The Ties That Bind

Winter had fully claimed Boreas. The twilight air was chilled, and as the days slipped by, the world only threatened to grow colder. Artorias stood alone out by one of the many pools the waterfalls drained into, his wooden sword clutched in his jaws and practicing his swing and form. The pup had continued to grow, putting on a few inches as the weeks had transitioned between the months and seasons. His black and blue fur was sporting an extra density to it, the thick winter coat growing in nicely and making the boy look both a little more buff and also extra fluffy, with the excess fur peeking out from the gaps in his leather armor. It did help shield him from the encroaching cold of the winter night though, milking the last hour on sunlight he could get for his training. Shorter days meant he had less time to complete his training regiments, and he had to work harder and faster to meet both his and his mother's standards.

Artorias paused after a particularly aggressive swing to glance around the barren trees and dying shrubs for the hulking form of his mother. As had been their routine since he chose to take the warrior's path, he had met Resin by this pool at the end of every day for her teaching, her lessons on battle and strategy, and to get practical lessons on the finer art of combat. Artorias had taken his commitment seriously and was working nonstop to show his parents and the world that he was worthy of the knightly legacy his mothers had crafted for themselves. The boy's amber eyes were focused, but distant, staring through space into the imaginary world he was battling in, each swing of his sword driving off a horde of angry invaders. Little lungs huffed and panted as he leapt to the side, turning his head as he did to bring the sword down in a vicious slice. He made a mental note to start working on other types of moves he could use together, like leaps, jumps, dodges, and flips. But first, he'd have to master the basics.

After a few more minutes had passed, Artorias skidded to a stop in the grass, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. "Bravo, Master Artorias, you fought them all off valiantly," Corbin spoke teasingly from the branch of a nearby tree as he watched over the pup. Artorias glanced up at his raven companion and nodded, unable to speak with the sword in his mouth and while panting. His mouth felt dry from the physical effort, so he padded over to the pool of water, setting his sword down beside him gently while he bent down to lap at the cold water. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat and allowed him a moment of reprieve to catch his breath while waiting for Resin. She must have been busy with something. That was fine, Art would wait as long as he needed for his mother.

The pup peered down into the water, watching the ripples from his drinking disturb the otherwise calm surface. Amber eyes peered back up at him from the water, and for a quiet moment Artorias just studied his reflection. He considered himself: his blue fur that was unlike any of his siblings, the markings he and Gwyn had that neither of his parents did. He thought about his mothers, about why their family was so different compared to the Adravendis and the Fatalises. He was so lucky to have his two mothers, but every other family had a dad... so why didn't they? And why didn't they have surnames either? Was a family name that important of a thing anyway? He had heard Resin use hers once, but Tamsyn had none. But weren't they supposed to be mated, or married, or whatever the proper words were for it anyway? He didn't exactly want to get into the idea of his parents getting all mushy and romantic, but it did raise some questions in the boy's head. Why did mom Resin have a family name and not mama Tamsyn? And what name were they all supposed to have?

Who were they supposed to be...?