Author's Note: Oops! I found a Welcome to Scotland tourism site that says "I" is "Ah," no "Ay." "Aye" or "Ay" actually mean "yes." Apparently Scottish slang is like another language, so Milori's accent/slang isn't true to form, darn it! I've included some phrases that are supposedly true Scottish so you get an idea.
I wanted to comment to readers, but I'm worried this chapter is going to crash because it's super long. (I got a second wind, and the story started running away again! :))
Milori arrived home before Clarion—well before. It was nearly dusk when she arrived, but he restrained himself from going in search of her. She probably needed time away from home to work through the grief. He had a hard time concentrating all day at work because he was worried how she was doing and if her body was holding up. Spruce and Dewey had no idea if she would physically miscarry like a human or if the baby and dust would just absorb back into Clarion. He had shown up once before lunch to check on her, but she had started crying again. So he had sent Thomas missives twice in the afternoon to make sure she was alright because he worried if his presence would make her feel sad again. Clarion finally walked in through the door, her wings drooping and shoulders weary.
He was making spaghetti in the kitchen when she walked in and sat down at the island where he was cooking. She stared at the counter.
Milori wanted to bound over and wrap her in his arms, but he knew she was barely keeping it together and might tip over the edge with even a kiss on her brow. So, he stayed on the other side of the counter and set down the noodles so she knew she had his attention if she wanted it. "Do you want to talk?"
"No," she replied softly without emotion.
Her eyes were slightly puffy as if she had been crying a lot today.
"I think I'm just going to go to bed." She slowly got up. Then her eyes met his for the first time all day. "Are you coming soon?"
He searched her face that was overflowing with pain that was both emotional and physical. "I'm not really hungry. I was making dinner for you. I'll be up in a minute after I put this in the fridge."
She nodded and turned to leave. Her step faltered ever so slightly that no one but a winter fairy would see it.
His eyes narrowed, and he saw her hand move but a millimeter toward her stomach before she relaxed. "You're hurting," he frowned and hurried over to her. Taking her hand, he wrapped his other around her waist to stand beside her. "Do you need to see Spruce?" he asked calmly, trying not to let his panic show so she wouldn't get scared.
She shook her head.
"Are you losing sugar?"
"No, just some cramping a few times today."
He gently lifted her up and took her upstairs.
"I'm fine," she protested weakly, so drained from crying all day. "I'm just going to get a bath and—"
He set her down. "He said to avoid bathing until we know if you'll leak sugar. You might get an infection," he reminded her gently and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
She leaned away without looking at him.
His hand fell to his side, and he stared at her with a broken heart. "Are you angry with me?" he asked softly, his heart hurting.
She didn't move.
He thought she wasn't going to speak to him, but then her chest started heaving.
"I'm so angry," she whimpered as she broke down. "I shouldn't be this upset when she wasn't even actually a formed baby. When we never even got to touch or see her," she hiccuped with tears streaming down her face.
When she looked up at him, tears sprang to his eyes upon witnessing how much pain she was in.
"I can't be around you because you remind me of what we lost. But I don't know how to deal with this by myself, and I don't want you to be alone."
He silently cried as he gathered her to him and held her close while she sobbed. "It hurts because we loved her. It doesn't matter how old she was. Yes, it would be harder if it had happened later into the pregnancy or after birth, but we don't love her any less. I want to be here for you, sweetheart, but I don't know how to deal with this either. Fairies aren't meant to know such sadness, so we can't handle it well. This is something none of us have had to deal with, so we have to blunder through it together. We'll get through this, and it'll hurt a little less every day," he promised, the pain of the loss compiled with Clarion's grief that it was all he could do to remember to keep breathing, hoping he could be strong enough to get her through this.
He worried about her over the next weeks. She threw herself into work. And avoided physical intimacy with him, although her body had no complications. Spruce wanted to do an exam to make sure everything was fine, but she refused. So Spruce told them to what to watch for in case she got an infection. She was so exhausted by the end of each day that she fell asleep as soon as she got home, half of the time skipping dinner. Milori knew she didn't blame him, but they interacted so little anymore that he wasn't sure. So he would seek his comfort during the night when she was asleep—he would spoon her while she was sleeping and pretend she had wanted him to hold her. After two weeks, everything finally exploded.
She came home looking exhausted and gave her customary mumbled 'hello' on her way past him in the living room as she headed to the bedroom. "I'm going to sleep."
He shot up from his spot on the sofa and stormed after her. He had been nervously watching the clock tick until she had arrived well after dark, and his nerves were finally shot. Slamming the bedchamber door behind them just to release some of his anger, he boomed, "Where the hell have you been for the last six hours?!"
She spun around with wide eyes. Then her eyes narrowed angrily. "I'm the queen. I don't have to report to you," she hissed and marched into the closet to get a nightdress out.
He followed her to the middle of the room as she started getting things out to shower. "Don't you dare pull that card!" he snapped, his eyes burning through her as she went around the room. "We agreed when we mated that longer than two hours late and we give notice to each other. Six hours! I didn't know if I should go looking for you, or if you'd rip my head off for it!"
"I was busy," she replied without interest and grabbed a leaf towel and added it to the pile of clothes she was about to take into the washroom.
He finally snapped. Snatching up the towel and clothes, he spun around and threw them out the balcony door. They fluttered down into the living room. He spun around to her.
"That was really mature," she said tightly.
"I don't care," he hissed, his eyes flashing as he thrust a finger at the ground. "You have been pretending like I don't exist for two weeks. I will not throw us away because we lost a pregnancy!" he shouted, at his wits end with trying to get through to her. "I know you can't stand me because it's my fault the baby died and I can't give you more babies, but this is not the end of us!"
She spun away to walk out. He was digging in her wound that was raw and painful yet, refusing to heal. And she couldn't stand the pain.
"Dammit, stop pushing me away! Talk to me!" he snapped and caught her wrist.
"Stop it!" she yelled, jerking her hand away. He touched her. Whenever he touched her it made the mark over her heart come alive, and she would feel the pain she could otherwise lock in a box to stay numb. She backed away from him. "I can't stand you touching me! I can't stand this house! I can't stand being in this barren body!" she cried, her grief suddenly releasing like an angry flood. She ran her hands through her hair, not even knowing what to do with the pain that was beginning to drown her. "Get out," she wept, her hands shaking because she was so angry.
"What?" he whispered, staring at her in shock with tears in his eyes.
She knew her words had cut him, but she was so lost herself that she didn't know how to help him through his grief. If he stayed here, she knew she'd only hurt him more. She turned away. "Get out of the bedchamber."
He slowly walked out of the room with a broken heart.
She wept in the shower and in bed before she finally fell asleep.
He had to sleep on ice so he didn't overheat, so he entered a bit later, too heartbroken to even touch her that night in her sleep.
She woke up during the night and heard intense retching in the washroom. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at the clock to see it was one o'clock. She got up and went to the washroom door. "Milori?" Opening it, she saw him heaving in the sink and his bare torso was wet with perspiration. "Oh Neverland," she whispered in horror. She hurried over and felt his back to find him burning up with fever.
She flew downstairs and got a basin for him. Returning to the washroom, she found him dry heaving. "Honey, we have to get you in winter. I think you have influenza, but your body can't handle a fever in a warm season."
He started to collapse when she tried to help him out of the washroom. His heart was beating far too fast.
"Thomas!" she yelled and turned on the cold shower. "Thomas!" She ran back over to Milori, who was getting worse before her eyes. Half dragging Milori, she got him under the cold water but was afraid to leave him when he fell unconscious. She ran to the window in the washroom and raised her hands to blow it out with the force of pixie dust. "Thomas! Have a winter guard get Spruce!" she called over to the tower on the side of the cabin. A fairy left the tower a moment later, and she ran back to find Milori flushed even under the cold water.
"Winter fairies rarely get influenza, but it's severe if they do," Spruce said after helping her get Milori tucked in bed. "Is it going around the warm seasons?"
She nodded and looked down at Milori in a restless sleep. "I probably brought it to him. I've been checking in on fairies at the hospital. It seems to be a milder version than a few years ago, but it's still putting many in the hospital."
"I'll stop by twice a day to check on him. Have Thomas or someone help get him in a cold bath twice a day. Is it a fast flu?"
"Two or three days at most. Does he need fluids?"
"I'm worried about it getting too warm for his fever. The bag will freeze in winter, but it won't be cold enough for him in spring. I think I'm going to do a large injection and see how he does until morning."
She lightly frosted Milori to help cool him down when he started melting the bed from being so warm.
His eyes fluttered open when Spruce was giving a second, large injection of icy fluid slowly into Milori's arm vein. "Hey, there," Spruce smiled. "I guess this is helping. Giving you some fluids so you don't dehydrate. You have a nasty case of the flu, my friend."
"Is Clarion sick?" he asked weakly, even the movement from breathing making him nauseous.
"Not so far. She's right there." He nodded to the spring side of the bed.
Milori swallowed hard, trying to keep his stomach under control and turned his head only a millimeter toward her.
She scooted closer, still holding his hand on his bed even though hers was starting to burn from being so cold. "Hi, honey. We think it'll only last two or three days. It seems to be worse the first twenty-four hours. How long were you getting sick before I came in?"
"Don't know," he breathed, his stomach starting to roll. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes to try to keep the room from spinning.
"Hold on for just a couple more seconds," Spruce said, trying to push the fluid in faster. He withdrew the syringe and held pressure over the puncture wound just in time for Clarion to shove a basin in Milori's lap just for Milori to get sick.
She sat on her side of the bed all night frosting and bathing him with cold water as the fever raged. The dear man didn't complain one peep when he continued to get sick every fifteen minutes. Spruce had left a couple syringes of fluid in the fridge just in case, with directions to leave them in the freezer for five minutes before use. When Milori's lips became dry and his skin not regaining color quickly when she pressed on his arm, she got another syringe.
"Alright, I've never done this, so I apologize if you get a large bruise," she said, a bit nervous even though Spruce had taught her exactly what to do on the chance Milori got worse while he was gone attending to other winter fairies, who started coming down with the flu that night too. She put on her cape and knelt beside his bed. He laid down his arm, and she knew they only had about eleven minutes before he would get sick again.
She used a tourniquet Spruce had left and tied it around his bicep. "Squeeze a fist a couple times, honey," she said softly. She had to lightly touch his warm chest to remind him because he was so focused on trying to keep his stomach calm so she could do this.
His veins started to bulge as he pumped his fist, and she found one that she thought was her best chance of not blowing it. After cleaning the spot, she picked up the large syringe that was heavy with the several cc's of fluid it contained. He was breathing heavily with his eyes closed, and she knew they were quickly running out of time before he'd need to sit up and get sick. "Alright, love. Hopefully this works." She slowly pierced the needle through his skin and pulled the plunger to make sure she got sugar to know she was in the vein. Then she removed the tourniquet and started pushing the plunger. He was starting to pant from nausea when she only had half of the fluid in. "Hold on, honey."
"I can't," he panted.
"Sweetheart, you need all of this, and the needle is dirty as soon as I pull it out," she pleaded, hoping he could fight it back. "Slow down, you're breathing too fast," she coached gently and breathed with him to slow him down. As soon as she got all of the fluid in him, she pulled out the syringe and held pressure. He rolled onto his other side where she had the basin waiting and got sick.
"You don't have to stay," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper when she came out with a clean basin. His brow was damp again already from the fever.
"Of course I'm staying." She sat back on her side of the bed and frosted him slowly to get a thicker layer on him, but it melted almost as soon as it touched his skin.
He closed his eyes, and she knew he was dizzy. He tried to swallow back the nausea, but his mouth was too dry. He brought up any amount of water she gave, so she leaned over to his nightstand and took a couple ice chips out of a bowl to set to his lips. "Here are some ice chips," she said and gently slipped them past his lips. They melted only seconds later when she saw him swallow. "I'm going to see if Sleet is on duty yet. You need to get in the tub because I think your fever is going up."
Thankfully Sleet, who was new to the cabin night watch, had arrived minutes ago. And Alamurs couldn't catch influenza.
He lifted Milori, who was semiconscious, with some effort. "Why isn't he at the hospital?" Sleet demanded as he lowered Milori into the ice bath.
She knelt beside the tub to help Sleet hold Milori above water when he fell unconscious again. "He can't really tolerate the warm air with his fever," she fretted and started scooping the water over Milori's shoulders and neck. She dipped a rag in the water and set it on his brow, worried about his brain overheating.
"Hell with this." Sleet picked up Milori, who was completely limp and soaking wet.
"What are you doing?" she panicked and stood.
"Cut your finger and rub the sugar on my wings."
"What?! Sleet, put him back in the water," she snapped. "Don't you dare play games."
"Dammit, do it! Alamur wings get temporarily stronger if sugar is shed on them!" he barked. "I'm taking him to Frost Lake. It'll be so cold the fever will leave him. Do it!" he snapped when she hesitated. "I saw it work once!"
She knew Milori was getting worse by the minute, so she grabbed Milori's razor and slashed it over her wrist to get sugar out the fastest.
"What the hell?! I said finger. Dammit, now you're going to bleed out while I'm gone with him!"
"Milori can heal it," she said and stepped around him. She rubbed her sugar all over his wings and then flew back around to Milori. She set his hand over her wrist and held it there for a moment until it started to feel cold. She let go of his hand, her wound sealed over enough, and Sleet shot out the broken window with Milori.
She paced for the fifteen minutes they were gone and was about to grab her cape and go after them when she saw glows in the distance. It was snowing in winter, so she couldn't tell it was them until they were nearly to the cabin.
Sleet laid Milori in bed.
"He's cooler," she said with relief and tucked the ice blanket up to Milori's chin. "And he's not flushed."
"Give him some water now before he warms up again. He should be able to keep it down." He helped her prop up Milori with pillows, and set set a cup to Milori's lips.
"Milori, drink some water," she coaxed and softly stroked his throat.
He swallowed by reflex but was starting to come around after a few minutes when she continued talking to him. She felt terrible when he started drinking like he'd never see water again and she had to take it from him. He licked his lips, his mouth dry again from being so dehydrated.
"I'm sorry. You'll get sick if you have too much," she apologized and helped Sleet lay him down again.
Milori was asleep an instant later.
Clarion turned to Sleet, who looked as scary as he ever did, but she saw a soft side of him that must be what Silvermist could see. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it possible, but she hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered with tears in her eyes.
He gently pushed her away, embarrassed by the sentiment. "He's my general," he said gruffly.
She smiled softly, knowing he was hiding his sentiment for Milori.
"For shit sakes, don't let him get that warm again," he scolded and boarded the window. Then he flew back to his post, cursing the entire way back.
She smiled to herself and held vigil until Milori woke up hours later.
He had ice packed around him and was in the tub. Clarion was kneeling and holding him up. One of his arms was taped up with two intravenous lines.
"Hello, honey. Are you feeling better?"
"Kind of."
"Sorry," she said with a sheepish look. "Spruce took ill too, so Sleet and I are playing healer. He seems to know what he's talking about, and I haven't blown more than one of your veins, so I think we're doing alright. Oh, and you're still alive," she smiled and slipped her hand into his. "Sleet ran to winter to get more ice for your bed because you melted through it. It's been about twenty-four hours, so I think the worst is over."
He still felt exhausted and weak, but he studied her, unsure if he was hallucinating how friendly she was being. "You stayed," he said, having wondered during his semiconsciousness if she would stay with him.
"Of course I stayed," she frowned.
"I knew you wouldn't leave, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to be in here..."
She looked away sadly and started running a rag over his upper chest and shoulders now that he was able to hold himself out of the water. "I wasn't going to leave you with someone else to take care of you. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you." Her face crumpled and her lip quivered. "And I didn't mean it that I can't stand being around you," her voice broke. "At work I can shut down and get my mind off of things. But you...it hurts to be near you because I can feel your grief too," she whimpered. "I know I haven't been there for you. I don't know how to when I can't even keep myself together," she wept. "I miss you." She buried her face in her hands that were wet and beat red from being so cold caring for him in the ice water. Her shoulders shook with her soft cries, and she started to get up to leave.
"Please," he sniffled with tears filling his eyes. The mark on his chest hurt for the first time ever. It burned and his heart began to throb painfully with every beat. It was her pain that he realized he was feeling. She had opened up and now it came with a crushing force. It was painful to breathe. The grief and devastation were so strong that he felt the blackness in his heart spring to live, thriving on the anguish. He touched the mark, but her love was buried so deep in the grief that he couldn't reach it. So he had to pull his heart away from her so the blackness didn't spread in his heart and kill him. A moment later, he felt her heart shut him away. And he suddenly knew she was staying away to protect him from her causing the blackness to spread. He tried to lean forward to catch her hand, but he was too weak. "Don't go."
She stilled but didn't turn. "I should have listened to you and gone to Spruce that morning," she wept.
Tears fell down his face. "No, that wouldn't have changed anything," he sniffled, knowing she thought Spruce might have been able to save the baby. She was so lost in darkness and had no idea how to get out. Tears escaped him because he didn't know how to reach her and show her that he was right here for her.
Turning around, she held a shaking hand to her lips. Her eyes searched Milori's as her face crumpled and she sank to her knees. "I shouldn't have gone to work. She was too delicate. I should have stayed home and rested." Her head bowed and gut-wrenching sobs cut through the silence. "I'm sorry I killed the baby," she whispered.
A stunned tear fell from his lashes into the water as he stared at her. Everything made sense. She blamed herself, and he realized she was staying away from him not only because of his heart but because she couldn't handle the guilt. She felt even more guilt every time she felt his pain. This beautiful creature, who could lead her people through any war or disaster and be strong enough for a nation, had been broken. He knew this moment would haunt him forever, witnessing the fall of a great leader, who had once believed so vehemently that love had the power to save anything that her entire kingdom believed it too. Except it couldn't save her baby. This was the beginning of the end of the most wonderful creature he had ever known. And he would be damned if he wouldn't fight like hell to save her.
It took every ounce of his strength to curl his fingers around the lips of the tub and pull himself forward to a sit. The room swam terribly and his stomach threatened him, but he slowly pulled himself, a millimeter at a time along the tub until he was close enough for his fingers to reach out and barely brush over her arm.
She startled and looked up, not having expected him to be able to reach her. Her face was wet with tears.
He looked beyond pale and panted, "It's not...your fault." He reached out a hand that shook with illness. "I love you," he breathed, on the verge of fainting.
The incredible struggle she realized he went through to reach her shook her soul. If he had blamed her, he forgave her. It didn't ease the grief or pain, but she saw a glimpse of light. Slowly reaching up, she took his hand.
He enclosed his fingers, and she felt his love swelling in her heart, shoving and beating back the depression that consumed her.
"I love you too," she sniffled and got up on her knees to wrap her arms around him.
He held her tight and pulled back her neck collar to bare her mark. Pressing his to hers, he closed his eyes and let his love flow.
She gasped and her hands curled into fists as his love flowed directly into her, skin to skin, in a pure form that was almost painful. At the same time, it was heaven.
He slept most of the day but was up for trips to the washroom with her help to keep him steady. He felt horrible and was so embarrassed having her rinsing out his basins or helping keep him on his feet in the washroom, but he wouldn't have traded his illness for the world. Because Clarion came back to him.
The next day, he shuffled out to the kitchen in his robe because he kept chilling. He held the walls and furniture to keep steady. He eased himself into an island counter chair in the kitchen as she made him some toast for lunch.
"I feel ancient," he sighed.
"For some species, you are ancient," she teased over her shoulder and put the slightest bit of peanut butter on the toast to give him some protein.
"I'd laugh if I didn't think my innards would end up on the counter," he said weakly.
She set the piece of toast and glass of water before him. "See if this stays down."
He stared at it for a moment before she replaced it with two plain wheat crackers. "It's a sad day when this looks better than fried mushrooms," he said weakly and started breathing deeply and swallowing hard.
She grabbed the basin that she had brought down just in case.
"You were incredibly sick. It's just going to take time," Spruce said that night. "You might not have made it if Sleet hadn't dunked you in Frost Lake." He had an intravenous line in Milori for the dehydration again. "It's every four hours now you're getting sick?"
"Aye," he sighed in bed and closed his eyes. "I hate you. You got this after I did and are better."
"I've built up some immunity. You've kept yourself locked in your North Woods house for three hundred years, so you're paying for it."
"But he's improving, right?" Clarion cut in from her perch on her mattress with a hand protectively on Milori's broad shoulder. "Is it alright how much weight he's lost?" she fretted.
"The vomiting is slowing down, and the fever is gone. He's not in danger from the weight loss—his body will break down fat for energy until food gets back in his system. Being just a few days, he'll be fine. He'll put it back on in a couple weeks. He shouldn't be contagious anymore if you don't touch any of his bodily fluids."
It took another day for Milori to be able to get out of bed, but he was in fairly good spirits while he was laid up. She read to him and they played cards once the motion didn't bother him. But they mostly curled up together in bed and talked. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that he knew how to play the Scottish flute that he had hidden in their closet, could speak Gaelic and carved furniture.
"How did I not know all of this?" she gasped in surprise.
He shrugged. "Ah never 'ad reason ta mention it. What about ye? Yer a lass w' a dozen talents, but what do ye like ta do fer fun?"
She noticed his accent had been gradually slipping out more and more the longer they were home alone. It was so thick now that every once in awhile she had to pretend she hadn't heard him when she actually needed it repeated for comprehension.
"Nothing too exciting. I tried learning the harp once, but that was a disaster," she laughed. "Silvermist was trying to teach me. I think it's the only time I've ever seen her turn red with frustration," she said thoughtfully.
He laughed.
Then he eyes suddenly lit up. "Next week when we go dancing, you should play."
"Play?"
"Yes," she grinned. He said something. "Hm?" she asked.
"Ah dinnae ken whit ye mean," he repeated. She still looked blank. "Oh," he blushed. "Sorry, I didn't realize," he said, diluting his accent.
"No, I love it," she pleaded and gave him big sad eyes.
He smiled and half laughed. "Alright. 'Ah dinnae ken whit ye mean,'" he said in a heavy accent. "Means 'I don't know what you mean,'" he translated in his lighter accent. "Let's see...'gonnae no' dae that' means 'don't do that.' 'Bonnie' is 'pretty.' 'Oot' is 'out,' and 'noo' is 'now.' 'Nicht' is 'night.' 'Ben' is 'through.' Tha' should get ye ben," he smiled.
A brilliant smile lit up her face. "And what's 'sweetheart'?"
He gave a soft shake of his head. "Me bonnie lass sounds better."
"What does that mean?"
"My pretty girl."
She blushed. "You're not fully using your accent, are you?"
"Aye, jist no' t' slang always. Tis a bit rough on t' ears otherwise."
"Oh. I wish you weren't sick." She kissed his chest.
He chuckled. "Ah ken. Ye git hot an' bothered w' me looks an' sexy voice," he said haughtily with a glint in his eye.
She laughed, having so much fun with this playful side of him, like she hadn't laughed in weeks.
A few days later, they were getting ready to go dancing again for the first time in a month, and he had done surprisingly well with his PTSD.
"Milori? Would you zip me?" She stepped into the washroom in a short skirted dress and presented her back to him after he finished tying back his hair.
He turned to her and his hand slipped inside her dress.
She giggled and pulled away. "Behave. You had your fun last night."
"And ye were t' most enthusiastic Ah 'ave ever seen ye," he grinned.
"Hush and zip me," she said with red cheeks.
She walked into the dance club on Milori's arm. The place was crowded and loud tonight.
They found Mary and Gary on the dance floor going wild to some crazy music.
"Do you want to sit? You look a little pale," he leaned in and said in her ear so she could hear him under the music.
"Would you get a water? I'm kind of dizzy."
He quickly found a table and helped her sit before he hurried off to the bar.
She was nauseous by the time he returned.
He gave her the glass and scooted his chair close to wrap his arm around her. Then he felt her brow. "I hope you didn't catch the flu. Maybe we should go home, sweetheart. You don't look so good."
She took a sip of water, and someone walked past with a plate of salsa and chips. Slapping a hand over her mouth, she ran for the washroom.
"Clarion?" Mary called. She stepped into the washroom and saw Clarion rinsing her mouth. "Oh no. Did you get sick?"
She nodded.
Mary wet a paper towel and set it on the back of Clarion's neck. "Do you think it's the flu? Practically everyone had it the past two weeks, and you were visiting the sick and taking care of Milori," she said in concern.
"I think so," she said weakly.
Mary had an arm wrapped around her as they walked out, Milori hovering anxiously near the washroom. "I think she has the flu. Do you need help getting her home?"
He scooped Clarion up. "No, I have Blizzard. Thanks for checking on her."
"I'll come by tomorrow," Mary said. "Take care of her."
She slept soundly but had random bouts of getting sick on and off the next morning. She felt fairly fine otherwise. Milori feared she would go downhill as fast as he had, so he sent for Spruce.
"I was wondering if you'd get it," Spruce commented as he examined her in the bedroom.
"It's not as bad as what Milori had. I feel almost normal in between bouts. But I can't keep much down besides water."
"Lie down. He'll have a heart attack if I don't do a full exam," he commented dryly, nodding to Milori, who was pacing on the other side of the room. He was suddenly serious when he palpated her abdomen. "Have you had any stomach pain?"
"No."
Milori shot over. "What's wrong? You look worried," he demanded of Spruce.
"I'm just asking," he lied. He palpated a bit more. "Is that uncomfortable?"
"Kind of," she said while biting her lip.
"What is it?" Milori repeated.
"I'm sure it's nothing. Let's do an ultrasound just to make sure."
Milori helped her slip under the sheet and was palpating her bare belly a minute later. He suddenly snatched his hand away, feeling a small mass. "No," he panicked, terrified eyes flying to Spruce. It couldn't be cancer. He didn't think fairies could get cancer.
Spruce caught his hand. "Trust me. I think it's alright."
"What?" she asked, not sure why Milori looked so afraid.
Spruce guided Milori's hands, and an image began to take shape from the dust. "Everyone, relax."
She and Milori looked at each other in concern when they recognized the womb shape. Then there was dust in the middle that wasn't glowing, and her hands flew over her mouth. "No, it's another dead baby?" she gasped, starting to cry.
Spruce set a hand on her arm, his eyes focused on the image. "No, that's too big to be another pregnancy."
"Too big?" Milori frowned, completely confused. "What is it? Does she have an infection?" he asked urgently.
The dark dust started to glitter and then faded.
"Clarion's set your hands on your belly to warm it up." Spruce pulled Milori's hands away when he was too worried to comprehend directions.
She did and then Milori and Spruce did an ultrasound again.
A small spot no larger than the first index of Milori's finger glittered pink.
Spruce's mouth fell open and he smiled. "Congratulations, Mama and Papa. Your baby is four weeks old."
"What?" she gasped in shock.
Milori stared at the image, his face paler than usual.
"Apparently winter fairies show up as dark dust on ultrasound from being cold. She's already switching between winter and warm fairy temperatures." Spruce turned to them. "I'm so sorry I inaccurately diagnosed last time. I had no idea. Winter fairies don't look like that on ultrasound normally."
Clarion was crying tears of joy but Milori croaked, "Is something wrong with her?" He was trying to wrap his head around this.
Spruce moved Milori's hands to get a different angle. The small spot started sparkling blue and then pink.
"Is that a boy and a girl?" Milori paled.
"I don't know, but you need to sit." Shoved a chair under Milori.
Clarion smiled and took Milori's free hand. "It's alright," she laughed softly, her eyes shining bright.
Spruce held Milori's hand on her belly, squinting at the image. "No, I think her winter dust is turning blue as she gets older."
"Winter fairies don't have blue dust," Milori frowned and looked at Spruce.
"Milori, hop on the bed. We'll use you to experiment."
He helped Clarion up and then laid down, catching her in his arms for a moment to brush a kiss over her lips. "I love you. It'll be alright."
She was scared now that something was wrong with the baby and wrapped her arms around Milori while Spruce got out more dust.
"I'm sure it's normal. We just don't really know what normal is," Spruce reassured them.
They were looking at Milori's organs on ultrasound a minute later. Spruce moved her hand around. "See how some spots are dark? I think it's probably just the angles." He moved her hand to Milori's side. "Yes, it's blue when the angle is different. Lilly needed an ultrasound on her neck after the stabbing, and she was blue too. The color doesn't indicate gender. Back to you, Clarion."
She sighed with relief and Milori hopped up, being very careful with her as she laid down again.
"Unfortunately, some of the pregnancy is going to be learn as we go," Spruce said and glanced up to see them not paying attention but gazing at each other with smiles as Milori stroked her belly. He smiled and worked around Milori for the time being.
They saw the baby again, and Spruce pointed out the tiny arms and legs.
"She's perfect," Milori beamed and looked down at Clarion. "Can you see her?"
She nodded with a smile.
Milori gazed down at her, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Then he leaned down and kissed Clarion.
She wrapped her arms around him, silently weeping with joy.
When she let go, he bent down and kissed her belly.
She stood out on the porch with a cup of tea to ease the morning sickness a bit later, watching the butterflies that were flapping about happily, the birds singing sweeter, the bees buzzing faster and the animals chattering with news. She took another sip, both of her hands wrapped around her warm cup as she leaned a shoulder against the wooden post. The joyous news of the princess was spreading among the animals like wildfire, but they promised to keep it a secret from the fairies so Clarion and Milori could make the announcement. She laughed in her cup when she saw a chipmunk get the news across the field, he was so excited that he raced over and started chatting a hundred miles a minute.
"Thank you," Clarion smiled. "Yes, we're very excited."
Milori came down the ladder from putting in the washroom window that she had smashed out when he had been ill.
Clarion didn't mind that it was a warm day because it had made Milori shed his shirt while working on the window.
"Alright, it's set. Ah can't believe it was on backorder that long." He pulled off his tool belt and set it on the porch before he went to put away the ladder.
She couldn't hide her smile when his muscles flexed as he carried it on his shoulder around to the side of the cabin to the shed.
"Ah see ye watchin'," he smiled as he passed.
She laughed heartily, her heart so light that the animals chattered faster. "You were flexing and taking longer than necessary! You knew I was watching."
He looked over his shoulder and winked, with a smile on his face.
She watched him return, his perfect muscles and all.
"Yer hopeless," he laughed, noticing her noticing him, and climbed up the steps.
"I'm hormonal, and you shouldn't walk around without clothes with a body like that if you don't want me to notice," she replied as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and cradled her flat belly.
"Ah like ye noticin'. Perhaps we can watch t' meteor shower comin' this evenin' an' curl up on t' couch," he said huskily and kissed just under her ear.
It was warm outside that night, so he took her out in the field behind the cabin, keeping near the house just in case. He stood behind her with his hands cupping her belly, and they waited for the stars to fly.
"Look," she gasped moments later when the stars began shooting across the velvety black sky like diamonds. Dozens and dozens danced across the sky until it multiplied into hundreds soaring overhead. "Oh, Milori," she whispered in wonder. "Dewey says this won't happen again for a thousand years." Her eyes shined brightly as she watched the gorgeous painting Nature was creating before them. She rested her hand over his on her belly. "It's so beautiful," she breathed.
"Incredibly beautiful," he said huskily.
His voice right against her ear. Turning her head toward him, she looked up to see him gazing down at her in wonder and profound love. She turned in his arms and tenderly stroked his jaw, realizing he hadn't been watching the stars.
He held her right hand in his on his chest and set her other on his chest while his arm wrapped around her. And he started them in a slow, swaying dance, the music playing in their hearts.
"You remembered," she whispered. "I told you when we met that I wanted to dance under the stars one day."
"O' course Ah remember," he said huskily and brushed a tender kiss over her lips. "Whit better night than t' one we find out we're goin' ta be a family," he whispered.
Tears danced in her eyes when her heart melted. "I love you."
He kissed away a tear. "Ah love ye. Ah love ye w' me whole heart," he whispered and rested his cheek against hers, his heart swelling with love. "Ah could dance w' ye forever, love," he sighed in wonder.
"That sounds perfect," she whispered and rested her head on his chest, her soul never more at peace.
Their hearts waltzed through the fields as the heavens danced above them.
