Partum Asunder

Author's Note: Events are now concurrent with episode 3x15, An Old Friend Calls.

“Rebekah!”

As she stood at the threshold of their house, Rebekah should have felt joy or relief at sight of her brother Kol, returned once more to his original vampire form, but she could not rid her mind of the overriding panic she felt for her baby. Kol hugged her, happy for their reunion, but Rebekah did not reciprocate. She stood there, tearful and shaking, and said only, “Where is Freya?”

Kol drew back, his happiness giving way to concern. “She’s right up--”

He never finished his answer. Rebekah’s face darkened, eyes blackening and inky veins spreading across her cheeks as rage overtook her. She throttled Kol full-speed against the courtyard wall, pinning him against the stone with enough force to crack the surface. “If you knew the trouble you have caused me, brother,” hissed Rebekah, fingers digging into Kol’s neck to the point of drawing blood.

Kol’s yells drew Elijah and Freya to the courtyard, Elijah carrying Hope. He hastily passed the baby off to Freya and zipped down the stairs, forcibly pulling Rebekah off Kol. “Rebekah, stop!”

Kol gasped as his breathing was restored and felt at the wounds on his neck, air sucking through the bloody finger holes in his windpipe. Two breaths later and the holes were healed, though the blood remained.

Elijah struggled to contain his furiously writhing sister. “And you!” she spat, fingers seeking purchase on his face. “The great Elijah, always so bloody sneering pretentious. A powerless fool for a werewolf whore who won’t love you back!” She punctuated her indictment with a sudden thrust of her shoulders, bucking him off of her. He landed smoothly in a crouch a mere meter away.

Her words stung, but Elijah remained calm, his voice low and even. “Rebekah, I don’t wish to harm the baby. Control yourself.”

The reminder sufficed to quell her rage, however momentarily. Rebekah caught herself, breathless and ragged, blood draining from her face as her anger was replaced by fear. She fell to her knees and Elijah caught her. “Brother, help me!”

The curse mark was clearly visible on Rebekah’s exposed forearm. Freya reached the bottom of the stairs, Hope clutched close to her chest to prevent the baby from seeing any of the unfolding violence. “The silver knife with the muskroot,” she said to Kol. She did not have to explain; Kol’s knowledge of magic was such that he understood immediately the request, its reason, and its purpose. He returned a moment later with both.

Freya traded Hope off to Kol and murmured a chant beneath her breath, activating the dormant spell in the silver blade. Elijah cradled Rebekah tightly to keep her still as Freya carved the curse mark from Rebekah’s flesh. The inky black faded from Rebekah’s eyes as the curse-marked circle of flesh dropped to the ground.

As he stood with Hope in his arms, Kol had but a single burning question in his mind: “Sister, are you pregnant?”

There was much to catch up on -- too much, perhaps. Klaus’s sire link severed, Jackson dead, Hayley absent in her grief, Camille turned, white oak in play, and all of Klaus’s enemies en route to New Orleans.

It all paled in comparison to the re-emergence of Rebekah’s curse and the threat posed to her unborn child. Though Freya confirmed the baby was not directly affected by the curse, the risks posed by the situation were entirely too real.

For the last time, Rebekah stood in front of a mirror and lifted the front of her shirt just enough to expose the subtly-rounding mound of flesh on her stomach. She held the palm of her hand against the spot. Her previous joy at the sight was shifting to a familiar, bittersweet longing.

There was no way for her to keep the baby in this state. Already, the slightest turn of her wrist revealed the faint red shape of the mark returning to her arm. The curse would return again and again, each time stronger and quicker than before, and there was no telling what she would do or what might be done to her were she to lose control once more. So far, she had escaped the notice of their enemies, but there was no guarantee she would the next time, or the time after that, and every method that might be used to safely contain her posed too great a risk to her unborn child.

Freya was resistant to Rebekah’s proposal at first -- it was a tremendous request, and seemed to trigger in Freya some long-standing pain -- but they had no other solution available to them on such short notice. They would attempt the Gemini transfer spell once again.

A flicker of reflected movement caught Rebekah’s eye. Kol stood watching from the doorway behind her. She lowered her hands, the silken material of her shirt slipping back down over her belly.

“Don’t,” said Kol, taking up position directly behind her so his face lay above her shoulder in the mirror’s reflection. He gently reached around her waist and put his own hands on her stomach.

“You’ll miss out on so many opportunities to call me fat,” she said, willing her sadness away with humor.

“Never,” said Kol, smirk betraying the truth. “You don’t have to be pregnant for that.”

“You’re terrible,” she said, but she was smiling almost genuinely now.

“Besides,” said Kol, inclining his head so his cheek rested against hers, “you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Rebekah smiled through her tears. This reflection was perfect, truly. You’ll always be mine, sweet child. I will sacrifice anything for you.