The Ties That Bind

At his mother's beckoning, Artorias came forward to cuddle closer to Resin, happily finding his place between her large paws. He secretly hoped he would grow to the size of his mom; it would make being a warrior and defending his family that much easier. Of course, he wasn't quite as big as his sister Daphne or Grimshaw, but he could still hope. Resin's words brought a lot of answers to his thoughts, but also raised more questions. Families could be chosen... that explained some things. But even then, how come every other family had a father involved in it? Why was theirs different? Artorias did not know how families were made, or where puppies came from, but it still didn't make sense in his head. He decided to hold his questions though as Resin continued on to explain how she had chosen her family name. That caught the boy's attention, and he looked up at his mother with eyes the size of dinner plates. You could pick your own names? That was a thing you could do?! It blew the boy's mind. All the other wolves, the Adravendis and the Fatalises, they were all so proud of theirs. But, if you could make your own...

Resin offered him free choice to take her surname as well, and once more Artorias looked to his mother with surprise. Their family seemed even more strange now... but maybe that was what made it special. They were unique, different from the stuffy structured families. All the other wolves seemed to come from long lines of family history. Theirs was just starting; they were the foundation of a whole new line of wolves. Could they eventually become a great family, like the Adravendis and Fatalises of the world? Resin explained that those things did not matter to her, and while Artorias had never considered it something he wanted, there was something to be said about bringing honor to his mother's legacy—a legacy that included her identity. All he wanted was to make his parents proud and do good in the world, and if all of Boreas came to know of their family and their actions, then it just meant he was succeeding... right?

Amber eyes looked up to meet the single orb of pure gold as pup and mother met gazes. Artorias was still very young, and still did not fully understand the customs of courtship and mating. Girls were icky, after all, and the idea of romance made him cringe. But his mothers were in love, right? All parents were in love, weren't they? And... weren't all parents supposed to be married? That was the way mama Tamsyn had made it sound in her stories and fairy tales to them. The world just seemed all sorts of topsy-turvy the more he learned about it. Artorias looked away for a moment to try and process all the information Resin had given him. Was any of this really important, or was it just him being confused and having his priorities out of order? It was all so much to try and understand... But more importantly than that, did he deserve his mother's chosen family name? This was a very important thing, it was what she had created. What if he did something wrong, or did something to hurt it? He didn't want to risk upsetting or disappointing his mothers, and that seemed like a pretty major screw up. Was he worthy enough to wear her surname as his own?

"I don't know, Mom," he answered honestly, looking back up to his mother's gaze once he'd mulled it over for a minute. "All the other big families make it sound so important... but if it's really not, I guess it's not important to me...?" He wasn't sure where he stood, and it reflected in his voice and his body language. "I dunno... I guess I just wanted something to show off who we were and where we came from. Something normal...? But I don't wanna make you and Mama do anything you don't want to, I just thought all parents were supposed to be married." He gave his mother a small sheepish smile. "Also I kinda wanna be able to rub it in the face of the other wolves with the fancy names." Yes, he was thinking of his fight with Briar. The Fatalis pup had not been shy to rub her family's clout in his nose and he'd had nothing to retaliate with—except for his claws and fangs, of course.