Disclaimer- I own nothing, ok? Everything belongs to Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
Hello hello! Thanks to everyone who reviewed The Sandwich Theory, I've decided that it will remain a one-off. As for the word Review in the Summary...well, chalk it down to a massive brain malfunction!
For those of you who were wondering, I come from a large family myself, and so a lot of my work will probably revolve around Raist and Caramon, k?
Another note, I am NOT a doctor, and so do not try and of the practices mentioned. It is always better to consult a practiced physician in ANY matters of health. That said, and because I don't want to be sued, I hope you enjoy this story!
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Rosamun Majere screamed, high and shrill, piercing through the open window like a poniard. Kitiara huddled by the corner of the bed, clutching her mother's hand for dear life, while blinking back her fearful tears. The midwife, Hester Quinn, hovered around the end of the bed, wringing her hands when she thought that nobody was looking.
The labour pains had started in the early hours of morning, and now the sun had already long set for the night. Mrs. Quinn had insisted that the window stay open as long as it was warm enough to do so, in an attempt to alleviate the feeling of a sick room. Young Kitiara hadn't left her mother's side during this ordeal, and every scream only served to reaffirm her reasons for not wanting children of her own.
Throughout her pregnancy, Rosamun had been remarkably lucid, rarely slipping into those trances that she was well known for. Many an evening had found Kitiara sitting, resting her head on her mother's stomach, listening to the shuffles and and movings of her tiny brother- for she was sure it was a boy.
Wiping the sweat from her mother's brow, the young girl was sure that her mother was dying before her eyes. Her face was a mask of concentration, twisting with every contraction, and then relaxing into a deathlike stillness between the pains. Then, finally, she felt the shift of the child, and with the next pain, she began to push with all of the strength she had left.
After a few moments, the midwife cried out that she could see the head, and Kitiara nearly wept with relief. Maybe her mother had the will too fight this, just a little longer. Time stretched on, endlessly in the space of a few minutes. A new cry joined his mother's keening wail. Kitiara jumped to her feet, running around the bed as fast as she could. Mrs. Quinn was cutting the cord, and wrapping the infant boy in the soft blanket that had been set aside for this moment.
Kitiara uth Matar stared in wonder at this tiny person. Red faced and screaming, he had a head full of downy brown hair. "Healthy lungs." Mrs. Quinn noted with a smile. The young girl was just reaching for her new brother, when Rosamun's face twisted into a grimace of agony. "Mother!" Kit cried, terrified, and glancing to the kindly midwife for reassurance.
Thrusting the newborn into Kitiara's arms, Mrs. Quinn layed her hand upon Rosamun's stomach, kneading the taut flesh carefully, and shaking her head. "What is it?" Kit asked, holding her brother tightly. "Twins." She said with finality, "and the second one's breeched."
"Breech?" Kitiara questioned, not liking this strange word in the least.
"Bottom first, my dear." Mrs. Quinn said gently, wiping her bloody hands on her apron.
Turning the baby took all of her strength, pressing and manipulating the stubborn child into the correct position. As the minutes passed, it seemed that this child indeed would never move, and then, with a lurch, the baby slid into place. Just in time, for Rosamun, weak from the first birth, and trying to resist the urge to push this troublesome second infant from her womb, had only the strength enough for one great push; and then she fainted, dead away.
But the one push was enough, as this new child slid into the world silently. So much smaller than his twin, his face was an unhealthy blue, and he did not breath. "Leave the room, my dear." Mrs. Quinn said sternly, her voice brooking no argument. But even at this young age, Kitiara had a fighter's spirit, and refused to let her tiny brother die.
Remembering what her father had done when she had nearly drowned, trying to swim across Crystalmere Lake, she laid the squalling twin in his basinette, and snatched the silent one from the older woman's arms. Sealing the newborn's mouth with her own, she blew gently into his lugs, feeling them expand. Then, gently turning him upside down against her knee, she deflated them. She could feel the tiny heart flutter a bit beneath her fingers, and it only made her strive harder to save this new life. Repeating the motions, she was rewarded with a sticky glob of bloody afterbirth, and after a third repetition, the infant child took his first unassisted breath.
Holding him upright, Kitiara patted his back, as he coughed with squeaking noises, bringing up the last of the afterbirth that had nearly suffocated him. Mrs. Quinn looked up from where she was trying to bring Rosamun back from unconciousness. "God's be praised!" she murmured, fetching a spare blanket for this unexpected newborn. In a state of shock, Kitiara handed her brother over to the more experienced woman, and sat down in a chair numbly.
Mrs. Quinn layed the boys in the basinette, where they curled together in a familiar manner, the smaller one with his head tucked against his twin's shoulder. "Well, look at that," she chuckled in relief, turning to the white-faced girl, "Why don't you go tell your father?" she suggested helpfully, and Kitiara nodded, snapping from her daze.
Leaving the room, she saw her adopted father pacing the small kitchen restlessly. "Dad?" she said, breaking the man's step. "Kit!" he exclaimed, kneeling beside her, "A boy? A girl? How is he, or she?" his words came out in a rush. That crooked smile crossed her face.
"Two boys, Dad... twins." Her father rocked back on his heels, falling to the floor with a thump, his face pained.
"But.. Rosamun.." he asked, his face crossed with worry.
"She should be ok, Dad, and the boys are alright." She saw no reason to worry her father uselessly.
"I'd like to see them, Kit."
It took only minimal convincing, and soon, the twins were brought into the living room to meet their father, and to give Rosamun some much needed rest. "Caramon." The man said, lifting the larger twin into his arms reverently. Kitiara looked at him askance,
"And what about the other one?" she demanded, feeling protective of her smallest brother. Her father sighed, looking into the basinette at the newborn who just stared right back at him with intelligent eyes. "How about you choose, Kit?"
"Raistlin." She said instantly, having thought of the name as soon as she had seen him.
"Alrighty then," Her father said, without argument, "Raistlin it is then."
As the weeks passed, Rosamun slowly began to regain her strength. Kitiara was the twin's caregiver, bottle feeding them the milk of cows. Mrs. Quinn came by often, but there were quite a few women in Solace who needed her help at that time. It soon became obvious that Raistlin would never be as strong as his brother, and it only served to make Kitiara even more protective of the brother that had nearly died.
- --- One Year Later
Kitiara stood in the kitchen, simultaneously watching the twins, and making their lunch. Caramon had started walking the week before, and so he required more attention than usual, even if he was never more than a few feet away from Raistlin. She saw as he toddled over to his twin, who was sitting on the threadbare rug. They babbled for a few minutes, in that strange baby language that only they seemed to understand. Kitiara preferred this to the times when they would simply stare at eachother, seeming to converse without the need to speak at all.
Caramon grinned and grabbed his brother's hands, yanking him to his feet. Raistlin held on to his twin, terrified to let go. Caramon took a step to the side, and Raistlin followed, his grip not yielding to the unwanted movement. Kitiara smiled as the chubbier twin lead his brother all over the living room, until he tripped over the edge of the rug. Both boys toppled over, laughing. They never laughed when they were seperated.
Even now they refused to sleep apart, their cribs set side by side. Most mornings, Kitiara would find them, pressed against their adjoining bars, hands clasped together. When they were able, they would climb the bars altogether, and sleep as they were most comfortable, curled close together.
Though Caramon was the first to walk, Raistlin was the first to talk. Both of them sat on the kitchen floor, rolling a ball back and forth and chatting in their own language. As Raistlin rolled the ball to his twin, Kitiara swooped down and picked it up, holding it above their heads. "Ca-mon!" Raistlin cried, grasping for the ball. Kit blinked, sitting down on the floor beside the twins. "What did you say?" she asked, letting the ball roll to the ground.
"Ca-mon!" Raistlin grinned, showing off his teeth. Caramon clapped his hands at his twin's ingenuity, and then proceeded to give Kitiara a dirty look for taking their ball.
By the time the twins were five, the connection between them was unmistakable. Many of the people of Solace would comment on the lack of rivalry between them, and if the observation was not completely true, it was disturbingly accurate.. They were never seen apart, even if the other children taunted them for it.
Caramon unerringly defended his twin, and earned more than a few bruises after the frequent fights it caused. Raistlin told his brother not to, but Caramon would hear none of it. In his child's mind, nobody was allowed to tease his brother. That was a righty reserved only for him, and even he rarely took advantage of it.
This was when the nightmares started. Late in the night, Raistlin would wake up screaming, and Caramon would sit by his brother's side, making shadow puppets on the wall. When Raistlin would eventually fall asleep, Caramon would do everything in his power to stay awake. His brother needed him to keep the monsters away.
Before the swords, before the magic.
When it didn't matter who was stronger, and who was weaker.
While shadow bunnies made nightmares go away.
And they were eachother's helping hand.
Before brother slew brother,
And severed that tie forever.
- ---
A little bit of a darker ending, but now you know (at least what I think), it could have been that caused the first of Raist's nightmares.
Reviews are greatly appreciated!