Blood Tithe
Epilogue
What time was it? Did it really matter? No, not entirely.
Lightning drifted into awareness feeling her body tightly curled, chilled though covered to the chin in a blanket. Blindly she reached back, finding space behind her in the bed. Unsteadily she lifted herself to her elbows, half turning, finding the bed empty aside from herself. She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. She looked around, the house empty. Not even Gurthang was anywhere to be seen. Her conscience started to whine, to nag her. Like she should have expected to wake up alone. It was trying to make her feel stupid, like what happened shouldn't have. Not that it mattered at this point, a little too late for hindsight.
Lightning sat up, stretching with her arms over her head, and she shifted to sit on the edge of the cot, the blanket in her fist and pressed between her breasts. She scratched her head, ran her fingers through her mussed hair and took a deep breath. The floor was cold on her bare feet.
Her mind lingered on it, analyzed it all nearly to death. Her and Han had fucked, to put it simply, and she was having a hard time feeling bad about. She had expected to though, to be honest. She had expected to feel sullied in a way, weak for having let herself go in such a manner. But it wasn't holding water. She had enjoyed it. Lightning had taken the chance at vulnerability and it had paid off in spades. Physically she was very pleased, yet there was some emotional uncertainty.
What in all would this mean? What had changed? Were they a...thing now? Or would all of this end up as a one time engagement? Maybe now that the incredible tension between them had passed they could go back to their normal routine of uncomfortably ignoring each other. But did she want that? Could she stand to go another night without a warm body surrounding her while she slept? There was a security in that feeling that she had never expected, but knew she needed now. That was nigh on terrifying. Lightning Farron needed someone. Gods.
Light had been so convinced that all she needed to thrive was purpose, someone to need her. And while that remained unchanged, there was a new dimension to it now. How would she cope?
Whatever you want, whatever pleases you...you will have it.
Light felt a shiver hum through her skin, his voice frolicking in her head. Funny, she thought, she'd never lingered on a man like this before. Not even the one she lay with first of all, back when she was young and stupid. After she'd come out of the first coma, been released from physical therapy, the funeral, Lightning was convinced life was just too short. Enjoy it while you can was her personal mantra, and she let it show. Late nights out, parties with people she shouldn't have been hanging out with, drinking, the belly ring...oh god, those days were a hot mess. It had been meaningless, just some boy she'd met only days before, both of them drunk and stumbling into a darkened bedroom at someone's house. She couldn't even remember much of it, only that she didn't climax, and the morning after she left as soon as she was dressed.
She'd returned home that morning to find Serah curled up on the couch, asleep, clutching the phone in her hand. She had waited up all night, probably scared to death. Somehow that made something click in Lightning's head, and after that she straightened up, got her act together, and a few years later enlisted.
It had been meaningless then, and she hadn't seen that kid's face since. She couldn't even remember his name. Thinking back on it, having never felt guilt over it before, Light felt a certain something, a quiet wish that she had waited. Still, that was then, this was now. Han certainly hadn't cared that she wasn't a virgin, so why should she give it more than a passing thought either?
The door hinges squealed and light flooded the room. She turned towards it, seeing Han coming through the door. He looked a little flushed, something dripping from his hand.
"Oh, you're up. Did I wake you?"
"No." she shook her head. "Everything okay?"
"Just fine. I didn't mean to leave you, but there was some commotion among the sheep, one of the ewes went into labor."
Light's brow vaulted. Fancy that. "And?"
"Twins, healthy and kicking." he was smiling, crossing the room in a slight hurry that he might clean himself up. "It's a good sign."
Lightning nodded, shifting to draw her legs up, crossing them. "What time is it?"
"Early evening," he replied casually, stepping down into the cellar. "We didn't sleep very long."
But it had been so deep, you would think it had lasted all night. She gathered the blanket tighter around her. Moments later Han emerged.
"Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"
"No. Could use something to drink, though."
"Of course." he already had a vessel of cider in his hand, and he hurried to find a glass to put it in. Normally Light wouldn't care too much for being waited on, but this...it was tolerable. However the atypical spring in Han's step was unexpected. This had to be the happiest she'd ever seen him with his daughter not around.
In no time she had a full cup in her hands, taking a sip of it and feeling warm at the taste of spices and sweet fruit. Han joined her on the bed, sitting on the edge. The two sat in silence for a seemingly long while, a hint of tension in the air. Someone wanted to speak, but was having trouble. Maybe they couldn't find the confidence right away.
"I...I hope I didn't," Han began unsteadily, "I hope I didn't disappoint you."
"Hm? Oh." she took another sip. "You didn't."
"So...you enjoyed it?"
She nodded, unsure of how it would feel to come right and out speak her agreement. Part of her mind was still having trouble just accepting the fact that they had sex, never mind whether or not she liked it. Though it had been quite good. Han turned out to be a very attentive lover, seeming to give his full focus to every detail. Even her outlandish requests of "take it slow", or "not so rough" were met with immediate compliance. Light looked up from her cup to find remnants of welts on his forearm, knowing there were more on his sides and back. Welts she had laid on him. She smirked.
"You'll have to forgive me for being...over-eager." Han wished he had two thumbs so he might twiddle them, feeling very self-conscious. It had been so long since he'd touched a woman, he had no excuses for his behavior, only apologies.
Light hid her smile behind the lip of her cup. "Am I complaining?"
He didn't answer, but turned his face so she wouldn't see the redness that had settled in his cheeks.
"So...what does this mean?"
Han cleared his throat, putting his palm to the back of his neck. "What do you want it to mean? Would it be best for you if we simply...put this aside and forgot about it?" A tiny voice in him prayed she wouldn't say yes.
"I don't know...what do you think?"
"I, for one," he took a steadying breath, gathering the words, "would like to see where it goes. But, then again, I've been alone so long...anything would be better than nothing."
She nodded, understanding. Funny how talking had become so much easier. Did sex always do that? The few married couples Lightning had met throughout her life always seemed to have some sort of...insight to one another, some special loop of communication only they were privy to. Had that happened here? Were they connected now in such a way?
"I won't lie," she said at last, tipping back the glass to drink the last of what was in it, "I'm curious to see what comes out of this. Whatever it is."
Han felt some of the tension in him ease. Then chuckled softly. "It's funny."
"What?"
"Considering where it all started...how we've come to be here. I still don't know how."
Light set the empty cup on the floor. "Yeah, smacking each other around is a great way to start a relationship." though thinking back, some of her closest friends had come about her company in the same manner.
"You started it, you hit me first." he clarified. "But you're still right. How on earth...what changed do you think?" and he looked at her, genuinely curious.
She pulled the blanket a little tighter. "I'm still trying to figure that out." It was really a small collection of things, mostly enlightenment in regards to the man he really was, not the one he tried his damnedest to be. He wanted everyone to see him as a coward, a nobody and a shut in. In reality, he was no different from anyone, with hopes and dreams and fears, a veiled nobility to his manner, and had courage in his heart at times to match ten men. Plus, as of a few nights ago, she realized, he was rather handsome.
Very similar but simpler things were going through Han's mind in that moment. He was trying to pinpoint the reasons, the things that changed his mind from wary distrust to this...devoted attraction. Could things really change so suddenly, going from barely speaking to making love? Was that possible? And most of all, could it last?
But the traits that drew him to her were easy to acknowledge as they weren't too far from what he was raised to appreciate in a woman. Strength of both will and body, the ability to lead and protect those that surrounded her. These were qualities he had been brought up to believe as ideal, but there was also a quiet gentility about her that fascinated him. Unlike Naya - physical resemblance notwithstanding - who had been so open, so free with her thoughts and feelings, Lightning kept very close to herself, leaving an air of mystery about her that he never realized he could admire. She kept him guessing in all the right ways, and did so without the slightest effort.
It humbled him, and he had to ask himself how he could possibly be worthy of even being in this woman's presence, much less be her lover.
"Maybe it'll come to us as we go." Light scratched her head again. She was starting to feel tired. It was late in the evening, she was warm and comfortable. That was the perfect recipe for bed time.
"So...you're okay with...continuing?"
"I guess. What have we got to lose, right?" and she gave him the smallest of reassuring grins as she shifted to lie down once more, gathering a pillow beneath her head.
Han felt like flying. He sat still for a short while, just trying to comprehend what was coursing through him. It was...it had to be joy, what else could it be? He didn't have to be alone anymore, there was a chance that he could have a life, he could have it all. It almost brought him to tears.
He would settle down after a while, though his stomach still felt infested with butterflies. Han stood, standing still and just looking down at her as she lay in his bed. Gods, what a beauty. What a blessing. How had he come to deserve it?
"Might...might I lay with you a while longer?" was his meek request.
"It's your bed." was her response, eyes still closed.
He pulled his wrap off, letting it hit the floor beside some of her clothes, and climbed onto the cot, settling along her back, his arm taking its previous place across her waist. His arm bent, flexed and drew her close. Silken strands pressed against his cheek and his lips fell to the firm swell of her shoulder.
Gods, there it was, that warmth she had been missing during his short absence. Light felt herself relax completely, content, without a care. She pulled her hand free from beneath the pillow to find his, lacing his thick, massive fingers with hers. She felt his body swell and deflate with a long sigh, a growl hinting in their somewhere. And they lay this way for a spell, not speaking, simply being together.
"I wish," he whispered, "I had the heart to tell you how I felt. Honest."
"It's all right." she said, turning her head. "You could always show me." and she knew exactly what she was asking for this time. A small, sneakier part of her had been planning on it. It still had curiosities about all of this, things it needed to know about the coupling they shared. It had to know how far it could go, how high, if it could be controlled. If she could control him at all.
She would find out, just like before.
"Is that a request?" Han smiled into her hair, taking in her scent. It was heating his blood, not that her innuendo hadn't already. His grip around her tightened, his mouth descended to her ear, his lips closing around the tender bend of it. He could feel her body tense.
"It's about to be an order." she answered, breathless. Light twisted suddenly, turning towards him and crushed his lips with hers. She needed that kiss, gods be damned.
Han thought to take it slower this time, ease it along unlike before. He thought he had everything under control, that is, until he found himself somehow on his back, Lightning straddling him. He looked up at her, his silvery eyes wide. She had taken his wrist with both hands and put it over his head, the weight of her entire body bearing down.
"I see where this is going." he almost smiled.
"What?" she gave him an almost feline look, something curious with a hint of sarcasm. "Don't women do this where you come from?"
"Oh they do." he nodded quickly. "In fact I was tied up on my wedding night, if that gives you any idea."
"Really?" she almost laughed. "Guess I have a lot to live up to. Although...would you object to that now?" she took a brief second to think it through, and remembered his stint in captivity. He might not like the idea of being bound again.
"Well...I trust you...I suppose." though he gave his consent warily.
"That's good to know."
Han swallowed as she eased away from him, suddenly fretting what he might have gotten himself into. In the end his hand was held fast to the frame of the bed with a belt that he could only assume came from Lightning's discarded clothing. It wasn't too tight, but snug enough to make him just a little nervous. Still, it didn't take away from his erection. He swallowed again as she stalked over him, her body stretching across his own, the heat of her naked skin scalding hot and wonderful. He gasped, choking on a groan. Lightning kissed him to soothe his ill-at-ease.
Perhaps the only thing he hated about this was his inability to touch her. His hand clenched frantically, demanding with the pop of his knuckles for release. Sweat was already starting to bead his forehead, his heart pounding and his skin hot.
Yes, Light mused to herself mentally with a small grin against his mouth. This is what she needed, she needed this control, this dominance. She knew now that she could step into this delicious temptation and not be ruled by it. Now all there was to discover was her limits. How long could she stand to keep him at bay, to gauge her own actions before being unable to stand the wait? The hard, heated length against her belly was starting to threaten her resolve as I speak, so she couldn't imagine what progress she could make.
Best to just go with it, see what happens when it comes.
Han fought to breathe as her palms pressed to his chest, her fingertips starting to trace the grooves of his muscles with the slightest scratch of her nails. She was straddling one leg now, which allowed his composure to remain for the time being. His eyes were screwed shut as he rode out the sensations of her touch.
She hadn't much of a chance to really look at him earlier, far too focused on the act itself at the time. Light wanted to take that chance now, and she relished the power she exerted over him. He was so helpless, it made her feel damn near divine. She found more scars doing this, small ones that were easy to miss. Nicks and cuts long since sealed on his stomach and sides. A long white stripe across one hip. She paused in curiosity at his thighs, finding small circular ones, several of them, on the tender inner bends on his legs.
"Where'd you get these?"
Han thought to lift his head, but felt her breath and knew what she was asking about. "Cigarette burns." he grunted, trying to keep himself steady under her scrutiny.
She moved on, thinking that would be a story for later, no need to bother themselves with that now. Light looked him over from head to toe, reveling in the sway she had on the brute. And her ego only surged when she straddled him once more, a loud moan wrenching from him, his body bowing upward. He fell back to the bed, gasping for air, and he opened his eyes. He was almost seeing double, nearly out of his mind. He tried focusing on the dim sparkle of the belly ring, the rest of her splendid form coming back into focus.
Her palms were on his chest again, she perching upon him almost victoriously.
"Must you tease?" he panted. "I'm an old man."
"Don't give me that crap." she smirked. She curled her nails into skin, his breath hissing through his teeth at the sweet pleasure-pain. Light bent forward, her hands managing her weight on either side of him as she forced his head to turn with the push of her cheek. The moistened tip of her tongue found the scar on his throat and she felt his breath still.
"You're being unfair." he protested weakly.
"Who said sex had to be fair?" and in that instant, when her eyes met his and he contemplated her sly expression, she rolled her hips and took him into her. They both exhaled slowly, a slight groan, heads tipped back and eyes closed as the connection was made.
"Is," Han struggled to speak, "is that all this is to you? Is th-that all you're here for?"
Her head rested against his chest, lifting and falling with his breaths. "No. It isn't." she lifted, straightening her back, eyes still closed. "I don't...I don't know the reason why, not yet, but it isn't just that."
That response seemed to satisfy him, as he didn't say another word about it. Even if he had something to say, it wouldn't have come out right, not when she began to move her body like she did. Up and down, hips rolling, and he could do nothing but lie there and take what she gave him. He pulled desperately against his restraints, wanting so badly to touch her. The frame of the bed creaked, leather straining with tension.
Sensation overwhelmed her, instincts taking control, and she let it happen. It felt too good to deny. Han filled her so completely, and more so than just physically. In that she found the real reason why she stayed, why she didn't just thank him for the fun times and go home. Han needed someone, that much was clear; by the same token, she needed to be needed by someone. She needed that sense of purpose to keep her going. In that sense, they were a flawless match, able to fulfill the other's innermost desires simply by being together.
But the sex was still good. So that certainly helped both cases.
Han watched her move, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. He could barely believe what he was seeing, doubly so for what he felt. It had to be a dream, it was too perfect not to be. His hips rose to meet her downward motions without him having to think about it, and the sensation of the collision was stuff of legends. People could write songs about things like this. The way she moved, the bounce of her pert breasts, the sweet tension around her eyes, the sounds she made, and the smirk that tugged the edge of her parted lips...gods she was so perfect.
Lightning bent over him, her hands firm on either side of his writhing form, and she pressed her heated forehead to his sweat dappled one. She knowingly kept her lips just out of reach, even as he fought her to have the kiss he decidedly craved. He swore at her, a word she didn't understand but still felt as harmless, and laughed quietly. At a glance she saw how the muscles in his arm tensed, bulged as he continued to resist. Maybe she would untie him, but not just yet. This power trip was...she couldn't let it go yet.
But Han couldn't wait for her generous mercy, he simply couldn't. The frame of the cot groaned one last pitiful time, and then the leather snapped. There was a ping of metal on metal, then the chime of the buckle as his arm circled her. He held her tight, his large palm at the back of her head, forcing a soul-deep kiss that only grew hotter by degrees. He wouldn't let her go, even as she fought him he maintained their face-to-face stance. Eyes locked, taking her feverish cries into his mouth as his hips thrust hard and fast. Cerulean and silver, severe and enraptured, bodies blurring. Madness.
There was a rush, a flurry of movement, and Lightning gaped to find herself on her back. She didn't have a moment to think about it, to protest before Han began to move within her again. He pressed her knees to his chest, using them for support as he leaned forward. This gave his hand freedom enough to touch her anywhere he wished. Her nails found his forearm, digging deep as his length advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated. She was so close, he could tell. She had begun to breathe his name.
Light's head tossed back and forth against the pillow, her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. She wanted to, it was there, perched in her chest and ready to fly, but not yet.
"Han, please," she begged, her hands now fisting in the blanket instead of lacerating his arm.
"Patience," was his breathy reply, sweat rolling down his face and chest.
"Now," she ordered, desperate. Light snatched the base of his ponytail and pulled, his head snapping back, a groan ripping out of him. His pace quickened, his motions fierce, just as she wanted. She could feel all of his strength, body and soul, in every thrust he forced against her supple form. And it sent her higher, higher, higher still until...bam.
Han felt it, heard it, watched her come undone. Her breasts lifted, her back arching, her head pressed back into the pillow as she screamed. She clenched around him, vice-like and rippling. He couldn't stand it. He disengaged at the very last possible moment, standing and turning away, then kneeling as he could not stay upright. Leaning with his hand on the floor he tensed, groaning hard in his chest and sounding like an animal. He only stayed away long enough to gather himself back together, catch his breath, and then returned to the bed. To her.
"Let me hold you," he whispered as he pulled the blanket over them. He tucked a fold of it between them as he didn't much care for the stick of sweaty skin.
Light let him cradle her body against his, still panting and dizzy. The warmth eased through her, giving her contentment, the soft kissed along the back of her neck granting the comfort to sleep again. But she fought it this time. There was something she wanted to know, a curiosity she needed to sate first.
"I have a question." she said softly.
"Hm?"
Funny how her self consciousness chose now to rear its head, making it difficult for her to speak at first. "Why did you..." oh hell, just say it. "Why did you pull out?" She'd been curious about it since earlier, as he'd done something similar.
"Well," there was no hint of hesitation. "I didn't think you would be too keen to being saddled with a kid you didn't want. That, and we aren't married so it isn't really my privilege to...do that."
She nodded, slowly, curious as to why she couldn't figure that out on her own.
"There's more to it, though it isn't important."
"Tell me."
"It's nothing, just...tribal nonsense."
"I want to know." she pressed gently. If what he was referring to really was nothing, he wouldn't have brought it up.
Han was surprised to hear such investment in her voice, that much care. "It's...it's just that...well, when a woman allows a man to...it's like shaking hands to close a deal." it was the best way he knew how to describe it. "Doing that...the woman accepts the man as a lasting part of her life. Like marriage. I just...I didn't think you would want that, that you were ready. It's not you, it's just the way I was raised."
She nodded again, sighing after a moment and settling.
"Are you angry?"
"No. It's fine." and though he couldn't see it, she smiled. Then her eyes opened suddenly, another inquiry striking her. Funny how sex can manifest such clarity. "I've got another question."
"Anything."
"What does Bah deh roh mean?" she just realized, in an instant, that she still had yet to hear the translation of that phrase. Though Fang had promised.
Han chuckled. "Oh that. It's part of an old saying, it's just a joke really."
"I get the feeling, though, that I'm the punchline."
"To put it simply, it means you're just cranky."
That couldn't be it. That wasn't nearly enough reason for people to laugh about. "What's the literal meaning?"
He laughed again, trying to keep it under control so he could speak. "'You need a man to pleasure you hard and deep.' That's it."
So all this time, Han, Fang, even Shilo, had been going on about her needing to get laid? Seriously? Well, that wasn't the worst of it.
All things considered, they were right.
But don't expect her to admit that aloud.
(-)
Time marched on, months passed, seasons changed. Summer dwindled into Autumn, and Autumn into the chills of Winter.
It was early, on that finite cusp of night and day when there wasn't a light in the sky other than stars. Most everyone was still asleep, curled up beneath multiple blankets and huddled together. Most everyone.
Hope was barely aware, just waking when he felt the body beside him shifting. This wasn't out of the ordinary, so it didn't exactly hold his attention, not until he heard a tiny sound of discomfort, even pain. He forced himself into full awareness.
"Vanille?You okay?"
Another small groan. "I don't know. Everything hurts."
"Should I get Donovan?" but he didn't wait for answer. He got up in any case, switching on the light to find his coat and boots, and a flashlight, before stepping out into the cold night. Donovan's dwelling was only yards away, but he still hurried, his arms tight around himself as he shivered.
Hope didn't have to wait long for the good doctor to answer the pounding he forced against his door, even less for Donovan to ready himself to follow the younger man back to his dwelling. Beth in tow. Upon their return they found Vanille on the floor, inches from the bed, one hand on the metal frame and the other on her very swollen belly. There was a puddle on the floor.
Her water had just broken.
"Oh dear," Donovan breathed, but no less calm as he quickly crossed the floor to gather Vanille into his arms. "Come along, everyone, there's a baby on the way."
Hope felt his stomach drop into his feet. Now? His heart started pounding and his mouth dried out.
"Easy there, darling," Beth had a hand on his shoulder. "She's in good hands, just go and fetch her sister, would you?"
He only nodded, stuck in a fearful stupor that only lasted but a moment before he went on his way.
It wasn't long at all before everyone of concern was up and had gathered at the Resource Center, many of them shivering and yawning, while others were on the balls of their feet with nerves. Hope was chewing on his fingernails, wincing as he was able to hear the pained cries of his wife from just outside the infirmary door. He paced, thumbnail between his teeth, frantic. Lightning and Han stood side by side, leaning back against the wall. Her arms were crossed with her fingers drumming against her arm, he had his arm tucked inside his wool shirt. They were quiet, still, but just as anxious as anyone else. Snow and Serah were there as well, and Bard, who stood, paced a little himself, pausing momentarily to tap his hoof. Fang was in the next room with Vanille, and the only one other than Donovan allowed inside.
Beth stood beside Raul, and looked up at the vampire when she sensed his tension. "Are you all right?"
"Hm?" one brow lifted to a point, the slits of his eyes flexing. "Oh yes, just fine. I'm very excited." he rocked on his heels and his clawed fingers fluttered at his elbows. He was very excited indeed. He was praying to all the saints and all the gods, and anything else he wasn't entirely sure existed. If all went well, he was going to witness a miracle, something that had never been seen before or likely ever again.
"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Hope had taken just a moment from his pacing, his nail biting, to look at Beth like he were a lost puppy.
That was a hard question to answer. With things like these, you never knew, and it was bad enough with normal circumstances. This was a whole new ballgame.
After some thought, Beth smiled at him. "I'm sure she'll be all right."
In the infirmary, the tension in the air was so thick, you couldn't cut it with anything. Between Donovan and the colony doctor on the verge of bickering about what to do, and Vanille's miserable screams, and Fang trying to talk her though it all, it was a challenge to make heads or tails of anything. But on that same token, to offer some comfort, everything was going as it should. Obstetrically speaking.
"You're doing wonderful, deary," Donovan encouraged, sitting at the foot of the bed. The colony doctor finally relented charge to him, as he had by far more experience with child birthing. "Ready to push again?"
"No," Vanille sobbed pitifully. It had been hours now and she was so tired. The pain was enormous. "I can't do this,"
"Don't say that, yes you can," Fang held her hand, standing right beside her. "I know you can. Don't give up." and she winced at the terrible pressure Vanille put on her hand as another heavy contraction wracked her body. Fang pulled the sweaty ringlets of hair from her face.
Vanille was terrified. What if she really couldn't do it? She pushed again, screaming, the pain only intensifying.
"We're almost there," Donovan announced.
"Don't you quit," Fang repeated. "It's all going to be worth it. This baby's gonna be healthy, and strong, and beautiful," and then she smiled, "just like me."
"Gods, I hate you!" and there was a laugh somewhere in that pained sob.
"If that's what it takes. Now push, damn it!"
And push she did, thrice more before Donovan let out an ecstatic exclamation, not really a word but a sound of joy and pride. Then the room was filled the shrill, shrieking cries of new life. They could be heard from the hallway, causing everyone's head to snap-to.
Then they heard something else through the door, after the crying had faded.
"It's a boy."
They watched as Hope paled a little and them slumped to the floor onto his backside. It looked like he was trying to catch his breath.
"A boy," he panted.
"Welcome to the Dad Club, kid." Snow bent down beside him, a hand settling on his shoulder.
Inside, Vanille collapsed to the bed, sweat rolling down her face. She felt so frail, but still she feared. Any second now she would see her baby, and know the color of his hair.
Gods please, don't let it be...don't let it be...
Donovan brought the child over, swaddled in blankets but squirming. "What a lively little fellow," he marveled. He had started tearing.
There was some reluctance in her as she reached for the baby, Fang raising her hands just beneath her sister's, acting as a safety net.
The infant appeared very...normal, though it's skin was more pale than what was considered typical. The tips of the boy's ears had the slightest arch to them, coming to a dull point, but showed no other odd traits otherwise. At first glance, the unknowing would simply find him a perfectly human child.
And his hair matched that of his mother, as did his eyes.
Vanille held her child close, looking him over, eventually smiling. She calmed immediately, all fears put to rest.
"Gods, look at him," Fang was wiping her eyes, "he's beautiful."
"That he is." Donovan nodded, toweling off his hands. "Mayhaps the others could come and have a look? I know a certain young man who would appreciate it."
"Should we? I mean," Fang had her hands on her hips now, sporting a cocky smirk. "As pretty as this kid is we're gonna need a stick."
Vanille actually laughed a little. "It's okay." was her response.
As soon as the door was opened they just poured right in, lining up on either side of the bed hoping to catch a glimpse. Hope approached her first, and he had to vie for the position, and gave his wife an incredible kiss on the lips. He was already crying, red faced and puffy eyes as the salty beads rolled down his cheeks. I can't imagine having seen a happier man.
"He has your hair," Raul said, his tone curious. "Why does he have your hair?" and he pointed with one finger, his brow see-sawing over his eyes.
"What difference does it make?" Hope looked back at him.
"That's how they tell who the father is." Vanille answered.
"Gosh, I don't care," Hope shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. "It wouldn't matter...this is my boy...my son."
Raul nodded, grinning. He had the right idea. "I have another nephew it seems."
While that was true, in any case, Fang cut her eyes to him. "He's my nephew first."
"And I won't fight you over that."
Everyone laughed, not a dry eye in the room to boot. Though Lightning hid it very well, she felt a slight burn in her eyes too.
"Do you have a name for him?" Beth asked, having squeezed into the gathered crowd somehow.
"I've been thinking," Vanille started, the fatigue very clear in her voice. "I want to name him Tavisen." and she looked up at Fang.
The elder Oerban wiped her eyes again. "That's dad's name."
"Is that okay?" Hope asked gently.
She sniffed, the tears becoming suddenly hard to fight. "Are ya daft? Of course it's okay. And here I was worried you'd give 'em some sissy name like...ya know."
"It's all right teh cry, darlin'." Bard assured her.
"Hush your yap, I'm not cryin', you're cryin'." and she punched his arm, not too hard though. But then she did exactly what she had just denied and openly shed joyous tears.
Eventually the birth certificate was filled out and filed, et cetera and all that, and many of them went back to bed. It was just after sunrise and everyone was still very tired. This left the young family alone in the infirmary, Hope having managed into the bed beside Vanille, and Tavisen on his mother's chest. Now fast asleep after his first feeding.
Although Fang remained. She pulled up a chair and kept watch, or at least that's what she told herself she was doing. Sitting quietly, arms crossed, her mind buzzed with numerous thoughts and curiosities. She couldn't help but wonder the obvious things one would. What kind of person would the boy be? Where would life take him? Then there were the not so obvious things. How much of his heritage would show in time? Would he have to feed like his kin to stay alive? Would he find his place in this world?
Things like that, for the most part, only time would answer.
Fang stood, leaning over the bed. The baby stirred, maybe sensing her presence. With great care she gathered up the infant, holding him close to her chest.
"Come here, little bugger," she whispered. He began to fuss. "Hush now, let's not wake your mum." Fang sat back down, rocking Tavisen with the gentle bounce of her arm.
He stilled when she settled, his pudgy face no longer scrunched with discontent. His eyes shimmered as he looked up at her, seeming to glow a little in the dimness, full of wonder. And he just stared.
"There we go, see? Not so bad." She smiled at him. "I know, kid, I know; I look funny now, but soon enough I'm gonna be your favorite aunt. We're gonna do all sorts of stuff together once you get old enough."
Tavisen, eyes still locked on her, reached with an unsteady limb and clutched the braid that lingered from behind her ear. He pulled, tugged it towards his mouth as babies often do to everything, but settled to simply hold it in the end with a curious burble.
"We'll take care of you, all of us." and that was a promise, whether the boy knew it or not. She eased to kiss the boy's forehead, emotion swelling in her chest when she felt his tiny hands on either of her cheeks, grasping as if to keep her close. As if he understood everything she'd said.
"Han'tasa doh tah be'lan, sae," she said, wondering briefly if he would ever come to speak their tongue, "Tah eh teh't'iem, tim lor ta y'oaes tasa tiem."
Translation?
Welcome to the world, little one. Though it is terrible, know that you are loved.
(-)
Now, I suppose, all things considered, it would be fair enough to discuss those whom we haven't addressed in some time. As every story has a beginning and an end, so does every life, and we have encountered a great many of those along this journey.
Let's take a moment to look in on those mischievous duo that were, by all rights, the cause of this hot mess.
Dash and Helm would never steal the rare portrait they had their eyes on during the last night of the Saints Festival. With that having failed, Dash finally convinced Helm to explore more appropriate revenue options. After a great deal of humming and hawing over a multitude of crappy ideas, something came upon them that was just silly enough to work. Their previous occupation imparted to them one inalienable truth...women's clothing in Arash was horribly uncomfortable.
Using the small fortune they had collected thus far, Dash and Helm bought up some property in the Valdera District to open up a simple, at the time, clothiers shop. The two of them had been making their own clothes for saints knew how long, so that was the easier of the many tasks they had to complete. The next step was to decipher what made women's fashion so god-awful to wear. That alone took several months, followed by the equally time consuming and laborious task of filling up their inventory. In the end, perhaps nine months after the fruitless looting of Kalitas House, the pair opened The Comfy Bosom. Their slogan, which was a huge hit, read "If a man wouldn't want to wear it, why should a woman?"
They were practically famous overnight. Within the first month of business they had made easily double what they had spent in getting the place open. It was miraculous. By year's end the pair had everything they wanted.
Helm had his much coveted fortune and countless women that were willing to walk through fire for him. And Dash? Well, Dash was happy enough not having to work in the mines any longer. But perhaps the saints saw fit to give him a little extra for his patience with his partner. He met an artist in the Aela district, a young woman small of stature and big of glasses that had, by some off chance, seen the races the previous year, saw the jockey with the pink hair, and liked it so much she dyed her own to match. Though she was human, Dash couldn't resist her. Eventually she was brought into the business as a designer. And you can imagine how happy that made Helm, considering how much the company's profit margin swelled because of her.
Many, many, many centuries later, the pair would pass on as all living beings must. But their work had gone so revered, appreciated by all the people of Arash, that they were inducted as the first Apostles of Saint Valdera, of any saint. And statues of them were erected near their shop.
As for Kalitas House? Well, not much changed, actually. Tezzim's funeral had come and gone with little pomp and circumstance, per his brother's request. Considering the nature of his death, he didn't wish for there to be any unnecessary rumors getting about. He was laid to rest in the family mausoleum, on the left side of his father and mother.
After that, time went on as it did for all of us. Hassan and Kasa grew old as Haddai grew strong and wise in their image. He would succeed his father on the council after his passing, becoming just as respected.
It was never discovered the true nature around Miriam's death. But that could very well be due to the general lack of fucks given over the matter. She'd been such a bitch after all.
The Blue Door would remain closed for a long while, a year or two, before someone bought it at auction and reopened it, keeping it as a bar and inn. It would take months for the new owners to clean up all of the charring and blast debris from the previous proprietors' activities.
Raul would never go back to Arash in his long lifetime. When he left Archylte he traveled all over Gran Pulse, to lands unseen by anyone and taking all of the grandeur and mysteries of it with him to the grave. He died at the tender age of nine-hundred and fifty six. The eldest vampire that no one knew about.
Shilo would not change much at all. He would always have many wives and many children. And he would always be very proud of that. Typical lion.
Lyra, as her father had hoped, would become on of Kushta's greatest chiefs. Though her authority would often be challenged, the main reason being that her and Tamur were only ever able to rear sons. Seven of them. She would put down every act against her, and in her later years turned completely around the idea of men being lesser than women. She raised her sons to succeed her, and they did so with potency. While there were many protests to this action, they were never realized. And throughout her life, Lyra would often return to Archylte to see her father. This brought about the almost ritualistic event of the annual celebration taking place on the steppe, inevitably bringing the people there that much closer together. It was a beautiful thing.
Donovan and Beth? Well, they would be together for the rest of their lives, though they never had any children of their own and considered themselves too old to adopt. Yet Pickles seemed to have adopted them in time, the cat eventually spending every waking moment in their company. The couple would pass on in their sleep, in one another's arms, together.
Snow and Serah would have three more children, two more daughters and a son. Few couples happier than they were ever seen.
But, with all that being considered, let's take a moment and step back a ways. Let's have one last look at those who have been closest to us.
(-)
A year had passed since their return from Arash.
And here they sat in the grass of Aggra's Pasture, under the newly blinking stars and around the bonfire, basking in the glow of flames and memories.
Vanille watched contently from her husband's embrace, her eyes following her son's wobbling steps and idle play in the grass just at her feet. Though she could tell he was getting tired, Tavisen yawning at predictable intervals. By now his hair had taken on a darkened, almost black color, but the reddish orange could still be seen when light struck it, though now it lingered on the more red side.
Raising Tavisen, thus far, had not been easy, but it hadn't been a burden either. In the first few months of his life, the boy had trouble thriving. At least that's how Donovan put it. For the longest time the reason eluded them, and she found herself fearing for her son's life. Until, following a hunch, Raul convinced them to try putting blood in the bottle. Han gave them some from a freshly slaughtered sheep and they gave it a shot. It worked, and after just a few days the boy was back on track, hitting all of his developmental milestones on schedule.
All that aside, Tavisen (or Tav-Tav to his Aunt Fang) was just a regular kid. Who would someday grow into a very fine, and very large man. No kidding. Over seven feet tall. But that's much later.
Hope held her close, smiling gently as his chin rested on his wife's shoulder. While he too was so very proud of his son, so happy to have him in his life, he was smiling for another reason. He and Vanille made love for the first time just last night, and it still lingered in his mind. For an entire year he had waited patiently, mostly quiet, and it finally paid off.
Though it had not been easy. There had been several times throughout the past year when the pair had tried and failed, mainly for the reason that Vanille simply couldn't find the courage to follow through. Even if she initiated, which had happened, her strength would often fizzle out into the telling trembling of fear.
But then something strange happened. At least he thought it was strange at the time. Hope came home from a small job at the center to find Vanille sitting outside of their dwelling. She held both the letter Donovan had brought her and the Certificate of Liberty that she still hadn't signed. And she had a match in the other hand. She set them both ablaze and watched them burn until nothing was left. Later on he would understand what it was about, mostly because she told him so as they lay together in bed that night. It was like a cleansing ritual, a way for her to ultimately let go of that part of her life that had caused her so much pain. She didn't need it, and she couldn't move on unless it was gone. She did it for him, for her son, for herself. Somehow that changed everything, even the air in the dwelling was different. Then about a week later, last night that is, she came to him.
Are you sure? he recalled asking in his customarily gentle manner.
I'm sure I want to try. With a smile, was her answer.
And he took her to bed, finding it to be well worth the wait. Though it had been awkward at first. He found himself feeling a little smug, too. He'd given Vanille her first orgasm.
Believe it or not, she was thinking of the exact same thing at that very moment. That delirious, intense, surging pleasure that she hadn't known until last night. She had no idea such an act could feel good at all, and the surprise in learning of the contrary was staggering. Then again, Vanille realized, there was something decidedly dissimilar about what she and Hope did together in the darkness, compared to those...things she was forced to do as a slave.
Hope loved her. That made all the difference. With love came compassion, and with that, desire. The rest is history.
In the years to come the two of them would only ever have one other child, another son they named Isaac.
Fang and Bard were there as well, and sat together near by, Bard struggling to stay awake as his head rested in his woman's lap. Their relationship hadn't much changed over the past year. They were still together, still in love, still having fun doing whatever they wanted. Who would want to change that?
Fang stared into the roiling flames, one hand on Bard's head, petting his ear, massaging the edge of it between her fingers. She'd been thinking and thinking, pondering something for days now, wondering what to do. It should've been simple, but in an odd way it wasn't. For a year she had been holding onto it, for reasons she couldn't really understand. Not until tonight. She kept it tucked away in her sari, always close. She fished it out, turning it the fingers of her other hand. It was the lock of hair she'd cut from that bastard's head as he lay dead in the manor corridor.
It was a war time tradition to take a piece of a fallen enemy. Though if it were to serve its purpose as a trophy or a totem of strength was never made clear. Yet Fang realized it wasn't for either of those things, not now. Before it had been a symbol of her triumph over that horrible man, over what he'd done, but then that pride faded into guarded shame, and the small token came to embody that. It was her guilt of what had happened and how she failed to stop it, and how she couldn't let it go. Maybe taking this had produced the exact opposite affect it was meant to; instead of instilling power, it dragged her spirit down.
Not anymore. With little more thought she tossed the article into the flames, watched it burn with a light, satisfied heart. If Vanille could expunge that horror from her life, so could she.
"Love ya, darlin'." Bard muttered sleepily.
"You too, nanny." and she smiled down at him, though he couldn't see it from behind closed lids.
Bard and Fang would be together for a long, long while. Eventually they would travel to where Glanwood had been, finding that some of the village had been rebuilt by other survivors of the flood. Though, while some of these satyrs had been his neighbors, even childhood friends, he would settle permanently in Archylte. Somehow he found himself better suited with the humes than his own people. Then again, these humes were special cases. Very special. And he would cherish them like blood kin. He and Fang would never have children of their own, but they were content all the same.
Han and Lightning were there too. How could they not be? This was their home, this small pasture, and the house they now shared. No, they hadn't married, not yet anyhow. Han had been considering the request though. But things were going so well, he was almost afraid to ask thinking something might go horrible wrong.
Their relationship was not a typical one, there were nuances to it that many other pairings would most likely find odd. They rarely spoke to each other, doubly so in private. Instead they seemed to communicate by expressions, the seemingly varied ways they looked at one another, and behind closed doors did so through specific touch. Seeing as Han had somewhat of a handicap when it came to expressing his feelings with words, as did Lightning, the two developed a silent language that only they could decipher. It was broken down to key words and phrases, simple definitions especially when they "spoke" through touch. But those conversations were mostly for the bedroom, as was almost all physical displays of affection.
"Hold me" was often translated as any embrace, particularly when they faced one another.
"I need you near me" was just holding hands. This could also mean "thank you" or some other show appreciation.
"Touch me" was taking hold of a hand and pressing it to the desired place. Simple enough.
"Make love to me" was unique to each of them. Han would put his hand on her hip and couple it was a particular setting of his eyes. Lightning would begin to trace the tattoo on his back with one finger, her forehead pressed into his shoulder blade.
"I love you" was different as well. Han would embrace her from behind, his arm around her with his palm over the place above her left breast where her heart was, and his head would rest against hers or atop her shoulder. Light would hold him, a hand on each cheek, and kiss him gently, smiling.
The past year had been so amazing, Lightning recalled as she sat behind Han, her arms around him. They had tried keeping their tryst a secret, but that was a colossal failure. Somehow everyone picked up on the subtle change in her mood, how much calmer she appeared, and their suspicions went wild. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out. Though by then she couldn't care less. She was happy, content even. She needed purpose, someone to need her, and Han was that someone. He was everything she never realized she wanted. He didn't try to dominate her as most men she had ever met did.
I wasn't raised to tame a woman, but to fulfill her every want and need that she might be more free than she was without me.
And that suited her just fine. Mayhaps that was one of the things she loved about him. He didn't put her on a pedestal, but didn't antagonize her either. They helped each other. She could be herself around him, and that was a comfort she hadn't known before. And he had all the patience to put up with her shit. Light couldn't complain her situation.
Han let his hand rest over hers as they overlapped each other on his chest. This year had been the happiest he had ever known. He wouldn't trade it for the world. The harvest had come in well, all the lambs were born healthy, Gurthang sired a litter of pups, and Lightning still allowed him to share her bed. What more could he have possibly asked for?
He tiled his head back, looking up at her, their eyes meeting. At first he only smiled, Lightning reciprocating, then he took a deep breath.
"I love you." he whispered.
Her eyes widened a little, the set of her eyes showing curiosity, as if wondering whether or not she heard right.
"I know," he continued, though slowly, and still very quiet, "I know I'll only be able to hold you half as close as any other man...touch only half of you at a time...and offer only one helping hand. But...I can assure you that I will love with the heart of ten men. Now and always."
Her smile grew after a moment, and while she didn't speak, she responded in their secret way. Saying the same with but the touch of her hands to his face.
He was terrified, now that he had finally uttered the words that had lingered in him for more than a year. But it would come to pass that his jinx would not touch them. In fact it would never come around again, neither it nor the crows.
That night, after everyone had gone home and they retired to bed, after Lightning quietly began to trace the tattoo on his back and kiss his shoulder, they would make love and she would finally accept him. She was in his lap, arms and legs locked tight around him as she climaxed. And when he came, attempting to withdraw, she wouldn't allow it. She held fast to him, lips bruising with the force of a searing kiss. And they held one another this way, in the darkness, for a long while.
"Say it again." she breathed, her breath cool on his sweat dappled shoulder.
"I love you." there was no hesitation. "With all my soul, I love you."
"I love you, too." and she held his face in her hands to kiss him once more.
They would be happy together for many years, though they never came to have children. They were fine enough serving as aunt and uncle to the kids of their friends, and inevitably, great aunt and uncle to the generations to follow.
(-)
I don't always have a moral for my work. Typically I do it with no intention of having one, but in this case it seems to have occurred without my knowledge. As most things do. Surely everyone interprets different things from what they read, but mayhaps we can come together in this. This, in reality, was not a love story. Though love played a massive part. We've learned love can bloom in any place, no matter the damage or the difference. We've also learned that looks aren't everything, and that they can also be deceiving.
Perhaps the moral here is that...you are what you make of yourself. While, yes, sometimes we are forced into situations we cannot change, we can always change how we react to them. It's never too late to choose love over hate, courage over cowardice, or joy over grief. For it is our choices that define us.
So what will you choose?
Author's Note: That's it. Done, finished, over. After more than a year of late nights and binge-writing, illustration deadlines and research, "Blood Tithe" is hereby completed. I certainly hope all of you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, and I wish to extend my deepest gratitude to all of those who stuck around this long. Your words of praise and advice have been a massive, driving force behind me, keeping me going when times got crazy. See ya!
