Lady of the Veiled Vale

Misery

From the time they were born, Mirrim and Morgan were spoiled. Their parents held them every second they were awake, and free. Gwinn wanted to carry them in a papoose upon her back, but it was deemed unsafe. Even with wings to shield them, they would be vulnerable.
   "Common folk do it all the time!" she protested. "Even in the fields, where wolves may intrude."
   "And many lose their offspring that way."
   Clearly, she hadn't known that. It didn't happen within her family's range, because of the concentration of "mythical" creatures. Predators stayed away from the inhabited areas, which is why she'd only seen a wolf beyond the walls.
   The twins were brought to her to nurse, since she already had to stop and eat frequently. She simply stepped away from the field to do so, though she continued to eat between patients. She was still a nursing mother.
   Any surplus milk she made while they slept was bottled, for Samantha to feed them in the months to come.
   The day they were taken bore a lighter workload. The Goddess would've known their grief would need time to vent.
   And vent they did. There were many hard flights around Sanctuary, and even more laps swum. They vented to the wind and water... and upon each other.
   The last merely played into Her plan, of course. She needed a host of Healers, and Guardians to protect the Healers. Varla would've been appalled to know the things they did that day, a mere fortnight after Gwinn gave birth, but they were beyond caring. They were grieving demigods.
   When they returned, they were lavished with attention from their parents. It pained them that their daughters needed time to acclimate, to recognize them. By the time they'd gotten the girls to recognize them, they were taken again.
   This time, they were given no time to grieve. If anything, the cases were more heavy. She took time to express her milk, but the patients were so thick, she ordered a tent set up for that express purpose. She even used her magic to force it from her body more quickly. It hurt, but she welcomed the pain.
   Varla took to bringing the milk directly to the twins, for Samantha had nearly run out, the last time. She was the only one who could freely traverse the Fey Wilds. It was she who escorted her descendants to the cozy cottage that her lover kept in every dimension he frequented.
   Her husband tried not to be jealous, but who could compete with the King of the Faerie? He wasn't even a Moon Elf, as she was. It strained their marriage, so she went out of her way to show him that her vows held true.
   As long as he felt valued, did it matter if she told the truth?
   The younger elf was also feeling the strain, but it was the mundane stress of raising three infants, none of which were his. Skye did his best, of course. It wasn't like he could have children of his own. He wasn't born with the proper equipment.
   His wife didn't mind, of course. The thought of being with a man born as such put her off. She valued his companionship more. I think she likes the things I can do, he thought with a secret grin that only her daughter saw. She was easy to tell apart from the twins, being older, and... more obviously mixed race.
   "When they get older, we'll have to make sure the girls don't tease Jessica."
   Sam looked up from changing Mirrim's nappie. "You don't think they would do that, do you?"
   He lifted their daughter to his shoulder, freshly changed and sweet smelling. He barely noticed the prick of the horns anymore. "They won't if they know they aren't human, either."
   "I'm not so sure about that. You don't know how cruel children can be."
   His hand flapped toward the window. "Who will they learn cruelty from? None come to us but the fey, and the animals that carry the food."
   She set Mirrim in the crib and lifted Morgan. "There are elven children in the Vale," she reminded him.
   "They gave me no trouble," he reminded her.
   She opened her mouth and shut it again, unable to refute his point. She focused on the simple task before her, instead.
   It wasn't a bad life, all told. She spent much of her life in this cozy little cabin, with her husband and the babies. No matter where they were, she worked on the book in her spare time. The pages were whisked away to the safety of the Vale as they were finished, to keep them from falling into the wrong hands. She made a tally in a book for every page, and checked it when she got back. That way, she only carried a book of tally marks that would make no sense to anyone else.
   Her house fairy converted the tallies to numbers, and cross-checked the pages and numbers. It was her main duty, and she took it quite seriously.
   The most stressful part of her life, as you'd expect, was taking care of the girls. They were brought food and water, and the resident fey did what they could to help out, so it could have been more difficult than it was.
   One day, when the twins were roughly a year old, she realized what they'd been doing.
   "We're raising... us!"
   Skye looked up from the bowl of mush he'd been feeding the girls. "Isn't that what parents do?"
   "No, you don't get it. We're just raising them until they're old enough to replace us."
   "Again, that's what--"
   "The girls will be adults in three of their years."
   She hissed the words, to avoid upsetting the girls, but they rang with a hard truth that he hadn't considered. Gwinn was already carrying what they'd begun to assume would be at least twins, by now. It had only taken the twins three Sanctuary months to reach their first birthday. When the next set was born (presuming she carried them for five months, as she did the twins), accounting for the two weeks she wasn't pregnant, the girls would be two years old. Two years, in five Sanctuary months. His head spun as he did the math, as hers had.
   Ten months there would mean four years to them. By the time they'd spent a year in Sanctuary, they would be nearly five years old. She was right!
   "So that's how She'll get Her Healers and Guardians. She'll make the girls raise their siblings."
   They stared off into the distance, while three toddlers sat trying to work the mush from spoons held in limp hands.

   Gwinn, just barely showing, was considerably angered by their epiphany.
   "Am I to be naught but a brood mare?! Why bother giving me a job at all, if my sole purpose is to produce a small army?"
   Raiden put one large palm on her sleeve. He made her look at him before reminding her that the Goddess did value her talents. "Why else would She desire so many children who might possess those gifts?"
   "She must be impressed with you too, considering every Healer needs a Guardian." Sam wasn't entirely repentant when the demigod paled. Her role as nanny to the gods chafed, made her bitter.
   Answering bitterness gripped her sister, who continually fought to remind her children who their mother was. She hadn't been present for their first birthday, because they'd been in the other realm at the time. They never listened to her, or went to her for succor.
   Even though she could soothe skinned knees better than her sister, Samantha spent more time with them. They loved her, but their own mother was a stranger to them.
   One day, it came to a head. She was nearing her due date, and the girls wouldn't even come near her, if Sam was in sight. She broke down in tears, which just upset the twins.
   Sam had been brewing an idea for a week or so, and now was as good a time as any.
   "Listen, I... you know I hate this, but... Do you want to get this done quicker?"
   Gwinn's eyes did not look healthy; particularly for a woman as gravid as she was. "Do you mean to take them from me until they are grown?" Her voice would have terrified anyone but her siblings, or Raiden. It was low, dangerous.
   "This is killing you, this half life. I don't want to watch that happen again, and neither does he."
   Gwinn looked to her husband. His mouth opened several times, but nothing came out. "You both have valid points," he finally conceded. "It would be quicker, aye, but would it hurt any less?"
   "You've got probably at least two lives that will need you, really soon. Maybe letting their sisters come home for good faster is what we all need?" Samantha had tears coursing down her face, as they all did.
   The situation was tearing them all apart. Sam was right, her daughters would return more quickly if they didn't spend six days here. Six miserable days...
   "You'll take Smoke with you," she said in a flat, dead voice.