Several weeks had passed since Natalia had come to live in the palace. Were an outsider to see what was transpiring in the life of the new princess, they would be totally flabbergasted. The beautiful young girl with a perfect hourglass figure who had taken the cloak around her shoulders, no longer held that same shape. Her abdomen was now round, unmistakably pregnant, and she looked quite progressed into said pregnancy: perhaps six months along (even though she had been in the castle for just six weeks).

While objectively she was even more of a beauty to behold, she'd become more pale by the day. It was clear the pregnancy was taking a toll on her. Every morning, she vomited. Every day she drank as much blood as she could stand, and yet, every day, she seemed to grow weaker. Her dream of enjoying her child as a human was dying day by day. Her resolute determination kept her moving forward, but the pregnancy was both literally and figuratively draining the life from her.

One morning she awoke, and the pain taking over her so thoroughly she could barely breathe. "Marcello?" She called out, as he was not in the room by her side. Most days he was there when she woke, but not every day. He didn't want to hover, but he also didn't want to not be there if she needed him. Until then, she hadn't, and he'd become more lax with his vigil.

The past few weeks had been an adjustment on both sides, and Marcello was trying to cope. He'd gone from a man who had all the time in the world to do whatever he wished, to a man married to a woman who needed so much from him. Worst of all, he loved her. Had he not fallen so hard and fast, he could've simply left her in someone else's care. He wouldn't feel that wrenching in his gut every morning when he had to watch her blood red vomit. He would've felt no remorse for not being able to console her for that or the copious amounts of blood she choked down.

She'd begun to drink more than even he did—just to survive! And still? Their baby was killing her. He watched day by day as the life drained away from her, and despite that, they had instructed him the child mattered above all. He found himself cursing how strong the baby was. For the first time, doubting that she might actually survive. He just wanted to be there for her as much as he could, help in any way he could, but the truth was, it was hurting him to watch her suffer. So sometimes, he had to retreat.

He had taken a morning walk through the palace, unable to watch her pale, weakened form sleep. He tried to 'sleep' with her and comfort her as much as possible, but sometimes the pressure and sadness of her state just got to him. Once she was thoroughly asleep, he'd retreated to his drawing room. He'd been painting all night, letting some of his frustration out on the canvas.

In her room, Natalia's shining green eyes looked for a sign of relief from the crippling pain. She couldn't walk because of the stabbing in her abdomen, and the glass by her bed was empty. The bottle of blood was clear across the room, and there was nothing she could do but stare at it pitifully.

"Someone?" She called out, hoping perhaps a passing maid would hear. It was a sad plea, but when no one came she mustered everything in her and yelled as loudly as she could, "HELP!"

Mid-step, he heard her scream out. If he had a heart, it would've missed a beat. Marcello dropped his materials, sped through the castle, creating a small air rush behind him, and slammed open the bedroom door. It took him only a few moments to assess the situation. He saw her in severe pain, reaching out, the glass on the dresser. In seconds, it was in her hand and he was guiding it to her mouth. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it just the blood?"

"I... I don't know..." she replied, sweat on her brow. She tried to drink as fast as she could, but the pain wasn't subsiding. She was clutching her stomach. "What's in the box? Something has to be in the box that can help!" She'd reached her limit. Natalia never wanted to use the box, but she felt like something was ripping at her insides.

She closed her eyes, tears pouring out of them as the sweat beads on her forehead dripped down. "And m—m—more blood!" she stammered and waited for him to bring a glass to her once more, knocking it back quickly as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did.

Her breathing was labored as she tried to focus on him scouring through the box. The pain had subsided just barely, but it was still consuming her. She felt her hand actually move and looked down to see a visible kick through her stomach. "Are you serious?" She asked, watching the tiny foot imprint appear on her stomach. "That's you kicking?" It had felt like someone ripping at her with claws, but now the foot just rested, not moving, but clearly visible through her stomach. It was tiny but unmistakably a foot.

"Marcello!" she called over to him, pushing the covers down and her nightdress up all the way so he could see the little foot literally sticking out of her stomach. "He was KICKING me! With the force of a dozen rabid wolves!"

He turned as he had the box in one arm and the decanter of blood in the other, looking terrified, like a hunted deer. He could see the foot nudging at her, settled for now, just poking at her slightly. Putting the two items down on the bed, he delicately rested a hand over it. "My son!" He gave it the gentlest of strokes. "Please don't hurt your mother." He had heard the stories of a pure bred's kick being painful and strong, but this was not what he had imagined.

It took a lot for him to move away from the little sign of his baby boy. To rummage through the box and pull out a clear liquid vial. "This should help dull the pain. It will put him in a slumber for a little while. There's a good chance he could wake up and want another little play though," he said it trying to make it light-hearted.

Whilst her face was a picture of illness, anger, and frustration, he couldn't contain his cheerful smile. This made him feel some guilt considering her state. A kick was the sign of a good healthy baby, and that he was growing at a great rate. His smile did falter when he realised he would kick a lot more, and a kick in the right place could mean cracking ribs, or worse. They would have to keep him carefully positioned and comfortable.

He poured her a fresh glass of blood. "Was it truly that bad? Would you like me to get the doctor?" It had happened a few times when the pain had been a little too much. The doctor would check her over before deciding it was just normal pain, but her condition deteriorating meant she would feel it more and more strongly.

"He's stopped," she insisted, shaking her head. "Maybe he will just calm down for a little while now that he's had two glasses of blood." She looked down at her abdomen and sighed. Despite that foot being completely still, she felt another sharp pain, and the imprint of another foot appeared.

"How are you doing that?" She asked. One foot was totally still, yet that one was kicking her with a fury. "How is that even possible?" She looked up at Marcello. Then she realized it wasn't one foot kicking...it was two. Which made a total of three feet. "Oh god..."

There was a fear in her eyes, face going even paler than it had already been, which was a difficult thing to accomplish. Suddenly, her body went limp and eyes rolled back in her head. Thankfully, she was already in bed, so there was nowhere to fall.

He couldn't tell if she'd fainted from fear or pain. Since her heart was still beating reasonably fast, he guessed it was most likely fear. He knelt on the bed and held her in his lap, stroking her hair with one hand and resting a hand on her stomach with the little feet.

Twins! There had never been a recorded case of twins in history! They had doubled their chances of a successful male heir! But it also meant... they had also doubled their chances of Nat not surviving. The thought of it made his stomach churn, and a deep pit of sadness welled up within him. Why had this happened? The greatest form of a blessing and a curse.

He leaned his face close to her stomach and spoke, "If you can understand me, you need to sit still and comfy for mummy. She was struggling a lot, and with the both of you, its just going to be too much. Once you're out of there, we can bounce and play, but right now just rest." There were no rules at this point, no guideline. They were the first couple to have this gift. Maybe she would gain more powers, or maybe she would be drained to death before they were even born. There were too many maybes.

He waited for her to stir on her own, but when she did not, he gave her a soft kiss. "Come back to me Nat, we need to have a little talk about this."

She gently opened her eyes, wondering if it had been a dream, but the look on his face told her it most definitely had not been. "Are they going to kill me?" She asked pitifully, still not moving, eyes barely open. She could feel tears welling up. What should've been something exciting and glorious was... terrifying. It explained why she was growing so fast. Why she had to drink so much. It explained a lot. Still, there was no comfort in it.

"Has this ever even happened before?" She asked, taking his hands in her own. "I mean, I want them to be safe and healthy... I just... if one could kill me... two?" Her lip was trembling as she looked into his eyes. "What do we do?"

He wiped away her tears, doing his very best to comfort her. "This has never happened before. We don't know what might happen from here. It could make things worse, but it could make things better!" He didn't really believe his own words. Odds were it was going to make this pregnancy so much harder. Double the intake of blood, double the internal damage and physical drain, but kept a smile on his face for her sake.

He lifted her up a little to sit up against the headboard with him. "I know its scary Nat, but I will not let you die. Not now, not ever. We'll make sure you get whatever medicine you need. We'll do everything it takes and more. At the end of this, we will be our little happy family!" He offered her some more blood. Just in case she needed it now that she was upright while surveying the little bruise marks that had appeared on her stomach.

"I know this isn't the best time to say this, but... twins! If this all goes well, then we could have vampiric twins, the first vampiric twins. Perhaps you'll get some double benefits from the pregnancy too! Maybe you'll get the strength and resistance, stuff that will help you through this!" He was a little giddy from the entire ordeal, just praying that she understood where he was coming from.

"I want to be happy," she said weakly, taking another sip of the blood. "No, I am happy. I'm just... scared." From the beginning, this had been terrifying enough without double the risk and double the problems. "Surely at least one of them is a boy," she laughed, trying to raise her spirits.

"What happens if they're both boys?" She asked, actually thinking about it for the first time. "I mean, is there only one heir, one successor? Are we making up entirely new rules because they've never had this issue?" She laughed again. "Of course I had to make it harder."

She stroked his face with a smile. "I love you, and I love them. And I just hope they don't kill me before I get to meet them." She looked down at her stomach, the bruises left behind from their kicking. She actually had a perfect footprint bruise. "That's kind of adorable. I wish I could save that forever."

Her eyes lit up for a moment. "You could paint it! Exactly the size it is right now! So we would never forget the day we found out there were two little monsters inside me." A broad smile stretched across her face as she said, "monsters" lovingly. She knew he hated the term, but they were slowly trying to kill her.

Her use of the word monsters made him smile with a huff. Apparently, it was endearing for parents to call their children little monsters when they misbehaved. She was, of course, using it ironically to annoy him, but it still made him laugh. He got up and pulled some paper and drawing materials from his desk, sitting back down and balancing the paper on his perfectly still leg. A look of focus suddenly coming across him as he studied the exact size and shape of the little footprint.

He sketched it out. "Well, as the mother and father, soon to be king and queen, I think its only fair for us to decide which one should become King in whatever way we like." If they were going through the ordeal of having twins, then they would also get some rights about how those twins lived. He started work on the shading, colouring it as an actual tiny foot rather than a bruise.

"I think we need to tell some people: namely the doctor and my parents. Just in case they need to know for an emergency or something of the like. Maybe we should be a little more cautious with the rest of the world, though. It could cause some issues if people learned of your additional vulnerability." The look of concentration hadn't left his face until he glanced up and noticed her smiling lazily at him. He sighed. For the past few weeks, she had always made fun of his 'thinking face.'

He turned the picture around to show a tiny baby's foot in perfect detail. "How's that? You know we're going to have to think of more names now too." The naming debate had gone back and forth a few times. Each time breaking down over whether it was a boy or a girl.

"That's perfect..." she smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I figured at a minimum the doctor should know and telling your parents would also be good." She was still beaming at him, some of the fear now having gone by the wayside.

"But names, that's going to mean more debates. I still like Sibella for a girl." He hadn't been terribly fond of that name the first time, though. She was hoping it would at least end up as a middle name if either of them were girls. It was a strange tug of war in her heart. She wanted a little girl, but she also knew practically a girl would never be afforded many of the things a boy would. She could never have children. She could take lovers and perhaps she could marry, but it would have to be someone who came to live with her rather than her going to their home. Therefore, royal marriage wouldn't do. She was going to be denied many things, but the thought of having a little girl still made her heart sing.

And practically, they needed at least one boy. If they had two, it could create issues. Perhaps it would not, but she didn't want to see the jealousy and fighting that two male siblings often had—trying to off one another to 'rule' rather than being brothers. She didn't want that for her children. She'd been through too much to bring them into this world to have them take one another out of it.