A.N. Happy Spooky Season everyone! Hope you are all having a nice fall! It's actually been cooler here, which is a lovely surprise. Sorry I've been so slow updating both my stories. Mental health has been pretty poor, and I've been busy. I'll do my best through the holidays, but hope to really get on top of things after the beginning of the year. Thanks for your patience!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and plot points.
The performance was stunning. As good as any Danica had seen in her own world. She became enraptured with each song, tale, and dance. Nathir was particularly magical. Throughout the performance, he told of a young boy, ripped from his home, and all he had known, to be sold as a slave by his own family. Between other acts, he would give a little more of the boy's tale. Years spent serving those foreign masters, then finding himself in prison. The parallels to the story of Joseph and his dream coat were uncanny, and chilled Danica.
At the end of the performance, Danica and Thorin were invited to perform. Though they tried to politely refuse, the crowd was far too enthusiastic about the idea. So, Thorin took her hand, and guided her down to the stage. A stool was brought for her, and he grabbed a harp. They kept it to one song, accepted the applause, then thanked the troupe. Danica felt a sharp pain in her side, but managed not to wince. One of her hands went to her bump, feeling reassured only when the baby rolled beneath her hand.
A banquet was being held after the performance, but the world around her was beginning to tilt. Her eyes grew heavy, ad heat rose in her face. It wasn't the pleasant warmth from the many sconces and chandeliers, but that of a clammy fever. However, she kept her smile as genuine as possible when some of the performers wished to speak with her. They had heard tales of her journey with Thorin, and wanted to hear some of it from her point of view. She was only able to give a couple of short stories before Fili stood to make the first toast. It was blessedly short, but as everyone ate, her vision wavered. Despite her best efforts, her eyes refused to remain open. A soothing voice spoke in her ear, and warm hands wrapped around her arms.
"You could have excused yourself before the banquet," Thorin said with amusement.
Fear wrapped around her heart as all strength left her limbs. "Save our baby," was all she managed to say before she collapsed.
Everything was a blur after Thorin caught her, and called for help. Di̒s was the first to reach them, and declared that nothing could be done in the hall. Thorin rushed her to their quarters, and frantically felt for a fever or wound. She was scorching to the touch, but he could find no wound, or other sign of illness. A few maids, including Gorsli̒ fluttered about the room, helping him change Danica into a nightdress. By the time they were finished, sweat had accumulated on her brow.
When a healer finally appeared, Thorin couldn't help but snap at him.
"What has happened to her?!"
Unperturbed by Thorin's tone, but concerned by Danica's appearance, the healer set to work without a word. Di̒s came to stand next to Thorin, braiding Danica's hair quickly and efficiently.
"Poison," the healer said, frowning deeply. "Someone stuck her with a needle here," he pointed to her side, where a tiny red dot had appeared, and was now slowly growing. The healer suddenly turned, and began barking out orders to the maids. Gorsli̒ took charge of them, keeping them from panicking.
"Poison?! Has it already reached the baby?" Thorin questioned, heart squeezing painfully behind his ribs.
Pulling out one of his tools, the healer listened to Danica's womb. It was all Thorin could do to keep from taking the tool to hear the baby himself. Maids came in with hot water, towels, jars of medicine, and more of the healer's tools. Among those tools were surgery implements. Thorin's breath stopped, his limbs cold and tingling.
"Normally, I would prefer to do this in my surgery, but we don't have time,"
"You cannot be thinking of taking the babe out?" Thorin cried. "It's too soon!"
Di̒s put a firm, but comforting hand on his arm, trying to calm him. Fili and Kayli rushed in then, with Tala guarding the door.
"It seems as though the bairn has taken on some of the attributes of his mother's race, for he is bigger than a dwarrow babe would be," the healer explained while setting out his tools, which Gorsli̒ began cleaning with alcohol. "Just pray that its lungs have matured enough to breathe on its own,"
"Come on, Brother," Di̒s murmured. "You should wait in the sitting room with Fili and Tala. You do not want to see this,"
Thorin shrugged her off, and knelt by Danica's side. "I will not leave her,"
"Uncle…"
Fili and a couple of the maids moved closer, causing Thorin to put a hand on the hilt of one of his knives.
"If anyone dares to try and separate me from my wife, I will not hesitate to spill blood,"
The maids went white, and looked uncertainly at Fili, who hesitated.
"Let him stay," Gorsli̒ advised. "They need each other,"
Fili nodded. "Very well. Tala and I shall wait outside,"
Ignoring everything else, Thorin took Danica's hand, and bowed his head over it, praying to anyone who would listen. He couldn't lose her. Couldn't lose his child. His heart could barely take what was happening; knowing that his wife was about to be cut open. He opened his eyes, but only looked at her face, pushing some damp strands of hair from her forehead. Her brow was furrowed, but she made no other show of pain as the surgery began.
Di̒s' hand squeezed his shoulder, and he tried not to hear the orders the healer was giving for mopping up the blood with towels. One of the maids gave a weak comment about how much there was, then hit the floor. Another pulled her out of the way. Outside the door, Thorin heard Dwalin's voice, loudly demanding to know what was going on. After that, Dwalin said something about the half-elf.
"The baby is out, start clearing his lungs,"
At the healer's words, Thorin looked up, and saw a bloody bundle being taken by Di̒s to the chair by the fireplace. It was small, too small, but thrashing with enough strength for Thorin to know that he would be alright. He had the strength of both parents, and the line of Durin running through his veins. However, in Thorin's hand, Danica's grew cold. His eyes snapped to her face, which was pale, and more relaxed than it had been.
"What is happening?" he demanded, looking down at the healer, whose brow was slick from effort, and was elbow-deep in blood.
"She is hemorrhaging," he panted. "I am trying to stop the bleed,"
'Let Nathir in,' Danica's voice floated by Thorin's ear, startling him for a moment. In the next, he was ordering them to open the door for the troupe leader.
Nathir walked quickly, but calmly to the bedside, eyes bright and focused. He assessed the situation, then pulled out a vial. Thorin made a sound of protest, but the contents were emptied down her throat.
"This will slow her heart, so that the bleeding can be taken care of," Nathir explained. "The effects should wear off in a few days,"
Thorin glowered. "Should?" Danica's hand continued to cool, but the healer gave a small sigh of relief.
"The bleeding has slowed enough for me to patch her up. I should be able to stitch her back up in a moment,"
All went silent, but then, a small, angry cry pierced through the room. Eyes tearing from Danica's deathly form, Thorin looked up, and saw his son.
"Frerin," his voice was soft, and reverent.
Smiling, Di̒s wiped some more blood off of the babe, then carried him over for Thorin to hold.
"Congratulations," she whispered, voice failing. Her eyes were filled with tears, as she looked at her brother and nephew. "He's beautiful,"
Beautiful he was. Fine, jet-black hair covered his tiny head, and contrasted the smooth, light skin, and icy eyes that gazed up at him beneath equally black lashes. Thorin wasn't sure how to hold him properly, especially when the babe began searching for milk.
"I can take him to a wet nurse," Di̒s offered.
Danica would be heartbroken. He knew she hadn't wanted to use a wet nurse. Tears stung at his eyes.
"Let Frerin at least lay on his mother for a moment. He needs to meet her," his voice cracked with emotion, but Di̒s nodded, and helped rest Frerin on Danica's bare skin. Thorin stroked his son's soft hair, and kissed Danica's cool cheek.
'Care for him while I sleep,' once again, her phantom voice sounded. It was filled with the same anguish he felt. 'I love you both. This was the only way,'
Warmth brushed his cheek, which was now wet with tears, and he knew it was her. That warmth moved onto Frerin, who cooed, and snuggled into it, but then it was gone. She was gone; her unconscious form stuck in a state of living death.
"I have done all I can," the healer said wearily. "The rest is up to her,"
Laying his head next to Frerin's, Thorin let his soft cries join the wails of his son.
Danica's eyes opened to three strangers looking down at her. Her head ached, but the rest of her felt fine. Better than fine, in fact.
"Gwyn, are you alright?" a young man with golden hair asked.
Gwyn? "What happened?" the moment the words were out, she started. Gwyn wasn't her name, and that most definitely was not her voice.
"We were all eating, and you suddenly passed out," a woman with brown hair leaned down to help her up. "Too much ale after the performance? You know you can't hold alcohol well,"
The others chuckled, and Danica now recognized them as members of the troupe. All the rest came back to her, and she struggled to keep her face straight.
"Must have been," she responded, forcing a chuckle. "Does anyone know where Nathir is? I have something to ask him,"
"He went in the direction they took the Lady Danica,"
All of them went sober.
"It did not look good," the blonde man said.
Chest clenching, Danica just nodded, then walked out of the banquet hall. A few dwarves she passed gave her strange looks, but only a couple tried to stop her. When she told them she was looking for Nathir, they pointed her in the right direction, watching after her carefully. Walking in a different body took a few minutes to get used to, but this woman was a dancer, so her muscles knew what to do. Once she reached the hall to hers and Thorin's quarters, she saw Tala and another dwarf standing guard. Seeing her as well, Tala stepped forward.
"I am sorry, Miss, but this area is off limits," he was trying to be polite, but his tone held an edge.
"I understand," her eyes went down the hall, to where she knew Thorin and Frerin were. Frerin. Her son whom she had been robbed of holding and nursing for the first time. Clenching her jaw against the rage and grief, she asked, "Can someone get Nathir? It is of the utmost importance,"
The two dwarves shared a suspicious look before Tala went down the hall. Danica wanted to ask about Frerin, but knew the guard wouldn't tell her anything. Luckily, Tala came out only a moment later with Nathir in tow. They both thanked the dwarves, and walked away. Once they were out of ear shot, Danica dragged him into an empty hallway, and slammed him against the wall.
"You'd better have a damn good reason for forcing me to possess someone, and abandon my newborn son,"
