World of Our Own :Fic:

by ~TsukiJewels

Pierce flicked his tail nervously, unable to look away from the spot where his lovely mate Blossom lay, barely visible in long grass, her head dipped low. He’d been made to wait farther away than he’d liked while she’d suffered through labour; more than once, her pained groans had drawn him a step or two forward before he could help it. And when he’d heard that first feeble cry from his newborn child, concealed entirely by the grass, and Blossom’s soft, exhausted whinny in response, it had been almost more than he could bear to stay put until she called him. He had a distant memory of his father telling Aerynne and himself that the short period after a birthing, when mare and foal bonded, were precious and should never be intruded upon. It was the only thing now that kept him from charging over there to see the baby for himself…he didn’t even know if he had a son or daughter for goodness’ sake!

Then at last, at last, Blossom’s head lifted and turned toward him, and he heard her voice, so quiet that he almost missed it. “Pierce?”

And suddenly, now that the moment was upon him, he found himself frozen, his heartbeat racing. How was he supposed to bond with the foal? It came naturally to mares but he had no idea how stallions did it. What if he couldn’t, or if he was rejected? Swallowing hard, he forced himself to start walking on wobbly legs, growing more anxious with every step.

Blossom watched him approach with affectionate, bright eyes. “Pierce, don’t be afraid,” she said soothingly, then gathered her legs and rolled upright, careful of the tiny bundle at her feet.

Pierce came to a standstill, staring wide-eyed as she nosed the little foal up onto legs that were even more unsteady than his own. A colt. His son. He felt the trepidation melt away into wonder, taking in the coat that was a few shades lighter than Blossom’s; the markings obviously inherited from himself; and, beneath the fuzzy auburn forelock, the unmistakable shape of a white butterfly. And when his eyes met the bright blue of his son’s, he felt his heart swell to bursting and any worry he still had left about bonding vanished like dawn mist in sunlight.

Smiling, Blossom nudged their son gently. “Go and say hello to your Daddy, Rowan,” she urged, amused at the startled look that Pierce gave her. They’d discussed potential names, of course, but had never been able to decide on one. The second she’d laid eyes on him, though, she’d spoken the name before she’d even had time to think – some part of her must have known exactly what to call him.

Rowan tottered closer to Pierce, looking as enthralled as his father. “Daddy!” he declared in a high, clear voice, gazing up at him expectantly. Dazedly, Pierce lowered his head and closed his eyes when he felt the small, soft nose nuzzle against him, overwhelmed by emotion.

“Hello, son,” he managed at last, and the words rang through him. This was his son. There ought to have been a weight settling on him by now, he was sure –  that he should be feeling intimidated by thoughts of needing to be a role model for this little colt, of having to protect him against unseen dangers, of teaching him of how to be a capable stallion…

But there was nothing but peace. Snorting playfully at Rowan’s forelock and hearing him squeal in delight, Pierce knew that he would shoulder all those responsibilities gladly.