Different from everything that'd made me nervous in this life in recent memory, this wasn't something I could fight, kill, overpower, or generally easily overcome through generous application of brute force. Instead, I walked into our new room, where coals glimmered in the corner, a chimney allowing the smoke to freely flow out without choking us. In the center of the room was a veritable mound of furs and other soft things where Sybil laid, her arms and tail wrapped around the sleeping infants. I felt my face crack into a genuine smile as she lifted her head up, and she cocked her head in curiosity.
"You have come. Does that mean that you have made your decision?"
"I'm not making the decisions outright." I warned as I walked closer and settled into the edge of the bed, making sure not to disturb her nor the children too much. Then, as I reclined and met Sybil's eyes, I explained, "You are my Zaaktifi, and I'm in charge and so on. But this is something that I want to agree with you about. Do you agree to voice any complaints other than on the basis of feeling like the name isn't sufficiently well-thought-out?"
Sybil flared her frills slowly.
"Great. For our daughters, my initial thoughts were simple, but I disliked them all. In the end, I threw them all away and came up with this: Thia and Hashthi."
"Thia for the white and Hashthi the black." Sybil mused. The names were something of an artistic interpretation of the words for midday and midnight. After thinking for several seconds, she looked down and brushed a finger down the white one's back and whispered, "Thia."
The shiver our daughter gave seemed to be in approval, though it was just a subconscious reaction.
"Hashthi." Our darker daughter had the same reaction. Sybil looked up at me and smiled in approval.
"They are good. And for our son? Will he be Kallsu?"
"Not a bad name," I flicked my tail at what would be effectively the same name that Thia and Hashthi had just been given but for "copper", "but not the one I've thought was best for him. I… Ragzak."
I wasn't sure what else to say but his name, but I knew what Sybil's initial reaction would be.
"You would sentence him to life with that name guiding him?" She hissed, her scales all standing up in fury. "The leading protector? The weight he would carry every step? It will crush him long before anything else can!"
"And this is why I wanted to talk with you." I answered softly, hoping to keep her calm enough to not wake the children. She rolled over, away from them and me so she could put her feet on the ground. Then, she immediately began pacing. I didn't say anything as she continued stepping back and forth across the room, her claws clacking on the stone floor. She grumbled under her breath about expectations, about foolish mates and foolish females that allowed foolish mates to survive.
After a short time, though, she turned back to me. I'd laid there, ready to listen to her the entire time. As she met my eyes, she whispered, "It is a fine name. One suited for he who would succeed you."
"Yes." I agreed.
"It almost demands that of him."
"Not almost. It does. It has the title there in his name."
"But… can we take an idyllic life from him before he speaks his first word or takes his first step? Can we force him to live up to those expectations when we know nothing about his mind, of his desires?"
"He is our child, Sybil." I spoke softly as I rose and took her into my arms. "He will be brilliant at everything he does. He will be a conqueror in all he does, and his sisters are already showing a front of sorts against him." I chuckled. "He was born into a country in its infancy, one that needs to fight for its continued existence. We can't offer him or his sisters a world of idle play. And would they want that? Trai, as a Khatif infant, turned the battle against Ana the Bloodpriestess, and she's always loved that. Perhaps your fear for their safety is coloring your logic."
Sybil glared up at me but didn't argue. I took it as a victory and didn't press my luck. Instead, I enjoyed holding her in my arms for a time, and just looked down at our children on the bed. In our absence, all three had crawled together and were draped one over the other in a pile where, if they weren't all different colors, their limbs would have been impossible to distinguish whose they were.
"Ragzak." Sybil whispered.
"He'll protect them." I replied, feeling a pit in my stomach at the thought. Maybe, when they weren't children, mere infants with the world laid out in front of them, I wouldn't worry quite so much. Maybe if the worst of our foes had been dealt with and our walls and military were more developed, I could have confidence. Maybe saying maybe didn't do anything for me or for my family. I looked at my children, innocent and without any expectations laid on them, and I spoke their names, spoke expectations into being over them as I used [Cultivating Presence] to help as much as I knew how.
"Ragzak, my son. Thia, my daughter. Hashthi, my daughter. The first Keel born in generations, the first of our Empire. May your fangs grow sharp and your scales grow thick. May your minds overcome confusion and your claws strike true against your foes. May your allies and subordinates see your strengths and bolster your weaknesses. May you grow into someone capable of changing the world and then doing so."
I repeated similar blessings and prayers over my children until my sonilphon ran dry. Then, I held Sybil and crawled into bed with her and the little ones. Sleep came quickly to her, but before it could claim me, Nievtala spoke to me.
I hope that your prayers come true, little fang. Be careful, though. Every parent hopes for their children to have a better life than they, even those damned followers of Illan'Klli. Few have the strength required to change the world enough to give that world to their children.
It remained unsaid, but I heard it anyways. You do have that strength.
I would change this world. I'd make it one where my children could do better and more than me. And the first step to that would be tomorrow, when I redoubled efforts on overcoming whatever it was that the Misti Hawar could throw at us.