The weeks passed peaceably enough. Hades slept with increasing restlessness as the days pressed on. Whenever Prometheus slept he would just watch the egg, no, Azeyma’s soul. Nothing would calm his anxiety save for a healthy hatching. This also added a bit to his dramatics and insufferability.

The day did finally come, however. The rustling had begun mid-morning, and the creature within stirred until there was a break in the egg. Hades stood instantly, peering between his front legs to look at the wet crack there.

“Prom, Hyth, it’s happening! Come look, come!” Hades hopped out of the way, out of the nest to watch. He shed his dragon form... and his human costume, too. He realized that he wanted, above all else, to hold his child. He donned his black robe as he sat, hands on his knees to contain himself. He shouldn’t touch before it was finished— or should he?

“Does everything look normal, Hythlodaeus?”