Author's Note: Tamora Pierce wrote it. I just fan-fictioned it.

Chapter 21: Breathe

May 445 H.E.

Five months, two weeks, three days later, Alanna went into labor. Gathered in the room, Princess Kalasin and Prince Thomas witnessed the birth of their new siblings. There was no surprise twin this time; no, this time, the Lioness had triplets, two boys and one girl.

The labor was shorter than her first, but it was just as difficult. Agony wracked the queen's body as she struggled to deliver the children. Covered in sweat and tears, with one great push, the two boys, one right after the other, met the world for the first time. Eleni scooped them up, and they were handed, hastily wiped, to their father. Jon was startled to feel the same rush of new love for these children. He'd expected to love them equally, but thought the sudden earth-shaking feeling was reserved for the first time. He was delighted to find that this was untrue. They'd both inherited Jon's eyes, but he laughed when he saw that one head was black, the other was bright orange.

He turned to share their new bundles of joy with Alanna, but his wife was still ferociously straining.

"There's still one more," Eleni said and she tried to place the Lioness's legs back where she could brace them. "Push, once more, love. You can do it," she said, as calmly and encouragingly as she had for the past three hours. A flow of fluid, frighteningly red, gushed from between Alanna's legs. Jon winced and held the boys tighter.

Eleni's hands and wrists turned red with blood and her face turned white as she tried to help deliver this last baby. Finally, Alanna gave an almighty heave and out tumbled a third infant, much tinier than her brothers and a little purple about the face. Alanna fainted dead away. Eleni scooped this babe up, just as briskly as she had the others, but something made her pause. Tenderly, she wiped the little girl's face. Peering intently, the child's grandmother reached for her Gift.

"What's wrong?" demanded Jon when his daughter was not placed directly into his arms. The boys were being held by nursery maids, and Kally and Thom peered at them eagerly.

"This one, this one is struggling."

"Struggling? Struggling for what?" Jon had not liked the sound of Eleni's voice.

"For life," she whispered, her voice choking.

Jon's face blanched and he glanced at Alanna, still unconscious. "Gods all bless," he whispered, wiping threatening tears from his eyes. He sent up many silent prayers as Eleni carefully tended to the little girl. The two boys, forgotten, cried hungrily, but Jon kept his eyes on his daughter.

-x-x-x-

"Where are they?" Alanna asked as she came to. Jon gestured silently for the boys to be brought to their mother. They snuggled into her, and she hugged them, bathing in the maternal love she felt from her heart. Like Jon had before, she marveled that the same universe-altering love could apply to the second batch of children she had produced. But something was wrong.

"Where is the third one?" she asked bewilderedly. "I know I can't breast-feed three, but I would like to see my other baby."

Everyone hesitated. Jon took her hand. "Sweetheart. Love," he said. Alanna looked at him, and then at all the other grave faces.

"What? What is it?" Her voice grew shriller.

"The other baby…" Jon said slowly. "She's a girl, and she came…but we're…we're worried."

"Worried?" Alanna repeated.

"Yes. You see, she's not…doing so well."

Alanna hugged her new boys to her tightly. "I want to see her."

"I don't know—"

"I want to see her."

Reluctantly, Jon signaled for Eleni. Eleni approached the queen, holding a tiny bundle. Jon took one of the boys into his own arms, so the little girl could be placed in her mother's arms. Alanna looked down at the little face and felt her world spin, just as it had for Thom and Kally, and just as it had for the boys, just moments before. But her heart constricted painfully. This was not the healthy, robust face she had expected, had wanted. The miniscule face, hidden under a shock of red hair, was still faintly purple and the eyes were squeezed shut. Any movement was jerky.

Alanna looked at her stepmother. "Is there nothing to be done?"

Eleni's large hazel eyes were sad. "I have tried, dear. But her heart is not strong. I don't think she had enough room in the womb. All three are smaller than they should be, but we're most concerned for her."

Alanna looked down again at her tiny daughter, and began to shake her head. Her brain shook with the violence of her head's movements. "No! No! No!"

"Alanna," Jon's desperate voice called, his free hand clutching her shoulder. "Stop! It's not helping."

Alanna's head shot up. She had journeyed to the Realms of the Dead before to save Jon. She could do it now to save Jon's daughter. Merciful Mother, help me! She reached for her Gift, ready to pour it all into this tiny being. In her mind, she could see the purple fire, but it was dimmer than it had been when Jon had lain dying from the Sweating Sickness. Burn higher! Burn brighter! Save my daughter!

Eleni's voice was harsh. "Stop! Alanna, if you use your magic, all will be lost."

"How? All will be lost if she dies!"

"No. You haven't the strength to fight death, not now. If you try, you both will die."

Alanna turned to Jon, who understanding her look, began to roll up his sleeves. They were united in one purpose—to save their tiny daughter.

"Your Majesty! You can't!"

"Why?" demanded Jon. "I have not labored for hours. My strength is not limited. This is my daughter." Eleni could not argue as Jon took the girl gently into his arms.

"Gods all bless."

"So mote it be," whispered Alanna, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, willing him to succeed. She watched as Jon concentrated, his brow furrowing. Sweat beaded from his forehead after only a few minutes. She longed to reach for her ember-stone, but her hands were full of her sons, living and breathing sons.

Jon broke his concentration and turned to Alanna. His eyes did not offer her hope.

"Alanna," he gasped. "I don't know what I can do. She breathes more shallowly every minute."

Pure terror broke through Alanna's body.

"I want Maude. I want my brother. I want Numair. I want Baird. I want Mithros. I want the Goddess. I want them here, and I want them now!"

Maids scurried to do the queen's bidding. She kissed the still-unnamed boys' heads. "I love you," she told each of them. "So much. And I promise to hold you each for twelve hours straight. But for now, I must take care of your sister."

She handed them to maids, instructing them to be cleaned more thoroughly and be given to the wet-nurse. The tiny girl was placed in her arms again, and she cradled her against her breast. She began to sing, crooning, slightly off-key, to her daughter.

The baby opened her mouth, and Alanna hoped that she would latch herself to her nipple or even give a squalling cry to say "I'm here! I want to live!" However, the baby only was trying to find a new way to bring air to her lungs. An awful rattling sound filled the room.

"Please live, Marinine. Please live." The name slipped, unbidden, from Alanna's lips. "Marinine, please live."

As if in response, the baby whimpered.

"Marinine?" asked Jon softly.

"Yes," said Alanna, not looking up. "For my mother."

Fight, Marinine, fight. Fight like my mother couldn't. Fight and live. For her. For you. For me. Please.

Alanna sent up her prayers to her patroness. Please, Merciful Mother. If now were ever the time to be with me, please. Save my Marinine.

"Fight, Mari," whispered Jon. Alanna smiled at him, and he climbed carefully unto the bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around Alanna, and the parents gazed down at their daughter.

-x-x-x-

Maude Tanner came. Thom came. Numair Salmalin came. Duke Baird of Queenscove came.

Little Marinine lived through dawn, and hope began to beat in her parents' chests.

After the child was taken away for Master Salmalin to examine her, the boys were brought back to Alanna and Jon. They were too exhausted to think of many names for them.

Roald and Alan, named for their grandfathers, had scarcely spent more than an hour in their parents' presence. Now, their health was quietly celebrated. Black-haired Alan was awake most of the time, while red-haired Roald slept. Both gurgled, but were quieter than Kalasin and Thom had been. It seemed as though the boys realized the severity of the situation, and knew that their parents were holding their breath, hoping for the next breath of their triplet.

Finally, Marinine was brought back into the bedroom, but there was no good news.

"There's nothing more I—or anyone—can do for her," Duke Baird said. "It's the hands of the gods now. I hope she lives."

"So mote it be."

Kalasin and Thom were brought in to meet their siblings. In whispers, Jon tried to explain that Marinine was very sick. Both were wide-eyed as they stared at their tiny sister, their minds trying to understand the fathomlessness of life and death.

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