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It was the day after Christmas and Dorian was cleaning up the leftover mess, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Fi. They'd had everyone at their place both Christmas eve and day; Fiona had loved it, especially getting to see her nephew rick, but it had exhausted her. Unfortunately, rest was a concept the woman had a difficult time grasping, he swore she was turning him grey. Dorian tied the now full garbage bag and was setting it down when he felt his pocket vibrate. He pulled out his phone and checked the message, then made his way to the door.
"I was worried I might wake her if I rang or knocked," explained Will.
"I appreciate it, want some coffee?" Dorian asked, leading him into the kitchen, noting the strain and worry on the man's face.
Oddly enough, the two had formed an unexpected friendship, once Will had been convinced the Council could not be trusted.
"Thanks."
"Of course. So what's wrong?"
"A lot," Will sighed, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. "God, I don't know where to begin. Things are about to get real bad, real fast, Dorian."
"Bad for whom?" he questioned, setting two steaming mugs down on the table and sitting himself.
"Technically, everyone, more so for us and those that matter to us, especially for Fiona," replied Will, his distress over this fact clear.
"Fiona can't have bad right now," Dorian whispered, dread pooling in his stomach. "Her body can't handle it; our son, certainly, can't handle it. How bad are you talking about Will!"
"You know how surprised we were by the council acquiescing to Fi's rule? Well," Will paused, running his hands over his face and through his hair, "they weren't. Most of them weren't, anyway. They've been quietly double crossing us for the past year, and the few who would be on our side are too scared of the others to go against them. I believe, and my research supports, that this… sect of the Council has been operating behind the scenes in secret for centuries. Slowly gaining power and knowledge, until they were ready to strike."
Dorian sat stunned for a moment, unable to process what he'd just been told, finally, "How didn't we realize this sooner?"
"I don't know, I've asked myself that so many times this morning… they're good Dorian, unbelievably so. But then they've had years to become good, until Fi there was never a Vercanuntise strong enough to go against them, there was never a witch willing to stand. Now, when there finally is one… they're just too good."
"We'll have to be better," he murmured. "We should never have stopped looking into those disappearances… Fi and I have been trying to continue to track money trails with no success, it all keeps turning up cold. It explains why the contract for Fiona's life was nullified, they needed to focus more on covering their tracts. Do you have any idea what their planning?"
"Only rumors, none of it can be substantiated," Will told him.
"Rumors are better than nothing," Dorian insisted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least, it would give us a place to start."
"It's bad, Dorie."
"How bad?"
"They want power. I'm not sure who their ringleader is, but rumor has it they've been trying to find, have found, a way to cast the Vercanuntise out of Fi, and bind it to a magical object, so they can use its power," Will finished, disgust in his tone.
"But that would…"
"Kill Fi, yeah," answered Will. He studied Dorian for a few moments, worried by the man's lack of reaction and what it meant, "Dorian, preemptively killing the Council won't stop this, at least not permanently, it's bigger than just them, it has to be. Besides, they have rights, if you execute them without a trial, without absolute proof of their treason, Fiona will be forced to sentence you to execution for murder. Could you do that to her, force your pregnant wife to become a widow by her own hand? On top of everything else she has to deal-"
"Enough Will, you've made your point," Dorian snapped.
"So you won't-"
"I was never going to," Dorian interrupted, raking a hand through his hair.
"You mean you honestly didn't consider simply assassinating them?" asked Will, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
"Of course I considered it," sighed Dorian. "Violence may be embedded in my nature, my magic but it does not rule me, Will. I am not the animal I was born to be."
"My apologies," conceded Will sincerely. "I was out of line."
"Not necessarily, it's good to be reminded of what I'm capable of, of the line I walk," Dorian whispered quietly, distractedly. Shaking his head, "How do they mean to cast the Vercanuntise out of her, I mean it's not a possession, this force was reincarnated within Fi, it's as much a part of her as her own DNA. It doesn't make sense."
"I don't know, like I said this is all based off of rumor, I can't prove any of it. But like you said, it gives us a starting point," Will answered. "The question is, though, what do we tell Fiona?"
Dorian opened his mouth to answer when a scream echoed around the apartment. The two men raced toward the bedroom, fear coursing through them. Dorian burst through the door first to find Fi, curled in on herself in a ball, in the center of the bed, shaking. He had almost reached her when she let out another God-awful scream. The crystal vase on the dresser shattered. Dorian flicked out his hand, and the shards hissed into white smoke before disappearing altogether. He climbed up next to Fi and pulled her quaking form into his arms, cradling her. She screamed.
"Come on, baby, wake up," he tried to soothe, stroking her hair. "It's just a dream, I'm here now, wake up for me."
She gripped his shirt, shaking, whimpering, one arm wrapping around her abdomen.
"Come back to me now, baby, I've got you. You're alright Fi, just wake up for me, please, baby," he murmured again, pressing a kiss to her temple as he rocked her.
Fi let out a whimper, curling into him, "Dorian?"
"Yes, I'm here, I've got you," he whispered in relief. "That's it love, it's over, now, you're awake, safe."
"My baby," she cried.
"He's right here, sweetheart," he assured, pressing one of her hands against her swollen belly, covering it with his own- their son gave an obliging kick.
"Oh God," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "They were taking him, killing him, and I couldn't stop them, Dorie."
"It was just a dream, honey," he whispered, tightening his hold. "It's over now, he's safe, you're safe. I promise."
Fi fell silent, crying quietly into his shirt. Dorian just held her as her shaking slowed to a stop, rubbing her back.
Will stepped back into the room, setting a cup of tea on the bedside table. He held up ten fingers. Dorian nodded, grateful as the man turned to let himself out. Finally, Fi's crying came to a stop.
"Are you feeling better, love?" he asked, loosening his hold enough for her to look up at him.
"Not really. God, Dorie, I've never felt such fear before," she told him.
"It's over now. It was just a dream."
"What if it wasn't?" she whispered.
"We'll be careful but, love, your magic is sporadic and unreliable at the moment, at best it's dangerous for you. The chances that this was a vision are small," he replied but seeing her continued worry, added, "however, we will be careful. Love, we will keep our child safe."
"Promise?"
"I promise," he said, standing up with her, and carrying her to the bathroom. "Why don't you clean up and I'll fix the bedding. The witch-doctor will be here soon."
"What?" she demanded, as he set her on her feet, clearly unhappy.
"Baby," he said gently, cupping her face. "You blew up the vase, and there's a fair number of other broken items strewn about the room. You know how dangerous using magic can be while you're pregnant. She's just going to make sure you both are alright."
"We're fine!" she snapped. "We don't need a checkup. I don't want one."
"I didn't ask what you wanted. Fiona, this isn't an argument you're going to win, so you might as well acquiesce with a little grace. Now go get cleaned up," he told her firmly, turning her towards the bathroom, and giving her an affectionate pat on the butt.
She threw a glare over her shoulder before storming in and slamming the door behind her. Dorian chuckled and made his way to the bed. He had just started to straighten it when Fi's horrified voice called out.
"I broke the crystal vase!"
A little while later, Fi forced down the god-awful concoction her witch doctor and midwife insisted was necessary for her baby's health.
"I'm afraid we had to make it stronger than usual, because of the magic your body instinctively used while dreaming. Now, you probably feel a little weaker than normal due to the strain caused by the dream and using magic but a few days bed rest and you'll be fine, don't worry," assured the witch doctor. "As for the dream itself, I'm aware you are prone to visions when you sleep but I highly doubt this was one. You're stressed and as an expectant mother, given to worry about your baby's well-being. It is most likely that your powers caused your fears to manifest in the form of a dream. Even if this was some sort of vision your powers are too erratic now to be able to interpret accurately. Don't worry yourself, Honored Priestess, it isn't good for the baby, or for you."
"Now," said the midwife, turning to Dorian, "she needs to drink the potion every two hours for the next 24, I've left enough in the refrigerator. You'll see that she takes it?"
"Of course I will," he replied, ignoring Fi's scowl.
"Then we'll show ourselves out," she replied as they took their leave.
"God, I hate that stuff. And don't look at me like that," she snapped, setting the glass aside. "I'll still drink it."
"I never said you wouldn't," he replied pleasantly.
"Only because you'd pour it down my throat if I didn't," she said, surly.
"Of course," he smiled, tucking her into bed.
"Stop smiling! And what are you doing?" She asked, trying to sit up – he didn't let her.
"Tucking you in," he told her, bringing the comforter up to her chin.
"I don't want –"
"I didn't ask what you wanted. You need to rest. You are going to stay in bed, and you are going to try to sleep," he informed her, knowing that in a few more minutes it would all be moot – the midwife would have added a gentle sleeping aid to the potion.
"She put something in it, didn't she?" Fi sighed.
"Would I let her do that?" He smirked.
"Yes," she huffed.
"It's for your own good, love," he reminded her gently.
She worried her bottom lip, "I'm still scared, Dorie. I don't care what they think, I know in my gut that something's wrong!"
"Then we'll take it seriously and be careful," he soothed, stroking her hair back. "You know your mind and powers better than anyone."
"Thank you," she murmured, the sedative starting to take effect.
"Always," he answered, running his knuckles lightly along her jaw line. "Go to sleep."
"Stay with me," she asked, her eyelids fluttering closed.
"Always," he whispered.
"Of course, Master," Councilman Grey bowed to the spirit he had summoned. He looked at the loyal Council members who stood with him, then, to no one in particular, "Bring me the dagger and bowl."
One of the faithful scurried off, eager not to displease their leader. He returned a moment later with a pewter bowl filled with a sweet smelling liquid and the jewel encrusted dagger which belonged to Dravhind's family line – two of the jewels were missing. He held the bowl while Grey took the knife and pressed the tip to his palm just under his first finger. He glanced at the spirit again, a niggling doubt making him hesitate. The spirit smiled encouragingly, and Grey reminded himself that this was necessary to seal their agreement. He was being silly, besides showing his fear would make the others question his leadership. Steeling himself, Grey dragged the blade diagonally across his palm. He immersed his hand in the potion, refusing to wince despite how badly it stung. It was with relief that he lifted his hand out and set the blood stained dagger in the bowl instead. Grey turned back to the spirit and forced himself to walk steadily into the circle of candles.
"You have done well," lauded the spirit. "Exactly as I have instructed. Are you ready to seal our bargain?"
"Yes, Master," Grey murmured, holding out his hand.
The spirit took the offering his supplicant didn't know he had made. Agony scoured through Grey, his knees buckling yet the spirit would not release him.
"What are you doing!" He demanded in horror, it felt as if he was being ripped from his own body.
The spirit simply smiled, then grew bright like the tip of a white-hot poker. Grey screamed and slowly the bright light seeped into his wound until it had disappeared entirely and Grey himself was glowing. The light faded, the screaming stopped, and Grey's body rose to its feet. He looked the same except for his eyes, his now bright silver eyes.
"Councilman Grey?" Asked another Councilman nervously.
"No," the voice was smoother, deeper.
"M – master?" Asked another, his voice trembling.
Grey's body smiled as the pathetic humans surrounding it fell to their knees in fear.
Fi sat on the couch as she forced herself to read the page she had been staring at for ten minutes. There was no reason to be nervous she reminded herself, again. She was safe in her own home, Dorian had made sure of it. Their apartment was practically a fortress. Besides, she told him to go out, insisted she would be fine on her own while he got groceries. It was just that dream. It had made her paranoid. She snapped the book shut, determined to get a hold of herself. Resolving not to think on it anymore, Fi decided to finalize their New Year's plans. She only had a couple days left. Normally her family would all go out but due to the complications of her pregnancy they would be celebrating at Fi and Dorian's. She smiled and caressed her stomach. She was 26 weeks now, and still found it hard to believe. After all, she'd been told she would miscarry in the first trimester, that as the Vercunantise her body could not support pregnancy. In fact, she was the first Vercanuntise to become pregnant. But they were proving the 'experts' wrong. Fi smiled again as her son gave a kick. A moment later, she was drawn from her musings by the footsteps behind her. She turned to look.
"Your back al –" she trailed off, her chest tightening with fear. "Councilman Grey."
"Not anymore," came a soft, sleek voice.
The man looked up, made eye contact. Fear surged through Fiona as the ancient spirit in her recognized his eyes.
"No!" Came the Vercanuntise's voice, tinged with fear and anger, as Fi's arm wrapped protectively around her unborn child.
"Yes," he answered.
"It's not possible," whispered the Vercanuntise's voice again, its presence somehow being there without taking over Fi.
"All things are possible, my Untise," he replied, taking a step closer. "You should have known you could not keep me imprisoned forever. I told you once, long ago, I always keep what is mine. And you, Untise, are mine. You always have been, always will be. No matter what you throw in my path, no matter how far or fast you run. I will always come for you."
"No."
"Come wife, don't you tire of this game we have played for millenniums now," he took another step closer. "Stop trembling, husk."
"Oh, are you talking to me now?" Sneered Fi, unsure where she ended and the Vercanuntise began, at the moment.
"You fear for your child, but it is already too late. My people bought your witch doctor and midwife long before you conceived. They've been steadily poisoning you from the start, without my personal interference you will carry to term but your child will die within hours of its birth."
She shook her head, refusing to believe but having to ask, "Why?"
"Do you think I would allow my wife to bear another man's child?" He hissed.
"I am not your wife!"
"No, you are a husk needed only to preserve my Untise or Vercanuntise as became her title when the elements blessed her as the highest priestess of magic. I wish they hadn't, it's when you turned against me, Untise."
"No, my love," came the Vercanuntise's voice, soft with memory. "I never turned against you, your actions, choices, forced me to condemn you, even when it killed me inside."
"That is the past, it matters not now. I've come for you," he held out a hand.
"No," said the Vercanuntise as Fi stood up.
"Please, I don't want hurt you, Untise, but I will if you don't cooperate," he threatened softly.
"I did not yield before you the first time, nor will I this time."
His mouth thinned, and before Fi could deflect it his curse threw her against the wall. Fi managed to turn herself so she fell on her hip not her stomach. She threw back her own curse, but he deflected it easily and sent her into the mirror over the fireplace. As shards of glass rained down around her, Fi felt the words 'let me' press softly against her mind. Knowing she was no match for this man, she gave herself over entirely to the other soul that shared her body. She had never done it so completely before, and though it was weird being trapped in the corner of her mind where she assumed the Vercanuntise resided, cut off from her senses, she accepted this risk as necessary. She hoped it was enough, hoped that her child survived it.
Fi wasn't sure how long she'd been trapped in the blackness but slowly it started to lift. She blinked, and found herself, once again, the authority of her body. The color drained from her face though, as she realized she was on the ground looking up at Grey, or rather, whatever it was that possessed him.
"You always were a fighter, but this isn't over. You may have won today, Untise, but I will come back for you."
His hands framed her face as he lowered his head to hers, as he pressed his lips to hers. Fi tried to push him away but couldn't. He moved his lips firmly against hers, forcing his tongue inside, swirling it against hers. It made her feel sick. Finally, he pulled away. Keeping her face cupped with one hand, he let the other trail down her neck, over her breast, along her stomach, until finally his hand rested over her most intimate place. He smiled at her, enjoying the fact that she couldn't move. His last curse had been effective. He pressed his palm into her, and Fi couldn't stop the tear that escaped. He brought his other hand down to rest on her belly.
"If it wasn't for this, I'd take you right now, enjoy my right as your husband. Still, this thing won't be in the way much longer," he told her, his hand glowing bright white against her abdomen.
Fi's eyes closed as pain ripped through her. It eased a little and she forced her eyes open to find her assailant gone. She still couldn't move and she couldn't draw on her magic. She tried to fight down her panic as she felt something warm and wet spreading between and down her legs.
Dorian sat in the hospital, head in his hands when Fi's family rushed in. Molly knelt in front of him, and gripped his arms. He met her eyes. He was pale and hollow. The arrogant, and commanding man her daughter married looked utterly broken.
"Dorian," she whispered.
"I should have been there," his voice was rough, strained as if he were trying not to cry. "She was so pale, and there was so… So much blood. At first, I couldn't find her pulse. They don't know…"
Molly stood up and sat down next to him. She wrapped her arms around him the way she would her own son. He let her.
"She's going to be okay, baby. She's a fighter," Molly tried to soothe, too afraid to say anything about the baby.
How long they stayed like that, neither was sure. Finally, the surgeon came out. Slowly, Dorian and Molly, stood up, unconsciously gripping each others hands.
"I'm so sorry. We did everything he could but it just… wasn't enough."
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