days. He wakes up, hunts, checks on things, returns. He gets through the day doing the same thing, over and over. It is just as Ukko expected all along except he doesn’t spend any time inside the den. He barely says a word to the mother of what should be his children, what may not be his children. He doesn’t have the excitement he thought he would have but the sense of duty hasn’t really gone away, keeping him close by. The last thing he wanted was for Damien to show up again but a part of him wanted it, if only to give him a reason to sever himself.

When he gets back to the den, there is so little of the day left and his legs cave give way beneath him for no other reason than giving up. He doesn’t check the den, as he can hear the occasional sound coming from it, and rolls over to his side to rest his tired body.

Following the birth of the hatchlings, things had changed. Her days had been made to revolve around them, and the den had since been deserted by the Shogun. She had kept something from him and, when it’d come time for the girls to be born, he’d found out. Though she couldn’t say for sure who the true father was so early on, and could very well never be able to, the possibility was still there that they weren’t Ukko’s—honestly, there was also a chance that they weren’t Damien’s, either, despite the shared blotch of white upon two of their chests. Until they grew and their features became more defined, it could not be said with full certainty just who had the right to stake over them a paternal claim. The Chieftess was not in any rush to find out, either. No matter the wolf that had contributed to their creation, they were still Draconids, and she adored them.

It was from a light nap that she’d been awoken, head having shot upwards in response to the thump from outside. Carefully, she’d peeled herself away from the girls and stepped towards the entrance. Peering out, she spotted the very male that had been missing from her space, laid out on his side. After a quick glance back towards the hatchlings, she’d exited the den fully, not wishing to disturb the girls. Towards him she’d gone, but stopped before her approach had been completed. Quietly, so as not to wake the children, she’d called out, “Ukko?” and then waited to see what would happen—if he’d leave, if he’d stay, or if she’d even been heard.

It is quiet, but he hears her. His ears twitch upon his head, stirring dirt on the ground but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pick himself up and greet her, as he might have on any other day. Things are different now, they can’t deny it, but he finds himself torn between responsibility and his own selfishness. It would be easy to give, repeat the maplewood all over again. He had his friends to disappoint and let down, now short one entirely, but he faces the possibility of letting his children down. Children that might not even be his.

He tenses when she speaks his name and he moves his head along the dirt a few inches but she barely comes into view before he speaks a very lazy, very gruff, “what?”

She spoke, but he hadn’t gotten up, and for a moment she wondered if she’d been heard or not. Again had her mouth opened, his name on her tongue, but she’d shut it before speaking. The movement of his head had been enough, it seemed, for he’d responded thereafter. Taken aback by the tone used, and unsure of what to say next, she’d remained quiet at first. And when she’d thought herself to have found the correct words, she began by saying, “Ukko,” again, but stopped there. Brows furrowed, she’d taken a step or two forward before laying down on her stomach, gaze seeking his but hardly being able to find it.

“I am sorry,” she’d said, right before growing quiet yet again. In what other way she might approach the subject, she did not know. What she did know was that she wished to bring their family back together, and to reestablish the bond that had been there prior to the hatchlings’ birth. “Come inside. It is going to get cold soon,” were her next words of choice. She was hopeful, as usual, despite knowing better.

She says his name again but he still doesn’t move any more than he has. Part of him is afraid if he moves, if he so much as looks at the woman, he may turn and leave and not look back. It is tempting and he struggles more to stay here, stay somewhere where he is not important. His services could have been done by any one else but she caught him early, lured him in with her scent, to use him. She manipulated him into thinking they were his children, and only his, and when everything had sucked until then, gave him hope.

Eventually, upon her apology and request, he can’t help but to flip himself over and sit upright. He doesn’t make to sit up or stand and stares at her for a long moment as he tries to cycle through more and more angry words.

“You’re not sorry,” he tells her, thinking of the regular cliché rebuttals but none of them come to mind. “You wanted to use me and I fell for it,” he adds and looks away. Perhaps if he had not found Tavi he might have seen it sooner but his vulnerability continued to be latched on. His chest heaves in a snort, amused by his predicament.

As he moved, she watched him, quietly awaiting his decision. Would he follow her back into the den? She’d thought to ask, but received her answer before having taken the time to do so. He’d not stood up to follow, but had remained there, watching her just as she watched him. And when he spoke, her ears folded back whilst she shook her head. “I am sorry,” the girl repeated. “I had not wanted to use you, and I am sorry that you feel as if I have.” In him, she had seen a guardian, and never would she deny that. Yet, she had also found within him potential. When they had met, his presence had awoken Draco and dragged the dragon out of what she had considered to be hibernation. For that, she had wanted to keep him around, and to see what all he might be able to do.

“I did not tell you of my actions prior to meeting you,” she admitted, taking the opportunity to move a few steps closer. “But I also never said that you were my only partner.” She had neither lied nor been entirely honest. “I do not know who contributed to their creation, but I know that you are their father. You have been there for them—for me—since even before they were born. You are their father, Ukko.” Anyone could do as the males had done to her, but few could remain to raise the results. Even without knowing, he had stayed there with them, and so he had become their other parent.

When she tries to remove the blame from her, he can’t help but snort again in disbelief. His paws clench, digging his nails into the dirt and eventually he propels himself to stand. He doesn’t move any closer but he does not relax, feeling his own fur bristle in irritation.

“And you don’t see the problem with that,” he says but does not present it as a question. Her scheme to use his position over the children falls off his shoulders, unwilling to take any further manipulation. She’d always been that way, from what he’s seen in getting to know her, but he’d kept himself satisfied being her second. “You knew I believed they were mine this whole time. You didn’t say one word. Not even when you invited some other guy you fucked to their birth.”

Ukko pauses, for only a moment, as if he might wait for her reaction but he does not give her a chance yet. “What did you think would happen? Do you think I’m that stupid?” He falls silent then, darkened orange eyes staring at her. A smirk forms on his features, but his eyes squint, feeling a pain behind them. He has to give her credit, at least, if only because she can confirm he isn’t anything like his father. Instead, he’s everything his father expected out of him.

Whilst his body shot up, she froze, then took a step back despite his lack of an approach. She did not fear him—he’d never given her any reason to—but she felt uneasy. She had not felt inclined to tell him of her blind journey, nor had she considered it to be of any real importance. It had happened in the past, before she’d met him, and there was never any chance that the hatchlings would be taken away from the lair. They were there to stay, and to be raised by the both of them.

A question hadn’t been asked, but still had she answered by saying, “I did not think that you would like to know.” For a number of reasons, though the one that stuck out the most to her was that, from her perspective, it had not mattered. “They are yours,” she’d tried again. “Whether their blood is yours or not, I do not know, but they are yours.” Was that not what mattered the most? Bloodlines had always been important within her culture, but never had she believed that blood alone made a family. It was the bonds that could be created—the type of bond that she’d thought to have seen forming between her children and her mate back when he’d been allowed to feel them moving within her. Now, though, it seemed as if none of that had mattered, for she’d not shared the details of her time in heat. Little had been spoken about that time, aside from the story regarding Jolon, but she was still unable to see the reason for why that was of great importance.

At the mention of “the other guy she’d fucked”, as he’d said, she’d pulled her head back as if she’d been physically struck. “He is a friend,” was her justification for her lack of actions. “Even if he and I had not done as we had, I would have sent for him.” Just as she would have sent for Leo and Noctura, had they not disappeared. “I was not aware of whether or not I would survive their birth. I wanted to have a friend near to me, the fact that he and I had been together during my heat aside.” Even if Damien would have turned away from her on that day, she’d have sent her brother to bring him to the lair when the time had come for her girls to be born.

“I have never thought of you as being stupid,” the words were accompanied by a small step towards him. She’d thought to close the distance entirely, but was quick to decide against it. She could not fear him, but she also couldn’t trust his anger. “I did not know what would happen. I have not known what would happen since we met.” Every step of the way had opened her eyes to a world that she knew nothing about, and she couldn’t piece together exactly what to do or how to respond to the situations that she placed herself into.

All Ukko knows is is that he can’t cave. He can’t listen to the words she’s saying to him and believe them. She only wants him to stay and protect them, but from what, he never really understood. He’d become her little minion and a joke to the entire pack, which leaves him to wonder how many of them knew. How stupid had he been this whole time?

Everything tenses as she tries to argue her position and he only shakes his head, refusing to believe the excuse she gives him.

“If you hadn’t been with him during that time, he wouldn’t have come demanding to see his children,” he says and this time he growls and flashes his teeth once she makes an effort to get closer. Ukko steps back, ignoring the rest of what she has to say. If she truly believed she couldn’t predict what would happen when two males expecting to receive the title father over the same litter were put in the same place, Ukko knows he won’t win. Her jaw grinds together and he turns away, taking a few paces off to the side.

Asterr was unable to tell if she was being listened to or not, nor could she see if her words were at all effective. When he shook his head, she’d opened her mouth to speak some more—to ramble, rather—but closed it before even a single word could be uttered. He had a point; if not for the time spent with Damien, it was not guaranteed that he would have answered her request for him to be there for the birth of her children. He had a reason to have followed Nekoda to the lair, she knew, but wanted to believe that he would have come either way. They were friends, after all, so surely he would have visited her if her life was at risk—or maybe he wouldn’t have, she didn’t know.

When he growled, she’d felt herself unconsciously moving backwards. Never had he harmed her, and yet, she’d been unable to keep herself from putting distance between them. It had been for only a moment, though, for as soon as he’d turned away, she moved towards him. The girl was careful, cautious, as she drew closer, seeking to touch her muzzle to his shoulder in spite of how he might react. “Had I not been with him in that exact moment, you and I might have never found one another,” she’d said, believing her own words. Everything happened for a reason, each decision leading to an entirely new one. Had she never found herself in Damien’s company, then she knew not if she would have ever found her way to Ukko in the end.

“I do not want to lose you,” she continued shortly after. “I had wanted for you to serve as my guardian in the beginning, but now I do not care if you protect me. I only want for you to stay here with me—with our children.” She had lost several others, but he was the one that she would not allow to be taken away from her. Draco had approved of him, had pushed her towards him, and so she could not stay silent and let him walk away.

Ukko bites his tongue and stiffens when he sees her getting closer, baring his teeth in her direction, and he quickly steps aside to avoid it. As much as he wishes to rattle his teeth in her face, he keeps himself from doing so, and instead his new, fiery orange gaze hardens. 

I do not want to lose you.

He snorts once, feeling a wave of smoke roll in his mind. He hadn’t realized how angry he’d be, after all, for something to happen out of his control. It isn’t as if she’d gone off after she’d met him and taken him in but instead hide information him that make things a little different.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before now,” he growls then before turning and without anything to hold him back, disappears from the lair.

The flash of teeth had been enough to make her stop right where she stood, all four paws firmly planted to the ground. Though his gaze had hardened, he hadn’t attacked, which came as a great relief. The majority of her was certain that, despite his anger, he’d never bring her physical harm. Yet, lingering somewhere within the recesses of her mind, there nagged at her a small voice that kept insisting that it was entirely possible. That in spite of how Draco had directed her towards him, he would be fully capable of harming her without so much as a second thought. Such a notion should have struck fear into her heart, but that emotion was one that she could not experience. All she could do was brace herself for what may or may not happen.

Words were growled at the dragoness, but never had he touched her. She’d readied herself to respond to his words, but the chance to do so was torn away from her as he turned and left. Asterr did not know where he was going or if he would return, and she’d not followed after him in order to find out—she couldn’t, not so soon after her girls had been born. The girl was made to stand there and watch as his form disappeared from view, having to fight off the urge to follow him and, instead, turn herself towards the den so that she could return to it. It had taken every ounce of her strength to do so, but she had eventually managed to settle down with the hatchlings, her body curled around them. There she had remained, thinking and worrying, but never getting up to pursue the Shogun.