Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

Once she'd been assured that he was to be imprisoned instead of executed (the usual method of dealing with infractions committed by their kind), she had reflected that at least the regimented life of the prison might teach him better eating habits. As the oldest of her brother's children, he'd picked up the most of that family's undesirable conduct. Not that Rafe had been free of them, but he was much less frequently seized by bouts of uncontrolled eating. Now she realized that the thought she'd had at the time about imprisonment helping him with that was merely an attempt to emotionally distance herself from him since she had been unlikely to ever see him again. The prison had come near to starving him.

He looked down at her, an expression of wonder on his thin face, a combination of her brother's strong features and his mother's green eyes. But it was what she did not see there that moved something deep inside her she'd thought long dead. Worse than the uncontrolled eating (because that was something Simon had at least tried to correct, at least when it wasn't full moon), her brother had left both his sons a legacy of hatred of all non-wolfs, which they wore as a mocking, self-righteous attitude of superiority which neither bothered to hide. The parents' executions had served only to elevate them to the status of martyrs. Millie knew this attitude had been responsible for virtually all the trouble the boys had ever gotten themselves into, but she had never been able to eradicate it. And although she was sure her own experience hadn't helped, she tried hard to impress upon them that it had been done by individuals, not by a group composed of all non-wolfs. It had done little good. Simon's imprisonment had been a direct result of his bad attitude, while Rafe's ... No! She wouldn't think of Rafe, couldn't think of that, not now, not when she had just found Simon, free, whole, and ... changed. For the smug self-righteousness was gone. How that was possible she didn't know; his personality wasn't the kind to learn such things by force, as imprisonment would have been perceived, unless they had broken him. But he was not broken. In his eyes, she saw love, tenderness, regret ... and an inner calm he had never before possessed. She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and reached up to brush it away, her wonder at her foster-son's repose becoming also a wonder at herself: Tears of happiness were something she thought never again to shed. Her well had run dry long before and had remained barren ever since. Until now. She took the calloused hand he offered her, hesitating only a moment before leaning against his chest and closing her arms around him, letting her happiness flow unchecked.

Wolf held his aunt in his arms, nearly overcome by his own guilt. He should have gotten word to her somehow - if he couldn't have gone to see her himself - that he was free and well, but he'd been so caught up with Virginia and everything that had happened that he simply had never thought about it. But now she was here, which meant that she had at least heard about the pardon, though he didn't see how she could have known he'd had anything to do with it, and she was crying. Instinctively, he knew that was a good thing; he'd never seen her cry once in all the time they'd lived together. But if she felt strongly enough to cry at the sight of him now, then he should have thought about her more as well, he thought. Yet even when he'd mentioned her to Virginia the night before last, their own problems had clouded the memory of his duty.

She straightened up and wiped her tears away, looking at him with what he perceived as awe.

"There's a female's scent ... ?" she inquired.

He smiled; there was no way he could keep himself from smiling, he was suddenly almost giddy with the anticipation of telling her about his mate. But then he remembered what had happened to hers and he wondered if it would be a good thing. Suppose his happiness only reminded her of what she had lost, he wondered? Still, he couldn't ignore her question.

"My mate," he replied quietly.

"Not a half-wolf," she commented.

"No," he agreed. A look of understanding passed between them. He wanted so to tell her everything that had happened to him, but ...

"I want to hear about it," she told him, with a look that said she understood the reason behind his hesitation. "Please."

So he told her about how he'd scented Virginia first, but hadn't believed a non-wolf could be his life's mate, not until he'd actually met her in person, and how what he was doing when he met her had nearly ruined his own chance for happiness. He described his visit to the psychologist and the revelation about why he ate so much, and his pursuit of her across the kingdoms to prove his love, ending with her rejection of him in Kissingtown, and how he'd been beside himself with despair, but had felt obligated to follow her anyway to make sure she didn't get hurt. And how overcome with joy he'd been to discover that in his absence she'd found she couldn't live without him either. When he finished, he was nearly breathless. It had taken him less than five minutes to describe the entire month-long journey, though he did cut it down to only the parts concerning his relationship with his dear Virginia. One part of their relationship, however, he did not reveal, wanting to keep it as a surprise instead.

His auntie had listened attentively to him, smiling for him, though her expression had grown more and more perplexed as his tale went on.

"Is this Lady Virginia?" she asked when he'd finished.

"Oh," he said, then nodded. "Yes."

"One of the heros of the Nine Kingdoms?"

He nodded. In her face he saw her suddenly realize who the unnamed half-wolf hero had been. He blushed.

She looked down.

"I heard about the pardon," she told him. "That's the reason I came here. I was hoping I might be able to persuade the king to commute the rest of your sentence."

The guilt overcame him again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have gotten word to you that I was out."

"No," she replied, looking back up at him. "You did just right. I'm very proud of you."

He blushed again. I can't tell her Wendell is probably going to revoke the pardon, he thought sadly. Not now. I just can't.

Out loud he said, "I only did it for Virginia."

She nodded.

"They wrote a ballad about it you know," she told him. "The bards are all singing it. That's how I knew what happened. But there's nothing in it about a love story."

He laughed ironically to himself, thinking how typical it was that they would remove as much as possible of the deeds of the non-wolfs from the tale. But it did hurt him to think that the bards had somehow missed the whole point.

"Come meet her," he said.

It occurred to him that Virginia might not be at her best for meeting company, so as they walked up to their chambers he explained to his aunt what had just happened and Virginia's reaction to it, though he carefully left out all references to a wolf's implied involvement. She was shocked enough as it was to find a murder had just been committed at the royal palace. Wolf assured her that Virginia's father was on the way to finding the killer's identity, as he had done in Little Lamb Village where Wolf had been falsely accused of murdering a shepherdess during their adventure.

Virginia, however, looked much better than he expected. The color had come back into her face and she was sitting on the bed talking to Molly when they walked in. But at the sight of their presence the servant girl had hastily jumped to an embarrassed attention.

"No, it's all right," Virginia told her, holding out a hand and indicating that she was welcome to sit back down. Molly, however, remained standing. Virginia looked curiously at Millie and then at Wolf, obviously waiting for an introduction.

"Virginia," he said, "Remember I told you about my aunt that my brother and I went to live with?" He left the rest of her introduction unfinished, simply gestured in his aunt's direction, looked at her and said, "This is Virginia."

Virginia stood up. Inside, Wolf cringed. He'd wanted her to stay in bed, at least for the rest of the day after all that had happened, but he also knew that he was probably being just a little too overprotective, so he forced himself to say nothing about it. Besides, he thought, his auntie would certainly know what to do if anything started to go wrong. He was waiting for her to notice the cub now. Any minute, he thought ...

Millie stopped and shot him a curious and amazed glance. He grinned from ear to ear and Virginia started laughing.

"You didn't tell her," she observed.

"No, he didn't," agreed Millie.

"Oh, your expression is priceless," his love told him, still laughing.

"I wanted to surprise you," he explained to his aunt.

"Well you did that," she replied, "Many times over."

Molly was still standing there looking distinctly uncomfortable. Virginia seemed to notice this too.

"Molly," she said, "Why don't you go down and get Wolf and his aunt something to eat?"

The girl nodded and started for the door. Wolf stopped her.

"You need something too, Virginia. Technically you haven't really eaten yet."

From the expression she gave him, he could tell that she wasn't nearly as recovered as she'd appeared.

"There's a big pot of broth in the kitchen, ma'am," ventured Molly. "I could bring you some of that."

Virginia looked at him for another minute, then said, "Okay, yes. Bring me some of that, maybe with some plain crackers. That'll be fine."

The girl left. Virginia looked around then, apparently thinking she wasn't being a good enough hostess. She gestured at a couple of chairs.

"Um ... why don't you sit down?" she said.

Wolf immediately dragged the chairs over near the bed.

"Why don't you just get back in bed, Virginia?" he told her. Cripes, he hadn't really meant to say that. It just slipped out; he couldn't help it.

"I wasn't in bed," she pointed out. "I was just sitting on the bed."

"Haven't you been feeling all right?" Millie asked her. "Besides today, that is? Simon told me what happened. Of course, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Oh, cripes!!

Virginia's eyes had gone wide at his auntie's words. She turned to look at him, wordlessly demanding an explanation. And, oh yes, she did deserve one. She sure did. Why had he never told his creamy love - his mate - the one carrying his child - why had he never told her his name? He didn't know.

"Simon?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yes?" he replied in a small voice.

"Why didn't you tell me your name?"

He knew that was coming. He swallowed.

"I ..." he began miserably. "I don't know... I think ... I think ... I just ... I guess I just hadn't heard it in so long ... But I know that's no excuse, it's just ... and I guess I ... you know I really liked hearing you call me Wolf cause ... well ... I haven't ... I don't hear it like you say it. But that's still not an excuse. I should have told you."

He thought she would be mad, but she didn't look like she was. She looked almost as if she understood, which confused him, because he didn't understand at all why he hadn't told her. He had thought about it, but she was usually asleep at the time, or something else would come up, and then lately it had seemed so awkward, because he had already waited too long ...

"You don't hear it like I say it?" she asked softly, not mad at all, he thought, though she did sound confused. "No," he told her. "We just always get called ‘Wolf', but its not nice, the way it's said, not like you say it, like my mate saying my name ..."

Her eyes grew wider. Oh, cripes, I've made it worse, he thought.

"We don't give our names to those outside our ... pack," he heard his aunt explain.

"Oh, but Virginia," he quickly added, "That's not why ..."

"Of course it isn't," she said, sounding as if she understood completely. "Wolf ... Simon ... don't worry about it, okay?"

She put her arms around him and hugged him close.

I don't deserve this, he thought.

After a moment she stood up, though, and bit her lip. "We should tell her what happened," she suggested tentatively. "Don't you think?" She looked at his aunt. "Wol-Simon said you were a midwife," she said.

His aunt nodded.

"Why, what happened?" she asked.

"Virginia nearly had a miscarriage the night before last," explained Wolf.

"During full moon?" asked his auntie quickly. "At night? Contractions?"

"Yes, to everything," Virginia replied.

Wolf suddenly felt as if a weight was crushing his chest. The questions his auntie was asking were too specific.

Something was wrong, he thought. She already knew what it was. Could the full moon affect the cub somehow in spite of what he'd said to Wendell?

"Tell me everything you can remember, starting with the beginning of the evening, not just when you first felt them start."

Virginia told her and Wolf filled in the parts he remembered, including how he'd stopped them, by doing what his aunt had taught him all those years ago. To his horror, his aunt looked absolutely stricken. Her face pale, she sat down heavily in the chair. Wolf could feel his throat closing.

"Oh, cripes," she moaned, "This is all my fault."

That wasn't what he'd expected her to say at all; he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

"How could it be your fault?" he heard Virginia say.

His auntie looked at him sorrowfully.

"I'm so sorry, Simon," she said. "I should have told you."

"What?!" He couldn't imagine what could be so terrible. Well, yes he could, he was sure he could imagine lots of things ... Oh, cripes!

She bit her lip and took his hand.

"It's perfectly normal," she told him reassuringly, "Something that happens with lifemates occasionally - though only if the bond is very strong. Each feels what the other feels, while they remain together."

"They were sympathetic cramps," concluded Virginia. His aunt nodded. Wolf looked at his mate. He had caused her to nearly lose their cub, he thought miserably?

"Of course, expectant mothers don't physically react to the moon; we'd never be able to reproduce if they did," his aunt continued. She looked directly at him, her sad eyes full of guilt.

"You knew that," she said to him.

He nodded.

"But I should have also told you," she said, "That in the rare cases of an extremely strong bond, that also happens to the father. So the mother will be spared the sympathetic reaction."

He blinked.

"But I did react ..." he protested.

"No," said Virginia. "You got as far from me as possible. You wanted a cell with a window so I'd be downwind from you, and you even changed your clothes, and then you practically hid in the corner behind the bed so I could barely see you, and you wouldn't let me speak."

"But ..."

"She's right," said his aunt. "The safeguard only works if you remain physically together. I am so sorry. It's my fault. I should have told you. If you hadn't remembered what to do ..."

"Is that what happened to that woman with that rotten little boy?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "It was similar. Her mate didn't lock himself in a cell of course. Only you would do that."

Virginia gave him a quirky look.

"So is this what is causing his cycle to be so mixed up?" she asked his aunt.

"I'm afraid so," came the reply. "By the way, that rotten little boy, as you remember him, is your brother-in-law."

"What?!"

"He's Deirdre's mate. His name is Stephen. And don't look so thunderish. He loves her very much, as much as you do Virginia. Their first is due at midwinter and he is going through the same thing."

Virginia started to laugh. He shot her a concerned look.

"You don't know him, Virginia," he said.

"Well, you haven't seen him for a long time," she replied.

"Exactly," said his aunt.

"How is Abby?" he asked.

"She is doing fine," she told him. "Going to bard school, like she always said she would, teaching the beginners now. Maybe once she hears the real story, she can do something about getting that ballad corrected."

He smiled, glad to hear his youngest sister was doing what she'd always dreamed of doing. But she had at least always known what it was she'd wanted to do. Unlike himself. Unlike ... He knew he'd have to ask about Rafe. She'd expect it.

"And Rafe?" he asked, trying to keep the resentment out of his voice.

To his surprise, the question seemed to cast a shadow over his aunt.

"What happened?" he asked. She'd always been glad of any excuse to talk about him before - about either of them, really, it wasn't that she played favorites - that wasn't the source of his resentment. But now he sensed something wrong.

She looked down at her hands.

"I haven't seen him in over a year," she said. The way she said it told him she didn't want to say anything more. He knew he could pressure her, but he wouldn't. She'd tell him when she was ready. But he wondered what could have happened between them that was so terrible. He decided to change the subject.

"Deirdre is pregnant too, you said?"

"Yes," she said. "They'll be cousins virtually the same age."

Wolf tried to put out of his mind who his own cub's uncle was going to be.

"Are you delivering her cub?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she replied, sounding as happy as he thought she would be about that.

"Would you deliver ours?" he asked.

"Wolf ..." he heard Virginia say, though she didn't continue right away. But he'd been looking at his aunt, and her face did not express the delight he'd thought it would. He drew his eyebrows together and glanced back at his lovely mate, who had suddenly developed the look and smell of a trapped animal. She was glancing quickly back and forth between him and his aunt.

"I ... I mean ... I don't mean to ... um ..." she stuttered, "But ..."

His aunt glared at him with an admonished look he hadn't seen since he was a cub. Then she looked at Virginia.

"Don't worry about it," she said, "You won't hurt my feelings. And you're right, it's probably best if I don't."

Her words did seem to calm Virginia, he noticed, but he was really confused now.

"Why?" he asked.

"She's not a half-wolf, Simon," his aunt told him. "There are differences in our anatomies. They're not big differences overall, but enough to be significant where childbirth is concerned. She needs someone experienced in delivering babies from mothers of her own kind."

An image of the royal physician popped into his mind and he nearly growled at it. He was of Virginia's ‘kind' he thought, but there was no way Mellifict or any other elf-sucking doctor like him was going to touch his mate or his cub. But who would that leave aside from the gypsies, whom he trusted even less than the doctor?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Virginia opened the door and Tony rushed in, holding two small glass jars.

"I cleaned out the residue ..." He stopped suddenly when he saw Millie. "Oh ... hello."

Virginia jumped in to introduce them.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, "Dad, this is Wolf's aunt, who he lived with since he was eleven, so she's kind of like his foster mother." She turned to his aunt. "And this is my dad, Tony Lewis."

To Wolf and Virginia's surprise, Tony smiled at Millie and said, "Foster mother? You mean Wolf was the one you were coming here to ...?"

His aunt smiled back.

"I'm afraid so," she admitted. "Though it obviously wasn't necessary, for which I'm thankful."

"You two know each other?" asked Virginia.

"I gave Millie a ride this morning," Tony explained. Wolf's jaw dropped. His aunt had accepted a ride from a stranger and even told him her name?

"What's in the jars?" asked Virginia.

Tony looked at what he was holding.

"Oh, I can come back later," he said. "I don't want to interrupt anything."

"No, you're not," she told him. "We weren't really doing anything. Molly's supposed to be bringing us something to eat, but that's all. In fact, she should have been here by now."

"They might have put her back to work in the kitchen," Wolf suggested absently. He was still trying to work out why his normally reticent aunt would have suddenly trusted Tony. Had she changed that much since he'd last seen her, he wondered? He didn't see how it was possible.

Tony set the jars down next to each other on the dresser.

"Like I started to say," he said, "I cleaned out the residue from Emma's apron pockets. Two of them had the remains of fresh herbs in them, so I've put them in separate jars. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest idea what they are, much less what they're supposed to be used for, except that I don't think either of them were what she was laying in. At least they don't smell like it to me."

He turned to Millie.

"Emma was ..." he started to explain.

"I know," she said. "Simon already told me what happened."

His almost father-in-law stared at him.

"Simon?"

"It's Wolf's name, Daddy," Virginia told him. "But they don't let anyone know them that isn't close to them, so don't say it when anyone else is around."

"Oh, my God, that's right," said Tony. To Millie he said, "I'm sorry, I should have ..."

"Please don't worry about it," she told him. "It's perfectly all right to say it here." She pointed to the jars. "May I see them? I know a little bit about herbs. I might be able to help you identify them at least."

Tony handed them to her immediately. She unscrewed one, sniffed the contents and wrinkled her nose.

"Rue," she said, handing it back. Then she unscrewed the other. For a moment, she was silent. Then, in an extremely serious voice, she asked, "What was she laying in?"

"I don't know what it was," said Tony.

"Tansy," answered Wolf.

"What's that used for?" asked Virginia.

"Insect repellent," he replied with a shrug. But he noticed then that his aunt's face had gone white. "What?" he asked uneasily.

She closed the remaining jar and handed it back to Tony, then glanced apologetically at Wolf and stared at the floor.

"Those three herbs ..." she began, "are dangerous to use individually, and don't even necessarily always work, though some people still try. If someone were to use them all together they would probably do the job, but even if they didn't, whoever took them probably wouldn't survive."

"What job?" asked Tony. "What do they do?"

"They're abortifacients," his aunt said. "To terminate a pregnancy."

Tony said something else, but Wolf didn't hear it. Emma had been Virginia's maid. He had no doubt that the herbs had been meant for her.

He opened the door and strode out into the hall. Behind him he heard Virginia call his name, "Wolf?", but the sound of her voice only made him increase his pace. Blindly he forged ahead, his mouth dry. She was following him. He ran faster.

Doors flew by on either side of him, people passed or backed away, he paid them no attention. Down steps with close walls, sweating, his stomach churning, insides twisting, his feet pounded on. Far away he saw a man; someone he should recognize, but it didn't matter. He'd reached his quarry, the blue panel door with gold lettering. There were noises behind it, bad noises, though it wouldn't have mattered to him if the room had been silent. Ignoring the dog's exclamation, he rushed forward. The door was locked, but came easily off its hinges, falling inward onto the floor. The Enemy - the Monster - had been too busy with its new prey to hear him coming. It looked up, mouth open in surprised horror. Then he was upon it.