Log in

No account? Create an account
Myfanwy 2

April 2018



Powered by LiveJournal.com
Myfanwy 2

A Mother's Life - Chapter Fourteen

A Mother's Life - Chapter Fourteen
Author: Milady Dragon
Series: Dragon-Verse
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Anwyn Harkness-Jones/Gwaine, Phil Coulson/Clint Barton, Arthur/Merlin, Rowena Harkess-Jones/Henry Morgan, Other Pairings
Warnings: Fluff, a little Angst, Reincarnation, Lots of Timey Wimey.
Spoilers:  Small ones for Doctor Who and for Warehouse 13.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, I would have treated it better.
Author's Note: This is the third story of the Samara Wells trilogy.  It does a little skip in time, taking place immediately after the events of "Lost and Found"

Summary:  Someone arrives in Samara's life that turns it upside down, and makes her a part of history she never knew she would be.

20 July 5119 (Earth Standard Date)

Ddraig Llyn


Jack and Ianto were the first ones out of the door.  Rhys offered Samara his arm, and she accepted it, giving him a soft smile.  They would need to talk after all of the noise had died down, because she was certain what she was feeling was mutual, but this wasn’t the time for it.  Later, they could discuss things. 

A small stone altar had appeared on the village green.  Samara knew that Rhys had raised it, with his newly-gained powers from the Earth Dragon.  Samara herself had woken up this morning, and she could feel the lake calling to her, like a song that only she could hear.  Instinctively, she knew she would have been able to call the water to her, and to bend it to her will. She needed much more in the way of training before she even attempted anything like that.

The residents of Ddraig Llyn must have gotten some sort of signal, because everyone was waiting for them when they arrived at the stone.  Those who were carrying eggs placed them gently upon the stone, and faint singing began, which heralded the appearance of the Great Dragons.

They were impressive.  Samara had thought so, even before she’d become the Friend of Water.  Earth and Water, Fire and Air; each of them arrived, becoming solid as they touched the grass, their presence a signal for things to begin.

The song sank into Samara’s bones, and she found herself singing along, even though she’d never heard it before, let alone the language that was falling from her lips.  It was a primal thing, a part of the world since the beginning of time, and she didn’t need to understand it to know what it was.

It was a song of joy, at the returning of children to their home.

As if on cue, every member of the family that had a dragon form changed.  This was the first time that Samara had seen them all like this, and her heart swelled near to bursting at the sheer majesty of the sight.  Green and blue, red and silver, aqua and black and purple…all the brilliant scales and wings and the power of dragons surrounding them. 

And then, there was Jack.  Her own child, so magnificent in his blue-grey scales…and yet, to her, he was far more handsome in his human body.  But then, she was slightly biased.

Merlin came forward, leaving Arthur’s side to approach the stone.  He rested one long-fingered hand on the first egg – one of the pair that Rowena and Henry had chosen – and spoke a single word.

Power echoed over the valley as the song increased in volume.  Samara, though, suddenly stopped singing, feeling herself pulled forward to watch her great-grandson work his magic. 

For a moment, she thought the shell wasn’t going to crack, that the child within wouldn’t emerge into the world.  But, as her heart was just beginning to break, a long fissure appeared in the hard surface of the shell, from top to bottom. 

A blue eye appeared in the crack, and soon a blue-scaled head with a single red horn began pushing open the egg.  Somehow, Henry had gotten to the side of the stone from where he’d been standing next to Rowena, pulling at the shell, helping the tiny thing to emerge. 

There was a high-pitched cry, and the baby was in Henry’s arms, the immortal laughing in delight as the small dragon wriggled in his hold.  Not only was the horn red, but so were the leathery vanes of the wings, and the tiny claws on each foot. 

Somehow, Samara knew this child was a girl.

“Name the child,” the Water Dragon prompted.

Henry glanced back at Rowena, and she narrowed her eyes at him.  “Don’t even think it,” she warned him.  “We are not naming our daughter Prudence.”

“But it’s a perfectly fine name,” Henry argued.

“Henry Morgan…you proclaim that child Prudence and you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for the next century.”

Samara couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.  Apparently, neither could the rest of the gathering, because the song took on a chuckling quality to it, even if it didn’t cease completely.  They’d obviously been discussing baby names at some point, if they were having this argument now.

“Fine,” Henry capitulated, even though he didn’t sound so very upset about it.  “Jocelyn Morgan-Jones.”

That was surprising.  Rowena had gone by the surname ap Llyn for so very long, Samara would have thought their children’s’ names would have been some variant of that.  For Rowena and Henry to have gone back to Jones was touching.

Samara could feel the magic behind the naming.  It was like a balm across the soul, and it southing and binding at the same time. 

Henry held out the child to Kaitlyn, who seemed slightly shocked at the gesture but accepted the baby, going to stand next to Rowena.  Merlin was smiling as he touched the next egg, this one the second of the two for Rowena and Henry.

That single word was spoken once more.  This time, the egg began to crack almost immediately, revealing mottled brown and tan scales and green eyes.  Henry had the boy in his arms almost as quickly as he had Jocelyn, and was ready when the Water Dragon asked him for a name.  “Abraham Morgan-Jones.”

With that, he stepped back into place beside Rowena, whose large head was curled downward, eyes taking in their children, happiness radiating from her like a dragon’s own flame. 

The next egg in line was the one chosen by Anwyn and Gwaine.  The knight was there in moments of Merlin calling the child forth; this little one was a deep, royal blue, with sleepy grey eyes. 

“Erik Jones,” Gwaine proclaimed to the Great Dragons and to all who were present.  Anwyn looked pleased at the choice as he rejoined her.

The next egg was a surprise.  The dragon that burst from it was yellow, and wingless, with long strands of fire-red hair flowing down from her forehead between antler-like horns and with a pronounced tuft at the end of her tail.  Four graceful looking claws hooked themselves carefully about Gareth’s forearm; as he’d had no mate to take the little girl, he’d changed back into his human form when Merlin had called her forth. 

“She looks almost like Nathan,” Nicole said in awe, coming out of the song to comment.  The child did, indeed, look like Nathan; only her colouring was different. 

“She’s an Oriental dragon,” Samara heard Ianto comment, his own voice pleasantly surprised against the backdrop of song.

Samara glanced over at Nathan, knowing that he was very self-conscious about his dragon form being so very different from the rest of his family’s.  He’d been the only one not to change when the ceremony started, but now he was in his full glory, as if seeing another one like him had caused the last of his shyness to drop away.  His sister had her arms about his long, sinuous neck, hugging the stuffing out of him.  Both Phillip and Clint were beaming at the sudden acceptance in their son, the purple dragon that was Clint rubbing his cheek against his dragon child’s, while Phillip had his hands on both of his dragons.

“Name the child,” the Water Dragon said, her own ethereal voice pleased.

“Carys Harkness-Jones,” Gareth said proudly. 

“A proud Welsh name for an Oriental dragon,” Jack laughed happily.

The next egg was the one chosen by Emlyn and Aymara.  That little girl was yet another, different dragon; this one had rainbow-coloured feathers along her wings, a flat, equally feathered tail, and a ruff that framed her little, scaled face. 

“I’d only heard about the feathered dragons,” Ianto said in wonder.  “I’d never seen one before.”

“Name the child,” the Water Dragon said once again.

“Bronwyn Khan-Jones,” Aymara said, cradling the little girl close to her chest.  Little Bronwyn gave a little croon, and Samara felt – as well as most of the witnesses, she was sure – her heart melt at all that cuteness.

The last egg was the one chosen by Phillip and Clint. 

That child was the exact same shade as the shy at dusk; a rich indigo, that faded into near-blackness along the wings.  The little boy began to practically climb the ice mage, and Phillip was laughing so hard the baby nearly got away from him.  He wouldn’t be able to fly yet, being that small, but he certainly gave it the best try he could.

Nicole had crowded close, as had Lisa; Clint and Nathan craned their necks over Phillip’s head to get a good look at their newest family member. 

“Skylar Coulson-Jones,” Phillip murmured, his voice soft with joy. 

“So shall it be,” all four Great Dragons proclaimed.

“So shall it be,” the people watching echoed, Samara among them.

The ceremony broke up, and everyone there crowded around the new parents, giving their congratulations and best wishes for the children.  Clint had immediately changed back into his human form, and had Skylar in his arms.  Tears were in his eyes as cradled the baby, Phillip wrapped around him, Nicole and Lisa both clamouring for their turn to hold him.

A now-human Nathan had gone over to Gareth, and Samara watched as her grandson handed Carys over, Nathan looking extremely uncomfortable until the Oriental girl calmly curled around his forearms, antlers bumping into the young dragon’s shoulder.  Nathan bent his head just enough to rub his cheek along Carys’ hair, a totally besotted expression on his face.

Rowena had changed as well, as had Cadi, and the doting aunt was tickling little Abraham along his belly, making him grumble, while Jocelyn tugged at her mother’s hair, tangling it around one of her claws.  Rowena tried to get loose, but gave it up quickly as a lost cause.

Emlyn and Aymara were both taking turns passing Bronwyn back and forth, the little feathered dragon seemingly enjoying it by the happy squeals she was making.  That was where Samara went first; the beautiful, multi-coloured plumage calling to her. 

Bronwyn was the first of her new great-grandchildren she held.

The feathers were soft under her fingers, and a tiny, black claw reached out to grasp one as Samara stroked her.  Bronwyn’s eyes were a glittering red, and they sparkled as Samara smiled down at her. 

“I’m your Great-Gran,” she murmured.  “And I am going to love you like you won’t believe.”

She would love all of these precious children.  But, if Samara was going to be honest with herself, the two she and Rhys had rescued were always going to be the apple of her eye.  She looked over, and saw that Rhys as standing with Rowena and Henry, his own eyes wide with awe as Henry passed him Abraham.  For a second, he was panicked, but Rhys soon regained his calm and was waggling his fingers at the baby’s face, keeping them out of the way of grasping claws and laughing as Abraham tried and failed to catch them.

“Should we be expecting a mating anytime soon?” Emlyn asked slyly.

Samara jerked in surprise at the question, but kept her grip on Bronwyn.  She felt her face grow hot.  “I’ve only just met him.  He needs time to settle before I even think about something like that.  Besides, I don’t even know if he would be interested in that sort of thing.”

But she’d been getting signals from him.  She couldn’t deny that.  It had only been a couple of days, and yet Samara felt as if she’d known Rhys Williams forever. 

“It never hurts to ask,” Aymara declared.  “If I’d never spoken to Emlyn, I wouldn’t be here now.”  Her dark skin was flushed with happiness, and she had her arm around Emlyn’s waist, hand resting lightly on Emlyn’s hip.  They were perfectly mated, even if Aymara wasn’t as long-lived as Emlyn was.

“Just think about it,” Emlyn urged. 

“I will,” Samara promised.

Her eyes went back to Rhys, and this time she caught him staring at her.  Yes, she will think about it.  And yes, they will talk.  However, she wasn’t about to push.  Rhys had been through too much, it was too soon in knowing him anyway. 

For now, though, she was going to celebrate with her family.  She was going to get to know her new great-grandchildren, and spend time with everyone else.  Maybe she would travel.  Visit the homeworlds that they’d chosen for themselves.  See them in their own environments.  Perhaps go on an adventure with Cadi…and meet this John Hart character she’d taken up with.

She had her entire lifetime to do the things she wanted to.  And, maybe…who knew?  She might very well have someone to come home to, someone who would cherish her the way Franklin had. 

Samara had her whole life in front of her, and she would so whatever she wanted to, instead of merely existing in the past.

She’d come a long way from Maker’s World…a long way to home.