#agutk

There was nothing he could do, there was no way to help. He wasn’t even sure if things would go back to the way they were, or if Vin would be irrevocably changed by the unfortunate events that had come to pass. The lycan was hopelessly lost, treading through the dark, his only company the unborn child currently fluttering about in his swollen womb.

With a sigh, Lucas rolled onto his other side, shoving a fist under his pillow for a slight change in angle. His eyes closed for nearly a moment when he heard a faint knock at the door. It had been so light, he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t just imagined it. He let a few, puzzled, seconds silently pass, when he heard it again, this time more confident.

The lycan grumbled softly as he hoisted himself out of bed, quickly tugging on a pair of trousers before shuffling to the door. Lucas opened the door only a sliver, cautiously peering through the crack at his unexpected visitor. The warm glow of the burning fireplace softly illuminated the cottage, small flickers of that light bestowing itself upon his guest.

She stood straight and proper, draped in a dark, hooded cloak, soaked in rain water. Her face rested in a stuttered shadow, crimson eyes shimmering in the faint fire light.

“May I come in?” Her voice was soft and quiet, nearly matching the pitch of the falling rain.

Lucas stood silently rigid, his stomach collapsing in on itself.

“Sir Lucas, the rain.” She nodded her head upwards to accentuate her point.

“Er- uh, right,” Lucas cleared his throat, “please.” He swung the door open to allow her passage, which she made quick use of.

Removing her cloak, she laid it over the chair nearest the fireplace, careful to spread the fabric out as evenly as possible. As she smoothed the folds, Lucas found himself nervously fluffing his blouse over his belly, hoping to disguise the modest swell.

“You don’t need to do that, dear.” Marion spoke softly, her attention still appearing to be focused on her wet garment.

Lucas winced, his stomach tying in knots. So, she did see.

Marion straightened herself up, smoothing out her gown, and directing her attention to the waiting werewolf. She could see the worry glistening in his eyes against the soft, ambient glow.

“Ease your mind, I hold no ill will.” She stated plainly, settling herself into a seat at the table. Marion gave a gentle nod, indicating to Lucas to join her.

Lucas followed her unspoken instruction, taking the seat opposite her own. As much as he tried to disguise it, his movements had become increasingly more awkward as of late as he tried to navigate the new weight of his abdomen. Marion paid it no mind.

In silence, he waited for her to speak, but she instead sat quietly with him, her lips pressed thin under heavy eyes. Her normally well manicured hair was frizzy from the cloak, the messy waves and curls cascading around her like an auburn veil. Lucas found himself at a loss, his fingers nervously twiddling with his shirt fabric.

“I know I am not welcome here.” Marion finally broke the silence with a sigh. “My son has done well to illustrate that point in your stead.” She lifted her gaze from the table, cautiously meeting Lucas’s.

There was no hatred or malice in her eyes, and where he had expected to be met with anger, he was only met with sadness—a deep pain her softened expression had been unable to conceal. The tension in Lucas’s body began to fade.

“If I may be so bold,” Lucas carefully treaded, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Marion shifted her jaw quickly, clicking her tongue as she did. She glanced around the dimly lit cottage, surveying the living area, the bed, and finally scanning over the rest of the kitchen and pantry.

“My husband was quite fond of you, you know? He saw a lot of potential in you.” She extended a small smile as her mind momentarily drifted back to pleasant memories. “You were so strong willed, and determined, and kind… and incredibly clever.” A breathy giggle escaped her nose as she shook her head. “That stunt you pulled with the copper, it could have sent you straight to the gallows.”

“I’m aware.” Lucas replied lightly.

“You know, my husband told the story of that day for years. Never once did he have anything other than the widest grin on his face.” Marion gazed at the lycan kindly, meeting his soft golden eyes. “I’d never seen him so taken with a new hire. And maybe it was your charm, or his own curiosity, but he always kept a close eye on your progress here. I knew he saw great things for you. And, of course,” she added jokingly, “he appreciated the positive influence you had on our son.”

Lucas nodded slightly, his heart briefly filling with joy over those words, before slowly turning into a bitter ache as  anxiety began to overtake it.

Dear gods, he must be rolling in his grave.

Marion sat quietly for a moment, her smile beginning to fade as she stewed in her own thoughts, and once the pleasant light of her expression had all but disappeared, she opened her mouth to speak again.

“I wish to apologize. I believe you are owed that.” Marion continued, gnawing a bit at her lower lip as she attempted to articulate her next words. “But, I must ask… Your child… is… is it Vincent’s?”

Her crimson eyes bored into his own, shadowed by inquisitive brows, and with each passing second of silence, Lucas saw them soften with the unspoken confirmation. And at the end of that silence, she nodded.

“As I thought.” Marion spoke on a long exhale.

Lucas couldn’t be sure, but he thought for a moment, in the flickering fire light, that he saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile again, if only briefly.

“How far along?”

“A bit over five months.” Lucas replied quietly, and the dowager queen’s shoulders drooped.

“So, you conceived well before my son’s coronation...” Marion’s voice was low.

“I swear to you, I did not know-” The lycan rushed out.

“I believe you.” She interjected, as her attention fell to the thumbs twiddling in her lap, thinking for a moment before continuing. “How long has Vin known?”

Lucas nibbled at the inside of his lip, the skin rapidly becoming rough and raw. “About a month, I suppose.”

Marion’s brows harshly creased upwards, her lips thinly pressed. Her eyes studied Lucas’s face for a moment, which made the werewolf uneasy.

“You kept it from him… for that long?” The vampire’s head shook minutely with disbelief. “Then, why tell him at all?”

“Your highness,” Lucas’s voice briefly caught in his throat, “I… I didn’t.” With a solemn sigh, his gaze fell to the nicked up wooden table between them. “He found out for himself after I’d taken ill in the solar.” He shook his head. “I was merely there to deliver a report. Nothing more.” Lucas’s hands shuffled underneath the bump, caressing it softly against his palms. It was firm, and weighted, and very obviously present. A small flutter danced against his fingers, and his face lightened.

Marion observed his movements, watching his face shift as his focus began distancing itself from her. He was being cautious, making no grand gestures, or otherwise drawing any sort of overt attention to it, but she knew where his head was now. And as she watched the corners of his lips turn into a pleasant smile, her heart sank into her stomach, and twisted into a knot.

“You weren’t planning on telling him, were you?” She asked, though she already knew the answer.

Lucas shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the swell, delicately cradled in his lap.

“And,” Marion nervously bit her lip, “what exactly was your plan, then?”

The lycan glanced up at the vampire, expecting to see some sort of condescending expression on her face, but instead, he found himself staring into genuinely curious eyes. Lucas drew a deep breath.

“I guess… to keep it hidden until it couldn’t be hidden anymore and then, I don’t know… disappearing off somewhere? Maybe the countryside, or Tellima, or, hell, some other far away country.” Lucas’s brows upturned, his voice dropping low. “Somewhere we’d never be found.”

Marion’s heart ached, her chest tight, and suddenly, the air felt unbearably thick.

“If that was your plan, then why didn’t you leave sooner? If… if you knew about the baby, why risk even staying here?” Her eyes flickered, matching the uneven tone of her voice.

The lycan was quiet for a moment, his thumb gently massaging the bump. As he thought, his eyes drooped, cast in heavy shadow from the flickering flame.

“For him.” Lucas answered softly. “I wasn’t ready to lose him. So, I kept to myself, stayed out of sight, minded my business, and did as I was told, because even if I couldn’t be with him, at least I was still near him. And maybe, if I was lucky, I would catch a glimpse of him, and could pretend everything was alright. Just as it always was…”

Marion sat silently for a moment, marinating in his words, as she realized just how close she had come to losing her only grandchild—and the only reason she hadn’t was because of the young knight’s own sentimentality.

“You really do love him, then?” She finally spoke, firelight shimmering against her dewy, crimson eyes.

“I do.” Lucas returned, his hand sliding up to the top of the swell. “I always have.”

Marion nodded kindly.

“I’m glad.”

Lucas’s brows twitched, a frown twisting onto his lips at those words.

“I was under the impression that you disliked me. You said it yourself… I ruined everything.” He delivered, broken and cold, a tone Marion was not expecting to receive.

“I genuinely apologize for-”

“It’s not enough.” Lucas cut her off sharply, his voice laden with aches. “And it’s not that I don’t understand, because I do. But you treated me like a monster. And I tried, I really tried to follow your orders. I kept to myself, I stayed out of his way. I pushed him away over, and over, and over again until I was hollow inside.” He winced, his chin buckling beneath his somber frown. “I hurt him, and myself, and my child, because of you. I hated myself and everything I was, because of you. Because I could never be what you needed me to be for him.”

“I know.” She replied through shaken breaths. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry.”

Lucas clenched his jaw, stifling the emotions pooling in his throat. Marion’s chin quivered lightly, her bottom lip curled between her teeth. A single tear held fast to her left waterline, threatening to fall, and Lucas’s expression softened, a heavy exhale rushing from his nose.

“I always wanted kids. That was the one thing that I was sure of from the time I was small. But, after I arrived here, I let that dream go. As soon as I realized who held my heart, I knew it could never be. And I was fine with that. I didn’t care if the rest of my life would be spent sneaking around corners, and hiding in the shadows. Because Vin was everything to me.” The lycan drew a calming breath, steadying himself. “And when Alistair told me that I might be pregnant, I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to believe him. Because something like that couldn’t happen to me—it shouldn’t happen to me. And I waited, and waited, and waited, all the while, part of me praying against it and the other part begging for it to be true. And when I saw that tiny swell for the first time, I wasn’t sad, or heartbroken. I was the happiest I had ever felt in my entire life.” Lucas gently rubbed his belly. “Because I had everything that I had ever wanted.”

The vampire’s voice caught in her throat. This was something she understood very well, an emotion she could thoroughly relate to. But with it came another connection between them. A connection she wished wasn’t there—not for her sake, but for the sake of the young knight before her.

“Lucas…” Marion spoke cautiously, fighting an unwelcome tremor. “You do understand what this means.”

The werewolf sat silently for a moment, before nodding and releasing a heavy sigh.

“My child is the only heir to the house of Valke.”

Marion quietly watched Lucas, his gaze firmly fixed on his rounded belly.

“I will not allow my son to suffer in the same way that Vin has.” He finally spoke, his voice firm.

“No parent ever wants to watch their child suffer.” The vampire agreed.

The werewolf pressed his lips thin, his jaw clenching of its own accord.

“Your traditions,” slowly, Lucas’s gaze rose to meet the dowager queen’s, a threatening malice lining his golden eyes, “they end with us.”

Marion swallowed hard, a shaky nod following suit, and Lucas eased his glare.

“I don’t care much for titles, so I take no issue with Queen Carmilla filling the official role as the accompanying royal. I will gladly step aside in that regard. I just ask that my son be respected as he is, and not treated like some bastard child born of an affair.”

“Of course.” Marion replied softly, her gaze once again falling away from the werewolf. Her fingers tightly interlaced in her lap, as she attempted to suppress the lump that had risen into her throat. “I… I want to meet him. Your son. I want to be present in his life.”

“Are you saying that as a queen?”

“I’m saying it as a grandmother.” She shook her head. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with my son. I thought I was doing the right thing, but what's right can be far more subjective than I was allowing it to be. I was handling everything like a queen rather than a mother, and I regret that terribly. I’ve all but completely ruined my relationship with my son, and I believe he has very little interest in repairing it.” Her voice was low and heavy. “I will respect whatever decision you decide to make regarding my request. As the one carrying my grandchild, only you have the right to make that choice.”

Lucas watched the somber woman before him, her penitence seeming genuine, and though his heart had been heavily wounded and he found himself struggling to forgive her in that moment, he felt that there may very well be a day when he could. If not for him, but for his son.

Finally, she collected herself, lifted her gaze, and straightened her hair. Her fair skin glowed golden in the warm fire light, the remnants of dewy tear tracks shimmering beneath her eyes, which she quickly brushed away.

“I suppose I have been enough of an imposition for one evening.” She stated, pushing herself away from the table, Lucas following suit.

“Marion,” Lucas started, his fist squeezing the shirt fabric draped over his abdomen. “Would you have come here if Carmilla’s child had survived?”

Marion stood quietly for a moment, her eyes brushing over the large man. Seeing him this way, he did not resemble a knight so much to her, but merely a man. A gentle man that she had willingly robbed of kindness for far too long because of her own stubborn nature.

“I would like to think so, yes.” She finally replied.

Lucas’s grip loosened, and his hand fell flat against his belly, a faint bump tapping against his palm.

Cautiously, Marion stepped towards Lucas, placing a gentle hand on top of his, and another upon his stubbled cheek, guiding his eyes to hers.

“My son has never been happier than he has been with you. I’ve seen that for myself plenty of times over the years. And whether Carmilla had birthed an heir or not, it wouldn’t have changed how much I treasure your son.” She bestowed a pleasant smile. “A child, born from love, is the most precious gift this world has to offer.”

Lucas softly nodded, as Marion withdrew from him and headed towards the cottage door.

“Get some rest, Sir Lucas. You’ll be needing it.”

With that, she adjusted her cloak, and slipped out the door, Lucas locking it in her wake, and returning to the emptiness of his small cottage. He noted that the fire had begun to dim, and tossed another dried log on the pile, shuffling it into place. It crackled and creaked as the flame took hold, the sudden burst of warmth brushing harshly against the werewolf’s face. Taking a moment to warm his hands and back, he wandered back to his waiting bed, long since having succumbed to the chill of the nightly draft. Lucas shuddered as he climbed beneath the covers, goose bumps running up his arms. Not even his warmest wool throw was helping now.

“She will.” He spoke calmly, more as an assurance to himself than to her.

“It’s been days.” Aoife’s brows creased. “What if… she never wakes up?” Her voice was broken and small.

Vin felt his jaw clench.

“I just…” Her voice cracked, “I just need her to be alright.” Tears threatened her waterline, and she quickly wiped them away, not giving them a chance to break free.

“I know.” Vin replied, returning the linen to the water bowl, before drying his hands on his blouse. “She just needs time to recover. Everything will be fine.” His voice was as reassuring as he could make it, despite his own concerns threatening its facade.

Aoife’s grip tightened firmly around Carmilla’s hand, silent prayers circling her mind as she stared at her sleeping face. Carmilla’s ringlets haloed her head, delicately framing her lightly flushed cheeks. Dark circles tugged at her closed eyes, evidence of the weeks of illness and exhaustion she’d endured.

“I should’ve done more…” She whispered. “I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

“This isn’t your fault, Aoife.” Vin replied, his voice fading, “you’re the last person that should be taking the blame for this.” He pressed his lips thin, his eyes falling to Carmilla, guilt squeezing his chest, suffocating him.

“I was with her. I watched the illness take her and I did nothing. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?” Aoife’s voice broke, her chin beginning to tremble.

Vin stood silently for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly against the bedding. Carmilla’s chest rose and fell with the deep rhythm of slumber, and if he allowed it, he could believe that he was just watching her sleep. But the hitch in Aoife’s breath refused to let him linger in that delusion.

“You’ll have to try.” He finally spoke, firming his tone. “What happened wasn’t your doing, please do not torture yourself with it.” Vin gave Aoife a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine, your highness.” Aoife replied.

“You’re no good to her in this state.” Vin pressed.

Aoife sighed, her body and mind far too exhausted to protest any further.

“Very well, your highness.” She reluctantly released her hold on Carmilla’s hand and pushed herself up from the chair. “Should you need me-”

“I know where to find you.” Vin forced a smile that he hoped would reassure the young maid.

Aoife’s lips fell into a thin frown, her brows creased with worry. Slowly, her eyes drifted over Carmilla, silently hoping she would stir, even slightly, but she didn’t and it left her heart heavy.

“I’ll let you know when she wakes up.” Vin added calmly.

Aoife nodded, before turning away from the slumbering queen, and exiting the room.

Vin waited for the door to clack shut, before settling himself into the plush cushion of the chair beside the bed. He himself hadn’t slept much over the last few days. Every time he closed his eyes, he was tormented with flashes of Carmilla, weak and frail—dying in an infirmary bed. And then those dreadful images would morph and change, twisting into visions of suffering, only it was no longer Carmilla afflicted with that pain, but Lucas.

His dreams of Lucas had once been so pleasant, so full of vibrance and life, but now, within the few moments of sleep he’d allowed himself to collect in the recent days, the sight of Lucas would wake him instantly, weary and afraid. His mind felt warped and broken, mangled with guilt. It took everything in him to hold himself together.

Cautiously, he reached out, taking Carmilla’s hand into his own, his thumb stroking it lightly.

“Oh, Carmilla, please forgive me.” Vin pulled her hand up, gently placing her fingers against his lips, bestowing a sorrowful kiss upon them.

“Mn-”

Vin’s eyes snapped up, Carmilla’s fingers twitching in his grasp. Her brows scrunched, and slowly, her eyes cracked open. Blinking away the sleep, she adjusted her gaze.

“V-Vin?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy.

“Hey.” Vin whispered through a small, relieved smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Not… great.” Carmilla replied with a small cough. “Everything hurts and I’m exhausted.” She pushed herself up, sliding back against the headboard, groaning as her body protested. “What happened?”

Vin paused, the pit in his stomach willing him not to speak. He’d spent days circling this scenario in his mind, foolishly believing that the more he ran it over, the easier it would be to deal with. But now, staring at the weakened elf before him, he realized that no amount of preparation was going to save him from how painful this conversation would be.

“Carmilla,” Vin’s tone sobered, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I… I don’t know. I was in the garden with Aoife.” She tried to piece her memories together. “We were talking and… I remember a sharp pain and then…” She trailed off, her memories stopping abruptly short. “Nothing.”

Vin stared into her pleading eyes, desperately wishing to spare her from the words that were about to spill from his mouth, but the longer he held his tongue, the thicker the air became.

“You…” He drew a heavy breath, “the baby was…” Vin sharply exhaled through his nose, the words he needed to speak catching in his throat. “I’m sorry…”

“The baby…” Carmilla glanced down, lightly placing her hand against her belly. The energy that had once softly radiated from within her had gone silent.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Vin continued, his voice dragging into the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

The flower. Carmilla recalled. “They… were killing me.” Her brows upturned, a severe crease taking residence above her nose. There was hardly a tremor in her voice, as if the conversation had been a simple and casual one.

Vin acknowledged her statement with a quick nod.

“I could never apologize enough for what I’ve done to you.” The vampire clenched his jaw, his upper lip twitching. “If I had known, I never-”

“Vin.” Carmilla interjected calmly.

The king’s eyes snapped to her’s, glistening with guilt.

“You didn’t know, so blaming yourself is pointless.” Her voice was soft and delicate. “No elf has ever tried to carry a curse-born before. There was no way of predicting this.” She reached over and gave Vin’s hand a gentle, but shaky, squeeze, as her lips upturned into a weak, half-hearted smile—the sight of which only made Vin’s heart sink deeper into his already aching chest.

The king drew a deep breath, dropping his gaze in an attempt to spare himself even an ounce of guilt.

“My blood wasn’t pure enough.” He finally replied, broken and cracked, the very words stinging like lemon in a fresh cut.

Carmilla’s hand caressed his cheek softly, guiding his eyes up towards her face. His expression was contorted with grief and sadness, and unbearable guilt, with the darkened circles under his eyes further exacerbating his pitiful state. And as she gazed into the misty eyes of the king, the fake smile that she had forced to his benefit disappeared.

“I know.” She quietly replied, but the pain in his eyes only deepened, and her heart wrenched. Carmilla understood all too well what insecurities were now wrapping themselves around the vampire’s mind. With gentle caution, she attempted to whisk them away. “Spiritual purity doesn’t define the worth of the man, I hope you know that.”

Vin shook his head, a low huff escaping him.

“How tainted must my blood be to nearly kill someone so much stronger than myself?” He raspily muttered, his voice bordering on a low growl.

“Perhaps… I am not as strong as others perceive me to be.” Carmilla countered lightly. “Or maybe, misfortunes cannot always be predicted when treading uncharted waters.”

Vin sat silently for a moment, his brows furrowing tensely as he tried to collect his thoughts—to make sense of them. But he came up dry and his jaw clenched, fingers curling into tight fists, his long nails digging into his palms. Frustration and sadness swirled around each other like some tormented dance, and Vin had no way of knowing which one was leading. With a sigh, his brows began to part, upturning still at their inner edge.

“How can you be so calm about this?” He asked with a twisted frown.

And at the end of that broken question, Carmilla realized that her chosen facade hadn’t had the effect that she had hoped it would, and she let the mask fall.

“Truthfully… I think this situation is far too complex to have any sort of emotional expectations. I’m calm because I need to be—because it is what will be expected of me.” She paused for a moment, her fingers picking at the wrinkles in the bedsheet. “Because that is what is best for everyone right now.”

Vin winced lightly, and Carmilla let out a small sigh.

“Elves are supposed to be strong. We’re supposed to be powerful, and composed, worthy of reverence.” The rasp in her throat cracked her words. “To show our pain is to show our weakness, and weakness will always be exploited.” Carmilla paused for a moment, her lips pressed thin as she fought the quivering of her chin. “It does hurt.” She continued, her voice small. “In every way you could possibly imagine, but…” her eyes fell, “I know that what happened was for the best.”

Vin’s eyes widened, the crease of his brows meeting the bridge of his nose sharply.

“How?” He forced out. “How was any of this for the best?”

“Because if this child had survived, they would have ended up just like me. Just like you.” Her eyes pierced into his, her gaze misted, but serious. “A pawn in an unwinnable game.” Her chin quivered once more before steadying itself. “The only reason I’m here is because my father, for the first time in his life, saw use in me, and I went along with it because that was what I was told to do. Because he made me believe there was some justice to be had from it, but when I got here, and spent time with you, and the people here, I realized what a fool I had been to believe such misguided delusions.” Her tone sharpened. “My only regret is that I couldn’t stand on my own before having a child to mourn.” Carmilla’s face scrunched, a fist tightly clenched around her heart, as the wall holding her emotions began to crack and crumble. “I’m relieved, and devastated, and glad, but distraught, and I can’t make sense one way or the other about how I need to feel about this. All I do know is that no matter what I feel, guilt will hang over it like a blackened cloud. Because, how dare I feel relieved to no longer be pregnant, and how dare I feel sorrow for a child that would be subjected to a lifetime of political abuse? But most of all,” her voice broke, “how dare I allow any of this to happen in the first place?”

Vin watched the weakened woman’s body begin to tremble, her fists curling around the bed sheets, clutching them tightly. He could hardly think of a word to say. There wasn’t anything he could say.

“What do we do now?” Carmilla whispered with a hitch, so low that Vin could barely hear her.

With a deep inhale, he reached for her clenched fist, prying it from the bedsheet, and pulling it to his lips, and pressing a delicate kiss on her curled fingers.

“Whatever you wish to do, my queen, for that is the right you deserve.” As he pulled himself away, he gazed into her golden brown eyes, glazed with fresh tears. “You answer to no one.”

Her lip quivered, and Vin pulled her into him, the young queen burying her face in his chest. Muffled sobs escaped their embrace, tears soaking into his blouse, but he only held her tighter. And as her body shook and jumped from her frantic breaths, Vin’s mind wandered to thoughts he wished he hadn’t had to think about. To plans he would now have to devise. To the changing world he would have to embrace as a result of their misfortune. He didn’t know what was going to happen, or how complicated things would become, but what he did know was that no matter what, he would keep Carmilla safe from it all.

“Please, forgive me.” Vin whispered softly, his voice fading into the sobbing woman’s curls.

Lucas sat at the dining table, his bowl of beef stew going cold as he mindlessly pushed the potatoes and meat around with his spoon. He hardly felt in the mood to eat anything, though he knew he needed to. Reluctantly, he pulled the utensil to his mouth, parting his lips to accept a lukewarm potato. The flavor was dull, solidifying his frown.

It had been nearly three days since Carmilla’s procedure, and in all of that time, Vin hadn’t once come to the cottage. As much as Lucas tried to ignore it, the void of Vin’s presence extended to every corner of the lycan’s small home.

He let out a sigh, jabbed at a hunk of beef, before scooping it up and shoving it in his mouth. Cold. With a light huff, he dropped the spoon into the bowl and shoved it away. A frantic flutter in his abdomen drew his attention, and his hand moved to the bump, stroking it softly to calm the stirring baby.

Once the pain had lessened into a more tolerable ache, she glanced around through squinted eyes, finding herself alone in her chambers, uncertain of exactly how much time had elapsed in her involuntary absence. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed herself up from the floor, another sharp throb plunging into her forehead.

“Nn-” She squoze her eyes shut, keeping them clenched until she’d firmly righted herself. Lightheaded, she attempted to stand still, her body wobbling as her equilibrium stabilized. She had half a mind to grip the bed, lest the dizziness force her to the ground again, at least then she’d know where she’d land.

“Your highness?” A small, muffled, voice spoke through the closed chamber door, following a soft knock.

“Y-yes,” Carmilla grunted, opening her eyes, and pushing her body upright from the mattress, “come in.”

The door clicked against the squeaking hinges as it swung open. A small framed woman quickly slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. The ginger-haired maid glanced towards the queen, her eyes finding Carmilla in a dreadful state—something she had grown accustomed to in the passing weeks, though this time seemed to be the worst of it.

“Your highness, are you alright?” Aoife asked, her voice calm, but laden with concern.

“Mm.” Carmilla forced through a brief wave of nausea, “I’m fine, thank you.”

The queen felt a gentle hand squeeze her arm, and she glanced over to meet the hazel gaze of her maid, who’s brows had now upturned, forming a strong crease over the bridge of her nose.

“You look quite unwell, your highness.”

“More than usual?” Carmilla joked lightly, however, Aoife didn’t find the humor in it.

She did look more unwell than usual. Far more unwell. Her ashy skin glistened with sweat, her coils matting down against her damp forehead. The pale colored chemise no longer loosely draped over her body, but rather clung to it heavily, sticking to her chest and thighs. Aoife detected a slight tremble in the queen’s limbs, and she couldn’t be certain, but she felt a touch feverish.

“Please, sit down, I will get you some water.” The ginger guided the elf towards the chair, gripping her firmly as she lowered her into it.

Carmilla’s forehead felt dewy and her heart raced uncomfortably. The waves of nausea would ebb and flow, though thankfully not growing any further than a severe annoyance. Her head still furiously ached, and she wondered if perhaps she had hit it on the floor when she’d fainted, a theory confirmed by the tender soreness of her temple when her fingers lightly brushed across it.

Aoife held out a glass of fresh water to the queen, which she graciously accepted, before taking a cautious sip. The cool water settled in her stomach, a shiver running up her spine. Carmilla’s body jolted with tight trembles as her unease whittled away at her.

As her coils bounced aside, Aoife noticed an irritated, red mark near her temple, appearing a bit like a small scuff. Leaning down, she impulsively brushed the curls aside to get a better look. It wasn’t until Carmilla jerked away that she had realized she’d acted improperly.

“My apologies, your highness.” Aoife spoke timidly, pulling herself back.

Carmilla shrunk, letting out a long sigh.

“It’s fine.” The elf replied breathily.

“You hit your head.” Aoife persisted, her voice cautious.

“I’m fine.” Carmilla returned flatly.

“Your majesty, I-”

“I’m fine.” The queen shot sharply, taking the young maid by surprise.

Aoife stood silently, her worried eyes still fixed on the queen, but daring not to speak any further. Carmilla took another sip of water, shuddering as it settled into her nauseous stomach.

Glancing up, Carmilla’s eyes met Aoife’s—glossy green, shadowed by furrowed, ginger brows. Her cheeks were flushed light pink against her pale, freckled skin. Anxiously, she gnawed at her lower lip, now red and chapped.

The elf extended her hand towards Aoife. With a moment’s hesitation, the maid placed her hand in Carmilla’s, the warmth of her touch radiating up her arm, into her fluttering chest.

“I appreciate your concern, but please,” Carmilla gave Aoife’s hand a gentle squeeze, “do not worry too much. I promise, I’m fine.” She gave a soft smile that she hoped would look more convincing than it felt.

“It’s my job to worry about you, your highness.” Aoife stated calmly.

“I know.” Carmilla sighed. “But I assure you, there is nothing to worry about.”

Aoife frowned, and Carmilla shifted subjects.

“Help me get ready, yes? I think I would like to stroll through the garden today.” Though she most certainly did not feel in any right state to be strolling anywhere, she had hoped that Aoife’s anxiety would be eased by the idea of it.

Nodding, the ginger woman guided the queen to her feet, gathered her clothes, and helped her slip them on. The bodice of her dress fit snugly over her middle, despite her thin frame, and Aoife made an effort to loosen the laces down her back to compensate. Her fingers brushed over the wrinkles and folds of the fabric, smoothing them out. Grabbing a pair of gem adorned, leather shoes, she carefully slid them onto Carmilla’s feet, securing the laces around her slender ankle. Aoife couldn’t help but notice how sharp and angular her body had become. The softened roundness of her form had all but disappeared in the wake of her violent morning sickness, and the sight of this drastic change only made the young maid grow more concerned.

Once properly fitted, Aoife returned to her feet, draping a long cloak over her shoulders, and securely tying it in place. She reached up to tame a few wild coils, then stood back, hands tightly clasped in front of her.

“You look lovely, your highness.” The ginger woman spoke softly.

Carmilla smiled warmly.

“Would you care to escort me to the garden?” Asked the queen, extending a hand towards Aoife.

With an agreeing nod, the maid took her outstretched hand, and led her to the garden.

The air carried a crisp chill, but not overly unpleasant. Most of the leaves had turned by now, the distant mountains covered in brilliant yellows and fiery reds. Despite the changing of the seasons, the enchanted garden remained unphased, blooming even still as though it were freshly spring. The sweet scent of peonies wafted strongly on the breeze.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Carmilla broke the silence, her voice light.

“It is.” Aoife agreed, her eyes fixed on Carmilla.

The corners of her cherry lips upturned into a soft smile, and her eyes dazzled brilliantly in the midday sun. Everything about her glowed so warmly here in the garden, as though it was where she belonged—as if she were a part of it. The radiance of Carmilla’s aura extended well beyond her, and Aoife found it difficult to look away.

She watched as the elf lowered herself to the ground, kneeling in the dirt, before a large rose bush. Then, she noticed, Carmilla’s smile begin to fade.

“What is it, your majesty?” Aoife asked, lowering herself down beside the queen.

“Elvenwood had such beautiful roses.” She quietly replied, her fingers lightly brushing over the petals of a freshly unfurled flower.

“I’ve heard that Elvenwood is quite lovely.”

“It is.” Carmilla confirmed with a sigh. “On the outside, at least.”

“Do you miss it?” Aoife spoke sincerely.

“That depends.” Carmilla replied, her face scrunching for a brief moment as she thought, before finally continuing with a melancholic tone. “I miss its beauty.”

“Only its beauty?” The young maid inquired.

“It’s complicated, I suppose.” Carmilla huffed through her nose. “You know that feeling of missing something because it was all you knew, but growing to realize how utterly wrong so much of it was?” The queen’s eyes shifted towards the ginger, a dewy shimmer at their corners.

Aoife’s brows upturned, a small frown tugging at the edges of her mouth, but she didn’t speak.

Carmilla’s eyes fell to the flowers before her, gently bobbing in the breeze. Shoulders drooped, she curled her fingers around the fabric of her dress, pressing her palms firmly against her thighs.

“I had to put up with so much, without ever being granted a place to speak my mind.” The elf shook her head lightly, her ringlets bobbing against her jaw. “Not a single decision in my life was one that I, myself, had made. I was ordered to do as I was told, and never go against my family’s wishes—that their will was for the best, even if I couldn’t see it.”

Aoife watched the queen shrink into herself. She felt herself leaning towards her, as if the diminishing energy around Carmilla was somehow pulling her closer.

“I held my tongue, even when I desperately wished not to. I agreed to every plan and order they placed upon me.” Carmilla’s voice began to tremble as her tone elevated. “I allowed myself to be shipped off to a foreign land because it was in the best interest of my country, and I promised an elven heir to the house of Valke because my father willed it!” She spat sharply, ripping a rose from the bush and crushing it in her fist, Aoife flinching in surprise. With a huff, Carmilla settled the aggravated twitching of her lip, letting the tension slowly leave her body, as she released the crumpled petals from her palm. “Not marrying the king was the only decision I have ever made for myself, and it’s one that doesn’t even matter.”

“I think…” Aoife added cautiously, “that you’re wrong, your highness.”

Carmilla glanced up at the fiery haired woman, the breeze gently tussling her loose curls. Sunlight shimmered against her freckled skin, casting a pale glow around her, soft and warm.

“I think that decision mattered more than anything.” Aoife finished with a modest smile.

“How?” Carmilla asked, straightening her posture, wincing from a small pain in her side. “Marriage matters little when we are still bound by a forged bloodline.” Her voice shook slightly, distress still heavily lining her face.

“Perhaps… and, forgive me if I overstep, but… by refusing to wed, you established yourself as, well, you. A person, and not a pawn. It may not seem like much, your highness, but truly, it is everything.”

Carmilla’s chin quivered for a quick moment, before giving a small smile.

“Do you really think that my decision…” She forced down a wave of nausea, “mattered that much?”

Aoife leaned closer, despite every fiber of her being telling her to clam up, and act properly. Her hand shuffled over the dirt, brushing against small blades of grass and weeds. She could hardly stop herself. The radiant, glowing aura of the queen tugged at her, drawing her in, even in such a dreadful state.

Stop yourself, for the love of all things, stop yourself! But her heart, already pounding loud enough to hear, wouldn’t listen.

“I do.” Aoife replied, her voice hardly more than a shaken whisper.

“I hope you’re right.” Carmilla returned, her words brushing against Aoife’s lips.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, a mixture of excited nerves and exhaustion competing desperately within her. Aoife’s hand slipped closer, their fingertips nearly touching. So dreadfully she wished to close the gap, but her body fought against it. Carmilla felt cold sweat dampen her body, nausea catching in her throat. Aches plunged through her back and sides, her vision beginning to tunnel.

Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through Carmilla’s abdomen, buckling her over. She hissed, drawing a staggered breath, clutching her stomach. Hazy, black clouds crept over her eyes, pulsing with her heartbeat.

“Carmilla?!” Aoife lunged forward, catching the queen in her arms. “What’s wrong?!”

“Hah- nngh!” Carmilla grunted, sweat rolling down her temples.

“Carmilla!” The maid pulled the elf close, her tone becoming increasingly more panicked as her heart pounded furiously in her chest. “HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! HELP!”

Carmilla’s body trembled, hot acid burning in her throat. Cold chills ran over her limbs, her palms clammy and tingling. She could hear Aoife’s frantic calls growing faint in her mind as the blackness consumed her and she slowly lost consciousness.

Vin paced the length of the solar, his fingers mindlessly stroking his chin as he thought. Lucas sat in the chair by the window, his hand resting delicately over his middle. The werewolf’s eyes followed the king closely.

“Is it possible we’re overthinking it?” Lucas asked with a sigh.

“Or we aren’t thinking enough.” Vin returned.

“I doubt that highly.”

“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.” Vin leaned against the wall, his arms folded and ankles crossed.

Lucas clicked his tongue, before nibbling his lower lip. The baby fluttered softly, and he lightly drummed his fingers over his belly in response, catching Vin’s eye.

“They are just humans-”

“Which many of our citizens are.” Vin added.

“Right,” Lucas continued, “but, I mean, by comparison, curse-borns have the advantage of strength, and elves… well, they’re just assholes all around.”

“Not completely unfounded.” The vampire jokingly confirmed with a nod.

Lucas sighed, awkwardly pushing himself up from the chair, earning a small giggle from his husband to be. Once fully upright, he pressed a hand to his lower back, hoping to ease some of the soreness residing there to little avail.

“Vin, there hasn’t been an attack in over a month. You’ve secured our border, and Elvenwood has secured their’s. Your plan is working.”

“What if it stops working?” Vin interjected.

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Lucas stepped towards the king, his fingers reaching towards Vin’s tightly folded arms. “Recruitment has been going well and so has training. We’ll be ready for anything that comes our way, I know it.”

Vin shook his head, resting his hand over the werewolf’s, lightly stroking his knuckles with his thumb.

“I’m just a little on edge. I don’t trust the silence.”

“I know.” Lucas agreed on a long exhale. “But what else are we supposed to do? If we rush in, we risk losing every advantage we are working so diligently to build.”

Vin huffed through his nose, sharply.

“I’m not suggesting we be reckless.”

“Of course not.” Lucas replied.

Vin let his arms unfold, leaning his body towards Lucas, resting his head against the muscular man’s shoulder.

“I just want to put this war behind us.” Vin mumbled, wrapping his arms around the large man.

“I do, too.” Lucas spoke softly, “But, all things in their own time.”

Vin slid his head off of Lucas’s shoulder, his eyes wandering up to meet the lycan’s golden gaze. A reassuring smile graced his stubbled face, warm sunlight casting a radiant halo around him.

“I wish this war hadn’t had to happen in our time.” Vin spoke defeatedly.

“As do I.” The lycan agreed. “As does everyone faced with such hardships.” He gently pushed a strand of hair behind Vin’s ear. “But it did, and all we can do is get through it. Ideally, in one piece.” Lucas joked to lighten the mood.

“Yeah…” The vampire replied mindlessly, his hands sliding over the sides of Lucas’s rounded belly, and resting there.

His mind drifted, and Lucas quickly noticed the growing distance. The king’s brows creased as his crimson eyes remained fixed on the swell in his grasp. A tiny flutter bumped against his palm, but Vin didn’t smile like Lucas had expected him to, and he suddenly understood the real reason his lover was so on edge.

“We’ll be okay, you know.” Lucas broke the silence, snapping Vin from his daze. “I promise.”

“I want to meet him.” Vin whispered with a crack. “I want to watch him grow up. I need to be able to do that.”

“You will, Vin. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How?” Vin huffed incredulously. “I don’t think will and prayer will be enough to keep me alive out there.”

“No,” Lucas returned, confidently, “but I will be.”

Vin snapped his gaze to Lucas’s face, his brows furrowed tensely. Crimson eyes flashed as the vampire pieced together his lover’s implication.

“No.” The king snapped. “Lucas, no.”

“If you think I’m letting you run into battle without me, you’re sorely mistaken-”

“You’re pregnant!”

“And in a few months, I won’t be!”

The pair fell silent, the only sound, their huffy breaths. Vin clenched his jaw, and Lucas studied him warily, waiting for his lover to speak. Finally, the vampire let out a sigh, his features softening, despite his aura still maintaining a disapproving intensity.

“Even if this war doesn’t progress until after our child’s arrival, you’ll still need time to heal and rest.” Vin’s voice was flat and matter-of-fact.

“And I will.” Lucas pressed. “But I’m not going to sit around being useless-”

“You will do as you’re told!” Vin spat with a harshness that he hadn’t entirely intended.

Lucas jolted, his body retreating slightly. Vin hadn’t spoken to him that way in a long time, and it made him feel small and inconsequential—like he was nothing. Vin, regretting his outburst immediately, reached out to grab his lover’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Please, Lucas,” the vampire begged, “please don’t follow me into battle so blindly.”

“It’s my job-”

“Your job is to raise our son—to ensure that he still has at least one father at the end of this.”

“If I go with you, he will have both-”

“Or he will lose both.” Vin interjected sternly.

Lucas did not reply at first, instead, stewing in the hypothetical torment of his mind’s making. After a few moments, he pushed those dreadful thoughts aside, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Why do you sound so committed to dying in this war?”

“I’m not!” Vin retorted. “But there is an entire nation that wants to serve my head up on a silver platter to its king! Forgive me for being realistic.”

“Your highness-” A voice rang out from the doorway.

“What?!” Vin snapped unconsciously, turning his gaze to the intruder.

“P-pardon the intrusion, but, it’s the queen. Queen Carmilla has taken ill, she’s in the infirmary.” An older maid, with frizzy gray hair, rushed out, her voice shaken and uneasy.

Lucas and Vin exchanged worried glances, the tension of their previous disagreement rapidly disappearing. With hardly a thought, the pair took off after the maid, tailing her down the hall. Vin’s heart pounded in his ears as his mind raced, each foot falling faster than the last. He hadn’t even noticed that Lucas and the maid had fallen behind as he soared into the lead by a considerable distance.

Please, be okay! For the love of the gods, PLEASE BE OKAY!

Footsteps pounded loudly against the wood floor, thumping down the stairs, and clacking against the tile towards the infirmary. A small congregation of people had collected outside of the door, daring not to press through. As the king approached, they quickly cleared a path for him to enter.

Gasping for breath, Vin was met with the sight of a panicked Aoife, clasping Carmilla’s hand firmly, while the sibling healers raced around collecting supplies. Bowls, linen towels, fresh water, all set purposefully on the table to the side of the bed. Angelique hastily placed a jar of herbs and a pair of forceps down on the tabletop beside them, turning just in time to relieve the maid behind her of a freshly heated tea kettle.

“What’s going on? Is she alright?” Vin asked frantically, his eyes darting between the unconscious Carmilla, and Angelique, who now appeared to be brewing some kind of tea with the herbs from the jar.

Alistair skirted around the infirmary bed, rushing towards Vin. Quickly, he pulled the king’s attention, his face firmly set and unemotional, putting Vin further on edge.

“We need to make a decision quickly, your highness.” Alistair’s voice was low.

“What’s going on, what’s wrong with her?” Vin peeked at the queen over Alistair’s shoulder, his brows threatening to merge with the bridge of his nose.

“Her body… it’s failing.” Alistair stated with a hushed softness that he hoped wouldn’t carry into the hall.

“Failing? Y-you mean, what, she’s dying?” Vin’s heart thumped in his throat, his voice cracking.

“Yes.” Alistair confirmed quickly. “Our options are limited, as is our time. If we’re going to save the child, we need to act swiftly and precisely.” He explained.

“What about Carmilla? Will she be alright?”

“If we’re successful.”

“And if you aren’t?”

“They both die.” Alistair somberly answered on a breathy exhale.

Vin glanced back and forth between Carmilla and Alistair. His mouth felt dry and gravity tugged on his limbs. Every sound around him felt both dull and deafening as they sawed into his eardrums. It took everything in him to stay present and focused.

“How do I ensure she survives?” Vin asked, watching Aoife dab the dewy sweat from the elf’s brow with a damp cloth.

Alistair sighed heavily, giving the queen a quick glance before returning his gaze to the king.

“We terminate the pregnancy.”

Vin’s eyes remained fixed on the queen. So limp and fragile, she hardly seemed alive as it was. Alistair was right, there wasn’t much time, and he knew, deep in his soul, that she would never come out of this alive if he took the risk. No matter how fiercely it burned in his chest to lose the child, he would never be able to live with the guilt of losing her.

“Your majesty, it’s your decision. Please, make it quickly.” Alistair’s tone was firm, yet pleading.

Vin swallowed hard.

“End it.” He answered quietly, his voice shaken and wispy.

Alistair nodded, rushing over to Angelique’s side, instructing her to proceed. They worked together quickly, spinning around each other with the grace and speed of a choreographed dance. As their motions blurred, Vin’s mind went blank, his jaw unconsciously clenched, brows twitching. He watched Alistair shuffle Aoife aside, her fingers reluctantly slipping away from the queen’s. Everyone, with the exception of Vin and Aoife, were ushered from the room. Briefly, the king and the young maid locked eyes, the dread in each other’s gaze evenly matched, and Vin suddenly understood the depth of her heart, and his own began to break with it.

“Miss Aoife!” Angelique called, beckoning her over to aid in the procedure.

With a quick jolt, she rushed over, nearly tripping over her own feet as she moved into position.

The ginger held Carmilla’s leg, standing opposite Angelique, Alistair quickly preparing between them. Giving Vin a glance, Aoife nodded to him, silently relieving him of his presence in the room.

Vin stood still for a moment, blankly staring at the crowded bed, before shuffling out of the infirmary, and into the hall, the heavy, wooden door thumping shut behind him. The corridor had nearly emptied, with the exception of Lucas and Marion, who stood tensely apart, but anxiously awaiting Vin’s emergence.

“What is it, darling? Is Carmilla alright?” Marion asked, quickly approaching her son, reaching out to grab his hand.

His palms were sweaty, and his hands trembled furiously with nerves and adrenaline. He couldn’t find it in himself to meet his mother’s gaze as the gravity of the current events began thoroughly sinking in.

“No.” Vin finally answered, his voice hollow and broken. “They’re… trying to save her.”

“Save her? A-and the baby?” Marion pressed, her grip tightening.

Vin shook his head, and Lucas swallowed hard, his fingers tightly curling around the loose, shirt fabric draped over his belly.

Marion’s eyes flickered, but she refrained from inquiring further, sensing her son’s distress, instead extending an offer to get a drink and some food to take his mind off of it. Vin declined, insisting that he should stay behind until the procedure was finished. She pressed her lips thin, giving her son a quick hug, and a soft, but heavy, smile, before turning away from him. For a brief moment, she locked eyes with Lucas, glancing down to his middle, barely hidden beneath his blouse, her brows creasing slightly, before shuffling off towards her chambers.

Lucas’s heart pounded harshly, butterflies swirling in his stomach. He had a feeling that things were going to become much more complicated, much sooner than he had anticipated. But now was hardly the time to worry about himself. Shaking off his own nerves, he stretched a comforting hand to his lover, withdrawing when Vin recoiled.

“I’m sorry.” The lycan whispered, his tone broken.

“I put her life at risk.” Vin murmured, more to himself than to Lucas.

“You didn’t know this would happen-”

“She could’ve died!” Vin’s eyes snapped up to Lucas’s, tears gathering at his waterline. “She still might…” With exhaustion and defeat, Vin leaned over, pressing his head against Lucas’s chest.

Instinctively, Lucas wrapped his arms around the shrunken vampire, his hands comfortingly stroking his back.

“I made her suffer so much, and it was all for nothing.” Vin’s muffled voice rumbled against Lucas’s body.

“Everything is gonna be okay.” Lucas whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Vin’s head. It was the only thing he could think to say. He wasn’t even sure if he believed it, but it was all he had to offer to hold their world together.

Slowly, Vin pulled back, his hair shrouding his face.

“You should head home.”

“I don’t mind waiting with you-” Lucas started.

“No, I…” Vin sighed, his eyes glued to the tile floor, “you should get some rest. I’m going to be here for a while.”

“I can stay-”

“Lucas,” Vin’s voice was weak and pleading, and Lucas’s heart fell.

“You… want to be alone.” The lycan spoke in a whisper.

Vin nodded slowly.

Lucas drew a deep breath, a melancholic frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his lover’s head.

“I’ll be home if you need me.” The knight assured, giving Vin’s arm a comforting squeeze, before turning away, and heading down the hall.

Once the sound of Lucas’s footsteps had faded away, Vin lifted his gaze, finding himself alone. He could hear light shuffling and voices coming from the infirmary, muffled by the thick, wooden door. He couldn’t quite make any of it out, and part of him was thankful for that. But even still, his mind remained weighted and troubled. With a sigh, he pressed his back into the cold, stone wall, sliding down to the floor.

Lucas glanced up with a start, before shaking his head.

“Very funny, Remus.” Lucas replied as the dark-haired man entered the stables.

“A few more days and I might’ve sent off for a headstone.” Remus grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, watching Lucas brush the dirt and dust out of Epona’s silky, black coat.

Lucas shot a piercing glare over the mare’s back, as Remus leaned against the stall wall opposite him, his expression decidedly smug. When Lucas’s gaze didn’t soften, he cocked his head, the breadth of his grin beginning to diminish.

“What, you’re not still mad at me, are you?” Remus raised a brow. “It all worked out in the end.”

“Luckily for you.” Lucas bitterly returned his gaze to the horse. “What if it hadn’t? I could have been exiled.”

“But you weren’t.”

“I could’ve been.” Lucas’s tone lightened as he twisted the point.

“Then I would’ve gone with you.” Remus nonchalantly shrugged.

“And be a deserter?” Lucas’s eyes met Remus’s, unanticipated surprise heavily lining them. Mostly regarding the speed at which that answer had fallen from his friend’s lips, as if he didn’t have to think about it at all—or conversely, that he had thought about it, at great length, and had thoroughly committed himself to that possibility.

“There are far worse things to be.” Remus gave a lighthearted smile, the sunlight twinkling at the corner of his eye.

Lucas playfully shook his head, as he swept the brush over Epona’s buttock, a puff of dust sashaying off of the stiff bristles. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth as his facade cracked. He couldn’t be angry with Remus, even if he wanted to be. A bit like hating a baby duck, or a newborn kitten, he just didn’t have it in him. Especially now that he knew that Remus would willingly brand himself as a criminal for him. It was probably one of the sweetest gestures he’d ever been offered by a person he wasn’t sharing a bed with—albeit an incredibly stupid one. Even still, it warmed his heart.

Remus gave the stable a cautious glance over. The stalls appeared empty, save for the horses nibbling on their hay, and the courtyard beyond the doors seemed reasonably barren. He silently strained, listening for any stray voices, or shuffling boots, but heard none. Once thoroughly satisfied that they were alone, he leaned forward slightly to speak.

“So, how’s my godchild doing?” Remus kept his voice low, out of fear that he’d missed a prying ear.

“Fidgety.” Lucas smiled, as Remus let out a small snicker. “They’re fine.”

“And what about you?” Remus continued.

“Eh, I’d be better if I wasn’t stuck at home all the time.” Lucas joked, rubbing his palm over Epona’s soft nose, her lips longingly flapping for a carrot, which he, unfortunately, did not have. “Get’s bloody stifling sometimes, staring at the same ceiling and walls everyday. Hell, I even tried knitting.” He heartily chuckled.

“Knitting?” Remus pressed, an incredulous grin widening across his face.

“Mm-hm.” Lucas nodded. “Five coppers I wasted on that shit. It was fucking awful.”

The pair giggled together at the thought, and then, after a few moments, the laughter faded, and Lucas let out a long sigh.

“I think he worries about me too much.” Lucas’s tone dropped. “No matter how many times I insist that I’m fine… it’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

Remus’s brows creased slightly, his lips lopsidedly pressed together. Though Lucas’s eyes remained fixed on Epona, he could still see the darkened cloud swirling across the golden glass. It had weighed on him heavily, that much was plain, but in that moment, Remus found his sympathies lying elsewhere.

“Can you blame him?”

Lucas lifted his gaze, his face falling slack. As he stared into Remus’s softened eyes, his lips pressed thin.

“You gave him a good scare, mate.” Remus continued. “Scared the hell out of me, too, and I wasn’t even there.” He shook his head, his eyes falling to the hay covered ground. “When I was ordered to cover for you… when he told me what happened… gods, I’ve never seen a man tremble that way without a sword to their throat.”

A frown twitched at Lucas’s mouth, as his thumb mindlessly rubbed Epona’s jaw. She huffed lightly, then bowed her head, gently nuzzling her nose into Lucas’s curved belly. He hugged her close for a moment, graciously accepting that small amount of comfort, until she pulled away.

Lucas hadn’t known that Vin was the one who told Remus what happened. He had just assumed that the orders had trickled down, second-hand, from another member of the court, as they so often did. But Remus was there, with him, while Lucas was still lying unconscious in the infirmary. The idea of Vin being so visibly shaken over it all twisted in his stomach like a rusty knife. But he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t change the past. And as much as he wanted to pretend things hadn’t changed, the choices he’d made, no matter how misguided or ill-informed, had changed them. Lucas clenched his jaw as his mind fumbled over every mishap of the past few months. It was no wonder why Remus understood Vin so plainly. Before Vin, it had been him. Remus was the one who had dragged him to the infirmary the first time he’d fainted, and it was Remus who had held him, and looked after him, in Widow’s Wild. He had been in the exact place that Vin stood in now, and Lucas hated himself for so easily putting them there.

“I never meant to worry anyone.” Lucas whispered shakily. “I mean that.”

Sensing the tremble in Lucas’s voice, Remus lifted his gaze. The lycan’s golden eyes had misted over, and his chin began to quiver—which he desperately fought against to little avail—and suddenly, Remus felt as though he may have sprinkled too much salt in a fresh wound.

“Whoa, hey-” Remus pushed himself off of the wall, and walked around the large black mare, towards Lucas. “Don’t cry.” His voice was gentle and kind as he pulled the sandy-haired knight close. “It’s okay, please don’t be upset about it. It’s in the past now, it doesn’t matter.”

The low, rumbling vibration of Remus’s voice radiated through Lucas’s chest, bringing with it a calming warmth—though, the words meant very little in that moment.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Remus spoke softly, still tightly clinging to the younger werewolf.

Lucas’s swollen belly gently pressed into Remus’s abs, and he couldn’t help but notice just how much it had grown in the last few weeks. Even though it was still small, it had managed to become so undeniably present.

“I didn’t mean to cry.” Lucas mumbled into Remus’s firm shoulder. “Damn kid, makes me cry over everything.”

Remus smiled lightly, stroking the back of Lucas’s head. The lycan’s body jolted against him with each breathy hitch, his fingers tightly curling into the back of Remus’s blouse.

“It seems that worrying the two of you is all I’m good for.” Lucas sniffed through a hiccupy laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Remus softly shushed. “Everything’s sorted now, isn’t it?” He felt Lucas’s head nod against him, and he let out a small, relieved, sigh.

In his arms, he held his dearest friend, a man he’d trusted with his life more times than anyone should ever have to, and in the depths of his heart, he still saw him as that strong, confident, witty man, who never bowed in defeat. But that man—that character that Lucas has so earnestly embraced—had started to fade away, leaving behind it a man far more delicate, in both body and soul.

But Remus did not pity Lucas. Far from it, in fact. Lucas’s vulnerability reminded him only of the promises he had made to keep him safe. Promises he had always been, and always would be, committed to until his dying breath.

They clung tightly to each other until voices began to carry throughout the courtyard, horse drawn carriages steadily approaching the castle. Lucas instinctively pulled away, his attention tugged towards the bustling commotion. Hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks, he cleared his throat, and Remus stiffened up, peering around the stable doors.

“Looks like the new weapons from Elvenwood just arrived,” said Remus.

Lucas shuffled up next to Remus as the carriages passed by. The wheels creaked against their axles as they bounced over the uneven ground, metal lightly clinking together in the large wooden trunks buckled to their backs.

“So it seems.” Lucas replied, with a sigh.

A long-haired elf passed the pair a disdainful glance, sending shivers up Lucas’s spine, before returning his gaze to the path ahead. He’d never thought much of elves before Carmilla arrived. But now that he had a much more intimate view into the kind of people they were—the kind of arrogance they held—he wished that he had never come to know them at all.

“With allies like that, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a hell of a war.” Remus huffed through his nose.

“Yeah…” Lucas mindlessly answered as anxiety clouded over.

Remus glanced towards Lucas, noticing that his fist had firmly clenched around the fabric obscuring his belly. It had become his most obvious tell, as of late.

With softened eyes, Remus placed a gentle hand on the lycan’s rigid shoulder, feeling it relax beneath his reassuring grip. Lucas’s golden gaze met Remus’s, and they shared a quiet moment.

“I’ll keep you safe. That is my promise to you, and that is my promise to the king.” Remus’s voice was soft, but sure.

“What happens once the war arrives?” Lucas whispered with a tremble. “What happens if I can’t be there to fight it?”

“Then I will fight twice as fiercely in your stead.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing thin. He winced as his fears wrapped tightly around him, like a snake with its prey.

“What if I can’t protect them?” His eyes fell to the swell, so delicately held in his palm, as the tiniest flutter danced in his womb.

“Then I will protect them for you, just as I promised.” Remus replied, firmly. “The worries of war are no longer your concern, Lucas. I will carry that burden on your behalf.” He slid his palm down Lucas’s arm, grabbing his hand and lifting it to his lips. On his knuckles he placed a gentle kiss, an unspoken promise of devotion.

As his lips brushed away, Remus glanced up, his warm, brown eyes gazing softly into Lucas’s. Steadily, Lucas’s fears began to drift, no longer clinging so tightly to his mind. With an appreciative smile, Lucas wrapped his arms around Remus’s neck.

“Thank you.” Lucas whispered.

“Always.” Remus returned the embrace.

Vin watched as three elves entered the great hall, the superior of which led the other two, who had been tasked with hauling a heavy, wooden trunk, filled with weapons, for the king’s inspection. The leading elf was adorned with a long, white robe, embroidered with golden leaves and flowers upon its edges. His long, brown hair trailed midway down his back, the sides pulled in loose twists, and secured with a golden hair pin. The elves to his rear were dressed in a similar attire of faded green and silver adornments.

Stopping before the king, the elves lowered the trunk onto the stone floor with a gentle thud. With a few clicks of the clasps, they carefully opened the lid. The superior elf gestured to the box, inviting Vin to inspect the contents. Vin nodded, kneeling before the chest, and slowly lifting one of the fabric wrapped bundles. It was heavy against his palms, and he rested it over his thigh as he untied the string. Once thoroughly freed, he flipped the loose fabric aside, revealing the sheathed elven sword. Rising to his feet, he slowly removed the leather case, exposing the shimmering curves of the steel blade. At its base was an elegantly engraved oak leaf. His fingers traced over the hilt, settling on the pommel, where a carving of an acorn contrasted the silvery metal. He rocked the sword in his hand, inspecting it thoroughly. It was well balanced, and beautifully made, and certainly more than adequate to serve its purpose. Satisfied, he returned the sheath, and laid the sword back in the trunk.

“Do you wish to inspect the others?” The elf asked.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure the rest will be similar enough.” Vin replied.

“Very well.” The elf agreed, directing the others to take the chest to the armory.

With an acknowledging nod, the pair hoisted the chest up, and headed out of the great hall. Though the trunk was obviously quite heavy, they carried it with grace and ease, as if it were lighter than a finch’s down feather.

“King Kai’en received your report. We’ve moved soldiers in to secure our northern border, though it’s been quiet thus far.” The elf firmly clasped his hands in front of him, lightly bowing his head. “Forgive the delayed introduction, my name is Ellery, advisor to the king. I will be visiting here frequently on his behalf.”

“Pleasure.” Vin nodded.

“I will also be overseeing the training efforts. I trust there will be no issues with that.” Ellery spoke directly.

“The more the merrier.” Vin returned flatly. “As always, Valkevilla welcomes whatever resources Elvenwood has to offer.”

“A new load of weapons and armor will be ready in about a month. In the meantime, I suggest you find ways to supplement with your own resources. We will have to thoroughly arm our own people, after all,” said Ellery, his tone carrying a sharpened edge.

“Of course.” Vin stiffened.

Ellery nodded, his chest puffed with the satisfaction of Vin’s discomfort.

“We’ll be gathering up to depart as soon as the last of the trunks has been unloaded.”

“Very well.” Vin replied. “Valkevilla extends its deepest gratitude to Elvenwood.”

“I’ll pass your sentiments along.” Ellery gave a small bow, then turned to leave the great hall, his boots gracefully tapping against the tiled floor.

Vin let out a harsh breath, releasing the tension his body had unconsciously stored during their brief interaction. Dealing with elves was never easy. It certainly gave Vin a much deeper appreciation for Carmilla. But at least progress was being made, even if it wasn’t in the name of an end he was at all pleased about.

After a few heart pounding moments, the door furiously swung open, an angered Vin rapidly appearing from behind it.

“I said to leave me-” Vin stopped short, his eyes widening, and jaw falling agape, as he was met with the golden gaze of a man he feared he’d lost. A man he knew he’d lost. “Lucas?” His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Vin’s face was one Lucas could hardly recognize at first glance. The crimson eyes that had once glowed bright with passion had now dimmed, following suit of the darkened circles lining them. His eyelids appeared red and puffy, as though he’d been crying, though all evidence of tears had long since perished. Lucas could feel the exhaustion flowing off of him in waves, and for the first time, he saw just how crushed beneath the crown’s weight his former lover had become.

“I have an urgent matter to discuss, your majesty.” Lucas forced a small bow, attempting to maintain formalities, despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to act otherwise.

Vin winced instinctively, before straightening up, and waving the knight into the room.

“Of course.” The king cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“Sir Remus and I have just returned from Widow’s Wild. Unfortunately, we were unable to locate the missing ghouls.” Lucas held his voice steady, doing his best to disregard the nerves threatening to push through it.

“As expected.” Vin let out a melancholic sigh.

“There is something else…” Lucas started, taking a deep breath, as Vin raised an inquisitive brow. “On our return through Riverbend, we caught sight of Honterran soldiers entering one of the cottages.”

Vin’s brow furrowed, his eyes furiously darting with confusion.

“Honterran soldiers? Are you certain?” He asked, pleading for the slightest air of uncertainty in Lucas’s testimony.

“I am.” The knight confirmed.

Vin closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself, despite his clenched jaw and tensed body betraying him. Drawing a deep breath, he directed Lucas to continue.

“Upon interrogation, the farmer divulged to us that Honterran soldiers had been frequenting the area for the past several months, making deals with the curse-borns there.”

“What kind of deals?” Vin pressed with a low growl.

“Your majesty,” Lucas continued, articulating his phrasing carefully, “they’re making deals to… well, what I imagine to be a sort of… escalation to the war in Honterra.”

Vin paused, allowing the knight’s words to soak into his mind for a moment before, reluctantly, urging the continuance of the deeply unsettling conversation.

“How exactly?” Vin asked, sternly, certain that he did not want to know the answer, but needing it nonetheless.

“Curse-borns… are being contracted to kill Honterran humans.” Lucas swallowed hard, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip.

At first, it was quiet. Like the calm before a storm. That brief moment of hope that made you feel like, perhaps, the damage wouldn’t be too severe. And then, the young knight watched as Vin’s heart fell, and every emotion a person could possibly feel began battling within him for dominance. He was furious, and devastated, and homicidal. His body trembled with rage, even though his mind was trying desperately to quell it. Hunching over his chair, his long fingernails unconsciously dug into the leather backing, leaving in it deep indents and scratches. His jaw was clenched so hard, Lucas feared his teeth might crack.

“Your highness-” Lucas began, but was abruptly interrupted by the aforementioned chair being slung across the room, slamming into the wall hard enough to break off one of its legs.

Panting heavily, Vin ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his face twisted into a vicious scowl. Lucas glanced between the king and the, now broken, wooden chair. Never in his life had he ever recalled seeing Vin act in such an aggressive way, and it was then that he realized just how much had changed in these few, short, months. Vin wasn’t the same person he had been when they parted ways, and Lucas wondered if he too had changed in equal measure. But it was the next thought that crossed his mind that made his body shudder. If Vin knew the truth, would he still hold enough compassion in his heart to not resent him for it?

“My apologies.” Vin straightened his shirt, refusing to make eye contact, afraid of the expression he might be met with if he did.

They stood silently for a few moments, waiting for the air around them to lighten, before eventually accepting that it wasn’t going to.

“How many have accepted the deal?” Vin asked, returning to his formal tone.

“I don’t know, for certain.” Lucas replied, catching a bitter glare from the king. “Your highness, it would be impossible to know with any amount of accuracy.” He insisted. “However, given the time period for which these events have been allowed to occur… I would imagine a fair amount.”

“Let me guess, they were offered protection in exchange for their services.” Vin spat, sharply.

Lucas nodded and Vin let out a long, defeated sigh.

“The ghouls that went missing, do you think they were involved in one of these deals?”

“I don’t believe so.” Lucas answered, confidently. “Both the woman and her son went missing, and the child’s father was human, so I believe their abduction was unrelated.”

“Are you stating, formally, that they were abducted by Honterrans?” Vin pried for confirmation.

“There was no evidence to the contrary.” Lucas stated, firmly. “I cannot make that statement officially, but, unofficially, I believe it to be the only conclusion of merit.”

“So his attacks are based solely on his whims.” Vin muttered to himself.

“If I may speculate, my king, I suspect that King Wilfred may have ulterior motives in waging this war. I believe the eradication of curse-borns may only be part of what he wants.”

Vin crossed his arms tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“He wants the land.” Vin concluded, gaining a brief nod of agreement from Lucas. “So, of course he’d start with Valkevilla. We have an abundance of resources, plenty of established trade relationships, and the lowest level of defense of any of his neighboring countries.” He dragged his hand down his face. “If he takes Valkevilla…”

“Nothing will stop him from taking the others.” Lucas finished, the gravity of the situation growing by the minute. “And, I imagine the war would seem much easier to win if his citizens had a more personal investment in his cause.”

“It would certainly give his sentiments a more solid foundation.” Vin shuffled over towards the table, where the map had rested, unmoved, since the war began. Leaning over it on his palms, his head hung low, he studied the map. “We’ll send more men to secure the border, and I’ll send word to Elvenwood about our suspicions.”

“Very well-”

All of a sudden, Lucas was overcome by a wave of lightheadedness, and found himself unable to finish his sentence. Abruptly, he gripped at the table to steady himself as his head began to spin.

“Lucas?” Vin’s attention immediately snapped towards the sandy-blonde, his voice thick with concern.

“I’m fine.” Lucas grunted through his brewing nausea. “It’ll pass.” His voice wavered as he focused on keeping the floor still, instead, resigning himself to squeezing his eyes shut and avoiding the matter entirely.

“Lucas, what’s wrong?” Vin’s voice was becoming more panicked as he noticed that, whatever it was, wasn’t passing.

“I’m fine-” The dizziness finally taking its toll, Lucas began to wobble, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him.

“Lucas!” Vin rushed to the knight’s side, quickly wrapping an arm around him to hold him steady.

Lucas did everything in his power to right himself, even praying to the gods to regain his bearings, at least long enough to escape the solar, but it seemed his prayers were going to go unanswered. He could feel Vin’s warm body pressed against his own, trembling with nerves. Slowly, the king guided him towards the remaining leather chair, and carefully lowered him into it.

“I’ll send for Alistair-” Vin stepped towards the door, but found his wrist in the surprisingly tight grip of the ill man, stopping him short.

“Don’t.” Lucas huffed with a wince as pain pierced through his skull.

“Nonsense!” Vin furiously ripped his hand away. “You’re clearly unwell!”

“Please.” Lucas pleaded, the pain subsiding for the moment.

“Enough!” Vin returned, sharply, once again making his way towards the door.

But as the young king turned away, Lucas, barely clinging to consciousness, lunged forward, gripping the man’s arm with all the strength he could muster.

“Vin!”

Whipping around, Vin’s eyes were met with a hazy, half-lidded, golden stare. Fresh beads of dewy sweat lined Lucas’s brow and his face had gone pale. His chest heaved as he panted. Then, his grip loosened, and his body slumped forward.

“Lucas!” Vin exclaimed, sliding beneath the muscular man, and propping him back up in the chair. He gripped Lucas’s shoulders tightly to hold him still, anxiously studying his face, brows upturned with worry.

The man’s head bobbed slightly, and Vin moved a shaky hand to gently caress his pale cheek.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Lucas lifted his gaze. Even amidst the world’s blurred focus, he could see Vin’s crimson eyes piercing into his own. His chin quivered against his will, and a single tear escaped, trickling down his cheek, brushing along Vin’s slender fingers, and as it did, Vin’s expression softened.

“I’m… sorry…” Lucas trailed off as a blackened haze slowly crept into his vision and consumed him.

Lucas awoke to the comfortable warmth of soft linen sheets, and the scent of fresh lavender and cedar wood. The golden glow of early morning sun danced through the window, illuminating the all too familiar room.

The ghost of a headache still lingered, and his stomach felt dreadfully uneasy. Shifting to prop himself up, he glanced to his side, finding an overly exhausted, and seemingly very unamused, Vin sitting slouched in the chair beside the bed. Sunlight haloed around him, casting his face in a dully lit shadow.

Before Lucas had a chance to speak, Vin produced a glass drinking vessel, filled with a thick, red liquid. Extending his arm towards him, he nodded, beckoning Lucas to take it. Hesitantly, he accepted the cup, blankly staring at it as he held it in his lap.

“Drink.” Vin instructed, flatly.

Giving the king a sideward glance, he swallowed hard, before returning his gaze to the cup. His brows furrowed as he nervously bit at his lip. He had never drank blood before. At least, not that he could recall, and certainly not in human form.

Apprehensively, Lucas lifted the glass to his lips, and took a small sip. It was thicker than he’d expected, and clung to his tongue with a somewhat sweet, iron flavor. He imagined it would be similar in taste to licking melted sugar off of an old sword. It’s not that he hated it. He found it rather interesting on its own. However, had he been given the choice between a juicy, rare steak and a bowl of blood soup, the decision wouldn’t require much deliberation.

“You’ll get used to it.” Vin assured, noticing Lucas’s slightly confused and mildly disgusted expression.

Lucas gave the dark-haired man a confused glance. Vin’s cheek rested against his fingers, his eyes heavy, with dark circles that could rival a moonless night. It was becoming increasingly more obvious to Lucas that he hadn’t slept.

The room grew heavier, and a pit began to form in Lucas’s stomach. Something about the way Vin looked at him put him on edge, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Growing uneasy, he returned his attention to the glass, giving it a light twirl, watching the blood swirl around the edges.

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” Vin interrupted the silence, his voice low, with a broken weight.

Lucas snapped his gaze back to Vin’s, his heart skipping a beat, and as he stared into those crimson eyes, he realized what about them had left him so unsoothed. The light was gone, and sadness had taken its place.

“W-what are you-”

“Lucas.” Vin stopped the knight short before he could continue further into his faltering bluff. “I know.”

The haze of the night before came into clearer focus. Not entirely, but he certainly remembered delivering the report, coming down with a bout of illness and then… nothing. He gulped.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Lucas’s eyes flickered as tears threatened to well, his chin starting to quiver. There it was. The question he’d dreaded answering the most since this all began, finally here to taunt him.

“How could I?” Lucas whispered shakily. The drinking vessel shook as his hands trembled, sending small ripples over the blood’s surface. His heart pounded in his ears, and everything fell deathly quiet. Fresh sobs pressed into Lucas’s throat, and he firmly clamped his jaw shut to suppress them.

Vin just stared. His heart had been emptied so many times, there was hardly anything left in it to fight with. The entirety of his being had been cracked apart, over, and over, and over again. But this was different. This was a lie. A betrayal he had been sold by the one person in this world he trusted most. He’d spent the entire night trying to understand why Lucas had done it. Why he would ever wish to keep their child a secret from him. And as he had watched the loosely draped sheets rise and fall with Lucas’s breath as he slept, he felt himself drifting further and further away from him.

Slowly, Lucas broke his gaze, unwilling to let the king see his tears fall. In his heart, the weight of this moment felt heavier than he’d ever imagined possible. Before, it was simply a concept that he had fooled himself into believing would never come to pass. But, now that he sat firmly in the thick of it, mere feet away from the father of his child, he’d come to the realization that all of the justifications he’d made for keeping the baby a secret were only masks, hiding a much more devastating truth. That at his deepest depth, he was simply afraid.

“I'm nobody… I come from nowhere.” Lucas finally spoke, his voice timid. “You can’t tell me you don’t understand.” His breath hitched.

“I don’t.” Vin insisted, unconsciously leaning towards the bed.

“You’re a king!” Lucas snapped his misty eyes back towards Vin’s, fresh tear tracks glistening against his flushed cheeks.

Vin jolted slightly.

“I’d ruin everything.” Lucas’s voice wavered, cracking through the tears, as he hunched over, pressing his face into his palm.

Vin sat quietly for a moment, watching the young knight sob, his heart sinking into his stomach. After all this time, Lucas still saw himself as the commoner that walked through the castle gates with a stolen copper clutched in his fist. A man of no nobility, with nothing of value to his name. A man unworthy of holding a king.

“It was just…” Lucas hiccupped, “easier if you didn’t know.” He drew a choppy breath, his low voice descending further into a broken whisper. “I can’t protect you now.”

Pushing himself up from his chair, body unexpectedly stiff from his prolonged residency in it, Vin shuffled around the bed, reaching over, and gently removing the nearly tipped glass from Lucas’s trembling grip. He placed the vessel on the wooden side table, next to the fresh bouquet of lavender flowers, then turned towards the distressed man sobbing in his bed.

“Is that all you see yourself as? My protector?”

Lucas drew a sharp breath, attempting to calm himself, but failing miserably. His eyes remained fixed on his lap, and he dared not move them. Then, he felt the bed dip to his side, as Vin sat down beside him.

“Lucas…” Vin spoke calmly, twiddling his fingers. “I don’t… I didn’t mean to-” He let out a frustrated sigh as the words kept getting caught in his throat. “I never meant to make you feel that way.” He turned to face Lucas. “That was never how I saw you.”

The knight folded his arms across his body, squeezing them tightly, still refusing to look up.

“If I can’t protect you,” his voice low and crackled, “then, what good am I?”

Slender fingers softly caressed Lucas’s cheek. Gently, Vin pulled the sandy-blonde’s golden gaze to meet his own. His eyes were red and swollen, and his face had been thoroughly dampened with tears. Guilt swirled in Vin’s stomach, heightening with each passing moment. He had spent an entire, sleepless, night, wondering what he might say when Lucas finally awoke. How severely he’d tell him off for what he had done, because he so desperately wanted Lucas to feel the same hurt that he had. But now, watching the tears spill from his golden eyes, he found himself wanting none of those things.

“You’re plenty good.” Vin whispered as his own eyes began to mist over. “You will never need to prove yourself to me.” He smiled kindly, his voice quivering slightly at the end. “Perhaps… it’s my turn to protect you.”

Lucas swallowed hard, his body jerking from a shaky inhale, as Vin wiped a few tears away with his thumb.

“If nothing else, can you at least allow me to do that?”

Biting his lip, Lucas nodded, and Vin released a slow breath, pressing his forehead against Lucas’s. Slowly, he slid his hand down, reaching for Lucas’s, and gripping it tightly. There they sat, together, finally in the grace of peace. Then, Lucas pulled away to look Vin in the eyes.

“There is something… I wish to say,” Lucas spoke softly, and slightly unsure, “but I know I shouldn’t.”

“What is it?” Vin brushed away a stray strand of blonde hair from the lycan’s face.

“I still…” Lucas pressed his lips together for a brief moment, studying the other man’s sharp features, his lightly tanned skin glowing in the rays of the morning sun, and he felt himself grow overwhelmed by the beauty before him. Seeing him now made him realize just how little his memories had done him justice. Even with the dark circles and untamed hair, he was still the most beautiful creature Lucas had ever seen. “I love you.”

Vin’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly with surprise, as his heart skipped a beat. Still, after all this time, after everything that had happened, Lucas had never stopped loving him. And for the second time, those three words rang in his ears, but this time, he had no intention of standing idly by while he watched them fade away.

“I know I’m forbidden to-”

In a wave of passionate impulse, Vin sprang forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Lucas’s neck, a deep kiss pushing the words back into the pregnant man’s throat. Never in their lives had either of them tasted anything so sweet. Cautiously, Lucas moved his hand around Vin, before gripping him tightly and pulling him close, until their bodies were flush against each other. Tongues delicately danced around sharpened teeth, the sweet taste of blood still lingering on Lucas’s lips.

Catching his breath, Vin pulled away slightly, their noses still brushed up against each other’s. His crimson eyes shimmered with new light, and finally, he felt at home.

“I love you, too. I always have.”

Lucas nearly choked as a smile danced on the corner of his lips. His heart pounded heavily, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. For so many years, he had longed to hear those words, even though he knew he could never have them. Because he was a nobody, from nowhere, who dared to love a prince. Who dared to love a king.

His fingertips traced over Vin’s cheek, and he placed another, gentle kiss upon his lips, slowly leaning back, guiding Vin down onto the bed with him.

“You taste like blood.” Vin whispered breathily with a smile, as he wrapped his arm around Lucas, snuggling into the muscular man’s chest.

“Oh?” Lucas raised a brow. “Should I drink more, then?” He asked, playfully through a mischievous grin.

“Yes.” Vin returned. “But, not for me.” Suddenly, his tone became more serious, and after a brief pause, he continued. “Vampires need blood to survive, you know. If you don’t feed them properly,” lightly, his hand slid over Lucas’s chest, down towards the protruding bump of his belly, “the baby will take what it needs from you until you have nothing left to give.” His fingers delicately traced circles around the moderately sized swell. “That’s why you felt so ill, and fainted.” He let out a long sigh. “Had you just told me-”

“I know.” Lucas interjected. “I’m sorry.” He gently rubbed Vin’s back with his thumb. “I should have, I know that. I just… couldn’t.” His voice faltered, and he pressed his lips together tightly to prevent more words from escaping until he had thoroughly collected himself. “I thought I’d be exiled. Or worse.” He drew a shaky breath, fresh tears, once again, clouding his vision. “I was afraid you’d hate me.” His voice barely more than a whisper.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Vin gazed into Lucas’s tear filled eyes, gently wrapping his fingers around the side of his neck, a slender thumb tracing over his jaw.

“There is nothing in this world that would make me hate you. Especially not this.” He watched Lucas’s golden eyes flicker as he fought against his quivering chin. “You have given me a gift, Lucas.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “And I will treasure it for as long as I live.”

“Don’t make me cry again, you sentimental prick.” Lucas let out a relieved laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You were already crying before I said anything.” Vin giggled, pressing a kiss onto Lucas’s soft lips, then nuzzling back down against his chest.

They laid together quietly for a short while, peacefully embraced in each other’s warmth. The rise and fall of Lucas’s chest was nearly enough to lull Vin to sleep, and with the gradually increasing weights tugging at his lids, he feared it very well would.

“When you fainted… I was so worried about you that I didn’t even notice.” Vin spoke softly, his hand once again drifting towards the bump, caressing it gently. “It seems so obvious, now.” His fingers lightly danced over it. “It’s not exactly small, is it?”

“I suppose it isn’t.” Lucas agreed with a sigh.

With a hint of curiosity, Vin cautiously tugged at Lucas’s shirt, sliding it up to expose his bare belly. Where rippling abs had once been, was now a firmly rounded swell. He pressed his palm against it, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“They’re right there.” Vin whispered.

Lucas smiled softly, moving his hand down, resting it over his slightly rounded belly, and interlacing his fingers with Vin’s. Beneath their palms, growing safely within his womb, was their child. The one piece of indisputable evidence that proved they had once loved each other, and that they always would love each other. He held everything he had ever wished to hold in that one hand, and he never wanted to let it go, lest it all be a dream that would vanish the moment he did.

“Can you feel them?” Vin asked, interrupting Lucas’s thoughts.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of melancholy. “There are times when I think I can, but they're such… tiny little flutters that I can’t help but feel like it’s all in my head.”

“You’ve always been rather observant, so if you thought you did, you most likely have.”

It was such a pleasant thought, being able to feel his baby stirring, and as much as he wanted to believe it was true, his mind would always stop him, telling him it was anything else. But, soon enough, their little bun wouldn’t be so little, and his mind would no longer be able to play such cruel pranks on him.

“Lucas,” Vin started, his tone growing somber, “there’s something you need to know.”

“What is it?”

“As per the agreement with Elvenwood, I…” The words clung to Vin’s throat. He desperately did not want to say what he needed to say, but he had no choice. Gathering his nerves, he pushed himself to continue. “The agreement requires-”

“An heir of elven blood.” Lucas finished.

Vin shifted his gaze to meet Lucas’s, his brows slightly creased with apprehension. But, as he saw his love’s face remain calm and unchanged, his tension lightened.

“I know.” Lucas comfortingly stroked Vin’s back with his thumb. “And, even if I didn’t, I would have assumed as much.”

“Carmilla’s pregnant.” Vin forced out, before he had a chance to lose his nerve. He had expected some sort of reaction. At the very least, for Lucas to appear even the tiniest bit upset. But he didn’t, and it left Vin uncomfortably confused. “Are you not upset?”

“It’s not my place to be upset.”

“But, shouldn’t it be?”

Lucas gave a small, reassuring smile, and shook his head.

“We don’t exactly live normal lives, and this isn’t some affair with a woman across the way.” He raised his brows and cocked his head, with a bit of an unserious frown. “If anything, metaphorically speaking, I would be the woman across the way.”

Vin rolled his eyes, fighting a grin, as he settled back down, nuzzling into Lucas’s warm chest.

“I wish we lived normal lives.” He sighed.

“It has its merits.” Lucas agreed. “But having lived one once, I don’t think I would exchange the life I have now for it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Vin groaned. “You're not the one with two children to raise with only mere months between them.”

“And to think, all those times we trained together, I never would’ve guessed you were such an excellent shot.”

Vin whipped his chin up to deliver a joking glare towards the pregnant lycan, who himself was displaying a playful grin. After a moment, Vin buried his flushed face in Lucas’s chest, attempting to muffle his laughter. Lucas pulled him close, leaning forward to brush a kiss atop the vampire’s head.

“I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. And anything you need of me, I will gladly do.”

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“Ugh.” She groaned, clamping a hand to her mouth. Her eyes squoze shut as she focused on the nausea swirling in her stomach, like a ship bobbing in the waves, inching closer to a maelstrom. After a few, agonizing moments, the wave passed, and she released her grip.

Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a long, exasperated sigh. It had been nearly three days and she’d hardly been able to keep anything down aside from a small slice of bread, a few bites of frumenty, and a collective three glasses of water—give or take, to be honest she’d stopped keeping track after about her tenth rendezvous with the bucket.

Hardly even six weeks along and she was already suffering a great deal more than she had originally anticipated. The concept, of course, she understood quite clearly, and Alistair had explained to her what to expect to some degree. But, for some reason, no one had ever bothered to mention just how bloody awful morning sickness actually was, and she had foolishly believed that the condition would be mild, and tolerable, allowing her to function with some small level of normalcy—or to at least be able to eat.

Aoife made frequent visits to bring her fresh water and bland foods, and exchange her bucket as needed, however, she had been relieved of her duties for the night, as the dark circles beneath her eyes hinted heavily to her lack of sleep. Illness or not, Carmilla had no desire to see Aoife suffer in such a way on her behalf.

She shuffled uncomfortably under the covers. It seemed that no position would alleviate her nausea, and she was getting increasingly more frustrated with each toss and turn. She rolled over onto her sides, her back—very briefly, electing not to, under any circumstances, do that again—and finally, settling on propping a fluffy pillow against the solid oak headboard, giving it a good lean, and hoping for the best. At least, in the partial sitting position, the illness pressing into her throat felt less severe.

Sinking deeply against her pillow, and engaging in a few rounds of intensely wishful thinking and near straining focus, the exhaustion clinging to her bones won over, and her limbs fell limp, as she drifted back to sleep.

The midmorning sun cascaded through the window of the small cottage. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, filling the air with a calm static.

As the light grew bright against his lids, Lucas hesitantly awoke, squinting as he recalled forgetting to shut the curtains the night before, and letting out a low grumble. He felt the warmth of Vin’s body pressed against his back, his arm loosely wrapped around him, hand protectively guarding his curved belly. The steady, drawn out tempo of his breath told Lucas that he was still asleep. He slowly shuffled his head against the fluffy, down pillow, tucking his hands around it, careful not to wake his lover. Vin’s fingers lightly twitched against his skin, before falling still again.

It was the first morning that Lucas had awoken with Vin still in his bed. The vampire had taken to the habit of allowing Lucas to sleep in, quietly slipping away in the early hours to return to his tasks, much the way it had been before when they were still sneaking around the darkened corners of the castle. It was just something that had become silently expected. Lucas would slink from Vin’s chambers in the night, and Vin would slip out of the cottage before dawn, and with any luck at all, no one would be the wiser. Lucas never complained, but he’d always hated it.

He sank further into Vin’s warm embrace, and in the depths of his memory, he couldn’t recall another morning in which his heart had felt so full. His body remained rigidly still, in hopes that he could cling to this moment for just a little longer. Though his eyes were still heavy with sleep, he dared not close them out of fear that when he opened them again, Vin would be gone, as if he had never been there at all.

Every so often, Vin’s breath would brush against his back, and some of that fear would melt away. Part of him knew it was silly to feel this way—to need Vin so desperately—but he couldn’t help it. Before, he had been able to trick himself, when their relationship had been so tucked away that it hardly felt real at all, but now, he seemed to be unable to hide from his desires. From the moment he confessed, he knew that he would never again be able to pretend that he didn’t love him. But as Vin laid wrapped around him in the bed they’d so lovingly shared, with the promise of an eternity together still bouncing around in his chest, he accepted that he’d never have to.

Vin lightly stirred, nuzzling his head into Lucas’s back, his grip around him tightening. He let out a small grunt as he stretched his back, his body further pressing against the werewolf. Lucas half expected Vin to try quietly slipping away, but he didn’t. He just held him close, fingertips gently dancing over his belly.

“You stayed.” Lucas spoke quietly, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mm-hm.” Vin returned with a yawn. “Is that okay?”

“Mm- Always has been.”

A smile danced on the corners of Vin’s lips as he inhaled the sweet, floral aroma of soapwort wafting off of Lucas’s hair. The scent remained just as fresh on him now as it had when they’d emerged from their bath the night before, and he was finding himself quite drawn to it.

He pressed a soft kiss to Lucas’s shoulder blade, then he shuffled up, brushing aside the lycan’s sandy hair, and placing another on the back of his neck. Slowly dragging his hand up, he caressed Lucas’s plush breast. Lucas shuddered, drawing a sharp inhale, and Vin instinctively pulled away.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lucas assured. “They’re just… a bit tender sometimes.” He mumbled into his pillow.

The vampire’s hand fell limp across Lucas’s stomach, his brows creasing slightly.

“Were they… last night?” Vin asked, suddenly concerned that he’d unintentionally made Lucas uncomfortable amidst his impassioned fondling.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?” Lucas sighed. “I was probably too lusted up to notice, either way.”

Vin was disconcertingly quiet, and Lucas turned over onto his other side to better look at him. His face was soft, but his eyes were drowning with concern, and Lucas felt unbearably guilty for unwittingly bringing that upon him.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Lucas added, sensing that, that was the fear clinging to the forefront of the vampire’s mind. “I promise.”

Vin gave a small, slightly unsure, smile, and Lucas leaned towards him, firmly pressing their lips together, as if to further prove his claim was genuine. When they finally broke apart, Vin gave his lover a proper smile, his worries fading away with it.

“You’ll tell me if I ever push you too far.”

“Of course.” Lucas replied. “It’s all new for me, too, you know.”

Vin nodded, gently stroking Lucas’s cheek with his thumb, as the lycan nuzzled into it. Golden sunlight glowed around him in a radiant halo, softening the firm edges of his body, as if he himself were a divine creature sent specifically for him. Gazing at his beauty, he grew overwhelmed, still somehow unbelieving that the man before him should feel any desire at all to claim him as his own. This was exactly where he wanted to be. Every night, and every morning, he wanted to be there, wrapped tightly around Lucas, encapsulated in their loving warmth. They had missed far too many peaceful mornings as it was, and Vin refused to miss another, for as long as Lucas would allow it.

“The full moon is only a few days away.” Lucas interrupted Vin’s thoughts. “I was wondering if…” he anxiously gnawed at his bottom lip, “if you might… stay with me?” His voice faltered towards the end. Something that had once seemed so natural, now felt heavily weighted with tense memories.

Vin’s crimson eyes widened. The last time he had offered to stay with Lucas, he’d been pushed away, and Lucas began volunteering for any assignment that would keep him from the castle. Vin had always assumed that it was because Lucas wanted nothing to do with him after their bitter separation. Only just now did he realize that it was because he had been trying to hide his pregnancy.

“Do you really want me to?”

Lucas nodded, his brows slightly upturned over his golden eyes.

“Very much so.” He whispered.

“Then I will gladly weather it with you.” Vin pressed a gentle kiss to his nose, which playfully wrinkled beneath his lips.

Wrapping their arms around each other, they pulled themselves close, their legs crossing and tangling together. The mattress was old and lumpy—and certainly nowhere near as luxurious as the plush bed lying cold in Vin’s chambers—but it was comfortable in a different way. It felt like home. Their home.

Vin pressed his lips to the top of Lucas’s head, his fingers lightly tracing over his muscular back. They laid there for a while, silently enjoying their warm embrace. Sunlight glittered across the bed, shimmering brightly against their bare skin. Vin wanted to live in the peace of this moment forever. Lucas’s stomach, on the other hand, did not seem to care much for such sentimentality.

With a low, gurgling, grumble, the werewolf’s stomach growled, rudely disrupting their late morning cuddle. Lucas blushed with embarrassment, however, Vin didn’t notice, as his face was thoroughly buried in the vampire’s chest.

“Hungry, are we?” Vin toyed, a snicker hanging in his throat.

“... Yeah.” Lucas hesitantly answered, his voice muffled.

“Well! I suppose it would be in poor taste to make the father of my child wait for breakfast.” Vin smiled, and gave Lucas’s arm a quick rub, before sliding himself out of the lycan’s grip. “What shall I prepare for you, my love?”

Lucas propped himself up on his elbow, following the vampire with his eyes, a puzzled half-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“You can cook?”

“I’m not without skills.” Vin replied playfully as he tugged on his pants, giving his foot a little wiggle.

“That’s an understatement.” Lucas teased, giving Vin a once over, that certainly wasn’t lost on him.

“That’s dangerous ground you’re treading.” Vin smirked, wagging a finger. “So, what do you want to eat?”

“You.”

“Lucas.” Vin rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lucas giggled. “I think all I have are some eggs and potatoes.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the thick blanket falling across his lap.

“That’s all you have?” Vin raised a brow.

“Yeah. Why, what’s wrong with eggs and potatoes?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Vin assured with a wave as he walked into the kitchen to stoke the fire. “We’ll just get something else later.”

Lucas nodded, watching Vin as he thinly sliced and cubed the potatoes. He had managed to find some green onions and a couple spare mushrooms amongst the pantry’s stores, and decided to chop them up for good measure. Tossing a pat of butter into the waiting skillet, he cracked the eggs, and shoveled everything in. With a sprinkle of black pepper, and a pinch of salt, he had the makings of a decent looking omelette.

It smelled wonderful, but having gone so long without eating, the savory scent seemed to be exacerbating the wave of nausea that was blossoming in Lucas’s stomach. A clenched fist rose to his mouth, pressing harshly against it as he squoze his eyes shut to focus. When it finally passed, his eyes were met with Vin’s deeply concerned stare.

“I’m fine.” Lucas brushed it off. “Just hungry.”

Vin didn’t break his gaze.

“Truly, I’m fine.” Lucas insisted.

Vin waited for a moment, perfectly still, crimson eyes scanning over Lucas carefully. To be truthful, it made Lucas feel a bit like a prized slab of beef under scrutiny before an intense negotiation. While he didn’t usually mind Vin’s eyes on him, in this particular instance, he wasn’t very keen.

“Have you been drinking enough blood?” He asked flatly, pulling the skillet from the fire and dividing the contents onto the two waiting plates.

“Yes.” Lucas replied.

“Are you sure?” Vin pressed, carrying the plates over to the bed.

“Yes.” The lycan hissed, taking the heavier plate.

As Vin sat down across from him, his eyes remained fixed, his lips thin. Every inch of him was on guard, ready to leap into action the second anything went awry.

“Vin…” Lucas sighed, reaching out to grab the vampire’s hand. “It just happens, sometimes.” He tried to give a reassuring smile. “I’m hungry, my moon cycle is starting, and I’ve got a bun in the oven.” He giggled. “Every now and then, I’m going to feel less than tops.”

Vin watched their hands for a moment, the tension he’d been tightly clinging to slowly sifting away, like sand through an oversized hourglass. His thumb lightly rubbed over Lucas’s knuckles as he tried to settle himself, his plate of food now seemingly unimportant. Quietly, he retreated into his thoughts, a frown drawing at his mouth.

“Vin.” Lucas beckoned him to lift his gaze, and he slowly obliged. “I’m not delicate.”

The vampire winced as the last word exited Lucas’s mouth.

“But, you are.” Vin contradicted, his face twisting slightly. “I was there.” His voice faded with a crack.

Lucas quickly understood what beast had now nested on Vin’s shoulders. Hardly three weeks to their rear, Lucas had suffered a horrifically intense fainting spell. A fainting spell he had unknowingly brought upon himself through his own selfish stubbornness and anxiety. And while he knew Vin had been afraid, he hadn’t quite realized just how visceral that fear truly was. Vin, above all, had always been profoundly terrified of losing Lucas, and that day, he had been faced with a vivid reminder that there were things in this world that could take Lucas away from him.

“I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, I know that.” Lucas sighed. “I hope, someday, you’ll be able to trust me again, but… I need you to know that I will never hide anything from you again.”

Vin’s face softened, his eyes scanning over the penitent werewolf.

“The second anything feels wrong-”

“I’ll tell you.” Lucas interrupted. “I promise.”

Vin drew a deep breath, giving his lover a small smile as they started on their breakfast.

The omelette was unexpectedly tasty—though the potatoes were a touch underdone. Even so, provided how little Lucas had to work with, Vin pulled it all together quite well. Not that Lucas doubted Vin’s abilities to maneuver around a kitchen. It was just that, well, he’d never seen it. They had rarely even dined together outside of meals in the great hall, sat in their respective seats at opposite ends of the room. There had been no romantic brunches, or candlelit dinners. In fact, this was the first real meal they had shared together, just the two of them.

“Uh- In the spirit of being honest,” Lucas spoke through a mouthful of eggs, “I should probably tell you that, er-” he hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to phrase it. “It’s just that. Well.” He swallowed, and forced a sharp exhale through his nose. “Werewolves don’t exactly… produce the smallest offspring.” His face scrunched with embarrassment. “I mean, they aren’t giants or anything. Fairly normal, I suppose, just, you know. A touch… bigger. Usually. Not always. But… usually.”

Vin raised a brow, a puzzled half smile forming on his lips. He didn’t speak, instead silently beckoning Lucas to clarify his point.

“Ah, um. That is to say- I-I mean, it’s small now, but. My family in particular seems to… uh… carry a bit… big.” Lucas awkwardly stammered out, his hands mocking the shape of a large belly.

“Okay?” Vin snickered, still unsure what exactly Lucas was getting at with this seemingly random confession.

“What I’m saying is…” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not…uh… gonna be able to hide it much longer.” He gestured to himself. “As it is, I’m nearly five months along, and the fact that it’s still as small as it is, is more or less a blessing at this point.”

“Ah.” Vin nodded, shoveling another spoonful of omelette into his mouth. “Right.”

“People are gonna notice.” Lucas polished off the last of his breakfast.

“Well, all that hard work, it’d be a shame if they didn’t.”

“Vin!” Lucas chuckled, giving the vampire’s knee a playful shove, which sent Vin into a laughing fit of his own.

As the giggles slowly subsided, Lucas continued.

“What are we gonna do?”

Vin thought for a moment as he chewed his last bite, giving the few scraps of omelette left on the plate to Lucas, which he happily snarfed down.

“Well,” he finally spoke, “we have a little time.”

“Very little.” Lucas emphasized.

“I think we can carefully maneuver this.” Vin nodded confidently.

“How?”

“First things first, we get married. Then, when we’re ready, we’ll make a casual announcement to the court.” Vin shrugged, as if this were a completely normal and uncomplicated situation.

“And you think that’ll go over well?” Lucas asked, a hint of sarcasm tugging at his tone.

“I don’t see why not.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh. No, she’ll be furious, I’m sure.” Vin waved the thought away, like a fly. “But, I already made my position on her interference in my life very clear.”

“Mm.” Lucas pressed his lips together, his gaze falling to his lap, thumb mindlessly stroking his belly.

Vin felt Lucas withdraw, the lightness of their conversation dying within him. And as he watched Lucas softly caressing his abdomen, he realized just how deep of a scar Marion’s words had left on him. It was something he would never forgive his mother for. But even worse, he could never forgive himself for allowing it to happen in the first place, and he was desperate to prove to Lucas that he would never allow anything of the sort to ever happen to him again.

“Lucas,” Vin gave his knee a gentle squeeze, “she can’t do anything to you, now.”

Lucas didn’t speak, instead nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. Anxiety painfully tickled his chest as his mind danced around the memory of that horrid day.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO INTERFERE! YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING! He shuddered.

“Lucas?” Vin attempted to draw his attention, but he was still lost in his mind.

With a sigh, Vin leaned forward, lifting Lucas’s chin so their eyes would meet. His brows were creased, and his lips pressed thin. All of the joking and laughter from before was gone, and the large man, somehow, seemed so incredibly small in that moment.

“You’re safe. I promise.” Vin lightly stroked Lucas’s cheek with his thumb, and slowly, the weight began to lift.

Vin pressed his forehead to Lucas’s, each focusing on the other’s breathing. Slow inhales, and warm exhales, gentle and comforting. Slender fingers gripped at Lucas’s thighs, holding him steady. The heat of Vin’s palms radiated into his body, connecting them as one, and the pit in Lucas’s stomach shallowed.

“I will always protect you.” Vin whispered, sliding his hand up to meet Lucas’s, still hovering over his swollen middle. “And our baby.”

Lucas’s stomach fluttered as he peered up at Vin, the vampire’s face glowing with content happiness. He held no apprehension in his heart—not anymore. The man before him, who once trembled beneath the weight of his crown, now embraced it, carrying it on broadened shoulders. He was a king. A great king, just as Lucas had said he would be all those months ago.

“I trust you.” Lucas whispered in return, leaning forward, delicately meeting their lips. Pulling apart, he gazed into Vin’s shimmering, red eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You taste like onions.”

“So do you.” Vin snickered.

“It’s not good, is it?”

“Not at all.” The vampire agreed, leaning in for another kiss, before unfolding his legs, and swinging them out of bed.

Reaching down, Vin lifted the crumpled mess of his shirt off of the floor, and tugged it over his head. With a huff, he freed his hair from the prison of fabric, and ran his fingers through it like a make-shift comb. With a few hasty shoves, he tucked the plum blouse into his trousers, the unlaced neckline exposing his smooth, upper chest.

“So, how do I look?” Vin gestured to himself playfully. “Fit for the trollop trot?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Lucas giggled through a wide grin.

“Excellent.” Vin placed his hands on his hips, displaying a confidently seductive silhouette. “Do you need anything?”

“Ginger tea. I’m pretty sure I’m out.” Lucas scratched his chin, thinking. “Ah, I forgot to pick up some more transformation elixir. I suppose I should go get that, today.”

“Not to worry, I shall collect it for you.” Vin leaned over the bed. “Anything else, love?”

“Just you.”

“And me, you shall have.” Vin graced Lucas’s lips with a gentle kiss—which likely would have turned into something much deeper had he not forced himself to pull away.

Lucas reluctantly released his vampire, and watched him saunter towards the door, the light scuffing of his boots against the wood floor, a rhythmic protest to his exit.

As Vin reached for the latch, he gave Lucas one last, loving glance, a kind smile promising his return, before swinging the door open, and waltzing out.

The door clacked shut, and Lucas was, once again, alone in his cottage—well, almost alone. Letting out a sigh, he flopped back on the bed, rolling onto his side, and burying his face in his pillow. Vin’s sweet scent still clung heavily to it, lightly mixed with the spiced floral aroma of soapwort. He laid there for a while, deeply inhaling the intoxicating scent, his mind drifting back to the night before. Their panting breaths filling the silence as their bodies tangled together, Vin’s hands brushing along his skin, shivers running up his spine with every sensual touch. The feeling of his lips pressing against his chest, and the way he’d held him close as they collapsed into each other's arms. And when they’d awoken together, Lucas knew he finally had him.

Reluctantly, he pried himself away from the pillow, casting the blanket aside. They’d have a proper dinner that night, he decided. And since his pantry laid embarrassingly bare, he figured a trip to the market would be in order. Certainly, the day would still be young enough to purchase a fine slab of beef. Even still, he didn’t dawdle, quickly shuffling into some fresh clothes and tugging on his boots. Giving his blouse a last loosening adjustment, he swept his hand across his belly, a sudden flutter giving him pause. With a sweetened smile, he gave the bump a gentle rub, then grabbed his coin pouch, and headed out.

Vin slipped into the castle, unnoticed—which was shocking, considering how many people were milling about.

His boots furiously tapped against the stone tiles as he hustled down the hall towards the infirmary. Lucas only had two requests—well, three, but if he thought about it too much, his heart would skip—and he was determined not to let him down. With the full moon nipping at their heels, he didn’t want to take a chance on forgetting anything, especially since part of that request was an absolute necessity.

The infirmary door was propped open, and Alistair was engaging in light conversation with Angelique, who leaned casually against the table while Alistair processed some fresh herbs into medicine. Swatches of dried soil decorated Angelique’s tights and lined her fingernails. Sunlight glittered through the window, shimmering against her brilliant, red hair. Noticing the king enter, Angelique stiffened, pushing herself up, and giving him a small bow.

“Your majesty.” She greeted. Alistair turned and followed her lead.

“My apologies, we were not expecting you.” Alistair straightened up.

“I won’t be long, I only need to pick up a few things.” Vin replied, plainly.

“Ginger tea, for one, I presume?” Angelique wandered over to the shelf that housed various different ceramic jars, and pulled one down, gingerly setting it on the table. “I just mixed up a fresh batch, so it should be quite potent.” Grabbing a small pouch, she began filling it with the spicy tea. “Carmilla’s morning sickness seems to have taken a rather firm hold on her. I told Miss Aoife to come by in the afternoon to collect the tea, but it seems you beat her to it.”

Ah. Right. Carmilla. Vin gulped. The time certainly had escaped him. Not that he really knew much about this sort of thing. Even with Lucas, his experience had been brief and intermittent. He also hadn’t known it was morning sickness at the time.

“I’ll need two bags, please.” Vin clarified.

Angelique raised a brow, but didn’t question it, instead, doing as she was instructed.

“Is there anything else, your majesty?” Angelique asked kindly, as she handed Vin the pouches of tea.

“Yes, actually,” he continued, “I’ll need a vial of transformation elixir.”

“Ah.” Alistair nodded, putting the pieces together. He walked towards the cabinet against the far wall, well stocked with potion bottles and herb jars, and removed a small vial. It was smaller than Vin had expected it to be, but if it was potent enough to do its job, he had no right to complain.

“Forgive me, your majesty, had I realized sooner, I would have treated Sir Lucas differently.” Vin took the vial from Alistair’s outstretched hand. “He’d never shared with me who the child’s father was.”

Angelique’s brow creased, her eyes darting between her brother and the king. Vin stood rigidly still, surprisingly shocked by the astute analysis the healer had bestowed upon him. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why that statement had caught him so off guard.

“Unless,” Alistair tilted his head, arms loosely crossed over his chest, “I’m incorrect in my assumption?” His tone and expression indicated to Vin that the healer was, without a doubt, quite confidently, most certainly, certain in his assumption.

Vin cleared his throat, collecting himself.

“No, your assumption was correct.” His face suddenly felt hot following this small admission, but he did his best to ignore it. “Most of the court is not privy to that information, and for the time being, I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way.” He spoke bluntly.

“Of course, my king.” Alistair bowed, his long, gold earring glinting in the sunlight as it brushed against his pale cheek.

Vin gave a satisfied nod, before turning to leave, stopping short in the doorway. He gave the healers a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Thank you for caring for him. You have my deepest gratitude.” With a gracious smile, the vampire scurried out of the infirmary, his footsteps lightly echoing down the corridor, disappearing into the distance.

“You never mentioned that to me.” Angelique spoke softly.

“Hm?” Alistair acknowledged, having already returned to his tasks.

“That Sir Lucas was pregnant.” She clarified.

“It wasn’t my place to say.” Alistair tightly wrapped some twine around a small bundle of rosemary. “But,” he looked up at her, a brow raised inquisitively, “didn’t you know?”

Angelique shook her head, her wavy, red hair shuffling against her jaw.

“And you call yourself an empath.” Alistair smirked, playfully sucking at his teeth in sarcastic tsk’s.

“Oh, dry up!” Angelique gave his arm a quick shove, knocking him slightly off balance. “You know reading curse-borns isn’t easy. You can hardly blame me for missing it.” Though her words were light, Alistair could tell that she was deeply bothered by it. “I saw him so many times.” She muttered to herself, her arms tightly crossing her body. “How did I miss it?”

“Go easy, Angel.” Alistair placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t even definitively confirm it at first, and I was looking for it.” He gave her a kind smile. “Just because something slipped past you, doesn’t mean you aren’t a brilliant healer.” Alistair gave her arm a reassuring shake, leaning down to peer into the bright green eyes that mirrored his own. “And you are a brilliant healer.”

“You prat.” She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Thank you.”

Alistair nodded, sliding his hand off of her arm, and returning to tying bundles of herbs, before hanging them from iron nails to dry. Removing some of the previously dried herbs, Angelique grabbed her stone mortar and pestle, and tossed the crisped leaves into the bowl. Pushing up her sleeves, she tightly gripped the pestle, and began grinding the herbs down into powder. Every so often, the table would shake from the force of her movements.

The pair worked silently for a while, their need for idle conversation having long since faded off. The shuffling of leaves, and scraping of stone filled the large room with a monotonous, white noise. Normally, processing medicine would be a mindless, calming task, but neither healer seemed to be too soothed by it. They didn’t bother to ask what the other was thinking, but they each had a feeling their thoughts were one and the same.

Things are getting more complicated.

Vin hesitated before the door, his fingers unconsciously curling into a tightened fist around the bag of tea. Suddenly, Carmilla’s chambers felt incredibly imposing, in a way that made him shudder. He shouldn’t feel that way. It was ridiculous to feel that way. She was his friend. He would be there for her, whatever she needed. Everything she needed. He had made that promise to her. So why couldn’t he bring himself to knock?

Lucas. The thought danced into his mind before he could stop it.

She needed to know. Above every other member of the court, she needed to know. It wasn’t as though this moment hadn’t been inevitable. The thought of it had plagued him, shadowing him like a storm cloud, from the moment he had found out himself. But, in his mind, he had been able to fool himself into believing it was simple. There were no feelings between them, and there never would be. Their only attachment to each other was their child. The child that currently had Carmilla nearly bedridden.

Vin gulped, steeling his nerves, and knocked on the wooden door. His heart pounded furiously in his ears, and the pit in his stomach was making him queasy.

A fitting punishment, he thought, trying to see the humor in his predicament.

Slowly, the door swung open, the hinges giving a subtle creak. Before him stood a young, ginger haired woman with fluffy ringlets, tied in a loose braid down her back. Red freckles contrasted her alabaster skin, dark circles tugging at her hazel eyes.

Vin’s heart wrenched.

“Your majesty!” She squeaked with surprise, giving him a hasty bow. She glanced at Carmilla, who was sitting in bed, propped against the headboard. Giving the maid an approving nod, Aoife shuffled aside, granting the king entry.

“I brought you some tea. It’s supposed to help with the morning sickness.” Vin handed the pouch to Aoife, and she scurried over to the dressing table to set it down.

“I’ll fetch some hot water.” Aoife stated kindly, giving the royals another quick bow, before heading off towards the kitchen.

Vin stood still for a moment, before cautiously approaching the bed and sinking into the soft chair beside it. He gave Carmilla a quick study. She seemed paler, and her skin glistened with dewy sweat. Her cherry lips were chapped and irritated, and her features appeared slightly thinner than when he’d last seen her. The elf was properly ill, there was no questioning that. Lucas certainly hadn’t been well during his morning sickness, but nothing like this—at least, that he was aware of—and every fiber of his being was screaming at him that this wasn’t normal.

“Thank you for the tea.” Carmilla spoke, her voice hoarse and tired.

Vin nodded, but didn’t speak. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him. Seeing her this way filled him with a guilt so unbearably deep that he couldn’t hope to see the bottom of it.

“Don’t look at me with that face.” Carmilla shot him a piercing glare. “I won’t accept your pity.”

Vin’s eyes flickered, and he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. It was all he could think to say.

“Don’t be. I’m merely jesting.” She smiled apologetically.

“No, I mean…” Vin sighed, his brows upturned over shadowed eyes. “For this.”

Carmilla tilted her head, her eyes scanning over the defeated silhouette hunched in the chair beside her. Drawing a deep breath, she sharply forced it out through her nose as she shook her head.

“Vin…” She gave the bed a gentle pat, inviting the vampire to sit beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, then pushed himself up from the chair and slid over onto the plush mattress, the silk sheets shuffling softly beneath him. Once he was settled, Carmilla reached over and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. Her chilled fingers sent a shiver up his arm.

“Please don’t apologize for this.”

“How can I not?” Vin’s eyes darted over her thin features. “This is… awful.”

“It certainly isn’t enjoyable, I’ll give you that.” She let out a huff of a laugh. “But, you can’t blame yourself for this. This isn’t your fault, you have to know that.” Her bambi, brown eyes begged him to understand.

But he couldn’t. Not while she was seemingly shriveling away, bit by bit, with the passing of each day. How long could she last like this? Her untouched breakfast had long since gone cold on the nightstand, the glass of water still nearly full.

A hand flew to her mouth, catching Vin by surprise, as she released her grip on the king’s hand, curling over the side of the bed, and vomiting into the waiting bucket. Her body wrenched as she heaved, and it reminded Vin of the way Lucas had been on the night of his courting party. The only difference was that he had been far less worried about Lucas then, than he was for Carmilla now.

Once the heaving stopped, her body hung limp for a moment as she panted fresh breath into her lungs. Spit sputtered into the bucket as she tried to rid her mouth of the sticky saliva and bile. Her throat had been burned raw days ago, and seemed to have reached the worst that it was going to get.

“Are you alright?” Vin placed a gentle hand on her back, his voice calm, but heavy.

“Mm-” Carmilla hoisted herself back up onto the bed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “I’m fine.” She grunted.

Then, a thought occurred to him.

“I assume you know that vampires… need blood, right?”

“It had been mentioned, yes.” Her breathing was still harsh. “But I can’t even keep water down. I don’t think blood is going to be any different.”

“I may be asking a lot of you to humor me, but…” Vin wrapped his slender fingers around hers, pulling her hand closer to cup it within his own. “Would you mind trusting me?”

She swallowed hard, but he had a feeling it wasn’t nerves itching her throat. After a moment’s contemplation, Carmilla nodded.

“I trust you.”

Vin carefully removed his hands, drawing one up to his mouth. Twisting it around, he eased his sharpened fangs into the heel of his palm, slowly clamping down until it had been sufficiently pierced. The pain stung sharply for a moment, sending prickles up into his fingers, then lessened into a dull ache. As he withdrew, bitter blood flowed into his mouth, coating his tongue most unpleasantly—much the way that unsweetened cocoa would. He grimaced as he removed his palm, holding it towards Carmilla, blood slowly trickling from the fresh wound, down his arm, and soaking into his plum sleeve.

“The look on your face doesn’t exactly invoke confidence.” Carmilla joked, obviously disguising her apprehension.

“Vampires typically don’t care for the taste of their own blood.” He hastily sucked his tongue, doing his best to remove the foul flavor. “But, it should be fine for you. Well, as fine as it possibly can be. I hope.”

Carmilla gathered her nerves, disregarding the swirling unease in her stomach, and pulled Vin’s hand to her mouth. The blood was hot on her lips, and salty on her tongue. Vin’s fingers twitched as she sucked at his palm, but he didn’t make a sound.

When she’d taken all she could stand, she pulled her lips away, instinctively covering her mouth with the back of her fist, as if anticipating a quick return. As the blood settled, she realized there was no need for such precautionary measures, and withdrew her hand.

“Are you alright?” Vin asked, tucking his hand into his sleeve, compressing his shirt to the seeping punctures.

“I believe so.” Carmilla replied, sucking at the roof of her mouth, attempting to hide her distaste for the blood that still lingered there.

“And the morning sickness?”

“Calm for the moment.” Carmilla released a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Vin wrapped his arm around the elf, and hugged her close. His thumb gently stroked her arm as she nuzzled into him, allowing herself to relax in the comforting embrace of someone who understood.

“Anything you need, I am always here.” Vin whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her disheveled curls.

He felt her nod against his chest, and his previously firm resolve to tell her the truth about Lucas vanished.

Perhaps, another day, another time—preferably one that didn’t require the presence of a bucket. Carmilla had enough to worry about right now, she didn’t need anything else weighing on her. At least, that was how Vin justified it.

There was a knock on the door, and with a quick invitation from Vin, Aoife re-entered the room, carrying a bronze tea kettle, cupped with a thickly folded cloth.

“Pardon my interruption.” Aoife spoke softly, noticing the royals engaging in a friendly cuddle.

“Nonsense.” Vin waved off the apology. “I’m afraid I must be on my way, regardless.”

Carmilla lifted her head, and the vampire untangled himself, before sliding out of the bed, careful to collect the tea and elixir he’d set aside. The glint of the vial caught the corner of her eye, but she brushed it off—though, admittedly, the curiosity lingered, despite her best efforts to purge it.

“I trust you’ll take good care of her.” Vin gave Aoife a pleasant smile.

“Of course, your majesty.” The maid bowed.