[FIN] New life (Coquette x Vincento x Belle)

[Faithofthefallen]

Coquette shivered, the icy rage being emanated by her grandsire was almost palpable. Her chest tightened, since birth she had been close to Vincento, practically raised by him, he had imparted to her his knowledge of the use of blades, for Vincent was a master of anything with an edge. What he possessed, he had freely offered, and she had soaked up his lessons like a sponge, delighting in her own mastery. She loved her parents, but she worshipped Vincento, he was her hero. And after today, she feared he would never speak to her again.

The mare's mouth twisted in horror and heartbreak. She had known when she had made the agreement with Elijah that it would have repercussions, she had known her family would be upset, but she had not been able to anticipate the level of hostility her choice would bring out in the one whose opinion in this truly mattered. Coquette winced as one of the lives blossoming inside her gave a sharp kick against her rib cage. Thorns bit into her flesh and again she felt a shiver of pain as warmth ran down her side and the heady scent of blood fill the air from where the roses bloomed from her body. Her new girth made it awkward and tedious to trim the thorns, she would have to get Lucy to help her with them later.

Vincent hadn't spoken to her since she revealed the truth. Oh, he had been ecstatic enough when she announced her pregnancy, his joy and excitement had infected the herd with enthusiasm. She hadn't the heart to tell him the rest of the news until this morning, when he showed up to discuss who would watch the foals during her patrols, who would be involved in their training. It had almost killed Coquette to watch the light drain from his eyes to be replaced with fury and a tinge of loathing that could only be brought on by personal betrayal. And she had betrayed him, she had lied to him by omission, she had known all along this would be the result of a pregnancy and she had deliberately chosen to keep the fact a secret. Because there was at least a chance that none of these children would be growing up within their herd. She was carrying Valkyrie offspring beneath her heart and any female children were destined to be raised according to that herd's creed. Elijah had told her of the Valkyrie's remarkable prowess in battle, she had in fact experienced it during her many sparring sessions with her dear friend and occasional lover. He was one of the only opponents besides Vincento and Eva who could best her in one to one combat and he had assured her that the females were even more of a force to be reckoned with. Coquette loved the stark beauty of combat, she was more devoted to her chosen passion that she would ever be to a single lover. She knew she would be, at best, a distracted mother. She had responsibilities, she would love her children, but the thought of the magnificent warriors the offspring of Valkyrie and Sinclair would become was tantalizing to say the least. She agreed to Elijah's terms and had been so swept away by the ardent passion that simmered between them that she had put thoughts of how she would tell her family away as a problem for her future self.

Well, her future self was now her present self. Hot, achy, awkward, and very pregnant, Coquette cursed her past self with such creative fervor that had she spoken aloud she might have shocked Vincento out of his furious stonewalling. Then she cursed Elijah for putting the idea into her head in the first place, and for having such lovely muscles, and glistening fangs, and soft dark hair... She growled. For the billion billianth time since the world's creation, a mare wished pregnancy upon stallions. It just wasn't fair. Her crimson eyes flashed, anger eating away at sadness until she was ready to spit fire and rend flesh. How dare her grandfather give her grief over her choice, hers! She was the one going through all the work of bearing and bringing forth life, she could damn well decide what to do with the life that was expanding her body like a balloon and kicking her all the time, and sitting on her bladder until she wanted to just screeeam. And scream she did, a scream of such vicious bloodthirsty fury that she snapped Vincent out of his snit and had him whirling around to face her instinctually, his axe whirling up into a defensive stance as he eyed her warily. That pleased her, Coquette couldn't remember a time when her grandsire had looked wary, least of all towards her. He had always been the personification of lazy confidence, dispatching blows that would fall a lesser man with infuriating ease. The thought made her snarl again, a low, feral sound that rippled through the herd. The rest of her family quickly made themselves scarce, except for Belle. Her sweet older sister, pale as moonlight, as tiny and delicate as a flower. She started towards her younger sister and grandfather with an expression of worried compassion and Coquette thawed the tiniest bit. Belle was far braver than she appeared, perhaps one of the bravest of them all and they all had a soft spot for her. Had she been allowed to interfere, perhaps her presence would have stemmed the gathering storm, but her mate ushered her away towards their young foals, whispering something in her ear. She flashed a quick smile at Coquette and nodded, Belle would be there if she needed her later, said the look. That was fine, this was a private battle, and one that needed to happen, sometimes Belle was far too perceptive about others' emotions, and Coquette didn't really feel like being understood at the moment. She fed the flames of her temper back to full force, shaking off her older sister's calming influence. Vincent would accept her decision gracefully, and say thank you, or she would beat the living daylights out of him until one or the other of them collapsed from exhaustion or blood loss.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Vincento let the cold rage wash through him, barely noticing his surroundings as he glided through the camp, a predator on the prowl. The gazes of his family met his and then skittered away, his eyes were cold, glazed, deadly. His heart beat loudly in his ears with each of his steps. The molten heat of betrayal was the only thing within him that burned like sickness in his gut. He had raised her, loved her, taught her everything he could so she could protect herself and their family. He loved every one of his children and grandchildren, but none of them had taken to his teachings the way that she had. Coquette had happily soaked up his lessons like sunlight, absorbing them and making them part of herself in a way that made them truly her own. She was as deadly as he in her own way, with only a lack of real world experience creating a deficit. She was as beautiful as she was deadly, a prize of his bloodline. He had trusted her as he did few others. To spar was to inevitably reveal weaknesses over time, but they sparred almost every day. She looked up to him, he saw it in her eyes, and felt pride in the warmth of her adoration. And not even she, one of the first foals to be raised within the herd, thought this lifestyle was fit to raise her children in. She would send them away to be raised by another, better herd. Vincent gritted his teeth, wishing for something to rip apart limb by limb just then. His mouth watered in anticipation of the hot blood that would burst forth from the broken body... Vincent shook his head.

The scent of blood was carried on the breeze and in his detached state it had instinctively driven him to the killing edge. The fact that the blood belonged to the source of all of his rage and pain only made his response more intense. Foolish child, she had gone too long again without trimming her thorns. He suspected that her continued obliviousness to the need was somewhat masochistic and somewhat attention seeking. In a herd full of hunters, the scent of blood would always bring someone running.

He tossed his head angrily, no easy feat as the masses of silky black hair bundled at the base of his head were heavy, constantly tilting his chin up, something that quite suited his arrogant demeanor. He wanted to wring the throat of whatever stallion had dared to sway Coquette towards this course of action. What had she called him? Elijah, his memory supplied in a low hiss. His eyes glazed again, yes, much more satisfying and much less painful to blame the young buck who had selfishly twisted his granddaughter's sympathies away from her own herd. She was young, and in her youth could not be faulted for errors in judgement. Hell, he himself had been influenced once by the heady temptation of young love in the past. He could not fault Coquette for falling victim to the sensual charms of a young male. She would suspect no ill intent from her paramour, she who was not as accustomed as he in dealing with the wiles of outsiders. If the stallion intended to steal away the progeny from his line, well, that was tantamount to an attack on the family... Wasn't it? His mind raced with the possibilities. And he, Vincento Sinclair, could not be expected to sit idly while another herd poached what rightfully belonged in his herd, could he?

A scream so savage, so bloodthirsty, so violent it practically rent the air exploded from behind him. Vincent, who had been so immersed in his dark thoughts he had nearly forgotten his granddaughter who had been trailing behind him since he went cold and stomped away from her in towering fury. Now he instinctively whirled around, the long handled axe he had been carrying whirling into a defensive block as he turned to stare in absolute consternation at Coquette who was staring at him with such wild eyed brutality that he half expected her to leap for his throat at any second. His cold temper was leeched away by a storm of hot rage at her audacity. To scream at him, to startle him after what she was putting him through!!!?? He eyed her, unsure where this was coming from, Coquette had never been the focus of his ire before, nor had she ever challenged him in such a way. She snarled again, Vincent's eyes flashed, deadly, as a growl ripped from his own throat in response. His warning was clear. Don't even think about it.

But she did.

His granddaughter was gone, replaced by a sleek, savage, lethal creature who was now stalking him like a rabbit. Blade clenched between her sharp teeth. The blood running down her sides matched the glazed red of her eyes and only added to the brutality of her appearance. Her long hair was wild, her swollen sides heaving with ire, in that moment he knew she would kill him if she could land a blow. Strangely enough, that thought calmed him. Rage ebbed until he could behold the deadly allure of his descendent with pride. If anyone would ever be able to kill him in a rage, it would be his Coquette. Eva could do it theoretically, but she would never raise a blade against him. Vincent laughed, he could never hate Coquette, although he would never reveal that fact. The worry would help keep her in line. She had betrayed him, and he would know why, but he would not cast her from his herd or banish her from his sight. He would, however, reassert his authority. She would tire quickly enough in her current state, and then he would find the stallion who had tempted her so and visit his displeasure upon the unlucky youth. The axe flashed as it swung down in a heavy blow. He would not go easy on her, to do so would be an insult to her skill, and these were no blunted practice weapons. This fight could end in great personal tragedy for either of them. He would have thought Coquette would be awkward due to her pregnancy, but she swung in to meet his blow sinuously with as much speed as ever. Vincent danced back out of reach, with her shorter blade, he only held the advantage if he kept her out of range "I suppose I am to take this as your sincerest apologies". He quipped, laughing as his taunt produced a new screech of rage.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Coquette hissed with strain as she slid out of the path of the descending blade, meeting in mid swing in a steely clash of metal that rang through the area, sending her young nieces, nephews, and cousins fleeing for the safety of their homes or parents. Sparring was a common enough sound among the Sinclairs, but this was their patriarch and the head of his guard clashing in a battle that was deadly serious. The emotions swirling around the pair were a confusing torrent but Coquette was lost to anything but her desire for blood. Her jaw was clenched so tightly around her blade it ached and her sharp canines pricked her lips. Vincento was strong, he was bigger and stronger than her and his weapon could keep her far enough away from him that she had no chance of using her better speed and agility to her advantage. As fury gave way to exhaustion Coquette realized she had no chance in this battle, had been doomed to a loss the moment she had screeched to announce her intentions. But honor demanded it.

Before she fully understood what was happening a shuddering pain rippled through her abdomen making her gasp, her blade clattered to the ground splashing her legs in the pool of blood that had formed. Not from their battle but from the steady stream pouring down her sides from the thorns. She looked down at it in consternation and swayed as the ground fell away from her, her head spinning alarmingly. "What?" she murmured, confused dragging in rapid, shallow gulps of air in an effort to stem the sudden rush of bile threatening to splatter against the stone. She swayed again, glancing up with surprise to see the small glistening form of her older sister standing firm between her and Vincento. Belle had caught the blow that had been intended for her, Vincent too caught up in his own rage and bloodlust to understand she was sick and no longer capable of defending herself. Belle was speaking but Coquette could not seem to comprehend the words, they sounded far away. Her abdomen rippled again, pressing the thorns deeper into her flesh and making her hiss. Her knees wobbled. Worried voices surrounded her, warm bodies pressed against her in support, making her hiss in pain as the pressure opened her wounds more.

A loud commanding voice silenced the rest, Vincent, she would recognize that voice anywhere. No longer lost in fury, his voice was cool and stern. A snarl ripped the air in front of her. Coquette's eyes flicked up to see Belle still standing between her sister and grandsire, hackles up, teeth bared, the sight was actually quite amusing. Her sister was more than a full head shorter than anyone else in the herd, her young goals were almost as tall as her already and they were not nearly close to full growth. Coquette had never seen her sister look so fierce, she was different since she had returned from her long absence. The loss of a child had caused a madness that had taken nearly a year to quiet down. She may never have returned to them if not for her great love for Wisp, her lifemate who had dragged her back out of the darkness within her own mind. That and her untimely discovery of her pregnancy while mid battle with a skinwalker that had come too close to the herdlands. Coquette had saved her that day, and now Belle had returned the favor. Coquette was not mad at her grandsire for nearly killing her, that was part of the thrill, the cost of egging him on with unprotected blades. She had known what she was doing. Would have been fine if not for this blasted sickness. She swayed again, or at least her head did, her body was still firmly braced on two sides by two dark bodies. Vervada and her protege, Vidia. Belle must have brought them. Another exchange of words and the support fell away. She teetered for a moment, trying not to vomit when the world suddenly tipped upside down and began moving. She looked down again, Vincent had picked her up, draping her limp form over his back, supporting her with his wings as he carried her back to shelter. His sides felt hot against her face but he hadn't even broken a sweat. "Figures" she slurred, before succumbing to the darkness as another spasm of pain wracked her body.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Belle had watched in growing alarm as the scene between Vincent and Coquette escalated. She understood Wisp's concern, but this was not something she would allow. Her grandsire was hurt, she understood that, felt some of the hurt herself when she thought about the babies being taken away to be raised by a herd she had never heard of before Elijah had become part of Coquette's world. But that was no excuse for letting things go this far, Coquette was too far along for this kind of strain on her already taxed body, when her sharp nose caught the blood scent in the air even before it began to dampen her sister's sides she slipped away from her mate, kissing the foreheads of their napping foals tenderly before making a beeline for Vervada's cave. The mare got along well with Coquette, she knew, and her son Deverau had begun spending time with the mysterious woman as well so Belle had made a point to get to know the mare who had settled in with her family shortly before she had left to find Claudette. Her heart skipped a beat, it still hurt to think of her daughter. There was a hole in her chest that could never be filled from the loss. It made her ache to think of how much she would love to see all her children together, Saxon was all she had left of her eldest. Desdemona was alive but a stranger and Claudette had been slaughtered by the same 'walker that had scarred her leg and nearly condemned her to the same fate. She would not allow Coquette or Vincent to be injured in their idiotic power struggle. They were both too important to this herd to risk. Vincent was their leader, Evangeline was their hope, and Coquette was their prodigy. And Belle, well Belle kept things running smoothly behind the scenes. She knew her family and loved them, but they were a difficult and deadly bunch to work with, bringing together so many predators from different walks of life was no easy feat. They had not been raised within the herd like the younger generation, Belle worked with her grandfather to make sure that all their needs were being met and assured them that their voices were heard. They trusted her to represent them, and because they gave her their trust, Vincento gave her his ear.

She was relieved to find the witchwoman in her cave, there was no need for many words. Vervada and Vidia had heard the commotion, when they saw the look in her eyes they were already dropping what they were doing and following her before she could fill them in.

When they reached the fighting pair, the scene before them had Belle cursing under her breath. The ground was slippery with Coquette's blood, her sides were stained red and she could see her movements were becoming sloppier. Belle charged forward without a second thought, a vicious snarl ripping from her throat, her eyes blazing red as she drew her blade and leapt in front of the descending axe as Coquette's body sagged. The beast within unfurled itself and stretched, happy to be let off the leash, she was savage, deadly. She had trained to track and kill skinwalkers over the past year in a suicidal quest for vengeance and while her skills were nowhere near as refined as some of her relatives, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. If Vincent pressed his attack she would dump him on his a** after teaching him a few of them. Behind her she heard Coquette groan in pain as Vidia and Vervada pressed against her, holding her up. "Stop!" She snarled, her musical voice low and deadly, "You're going to kill her and the babies if you don't stop this idiocy, and then I will kill you." The words were out before she could think, a challenge to his authority that could not be ignored, but even as she flinched she knew they were true. She bowed to Vincent's authority, she accepted him as her leader, but she was no raised in this herd, had survived outside of it for most of her adult life and while she would die to protect it, she would do everything she could to kill her grandsire if thats what it took to protect Coquette.
 

[Faithofthefallen]

The heady scent of blood had his brain fogged, the rage pumping through his veins clouded his judgement. Coquette was fierce, ruthless, and a damn good fighter. For once it felt so good to just let loose the warrior within and fight with everything he was, to embody the warrior within instead of holding back. He knew Coquette could defend herself from him. When the caught sight of Belle charging onto the battle field he pulled back, Belle was strong in her own way but she could not survive what he was. The momentary distraction of a new opponent made him miss Coquette's sudden sickness and his blade was swinging before he could correct it, he watched in sudden horror as his axe fell unchecked towards Coquette's lowered neck as she swayed. He began the complex movement that would save her life, although she could not escape unscathed, when Belle appeared between them. Her cleaver raised to catch the fall of his blade, her gaze more deadly than he had ever seen it. There was a sweetness about Belle that made it easy to forget the blood that flowed in her veins, she was small but she was a Sinclair, and as he met her gaze in that moment he had no doubt she meant every word.

He tossed the axe aside and relaxed, her words pricked his temper but he was not worried, he would have thought her unworthy and weak had she met his attack with anything less than full commitment. She was protecting her family, that was what he wanted. "Move" he said simply, eyeing his younger granddaughter with worry. Her abdomen rippled and Coquette groaned, nearly oblivious to what was going on around her. Labor then, complicated by the already significant bloodloss which was what was making her sick and groggy.
Jezabelle snarled at him again, as maddened by the thick scent of blood as he had been a moment earlier. "Snap out of it Belle, or you will be endangering Coquette and I will kill you." Or at least render you unconscious, he thought to himself, calm enough now to remember who he was ealing with even if she was too far gone to remember. "So you're no longer in my way, and then you won't be able to help with the birth so I'll say it again, "MOVE."

Belle shook her head, shedding the bloodlust and rage as she stepped back and tipped her head submissively. Vincent stepped forward without another word, nudged Vervada and Vidia out of his way and ducked his head under Coquette's swollen abdomen. His muscles flexed as he slid her over his back and straightened his legs. His leathery wings opened to cradle her as he began to walk quickly over to the nearest cave Claudette's he realized suddenly as a spike of deep pain tinged the air from Belle, who hesitated at the threshold but followed him in and helped him lower Coquette gently to the floor. His sides were streaked red with her blood, his hair matted with it. His temper sharpened, "Stop the bleeding" he snapped at Vervada, who was already working, Belle holding Coquette still as Vervada trimmed the thorns causing the damage. A moment later Vidia returned, Vincent hadn't noticed her departure, she was laden with bandages and an ointment to prevent infection. The pair of them were well versed in dressing Coquette' wounds. This was far from the first time she had let the thorns get out of control, although this was certainly the most serious. Within minutes the blood was stemmed, the wounds dressed. Coquette was conscious but groggy and moaning in pain, although whether from her wounds or her labor it was impossible to tell. Vervada was coaxing a thick mixture down his younger granddaughter's throat, assuring her it would help restore her, she needed her strength and she was already dangerously exhausted. Vincent gazed at the scene before him for a few moments, assuring himself that the most dire threat had now passed and then exited the cave. They had the situation well in hand and he would be in the way of the delivery, the cave was meant to be comfortable for one inhabitant and he was starting to feel claustrophobic. He took a deep breath and walked back down to reclaim his weapon for cleaning, outwardly, he protruded a calm and controlled visage, but he returned to Claudette's cave and took a protective stance outside the door while he worked on polishing his blade, lost in his thoughts as he listened intently to the cries and churn of voices within.

He trembled, slightly, at the thought of what had nearly happened. He was wary of what other challenges these new lives would bring. Like it or not, some or all of these children would not be raised under his watchful eye. The deal had been struck, he could not cancel it without besmirching the honor of his family. His granddaughter's blood had been spilled, not by his hand, but had Belle not been there, the additional wounds by his own hand could have dashed out her life as well as the children's. The damage to his herd's trust could have been irrevocably broken. Blood was sacred, not to be spilled lightly. He had allowed his rage to color his choices. He could have easily disarmed Coquette, he could have kept his temper rather than allowing his fury to dictate his actions. He must learn something from this day. He was not normally one to allow passion to rule reason. His family was his strength, but also his weakness. He must remember that.  

[Faithofthefallen]

After the hustle and desperation of the last few hours, the sudden silence felt strange and oppressive. Coquette was sleeping comfortably, the potions Vervada and Vidia had dosed her with should keep asleep awhile, long enough for pain to start to abate. The labor had been difficult, the pain breathtaking. The foals were still immature, but they were large and they all had three sets of wings like their sire. No wonder her younger sister had been so uncomfortable these last few weeks. They would need to come up with a plan to handle that if Coquette and Elijah conceived again. Belle's eyes were heavy with exhaustion and sorrow, the cave smelled of fresh blood, sweat, pain, fear, but beneath it all... Was the scent of Claudette, she could identify it anywhere. She inhaled deeply, she had avoided this cave like the plague, worried that the emotional pain of this scent would drive her over the edge again, but although shards within her heart shifted painfully and pricked her like jagged splinters, they remained firmly in place. She had Wisp, the mate to her soul, she had three beautiful new babies who she swore she would give all of her love. No one would ever hurt them the way she had been hurt, she would not fail them the way she had failed her eldest children and this time she had Wisp to help her see to their safety and happiness. No, Claudette's scent was in a strange way a balm, a piece of her still left in this world. She would come here again, she would work here. Although she was not trained as a midwife, she had been through the process twice herself and she had learned much this evening. She would help deliver the children of the herd in this room, remembering her daughter each time she ushered new lives into this world. Learning to associate Claudette's memory with life, instead of the pain of her death.

Belle smoothed Coquette's hair, and pressed a kiss against her sweaty forehead, she cast a loving gaze at the baskets nestled against her sister's body for warmth. She would not be allowed to know all of these children, they were destined for another path. The mare walked the the cave mouth, a slight tremble in her step, she was unsurprised to find Vincento there, standing guard. He was stoic, but sorrow was evident in the lines of his body as he watched his granddaughter's approach. She saw the question in his eyes, she had come to know her grandsire very well the past few years. He was a source of strength, he had given her and her family a home, a place to be themselves. Vincento represented safety in Jezabelle's mind the way her parents had never been able to, it was a luxury she never took for granted. Their relationship was more complicated than that of her younger siblings, who had grown up under his watchful eye, but she saw compassion and trust in his crimson gaze. He had learned to ask her opinions early on, and he had listened. Belle was an empathetic creature, she understood what made people tick and she experienced the emotions of those around her to a sometimes painful degree. When she was with Vincent, she felt love and acceptance. The emotions were common now amongst her family, but after a lifetime of rejection they were still a novelty. In turn for the peace she had been given, Belle helped him keep this herd running smoothly, a feat considering the assortment of dangerous predators that called this herd home. She also reached out to new members. Her word was respected amongst the herd, because she offered respect in return.

"There are three." She responded quietly. "Two female, one male." His sudden flash of pain took her breath away. The proud fighter wilted, momentarily defeated by a foe he could not defeat, before summoning his strength again to straighten, and meet her eyes.  

[Faithofthefallen]

"One..."

Vincento was staggered by the sudden stab of grief that pierced his chest. He had prepared himself to respect and honor Coquette's decision, but only one would be staying. He struggled with his emotions for a moment before he had them under control again. He held Jezabelle's eyes with his own, seeing her awareness of his struggle gave him the strength to prevail. He was not one to reveal weaknesses, even to those he loved. The worst betrayals always came from those you least expected. His mind shuddered away from the memory of his lost mate and children. Unbidden his father's face came to the forefront of his mind, making his blood boil before he could shove it away again, locking it behind doors he never wanted to open again. All of that anger needed an outlet, he had resolved to not take his fury out on Coquette, she was a young mare, she had not intended to hurt him. He saw that in her confusion and shock when she realized the depth of hurt her actions had caused him. She had sworn her oath ignorant to the rippling affect her decision would have on those other than herself and Elijah. She had not meant to imply unhappiness with her own herd, she had simply followed her heart and her impulses, he reasoned. With age came experience and consideration for others, he knew she had learned an important lesson that would stick, it hurt her to have hurt the ones she loved. He could forgive her, but he could not, would not forgive the stallion who had proposed this idiotic plan in the first place. Elijah would feel the sharp side of his tongue, and perhaps the sharp side of some other things the next time he lay eyes on him.

He could not be here when the baskets were taken, regardless of who performed the deed, his instincts would scream for vengeance, and he favored vengeance of a particular kind. Coquette would not forgive him for smiting her lover, he did not want to start a blood feud with another powerful herd, and he did not want a black mark on his heart against a member of his family.

"I'm going away."

Vervada and Vidia had joined Jezabelle at the cave mouth and now the trio gazed at him with the same horrified expression. "Not permanently," he snapped, irritated at their misunderstanding, "Eva will look after things while I'm gone. Belle, you will assist her. Coquette will run the guard as always when she recovers. The rest of you will do fine. I need some... time. It will not be safe for anybody if I'm here when Coquette's daughters are taken to their new home. Until then, I will enjoy some time away... Tell Coquette..." He trailed off, he didn't know what to say. That he forgave her? He didn't yet. That everything would be alright now? He could not predict the future. So instead he changed his tactic.
"Just... Take care of her." He snapped shortly, his tail whipping around as his temper began unraveling again. He collected his weapons and started away, not waiting for an answer. As he gained distance he picked up speed, his figure disappearing into the darkness.