I’ve always pictured Grigon and Asthra’s marriage as being a solid, healthy one.
Because they’ve known each other since childhood, they formed a deep, emotional bond from their young age, which only got stronger and eventually became love when they grew up. They have differing opinions on many things—after all, Grigon is a ruthless, pragmatic, and very short tempered warlord prone to lashing out when things don’t go his way, while Asthra is a empathetic, kind, cool-headed woman who regardless won’t take shit from anyone and will stand her ground once she’s made a choice. They always talk disagreements out and most of the time reach a middle point where both parties agree. When they can’t, they settle it with a one-on-one fight and respect the outcome (even if begrudingly on Grigon’s part).
As in any relationship, they’ve had hard times and arguments. Asthra was there for Grigon when he entered his carapace, when he lost his brother, when he learned the truth of his mother, etc. Likewise, Grigon was there for Asthra for her hard times, such as cutting ties with her family, her depression over their stillborn children. Just the fact that Grigon, who’s known to bottle up and repress any emotions he thinks might make him look weak and lash out at anyone who tries to get in, opened up to Asthra shows just how much he loved and trusted her—to the point he was comfortable with revealing his vulnerable side.
Their problems at conceiving a child and the loss of many of their eggs was, perhaps, the hardest time their marriage faced. Asthra fell into a deep depression and wouldn’t leave bed while Grigon buried himself in his work to keep his mind busy so he wouldn’t think about the pain. This led to many fights because their ways to deal with the loss were not only different, they were practically on the opposite end. Plus, Grigon had the additional stressor that, as Blood Emperor, having a child wasn’t an option, it was a must. When it became evident that Asthra was the one with the ferility problems, he could’ve taken a mistress or surrogate—and he had LOTS of options to pick from—but he didn’t. Because Asthra is the only woman he wants to have a child with.
In The Princeling and his Adoptive Brother AU, Grigon did not agree with Asthra’s choice to adopt Gamok, but begrudingly let her keep him. Why? Because he cares about his wife’s emotional wellbeing, and if mothering an orphaned outsider aided her healing process, he’ll put up with it for as long as neccesary. Sure, he treated Gamok more like a nuisance than an adopted son, but he never tried to get rid of him even after Asthra’s death.
Glordon’s upbringing was another thing they often ended up arguing about. Asthra was openly loving and encouraged Glordon’s kindness and unique quirks, whereas Grigon was more stern and wanted Glordon to toughen up and become the warrior everyone expects him to be. Overall, Grigon believed that if they didn’t prepare Glordon, the universe would in a crueler way (he kinda has a point there). The one thing they were perfectly matched was that Glordon’s safety and wellbeing came first.
I know it's been a while, but here's another one-shot for my shared AU with @asyakiya. This time, it's how it all began... with one little egg.
Enjoy!
—*O*—
“Asthra?”
Grigon quietly opened the door, and after some hesitation, stepped inside. The room was dark—it was always dark these days—but he still made out the unmistakable shape of his wife on the bed, curled up, her back turned to the door.
“…Your parents and Askja have been asking for you. They want to know if you’re okay…” He tried, but got no response. Asthra didn’t even shift. Grigon quietly moved closer, considering his next words carefully. “You can’t keep going like this, love.”
Grigon flinched when Asthra tensed, and her quills shivered wildly. He mentally prepared himself for a verbal lash-out, but his wife simply sniffled. Sighing, he walked to the other side to meet her face to face, but regretted it when he saw the state she was in: Asthra’s cheeks and the corners of her mouth were stained with long-dried tears; her nubs were clutching a small silk figure shaped like Shaak’vi, one of the many toys she’d woven with her own silk for their first—
Grigon squeezed his digital eyes shut and took a deep breath, pushing the thought aside. Then, he knelt and tentatively placed a hand on Asthra’s body.
“It pains me to see you cry, my love,” said Grigon, his own voice shaking. “I’d do anything to see you smile again.”
Asthra stiffened, her ears pressed against her head. “…There’s nothing you can do…” she whispered.
“I know it hurts, Asthra, but… it’s been months. You have to—”
“You think I haven’t tried?” growled Asthra, her volume rising briefly—a faint remnant of the strong-willed woman he loved so much. But the fire extinguished as soon as it’d appeared. “I miss it…I miss them all so much…” she sobbed, clutching the little silk figure tighter. “I see them in every egg at the baptisms… In every larva I spot in the Colosseum… In my sister’s healthy egg… I feel like I’m going mad, Grigon! Mad!”
“I know, I know—”
“Do you?! Because you’re just going on about your day like nothing happened!”
This time, it was his own temper that flared. “They were my children too, Asthra! You think it doesn’t pain me?! But unlike you, I don’t have the luxury to lie down and mope all day!”
Grigon regretted the harshness in his voice when Asthra broke down into sobs again. He rubbed his temple, and carefully picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as she cried.
—*O*—
“Your Wrath, Lady Asthra is back… and she wants to see you.”
Grigon lifted his gaze from his desk. “Why?” he asked Gronk.
“She wouldn’t say, but… It’s about the Aoki ship that crash-landed in the badlands.”
Intrigued, Grigon left his study and headed toward the main hall, before Gronk told him Asthra was waiting for him in their bedchambers. On the way there, he noticed the guards seemed tense but tried their best to hide it as he passed by them. Something must’ve happened at the crash site.
He found Asthra near the balcony door. She was looking down at her hands, cradling something against her chest plate.
“Did something happen? Are you alright?” asked Grigon, approaching his wife.
Then he saw it: a round, pale blue object carefully cupped in Asthra’s metallic hands. An egg. But it wasn’t a Hylurgian egg.
“… Where did you find it?” inquired Grigon, digital eyes fixed on it. Then he remembered Gronk’s words. “The Aoki ship?”
Asthra nodded. “Its parents didn’t make it. The mother, she… She was dying, and yet the only thing she cared about was her unhatched baby…” she paused. “She asked me to keep it safe.”
“Okay… Then what? Should I send a messenger to Cryos so someone can pick it up?”
“I promised its mother I would keep her child safe, Grigon.”
His eyes widened, realizing what his wife was asking of him. Then he frowned. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“It’s an Aoki, Asthra. Hylurg is no place for a species that thrives in polar climates.”
“We can adjust a room with the right temperature.”
“Then what? What will you do if it tries to take a bath in the lava baths?” insisted Grigon. “You cannot expect to raise it as a Hylurgian! It is not!”
“Who says an Aoki can’t learn our ways?”
Grigon rubbed his temple at his wife’s stubbornness. “Do you know what the Noble Houses will say if they see you babying a foreign child?”
“Since when do you care about what they say?” retorted Asthra.
“When they have a point. You know why outsiders are not allowed in Hylurg. Our enemies must never know of our true forms, and yet the Royal Family keeps an Aoki, a species with mental abilities that could very well disclose that information, in the very heart of Hylurg? How do you think that sounds?”
“You’re saying I should have just abandoned an unborn child to its luck?!”
“Yes, because it’s not yours! It’s not even a Hylurgian!”
Asthra stepped back, her ears flattened against her head, eyes narrowing dangerously as she tucked the egg protectively against her chest, growling dangerously. Grigon met her gaze with a stern look of his own, his fists clenched.
“… It won’t replace the ones we lost, Asthra.”
There. He said it. He nearly regretted it when he saw Asthra flinch, but he didn’t retract. As much as it hurt them both, she had to hear it.
“… I know that,” whispered Asthra, her mouth briefly welling up with tears. “But it needs me. And I want it.”
Grigon wanted to keep arguing, but something about the tone in her voice… and the way she held that egg. For the hate of Shaak’vi, just the fact that she’d left bed and entered her carapace after two years.
“…Fine. Keep it.”
Asthra relaxed. “I’m sure he’ll be a great son—”
“I said you may keep it.” Grigon interrupted, voice and expression hard. “That doesn’t make it my son.”
He didn’t wait for his wife to reply as headed to the door and left the room.
If it helped her recover, he’d let Asthra keep her pet for now. She’d probably lose interest once they had their own child—if the chick even made it past infancy, that is.
Notes: Prototype might be out of character. Reader is gender neutral but is referred to as 'mother'. Reader has been turned into a toy but what they are has not been described. Set after chapter 5. Reader was originally human.
It has been what feels like years–it most likely has been–since Poppy last saw you. But you...you aren't what she remembers. You're not human anymore. You're plastic, it almost looks like porcelain with the way the light shines down on you.
"Mother.." She whispers, hurrying towards your sitting form, the monster following after her. Poppy curled into your lap, her tiny hands reaching towards your face. Sobs escaping her mouth before her head whipped behind her, staring the prototype down. "What did you do to them!" She screamed.
"What I had to." He answers, circling the mother and daughter. "They were sick," He paused, the jingling of his bells being the only thing heard in the sickening silence before he continued. "They asked me to do this. And why should a son deny his mother a chance to live." Poppy gasped, shaking her head. "Liar!" The doll shouted at the towering monster.
"They would've-..." She stuttered, her voice fading into her voice box. "Would've what, Poppy?" The prototype prods, that sickening grin looking down at her. Poppy hugs you tightly, shaking her head. "They would never have let you do this! Never!" She sobs.
The prototype growled, grabbing poppy by the head and lifting her up to his eye level. "You have no right to say that!" He hissed. "I have every right!" She shot back, her body shaking. The prototype looked down at you before looking back at poppy, his grip tightening. Nearly making her look worse. "I should have never brought you to them. What a waste." He scoffed, re-adjusting his grip on poppy and walking away from you.
"What are you doing!?" Poppy yelled, squirming in his grip, before realisation started to dawn. "No! Don't put me back there!" The doll cried out. "Please! Let me stay with them!" She begged, but he never reacted. "Mother!" She screamed. And that cry seemed to wake you.
The porcelain doll continued to scream and cry before a voice cut in. Your voice. "P-Poppy..?" You rasped, your eyes fluttering. "Mother!" Poppy gasped. The prototype paused mid stride, turning around and walking towards you. "Did she wake you, Mother?" He asked, his grip tightening around the doll's waist. You just stared at him, no response coming from your lips.
The prototype hummed, a deep rumble coming from his chest. "Sleep, Mother." He said gently. "You will see her again soon." He assured, his hand stroking your head gently. "What did you do to them!?" She repeated as the prototype continued his stride to the exit. Ignoring her cries. As you stared helplessly at her, frozen in your position. Watching as they left, poppy's cries echoing through the factory.
"Poppy." You repeated, but no one could hear your weak voice.
The decades of failed attempts at conceiving, unfertilized eggs, and embryos that didn't make it past the first month took a heavy emotional toll on both Grigon and Asthra, but it was harder on the latter. She fell on deep depression to the point she didn't want to leave bed; she'd just curl up, holding a little silk moth she made for her first egg. Grigon offered comfort however he could, but he dealt with it the only way he knew how: immersing himself in work and not thinking about it, which Asthra interpreted as him not caring. This led to arguments and and put a strain on their marriage for a while.
It didn't help that, as Blood Emperor, Grigon had to produce an heir. His advisors urged him to get fertility tests for Asthra to check if she was the problem, but he adamantly refused because he didn't want to put his wife through that when she's already suffering so much. Somebody was stupid enough to suggest that Grigon could sire an heir with another woman—that person earned a one-way ticket to colosseum maintenance.
In The Princeling and his Adoptive Brother AU, Asthra taking Gamok in after his parents died helped her, but her choice was very controversial for reasons I've already mentioned; the palace medics thought she was projecting her lost children unto him; The Noble Houses, and even Grigon himself, figured she just wanted to satisfy her hurt maternal instinct and would eventually lose interest.
Thus, Glordon's birth was both a reprieve and a great joy to them both—even though Grigon had a bit of trouble coming to terms with his only son being a runt at first.
Okay, all I have to do is talk with Grigon’s son and… ‘bring him back to the right path’, whatever that means, and he’ll leave the Communiverse and Earth alone… hopefully. He seems like the type to keep his promises…
Those kinds of thoughts passed through Olga’s mind as she followed Workko through the ship’s corridors.
“Just so you know, the Princeling hasn’t been told about Lady Asthra’s death yet, so you better not mention it.” warned Workko.
“He… He doesn’t know?” asked Olga, appalled. Why would Grigon keep such news a secret from his son?
“Lord Grigon wants to tell it to Glordon himself, but he… hasn’t found the right time.” Workko stopped in front of a door. “Here we are.”
“Okay… any advice?”
“You’ll be fine. Princeling Glordon is a sweet child, if a little… talkative. Just a thing.” Workko typed something into his gauntlet and made a wiping motion toward Olga; a white, blob-like substance flew toward Olga and merged with her communidisk. “There. I updated your translation device; you should be able to understand him now.”
What did he mean by that? She could understand him, Grigon, and other Hylurgians just fine. Still, she wrote it off for now as Workko opened the door and closed it again as soon as Olga had stepped inside. Unlike the rest of Grigon’s ship, this room was mostly dark with a purple aesthetic, dimly illuminated by blue and white crystals, and the occasional lava flow.
“Hello?” she called out, moving around the room. “Anyone home?”
Something lowered from the ceiling right in front of her. “Hi!”
Olga startled back with a loud yelp, tripping backward. The creature was a big, eyeless, tardigrade-like worm with purple skin, twelve stubby nubs, glowing blue spots, and two small ears.
“Sorry! Did I scare you?” he asked in a childish voice, releasing the long thread of silk from his tail to drop to the floor. “I can swaddle you if you’re scared; that’s what my mom does when I’m scared.”
“No, no, I’m fine!” Olga sprung to her feet, forcing a smile. “You must be Glordon?”
The princeling’s ears perked up. “How do you know my name?”
“Your dad told me. In fact, he told me a lot about you. I’m Olga.”
“Nice to meet you, Olga! Name’s Glordon, but Dad told you that. My favorite color is purple, but no one ever asks me. Are you asking?” the Princeling looked her over curiously, his quills twitching. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you a war prisoner? A tribute from one of the conquered races?”
“Not… exactly. I’m more like a friend of your dad.” Kinda.
“Like his brethren-in-arms?”
“…I guess?”
Glordon squealed in delight. “Cool! That means you’re technically my aunt, too! ”
For the next half hour, Olga found herself on a brief tour of Glordon’s room, where he showed her his toys, his battle simulators, and his favorite saga from a Hylurgian music player of sorts. She was briefly reminded of five-year-old Elio as he excitedly showed her all his alien drawings every time she visited his parents’ house.
“You made these?” she inquired, staring at the silk figurines and glass ornaments on the shelves.
“Yeah! My mom taught me how to make them, but Dad thinks I should focus more on training.” Said Glordon proudly. One of his nubs pointed at a figurine shaped like a moth. “That’s Shaak’vi, the Goddess of War! My mom says it’s the first toy she made for me when I was an egg. She placed it in my crib so Shaak’vi would look after me. I can’t wait to show her all the ones I’ve made!”
A pang of guilt shot through Olga’s chest. “…When was the last time you saw your mom?”
“About six years ago. Dad says the Blood Wars have gotten really bad, and she hasn’t been able to call or visit.” Glordon’s ears and quills drooped, his joyful expression wavering. “…I miss her.”
The guilt intensified. Olga swallowed hard and tried to distract herself. She couldn’t help but notice how… different he looked from his father and the rest of the towering, threatening Hylurgians. When she asked him about it, he shrugged and said. “I haven’t entered my carapace yet.”
“Carapace?”
“Yeah, it’s over there.” chirped Glordon, pointing a nub at a darker corner of the room. “I can show it to you if you’d like!”
A noise from the ceiling made them both look up, just in time to see a small shape fall onto one of the many hammock-like webs on the ceiling. Olga’s eyes widened.
“Elio?!”
“Tía Olga?!”
“Is he your friend?” asked Glordon curiously. She’d almost forgotten about him.
“He’s my nephew Elio. Could you get him down?”
“Sure!”
Glordon fired a thread of silk from his tail and lifted himself upward. Moments later, as Elio dropped to the floor, Olga immediately started checking him over.
“Gracias al cielo! Are you okay? H-How did you get here?” asked Olga hurriedly.
“I escaped from Grigon’s dungeon through the air vents.”
“Dungeon?!” repeated Olga, her heard skipping a bit. Grigon never said anything about throwing Elio in the dungeon!
“I was trying to save you!” Elio rubbed the back of his head. “… But I might have pissed him off a bit. Why are you here? I thought he’d have you in a cage or try to dissect you!”
Glordon lowered himself to the floor right next to them, making Elio jump back and fall on his rear. “What is that?!”
“Hi! I’m Glordon!” the princeling greeted, happily waving two of his nubs.
“Oh, right! Elio, this is Glordon.”
“You understand him?!”
Oh, right! Elio didn’t have the ‘upgrade’ Workko gave to her, so he couldn’t understand Glordon. Olga duplicated her Communidisk and swiped it toward the young Hylurgian, who reacted with curious fascination as the device formed its familiar bubble around his body before disappearing. Elio relaxed as the guttural growls became words.
“Well, Glordon, it was nice to meet you, but we really must get going now.” Elio grabbed Olga’s hand and led her away.
Glordon’s quills deflated. “But you just got here!” he whined, following
“Yeah, it’s a complicated political situation—!”
Elio didn’t look where he was going and moved toward the dark corner where Glordon said his carapace was, bumping into what seemed to be a metallic leg. Olga barely stifled a laugh as Elio yelled in fright and hid behind her.
“What’s wrong with you? That’s just my carapace.” Said Glordon casually. As spun a button with his mouth, the Hylurgian carapace opened and revealed many of its weapons, bathing the surroundings in bright purple light. Olga noticed the interior had the vague shape of a wormy body. “Every Hylurgian gets one when they come of age. It’s got weapons and bombs and stuff. Ooh, and a cup holder! It’s bespoke!”
“So, if Hylurgians took off their armor, they’d look like you?” asked Elio.
“Yeah, but nobody would ever do that. To expose your soft, warm flesh would dishonor you and your whole family for all eternity.”
Olga stared at the carapace, then at Glordon. If this is how Hylurgians really look, it’s no wonder they wouldn’t take that thing off. People wouldn’t take them seriously if they knew they were actually defenseless worms beneath that menacing facade. In a way, it must be a sort of defense mechanism so others wouldn’t bully them.
I wonder how Grigon’s true form is like.
“How come you weren’t down in the dungeons?” asked Elio.
It was Olga’s turn to rub the back of her head. “Long story. In short, Grigon seems to like me being around.”
As she explained how she’d talked a bit with Grigon—omitting the major topic of their conversation, that is—and how it softened him up a bit, then how he’d taken her along to his lava bath and dining room. By the time she finished, Elio was staring up at her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“You went on a date with Grigon?!”
Olga blushed deeply. “Wha—?! No! It wasn’t a date!” she protested.
“Not a date? He invited you to dinner!”
“And he didn’t eat her! He must really like her!” added Glordon cheerily.
“How could we possibly date when we’ve just known each other for a few hours?! Goodness’ sake, we’re not even the same species!”
Alert! A prisoner has escaped!
Olga jumped. Shit, they must’ve found out Elio escaped his cell! It wasn’t long before she heard the soldiers’ urgent voices from the corridor, their shadows moving through the door.
“Spread out! Check every chamber!”
Olga stepped away from the door. If they came in… But Grigon did keep his word, if not in the way she expected. And if Glordon is correct and his father does like her, perhaps he might be merciful…
“No way! You’re crazy!” said Glordon once Elio whispered their predicament into his ear.
“And now Grigon’s going to blow everyone up unless I can find a bargaining chip. Something he values, but what does he even value?”
“Well, Dad values blood, glory, the misery of his enemies… Ooh! There was this one time…”
Elio’s eyes widened. “Hold up. Grigon’s your dad?”
“I thought you knew. I look just like him!” said Glordon. “Check it out!”
This time, Olga did laugh a bit when Glordon flexed his ‘muscles’ and showed off. It didn’t have the same impact as it would’ve had with an armored Hylurgian, but it was still cute.
“Can I ask you a big favor? Could you be my bargaining chip?” Elio asked Glordon.
Olga’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Think about it! Grigon’s not gonna blow the Communiverse up if his son is there!”
As much as Olga hated to admit it, Elio was right. Heck, she had begged Grigon not to blow the Communiverse because Elio was there, so she was certain that Grigon himself wouldn’t destroy a structure with his only son onboard. What worried her was how the Hylurgian warlord might retaliate.
“Sure!” said Glordon happily.
“Do you know what a ‘bargaining chip’ is?” asked Olga.
“Yup! Dad sometimes talks about bargaining chips from the species he conquers.”
“Could we go to my ship through the tunnel from the ceiling?” asked Elio.
“Yeah, I can take you there. I used to crawl through there when I was little, so I know the way.”
“Wait.” Olga took a deep breath. “…I think it’s best if I stay here.”
“What?! No way I’m leaving you here!”
“Elio, if the three of us go, Grigon will think I was in on this.”
“Why do you even care about what he thinks?”
“I don’t, but if we piss him off even more, he might end up destroying Earth.”
Glordon added. “Yeah, that’s certainly something Dad would do if you cross him too much. There was one time…!”
“But what if he hurts you?” asked Elio.
“He won’t.” Said Olga, trying to sound more confident than she actually was. “At worst, he might just lock me up in the dungeon.”
One soldier shouted. “Check the Princeling’s chamber!”
“Go!” shouted Olga, urging Elio and Glordon to leave.
Glordon quickly grabbed Elio and pulled himself up with silk from his tail just as the doors opened and Workko burst in, almost running into Olga.
“Everything okay in here?!” asked Workko urgently.
“Yup, everything’s fine!” said Olga with a forced smile.
“Where is the Princeling?”
“Hi, Workko!” Glordon called out from above, waving his nubs from one of his hammocks.
The soldier seemed relieved. “Miss, I got orders to bring you back to your room.”
As she followed Workko out of the room, Olga briefly glanced back in time to see Glordon and Elio disappear through the ventilation opening in the ceiling.
You imagine Gamok couldn't command any respect, loyalty, and obedience from every single non-royal because he wasn't Hylurgian, let alone seen as a "real" prince?
That's right. Grigon tried to keep him out of sight when possible, but Ashtra insisted that they let bring him to victory festivals and such events because he was part of the family.
The noble houses were outright disgusted by him and told their kids not to associate with the 'filthy avian'; members of the Armada were distant and sometimes dismissive (except for Workko); civilians were... polite, but didn't acknowledge him as a Prince.
First one-shot from the shared AU with @asyakiya, featuring Gamok! I hope I wrote it in-character.
**
Gamok had never seen his father smile. At least, not when he was around. As far as he knew, that gesture was only reserved for Mom, or for whenever he got good news from the battlefield. But for Gamok, Father only had an indifferent frown at best, or a scowl at worst.
Then Mommy got sick shortly after his fourth birthday. One morning, he didn’t find his parents in the dining hall for breakfast, and he reached their room just in time to see a medic talking with Father. Even from afar, Gamok sensed the worry, but Father… his was stronger and intermingled with something else… Gamok couldn’t put his claw on it, but it was painful.
“What are the chances it’ll be viable?” asked Father. He sounded… worried.
“We’ll have to wait and see, Your Wrath, but I recommend the Empress stays in bed, just to be safe.” Said the medic. “And make sure she doesn’t get stressed.”
Gamok shyly approached. “D-Dad? Where’s mommy?”
A shiver ran down his spine as Father looked down at him with a deep frown. Gamok couldn’t remember a time when he’d looked at him any differently.
“Go to your room, boy. Your mother needs to rest,” growled Father.
Gamok’s anxiety only increased over the following weeks. He’d try to see Mommy, but the guards at the door would usher him away, saying that she was sick but offering no further explanation than that. Father, some maids carrying a tray of food, and the medic were the only ones who got into the room.
For the first time, Gamok resorted to using his ‘ability’ to figure out what was going on. He’d focus on his mental bubble whenever he sensed things from people every time he asked, but he couldn’t make out much.
…gg..
…grav…
…aby…
He wouldn’t understand what was going on until a few weeks later, when Father, surprisingly, let him go explore the Karajor. Gamok was excited. He’s been asking to see his father’s flagship for as long as he can remember.
The palace’s atmosphere was completely different when he and Workko returned a few hours later. Gamok instinctively headed straight to his parents’ chambers, wanting to tell Mommy about his trip to the Karajor; he was turning around the corner when a maid passed by him, carrying stained silk sheets, but she scurried away before he could ask. Alarmed, Gamok rushed toward the doors. They were open.
Gamok timidly peeked in. Father and the palace medics were around the bed, the former stroking Mommy’s head and whispering comforting words, looking down at something she was holding.
“Mommy?” Gamok called out.
“Go to your room, boy,” growled Father.
“Grigon,” Mommy said. Her voice sounded tired, but still firm, before she turned to Gamok, smiling a bit. “Come in, sweetie.”
As Gamok got closer, he noticed Mommy looked… pale and sweaty. When one medic gingerly placed him on the bed, he inspected what Mommy held. It was round and purplish, and she was cradling like it was the greatest treasure in the world.
An egg.
“Gamok, this is your little brother or sister.”
....
As the weeks went by, Gamok noticed a significant change in the palace atmosphere. Until that point, Gamok had never seen Father smile. Or if he did, it must’ve been when he wasn’t around. Now, he was constantly in a good mood, constantly radiating a warm, excited aura. Mommy felt even warmer than before every time she peeked down at the egg cradled in the silk bassinet she’d made with her own silk.
“Can I see the egg?” Gamok asked now and then.
Mommy always lifted him in her gauntlets and let him take a peek.
Father would frown and tell him to go away.
His parents weren’t the only ones whose mood changed. Throughout the palace, servants and soldiers alike were talking about the new egg, and the implications it brought; Gamok overheard someone mention that she’d pray to Shaak’vi that this egg hatched, for this might be Father and Mommy’s last chance at being parents. What did she mean by that? He is their child; they are his parents.
“Hey, now that Lord Grigon and Lady Asthra are finally having a child of their own, do you think they’ll get rid of–?”
“Quiet, you! He’s listening!”
Three months later, the egg’s shell was thinning and softening up, and a tiny shape could be made out beneath the light. From this point on, Father and Mommy’s joy and excitement increased; the former, in particular, would spend hours with the egg, narrating battle anecdotes excitedly to the little embryo.
“And that, my son, is how you blow up an enemy fleet in record time.” Father finished, lovingly staring at the egg in the bassinet.
My son… How come Father has never called him that?
“Did I hatch from an egg too?” asked Gamok curiously.
“Yeah, you did,” said Father without looking at him.
“Did you tell me stories in the egg too?”
“He did, sweetie, you just don’t remember,” said Mommy, then threw Father a frown, but he simply rolled his eyes.
...
The palace atmosphere changed a third time when the egg finally hatched—but not in the way Gamok expected. Suddenly, the fluttering eagerness and hope were replaced by a heavy disappointment; everyone spoke in hushed whispers, and he overheard the word ‘runt’ a few times, though he couldn’t understand what it meant.
Father changed too, but his aura was… confusing. He was disappointed, but also… hurting. He was sad, but there was an underlying warmth that remained in the depths. Gamok didn’t know what to make of it.
“Mommy?” Gamok called out into his parents’ room shortly after Father walked out.
She was out of her carapace, on the bed, looking down at the silky crib where the egg had incubated; unlike Father, the warm aura was far stronger, if intermingled with the bitter sadness and fear. She smiled at him.
“Hi, sweetie.” Mommy gestured for him to get closer and lifted him up in her nubs toward the cradle. “Meet your little brother.”
Gamok leaned his head closer to the crib. There, swaddled in Mommy’s silk, was a tiny purple larva, sound asleep.
“What’s his name?” asked Gamok.
“Glordon. His name starts with ‘G’, just like yours and Grigon’s.”
That’s when Gamok noticed his father wasn’t around. Before the egg hatched, Father spent most of the time near the cradle, telling it stories or talking to it, but now… he was barely in the room.
“Where is Father?”
Briefly, Mommy’s aura turned sour. “He’s… busy.”
“Doesn’t he like the baby anymore?”
“It’s not that, sweetie. He’s just… worried.”
“Why?” asked Gamok. Glordon coughed a few times, but didn’t cry, simply going back to sleep. “Is something wrong with Glordon?”
Mommy hesitated. “Glordon hatched before time, and he’s… smaller than usual because of that. He’ll be prone to getting sick because of it.” Her aura soured again, though she tried to keep her expression. “Your father knows that, and it upsets him; that’s why he’s… working most of the time.”
Gamok tilted his head when Glordon coughed again. “I think he’s cold. Could I warm him up?”
As Mommy placed him next to the crib, Gamok carefully climbed on it and curled up around Glordon; the little larva finally stirred, but instead of crying, he snuggled into the newfound warmth, his little ears twitching. Mommy smiled.
“He likes you already.” She said.
Gamok stared at little Glordon for a while, making sure he was comfortable as he, too, joined him into sleep.
I think both the first and second versions have a right to exist, since Grigon did not consider Gamok as his equal, and that they did not know his gender (even after hatching, because at first glance it is difficult to determine whether Aoki is a boy or a girl Aoki)
How was Gamok able to grow up on Hylurg, since he is a member of a species from a cold planet living on a hot one?
Several factors contributed to this, one of which was that Gamok had lived in hot conditions since infancy and had become accustomed to it.
Ashtra also helped him, especially at an early age, by arranging for the delivery of a temperature-regulating transmitter disc. When the very young Gamok had difficulty adapting to the local temperature, this disc helped him cope.
Eventually, he became so accustomed to the local conditions that he no longer needed the disc.
Is it possible that Gamok could one day meet Elio and vice-versa?
They did meet during the events of the movie. Gamok stole a smaller vessel to go down to the Communiverse and save his little brother, but met with his own kind for the first time in his life.
I like to think Loario was the Aoki Ambassador at the time, and in the short time they were together, he was the paternal figure Gamok wished he'd had growing up.
There is an addition - Gamok didn't simply steal the spaceship, but used the one on which he got to the planet of Hylurg as an egg, and Ashtra kept this ship.
What is the cultural reasons for Asthra to be swaddled by Grigon?
Anything cultural reasons for a male to do that to their female Wife/Mate?
It's their way to show affection and support to their wives when they're gravid. Carrying eggs takes a considerable toll on their bodies, so males will swaddle them so they can rest properly.
Let's not forget that Grigon did not approve of Gamok's behavior, believing that an adopted child should not even think about his own carapace (although he changed his mind later).
