A/N: Hi guys! Thanks so much for your patience! Good lord, when I started writing this chapter it wasn't yet Beltaine! '

It was just a combination of being extremely busy, and some truly horrendous writer's block. Hopefully the next chapter won't take me half a bloody year to write, holy carp.

Elias seemed distracted during dinner that night. "What are you thinking?" Chise finally asked him, stirring honey into her after-dinner mint tea. Elias huffed.

"I've been trying to calculate the most auspicious time for conception, and for birth," he replied, sounding slightly put out. "But without knowing how long the gestation period is likely to be..."

"'Most auspicious'?" Chise echoed. "What do you mean?"

Elias huffed again. "Well, properly, most larger creatures are born in the springtime, with conception taking place during the previous autumn. That gives the young the full summer to grow large enough to survive the following winter, hopefully. But that presumes roughly a six- to eight-month gestation period, which would align well with the equinoxes, ideally. But then humans have a nine-month gestation period. And I don't know—I don't have the slightest idea how long my own gestation period would have been. Presuming I had one at all," he added, staring moodily into his own teacup, "—and that I didn't hatch from an egg, or was pieced together by an alchemist, or—or spontaneously generated from a magically-polluted bramble, or something. So. Should we try to align the conception with Samhain? Or the birth with Beltane? Or the conception with Beltane, because how can we try and time the birth for anything if we don't know how long the gestation period will be? And at least Beltane is a time for new beginnings and new life—and then, hopefully, you won't have to deal with being pregnant when it's icy out. But then there's the summer heat..."

He trailed to a halt and dropped his face into his hands. "Did you know that elephants gestate for nearly two years?"

Chise got up to stand beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Well, thank goodness you don't seem to have any elephant in you!" she said lightly.

"Mm. Yes. —You, either." He sighed. "But you see where I'm at. Perhaps we ought to just sort out the most appropriate day to conceive on. I hate to leave the birth to chance, though."

"Well, aside from all that," she pointed out, "if I'm not ovulating nothing will happen anyways."

"Ah. Yes. Of course."

He looked a bit down at that, so she added, patting his arm kindly, "But since we don't know precisely when that will be, there's nothing to stop us from trying whenever we want. And perhaps the start of us trying for a baby on a particular day will be significant in its own right, even if the actual conception, or the birth, doesn't line up?"

Elias perked up a bit. "Yes, that could work! I can sort out an appropriate ritual for officially stating our intentions and asking for blessings. Hm. Perhaps something based on on the offerings the Norse used at the start of long or significant journeys..."

Chise laughed slightly. "If you like, although I'm not sure it's really necessary. Do we really need to make it complicated?"

Elias huffed. "A half-baked bonehead is trying to impregnate the neighbours' favourite sleigh beggy, the darling of Albion's fae majesties. I'd say we need all the blessings we can get."

After much poring over various books and star charts, Elias finally announced that the best time for the ritual he'd worked up would be Beltane. "Assuming you're ovulating, of course," he added.

"Well, we can do it either way," Chise pointed out. "If the good old-fashioned tradition of having sex at every opportunity doesn't pan out, we can always start tracking my cycle and temperature to pinpoint appropriate times more closely."

"I am fine with giving the old-fashioned way a try first," Elias said, giving her an affectionate nuzzle. "I did warn you that I can be old-fashioned."

"We should be sure to give it a proper chance, too," Chise added, embracing him and pressing a kiss to the end of his snout. "You know. Several months at least."

"Oh, absolutely!"

Beltane, besides being the most appropriate time for new beginnings and new life, was also conveniently close; neither of them wanted to put it off any longer than they had to. And, too, May Day lined up nicely with giving Chise's body the time to clear her birth control pills out of her system.

And so it was that, feeling an odd combination of solemn and giddy, Chise paced barefoot into their back garden on the eve of May Day, following her husband's robed form through the twilight.

She wore a simple white robe herself, fastened at the neck with a simple jade brooch, a birthday gift from Elias many years before. She carefully held a small silver plate before her in both hands, bearing a round, ruddy apple, the finest in their stores from the previous autumn's harvest. It kept wanting to roll; she braced it in place with a discrete thumb.

For his part, Elias, clad in his usual black robe, carried a small knife on his own plate, both also of silver. His own bare feet left a faint trail through the grass before her, still damp from the afternoon's rain shower.

She followed him into the small area they had marked out earlier in a private corner, the branches of the surrounding trees aflutter with several koinobori, colourful fish-shaped streamers. Pausing at the entrance, Chise waited for Elias to pace halfway around before she followed him, the pair circling sunwise three times about the rug they had placed in the centre, before meeting to kneel upon it, facing each other, a small space between them.

They knelt in silence for several heartbeats, listening to the birds singing their evening chorus in the trees and fields around them. Elias's eyes glowed brighter as he met her own shining eyes. She blushed slightly as his eyes briefly travelled lower, and shivered slightly as the cool spring breeze played with the edges of her robe; she was bare beneath it. As was Elias; but the cold didn't seem to bother him.

As the last sliver of sun slipped beneath the horizon, they placed their plates on the rug between them. Chise held the apple in her hands, Elias's own bare hands engulfing hers. Together, they quietly spoke the words he had written.

"From this one fruit came many seeds.
From each seed there grew a tree.
Beneath each tree sheltered a bird
Around each tree there grew a bush.

And so they sheltered, tree, bush, and bird,
Each cared for each, together throve.
The bird nested, the tree fed her,
The bush kept her safe in his thorny arms.

So it is with us, Robin and Thorn,
Joined as one, may our fruits flourish
Seedlings and nestlings,
In the Spring's warmth."

So saying, they placed the apple back onto its plate, and Elias, catching up the silver knife, carefully sliced it in half. He passed one half to her, and was good enough to consume his own half in a series of smaller nibbles, rather than swallowing it in one go, as he was certainly capable of. Chise appreciated the thought. The flesh of the apple was still firm and sweet, and it was not terribly large; but she would have felt slightly awkward finishing it off while he watched her. Besides, it distracted her from how chewy the core was. She finally gave up and just forced the partially-masticated lump down, Elias popping his own small remainder into his mouth as he did so, swallowing it with ease. Well, to be fair, his throat was large enough to fit both her fist and a small bottle down it.

Chise smiled at him fondly. He had come so far since those first days; they both had. He had been a good student, always earnest, always willing to listen. Those qualities had made him a good teacher, too, especially once they had both learned to let go of their fears of the other leaving them. That was a lesson that had taken a particularly long time. But they worked well together, especially once they had learned to trust each other, to talk and to listen to each other. Being open about fears and concerns was something they had each had a lifetime, it felt, before their meeting, to learn could only lead to harm. Being vulnerable was to invite abuse. But here he was, her child of a star, caring for her, protecting and loving her, cradling her heart in his hands, as she held his.

It was time to share what they had found, to join together to create a new life. This was right.

Elias reached out a gentle hand and lightly stroked a stray lock of hair back from her face, lingering over the curve of her cheek, still marvelling at this beautiful woman who had come into his life. Her eyes and hair blazed forth against the paleness of her skin, of her white cloak, like jewels and fire against the snow. He could scarcely believe that it had been ten years, a full decade, since that long-ago afternoon in the auction house. Sometimes it seemed a century ago, that they had been together forever. Since always. Sometimes it seemed the mere blink of an eye. So much about her had changed—the easy confidence with which she now unconsciously carried herself and spoke; the wisdom in her eyes finally overcoming the fear that had lingered there for so long. The compassion that she had finally allowed to bloom for its own sake, rather than driving herself to risk her own life attempting to prove her worth to others. She had no need to do that, now; she had found her worth, and reached to help others because she could, rather than to justify her existence. And he had helped her to do that, to show her her own worth, he and his friends. He was so proud of her, of how far she had come.

And she had lifted him up with her, as he strove to be worthy of her. To be someone she could depend upon, could trust. She had been a good teacher to him, his teacher of human ways, as well as a hard-working student. She would be a good mother, too; would face her new role with the same determination and courage with which she had faced every other challenge, he was certain. There was nothing else he could do himself but follow her example.

Chise stroked gently down the centre of his chest, his scaled skin smooth and warm beneath her fingers, and his eyes glowed brighter again at her touch. They had been lovers for almost a decade, husband and wife in truth, not just the label an innocent mind had misunderstood since he had first heard it, centuries before; but she still marvelled at him, at his chimeric body, so full of textures and change and yet always still him. Still Elias. She could imagine no other arms about her; could never want to imagine anyone else. He was everything to her; he was all she needed.

The eagerness in his eyes matched her own, was familiar and comforting and exciting all at once; but now a reverence shone from them as well. Slowly, not hesitatingly, but rather seeming to savour the moment, the act, he again gently brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it back behind her ears, trailing his fingers softly over the contours of her face, outlining her jaw, following the rise of her cheekbones and the delicate sweep of her eyebrows, the curve of her nose, the loving smile on her lips.

His own jaw parted slightly as his pupils curved into an answering smile, and he ran the pads of his fingers, softer than she once would have expected scales to be, down the elegant column of her throat, pausing to feel her pulse hammer beneath them, before continuing down the white sweep of her shoulders, lightly brushing the white silk of her robe down her arms as he passed.

He paused when he reached her hands, grasping the fingers of her unglamoured left hand with those of his right, deep plum and deeper black, all but indistinguishable in the moonlight. Raising her hand, he pressed the tip of his tongue to her knuckles in a brief, chaste kiss as his eyes, knowing and intent, lifted to meet hers again.

"I thought I had lost you, when this happened," he murmured softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. "I thought that, in my silly pride and over-confidence and—and just plain idiocy, I had destroyed the only thing I had ever truly cared about, the only person I ever really connected with in any meaningful way. The only one I have ever loved." He paused for a moment, his thumb stilling, his eyes distant. Chise gently squeezed his hand in return, reassuring him of her presence, but saying nothing, waiting.

"I was right," he finally continued. "I didn't think, didn't plan properly, and in that moment I truly learned what terror was." His thumb moved again, caressingly. "But in the end, that terrible moment, that dragon's curse, is what allowed Cartaphilus to preserve your life without driving you mad with unassailable immortality, a grotesque mockery of life. It was not remotely how I planned to deal with your Sleigh Beggy curse," he added with a small chuckle. "But in the end I am glad that it happened as it did. For it taught me some very valuable lessons, not least of the value you have in my life; and I suspect that without it I would not have been so driven to find a cure until it was too late, and I lost you due to my own carelessness, and withdrawn from the world in anguish, until my pain destroyed me, one way or another.

"I owe you my life, Chise." His voice was serious, his eyes steady as he regarded her. "You saved me from dwindling into a meaningless death, and brought a light—brought life to my existence. You have taught me so much in our years together, more than I had ever learned in all my centuries before. You believed in me, in my ability to feel, to understand things no one had ever bothered to really explain to me before. Why explain to a creature unable to comprehend? But you did. You did." He squeezed her hand, almost too tightly, leaning over her to be face-to-face with her. "Chise, you have walked beside me through so many adventures. I am honoured and humbled that you have chosen me to be the one to be beside you for this next one." He pressed his incisors to her knuckles for a long moment. "I truly do not have the words to express how much you mean to me," he whispered. "How much I love you."

Chise felt her own eyes well up in response, and swallowed thickly around a sudden lump. "If I was able to help you, to guide you, it's only because you were there for me first. When we first—when we first met, I told you I had never once felt lucky. Not once. And you said we'd try to change that. And we did, Elias." She rested her forehead against his. "We did. I am so, so lucky that we met. That Seth found me in time. That I agreed to go with him. And that you were the one to take me in.

"You were the one who made it possible for me to find beauty in the world again. To find happiness. And I have, Elias. I am so happy with you, to be here with you."

Elias's breath was warm against her belly for a long moment, and then he swept her into his arms, all but crushing her to his chest as she clung to him as tightly as she could.

Home. This was home to her, in her husband's arms, and the love she felt for him seemed too big for her body to contain. They would make a child, together, and pour all of their love for each other into them.

Chise was certain that everything would be fine.

A/N: The Anglo-Saxons considered the day to end at sunset, hence the timing for Elias's ritual.