Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

He'd been watching the scene over and over for quite awhile, wondering how he was going to survive having Virginia see it. A vague plan had formed in his mind of somehow managing to show the program only to Wendell when his ears caught the sharp hiss of indrawn breath. He jerked his head towards it, horrified to see Virginia standing in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the television, her face white. He felt as if his entire body had turned to lead. She had seen it. She knew.

It seemed to him that Virginia stood there, motionless, staring at the television for long minutes. Then she turned to look at him. He began to shake uncontrollably as he envisioned what she would do next: run, screaming for the door or cower away from him, flinching at his touch. It wasn't until he ran out of air that he noticed he'd forgotten to even breathe.

He tried to say her name, but no sound came out. He struggled with himself, trying to gasp, sob, anything, but nothing would come. Then he could no longer even see.

She was there, then, beside him, holding him. He shuddered, gasping, his breath a ragged panting as he clung to her in desperation, tears stinging his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. Through it all, he could think of nothing but that she hadn't run away. She hadn't run away.

Virginia sat on the sofa and held him, her mind still reeling from the discovery. This is what he's been hiding! she thought. His deep, dark secret that he couldn't share. Instinctively, she suddenly understood why: he'd been terrified she would leave him. The realization nearly undid her; she understood so well what he was feeling that she almost lost herself in sympathetic reaction. She imagined what he must have thought she would do: run away in fear, never to return, and yes, to the nearest abortion clinic. Her own tears flowed unchecked as she held him tighter, her eyes shut, murmuring, "I'm right here, I'm right here", over and over like a litany.

His fears were in no way founded. Her reaction at seeing the truth about him graphically depicted on the television was not one of shock and fearfulness, but more of incredulity that she hadn't figured it out before. After all, the signs had all been there for her to see, she just hadn't believed them. Werewolves didn't exist. All her schooling said so. But if she had accepted the Nine Kingdoms and all it's impossibilities, why not that? The discovery raised a lot of questions, yes, but this wasn't the time to ask them. He had first to be convinced that she would stay. That would take work, she knew, but she could do it. He had, for her. And right now, he just needed to be held.

In a few moments, after the worst of his shaking had calmed, she reached over and turned on the lamp, then shut off the TV. He laid back a bit on the sofa, staring at her reverently as if he couldn't quite believe she was really there. He raised his hand to touch her face and she caught it and pressed it to her cheek.

"I'm right here," she repeated again. "And I'm not going away. I love you."

She saw his eyes fill with tears again. She stood and, slowly, led him by the hand into the bedroom and set him down on the bed. After turning on the lamp, she climbed into bed after him and held him beside her there until he finally fell asleep, exhausted.

King Wendell Winston Walter White, grandson of Snow White, and ruler of the Fourth Kingdom, sat at the desk in his ornately appointed office and rubbed his eyes. He was barely twenty-one years old and had been coronated less than a month before. Two days following that, he had issued what he'd thought was a progressive and forward-looking decree. But now, after a period of reflection, he was having second thoughts about it.

The decree actually did nothing more than prevent his half-wolf subjects from being imprisoned (or executed) without a fair trial. That's what he kept telling himself. But what he had failed to see (and he felt it was his failing as a ruler) was the effect that ruling would have on his other subjects. Already he had received an enormous number of petitions (he'd stopped counting at fifty) asking him to rescind the pardon. The vast majority of them were from people frightened out of their wits. And he really couldn't blame them.

The full moon was only three days away. People were panicking at the thought of what even one half-wolf run amok would do, let alone their entire population. Always before, the unwritten rule that a wolf was always guilty of any crime that appeared to have been committed by one had kept them, for the most part, in line. Hidden for most of the month by a disguise of normality, many people believed they had kept their natures secret only by physical restraint during the full moon. But with this new decree, the arguments ran, would there be any incentive for them to remain in hiding?

Wendell frowned. Most - well, virtually all - of the complaints had listed the usual widely accepted catalogue of the undesirable traits of wolfs in order to support their argument. The trouble was, having spent an entire month (including the full moon) in the company of a wolf, he knew that most of those traits were simply untrue. Even unrestrained during the full moon Wolf had never hurt anyone. Wendell himself had helped to prove his innocence in the murder of that girl. In fact, it had been that very incident which had brought to his attention the need for some sort of legislation to protect the half-wolfs in the first place. He simply hadn't realized it until later, when Wolf had surprised everyone (he thought) by doing the honorable thing and preventing all the heads of state from being poisoned (one of the supposed traits of wolfs was their complete lack of honor). Wendell had realized only then that it hadn't been the first time Wolf's behavior hadn't followed his low expectations. So he had devised the pardon. None of the dignitaries present at his coronation (whose lives Wolf had incidentally saved) had ventured to oppose it, including Riding Hood, though she hadn't bothered to stay for the award ceremony. But he understood now that they were only waiting to see him hoist by his own petard. And there was nothing he could do about it. If he rescinded the pardon before the full moon, he'd only succeed in appearing weak while not even giving the wolfs the chance he thought they deserved. But if the full moon brought out the worst of the wolfs' behavior and people were hurt or killed, then he, Wendell, would be responsible for their suffering. So there was nothing left for him to do but pray that the wolfs would restrain themselves as they always had - and worry.

His brooding was interrupted by a servant who brought him the news that "Lady Virginia and her companion" had arrived. Upon questioning, Wendell discovered that Virginia and Wolf had been taken to a private chamber to refresh themselves while they awaited the King's favor. This statement had the effect of exasperating the young king.

"The Lady Virginia is my stepsister," he declared. "She does not need to ‘wait upon my favor!' She may see me any time she cares to, unless I've given orders to the contrary."

The servant bowed low.

"Yes, sire," he said. "About her companion, sire ..."

It was on the tip of Wendell's tongue to say, ‘What about him?', but he was too tired of officially arguing about the rights of half-wolfs to bring that into the conversation when it wasn't strictly necessary. Instead he said, "Anyone in my stepsister's company is to be accorded the same privilege as she."

The servant nodded, bowed, and began to leave. Wendell stopped him.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Sire?"

"What room have you put them in?"

The man looked shocked that his king wished to find someone himself instead of waiting for them to come to him, but provided the information. Wendell smiled to himself as he climbed the three sets of stairs to their room - the same room they'd occupied before leaving for Virginia's world. The indignant expression the servant had worn when confronted with his king's insistence upon throwing formality out the window reminded him forcibly of Rupert. Only Rupert would have argued with him about it. Ah, well, he thought, he'll unbend a bit eventually. It'll just take time. Not like getting changed into a dog. But right now Rupert was gone, away at his hold like all the lords, to protect the people under his care in case any problems arose during this month's full moon. Wendell sighed and kept climbing.

The door was shut. Well, really, did you expect it to be wide open, Wendell? he asked himself. He rapped on the door hesitantly, not liking to think what he might be interrupting. Just before they'd left, Wendell knew Virginia had accepted Wolf's ring, and though he no longer doubted the half-wolf's honor, he didn't really want to see any graphic evidence of their passion. But when Virginia opened the door he had to admit she didn't look in the least bit ravished.

"Wendell!" she cried, surprised to see him.

"Hello, Virginia," he said, thinking how much better she looked than the last time he'd seen her. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever seen her this full of life before. Not that she was bouncy or anything as Wolf was - she just had that look of absolute purpose and determination he'd seen on her fleetingly in the past, along with something else he couldn't quite define. Wolf had been right, returning to her home had helped her tremendously.

She gave him a brief hug, invited him in and closed the door behind him. It was then that he saw Wolf. And was as surprised by his lifelessness as he had been by Virginia's vibrancy. Though, to be fair, he thought, it wasn't as if Wolf could be called lifeless by normal standards. It was simply that he was no longer so energetic. And was there something otherwise odd about him as well, he wondered? Wendell didn't know. Wolf had been sitting on the bed, and had risen when the king had walked into the room, though his eyes had rested on Virginia until the door had closed. Then he nodded to Wendell.

"Your Majesty," he said by way of greeting.

No, he sounds perfectly normal, thought Wendell. Maybe I'm just imagining things. "Wolf," he said, nodding in return.

Wolf walked over and stood beside Virginia. She put her arm around his waist and they all stood there for a moment, looking at each other awkwardly.

"What's brought you back?" asked Wendell, finally. He wished he was a better conversationalist. It wasn't something he had to be as king; the members of his court were supposed to excel at that. Wendell had been so long without a real family that he'd never bothered to learn it. Well, now I have a sister, so I'd better start, he thought.

Virginia had looked up at Wolf, then gone to rummage in one of the two duffelbags they'd brought. Wolf was no help, either. He simply stared after Virginia, silently. Part of Wendell thought this odd. He remembered the half-wolf almost as being a chatterbox, but then he'd never had a chance to be alone in their company after he'd returned to human form. And when he'd been a dog, they hadn't been able to understand him.

Finally, Virginia returned with a fold of blue-colored paperboard. She handed it to him. He looked at it. The 10^th Kingdom, it read, just above a picture of a castle, and right across the face of a troll. Wendell realized then that it opened like a book. Inside were two flat, round objects, recessed in. One had a picture on it that repeated the motif on the cover. The other appeared to be a mirror. More magic? he wondered as he looked up.

"It's a play," explained Wolf. "Preserved so it can be watched whenever a person wants."

"And it's the story of our adventure in the Nine Kingdoms," Virginia told him. "Beginning when my mother got out of prison."

Wendell was stunned.

"They can write plays and record them that quickly?" he asked.

"No, they can't," she said. "That's the point. This was made before our adventure ever began. Here," - she turned it over and pointed to the bottom of the back cover - "See, it's dated. They always date these things the year they're made. In my world, this is last year's date."

He gave it a cursory glance. The number itself was meaningless, but what Virginia was saying about it seemed incredible.

"How is that possible?" he asked.

"It isn't," she said. "That's what we don't understand."

"It's some kind of magic," said Wolf simply.

Wendell was not surprised.

Virginia turned to look at her fiance.

"But there isn't any magic in my world," she argued.

"The dragon dung bean still worked," he pointed out. "So did the dog spell on the king, here. He didn't change back just because he went through the portal."

"But we can't do magic there," Virginia insisted. "From our point of view, it's all only in stories told to entertain children. Make-believe."

"Oh!" said Wolf, "The stories! Yes, you said that the whole history of our Golden Age is told as a make-believe story! So, is ..."

"Really?" asked Wendell, interrupting him. What a strange thing, he thought. "Well, could this just be more of the same, then?"

"That is what I was going to say," Wolf muttered.

"No," said Virginia. "No, it can't. Dad and I found out how that happened. There's an inscription on a beam in one of the cells of the dungeon here by the man who wrote those stories. So we know how they got to my world."

"The dungeon in this palace?" asked Wendell.

"Yes, in the cell the Huntsman put us in. I'm sure that must be in this too." She pointed to the recorded play Wendell still held.

"Well, how would he have gotten here?"

"Through one of the mirrors?" asked Wolf, as if the answer to Wendell's question should have been obvious. Wendell got the impression he'd just barely stopped short of rolling his eyes. Suddenly he remembered why it had taken so long for him to warm to Wolf in the first place. If he'd ever warmed to him, that is. Still, he thought, Virginia is engaged to him. And that thought reminded him of what Antony had said at the trial in Little Lamb Village, when Wendell had thought Wolf obviously guilty of murder: Virginia believes in him. And I believe in Virginia. Virginia had been right then, and her faith had later saved the lives of over two hundred people. Wolf was an honorable fellow. An honorable fellow who grates on my nerves, he thought. But I need to be civil to him, even if its only for Virginia's sake. He's going to be my brother-in-law. He blanched. Why did I have to think of that? he wondered dismally. Quickly, he fastened his attention on Virginia.

"You said you were sure that must be in this play," he stated. "You don't know it for a fact?"

"No, we ... haven't watched the whole thing yet," she admitted.

"Then how do you know the whole thing is about our adventure?" he asked.

"Because," Wolf told him, "It came with a list of scenes." He bent over the duffel himself, reached in and started drawing out articles of clothing, tossing them casually aside. "It's in here somewhere," he announced. Virginia watched him with dismay, though she said nothing. Most, if not all, of the clothing appeared to be hers.

"Never mind, Wolf," said Wendell. "I believe you."

Wolf kept digging.

"I said I believe you," he repeated, louder this time.

Virginia put her hand on Wolf's shoulder just as he extracted a small sheet of blue paper from the bag. Wendell took it from his outstretched hand.

"Thank you," he said, glancing at it perfunctorily. "I suppose the thing to do, then, is for us to watch it to see if there's anything we can discover from the play's content?"

They both agreed.

"Well, then, let's see it," he said. "How does it work?"

"It only works on a machine that only works in Virginia's world," said Wolf.

Wendell thought a moment, following through the chain of conditions.

"Oh," he finally said. "Then we'd need to go there, wouldn't we?" Only that would present a problem, he thought.

Virginia and Wolf exchanged glances, and Wendell had it again. The same odd impression he'd gotten upon seeing Wolf when he'd first come in. Almost as if Wolf were enduring a fleeting moment of pain. Wendell had opened his mouth to explain why he couldn't possibly leave the kingdom right away, but stopped. If he let it pass, he might not have a better chance to find out what was going on.

"Was there something else?" he asked. They both stared at him somewhat uncomfortably. He took a deep breath, determined to find out. "Is something wrong?"

Virginia glanced at Wolf, then back to Wendell.

"There's something wrong with Wolf," she finally said. "He's not well."

Wendell looked at him questioningly. In reaction, Wolf's eyes suddenly blazed.

"It's just my cycle, okay?" he said irritably, biting off the words. "It's messed up. Does that satisfy your curiosity?" He shuddered then, glancing quickly to Virginia, his expression suddenly contrite. "Oh, cripes, Virginia," he said, sounding miserable. "I'm so sorry." He found her arm almost blindly with his hand and squeezed it. She reached up and squeezed him back. He let her go and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. Wendell could see that he was shaking.

Wolf's emotional state disquieted him. He'd never seen the entire effect of the full moon on the half-wolf; he'd been turned to gold at the time, and though he could hear perfectly well, his attention had been rather wasted on fuming to himself about his predicament. Then again, most of his time during the beginning of the harvest festival in Little Lamb Village, he'd been carted everywhere Antony went. And Antony didn't spend a great deal of time around Wolf. Wendell began to wonder now if he wouldn't have been wiser to witness first hand exactly what the full moon could do to a half-wolf before issuing his proclamation - after all, Wolf would have been perfectly satisfied to get a medal. But he tried to keep all these thoughts out of his expression when he looked at Virginia.

"We had to come back," she said. "We have to find him some help."

"Of course," he agreed, though he wondered privately how that would be possible. Though, possibly because of the pardon, some half-wolf doctor ... healer? ... shaman? might come forward. Or perhaps Wolf knew how to find one in any case. He supposed they must have some method for that, though he knew the common perception was that any half-wolfs who were sick or injured were killed (and possibly eaten) by the rest. Wendell supposed he was about to find out the truth (though, to be fair, he'd never believed they were cannibals, except possibly during the full moon). "What do you plan to do?" he asked.

There was another awkward silence while Virginia looked down at Wolf, who was still sitting on the bed. He didn't seem to notice, just turned his head and stared out the window. She laid her hand on his shoulder and looked back at Wendell.

"We wanted to ask you if we could use one of the cells in your dungeon," she said. Wolf flinched as she said it, but made no comment. "Just during the full moon," she added.

That was not at all what Wendell needed to hear. If Wolf, whom he knew and trusted (if he didn't entirely like) needed to be locked away in order to control himself, what would a weaker individual be likely to do? He had to struggle to keep his dismay from showing.

"Yes, of course," he agreed.

"Thank you," she said, though he noticed she seemed somewhat hesitant. Wendell wondered if she could tell how upset he was. He hoped not.

"Was there something else?" he asked.

"Well," she began, "Would you mind very much if we stayed here until then? I know it's three days away, but ..." she stopped and looked down at Wolf, who appeared to be resolutely not looking at anyone, then continued, "He's really not well at all. And if something happened in my world, I don't know how I'd find help."

He wondered eerily what she meant by ‘something happening', but he merely said, "Certainly you can." If Virginia was afraid of something Wolf might do it was even worse than Wendell thought. But he realized that her request also meant there would be no need to explain why he himself couldn't travel. Even though he was fairly well convinced by now that he'd have to rescind the pardon, he wouldn't need to tell them so. Not yet, at any rate. Not until after the full moon.