[Birth] To love and be loved

It was close to midnight, and Valeska found herself unable to sleep, nodding off into fitful bouts of half-consciousness. Strange dreams plagued her (whenever she did manage to drift off), and there was a restless feeling that gnawed at her from within; something was happening, but she couldn't figure out what. Amaranth was nowhere to be seen, yet that was not out of the ordinary either - she often enjoyed late-night walks on her own once her mate was asleep.

With a sigh she rose on tired paws, hobbling a few short steps toward the entrance and poking her nose out to glance around. The sky was clear and full of stars, and a half-moon hung in the midst of Houtu's splendor, casting its light upon the rippling surface of the lake. There was a chill to the air, perhaps the final ragged gasp of winter before spring at last turned to summer, and she felt her fur bristle protectively to lock out the brisk wind.

“Harper?” she called quietly, toward one of the neighboring dens. “Sister, are you awake?”

A soft grunt answered her, and the tall, dark silhouette of their resident herbalist came silently into view. Normally @ "Harper" would put up more of a fight at being woken so late in the evening, but something seemed peculiar about this particular summons, and Valeska wasn't one to disturb her packmates without reason.

Valeska moved back into her den, expecting her sister to follow.

“Harper, I cannot sleep,” she said defeatedly, ears swiveled back to further express her frustration. “Is there something you would suggest - an herb, or a root, or even a breathing exercise? I feel as though I may lose my mind.”

The silver wolf glanced down at her swollen stomach, a tired smile teasing at the corners of her lips. It was probably their fault, but she couldn't be angry over it; they were growing, innocent, still blind to the world's woes and its terrors. Let her be restless, so long as they were at peace.

She chuckled. “You know - we have thought of some names. We would like a mix of nature, in honor of Sylvanus - and some of our heritage. Russian,” she said quietly. "It is important we never forget who we are. Even if you do not carry the same joy for your past - you are my sister, my blood. They will know you and look up to you as I do, and I would be... honored, if you would help me teach them our mother tongue. Мое сердце." — My heart.

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^^Unlike her sister, who enjoyed getting up at the buttass crack of dawn, Harper enjoyed sleeping in, which meant a later bedtime. This was usually the reasoning behind Harper’s grumpiness and unwillingness to leave her bed until it was at least a more reasonable time.

But Valeska did not often call for her sister in the middle of the night, nor was it often that Harper would find her sister pregnant, of all things, and so with her transformation into a tiny elephant, Harper thought it best to drug herself to sleep until those goblins, er — darling nieces and nephews — were born.

She would not be able to live (with herself) if she had slept through her sister’s birth. Valeska would rightfully kill her, and then probably bring her back to kill her a second time! So, of course, when Valeska called for her, the now-Divine woman offered a very sleepy grunt in response.

“You should become creature of the night with me, then you’s no need for sleep so early.” Harper mused, voice still husky and groggy, like the voice of a southern smoker karen’s voice would be, as she yawned, taking two half steps towards her pillow — er, her sister.

“There are… many things you could take,” Harper decided against telling her sister to run several laps around the territory, as the silver wolf did look tired, and Harper, too, eyed the swollen stomach with a sad smile.

Valeska had lead them to her den, and Harper had followed, of course - after grabbing a mouthful of herbs: lavender, chamomile, valerian root. She considered passionflower, but she did not wish to give her sister nasty, liquid poops (at this time), when she’d come to Harper for help, & they were basically there for decoration, anyway.

“I has brought you some herbs, and a root, for the best sleep aid. It is said that the scent of lavender helps with sleep aid, and there are no side effects, whereas you can experience dizziness and nausea from Chamomile,” which would explain why she brought more lavender and only one or two stems of Chamomile.

She could come to lay down beside her sister, nodding to her stomach. “Of course, mое сердце; I will guide them and assist you as if they were my own.” Harper cooed, coming to groom her sister, in wonder if that would help more than the herbs.

^^
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The deep, familiar raspy tones of Harper's voice were a comfort to her, and she slowly felt her tensed muscles release their hold as she settled into a more comfortable position. She laid on the den's floor, propped on her side, and listened attentively to her sister's suggestions for insomnia. Thank the gods she hadn't mentioned running laps - if she had, Valeska would have absolutely heaved herself up and hauled ass around the lake, much to her detriment - but felt quite pleased that only some ingestibles were offered instead.

The valerian root piqued her interest the most, a particular medicine she had yet to try, and lavender she was familiar with. She leaned in close to breathe in its scent, closing her eyes in an effort to transport herself into a quieter place full of little fluffy sheep leaping over fences and into her open mouth.

It soothed, but she still felt... strange.

Her eyes flew open again, wide as saucers.

“Maybe I should try the root,” she said almost mechanically, drifting toward the small pile of medicine. As she did so, Harper leaned forward and began to affectionately groom her sister, forcing Valeska to pause in her pursuit as she sought to enjoy the moment. They did not often have time alone together - always there were things keeping them busy, keeping them apart - but these rare moments of peace were treasured by Valeska, and she leaned into Harper's rough grooming with a pleased rumble.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then-

A sudden stickiness fell between her hind legs. She looked back, puzzled, and then after a few moments she hurt.

“SACRED WOLF MOTHER,” she howled into the night, “NO WONDER I COULD NOT SLEEP - THEY ARE COMING!”

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Amaranth drew: The World, upright — You have finally accomplished your goal or purpose. Everything has come together, and you are in the right place, doing the right thing, achieving what you have envisioned. You feel whole and complete.

---

She'd not gone far. She never did — she never could.

Amaranth was but a shadow, hovering over Elysium. Hovering over Valeska. Hovering over this life she had made, somehow, for herself.

The woman sat by the edge of the water, basking in the reflection of the pale azure moonlight as it cast a glow off of the rippling surface. Golden fur would glow, waving gently around her in the soft breeze. Deep purple eyes stared at the crystalline reflection of herself. She watched herself, looking at the way the bedraggled feathers riddled her fur ... still clinging to her nape from the night of the wedding. There was a shallow sort of emptiness that washed over her angled features; the lack of sleep over the past weeks finally taking a toll on a busy mind.

It was a lot for her. So much so, that it turned her hollow at times.

And that was why she wandered.
 Wondered.
  Wasted.

The wind around her rippled, swirling through her fur with sudden and purposeful intent. Bits and pieces of spring pollen rippled against her coat, tracing intricate patterns on her skin. She could almost see the trails illuminating against the moonlit air. Amaranth listened ... hearing the message and lifting her gaze from the water and glancing toward the solid half-moon. Yin. Yang. Two halves of the very same whole. Callosum.

And then her eyes widened as the wind bit her, sending a spark of electricity through her veins.

Her gaze turned sharply toward the den, just in time to hear the scream. “SACRED WOLF MOTHER!”

Amaranth lifted herself from the edge of the water, following the wind as it drew her back toward the den. She smelt Valeska. Harper. And ... something else. It was not blood, but it was pungent. "Valeska?" Her nose poked through the den, singsong vocals soft on the moonlit air. She was surprisingly relaxed given the nature of Valeska's screaming. The atmosphere around them was heavy with anticipation ... mingling with anxiety and excitement. "It's time?" She pushed her way into the den, blinking softly toward her mate in a soft offering of her support.

She wasn't sure if Valeska wanted her ... closer? Farther away?

Amaranth blinked again.
 As awkward as ever.

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Olive was in the middle of a very auspicious time in her pregnancy where things were going… decently well. The seemingly interminable morning sickness had evaporated one day as easily as it had appeared. Duskguard’s dominion had not only been located, but secured. Things, after no many moments of burgeoning questions and hope, finally seemed suited to her wants and needs, as well as the wants and need of her unborn children. She had @Tiberius. She had her land, her friends, and the potential of a family (which now expressed itself as a gentle sloping of her sides, which might have just appeared as added weight to the untrained eye). They were all blessed by the Gods. What more could be wanted?

Olive was not averse to travel as she had expected she might have been; certainly, anything other than the trek from the Elsewhen to their new land of Frostfang Vale had been inconceivable in the past couple weeks. But as Olive had begun to realize, it all was different now, and she felt the lightness in her heart (and stomach) reverberate through her paws, gifting her with the energy to travel back to Elysium — as the High Priestess’s time was nearing, and her midwives should not be far. The trip was fast and easy, completed in the matter of a couple days, and when Olive approached the Queens’ respite, she expected and energy similar to the last time she was here. Jovial, preparatory, excited for what was to come.

Instead, she was greeted with a bellowing wail, and Olive realized that (through the Gods’ good graces) that she had made it right on time.

Making a split-hair decision, the sylph pushed through the borders (this was one of those times when she would rather ask for forgiveness than ask for permission) and made her way to the epicenter of the territory. She knew naught the lands of Elysium well, but there were many auditory and olfactory indicators of that directed her path. She came upon a gathering of the three women in a large den, and she paused outside of the entrance, taking a moment to swallow and still her heart. Unless the pups were coming now, then there was likely still time to calmly collect and direct the entire event. Usually, The parents were no help in this; but this time, Olive had another healer to work beside.

"Hello,” she announced, looking for a way to seamlessly insert herself into the goings-on, but waiting to be invited within, "I am here.” Only just now, Olive realized that she had not brought a single herb or food offering, but she figured Harper would have anything that was possibly needed. Grinning excitedly to herself, the woman stood in wait, knowing this to be the most exciting part of her medical practice.

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^^It was true, sadly to say, that the sisters often did not have moments of peace for themselves, or with each other. Harper had thought perhaps, that she could groom her sister to sleep, and then just resume the rest of her slumbers in the den with her and all would be well.

However, that was not the case. The peaceful moments between sisters had come to a shouting end as Valeska howled into the night, summoning every important canine into the den; frightening Harper with the sudden howling that she had growled and her hackles had risen.

The two women arrived, and Harper looked past Amaranth towards Olive, with a sigh of relief, glad to have the familiar stranger within their realm, Harper moved over to allow Olive to do her thing.

“I am most pleased to see you, Olive, as I could use your guidance,” Harper whined, nodding towards her sister, as a formal invitation, if the sylph should need one.

^^
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Everything about all of it was awful.

Well, except for Amaranth. And Harper. And Olive. She was incredibly grateful to be surrounded by such loving, attentive companions during her great trial (although her wife held a peculiar expression she could not name - something close to tranquilized panic, perhaps), though she also felt a lot like a bug under a microscope. The silver wolf laid upon her side like some beached whale, she imagined, sides heaving and feeling her body light up in flames with the effort of whatever the hell it was doing. She'd heard about pregnancy - she knew how pups were made - she knew how they came into the world - but the minute mechanics of such a venture had been lost on her, and now she realized why so many she-wolves lamented the whole thing.

By the gods, it was uncomfortable.

Valeska cast the trio what she imagined to be a reassuring smile (it wasn't), laying her head back upon the ground as she suddenly hissed through gritted teeth when the first oh gods what the shit was that contraction came. She'd heard about those.

They were also uncomfortable.

She opened her mouth to complain about it properly, but all that came out was a croak. She suddenly felt parched.

“Ah - goodness,” she finally managed. “How many more of those will I have?”

---
{Nearly two hours later...}
---

At any rate, she was in too much pain to shout.

The contractions were coming much quicker now, and with a far greater severity, each one ripping through her body like a wave as she curled up in distress.

“Oh, by the gods,” she half-prayed, half-swore, clenching her teeth. “Houtu, please, I beg you - let them come, let them be well, and let this be over...”

Though all she could see was red behind her eyes, blossoming like a flower in a garden full of agony, what kept her going was the thought of her children - their children. How the Five had blessed them with their greatest wish, reaching down with starry eyes to grant them the gift of their own flesh and blood; whatever connection Ragnar held with the Five was clearly the link they needed to conceive. Months of prayer, months of hoping and wishing and dreaming, and Houtu herself had unveiled it to the pair in a vision one fateful night in Northfall.

Amaranth had seen it; Valeska had felt it. Words whispered on the wind, sparkling feathers that danced merrily around them in a fashion unlike nature. She had prayed so deeply, fasting until the point of exhaustion and desperately trying to think of any way, any ritual it might ever work.

And it had.

The Five had listened, and now -

She convulsed suddenly, letting out a low-pitched keening sound as she felt her body pulse, instinctively pushing as hard as she could when -

Something had happened. She felt something leave her. She craned her neck back, nearly hurting herself in the process, absolutely desperate to see it. The small, wriggling thing was still in its sac, and without prompting or any instruction from her two midwives, she moved almost mechanically to rip it open and stared in wonderment.

A tiny, silver boy. He looked so delicate that he might break if one moved him too quickly, but he was perfectly formed, and he was hers.

She felt tears begin to slide uncontrollably down her cheeks. “Oh, Houtu... thank you... thank you,” she whispered, drinking him in. “All-Mother, he is... beautiful...”

Valeska turned to give her wife a proud, tear-stained look of love, then felt another wave of contractions overtake her as the next pup prepared for its arrival.

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The first-born, silver as snow. In this moment he is deaf and blind, unable to speak in response or know of his mother's approval. For the first and last time in Dimitri's life, he will know peace as he writhes in his solitude. He is cold. He is hungry. He knows nothing else.

In time, he will know the world and its terrors. In time, he will know his place in it. First-born, silver as snow. Greatness must become him, or he will surely crumble beneath the weight of expectations.
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She was greeted and any bar there was on her entering the den was lifted. Olive ducked her head to enter, allowing her gaze to drift over the dark expanse, taking note of the two sisters that hovered nearby, as well as the goldenleaf ghost that watched with a unique type of passive excitement. The ashen sylph proffered each of them a smile, then she approached the laboring woman and did her best to assay the progress without jostling Valeska or committing any overly intrusive act too soon.

Relieved to see that there might still be some time before the activity of birth, Olive pulled back and placed herself away from the center of the room, to afford the entire enclave room to move, and for energy to flow openly amongst the four conduits. Olive wagged her tail reassuringly towards Harper, who connoted that she did not have much experience with this type of healing support. "The body has incredible mechanics," she spoke softly, in almost a whisper, tipping her head towards the accented healer.

Olive thought back to her own mother, whom she had studied midwifery under for most of her life. Olive had even assisted in the deliverance of her own younger brothers and sisters, when she wasn't even an adult herself. "Valeska could easily do this on her own, following her own instincts." This is what made childbirth one of the few 'medical' process that could be seen as beautiful and enjoyable, for the midwife herself as least, and pending no complications. "A midwife can make the process more complicated than it needs to be. We follow the mother's lead, and support where she invites us to. It's a delicate, emotional process."

The last thing Olive wanted to do was distracted Valeska from reading the ebb-and-flow of her body, so if Harper would have it, Olive continued to converse in an easy, dull whisper. "I find that borage and red raspberry leaf are great herbal supports during labor and birth. Motherswort can be both ingested and used topically afterwards, if the mother appears weak..."

...several hours later, the swirl of birth-energy has risen once more, only this time there was no ebb — only flow. Watching Valeska grit her teeth and bear down, the waif eagerly encouraged Valeska over to the soft bedding intended to welcome soft, mewling bodies and positioned herself towards the laboring shewolf's rear. Valeska was overtaken by birthing pains, writhing and crying out as she rode the waves of intensity. "Good Valeska, keep it up..." she encouraged, her eyes bouncing from the emerging pup, to Valeska herself, to the two other women who were in attendance, keeping at least some small part of her awareness on all moving parts, allowing all others to be as fully in the moment as they so desired. Her heart beat fast and strong with excitement, and to be a humbled witness to the true power of a mother's body.

A pup was born and ushered into its mothers arms, who groomed it and cried from the gravity of it all. "Rest, breathe," Olive encouraged, knowing that there would be nothing that could wrest a new mother's attention away from her newborn; but there would be more to come, and Valeska couldn't squander what was left of her energy reserves just yet. "How are you feeling?" she asked, watching the tears fall and wet the already-damp child, only half-expecting a response; Valeska was lost in a new world, a world of motherhood, and Olive could not help the pang of jealousy that struck her as she watched it come to pass.

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AND SHE HAS ARRIVED.

The horror itself, fresh from the womb came out in a dazzling glory. The moment she could feel the air itself and the stinging within her throat, she screamed. The only time she wasn't screaming is the few moments in-between to continue garnishing that delicious air as the newborn girl, soon to be dubbed as Violet, was a menace the moment she was born.

Even when she would be guided to the milk, in-between the delicious taste of her moms teats, would she hollar even more.

She would ree' like no one else.

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^^Harper was not often a woman who found herself grateful for another's assistance. No, no; any other time, the devil wolf would have been too proud a woman to seek outside help, had it been herself, but alas, it was Valeska on the table.

Valeska who did not deserve to die giving birth to her children, like their Aunt Anastasia had; Valeska, who had gone from the only mortal thread, to the first as she provided Harper with gorgeous nieces and nephews; more attachments to this world to live for, since Harper had none herself.

Because of Valeska, Harper was grateful for Olive’s teachings, nodding her head gently and observing the information that the more experienced midwife had to give. They were here to aid, at the invitation of support, should Valeska require it.

Harper was mostly silent as Olive spoke, nodding her head softly here and there, eyes on her sister, but ears on Olive. “I normally would have been prepared, but the children came unexpectedly.. ” Harper would whisper back, feeling almost guilty that she hadn’t littered Valeska’s den with said herbs. “I has those herbs in me collection, but I do not wish to leave her.”

Several hours later, and out came the second child; screaming as she was brought into this world of madness and chaos. Harper wondered, for a brief moment, how their own litter had come into the world. How her own children might have come, had her husband been around.

She pushed aside the sorrow and envy, glancing over the two children that Valeska had been blessed with. “You’re doing lovely, sis. Take a moment to breathe. Can we get you anything?”

^^
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Olive's steadying voice of assurance helped soothe her, heeding the woman's summons toward the pile of bedding nearby. It was impossibly thick and soft, and the moment she collapsed upon it, she felt as if she might drift into an exhausted sleep at once - until still more birth-pangs overtook her, and she rolled onto her side in an agony. Little did she know how fitting it was that Violet would bring with her into the world so much pain - her future had not yet been written, yet even the gods knew what sort of creature she would become, but that was a worry for another time.

“How are you feeling?” came the soft tones of the pale she-wolf who was presently supporting her. Valeska raised her head, allowing an expression of great longsuffering to paint her features. “No one told me how very... visceral the event would be,” she said with a light, pained chuckle, “Though it is incredible that I have such a feeling of knowing. Even with my... my son, somehow I... knew.”

Her lips parted to no doubt complain a little more about the birthing when she suddenly felt a great moving within her, and instinctively, she pushed - until at last the strangled cries of her second-born filled the air, high-pitched and needy. Careful so as not to disturb Dimitri who now lay nestled at her side, Valeska performed the same cutting treatment with her daughter, using a paw to move her close and immediately began licking away the wet that clung to her.

She was a near-perfect blend of her mothers, all soft golds and silvers mixed against a cloudy backdrop of white. Little heel-tufts, similar to Valeska's, sprouted from behind her tiny paws like puffs of cotton candy. She watched as the little pup wriggled insistently over toward where her brother lay, nearly pummeling him over in the process as she fought for a place of warmth at her mother's side.

Harper gently interrupted her reverie, and Valeska glanced up at her, wondering how macabre the scene looked.

“You’re doing lovely, sis. Take a moment to breathe. Can we get you anything?”

“I am as well as I can be, I think -” she paused, then smiled, and reached out a paw to place it upon her sister's own. “It means so much to me that you are here.”

They chatted amicably for a little while, the women distracting themselves with talk of herbs and tossing around ideas of possibly names as Valeska licked her lips against the metallic taste of wolf blood - her blood? - and birthing... wetness. She would have felt repulsed if it hadn't seemed like such a normal (and expected) part of the proceedings, but nevertheless she tried not to think about it.

After a short time - minutes or hours, it was difficult to measure in that hot, cramped space - she felt the next wave of contractions, and set to work as she had been, mustering up as much of her fading strength as she had left to bring this next child into the world. Three pups - three! She wasn't sure how many she had expected, but already she was overwhelmed with feelings of elation and anxiety.

With a soft whine, she felt something leave her.

The third pup slithered out from her in utter silence, laying motionless upon the bedding. Not a whimper, not a cry came from her closed lips, and Valeska felt a cold chill crawl up her spine.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong something was wrong something was-

She sat up in a hurry, twisting around toward her hindquarters as she feverishly cut through the birth-sac and nudged her third-born with her muzzle, a pitiful heap of chocolate-brown and dark golden fur tinged with white. So unlike both of her parents in coloring, but the observation could not be further from her mind in light of the deafening silence. "Ты в порядке - ты в порядке - проснись, моя милая, подыши воздухом, дай мне услышать твой голос -" — You are alright - you are alright - come, waken, my sweet, take in the air, let me hear your voice - She choked back a sob, blinking back tears. No. No, no, no, no. She looked up at Olive and Harper, dread written across her face. What was wrong? What could they do? What if her daughter was -

Valeska cried out, helpless as yet more contractions rendered her inert. All she could think of was the silent, breathless pup that lay at her flanks, but her fourth child was coming whether it was convenient or not. She set her jaw and closed her eyes, and pushed. She had to hurry - she had to be quick, please, gods, let it be fast -

At last.

Another daughter.

Golden and pale as the morning sun's rays, she was fine-boned even as an infant, and Valeska performed her motherly duty as her fourth-born's first cries filled the air, making her motionless sister's quiet all the more palpable. She was beautiful - exquisitely beautiful, wrapped in Amaranth's own golden hues, the wet glistening like dewdrops atop her minuscule hairs. The silver wolf gathered her up at her side distractedly, still unable to see what was happening where her other child lay - if anything was happening at all.

“Please, is she - is she -”

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Silent.
  Black.
    Motionless.

The child slid into the world, and unlike her siblings, she was limp and frail ... and cast in a veil of pale shadow. Breathless and poetically still. It was hard to imagine what death was like, for life had yet to begin. But yet, as her neonatal frame waxed and waned between the two very planes of existence, a fire lit somewhere deep within her.

She did not cry, for she was not weak.
She did not seek milk, for she did not hunger.
Instead, she cast herself gracefully into the hands of death life.

She was suddenly being shuffled around, lost in darkness. Something rough stimulated her, shaking her frame and attempting to rid her lungs of the fetal fluid that suffocated her. It was mere instinct that caused her frame to shudder, a sharp inhale bringing the first breath of life into her lungs. Her limbs began to paddle mechanically, potato-like body writhing around for a moment as a rather annoyed and repulsed little squeal shortly left her lips.

Sreda had arrived — and what a rude awakening it had been.

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A second child was delivered — and the second child squalled something fierce. Olive chuckled at the innocence of the tiny thing, helping Valeska to collect her pups with the push of a nose. It was a beautiful picture, a family growing right before her eyes; and as the greyscale woman spoke of how visceral the experience was, Olive nodded, inherently unable to understand despite having helped mothers deliver numerous litters. Though she herself was pregnant, her viscera had no memory of what it would be like to not only deliver your children, but to hold them in your arms and gaze upon them. Hopefully, one day soon, she would know.

So Olive observed, and she took many mental notes.

Between the individual births, there were brief lulls and interludes in which she and Harper chatted about herbs. Harper lamented not being able to fetch her herbs, and Olive was about to explain how the plants which could dull pain could barely register against the fires of childbirth (and therefore were rendered almost useless), and how all other herbs were more beneficial during prolonged use during pre and post-natal periods — but Valeska's contractions resumed, and so did Olive's gentle coaching. "Down and out, down and out..." she urged as the new mother bore down, bringing forth her third pups.

However, the new mother's distress was immediately palpable. Olive pushed forward before Valeska had begun shouting in tongues. She moved into action, the disaster tripwire triggered at Valeska's first eye-blink. This was exactly why one had a midwife attend births. Not for the physical and emotional support, but for moments like this, when the untenable became reality. Olive's entire philosophy for midwifery could be summed up as 'prepare for the worst, hope for the best,' so though all had been going well thus far, Olive had been prepared and ready for this grim potentiality.

She immediately compartmentalized, leaving Valeska to be tended to by her sister, and swallowed any emotions she felt about dead puppies. Olive picked up the child and deposited it several feet away, where she could focus entirely on the task at hand. The baby didn't breath nor move, so Olive braced its small, inert body against one paw and rubbed its back vigorously with the other, pausing every other moment to press her ear to the body, if she could hear its tiny lungs breathing.

After several minutes, nothing.

Her jaw grit hard, the nursemaid quickly rolled the child on its back and used her nose to pry open the little jaws, creating a seal with her lips and sucking whatever she could out of its lungs and stomach. "C'mon baby, come on..." she muttered as she would spit and clear out her mouth, and then methodically return to the simultaneous actions of rubbing, compressing, sucking, jostling, and beseeching. There was little art to this part of healing; the intention was to light a spark which would then fan into a flame; but something unmitigated first needed to procure this spark.

— and suddenly, the puppy sputtered. At the sound, Olive's entire body unclenched. "She lives," Olive gasped, her own breath heaving, gingerly picking up the mewling pup and placing it with its mother. Her heart still beat fast, unable to come down from the rush of adrenaline and the resulting mechanical thinking. Olive was akin to high off the endorphins of it all, wheedling backwards to look at Harper and Amaranth with the radiant smile across her maw. Doing her best to keep her tone controled, Olive couldn't help but exclaim "What a precious, awesome gift — let the Gods be praised!"

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^^A tender moment between sisters; a dainty, perfect little paw was placed on top of her own, burly paw and for a moment, Harper stared at those two paws and wiggled her toes. She wanted to reach in, to nuzzle her sister’s cheek — and she would have, too, given any other circumstance.

Instead, she would smile and lick Valeska’s paw with a chuckle. “Only death can keep us apart,” which was, of course, mostly true. She would smile and chuckle, having not expected for Death to take this as an invitivation, & making his grand entrance upon their home, in the form of a dark princess.

It was an odd feeling, especially for Harper, to witness a little dark body coming out of her sister; her sister, who was the fairest queen of them all. Harper’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, she was no longer standing here; but a fly on the wall, upon her own birth. She thought of Dimas and what emotional rollercoaster he must have gone through, to see the same thing: two little dark twins rolling out of his wife, unbeknownst to him that she was already pregnant when he took her to bed to enjoy her.

Would another dark princess (or prince) follow after this one? Twins ran high in their family, after all. Harper and Valeska had each one, before they were taken by Death. A collage of emotions hit Harper like a truck, and she almost lost focus, but Valeska’s was pleading for her dark child in a way that, perhaps, Annika never would have done.

After all, she had lied and said that her dark children had been someone’s. Abandoned, she’d said; lost, she’d said. Pulling her thoughts from the past to the present, Harper moved in such a manner so that she could watch their miracle worker as well as watching over her sister as need be.

Olive moved so fast that Harper had swore that she could have seen a pair of tiny little angel wings at her sides. She worked in an interesting manner, as Harper had never seen one bring back another from the face of Death; the way she held her niece, and her techniques were, of course, dully noted with a firm nod of her head, and an exhale of a breathe that Harper hadn’t been aware that she’d been holding.

“We are thankful for you, Olive.”

^^
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^^

She came quietly. Not silent like the sister before her but neither was she loud. Somehow the noises from her were soft and wanting, almost whispers as they came from her new-born lungs. Narcissa's world had changed in a matter of moments, the warmth she had experienced and bodies around her shifting as one by one they went, leaving her alone in the womb they had all grown in.

No longer was she alone once she joined her siblings, her body quivering at the differences that bombarded her. She was moved, soft squeals whispering from her lips at the change but she went without a wriggle, safety and comfort wrapping around her like an old friend. Something stirred deep within her chest, shifting and clawing at the new borns life though moments later it would quieten, retreating back into its darkened corners as it lay in wait for its day to shine.

The golden girl drew quietly towards her mother's teat, instinct drawing her closer as she sought her first feast. ^^

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With tear-filled eyes, Valeska could do little but watch as Olive worked her magic - because that's certainly what it was, from her perspective. Slow, agonizing moments crawled by at a snail's pace, the only sounds she could perceive being the soft suckling of her newborns and the hammering of her own heart. Red-rimmed, she shifted her gaze toward Harper helplessly, no longer able to form words; her lips parted, but only a quiet whine escaped as she felt her claws dig into the soft earth of the den.

She should consider herself fortunate, said the rational part of her. Three living pups where there had once been the possibility of none was a blessing, it reasoned. She should be singing her praises to the Five for their generosity and the warm embrace with which they would no doubt welcome her stillborn.

And then - a soft whimper.

Olive, through whatever methods she had employed, had managed to at last breathe life into the little dark body of her third child, much to the infant's seeming displeasure. She did not cry as the other pups; she was quiet by nature (or perhaps exhaustion), and with an exhale ending in an ugly sob, Valeska gathered the small thing in her arms and pulled her close to her side.

“Thank the Five - thank you - thank you, Olive, and Harper, thank you, I do not... I do not know what to say. I owe you everything. Everything,” she said breathlessly, fathomless gratitude falling from every word she uttered. She would never be able to repay the sylph, nor would she ever be able to truly express the love which she felt for her sister for being here. In every other version of their story, they had never met again - but in this life, for this Valeska and for this Harper, they were here. Together.

Names! She hadn't even thought about names.

Within the lull that preceded what was soon to be her final pup - not that she yet knew - she looked over her litter, trying to recall what she and Amaranth had discussed as to possible names. They had expressed a desire for a mixture of Russian and nature-related monikers, as a way to blend both sides of their family. The boy... he was... what did they say?

“Dimitri,” she cooed. Yes. That was it. She gave her silver son a gentle lick, nuzzling him briefly.

Her daughter - all soft whites and creamy greys. Valeska looked to Amaranth.

“We liked... Violet - like your mother's eyes.” Well, technically they were amethyst, which was an arguably different shade of purple to those who nitpicked, but it mattered little.

The dark child. She couldn't understand from which parent her unusual fur color came from, but she cared little - but before she could speak, another wave of contractions came over her.

Gods.

She groaned, whether from strain or exasperation, but she laid back on her side and focused on the task at hand.

---

Her fifth pup came with a pitiful cry, a wanton sound, as if he had been abandoned before he had even had a chance to be welcomed into the world.

Valeska turned, eager to greet what was to be her last pup in this litter, when her eyes flew open in a shock.

He was crimson - utterly crimson, the color of red carnations, of fresh blood shining in sunlight. He was by no means ugly; he was a handsome pup, swathed in striking hues of red and bright cream, but the silver wolf felt a lump in her throat when she realized exactly who he looked like.

She had only heard of him in passing, a subject Amaranth preferred to avoid. A great red wolf the color of flames - her abusive, tyrannical, sadistic sire, who had left such deep marks within Amaranth's psyche that she still could not bear to say his name.

Valeska felt the blood drain from her face as she looked in horror toward her mate.

No.

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If Olive could, she would have excused herself after such exertions and scrubbed her hands up to the elbows and then sat back in her chair as they dried, a tired but happy smile plastered on her face. However, this was not that world, so Olive stayed attentive as the fifth and final pup was born — keeping a casual awareness of the resurrected puppy, in case she stopped breathing once more; but she was wriggling and eating and the very picture of life itself. Valeska seemed to instinctively know that it was over, as most new mothers did, so Olive obscured into the background as best she could, allowing the new, exhausted family their first moments together.
 
“and I am thankful for Elysium,” she bade to Harper, truly only half-listening. She was casting Valeska and Amaranth a sidelong glance, as there seemed to be something wrong, but Olive didn’t know what. Silently, the waifish woman decided this to be one of those (rare & quite uncommon) moments of a birth that simply didn’t concern the midwife. Unless she was summoned again, Olive hovered towards a rear wall and tried to memorize all the small details of the birth that had occurred right before her eyes. She though about how Valeska handled the fires of progressing labor, and the potential loss of her child;

because the next time she would witness a birth, it would likely be her own.

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It all happened so quickly. Too quickly for her simple mind to fully process and understand. She'd entered into the den as a wife, and soon, she would be a father mother. A parent. A co-support to other living, breathing, needy, suckling little potatoes.

But all she could feel was Valeska's distress. Her pain. It echoed through the den in stifled wails; the muffled moans that caused Amaranth's golden ears to filter backward atop her golden crown. Something new glittered behind her gaze as her body backpedaled, submitting to the experience of Harper and Olive as the two lilted around like graceful butterflies. A reflected pain blossomed in Amaranth's harrowed gaze, her chest tightening in a manner unusual, new — uncomfortable. Was this empathy?

She swallowed hard, her tongue rolling over her lips as she attempted to swallow. Her throat was so dry.

But the children did not care. They came one by one — in procession.

 Silver. Quiet, wriggling.
  Silver-gold. Wailing.
   Black-gold ... but this one was still and silent. Different.

The day Amaranth had met Olive at the end of the world — she never could have imagined how important this woman would be in their lives. She would be important to Elysium in these very tender, precious moments. And that much was clear now as Olive worked to quickly and effortlessly bring the still child back to the plane of the living. And Amaranth wondered for perhaps a bit too long how children could be born into purgatory. Were they ghosts by default? Were they dead before they'd arrived? Is that was this middle child so desperately tried to remind them of?

Valeska screeched again before another child arrived from the magical void that they'd been conjured from. Spirits, how many of them would there be? This one was a beautiful soft gold, a blanched auric. Amaranth waited with bated breath for her mate to speak. Words of praise for Olive slipped forward from her lips, and Amaranth gazed toward the ghostly silver woman, silent in her appreciation ... perhaps too frazzled to speak the words of her thanks. But the gravity of her gaze spoke volumes. Valeska turned back toward the children, that gaze now softening with a new motherly affection as she turned toward them individually and began to name them.

Dimitri. The quiet silver one.
Violet. The screaming child that was a perfect combination of her parent's soft gold and silvers.

There was a silence as the other two children wriggled, sitting nameless at Valeska's belly.

"Sreda," she spoke quietly from the peanut gallery, motioning toward the misfit child as she pressed forward from the shadow. The middle child. The one who stood out. Yes. Sreda. That would be her name. And the other. So beautiful. So perfectly golden. "Narcissa," she whispered, smiling gently toward Valeska as she attempted to offer support versus the voided energy she'd previously stood by with. She could not wait to settle down with Valeska and let everything unwind and unravel. To try to understand this new family. To be alone with her wife. She just wanted to —

— but it wasn't over.

The final child would arrive. Bold. Audacious. Borne of the cursed flames of Hell.
He was a demon. He was the desert. He was ... he was ...

... Amaranth would gaze at him, all of the new softness in her eyes completely leeched. If she could have gone sheet white, she would have. Her masseter stiffened, her teeth audibly grinding together as her vision temporarily flickered between black and white and she held herself from toppling over backward. What did she do to deserve this? What did they do to deserve this? "Valeska ..." she uttered, her gaze absolutely unyielding as she continued to stare at it — this cursed child. The reincarnation of everything she'd ever hated. Valeska may have heard the tone in Amaranth's voice, that soft tint of fear that poisoned her perception of the child. It was a sudden, unstoppable toxin.

She could hear the air laughing at her, the wind giggling with malice as it twisted through her golden fur.

"You did so well," she said finally. Her words were atonal, gaze finally peeling away from the leech that now nuzzled like a greedy monster for Valeska's milk. There was a mechanical way in which her lips lifted, one side lagging slightly behind the other. "What do you need? What can I ..." her words lagged as her brain processed to catch up, eyes unwilling to gaze downward. She could only stare between Valeska's ears. 



She forgot what she was saying.

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Crimson indeed was the short, wet fur of the final newborn; blood brightened by the sun wrapped around a soft and wholly ignorant lump of life. Tiny ears, as deaf or near-deaf as those of any newborn pup, framed his face. The ears were deaf to the grinding of Amaranth’s teeth and deaf to the shock and the horror at his appearance. The pup’s eyes, shut to the to the too-bright outside world, did not yet reveal the inherited color there. 
Nameless still, he worked his way toward his siblings, tongue and pink lips working to find the source of colostrum that instinct told him to seek out. It was warm there, close to his struggling brothers and sisters and close to the wolf that had birthed him. The leech latched on...

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Amaranth looked like a ghost.

She had looked ghostlike during the whole process, admittedly, sitting up straight as an arrow with a look of pure shock and horror as each pup was slowly, agonizingly brought forth into the world. Valeska felt regretful that her mate was present for such a spectacle - the golden waif was so fragile, her equilibrium already teetering on the edge of chaos on a good day - but also could not have imagined the event without her. They were parents, now. Mothers. Against all odds they, two females, had managed to conceive flesh and blood of their very own, and the evidence of their spiritual union lay suckling at her side.

They were beautiful. Soft, round, helpless. But they were beautiful, and they were theirs.

Such perfect names. Dimitri and Sreda, meaningful tributes to her Russian heritage. Violet and Narcissa - named for two beloved flowers. She smiled up at Amaranth, relishing these precious moments together.

Except...

The red one. He was larger than the rest - not by much, currently, but he would grow - and had the look about him of a child lost in the woods, hoping someone might find him and take him in. Valeska instinctively swept him closer, ears pinned back shamefully - was it her fault? Had she done this? Had some dark part of her soul picked out a piece from Amaranth's past during their ritual and manifested her worst fears?

He remained nameless.

The golden woman's face belied every awful emotion stirring within her heart. Pain, terror, grief, confusion; ugly memories resurfacing that had long since been buried. She was the very picture of a woman on fire.

Valeska held her breath, motionless. She waited for the fallout.

It never came.

Amaranth, against all odds, had pulled herself together just enough to utter a few niceties, amethyst eyes staring straight through Valeska and into the wall behind her. The words were hollow, but it was the attempt that mattered. The silver wolf swallowed nervously, and offered an uncomfortable smile.

“Thank you... it has been a long day for all of us, I think,” she started, looking around the room and locking eyes with Olive and Harper. She nodded quietly, gratefully. “It has meant so much to me to have all of you here. To help. To soothe. It is through your efforts that I have birthed five healthy children, and it is beyond my grasp of words to tell you how thankful I am. Nothing will ever... be enough.”

Glancing back down at her litter, their small silver-and-gold-and-red bodies wriggling needily against her side, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her.

They would be fine.

They would overcome this - surely.

“Above all, I give thanks to the Five, to Houtu, sacred All-Mother, who has allowed this miracle to pass,” she uttered, lowering her head in prayer. It mattered little if the others participated as well, for this was a personal matter - a private matter. The words came from deep within her soul, and she felt her eyes growing wet as she scrunched them closed with the weight of her emotions, the longing that had at last been manifested. “Thank you, Sylvanus, Rhys, Nivia, Aether. I pray for your blessings upon these new lives - and a bright way forward.”

Valeska opened her eyes, and looked down at the crimson child.

She lowered her muzzle to brush her lips softly against his head.

“Alder,” she whispered. “Like a great tree, you will grow, and you will stand tall, and know who you are. You will not be him.”

Smiling tiredly, she let herself collapse fully onto her side.

“I think we are all due for a rest,” the little wolf stated, releasing a sigh. “Thank you... again.”

She couldn't make it any longer. Valeska's eyelids fluttered for only a few moments as she struggled to focus on Amaranth in front of her before they gradually fell closed, and the soft sound of her snoring filled the den.

They had done it.

 

{Exit Valeska via unconsciousness}

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