Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

As he passed the main audience chamber he thought he heard voices coming from within it. Oh, no, he thought. Not more petitions against the wolfs' pardon. Who's let them in? He was in a hurry to get to the luncheon he'd scheduled with Virginia and Wolf, and had a fleeting thought of quickly slipping past hoping not to be noticed. But a quick glance around showed him he was alone in the main passage. And he couldn't just let petitioners run wild around the palace. Where's a servant when you need one? he wanted to know. Someone's going to hear about this ...

He rounded the corner into the audience hall and came face to face with Wolf.

"Oh, huff, puff! Here he is," said the half-wolf. "So where is the food?"

"Food?" Wendell was really taken aback. Wolf was the last person he'd expected to see.

"Yes, you invited us to lunch!"

"Wolf," said Virginia, "I told you, we're in the wrong place."

Wolf replied to her. Wendell could hear his voice. But he had absolutely no idea what he was saying because all of his attention was suddenly focused on the large oval mirror hanging at the south end of the great hall: his coronation gift from the dwarves of Dragon Mountain. It held Virginia's reflection, though she wasn't looking at it, but rather off to one side, at Wolf. She was dressed now in a pale blue morning-dress in the Fourth Kingdom style. And she was not enormously, but certainly unmistakably, pregnant.

"Wendell?" she asked.

He tore his eyes from her reflection just in time to see her turn to look at it. Her mouth dropped open and she glanced instantly down at her middle, her hand flying up to touch her still quite flat stomach. Slowly, her eyes looked back up at her reflection, her brow furrowed. Then, suddenly, a look of realization came into her face.

"Oh!" she said. "Is that the Mirror of Truth?"

They were already nearly through the first course of the meal and Wendell's mind was still reeling from Virginia's casual attitude towards her pregnancy. He had gotten over wondering when it had happened - well, actually, no he hadn't. Was it in Kissingtown or later, after the coronation - in his own palace, he wondered? But he did concede that that - at least now after the fact - was none of his business. What was his business was getting his ruined step-sister married as quickly as possible. Yet he'd quickly come to realize that his attempts to force her to see the seriousness of her situation did nothing more than irritate her, though Wolf had remained strangely silent on the subject, he thought. He decided to try a different tactic.

"Virginia," he began, "I'm truly sorry if I've offended you, and I realize that your personal life is none of my business" - here he expected a comment from the half-wolf and was surprised when none was forthcoming - "but I want you to understand that I do think of you as my sister and I only want the best for you."

Virginia laid the soup spoon she was holding down in its saucer.

"I know, Wendell," she said. "It's just that the customs of my world are very different from this one. Making sure I'm married before the baby is born just isn't my highest priority right now. After all, it isn't as if Wolf would desert me - I know he wouldn't ..."

"Of course not!" Wolf interjected, apparently aghast that anyone should even consider it.

" ... So I can't see the enormous importance attached to having a piece of paper that says so," she finished.

"Well, regardless of what is customary in your world," he began, privately wondering what sort of place of iniquity her world was and that maybe he should be glad he had visited it while a dog, "Here we have a very strict moral sense and a young lady who is pregnant is expected to be married. Even if it's not something you personally care about, Wolf is from this world, and your father lives here now as well. Think of them."

"Oh, Virginia," declared Wolf, finally joining in the discussion as Wendell thought he ought to have been doing all along, "I don't care so much about what people think! It's just that I want our baby to have a father!"

She stared straight ahead across the table at nothing in particular.

"Will you both please leave me alone about it?" she demanded quietly. "It's my decision. I won't be forced into it."

Wendell realized he was pushing her too hard, and that if he kept on he would only succeed in angering her. But he fumed, nonetheless, at how intractable she seemed under the circumstances. Why does she have to be so stubborn? he wondered. She doesn't have all that much time to get herself married before her condition becomes obvious!

Wolf was staring down into his soup, dejected, as Wendell considered he had every right to be. Virginia seemed to notice this, too, because she suddenly apologized and said, "I'm sorry, it's just that I never envisioned myself married. And I don't want to feel like it's something I'm being forced to do for the wrong reason."

She put her hand on Wolf's and he looked up at her.

"It's nothing to do with you," she went on, "I love you. It's just me, okay?"

Wolf took her hand and squeezed it, though he said nothing, just stared lovingly at her face.

Wendell watched the two of them together and mentally rolled his eyes, though he kept his face impassive. This is worse than having to control my expressions in front of petitioners! he thought. At least there the ultimate decision is always mine! This line of thought, however, made him suddenly understand that in this case it was he who was in the position of petitioner. And he knew how he would react to someone coming in and ordering him about, even if the order were reasonable. He realized he'd have to change his approach somewhat if he expected to ever sway her.

"Virginia," he said, "I am sorry. I didn't realize until now that I was essentially trying to force you into anything. I will try not to do it in the future. But may I make a suggestion in case you should decide to marry?"

She looked somewhat confused, and, he suspected, a trifle suspicious of what he'd said, though he certainly couldn't blame her. He'd react the same way if a previously forceful petitioner suddenly appeared to give in as much as he had just done. But she only said, "Yes, go ahead."

"I should like it very much if you would agree to have the ceremony here," he told her.

"Here?" she asked. "In the Fourth Kingdom, you mean, or ...?"

"Here at the palace," he clarified. "You are my step-sister, after all, and both of you are heros of the Nine Kingdoms. It would only be fitting for you to have a state wedding."

He'd expected the offer to flatter her and spark her imagination. He remembered being in some dancing and deportment classes with his cousins when he was younger, and how the girls had seemed to prattle on endlessly about their own future weddings, what the colors would be, who would be there, how everything would look ad infinitum, while their maids had all sighed and wished their own weddings could be as grand. Virginia, however, merely looked at him in horror.

"A state wedding?" she whispered. He could even hear dread in her voice. Only then did it occur to him that a woman who had never wished to be married in the first place might be a bit apprehensive about taking that step in one of the world's largest weddings. To make matters worse, even Wolf seemed taken aback by the idea.

"I wanted my family to be there," he said simply.

It was on the tip of Wendell's tongue to say there was no reason why they could not, when he remembered that he would in all likelihood be rescinding the pardon the wolfs had been granted. And even if Virginia were to agree to a date before the following full moon, he couldn't ask Wolf's family to openly declare their status just before the pardon terminated. Such an act would amount to entrapment.

Fortunately he was saved from needing to comment by Wolf's next statement:

"Most of my family live in the Second Kingdom," he said. "If they appear in public as wolfs, even here, they'll be subject to persecution when they go home."

"Yes," agreed Virginia, "If we do get married, I'd certainly want Wolf's family to attend without putting themselves in danger."

Wendell thought a moment.

"If I were to think of some way to keep Wolf's family safe - a way satisfactory to Wolf - would you agree to it then?" he asked, adding hurriedly, "Provided the ceremony was kept small."

Virginia stared at him levelly.

"Very small," she said. "Our families and a couple of friends, nothing more."

Wendell nodded, privately much more satisfied than he appeared. If Virginia was going to argue about the size of the guest list, then she was already considering the possibility of marriage. He'd managed to plant the seed. Now all he had to do was devise some way of shielding Wolf's family. He sighed, realizing that no matter what plan he came up with, the both of them would hate him in the end when the pardon was rescinded, and that if Virginia didn't agree to set a date within the next month, the entire scenario he'd built up for her would fall apart.

Virginia sat cross-legged on the cot in front of Wolf's cell, dressed in her cotton batiste nightgown and blue chenille robe, still needing the quilt from the bed pulled up around her for warmth. The dungeon was chilly and damp, more so than she remembered, though she supposed it was only natural now with summer virtually gone by. Wolf, however, didn't seem to notice the chill in the air. She could see him, just his head and shoulders, sitting on the floor in the corner on the far side of the cell already sweating profusely, his breathing labored. A slight breeze wafted in from the tiny barred window and Virginia worried that, as wet as he was, he would become sick in a more prosaic way from the cold. She acknowledged, however, that there was nothing she could do about that; nothing she could do about any of it except be here with him.

For the past four days she hadn't left his sight. That was the promise she'd made to herself, if not to him. She knew he'd needed her there, though. He'd been much more physical than he usually was - which was saying a lot - touching her at every opportunity, needing that contact throughout the night even as they slept. It was one more reassurance that she was really still there, with him; that she hadn't left when she found out. But Virginia knew it wasn't over - that it wouldn't be over until after the full moon had passed. He had to know she could see everything, witness the entire transformation and all that went with it in person - not just as a special effect in a fantasy tale - and still stay. She knew, from the way he'd held her just before he locked himself in the cell, that he didn't yet believe she really would: He'd closed his eyes and hugged her as hard as he could for the longest time, and she could feel him shaking with emotion. Then, as they parted, he'd gazed at her face as if he weren't sure when he'd ever see her again.

He'd gone into the cell then. Gone in and changed his clothes, so, he said, her scent would not be there to tempt him. He was afraid of it setting him off, he told her; afraid of some extreme reaction with his cycle so unpredictable. That was also why he'd gone to sit in the farthest corner from her, under the window.

He'd chosen this particular cell three days ago, when Wendell was still trying not so subtly to plan their marriage for them. Wolf had wanted the window for the ventilation, but he hadn't wanted a view of the moon at any time of night, so the window faced north. After selecting it, he'd tested every bar, both in the window and in the dungeon door. When he was satisfied they'd hold, Wendell ordered the cots installed: one outside the cell for Virginia, another identical to it inside for Wolf (though for something called a cot they more nearly resembled a queen-sized bed, she thought). There was little for them to do then but wait.

Most of the waiting time had been spent alone in their chamber since whenever they ventured out, Wendell would pop up with some ‘hypothetical' wedding plan he wanted Virginia's opinion on. Virginia had wanted to ask Wolf more about his family; she had so much yet to learn about him - but he would only turn her questions aside, saying they'd wait until later. It hurt her, because she knew what he really meant: that he suspected there might not be a later, that his sharing would come to nothing, and that the less said the better. So their conversation was restricted to pleasantries and discussion only of the present - nothing of the past, or the future. Not that Wolf needed to speak in order to communicate; Virginia had learned that the day he'd found her in the swamp, been surprised at how uncharacteristically quiet he could be, though maybe it simply hadn't been until then that she'd been able to listen. Now she could. She could feel everything as he felt it and she hurt along with him. But there had been nothing they could do except wait. She was very glad the waiting was nearly over.

This morning he'd wanted to shut himself in the cell immediately, but she had convinced him to wait until he felt at least one of the symptoms. So the day went by much as had the previous two, with nothing in it to really remark on. They'd eaten lunch in their chamber and dinner with Wendell. Wolf became neither feverish nor argumentative. The only out-of-the-ordinary occurrences were the looks that both the servants - and Wendell - threw in Wolf's direction: From the servants, Virginia read apprehension and fear; from Wendell, curious speculation. She knew Wolf had read them too.

After dinner Wolf insisted he be locked away. The meal had been served much earlier this evening than usual, so that it was still an hour away from sundown - and moonrise - when it ended. All of them, Wolf, Virginia, Wendell, and two servants, had traipsed down into the dungeon together as if locking him up were some sort of processional ceremony. Just before entering the cell, Wolf had turned to Wendell.

"I'll need to eat," he said simply, his voice and manner weary as they had been much of the day, "A lot."

Wendell nodded, and gestured to the two servants.

"These two will bring you whatever you need," he said.

Wolf's eyes shifted to the servants and Virginia could see they were nearly in a panic. She knew Wolf couldn't have missed seeing it either, but all he said was, "I'll need fresh meat. Lamb or mutton is best, but any kind of meat will do, just so it's very fresh. Still alive would be preferable, but there's no way to get it into the cell without opening the door, so as close to being alive as possible. Definitely still warm and I don't mean cooked. Is that clear?"

They'd nodded, still quite overcome with terror; Wolf's description of what he needed had only added to their nervousness. With a quick glance in Wendell's direction for dismissal, they beat a path back up to the main floor, barely managing not to run.

Wolf had then turned to Virginia to say goodbye. That's what it was, she thought, even though neither of them was leaving the other's sight. She remembered how he'd taken her face in his hands and seemed to be memorizing it.

"Are you starting to feel it yet?" she'd asked.

He'd shaken his head.

"No," he'd said. "But I don't want to wait any longer. After the moon comes up ..."

He hadn't finished, just looked away for a moment before taking her in his arms and crushing her to him. When they parted, he'd gazed longingly at her, then stepped backwards into the cell. Wendell closed the gated door, locked it, and handed Virginia the key. Then he'd left, and they were alone together on opposite sides of the bars.

Wolf had changed his clothes and gone immediately to the far side of the cell. She had changed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed while it was still daylight. The moon had been up for over two hours before he'd begun to be affected by it.

She now watched him press as much of his feverish body as he could against the cool stones of the wall and wondered, as she had for the last four days, if the child she was carrying would have to go through that kind of agony every month. It wasn't something she felt she could ask Wolf quite yet, however. In the state he was in, he was far too likely to take any questions she had about the baby's nature in the worst possible light. Thinking back over the last few days since she'd discovered his secret, she suddenly realized that the only time he'd mentioned the baby in all that time was at the first luncheon they'd had with Wendell. Nor had he caressed it as he had so frequently before. He's already giving it up, she thought. A weight settled on her chest and she felt her eyes start to burn. At the far end of the cell, Wolf shifted position. He didn't look at her, hadn't looked at her since he'd gone in. Nor had he spoken beyond telling her once that he thought it would be better if she remained silent.

It would all be over in two days. She had to think of that, try to focus on it. Her father should be arriving about then, as well, she thought. Wendell had sent for him the day they'd arrived, and had estimated the time it would take for her dad to receive the message and return from Kissingtown, where he'd gone to research some material for his bouncy castles, to be about five or six days. She'd missed seeing him. It had been a tremendous disappointment to her when Wendell had told her he was so far away, though it had meant she could put off for awhile telling him about the baby. That wasn't going to be easy. If left to herself, she'd probably put off telling him until it became obvious, only she knew Wolf wouldn't be able to wait that long. He was too excited.

Not any more. The thought crept in, demanding attention. Live in the present, Virginia. It was a familiar litany, well-worn. She'd said it to herself countless times in the years since her mother had left. But she'd thought it finally gone, buried, no longer necessary. Her eyes clouded over with tears. She reached up to brush them away.

Opposite her, in the corner of the cell under the window, Wolf moaned. She looked up. His eyes were tightly shut, his face twisted in a grimace as he clutched his stomach. His cramps had begun. She remembered his cramps from the last time, at Little Lamb Village; brutal, intense, and agonizing. Fortunately they hadn't seemed to last long. Not to me they didn't, she realized. I didn't stay with him. I went to eat with Dad. It was at least thirty minutes before he joined us, maybe more. To him it must have seemed like hours. But the recollection also made her wonder if she should give the signal for his food now. He'd been ravenous when the pain had finally left him.

He cried out again, then gasped. She could just barely see him, lying on the floor, bent nearly double. No, she thought. No food yet. At this stage the smell might only make him nauseous, she decided. It would her. She got up, put on her slippers, and walked over to the cell. Sweat poured from him as he wrestled with his pain. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what was causing his cramps in the first place.

Her hands fastened on the bars. Wolf's breathing was stentorian. Subconsciously, Virginia matched it. A cramp seized him and he bit his lip, holding his breath until it passed. Virginia held her breath with him, her knuckles turning white where her fingers grasped the bars of the cell. She shivered slightly, unsure if it was from the cold or not. Another spasm began building slowly, until it formed a rock-hard ball inside her. Abruptly she jerked her hands from the bars and backed up, gasping, half bent over, clutching herself. Then, slowly, it washed away and she was able to find the bed and climb up on it before another started in to replace it. As it did, she whimpered and cried out loud, more from knowledge of what had to be happening to her than from pain. She was losing the baby.