The Birth of a Noble

[Vivian]

70th of Frost

“Your father is a fucking deadbeat.” Vivian snarled to his swollen stomach. He had been following leads, trying to track down Alistair for months. He had left the Veir’s household in Daravin; he wouldn’t have been allowed to stay with a squalling newborn anyway. He had packed up Bara with all of his belongings, and struck out to see if Alistair had succeeded in becoming a Veir. His trails had led him to Radenor, and it was becoming more and more obvious that the lead had been false.

Still, what else could he do? His body had been changing for weeks. He had backaches, body aches, his feet were swollen, his hormones raged and ebbed. Alistair’s child was rambunctious and kicked. He was also a hungry little son of a bitch; Vivian had never been so hungry in his life! He’d stolen food, and had raided the house of the Veir before leaving. He wasn’t able to work like this. No one wanted a whore swollen to bursting with another man’s child.

That left him with another problem, as they entered the streets of Jorikford. He couldn’t really walk well. He had one hand on the small of his back, and stopped dead in the middle of the street to lean on the draft mule’s shoulder. Bara whickered and lipped at his hair, concerned. His beloved companion had been surprisingly empathetic. Perhaps he could smell the hormones and magic pouring off of Vivian.

His body hurt. His hip bones had cracked a few days ago in preparation to give birth, and the babe shifted constantly. He was in the final days now. He needed somewhere to rest, and his magic swathed him. His mark burned on his back, screaming at him to form some sort of shelter or cocoon to be safe while he was most vulnerable.

“I can’t do this…” Vivian growled against Bara’s shoulder. Golden scaling peppered his arm. He was trying to form armor, shielding, something. Mucus layered over his skin. He threw a slimy arm around Bara’s neck. “New plan. Inn.” He grunted at the mule. People were staring.

[Hakon]

Hakon received the customary note from his Overseer. It simply said: "RMCM" or Rogue Mage See Me. It didn't need to say anything more, and it saved on ink and parchment. He grabbed his mace, swapped his indoor slippers for leather boots and donned a jacket, and alit upon the office with his customary alacrity for such assignments.

"Hello, Sir. You wished to see me about a Rogue Mage?"

"Come in and close the door," the man replied. "This is a bit of an odd one, Hakon. Sent in by an innkeeper halfway between here and Leiden. There's no evidence of this man using magic. It's merely an unusual sighting."

"Oh," Hakon said in response, blinking a few times as he tried to work through that implication. Innkeepers were not necessarily well-educated people, or well-versed in spotting the signs of a rogue mage. Yet the Overseer had sent for him, not someone whose talents were more suited to scouting. Hakon was customarily dispatched only to bring in targets that were confirmed to be mages, and generally dangerous ones, at that. His skill set made subduing unruly rogues and iconoclasts easy, and his dim view of mages breaking the rules meant he didn't mind making hard choices as he had to.

So if the Overseer had sent for him, it was because he was sure that this sighting was legitimate, and that the man could be a danger to those around him.

"What should I look out for, Sir?"

"They are reporting that this man appears to be, for all intents and purposes, pregnant."

Huh. Hakon took that on board, trying to work through how exactly that would work. He knew that sometimes same-sex couples paid necrodoctors to produce an heir, but his understanding of how it worked meant that neither man in the pairing actually became gravid.

"Could it just be a woman, mistaken for a man?" He asked at length.

"No, Hakon. We have been following this man almost since he arrived. This is not the first such report we've received. He's been overheard to make mentions of concepts relating to Malformity, which could potentially explain his current state, as well."

Malformity was not a school of magic Hakon had great facility with. He mostly knew Malformists to be irritating to deal with as they tended to shift form and try to run when hunted. But if the First Overseer said that it meant it was possible for male Malformists to become pregnant, he believed him. There was nothing more to ask, he didn't think.

"I'll ride for the inn at once, Sir. I will of course go under guard. I shall return within two days. If I am delayed, I shall send word."

"See that you do. Dismissed."

Hakon wasted no time in requisitioning a member of the Scarlet Watch to act as his chaperone and working with the quartermaster to get his supplies ready for his sojourn. While it was not a long trip -- scarcely more than a jaunt, really -- decades in the tower meant that any time away from it was exciting to the Guilded. As they rode toward their quarry, Hakon enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his hair and tried not to feel guilty for enjoying it. Enjoying the outside world didn't make him a dangerous man, he didn't think. He knew it was his duty to remain in the tower, lest he succumb to immoderate impulses and wickedness, and enjoying the way the sun sparkled on a frozen pond near the road did not change that.

They arrived ahead of schedule. His chaperone, a gruff old man everyone called Big Gus, led the animals to the stable without being asked, or even doing more than nodding at Hakon. For his part, Hakon strode into the inn, then to the bar to find the innkeeper. He pulled down the neckline of his shirt, showing off his tattoo.

"You sent for me. Where is he?"

The innkeeper looked up at Hakon and seemed to shrink into himself. Hakon seemed to have this effect on people, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd made an effort for a bit to smile and make eye contact, but that seemed to have made it worse. "He, ah -- I gave him a small private room in the eaves, in the attic."

Hakon nodded. Probably low clearance, and a small room might make it hard to swing his mace. He'd have to rely on Brand, if it came to a fight. He strode up the steps, making no attempt to be quiet, and rapped on the door once, twice, three times. The kind of knock that announced his intent to enter shortly regardless of the occupant's stance on the matter.

"It's the Mage's Guild. Open the door, Sir."

[Vivian]

Vivian was given a room in the attic of the nearest inn, and that suited him. He had enough strength to take his things off of Bara for storage, and get the mule fresh hay and water. Then, he sequestered himself in the attic and barred the door.

He just needed to let the contractions pass. He curled up on the bed, mucus bleeding from his skin as his body tapped into the templates of the worms he’d shown kinship with. He wrapped himself in layers of thick, translucent slime to smother the hormones in the air and hide himself. It was like a thick blanket chasing away the cold of Frost. He laid his cheek down on the bed, the only sound the occasional plop of his protective layer dripping onto the floor.

Vivian ran his fingers over his belly and took stock of himself. “Not yet, little one, not yet.” He mumbled. The teeth clenching his cervix shut were still intact, even if his hips felt loose and disjointed. Gods, his spine hurt and he’d kill a man for a hot bath and a meal. He’d take care of food after a good rest. He ducked a hand between his legs, slithering under his trousers to check himself. Still shut tight. Good. Just false contractions then.

Vivian relaxed, pulling a sheet of his slime over one shoulder. He was nested properly, and hopefully the innkeeper wouldn’t question it if anything leaked through the floor.

There was a rap on the door. Once, twice, three times. Vivian’s jaw tightened. “Piss off!” He snarled, curling his body up. Tendrils sprouted from his back, long flesh like appendages that readied themselves to defend the mage if need be. Three others wrapped around the bedposts, trying to give Vivian some sort of anchor.

[Hakon]

Hakon didn't respond to the rogue's invective. There was little point. A quick use of Huntersight confirmed that there was vestiges of Ether lingering around the squalid attic room like smoke after a fire. That alone gave him carte blanche, and he intended to take advantage of that fact.

The door was old and on wooden hinges that were facing the wrong way. They should have been on the interior of the room, but whoever had installed them hadn't bothered. He took his mace out and swung it at the top hinge. Two hits and it was kindling. He made quick work of the bottom set as well. Then, it was the work of a minute to pick the door up and lay it on its side in the hallway, leaving a solid looking wooden bar between him and his quarry. He picked that up and carefully moved it to its side. Just because he'd destroyed the hinges of the poorly hung door didn't mean he had to cause wanton property destruction.

Then he entered the room to find the man -- his lip curled in a disgusted sneer -- covered in some kind of translucent slime that glowed with the sick glimmer of ether to his Ethersight. He sucked a breathe through his teeth. The man was also quite obviously gravid with some kind of spawn. Hakon did not have a wealth of experience with pregnant women as it was strictly forbidden within the Guild, but he'd seen them often enough during his travels and used his sight on them often enough out of curiosity that he could confirm he was looking at the same phenomenon here. Or rather, a perversion of that phenomenon made possible through unnatural magic.

"Sir," he said, relying on civility in place of kindness, "I'm with the Guild. You are clearly a Rogue mage. I order you to come with me, at once, to the Guild. Alternatively, if you resist, we can explore other options."

One big hand lingered on his mace. He wanted to focus the other man's attention on the mace so that the man lying prone in his own slime neglected to think through the idea that Hakon may himself be able to use magic.

[Vivian]

Vivian heard the wood splintering. He winced, shuddering as his child kicked him in the gut. Pain and discomfort was rippling over him in waves. It did occur to him that this entire process wasn’t just new to him, but new to science. He hadn’t heard of a man giving birth before. He’d heard of rich men who dedicated themselves to each other using necromancy to mix essences and produce a child…but never true pregnancy. He had no idea what was around the next turn. All he knew was that he would give up everything to defend the tiny life inside of him, monster or man.

The door gave. Vivian’s tendrils tensed, holding themselves up and over the prone form of their master. The fleshy appendages were dripping in neurotoxin, a strange gift from the worms Vivian allied himself with.

He pushed himself up on his arms with a groan. “You’d try and kill a mother and his child? Some things never change.” He growled. “I’ll tell you this. You touch me and I will eat you. If you’re lucky I’ll kill you first. No one harms this baby.”

Vivian eyed Hakon. “Do you really think I can bloody move? Kid’s been kicking me in the kidneys for the better part of two hundred miles and I’m aching for sleep and food. You don’t want to be the solution to the second one, piss off.” He laid down again. He wrapped his arms around his belly, and chitinous plates gifted from the tortoise beetle layered over where he touched. He would defend the baby until his dying breath. He’d burn alive in ether. He wasn’t losing Alistair’s son.

[Hakon]

So far, the rogue's moves had been completely defensive. He was preparing himself to be hit, and to mitigate the damage he would take if he were, but he wasn't making any motion to go on the attack. Hakon watched the ether pulsating through the odd man carefully with his Ethersight, taking in the structure of the armor and the venom structures as they appeared. Hakon was confident he could take the rogue down using only his mace if he had to, leaving aside any actual facility with magic beyond using Ethersight to warn him of incoming attacks, but it also was not his first impulse. The man was a rogue, not an iconoclast, and he had harmed no one thus far. The directive was to capture, not kill, and nothing about their interaction really gave him any reason to change his orders in the field.

He heard Big Gus clattering up the steps. Presumably the Scab had finished stabling and watering their animals and was coming to offer assistance. When he got there, it had to be clear that the rogue was not a danger, or the man might take matters into his own hands.

So Hakon casually, deliberately put his mace to one side, leaning against the door frame.

"If I'm here to attack or not is up to you. If you attack me, I will respond in kind. But although whatever you are currently undergoing is," he struggled to find a word that was not offensive before settling on: "unusual, magic creates many unusual situations. Perhaps you are not from here, and do not know. The law of the land throughout the Four Kingdoms is that you cannot be an unsupervised mage, lest your blasphemy bring about more of the barbarism of the Unbroken Empire. So your choices are to come with me to the Guild and remain there, leave the Four Kingdoms at once with me as your escort to ensure you do so, or die, here and now."

"It's your choice, and I will happily support you in whichever of these sound best to you. Take a moment and let me know your decision, but remaining at this inn is not an option that is available to you."

[Vivian]

“Sure, I’m the barbarian here and you’re the one threatening an unborn child.” Vivian shot back. He struggled to sit up, the tentacles wrapping around the bed frame to help hoist him. He looked Hakon in the eyes. He was a master of his craft. If he wanted to butcher these two he could. He could become a force of pulsing flesh and angry teeth. He just didn’t know what pulling that amount of ether would do to his child.

He watched Hakon set the mace against the doorframe. “Right, so we’ve established you’re not going to kill me and I’m not going to kill you. And you can say it. I’m pregnant, you ass.” Vivian snorted. He slowly stood, wincing and putting his hands on his lower back. The tendrils sprouting from his mark settled on the ground, helping to support his weight. So they weren’t going to let him stay in the inn. Great.

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the street. I’ve done it before.” Vivian grumbled. His mind finally caught up. Guild tower? He eyed Hakon. He wasn’t sure he believed what he was hearing. “So wait. Free food, and free board, just to keep me away from your citizens’ sensitive little eyes?” He chuckled. “Make you a deal. I’ll stay in your tower. Have my kid. Then I’ll leave with him. I got a lead that the boy’s father might be here, but I think someone was telling me what I wanted to hear. Someone who, the minute I get back to Daravin, is gonna be missing a head.”

He could hear someone else coming up the stairs. Two men to arrest one whore? Maybe he should be flattered. “Can’t pay rent but I suck one hell of a cock.” Vivian laughed. “Once I’m cleaned up.” Gods it was cold. He grabbed a sheet of the mucus and tugged it over his shoulders like a heavy blanket.

“Got a mule downstairs with my things. I’m not leaving him behind and you’re not taking him. He’s coming with me.” Vivian growled at Hakon. Bara was the one thing he wasn’t budging on.

[Hakon]

Hakon watched in fascination as the man used his powers to move himself about. It was nauseating, but part of him appreciated the ingenuity on display. He also appreciated that they were already up to the bargaining stage. His quarry had accepted his fate, and now just wanted to dictate some of the terms of his surrender.

"Let's go through these stipulations of yours one at a time," Hakon replied, giving the signal to Big Gus to remain to one side of the door frame. "First and foremost, this is not an offer to stay at a boarding house. If you are to be Guilded, you are Guilded for the remainder of your life. You will be branded, like so," he pulled his shirt collar down to show off the tattoo on the side of his neck, "to mark you as a Guild Mage. You will remain within the Mage's Guild and abide by our rules."

"One of the primary rules therein is that you are confined to the Guild as a Novus, and only allowed out on supervised visits not to exceed thirty days thereafter, with permission from a senior Guild associate and under the care of at least one member of the Scarlet Watch. That is non-negotiable. So no, you will not be using the Guild for your comings and goings once you finish -- gestating. Once you are no longer, ah, in your state, as a Guilded you are clearly barred from raising or rearing children. Your kid will be sent to your family to be raised, or the other parent's family. Failing that, it will be sent to an orphanage. Your mule and all other personal possessions will remain in your possession."

"As for your contribution to the Guild, you will do as all other Novus do: clean, cook, study, pray, and train. Any other," Hakon cleared his throat, "talents you have acquired during your meanderings are of little relevance or concern to the Guild. If you do well, you will ascend the ranks quickly. If you show you are trustworthy, you will be given more trust. It is also a relief for many mages to be among their kind, in a safe place. I'd urge you to consider the value of that."

[Vivian]

Vivian eyed the tattoo on Hakon’s neck. Oh, he had no intention of keeping that. He listened, his hand protectively on the swell of his belly. Guilded for the rest of his life? Hardly. No one could keep a Malformist anywhere they didn’t want to be, and this Mages Guild wasn’t going to be the first. It just meant that Vivian had to be a little sneakier than normal. They weren’t taking his baby away from him. That he would defend until his dying breath. So he had to have a plan for the kid…and be able to keep the kid quiet.

Gods, this wasn’t going to be easy but he didn’t have much of a choice. Supervised visits would be fine. He could slip the noose of one man. Getting out of the Guild Tower itself was going to be a harder proposition. But he wasn’t a weak creature and they didn’t know him. He would seduce, suck, fuck, and sneak his way out.

Clean and pray? Hardly. He looked down his nose at Hakon, and drew himself up to his full height. He looked every bit a noble at that moment, straight backed and proud, even if his hair was slicked back and his makeup was running. “You’ll ensure this child makes it to his father?” He asked. He had no intention of it. He wasn’t sending his baby away to some wet nurse.

“Then I’ll accept. But I’m not scrubbing fucking floors in this condition and whatever I cook you eat.” He sneered, and walked toward Hakon. “You’re not my kind. My kind aren’t scared of what they are or view it like some sort of sin. I’m more connected to this earth than any blind, mewling human.”

Vivian sighed and gestured to the door. “Vivian Kreine, journeyman Malformist. And you two are..?”

No need to reveal himself as a Master yet. The well of ether inside of him burned bright, feeding through his veins. His templates were as intimate to him as the child inside of him, and would only grow stronger. Hopefully these idiots couldn’t see past that. The religious usually couldn’t.

[Hakon]

It was consistent, albeit confusing, that men would puff themselves up in Hakon's presence. He supposed that they wanted to remind him that they were not small, even though to his eye, the few inches straightening one's back provided made little difference. Still, he felt that it was best to be gracious.

He shook the hand Vivian extended. "Hakon Osthwicksteppen, Magus, Vesterhal." He stepped aside to reveal his Scarlet Watch companion. "This is Big Gus of the Scarlet Watch." He didn't feel the need to tell Vivian that must Magus would not be allowed out without a more considerable retinue. He was trusted with only one Scarlet Watch keeping guard by virtue of his distinguished service career, but there was no point in getting into that, lest it sound like bragging.

"Also," he added, looking at the ether swirling around and within Vivian, "I do not believe you are a Journeyman Malformist, Sir. You are either an Expert with a mutation or mutations that causes you to shunt off excess ether, or you are a Master. Perhaps as a rogue mage, the formal levels mean less to you, but in the Guild, it will matter. It also may allow you to become a Magus or Fellow sooner, so there's no point in being coy with your skill level."

"It's about a half day's hard ride back to the tower from here. Given your current, ah, state. We can arrange for a wagon so that you do not risk a precipitous birth due to strenuous activity. If the inn has one available, we will take it back to the tower. Otherwise, it may take us some hours to prepare for departure. In either case, you will be under guard from Big Gus or I or both in the meantime. Oh, and welcome to the Guild, Mister Kreine." Hakon smiled at him in what he hoped was a jovial and friendly manner. He didn't get much practice at either.