A/N: I finally rewrote the Lion and the Swan. I'm not too sure about the ones that read it, but I just felt that it was incomplete somehow. Now that I went back and reread it, now I see what I meant when I said that it felt incomplete.
The original story was full of plot holes and unnecessary words as well as third grade grammar. I went back and edited it a little bit and hopefully it at least flows a bit better.
Anyways, this new edit should rectify some of my more blatant mistakes. If you want to see the original fic (though I highly doubt that any of you would) just drop me a PM and I'll send it along the line.
Feel free to leave a review down below.
Shade Silverwing was recognized as a hero everywhere. Around his colony, for everywhere. He saved the sun for his colony, he even saved the sun for everywhere. But Shade was getting tired of pats on the back, giving advice to young newborns who would then jump off of the highest branch to be just like Shade Silverwing. To be honest, Shade Silverwing was getting tired of being recognized as the person who did everything to save something everywhere.
To be honest, he was getting tired of everywhere. The only time he found refuge from pats on the back and giving hunting and flying advice to newborns who would jump off of a branch was in his roost.
Marina Brightwing would always be there, the exiled stranger who became Shade Silverwing's best friend, and eventually, after he saved the sun for everyone and everywhere, became his mate.
Marina would always greet Shade with a completely unique, Marina only grin, and it would immediately brighten up the Silverwing who had enough of being the new Superman.
He would smile back, embrace Marina tightly, and sit on the ground of the hollowed-out roost in a tree trunk and listen to Marina's day. Marina would rattle on about how she found a newborn who crashed into a bat who was trailing a tiger moth. Most of the time, however, she complained about having a lack of things to do around the place. Shade didn't care. Anything that could take his mind off of pats on the back and being the new Superman was surely appreciated.
The Brightwing was the Healer's Apprentice, the bat who went around tending to injured, and helping carry away the ones who died. Shade loved many qualities about her. Plucky, determined, and sure, a little bit annoying, but the Silverwing loved her, and he knew that the Brightwing loved him back.
Days and days went on, and eventually Shade was close to snapping. He had enough of pats on the back. He had enough of giving advice to newborns. In the middle of the day, quite unlike himself, he slunk back into the hollow. Marina wasn't there. She always came before Shade arrived from doing whatever he did during the day. Marina never wanted to be last.
The lonely Silverwing smiled at this thought and plunked himself down onto the floor of the roost. They echo chamber was a few rooms down. Shade thought to himself.
"That would be great. Listening to how I saved the sun." He fluttered down to the echo chamber, as smooth as smooth could be.
The stories of both old and young as well as new and worn bounced off of the rounded walls, and bats with the talent to be able to listen to these echoes would usually come down here.
But the echo chamber was empty. Shade breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a place where he could truly be alone. Sometimes even he could get tired of Marina's company, something he was never happy to admit.
He stood in the middle, and began scour the impressive echo library before him. Shade eventually found the story among thousands of others, latched onto it and started to listen. "...The round metal disc was in the air. Slowly falling. I knew that if it hit the ground, the sun would be gone forever. I fired sound net after sound net, but the disc showed no signs of slowing. My throat was hoarse, and my stamina was quickly draining. The sun had to be saved, and my voice was a little price to pay for this. I forced myself to keep firing off sound nets. Eventually, the round metal disc slowed to a halt." I was quickly pulled from the chamber - my mate giggling as I stumbled and fell at her feet.
I groan. "So that's where you were! Well, come on, get up!" When I didn't respond to her attempts to get me on my feet, she began to parrot those two words. "Getupgetupgetupgetupgetupgetup …"
Even though she was fully grown and mature, sometimes (most of the time was more accurate) she always found a way to get on your nerves, not unlike a newborn. God, how I loved her.
"Alright, alright, alright!", I concede with a grin. She giggles once more, a sound only comparable to the cries of a night cicada.
As I stand up on my hind legs, I ask her why she was so serious. "It's the first night of the waning moon, honey.", she said. "And?" "And what?", she cocked her head to the right.
What was so important about today? First night? Waning moon? Was it mating season already?
Shade was just about to apologize to Marina for not remembering what today was when she suddenly burst.
"It's our one year anniversary today! Come on, don't tell me you forgot!"Shade covered her with his wings and pulled her in close. He tried to shift the discussion away from the fact that he forgot such an important date.
"I haven't got anything for you, though." Shade sounded apologetic. "Well, I do. Take a listen.", she smiled softly. She began to sing a tune, ethereal and wispy. Shade let himself falter and pricked his ears up.
A single light, shining in a sea of darkness winds and twists. The light suddenly splits, becoming two, a line of yellow connecting the pair of lights. They wind and twist, like dance partners locked in a tango. When the stars returned to their original positions, they multiplied and the dance began again. Two became four, four became eight and eight became sixteen.
By then, the pattern on the left had morphed to reveal a familiar looking constellation, Leo, the Lion. All of the stars on the left shone a comfortable blue.
The other pattern had morphed to become Cygnus, the Night Swan. The individual stars making up this asterism had a slight pinkish tinge. The now complete constellations spin and spin, looking as if they were chasing each other, getting ever fast. Suddenly, they stop, seemingly at peace.'
Now there is a single, white star forming in the middle of the two. Like it's predecessors, it multiplies. The star becomes two, then four and then eight. Finally, when the rapidly multiplying stars looked as if they were to form something recognizable, the vision stops.
Shade, visibly puzzled, asked her, "It's beautiful. But what does this mean?" Marina smiled and whispered in his ear. His eyes widened and he smiled, tears beginning to form at the edges of his eyes. What she had said seemed to reduce Shade to tears. To think, something as insignificant as a sentence reduced the sun-saving bat to his knees. This sentence, however, was far from insignificant.
You're going to be a father.