Pregnant With Their Babes

by Kelex

  Llyr angled his head to Prawnsby and arched an eyebrow. “Would you wish to be wed to a terrible child?”

  “In time, he’ll grow into a fine merman and king. You can mold him into the husband you desire.”

  The husbands he desired were Oz and Dagr. Not some spoiled brat. “You think I have the power to mold a child already so rotten that his parents refuse to be in his presence?” Llyr clicked his tongue. “Why should it be my responsibility to turn that little monster into a decent merman?”

  “Life is what you make of it.”

  “Every day I am told what to do, where to be, how to act, and who to speak to. I’m never allowed outside the walls. Exactly what life do I have that I can make something with?”

  Prawnsby swam closer. “You’ve been given everything you need. Pampered.”

  “Everything I need but love.”

  “You’re loved.”

  “By who? My father? My brothers? You, my jailer?” Llyr shook his head. “No. The only two beings who showed me any love are above the surface. And I cannot see them… ever again.” His stomach clenched again before swirling. Bile rose up his throat.

  Prawnsby hovered near, silent. “The realm loves you, as their prince.”

  “Distant masses. Faceless, nameless merfolk.” Llyr closed his eyes. “I would give up everything I am to be no one. And loved. Truly loved.”

  The swirling of Llyr’s stomach continued to worsen. Heat flooded his face… and a trembling raced all over his body. Racing through the passage to the wastecloset, he made it to the swirling vortex of water just in time. Llyr retched, the spiral pulling it down into the castle’s sewer line.

  “Are you unwell?” Prawnsby asked, swimming to his side. “I’ll have one of the healers come check in on you. I certainly hope you haven’t acquired an illness from those humans.”

  It wasn’t the first time Llyr had vomited in recent days. His hand went to his stomach, and he feared Prawnsby would tell his father the truth if the healers confirmed his suspicions. If he was pregnant, and his father found out, his babe would be in danger.

  A little piece of Dagr or Oz grew inside him, he was sure of it.

  Llyr had no idea how he’d protect that child, not when he was a prisoner in his own home. He had to find a way—and fast. Already he thought he saw a slight swell to his stomach. Impossible after only a few weeks, he knew. But if he was pregnant… he’d eventually begin to show.

  “I’m fine. I’m simply upset… that the labyrinth tunnels are now being walled up. And I’ve lost all my freedom.”

  “I appreciate that you can’t help but feel trapped, but that old entrance is a hazard. Your father is only thinking of your well-being.”

  Llyr scoffed. “Right.”

  “Your father truly has your best interests at heart—and those of the realm.”

  “Prawnsby… please stop lying to me. I know what he is. As much of a tyrant as the boy-child I’m set to marry.” Llyr focused on his nanny and keeper. “How acquainted are you with the prophecy keeping me from my mates?”

  Prawnsby shook his head. “I’m no expert in that old tale. You should ask your father.”

  “I have. He refuses to tell me.”

  Prawnsby opened his mouth—and Llyr was sure from the look on his face, the seahorse was going to stifle the conversation.

  “Please, Prawnsby. This is my life… do I not deserve to know the truth?”

  Prawnsby closed his mouth, eyeing Llyr.

  “You’re as close to a father as I have,” Llyr continued. “If you care for me in any way—please. Tell me.”

  Prawnsby urged Llyr to follow him. Llyr trailed the seahorse through the castle before stopping in the grand library. Trunk after trunk was lined with old scrolls—Llyr had read a great many of them in his education. But there had been a section off-limits to all but a chosen few. Prawnsby moved to the door guarding it and used a hidden key to unlock it. The door opened with a groan.

  Inside the small room was dark, and a musty smell permeated the space. An old angler fish swam straight for him, teeth jutting like menacing spears—but it stopped inches away—when Prawnsby lifted an amulet in his curling tail. The fish’s eyes glowed with roughly as much strength as the small iridescent lure-like appendage hanging inches from its scary fangs.

  It appeared to be under some kind of spell thanks to the charm Prawnsby used.

  “What is that?” Llyr said, eyeing the amulet.

  “Our light,” Prawnsby answered, speaking of the fish.

  Llyr was unsure if the seahorse misunderstood him or avoided his question purposefully. He reserved the question, waiting to see what it was that Prawnsby showed him. Since his tutor was often tightlipped, he might not get much. Prodding would be reserved for the more serious questions.

  With his tail, Prawnsby fished through a few scrolls in one large chest. “A-ha. Here it is.” He swam over and handed the scroll to Llyr. “Read this.”

  After unrolling the old seaweed parchment, Llyr grasped the anglerfish by the tail—careful to avoid those spiked teeth—and moved its light so he could read what was transcribed upon it. “There are sections missing from the text.”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  Llyr read the passage, worried his translation skills weren’t up to the challenge. Old Atlantean had never been his strongest skill.

  Omega-born and stained by the shell, the… the next word was blurred… monarch's third offspring will give birth to two alphas on the same night…

  One born of a dark, magical father.

  The other father born of both earth and water.

  The next line or so was too faded to read—he skipped to the next section he could read clearly.

  …grow into men and they will destroy both land and sea—together.

  Llyr spoke it aloud the next time, to assure his translation was right. When Prawnsby never corrected him at any point, his stomach turned. He allowed his gaze to wash over it another time, sure he had to find something… anything… that would change the course of their destiny.

  It was undeniable. The divination matched at every line. He was the third son of a monarch. Born omega. He had a seashell-shaped birthmark—which could be the stain of a shell. One born of a dark, magical father—Dagr. The other father born of both earth and water—Oz. He closed his eyes, his hand instinctively going to his stomach.

  Already, it might be too late.

  Llyr might usher death to the whole world if he gave them life.

  Tears burned his eyes, clouding his vision. “How can Father be sure what it says when there are parts missing?”

  “We can’t,” Prawnsby said, his voice low. “We can only use what we see to defend our world. You have to understand now… you cannot be with these two humans. Your father did all he could to save you from ever meeting them and having to suffer their loss. Had you not escaped…”

  “Perhaps had he not treated me like a prisoner, I would never have felt the need to escape!”

  Prawnsby sighed. “No matter what he did, it would’ve been wrong. Had he let you go as you wished, you might’ve found your way to them, too. He did his best to protect us all.”

  Llyr read over the prophecy one last time, committing it to memory. “There are no other copies?”

  “None have ever been found,” Prawnsby whispered. “And trust me, Your Highness. We have searched. Your father has sent clerics to every corner of the ocean to seek the full prophecy. Even your brothers have traveled with them, hunting leads.”

  “They did?”

  “Yes,” Prawnsby said. “They did. No one wishes to see you suffer.”

  Llyr rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Prawnsby.

  He took it in his curling tail and returned it to the chest before ushering Llyr out and locking the door behind them.

  “What of the anglerfish?”

  “The spell will wear off him in a little while,” Prawnsby said, before tucking the key and amulet back in place behind a loose sto
ne. He swam toward the door.

  Before leaving, Llyr wedged the stone out and grabbed the amulet. Quickly, he slid the stone back in.

  “Prince Llyr? Are you coming?”

  Llyr swam toward the door. “Sorry… it’s so overwhelming.”

  Prawnsby sighed. “I realize, but now you grasp the truth. Hopefully it brings you some peace.”

  Llyr forced a smile and a nod. No, it had brought him no peace. It had made him sicker. They swam back toward his room when a thought occurred. He paused in his swimming once they were a few metres away. “I doubt my father wished me to see that. Why did you show me?”

  Prawnsby faced Llyr. “Though you do not think I do, I care for you, Prince Llyr. How could I not have some affection for the merchild I’ve practically raised?”

  Llyr’s throat tightened. There was nothing he could say.

  “I am aware you call me your father’s spy—but I cannot ignore my duty to my king. I’ve worked very hard to walk the thin line between informant and enabler. It has not always been easy, especially with all your midnight trips with Ryland in your youth.”

  Llyr’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew. The first time… I trailed behind you to see where it was that boy was leading you. And then I saw it was just outside the city… playing in the old shipwreck… and I heard you laugh. I think it was the first time I truly heard you laugh—and I was unable to bring myself to force your return. From then on, I always trailed a safe distance away to be sure you avoided too much danger—and trust me, there were times the pair of you nearly gave me apoplexy.” Prawnsby cleared his throat. “I should’ve put my tail down, but I never wanted you to feel as if you were a captive here. I thought those little moments of freedom were good for you—and as long as the king was unaware—then all was well.”

  Llyr moved a little closer. “Perhaps I’ve had you all wrong?”

  Prawnsby lifted his noble chin. “Have no doubt—my duty is to my king.” A bit of a smile crossed his lips. “But perhaps I have a soft spot when it comes to you.” The seahorse shook his head, the smile fading. “I understand you’re in pain right now, Your Highness… but now, after reading the prophecy… you have to realize you’ve made the right choice to come back home. Alphonse might be a terrible child, but perhaps he can grow to be a better man with you at his side.”

  Llyr nodded. He still refused to see himself at Alphonse’s side, but there was no point in arguing then and there. Not when he had another favor to ask of Prawnsby. “Speaking of Ryland… will you please tell me where he is?”

  Prawnsby eyed him a moment. “The dungeons. He’s been jailed on charges of treason.”

  “What!” The punishment for treason was death.

  Death.

  For helping him escape. “He was only trying to help me. Doing what he thought was right. He can’t die for my sin.” Llyr spun, ready to rush and beg his father for clemency.

  Prawnsby jumped in front of him. “Let me bring it up with your father first… perhaps I could plant a seed. And allow you time to cool off before you push him into the wrong action with harsh words. It may take me a while… your father must be in good spirits, which is rarer and rarer these days.”

  Llyr hovered there a moment, considering his options. His father was quick to anger every day. It could take weeks for Prawnsby to be able to speak on Ryland’s behalf. But it was better than nothing, he supposed. He finally nodded. “Agreed.”

  As they swam down the corridor, he glanced at Prawnsby. “Can I at least see him? So I can apologize and beg his forgiveness?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Give me time to see what I can arrange.”

  “Thank you,” Llyr whispered, a myriad of emotions running through him. He had to figure out a way to save his best friend… and forget about the two men above the water’s reach.

  His hand drifted to his stomach, thinking of the prophecy a moment. If it was all true, there wasn’t just one babe growing inside him, but two. Twin alphas, one born from each of his mates.

  As if there isn’t enough to worry about. What do I do about you two?

  Oz slammed the book closed and banged his forehead on it. Why could he not find what he needed? Time passed far too quickly and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Weeks and weeks of nothing.

  “Going that well?”

  With a start, he lifted his stare. Dagr strode into the castle library carrying a large tome under his arm and appearing much too at ease.

  “Where have you been?”

  Dagr lifted a brow at Oz’s tone. “You know I went to see my grandparents.”

  “You were to be gone a day or two. It’s been a month, Dagr. With little word.” He shoved the book he’d been reading out of the way. “Leaving me alone in the search for the prophecy. Which I’ve found nothing, thanks for asking.”

  “I sent a letter explaining I would be staying longer than anticipated.” Dagr dropped the old, large tome to the tabletop. “And I was also helping while I was away.”

  “Helping? How?”

  “The library at Clyffsyde is extensive. I spent some time there but found little. There was something of interest in this old volume.”

  “What was it?” Oz asked, curiosity piqued.

  Dagr sat down on the tabletop, just before Oz. “First you could say hello and kiss me like you mean it.”

  Oz ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent every waking hour searching for answers and I’m exhausted.” He rose to his feet and captured Dagr’s face in his hands. “Hello, my love.”

  The kiss they shared wasn’t enough to satisfy Oz, but it would have to do. They had work ahead of them.

  “That’s better,” Dagr said, grinning. He turned his attention to the book he’d brought. Opening the creaking cover, he paged through until he reached an illustration. It showed two human men with a merman between them.

  Oz sat down and took a closer look at it. One of the men had bronzed skin like Dagr. The other wore a shell about his neck—and seemed to have fins on his wrists and ankles. The merman was like Llyr, copper curls and pale skin. His shell birthmark was exactly where their merman’s was. “That’s us.”

  “It is,” Dagr said. “But I don’t understand the language. I brought it, hoping someone here in the castle could translate it.”

  “Perhaps it spells out the prophecy,” Oz said, smiling. “You’ve done it, Dagr.”

  “Not yet. It might be a dead end for all we know. But it’s a place to start.” Dagr cocked his head at Oz. “And you yelled at me when I arrived. I bet you feel terrible right now?”

  “I do,” Oz said before stealing another kiss. “I’ll repay my grumblings later—after we find someone to translate.” He paused a moment. “Is this the only reason you remained at Clyffsyde so long?”

  Dagr shook his head. “No. I had other reasons. My grandfather is unwell.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d heard his health was in decline, but had hoped it wasn’t as bad as I feared.”

  Dagr sighed. “He has what the doctors called cerebral absentia. His memory is failing, as is his physical health. He cannot remember who he is some days. I was lucky enough to have one good moment with him early on—but none since.”

  “I struggle to imagine losing myself… my memories… the life we’ve had together.” Oz shivered. “It’s terrifying.”

  “It is.”

  “How is your grandmother faring through this?” Oz asked.

  Dagr smiled. “Better than expected.”

  “It must be hard on her… but then, she always was tough, as I remember her.”

  “Recall what Llyr said about her outside the witch’s cottage?”

  “That she’d been mourning her son through you?”

  Dagr nodded. “He wasn’t wrong. She’s changed. For the better. And has apologized for making me think I was a nuisance—though now thinking back I have to wonder if my own doubts helped create that idea, too.”


  Oz smiled. “I’m happy for you—that you’ve been able to find a connection now. Before it’s too late.” His smile faded. “Though now I wonder if I held you back from that connection in my selfish desire to have you at my side.”

  Dagr stepped closer. “I was exactly where I wished to be. Never think otherwise.”

  Oz smiled, grasping Dagr’s hand and squeezing it tight. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. “What’s next for you?”

  Silence hung in the air between them for a moment. What they both wanted to be next was out of the question. That want rendered it hard for him to breathe.

  “I’m to be the Duke of Clyffsyde. If I wish to claim the title after my grandfather passes.”

  Oz hugged Dagr, joy filling him. “That’s wonderful news, Dagr.”

  Dagr’s smile faded.

  “Is it not?”

  “I struggle to believe I can remain here without you, Oz. To be so close… and not be able to touch you. It might destroy me.”

  Oz caressed Dagr’s face. “We can still find a way to be together.”

  “Dalliances? Adultery once we’re both married to women we’re barely fond of? Having children with them and pretending every moment of the day until we can sneak away and hide our love? That’s not the life I crave, Oz. Is that what you desire?”

  “If it’s all I can have? I’ll take it.”

  Dagr looked away. “I need more.”

  Oz rested his forehead on Dagr’s. “I wish I could give you more. With my whole heart… but I have no idea how I can make that happen and still do my duty.”

  “I wish it could be more, too.” Dagr took Oz by the waist. “Now I have to decide if I can survive on little bits and pieces of you after a lifetime of having you all to myself.”

  “If we can bring Llyr back, he can be the bridge—I sense it.”

  “How?”

  “That I can’t answer,” Oz said. “I hear a voice in my head—the same one that demanded we claim him. Innately, I know… he is the thread that will hold us together.”