AUTHOR'S NOTE: I originally thought that For the Love of a Dog would only be ten chapters, but then my mind flooded with even more ideas for Vivienne, Brian, Stewie, and all their children. This is the first one, and the first episode (there will be nine more after this) of the second season of For the Love of a Dog. What happens when Vivienne and Brian have kids, but Stewie decides that a dinner at the Griffin house is the perfect time for a new adventure?

Hope you all enjoy!

~Originella

Chapter Eleven: Hurt

I had just made sure that Jackie and Daphne have gotten off to school; they will begin their driving lessons in a few months and then they will get their learner's permit, if all goes according to plan. I peer into the back seat; my other pair of twins have just turned six and are leaning forward ever so slightly and kicking the back of my seat—they are desperate to get to school. First grade is suddenly very important to them, I think to myself as I navigate my way out of the parking lot of James Woods High, waving goodbye to Jackie and Daphne, now sophomores.

"Mom!" Sabrina whines. "Watch the road!"

"Yeah! Daddy won't like it if you wreck the car!" Heath chimes in.

I roll my eyes. "Kids, come on. Mommy will not wreck the car. Mommy has to work, as you know, because Mommy works where you go to school."

Sabrina tosses her curly dark hair. "Why wouldn't you let me take that test over the summer?" she continues to whine. "I just think that first grade will be too easy. I looked online at various practice worksheets and I knew everything..."

I sigh. "Sweetheart, your father and I discussed it at length and we feel you should give the classroom setting a chance. If after Thanksgiving break you still think it's too easy, we'll re-open the discussion, this time with Principal Jacobsen. Okay?"

Sabrina slumps back against her seat with a huff. "Fine," she mutters.

"Mommy, why don't I wanna take the test?" Heath questions.

"Because you're too stupid," Sabrina fires back.

"Hey!" Heath cries, hurt.

"Sabrina Amber Griffin, you apologize to your brother right now," I say, putting an edge onto my voice as we turn onto Main Street so as she knows I'm not kidding. "Come on. That's not funny or cute and you know it."

Sabrina lowers her eyes, fuming at me chastising her. "Sorry," she mutters to Heath, and clearly I'm not going to get any better.

I lean forward then and switch on the car radio, hoping for some kind of distraction. The knobs and buttons in this car are impressive; I'd received it as a birthday present over the summer from Brian after word that his publisher wanted a sequel for our successful memoir, For the Love of a Dog. With our first collaboration a number-one New York Times bestseller, things were clearly looking up for all of us. As I managed to find the local station, I noticed that Sabrina and Heath were deliberately not looking at each other.

"Good morning, and welcome to WQHG-FM, 97.1," said the radio announcer, a peppy-sounding man who was usually the announcer for the program at this time of morning on a weekday. "You've got Weenie..."

"...and the Butt!" cries his friend.

Weenie takes over then. "We'd just like to take this opportunity to say..."

"...it's time for a new school year!" Butt cries, and the sound of a stereotypical school bell ringing is heard over the speakers.

"We've decided to kick things off on this news day by doing a crossover of sorts," Weenie puts in, sounding a bit excited.

"Here in the studio, we've got the one, the only, Tom Tucker!" Butt cries, and then the theme of Channel Five News blares on the speakers.

"Hey! Great to be here," Tom Tucker says.

"What are you plugging?" Weenie asks.

"Yeah! We're really excited!" Butt hollers, playing a clip of Bobby Hill of King of the Hill squealing excitedly.

"Well, I'm here to plug an interview with Quahog's own Brian Griffin," Tom Tucker says, and I immediately shush the kids. "It seems him and his wife, local Martin Mull Elementary School teacher, Vivienne Griffin, have decided to pen a second memoir together. Their first work together, For the Love of a Dog, seemed more fantasy than reality, which is just what the book doctors ordered. It became a New York Times bestseller within a record three days and Brian himself said that, 'Although my greatest achievements in life are my marriage and my six children, I would like to go out on a limb and say that my greatest literary achievement would definitely have to be this book'."

"That's what he said!" Butt says, playing a stereotypical 1980's laugh track.

"Any info on potential book titles or its release date?" Weenie asks.

"That's what she said!" Butt cries out, playing the laugh track again.

"Rumor has it that the book will take six months to a year to write, because that's how long the original book took to write," Tom Tucker replies. "And rumor has it the sequel will be called Dog Days: The Brian and Vivienne Griffin Story."

"Son of a bitch!" I say out loud, prompting Sabrina and Heath to look up at me in shock. "I, um... I mean, Mommy is just a little annoyed right now," I say, quickly switching off the radio, drowning out Tom Tucker's voice. "Nothing to worry about."

About two minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of Martin Mull Elementary, and I drive to the staff section and park in my usual spot, about mid-way through the four rows reserved for staff members. Sabrina and Heath get out of their booster seats easily and I hand them their lunch boxes as I sling my bag over my shoulder, as they do to their backpacks. I kiss them both goodbye as we walk through the main doors; it is an hour before school time, so they will have to go to the daycare for the morning. Usually Brian will take them in, but he is having some time with Dylan while he's in town filming his latest Parent Boppers film. I wave off Sabrina and Health and make my way up the first flight of stairs; the daycare and adjoining preschool is on the first floor, along with the cafeteria, theater, auditorium, library, music hall, and the gym. Second floor is grades one through three and the staff lounge, and the third floor is grades four through five and the computer lab.

I make my way up the second flight of stairs, waving to Mr. Clapward, a second grade teacher who is making some photo copies of their big geography project; I also see Miss Monroe, who is a fifth grade teacher, talking to Mrs. Abrams, a fellow fourth grade teacher, and say hello to the pair of them as I continue down the hall. I then approach my classroom, the words Mrs. Vivienne Griffin, Fourth Grade, Room 205 upon the name plate and unlock the door. I flick on the lights and shut the door behind me, making my way across the room and settling my own lunch in my mini fridge behind the desk. I take out the graded math quiz I gave two days before and leave the pile at one side of my desk, mentally reminding myself to pass it out before lunch.

I log in to my desktop and get onto my staff email, scanning the various subject lines and whatnot as I nibble at my bottom lip, distracted by what Tom Tucker said in the radio interview, growing more and more annoyed. Many of the emails are expressing concerns with potential scheduling conflicts in regards to parent-teacher conferences in the middle of November. I've been trying to work Principal Jacobsen when it comes to Sabrina and Heath and trying to get them into my class in three years—although if Sabrina had her way it would be never, because she was convinced that she would qualify for placement at Buddy Cianci Junior High School—so as I wouldn't have to rework my schedule. Fed up with Brian, I give up on my emails and whip out my cell phone, holding down button number 'one' and waiting for it to ring.

"Hey, babe," Brian says, his voice casual and effortless. "Stewie's taking a mental health day so me and Dylan are taking him to brunch. Just got out of the shower," he says, and I can hear the fan humming around him. "What's up? Ride to school go okay?"

"Fine. Jackie and Daphne are excited about starting sophomore year."

"Did you give them your sage words of wisdom?" Brian asks, opening the door of our en suite bathroom and walking into our bedroom.

I shrug. "They're fifteen. They have access to phones and laptops and the internet and their flat screens. What's to know?"

"Well...how are the kids?" Brian asks, speaking of Sabrina and Heath.

"Sabrina was testy, as usual," I reply, leaning back in my swivel chair. "She's convinced that she can go to Buddy Cianci this year..."

"She's six," Brian chuckles.

"Exactly! But ever since Daphne said she wanted to go to med school, Sabrina's been all over that. You know what she told me last night as I was tucking her in?"

"What's that?"

"She says she wants to be a brain surgeon with her own practice," I say, shaking my head at the notion. "That's what I was doing on my Tablet last night when I couldn't sleep. I was Googling the salary..."

"How good is it?" he asks.

"Three-hundred ninety-five thousand is the starting salary, and then once she's settled in, she could be making upwards of five-hundred-eighty-nine thousand five-hundred, but that's today's standards. Who knows? If she goes to school on schedule, she won't be doing it for another ten to fifteen years..."

"Shit," Brian replies. "I should've gone to medical school..."

"You should've consulted me before you agreed to do an interview with Tom Tucker on the news," I reply, my tone clipped.

He hesitates. "How did you know about that...?"

"Brian, you know when the kids fight that I turn on the radio," I grumble. "I turned it onto 97.1 because, well, they enjoy the sound effects..."

"You know Stewie and I had a show on there for a while?" he offers.

I groan into the phone. "Yes. I also know that it was called The Lunch Hour but you ended up selling out and renaming it Dingo and the Baby. For god's sake, Brian, you got a girl named Sindy to catch hot dogs in her mouth," I grumble, leaning forward and catching my forehead into the palm of my hand. "Brian, you know full well that these memoirs are a collaboration piece. Why in the hell would you agree to do an interview with Tom Tucker and have a title without consulting me?"

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Viv, really. But we should really discuss this face to face."

I bite my lip, reluctant to let him go, but knowing that I shouldn't take time away from Dylan or Stewie. "All right. Lois invited us over tonight for dinner. Do you think we can make that work?"

"All of us?" Brian asks.

"Well, no. The girls'll be studying at their friend Jeannie's house until nine, and they're having dinner over there. I figure we'll swing by and pick them up after dinner, but Sabrina and Heath can come."

"Okay..."

"And remember, we have a Skype session with Felix later on today. Around four-thirty, and it'll be sad that Jackie and Daphne can't be there, but let's make the most of it."

"Can do."

"All right." I sigh. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Viv."

I smile. "Thanks. Send Dylan my love and is he coming tonight?"

"I'll see if he's available."

"Good. Send Stewie my love, too. I'll see you before four."

"All right. Love you, babe."

"I love you, too. Bye," I say, hanging up.

The Skype session with Felix went well, although we were only able to talk for about twenty minutes because he had a gig at some music festival that evening. We all gave our love before ending the conversation, and I told him to text Jackie and Daphne later as well. Brian was ever-helpful in readying Heath while I got Sabrina ready, although she wanted to wear her black trousers and white blouse, and I let her, because I didn't want another fight. I set the pair of them up in the living room with an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants while Brian and I headed upstairs to get ready. Dylan, who had no plans that evening, would be driving himself to the Griffin house later that evening, which I knew would excite Stewie, for he had always had a soft spot for Brian's first child.

I jumped in the shower—solo—because I did not wish to reward Brian's behavior earlier that day, as I was still irritated with him. I stepped out a few moments later and blow-dried my hair, making sure to walk through the bedroom only wrapped in my towel, deliberately distracting him from readying himself. Not making eye contact, I put on his favorite lingerie, just to torment him further, and slipped into a black knee-length skirt, matching heels, and my white frilly blouse. I peered at him over my shoulder as I walked back to the bathroom, running a brush through my now-dry hair and appreciating the curls at its tips. I clipped it ever so slightly so as the curls hung loosely, and put a pearl necklace on before adjusting my wedding ring.

"Ready?" I ask him, and Brian quickly adjusts his collar.

We fetch Sabrina and Heath from the living room and make our way out to Brian's car; I thought that while he was just attempting to get back on my good side, at least Brian had put their booster seats in Brian's new van. We strapped the pair of them in before getting into the front seat and I watched as Brian plugged in 31 Spooner Street from 1536 Westside Drive in an effort to get there more efficiently. The quickest way was twelve minutes depending on traffic, which we knew would be a good possibility given the hour. We however made it to the Griffin house in just under fifteen minutes, and I was pleased that Dylan pulled up soon thereafter.

"Vivienne!" he said, making his way over to the car. "How are you?" he asked, bending down and kissing my cheek. "How's the first day back?"

I roll my eyes, letting out a chuckle. "Exhausting."

He laughs, reaching behind me to open the car door. "Sabrina! Hey, you!"

"Dylan!" Sabrina cries, launching herself into his arms. "I missed you!"

"I missed you, too, Savvy Sabby," Dylan replies.

"Dylan?!" Heath cries, running around the back of the car.

"Heath, my man!" Dylan says, giving his half-brother a high-five. "Great to see you, buddy! I haven't seen you since Disney World!"

The front door of the house opens and Peter and Lois step out. Peter goes, "Hey!" and seems pleased to have us there, our little incident when he and Lois were having an open marriage forgotten. Stewie putters into the general vicinity, immediately looking annoyed that Dylan is giving all of his attention to Sabrina and Heath. He taps his foot impatiently, but I immediately swoop in to calm things.

"Stewie!" I cry, grabbing the almost-six-year-old and taking him into my arms.

He lets out that wonderful laughter of his as I proceed kissing him over and over again, as Lois looks on indulgently. "Vivienne!" he sputters, continuing to giggle. "My goodness, Stewie, Vivienne certainly put you in a better mood, didn't she?" Lois asks, coming up and hugging me briefly before catching sight of Dylan and the twins. "Oh, it's my two nephews and my niece!" she cries, running into the front yard. "Hello, Heath. It's so nice to see you. We haven't seen you since Joe's pool party last summer. Is that a new vest and shirt set? Don't you look handsome."

Heath blushes at the attention, clasping his little hands and shuffling a bit uncertainly from foot to foot. "Thank you, Aunt Lois," he replies.

Lois chuckles, bending down and scooping Heath up. "I think you're going to like dinner," she says endearingly as she moves to take him inside, Brian following, and Dylan, still carrying Sabrina, going after them.

"Is meat involved?" asks Heath.

Lois giggles. "Well, yes. It's baked macaroni and cheese with breaded baked chicken breasts," she replies easily. "We're going to start with a Caesar salad and end with my special vanilla cake with buttercream frosting."

Heath claps his hands; it's both of our favorite meal made by Lois. "Yummy!" he cries as he's carried inside and placed on the couch.

"Now, Stewie, why don't you sit with your cousins?" Lois says invitingly. "Let's turn on SpongeBob," she says, picking up the remove and motioning for Dylan to put Sabrina down next to Heath. "You guys can watch it with Rupert while Mommy, Daddy, Aunt Vivienne, Uncle Brian, and Cousin Dylan help with dinner," she says, motioning for us to follow her into the kitchen. "Who wants a glass of wine?" Lois asks.

"I'll have half a glass of red, thanks, Lois," I reply, flashing her a smile.

"Tough first day back?" she asks, fetching two wine glasses from the cabinet and grabbing the bottle by the drying rack. "I could never be a teacher full-time. You're so much more patient with kids than I am, Viv," she says, handing me a glass poured halfway. "I did teach sex-ed briefly at the high school but they fired me because I talked about the safe use of condoms during sex."

"You're kidding!" I cry, sipping at my wine. "That's terrible!"

Lois nods, pouring herself a generous amount and leaning back against the counter. "And to make matters worse, this one," she nods at Peter, "enacted a sex scene between Rainbow Brite and Shakespeare."

I fight hard not to laugh and fail miserably. "While that may have not been appropriate high school classroom behavior, Lois, it is very funny."

Lois laughs. "Yeah, you're right, it was pretty funny, later." She sighs. "Oh, well. What are you going to do?"

I sneak a peek at Brian and Peter, each holding a bottle of beer, who are asking Dylan questions about his movies, which are Peter's new favorite things in the world. Dylan himself is holding a can of coke and is patiently answering their questions. He was such a kind boy, yet I'd been a bit reluctant to meet his mother. Rumor had it that she'd had similar surgery to what I'd gotten, and I was worried that Brian would eventually leave me for her to make a family with Dylan. "Vivienne, the chicken and mac should be ready anytime now," I hear Lois saying from where she is peering into the oven. "That just leaves the salad to be dressed and the cake to be frosted. Would you mind setting the dining room table for me, please? We only have about ten more minutes, I think."

"Yeah, sure, no problem, Lois."

I place my wine glass onto the counter and gently scratch Brian's ear as I walk by, and I immediately hear him excusing himself from Peter and Dylan's conversation. As I remove a tablecloth from the storage cabinet, I silently spread it all around the table. There are plates waiting upon the cabinet, along with napkins, knives, and salad, entrée, and dessert forks. I place each item of cutlery accordingly, and fold the napkins appropriately before finding a pair of white candles and glass sticks and positioning them in the center of the table. As I turn around to see Brian, I notice a look in his eyes.

"Brian?" I ask.

My husband chuckles darkly and steps forward. "Wanna do it in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs?" he asks.

I cross my arms. "Do you honestly think I'd sleep with you now?!" I hiss under my breath. "I reserve the right to be very upset with you..."

Brian's expression doesn't change. "No limits."

I raise my eyebrows. "Well..." I hesitate, looking from the living room to the kitchen, knowing that we will have to pass two of our children in order to get upstairs. "What if Sabrina and Heath...?"

"I'll take care of it," Brian replies. He crosses towards the hallway and walks to Lois's piano room, pinging a few keys upon it, which sends Stewie running.

"Yes, Brian?" he asks.

"Hey. I need a favor..."

"All right, Brian," Stewie replies as I step into the room behind him. "What do you want me to do?" he asks, leaning back temporarily against my knees.

"Distract Sabrina and Heath so that Viv and I can go upstairs," Brian says softly.

"What's in it for—" Before he can complete his sentence, I'm waving a fifty-dollar bill in front of his face. "Oh. Good." Stewie slips the bill into his pocket and nods. "Okay. I was playing with an invention in the sunroom. I'm sure I can convince them to come and see it. I think they enjoy my company..."

"They love you," I say instantly.

Stewie chuckles. "Very well then." He slips from the room and distracts our two youngest children with a mere sentence, and the three of them slip into the sunroom.

"Peter?" Brian asks, knowing that it'll be Peter that it the most likely to become distracted and ask us what we're doing.

"No problem," I reply, crossing over to a bookshelf against the back wall. I reach upwards, counting mentally in my head until I find a book titled Harry Potter and the Order of the Cheese Whiz and nod to myself—Lois always hid snacks in there. Peeking inside, I saw a pack of Ho-Ho's, one of Peter's favorite. "Bingo." I ask Peter to come and help me with something and, waving the package in front of his face, I throw them out into the backyard, and quickly, too. He proceeds to yelp and screech like some rabid dog as he tears them apart, and Lois and Dylan rush outside to investigate—I even think I see Joe and Bonnie leaving their house as well.

Brian quickly grabs my hand and we get upstairs without anyone noticing us at all. We head to what used to be Meg's bedroom—now re-decorated as Chris's has been into a female version of a guest bedroom. We make quick work of drawing the curtains and locking the door, whereupon I quickly shove Brian into the center of the bed. I see a scarf hanging out of the dresser drawer, probably left by Lois's mother, Babs, when she and Carter last stayed in the house. I tie Brian's hands together, and proceed in unzipping my skirt and slipping my blouse over my head. I take a lot of delight in Brian squirming in the center of the bed, my mouth slightly rising at the corners as I kneel in front of him.

"You've got some explaining to do," I whisper, making no moves to take off my lingerie. "We said that the memoir was a joint-effort. Now, why would you go behind my back like that?" I ask, no ounce of anger in my voice.

Brian doesn't look at me. "I'm sorry..."

I giggle a bit, the sound resonating in my throat. Leaning down, I make quick work of removing the scarf which binds his paws together with my teeth. "Perhaps punishment of not getting what you want will be enough," I reply, darting off the bed and quickly putting my clothes back on.

Brian growls ever so slightly, but nevertheless slips his collar back on and we leave the bedroom together just as a pair of familiar footsteps comes up the stairs.

"Ah. I thought something of that nature would happen," Stewie says, a glint in his eye as he chuckles ever so slightly.

"Stewie," Brian says warningly.

"Where the hell are Sabrina and Heath?!" I demand. "You were supposed to be watching them and you know it!"

Stewie's glance remains passive. "I merely froze time briefly, Vivienne," he replies patiently to me. "I thought, since we're here..."

"Stewie...?" Brian asks.

He grins. "What? You're not that old, Brian! Or didn't you inform your lovely wife about our agreement?"

"Brian?" I ask, turning to him.

He sighs. "He's right, I should've said something..." He sighs a second time. "I've been giving Stewie ten-percent of our money from the book selling in exchange for giving me a serum that'll stop my aging process..."

"Brian!" I cry, shocked.

He reaches out and takes my hand. "I don't want you to think I'm going anywhere and I'm not. I just have to get bi-weekly shots—which I hate—in order to increase my lifespan by at least fifty years. I won't age, Viv, until your time comes, and Stewie's perfected a painless injection to give me when your time here ends. He's working on an infinity serum as we speak, so that day, if we never want it to, will come. He's also in the process of creating an ageless serum that will pinpoint which age you want to remain. So we could be young forever, if we wanted..."

I shake my head. "Oh, my god... I just..."

I bite my lip, stopping the crushing words that would inevitably fall from my lips. I reach out and grab Stewie by the hand and drag him to his bedroom, Brian quickly following. Stewie makes no protests as I quickly key in the code for his time machine, and, when it reveals itself, I press the identification code and the three of us step inside the space, now a bit more difficult due to the fact that Stewie is no longer a baby, and I've had two kids. I am able to reach the control panel and quickly key in some information, pressing blindly, as I am not concentrating at all, as Stewie makes a grab for his backpack and his return pad, always placed inside the machine. Then the flash of light blinds us and we are transported out of twenty-first century Quahog, Rhode Island.

"Is it over?" the words fall from my mouth in a gasping motion, and I'm covering my eyes, fearful of where I've sent us.

"Yeah. It's over." Stewie's voice sounds calm, almost as if he is quite all right with the turn of events.

I lift my fingers from where they've been wrapped around my face, and feel traces of powder upon them and, as I lift my head, it feels abnormally heavy. Managing to turn it ever so slightly, I catch sight of curled white hairs upon my exposed shoulders and upper chest, and come to the direct conclusion that I am wearing a powdered wig. Looking down, I see the constricting gown around me—a shocking pink color—and feel the whalebone of the corset digging uncomfortably into my ribs.

"Dammit... Pre-French Revolution," I mutter, shaking my head.

A woman about ten years my senior pokes her head out from behind a wall and immediately comes rushing over to me. "Oh, you've arrived," she says, relief in her voice. "The new lady in waiting for Her Majesty the Queen of France. What is your name?"

I blink, wanting desperately to run. "Lady Alix Thévenet, Comtesse Briancourt," I reply, and notice that Brian and Stewie are attempting their best not to laugh. "My husband and son are here as well..."

"Lord Henri Thévenet, Count Briancourt," Brian introduces.

"And how might this little gentleman be?" the woman asks, her Parisian accent thick and friendly towards us.

"Lord Louis Thévenet," Stewie replies.

"Ah, named for the king, how appropriate," the woman says sweetly. "I'm Yolande de Polastron, Duchess of Polignac," she says politely. "Come, my dear. The queen will be expecting you, Lady Alix. The king surely has a place for your husband, and he is in the throne room, downstairs and to the left," she says, nodding at Brian. "And you can bring Louis with you, if you like. The queen has the Madame Royale, Princesse Marie-Thérèse, with her at this time of day. She's about your son's age, so perhaps they will have much to talk about."

"Of course," I reply, and allow the duchess to walk ahead of me, and I take ahold of Stewie's little hand as we wave Brian off and quickly follow our escort, who I know to be the favorite of Marie Antoinette. "I've been meaning to ask, how on earth does every possibility we get to speak English despite the fact that...?"

Stewie chuckles. "After our first adventure in ancient China, I found it too difficult to approximate such things, so I added a new program to the machine so as we'll be able to understand everything."

"Uh-huh," I reply, quickly flashing a smile to the duchess as we do our best to keep up with her in the expansive corridor. We travel down it for another minute until we walk to the left and down a second corridor before making right a quarter of the way down and then taking the third door on the left. It was two French doors—how quaint—which immediately opened due to the guards allowing us inside.

The duchess approached the woman I assumed to be the queen, who was a little older than I was, and made a small curtsy to her—probably due to their closeness in station, as well as being her closest friend. "Your Majesty, I am come with Lady Alix, Comtesse Briancourt and her little son, Lord Louis," she says eloquently. "Lady Alix is the new lady in waiting, and I thought perhaps Lord Louis could play with the Madame Royale..."

The queen's blue eyes light up at the thought. "How lovely! Marie-Thérèse, it would be lovely to play with a boy your own age."

"Boy? Since when were the French keen on labels?" Stewie demands from under his breath as the queen and the princess step towards us.

I make an elaborate curtsy to the queen, and Stewie begrudgingly bow to her. I remember to keep my mouth shut, for she is a queen and must speak first.

"Lady Alix, it is wonderful for you to join the court, especially mine. Would Lord Louis like to have tea with Marie-Thérèse by the window?" she asks, nodding in the direction of her window embrasure, with a circular table in its space, with a beautiful china tea set placed just so upon it.

"I am sure he would love to," I reply, bending down to kiss his cheek, but, in reality, to whisper in his ear, "Think of it as the role of a lifetime," I whisper. "Think of it as you being up for Best Actor in a Leading Role for a period drama—think of it. If you were nominated, if you won, you'd beat Dylan in the category as youngest actor ever winning, or nominated, because the youngest nomination went to a nine-year-old named Jackie Cooper. You aren't even six yet..."

"Just watch my prowess," he whispers back, kissing my cheek dutifully and crossing to the adorable Marie-Thérèse, who looked like a combination of a miniature version of her mother and Kelly, who I was still confused as to if she was truly Barbie's younger sister or, in fact, her daughter with Ken. Though rank and etiquette strictly forbade it, Stewie went down on bended knee in front of the princesse and kissed her hand. While the princesse looked shocked, she did not pull away as Stewie got to his feet.

"Your son is quite bold," the queen says as Stewie takes Marie-Thérèse by the hand and leads her to the tea set.

"Yes, isn't he?" I reply.

Later that evening, after we'd been shown to our lavish rooms, it was revealed that there was to be a grand ball. I wasn't entirely sure on the reason behind the ball, but from what I'd read about Marie Antoinette, was that she loved a good party, and seemed to throw one several times a month. A maid was summoned and a gown was brought for me to wear and, to my surprise, a mask along with it. After I was laced into the equally-constricting gown and the slippers and lavish lace stockings were put on, the mask was tied into place and the duchess arrived to walk with me to the queen's rooms.

"Where is your manor?" she asked me sweetly.

"The South of France," I replied, hoping that would be the final question.

"Lovely," she replies. "What do you call your manor?"

Fuck, I thought to myself. "Château Pierre," I reply, using my rudimentary French to figure out that, literally translated, it meant "Castle Rock".

"Sounds lovely," the duchess gushed, and I began to doubt her intelligence.

We met the queen who gleefully gave us diamond necklaces to put around our necks and insisted that the both of us change our masks so as we all wore identical ones. She then gave the pair of us identical crowns to the one she wore, because, from what I deduced from her whispered conversation with the duchess, she desperately needed to have another child. It had been two years since the birth of her first son, also called Louis—after her husband, of course—and she feared being supplanted, I supposed. She claimed that she desperately needed to conceive, and perhaps the mystery of not one, but two different women dressed like her would just do the trick.

We made our way down to the ball, just when the evening was in full swing. I saw Brian mingling with the king, and things seemed to be looking up. I nearly died of laughter when Stewie walked in, in a new disguise, who informed me that he was to be called Edouard de Guignes, and that he was my elder brother who suffered from some rare kind of dwarfism that caused him to walk at a slower pace, explaining his late arrival. He mingled with ladies of the court expertly, and seemed to get on well with King Louis as well.

As the evening wore on, wine was consumed twofold, and it felt invigorating that I did not have children to care for at the moment. The queen and the duchess became, the more and more we drank, like friends that had the I.Q. of a college professor, or, at least, Rick Sanchez, so the party aspect of it all was definitely involved. Finally, I knew I'd reached my limit, and when I saw Stewie running across the ballroom towards me, fear in his eyes, I knew, deep down, that something was wrong. Initially, I thought that Brian had gotten so drunk that he'd insulted the king. Second, I believed that he could've accidentally drunk poisoned wine meant for the king. And third, I thought he'd been seduced by a bounty of courtesans meant for other gentleman of the court.

As it turned out, it was the last option, or, rather, fear.

"He's gone mad, I tell you," Stewie told me, after finding the stables and throwing a bucket of cold water onto my face to sober me up. "Three women, Vivienne—three women—he took with him to the rooms..."

"You have got to be kidding me," I reply, trying my best not to slip and fall in my sopping wet shoes. "That bastard... It's on."

"He claimed that there was a misunderstanding earlier, as the maidens were convinced he was married to you, which he is, of course," Stewie goes on as we find a set of servants' stairs and head up them. "He claimed that he is actually your brother-in-law, and that he is the guardian of the title of Count Briancourt until I—or, rather, Lord Louis—is old enough to take the title. He is masquerading as your brother-in-law, Vivienne..."

We reach the proper corridor in the palace, and I throw open the door, and the notion of seeing Brian in bed with three women didn't blind me as I thought. "Out," I growl at them all, and they all flee from the room.

"Vivienne, I..." Brian tries.

"Save it," I try. "Beam us back, now, Stewie."

Stewie knows not to question me, and he beams us back, and I keep my glare firmly upon Brian the whole time. "Oh, crap," Stewie says, but I don't listen to his words as I take ahold of Brian's collar and haul him out of his bedroom.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking asshole?!" I scream at him. "Fucking other women, for Christ's sake?! I absolutely cannot believe you!" I let go of his collar and charge downstairs, needing to put as much space between him and me as possible.

"Mom?" Sabrina asks.

"Mom?" Heath asks.

Fuck, I think for the second time that day. Stewie had accidentally unfrozen time, and I suppose it had jumped ahead for convenience sake...

"Vivienne, please," Brian begs as I walk past our children and through the kitchen. Angry, I ignore Lois and head out into the backyard, choking back sobs, wanting desperately to be completely alone. "Vivienne," Brian tries again.

That bastard followed you, I think to myself. I turn on him then, and he is on his knees in front of me, hands clasped before him. "What could you possibly want?"

"Please, Vivienne, baby, don't do this..."

"Don't do what? This?" I ask, dropping my wedding ring in front of him. "You son of a bitch, I want you to stop. Stop playing the victim. Leave me alone."

"Vivienne, you... You don't mean that," he says, crawling towards me.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" I cry out, walking backwards, away from him.

"Vivienne..." He whispers.

"No." I turn my back on him; I can't look at him. All I can see is the images of him and those three concubines in the bed with him. Hot tears run down my face... That fuckhead. How dare he do this to me?!

"Vivienne..."

It is too much; the flashbacks won't stop. He's touching me; I must resist the urge to take him in my arms and let all be forgiven. Hot tears blind me again, and, suddenly, I find I cannot stop myself. I turn on him then, and raise my hand, like I will draw him to me, but it suddenly develops into a fist. I am punching him furiously, and I cannot stop. His pleas for me to stop and for help fall on deaf ears as doors open from all around me, and gasps collect into somewhere, far back in my subconscious.

Brian's blood escapes from the wounds I've created and seep under my fingernails, and the bastard is still holding on, begging me to stop. I can't take it; I find I want him to suffer. I remember him screwing the women in the bed, his fur all ruffled, and looking mighty satisfied with himself. Then, I remember Colin and what he too did to me. And I find myself continuing to beat him.

"Vivienne Griffin, hands up!"

The sharp voice of Joe Swanson brings me out of my reverie, and I suddenly get a good look at my hands. Slowly, I rise from my kneeling position and look around at Peter, Lois, Dylan, Joe, Bonnie, Susie, Cleveland, Donna, Rallo... But the most horrifying of all are the expressions of Stewie, Sabrina, and Heath. Sighing, I feel the anger leave me and is quickly replaced with regret as I put my hands up, surrendering. Joe comes up behind me then and seizes me, hauling me off into his squad car, and I feel the bite of the handcuffs cutting into me, and I attempt to get comfortable in the back seat.

"You're under arrest for the assault of your husband, Brian Griffin," Joe says, pulling away from Spooner Street. "You have the right to remain silent, if you do not choose to exercise that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you..."

His words drown out as we make it to the Quahog Police Station, some place I thought I'd never have to see the dark underbelly of. I am made to empty my pockets, which I do, numbly, and then I am strip-searched, forgetting to feel humiliated due to my feeling that I am completely empty and devoid of emotion. They then take my fingerprints and force me to stand against the height wall, where a piece of paper is handed to me, my inmate number stamped upon it. Remaining stoic, I face the camera, making no effort to appear maniacally happy or utterly devastated.

I am then hauled roughly by the arm where I am taken of my street clothes and placed into a smelly orange jumpsuit. I'm sure somewhere that there's a code of conduct that states that these are obligated by law to be laundered, but something tells me that a lifer wore these last and probably died in them. I don't flinch as we walk down the hall of cells, the other prisoners reaching through the bars in the cell like animals, clawing at my exposed arms and cat-calling me. I don't move when they spit on me when I don't acknowledge their juvenile behavior, and I merely nod to the guard as a cell is unlocked. I step into it, and secretly am pleased that I have no cell mate. Holding the scratchy wool blanket that the guard gave to me, I contemplate suing for cruel and unusual punishment due to the fact that I'm allergic to wool, but I don't much care now.

"Lights out!" the warden shouts, and I make my way over towards the bottom bunk as my cell and those around me go black. I spread the blanket over me as I lie down, the last thing I hear before nothingness is the chain in the lock of what is to be my new home.