Caesar

"Caesar, I'd like to discuss something with you." Lydia's voice rang through the tranquillity of their home.

It was near night time by now and the only sound that had filled the air prior to Lydia speaking had been the cicadas' distant calls and the merry crackling of the fire that burned the firepit. They kept it lit only for the light it offered – at this time of year, even after sunset, there was still plenty of warmth in the air.

His hands stilled around the spear he had been trying to repair. Ape or human, after all this time, Caesar had learned that he should always pay close attention when his partner said those words. Especially with that soft-yet-serious tone of voice.

A quick, sideways glance in Lydia's direction only served to confirm his suspicion that they were about to have a talk that would demand his undivided attention.

And so, wordlessly, the Ape King gave a nod, put aside his damaged spear, and turned to face Lydia.

She, too, had put away what she had been working on – a satchel made of goat hide, with decorative stitching and polished wooden beads – and put her hands together in her lap. She didn't look Caesar in the eyes at first, instead choosing to stare into the flames that danced between them.

"I've been thinking, for quite some time now, that the colony might benefit from having a library."

There was a pregnant pause as Caesar processed what had been said.

"A library?" He repeated with a creased brow.

Though he had never been in one, he knew what a library was, of course. It had been years since he had heard the word, however, much less found a need to utter it.

Caesar rolled his shoulders and leaned back against the sturdy trunk of their home tree. It was more comfortable than sitting hunched over.

It also let him see Lydia's face more clearly, read her expressions better, with his field of vision unobscured by the fire.

"Why?"

"Well," She began, fiddling with her own fingers. "all apes are taught letters. How to write and read, but… What are we doing with it, really?"

Caesar pursed his lips as he turned the question over in his head. When he had first decreed that the apes must learn to read and write, it had been as a supplement to the signing he and Maurice had taught the other apes, and it had helped them set down and remind everyone of the rules by which they lived:

Ape not kill ape.

Ape together strong.

Furthermore, he knew for a fact that Maurice had recently started to note things down on pieces of wood and treated animal hides in an attempt to record the apes' story, but it was a long, slow and cumbersome process. He didn't know if the old orangutan would find a library full of the works of humans a good idea, but he was certain that he would probably find a place to store the written works of apes very useful. A place to store their knowledge. To learn from those who could no longer speak or sign for themselves.

At its core, Caesar liked that idea, actually. What surprised him was that it had been Lydia who had suggested it.

"What brought this thought to your mind?"

"Honestly? Different things that has kept popping up since we got here." Lydia said. "Back at the old place, we knew the forest like the backs of our hands. You guys had lived there for five years before we came along, and though we did have a few mishaps, projects like the garden worked out pretty well."

Caesar nodded mutely.

"Here, it's different. We're doing things the same way as we did back then, and it's not working out as well." Lydia continued, only for a small smile to appear on her face, despite the serious topic. "It was actually Bad Ape who made me realise this, if you can believe it. Though I don't suppose it was his intention."

The Ape King gave an almost inaudible chuckle of his own. Admittedly, though Bad Ape did have wisdom in him, Caesar had a hard time imagining that the former hermit would come to Lydia to discuss such issues. It was much more likely that he had mentioned something in passing which he had thought nothing of, but which had managed to catch Lydia's attention.

Which, it seemed, was exactly what had happened.

"It was not so long after we settled here, in fact. I was teaching him sign and he was telling me about how he had made friends with Lake." Lydia went on to explain. "Then he mentioned that he had overheard the females talking about the garden and how we would go hungry without it – at least that's what I gathered."

At this, Caesar finally felt the need to interrupt.

"We're doing well now, Lydia. This must have been more than a year ago. We have learned to find food here, and found good hunting and fishing grounds. Things are better."

"Yes, I know." Lydia nodded with patience. "But it still got me thinking. And you know the garden still isn't producing as much as it could be, especially with the limited variety we've managed to grow... And after the flood that happened a few months ago…"

Ah yes. The flood, Caesar thought. They had lost most of the produce that day, and though this garden had never produced as much as those they've had in the past, the impact of the flood could still be felt.

"Is this only about the garden?" Caesar asked, to which Lydia shook her head.

"No, though it's one of the more palpable issues, in my mind." She answered. "Anyway, after that lesson with Bad Ape, I started noticing different things we might be able to improve if we only knew how. Preserving our food, for example. Or learning new methods for building better, warmer huts. If we could gather this kind of knowledge – and have a place to store it – we could improve the colony and not have to go through months or years of trial and error. Not only that, but it'd be accessible to everyone in the colony, since everyone is learning to read and write already."

"You want us to do things like the humans did?" Caesar asked, not even trying to hide his scepticism.

"I'm not saying we have to live like humans. You know that's the last thing I'd want." She said, shaking her head. "But I think it'd be foolish of us to not at least try and make use of every tool at our disposal to improve what we have. With time, we might even make improvements that's entirely our own based on what we've gathered, and with a library, all this information would be available for future generations of apes."

"But the tools you speak of are not at our disposal. For a library, we would need books." Caesar pointed out. "Where would we get them?"

He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer to this question, but also felt it necessary to ask nonetheless.

And Lydia's answer did nothing to quell his concerns

"We would have to arrange an expedition to get them."

Another pause, this one more tense than the last.

"Probably more than one…" He said and did a slow exhale. "And you would have to be the one leading them."

It was a logical conclusion. Lydia was the only one in the entire colony who had ever as much as set foot in a library. This wasn't like scavenging for useful items like they had done with Malcolm and his family back in the day. They had lived in the forest for many years by then, but the apes had still known, for the most part, what items would prove most useful. This time, however, it was different.

Though the apes could all read and write, Lydia was the only one who knew where to look – and, more importantly, what to look for, exactly. Though he had held books before, even read a select few as a young ape, even Caesar had no idea where to even begin with such a daunting task.

An uneasy feeling settled inside Caesar's gut just then. One he had felt many times during the war with the Colonel's army. Worry, fear and anxiety, all mixed together in a sickening swirl as he imagined what a project like this could mean.

"Lydia…" He began with a strained voice. "You are not thinking about leaving? Now? When we finally have peace? What about our family? Your grandchild-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, Lydia had gotten up from her seat at the other side of the fire. She walked the short distance around it, sat down in front of him and gently grabbed a hold of his much larger hands, thumbs brushing against the grain of the fur at their backs.

"Of course I'm not thinking about leaving just like that!" She said with a firmness that somehow managed to calm Caesar's raging heart – at least somewhat. After all that they had been through, just the thought of separation was enough to make it beat at an almost painfully erratic pace. Still, the anxiety remained, sitting inside his chest like a mountain lion ready to pounce.

"I'm not suggesting that we start a project like that now, or in a week, a month or even a year from now. Our family is growing and I'll not be missing out on that for the sake of collecting some dusty, old books – no matter how much I think we might benefit from it." Lydia said, squeezing his hands. "But I want you to know that I've been thinking about it, and that your opinion is important to me, Caesar. I don't want to repeat what we did to each other during the war. I don't want us to keep things from each other. And…"

"And?"

"And I won't go if you tell me not to." She said with sincerity.

Caesar didn't quite manage to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"You won't?"

"Of course not! You don't have to sound so surprised, you know." Lydia huffed, though there was no real bite behind her words. They were teasing more than anything, with just the slightest hint of exasperation, which matched the pout on her face.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it morphed into one of Lydia's signature teasing smiles and with it, the mood of the conversation seemed to lighten in an instant.

"Besides, you're the Ape King." She spoke lowly. "Who am I to disobey?"

At that, Caesar couldn't help but raise a brow and give a smile of his own.

"At least then I will know all is back to normal."

Her eyes narrowed and the corner of her lip twitched ever so slightly. She wasn't truly irked, he knew. Well, at least not enough to release her hold on his hands, so he figured he was in the clear.

"Cheeky." Lydia said with a soft smile. "Oh, and it's our grandchild. Not just mine."

Caesar chose not to continue that particular conversation. Instead he leaned forward and put his forehead gently against Lydia's own, a slow exhale leaving him as he did so.

"I'm glad you told me. And I agree with some of the things you said… It's just…" Caesar hesitated, his lips forming a thin line as he tried to express his thoughts – his worries, as he remembered that moment after the avalanche when he thought he had lost her. "I just want you here."

"I know… Trust me, the idea doesn't hold much appeal to me either. But I truly do believe we could benefit from this Caesar. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise." Lydia replied before her eyes lowered to their joined hands. "Just mull it over for now, would you? You don't have to make a decision anytime soon. Just promise me that you'll think it through."

Caesar nodded in agreement. Yes, think it through. He could do that. He would do that.

"Thank you." Lydia said and put her lips against his.

It was clearly supposed to be a short, sweet peck, but quickly turned into a slow drag of lips when Caesar chased after her as soon as Lydia made to pull away. She wasn't going to get away with dropping something so serious for his mind to ponder and then just leave him with a quick, simple kiss like that. Personally, Caesar thought he'd come a long way for agreeing to even consider the idea in the first place. Besides, now that he thought about it, he hadn't felt his mate's touch since before they had both rolled out of their nest in the morning.

With that in mind, Caesar reached up to grab a gentle hold of the back of Lydia's head, intending to deepening the kiss, and inhaled sharply once her hands came to rest against his chest. He was just about to sneak his free arm around Lydia's shoulders to pull her even closer when, suddenly, a voice sounded from somewhere inside the room.

"Can I come with you, Mother?" The pair quickly pulled apart, only to be met with a young ape standing in the doorway. "When you go, I mean."

Cornelius was staring at them with an inquisitive look, completely ignoring the intimacy of the scene in front of him. Caesar knew his son was quite used to the two of them being like this – at least within the walls of their own home – but the unabashed way in which he acted upon seeing it as he got older never quite ceased to surprise The Ape King.

"How long have you been eavesdropping?" Lydia asked with a raised brow, recovering faster from being interrupted than Caesar did.

While walking in on his parents sharing a heated kiss hadn't seemed to bother Cornelius too much, having his sneaky behaviour called out by his mother seemed to be an entirely different story. Caesar watched with quiet amusement as his son bit his lip – a habit he seemed to have picked up from Lydia – and pointedly lowered his gaze to the floor.

"Not long."

"Cornelius." Caesar now said with a hint of sternness in his voice, to which Cornelius sighed in defeat.

"Since Mother talked about her lesson with Bad Ape…"

Aha, so almost from the very beginning, Caesar thought, now slightly disgruntled.

He couldn't really blame his son for his curiosity. He had been very much the same at that age, so he supposed it was his own fault, in some sense.

That didn't mean he approved of his own son sneaking around and listening in on private conversations, however.

"Nobody is going anywhere anytime soon, Cornelius." He chose to say instead of giving a reprimand. "We are only discussing it – not planning."

"I know." Cornelius replied as he stepped further into the room. He was still chewing on his lip. "But I want to go too if you are letting Mother go to find the books one day."

"Cornelius…" Lydia said, keeping a hand on top of Caesar's. "As your father said, nobody is going anywhere. If you've been listening for that long, you must've also heard that it won't happen if he doesn't want me to go. And don't you think it'd be better if you stayed here, anyway? There are plenty of things you'll need to learn."

They had rarely touched upon the topic of Cornelius taking Caesar's place as leader of the apes, though he seemed to be less anxious about the prospect than Blue Eyes had ever been. It wasn't that Cornelius hadn't yet realised what would one day be expected of him, nor that he didn't care. As of right now, it seemed to Caesar that his second born was simply more comfortable in his own skin than his older brother had been. Just as aware, but more self-assured and confident in his role within the colony – both his current one and the one he knew he would one day inherit.

But, as luck would have it, these very same traits that Caesar knew would one day make Cornelius a great leader in his own right also seemed to be the ones that came back to bite The Ape King in his royal rear right about now.

"You always tell me how it was Blue Eyes who found our new home together with Orion and Uncle Rocket." The young ape replied, and though it was subtle, Caesar could still detect the defiance in his tone. "He was going to take Father's place too. But he was allowed to go."

In the privacy of his own mind, Caesar managed to come up with a barrage of reasons – or rather, excuses – of varying validity as to why this was an entirely different matter compared to when Blue Eyes, Orion and Rocket had left.

But for every reason Caesar's mind gave, another voice inside his mind, sounding suspiciously like Lydia, had a counter-answer.

"You're still young, Cornelius." Caesar attempted instead, though he knew the moment he had said it that those words would do even less to deter his son.

And Cornelius was quick to prove him right.

"Mother said she wouldn't go for at least another year." The Ape Prince shot back. "And Orion was only a little over a year older than I am now when he left."

Well, that was true…

And to think, just a few, short years ago, he had been just an infant, unable to speak, Caesar thought as he took in his son's appearance. He had grown taller and now reached almost all the way up to Caesar's shoulders. Why, only six months ago, he had been an overly-energetic child who hadn't been able to accept that his brother had kept a secret from him.

That, too, was changing. In that short span of time, Cornelius had, quite without Caesar realising it was even happening, begun to mature even more. He was still energetic and extremely curious, but had started to shed the impulsiveness and, to an extent, the mischievous streak that characterized younger apes.

Maybe the prospect of becoming an uncle and having someone look up to him had also had a say in this development. In fact, Caesar was almost certain of it. But the fact remained that little Cornelius suddenly wasn't so little anymore.

"Well?" Cornelius pressed on with an expectant look on his face. "Will you think about it?"

The Ape King sighed in partial defeat and wistfulness. There could be no doubt that this was his child - he was just as stubborn as Caesar had always been. Couple that with the wise, thoughtful streak he seemed to (thankfully) have inherited from Cornelia, and the clever ways with words Lydia had taught him, there was little use in arguing with the Ape Prince.

A quick, sideways glance at Lydia, who seemed barely able to contain a knowing smirk, and Caesar released a quiet huff. Cornelius grinned before he had even said anything, probably already aware that he would get his way.

"I will think about it."

Seemed he would have a lot of thinking to do in the coming months. If the idea of Lydia leaving didn't sit well with him, the thought of having Cornelius leave with her was almost enough to set The Ape King's teeth on edge with worry. Still, he couldn't blame his son for wanting to have an adventure somewhat resembling what his older brothers had experienced – especially since there wouldn't be many opportunities for such an outing once it became time for him to take Caesar's place.

"Thank you, Father." Cornelius said with a bright smile and went to sit by the fire with his parents. "I promise to look after Mother, too."

Caesar chuckled, despite himself.

"Speaking of being looked after," Lydia said. "did you take care of the dogs? Everyone is still accounted for?"

Cornelius nodded dutifully. Tonight, it was his responsibility to make the final check-up on Remus, Storm and the five pups that had been born about three months ago. Two males, one of which had been named Blaze, and three females.

"I gave Storm extra meat like always, but I think Remus is getting jealous, so I gave him some too." He said. "The pups ate more than they did yesterday, too."

Lydia nodded thoughtfully.

"That's good. Won't be long now before they'll be off to their new homes."

Though Caesar had grown accustomed to living with dogs, and even managed to grow rather fond of them, he was relieved by the prospect of lowering their numbers just a tad. The puppies' pitiful cries and the mess that came with having a total of seven dogs had quickly lost its appeal, no matter how adorable they were or how much of a bonding-project it was to Lydia and Cornelius to take care of them.

Lydia had insisted on keeping two of them, the ones with the most hunting potential, while the rest would be taken in by three different ape families around the village, one of them being Rocket and Tinker, to Caesar's surprise.

Suddenly, Caesar was jarred out of his quiet musings by the sound of urgent hoots and hurried footsteps. They came from outside their home, growing louder and louder as they seemed to approach up the winding ramp around the tree.

Out of habit, Caesar's entire body tensed immediately, shoulders squared and back straight in preparation for trouble. Moments later, one of the Gorilla Guard's young recruits stood at their doorstep, panting.

"Orion calls for you. It is time." He signed. Caesar noticed he was looking at Lydia rather than him and, though he knew why, he couldn't help but feel slightly left out.

He didn't get to dwell on the nagging feeling for long, however, as Lydia was on her feet at once and nearly managed to jerk Caesar to his feet by the firm hold she still had on his hand. Beside them, Cornelius had also sprung to his feet.

"We're coming!" Lydia said and with a few long strides, reached the door with Caesar and Cornelius in tow and hurried down the wooden ramp.

When they reached the bottom, both Storm and Remus stuck their heads out from the shelter that had been constructed for them at the base of the tree, presumably to investigate what the ruckus was about. However, it didn't take more than a stern order to stay from Lydia for them to retreat back inside and without further ado, the trio continued at a semi-run towards Orion and Ivy's home.

They arrived a short while later to find Juniper and Shale already there.

"Has it happened yet?" Lydia immediately asked. Shale shook his head in reply, looking more anxious than Caesar had ever seen him.

"We came just moments ago." Juniper said when words seemed to fail her mate. She was wringing her hands together and kept looking at the hut's entrance. From inside, muffled, laboured breaths could be heard, along with a deep voice speaking soft encouragements. Caesar recognised it as Orion's almost immediately.

"I didn't even know she had gone into labour." Lydia said, still slightly out of breath.

Juniper, despite her worry, gave a disapproving huff.

"Neither did we. Apparently, they began shortly after the evening meal." She signed. "When I asked them why they hadn't called for us earlier, they said Ivy had requested that we were informed only when Sparrow deemed the child due to come out."

She was clearly not happy about that, Caesar could tell. It wasn't uncommon for a female in labour to be assisted by not only a healer, but her mother, sisters and female friends as well. In fact, even Lydia, as one of the child's grandmothers, would have been expected to attend the birth under normal circumstances.

Ivy, however, at made it clear from quite early on that she didn't want too many people around her during the birth, and insisted that only Sparrow and Orion would be the ones assisting her.

Juniper had, reluctantly, accepted this, probably aware that her fussing and worrying would likely only serve to make Ivy more nervous than she already was.

But for Ivy to ask that they only be informed when the birth was moments from happening? That seemed to be harder for her to understand.

"She probably didn't want us to sit out here waiting half the night." Lydia provided, though her voice sounded strangely detached to Caesar. "We wouldn't be of any help like that anyway."

Juniper didn't reply, but crossed her arms over her chest and shot the gorilla who had no doubt been sent to retrieve her and Shale a sullen look. He appeared mightily uncomfortable under the female chimp's scrutiny, and Caesar soon took pity and decided to discreetly sign that he had fulfilled his duty and was allowed to leave.

The Ape King could scarcely remember the last time he had seen a near full-grown silverback scuttle away in such a humble manner, and looked to his side to share an amused, sideways glance with Lydia.

Only, his mate didn't seem to even be following the conversation anymore.

Instead, she was looking distractedly from one place to the next, as if she didn't know where to let her eyes settle, and impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Come." Caesar offered with a gentle tug of her hand, which somehow managed to draw her attention. "Let us sit over there and wait."

He pointed her to a couple of old logs nearby, which had been rolled there to make place for groups of apes to gather and sit comfortably as they worked. There were several of these little spots throughout the village, and this one was situated near enough to Orion and Ivy's hut for them to be easily alerted when needed.

She nodded and let Caesar pull her towards the area, and they sat down together, soon followed by Shale and Juniper, while Cornelius crouched down on the ground in front of them, drawing patterns in the dirt with a twig.

Lydia was still holding Caesar's hand in a tight grip. He wasn't even sure she was aware that she had been clutching it since they had left their home, but didn't want to say anything. She already seemed more restless than Caesar had seen her in years. Her leg was bouncing in anticipation, her hand felt clammy against his palm and her teeth were drilling into her bottom lip so hard that Caesar feared she would chew it clean-off without realising.

Caesar was nervous too, of course. Excited, anxious and worried, and not only because he wanted Ivy and the child to be alright, or because he was looking forward to seeing the newest addition to their family. No, Caesar was also concerned with what came after all this – and what his role in it would be.

But he wouldn't let himself dwell on that right now, and chose to focus on Lydia instead to quell the thoughts of doubt bouncing around inside his head.

She gave a slight start when he grunted and squeezed her hand to distract her.

"It will be fine, Lydia."

"I know, I know…" She replied absent-mindedly. "It's just awfully quiet in there…"

"Ape births are like that, mostly."

It was true. Apart from strained grunts, quiet moans of pain and laboured breathing, Cornelia had hardly made a fuss when either of their children had been born and, as far as Caesar was aware, that wasn't unusual.

He was, however, also aware that humans were quite different in this regard, vaguely remembering the odd scene on the TV back in his childhood home. He wasn't sure how much it had been exaggerated, though.

"Human births usually aren't…" Lydia said rather softly, tapping her leg with her free hand.

"Was it noisy when you were born, Mother?" Cornelius asked then and, if just for a moment, Lydia was distracted as she turned to give him a slight smile.

"Yeah, according to what my dad told me. He said that Mom screamed so much at him that the nurse asked him to leave. It was a breech birth, you see."

"Breech birth?" Cornelius repeated with a scrunched-up nose. "What does that mean?"

"It means the baby is born bottom first instead of head first. Many women who's tried both say that a breech birth is worse." Lydia explained. Beside them, Juniper winced.

Caesar, too, felt a twinge of sympathy for Lydia's late mother. Human or ape, loud or quiet, births were a painful ordeal – anyone who had witnessed it would know that.

"I begin to see that you have been doing everything your very own way from the day you were born, huh?" He said and, surprisingly, earned himself a light chuckle from not only Lydia herself, but Shale and Juniper as well.

After that, talk was scarce between the five of them as they continued to wait, and Caesar took quiet note of the clear sky above them. The thin crescent moon shone its pale light among a sea of twinkling stars, and the cloudy band of black, blue and dark purple stretched out in an elegant arch right across it all.

Caesar caught himself thinking that this was indeed a beautiful night to arrive into the world.

In the end, it still took a dreadfully long time for anything to happen. Occasionally, a groan could be heard from inside the hut, often followed by gentle, encouraging hoots and muffled words. Juniper and Shale had their eyes trained on the hut like it might go up in flames any moment. Lydia, meanwhile, didn't seem to know where to look, as her gaze flickered from Cornelius' doodling to the hut, to the sky, to her hand clasped in Caesar's, to the hut, to the odd Gorilla Guard walking by and back to the hut.

But suddenly, when half the night had seemed to go by, a series of barely-audible, whimpering gibbers could be heard from inside the hut, followed by gasps and soothing chatters.

They all perked up immediately, and Caesar felt how Lydia's fingers squeezed his fingers.

Nobody seemed to move a muscle until, at last, Orion stood in the doorway, letting Sparrow out with a grateful smile.

Caesar could see the change in Orion immediately. The look in his eyes, the relieved slump of his shoulders. He had seen in plenty of times in other new fathers, and was certain he had looked just the same when his own sons had been born.

They all got up as one from their seats and gathered in front of the two other apes, all eager and impatient for news on how the birth had gone.

"Everything is fine." Sparrow signed at once as she descended the elevated walkway in front of the hut. "For a first-time mother, Ivy did very well."

She looked mostly at Juniper as she said this, and the new grandmother's shoulders seemed to lose tension instantly at these words.

"Thank you for tending to our daughter, Sparrow." Shale signed with gratitude. It was the first words he had made the entire night.

"There is no need to thank me. I barely had to do anything other than receive the child. Your daughter is a tough female. Very hardy." The healer said with obvious approval. Then, she turned to look up at Orion one last time. "Remember what I said. Come to me if you suspect something is wrong."

"Of course." He said with a resolute nod and, satisfied with the response, Sparrow turned around, bid them all good night and started towards her own home.

She was barely out of sight before everyone had turned to Orion once more and were looking at him with eager and expectant gazes.

"You can come in, if you want." He said, barely managing to finish his sentence and step aside before Juniper had dashed past the threshold to get to her daughter, with Shale hot at her heels.

Lydia went forward too, albeit at a slower pace, but stopped at the door by Orion's side. Caesar looked on as she, without a word, reached up and put a hand to her son's cheek as the two shared a tender look. She seemed somewhat calmer than before, as if seeing Orion had somehow eased her mind.

"Congratulations on becoming a dad, Sweetie." He heard her say with just the slightest hint of a hitch in her voice, as well as Orion's barely audible reply of 'thank you, Mother'.

"Can I come in too, Brother?" Cornelius' voice broke through the tender atmosphere, to which Orion chuckled warmly and nodded.

"Of course, Cornelius."

Caesar felt his lips quirk up into a small smile as his son went forward with eager steps and, like Ivy's parents, disappeared behind Orion's silhouette.

The Ape King himself, meanwhile, remained where he was. He felt terribly awkward and out of place just then, not knowing whether or not he was supposed to, or even allowed to come inside in the first place. He knew how extremely important it was to welcome a new life into the family but… What was he even to this child, really? He wasn't Orion's father, after all. Was it really his place to take part in this?

He wanted to, though. More than he had realised.

He had no idea if it was because of Lydia's insistence on him getting used to the idea of becoming a grandfather, or if it was because he actually did nurture a genuine wish to take on this role – despite his doubts that Orion would want him to.

And so he stood with a lowered gaze and a feeling of hesitation like he had only felt a handful of times in his life as he waited for the door to be closed and the warm light to disappear from in front of his feet.

No matter what, he would get to see the child later, he supposed. Until then, he could wait back home for Lydia and Cornelius to return.

"Caesar?" Someone said just then. "Will you not come inside?"

The Ape King looked up, startled at being addressed. And even more so by the fact that it wasn't Lydia who had spoken, but Orion, who still stood, waiting, at the entrance to the home he shared with Ivy, head tilted curiously at Caesar.

At first, he had suspected that it had been Lydia who had urged Orion to ask, perhaps with one of those special kinds of looks that all mothers, regardless of family or species, seemed to be able to send their children as a means to make them comply. But a quick glance in her direction revealed that Lydia was almost as surprised as Caesar felt. She stood a little ways inside the hut, almost behind Orion, looking at her son with wide eyes and a small, proud smile.

And still, Orion was staring expectantly down Caesar, seemingly unaware of his mother's eyes on him.

The Ape King could hardly believe he had heard correctly, but stepped forward all the same as Orion extended an arm to beckon him inside.

"Are you sure?" He said once he reached the threshold, to which Orion's smile widened and he laid a hand on Caesar's shoulder.

"You are my mother's mate and my brother's father." He said as he pulled Caesar all the way inside and closed the door behind them. "We want you to be here. Ivy and I both… If you want to."

Along with the relief came an immense warmth inside Caesar's chest and he was certain his eyes had turned just a bit glossy at Orion's words.

"I would like that." He said with a nod, just about managing to keep his voice from trembling. "I would like that very much."


Lydia

Lydia was quite aware that she was practically beaming at her eldest son just then.

When Caesar hadn't followed her to the hut and Orion hadn't said anything at first, for a brief moment, a tiny part of her had begun to fear that Caesar's months-long worries might've been justified and Orion actually hadn't wished to include him.

Now, along with joy and pride, she felt like a fool for ever having doubted her son.

"Come." Orion said with a newfound eagerness in his voice. "You must come and see her."

'Her?' Lydia thought, but didn't manage to ask out loud before they had all turned towards the interior of the hut and she was met with the sight of Ivy, lying in the couple's shared nest. Her parents and Cornelius were already sitting by her, and in her arms a small bundle was shifting gently.

The warm light from the firepit cast a flickering glow across the scene, which Lydia suspected had been tidied up, courtesy of Sparrow, before they had all been allowed inside.

It was with an entirely unfamiliar kind of suspense that Lydia made her way through the hut, with her hand now grasped firmly within Caesar's once more, to lay eyes on the child of her eldest son.

Her first grandchild.

And as soon as she sat down by the nest together with Caesar and Orion, and finally saw the person everyone had been anxious to meet for the last six months, Lydia knew this was a moment she would remember and cherish for the rest of her life.

She was beautiful. There was no two ways about it. Small and delicate, with fur which was already as pitch-black as Orion's own. Her little face, with Orion's nose and Ivy's muzzle, was still pink and wrinkly now, but Lydia was certain that it would soon be just as light and smooth as both of her parents'. Tufts of Ivy's fur were held tightly inside small, pink fists, and it was clear that she had a strong, healthy grip.

But her most noticeable trait wasn't her fur, nor her perfect, small fingers, but her eyes. Nestled underneath the gentle slope of her brow were a pair of bright, emerald green eyes, almost identical to Ivy's.

Lydia suspected that they were already Orion's favourite thing about her, because he positively beamed down at her every time she as much as squinted.

She had never seen him look so proud. The look in his eyes was one of pure and utter adoration as he stared down at her, and Lydia didn't think anyone would be able to wipe that small, ever-present smile off his face, no matter how hard they tried.

This child, quite clearly, already had her father wrapped around her finger.

Cornelius, having inched forward at the quick smile and nod of encouragement from Ivy, was sitting right beside her and staring down at the small child with wide eyes. He seemed completely awe-struck, and Lydia wasn't quite sure when she had last witnessed him being this quiet this long.

In fact, she had been certain that a steady stream of questions would come forth as soon as he had laid eyes on her. Instead, he merely sat there staring and, with Ivy's permission, reached over to trace a careful finger along her tiny arm.

The child pushed further into Cornelius' touch, causing him to smile.

On the other side of the nest, Juniper sat with damp eyes and a trembling lip, while Shale looked down at his daughter and grandchild with a sort of reverence in his eyes.

"What are you going to name her?" Asked Caesar, with his gruff, baritone voice suddenly so soft and gentle that it was barely audible to Lydia, even though she sat as if glued to his side, clutching his arm.

With a sideways glance, she noticed that he seemed just as entranced as everyone else in the room.

Oh yeah, he was going to be a wonderful grandfather, alright.

"Well," Ivy began, smiling softly up at Orion. "We agreed that if it would be a male, we would name him Roy."

Lydia sucked her lips between her teeth, feeling dampness in the corners of her eyes, and nodded as they briefly met Orion's own. Of course he would want something like that, and Lydia knew that Ivy would agree without a second thought. It seemed only natural for him to want to honour his father in this way.

Tough perhaps not this time, Lydia thought as she stared down at the newborn ape, transfixed.

"And now that you got a female?" Shale signed.

Ivy shot a meaningful look towards Orion, who smiled warmly and laid an arm around her shoulders. Then he nodded, and Ivy turned to Lydia.

"I want to name her after the stars. Like you did with Orion." She said softly as she brushed her fingers over the crown of her child's head.

At first, Lydia was taken aback – not because she thought it was a bad idea, not at all – but because this essentially meant that Ivy and Orion, at least in part, wanted her to name their firstborn child. Muted gibbers of confusion sounded from Ivy's parents, while Caesar and Cornelius merely looked between Lydia and Orion for an explanation.

"You're named after the stars?" Cornelius turned to his brother, who's smile had turned somewhat sheepish.

"I did not know. Mother told me some years ago." He answered, and Lydia was relieved that he didn't mention when and why she had told him. This was a time for celebration, after all.

"I wasn't aware the stars had names." Shale signed, clearly perplexed and, like his daughter, now looking to Lydia. "Nobody could possibly name all the stars in the sky, could they?"

"Only the most prominent ones have proper names, and out of those, a select few are parts of constellations – they are a sort of pattern humans used to find their way without maps," she explained when Cornelius seemed ready to interrupt with a question. "My dad showed them to me when I was a kid, and I named Orion after my favourite one."

"To name a child after the stars…" Juniper said, looking up at her mate. "It's a beautiful idea."

Shale gave a nod before his eyes once again landed on the child. He wasn't the most expressive of males, but if his growing smile was anything to go by, the idea held just as much appeal to him as it did to his mate and daughter.

"So? Do you know any name that would fit?" Ivy pressed on after a moment's pause, her eyes having returned to Lydia.

"Well," She began to ponder out loud. "It'd have to be a feminine-sounding name, of course. And preferably something that can be seen from where we are – so, northern hemisphere."

She hadn't had to think so hard on this for years and by now, the memories of her dad's lectures about the stars, their stories and their significance had become rather muddled inside Lydia's mind. Ironic, considering that the stars themselves had never been clearer now that the lights of humans no longer polluted the sky above.

"There's always Cassiopeia or Ursa – both the major and the minor. They're visible in the sky all year."

Ivy's note wrinkled.

"The first seems… too long."

Beside her, Orion nodded.

"And I do not think Ursa would fit her." He added and pursed his lips.

Lydia had to agree with that and, tilting her head as she let her eyes rest on the child, she ventured on.

"Well, since she's born in the summer, how about a summer constellation? Aquila, maybe?"

"I like that." Cornelius proclaimed, to which Orion nodded his assent.

"I do too."

But Ivy still looked undecided.

"Aquila…" She said lowly, as if tasting the name. Then, she shook her head. "I like it, but not for her."

"Why not?" Asked Juniper, who had also seemed to like the name.

"It does not… 'feel' like it is her name." She said, to which Shale and Orion both chuckled. Then she looked from the child in her arms and up at Lydia. "Is there something else? Something we could see right now?"

"Right now?" Lydia said and glanced through the nearest window. The sky was as clear as it had been before they had entered. "I suppose there could be…"

Ivy moved to get up and Orion was quick to support her with a hand on her back.

"Ivy! The stars will still be there tomorrow." Juniper was quick to assure her. She was clearly uncomfortable with her daughter moving about so soon. "Don't you think you should rest instead?"

Lydia was sure that, were it up to Juniper, Ivy would be resting from now on and until the child was old enough to have children of her own.

Ivy shook her head at her mother, undeterred.

"Tomorrow there might be clouds." She said as she stepped out of the nest. "And I want to see the stars that we choose for her."

The somewhat pleading look Juniper shot at Orion as Ivy marched towards the door, their child still nestled in her arms, was pointless. Orion simply shrugged as if to ask his mother-in-law what she expected him to do in the face of Ivy's determination before he quickly scuttled after her.

Lydia shared a look with Caesar, who didn't bother to hide his own amusement at the scene.

And so they all marched out into the warm air of summer's night, looking to the sky as if the thing they were looking for might as well drop down on top of their heads at any moment. Vaguely, Lydia heard Cornelius ask Orion if he could show him the constellation he was named after, and allowed herself to briefly observe as Orion, without hesitation, pointed out the correct set of stars to his brother.

"Do you think you can find anything?" Caesar asked as he came up beside her.

"Provided I can remember the name when I see it, probably yes."

"Maybe this is one of those things you would look up in a book, hm?" He said, and Lydia was just about to ask him if he seriously wanted to continue on that topic now, of all times, when she turned and saw the knowing smirk and raised brow Caesar sent her way.

She merely tsk'ed at his cheek and turned her eyes back to the starry sky. As she observed it, Lydia pursed her lips. There were a limited number of summer constellations to choose from to start with, and with those of other seasons, like winter's Canis and Gemini, spring's Hydra and fall's Andromeda out of the way, the task of finding a feminine-sounding constellation was beginning to seem nearly impossible. Of course, there was always the option to name her after a single star instead – there were an abundance of those to choose from, provided Lydia could remember them.

Then, as her gaze landed on a particularly bright star, a shape she definitely remembered came to Lydia's mind and a smile slowly spread across her face.

"How about Lyra?" She asked, gaining everyone's attention with the suggestion.

"Lyra?" Ivy repeated and seemed to perk up at the sound of it. She stepped closer with the child. "Where is it?"

"It's a small one, there, with the bright star, you see it? Now, make a line down to those four bright ones that form a sort of tilted rectangle. That's it." She said, hardly taking note of how not only Ivy, but everyone around her seemed to scoot closer and follow the line of her index finger as well. "It's a simple shape – simpler than Orion, anyway – but that top star is the second brightest that's visible in our part of the world, so it's easy to find."

"Does it mean anything?" Ivy asked as Orion cooed at the child from behind her shoulder.

Lydia couldn't help but smile at the sight as she explained further.

"It's a type instrument. The names humans have for the stars are usually inspired by ancient legends and myths. I think this one was about a lyre which played music so beautiful that even trees were charmed by it, and it was placed in the sky by an ancient deity when the owner of the lyre died." Lydia said, unable to remember more details of the myth in question. Even so, Ivy seemed intrigued.

"Music to charm trees? Instruments placed in the sky by a… deity?" Shale recited in sign, and the crease between his brows deepening as he went on. Then, he sighed, shaking his head. "Humans are strange."

"But I like the name." Ivy said, then turned to Orion. "What do you think?"

Orion looked down at their daughter in thought, then up at the sky, and back down again. As he did so, the ever-present smile on his face widened even further.

"I think it is her name." He said with a nod, not taking his eyes off the child, who looked to be sensing her father's presence and gave a small gibber in his general direction.

And so it was that Lyra became the second member of Lydia's family of apes who's name came from the stars.