“What should your name be…?”

As Damon pondered to himself, the comparably tiny Dragon crawling around his body, finally reached the warmest portion of his body, his nostrils, as he breathed restrained breaths, as to not launch him, as the countless tiny claws, each and every one of them sharp as razors, started prickling at what could be considered a Dragon’s weakest point, scratching at the inner flesh of his left nostril, before Damon reached to grab him, wrapping the infantile form of the Dragon in his hands, and simply looking at it, an intense gaze being exchanged between the father and son duo, before the young Dragon simply closed its eyes, curled up into a ball, and simply started snoring, peacefully slumbering away in Damon’s hand.

Then, as Damon stood there, staring at the first son he’d ever had… How absurd… Regardless of how long Damon had been in this world, or any other, he didn’t feel that he was ready to be a father… And truly, it felt as if merely less than a week had passed in his mind, so he really just couldn’t comprehend the sheer fact of the matter.

“I… I’m a dad.” As the fact was slowly sinking into his mind, a separate, endlessly wholesome fact had suddenly burst into his head, a fact that should resolve the problem of Damon’s sheer lack of experience. There was a mom, too… And not just one, nearly a dozen endlessly doting women, true partners who would stand by him eternally, or, as long as they could, realistically.

Damon, as a newly christened Primordial Demi-Dragon, assumed he would live for quite a long time, at least a thousand years, but even so, if it were true, that was far more than a few decades to come.

Ember, as an Elemental, was essentially ageless, meaning she’d be there for a long while. Dovei, the mother of his first son, also a Dragon, just of a weaker line, so she’d be around for a thousand years or so. Dirpe might be fine, as well, as a newly formed Fairy Dragon, should live for a few hundred years at least... And Lorelai, as a High Elf, was set to live for seven hundred years or so, as she’d spoken often. But the rest… What of them?

Elyra, a Harengon, should live to nearly a hundred, but Dalia… A Bearkin, a race with lives spanning what could be less than sixty years…

And, as that was causing an intense worry to cloud his mind, Damon fell to the ground, endlessly pondering his horrible options… But then, the truth once again set in.

As Damon looked over at his screen, the symbol and reminder of his powers, surely it would have the answers to his questions...