Chapter Text
Thunder rumbled steadily outside, and rain lashed against the bedroom window. Ena turned over for the thousandth time, adjusted the bedding over her shoulders, and ground her head into the pillow a little more. The bed was cozy, the noises outside were soothing, she’d had a second helping of Gareth’s pot roast that evening. Almost everything was perfect. She should have fallen asleep immediately. But, alas, there was one thing missing from that bed. And her brain refused to shut off.
It felt like she’d been lying there for an eternity, but the window remained pitch black. Out in the hall, the clock struck eleven.
“Eleven? Only Eleven?” Ena grumbled softly to herself. This was ridiculous. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well be doing something, she thought, sitting up and reaching for her dressing gown. Maybe she could peruse King Dheginsea’s library. Maybe she could start a batch of dough rising, for cinnamon rolls in the morning. Maybe… she could take her mind off of the thoughts that had looped around in her mind all day long. She crept along the hall, and down the stairs to the ground level of the castle, heading for the kitchen. “First I’ll make myself some tea,” she thought, “as a last-ditch effort.”
She had almost made it to the kitchen when she noticed someone standing at the great front double doors. One door was a little ajar and the person was peering outside at the storm. Lightning lit up his face for a second and she knew him.
“I didn’t think anyone else would be up so late,” said Ena, coming to stand beside him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Kurthnaga, pushing the door open a sliver more. “Is this not the most impressive storm you’ve ever seen?”
Ena looked out. It was indeed a sight to behold. Lightning cracked across the sky, here, there, on the horizon, back to their area - trees whipped their branches around in the air, the clouds flew overhead, faster than any hawk, the rain pounded on the ground.
“The goddess can put on quite a show, can’t she?” said Ena, smiling at her young friend. He was nearly full-grown now, but he still had a childlike wonder in his eyes that she adored. “I’m making tea, do you want some too?”
“Sure,” said Kurth, gently pulling the door shut. “Want to play chess? I can’t sleep - and neither can you by the look of it.”
**********
Meanwhile, not so very far away, a dragon was soaring through the storm clouds, narrowly missing a bolt of lightning. A woman clung to the slippery wet scales on his back with one hand, while cradling a very large bundle of blankets in the other arm. It was precarious. She wanted to hang on with all her might, but a death grip on that bundle wouldn’t be any good either. She tried to carefully balance gentleness and security, and all the while making sure she didn’t slip off and fall to her death, hundreds of feet below. There was an enormous boom of thunder, and two shrill little voices began to scream within the bundle.
“Hush, my loves,” the woman called over the storm. “We’re nearly there. You’ve been so brave… just a little further….”
The dragon tilted his wings slightly, and they began their frightening descent….
**********
“…So what’s keeping you up?” Kurth finally asked halfway through their second game. “You’ve never had trouble sleeping through storms.”
Ena debated how much she should tell him. She took a thoughtful sip of her tea, moved her rook, and finally said, “I’ve been worrying about your brother again.”
Kurth smiled sympathetically. “I hear you. On the one hand, he’s smart, he’s tough, he can take care of himself just fine. But on the other hand…”
“Exactly,” said Ena, lifting her mug to her lips again. She set it down, and finally made up her mind. Kurth shouldn’t know. Not before Rajaion did. She was bursting to tell someone, but… it was just the right way to handle this. So she went back to focusing on the game.
Just then, the front door groaned, as if someone had pulled very hard on the knob from outside. Then there was a loud knocking, and it didn’t stop, at three knocks, or ten, or twenty. It just kept on going.
“Who in the world…?” Kurth began, getting up from the table. Ena followed him. No one ever came to the castle this late at night. But no one ever came to Castle Goldoa with ill intent either, so they weren’t afraid. Only puzzled. They lifted the bar from the doors and pushed it open - gently, so they wouldn’t hit the knocker, who had still been pounding furiously.
Without a word, the most bedraggled pair of visitors you could imagine pushed their way inside. Water streamed off them and pooled on the floor. Both were shivering. One was breathing very hard.
“What-“ Kurth began, but the winded one cut him off.
“Dry blankets,” he gasped, “quickly. Please,” he added, unclasping his cloak (which was soaked through) and letting it fall to the floor around him.
“Moldy onions - Rajaion!” Ena cried, making to embrace him -
“Please,” he repeated, more urgently. “The babies will get sick.”
“Huh?” said Kurth, but Ena took his hand and hurried back to the sitting room - there was a cedar chest in there, full of soft and snuggly afghans.
“What babies?” she asked as they came back, laden with the blankets. “…Oh.” The other newcomer had also removed her cloak. Almedha had crouched, laid her bundle on the floor, and started unwrapping it, revealing two little boys, not more than a few months old. They were shivering too, and when the air hit them, they started to cry.
“Aww, come here, little guy,” said Kurth, kneeling beside the babies, picking one up, and wrapping him snugly. “…You look just like your mother,” he said softly, looking into the little one’s dark eyes. “Oh Almedha…” he smiled down at his sister, who was offering the other child to Ena. “Is that one…?"
“They’re twins,” said Almedha, smiling weakly - the first smile Rajaion had seen in a long time.
“Oh,” said Ena, as she wrapped the second baby up. She had noticed his rounded ears. “These are… beorc children?”
“Sort of,” said Rajaion. “But that doesn’t matter. They’re part of our family.” his sister’s smile widened.
“You two have a lot to tell us, it seems,” said Ena, holding the little blue-haired boy close and gently rocking him. He settled down almost immediately. “But congratulations! They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” said Almedha. She heaved a great sigh, and leaned lightly against Rajaion. “I’m… so tired,” she said, suddenly looking very sad.
“You’ve been through the wringer,” said Rajaion, helping her back up on her feet. “Come on, the boys are alright - let’s get ourselves dried off. Then I’ll give you a hug,” he added, winking at Ena. Together, he and Almedha strode deeper into the castle - little drips of mud and rainwater trailing behind them.
“They’re so cute,” Kurth cooed, gently pinching his charge’s chubby cheek.
“They sure are,” said Ena, drying off her cargo’s fuzzy head with a corner of the blanket. “Oh, bother - we didn’t get to ask their names.”
They didn’t have to wait long to find out. In spite of her exhaustion, Almedha got dried off and changed in record time and was back to the sitting room in minutes, rubbing the ends of her hair with a towel as she walked in. She paused to take in the scene. Kurth was sitting by the large fireplace. The dark-haired baby was on his lap, looking around at everything and everyone. The blue-haired baby was asleep, his little head resting on Ena’s shoulder as she slow-danced around the room.
“Oh my darlings,” Almedha sighed, softly to avoid waking her son. “Thank you so much, you two.” She sank onto the couch nearest the fire, watching Kurth and his charge. “At last… we’re out of danger.”
“Are you ready to talk about it?” asked Ena, settling next to her. “Or are you tired? Or, would you rather wait until everyone’s awake, so you only have to tell your story once?”
“…Always thinking of the options,” said Almedha with a twitch of her mouth. “You haven’t changed. And I mean that affectionately. Yes… perhaps it would be best to wait for Father, and Gareth and Nasir…. But, what I will tell you for now….” She gestured to Ena’s precious cargo. “This is Pelleas, and,” (indicating Kurth’s load) “this is Soren. They are my sons, whom I had with a man of Daein. I… severely misjudged their father’s character. He was much more wicked and violent than he originally let on. If Rajaion hadn’t come to our rescue when he did, I don’t know what would have happened. And even so, we barely escaped.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “…Perhaps Father will not want us here. But Rajaion didn’t know where else to bring us.”
“Let the king speak for himself,” said Ena. “He’s more forgiving than you might think.”
Almedha sighed. “I hope so.” She held her arms out for Pelleas. “You must be aching to see your mate?”
“I’ll hold him for you any time,” said Ena with a smile, carefully handing the sleeping child off. “He is precious.” And good practice, she thought, but she kept that to herself. She slipped out to the hall, and made her way upstairs to find Rajaion.
After looking in a few places without success, she finally found him in their bedroom. He was half-dressed, lying near the footboard with his legs hanging off, and snoring softly. It looked as if he'd sat on the edge of the bed to put socks on, but had fallen asleep before he could manage it.
“Why don't we get you more comfortable,” said Ena, gently trying to tug him the rest of the way into bed. He stirred, and pulled her down beside him. She giggled as her face heated up.
“You have no idea,” he murmured in her ear, “how good it is to see you again. I thought we wouldn’t make it home.”
“It was that bad?” Ena whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, holding her a little closer. “But we'll talk about that later. I'm tired. Flew all the way from Daein… three days… no breaks.”
“No breaks? Good goddess!” She gave him a little peck on the cheek. “Then rest, my love. All else can wait.”
The thunder rumbled gently. The rain pattered against the castle. Rajaion’s slow, hot breath ruffled Ena's hair. Now, all was well. She closed her eyes….
**********
Knock knock knock knock knock.
Dheginsea sat up in his bed, a low grumble sounding in his throat as he rubbed his eyes. Who would disturb him this early in the morning?
“Sire! Sire!”
He narrowed his already bleary eyes, as he rose and went to the door, pulling his dressing gown on as he went. He pushed the door open an inch. “…Gareth? What’s the matter?”
“Actually, Sire, it’s good news!” Gareth said, beaming. “But it was so good, I couldn’t stand waiting for you to wake up.”
“What, Gareth?” the king demanded.
Gareth smiled mysteriously. “I think the best thing would be for you to come and see.”
“It had better be really good,” Dheginsea growled.
“Trust me,” said Gareth, “it is! Come on!”
Gareth wasn’t one to boss Dheginsea around, so - although he was still annoyed - the king decided it must be important. He followed him out to the sitting room. Gareth stopped at the doorway, put a finger to his lips, and then tilted his head toward the inside of the room. Dheginsea came up alongside him and peered in.
Kurthnaga was asleep on the rug, in front of the fireplace - the fire had nearly died by now; one log was still smoldering. He looked like he was curled around something, but Gareth and Dheginsea couldn’t see what from the doorway. Meanwhile, up on the couch, was…!
“Almedha,” Dheginsea breathed. He strode silently up to the couch, stooping close to look at his child - and at the little boy sleeping on her chest. “How…?” he whispered, looking at Gareth.
“No idea,” Gareth muttered, shrugging. “I just came down here to make coffee and here they were. There’s another baby too; Master Kurthnaga is holding him.”
Dheginsea smiled. He pulled a blanket over each of his children, and went out to the kitchen with Gareth. “I have many questions for her,” he said quietly, as Gareth poured him a mug of his morning brew. “But the important thing is that she is home, and safe. I hope she means to stay.” He looked over the edge of his mug at his friend. “I was starting to worry… perhaps… I was too harsh with her, before she left. I wondered if… she would never return.”
“Let’s just wait and see, m’lord,” said Gareth. “Wise to avoid assumptions, before you hear things from the horse’s mouth, as they say.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” said Dheginsea, lifting the mug again. “Thank you, Gareth.”
**********
Ena opened her eyes. It felt like this was the soundest sleep she’d had in a long time. The sunlight was spilling through the window, lighting up her mate’s dark hair, and bringing out little highlights of bright green and gold. He had barely moved from where she’d dragged him the night before, and was still snoring gently into her shoulder. But when she shifted position a little, the snoring stopped. He pulled her closer still.
“Ah, good,” he mumbled happily. “Not a dream.”
Ena giggled, settling back into place. “I’ve missed you, Jay,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Actually… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, too. I’ve wanted to spill the beans so badly, but… you should be the first to know.”
He opened his eyes. “...Oh goddess,” he said softly, gazing first at her face, then down at her midsection. “Not…?”
“Yes, my love.”
He sat up to get a better look at her. The most radiant smile Ena had ever seen was creeping in. “We’re having a baby?!”
**********
Dheginsea was tipping his mug up to get the last of the coffee when a wild whoop came echoing through the halls.
“What the-” Gareth began.
“That voice,” said Dheginsea, standing up quickly. “Did you know he was home as well?”
“No sir!” said Gareth, also rising. “...What on earth was that about?”
“We will find out in a moment,” said Dheginsea. He’d heard the footsteps on the stairs.
“Good morning!” Ena laughed as Rajaion carried her, bridal-style, into the kitchen.
“It is good to see you two, and in such high spirits,” said Dheginsea. “What news, my son?”
“Father,” said Rajaion, smiling proudly, “this beautiful, wonderful lady, is giving you another grandchild!”
At this, the normally stiff dragon king softened a bit. “How wonderful,” he said, smiling almost widely enough to match Rajaion. “You two will make fine parents. …Another grandchild, you say? Those children in the living room…?”
“Yes, Father,” said Rajaion, finally setting Ena down. “Almedha has two little boys already. Always thought we’d give you the first one, but she beat me to the punch!”
Well, she did cheat, Ena thought. Beorc pregnancies don’t even last a year! But she didn’t say that out loud - Dheginsea’s stance on the Branded was no secret, and she didn’t want to ruin the mood. So instead she said, “They aren’t awake yet, are they?”
“I don’t think so,” said Gareth. “Poor Master Kurthnaga is sleeping on the floor, but I didn’t want to disturb him, and risk waking that baby.”
Just then, they heard a little coo from the sitting room. Everybody hurried to the door to peek in. Almedha and Kurth were still sound asleep, but Pelleas – nestled in his mother’s arms – was sucking on his fingers, looking around the room, and babbling softly to himself. As they watched, Soren also woke up – they couldn’t see most of him, but one little arm was sticking up from behind Kurth, reaching toward the tendril of smoke that still rose from the fireplace.
Dheginsea watched for a moment, then pulled away from the group. He went to the front doors, slipped outside, and sat on the top step.
A minute or two passed, and he heard someone come out behind him. He didn’t look round, even when they settled next to him. They both sat in silence for a while.
Finally, his companion spoke. “I know it’s a curse. And that you might not want her to stay. I’m sorry. But they were in danger. I had to get them out. And… didn’t know where else to go.”
Dheginsea heaved a great sigh. “Do not apologize,” he said. “If anyone should be sorry, it is I.”
“Father?”
“There is… much… that has been concealed from you children,” Dheginsea said slowly. “Some was simply left unspoken. Some…” he closed his eyes. “Rajaion… I have lied to you.” His son didn’t know what to say, or even how to react. After a pause, the king continued. “Understand – when I told the lies, I was trying to protect you. Sometimes, I wondered if the truth would have been better. But, it was always too late, too difficult, too… condemning, to come clean. I only hope it is not too late now.” He looked up at Rajaion finally, grief and guilt wrinkling his face.
“...What do you need to tell us, Father?”
Dheginsea looked away again. It was too painful, seeing his son’s face – the concern, for him, when he should have looked betrayed, angry, something. Well, he’d started, there was no going back now. Maybe if he told Rajaion first, in private, it would be easier to confess to everyone else. “My son… Lady Ashera… she… she never told us it was wrong.”
“What?”
“For a laguz and a beorc to… to have children.”
“What?”
“The four of us, the Heroes, we… we invented that teaching.” He didn’t dare to open his eyes, and Rajaion was too stunned to say anything, so he went on. “It all started when Lehran and Altina had their daughter – no Branded had ever been born before. Everyone was excited, so interested to see what kind of child she would be… and, do you know, she was a wonderful little girl. She could not transform like her father, but he did pass on many blessings, that a normal beorc could only dream of. A longer life, many of the heron abilities, stronger powers of magic…. There was nothing wrong with her, at all. She should have been celebrated. But the joy and blessings surrounding the girl were eclipsed, by what happened to Lehran himself. Many powers that his daughter gained, he lost. The greatest blow, I think, was that he could no longer do the one thing that defines us, as laguz. We were devastated. No one had known that he would lose his powers. And no one could think of a way to restore him, either. The best we could do was prevent such a thing from ever happening again. So that is what we tried to do. We declared it to be a curse from the goddess. Lehran and Altina dissolved their marriage – at my urging. I wonder, now, if that was very poor advice indeed. We spread the rumor far and wide that beorc and laguz were forbidden to intermarry. I had hoped… that would be enough to protect our people.
“But the opposite has happened. Not only do the races not intermarry, but there is also much hatred and distrust. The branded, who should have been seen as beorc with special gifts, are shunned, hunted, and… I can truthfully say they are cursed now, but by man, not by the goddess. I wanted to keep Almedha safe, from the loss of her powers. Instead, I convinced her that she is a horrible sinner, and that she – and those precious little boys – are incapable of being loved. I have… made a grave mistake. Perhaps the greatest mistake a mortal has ever made.”
Rajaion still did not speak. He looked out at the countryside, mind reeling. After several silent minutes crept by, a bird twittered, and he broke away from the swirl of thoughts. “Well, Father,” he said softly, “that is a lot.” Dheginsea finally risked a glance in his direction, and found his son gazing seriously back at him. Serious, but… still not angry. “Are you going to tell the others?”
“I must. Your sister will never forgive me. Those boys have a very rough road ahead of them in life, through no fault of their own – and none of hers either.”
The ghost of a smile crossed Rajaion’s face. “Never say never, Father. Yes, you’ve done… a lot of damage. But we have a long life still ahead of us. With honesty, love, and enough patience… I think we could set things right, don’t you?”
Dheginsea smiled weakly. “Ever the optimist.” Slowly, the old lizard rose to his feet. “I suppose… I should meet my grandsons.”
“You’ll love them,” said Rajaion, really grinning now. “After you!”
Everyone was awake by now, and the whole group was taking turns holding the babies. Gareth, especially, was enthralled.
“I haven’t had a little one to watch in a century,” he said wistfully, bouncing Pelleas on his knee. “This brings me back…. Oh, Lady Almedha, you’ve made an old man happy. I hope you’ll stay and let me help you raise them?”
Almedha had just noticed Rajaion and Dheginsea in the doorway. Her smile faltered. “Well… we’ll see, Gareth.”
“Welcome home, my dear,” said Dheginsea, in as gentle a voice as he could muster. He came closer, hesitantly, unsure what to say next. Then he looked down at Soren, who was perched on her arm. “...May I?” he asked, very softly. Everyone was surprised, even him.
“Of course, Father,” said Almedha, growing cautiously optimistic. She carefully lifted Soren into his grandfather’s arms. The two studied each other in silence. Finally, Soren made a little grunt and nestled down against Dheginsea’s chest. “...He likes you,” said Almedha, even more surprised. Pelleas was her people-friendly twin, while Soren was more of a velcro baby.
“What a handsome young man,” said Dheginsea. He smiled at his daughter. “Two handsome young men,” he corrected himself, glancing at Gareth and Pelleas. “It has certainly been a long time since we have heard little voices in these halls.” He looked back at Almedha, a bit awkwardly. “You… intend to stay, I presume?”
Almedha was still pretty leery, but his tone gave her a little courage. “If it pleases you, Father, we would love to.”
Dheginsea put a hand on her shoulder. “We have missed you terribly, Almedha. Welcome home. The three of you may stay here, as long as you wish.” They finally smiled at each other.
“Well, Gareth,” said Almedha, still beaming at her father, “I suppose that’s your answer!”
