by Asher North
"What are you doing?" Damon asked. "Don't hurt yourself. It's not worth it, you need your strength for the baby. We still have days to plead our case with Oron and perhaps once the baby is born he’ll change his mind."
"I wouldn't need my strength if you hadn't failed me," Rhys snapped and immediately regretted the comment when he saw Damon's face fall. A sound bordering on a whimper came out of Damon's mouth and Rhys made to apologize but it was too late. Turning on his heel, Damon shifted into his wolf form and darted out of the room. Rhys didn't bother to call after him. There was nothing he could say to make things better, and in his current state, he knew he would most likely only make things worse.
Sinking back into the cushion of the bed, Rhys wished he had someone to talk to, someone who understood. He thought of his father, Juno, and wondered what he might do in such a situation. I am less than half the wolf that he was, Rhys thought with shame at the way he’d just spoken to his mate, and was overcome with the sense of yearning for his father. He hadn’t had time to grieve and knew that he might never get it.
Though he felt foolish for doing so, he could no longer hold back his tears. He'd avoided facing his father’s death and its fallout by running from everything and endlessly pursuing the things that he thought mattered to him most, but now it had all come into stark question. He felt foolish and gullible for allowing the Lunalis twins to convince him that anything that he did really mattered. All this talk of prophecies and promises yet to be fulfilled had been just that: talk, nothing more.
The truth of the matter was that he and all of his friends were lost. When they were turned away from the White Tail den it would only be a matter of time before they were found by their enemies, whether they be Reavers or Black Claws. It made no difference which one found them first, they all had the same motive in the end.
I wish this had never happened, Rhys thought. I wish I had never met any of these wolves, I wish I had just listened to my father and been the good Omega that I was expected to be. He couldn't help wondering how much different, and perhaps how much better off, his life would have been if he had done those things. After the spell of emotion broke, Rhys wiped his eyes on the back of his hands and stared down at them. He didn’t recognize the wolf he’d become, physically or mentally. His body and mind both had changed dramatically as a result of the pregnancy.
Self-pity is a dead-end path and I know it is, he told himself. He would never have been able to be the obedient Omega that the others insisted he be. Besides that, his life would have been almost certainly worse if he had because some things wouldn’t have changed. Sayer and his adherents would likely still have overthrown Rhys's father and then what kind of life would he have led? Would they have killed him too? He didn't doubt that they would have. My life is no longer solely about me anymore, he thought as he stroked his rounded stomach. The baby inside was nearly grown, nearly ready to face the world, and Rhys knew that he needed to ready himself too.
A jolt of pain in his stomach made him jump. The baby had kicked again and Rhys wondered if the baby agreed with his thoughts. Remorse struck him then. He felt guilty for unloading on Damon the way that he had, and wished that he could say he was sorry, but didn't know where Damon had gone or how he would find him. But then the pain struck again, and this time it was much stronger, so strong in fact that it seemed to radiate from his stomach to his lower back and all the way down his legs before traveling upward again.
He made to sit up, but the pain only increased, like a blade driven into his spine and dragged all the way down to the base. He cried out, but no one came. Something was wrong. Though he wasn't certain, it almost felt like he was entering birth but that couldn’t possibly be.
"Help!" he cried. "There's something wrong! Please, someone help me!" He'd only finished speaking when the pain struck once more, thrusting him down onto the mattress he laid on, and his vision turned white with pain. He clenched down as the agony seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of excruciating sensation coursing through his entire body, until at last it broke and he jerked his eyes and lungs open again.
"What is it? What's wrong?" a wolf that Rhys didn't recognize demanded. Before Rhys could answer, the wolf had shifted back into its human form and was reaching for tools that sat on a tray not far from Rhys's bed, needles, bandages, and scalpels.
"The baby," Rhys muttered. The words were like fire in his lungs. "Something is wrong with the baby." It was too soon for him to be delivering the child, far too soon, which concerned him. The man, who Rhys could only assume was a Healer, walked to the end of Rhys's bed and forced his legs apart. The air against the skin was like ice when it met the blood that coated his thighs. The sight of the crimson liquid in such large quantities in that area nearly made Rhys faint. There was no question now that something was wrong.
"Save him. He's the only thing that matters, please, save him!" Rhys shouted as yet another wave of pain choked his body. The Healer shouted to his fellows and within seconds the room filled with men and wolves dedicated to nothing other than tending to Rhys. He heard them talking but couldn't make out their words, which were lost in the blur and haze of delusion as the pain he felt blocked out nearly everything else in his mind. His vision swam, from black to white and black again, and only returned when he felt hands on his arms and legs holding him down.
"You have to be still! You risk doing more damage if you can't," another man said, his intense blue eyes like a balm on Rhys's soul. In his mind's eye, he saw his baby slipping away from him, its body turning to light and dust the way that his father and Lux had in his dream. Before his baby had even been born it was already being claimed by the Light. Rhys cried out again, though the words were indecipherable, and when he realized that they would do him no good, he took to prayer.
Please, who or whatever may be listening, save my baby. I will give anything, even my own life, to make sure that he is safe and sound. All of Moonvalley needs him, he prayed. Somehow, that seemed to calm his body down enough to allow him to see again. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he found one of the Healers crouching between his legs with an instrument that looked like it was intended for torture rather than delivery. The first Healer raised a needle and held it above Rhys.
“Hold him still,” he said. “This is for the pain, relax. It will make things easier.”
What are they doing? Rhys thought in a panic. Did they do this? Are they trying to kill my baby? He attempted to kick away from the Healer and his needle but was only apprehended by two more who held his legs and feet in place. He barely felt the prick of the needle entering his skin and some of the burn did in fact fade until the Healer inserted the large, metal instrument and began to open him. The pain that he had felt before melted away, replaced by something far worse, something he didn't think he would survive.
“The baby is almost here. I need you to push!” the Healer shouted and though Rhys wasn’t sure he could, using what little strength he had left, he did so. The pain was too much, overloading his body, and he felt himself go slack. The blackness at the edges of his vision consumed it entirely and he gave in to the alluring lull of the emptiness and the comfort that it might bring him. No matter what waited for him and that abyss, it cannot of been worse than the pain he currently experienced.
But then a high-pitched squeal pierced his ears, like glass shattering, and he jolted back into consciousness. There was a beat of silence in the room and for a moment Rhys thought he may have passed on until once more the squeal rang in his ears. There was no doubt in his mind that his baby was now present with him, but he didn't understand how that could be. Most pregnancies lasted the entirety of one full moon and they had not been more than a fortnight beyond the last one. But it was difficult to make that determination in his current state of delirium, and Rhys wondered if he might be hallucinating, his mind and body's way of coping with the intensity he was currently experiencing.
"It's breathing!" one of the Healers shouted. As if it had all been
nothing more than a nightmare, and a fleeting one at that, Rhys's body relaxed almost instantly at the words. The baby was here and it was breathing, that was the only thing that mattered.
"I want to see him," Rhys muttered, and the blurred shapes before him set into motion once more. He heard words from the Healers, men and wolves both, but couldn't understand any of them. The only thing that he could hear was the ringing squeal of his baby in his ears. He felt something squirm against him, and instinctively reached out his arms. The Healer placed the baby safely within his hands and Rhys held him close, closer than he held anything in his entire life, terrified that the baby might slip away if he dared to let go. He opened his eyes and found the tiniest, reddest infant staring back up at him, its mouth wide open as it screamed.
"Is he okay?" Rhys asked no one in particular. "Will he live? Please tell me he will live."
"He is premature. It will be difficult and a long road but, the First Shifter willing, he will live," the Healer said and it was everything Rhys needed to hear. Purely by instinct, he held the infant's mouth to his breast and found joy in the feeling of the infant's suckling and the silence that followed it.
Despite all of the years he had spent trying to convince himself and his fellow wolves that he was a fighter, Rhys realized as he held his child that bringing it into this world was what he’d truly been born to do. Though he couldn’t find the words to express why, he was overcome with the sense that there was something special about this child. He should never have been created, should never have been born, should never have lived, and yet there was.
Rhys let out a small laugh, impressed by the hunger and the need of the young baby, and wished that Damon had been here to witness his birth because the baby was a boy, and from its faint scent, Rhys knew was also an Alpha. There was some sort of irony in that, some cosmic joke. But it didn't matter. He had his son and he would live, Rhys would make sure of that if he did nothing else in his life. This baby needed he and Damon both and the only way that the three of them would survive would be to do so together.
"Send for Damon, I want him to meet his son," Rhys said and though the Healers seemed concerned, they didn't dare defy the new father's wishes. Rhys dozed with his son and his warmth keeping him company and it was the best feeling he had ever known. As he drifted, the thought occurred to him that he now knew what his father meant when he’d said that Rhys would never understand until he had a child of his own.
"I understand, father. I understand."
Damon
The howling wind was like fire—frozen fire, but fire nonetheless—slicing through Damon's fur as if it didn't exist. Still, it helped him feel alive, as if he hadn't died in the Healers’ chamber when Rhys had said that everything was his fault.
I wish Thane would’ve finished me, he thought bitterly as he stared out at the vast, empty, and blue-black stretch of sea before him. He didn’t know its name or where it led to but its surface seemed to go on forever until it melted into the sky. Damon wished that he could do the same.
There was nothing left for him if he didn't have Rhys and their child. He had found a purpose in life and he had failed at it, a realization that stung much more than the harsh wind against his face. All his life he’d tried to prove that he wasn't a coward, to show his pack that strength could be demonstrated in more ways than merely the physical, and yet in some sort of reversal the universe had proven to him that in the end physical strength triumphed.
He listened to the lapping of the water against the shore, barely audible over the whistling of the wind. The surface of the water was almost glass it was so smooth and had it not been for the hiss of the water against the sand, Damon would have sworn that it had frozen over entirely. More than once, he considered entering the water and swimming as far as his body could carry him before the freeze took hold. There was neither courage nor pride in such a thing, but there was so little of either left for Damon anyway that it didn’t seem to matter. He dipped one paw into the water and winced.
"Damon! There you are!" Kaster's voice called over the emptiness, startling him. He turned to find Kaster wobbling toward him, just barely able to walk thanks to his injuries. He seemed winded and desperate.
"What is it?" Damon asked. He had little patience to deal with Kaster now and less interest in listening to him prattle on about how things could only get better from here. No conciliatory words could have soothed Damon’s soul.
"It's Rhys," Kaster gasped as he skidded to a halt beside him. Damon's heart stopped beating, making his own breathing difficult.
"What happened?" Damon demanded. His entire body tensed, ready to run back to Rhys's bedside if need be. He doubted that Rhys would want to see him, but if anything was wrong, Damon needed to be there.
"He's had the baby," Kaster said.
"What?! That's not possible. We haven't seen the full moon yet," Damon said, his head spinning. None of this made sense.
"The baby is premature. Its breathing is labored and it has an unusual appetite but I'm told that otherwise it is well," Kaster said and a smile appeared on his face.
"Why wasn't I told? Why did no one send for me when it started? Did Rhys forbid it?" Damon asked, and he wouldn't have blamed Rhys if he had. If he couldn't protect Rhys and their child then he had no business being present for the child's birth. It would have brought shame and dishonor on Rhys and the child both.
"There was no time. No one understood the situation until it was already happening," Kaster said. "Rhys demanded that we send for you now. He wants you to meet your son."
"My son?" Damon asked, feeling lightheaded. So it was true. He had a child, and the child was a boy. He chuckled in disbelief. Perhaps there is still something worth living for, he thought.
"Yes, your son. Hurry, you've already missed so much," Kaster said and without another word Damon bolted away from the ocean toward the White Tail den. The Healers were already waiting for him when he arrived and they cleared the way and led him to their ward. Where before they’d been suspicious and hostile toward him, the White Tails that Damon passed now almost seemed to look at him with envy.
When Damon stepped inside the ward and found Rhys holding their child in one hand, everything else faded away instantaneously. His entire universe, everything that would ever be of importance, was right before him. He shifted to his human form and went to Rhys's bedside and as if by instinct their hands wound together. Rhys smiled up at him and though he looked worse than Damon had ever seen him, his warmth and happiness still shown through.
"He’s so small," Damon whispered and the baby stirred, making a cooing noise as it did so. Damon reached down and stroked the baby’s tiny arm with a finger, afraid that he might break him if he applied more pressure than that.
"He is, but he's alive," Rhys said. The baby’s hair was a wild, tangled mess of brown and blonde, and though his features had not yet been fully revealed, there was no mistaking the infant as anyone other than the child of Rhys and Damon.
"What should we name him?" Damon asked. He couldn't have thought of a name if he tried, not one that would suit this miracle.
"I don't have the faintest idea," Rhys laughed, which didn’t seem to agree with the baby. He began to squeal, the noise so high-pitched that it hurt Damon's ears even in his human form.
"Maybe we don't need to know now," Damon said over the noise.
"I think you're right. Maybe all he needs right now is silence," Rhys said. He held the baby to his chest and offered it a swollen nipple, which he greedily took into his mouth. "He's an Alpha," Rhys said.
"How do you know?" Damon asked. He didn't dare believe that it was true.
"Can't you smell it on him?" Rhys asked. Truthfully, Damon couldn't. Due to the scents of copper-like blood and fresh new life in the room, his sense of smell was horribly overwhelmed and might never have been able to pick up on something as subtle as that.
"No, but I trust you," Damon said, hoping that he might be able to restore Rhys’s trust
in him one day soon. It would have to be earned, that much Damon knew, but with their child among them now, Damon would do whatever it might require.
"Damon, I'm sorry," Rhys said as if he’d read Damon’s mind and his eyes began to tear. Damon shushed him with a finger.
"It doesn't matter. None of that matters now. Our son is here and he needs his fathers, together and whole. I forgive you," Damon said.
"And I forgive you," Rhys said. "It was never your fault to begin with and it was wrong of me to lay the blame at your feet."
"Thank you," Damon said and he meant it. He realized then that their time in the White Tail den would be shorter than he had originally thought now that their son had been born, but he pushed the thought away and decided to focus on the present. He had little doubt that once Oron and the other White Tail wolves laid their eyes upon their beautiful brand-new son, what with his fragile life and poorly-defined, almost alien features, they would change their minds. It was one thing to say that they would send Rhys and Damon away once the baby was born, but it would be another thing entirely to actually follow through with it after having seen the child.
"Come in," Rhys said over Damon’s shoulder. Damon turned to find Kaster waiting patiently. He beckoned Kaster forward. Kaster approached gingerly, no doubt as afraid as Damon had been, and a smile dawned on his face when he took in the sight of Rhys and the baby.
"I always knew you would be a good father," Kaster said to Rhys.
"How can you say that when fatherhood has only just begun?" Rhys asked and Kaster chuckled.
"I can sense it in you," Kaster said. "You get it from your own fathers, both of them. They raised an incredible wolf, and I have no doubt you’ll do the same."
"Thank you," Rhys said and gave Damon's hand a squeeze. The baby had fallen asleep again. "Would you like to hold him? My arm is tired." Without hesitation, Damon scooped the child into his own arms and savored the scent of him. It was new and fresh and full of hope, the kind of hope he hadn’t previously believed was still possible. It struck him then how ludicrous his previous thoughts of wading out into the ocean had been. What might that have done to Rhys and their child? His eyes watered and he vowed that everything he did and said going forward would be for the benefit of this baby.