Dissolution of Arms

By Eerie

Chapter Four: Birth and Death

Several Months Later:

A great fire licked at the bricks of the fireplace before the amber-eyed woman. She watched the red flames weave their hypnotic dance, ensnaring her concentration. The sitting room was pleasantly warm, encased in soft illumination. Gradually the red of the flames melted away and yielded to pure blue, their white bases giving the illusion that the flames somehow floated above the wood they burned. Footsteps sounded nearby and Charlotte looked up to greet her beloved's return.

Meier entered and strode across the room to meet her with two chalices carved from silver in his hands. He stood behind her and abandoned one of these to her waiting hand before leaning over to rest his chin lightly in her soft curls. Charlotte stole a sip of the cup's pale contents and watched as Meier's hands wandered over her heavily swollen abdomen.

"Do you suppose it's a boy or a girl?" she asked somewhat dreamily.

"Truly it would ruin the surprise if I told you," Meier answered feigning shock.

"You mean. . . but how could you know?" she asked and tilted her head to gawk in surprise at him.

"My acute senses tend to leave little room for the imagination," he replied and kissed her forehead.

"Yes, but, it's not fair that you should know and I cannot," she pouted, childlike. Meier smiled.

"My love, I do think that you already know as well as I," he said soothingly.

To that she merely gave a tiny lopsided smile and settled deeper into the chair before confiding, "I have a feeling. To that much alone am I certain." The reflections of the blue flames flickered in her eyes.

"Meier?" she called softly.

"Yes?"

Her lips found the chalice rim once more before she continued. "What will this child be like? Will he be immortal as you are? Or will he age and die like me?" she asked in a toneless voice as if she knew what his reply would be.

The vampire's hands withdrew from her and found the back of the chair instead as he straightened. A silent sigh escaped his chest.

"The child will live in agelessness for eternity," he answered, finding even that simple reply challenging to bring past his lips.

"I see," she said. Her saddened voice gave Meier the will to press on and attempt to console her.

"Time flows very differently here. You will have many more years than you would on your own plane. Perhaps several more lifetimes," he reassured her and ran his fingers through her delicate hair. Moments of silence followed, broken only by the occasional crack of the flames. Meier's heart began to fall.

Her voice came out small and defeated as she spoke, "Be that as it may, it is still no more than a blink of an eye to one that does not know mortality. Though the idea scares me a little, I want to become like you, Meier."

The vampire felt his muscles stiffen against his will. He had known that this conversation was inevitable, but he could not prepare for it now.

"I want to be with you and our child forever. Why must I be condemned to have to leave you behind?" she continued and Meier knew that her tears had begun to fall.

"Charlotte, I cannot grant this wish you ask," he began and the pain of regret filled him like lead with each word he spoke. "You don't know what it's like to spend an eternity alive only to expect yet another eternity to pass. The time does not pass quickly, I assure you. If it weren't for you, I should think myself quite mad by now. Mortality is a blessing, my fair one, but this life. . . this life is the condemned one. I am both glad and tormented over the birth of this child. It is not an easy thing to mourn those that have yet to be born knowing the never-ending fate that awaits them" he sighed, half-shuddering with sorrow. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," she said and pressed her hands to her face to wipe away the tears that had been falling as he spoke. "But I still desire it."

"I know you do, my dear, but it can never be. Not as long as there is love in my heart for you," Meier said.

She giggled unexpectedly and said lightly, "But even still, I can't help being excited."

Meier wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders gratefully and held her tight.

"As am I."

She smiled weakly and continued to slowly drain her glass as Meier released her and stood to take his own chair next to hers. As he did so, he fell into deep thought. He imagined what it would be like to have her forever at his side. The image was very tempting, but it was not possible. He fought to banish it from his mind. Charlotte was a strong woman in her own way, but not strong enough to endure countless centuries as an undead. He knew this. It was concrete in his very being but removing the temptation that beckoned him against it was no easy task nonetheless.

He settled into his chair and picked up the dusty book from its arm, flipping through the pages to find his place. He hoped that he could escape such musings if he could only distract himself. But it wasn't long before the words were passing unheeded before his eyes and his thoughts returned to speculation.

He remembered the first time he ever saw her, standing among the deep red roses in the garden before her large looming house and gazing at the midnight moon. Even then he could see a longing in her wondrous eyes, a desire to be free. He crept closer to her, eager to taste her blood for it would no doubt be as sweet as her beauty. But she had keen senses of her own and turned to him as he approached, fear replacing the wakeful dream in her eyes. But then something strange had occurred. The fear melted and she smiled at him. And to Meier, that smile was one that could never be outshined. He froze, taken aback.

"Good evening, sir," she called to him. "The moon is lovely this eve is it not?"

He scolded himself for hesitating before this human girl and resumed his stride.

"It is," he replied and admired the way the moonlight glimmered in her hair and on her gown. Her eyes seemed to be admiring him as well, though he could not understand why. Most humans shunned his grace in favor of terror, which he didn't mind in the slightest. It amused him. But this girl was different, strange.

"May I ask to what destination you are drawn at such an hour?" she asked shyly and toyed with a rose. He stopped a few feet from her and drank in the sight.

That one moment was what turned Meier's heart forever. He felt himself weakening in her presence, desiring to take but wanting to preserve her beauty, which resembled that rose in her hands.

"To this very place, it seems," he answered and his heart grew light when she smiled again.

"Oh? But why would that be?" she asked and a blush rose to her cheeks.

Such a bold woman. She had no idea of the kind of creature that she was appealing to. If he wanted, he could have taken her and left her for dead right then and there. But that untouched innocence that she had was too pure to be tainted by his unholy kiss, and he found himself liking her more and more.

They chatted amiably for several moments before a light flared in one of the house's windows. The look of fear returned to her eyes.

"I must go. But please tell me your name," she asked.

"Meier Link," he replied.

"I'm Charlotte Elbourne. I hope that I will see you again, Meier. Perhaps, tomorrow night?" she asked with obvious hope.

He couldn't resist her charm and agreed. "Tomorrow," he said and bowed to her.

She flashed one last smile at him and hurried inside to meet her brother, shutting the door before he could see that she was talking to a strange man. Meier stayed and listened to them argue for a while before turning back the way he came. He wondered if that was the reason for the longing in her eyes when he first happened upon her. Meier startled himself with that thought. For once in all his long years, a human had captured his imagination. He resolved to return the next night to meet her.

Meier allowed his nostalgia to comfort him for the moment. That night would always be one to treasure. But the conversation they had just carried out reentered his thoughts.

Meier had always believed in some form of afterlife. And the faith that they two would meet again in such a realm was the only consolation he had over the dire reminder of her fate. That is, if monsters like him were allowed one. The thought shook him but the sudden sound of clattering metal made him jump.

He turned in alarm and saw Charlotte doubled over in pain as she clutched her abdomen. A river of thick water flowed down her legs and swirled into the spilled juice at her feet. A guttural groan wracked her body.

"What is it?" he asked in a state of panic, though he knew very well.

"It's coming now," she answered with forced strength and trembled.

Meier found his muscles once more and hastened to the sofa to tug off the ever-present blanket that Charlotte curled up with to read at nights. The two pillows at either end came with him and together formed a hasty bed by the fire. Taking her arm for balance, Meier guided her down onto it, eyes widening at the sight of blood already escaping her.

"I'll be right back. Please hold on," he said and squeezed her hand before hurrying out to gather a bowl of water, rags, and another blanket.

She was crying in agony when he returned; the bloodstain on the blanket beneath her had widened. Meier impatiently fought aside the instinctive heat that flowered in his groin at the sight of it as he set the items down. He dipped a rag into the cool water and smoothed the beads of sweat away from her forehead. Her hand flew up and clutched his with a strength that surprised him so much he almost felt pain from that grasp. Her face contorted as she cried out and Meier murmured comforting words in her ear, his worry mounting.

For just over an hour she remained in labor though it felt to Meier like a nightmare that would never end. He had done everything he could to coax her into pushing but it was no avail. From what he had heard from others, birthing those with vampire blood was usually very difficult for the mothers. It would be the same with Charlotte. Meier could not stop himself from silently praying to some higher entity that she make it through this alive.

Finally, it began. Charlotte's screams grew ragged with weariness but the pain did not subside. Her skin grew paler with the trial and she continued to bleed rapidly. The baby's crown emerged slowly and she fought with every ounce of her strength and will combined to push it from her.

"One more, Charlotte. Just one more," Meier pleaded and prepared to deliver his child. The sight of all the blood gleaming in the cool blue light of the flames made him nearly swoon with dizziness. And the overpowering smell of it. . . there was no doubt that he used just as much strength as she to control the lust that threatened to well over inside of him. The shame he would feel were he to give in to such a thing at such a time proved quite controlling.

Charlotte clenched her muscles tight and expended everything she had into that final push with an exhausted groan that bordered on a scream. Blackness swelled behind her eyelids and all sounds about her faded into silence. The pain that wrenched every fiber of her body dulled and throbbed in time with her weakened heartbeats and she felt as though she were floating away from herself. A strong baby's cry rang in her ears and brought her back to reality for a moment. She worked to lift the heavy weights that were her eyelids and looked eagerly upon her child.

Through the haze she saw Meier cleaning her blood from the small infant; its tiny hands looked as though they fought him from doing so. Meier's ruby eyes shimmered with unshed tears when he looked to her and she lost control of her own. They slid hot down her flushed face as she tried to reach out to them, but her arms lay limp with exhaustion at her sides. Meier obliged her weakness and stretched himself out beside her to share their new son's first moments.

"So beautiful," she whispered and gazed into the child's calmed face, not noticing the way Meier watched her with concern. "What should we name him?"

Meier returned his gaze to the pale skinned infant in his arms and contemplated. The soft tuft of hair on its little head was colorless, white as its father's. The infant's eyes opened then to reveal orbs of stunning crimson; another uncommon trait like his own. But the baby had his mother's fine yet rounded features in his face. Meier knew he would grow up to be beautiful.

"Caruwyn. It seems fitting, don't you think?" he mused aloud. Charlotte smiled slightly.

"Yes. It's a good name," she gasped and coughed. Meier reached for her hand.

"Tell me what you need," he demanded softly. Her eyes reopened and gazed sadly at him.

"Just . . . just let me rest," she breathed and exhaustion overtook her.

The blackness returned to greet her and take her away into sweet rest. But her heart was aching and she had not the strength to speak anymore; not even will power alone would enable her to fight the clouds that enfolded her senses. That feeling of lightness returned and she knew that she was slipping away from her body. Once the last sensation of physical life had released her, she was able to look one last time on her two beautiful cherished ones and a tear slipped from her eye.

'My beloved husband and son, I shall never forget you. With all of my heart I will be there with you, always.'

"Charlotte?" Meier called to her softly and touched her cheek. She did not respond and her broken breathing had stopped. A sudden panic seized his heart with icy firmness. He set the baby at his side and grasped her shoulders.

"Charlotte! Answer me!" he cried out and shook her. Her body lay limp and motionless in his hands, her head slumped back. His eyes grew impossibly wide in horror.

"No . . . no! I won't allow it!" he exclaimed angrily and tore at his shirtsleeve before lifting his arm to his mouth. His sharp teeth tore a neat wound into his skin and blood welled up, sliding over his forearm.

"Charlotte, please drink from me," he pleaded and pressed the wound to her pale lips. He watched in growing dismay as his essence dripped slowly into her unmoving mouth and slid in stark contrast down her bloodless cheeks.

"DRINK!" he screamed but his tears had already begun.

The infant began to cry loudly at its father's distress and Meier slumped over Charlotte's body. His arms lifted her into his embrace and rocked her as he mourned. The room was filled with the sounds of crying and grieving; the scent of death began to seek out the corners.

Meier's senses began to fuse together and every emotion he ever knew swept through him as he held the source of his happiness, now dead in his arms. Through the pain and grief came a surging anger and remorse at denying her his life when he had the chance. But now it was too late and he would never see her again. Never see her age in happiness as her son grew into a man. Never again hear her sweet voice. Never again feel her gentle touch and sweet breath warm his cold skin.

"Charlotte . . .," Meier moaned in agony before a soul-shattering cry of defeat ripped from his throat.

To be continued. . .

Author's Note: The name Caruwyn comes from a combination of the Welsh words caru (love) and gwyn (pale, blessed).