In the depth of the night's darkness, Stephen listened to his wife's deep breathing, wondering if she imagined that he couldn't hear or feel her as she shifted next to him. Granted, when he did sleep, he was as good to the waking world as a stone, but his ability to sleep deeply was torn to rags by each and every one of Susanna's pregnancies, whether she delivered a living child or not. So her belief that he had managed to fall asleep before she sat up to disreguard his rather stern command by taking hold of her mother-in-law's letter again was wishful thinking.
Stephen felt the solid block of cold swell within him- and retreat instantly. It was incapable of seeking Susanna as a target for any length of time or any reason. A million excuses shielded her- numbered among them were her curiosity, her innate connection to a benevolent goddess, her concern for others, her inability to be fully submissive to anyone, and the extremely noticeable memory lapses that this particular pregnancy had caused. It was entirely possible that Susanna had literally forgotten that he'd told her to leave the letter alone, he told himself. And as he did, a helpless concern for her well being moved into the space that the cold left behind. As physically imposing and emotionally unavailable as the Beast could appear to be, he could not threaten the ravages of pregnancy or the urging of a demanding goddess, and he knew it.
With a feigned grunt, Stephen turned on his side and squeezed his eyes shut.
Susanna turned her head just slightly, but returned her focus to the letter when she heard her husband's breathing fall into a slow rhythm. He usually snored- an overgrown purr that had somehow become more precious to her with time. She strained to hear the beginnings of it, and bit her lips when she didn't. The possibility that he was very much awake caused her hands to tremble a little. Her world had become annoying; when she felt at her least flexible, she found herself having to contort herself in order to satisfy her deity, her husband, the government, her friends, and even her children. She tried not to sigh aloud with weariness, and closed her eyes in the attempt to focus on the letter again.
Just one more time- one more try, she thought. From the stillness in her mind and spirit, the vision of her mother-in-law's dream appeared to her once more.
In the blurry, foreign dream land, Susanna watched an image of herself screaming in the agony of birth. The image's left hand clutched onto a thick, reptilian tail with scales so dark that their true color was unknowable, while her right hand made a firm fist in the birthing sheet. The heat of the room was dizzying, and it seemed that each scream of pain pushed the temperature higher and higher. No midwife or birthing mage was present, only some deep shadow that the dream-walking Susanna couldn't clearly see despite staring resolutely into the darkness, trying to make out at least a familiar form. The image of Susanna that was giving birth called out to Lathander to give her strength, which the dream-walking Susanna knew to be a product of Hanna Raibeart's mind. And as had happened before, Hanna herself appeared as if in response to the hollered request, reaching out her time-creased hands as though she would aid in the delivery. The darkness shifted itself and snarled with an open maw while curling more of its tail around the image of Susanna in a manner that the dream-walker could only imagine or describe as protective. Hanna clearly had other ideas about the creature's intentions, however, and again let fly some words that Susanna struggled to decipher-
-only to be startled back to the waking world by a headache so sudden and fierce that she whimpered aloud.
Stephen could hold the pretense of sleep no longer, and sat up immediately. "Give that to me," he rumbled, easily plucking the nearly unattended leaf of paper out of his wife's hand. "Precious little room you have to admonish Lona for disobedience, Acolyte Chelois."
"Oh Stevie, don't be angry," Susanna breathed. Her eyes stung, and she put her hands over her face. "I'm desperate."
"I know, and I'm not angry," Stephen replied, filing the mention of potential anger away in his mind for later rumination. "But, what's done's done."
"You might very well have to undo it," Susanna fretted. "It's- it feels wrong without them here. It feels that we've done wrong by putting him and his wives out the way we've done."
Stephen grunted like a bear. "You didn't do it. And they're not his wives; we all know that."
"His daughters, I suppose; it's not im... I mean, if they want his name, they're very much a family in some way or another. And the point is that we've sinned against them collectively," Susanna sighed, picking her head up out of her hands, but closing her eyes nearly at once. "We should have sought other guidance, we should have-"
"What for? My mother sent this word, you sounded the alarm about the matter, and Iona interpreted it. Alek and his girls left in peace, no complaints. And if you're worried about their livelihoods, remember, Silveredge is righteously employed with the Sunfire, both partiesrecently found innocent enough to be out of jail. Alek's free to return here and trade his work for either education or coin, whichever he wants more at the moment. And I still think Mi'ishaen would do well to open her own stall at market, since she has clientele who keep sniffing around here for her crafts. I hope she'll have faith enough in us Humans, the Elves, and whoever else, to give it a go. And my offer to go half in on a good spot in the market proper still stands..."
Susanna listened to her husband's very reasonable words while trying to hold back very unreasonable tears, but the stinging in her eyes only increased until she could feel the tear tracks slicing down her cheeks. Soon afterward, she felt her husband's calloused, but gentle fingers brushing at the tears.
"But none of that matters, does it?" he asked quietly. "Alright, which god is angry?"
"That's what's scaring me so," Susanna managed through a choked voice. "I can hear no one of them directly, only echoes, and I'm terrified that we may have listened to the wrong one. Or some powerful evil spirit mascarading as a god. I mean, with all the ruckus at the College, one really can't be too ca-"
"You took no part in the decision; I made it," Stephen repeated, scooting closer to his weeping wife and gathering her plump form in his arms. "If the gods will be angry, let them be angry with me, and me only."
"No," Susanna spat, pushing against Stephen's embrace. "No, that's not- no. You can't treat me like Iona's trolllop- while not even speaking to me- I can't bear it."
Stephen let Susanna go and looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Susanna hissed. "I have begged your two brothers to counsel you, and each one claims that he has tried. Yet somehow, I have less of you every day. If we will be condemned, let us be condemned together, I and as much of you as is left me, but please don't shut me out of yourself like this. I'll die."
Those two words rang in Stephen's mind like the shrillest chapel bell.
"I'll answer whatever you ask, but... the matter may not be fit for-"
"Don't protect me, ser," Susanna interrupted with a raised hand. "You are not your father, and you will never be. Further, there is no unfit part of you, to me."
Stephen crossed his arms over his chest, then realized himself and uncrossed them. He sat straight in the bed and began fussing with the edge of the beautiful light quilt. Memories of Ielena stole through his mind- her silence, her emotional absence, her seemingly endless working.
And I am my father, because Lona is proof. Little Lona. Hardly alive. Saint Stone. I turned the most fragile bud to stone, but the gods give me another? Someone else to pound down and out, like so much dross and dusk?
He wordlessly struggled until Susanna took hold of both his itching hands.
"Start anywhere, dearheart, but just start," she urged as gently as she could.
"I... asked the gods to... to strike me infertile," Stephen sighed after a few quiet moments had gone by. "I thought after Lona... but. They didn't spare you... this. If I lose you in that birthing room, no one would have to wonder when I would go mad; it would happen right before their eyes. But remember, when you demanded that I stop playing under other women's skirts, I did. I have neither intention of giving you reason to leave me, nor any of leaving you."
Susanna bowed her head onto the backs of Stephen's scarred hands. "I could barely get the words of that ultimatum out of my mouth," she whispered when she could bear to speak again. "If Chauntea had not been my spine that day, I'd have borne your infidelity like so many other women in this city do that of their husbands, but... these inward absences are... different. You don't intend to leave, and... and that's what makes watching you go so horrible." She faded into unvoiced cries for a short moment that seemed to Stephen like an hour. With a deep breath, she said, "Something is sweeping your mind away from me, against your will. Don't you separate yourself from me ever, even if you think it's to save me. I'd rather be struck dead by your side than whole and safe without you."
"No righteous god would strike you dead," Stephen said firmly. "And I don't want that type of thought swirling about in the baby's birth water. Now I swear, I'll tell you whatever you want, only come here and lay with me."
"Don't tell me whatever I want; tell me... tell me what makes the cold roll in," Susanna urged suddenly, sitting up without opening her eyes.
Stephen was quiet for a moment. "It's... difficult... to tell them apart. Whether the anger turns into fear, or the fear turns into anger, but before I know it, it's..."
Susanna opened her puffy eyes just enough to see her husband's vacant arms, and managed to maneuver the bigness of her pregnant self into them. His posture melted immediately; he folded himself around her.
"Start anywhere. It doesn't have to make sense; I just want to hear it."
Stephen breathed deeply, then whispered, "My first concern is what will happen to you and the children. Lock me away at the first prick of worry for any of your safety, and don't let me back out."
Susanna bit her lips on the cry that wanted to escape her, but Stephen felt her body shudder. She had to reach behind herself and poke his muscular side to prompt him to continue.
"Iona," he spat, "will want the mantle of Papa Raibeart, but in all reality, Ronny would do a better job of it. He's seen and experienced too much to judge the way Iona does. Further, I ask you that on the same day that you talk with what's called Stephen Raibeart in the madhouse, but can't find the man you married in him, then... don't prolong the suffering of what's left. Have the husk done away with that same day. Don't wait in misery, like my mother is doing now. I think of that. Over and over. That now, at the end of things, I'm... becoming him."
"Oh Stephen; no! I've said no, haven't I?" Susanna cried as softly as she could, choking back the wail that wanted to come. She sobbed into the blanket again for a few moments, then did her best to recollect herself. "No, no, I mean... Iona did mention... I just don't see the signs of... it's the same ailment, perhaps, but... you are too different to him. I saw with my own eyes what your mother goes through, remember. So even as you suffer the same... oh, anyhow, it's important to plan together, while we can. If I write to Taricia, she'll talk seriously with Aaron- they might even come ashore to be properly married so that no one has anything to say against them when the time comes. And I won't abandon you in the madhouse. I couldn't; I... I'll visit every day to sit with you; I swear it."
"Then our wedding vows are renewed before any of the gods who cared to listen to them," Stephen joked, leaning Susanna's sweaty head to the side so that he could kiss her damp neck. "I don't know what Iona's told you, but he's begun to claim to me that this is a curse. I think that if it is, that it's not to be broken, only dealt with. Like a punishment justly placed. You serve your time, and then..."
Susanna thought for a moment. "It seems overly cruel to punish an entire family for sins they didn't personally commit. Iona, for all his perchance to involuntary embody Tyr, is addled in his own way. I worry about Iordi, how he can't manage to keep a partner about him, other than that dog. And your sisters didn't escape- Ielena's nearly a hermit, and Adassa... well."
"Dassy is the healthiest of all of us," Stephen said with a half-smirk. "I see a bit of her in Sarai- and actually, that gives me some hope that the curse weakens with each passing generation. I hope only one of our children has to have this kind of conversation with their partner."
Susanna sniffed and wrapped her arms over her husband's arms. "Saul experienced the most of the worst of you, but he doesn't seem to be disturbed. In fact, he shows little emotion about anything at all save work."
"And that's my fault," Stephen groaned. "The boy tries hard to please me, and... I'm not easy to please. When it comes to his work. I... should find ways to tell him that he pleases me just by existing at all. Some of his work is truly awful, though."
Susanna playfully swatted at Stephen's arm, and got a gentle squeeze as a response. "Now Sly... I'm beginning to suspect that your- ahem- other curse may have pricked him."
"The boy has all of ten years to his soul if he has a day," Stephen chuckled. "He has fine ideas of what knowing a lady might be like, but they're likely all just that- ideas."
"Haven't you noticed his aura thickening and darkening?" Susanna countered, leaning sideways slightly so that she could look up at Stephen. "He still cowers and stammers like a child, but every now and again, some flashes of passion and attitude show themselves. There's a girl behind that change somewhere, I'm certain of it."
"So I should begin speaking with him more directly about all the blessings of Lathander," Stephen said as he rolled his eyes.
"And how to avoid being seduced into overindulgence in some of them," Susanna smiled knowingly. "I had plenty of competition for your affections and attention, in my day."
"No one gets tired of reminding me of that," Stephen groaned. "I maintain that it's-"
"-because the birthwitch grabbed you by your member to pull you out of your mother-" Susanna said in unison with her husband.
"- right, which gave me the ache to always be that firmly grasped. If the midwife did the same to Sly, words will be worthless against the yearning in his parts. Those women have strong hands."
"Oh, give over, beastie. The most scandalous part of that whole story was that your mother was forced to rely on an old birthing witch to deliver you because you arrived so late at night that the midwife refused to come to the house," Susanna laughed wearily as she settled straight into Stephen's arms again. "She's made so much of having hired a family alchemist to live in the manse for the duration of all her other pregnancies that if I ever tell her that Saul's birthwitch was a half-Elf girl who realized that it wasn't well water that I'd spilled next to the well that midday, she'll clamber atop a broomstick to get at my eyes with her nails." She glanced at the letter, cast off to Stephen's right side.
"Don't," Stephen reprimanded. "We've had enough of her visions this night."
"Perhaps the midwife who delivered me whispered secrets I ought not to have heard," Susanna shrugged. "But, I do wish I could have sorted that dream properly. It just rankles within me that Iona made poor division of it."
Stephen kissed the side of his wife's head. "I'm going to speak to you again, but... it might..."
"Trust me to know what the edge of madness sounds like, when it's coming from you," Susanna soothed. "I've loved you all these years; trust me to know you."
"I... put Alek and his girls out in bad faith," Stephen admitted. "I knew good and damn well that Iona was wrong in divining that dream, because... and here's the mad part... I am the dragon."
Susanna blinked her swollen eyes as though doing so could enable her to see farther into the darkness of the night. "You what?"
"You said the dragon seemed protective, but that my mother had an entirely different opinion of its nature. It's been like that for a long time between she and I; I would do something, and she would claim I'd made whatever my father was doing or feeling worse. I just put Aleksei and his... daughters... out so that Iona would feel justified about something, and we would have a bit more room for you to recover after the birth. Which was sinful, and I'll stand to the judgement, whatever it is."
"Don't do that, I said." Susanna remembered as much of the dream as she could, including the parts that she hadn't gotten to in her most recent attempt at divining it for herself. She put one hand on her face again and sighed. "Granted that men aren't permitted in the birthing room, no one would have thought of that interpretation, but... now that you say it, my mind's poisoned with the idea. I can't think of anything else."
Stephen shrugged. "It's madness, Acolyte Chelois; don't ponder it too deeply."
"But it's not madness," Susanna insisted. "I was afraid of the dragon and what it might mean because your mother was, but that fear wasn't measuring up to what the dragon was actually doing. And I'll join you in sin and judgement both, because you are going to be in that birthing room."
"I what?" Stephen said, purposefully echoing his wife's previous tone.
"In the vision, the dragon wasn't just there; I was holding onto it tightly. I wanted the dragon near me. And I do want you near me as much as possible from now on. So, I'll have the midwife blindfold you and bring you into the room, and you will hold my hand. You can hold sage and hyssop in your other hand, for forgiveness and purity's sake." Susanna leaned over and kissed her husband's upper arms one at a time. "Your mother won't like it, and I won't care; if she fusses about it, as the vision indicates that she might, I will have her put out and keep you with me until the baby is delivered and put into my arms. And you will hold the baby right after I do. The midwife first, then I, and then you. And if the midwife fusses, I'll tell Sarai and Salone to replace her. Salone may even find her calling as a birthing witch; who knows?"
"Gods know she's calm enough for it," Stephen nodded. "But if the neighbors hear that you put out the midwife in favour of your blindfolded husband and two daughters, they're going to want to lock you away."
"They'll have to wait. When the children are grown, and if the cell is next to yours, then I'll go with a smile on my face," Susanna chuckled.
"Ah, this poor child; what will they be?" Stephen joked, beginning to shift himself so that the two of them could lay down comfortably. "The mother and father are already under a curse of madness; may the gods be gracious, and spare the creature."
"If the child be born alive, the rest can be sorted out after," Susanna noted, half-serious. "Go to sleep for real this time."
"Only if you do, little acolyte," Stephen breathed, gently smoothing his hand over his wife's belly.
"Little nothing; I'm the size of an old cow, and I break wind like one, too. You can't pat and shift me suddenly like that right now, or... well. Forgive me in advance for what you'll smell in a moment or two."
Stephen kissed the back of Susanna's neck. "Oh, I smell it, and I don't mind. Stink the bedsheets up as much as you like; when you're in love, your dearheart's foulest gut odours are perfume."
Susanna laughed and swatted at Stephen's thigh, then sighed with satisfaction when he snuggled in as closely to her as he could. He tucked his thick right hand between her belly and the tops of her thighs, and she felt her private parts moisten. Even the baby shifted itself within her, seeming to seek its father's touch. Susanna folded her arm around Stephen's to keep him from taking it away. She closed her eyes merely to rest them, at first, but drifted into a peaceful sleep not long after she at long last heard the beginnings of that beloved oversized purr behind her.
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