IX

Neltharion looked upon his wife, his face was in utter disbelief. Calia sat upon the sofa, her head bowed, staring long upon the floor. She did not want to look at him. He could still hear the extra heart beat coming from her lower abdomen. THe beat was rapid, only because it was so small. He could hear the tiny heart beat vibrate her bones and down through the wooden planks. Calia sighed.

"That's one of the reasons why I was gone these last seven weeks," she said. "I didn't want you to freak out about this. The las time I nearly died. And I don't know about this one. But it's not like medical science has invented a way to safely remove the fetus. But there is the coat hanger method."

Neltharion blinked, not exactly sure what she meant.

"Coat hanger," she said. "I've heard of some of the women around would secretly terminate a pregnancy if they couldn't afford to raise the child, either in time of famine or just––she broke off, pressing her lips together. She motioned to him rather crudely what she meant. She hooked her finger in the area of her belly and Neltharion's eyes lit up with horror and shock. Calia continued. "Just shove the hanger up––and pull it out."

"Why––why would you consider that?" he asked.

"Sometimes, it just has to happen," she replied. "If I knew I could do that when I was 17 and pregnant with a child that could kill me but to abort the baby was taboo among the nobility. Finally released from that world, I discovered alternatives. Though I've heard one husband punching his wife in the stomach to cause a miscarriage. He was a count."

"I'm not punching you," said Neltharion.

Calia looked up at him, sniffing. She wiped her eyes.

"Do you want it?" she asked. "Do you honestly want to have this baby with me?"

Neltharion sighed, looking away, his eyes lost as she looked upon the photograph of them standing in the waves of the Great Sea, smiles upon their faces.

"I'm not going to chance my own life for this unless you are absolutely certain, Neltharion," she said. "I want to hear it."

"I––I can't," he replied. "I can't make a decision like this, not without––not so quickly, not now when the Horde is about to beat down the door."

"I know," said Calia. "I know. But anything can happen during battle."

Neltharion swung his head back to her, his scaly black lip trembling against his racks of teeth. To anyone who did not understand his expression would think that this meant his was furious. Calia knew better. The dragon was scared.

"You can't expect me to––" he began. He shook, his wings trembled against his flank. Neltharion swallowed, holding up a paw, his head lowered. "No––I can't––don't do this to me, not now."

"Punch me in the stomach, then."

Neltharion exhaled upon that rather dry, emotionless command from the woman he decided to reconnect with in these last two years. They were in love, but their relationship was no dream. He almost swallowed his tongue. He coughed, spraying spittle from his lips.

"What?" Neltharion asked. "No! No! You're––you're crazy!"

Calia got off the couch and crossed her arms, staring at him with daggers in her eyes. The Dragon Aspect shrank back, feeling each pierce of her gaze upon him, shaking even more.

"I would never––never––never do that to you," he said. "And I am going to remove any metal wire hanger from the house, I'll keep you from harming yourself!"

Calia looked away, feeling the sting of her tears. Neltharion felt his heart clinch tightly as he saw her freeze her face in a strong, vacant stare, only a drop of a tear betrayed her emotions.

"You can't do this to me, right now," said Neltharion. "Cali, not now! Not while we need to focus on defending our home. Is this what they teach you in the military?"

"No," she said. "But if it were just a normal baby, I wouldn't think much on it. But it isn't, Nel. It's an––abomination."

"You don't know that. I don't know that. I'm not corrupted anymore––but..."

"It still can hurt me," she said. "The last one did." She took in a deep breath. "And the stigma that will come. Don't think I haven't heard them talking about us––behind our backs."

"Cali," said Neltharion.

Calia clinched tighter. Neltharion shook his head again, lowering his head, tears forming in his eyes.

"Cali, when we deal with Garrosh, we can deal with this," he said. Neltharion closed his eyes and thumped a talon upon the floor. Through the vibrations, up her femur, to her pelvis, flashes of white and gray. He could see her bones through the sound, the various augmentations she underwent to become an agent of SI:7. She took in a deep breath as he zoomed in upon her womb. There it was, barely the size of an apple seed, a still forming fetus nestled under a placenta. The hands and feet still looked like buds from the oddly shaped torso. A tiny tail twitched. Neltharion, in order to help out with the healers in the city, read about the anatomy of mortals, including child birth. It was expected for a fetus to have a tail at this stage. So far, he could not see any abnormalities, no horns, no wings. It looked normal. The fetus twitched, its rapid heart beat creating tiny flashes of white within Neltharion's vision. He opened his eyes and leaned down to his wife. The dragon pressed his cheek against her stomach and nuzzled her with a purr.

"Cali," he began, looking up at her with wet, pleading eyes. "Let's not think about it now, please? We have time."

Calia knelt to him and wrapped her arms around his wide, muscular neck. She laid her head in his beard and snuggled against his chest. She could feel the cool splash as his tears dripped upon her cheek. Neltharion wrapped her up in his great wings. The small tip of his pink tongue flicked out to graze upon her cheek, lapping her tears up. The Earth-Warder was strong enough to lift a mountain upon his back, but still was gentle enough to hold his wife. He pressed his lips gently on her forehead. Calia sighed and leaned against his chest as Neltharion rested his chin upon her crown.

"Do you want the baby?" he asked. "This should be both our decision."

"I don't know," she said.

"Then, we both can't decide," he said. "This should be our decision, not just mine––not just yours. Ours."

"Right."

Neltharion sighed and held her a little tighter, calming her down with his deep purr. He brushed her head softly with his paws. Calia yawned, feeling herself drift off to sleep in his arms. Then, Calia shook herself awake and pushed away from her husband.

"I hate it when you make that noise," she said with a half laugh. "It always makes me so sleepy." She smoothed out his silky beard. "How can something like you be so soft?"

She felt along his scaly chin and up around his cheeks. His scales did not feel so rough or as hard as one would think. He was soft, his scales as sensitive as human skin. He could feel her fingers under all those scales. Calia leaned up and kissed him upon his lips.

Neltharion tilted his head he let her go, feeling her hands trace down along his plated chest. She flipped one of his braids and then pulled something loose from his locks.

"Oh! Look at this!" she said. "I found a gray hair."

"I'm graying," said Neltharion with a laugh. "Maybe because I keep worrying about you. And I can sense you're still troubled, Cali."

"Well, besides the obvious," she began. "This concerns you, but I didn't want you to go storming off. It needed a careful touch––and you don't have that."

"I'm careful," said Neltharion.

"Honey, you are like a herd of steer in one china shop!" she said.

"I'm careful with you."

Calia smiled: "I know. But this required a gentle touch. I knew the moment people got wind of you coming, they would had fled. And I didn't want that to happen. So, I knew I was perfect for the job. I am trying to take this whole Prime Consort thing seriously, and I went out looking for a broodmother. But I found something else."

"What did you find?"

"A blood trail that spans a good chunk of the Eastern Kingdom," said Calia. "We found Nalice in Karazhan––Deadwind Pass, by the way. Dead." She combed her hand through her bangs. "She was gathering up old dusty artifacts that crazy sorcerer had––"

"Medivh," said Neltharion.

"That's him. Someone killed her, killed her followers too."

"I did feel her death," said Neltharion. "She was trying hard to hide herself from me. But didn't order her death. Who did?"

"That's what we were trying to figure out."

"What else?"

"Well, the blood trail didn't stop there," she said as she settled back down upon the sofa. Neltharion's bulky body hopped upon the cushion of the sofa and he rested his head on his wife's shoulder. Calia sighed and brushed her fingers through his beard. She continued: "More black dragons turned up dead. Some black dracinoid named Creed in Ravenholt had been killed off. The dragons, they had one thing in common, they were all hiding about 200 square miles of Ravenholt. And this is just the tip. Ruthian and I found another black dragon––a male identified as Farad. He was found dead in his dragon form along with multiple bodies of red dragons."

"Red dragons," said Neltharion. "Did they kill him?"

"No," said Calia. "It wasn't them. They were killed by black dragon lava breath from Farad. We saw the solidified volcanic glass burned into their bodies. He died later––at Ravenholt Manor."

Neltharion rumbled, listening closely.

"Ruthian and I went into the house and found in the cellar a black dragon egg," she continued. "It was hatched, not broken or smashed. We managed to round up several people belonging to the Ravenholt Thieves Guild and found out a red dragonflight plot. Nel, your sister––Alexstrasza––is a bitch."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Neltharion, leaning against the back of the sofa. "I visit and all she wants to do is cling on me, lord over me. Sid tells me how cold she is when I'm not around."

"Disgusting," said Calia. "Honey, I've heard the rumors. Serinar told me that Deathwing wanted to make Alex his love shave."

"It was the other way around," said Neltharion.

"That's what I got from Serinar," said Calia. "When she held you prisoner two years ago, she wanted you to stay only with her."

Neltharion leaned his head back, the pointed ends scraping against the wall. He extended his wings and draped them over his lap.

"Well, I can't blame here," said Calia. "You are very handsome. How is it that a dragon, let alone Deathwing could be so pretty?"

Neltharion grinned and nuzzled her cheek.

"Alexstrasza called me angelic," he said. "She––had a crush on me."

"She's your sister."

"I know," he said. "When she put me back together, she did her best to restore my––beauty––all because she wanted me as I was. She wanted her pretty crush again."

"Glad she made you so pretty," said Calia. "This relationship would be a bit harder if you weren't pretty." She leaned into his neck. "Still, with your sister. It's odd."

"You nobles do it all the time," said Neltharion.

"Glad I got out of that," said Calia. "My father could had dumped me on some abusive cousin." She felt up along his neck. "Well, Alex is doing something. Something I don't think any of us would like."

"The dragon egg was hatched."

"The Thieves Guild they were working for someone called the Black Prince," said Calia.

"The Black Prince. The whelpling?"

"I don't recall whelps having that much influence right out of the egg."

"They don't," said Neltharion, "They're so small, leaving the nest is a death sentence."

"Ruthian said he sensed the usage of dragon magic," she began. "That's how Farad died."

"A whelp isn't strong enough to take on a fully grown dragon," said Neltharion.

"We caught one of the thieves," she said. "He told us that the egg was stolen from a gnome scientist who worked for a red dragon in the Badlands named Rhaestrasza. The red dragons in the Vermilion Redoubt are refusing to talk. Once they saw Ruthian, they chased us away. I didn't want to argue with them––unless I dragged you over there."

Neltharion chuckled and kissed her on her cheek. He wrapped his thick forelegs around her torso, resting his head on her crown again. She could feel his thick tail curling around her legs. The Black Dragon let out a deep purr. His eyes drooped.

"You sleepy, bunny?" she asked.

Neltharion rumbled a sleepy reply as he closed his eyes.

"Okay, come on."

Calia pushed him off and helped him to his feet. She led him into the bedroom, turning on the light. Neltharion hopped into the bed, hearing it squeak and shake with his weight. The bed was enormous and set low to the ground to make it easier for the dragon to jump onto it. He settled down, kicking off the covers and resting upon his side. He looked like a big, black, winged cat, his tail curled around his hind legs. Neltharion tilted his head up, opening his great maw in a low yawn, his lips pulling across his sharp teeth and his pointed, pink tongue rolling out between his lower fangs. Calia flung off her clothes and undergarments, finally letting her breasts bounced with freedom before throwing on an over-sized, large, gray shirt with the words Stormwind Intelligence Academy written on the front in block letters. Though as she put her shirt on, Neltharion could see the wrinkled, pitted, rosy, skin of her back, the scarred patch, the horrible mark Deathwing left when he took her innocence. He was not as disturbed by it as he used to be, but still it was just as much of a painful memory to him as it was to her. She looked on to her husband, seeing him nibble upon a loose scale, which gave him quite an itch. He pulled the scale free and leaned over to the small trash bin beside the bed to spit it out. Then, the dragon proceeded to lick the exposed area of skin that the scale covered.

"I hope you're not bleeding," said Calia. "The last thing I need is to fetch the fire extinguisher."

"I'm not bleeding," said Neltharion as he showed her his foreleg. "Just an old, worn-out scale. I've got a new one growing in its place."

Calia got into the bed and saw the spot where Neltharion had removed the loose scale. The area was just skin––dark, reddish brown skin hiding under the blue black, tough scales of the dragon. She reached out and touched it and it felt just like that––skin. Though, she could almost see a faint glow under the skin, lines fanning out like a spiderweb of tiny, orange, glowing filaments just below the surface. Those were his capillaries, pulsating with his fiery, magmatic blood as his huge heart pumped it through his body. Despite the fact that his blood was thousands of degrees, radiating with the heat that lava held, she could touch the skin and only feel the warmth of an inviting summer breeze. She could not feel the searing, scorching, deathly heat that his body truly held. Those scales of his absorbed the heat, protected her and everything else from it.

"See?" he said. "I'm not bleeding."

"Thank goodness," she said.

That was basically what Neltharion looked like now, the rips he once bore as Deathwing, exposing the hot core, erupting with lava, those rips were now just sealed in the same tough, dark reddish-brown skin. New scales were beginning to form over top the renewed skin, but Calia could still see some of the spaces between the rips glow with a soft, dull orange light. Still, the only thing that was not quite healed, that was his back. The elementium armor he now wore was shiny, clean, polished, made with great care. Upon its surface, etched along the bolts were engraved dwarven designs. Neltharion grabbed the covers and pulled them over his wife's body as she settled her head upon the pillow. He gently rested a claw upon her hips as she curled up against his chest again. The Great Black untied his braids, combing his claws through his beard. Then, he smiled and laid right beside her.

"Good night, Cali," he said.

"Good night, Nel," she said as she kissed his lips.

As she closed her eyes, Neltharion lifted a wing up to drape it over her body. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, but softly, each breath carrying his low purr. His eyes only opening just slightly as he once more caught the sound of the tiny heartbeat inside of his wife. Neltharion stared blankly out in the dark room, his eyes unfocused.

I––get to try again––a second chance, he thought. His mind turned to the ghosts who watched over him, looking fearfully at Arthas.

I was––afraid for my sister, Neltharion, said Arthas. I was just afraid. That's why I did what I did. Even after all that I've done––I love my sister.

Neltharion swallowed.

No one has ever witnessed this before, said Malygos. Even I can't say what will happen.

Sleep on it, said Arthas. Take it one day at a time.

Am I supposed to be happy? Neltharion asked. Aren't I supposed to be happy? We're going to have a baby!

Don't go announcing it to the world just yet, Nel, said Arthas. Especially to people like Varian. The last thing you need is more trouble.

I am with Arthas on this, said Malygos. Until it's blatantly obvious, keep it to yourselves. After all, it is yours and hers business. No one else's.

The night wore on as the two slept peacefully. Though, ever so often, Neltharion's eyes popped open when he felt his wife shift under his great wing. The White Lady's waning crescent lazily rose, the silvery light spilling into the room. Neltharion sighed as he slowly lifted his head off the pillow. He could not sleep. Slowly, he left the bed and went to the window. His ears picked up the sound of the ocean crashing waves upon the sandy shore. The longhouse he stayed in with his wife, he could see the ocean from there.

Neltharion took in a deep breath, smelling the salty sea air Then, he leaned down to kissed his wife who only moaned, turning over. She was still asleep. He quietly walked out of the room, careful not to make a sound. As he walked out into the moonlight, Neltharion headed for the beach. He needed to clear his own head for a moment after all the news that was broken upon his head. He stopped just before the rim of the waves rolling upon the wet sand and then leaned back upon his hind legs. Neltharion began to pull upon the water with a smooth motion. The waves responded to his command, rolling closer. The Earth-Warder pulled his paws up and the waves lifted up. Then, as he waved his paws outward, the water responded, forming into long tendrils and whipping out about his body, snapping wetly in the air. He spun and sent the water looping around him in a spiral. The wind from the rush of water caused his beard to whip around his neck. Neltharion twitched his paws stiffly and the spiral of water froze instantly. He dragged his feet across the sand and several pieces of sandstone rose up. He grunted, sending them flying up above the doughnut of solidified ice. Neltharion bent forward and the ice melted. with a twitch again, he sent slivers of the water towards the rock, slicing it into thin pieces.

He drew his paws close to himself as he took in a deep breath, fanning his wings. The water whipped about, gathering into spheres at his side. Then, he slammed the water into the sand, watching it splash hard. Neltharion exhaled and an explosion of air blew out from his body. Sand rushed away in waves, caught in the spiraling air that radiated out from him. He held his paws out, the air swirling violently around him, causing the sand to rise, looking like a cone of dust, wrapping his body. He arched his arms and sliced through the dust, allowing it to part in front. Neltharion gasped, swallowing. He lowered down upon his paws and faced the ocean again, pulling the water towards him. With a swing of his paw, and then a stiff jerk, he froze the water into a tall, thick column upon the foamy surface. Neltharion exhaled and lowered his paws, the ice column melting and collapsing into the ocean.

The Black Dragon paused, seeing something flicker upon the rim of the horizon. The flicker of light was small, orange, but moving slowly closer. His eyes could see great distances, much farther than any mortal. Though, even curve of the planet could obscure his vision and he could only see as far as that visually. Whatever it was, it was hundreds of miles out, only just peeping above the rim of the world.

Neltharion shook his head and returned to his home. As he came into the room, he looked upon his wife, who still laid in the bed. He was going to let her sleep, let her remain in slumberland just a little while longer. He couldn't. He reached out to touch her shoulder, gently shaking her. Calia gasped as she was startled awake.

"What?" she asked as she stretched, rising from her pillow.

"Out on the horizon," he began. "I saw ships––several ships coming towards the island."

"Ships?"

"I think they're Horde ships."

Calia sat fully up, pulling covers off of her.

"Come on," she said. "We've gotta wake Jaina."