Chapter Two.

Emily's mourning over her father was gently fading away. What once were panic attacks that woke her in the night and left her shaking, now only little tears would shed at the mention of his name.

Since the eighth month mark of her pregnancy arrived, Margaret Hunter moved in to the spare room of their house. She had been haunted by so many things missing her husband's presence. A double bed only sleeping one person, the clothes in the wardrobe begging to be worn, the empty space at the breakfast table, the smell of coffee that she had to put up with in the morning because he loved to drink it first thing, even though she despised the smell. And she hated the torment.

So, upon her decision and agreement with Victor and Emily, she moved in temporarily in to their spare room until the baby arrived. She wanted to be present at the birth, and to be close should Emily need any advice from her.

And so in early February, the big day arrived and once again, Victor was confined to his designated armchair, waiting endlessly. But his arm chair had been moved and was now sitting outside his bedroom, so that he was near his wife when the baby arrived. But even then, he was not allowed inside the birth room. Husbands were not permitted to the bedroom when the birth was taking place. Hence, the chair. And it pained Victor not to be in there, holding his wife's hand.

He could hear Emily's cries from inside, her painful cries that Victor wished he could stop.

The hours passed by, and the cries continued as the doctors ordered "to keep pushing".

Luckily, Emily had her chosen birth partner in there with her. Victor wasn't offended or taken back by this decision – he knew that Margaret was the perfect person to be in there with her daughter. After all, she had given birth to her and she had had her mother there at the time. It seemed a tradition of some sort. Plus, since her fathers passing, she had grown closer to her mother, like she was rekindling for the lost years after her 'disappearance', and holding on to the last living parent she had.

His jacket thrown over the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up and hair all frazzle from waiting, Victor was now pacing the corridor outside his room, the constant tick-tocking of the clock driving him insane. Now the scary questions were seeping in to his mind. Would Emily survive this? Would the baby make it? Would he lose both his wife and child in one night? How could he cope with that loss?

But all of those questions were wiped away when Victor heard the door opening behind him.

There stood Doctor Wilson, the same doctor to diagnose Emily's pregnancy, dressed in his white coat with a large grin on his face and Victor knew instantly everything was alright. He realised that the cries and curses of childbirth had stopped, and just over the doctor's shoulder, he saw Margaret leaning over her daughter, propped up in bed as she cradled something small in her arms.

"Would you like to meet your son, Mr Van Dort?" Doctor Wilson asked.

A son! Victor didn't need to reply, the tears of joy in his eyes were enough to answer. He immediately walked past the doctor and caught sight of his wife, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulder. Her face was as red as a tomato and covered in sweat, but the most beautiful feature was her smile. A mother's smile.

She looked up to see Victor approaching her bedside, beaming magnificently. Victor was speechless to look down and see the blanketed bundle in her arms. He didn't know what to say! He took a seat on the bed, all the time looking at his new born baby.

"Would you like to hold your son, Victor?" Emily asked.

Again, he didn't say anything. He just looked up at his wife and smiled. She took that as a yes and slowly leaned over.

"Careful" Margaret advised, watching Emily pass their baby to Victor.

He was in awe. Holding a little baby in his arms, brand new to the world. His son! The little boy slept silently in his father's arms, as he was rocked back and forth like the precious thing he was.

"My son" he whispered to himself. "Our son" he smiled, looking up at Emily.

"Our baby boy" she smiled.

"I am so proud of you" he leaned forward and kissed his wife. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I am now he's here" Emily said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"And on that note" Margaret spoke up. "As beautiful as he is, we cannot continue to call your baby 'him'. He needs a name."

"Ah yes" Victor sighed. "What had we discussed, Emily? I…I seem to have forgotten." Victor stuttered.

"Well…" Emily looked up to her mother and back to Victor. "I know we had discussed some suitable names, but there is only one name on my mind for him now."

"Oh?" Margaret said.

"It seemed like a joke at the time, but…Dad made a funny comment, saying he should be named after him…but now he's…" Emily stuttered, trying not to cry over her father.

"Now he's no longer here, I feel it necessary to name him Christopher."

Victor could not agree more. He looked down at his new born son, and instantly saw it.

"It suits him. He looks like a Christopher. If that is what you wish" he smiled to Emily.

"Really?"

"Really" he nodded, looking down at his son and kissing him on the forehead.

"Christopher Van Dort. Welcome to the world."

Meanwhile, 'downstairs':

"It is a boy" Elder Gutknecht wrote down on a parchment of paper. He scribbled his signature upon it, and handed it over to little Scraps, placing it between his teeth.

"Now, deliver" he instructed. Scraps immediately bound from the skeletons tower, down the stairs and along the cobbled streets until he found the pub. He weaved between skeletal legs and rotten dress skirts until he found Lord Hunter, sitting by the bar with Bonejangles the skeleton, casually talking.

He yapped wildly, until he got Lord Hunter's attention. He bobbed his head to signify the meaning and importance of the paper in his mouth. But Lord Hunter knew that already. The Elder skeleton had promised he would send the news of the birth through a special delivery. And what else was more special than dear Scraps, loving companion to his son-in-law?

"Scraps, drop it" Bonejangles gently ordered. Scraps gently dropped the parchment in to Lord Hunters open hand. He unrolled it eagerly, reading the handwriting carefully.

He went silent with delight and shock, and simply handed over the parchment to Bonejangles, who knew exactly what to do. He jumped upon the stage, and holding the parchment high in his hand, he yelled across the pub.

"Rejoice, rejoice! A little boy."

The pub went silent, looking at him like he was a lunatic. It was so quiet, a pin could be heard dropping. Everyone looked at him, not sure what he was on about. It wasn't until Alfred the skeleton looked over to see Lord Hunter, a look of pure ecstasy and joy on his face.

"Oh!" he cried. "A boy!" he looked up at Bonejangles.

"Yes!" Bonejangles cried. Then everyone started to catch on. They all looked over at Lord Hunter's face and realisation slowly crept up on them.

"She's…!"

"Our girl…finally a mother?"

"Yes! Everyone, it is true. Our beloved Corpse Bride has become a mother…to a little boy!"

"Hurray!"

"Drinks all around, for everyone!"

"I propose a toast" General Bonesalot raised his tankard, and invited everyone to join him. The pub raised their glasses high, and cried with the General.

"To the new born boy!"

"To the new born boy!" Everyone rejoiced and necked down their drinks in one hearty gulp.

Lord Barkis watched from the shadows once more, an evil smirk spreading across his face. Taking his usual spot outside, he watched as the pub celebrated, congratulating Lord Hunter on becoming a late-grandfather. It was obvious he was upset though. He'll never get to see his little grandson grow up, never get to hold him. "Oh, what a pity" the Lord sarcastically thought to himself.

The plan was now in place, all he needed to do was wait patiently. Not one of his best qualities, unfortunately. Whenever he had spied his next 'betrothed', he was instantly eager to drag them to their resting place and do the necessary work. But now, he had to wait. He had to wait until the Van Dort's were in a vulnerable position.

So, like the venomous snake he was, he slithered away to his hiding place and waited…waited silently…until he would strike and take what they loved the most.

Oh, such joy in revenge!

Authors note:

Dun dun dun! What is Lord Barkis up to?! You shall find out in chapter 3…

Hopefully this story is meeting expectations. Please comment and review. I love to hear your reactions, reviews and thoughts!

Love from the UK!

Corpsegirl93 xx