Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

“Your Grace!”

She could hear the footman’s steps thudding in the snow as he ran towards her. Carefully, she exhaled, then took another shaky breath. The worst of the pain had passed, although her body still carried its memory and she feared to move lest it return. She squeezed the watch in her hand, hastily pushing it into her coat pocket as the footman ran up beside her, puffing.

“Are you all – Oh!” he exclaimed as his eyes suddenly fell upon the frozen staring face of the prince of the Eighth Kingdom. “Oh, my Queen! How ... ? Oh, turn your face, do not look!”

She would have laughed at his reaction had she not felt so weak, as if something were still wrong deep inside. Yet it was convenient that he thought the sight of Gunther had caused her collapse. She put out her hand and he helped her to stand, though her legs shook and she leaned against him without meaning to. Still misunderstanding what troubled her, he turned her carefully away from the sight of her betrothed’s body before helping her back to the carriage.

Once there, she fought down the nausea that assailed her and told them to drive on to the summer cottage without stopping. They tried to argue, asking if it wouldn’t be better to stop at the inn that night as planned, then return to report Gunther’s fate, but she remained adamant. They would return and report his demise only after she had reached the cottage; therefore, she said, it was necessary for them to drive into the night to reach it. If what she feared was happening to her came true, she could not afford to stop the night at an inn, she thought. And in any case it couldn’t hurt them to press on for a few more hours. She leaned back against the upholstered seat and wedged a loose cushion behind the small of her back. Then, curiously, she dug the watch out of her pocket to examine it.

The contraction bore down on her with frightening intensity. Her knees drew up involuntarily to her chest, and she had to stick her hand in her mouth to keep from crying out. As it passed, she thrust the talisman once more into her coat pocket, vowing never to touch it again.

By the time they reached their destination, however, it had become obvious to her that her vow had made no difference. The pains came close together now, assailing her every few moments, forcing her to pant to catch her breath between them. She was sweating profusely, her clothes nearly soaked through with perspiration. The gust of frigid air that hit her as the footman opened the door sent a chill through her, though it revived her enough that she could order him to take her things inside and return immediately, and to catch his reply of, “As soon as the fire is laid,” and overrule him.

“No,” she insisted, surprised by how normal she managed to sound, “No fire. I’ll handle that myself; I’m quite capable. Return at once.”

He’d been startled, but had done what he was told. Both he and the driver had looked at her strangely as she ordered them off from her position a few steps away from the carriage, standing there in the snow-covered dark, the flakes falling softly around her, but her authority held. Stoically, she watched them disappear from sight before turning at last to the cottage.

She had known instinctively that movement would make the pains worse, and had held off entering the cottage until the servants had left lest she give herself away. Light from the lantern they’d left burning inside shone through the crack of the slightly ajar door. It wasn’t far, less than a dozen yards, though they might as well have been leagues. Yet she knew her only chance to stop what was happening (she refused to name it) lay in getting inside.

If I can just lie down and be still, it’ll pass, she told herself, denying sharply the other voice which told her it was hopeless.

A contraction tore through her, harder than before, and she grabbed her stomach, fighting the urge to scream. Her foot caught a loose stone beneath the blanket of snow and she fell heavily onto the pavement, the shock of the fall jarring her, releasing all her anguish and grief in great wracking sobs, interrupted only by the need to hold her breath against another pain which came and went heedless of her suffering. The snow felt so cool against her fevered skin, she thought of lying there forever, waiting for the end, but the tiny thread of hope remaining which told her never to give up - that she should not give up, pulled her laboriously to her feet and forced her to hobble on shaky legs the remainder of the way to the door.

Wolf leaned back in the seat of the carriage, cradling Virginia against his side as she slept. They had originally planned to leave the rather deluxe transportation at the border of the Fourth Kingdom so as to travel on without attracting too much attention, but the weather had turned foul, leaving a blanket of snow that thickened as they drove north, so that by the time they reached the Second Kingdom, remaining in the carriage had seemed the wisest course. Certainly he hadn’t wanted his succulently pregnant wife sleeping out in the freezing cold, and he doubted his aunt did either. Wolfs had ways of preserving their own body warmth, but he could have done nothing to warm Virginia except cuddle close to her - not that he’d mind that whatsoever, but he didn’t think it would be enough, really. He knew she’d only agreed to keep their coach because she was still worried about him getting injured in Germany, and although he’d ordinarily have protested that not only was the bite on his neck healing nicely, it had nothing to do with his ability to walk or keep warm, he’d offered only a token resistance. If it kept his lovely Virginia safe, he’d gladly pretend to be feeble.

In fact, his Auntie Millie had mentioned there being a summer cottage not far across the border (by coach) at which they could stop in their fancy carriage without attracting too much attention. The actual owners would be unlikely to use it in such weather, so they’d be safe and warm and he could summon the Council in relative privacy. He knew Wendell had been rather doubtful that he could in fact accomplish this feat when he’d never tried it before, but Wolf had a plan he was certain would work - quite simple when you understood the Council and everything it stood for, he thought - but it simply wasn’t something he could get away with except in a dire emergency.

It was just at dusk, the sun disappearing into the forest leaving a pale amber afterglow. Virginia stirred beside him but didn’t wake. He looked down at her face, as beautiful and serene in the waning mystical light as a princess he might wake from an enchanted sleep with a kiss, and felt his unborn daughter flutter beneath his hand. His heart nearly burst from his chest with joy and happiness, threatening to overwhelm him so that he nearly woke his sleeping wife with an exuberant bear hug and exclamation of undying devotion, but his aunt chose that moment to say, “This is it.”

Virginia awakened on her own, blinking, and sat up, rubbing her neck. He saw her other hand go to her ripening middle and knew she must be feeling the cub move herself, and this thought made his heart swell further with the knowledge that Happy Ever After was really happening for him; that nothing had yet happened to turn it into a horrible curse, which he still secretly feared it might, and the sheer joy finally overwhelmed him.

“Oh, Virginia!” he exclaimed, scooping his unsuspecting wife, who’d been peering out the window, into his arms as the carriage drew to a stop.

She jumped, startled, then turned around and smiled at him. He leaned in to kiss her just as the footman opened the door. Distracted, her eyes darted out to the immense half-timbered facade standing three and a half stories tall which towered before them.

“That’s a cottage?” she asked in disbelief.

Smiling his most devilish smile, he lifted her from the seat and bore her out of the carriage just ahead of his aunt. But halfway across the snow-laden paving stones he halted, the scent which had come to him on the fresh, cold breeze freezing his heart.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, stricken.

“What?” his wife asked, concern filling her voice.

She doesn’t know yet, he thought. I should get her inside before it’s too late ... if it’s not already too late ... But he couldn’t make his feet move. “Virginia ...” he whined, “Oh, no, Virginia, I’m so sorry ...”

“WHAT?” she demanded, exasperated.

“It’s not Virginia,” his aunt’s voice broke in decisively. “Look there.” She pointed to their right, upwind of where they stood.

Virginia saw it a second before he did. “Oh, my God,” she exclaimed. In a patch of disturbed snow lay a bright red stain, darkening now in the early evening light. Footsteps led up to it and away, towards the nearest door, the accompanying trail of blood splotches thicker as it reached the single step up into the house.

His wife struggled in his grasp, eager to be put down, but he held on tightly and turned around.

“Let’s go back to the carriage,” he said.

“What? No! Wolf, someone’s hurt!”

“My aunt will take care of it,” he assured her without stopping.

“But what if they need a doctor?” she insisted. “Aunt Millie can’t carry someone out to the carriage ...”

He tried to set her back inside on the seat, but she fought him by grabbing the doorframe.

“Wolf, stop it! I don’t want to get back in!”

He gave up and set her down with a huff. To his surprise, she didn’t rush at once to the bloody doorway, but stood with her hands on her hips facing him.

“What is the matter?” she demanded.

He swallowed. “It’s birth blood, Virginia.”

Her brow wrinkled as she digested what he’d said, making him long to smooth it. Finally she said, “Someone had a baby?”

“No, not ... not really,” he replied, then added, “It’s bad. It’s a bad sign.”

“A bad sign?” she asked, still confused. “You mean like a bad omen or ...” She trailed off as the realization came to her. “Or someone had a miscarriage.”

He looked away.

“Wolf, I know that happens sometimes. You don’t have to protect me from ...” She stopped abruptly before finally continuing, “You thought it was me it was happening to, didn’t you? To begin with.”

He didn’t answer. In retrospect, he felt foolish for jumping to that conclusion; the blood so obviously carried none of his beloved’s scent. He’d simply been too worried that his happiness would be taken from him. But his mate didn’t berate him; instead, she gently took his hand and pressed it to her womb, forcing him to feel the shifting, tumbling life inside. He gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, trying to blot the other unfortunate woman’s scent from his mind. Virginia, however, had stood in the snow long enough. “Wolf, my feet are freezing. Could we go inside now? I promise I won’t freak out.”

They were halfway there when Aunt Millie threw open the door, her face ashen.

“Hurry, come help me out!” she called. “She’s still alive, but just barely.”

Inside the smell was overpowering. He made out an indistinct form on the floor of the great hall, covered with a blanket before his aunt began issuing instructions.

“Virginia, could you go upstairs and lay a fire in the nearest bedroom? There should be kindling and wood already there; they usually keep these aristocratic retreats well stocked in the event they’re wanted immediately. Simon, you’ll have to carry her upstairs. Be careful - I don’t think she’s lost too much blood, but she’s still running a high fever and she’s been in here at least all day with no heat to speak of.”

Virginia had dashed off immediately to start the fire, leaving Wolf to note curiously that his aunt was shaking as she bent to check once again on her patient. He thought this singularly odd since he’d seen her in this kind of situation before, and while she’d been sad, she had never let her emotions overwhelm her to this extent. But he kept his questions for later as he squatted beside the blanket-draped figure on the floor, a blonde mass of tangled hair all he could see of her head.

He carefully placed one hand behind her neck and the other beneath her knees to draw her towards him. As she rolled into his arms, her fevered skin hot against his palm, he caught the first sight of her face and gasped. Unconscious, her haughty expression was gone, but he knew the high cheekbones, long neck and full lips well, having made an effort to impress their likeness upon his memory at Wendell’s coronation. The Queen of the Second Kingdom lay helpless, possibly dying, in his arms.

He looked up sharply at his aunt. “Do you know who this is?” he asked, his voice rough, wondering if this was what had caused her agitation. But, mistaking, as it did, his meaning, her reply left him in confusion.

“No,” she said, “I’ve never met her,” then reached behind where she crouched for a small, pillowcase-wrapped bundle. But for the bloodstains and the reverent way she handled it, he would have thought it nothing but so much wadded material. He knew, however, what it was and his stomach lurched at the thought. He did not want to see it, especially not now; could feel his bile rise as he broke into a sweat.

“No,” he pleaded, his voice no more than a whisper.

“You don’t have to look,” she assured him, her voice equally hushed. “Just smell.”

No, not that; not even that, he pleaded silently, certain his stomach would rebel entirely. But the fragrance of death had no age; it was as it ever was, a strangely natural thing. And beneath it lay the surprise, the shock which had overcome his aunt when she’d entered the house and discovered them. The dead cub was his kin - his brother’s child.

Wolf carried his sister-in-law numbly up to the room where Virginia had almost finished starting the fire, while his aunt took the cub’s remains to a safe place. He’d said nothing further to Aunt Millie about the mother’s identity, feeling somehow instinctively that it might be easier for her to handle the queen’s care without the added burden of knowing who, exactly, she was.

As he laid her carefully in the bed, his wife stood, brushing her hands briskly together first, and then on the sides of her coat.

“I’ll see if Millie needs any more help,” she announced, and dashed out the door before he could untangle himself from his charge. He covered his brother’s mate with the blanket from the bed, then stood a moment more, wondering whether to leave her alone, but the image of Virginia unwittingly coming upon the contents of the bloody pillowcase overwhelmed him (never mind that his aunt would be there to prevent it) and he charged out of the room after his wife.

He was halfway down the stairs when he saw her, standing in the hall, the ruined, red fur coat of Her Royal Highness folded over one arm, staring intently at something on the floor. His eyes picked it out and he instinctively recoiled. Hate ... loathing ... malice ... revenge ... death assailed him relentlessly in wave upon wave, leaving him unable to draw a breath. Unsuspecting, his beloved reached for it, curiously. Forcing the entire bulk of his will against the onslaught, he screamed, “Virginia, NO!”

He was over the banister and leaping across the generous expanse of hall in a single motion, no thought of anything but to stop her from touching the fragment of evil until he slammed into her bodily, forcing himself to claw anxiously at her skirts, her legs, her hips, to keep her from falling as he twisted himself to land beneath her and cushion the blow. She landed on him heavily, the fur coat she’d been holding wadded between them. He heard her gasp, try to say something, and gasp again; heard his aunt’s feet pounding towards them in response to the crash; knew she’d be upon it any moment as he struggled to sit up, still gently cradling his now angrily flailing wife.

“WOLF!” his sweetheart finally managed to gasp out, “What the HELL do you think you’re doing?”

She tried to pull away, but he held onto her fast, shouting past her, “Auntie, STOP! Go back! Don’t get closer!”

“Wolf, have you lost your mind?” Virginia demanded. “You could have seriously hurt the baby! Let go of me!” But his aunt, mercifully, stopped.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

It took both his hands to restrain the struggling Virginia, so he pointed as best he could by gesturing furiously with his head, a whine escaping him. Naming it wasn’t something he could bring himself to do.

Aunt Millie looked down, then back up at him cautiously. “Are you seeing something?” she asked. He knew what she meant; she always called it that whenever he’d been able to detect the presence of magic in one form or another, though it wasn’t how he would have chosen to describe what he did. The impression the thing gave him had nothing to do with its visual appearance. Nevertheless, he nodded, once, then more emphatically. “Yes,” he said.

Abruptly, Virginia stopped struggling. He felt, rather than saw, her look up at his face, then back over at the thing lying on the hall floor. “What, that watch?” she asked. “It fell out of her coat pocket.”

“It’s not a watch,” he said. “It’s ...” He still couldn’t name it; didn’t want to even think about what it was or what it was for, finally just settling on, “It’s bad.”

His aunt gave it a wide berth as she walked over and squatted beside them.

“Simon,” she began softly, her voice gentle, “Is that what caused her ...” she glanced upwards to indicated who she meant “ ... to lose her baby?”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the hate and malignancy he still felt pouring from it, held tightly to his wife, and nodded. “Yes,” he finally gasped. “I think ... Yes.”

In his arms he felt Virginia stiffen.

“Oh my God,” she murmured. “Oh my God. Wolf ... I almost ...”

He hugged her harder.

“How are we going to get rid of it?” he heard his aunt ask.

“Oh, yes,” agreed Virginia. “We can’t just leave it here. Someone could find it. But if we can’t touch it ...”

“I’ll have to bring the Council here,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right,” said his wife. “I forgot about that. You were going to do that anyway. It’s not going to interfere with your being able to summon them, is it?”

“No,” he said, thinking, Not technically. But it would, he knew, make the job much more difficult since he would now have to bring them to his location rather than allowing them to take him to theirs, which he knew they’d prefer to do. He just hoped he was capable of it.