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Chapter Text

She had seen things that were enough to give anyone nightmares. She had seen the horrifying living conditions of the enslaved citizens of Meiyerditch and the slum-dwellers trapped in West Ardougne, seen the warped experiments of mad scientists and necromancers alike, seen the world she’d known torn asunder in a heartbeat as the gods all suddenly returned at once. She had slain horrors from the deep that had driven others mad, slain powerful monsters from other worlds, personally defeated the tyrannical vampyre overlord himself and lived, escaped the Underground Pass in one piece with her mind still intact, heard bits and pieces of the Freneskaen tongue—albeit only in purrs and growls—without her ears melting, faced a roomful of gods and her greatest enemy, narrowly escaped being killed and enslaved in unlife by said greatest enemy, survived an encounter with an Elder God and a horde of said Elder God’s very nightmares made flesh…

…and yet it was her current state, that of being confined to bed and unable to leave her home, that the World Guardian was sure was going to be what finally drove her insane.

“For the love of Zaros,” Jaina muttered, half to her babies and half to herself, as she tried to focus on the pink stuffed muspah she was sewing, “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand! Or how much more you two can stand, either… Frankly, I could stand to do a lot more standing up than lying around!”

She’d been asked to go on bedrest thanks to Wahisietel reading about how human mothers carrying twins were supposed to do so in the last months of pregnancy to prevent serious complications or the babies being born too early, and Akthanakos and Azzanadra had unanimously agreed with Wahisietel’s assessment despite her protests. Even the butler had agreed with them, and he insisted that she get up only to bathe or use the bathroom and not attempt to descend the stairs—not even to cook meals or feed her pets.

“You know, I can’t help but be reminded of my time as a Guild apprentice,” she remarked to her babies as she sewed the spines onto the muspah’s back. “My aunt, the wizards, the townsfolk, they’d all say the same things whenever I tried to go explore. ‘Don’t go outside the walls, the ogres will get you!’ ‘Don’t go north of the town; the Khazard troops will get you!’ ‘Don’t go poking around past the door in the old smithy; I hear some Zamorakians have set up a camp under the town! Leave them to the senior wizards!’ But I showed them what I was made of, little ones—I showed them indeed! There was one time when I was fifteen, and the protective wards on the Watchtower got sabotaged—I knew right away that someone had to help fix them and quick! I had to journey into the heart of the ogre city to do it…”

As she sewed the spines and tail onto the muspah, she regaled the twins with the story of how she’d ventured beyond Yanille’s walls despite the townsfolk’s protests, bravely confronted and even managed to befriend the ogres, met an ogre summoner who had been impressed with her knowledge of summoning and offered to teach her further, and ultimately restored the Watchtower’s wards. “And yes, I did slip out to see Bogrog for summoning lessons when I was able,” she said with a slight smile, finishing up the tail and reaching to pick up the bag of stuffing. “He certainly had different teaching methods than Mother—that is, he made me practice summoning and handling the familiars directly more often than Mother could’ve, and stressed being able to gather the ingredients for pouches myself! ‘Human have to show familiar she strong and worthy of respect,’ he’d say… He also insisted I eat a lot of chompy bird every time I visited for a lesson! There were a few times I got sick after having to eat that much… of course, with you two around I probably have to eat twice that much now…”

A knock suddenly came at her bedroom door, and Jaina shot bolt upright, dropping the muspah midway through stuffing it. She scrambled to pick it back up as the door opened and Alathazdrar the demon butler bowed his head towards her.

“Mistress, you have a surprise guest! Your brother has come to visit and check on your condition.”

“Eh?” Jaina blinked up at him, her restless hands already having gone back to packing the muspah full of fluff. “What brings him here, after all this time?”

“Your children, of course,” Alathazdrar replied, bringing a tray of food over to her bedside—an arrangement of apple slices and redberries, a fresh loaf of bread with a wheel of soft white cheese, a magically chilled pitcher of milk, and a generously sized bowl of his famous inspired-by-the-flames-of-Infernus spicy hot curry. “He’s rather apprehensive about being an uncle! Do not fret, though; I shall fetch him and bring him up here at once!”

He handed the tray carefully to Jaina before she could protest that she could still walk just fine, and she reluctantly steadied it so as not to spill anything. The muspah—well, both of them, since there’d need to be another—would have to wait for now, it seemed.

She was carefully raising the bowl to her lips when the door opened again and a familiar young man dressed in green and brown hurried to her bedside, strands of strawberry blond hair hanging haphazardly in his face. Strawberry the troll scrambled in behind him and struggled to clamber up onto the bed, losing his grip on the blankets several times.

Korrilan leaned over to pick up Strawberry before he could pull the blankets off the bed. “So, uh, hi… what’s in that stew, anyway? What do baby Mahja-things eat—brains and guts?”

“I don’t have to eat anything strange or unsavory, Ape Face,” Jaina pointed out flatly, “and they won’t have to either. So you’re here to check on how we’re all doing, then?”

“I’m going to be an uncle; of course I have to!” Korrilan carefully sat on the side of the bed and held the excited Strawberry in his lap. “How come you didn’t tell me sooner?”

“I did have a lot to do to prepare,” said Jaina, slowly taking a few sips of the spicy soup. “Hard to believe it’s only a month more! Even if it does feel like it’s taking an age now.”

“Where da baby now?” Strawberry asked loudly. “I wanna pway wif baby! We pwactice our ABCs and share stwawberries!”

Jaina reached over to pat the little troll on the head. “Yes, Strawberry, in a month’s time… you don’t have to wait much longer anymore!”

“I want to help you out with looking after them any way I can,” Korrilan said, moving Strawberry away from the tray of food before the troll could snatch a berry. “I don’t know much about baby Mahja-things, but I’ve been babysitting for Oliver and Natalie an awful lot these days! That’s gotta help just a little bit…”

“Oliver and Natalie?”

“You remember Zacharias Parker and Cassius Browning, right? Those two guys who used to visit Mother at home to learn about herbalism and summoning respectively? And you know how they both lost their homes in the battle and had to move their families into a renovated house together?”

She nodded, recalling how often she’d seen both of them come by in her youth. Cassius, friendly to animals and fascinated by the familiars Mother summoned; he had often smiled at Jaina and ruffled her hair affectionately. Zacharias, the aloof herbalist who was always studying the herb planter boxes in the windows and always seemed to want to talk to Mother privately. In retrospect, she should have realized that the Parkers were Zamorakian the whole time, that he’d been confiding that in their family…

“Well, I’ve been looking after their kids—have you not met them yet? Natalie’s six, and Oliver’s five. You should see how he handles a wooden sword!”

“Human!” The familiar tiny voice almost made Jaina drop the bowl just as she was picking it up again, and she looked over to the right to see Tiny Lucien waddling up to the bedside. “What are you even still doing in bed at this time of day? And where is my tiny throne? I have searched the entire end table for it and it is no longer there!”

“Do you not pay attention, you oaf?” Tiny Hazeel huffed exasperatedly as he too wandered up to the bedside. “The human knows she must remain on bed rest, so as not to interfere with my plans.”

“It is for her own good,” Tiny Azzanadra added, deftly scrambling up the bedpost and striding purposefully across the comforter. “The Great Lord watches you always, my dear. You seem to be feeding the little ones properly today.”

Before Jaina had a chance to reply, Korrilan let out an alarmed yelp. “Ahhh… Jaina, you’re already spawning tiny Mahja-things! Are you gonna spawn a whole litter all at once? They’re gonna overwhelm us both for sure!”

“Ape Face, those aren’t—”

“Yes, human, cower at the name of Tiny Hazeel…” Tiny Hazeel puffed out his chest and strode confidently up to Korrilan, but Tiny Lucien rushed up to jab him with the staff. “Out of my way! Human, you dare demean a god? I would never have emerged from within disgusting human flesh!”

“They walk and talk already?” Korrilan gasped, inching away from the dolls. “Great Guthix, how fast do baby Mahja-things grow? You must have like a hundred thousand of them in there if you’re that big and already spawning a litter!”

Tiny Azzanadra glanced over at him confusedly. “I am no baby; I am the tiny eyes and ears of Zaros himself, here to fill in for my larger counterpart while he is occupied with larger duties! No task is too big an undertaking for the Pontifex Minimus!”

“Ape Face, there’s never been a Mahjarrat birth with more than one child before—”

“Ahhhh! That makes this even worse! You’re going to explode any minute now! And they all have freaky skeleton heads! What am I gonna do…” Korrilan was quaking in his boots as he stared at the dolls, sweat visibly beading on his brow.

“Just what exactly is going on here?”

The familiar voice snapped Jaina to attention; she hadn’t noticed Azzanadra come in thanks to Korrilan’s frantic panicking. He was in the guise of Dr. Nabanik at the moment, and was staring at the young man with a look of utter bafflement.

“You! You did this!” Korrilan suddenly whirled around, reaching for his sword. “My sister is about to explode from all the talking skeleton babies coming out of her and it’s all your fault!”

Azzanadra looked alarmed, both his eyebrows shooting straight up. “What are you talking about? Put down your sword! She is very clearly not giving birth right now.”

“Oh yeah? Explain these!” Still brandishing his sword, Korrilan motioned to the dolls. “For all we know, she’s spawning them real slowly, one at a time! Or maybe they’re using some weird magic so she doesn’t feel pain when they come out! Or… something!”

Azzanadra’s eyes narrowed as he regarded him sternly. “Korrilan, was it? Put. Down. Your. Sword. I will not have you brandishing a sharp weapon so close to Jaina like this!”

“Are you kidding? My sister is gonna explode and die and we’re all gonna be swarmed by baby Mahja-skeletons, and all you’re saying is you want me to put down my sword?” Korrilan took a purposeful step closer to him. “I swear you’re gonna pay for this! I’m gonna make you wish you were dead! And then kill you deader!”

“WOULD YOU STOP IT?”

Her sudden shout caused Korrilan to fumble his sword and Tiny Lucien to trip and fall over on his back, while Tiny Hazeel curled up into a ball and covered his ears. Strawberry squeaked and scrambled under the covers to hide. The room fell silent, and she took advantage of the moment to ensure that nothing on her tray had spilled, and then drew herself up straighter and took a deep breath.

“Ape Face... Kori... Just listen for once… okay? You’re listening, right?”

“Yes?” Korrilan stared at her worriedly. “How come you aren’t scared or anything?”

“Because you jumped to ridiculous conclusions!” she pointed out exasperatedly. “Does it look like I’m giving birth? Do I look to be in the kind of pain that comes with giving birth? Why would I have my breakfast tray intact, on my lap, and not spilled if I were giving birth?”

“But the baby Mahja-things…”

“Those are magical talking dolls, Kori.” Jaina picked up Tiny Azzanadra and set him on her shoulder, and he comfortably rested his head against her neck. “They came home with me because they wanted to follow me around. The actual babies will be bigger, and have hair and cute round cheeks and little button noses! They won’t look that much different from full human babies, I don’t think.”

“Indeed not,” Azzanadra chimed in. “A Mahjarrat baby will have little nubs on its back, shoulders, and head that will grow larger and harden into spines and ridges as it grows. They tend to be more pronounced and come in sooner on baby boys, since the spines of a male are larger. I do not know how it was for Lucien’s daughter, but it is possible that our children may be born with the first signs of their spines, as most full Mahjarrat babies are. It is equally possible that their spines will take at least a year to begin to grow in.”

“I do think I would greatly prefer it if they weren’t growing their spines in yet,” Jaina remarked dryly, taking a sip of her milk. “That would make it even harder to deliver them!”

“Magical… talking… dolls?” Korrilan just stood there with his mouth agape. “Magical talking dolls… and they followed you home?”

“Are you deaf?” Tiny Hazeel demanded. “The human told you to listen to her! Did she not speak clearly?”

Tiny Lucien huffed and put his hands on his hips. “You dare mock the tiny power of Lucien? If you had just listened to me, a god, you might have gotten it through your thick skull!”

“It is your skull that is too thick, you fool,” Tiny Azzanadra pointed out. “She explained it rather well!”

“Believe me, that’s not even close to the strangest thing to ever happen to me,” said Jaina, unable to help but smile as Tiny Azzanadra stroked her cheek. “When you’ve seen the kinds of things I have, magical talking dolls following me home seems as ordinary as putting noisy ghosts to rest or turning cows’ and chickens’ bones into peaches!”

She glanced over at Azzanadra. “Before you ask, beloved, I’m fine. I do believe this would be a good time to enlighten Kori on what kinds of things to expect from the children, since he wants to help look after them.”

“Your brother does indeed have much to learn,” Azzanadra said, and went to sit at the foot of the bed. “Now, we do not know for sure how much of their needs and behaviors will come from their Mahjarrat half and how much will come from their human half, but it would be wise to consider all the possibilities. One of the first things to consider is when and how they will cast their first magic.”

As he described the kinds of magic Mahjarrat babies were known to cast and not have very good control of thanks to being babies, Jaina listened quietly as she slowly ate. She could feel from the shifting on the bed beside her that Strawberry was crawling out from under the covers to hug her, and she patted his head reassuringly.

She recalled the first spell she had ever cast, the earliest memory of her life she could remember. She’d been two years old, not yet able to talk, and had ventured into the kitchen of the family’s small house. Mother had been tending the herb planter boxes and hadn’t noticed her, and Father hadn’t yet come home. There’d been something she could see atop the kitchen table, so she climbed up onto a chair to get a closer look—and there she saw a pile of small round stones with odd white markings in the center of each. Curiously she’d touched one—how strangely right it had felt in her tiny hand!

Gathering up a handful of the stones, Jaina had deftly jumped down from the chair and spread them out on the floor to examine them more closely. Touching them again, she felt like there was something they wanted her to do with them, some kind of urge. Picking them up and grasping them tightly, she closed her eyes, wondering about the weird way the stones felt in her hands and what she was supposed to do…

And then she’d felt it, a sudden swift gust of wind from her hands, and then there was a loud crash that startled her, and when she looked up, she could see the kitchen table had been knocked right into a very astonished Father as he walked into the door!

Yes, she was still proud of that moment, her first spell, her first sign of magical talent… would the twins’ first magic be just as remarkable? They likely wouldn't be able to knock over the kitchen table downstairs, which was made of carved teak and much thicker and sturdier than the cheap basic table in her family's tiny kitchen. But they wouldn't need runes, and they might be surprisingly powerful thanks to their Mahjarrat half...

Either way, the next month could simply not go by soon enough, because she wasn’t sure how much more lying around in bed she could possibly take before she’d lose her mind!

~***~

In the soft glow of the lantern’s light, the sight before the wizard seemed almost like something out of his dreams—she lay sleeping there peacefully, her breathing quiet and steady and her expression contented, her vibrant purple hair flowing loosely in all directions, her hand protectively cradling her swollen belly. A large part of him wanted to believe his dreams had come true, that he had come home to her instead of sneaking through her window under cover of the night, that she was carrying a beautiful human baby and not an unholy terrible monster that would tear and rend her from the inside.

He didn’t have time to contemplate what might have been, though, not when he might get caught, not when that horrible hideous creature might return any moment. Instead he quietly made his way around the bed towards the journal on the end table, very careful with every step in case a stray floorboard might creak. Slowly, steadily, he managed to make his way around and take the journal, and sat down in a nearby chair to read it by the light of his lantern.

He was curious enough about why she had left the Guild to read the first entry in detail, which described her returning to Misthalin after a year at a school for adventurers—so that was where she had gone when she left Yanille—but he did not have time to read the journal in full, and so quickly began skimming the rest for any mention of Mahjarrat or falling in love, or of his name—Magnus—surely she remembered him, or had before the monster made her forget.

Sure enough, there were quite a few mentions of Mahjarrat, but the journal described her fighting against their evil plans; there was no mention yet of her being entranced into loving one, and he didn’t see any mention of his name either. At last, several pages in, Magnus found something along the lines of what he was looking for. The entry described Jaina venturing to a small island no one had never heard of, ruled by some heathen barbarian king who insisted she be betrothed to his son because he’d been turned into a monster. Could this be the Mahjarrat in disguise? Was this how she had met him? And who was this monster king to demand such things anyway? It was clear from her writing that she did not want to marry this prince…

As he read on, the journal revealed that the heathen barbarian prince was the most pathetic kind of man imaginable, vain, weak, selfish, utterly incompetent, and not even remotely handsome—and yet, as the entries went on, Jaina began to describe him in kinder, more flattering terms, almost as if she were being magically made to love him. Part of Magnus was getting surer that he must really be the Mahjarrat, but another part of him realized that the Mahjarrat would have presented himself as strong and capable, and impressed her with a show of power. It was the way of Zamorak to show off and boast about one’s power and ability, and this barbarian prince clearly had no power or anything worthy of boasting about. Jaina must merely have been deluding herself, trying to cope with the fact that she had to marry someone who could hardly even be called a man. She would have been easy prey for that terrible creature in such a state.

The wizard hoped—though he knew it was in vain even before he came upon the entry—that she would not have sullied herself by consummating this farce of a marriage, especially since she had not had a proper wedding or been united with the prince in the eyes of Saradomin. Unfortunately, she had felt the need for some reason to transcribe the events of the wedding night in detail. The prince had been a terrible husband and lover too, essentially leaving Jaina to do everything, and Magnus could only stare at the words on the page and think about how he would have given her a far more satisfying first time.

It took him a few minutes to compose himself before he continued; the next entry mentioned how the barbarian prince had died fighting some monster, so now he could focus on finding out when and where the Mahjarrat had appeared. It took several more pages’ worth of skimming—none of which mentioned his name at all—before he came across another entry that stood out more than the ones about the barbarian prince: “So this Dr. Nabanik isn’t anything like I expected. For one, he turned out to be young and handsome! Rugged, red-haired, and with quite the impressive beard! I thought he would look older and closer to Ali’s age… and the way he looked at me and had such a charming smile made me shiver a little. For another, and more importantly, Ali was right. I actually do know him! The young handsome man is actually a disguise—he’s really the hero from the pyramid! Azzanadra—and I finally know how to spell his name right too, thanks to those notes I found (Mahjarrat names are so hard to spell!) I have had to remind myself that he isn’t really human, but it’s hard to picture him as something as hideous and frightening as Lucien or Khazard, especially with the way he speaks… there’s just something about how he sounds when he talks…”

This must be it! Frantically Magnus read on, his stomach clutching tightly, paying closer attention to the entries in order to see how and when she had begun to fall under the spell. At first she wrote only about being trained in dark magic and hearing whatever honeyed lies the Mahjarrat was interested in telling her about the terrible dark god that was somehow worse than Zamorak—it took several long, rambling entries before she finally wrote, “I’ve seen the Ritual now, seen how fearsome Mahjarrat can truly be, seen him as he truly is… and yet, when I look at him, I feel… something I don’t think I did before, something I shouldn’t. I’ve found myself daydreaming about him—as I write this I’m imagining Zaros returning, stepping through the portal in the temple, thanking all his followers for their good work in helping him come back, and then Azzanadra smiles at me, offers me a hand, and invites me to dance in celebration! It’s ridiculous; I shouldn’t think like this. He could never feel that way for me, not like that, not when he once practically ruled a whole empire and I’m a common-born human from a small town. To be respected as a hero is one thing, to be together with someone is another! Even the way I talk is so unrefined compared to how well-spoken he is; he must think that I talk like an uneducated peasant…” Clearly her mind was starting to be addled by the Mahjarrat’s dark sorcery now; her Misthalin accent made her voice all the more pleasant to hear, and she ought to realize that.

She had tried to fight the influence off according to the many entries’ worth of her describing being ashamed of her feelings and not wanting to confess them. Magnus wondered how long she had lasted before succumbing as he read through her account of Guthix’s resting place and how the new age had come about—he felt a surge of envy seeing her write about seeing Saradomin return firsthand, but that brief feeling quickly faded at her words about being frozen with fear and unable to speak, wanting to flee from his presence as soon as possible, worrying about what Saradomin might do to her if he knew her secrets. So she had been consumed by the darkness already before the great battle in Lumbridge; what other reason could there be for her to gaze upon the lord of light and be frightened and think he meant her harm?

It was disheartening to read what she had written about the battle, how she insisted over and over that she did not want to fight in it or be reminded about it happening, how she thought Saradomin was trying to destroy Lumbridge along with Zamorak, how she was angry at both of them for curtailing the terrible dark god long ago. Couldn’t at least a small part of her have understood that Saradomin’s army had been fighting for good there, that it would have been right and just for her to support him and fight in his name? Couldn’t she have at least understood that she had to oppose the evil of Zamorak for the good of all?

That, however, was nowhere near as gut-wrenching as the entry Magnus came upon that made him wish he was instead reading about the barbarian prince’s failures as a lover again. It pained him to read, and it pained him to know that Jaina had felt the need to write it down in loving detail—and yet, much like the night he had seen her beside the foul creature, he could not tear his eyes away. He somehow had to read every word.

The barbarian prince, at least, had been human. At least it was understandable that a new bride would be curious about her husband’s body—he had certainly hoped she would have been curious and eager to see and touch him someday. But to read the words of the woman of his dreams expressing fascination and delight with the twisted, warped features of a hideous wicked monster, desiring said monster physically… to see her mind so corrupted by dark forces that she would see beauty in evil, to know that she was doomed to die in agonizing pain as the unnatural abomination in her womb devoured her from within…

No, he had to be hopeful, had to hope she had a chance. Surely Saradomin could save her…

“What the—who’s there? How did you get in here?”

Startled, Magnus dropped the journal and had to scramble to grab his lantern before it shattered all over the floor. Jaina was sitting up in bed, staring straight at him with all the color drained from her face.

It took him almost a minute to speak. “Um, uh… I… Jaina, don’t you remember me?”

“Remember you? I don’t recall ever having seen or spoken to you before.” She regarded him confusedly, and her voice hardened when she spoke again. “What are you doing in my house, and why are you reading my journal?”

Magnus’ eyes widened in shock. “You don’t remember? Magnus, from Ardougne? The monster must have cursed you to forget me, too…”

“What are you talking about? Who are you? Why are you here?”

“But I’m Magnus!” Silently he implored Saradomin to help her remember and overcome the darkness even a little bit. “Please, Jaina, you have to remember! We were apprentices at the Wizards’ Guild together!”

She frowned and bit her lip, looking him over closely. “I’m sorry; I still don’t remember you… I don’t think we ever spoke at all…”

“There was one time,” he reminded her. “You asked me to pass the salt at dinner! Me, out of all the other apprentices! Oh, how my heart leapt that day…”

Jaina merely stared at him as though he had a symbol of Zamorak branded on his face. “Okay then… that doesn’t explain why you’ve broken into my bedroom at this time of night. What are you doing here?”

Her voice was icy cold and sent chills down his spine; it sounded so different from the bright and cheerful voice he remembered so fondly. Perhaps this was just the darkness that afflicted her, making her as icy and cruel as the monster who had seduced her.

“There is still hope for you, Jaina! Saradomin can save your life, see that the abomination in your womb is destroyed before it kills and devours you from the inside…”

Instantly her eyes hardened and blazed with a fierce fire, and a menacing snarl escaped her throat. “So you’re here to threaten my child? You have a lot of nerve! Saradomin will not lay a hand on my baby, and you won’t either!” She drew herself up straighter in the bed, all traces of her serene gentleness having faded. “You have a lot to answer for!”

“What? Do you hear yourself?” Magnus still couldn’t believe the way she was acting. “That’s just the Mahjarrat influence talking! You have to fight it, see the light… I know you still have a good heart! I want to rescue you, Jaina; I can’t leave you to die horribly…”

“Rescue me? From what?” she demanded indignantly. “Your idea of rescuing someone is breaking into her house and threatening to have her baby killed? Not to mention that you read my journal!”

“I had to understand how the monster took hold of your mind! It was for your own good!”

“What would you know about what my own good is? And you claim that I must be brainwashed and couldn’t possibly love someone of my own will because he must be a monster? You break into my house uninvited, steal my personal journal, talk down to me as if I can’t think for myself, and threaten to kill my baby—the only monster I see here is you!” Jaina seemed to fumble for something beneath the bedspread, and she closed her eyes to focus as if readying a spell. “Take this—Ice Blitz!”

Magnus could only stare, stunned by her cutting words, as he was forcefully encased up to his neck in a thick block of ice. What she had said echoed in his head and practically pounded against his eardrums. How could he save her from the monster if she thought that he was the monster?

“Alathazdrar, help! Intruder! Someone’s broken in!”

He couldn’t even muster up the fear for his life from knowing that the monster was coming to kill him now, the shock was too great. Nor did he react with either surprise or relief when a demon in a servant’s uniform barged into the bedroom instead of the monster and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Sir,” the demon hissed, “if I or the mistress ever catches you on the premises again, the Watchtower guards and the Guild will be alerted at once!”

As he pushed the ice block out of the bedroom, Magnus kept his wide-eyed gaze on Jaina, who was looking down at her stomach and sighing. “Never have I wished before that I’d turned my basement into a dungeon…”

~***~

She was at the end of her rope.

Well, actually, she’d been at the end of her rope for quite some time now, but that insane wizard breaking into her bedroom was the last straw. Today was not going to be another day of lying uselessly in bed, growing fat and weak and helplessly waiting another month to give birth. Even the usually-relaxing hot water of the bath now felt confining and like it was dragging her down. Once she was through with her bath, she was going to go somewhere, do something, maybe have a teeny-tiny brief adventure.

She would have to be discreet, Jaina knew—dress as quickly as possible, make sure her bag was stocked with enough runes, and not do anything suspicious like try to pack food or go downstairs. She would also have to hope Tiny Azzanadra wasn’t sleeping in her bag or waiting for her on the bedpost; the little doll had proven to have his larger counterpart’s overbearing tendencies.

As she carefully eased herself out of the bathtub, Jaina realized she’d have to do a little bit of walking around before she left so that she wouldn’t trip or fall; having had to stay in bed for weeks had really taken its toll. She would have to consider not just what to wear, but where she would go. It would not be anywhere in Kandarin, that was for sure, and it had to be somewhere that wasn’t too dangerous, so a visit to the desert bandits was out—and walking around in a crowded big city would be a bad idea as well; too easy to trip if people kept bumping into her. Oo’glog was right out too; she’d had more than enough relaxing for quite some time.

It occurred to her as she was toweling off that her brother’s visit had brought her the first news of what had been happening in Lumbridge, and she did wonder how far the town’s recovery had come since the battle. Of course—that was where she should go! Visit her old home, see the castle again, see how everyone was getting along now that their lives were back in order…

“Come on, little ones,” she whispered to her stomach, slipping as quietly back to her room as she could and ducking into her closet to get dressed. “We’re going on a little adventure! It’s been too long since I’ve seen my hometown.”

Chapter Text

Time was of the essence, and she had to choose what to wear wisely and quickly. Deciding on a loose, high-waisted lavender and sky-blue dress with flowing sleeves—sized to fit her swollen figure—and her staff of light, Jaina quickly brushed and tied up her hair and made sure to double-check that there were enough runes and teletabs in her bag. Satisfied, she slung her bag over her shoulder, and broke a Lumbridge teletab. A crisp spring breeze blew through her hair and clothes as the world changed around her in a colorful swirl.

It filled her with exhilaration to see the familiar sights of her hometown after all that had happened in the past year. The school was still gone, with its former site roped off for hosting lessons right out there in the open, and the memorial fountain just past it served as a stark reminder of the battle that had nearly destroyed everything, destroyed her—but the house she grew up in was still there, the River Lum was still there, the rope swing Father had tied to the big oak tree was still there, the path to the castle was still there, the magic tree she’d planted to mark the start of her adventuring career on her seventeenth birthday was still there, now flowering with dazzling purple blooms. The many trees around town were also flowering, and numerous tiny white petals blew by in the wind.

“Why hello there!” a loud and overly excited voice suddenly called out. “Hope you’re having yourself a snazzy Lumbridge day—wait. Well, well! If it isn’t Misthalin’s biggest coward!”

Jaina turned, leaning on her staff so as not to fall over from being startled, and found herself met with the disapproving peridot gaze of a pigtailed redhead with pale orange lipstick and a flowing blue cape. The young woman wore a low-cut yellow blouse with a long white skirt and brown leather sandals, and had a thick green sash tied around her waist. She was recognizable not just by her bright red hair, but by her voice—Patsy Pratt had often been called Patsy Prattle back in their school days, and with good reason.

“Hello, Patsy,” the adventurer said flatly, resisting the urge to call her Patsy Prattle. “How are things?”

“Oh, now you bother to ask,” Patsy sneered derisively. “Well, if you must know, the anniversary of Saradomin’s victory in the battle is coming up, and a celebration is being organized. Not that you have any place showing up to it, not when you heroically didn’t bother to turn up to help Saradomin save us, while your bumblehead of a brother joined Zamorak for the sake of your ridiculous idea of balance. I was right about you all along!”

Jaina felt her grip on the staff tighten fiercely and her eyes narrow. She had not forgotten that day at school back when she was seven—she’d been practicing with Earth Strike while Tutor Mikasi was going to fetch some books for a history lesson, trying to ignore the others as they mocked her with the usual insults—“Look at the tree-huggers’ daughter, trying to get closer to nature,” “Hey, tree-hugger, found your balance yet?” “Feeling more in touch with the earth now?” and that sort of thing. That was when Patsy, very loudly, had spoken up: “I’ll bet her father makes deals with demons! I bet he does dark and twisted stuff for Zamorak when nobody is looking, because you know, doing evil brings balance back to the world!”

Well, that had been enough to get her to snap. They could say what they wanted about her all they liked, but they had no right to bring her family into it. Almost as soon as the words were out of Patsy’s mouth, Jaina had whirled around and blasted her next Earth Strike straight at her, shattering the chair beneath her and knocking her clean to the floor. “Don’t ever,” she’d yelled, “say such horrible things about my father… ever… again!” And that, of course, was the exact moment when Tutor Mikasi had returned. Needless to say, Jaina had gotten into a good deal of trouble, while all Patsy got was a light telling-off about how Saradomin didn’t approve of spreading lies about people. Given the undeserved reputation of Zarosians these days, it was certainly anyone’s guess where that idea had come from—still, though the disproportionate punishment and harsh lectures she’d received had seemed more than a bit unfair to her seven-year-old self, she’d long since come to realize that it had been a dangerous overreaction on her part, and she’d been sorry for it all those years ago anyway. There was no reason to dwell on it too greatly or hold any grudges over it.

“I aided the town as best I could,” she said, ensuring that she did not raise her voice or show signs of anger. She had moved beyond that now. “I didn’t want to fight for either of the gods, not when they both caused so much destruction—and it’s irrelevant now anyway. It’s been a year! Surely you can’t fault me for wanting to see that everyone here is doing well?”

“You didn’t want to fight?” Patsy rolled her eyes. “You’re even more spineless and cowardly than I thought! Some hero you turned out to be.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “Some of us actually did the town a service and kept morale high when we all feared Zamorak was going to destroy us! And look at you now—huge and fit to burst! Just who have you been off fooling around with?”

There was a lot that Jaina could say in reply to that, but there was no point, not when she could be walking around town, meeting up with other familiar faces, possibly even stopping by Dorgesh-Kaan for a visit later. It would be nothing more than a waste of time—she had to be on her way.

“It’s not uncommon for a married woman to have children sometimes,” she pointed out. “I don’t have time to argue anyway. If there’s a celebration being set up, as you say, there will be visitors—and aren’t heralds supposed to be all bright and happy? What would the visitors think if they saw you like this, trying to bite my head off when I’m just here to visit? What if one comes through now? You’re supposed to be representing Lumbridge, you know.”

Patsy merely stared in silence, her lips twisting into a weird sort of unreadable grimace. It took almost a minute before she managed to speak again.

“Well, if you’re curious about the celebration, I suppose you could ask around, but if you ask me, it’s awfully strange for you to show up all puffed up with child, looking like you ate the King Black Dragon, all alone. You really ought to have brought your husband with you! Hopefully he’s showing you the light of Saradomin and knocking some sense into you.”

Jaina merely nodded. “I would have liked to bring him, but he was busy with work today. I assure you, he’s taught me a great deal. Have a blessed day!”

She turned and headed on her way, deciding to approach the memorial fountain so she could take a moment to remember those who had needlessly fallen in the battle. “I wish I could have done more for you,” she whispered, gazing at the flowing water. “It didn’t have to be that way… If only I could have helped…”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up towards the hideous crater that scarred the landscape, remembering the beautiful woodland that her children would never be able to see. “No… no more.” She cradled her stomach protectively. “Let Patsy Prattle think I’m a coward, let the superstitious priests whisper in hushed tones that I’m a witch, let the druids think Guthix was so wonderful and didn’t abandon us all—I won’t let anything like this happen ever again! I won’t be helpless and defenseless! For your sake, little ones, and for everyone’s sake!”

Turning away from the crater, she took a step towards the direction of the castle, only to bump face first into someone coming up the path. She gave a startled yell and nearly stumbled backwards, but whoever was there quickly moved to grab her hand and steady her back onto her feet.

“Oh, pardon me! Are you alright? We didn’t see you there!”

As she regained her composure, she could see a familiar, muscular dark-skinned man in a black fur-trimmed vest and a blue jerkin gazing back at her with concerned deep blue eyes. He had glossy black hair and a neat black beard, and wore a silver Saradomin star around his neck. By his side was a small girl who greatly resembled him, dressed in a dainty blue dress and riding astride a cranky-looking war tortoise familiar laden with sandbags.

Jaina smiled brightly at the both of them. “Hello, Mr. Cassius! And Natalie, is it? Haven’t seen you in awhile; how are things?”

Cassius still looked sheepish as he smiled back. “Faring well, all things considered. By Saradomin’s beard, Emmeline and I are actually quite used to sharing a house with Zacharias Parker now! And Natalie is very excited about the celebration being planned—you must have heard of it too, yes?”

“Daddy,” Natalie asked loudly, pointing at Jaina’s stomach, “why's the pretty-haired lady so big and round?”

“Hush, you mustn’t say things like that! It’s impolite,” Cassius said, shooting Jaina an apologetic glance. “She looks like that because she is going to have a baby! Speaking of which, is your husband with you? I hadn’t heard that you had gotten married or were having a baby!”

“He was too busy to join me today, I fear,” Jaina replied, seizing the opportunity to shift the subject before he could think to ask more questions. “So what’s this about a celebration? Is there a feast in the castle being planned? And what’s all that that Mr. Turtle there is carrying?”

“Sand!” Natalie exclaimed proudly. “Miss Reyna said she was gonna put a buncha sand in the big Saradoodad hole! So me and Daddy and Turtley are gonna put the sand in the big hole first!”

The tortoise grumbled and shook his head disapprovingly. “Sheesh, nobody ever lets me explain anything. Always in such a hurry, and I’m the one who has to do all the hard work…”

“Oh, you,” Cassius muttered, shaking his head at the familiar before looking back at Jaina. “I’m sure you remember young Reyna, yes? She had a particularly inventive idea about how to celebrate the anniversary of Saradomin’s victory—the reason she wants sand is so that the crater can be converted into a beach, where we can all enjoy the summer weather as we celebrate! Last I saw she was speaking to the duke about it; we are bringing a little bit of sand as a nice surprise for her.”

“The crater? A beach?” Jaina didn’t know quite what to make of that idea, and she bit her lip and had to take a moment to ponder what to say next. “That’s quite the… ambitious endeavor, to say the least, and certainly not what I’d expected when I heard about a celebration being planned!”

Cassius gave a hearty laugh. “Isn’t the fact that it’s odd and unexpected part of what will make the occasion special?”

The adventurer smiled and felt her face redden a bit, noting how accurately that statement could also apply to her children. “I know that all too well now, Mr. Cassius. I do hope I would be welcome to see the result when the time comes!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You should absolutely come and celebrate with us! Bring your husband with you, too.” He surveyed her stomach curiously. “And I assume the baby will be born by that time as well. It looks like it might come any minute!”

“Yes, just one month more now—”

“Daddy, Daddy!” a little boy’s voice suddenly rang out. “Come on! We gotta put the sand in the big hole first!”

“Oliver, wait!” came a frantic man’s voice. “You’ll spill all the sand, or trip, or… Oliver!”

Straightening up at the sound, little Natalie gave the tortoise an impatient bopping on the head. “Come on, Turtley! We can’t let Oliver get to the big Saradoodad hole first!”

“Browning, how do you even expect me to keep up with your overly energetic young whelp?” grumbled the tortoise as it plodded down the ramp into the crater. “You could try doing the carrying for once.”

As if on cue, a little boy in a washed-out maroon shirt came dashing towards the fountain with two buckets in each hand, the sand spilling out of the buckets with every step he took. Suddenly, almost as soon as Jaina caught sight of him, he tripped and fell face forward, his buckets going flying and spilling sand everywhere as he fell. She didn’t see the bucket flying straight towards her until seconds before it struck her squarely in the leg, and she yelled out in pain and had to use her staff to keep herself from tripping and falling.

“Oliver!” A familiar man with a double-pointed black goatee rushed up to help the sobbing boy up and hastily examined him for injuries. He was dressed in a green herbalist’s robe with red trim and had been carrying a large sandbag over his shoulder on his back. “I told you you needed to slow down and carry the sand carefully! Oh, Zamorak, please be okay…”

As Jaina leaned on her staff for support and did her best to right herself, relieved that she hadn’t lost her footing, the man finished bandaging his son’s scraped knee and turned to look at her. “You’re not hurt either, I hope?”

She shook her head, ignoring the pain in her leg. “It could have been far worse, Mr. Zacharias. I will still be able to walk fine! And I hope Oliver doesn’t have anything worse than a scraped knee.”

Oliver sniffled and looked up at her sadly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, nice lady! But how come you’re so big? Did you eat a big giant monster to impress Zam-o-man?”

“Oliver,” Zacharias chided, “we do not ask women about their weight or size. It makes them very angry—you do not want to make a woman angry!”

“Really, Parker?” Cassius chimed in, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Do you not see the merit and importance of teaching your son to be polite and have manners? Shouldn’t he be learning how to treat people with respect?”

“Was my statement untrue, Browning?” Zacharias shot back, huffing indignantly. “Not angering people is an act of respect, and an important skill to learn—and you know how my Ruth is. You know how short her temper can be.”

“Yes, shorter than is acceptable for a good neighbor,” the summoner stiffly retorted. “Your boy would do well to learn to act like a gentleman and be respectful of others, would he not? Being courteous is important.”

“Respect is not something everyone is automatically due, Browning,” the herbalist replied. “It is something that is earned. Take for example young Jaina here.” He motioned to his son and gestured in her direction. “Oliver, this is no ordinary lady—she is a famous adventurer! She was determined since she was a little girl to be great and do great deeds. She is someone to be respected and admired, because she’s earned it through her courage and heroics! You, too, must set goals and strive to be great, not just settle for what you already are! Look to her as an example of what you might be capable of when you grow up.”

“Really?” The little boy gazed up at Jaina with large round eyes. “I wanna know the kinds of stuff you did to get strong and famous!”

“Me too, me too!” Natalie chimed in, hurrying back towards her from past the fountain. “And when’s the baby gonna come? I wanna see the baby!”

Jaina smiled a little nervously at the children, figuring it couldn’t hurt to tell them a little about her accomplishments. There was still enough she could talk about without needing to mention Zaros or Mahjarrat, after all.

“Have I ever told you,” she said, “that it was I who first helped discover our underground neighbors in Dorgesh-Kaan? And that I was the very first person from Lumbridge to meet the cave goblins? And that the task of showing the world above to one of them for the first time fell to me?”

Both of them looked up at her with rapt attention as she recounted her adventures with Zanik and what it was like to have visited Dorgesh-Kaan for the first time, as well as how fascinated Zanik had been with the surface and Lumbridge. They interrupted her quite frequently to ask questions, including “How come you were scared that she had a bow if she was your fwiend?” and “Did Saradoodad punish the bad HAM men for not being nice to the goblins and make them sit in the corner?” She did not find herself annoyed with all the questions; in fact, they were rather amusing, and she wondered if her children would one day be quite as inquisitive as they listened to her tales.

~***~

…and there was even a statue in our honor built in Dorgesh-Kaan!” She beamed proudly at them. “You should see it for yourselves someday, if your parents ever take you down there. By the way, we should all make sure the goblins know about the celebration! I’m sure they’d be keen to enjoy the festivities—no beaches underground, you know!”

“They hafta come!” Natalie cried. “Daddy, Daddy, we gotta put more sand in the big hole so everything will be ready!”

“Come on, Daddy!” Oliver tugged at his father’s robe. “I wanna see the underground goblin city!”

Zacharias shook his head. “We’ll need to ask your mother first—and before that, we need to go and fetch more sand!”

“As do we,” Cassius added. “Take care, Jaina, and may Saradomin’s light shine on you!”

Jaina shakily returned the smile that the summoner gave her. “Ah… and you too! I should be on my way, myself.”

She graciously waved to the four of them and made her way towards the castle, petals swirling past her on the wind as she walked. The duke had never objected to the locals or even travelers walking freely on the castle grounds, which had always made the place seem more homey than the grand palaces of capital cities—granted, King Roald did grant the same permission to his subjects to tour parts of Varrock Palace and use the royal library freely. It was very much a Misthalin thing, a far cry from the wary defensiveness with which the White Knights barred the way to Falador Castle or the derisive and threatening scowls the knights and paladins of Ardougne gave to anyone approaching the castle uninvited.

Stopping beside one of the fountains in the courtyard, Jaina frowned as a sudden thought occurred to her. After all she’d been through, it was comforting to know she still felt a strong love and loyalty to her country, but she’d not yet considered the question of what sort of citizenship the children might have. Officially she was still a Misthalin citizen; you had to go through a long paperwork-filled process to legally become a subject of a different kingdom. Such things would not matter to Azzanadra or his brothers, and perhaps not to the twins themselves, but their existence could not be kept secret, even if she managed to keep their half-Mahjarrat nature under wraps. They would not be born in Misthalin and likely wouldn’t be raised there unless she either somehow was able to get a new house or lived with them mainly in Azzanadra’s private quarters—but neither would they be born in Kandarin, nor would they be culturally Kandar. They certainly wouldn’t be considered any kind of Kharidian by any stretch of the imagination either. Would they then be considered Misthalanian and thus subjects of King Roald, owing to their parentage? As far as the museum workers and examiners knew, Dr. Aurelius Nabanik was from Varrock, which in a sense was technically true… so the children would probably be legally Misthalanian…

“This isn’t a temporary thing at all, Your Grace!” she heard someone exclaim, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Duke Horacio on the castle steps, talking with a dark-skinned young woman whose thick cornrow-braided hair was the same shade of purple as Jaina’s, shockingly different from its natural dark brown. She was dressed in a rainbow patchwork blouse and a long, flowing striped skirt, had several vibrantly colorful bangles on her wrists, and wore no shoes, despite the day not being that warm. Jaina remembered her from her younger days, although she hadn’t seen her in years; Reyna, the seamstress’ daughter, had been one of the nicest girls at school, and had dreamed of surpassing her mother and making beautiful dresses in Varrock when she grew up. Why had she had her hair magically colored that shade now, though?

“The party is just one small part of why I want to create a beach in the crater!” Reyna was saying. “The forests that used to be there were so beautiful, and lots of people loved to walk there! I want to make the land beautiful again, see people walking on the beach together as the wind blows through their hair, hear the birds singing…”

“The crater is indeed unsightly, Reyna,” the duke replied uncertainly. “But this will be a fairly expensive endeavor, and there are some more zealous folk of both the Saradominist and Guthixian varieties out there! They believe that the crater is important as a reminder of what happened here a year ago.”

“It’ll still be there, and it’ll still be a reminder of what happened,” Reyna pointed out. “So what better way to make it beautiful again than with an anniversary party for Saradomin’s victory? I can pay out of pocket for some of the materials besides the sand with the profit I turn from selling clothes!”

“But are you sure that would be wise?” Duke Horacio frowned concernedly, his brow furrowing. “You do need to be able to eat and sustain a living.”

“Really, Your Grace, I can spare a few—oh!” Reyna turned, smiling broadly as she caught sight of Jaina. “Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time! Good to see you, Jaina… oh, and the baby must be due very soon!”

“Indeed it is good to see you again, Jaina.” Duke Horacio turned to face her, nodding in greeting. “Is your husband with you? I had not suspected that you had gotten married.”

The adventurer nodded as well and curtsied politely to the duke, which wasn’t easy with her figure. “Good afternoon, Your Grace—and Reyna. I hadn’t heard about the celebration that’s being planned until I dropped by for a visit! As for my husband, he was too busy to come with me today.”

The duke nodded again, looking her over concernedly. “You look like the baby could come at any minute! I would be pleased to extend hospitality to you as needed. There are warm beds in the castle and enough midwives in town to tend to any needs you and your baby would have.”

Jaina felt her stomach clench as thoughts of what would happen if any of the locals saw her babies flashed in her mind. She could clearly imagine their panicked screams, hear the children’s frightened wailing, see herself desperately pleading for them to give her babies back while unable to move and without even the runes to cast spells…

Trying to keep herself composed, she merely politely smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate your kindness, but I have already made arrangements for where I will give birth. Still, things do not always quite go to plan!”

“Yes, and I feel like you could go into labor right here as we speak.” Duke Horacio frowned, shaking his head. “Do not be afraid! You and your baby will be in good hands, and I will make sure to send word to your husband.”

“I’ll help you out too, if need be!” Reyna added. “But, if today isn’t the day your baby comes… well, when you see the crater transformed into a beautiful beach come summer, wouldn’t that be a lovely surprise for your husband? And for the baby too—you can all walk together on the beach, enjoy the festivities as a family!”

“I would love to see it!” Jaina closed her eyes for a moment, trying to picture that hideous crater filled with white sand. The sound of the water flowing in the fountains nearby made her imagine a serene pool of water in the center, a deep blue contrasting with the pearly white sand. “To think that the scarred landscape can become beautiful again in such a short time… I think it’s a wonderful idea, and who says you can’t walk on a beach in the colder months too?”

Reyna gave a musical laugh. “Only you would think of that, Jaina! Like my hair, by the way? I’ve been testing out transformative magic on my hair to see how different hair colors complement different outfits! Look, we match now!”

“I was wondering why you’d changed your hair like that,” Jaina remarked, unsure whether to feel flattered about someone having the same hair color as she did for once. “I see you’re catching up from when you weren’t paying attention to Tutor Mikasi’s lessons!”

“Well, I wasn’t made for fighting, or to be a wizard,” Reyna said dryly, blushing a bit, and tucked a stray braid behind her ear. “I think I was more made to help spread joy and beauty to others! I can, however, make clothes for those of us who are more inclined towards adventurous pursuits and still want to look good while doing it.”

The mage nodded, wondering what kind of clothes Reyna might sell. “Perhaps I’ll come and see what you have once I’ve delivered my baby?”

“Of course! And we’ll need all the help we can get setting up the beach, too!” Her eyes sparkling eagerly, Reyna turned to the duke again. “So, Your Grace, I still think getting volunteers to bring sand is the best way to go about getting enough of it…”

Duke Horacio’s eyes still hadn’t left Jaina, and he still looked deeply concerned. “Yes, that seems so… Jaina, be careful and brace yourself for anything. I cannot shake the worry about how close your baby is…”

“The baby is due in a month’s time,” Jaina pointed out, frowning. “I’ll be ready, I assure you! But I should leave you to the organizing for now.”

She would need a little space to herself after all the people she’d met with, time to collect her thoughts and talk to the little ones for a bit. She knew just where she’d go, too.

~***~

Most of the citizens of Lumbridge did not think too highly of the large murky swamp south of town and stayed away from it, but Jaina had always been drawn to its strange beauty. There was a soothing serenity about the place that made her soul feel at ease—the dark green and blue hues of the trees and rushes made the landscape cool and vibrant, while the mushrooms that dotted rotting logs and drier patches of ground added brighter and more varied colors to the mix. The croaking of the frogs, the humming of the dragonflies, and the squeaking of the giant rats provided a pleasant symphony that filled her ears as she walked through the wetland.

“This place sure brings back memories,” she mused to her stomach. “My mother, your Nana, used to bring me here when I was little to show me the kinds of beauty in the natural world that most people overlook! I learned to appreciate it even more after I traveled through the Mort Myre swamp—that swamp is yucky and scary and everything in it wants to hurt you, but the swamp here is peaceful and beautiful!”

She walked past a cluster of bright purple mushrooms. “I heard a lot about the kinds of mushrooms that grow here, which ones are poisonous, which ones are good to eat, and which ones can go in potions! There are lots of different insects that live here too—beetles, dragonflies, katydids, crickets, and many more! Butterflies too, and there’ve been a lot more since… well…” She shook her head sadly. *That is a story for another time…*

The weight of her stomach was really putting pressure on her, and she had to lean against a tree to rest her sore legs. “The world you’ll know is so very different from the world I remember. You won’t ever think there are only three gods, you won’t know that the god of my childhood was ever more than wisps, you’ll know about all the different kinds of magic there are, you’ll know all about our people’s history and heritage… To think that you’ll never know a world without Zaros being there, that you’ll know everything about his ways and how to follow him, that you’ll never have to worry about when he’ll finally come back!”

Closing her eyes contentedly, the adventurer cradled her stomach and softly hummed a lullaby she had heard from Azzanadra often as of late. It was an old Mahjarrat lullaby, he had said, although the ancient lyrics were of course in the primal, harsh growls and purrs of the Freneskaen tongue and thus not too palatable to the human ear. Occasionally he would sing it in Infernal, although most of the time, he would quietly hum the tune. Jaina wasn’t sure quite how she knew, but she could always tell that the children were comforted and delighted to hear it—and they certainly were now.

“So, World Guardian, our paths cross again.” The sound of the voice, cold and female, at once shattered the serene peace. “How ironic that I would find you here of all places, a full year after I needed you most.”

Jaina’s eyes snapped wide-open at the sound of the voice, and she found herself face to face with an all too familiar tall, graceful half-Mahjarrat. Already she could also see red-robed mages, warriors of Zamorak, and archers in blessed red dragonhide teleporting in as well. She was surrounded!

“Moia! Were you… were you tracking me the whole time?”

“Save your questions.” Moia waved her hand to cast an Entangle spell, ensnaring Jaina before she could react and pinning her to the tree. “We have much to discuss.”

Chapter Text

The magical bonds that held the adventurer to the tree were so tight and firm that it was as though the tree’s very roots had grown around her and were squeezing her against the trunk. She could not even move her hands or arms an inch, and even though one hand rested on her bag and she could probably dispel the bonds, the archers in Moia’s entourage were clearly ready to take aim at her if she dared try anything—if the general herself didn’t act first.

Moia’s eyes glowed brightly as she stepped confidently forward. “A shame it had to come to this, really. Perhaps, under better circumstances, you might have realized sooner the potential my lord sees in your child.”

Jaina gritted her teeth and shot her a defiant glare. “Why would I want my child to be anywhere near Zamorak?”

“You still do not understand, I see.” Moia sighed, shaking her head. “Am I not proof that my lord recognizes the potential and worth your child has? He values and respects both my Mahjarrat and my human half, and understands the unique capabilities my heritage brings me. The same is so for your child—we are the future of the Mahjarrat race, and who better than I to teach your child about its heritage? I intend to serve as the best mentor I can, as my lord has done for me.”

“Did you just say Zamorak respects humans?” The adventurer paled and stared straight back at her. “The same Zamorak who gleefully slaughtered so many humans in ages past, blew up an entire continent, and nearly destroyed my hometown? Whose followers think humans are worthless and weak? I won’t let my child become a tool for a heartless warmonger’s wanton destruction!”

“Tool, you say? You believe I am a tool, and that Zamorak seeks to make your child a tool?” Moia’s eyes narrowed and flashed warningly. “You are one to talk, World Guardian. Do you think your lover has not been using you as a tool this whole time, that your child was not intended to be anything but a tool for the Zarosians to gain power and have an asset as useful as I? You are the very picture of a tool to be used for others’ own ends. Consider how they have kept you prisoner in your own home, ostensibly to ensure that your child turns out strong and useful!”

“I’m not a prisoner; it was bedrest! Pregnant humans have to do that all the time.” Jaina had to admit she only half believed her own words; her house had certainly been feeling very much like a prison—but that didn’t mean Moia was right about anything else, or that Zamorak would treat her any better. She wondered if he would order the twins to be ripped out of her and taken from her, or worse… “As far as I can tell, it’s you who plans to deliver me to Zamorak as a prisoner!”

“Only if you force my hand,” Moia snapped, the pinkish glow in her eyes dimming slightly. “You are fortunate that I am willing to try reason and persuasion rather than resorting immediately to coercion. Surely you desire a place in the world where your child will be welcomed and accepted? A life for them where they can understand both their Mahjarrat and human halves, learn to use their powers freely and effectively, never have to worry about being thought of as lesser or weaker?”

“I have a place like that already,” Jaina shot back, mentally steeling her resolve. She wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, but she knew that Zamorak would hardly offer anything as rosy as Moia made it sound. “It’s with me and their father! Knowing Zamorak, he would have me killed when I wasn’t looking so he could do whatever he liked with my child—and that’s if his other followers didn’t try to harm them first! Enakhra would kill my baby outright if she knew they existed!”

“You do not know my lord at all, not the way I do. Do you think he is so incompetent as to be incapable of keeping his followers in line? The Mahjarrat ultimately do as he wishes—even those whose loyalties may have wavered at times.” Moia scrutinized her closely, eyeing her up and down before giving a pensive nod. “Your lover has clearly been filling your head with nonsense for too long. I shall have to see just what it is he has been telling you!”

No! Not like this, she couldn’t let this happen… she couldn’t let Moia take her memories, leave her an empty shell of her former self… she couldn’t forget her children…

Before Moia had a chance to place an outstretched hand on her forehead, a new, unfamiliar voice suddenly came from behind her. “Treacherous servant of Zamorak, unhand the World Guardian at once!”

Moia whirled around, her eyes glowing brightly as her features twisted into a harsh scowl. “So, Padomenes, you plague me with your presence once more. Why are you here?”

The loud flapping of large wings grew closer, and Jaina felt a sharp shiver wrack her body as a stout, imposing icyene with a huge nose and a ridiculous trident-shaped beard flew over, a small entourage of White Knights and wizards following in his wake. His golden cuirass and helm gleamed blindingly in the sunlight, and he carried a large Saradomin-star-shaped spear in one hand.

“I pursued you here, Moia,” he replied pointedly, drawing an offhand sword from where it hung at his waist. “I know what you are planning. You will not harm the World Guardian, nor the child she carries!”

Moia glared and took a step towards him. “I believe that is my line. If you know about the child’s heritage, then that means Saradomin would see the so-called abomination destroyed! You have the gall to suggest my lord or I would mean them harm, when that is what you seek?”

“You presume to know our mission? You are sorely mistaken!” Padomenes shook his head and turned his gaze to Jaina. “You need not fear any longer, World Guardian. We are here to set you free, see you to a safe place to give birth!”

“W-what?” Jaina opened her mouth to protest, but Moia spoke up again. “You have stood in our way once already, and that is one time too many. I will not fail my lord this time! I cannot afford to fail… I’ll never allow this child to die, and never at Saradominist hands!”

“Your loss was necessary for the greater good,” Padomenes retorted, “much like the duty entrusted to me at the moment.” His deep sapphire eyes seemed to cut straight through Jaina as he looked at her once more. “Never mind these Zamorakian scum; come with us, and I shall see you to Falador Castle posthaste!”

The adventurer turned pale, trembling all over where she stood bound, and instinctively recoiled—though she couldn’t actually move with her back to the tree. “No… I can’t go there! Anywhere but there…”

“Why would the prospect frighten you so?” Padomenes frowned and looked her over with a single raised brow. “You would receive top-quality care, and my lord Saradomin would ensure the survival and safety of both you and your child if the midwives could not. Both of you would be safe from harm, safe from the dark sorcery of the child’s father…”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me surrender and go quietly?” She frantically strained against her bonds, every inch of her still shaking. There was no way she could believe Saradomin would let the children live, any more than she could believe Zamorak meant anything good for them. “I… I won’t let you take my baby away from me! Either of you!”

“You are in no position to bargain, World Guardian,” Moia snapped, shooting her a piercing glare. “You see now that your child’s life hangs in the balance. You can save yourself a good deal of trouble if you simply make a choice, and you know now that it is a choice between your child’s life or death. Does my lord Zamorak seem quite so terrible now?”

“Moia! Cease poisoning her mind with your lies!” Padomenes swiftly leveled the tip of his spear in the half-Mahjarrat’s direction. “The light of Saradomin can shine on anyone, and this child is no exception. Zamorak would seek only to forge the poor thing into a tool of destruction!”

“You do not know what it is like to be the only one of your kind, Padomenes.” Moia’s eyes glowed with resolute determination as she conjured a fire spell around her hand. “You do not know what it is to spend centuries never truly belonging anywhere, to be spurned by both halves of your kind because you are not fully one or the other. No one but my lord has ever thought differently about me, about my heritage! And now, with there being another like me, I can be a mentor, a leader, show them how to grow stronger from the adversity they face and ensure that they will not have to face it alone. You will not take that opportunity away!”

Part of Jaina was hoping the two might get distracted and fight each other, but it seemed like too much to hope for—they were far more likely to turn on her instead, she was sure, knock her out and drag her to Zaros only knew wherever to rip the twins out of her. Even if they did fight, she might get hit by accident, or one of their respective entourages would target her in the fray—especially one of the archers! This was exactly what she had feared would happen had she dared show her face in Lumbridge during the battle—both sides fighting over who would get her first, as if they owned her, and now as if they owned her children too.

“Just stop it already!” she heard herself futilely protesting. “Don’t I get a say in any of th—aaaaaah!”

Her insides suddenly clutched painfully sharply, and a sudden rush of water burst from within her and spilled down her legs all at once. A wordless gasp escaped her lips as she stared down at the puddle at her feet. “W-what? No, it can’t be… why here… why now… too soon!” Straining against her bonds, she blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes. “There was… supposed… to be… one month… more…”

Moia snapped to attention, straightening bolt upright. “The child is coming! There’s no time to waste!”

She motioned to her entourage and made a leap towards Jaina, but Padomenes brandished his spear and swooped in to block her way. “Make haste, brave men!” he shouted, raising his offhand sword. “We must get her to the castle swiftly!”

He lunged towards Moia, who deftly rolled out of the way and flung a Fire Wave at him, and at once the soldiers all leapt into action as well. Soon they were fighting amongst one another, slinging spells and arrows and drawing swords, struggling to push towards Jaina.

Her eyes darted frantically around, from the errant spells to the stray arrows—they were all distracted for now! Quickly she strained to get her hand in her bag, but as an arrow suddenly whizzed by the tree, she realized she might get hit in the crossfires… She had to think fast, had to do something before any of them could grab her or an arrow hit her. She managed to get her hand in her bag and feel around for the runes, despite the sharp pain of her insides clutching again. She had to cast some kind of a spell to escape!

But what could she do? Which way should she go? Where could she teleport to? All she could think of was “away from here,” and she could even see droplets of red in the puddle beneath her feet. She was bleeding! Was this supposed to happen? Zaros, it hurt so much…

As the adventurer looked around for some kind of an escape route, an idea suddenly occurred to her. The toolshed! The magical shed that housed the fairy ring to Zanaris! If she could just get there while they were distracted, they wouldn’t be able to follow her since none of them had fairy magic, and she could figure out what to do next from there.

She took off stumbling towards the shed—curses, she’d forgotten she couldn’t run! She had to hurry, had to get away before they spotted her…

“After her!”

A group of three White Knights swiftly moved to block her way, and several Zamorakian archers rushed to close in on her from behind. She gasped and stumbled forward, having to grab a nearby tree branch to keep from falling as her insides continued to clench sharply.

An unseen spell suddenly struck her from behind, and her head swam at the tingling sensation all over her. Her limbs felt heavier than usual, and it felt as though some invisible force was binding her, tethering her by a rope to the ground. A teleblock spell—she was trapped! There was no way out of this one on her own, and both forces were getting closer to her, swords and bows drawn.

She had to think fast! If only she had a way to call for help… wait, or did she?

Pulling her bag closer to her, Jaina uttered a cry of pain and did her best to concentrate, reaching out with the Contact spell. Sure enough, the familiar voice of her beloved immediately filled her mind. “What? This presence pressing upon my mind! It is not one of my brothers, nor is it even Mahjarrat—wait, Jaina?”

“Yes, Azzanadra, I’m here!” She could see the archers leveling their bows at the White Knights, but the knights remained undaunted and continued to hurry towards her. “Please, I’ve… I’ve been cornered… The children—they’re coming!”

“What? Now?” His voice was frantic. “What do you mean, cornered? Where are you? Are you not at home?”

“The swamp, south of Lumbridge!” Oh Zaros, how it hurt, how hard it was to think straight… “There are hostile forces! I’m surrounded… they have archers… Please, you have to hurry! They’re after the children!”

“Say no more! I will be there at once.”

Hardly had the Contact been broken than she could see him teleport nearby and rush to her side, past the archers Quickly she reached out to him and stumbled into his arms, having to hold onto him for support.

Azzanadra lifted her up, holding her securely to his chest, and easily dispelled the teleblock from her. She could hear Moia’s alarmed shout just before the world changed around them in a flash and she suddenly felt the hot desert sun on her back.

The next few moments were a blur as he rushed her into the bar and shouted to the patrons to fetch the midwives at once, and a couple of the bandits pulled her from his arms to carry her upstairs. When she was snugly settled in the straw-filled bed they had prepared, she managed to catch her breath, gasping for air and blinking away the tears brought on by the pain.

Several bandit women came rushing up the ladder, hauling blankets, water barrels, and other things she couldn’t quite make out along with them. As they gathered around her bedside, she saw Wahisietel hurry along after them, looking just as frantic as they all did.

“We must thoroughly examine her!” he exclaimed, motioning to the midwives as he knelt beside her. “We must do our best to ensure there are no serious complications. Jaina, are you hurt? Does anything feel strange?”

Jaina nodded blankly, barely able to pay attention through all the pain as the midwives set upon her to disrobe her. “It really hurts… I can’t hear myself think… I… I saw blood…”

As if on cue, one of the midwives gave a frightened screech, causing the adventurer to cringe from the sharp earsplitting sound. “She’s bleeding! She’s losing blood! Lord Wahisietel, what do we do? We could lose her…”

“This is a bad sign,” another lamented. “Something is wrong! Lord Zaros, please, watch over us and grant Lady Jaina and the holy children the strength to survive!”

“Stay calm!” Wahisietel firmly motioned with his hand to try to calm them down. “I do not know what is causing her to bleed from the inside or if she was wounded, but it does clearly indicate that it will be unsafe to proceed as usual. We will need to cut her open to safely remove the children and heal her wounds.”

“E-eh?” Jaina stared at him blankly, a sudden shiver surging through her. Cutting her open? That would be even more excruciatingly painful, and she’d bleed a lot from it, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be put back together properly… “Yikes…”

“Jaina, it is the best way to ensure that both you and the children survive unharmed.” Wahisietel seemed to hesitate a moment before placing one hand reassuringly upon her hand. “I will place you into a magical sleep so that you will not feel the pain of being cut open and wake you once it is through and you are fully healed, but it must be done for your own good!”

The prospect was still terrifying, and the idea of a magical sleep she might never awaken from was even more so, but Jaina could only weakly nod—and she wasn’t sure how much of this mind-numbing agony she could take. “I… yes… if anything happened, to them, I couldn’t…”

Wahisietel squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Relax, rest your head… I have researched human births extensively, and these women are all well prepared to care for you properly!”

He waved a hand over her and muttered a spell, and Jaina found herself sinking into the bed, her muscles relaxing and her eyelids growing heavy. As her vision blurred and her head started to swim, she gathered the last of her thoughts to silently pray to Zaros to give her the strength to awaken from this ordeal and be able to see her children.

~***~

Where am I?

It hurts! It’s too bright! It’s too cold—who are you? Put me down! You smell weird… Where’s Mommy? I can’t feel Mommy anymore! And I can’t find Brother… Mommy!

Brother? There you are! I feel you again! You’re scared too? And cold? Don’t go away again, Brother…

Now I’m warm again, but it’s not like the warm dark place, and I still can’t feel Mommy… I know I feel Daddy, but I can’t find him… Daddy! Where are you? Where’s Mommy? Why can’t I feel her?

Who are you? You’re warm, but you’re not Daddy. You feel different… I felt you sometimes before! But I wanna find Mommy, and Brother does too…

Mommy! Daddy! Where are you! I need you! Brother needs you! This place is so scary… Mommy… Daddy… can you hear me? Mommy!

~***~

The sound of desperate crying suddenly filled her ears, and she slowly opened her eyes, groaning at how stiff and achy her whole body felt. Her insides still ached, her head was pounding, and several strands of her loosened hair hung in her eyes. She could feel some kind of a warm wet cloth being scrubbed between her legs—was she being washed up? Just how messy had things been?

Jaina sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and brushing the strands of hair out of her face, and then suddenly shot bolt upright as she realized what the crying she heard was. “The children! Are they okay? I must see them!”

The midwife who had been washing her gasped. “My lady! You are awake!”

“The children are unharmed and healthy,” another one added. “Lord Wahisietel has them at the moment! There is a girl and a boy! It will not take much longer to finish this; we have already seen to getting you fresh unsoiled blankets and bedding.”

“I have to see them!”

Jaina tried to get up, but they gently held her down to finish cleaning her as Wahisietel headed over to kneel by her side again. “Here they are—the first of our kind born in many centuries. Your son and daughter.”

The midwives took a few moments to dry her off before drawing back, and then Wahisietel carefully placed two wailing bundles in her arms. She held them securely and steadily, her arms shaking a little as she did so—they were kind of heavy, and she couldn’t let them slip!

The twins quieted down slightly as they looked up at her with teary eyes, blinking curiously as they sniffled, and she began to gently rock them and hum softly to reassure them that she was there. All thoughts of the pain and agony, of the harrowing ordeal she had endured, rapidly faded from her mind as she rocked them and smiled encouragingly at them.

Never had she seen a more beautiful sight—they were just so small and adorable, with tiny little hands, dark purple facial stripes, rounded cheeks, and cute button noses. Both were wrapped snugly in warm white blankets with pinstripes lining the edges; the boy’s blanket had red and gold stripes, while the girl’s had cyan and silver. They both had the dark eyes of a Mahjarrat, the boy’s indigo and the girl’s lavender; both of them had teardrop-shaped gems in their foreheads as well, the boy’s a reddish purple and the girl’s a bright blue. Their heads were already covered in soft, thin strands of purple hair, the boy’s a dark indigo and the girl’s a soft lavender, and beneath those thin strands of hair were faint little bumps, the first signs of headspines.

“I’ve waited such a long time to meet you, little ones,” Jaina whispered, beaming tenderly down at them. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, to hold you, at last!”

They stopped crying and quietly blinked up at her, looking contented and at ease, and she lightly held out a finger to touch the girl’s tiny hand. Little fingers wrapped firmly around her finger and grasped it purposefully, and she couldn’t help but give a contented hum.

“Ah, but now all you need is names! And I know just what to call you.” She placed a hand gently on her daughter’s head. “You’ll be Azra…” She moved her hand to her son’s head. “And you’re Dastan!”

Azra blew a spit bubble, and Dastan squirmed impatiently from within the confines of his blanket. As Jaina gently reached out to hold his tiny hand, she wondered if they were trying to express satisfaction with their names as best as they could.

“So I am somewhat late, I see.” A very disheveled Azzanadra hurried up the ladder and knelt by Jaina’s side. “I have just barely missed my children having names conferred upon them!”

She eyed him oddly. “Azzanadra? Why do you look like you’ve been in a fight?”

“Because, my dear, I practically was,” he replied, smiling dryly. “I wished desperately to see how you and the children were faring, worried so greatly that some or all of you might not make it. Akthanakos insisted upon restraining me to ensure that Wahisietel and the humans could aid you unhindered!”

“A task that was far easier said than done,” Akthanakos remarked as he also ascended the ladder. He too looked disheveled and worn, tired even. “Imagine attempting to hold back a mighty Tsutsaroth who can lift a sword three times the size of the largest blades human warriors can wield, with only your raw physical strength and your bare hands. Imagine that he is struggling and pushing forward and wildly swinging his sword as you try to hold him back, and roaring impatiently. That is roughly what I had to do!”

“You exaggerate dearly, brother,” Azzanadra retorted, raising an eyeridge at him. “I have far greater self-control than you insinuate! I had just as much the sense to stay in contact with Wahisietel as you did. I would not have been nearly as reckless as some battle-ready demon!”

“You still tried to rush upstairs the moment you felt their life-forces more clearly!” Akthanakos pointed out. “She may have always been keen to have you present in raising them, but that was still too soon!”

The twins began crying once more and squirming in their blankets, and Jaina tried gently rocking them to soothe them once more. “Shhh, it’s okay! Look, your father is here! He’s been keen to meet you too!”

She held them out to Azzanadra, and as he carefully took them they quieted down again, gazing intently up at him. He was looking down at them with an unusually soft and contemplative gaze, but there also seemed to be a look of surprise and astonishment in his eyes.

“So, little ones… Azra, Dastan… my children.” A slight smile crossed his features as he gently traced the stripe on Dastan’s cheek. “Long have I waited to see and hold you for the first time, but I was not so sure what to expect of you! I do hope that you are keen to meet me as well.”

For a moment the twins looked content in his arms, but suddenly Dastan began crying again, and Azra started to cry loudly as well. Azzanadra attempted to rock them and stroke their backs to calm them down, but they both kept crying, and he frowned apprehensively. “Hm? What could be the matter…”

Jaina looked worriedly over at them, wondering if they might happen to need something… wait, need something?

“Oh, you two must be hungry! Of course, you have come a long way, after all.”

She motioned for Azzanadra to pass them over to her, and he did so, eyeing her oddly. Her face heated up a bit as she carefully adjusted the loose white cotton robe the midwives had dressed her in, and then slowly guided the twins to her breasts. It took them a few tries to latch on, and Dastan struggled with it a little bit more than Azra, but she managed to set about feeding them fairly quickly.

Immediately Wahisietel and Akthanakos turned their faces away, their stripes darkening profusely, but Azzanadra did not remove his sight from the twins. His expression was difficult to read, an odd mix of fascination, bafflement, and delight, and Jaina felt her face growing hotter at the way his gaze seemed to pierce her.

“I have never personally beheld a human mother feeding her child in this way before,” he remarked quietly. “Not up close like this, at least... Never did I think I would, nor that I would be so enthralled by it… and certainly not that it would be my children I would be seeing…”

“I could have never dreamed I would find myself in a place like this either.” She smiled a little shakily. “But hasn’t my entire life been one thing I could have never imagined after another?”

She had actually dreamed of this moment in her life several times before, of sitting beside someone and holding the child they had made together—a child she would one day take on adventures and show the world to, just like Father had promised he would do for her one day. Of course, she hadn’t foreseen it would be like this, and hadn’t known what to expect, other than that she’d expected that her firstborn would just be one fully human baby. But she had never been able to imagine how truly wondrous this moment was, how exhilarating it was, how excited she found herself to begin her new life with both of them.

When Azra and Dastan pulled back, looking satisfied and content, Jaina set about gently wiping their mouths and patting each of them on the back. “You might not have been anything I could have ever dreamed of, but you’re much more, much better, than anything I could have dreamed of! We have much to do, much to see, together—isn’t that exciting?”

She could only take the way they were cutely drooling as a resounding yes—and whatever the future held for them, she would be strong for them and face it bravely.