#also my nose started bleeding while i was drawing today. i have a birth thing where my nose blood vessels suck

[hballegro]

ive been baking mayonnaise cake and painting all day. im finishin this piece today and celebrating with my great grandma's recipe. cannot be stopped cant stop wont stop.

margaret's hair was really easy, as was nurse kellye's arm. the background i think will go really fast, and then the only final hurdle is final touches to make sure the expressions are on point.

also i wanted to finish 'by tuesday' because im hanging out with my aunt tomorrow, and my mother was kind enough to show my art to literally everyone in her life including my aunt that she spoke to for like 4 hours the other day, so i wanted to have the next edition out lol.

definitely SHOULD finish today. if i dont. assume i died

[anonniemousefics]

The Nine Terrifying Moons | Chapter Three

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Synopsis: Based on the response to this post. :) Jude’s not sure what she expected motherhood to be like, but it isn’t this.  

(SO MUCH FLUFF HERE. Really. Just. The fluffiest. I can’t help myself.)

Chapter Three: The Third

I think maybe I am meant to be a cautionary tale, not a happy ending.

I think that someone who has manipulated and lied and schemed as much as I have is destined only for tragedy.

And now it’s finally come for me.

I think this over and over again, like a spell I’m chanting to grant myself some measure of grim acceptance, while Cardan and I ride a ragwort horse all the way to the mortal realm. It’s the best course of action we can come up with in the moment of panic.

The moment I knew we were facing a potentially devastating complication, I wanted – no, needed – a human doctor.

Pregnancy is rare among the Folk, and I now find I’m not interested in trusting faerie midwives with a decidedly human condition. If there is something wrong with me, or with our baby, I want to know what it is, everything about it. I don’t trust anyone who might want to strike a deal for my child’s wellbeing or concoct some potion that, while saving the pregnancy, also gives our baby a third eye or snaggle-teeth or an appetite for blood. I’m also having flashbacks of a conversation long ago with Oriana, when she divulged details of Oak’s horrific birth. How there’d been complications that had cost Liriope her life. How Oriana herself had carved the baby out of her friend’s stomach.

I shudder hard at the recollection and press my cheek hard against Cardan’s back as we ride, my face between his shoulder blades. Hard pass. On every bit of that. Just – one massive hard pass. We are finding a real doctor.

Cardan didn’t even argue. Though he insisted it was time to tell The Court of Shadows, if only for safety reasons while we made an unannounced, unplanned emergency run to the mortal realm.

Nothing goes like either of us had hoped. There are no tears of joy. There are only tight, grim expressions and tense words while plans are made. How we will prevent our enemies from learning of the child and our absence. How we will remain protected while among mortals.

I have hardly a word of help to offer, and that alone is horrifying. I have always schemed and survived – it’s what I am. But there, instead, I can only sit with a hand at my flat stomach, my sole focus on willing this little rebel in me to hear her mother’s first command.

Don’t go. Please. I love you.

Please stay.

Please.

I’ve resented this for weeks, and now I’m begging for the nausea, the aches, the exhaustion to stay – all of it. Any reassurance that I’m not losing this newfound love before I’ve even really gotten to know it.

But I also wonder if I should just accept fate. I have always felt from the beginning that I did not deserve this. That I am stealing a happiness that I have not earned.

“How are you faring?” Cardan asks me over his shoulder, the whine of the wind in my ears. We’re somewhere over the sea, jostled by the roll of the ragwort horse’s gallop beneath us.

“The same,” I answer. Sick. Dizzy. Terrified of what comes next. Unconsciously, I grip his body to mine harder. He’s tense, every muscle on edge. This is unlike any journey we’ve made yet. There’s nothing to fight, and still everything to lose.

“Nearly there,” says Cardan, but it sounds like he’s saying it more for his own benefit. He hates the journey over the sea, the precariousness of ragwort horse travel. I’m not in any state to offer reassurances, or even tease him to lighten the mood.

Sure enough, the clouds part, and the city lights along the coast of Maine wink up at us. It’s evening, and dark beneath a heavy rain cloud, and as soon as we’re low enough, we’re being pelted with sheets of rain. By the time the ragwort horse alights its oaken-hooves on the pavement, Cardan and I are both soaked to the skin.

We dismount, invisible beneath a glamour, at the far end of a hospital parking lot. The sign at the entrance glows with a red cross and the name, Down East Community Hospital. It was the best I could think of to do at a moment’s notice: instruct the ragwort horse to find us an emergency room.

I wrap my arms around myself as Cardan holds out a hand to gather up the horse. The leaves of its mane and the bark-like coat of its body begin to curl in on itself, like a plant rolling in on itself for the night. A moment later, it’s only a few leafy twigs that Cardan can hide in his pocket.

We both look absurd, and I’m just now realizing it. We look like we’ve just run out of a community theatre dress rehearsal for a low-budget melodrama. Cardan’s tried to dress down, but he’s still Cardan, and he’s wearing tight black trousers and tall boots over his calves. He’s thrown one of the zip-up hoodies I keep in my wardrobe for trips to the mortal realm over a loose white shirt. He also must have been feeling particularly festive this morning after last night’s romp, and he’d gone and added a bit of kohl to his eyes before I’d woken up and shit hit the fan. And he’s still wearing gold rings all over his fingers and in his pointed ears. Combined with his soaked, inky hair, he looks a bit like a member of an 80’s rock cover band who’s recovering from being pushed into a pool.

It’s kind of nice. He rarely looks a mess. It makes me feel like we’re in this together, at least.

For my part, I didn’t let Tatterfell braid my auburn hair today, and now it’s just long and windblown, so I’ve tried to pull it all to one side to keep it managed. I’m wearing a simple pair of brown trousers with little silken flats that were my least flashy pair of shoes. I’ve got a shirt and olive-colored vest on beneath a hoodie similar to Cardan’s that was supposed to keep me warm, but now it’s sopping wet.

We both pulls the hoods on our sweatshirts up over our heads as we make a mad dash for the automatic sliding doors of the ER, racing against the onslaught of rain. Once we’re inside the vestibule between sliding doors, I stop a moment to grab Cardan’s arm and gather myself. He puts a bejeweled hand over mine, his expression tightened in concern.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confess, breathless. Hospitals, emergency rooms, doctors. It’s all foreign to me.

“I’ve done it even less.” Cardan’s looking more pale by the minute. The rising terror in both of us is palpable.

“I should call Vivi,” I spout, and Cardan’s nodding furiously in agreement, for once graciously not pointing out how he’s been saying this very thing for weeks.

But when I look around, there’s not a phone in sight. There’s only a poorly lit waiting room on the other side of the glass vestibule, and bored-looking nurses waiting at intake windows. Shit. Shit. How do mortals do this? How to they get treatments for mortal ailments and weaknesses and not fall to pieces fretting over their inherent, inevitable vulnerability in the process?

Suddenly, the surety of immortality is looking rather cowardly by comparison.

“Maybe one of the nurses will let me commandeer a phone,” I mutter, and I let my fingers slide from Cardan’s arm to his hand. My palm is starting to sweat when he laces our fingers together, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The glass door to the waiting room slides with a hissing whisper, and inside there are people crowded in the cheap chairs lining the walls. Somewhere, a toddler is wailing out of sheer boredom while the evening news anchors jabber on a TV mounted in the far corner above a potted plant. Cardan’s already drawing stares with his ominous, messy appearance. He found a beanie in the pocket of the sweatshirt to cover the pointed tips of his ears, but there’s still kohl streaking his prominent cheekbones. I’m gonna need to clean him up at some point.

Right now, all I’m focused on is slipping into the first open intake seat and figuring out how in the hell I’m going to see a doctor for the first time in my mortal life. I am going to be brave. I have trained for nothing less.

“Hi, how can we help you today?” says a warm-looking middle-aged nurse behind the desk. She has short grey hair and floral scrubs, and a pair of readers perched on the bridge of her nose. Her badge says her name is Josie.

“Um.” My mouth feels dry, but I push on anyway. “I am—I am pregnant, and, um, I’m having some…” I draw in a shaking breath. Why is this so hard? “Some bleeding. I think I need to see a doctor right away.”

“Of course, honey,” Josie says, and peers over her readers. “Have you spoken with your OB?”

“I don’t have one,” I shake my head, my face starting to flush as Josie’s concern increases. I’ve never felt like I belonged in the mortal realm, and it’s never felt more apparent that I’m an outsider.

“Okaaay,” Josie says, slowly, adjusting her readers as she turns to her computer. “Let’s get you registered. Name?”

I hesitate again. I’ve never given my name in any sort of official capacity here among mortals. Especially not since I’d gotten married. What do I want to be called?

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar,” I hear myself answer. From the chair beside me, Cardan titters a little amused laugh to himself and then bites it back when I shoot him a look. He likes the sound of it, too.

“Okaaay,” Josie says again, pecking at her keyboard. “I’m gonna need you to spell that for me, honey.”

I appall Josie further as the registration process yields the fact that I have neither a driver’s license nor an insurance card. With each of Josie’s judgmental sighs, I can sense Cardan stiffening with repressed irritation next to me, and it’s only stressing me out more. I should have had a talk with him first about promising not to curse anyone. I’m half-expecting Josie to sprout cat ears at any minute.

“While we can’t legally decline services based on insurance,” Josie says, doing little to suppress her concern, “I will need you to sign this agreement that says you understand that, since you are not presenting insurance today, you will be personally responsible for the entire cost of today’s visit.” And she shifts a clipboard toward me.

“Oh, look, love,” Cardan suddenly chimes in. He slides a wet leaf from his pocket across the registration desk as his voice takes on the heady, dangerous quality of magic. He’s conjuring a glamour. “I think you can see all of the insurance information you require here.”

“Oh, good, you found your card!” Josie exclaims, delighted, as she takes the leaf and begins happily clacking away at her keyboard.

“Do not get carried away,” I hiss at Cardan while Josie’s distracted. “That should be a one time thing.”

But Cardan just slits his kohl-lined eyes at me, looking like the smug bastard he’s always been, and leans an elbow on the registration desk, throwing Josie a coy smile. The glamour in his voice when he speaks again is just as sinfully seductive.

“And Josie, my sweet,” he says, “you’ll let my wife borrow your phone to speak with her sister, won’t you, dearest?”

“Of course, Mr. Greenbriar,” Josie replies, with the charmed-sweet smile of the glamoured. She shifts her desk phone to me, handing me the handset. “Just press nine for outgoing calls, honey,” she tells me.

I’m frowning at Cardan’s wicked smirk as I accept the phone.

“I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” I whisper to him while Josie types away. He grins at me. I don’t really want to admit that he’s just been pretty useful, and he knows it.

Regardless of how ill-gotten this privilege is, I do need Vivi. I dial her cell phone, one of two numbers I know, and wait while it rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“She might be screening her calls,” I say to Josie, sheepishly. “Her father is…” Oh, how to describe what Madoc is like these days. “…over-bearing and tricky.” And I hang up and try again. Josie gives a tight, uncomfortable smile, peering over her readers.

“You are not concerned about how unusual this is,” Cardan tells her, the glamour dripping off his voice, and I smack his arm to get him to stop. Josie settles again as the phone keeps ringing.

I have to hang up and dial two more times before Vivi finally picks up. She sounds irritated when she answers.

“Vivi, this is Jude,” I say, slumping in relief that she’s finally answered.

“Jude? Seriously? What?” The annoyance in her voice vanishes as she’s scrambling to understand. “You’re calling me? Where are you? Are you ok?”

“I’m at the Down East Community Hospital emergency room,” I say. “Can you come?”

“Oh, my God.” It sounds like Vivi’s suddenly frantically looking for her keys. “Yes, I’m coming. I’ll be there. Why are you there? What’s going on?”

“It’s a lot to explain over the phone,” I say, slowly, white-knuckling the handset. “I’m ok, and Cardan’s here, but I just really need you.” I hate it more than anything, but I can’t keep the frightened younger sister out of my voice now that I’m actually talking to Vivi about this. The first rush of relief hits me when Vivi replies without hesitation:

“Ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’m on my way.”

I let out a long breath as I hand the phone back to Josie.

“The nurse will call you back when they’re ready for you,” says Josie, and gestures to the crowded waiting room. “Have a seat.”

“Or--” Cardan starts, leaning forward, and I know he’s about to throw out another glamour to speed things along. In the blink of an eye, I clap a hand over his mouth before he can say another word.

“Thank you,” I tell Josie, through a gritted smile, and urge Cardan to move along.

“Your moral stance on glamours ought to have a loophole where our child is concerned,” Cardan gripes as we shuffle to the nearest available two chairs.

“You Folk are like addicts with glamours,” I snap back as we take a seat. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“I believe I’ve proven myself capable of great restraint,” Cardan says, looking miffed for a moment until a People magazine on a nearby table catches his eye and his curiosity of mortals gets the better of him.

He has the right idea, I think. Distraction would be the key to getting my mind off the blood and not falling apart right now. I’ve done everything I can at this point, and now we must wait.

I busy myself for a moment by wrapping the cuff of my sleeve over my fingers and wiping off the rain-splattered streaks of kohl off Cardan’s face, so that the father of my child looks less like the troubled D-list celebrities his People magazine is trashing. He’s not drawing any less attention, but there’s not much either of us can do about that. If you’re not accustomed to the allure of the Folk, it’s nigh impossible to not stare and stare and try to decipher what it is about them that’s so otherworldly. But at least now they’re staring for the right reasons and not at his ruined eyeliner.

With nothing more at arm’s length to distract me, I rest my head against the wallpaper behind me and let my vision go unfocused in the general direction of the TV in the corner. I don’t want to think about the whining toddler in the room, who’s mad at his mother for not bringing the right stuffed animal with them to the hospital. What would I do with a half-human child in Faerie who fell ill or wounded? What would we do? Would the land let Cardan heal him? Would we have to make this journey again? What if I forgot the right stuffed animal, too??

Amazing that I’m suddenly assuming this child is going to survive whatever’s happening now, I realize, and this worry spiral is helping no one.

Once upon a time, I’d been the girl determined to become a thing feared. What has happened inside me, that I’m now this terrified woman? I hate it. I hate it, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“You’re not afraid of that everything will change?” I remember asking Cardan, three moons ago. I had thrown out the last of my birth control that day. We’d snuck away from a revel to lie beneath the massive tree that grew out of the top of the palace of Elfhame, staring at the stars above and dreaming of what they could hold.

Cardan looked to me, his hands behind his head in the loam, his crown slightly askew. He smiled, and the moonlight made him almost too beautiful to bear.

“I cherish every change you’ve ever brought me, Jude,” he said, and he stretched out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers softly lingering at its rounded edges. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“You’ve not always felt so gracious about the changes I’ve foisted upon you,” I pointed out. “And you don’t get to exile me now if my parenting pisses you off.”

I’m not sure what I thought he’d think of such a statement, but it was out in the night air anyway. His gold-rimmed eyes darkened as he pulled his hand back, folding it over his chest. I watched him as he stared up at the stars again, waiting for his response, and with each second, regret began to sink in.

“I consider myself fairly thick-skinned,” he said at last, “but that was uncalled for.”

“I was teasing--” I started, but he shot me a dark look.

“There was a measure of truth in your voice,” he countered. “You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”

“I don’t see what you’re so put out about,” I huffed, pulling back to glare at the night sky. “You weren’t the one living in exile.”

“Not this again,” Cardan groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Five years, Jude. It’s been five years,” he sighed into his palms.

“And now we’re discussing children, and it’s a very large and potentially aggravating change,” I said. “Maybe I am a little wary.”

“Of me?” The moment I saw the unguarded devastation on Cardan’s face, it was like I’d slapped him, and not in the fun way. I wanted to be swallowed down by the loam, covered in a grassy grave. Everything about this was awful. I wanted children with this man. Why was I dredging up ancient history?

But Cardan had been right. There’d been a measure of truth to it. It’s been a deliriously wonderful five years, but we are not entirely new people. We have a terrible past. And I feared what demons a significant change like this could summon.

When I didn’t answer right away, Cardan sat up so his back was to me, burying his head in his hands.

“Cardan…” I shifted so that I was propped up on my hands.

“What else can I give you to make this right?” he fretted to the ground in front of him. “I have given you everything. Every part of me, everything you see before you. It was wrong for both of us to take our games as far as we did, but I would have thought by now--”

“It was an off-handed comment made in poor taste.” I wanted to put a stop to everything that was happening. Rewind the whole evening.

Instead, he looked over his shoulder at me, visibly aching.

“I will not be like my father. I refuse it,” he retorted, and when I cocked my head to the side, not understanding, he went on. “Eldred collected consorts and sired children the way some people curate shoes: to suit his vanity. And I have that in spades already; there’s no need to spawn more. What I would want for a child, more than anything, is to not know what it is to grow up as an accessory. To not fear that his mother will be discarded. Jude, if you cannot trust so little of me, then this is poorly timed. Perhaps we need another five years. Or ten. Or however long you require.”

I sat up and scooted next to him, tucking my chin against his shoulder.

“I trust you,” I assured him in a whisper, and, as if he couldn’t help it, his eyes closed as he leaned his head towards mine. He smelled like oakwood and leather, like everything I’ve ever wanted. “I would not still be with you if I did not trust you.”

I wanted to push back the thick curls from his forehead, and so I did. And held my palm against his jaw as I leaned my forehead to his while the stars twinkled overhead.

Five years later, and sometimes we’re still finding little bits of armor that need to come off. For me, becoming a fearsome thing is not an option for handling motherhood, just as Cardan refuses to mirror his father’s vanity. But when I take off this bit of armor, this need to be feared and respected, it feels as if there is nothing underneath yet. Only vulnerability. Only terror.

I think of it now, in the ER waiting room of the Down East Community Hospital, while I snake my arm through his, looking at him while he’s ogling People magazine. He looks a mess, and there is no one I trust more. I’m still not convinced we’re shining examples of excellent would-be parents. But I’m afraid and vulnerable in the worst ways, and there’s no one I’d rather see me through it.

“Eldred would never have done something like this for any of his consorts,” I point out to him in a whisper, and he looks back at me with a pleased smirk.

“You are my wife,” he indicates, and gives my cold knuckles a swift kiss before turning back to whatever filth is engrossing him in People.

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar?” There’s a nurse at the emergency room door calling my name. I draw in a breath. Here we go.

The nurse in blue scrubs takes my vitals and makes us somewhat comfortable in a makeshift space where we’re surrounded by taupe-colored curtains on three sides while I wait on a hospital bed. There’s a squeaky grey plastic chair for Cardan to sit on, and no more TV or People magazine – just the assurance that a doctor will see me soon. And then we’re left with our dread to stare at the taupe curtains around us, listening to the squeak of hurried shoe soles against linoleum and the occasional beeping of hospital pagers. The air is acrid, like someone’s tried to scrub it clean, and it’s making my stomach lurch. It must show on my face as I swallow hard against the rising bile, because Cardan swiftly hands me a blue plastic barf bag that the nurse has left him in charge of. He’s wary of my empty threats to aim for his shoes.

“Jude, are you decent?” calls a voice from the other side of the curtain. “You have visitors.”

The curtains scrape against their tracks on the ceiling, and I can’t hold back a relief grin at the sight of Vivi and Heather.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” It’s all Vivi can say as she sweeps in to wrap me in a hug.

“Hey,” Heather graciously greets Cardan while the two are awkward to the side. She’s looking effortlessly cool, with her shoulder-length pink hair in soft waves. She has holes in her jeans in all the right places, and she’s wearing a breezy, colorful boho top that shows off her brown shoulders. I try to give her a wave while Vivi is squeezing the life out of me.

“What are you doing here?” Vivi demands when she pulls away, holding me by the shoulders. She’s given her golden hair a short, edgey chop that almost hides the pointed tips of her half-fae ears when it falls the right way. She tends to favor t-shirts and jeans, but today she’s in tight black pants and a grey v-neck under a jacket, and I’m hoping I haven’t interrupted a date.

“Well.” I shift a glance between the two of them, simultaneously gladdened that they’re here and nervous with how I now I have break the news. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out…” And then Vivi gasps.

“Are you pregnant?!” she squeaks.

“Oh, my God, V,” Heather rolls her eyes. “You can’t ask people if they’re pregnant.”

“She’s right, though,” I interject. “I am.”

“Jude!” Vivi exclaims, fondly, and takes my face in her hands, and, for a brief moment, I realize this is all I’ve been wanting for weeks. I grin, sheepishly. Then Vivi narrows her cat-like eyes at Cardan.

“You knocked up my sister?” she jabs.

“Bold of you to assume it’s mine,” he quips back, and Vivi feigns a disgusted gasp as throw the empty barf bag at him.

“Force of habit,” Cardan tells Heather with a shrug.

“Congratulations, Cardan,” Heather replies, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“But why are you here?” Vivi turns to me again. “Does Taryn know? Does Madoc?”

“No on both counts,” I shake my head. “It’s early. And we’re here because--” Ugh, I hate this. I hate this. “I started bleeding.”

“Oh, no.” Heather’s face is etched with genuine concern. It’s been a roller coaster of a few minutes.

“But why are you here?” Vivi tries again, and I see what she’s getting at. Why not be seen to by the royal midwives?

“I’m mortal,” I say, quietly. “This is a mortal thing. I felt like I needed a mortal doctor.”

And Vivi takes my face in her hands.

“I completely, one-hundred-percent agree,” she says, whole-heartedly, and there’s relief there, too. She’s always wanted me to spend more time in the mortal realm.

We crowd around the hospital bed for a while to catch up. Heather makes a run to the vending machine to bring back some snacks, and soon the tightness in my chest is releasing and unwinding. This was the distraction I needed. For a few minutes there, I could almost forget what had brought us to this weird, curtained-off corner to begin with.

But then the curtain scrape on the track again. There’s an orderly waiting there in blue scrubs, pushing a wheelchair.

“They’re ready for you in ultrasound now, Jude,” he tells me, and indicates that I’m supposed to ride in the chair. I bristle at the gesture. I’m not sure of the last time I’ve been asked to do something so vulnerable and humiliating. I am not ill. I don’t need this.

Vivi notices and puts a hand at my arm.

“It’s just standard hospital procedure, Jude,” she says, in her tone of voice she uses to convince Oak to eat vegetables.

So I comply. Heather and Vivi tell us they’ll wait for us to get back, and then we’re off. Cardan follows the orderly, and every once and awhile, I hear him having to jog to catch up – he’s easily distracted by what all the mortals are up to in this place.

I’m wheeled into a dark room with an exam table. Next to it is a bunch of strange equipment I’ve never seen before – screens and wands and all sort of buttons. A technician waits for us there, a woman in pink scrubs with a badge that says her name is Brenna. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back tight against her scalp, and she has kind brown eyes that smile when she tells me to make myself comfortable on the exam table.

“And is this Dad?” Brenna wants to know, cheerfully waving Cardan in to have a seat on a grey plastic chair next to me.

“Not my dad,” I say, not understanding the question at first. Then it dawns on me. “I mean, he’s the father, yes. Of the baby.” Oh, my God. This is off to a great start. Cardan’s trying very hard to not laugh outright at me and failing miserably. His laugh comes out like one long snort.

“Happens all the time,” Brenna says, with another cheerful wave, which makes me wonder why she’s still asking it, then.

“First baby?” Brenna now wants to know, making small talk while she’s queuing up her equipment.

“First everything,” I reply, hoping that will explain my nerves. “First baby, first ultrasound, first try.”

“Oh.” Brenna sounds impressed and looks to Cardan as she wheels around in her swivel chair. “Nice shootin’, Tex,” she tells him, with a wink.

“Thank you, Brenna,” Cardan accepts graciously, puffing out his chest a little. I roll my eyes.

“This may be the only time I’m ever complimented on my marksmanship,” he tells me. “Let me have this moment.”

“All right!” Brenna interrupts. “Let’s see what you’re cookin’ in there, mama.”

She rolls up my shirt and tucks in some scratchy paper into my leggings. Then squirts some cold gel across my abdomen. I watch in fascination while she rolls her device over my stomach, and then she turns her screen to us.

“And here’s your little guy,” she says. “Or gal. Can’t tell yet, obviously.”

For a moment, time stops.

Next to me, Cardan draws in a breath.

Something squirmy and alive curls and stretches in the grainy black and white pixels of Brenna’s screen. It doesn’t look quite human. Or fae. It looks kind of alien, if I’m being honest. But I can see its tiny limbs and the outline of its perfectly round head, and it’s moving. Like a manic little seahorse, our little shrimp is bobbing all over the place, alive and well.

“Looking good,” Brenna says, and Cardan barks out a surprised laugh. I’m smiling so hard my face might break.  

“Oh, I was sure I’d stabbed it,” Cardan sighs in relief, slumping in his seat, and it’s my turn to laugh.

“That’s not actually possible,” Brenna tells him, and maybe now he’ll believe it. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicks and clacks at some buttons, then turns a knob. Pushes a little harder on my abdomen.

A fluttering, steady whooshing sound fills the speakers in the room. I don’t know when I grabbed Cardan’s hand, but I’m squeezing it hard now. I glance at him. He’s utterly transfixed on the screen, his dark eyes wide, his lips parted. He looks like how I feel when I’m in bearing witness to great and ancient magic.

This isn’t all vomit and exhaustion. This is happening. This is real.

We are making something new. Something entirely unique. Like magic.

“Ok, this might be your issue.” Brenna breaks the enchantment, zooming in on something dark on her screen. My heart, which moments before felt like it might burst, squeezes and contracts in panic now.

“This is a sub-chorionic hematoma,” she says, pointing to the screen and making some notes. “The doctor will explain all this to you.”

“What is it?” Cardan’s voice is tight, panic thinly-veiled. “Is it dangerous?”

“They’re pretty common,” says Brenna, not looking at us while she takes measurements and notes. Like she drops these kinds of bombs regularly. “It’s basically an accumulation of blood between the uterine wall and the fetal membrane. It can cause bleeding, especially as the baby gets bigger and jostles it around. They usually resolve without much issue.”

“Usually?” Cardan’s not assuaged.

“Well, again,” Brenna says, looking at him sidelong, “the doctor will read this and give his advice. But it can increase the risk of miscarriage in some cases. Not always, though. The doctor will tell you how he wants you to treat it, but it usually involves some bed rest or limited activity, nothing too strenuous or crazy. Don’t go horse-back riding!” And she laughs as if only a crazy person would get on a horse while pregnant.

I look to Cardan. He looks to me. It’s hit us at the same time.

The ragwort horse.

How the hell are we getting home?

“Huh.” I barely had time to digest my realization about the ragwort horse before Brenna was back with more. She swivels the device on my stomach around some more. Cocks her head to the side.

“Are either of you a twin?” she asks.

Cardan points at me like I’ve done something wrong he doesn’t want to be blamed for.

“Why?” I ask, slowly, cautiously.

“It does run in families,” Brenna says, and turns the screen to us again. “And I’m seeing two babies here.” She looks back at Cardan. “And on the first try, Tex,” she says, looking impressed again.

Now, nothing feels real. I think I might leave my body. There are two squirmy aliens in the black and white screen, the lazier of the two now floating into view. Brenna adjusts the knobs some more to bring the new heartbeat into focus, just as strong as the first.

“Jude.” I can’t decipher what Cardan’s feeling now. He looks unlike I’ve ever seen him before. Something between elation and sheer dread is warring between his wide eyes and furrowed brow. He grips at the beanie over his hair like he’s trying to keep his own head from flying off.

“Are you and your twin identical?” Brenna asks. I nod, stupidly.

“These, too,” she nods, and points at the screen. “See: they’re sharing a sac.” She draws in a deep breath. “This does elevate the risk more, with the hematoma. The doctor will go over all of this with you. But I’ll bet he’ll want you on some kind of bed rest. Weekly check-ups. That sort of thing.” And then she squints hard at the screen. “What is that?” she wonders aloud. “Is that a tail?”

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, but he’s so flustered and shell-shocked, he’s forgotten to use the glamour.

“I think I might, though.” Brenna squints harder.

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, louder and hurried, this time with the weight of magic heavy in his tone. “Everything you see looks normal to you.”

A glamoured smile flutters over Brenna’s pleasant features as she lifts the device from my belly and clicks off her equipment.

“Everything looks normal,” she hums, happily. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Everything but the hematoma, right?” I cock my head to the side as she rolls away her swivel chair. “The doctor will speak to us about that.”

“What hematoma?” Brenna’s still smiling as she stands with her clipboard. “Everything looks normal. I’m going to call an orderly, but pretty much you’re free to go. Congratulations!”

“Cardan,” I accuse under my breath as she leaves, leveling a glare at him.

“You are carrying twins.” He’s just agape at me, either unaware or unrattled by how the poor wording in his glamour just muddled everything.

“The doctor won’t know about the hematoma now!” I exclaim.

“We’ll scrounge up another one somewhere,” Cardan waves me off. “Jude. Twins.”

It’s not helping me feel any better, him saying it over and over again. I slump into my hands, weighted by disbelief and frustration. What am I going to do? This can’t possibly be real, can it?

“I am going to get so huge,” I moan into my palms in self-pity. I know it’s vain, but at the moment, it’s all I can think. In the land of willowy Folk, I already stick out like a sore thumb. Now I’m going to be a sore and massively swollen thumb.

Cardan’s shifted to stand in front of me on the exam table. And he runs his hands up and down my arms, almost reverent.

“You are magnificent,” he reassures me, softly, and presses a kiss against my head.

“Why are you not freaking out?” I ask, and pull him by the hoodie pockets so I can hug him again if I need it. I think I may need it. “This is two babies. We don’t even know Thing One about taking care of one baby, and now there will be two.”

“We may require a few more house cats,” Cardan jokes, and when I scowl, he asks, “That’s still not amusing? I shall persist. One of these days.”

“You know, I hear that’s a mortal fatherhood trait,” I point out. “Persisting over and over with the same unamusing joke to the embarrassment of everyone around you.” And I wrap my arms around his waist as I look up at him. He’s warm, and everything is a little more bearable when he’s close and smiling.

“I think you are implying that I’m excelling at fatherhood so far,” Cardan grins down at me, and I’m surprised to see it looks as if his gold-rimmed eyes are glistening.

“Are you all right?” I ask, softening at the sight. He blinks, furiously, as he buries his long fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close as he looks over my face.

“I just--” His voice is hoarse when he starts, so he clears it and tries again. “This is more than I ever dared to consider,” he says. “I did not dream that this kind of life would ever be an option for me. Family that looked after each other, that loved each other – that always seemed to me to be a strictly mortal gift. As if the Folk had bargained for everlasting life long ago and forsook all hope of familial love in the process. I had accepted that it wasn’t mine to have. But you.”

He shifts his hands so that he holds my face, and I feel swallowed by the adoration in his admission. All I can do is close my eyes as he holds me. I can think of nothing else when his nose brushes my forehead.

“I am overcome by all you have given me,” he whispers, and I think I might cry. My hands twist in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears.

“I love your words,” I whisper back, “but you give me too much credit.” I pull back to look at his mirthful, glistening eyes and say: “If it were left up to me, I would never have given you twins.”

He laughs outright, unguarded and thrilled.

“Lucky for me, then,” he says, and kisses me.

I have kissed him hundreds, maybe thousands of times. We have shared passionate, unbridled kisses and desperate, devouring kisses. We’ve kissed at quick partings, and we’ve kissed with soft, gentle comfort. I like everything about them all. But this is something entirely new, something that surprises me still. It’s filled with gratitude and promises and dreams of the future, and though it is intimate, I would not have felt ashamed if someone had walked in.

It’s the kiss of complete trust, and in that moment, I feel assured that, in Cardan, I have not made a mistake. There is much to figure out still. But this is right.

So, we will have twins. I will meet this challenge with resolve. For right now, anyway, the quantity of babies is the least of our concerns.

“How in the hell am I supposed to get home?” I ask, the moment we pull apart. Cardan rests his hands on my shoulders, screwing up his beautiful mouth in thought. The ragwort horse. The bed rest. The doctor we must scrounge up somewhere. There are a dozen new bullets swirling on a to-do list, and none of them lead us back to Faerie any time soon.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he confesses. “Which further complicates matters, because there is absolutely no chance that I am leaving you here.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I say, and press back a smile. “And also glad,” I add.

Cardan meets my smile with a little wicked smirk of his own.

“Is it time we scheme together once again?” he asks.

We cannot get home until this is resolved, and we cannot leave Faerie ungoverned. I have no idea where to even start on this problem.

But that’s certainly never stopped us before.

There’s a knock at the door. The orderly has arrived with the wheelchair to take us back to Vivi and Heather. I give Cardan a secret, knowing smile.

“I suppose it is,” I agree.

-----------------------------

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[chobit92]

Home: Jacob Seed/OC Chapter 28

Warnings: Violence, Child Abuse, Rape, Drugs 

 (2 days later: Friday: Faith is sitting in Joseph’s church arranging flowers into bunches. Joseph is writing in a book. Just then Lexi walks in with a man.). Lexi: Faith your sister has agreed to join us. Faith: What? She has? How do you know? Man: You need to see this. (The man turns on the TV and tunes it to a channel. Faith gasps as she sees Mara on the screen sat in a chair. Her surroundings are dark but she can just make out where she is.). Faith: Is she... Man: John’s bunker. Lexi: Will saw it in the canteen he just came and told us. (Faith stands up and watches as Mara looks at the camera.). John: Are you going to confess? Mara: Yes. John: You will confess and you will atone? Mara: Yes. (Faith watches in shock as John moves into view. Faith gasps as John grabs Mara’s hair and yanks her head back. She then stares as John jams the screwdriver into her sisters neck making her bleed.). Lexi: John ain’t playing. Man: She don’t look too scared though. John: Confess. Mara: Just remember that you asked for it.

(John takes the screwdriver away from Mara’s neck and disappears from view. Mara sighs and looks at the camera.). Mara: Um...I don’t know if there’s a specific way of doing this. Things your meant to say. I’m just gonna start at the beginning. (Joseph is looking at the TV. Will walks in.). Will: Have you seen it? Faith: Yes. I don’t understand why he is broadcasting it. Will: I don’t know. Mara: Some of you may think I’m mad. Some of you might think I’m a monster. Maybe some of you will understand what I did. I was born to parents who did nothing but sell drugs and abuse. My mother always wished that she had just had an abortion. I was never wanted. By her or my father. She kept me locked in the basement. Coming into this bunker today was the hardest thing I’ve done in years. All I can see is that basement. Still hear my mom screaming about what a mistake I am. How useless I am. She believed that I was the devil. Hell maybe she was right. Faith: No sis she wasn’t. (Will rubs Faiths shoulder.). Mara: She would whip me until my back was red raw. She would starve me for days and give me no water. It was dark down there and damp. I was always cold, always hungry and always in pain. Alone in the dark. (Tears roll down Mara’s cheeks. Faith is also crying. Will puts his arm around her.). Will: You know what she did don’t you Faith? Faith: Yes. (Faith lets out a sob and buries her head in Wills Jacket.). Mara: I was never allowed out of the basement because my mother didn’t want anyone to know I existed. In fact nobody did. My mother never told anyone she was pregnant. She never went to a doctor. She gave birth at home. She said it was agony. That I was a little bitch for putting her through so much pain. As if I had somehow decided to be there. She told me that the pain was Gods punishment for giving birth to the devil. She was delusional. Probably all the drugs she took. I was surprised when my father let me out of the basement. It was a strange experience. Being kept underground then suddenly seeing the rest of the house. The window and...Outside. It was confusing. My dad was friends with the priest who used to run the church in Falls End. Some priest he was, turned out he liked children. He liked them a lot. Will: Ah hell. (Joseph is watching the screen with interest.). Mara: I didn’t like him second I saw him. The way he looked at me. The way he spoke. My dad told me to help my mom so I went to the living room. Mom was there and I helped her clean the living room then I was shoved back down in the basement. My sister wasn’t kept in the basement like me. She had her own room. I thought she was loved and cared for. John: You were jealous of her? Mara: No. Worse than that. I was happy for her. I thought she was loved and cared for. She wasn’t. Least in the basement I was left alone most of the time. My baby sister went through hell and I didn’t even know anything about it. I had no clue. That priest came down to the basement one day and started touching me. I had found a large nail, I was using it to draw on the wall. I stuck it in his face, took a load of skin off and left him with a nasty scar. He screamed. My mom came down and got real angry with me. Called me ‘Devil’ again. Then she carved the word into my back. I was six years old. Man: Damn. (Will lets out a breath. Faith is still crying.). Mara: My sister sometimes visited me in the basement. She would sneak me a drink or some food. I remember being so happy that she was okay. She was never dirty, always dressed nice. While my parents were out we would sit and talk to each other for ages. We would play games and cuddle. Over time me and my sister grew close. She was sad that I was kept in the basement. But I looked forward to her visits. When I was a teenager I was finally let out of the basement. I think my mom hoped I would leave the house and not come back. My father told me to piss off to my face. ‘Go on go you little bitch’ he spat. I finally got to see the world. Well...Hope County anyway. It was hard at first. Especially talking to people. But I met some nice people who became my friends. Most people knew who my parents were. They were the ones that dealt drugs to everyone. Even young kids who were still in school. I learned that the drugs my dad sold had already killed two kids. I wondered why the police hadn’t arrested him. Turned out the Sheriff at the time and my dad were best mates. Just like he was best mates with the priest too. Could get away with whatever he wanted. I finally thought that things could be okay. I’d managed to make friends and I was finally out of the basement. I still had to sleep down there though. I thought that once I was a bit older I could take my sister and go. Get our own place together. It’s amazing what you think is possible when you’re a kid. When I was fourteen my sister told me that she was being bullied at school. She showed me bruises on her ribs and a cut on her arm where they’d attacked her. So I went up the school when it finished and waited. I saw my sister walking out and then I saw them. Three of ‘em. One of ‘em grabbed her and pulled her hair while the other one pulled out a little flick knife. I marched over to them and punched the first one. I got the knife off the other one and stuck it in his arm. He was crying like a baby. The other one ran off. Oh my mom was furious when she heard what I’d done. Locked me back in the basement after whipping me again. The boys didn’t bully my sister again though. When I was fifteen my parents went away for the weekend. They took my sister with them and left me on my own. (Mara sighs.). Mara: It was Saturday night and I was looking around the house. I’d found my dad’s whiskey and decided to have some. I was looking around upstairs and that’s when I found them. In my parents’ wardrobe there was a box of tapes. I was curious as to what they were, they didn’t have anything written on them. Curiosity killed the cat though right? I couldn’t believe what I was watching. My baby sister being violated over and over again by my dad and that priest. My mom was there watching. Who does that to their daughter? In the first video she could only be about six. There were over thirty tapes. All filled with images of my baby sister being raped repeatedly. I couldn’t watch it all. I went to the church in Falls End. He looked surprised when he saw me. He looked even more surprised when he saw the kitchen knife I’d bought with me. (Will sighs. Faith is still crying quietly.). Mara: I lost count of how many times I stabbed that dirty raping bastard. I should have cut his dick off. He had this ornate cross on his table. I don’t really know what made me do it but I thought it was fitting. I picked up the cross and shoved it through his chest. Then I went back home. The priest wasn’t found until the morning. Sunday. Church day. Not that day. Church was closed, surrounded by crime scene tape. Who would do such a thing? (Mara laughs.). John: You let your anger take control of you. Your sin is wrath. Mara: Yeah. You can put the screwdriver down though. I ain’t finished yet. I walked around town and listened to what everyone was saying about the grisly murder. I even heard that people were coming forward to say that the priest had abused them. He hadn’t just done it to my sister. He was a paedophile. Not a priest. I ended up hanging out with Wheaty in the woods. I didn’t get home until late. My parents were back by then. They had heard about their beloved friend being killed. My father had lost his temper. He thought it was all my sisters fault. My father was worried that they would find drugs in the church and other things...When I came home my father had beaten my sister so badly I could hardly recognise her. She was curled up in the corner of the lounge sobbing. Her little dress was covered in blood. She had a lot of broken bones, her jaw, her nose. She was broken. So was I, I guess. I was tired. I’d had enough. Seeing my sister like that was awful. I was supposed to protect her. I had one fucking job. I failed. My dad noticed that I was back and he started shouting and swearing at me. Then he said that he would drown me first. Mom was upstairs running the bath. She was going to drown my sister. (Faith is sobbing.). Mara: I wasn’t going to fail her again. I went to the kitchen and got the knife. Same one I used on the priest. I went back to the lounge and my dad just stared at me. I told him I was the one who killed his friend. Gave him what he deserved. He said he always knew I was a head case. That I wasn’t normal. That I was different. A mistake. He said I was nothing but demon spawn. So I thought alright then...I’ll show him then. My father started yelling that I was done for now. He’d drown me himself and nobody would know coz nobody really knew I existed. I then did the unthinkable, the unforgiveable, the ultimate sin. I started stabbing my father. Will: Jesus. Man: My God. Mara: My sister could only watch in horror screaming from the floor as I stabbed daddy again and again. My mother came flying down the stairs and she screamed when she saw what I had done. She pointed at me and screamed ‘I knew it, Devil’. I guess you can’t kill a monster without becoming one. I stabbed my mother repeatedly before slitting her throat. My sister was crying and I hugged her and told her everything was going to be fine. I called an ambulance for my sister. When they saw my parents they were horrified. The police arrived a little while later. My sister was screaming for me. Begging for me not to be taken away. I told her I loved her and that I’d see her again. I thought I was going to prison but oh no. They thought I was insane. They found out I’d killed the priest too. I was placed in a psychiatric facility. I was released when I was eighteen. I was stunned. I never thought I’d see the light of day again. Seemed a bit stupid to me. I told them I’d been locked in a basement for years. So what do they do? Why they lock me in a tiny room of course. Coz that makes sense. I had nowhere to live and no money so...I lived on the streets. I was sleeping in an abandoned apartment block that had turned into a den for junkies and gang members. The leader of the gang was always there dealing drugs. One day though I noticed that he had two young girls handcuffed to an old bed with a rusty frame. I spoke to them. Turned out they had run away from their abusive parents. Sisters. They reminded me so much of my sister and me. They were just trying to get somewhere better. They didn’t though. Ivan was the leader of the local gang. Into all kinds of shit. Nobody messed with him. Those that did ended up dead. One of the girls was seventeen the other was twelve. I didn’t want to get involved. I was on my own and had myself to look out for. But later that night I saw a man in the room with Ivan and the girls. He was handing Ivan a large wad of cash and the girls were crying. Their trousers were around their ankles. Ivan was selling them to dirty pervs. Pimping them out. I weren’t having that. You should know what happened next John. Seeing as you know me well by now. John: You killed them. Mara: Yeah. That’s where I got the revolver from. I took it from Ivan. Then I used it to help the girls escape after stabbing Ivan and the perv. One of Ivan’s mates always watched the door of the crack den. Knew he wouldn’t just let us leave. He had a gun too. He raised it to shoot me but luckily for me I was quicker. Shot him in the head. His blood spattered the wall and I didn’t even care. I still don’t. I gave the girls the money that perv had given to Ivan and told them about a shelter I knew about that wasn’t far. I hope they went there. I hope they were okay. I met Franky not long after and we hung out for a bit just trying to get by on the streets. Until she buggered off. Then I met Bonnie and Alex and stayed with them. I kept looking for my sister. Came here seven years ago then again four years ago. I always hoped to find her. I hoped to see her again and I did. Came back here and met up with her again. Killed more people. Thirteen members of the Whitetail Militia. Also killed that guy that came to your ranch and threatened to shoot us. It gets hard to keep count after a while. I am a killer. That’s it. Now I am going to be that psycho girl again that everyone looks at funny. The girl that killed her parents. Coz you know there must be something wrong with me right? I must be insane. Normal people don’t kill people. Except they seem to forget that way back when they probably did. All the time. People have always killed people. We’re good at destruction. It’s what we do. (Mara finally stops talking. She just sits there looking blank.). John: That is your full confession? Mara: That’s everything. John: No other sins? Mara: Not that I know of. Ain’t got anything to be greedy with and I have no Lust in my life. Ain’t never even had a boyfriend. Never will neither. Not now. Can’t have much pride coz I hate myself. John: Hm. I see. (The camera moves and John’s face can now be seen. He smiles.). John: I told you dear Faith that your sister would join us. That she would say yes. (Faith gasps.). John: You might not want to watch this next part though. (The video feed suddenly disappears and ‘No Signal’ now displays on the blank screen. Faith lets out a whimper and Will wraps his arms around her.

 ---Jacob sits in the makeshift mess hall of the veterans center. Terry came racing into his office telling him about the broadcast. Everyone sat watching as Mara confessed to John. Jacob couldn’t stop staring at her. He tells himself that he is intrigued by her. The way she has killed without hesitation that’s all that draws him to her. Nothing else. She would probably be no good to him anyway. Not really. Not like his men. She wouldn’t be able to pass the trials. She is pretty though. He can’t deny that. So beautiful. He tries to remember what she felt like. What she smelled like but he can’t. He barely remembers much about that night. Only that he fucked her. That she cried his name and called him a grizzly bear. He gets up and goes back up to his office. He sighs as he flicks through the days reports. He didn’t get much sleep last night and he is tired. He struggles to sleep. He didn’t struggle when Mara was sleeping next to him though. He didn’t have any nightmares either. He sighs and picks up the report about the latest Militia sightings.

  ---John walks into Josephs church. Faith looks up her eyes red from crying. Joseph stands up and greets him.). Faith: Why did you broadcast it? John: Your sisters confession? I thought you would want to see it. Faith: How did you get here so quickly? John: I didn’t. Faith: But we were just watching you with my sister in your bunker. John: That was filmed two days ago. It wasn’t live. Faith: Two days...Where is she now? John: I don’t know. After her atonement I baptised her in the river. I also gave her the Edens Gate tattoo. She wanted it on the back of her neck. Then she left for the Whitetail Mountains. She said she was going to collect her things then meet up with you in the Henbane. Faith: I haven’t seen her. John: Hm. I’m sure she’ll be back. She wouldn’t leave you. She cares for you too much. Faith: I know.

 ---11.23pm. Mara stumbles into the bathroom. She groans in pain and wipes the dirty mirror and pulls her top down. She stares at the word ‘Wrath’ carved across her chest. She sighs. Now she hates her body even more. The word ‘Devil’ on her back along with all the scars from the whip now this. Tears sting her eyes. John has serious issues. He enjoyed slicing into her skin. He enjoyed the way she cried out in pain. She didn’t mind the pain. She has found that she likes it. That’s why she cuts herself sometimes. But she didn’t scream though. Wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She still isn’t sure about John. He seems to honestly believe that he has helped her. Saved her. She almost wishes he had drowned her in the river. For a moment she thought he was going to. He held her under way longer than was necessary. She winces as she runs a damp cloth over her chest. Damn is it sore. She also rubs the back of her neck which itches slightly from the latest tattoo John has given her. The black cross logo of Edens Gate. There’s no going back now. She is officially a member whatever the hell that means. She goes back to the kitchen area and puts her things in her holdall. She doesn’t own much. Her drawings and pens, some clothes and shoes, the iPod that Franky gave her that she can’t charge. She grabs the blanket from the bed and shoves it into the holdall. She just about manages to fit it in there. She then slings the holdall across her body but it rubs against the scarring on her chest. She moves it so that it is over her shoulder. She takes one last look around the trailer. She sighs then opens the door. She stops dead when she sees several militia standing outside with their guns aimed at her.). Man: Time to die peggie bitch!