I am so so sorry i took such a long break here. My muse was lost in this fandom, but hopefully i can get back in the swing of things. I'm not really impressed with this chapter and it's short but it's a foray back into this story and this fandom. I hope you don't hate it too much :)
"Micah wishes to come with three others, Truth and two members of our kiss for food." Wicked reports, stepping just inside the door. He has his hands folded behind his back, but the bitter scent of blood and the small stain on his jacket are obvious, inspiring awful worry. Wicked shakes his head, followed by a small nod in our direction and I take it as reassurance that he is fine. We turn our attention to Merry and her men as she converses quietly with the tall dark one, Doyle.
"Doyle seems interested in meeting the rest of this legendary Wicked Truth, but what do you mean by food? We have donors here for blood, and well stocked kitchens." It's nice that she seems to have realised Micah is a non-optional entity, perhaps an understanding forged of women with more than one man in their life.
"Ah, members of our kiss, myself and Anita included, feed from the ardeur. Lust and sex, and often this would not be an issue for a short stay but Anita's appetite has increased in this along with others and she will not participate in casual relations." I blush furiously, ducking my head. Merry tilts her head slightly to the side, assessing us, considering us and suddenly I'm back to feeling paranoid and edgy. Enough so to leak into the others, Jean-Claude reaching out and grasping my hand lightly, thumb rubbing gentle circles over my knuckles.
"Maybe when our children are not under metaphysical attacks, we can actually sit and discuss the truths of the rumours surrounding your kiss, Jean-Claude." Merry smiles, garnering a nod from him that is mostly likely just a false agreement to her request. He never, not with unknown others of older races that could possibly destroy us, discuss what is truth and what is lie surrounding the suspicions of our people. Apparently, she accepts his slight nod as acquisition to her need for knowledge and turns back to Wicked.
"Tell your people they are welcome, and there will be people by the mounds waiting for their arrival." Wicked bows, backing out of the room with a small glance to Jean-Claude and myself. The boys go back to conversing with Merry and her people, distracting her from talking with me directly, sensing my unease, while I wait for the others to return.
"That was so odd." Nathanial whispers to me once he has skipped back into the room with the others, something between confusion and fascination in his voice. "That guy, Rhys? He kind of bled onto a mirror and searched somehow for an open connection, and then suddenly Micah was looking at us through the mirror laughing an-" Jean-Claude shoots him a 'you need to be quiet now' look that has Nathanial blushing at his own excitement.
"You can tell me about it later." I whisper back to him before grasping his hand and pulling him close into my side. His hand drops to my swollen stomach, stroking gently, allowing a sense of familiarity and safety to wash over me before Damian begins to speak to the crowd assembled in the room.
"It is very generous of you to allow so many of our people in your territory, Meredith." He smiles blindingly, his green eyes glinting in what others would perceive as gratitude, and with what I know is falsification for the sake of our safety. "Micah will be here within the hour. He is bringing with him the Vampire Truth; Jean-Claude's pomme, a lycanthrope named Jason and another by the name of Jade. I hope that will be appropriate." Damian is still smiling gently, tense lines around the edge of his mouth as I nod in approval of his choices. Jade has not liked being far from me since she had arrived, even less so now that I was heavily pregnant, and Jason was a good choice all around for pretty much everything. I was worried that now that Richard had recovered from the control Olaf's witch had had over him he would demand to come, but grateful that he had clearly not pushed to be here. He was over bearing and sometimes painful to be around, guilt ridden for his actions, and in the middle of an attack is certainly not the best place for him yet.
"Given that we seem to be under some kind of attack, I'd say the more the merrier. And if you trust them, we will accommodate them." Doyle nods to them in reply, hand on Merry's shoulder protectively.
"Speaking of an attack, can someone please tell me what the hell that was?" I blurt out, leaning into Nathanial's shoulder as the snappish level of my voice filters back to my own ears and glancing around apologetically. Everyone of my own people beside Jean-Claude and Asher have frozen slightly, expecting rebuttal for my attitude, but Merry just waves it off and frowns.
"I'd like to know that myself, according to everyone we asked here it isn't magic that's been felt before. All I could feel was that it wasn't just focused on me. I could feel you as you got closer to us."
"Is that why the pain got more intense the closer to the mounds we got? Before your people extended the shield to include us?" I rest my hand protectively on the swell of my bump over Nathanial's, feeling the way his fingers twitch minutely in time with each of the children's heartbeats. Merry nods, her own hand covering the top of her own stomach's swell.
"Since Minstrel put up the shield blocking the magic, about three hours ago, I've had seven contractions. It's incredibly slow, but according to our healers I am in labour and there is no stopping it now. Have you felt anything since you got here?" The green man, Galen, is sat before her now, rubbing a hand up her calf in a way that I myself am familiar with, a subtle comfort. I shake my head.
"A strange pressure, and some twinges, but nothing like contractions, and nothing like that pain earlier." I confess, reaching out my other hand and twining my fingers with Jean-Claude, who is leaning into Asher with an arm around his waist. Damian and Wicked have taken up stances behind us, bodyguards during this strange situation. "Do you have any idea who could do this?"
"Could be a lot of people, a lot of things. The Unseelie Court is not friends to many after my aunts reign and my cousins madness. We've made ourselves some enemies." Merry smiles tightly, clutching at Doyle's hand on her shoulder. The silver haired one shifts closer, pressing himself into her back in reaction to her unease.
"The same, I fear, can be said for ourselves. I suspect a long list of coupables between us." The youngest of us in the room, Nathanial, myself and Merry, turn to him as he uses a French word we do not understand.
"It means culprits." Asher chuckles, nudging Jean with his shoulder with a smile. As usual in unknown company, Asher is hiding the scars on his face with shadows and his hair, throwing false, blinding smiles at people. Still, even now, it pains me to see him put up this defence. Causes a heartache to know he still doesn't understand how unbelievable beautiful he is, especially with the scars littering his body.
"Ah, oui, culprits. I fear a long list of them, although I'm sure we could narrow the list down to those with the most ill feelings towards us, non?" His accent, strongest when he is under stress or worried, laces his voice heavily today.
It is in no way reassuring, the way the men with me keep reverting to long since learnt tells. Giving away their worry, their anxiety, their downright fear if the way Nathanial is clinging to me is anything to go by. Although, I'm sure it is mostly for my welfare, it is still disturbing to see. The last time this amount of discontent having been shown was when I returned home unable to control the power of the Mother inside of me.
"How about we start with the first on our respective lists and work on ruling them out one at a time? Who would want to hurt us the most?" I inquire, leaning forward slightly, causing Nathanial to adjust himself, wrapping his arms around my swollen stomach, head resting on my shoulder blade. I can feel his warm breath against my hair and neck, the scent of his vanilla is intoxicating and I can almost feel the ardeur rise in response to the promise of sex and love wrapped in the package that is Nathanial. Instead, I focus on Merry, who has turned to her men in silent conversation, and force the ardeur away with the cool that comes from the well timed brush of Damian's fingers against my neck.
"Our biggest… culprit at the moment would be my uncle. The king of the Shining ones. The Seelie." There is hard hatred underneath Merry's still pleasant tone, whispers of disgust and the same residual fear that I felt when I recalled the things Olaf had wanted to do to me. "He- took me when I first found out I was pregnant and well- I'm sure you read the news reports." Her voice tapers off into a tiny whisper, one that would have been missed had we not had preternatural hearing. It takes a second of brain wracking before I recall what she had spoken about, the kidnap and sexual assault of the fairie princess(at the time) by her uncle had been huge news. Painful news that came after my own almost experience. Meredith's men have gathered closer, surrounding her gently in support as she takes a deep breath, centring herself. Opening the shields slightly with Jean-Claude, I begin to whisper to him, hoping that our conversation will be private here in the fairie mounds.
"Our biggest enemy right now is Belle. Do you think we will be safe from her here with the ardeur always so close to the surface and her so close to breaking through now that the mothers power is locked down again?" He nods almost beyond perception, and the others around us do not seem to have noticed. Whether that is because they can not hear or are just versed in the ways of being polite during a mind to mind conversation, I do not know. Although, that thought itself, it's absurdity, makes me want to giggle madly. A response I'm going to put down to hormones and stress, because I do not giggle.
"Even if we are not, we must consider the possibility, and she is being targeted also. She deserves to know, ma petite." Jean-Claude's smooth, gentle voice filters into my mind, sending shivers up my spine. My body has recently taken to missing him whenever we are not directly touching or our shields are open to each other. With a sigh, I turn my attention back to the fairie queen and her men.
"Our biggest person of interest right now is a woman named Belle Morte. A member of the now disbanded European council of Vampires. She has been targeting us for years, but situations have prevented a full attack. Perhaps she is finally ready to retaliate after what we have done to her?" The question is directed towards Jean, who shrugs his shoulders, tense with worry. It was something we had already considered as we began the assembly of a new, American council with our kiss and Jean-Claude at its head. Belle had made it quite clear, in a heated invasion of my mind not long after I absorbed the power of the mother, that she would destroy us once she found means.
Maybe now, she had found her means.