The Past
"She looks just like me."
Sari elbowed her husband out of habit as Christine bit back a laugh, holding their now several-month-old baby securely over her significantly enlarged stomach.
"Particularly her complexion," Christine added with a smirk.
"Don't encourage him, for the love of God," her sister rebuked, shooting her husband a fondly annoyed look.
It seemed that Sari's baby prayers had finally been answered. In April of the year 1800, the couple had become happy parents with the birth of Ciarra. Their daughter was a beautiful baby girl with wise dark eyes and velvety dark skin like her mother, although perhaps several shades lighter. Beyond her slightly lighter skin, there seemed to be very little of Gavin visible in the infant, although Christine sometimes thought she saw a twinkle of humour in the child's eyes similar to her father's. She also knew that it was impossible for a four and a half month old child to truly have a sense of humour, but she imagined it was there all the same.
"How soon are you due, Chris?" Gavin inquired cheerfully, taking his daughter back.
"A couple of weeks, I'd wager," Christine groaned, leaning back further into her chair. "Hopefully earlier. Liam was never this restless, unless I was just too busy avoiding Martha's relatives to notice."
Gavin smiled affectionately at the mention of his pet while Sari buried her face in her hands.
"Twelve rats in my house. Twelve," she shook her head.
"Ciarra loves them, don't you, darling? You're going to agree with papa once you learn to speak, aren't you?" Her husband said in the higher pitched voice he reserved for rats and his daughter.
"He named them all! For the life of me, I still can't tell them apart, but he's always saying things like 'oh, Bria wants to play with Ciarra', or 'stop annoying your mum, Iain, or you'll make her crotchety'-"
"Do you still drop anything you're holding whenever they squeak at you?" Christine inquired.
Sari glowered, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
"Truth be told, I'm sure she'll bash Ciarra's head in by next week," Gavin chuckled. "You can't hit me while I've got our daughter," he added to his wife, who quickly dropped her hand with a huff of irritation.
Ciarra babbled and he quickly turned his attention back to the infant, babbling right back at her. Sari's mouth softened into a smile at the sight, and Christine felt her heart swell at the picture of her sister's happy family. Perhaps it was simply her pregnancy playing with her mind, but she was feeling ridiculously blessed at the moment; her sister and her friend were in love with a beautiful child, her brother had recently gotten a job and might possibly be starting to turn his life around, and she was pregnant with her second child. It was a nice change to be pregnant and surrounded by the thoughtfulness of her husband and son rather than in a jail cell. Edward hadn't been around for her last pregnancy, which meant that he was now a bit of a nervous, overly-thoughtful wreck. He hid it well, but Christine could see it in little things like his anxious questioning of Gavin about Sari's labour, or the way he had taken over most of the chores in the house. Liam was equally excited about the prospect of a sibling.
"Will I get to play with him?" He'd asked one night after he'd forced his mother to sit down. His seriousness and their position at the kitchen table made the a situation feel suspiciously like an interrogation.
"Or her. And yes, as long as you're gentle," Christine promised.
Liam nodded thoughtfully. "Will it be loud?"
"Yes, for a while," his mother confirmed. "But he or she will sleep in our room until he can sleep through the night."
"Then it will sleep with me?" Liam inquired, his eyes lighting up.
Christine laughed at her son's excitement. "Yes. It will be like having a friend over every night."
"What if he doesn't like interesting things? Or what if he always does his chores and you love him better?" Lines creased his forehead as he obviously got to the crux of the matter.
Clever boy started with the easy questions, Christine thought fondly. "Your brother or sister may not like the things you like at first, but I imagine he or she will admire you very much simply for being older. You'll find at least something you agree on, at the very least. And even if he does all of his chores without your father or me asking him, we'll still love you both."
Liam tilted his head, clearly not convinced.
"I admit he'll require more of our attention at first because you're old enough to take care of many things yourself-" Liam sat up straighter with pride "-but we'll still love you equally."
"I guess that's okay, then," Liam said with an authoritative nod, standing up to get his wooden toy boat. Christine laughed silently as he started sailing it around the room.
On August 18, 1800, she gave birth to her second son late in the evening. Liam spent the night with Sari, Gavin, and his cousins while a panicking Edward stayed with his wife.
"I don't need a doctor," she insisted irritably once labour started. "I didn't have one last time, and I certainly don't need one this time."
Edward turned pale enough in response to cause Christine to suspect an imminent fainting episode, but she remained stubbornly set against a doctor.
"I don't want anyone else poking around down there," she snapped, and that was the end of that.
"Is it supposed to be so painful?" Edward exclaimed worriedly a few hours later.
"Bloody hell, of course it is. What on earth gave you the ridiculous idea that pushing a person out of you was supposed to be easy?" Christine panted, sweat dripping down her forehead.
"Can't I do anything else to assist you?" He demanded, wiping away the sweat with a cool cloth and biting his lip worriedly.
"Stop panicking! You're making me anxious," his wife replied, gripping his hand and continuing to push.
She was extremely grateful that labour was much shorter the second time, partially for herself but mostly for Edward's sake. When their son was finally born, he breathed a larger sigh of relief than she did.
"There. Not so bad," Christine chuckled weakly.
Edward was holding his newly-cleaned crying son with a look of amazement on his face. With his degree of engrossment in his child, Christine wasn't even sure that he'd heard her.
"You were amazing," he told her at last, although his eyes were still fixed on his son's.
"One of my many talents," she quipped. "May I hold him?"
"Oh, yes, of course," Edward stumbled over his words as he gingerly placed the infant into his wife's waiting arms.
It had been so long since Liam had been small enough to cradle in her arms that Christine felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to do it again with another child. It was a strange thing to realize that this infant had been inside of her less than an hour ago, but now he was staring at her from her arms.
"So you're the cause of all of this trouble," she murmured softly, feeling every ache in her body from its recent ordeal.
Edward leaned down and pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek before continuing to stare at his son.
"I wish that I'd been there last time," he whispered.
"Me too," Christine agreed. "But you were there not too long after. And now we get to do it all again." The thought thrilled her.
Edward nodded. It made Christine smile to see how dazed Edward was from watching his son be born. The miracle of birth, indeed.
"You survived your first pregnancy and your first delivery. I think you should be quite proud of yourself," Christine added with a laugh.
Edward smiled, before placing a gentle kiss to the head of his new son.
"I love you, Killian," he murmured.
"Killian?" Christine inquired with a knowing smile.
"Yes. It's only fair that I get to name this one."
"Not Alasdair?"
Edward looked at Christine and there was a beat of silence before they both broke into quiet giggles.
The Present
"They didn't talk about names before you were born?" Emma said in disbelief.
Killian chuckled. "Oh, they certainly did. They just didn't come to any acquiescence. My mother actual suggested Killian; it was the name her father used when they went to the Southern Isles and he was trying to keep their identity somewhat secret-"
"Crewe wasn't your mom's real last name either?"
"No, of course not." Killian looked at Emma as if the fact that the thought had even occurred to her was a shock. "Well, her real last name is debatable. My grandfather was adopted, if you recall, and most likely his adopted father's bastard. If that was the case, he could have technically taken his father's name, although others would have frowned down upon him for it. He could have taken his mother's, but her identity was never disclosed to him... probably a prostitute. His original last name was just one he chose for himself. If you consider it that way, my mother never really had a 'real' last name to change. She was just so used to 'Crewe' from her years in hiding that she kept it until she married."
Collapsing further against the tree trunk as names and family members swam through her mind, Emma let out a small groan. "That is confusing."
Killian raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "Anyway, my father argued that naming me Killian Jones would be like naming me Jonathan Jonathan. I guess the name grew on him, though, or else he was just attempting to please my mother."
He said the last part so derisively that Emma had to work to hide her surprise. He pointedly ignored her reaction as he dove back into his anecdotes, clearly not wanting to discuss the topic further.
The Past
Liam was delighted to have a little brother. He was certain that his future was now securely filled with toys and games and fun-filled evenings of chatter.
That changed about a week after Killian was born.
"Doesn't he do anything?" Liam demanded as Christine gently placed her son in his cradle to sleep.
"Shh," Christine hushed, ushering her son from the room.
"Mama," Liam complained. "Does he only sleep?"
"He'll do more when he's older, love," she promised with a grin. "First he has to grow up a bit."
"But he's so dull and loud now," Liam groaned. "How long do I have to wait?"
"Just a few years," Christine promised.
"'Just'?! I shall be old by then!" He declared in the perfect picture of six-year-old despair.
Liam eventually got somewhat used to the idea of having a little brother, and, as promised, he did eventually grow old enough to play even if his games weren't what his brother enjoyed due to the age difference. However, it wasn't until just before Killian's fourth birthday that Liam's dislike for his brother peaked.
Christine was making dinner and singing. Hearing her sing at all hours of the day was not unusual; she sang so often that both Killian and Liam assumed that 'home' was a place where everyone just sang for several hours a day.
Today, she was practicing for the newest opera taking place in a quiet, unpopular theatre close to home. As a result, she was using her prized, if battered, tuning fork to make sure that she was actually singing in the right key.
"Mama, can I go see the ships?"
Christine paused and frowned slightly. "By yourself?"
Liam paused looking guilty. "Yes?"
"No, I don't want you going there without Gavin or your father. There are always criminals and pirates, no matter how many guards there are... no, not until you're older, sweetheart," his mother told him apologetically.
"It was worth a try," Liam muttered, flopping down at the kitchen table.
Christine reached for her tuning fork to find her note again. She was just about to strike it when she heard a quiet hum. She turned to see Killian watching the tuning fork with his strikingly blue eyes.
Furrowing her eyebrows, Christine hit the tuning fork against her knee and held it to her ear. He was humming the exact note. After a moment of hesitation, Christine purposely started her aria on a different note and watched Killian's young face flood with confusion.
"What is it, love?" Christine asked, although she was fairly certain she already knew.
"That's wrong," he said without hesitation, and then started humming the start of her aria on the correct note.
"Edward!" Christine called, eyes wide as a pregnant Martha.
Edward, who had been changing after a day of work at the docks, came running to the living room.
"What is it?" He demanded urgently.
"Killian!"
His eyes flew to their son in alarm. "What about him?"
"He has perfect pitch!" Christine shrieked in excitement. "Killian, show papa. What is the note mama's tuning fork makes?"
Killian hummed it, looking a little nervous. Christine's face lit up in response.
"Oh," Edward said, looking not nearly as excited as his wife but still slightly proud.
Liam glowered from the corner.
On Killian's fourth birthday, Christine gave him a life-changing birthday present: her father's violin.
"I thought that I could teach you!" Christine said with a bright smile. "I can't say I know too much about it, but my father taught me the basics. Then, once we move past that, perhaps I can ask one of the violinists in the theatre orchestra to take over."
With a delighted smile, Killian picked up the violin, all other presents forgotten. Christine quickly showed him how to tune it, and then he put it up on his right shoulder.
"No, sweetheart, other shoulder," Christine tried to say.
She was cut off by Killian dragging the bow lightly across one of the strings. A huge, toothy grin filled his face as a sweet, resonant sound filled the room. Hesitantly, he put his finger on one of the strings and drew his bow across it while pulling his finger up and down the string slowly. Liam winced as the slow glissando filled the room. Killian did it on every string while Liam and Edward exchanged doubtful, slightly pained looks.
Then, Killian began to play the most recent aria Christine had been singing around the house. He finished with a delighted laugh to absolutely stunned looks from his parents and a venomous look from his brother. Seeing Liam's face, Killian's smile slid off of his face.
"Do you want to try, Liam?" He offered.
Liam scowled. "No, I don't."
Christine watched her older son thoughtfully.
Later that night, once Killian went to bed, Christine drew him aside.
"I have a secret to tell you," she told him with a fond smile.
"That you like Killian better because he's a musical prodigy?" Liam said sulkily.
"No," Christine said slowly, beckoning her son over to sit with her. "I just wanted to tell you something that my father told me when my brother was born."
Liam scowled. "What?"
"Well," she replied carefully, "I didn't like him so much at first-"
"Because he's scary?" Liam guessed. Connor hadn't been over since the now infamous fight that had ended in him striking Liam and being kicked out of the house.
"He wasn't scary then," Christine replied softly.
Liam snuggled into his mother's shoulder. "Then why didn't you-"
"Because everyone seemed to think he was so adorable and they said it all the time when I was around. Everyone seemed to love him and ignore me just because he was younger. It seemed horribly unfair.
"Then my father told me something that changed everything. He reminded me that Connor was my brother."
"Isn't that the problem?" Liam sulked.
"Well, what he was saying was that whenever anyone complimented my brother, they were complimenting me because he was mine."
"Oh," Liam said, sounding slightly baffled. "I didn't think of that."
"Nor did I," Christine whispered conspiratorially. "But it certainly helped. Whatever accomplishments Connor did made me proud, because it reflected well on me. After all, he belonged to me. He was my brother."
Liam stared at his mother and she could practically see his brain working as he processed her words. Internally, she congratulated herself on fabricating such a useful story.
The next day, Christine had a few of her musician colleagues over and Killian played the violin for them. Her friends were baffled and amazed at first, but that soon melted away to amusement as Liam walked up to them.
"That's my brother," he told them proudly.
Christine winked at Edward as he turned to her in shock.
The Present
"So, you were a violin prodigy," Emma groaned accusingly.
"A little bit," Killian admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.
"And you seriously just picked it up and played? Just like that?" She demanded. "How?"
"Well, once I heard where on the string each note sounded, it was easy," Killian explained, sounding slightly baffled by her question.
The Past
Killian loved his violin.
He couldn't understand why everyone was so impressed by his playing. To him it was as natural to play it as it was to walk, and the realization that other people didn't feel that way was shocking to him.
The first time he played a note on the beautiful instrument, he could swear that he felt the earth shift. He loved the way it felt to drag the bow along the string and feel it vibrate in response to his touch, letting out sweet sounds in a large variety of voices. He could make the smallest adjustment, and the sound would completely change. He went to play the instrument and it felt like the entire world disappeared, just leaving him and whatever melody decided to come from his fingers.
His mother had tried to get him to change the hand he played with so that he played correctly, but he inevitably returned to playing it left-handed. He was right-handed, but it felt so much more natural to him to make each note with his right hand and to have his left hand do the bowing. The other way just felt backward.
The Present
Emma cut in. "That was fortunate."
"Very. One of the few ways lady luck has been kind to me," Killian acknowledged with a wry smile.
The Past
Killian also liked the time he spent with Christine when she taught him about music. She'd discovered quickly that she couldn't teach him much about actually playing the violin, but she taught him music theory and, perhaps more importantly, ways to express the music. In fact, he fully believed that almost everything he learned about musicianship came from simply listening to his mother.
Of course, a big part of Liam and Killian's childhood had been sitting backstage while Christine performed. If Edward ever had to work later in the evening, their sons would go with their mother to the opera. Sometimes they would play together with toys they brought, sometimes they would read, but, most of the time, they listened as their mother's voice filled the small theatre.
Sometimes, Aunt Sari and Uncle Gavin, or even Edward and Aunt Jayne (if she could sneak away), would take them to sit in the audience. That was what Killian enjoyed the most, because he loved to see his mother get lost in different worlds so completely. She was his mother, yes, but for several hours, he got to see her become someone else. He always hugged her extra tightly when she came back to being her.
It was during one of those performances that something groundbreaking occurred.
Christine was partway through the aria when guards stormed in. Killian watched as his mother's face turned as pale as snow, but the guards weren't there for her.
"Attention! We are here to confirm what you may have already heard. After a long and difficult illness, King Clayton, the first of his name, has passed on from this life."
Christine tuned out the rest of the speech as she felt her heart sink. She locked eyes with Edward, who was in the audience, knowing exactly what this meant.
First of all, Julian, a man who now hated Edward more than anyone, including Alasdair, was now king.
That meant that Jayne was now queen, and they would inevitably see less of her.
Most of all, it meant that life was about to change dramatically for the Jones family.