Here's the second half of chappie 12!
Woohoo! This is the chapter I've been waiting for, cuz it's all about what happens... well, you'll see X)
Thanks to all the reviews, favs and watches, you're great crowd! *takes a bow*
Next chapter will be very interesting. The most interesting thing for YAOIFANGIRL1996 is the HermanxEdward she's been waiting for ^^ Also... Its Gregory's first time dealing with... well, you'll see!
"Cheslock, keep that curtain closed before someone sees us" The fag did so, obeying his superior and giggling to himself with how they were able to outrun the guards, and get into the carriage of Gregory's father. They sat on black velvet seats inside the gothic coach, Cheslock seated on the one directly across from Gregory, while the Prefect sat with his father.
"That was one of the greatest thrills eva!" The cockatoo Brit exclaimed, "Boy, the school will boil their asses in oil if its ever found out that-" The youth gasped slightly as he gazed up into the cold, icy violet eyes of the fearsome Grand Duke. He nervously displays a weak attempt of a smirk, before sinking fully into his seat as the ominous sovereign's expression hardened.
"Gregory..." The deep, brooding voice started as the noble creeper placed a hand adorned with silver claws on his son's knee, "what of this, character riding with us?" his tone was quite disapproving of the young man in question. Gregory however just shrugged before quietly answering his father.
"Winston Cheslock is his name, father" the teen started, careful to not offend his parent in bringing this stranger aboard. "He fags for me, and has done so for at least three years now... He... more than anyone has supported me this whole time..." Though he never eyed his father face to face, he made sure to make it clear that Cheslock isn't deserving of the black clad nobleman's disapproval.
The elder says nothing after Gregory's words, his mind forcing him to look beyond the window at the darkening skies, only thinking about his late wife. His sixth sense however, does detect something else was wrong with his son, and battled within his thoughts if he should mention it or not.
As his judgement voted against it, Gregory grew faint, falling onto his shoulder. Desperate shock riddled the noble's porcelain features as he turned to embrace his son's hand.
"Are you not well, my son?" His brooding voice gently inquired.
Gregory moaned some, gripping his abdomen with his freed hand, while his father embraced his other. The young prefect wanted to speak up, but a wave of dizziness and soon, nausea, prevented him from doing so. With a shake of the head, Gregory gripped his abdomen more so, and curled over a bit before muttering something unintelligible. Cheslock looked over with shock and concern. He remembered the last time Gregory was overcome with something terrible, and what resulted of it. As he parted his lips and began to stretch his hand forward, its immediately drawn back, due to his fear of the darkly Grand Duke.
"Gregory, speak to me now" demanded the quite agitated noble, gripping the boy by his shoulder and helping him to lie back in his seat.
"Nnngh" was the first sound Gregory made before shifting his weight to look upward at his father.
"Nnngh... I... pain... my, back" his words came ever so choppy, but he continued with weary eyes, "head... ache... stomac-..." that ended with a slight reflex. "Nnngh... nauseous... I'm... nauseous-" In a surprisingly swift move, Gregory was at the window with his head out, choking, moaning, then came the releasing...
The Grand Duke was mortified by the sound, and was frozen in his shock. What could have made his son so sick, and so acutely? Before he could move from his seat to comfort his only child, Cheslock was there with his arms gently around Gregory, supporting him.
"Dammit Violet!" It appeared Cheslock got a look at the vomiting, "What the hell did you eat? No wander you're sick, and-!" He caught himself right there, remembering he was in the Grand Duke's present. Instead of looking into the wrath of those violet eyes for possibly insulting his son, Cheslock took out his silk, pocket handkerchief and handed it to the young prefect. "There... eh, you alright?" you could hear the nerves quivering in his voice.
Gregory simply nodded as his father took over and drew him back to the black velvet seating, and into his arms. The Grand Duke didn't show any sign of a reaction to Cheslock's display, which made the fag wonder if he was in the clear. Better to stay silent, Cheslock quietly thought while gazing at his prefect's condition.
"The journey will be long, it's best you sleep in your designated cart..." the dark noble started, arm around his son, while petting his knee with his freed hand, "If you can stand, let's go to your-"
"I can't move" Gregory interjects weakly while leaning against his father, "let me rest here... please"
With a sigh, the Grand Duke only nods with a response, petting his ailing son's knee.
The skies were dark, dreary, and cold. The clouds swarmed a lifeless overcast upon Edinburgh, Scotland. The shadows casting over the city, contrasted greatly with the foggy images playing over in a young mind, steeped in his memories.
There were visions of similar dark, cold days of thunder ravishing the skies, while inside the warmth of a majestic country mansion. The image of an adolescent goth with untamed, dark hair, porcelain pale skin, painting a graveyard scene in his black and violet dressed Victorian quarters, is misted in fog... almost faded in appearance.
The youth painted with his usual stoic, gloomy expression, finishing his painting with red drip linings of blood through out his landscape. An outsider would see sadness, loneliness, and even emptiness, but the youth was happy and free by his own definition. He didn't express himself like other young men whose only interest would be style, status, and courting young women. This child, was unorthodox, breaker of new grounds and thoughts, he was eccentric, he was an artist. Very few understood him, one of them being...
The double doors behind creaks open, causing the youth to slowly turn to face the noblewoman behind him. She was youthful in appearance with flowing black, curled locks of hair. Her beautiful indigo eyes were dramatically styled with dark eye shadow. Along with her blackened lips, her make up contrasted fiercely with her flawless pale complexion. Her dress composed of imported violet silk and black lace, adorned with black gems.
She smiled at the young artist, as she entered his room with no permission. The preteen stared back at his work as the lady came from behind, resting her hands gingerly around his shoulders. The pair stared into his artwork; a gated graveyard where in the center, a pair of skeletal lovers waltzed alone under an ecliptic, red moon.
"How beautiful, my child" the woman started, lowering her lips to the boy's ear, "your work never fail to to steal my breath... I can feel the beauty of death in your piece... it makes death something worth looking forward to... wouldn't you agree... Gregory?"...
From there, the vision ends in fog which gradually fades away into darkness.
"... I'm with you... I'll always be with you... until the day of your death..."
Violet eyes waken to a dark room. A familiar room as a matter of fact. A room which brought so many memories back. But... that voice. That wasn't familiar... was it? Soon, the same pair of purple orbs rested on a ghostly image at the window of... a little girl. That girl, from those eerie visions at Weston College. That little girl, her skin smooth and pale, her long black ponytails tied with flowing purple ribbons, wearing the black frilly dress with black stockings and dress shoes.
"I'm sorry I left you" she said, she was facing towards the window, her back to the young man in bed. "I know it hurt you, so badly... But I'm back... I'm back, but inside you now... my dear Gregory..."
Gregory shook his head, blinked his weary eyes multiple times to try and clear his vision, but only to lose it in the end. The girl was gone now, and the room was empty of souls. After a long while, Violet sat up from his old bed, soon recognizing his old bedroom in his family's country mansion. Looking around, taking an eye of his old easel, his cherry wood desk, messy stacks of paper and rolled canvas on the floors, and on the walls were portraits of extended family, done by him. Then, he settles on one of his family. His father, himself... and his mother.
Gregory stared for the longest, and just as his tears rose, so did some digested fluids and solids from his gut. In a flash, Gregory found himself in the bathroom, before the toilet, violently vomiting. In addition to the vomiting and stomach, Gregory's temperature rose in minutes, causing him instant faintness.
"Your highness?" the sickly teen slowly looked up to see a darkly dressed maiden with towels and other supplies. "Are you feeling well, sire?"
Apparently she's a dresser for the royals. Gregory barely shook his head, realizing now he somehow managed to sleep through the trip to Scotland, and was apparently taken to his room last night, never feeling a thing. It also hits him, its the day one of the burial. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, nor could he feel. Even illness seemed non-existent. The maiden immediately summoned others to come and tend to the master's heir.
"My, what a fever!" one of the maiden's cried as she just barely touched him.
"Alert the Grand Duke of his highness's condition!" cried the other, while trying to help Gregory to his feet.
In moments, the dark nobleman appeared in the bathroom's black framed entrance, just in time for the maidens to have his son on his feet.
"You are ill indeed" sighed the brooding voice. "Nevertheless, you will be readied for church services. Several nobles and local ministers will be present for the memorial services, we can't be late..." with that, he makes his way to the door before looking back for a brief moment, and soon disappeared.
Gregory's energy begun to slip from him more by every passing minute. Not just illness, but knowing after burial day, this would be the last time the young man would ever lay eyes on his mother's face again. Knowing this plagued the teen, increasing his illness ten folds each time he gave thought to it.
An hour later, the Grand Duke stood with several men and women of his court, while awaiting his son. Cheslock came down the grand coiling staircase, wearing a black dress suit and dress shoes with a deep violet ascot tie tacked by a silver bat's head brooch. His waistcoat beneath was black and silver. The cockatoo was guided by one of the dreary servants to the foyer where the Grand Duke stood.
Cheslock had to struggle containing himself with the excitement of staying at the Grand Duke's old creepy and vast mansion. Everything in the Victorian style decor was black or dark in color, from the wood of the furniture, to the architectural stone as well as the vast collection of paintings and sculptures. Most portrayed ghastly and dismal characteristics, much to the violet fag's liking.
As the teen made his way to the Grand Duke, he noticed plenty of pieces collected from around the world. One wall showcased several stylus weapons dating as far back as the 6th century to the current date. One some pedestals were old busts from Greece, brass and gold figurines from India and China. There were also what appeared to be tribal miniature figures collected on a grand display on a gothic, black wood table.
Surely this noble is well traveled and in this teen's eye, has acquired exceptional taste. Cheslock had so many questions he would love to ask, but his devious grin and hyper mood is swiftly cut a sunder as he entered the foyer. The Grand Duke, dressed in his most formal black marshal uniform, glared a most deadly scowl at the boy for no apparent reason. Everyone stood in rows on either side of the hall to the grand entrance.
The bleached headed cockatoo cursed at himself for his fear of the noble, but he couldn't help it. This man had the eyes of a stone killer, how could one not fear his very presence?
The Grand Duke looked and wondered as he did, 'what association does my son really have with this... character?'. He didn't trust the boy, not because of Cheslock's visage, no... He knew something had happened with his son. Something grave. The dark noble trusted no soul at this point and craved vengeance against whoever the true culprit may be. Before he could speak to the Violet Wolf Fag, two of his deathly pale, dark cloaked maidens escorted Gregory from the stairs and to the foyer.
Everyone stood and faced the heir duke, who was dressed in a black marshal uniform similar to his father, but with way less decorations and without a sword. The sight just melted his fag's heart, Gregory Violet had always been the most beautiful person in his eyes. Right before the dark noble parted his black tainted lips to speak to his son, Gregory nearly collapsed to the floor, which was alarming. Cheslock beats the Grand Duke to Violet's side, wrapping his arm around Gregory and underneath his arm, trying to help him stand.
"Gregory?" spoke a tone of deep concern from the brooding nobleman, who somewhat took over from Cheslock, taking his son into his own arms.
Gregory paused, feeling the nausea, the headaches, even his slight temperature.
"I..." were the ailing boy's first words, "... I'm weak, father... I'm... sick"
"You're upset because of today..." elder said, gently pulling Gregory back to his feet. "This is the day, your mother is laid to rest... You were close to her, and she invested her heart into your interests. Such a relationship cannot be replaced. But I promise, I shall see to making up for it... All in due time, my son"
"Violet... sir?" quietly spoke the cockatoo, which earned him another one of the Grand Duke's lethal glares.
He decided to ignore it this time as Gregory gently leaned from his father onto Cheslock's shoulder. "Take me..." Violet replied, "I'm to... too weak to walk on my own Ches... Ugh"
"Don't worry Vi', I've got this" the fag grinned. He knew Gregory's reaction caused the brooding noble to step down and for once, Cheslock forced some respect from him.
The Grand Duke, still worried over his son, then lead his court members outside. It was snowing, and the skies were completely consumed in dark, swirling clouds, crying snow. Cheslock hated snow. For one it was too cold, and second he hated when it settled into his fauxhawk. But none of that mattered in the least. Helping his prefect, securing him along the way is the only thing important, second to living at this moment.
The funeral precession carried in the streets, a lavish, grand black coach, holding the casket, was driven by five black stallions, adorned with silver armor, lead an army of horse driven coaches. The second one belonging to the Violet Royal family. The following carts belonged to the Grand Duke's nobles and court, the rest were aristocrats invited to the royal burial.
The streets were flooded with mourning civilians, as this was a most unexpected and tragic loss. Gregory sat in the coach's front row bench, along side his father and his fag. Slowly, he gripped Cheslock's hand, dark eyes sealed shut as water poured profusely from them. Flashbacks from his childhood began to reel in his mind, as the precession carried closer, and closer to the cathedral.
Service started, and the church was loaded with nobles not just from around England, but elsewhere in Europe. Even a few from Russia were present. The guests all brought gifts to the family, their best wishes and prayers as well. Gregory sat in a black throne chair beside his father's, while extended family and his fag stood around them.
One by one, pair by pair, guests came to the family with offerings and words of sympathy for the loss of the Grand Duchess. Gregory was sicker than ever, while his emotions were steeped in sorrow and depression. After a while, he could speak no more to the guests making their offerings and gifts. He sank into his seating, burying his face in his hands, fighting anymore tears that dared to fall.
His father looked sadly towards him, gently laying a hand of black talons onto the teen's quivering shoulder. Cheslock also tried the same, but both attempts failed. The two men could hear the choking sobs. The sound wrenched everyone's heart. So young, too young for such a loss.
At the alter of the cathedral was a beautiful, elaborate black casket, black and violet roses in thick bouquets and wreaths decorated the sight.
The family was the first to pay their last tribute to the late Grand Duchess. Gregory stood there, with a black rose in his hand. He stared into his mother's flawless, still face. Cheslock carefully peered his eyes into the casket. A loud gasp is heard from the cockatoo, gaining him glares of daggers.
"You look just like her!" Cheslock exclaimed, not noticing how obnoxious he was sounding. But it was true.
Cheslock thought that his prefect favored his father, as they share strikingly similar features. But Gregory and his mother, looked like twins. Her body was dressed extravagantly in the casket; she wore a black silk dress with layers of fine lace. Her hands were locked by the fingers, resting on her abdomen, and adorned with multiple diamond full fingered rings, and hand chained bracelets. Her pale face was made up with the Violet family's signature eyeshadow and black lipstick. Her hair flowed in curly locks down to her waist, one stripe of her hair bleached. Just like Gregory's.
Right there, a stifled sob is choked from the body beside Cheslock's. The fag looked to the smaller teen and saw trembling. He knew where this was going.
"Violet?" Cheslock said, and gently placed a hand to the trembling shoulder.
At point of contact, was a loud, ear shattering scream, the echoes pounding the vast space of the cathedral. Gregory fell to his knees, leaning against the casket, lamenting harshly over the sight of this deceased mother.
"MOTHEEEEER!" the boy screamed bone deep, crying uncontrollably; his tears poured, his vocals were being battered."MOTHER, WHY?!... WHYYYY! PLEASE... WAKE UUUP!" After those words, he could only scream in pain. With each outburst, his body quaked as his voice did.
The whole family is down beside the poor child, who fell upon his knees lamenting. The Grand Duke swiftly knelt by his son, embracing him within the first moments he yelled for his mother. Cheslock knelt down too, feeling a sense of panic as, he's never seen Gregory this emotional. Violet, the young prefect at Weston, was the most stoic, unmoving individual at the school. Honestly, Cheslock would believe he'd see the day Greenhill cry like this before Violet. It was as if Gregory was letting out all the emotions he's never shown in his years alive, here in this moment.
Cheslock tried stretching out his shaky hand to soothe his boss, but like his apology, they never reach him.
"Vi-Violet! I-I I'm sorry! I-, didn't- gah!" He then muttered to himself, 'damn it! Did I say something wrong?'
In truth, Violet was bound to break at any moment. Whether or not Cheslock made his statement.
Gregory kept crying, mourning, lamenting, his face forced against his father's well decorated chest. The young man continued to call for his mother, clawing his fingers into his father's uniform, his actions begged for comfort.
"Gregory" the Grand Duke spoke, though broken, his voice was as dark and thunderous as ever, "calm... You will only injure yourself and invigorate your current condition. Yet, don't hold back, your emotions are strong and must not be buried. Your mother will be greatly missed, my son... let us see to it we don't fail her. She will live on through your works"
Gregory tried listening, but he couldn't contain himself. He continued to scream bone deep, running his vocal cords ragged. The Grand Duke could no longer restrain his emotions now. He could barely face dealing with the loss of his beloved wife... but to see his little boy shattered to pieces, it only killed the strength he had left. The man drew his son close and began to fiercely rocked him back and forth, soon, shedding tears of his own.
The rest of the family, the Grand Duke's brothers and sister, their spouses and children, the Grand Duchess' family, they all centered around the pair in a most loving form, rocking the sorrowed father and son in their grips.
"Your mother left you far too soon, my son" The darkly Grand Duke's voice spoke over so crisp and clear, but his raining eyes told another story. "Somehow, I will find a way to make this up to you"...
Cheslock could only sit on the wooden floors and stare at the tragic sight. He felt helpless and hated this feeling. For one, he was not the emotional type, nor was he built for comfort. But he had to do something. He looked to see Gregory had dropped the black rose he meant to leave in the casket, and that gave him an idea. It was a long shot and risky, but still worth a shot.
As Gregory continued to mourn, he soon found something being forced into his grip on his father's uniform. He and his father looked to the bleached headed cockatoo, though the father displayed disapproving eyes.
Gregory slowly gripped the flower's stem, only for his fag to rip off half the rose and throw the petals in the air, causing a gentle shower of black rose petals.
"This rose has to die one day" Cheslock's started and a stern voice, "It must die... that's just the way it is. Instead of beating yourself into misery over it, you could take the seeds and make some more... err, plant some more..."
Gregory looked at him, somewhat as if he were puzzled by the statement, but... it stopped him from crying, and the Grand Duke saw this. This encouraged the Violet Wolf fag to continue.
"Look, I'm not the philosophical type around here, and that shit I just said probably made the least of sense... all I'm trying to say is I've been here before, 'kay? I lost my mother, and I was fuckin' angry and devastated. But I couldn't stop my life and lose functionality over it; it's in the damn past now. You can't either. You told me, your mother believed in you, and she still does, where ever she is. If you really want to show her you care, then make her proud and all of her investments worthwhile and make all your naysayers eat your dust...!"
Gregory looked with shock ridden over his face. He never heard his fag talk like that before... despite he was still swearing. He didn't realized he was calmed, though his breathing was still a bit heavy from his mourning. Violet eyes slowly looked up to the falling petals, and something about them made Gregory crack a small smile. There was something comforting in seeing them fall. Just as the last petal fell, a strange, warm presence wrapped itself around the Violet Wolf Prefect.
"I didn't leave you... I never did... In fact... we're now bonded closer than ever..."
It was that voice, the ghostly little girl. For some reason now, she was becoming familiar now, familiar like he actually have known her. All of those thoughts made him rest a hand to his lower abdomen. The point of contact was warm and welcoming. He didn't know what he was feeling, but like magic, it washed away his sorrows, and gave him the freedom to let go of it.
At the grave site, Gregory Violet and his grand ducal family stood as the gorgeous casket began to make its journey, descending into six feet below the grounds.
Everyone mourned their last, watching as the black and silver accented casket, adorned with black and violet roses descended further and further down. Gregory stood between his father and fag, and as he watched the casket slowly descend, flashes of memories from his past lit up in his eyes.
Old memories from when he was just four years of age shown in a soft light, from his days with his mother. One memory showed his first time interested in the arts; only six at that time, he painted an abstract form of the marble carved skeletal remains near their grand mantle fireplace. His mother was so astound, she was the first to ever equate him with a genius.
Other memories were of his time growing up, some of when he and his mother would visit the royal library; others were from when his whole family had to host special events for others in nobility of the United Kingdom. He remembered his mother always encouraged him when his aunts and uncles doubted him, or his father wanted to force him down a different path.
Violet remembered the times his mother fought his father's rejection of him entering local art contests, and forced him to attend. He thought about the holidays his family would spend together, Lughnasadh, a harvest festival, being one of his childhood favorites. A sad memory came to mind, the time the family physicians said he was born sterile. One of the most painful episodes of his life, but his mother was there to comfort him; not just with gifts or some leisurely expedition, but just with her comforting embrace.
There was so much she did for him, things he could never recapture or share with another soul. Not even his father. All of this, drew a new set of sobs. Cheslock awkwardly wrapped his arm around his prefect, the farthest he's ever come to comforting another.
"Ey, 'tsokay Vi... it's okay" his voice was also awkward, but Gregory much appreciated his efforts. Soon, something in him though made him end his sobbing, though the tears still flowed. Violet slowly walked up to the burial, looking down at the casket, nearly at the bottom of its resting place. He looked with his violet eyes upon the beautifully dark rose, which lost half its petals, and felt... something was freed. He felt something lighten inside of him, something reassuring. He didn't know what it was, but it was something releasing him of his pain.
"I'm with you, Gregory..." said the voice of that young maiden, "I'm with you now... even though you can't see me... I'm inside your warmth, and very soon... sooner than a full year, we will be together again"
Gregory knew that voice, the little ghostly girl, whom now has become unnervingly familiar with the eccentric teen. But, he substituted her voice with his mother's; and with that, he released the black rose into the grave. He watched as it gracefully disappeared into the darkness of where his mother was finally resting in peace.
The Grand Duke watched the whole display and interaction between his son and this strange fag of his. As much as he didn't initially approve of this "character", he had to let that go. Despite his attitude and distasteful vocabulary, something about this young Winston Cheslock drew Gregory's inner strength, and seemed to help him overcome a grave bit of this tragic loss.
The day after the burial, was the day Gregory and Cheslock returned to Weston College. The voyage back was much more pleasant, as the Grand Duke seemed to be more approving of the relationship of his son and his fag.
The darkly couple weren't too excited about facing the consequences from the Prefect 4 or the Vice Principal for leaving without notice. However their return went eerily smooth. None of the students on campus pointed them out as if they had been missing the past few days. They almost acted as if they didn't see them.
"Master Violet! Mr. Cheslock! You're back!" The pair was greeted by Cheslock's overly enthused fag, Littleton. "You'll be proud, everything has been smooth, we've all started the "top secret" project. HA-HA-HA! It's the masterpiece! Oh, not a single intruder on Violet Wolf property, and-"
"UGH!" Gregory suddenly fell to his knees upon the grass, gripping his stomach painfully.
"VIOLET!" both Cheslock and Littleton cried.
"W-What should we do sir?!" the youngest asked, panicked.
"Violet's been sick as hell the whole time we've been gone" Cheslock started off, wrapping his arms around the ailing prefect. "I'll take him to the infirmary, and let the doctor check him. Let everyone know we've just returned".
While Littleton went off to spread the news, Cheslock had carfully escorted his prefect to the campus doctor. He waited nervously in the main office, while Violet had his check up in a far more distant room.
Gregory had Dr. Watkins, Wilbur Watkins to run a check on him. At first the doctor assumed it was a simple stomach virus. But as his patient went down the line of symptoms he felt, he had a different assumption. One that should be impossible and utterly plain ridiculous, yet... at the same time, could it be? As a man of science of the human body, a person as unique as Gregory Violet was too much of a gift to toy, probe and even experiment a little with.
"Violet, I'll need a urine sample, please" He calmly inquired handing the boy a glass dish.
Gregory took it, somewhat nervous, and left the room to... you know.
The teen prefect returned to the stark white surgical room with the dish containing his urine. Being an avid pulp-fiction reader, he could only guest the doctor had despicable tastes for asking such a thing. Dr. Watkins knew what Violet was thinking and just ignored it. Right now he had something the elitist of the scientific world would die to hold, if his hypothesis was correct.
As Dr. Watkins left, Gregory laid to his side on the white bed, violet eyes peering out a crack of the window curtains. He was filled with fear and anxiety, hoping he hadn't contracted anything serious. He waited, and waited, nausea rose into his throat all over again. The pace of his heart was an unforgiving speed, and all he could do was close his eyes shut and pray.
It wasn't a moment later the doctor returned. The moment the door as much as cracked open, Gregory was up and at the edge of the bedside.
"What is it this time?" the cloaked boy asked ever so anxious.
Dr. Watkins had to struggle with himself to not smile and hold his excitement. Gregory could see this, and it calmed him a bit. Perhaps it's not... serious?
Dr. Watkins took a breath before speaking, and tried to word this as gently as possible.
"Gregory Violet... I have the results, along with some rather interesting news. When you described your symptoms I initially deduced, stomach virus. But as you continued, you mentioned the back pain, head pains as well as the slight fever, in addition to the nausea and dizziness; another possible conclusion came to mind, and I had to be certain of it"
"What is it? Just tell me already" Gregory grew uncharacteristically impatient and agitated.
The doctor then continued, peering his warm blue eyes into the anxious amethyst ones.
"I took the sample you gave me and ran it through a special process which showed high levels of a newly discovered hormone, hCG, in your urine. The discovery of this hormone has paved the way for the ease of diagnosing the common condition with your symptoms. This hormone however... is only present when, a fetus is developing..."
On saying that, Gregory's heart froze. His darkened eyes are widened in abject fear, and confusion.
"Wh-... what?" His voice barely above the whisper of disbelief.
Dr. Watkins then took Gregory's hands into his own gently and finally felt free to smile about this "discovery".
"I... don't know how else to put it" the doctor started, "but Gregory Violet... you are pregnant... you'll... you'll soon be a mother... or maternal father, however you'd like to see yourself"
Gregory just stared, his heart now racing once again. His body soon started trembling, he was fully in shock right now. Dr. Watkins could see this was too much for him to bear, and so slowly, carefully hugged him, allowing the boy to lay his head against his shoulder. Shortly after that, came a choked sob of fear, disbelief, and complete distress.
"It's okay, Violet, its okay" the doctor assured.
Gregory just pressed his face against the doctor's shoulder, tears coming down his beautiful eyes, and down his pale cheeks. His only word spoken, coming from everything he's been through, from Edgar Redmond, his intersexuality, the death of his mother... now this...
"...Why?"
TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA DA!
FINALLYAFTERSOOOOOOOGODDAMN LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!
OH WOW GREGORY'S PREGNANT OUQ gee, will this be easy, hard? Maybe both?
Let me know what you think will come of this. I've been waiting to write this chapter for sooooo long, I love mpregs and learning about intersexuality due to my friend (to whom this fanfic is dedicated to) actually makes "mpreg" something possible.
So anyway, I'll be on the next chapter, which will come out MUCH sooner than last time (like what? 3-4 months since the last update? So awful of me)
BTW don't forget to take the quick poll about which new fanfic I should work on. PLEASE take the poll. I love seeing results :D
Now I'm actually gonna update my "Rival in the Shadows" Grand Chase fanfic, the followers of that one deserves an update ;u;
And any of you are Yugioh 5D's fans, I have a very mature Yusei x Kalin/Kiryu fanfic I'm doing (not a big time fanfic though). Still, it's gonna be REALLY good and graphic 8D
ANYWAY, thanks for all your reviews and support! After so much that's happened to me recently, it's super comforting to see reviews, favs and follows for my work.
Been a great audience, look out for more!
r0cK 0n! Pe4C3!
~GNXmike