Every thing possible to be believ'd is an image of truth.
Ridley is in a room, a room dark and cool. The air is artificial, as is everything else here, and cool, cooler than he would like. But it is dark, and Ridley is at home in the darkness. Greedily he clutches his prize, hidden between his feet. Impatiently he waits on the one who will come to reclaim it. He is as eager as he has ever been in his life. He is ready.
She arrives. Golden Child. Woman Clothed with the Sun. She is here and she wants her child back, the Emerald Hatchling beneath him. He is determined she shall not have it.
Ridley roars and shakes his fires in the synthetic air, hungry clouds swag in the empty. The Woman Clothed in Sun jumps, but is caught by his tail and flung against the wall. She is unable to dodge his fires or his tail and quickly drops to one knee, defeated. It is the time to strike, to finish it here and now and kill her, blot out her sun and destroy her utterly. Ridley pauses here, unable to end it. For some reason he pauses, now flees. But this place cannot survive the absence of his perception. The artificial disk shudders and smokes, is destroyed, but Ridley is gone and the Hatchling with him. He is glad.
He wakes and gets off of his belly. The soreness is gone, or near enough that he pays it no mind. Has a day passed so quickly? Or did his infernal nature respond well to its home? He knows not.
Ridley moves over to the corner of his room where an inner sanctum lies. He opens the door and looks inside. Here, the lake of fire is not so hot, and it is too small for him to sprawl in fullness. But this is where he has chosen to keep the remnants of his prize: the broken glass cage of the Emerald Hatchling. Hatchling, hideous child of the Golden Child herself. So hideous a progeny, it could not possibly be her own. Ridley laughs in the darkness. Hatchling, bastard child of its own mother.
But then who is its father?
The natural, almost passing thought stays with him as he turns from the inner room and shuts the door behind him. The Woman is its mother. How? How is she its mother? Because she wants to be. Because she wants to be? Because she wants to be.
Ridley jumps, flies over to his bed of stone. Lands, lies. The Hatchling has no father and only has a mother because the Woman wanted to be. But if it did have a father, could he…? Could he want to be its father? Is that what he was feeling? Does he want to be the Hatchling's father, and therefore the Woman's mate? He wants, truly, but does he want a mate so badly he desires the Woman? He has no other options so he finds beauty in her?
A troubled thought, but a pleasant one. Ridley sighs. It would be nice to be a part of a real family, and not the motley crew of pirates and horrific monsters that surround him presently. A family that cared for one another, and gave of themselves to one another. A family based on love and sacrifice, not fear and loathing.
He closes his eyes, relaxes, sleeps.