Why dost thou pass away and leave our state,

This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?
Ask why the sunlight not for ever
Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain-river,
Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown,
Why fear and dream and death and birth
Cast on the daylight of this earth
Such gloom, why man has such a scope
For love and hate, despondency and hope?
-

Bonnie hated to even think it, but- truthfully, the prospect of seeing Susan intimidated her nowadays, and was rather panic-inducing. It wasn't her girlfriend's fault- not at all- it was just that she really didn't know how to comfort her. Whatever time she had spent with her since she had found out that all of Susan's family had been killed- it all felt wrong and awkward and she felt like she was shooting herself in the foot with every word she told her. With Sanya, too, to be honest- but since she lived closer to Susan, she had had more interactions with her.

How could she help someone with grief, when she had never really known any? Sure, one of her grandfathers had died, but she had been a baby then! Apart from that, she knew no loss.

But there was no point in stressing about this now, because she was already at the Pevensie house and she had rung the bell, which meant there was no chance that she could run back to the Rainsford house with her tail between her legs.

"Oh, hello, Bonnie." Susan said politely as she opened the door. "Come in, come in- sorry, I know I look a mess-"

Her girlfriend had her hair tied back, and she was wearing pyjama bottoms and a shirt that was surely either her brothers' or her father's.
She did not look like a mess, Bonnie thought. She looked- she looked real. And she realised, again, how much she loved her. And also how much she wanted to kiss her- all over.
She shook her head immediately, starting to blush, "No, you don't. Are you cleaning?"

"No, just moving some things out here that I can sell." She said, as she turned to walk over to the living room.

The drawing room was near-full with boxes and knick-knacks- from a broken radio sitting on the center table to a box labelled 'ALBERTA'S GIFTS- GIVE AWAY' to a collection of dusty almanacs- and Bonnie was coughing before she even entered the room.

There was no place she could see that she would be able to sit without breaking something, so she resigned herself to standing.
Lifting the neck of her blouse up to cover her nose, she asked worriedly, "Are you doing this on your own?"

Susan laughed, a sound more sorrowful than joyful.
"Yes, obviously, my dear." She did not look away from the box she was sealing with cello-tape. She had labelled it already- it was to be given to the charity shops, because she doubted anyone else would have wanted old toys belonging to her siblings and she. "Who else do I have?"

"Su, darling," Bonnie still kept her nose covered as she navigated a path through the rubbish towards her girlfriend, "I live five minutes away. You could have telephoned-"

"I sold the telephone."
She would buy a cheaper one when she went into London to apply for another job.
She didn't want another one- but, unfortunately, she had to recognise the need to have a functioning telephone nowadays.
"The television, too."
But not the record-player. Her mother had gifted her father that just the Christmas of '45. Susan had played music from it on Christmas, and everyone had patiently- mostly- listened. She could not let go of it.

"Oh."

Susan wanted to turn around and wrap her arms around her girlfriend, because she knew she was standing so close- but she couldn't bear to look at her. She wanted to look at her, but she just couldn't.
"I thought you knew."

"No," Bonnie stupidly shook her head again, even though Susan wouldn't be able to see it, "I- when I came yesterday, I didn't come in, remember-"

"Yes, the lawyers were here."

There was something final and even more dead about her tone, and Bonnie felt more nervous than ever.
"What happened with them? The lawyers?"

The silence that followed felt like it was another funeral happening again.
"They want to sell the house."

"What? What in the world!?" She was horrified- and she couldn't help it, she put her hand on Susan's shoulder. Her other hand was covering her nose. "They can't do that- it's yours!"

"Yes, I know."
Her parents, blessedly optimistic that they were, had not had a will- but she was their only surviving child so she inherited the house, according to the laws of- something. Edmund would have known.
"They want me to sell it. They know- they think it's impossible for me to maintain the house on my own-"

"The house was bought, though, not rented, it's not like you have to pay money to keep it every-"

"That's not the problem here!" She finally turned to look at Bonnie, her silvery eyes both tearful and angry. "There are taxes, and there are groceries to get- then repairs and utilities- and there's- there's so many fucking bills-"
Her hands shook, and she hid them behind her back.
She took a deep breath, "The- the logical thing to do would be to sell our-" but it wasn't 'our' anymore, was it?, "house and everything in it, and I- I then move to a cheap flat somewhere."

"Oh, come on, you can't do that, this is your home- you cannot possibly want to-"

"No, I don't, but I don't have the privilege of wanting to live in my own house anymore!" She said heatedly. "I don't- I can't- I have no safety net, Bonnie. I don't have a chance."

"That's not true." She said immediately, sounding more stern than she ever did. Susan sounding so- so defeated did not seem right. It was not right! "Honey, you're- intelligent, and ambitious, and determined, and so charming, and-"

"And unmarried and a woman and lacking a university degree." Susan ended curtly. She loved her girlfriend for trying to lift her spirits- but her happiness had died with her family. "I have no prospects at all."

"This isn't a Jane Austen novel. You're a modern woman-"

"I have no talents, Bonnie! There is nothing I can do." It wasn't like partying and drinking would make money. "The only- the only way I can keep this house and- live comfortably is if- if I-"

But before Susan could finish it, Bonnie interrupted with a quiet, "Don't say it."

"It's the only way. I could get married to a rich man-" Susan was pretty, very pretty, she could easily bag a wealthy fellow, and charm him into loving her- and all her worries would go away, "we'll have babies," she did like babies, "and he'll love me enough that he'll be fine with us living here- all I have to do is hide who I truly am and who I love for my entire life-"

"Susan, no." Bonnie didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help it- a single tear fell down her cheeks. "You're a lesbian," and you love me, "and that's important and wonderful, you can't shut down-"

"It's the only way." She repeated again- there was no more anger in her eyes now, only tears. "It's a small price to pay. I can't- I can't lose this house, love."
She wanted them back. She wanted them all back so badly! But she knew that would never happen, a knowledge that made her ache in her heart and in her mind and in her stomach day and night.
"This is all I have left of my family."

More tears.
"You can't give yourself up-"

"But I should! I should! I'm the one who deserves to not be here. Not them. It's me who- who-"

"Don't say that." She said softly, moving closer to her girlfriend and wrapping her arms around her. "You don't deserve what you think you do, Susan."

"They hated me this last year. All of them. And they were right to hate me. I was just- I was- so thoughtless and silly and shallow and-"

"Flighty and too concerned with shoes?"

Susan gave her a look, "I knew you had a problem with me, too."

Bonnie sneezed then- all the dust went right for her allergies- before wincing. She had tried her best to be supportive and not show that she was judging her girlfriend's- outgoing lifestyle, but it had been hard!
"I love you, but you were going to several parties a day, and with strangers- I liked your obsession with red lipstick, and that's it."

"I love you, too, and that's fair."
Was she still all that? She still quite liked lipstick and stockings and shoes.

Despite her outward nonchalance about what others thought- she'd felt guilty and so awful about liking all that because of her family.

But her entire family was dead now. Her sweet sister, her brave brothers, her parents, her cousin- all gone.

Their funeral had been the first time she had stepped foot in a church in months, if not more. She had felt antsy about the service being there, almost itchy- though she knew it was the right thing, considering how much her family cared for their faith. It was just like how much her siblings loved their childhood fantasy.

But she had moved on from impossible things like that. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy weren't in 'Narnia' now- was that the name?- they were just dead. And who knew if Heaven existed? All she knew was that they and their parents were in graves.

Well, now she could move on from her 'socialite' life as well. It was too late, but- she could be better. If not for herself- for her family. For this house. She would- somehow- keep it safe, keep it protected, make sure the site of their childhood memories weren't taken away.

"I just- I wanted to have fun."

She hadn't really had fun, though. She had just lost sight of herself.

"It's alright, you don't need to say sorry." Bonnie smiled a little- and she wished that Susan would smile, too. She hadn't seen her genuinely smile in six weeks. It had been- it was the thirteenth of May today, so it had been more than fifty days.
But she understood. Susan had lost so much, and all at once. It would be a miracle if she ever smiled truly again.
"We all have the right to- to let loose. Your parents understood that, a little."

"I wish they had got to know you. That I had told them. About you- about us- about me."

"Me too. A meal with both our families would have been something, hm?" She said, chuckling wetly. But her voice was more serious, as she went on, "They're in Heaven now, my dear- I'm sure they know. And they love you just the same, if not more."

"You're crying." Susan realised suddenly- belatedly. She raised her hand to wipe away at the tears that fell down her girlfriend's cheek. Was she crying because of her? Oh, she must have been!
The tears that had accumulated in her eyes started to fall, too, "Don't cry, lovely, please."

"Now you're crying." Bonnie chuckled wetly. "Don't. People are supposed to cry at the wedding itself, not while making the plan of a wedding."

"I don't think I would be able to go through a wedding with a man. Even though- even though that is the easiest path forward."
Susan looked suddenly thoughtful.
"Would you cry at our wedding?"

Bonnie shrugged, secretly quite glad that both had mostly stopped crying, "Yes, probably, but we're not getting married-"

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."
What? What had she just said? Hello? Excuse her? Was her brain on at the moment? Or had it gone haywire like her parents' television usually did?
"Sorry- wait, what?"

Susan gently pushed away Bonnie's arms- and she glanced behind to make sure there was enough space between her and the nearest boxes.
Then she knelt.
"Bonnie Finlay Berkeley."

"Oh, Mother of God." Bonnie breathed, feeling like she wanted to run. But she couldn't run. Her feet were lead, and Susan was radiant. She didn't- she couldn't- oh, what was happening!?

"I've lost everyone in my life." Susan went on, ignoring the fact that her girlfriend looked like she was going to throw up. She felt like throwing up, too- she was proposing, it was only rational to feel nervous. "Except you. And I know- I know with all my heart and soul that I don't want to lose you."

This really was happening. Susan was proposing to her!
Bonnie would have fallen down, but her body seemed intent on only sneezing. She sneezed thrice in rapid succession, and she had the thought that this was the most unromantic interruption in the world.

"I know we can't get married legally, I'm not stupid. But I'm alive and unless another train decides that the last Pevensie has to be taken off this earth- I'll live for a while yet."
Susan swallowed, and held her hand out.
Her heart felt like it had stopped in the moment of where Bonnie hesitated- but then it started beating again, as her crayon-stained hand took hold of her dusty one.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If I'm somehow able to keep this house- I want to live in it with you. I love you with all I am, even if that's not much anymore- and I want to be your wife. I want you to be my wife."

"Susan." Bonnie's voice was hardly a whisper. "What are you doing?"

"Proposing." She said, forcing her voice to be steady instead of anxious. She would be calm. She would be composed. She was composed and she was classy, and she wouldn't lose herself again. "Can be described as making an offer of marriage and lifelong commitment to someone- usually out of love, but there are other reasons-"

Bonnie didn't think she had ever been this taken aback. Not even when her parents had accepted that their 'son' was a daughter- not when her brother had accepted her, or Sanya had, or Susan. Not even when she had gotten into UoL!
But now she was.
And she wasn't sure if her shock was the good sort or the bad.

Susan loved her. She did, and Bonnie believed that. She loved her, too. Maybe she even did want to spend the rest of her life with her.

But the real reason for this was her family's deaths. Susan was alone and grieving and- and, save for perhaps Sanya, Bonnie really was all she had.

"You're pro-" sneeze, "proposing to me, because you've lost everyone." She said, surprising herself. She had not meant to say it out loud. "Love, you want to marry me," another sneeze, "because- because perhaps that'll make it less likely that you'll lose me, too."

Susan swallowed again, but refused to be ruffled by that.
"I want to marry you because I love you."

"I love you, too." She said- and there came another tear. But this one wasn't all bad. Her heart, for how confused it was- it was soaring. Her girlfriend really wanted her in her life that much. Maybe it wasn't entirely out of love for her- but some part of Susan truly wanted her to be her wife. "So very much."

"Then say yes- you already said it!" It had been instant, the 'yes'- and she had been as shocked as Bonnie herself. "If you love me, it's only logical that you want to marry me- like I want to marry you-"

"Love is hardly logical." Bonnie said softly. Her sneezing seemed to have calmed down during this- well, it wasn't a rejection! She loved Susan too much to do that. It was just a- oh, Lord, she couldn't think of the word. "I adore you, and if you really want us to be wives- ask me after some time. Ask me in a few months. Or next year."

Susan was quiet then.
She got to her feet again, finding that kneeling was beginning to hurt her knees- who ever came up with this position for proposals?
But she did not let go of Bonnie's hand.
"Is that your answer then?" She finally asked, looking into Bonnie's warm brown eyes. She did not know how she was feeling- bur she wasn't crying, which was certainly a plus. Not a single hour had passed in the past month and a half that she hadn't cried. "Your answer is 'I'll tell you later'. You're postponing responding to my proposal?"

Postponement! Yes, that was it.
"Yes. That's my answer." She smiled again- it was a very small smile.
She couldn't believe she had just turned down Susan Pevensie's proposal. Was she doing the right thing, or was she just stupid?
She leaned in, and pressed her lips to Susan's. Her girlfriend, despite probably feeling quite annoyed, responded with eagerness, her arms snaking around her neck as she deepened the kiss.
"Rain-check for five minutes, please." She whispered into Susan's pretty, talented, brilliant mouth. "I hate to go, but I promise I'll be back soon."
She really, really, really did not want to leave. She never wanted to leave.
Ah- if Susan proposed again in a few months, she knew what her answer would be.

Susan did not break the kiss- she wanted it to last as long as they did, which she hoped was always.
Their lips still on each other's, she murmured, "Where are you off to, beautiful?"

"Just to call Sanya, check up on her. Maude made me promise to talk to her today-" as though she didn't already talk to her every other day!, "I thought you had a telephone, so I told her I'd call her from here."

"Today?" She was quite focused on what her girlfriend was saying, but she couldn't help but absently play with one of Bonnie's twin braids. "What's today?"

"One year anniversary of Edmund and she's wedding." Bonnie sighed softly, resting her forehead against hers- Susan's mouth went further away from her as she did that, so she pulled her closer. "She- she'll not be in a good state today."
As if she was ever in a good state.
"And you know she's practically ready to drop."
Her best friend was very pregnant. Very. Yes, still! The twins refused to let her be in peace, and seemed intent on staying in the womb for as long as possible.

No, she didn't, really. Susan had not seen Sanya since the funeral. She had missed the memorial she had held for her brother- she regretted that so much- and then she had just never had the time to go to Cambridge.

She would, though. Soon. To meet her sister-in-law and her unborn nieces or nephews, or- there really needed to be a gender-neutral word for 'siblings' children'.

She meant what she had said- she would try to do better.

"Okay. Hurry back soon." She said, kissing her again. She didn't want her to leave- ever. Bonnie was- Bonnie was her beloved. And it was only during precious moments with her that she'd realise that she was still capable of feeling emotions other than grief. "I'll finish cello-taping all of this."

Bonnie nodded, and the two finally stepped away from each other.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

No. Not really. Not at all.
But- well.
"I'll manage." She said- one corner of her lip turned up a quarter of an inch, and she turned around to the box.
It wasn't like she had the chance or choice to do anything else.
--

Sanya's water had broken, but she was too tired to get up from the bed.

She was on the ground floor, at least- it was her permanent residence now. Well, not 'permanent', perhaps- but it would be that for a while.

The only rooms she ever went to anymore were the spare room downstairs and the kitchen. Not the library, not Edmund's study, not the nursery, not their bedroom- yes, she had slept there the day of the memorial, and she had also gone into it on their anniversary two days ago, after Bonnie had called, but that was all. She'd even cut down on having to go into the drawing room.

She spent most of her time lying down in bed now- and it was only partly because Dr. Wright had told her to be on bedrest when she had gone to him in the middle of April, after she had suffered from untrue travail (that were called Braxton Hicks, in this world).

Even when she felt like getting up, she didn't. Lying down and sleeping was the closest she could get to being dead.

She had been trying to sleep, in fact, when the water had broken. Although she was exhausted all the time, sleep didn't come very easily. It never had.

Sarah had been staying with her the last two weeks. She hadn't even asked her to- she had just stayed over one night, and had not left. They'd not even spoken about it. Her presence had been quite the help- not emotionally or mentally, but physically. Sanya had gone through two pregnancies, but she had never been alone- not even with Seraphina. There had almost always been healers and nurses and maids a simple shout away.

Though, ironically, the one time she had needed help- while giving birth- no one had been around. She had done it all on her own.

She sat up- throwing off her blanket and struggling all the while- at that.

At that memory.

There had been blood between her thighs as she'd tried to push her baby out, and she had been so terrified. And she had prayed desperately, sobbing- she'd only prayed a handful of times in her life, but that had been one of them. Even then, she had not cared that she herself was in danger of death. She had just wanted the baby to be alive and healthy and safe.

It was the same now. She wanted to die, she wanted to be away from the hell that was her existence, she wanted to be with Edmund and her family- but there were the little babies that resided in her, the ones who knew her as their home and their mother. She couldn't let them die. She didn't know about the rest of their lives- but she could keep them safe in this moment.

Though her stomach was cramping, the body-ripping contractions hadn't started yet- so she knew she had some time in hand before the babies were truly on their way out.
"Sarah." She said loudly, wishing she hadn't asked her to shut the door after she had taken away her lunch tray. "Sarah! SARAH, please aaye-"

The door opened just as Sanya was halfway through her plea for her to come, and Sarah grinned at her, pulling off baking gloves.
"Vanilla cake is almost done. Fancy that as dinner?"

"Yes, but I won't be here for dinner."

The cook's brows furrowed- but before she could ask her to elaborate, she noticed the stain on the bed.
"Oh, Miss Sanya, did you have an accident-"

"No!" She flushed hotly, finally having pushed herself off the bed and to a standing position. She hadn't wet the bed since before even Sameer was born- and it had been a thousand years ago, the few occasions she had done it hardly even mattered! "I'm having the babies. It's time."
She wished Edmund was here. She would have said 'our babies', then. He would have held her hand and guided her out- and he would have been there every step of the way, unless she wanted him to give her some space. And then he would hold the babies and smile at them, with so much love in his starry eyes.

She wanted him with her so badly. She would do anything for him to be here again.

Her nose burned, and she had to grab hold of the bedstead for support.

Heavens. She was about to cry again, and she couldn't have that! She couldn't- she had something much more important than weakly snivelling to do!

"What?" She gasped, immediately rushing to hold her hand. "How are you even standing- are you not in great pain-"

"Yes, I am." She said tonelessly. Her body wasn't quite being ripped apart yet, but the pain she felt now was a clear sign that it would be soon. The ache came in deep waves, pushing down on every part of her midsection and below- even her thighs hurt.
But she didn't care to ponder the pain. She just had to push the babies out.
"Look up the- the Jaffray Taxi Service in the telephone list, it's on the piano-" Edmund had written down all the relevant telephone numbers down in a notebook a few months ago, "and call for a taxi. Say it- it-"
She closed her eyes, biting down on her lip and clutching the bed-post, as another wave of pain rolled through her body.
She took a deep breath, and continued, "Say it's Sanya Rainsford, Clarke's friend. And then call Dr. Wright- h-he should still be at the maternity hospital-"

"Miss-"

"Go, Sarah- please."
She had to pack the bag- she had brought most of the necessities down from upstairs, but it would take effort and time, still.
Why hadn't she had it packed from before!? She was such an idiot! Whether the babies were early, like the doctor had said, or late, or on time- she should have been ready! She should have had it packed at least a month ago!

Edmund would have had it packed. She needed him. She needed him so much.

"I'll dress and be out in ten."

And true to her word, she was ready in eight minutes, clad in a loose and rumpled frock, her coat clutched in one hand and the baby bag in the other.

She would have been ready in six- but she'd spent thirty seconds staring at her reflection, looking blankly at her nakedness. For once, she'd not been concentrating on her ugliness- she had been looking at her stomach. She had run her hands over the baby bump- stopping only when there was another contraction; in those moments she dug her fingers into her palms until they bled or until the pain stopped- and she'd smiled a flimsy smile as she thought of her children, remembering everything she could about them.

It would be the last time she'd bear children. Despite her issues with pregnancy and childbirth, she'd never quite hated being pregnant- and she would miss this. She wouldn't even adopt, even though part of her wanted that in the future. That was what she had thought would happen- that, after the twins, perhaps years later, they would adopt more babies, ones who had no one and nothing and who deserved to be cared for, and give them loving homes.

But it wouldn't happen now. She could never have another child without Edmund. He was the father of all their children, as she was their mother. That was how it was- and there were no exceptions, at least not in this universe.

Another thing in her life ending.

Something else she would never have again.

The other two minutes had gone in finding the baby book Edmund had meticulously maintained.

The last entry had been a few days before his- before the train crash. He'd taken a photograph of her bare baby bump while they had both been lying in bed and cuddling at night, one of his hands splayed across her skin. The caption he had written under it was 'Communicating by Morse Code that if our twins don't like novels and/or poetry, they'll be disowned. And also that Mumma and Daddy love them very, very, very much, but that's secondary.'

She had laughed and asked what Morse Code was. He had explained it through kisses.

Some seconds of that two minutes had been spent in crying silently and then wiping all traces of that off her face.

"The taxi will be here in fifteen minutes, Miss Sanya. And I've telephoned Mrs. Rainsford, too." Sarah said immediately as she saw Sanya waddled to the doorframe of the drawing room.
The young girl went no further than that, so she went to her instead- which is probably what she ought to have done in any case.
"Let go of the bag, Miss, I'll carry it- you shouldn't overexert yourself."

Her immediate response was to say no, that it wasn't heavy- though it was- and that she would carry it, it was alright. She had carried a rocking chair from the upper floor to the ground floor two or three months ago- she had been quite pregnant then, too.

No, Edmund hadn't been at home. Yes, he had scolded her when he had returned.

But she didn't say that. She knew the urgency, and she felt the pain.

Sanya dropped the bag, muttering, "Thank you," and then she turned to walk to the front door.

Even though the taxi wouldn't be here for a while, she would stand outside. She would stand where she had seen Edmund alive for the very last time, all the while being wracked by physical pain. She'd wrap her arms around herself, and she would remember their last kiss.

And perhaps the fresh air would do her some good. Maybe it would let her breathe easy, even for a moment.

She just had to breathe- easy or laboured, whichever- for the next few hours. After that- after the babies were out and safe- she didn't need to breathe.

She'd just sleep.
--

"Doctor Michael," Sanya cried, her eyes closed and her brown skin shining with sweat, "I wish you were a woman."
She had to actively make herself not impulsively clamp her legs together- her body was trying its best to shield her vagina from inspection. But of course, she couldn't do that- the doctor had to check, even if she disliked it!
Even with Asherii, it had been awkward. With Dr. Wright, it was even more so- and there was some discomfort and nervousness, too, because he was a man.

She trusted him, somewhat, and he was nice- but he was still a man, and she'd learnt to not have faith in their goodness at the age of thirteen.

She was in no position to fight, if he tried to violate her. She didn't even have Pax with her.

Dr. Wright quickly fixed the sheet so that her private area was concealed again, and he smiled ruefully, "As do I, sometimes."
He looked up from where he'd been crouched, and the smile faded. He knew it would be more encouraging to smile- but he knew how difficult and painful this was, and he had seen several mothers and babies die in childbirth. There was nothing to smile about.
"It's time, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie." He said, beckoning a nurse over from the corner of the private room. "You need to push now."

No, she wanted to wail. No, I can't.
She already felt so weak, and she had been crying since she'd lain down on the hospital bed- she couldn't be sure, but she thought that the contractions during this labour were the worst yet.
But she had to.
"Alright." She said, sitting up and pulling the sheet up to her thigh, spreading her legs wider than before.
She gripped the sheet tight, the torturous pressure intensifying all over and all inside her body, and she pushed.

But just as Sanya started to feel the fire flare up between her thighs, which meant that either of the babies was about to crown- Dr. Wright called out warningly, "Stop! Stop pushing!"

She would've been very glad to oblige- but she knew that being asked to stop pushing while in labour was not a good sign.
"What?" She asked hoarsely, wishing she could hold someone's hand. "Why? I could feel one of them crowning-"

"Baby A is on the way out- but it's not crowning." He shared a nervous look with the nurse, who had her lips pursed and her hands were shaking. "It's not possible to be certain, but both babies seem to be in abnormal fetal positions-"

"W-what does that even mean?"

"They're feet-first, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie. Both of them." He swallowed, hardly daring to look the young mother-to-be's haggard face- how could he look into her eyes and say these things? "If you try to push while they're like this- and if it takes too long, there is a chance that both babies-"

"Don't say it." Sanya said numbly. "If you say it, I will kill you."

Noted.
"I can try to put external pressure and coax them into the proper position- but that may create even greater risk for the babies and for you."

"But they have to come out." She said, still feeling numb.
Was she going to have more dead children? Would she be the cause of their deaths and watch them die this time, instead of just the former? Would there be more funerals to attend? Would she hear death bells for her born-dead babies?
Her existence had been an elegy for millennia. She could not have this moment be part of that.
"They have- they have to be safely taken out-"

"Dr. Wright," Nurse Hart said quietly, "it has to be a caesarean."

Sanya, shockingly enough, knew what a caesarean was. It was a rare operation, and often a last resort.
She'd be cut open to bring the babies out.
"Do it." She said, not even waiting to hear what the doctor had to say. "Do whatever you have to do. Just make sure our babies don't die."

"Mrs. Reza-Pevensie, caesarean sections are safer nowadays than they have ever been, but it is still of the utmost risk-"

"I don't care."

"Look, I know how urgent this is and there's little time, but you need to think about this, child-"

"No, I don't! All I care about is the babies! Will it increase the chances of them being born alive?"

He was forced to nod, "Well, yes-"

"Then do it." She just needed them to be alive. They didn't even need to be healthy- she would look after them if they had any disabilities, she just couldn't lose them. She couldn't have them be dead. "Take your- scalpel, slice me open, and pull them out! Now, before it's too late, Michael."
She mustered whatever queenliness and command she possibly could.
"Do it."

The doctor looked at her for a long moment, looking wretched.
But then he nodded and looked at the nurse, "Very well- Nurse, please prepare the anaesthesia, we'll do a full-"

"There's no time for that!" Sanya said, pushing off the sheet and pulling up her hospital gown, exposing her stomach and lower half. "Just do it."

"Absolutely not." He said sternly, as the nurse pulled down the hospital gown to cover the young woman again. What in the world was she thinking!? "You will die-"

"I don't care if I die-"

"Well, I care, as do the people who love you, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie. You'll be under anaesthesia during the operation, that's an order, not a suggestion you can ignore."

How dare he try to order her!? She was the fucking High Queen!
"I want to be awake!" She said- it might be the last time she ever would be. She was crying again, she couldn't help it. "I want to see them- please. Please."

"Spinal anaesthesia, Ines. Prepare the injection." He said, not tearing his eyes away from the agonised face of the girl. "I'll call for a gurney to take Mrs. Reza-Pevensie to the operating theatre, after it takes effect."

Twenty minutes after that, Sanya lay quietly on the bed in the operating theatre, as Dr. Wright and two other doctors cut her open. She couldn't feel it, because half her body was numb now.

There was a sheet-curtain placed to cover her midsection from her view- she supposed not everyone was desensitised to seeing blood and guts- but if she craned her neck, she could see the bloody instruments on the tray next to the bed as well as some bloodstains on her blue hospital gown.

She had begun to feel bored- and curiously calm, for just a minute, but then the anxiety of what was happening had bloomed. Her heart twisted, with every moment that passed that she didn't hear the shrill cry of a newborn. Well, two newborns, in this case.

And she wished more than ever that Edmund was here. He deserved to be here, to see their children, to live. She didn't. She should have died.

At least she had stopped crying, but that had only been for a few minutes. She would start crying soon again, she knew- she would cry if the babies lived or if they died. She would cry whether she held them alive or held their corpses.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what Edmund had looked like when he had first brought Selene to her. She knew he had been so happy- had he been smiling, had he been in tears, or both?

She was fairly sure it was both. And what had he been wearing?

She knew he had been wearing an expression of love.

She sniffled, tears accumulating under her eyelids- and then she heard a triumphant sound from the foot of the bed.
Her eyes opened immediately, and another sound reached her- a wail.

"Baby A, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie." Dr. Wright held up a small creature covered in blood, a big smile on his face. "Congratulations, you have a daughter."

Another baby girl.

Sanya held back a sob with difficulty- her heart hurt more than ever- and she asked, "Can I- can I hold-"

Another doctor, an elderly man with kind grey eyes, said, "Just a moment, child, we'll have the cord cut and have her cleaned up first, then she's all yours."

She didn't mind the blood. She wanted to hold their baby, no matter what she was covered in.

But it was safer to clean her- what if she became infected or sick because she was left like that for long?

The tears escaped her eyes as she thought of the umbilical cord.
When Dr. Wright had told them that each baby would have their own cord and placenta- which gave the fetuses food, apparently- Edmund had asked, rather nervously and holding Sanya's hand, if he could be the one to cut the cord. The doctor had quite happily agreed.

Edmund, I'm sorry, Sanya thought, just as another sharp cry pierced the air.

"Hear the lungs on this one!" The third doctor, a ginger-haired man a few years older than Dr. Wright, spoke with a laugh. "We'll hear him on the radio before long, eh?"

"Him?" Sanya asked blankly, struggling to sit up- oh, this stupid anaesthesia! The only time she actually wanted to get up, and she couldn't! And she suddenly felt so cold, too, damn it! "W-we have a son?"
Another little boy.
A boy. And a girl. Both.

"Indeed you do. One of each, congratulations! Now, Dr. Wright-" He looked to the other doctor, "shall we stitch her up, and send her back to the room, do you think? It's perhaps better for the babies to be there, it's more comfortable."

"Yes, I agree." He nodded, and then was faced with the vexed expression of the young mother. "Mrs. Reza-Pevensie, I'm sorry, but just a few more minutes. We need to get you stitched."

Her annoyance melted away to anxiety, "Then I can see them? Hold them?"

"Yes, I promise."

And the promise was kept.

Half an hour later, Sanya was again in her private room- it was the recovery room, too- and two nurses bustled around her, carefully swaddling the two babies in clean wrappings.
Her stomach didn't hurt, though she was sure it would any moment. There was pain, of course, there always was- but it was dull and steady, and did not feel like a ring of fire all around her womb and vagina- a definite improvement.

She had lifted the hospital gown up to look, when the nurses had been distracted- she had seen the reddened, raw skin, and the stitches embedded in her body. At least they were cleaner and more safely done than the stitches on her hand years ago.

It would leave a scar, Dr. Wright had told her as she had been about to be wheeled out. But he had assured her that it would be heal perfectly- and he'd added, wry and sad at the same time, that he hoped that it would be more faint than her other scars.

"Are you done?" She asked loudly. She had been patient for long enough! And perhaps the chill that had wrapped itself around her after the caesarean, coupled with her utter exhaustion, was making her slightly irritable. "It's two babies, not twenty."

"Yes, sorry, ma'am." Nurse Hart said, as she and the other nurse, came towards her bed again, two bundles in their arms. One had blue stripes, and the other had pink. "Here- they're absolutely beautiful."

"Of course they are." Sanya said, her voice now as soft as it had been loud minutes ago. They were Edmund's children- what else would they be? "Give them to me, please."
It was difficult, and took another few moments, but she finally managed to hold the two newborn babies in her arms- their heads rested in the crook of her elbow, one nearer to her upper-arm and the other to her forearm, her other hand securing them into place.

Both of them looked almost identical- but perhaps that was because they had just been born, and it would take some time for them to grow into individual features. They had some hair on their heads, faint but clearly dark, and their mouths were puckered up, and Sanya began to cry at how adorable their pouts looked.

Though they were awake and wriggling in her arms, their eyes were closed- she knew that when they opened them, she would look into brown eyes, either like hers or her husband's.

"Hi." She whispered, smiling through her tears as she bent down to press tender kisses to their foreheads. Their skin was reddish, like a newborn's usually was, but she could tell that it would eventually turn into a shade only slightly lighter than hers. "Hi, babies."
I'm your Mumma, she wanted to say. Mumma or Mummy or Amma, whatever you want. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's me- just me.

But Nurse Hart was still in the roots- the other nurse, whose name she didn't know, had left- and so she couldn't. She would say it later, when it was just her and the twin babies, her little girl and her little boy. She couldn't say it when there was even one other person in the room-

Dr. Wright walked in with a smile, wearing his usual white shirt and coat, having taken off his surgery uniform, and he said happily, "Congratulations, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie!"

Great, now there were two other people.
"Thank you." She smiled politely. "The caesarean must have gone well. I hardly feel any pain."

"Yes, you won't feel any now, but you might feel some stinging pain from the stitches for the next few days. Not to worry, we'll have them taken out in a week, and then the pain will start to fade for good, soon enough." He said, feeling so jovial he felt like tap-dancing. A successful delivery, and that, too, a caesarean section! He would drink to that once he got home, for sure. "I just came to check up on you three-"

"She hasn't fed them yet." The nurse spoke up, knowing that would be his question. "The babies don't seem hungry."

"Well, if they don't, they will be soon, babies usually want to be fed within the first fifty minutes of birth." He shrugged, coming to stand by the new mother's bed. "Are you sure you're well?"

Could he not see how she was smiling? Yes, she was crying, too- but the smile was real! It was genuine, and it was perhaps the first time she had smiled truly since the twentieth of March.
It would have been so much truer if Edmund was next to her, holding the babies with her, though.
"Yes, I am. And I'll feed them soon, don't sorry." She said, nodding. "It's- it's just that I miss Edmund."
She hadn't really been able to tell anyone that, just herself. And Cobalt. And the babies, then unborn.

Dr. Wright spoke quietly, "I'm sure he's smiling at you three from Heaven, God rest his soul."

His soul better have been getting rest, or God- if He was real- would receive such an earful from her. He'd be receiving regardless, actually, for having dared to take him from her and from life so cruelly early.
Again, she said, "Thank you."

"We'll leave you alone in a moment, and let you feed them in privacy, but I wanted to ask if you've decided on names?"

Sanya bit her lip, looking down at the babies. One of them, the girl- she was beginning to open her eyes slowly- yes, they were brown, darker than her eyes, but lighter than Edmund's- and the newborn blearily became aware of the world that awaited. The other baby was fidgeting even more than ever, trying to shift closer to his twin- but his eyes stayed closed.
It was to them that she spoke, "I told your father a few months ago that I didn't want to name either of you after dead loved ones- and I mean that. But- well, most of my loved ones are dead."

The doctor hastened to say, "There's no rush, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie. You don't need to name them right now, just enjoy your-"

"But I have named them." On her own. Everything would be on her own. "Emeraude Lailah and Syed Holmes."
She didn't feel the urge to explain the names. The only other person who needed to know the meaning of their names was Edmund, and he was dead. And if he was alive, he would have known- partly because he knew her, and partly because they would have named their twin babies together.

She wondered what their nicknames for each other would be. Emmy and Sy, perhaps?

Syed began to smack his lips, and she smiled again. She knew full well what that was. And if he was hungry- Emeraude would be soon, too.

She looked up from them, finally, and to the doctor, "Their last name will be Reza-Pevensie. I'll fill the birth certificate after I finish feeding them. Nurse, c-can you undo the buttons?"
She hated to ask for help or assistance, but she didn't have a choice. The buttons were on the back of her hospital gown, and she was holding two babies.
She would have asked Edmund to, if he was here. He was very good at undressing her.

"Of course, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie." Nurse Hart nodded, striding to the bed.

"I'll leave you now." Obstetrician he may be, but it was very awkward to see women breastfeeding! "Ines, you must, too, if she doesn't need your assistance."

"No, I won't need you, don't worry." Sanya said, as she pulled down the front of the gown's blouse. She had breastfed two babies before- even if it had been a thousand years ago, she didn't think she would ever forget how to do that. It was like swimming for her.

A few moments passed as she tried and managed to shift Emeraude to her other arm- it wasn't possible for both of them to be at the same breast, after all.

It was very soon that both babies latched onto her nipples, sucking greedily and contentedly.

It had been difficult, manoeuvring two babies- she didn't think she would have managed it in the first moment of holding them, had it not been for Nurse Hart's help.

How could she do it on her own, once she went home? How would she manage both? She would barely be able to hold both of them at the same time- and what about when they cried? She had been terrible at making babies stop crying, and at alleviating their tantrums!

How could she do this alone?

The nurse soon left the room, and Sanya was left alone with the babies.

The only sounds were that of the infants' feeding, and the new mother's very quiet sobs.
--

It was just before dawn the day after that that Sanya stole out of the bed, and ventured out of her hospital room.

It was the first time she was walking outside her room since the caesarean section. She had left it before, yes, but in a wheelchair- her walking had been confined to her room. She was supposed to walk for fifteen minutes every few hours as an exercise for some health thing, but she wasn't supposed to venture out of her room for it. She wasn't supposed to leave the room at all, in fact, if she wasn't accompanied by a doctor or a nurse.

But Sanya had never been fond of following what she was 'supposed' to do.

Her arms around herself, she walked slowly along the empty hospital corridor- thankfully, despite the emptiness, it was very well-lit. She couldn't have made the journey, though short and important, if it had been dark. Nothing good ever came out of dark hallways. Nothing good came out of the dark at all.

Besides, what remained of her heart and soul were dark and empty enough. She didn't need her surroundings to be both of that, too.

Sanya hadn't left her babies behind to partake in this quest- she would never do that again, no matter what. She would always be with them.

They weren't staying in her room, not since last afternoon.
There had been a yellowish tinge in both their cute little faces, and Dr. Wright had worried whether it was jaundice- so both were to be kept under observation and in a separate nursery until the next day. Sanya didn't want them to be away from her, but she knew the dangers of that illness- it was called haldi-fever in Rihaaya, and her own brother had taken very ill from that after his birth. She had been the one to spot Sameer's eyes and cheeks yellowing- something that had saved his life, because if it had been noticed any time later, the illness could have been fatal.

Being away from them was bearable only because she was able to visit them- she had been taken in a wheelchair to see them a few hours ago, before her hospital-imposed bedtime, and she would be taken there whenever she was woken up, too. And she knew they wouldn't die- there was proper medicine here, they wouldn't! They would live, she knew it.

She didn't have the power to ensure that- but she just knew.

The walk was short, but it was difficult. There was still not much pain from her surgery, not as much as she had expected, but it had left her weak and even more easily winded than ever. Walking this short journey felt like she was climbing a hill.
And she had to keep making sure that she wasn't bleeding- it would never do to leave a trail, like some bloody version of Hansel and Gretel.

Finally, she reached her destination- somewhere she could visit someone who did, supposedly, have the powers to ensure life and death, powers she did not.

Sanya walked into the hospital’s chapel, focusing on not knocking into any of the pews- it would hurt her, yes, and could affect her stitches, but she didn’t care about any of that. She just knew that she couldn’t make any noise.
She had never been in the chapel before, though she and Edmund had passed it a few times during their visits to Dr. Wright.

One time, it had been a Sunday that Edmund had missed church- he almost never missed church- and he had gone into the chapel after the doctor's appointment and he had prayed.

Sanya had not sat with him- partly because the place made her antsy, and partly because her mere presence distracted her husband very much. He'd said jokingly, more than once, that he couldn't in good faith pray to his God if he kept thinking of kissing her and tasting her and ripping each other's clothes off.
She understood it. She thought of his fit and freckled abs as much as he thought of her large tits. Oh, how she'd loved to touch him- lick him- kiss him- even suck his-
Oh, she could remember those pleasing moments later.

She also knew how important his faith was to him, so she'd contentedly left him there- and she had spent that time wandering around, eventually reaching the nursery where the newborn babies were kept while their mothers recuperated, and she had gazed at their adorable faces.

Now she stared at the martyred face of Jesus Christ on the cross. The ornament was hung up high at the wall in front of her, several feet above the podium where the Reverend probably spoke, and it was almost distractingly silver. Who ever climbed up there to polish it?

"Aslan." She spoke quietly, but clearly. He would hear her, if He was listening. "Jesus. Whatever You like to call Yourself. Hello."
She only had one command to herself- to not cry. She wouldn't cry. She had cried too much already.
"You know I'm not of the strongest faith."
Or any degree of faith, really.
"But You know how strong my love for Edmund is- and if there is anything in the m-multiverse I can have faith in, it is in our love. It is in Edmund. I've left worlds, I've left ev-everything, all to be with him. How many can say that about their beloved?"
Not more than a handful, strewn across the multiverse- if even that.
"You're supposed to be all-good." She said, trying to not sound bitter- which she was failing at, "Your judgement is supposed to be the m-mightiest- and the fairest. Yet You took him away from me, and that was the most unjust thing You could ever have done."
The statue did not talk, but she didn't expect it to. At least, not yet.
She was, however, still struck by the urge to climb up, get the statue, and stomp all over it.
"You don't know how it feels. I have lost- almost every single person I love. Do You know how much constant pain I've been in for the last thousand years? Do You know how many heartbreaks I've endured? Ed-Edmund was my last comfort, my last love. My true love. And You let him die."
She wished He could feel her heartbreak, all of it. She wished the storm in her heart and her soul ravaged Him, somehow or the other.
"And I hate You for it. If You are truly the Son of God, if God exists, if You're as omniscient as Lu said the fucking Bible says You are, then I hate You. I hate You so much, Aslan. You knew he would die, that they all would. How could You let that happen? How!? You love them, don't You?!"
Edmund had loved Him, Lucy had loved Him, and Peter had- all to die.
"You took him from me! I love him so much, and YOU JUST LET HIM DIE!"
As her volume rose, her hands shook, but she made no effort to calm them. At least she wasn't crying yet- she would take the rage over the tears any day.
But she had to remain calm. She could tell Aslan how much she fucking hated Him if He ever appeared in her dreams again.
"My deepest, dearest wish is for him to come back to me. I just want him back."
Unbidden, suddenly, she felt the heat of tears. Of course. She never stopped crying nowadays.
"But I'm not asking You to return him to me."
She imagined that, if Aslan or Jesus Christ was really in front of her, then He would have looked very surprised, omniscience or not.
"I'm asking You to let him live." She clasped her hands together, knotting her fingers in the gesture of prayer. Of begging. "Please. Bring him back. Let him meet our children. Let him have the long and happy life he deserves. You can take me instead, I have no problem with that. Take me, kill me. Let me rot in Jahannam, let me burn in the fires of Hell, I don't care. Just let him live, that's all, let him be alive and let me be dead, please."

The tears stung now, but she did not close her eyes or look away from the statue. She was crying, but she wouldn't look away.

Edmund would be able to live through her loss, he would be able to survive it- all the while being the best father to Emera and Sy. She knew he would. She couldn't say the same. She could live without him, but she couldn't do the rest. Not anymore. She couldn't.
He could- he was so resilient and wise and capable.

And he deserved to live. He deserved to have a long and happy life, full of books and justice and chocolate and chess and laughter and cats. She didn't- and she had wanted to die, for so long.

She took a deep, shaky breath, "Let the Just grieve the True, like the Sp-Sphinx told him so long ago."
Yes, she knew the Sphinx had said that Edmund would grieve the True, not the Just- but what care did she have for fucking semantics and technicalities!?

The True couldn't bear to grieve the Just anymore. It was tearing her apart. She was being ripped open every single moment of every single day.

"I'll do anything." Sanya cried quietly. "Let Edmund live."

She fell silent then, her hands still clasped together and her eyes full of tears, and she stared up at the Jesus Christ figure.

She stayed silent, even though all she wanted to do was scream. Scream endlessly, let loose all the- all the pain. All her past pain, and her present pain, and the pain she knew would come in the future.

She was doubtful whether He existed in this world, but she knew that Aslan did in hers. He must have listened to her, to her plea, to her sobbing. He must have seen her pain and breakdowns and grief from the past two months.
Yet He did nothing.

Sanya didn't know if she fell asleep or not, but she felt herself be shaken awake what felt like minutes later.
Her vision was hazy and unclear, and she blinked- she could see concerned brown eyes in front of her.

For a moment, her heart leapt. Nay, it soared.
Had her deal gone through? Had Aslan heard her? Was this the last time she and Edmund would meet, right before she crossed over into death, and he crossed back into life?

But as her eyesight settled, she saw that the concerned brown eyes did not belong to the love of her life.
"Bonnie." She said blankly. "What are you doing here?"
Bonnie and Susan and her grandmother- whom she was on somewhat cordial terms with for the moment, because of the twins- had visited her and the babies the morning of the day after the birth. Susan had had to go back to Finchley in the evening- she had promised to return that weekend as she had kissed her niece and nephew goodbye- but Maude and Bonnie had stayed.

Bonnie sat down next to her, deciding to not bring up how alarmed she had been when the nurse had informed her that Sanya was sitting in a chapel and had been for a couple of hours.
"I came to talk to Dr. Wright about you and the babies."

"So early?" Or had she been in a very long stupor? "What time is it?"

“It’s seven- I have to catch the train back to London at eight-thirty, I’ve got a meeting with one of my professors. Maude is still at the cottage, she’ll stay.”

"Oh."

"Nya, what are you doing here?"

"I gave birth." Sanya spoke mechanically, looking back at the Jesus ornament. "I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, or until I get my stitches out."

Bonnie very gently put her hand on Sanya's.
"You know that's not what I meant, Sanya."

Yes, she did know that. And yes, she should probably reassure her that she hadn't been actively trying to kill herself. Or- was she? She had been asking for death, after all.
"I came to pray."

"Is it alright if I ask what for?"

Her voice was but a whisper, "I came to pray to die, and for Edmund to live."

Her best friend thought she had heard very wrong for a moment- but when she realised that she hadn't, she was utterly horrified.
"What!? How even-" She felt like shaking her. "Sanya, don't you ever dare pray for something like that. We all want Edmund, Lucy, Peter, and the others back, but offering yourself up as sacrifice is not the way-"

"I want to die-"

"Sanya, mate, I know life has been utterly terrible, but you shouldn't-"

At that, Sanya snapped.
"And why not!? Why shouldn't I want to die? Why, Bonnie, why? What do I have to live for? You and my adopted grandmother? Two babies who will just end up hating me when they hit puberty? Is that it?"

She wanted to stand up and storm off, but Bonnie was sitting closer to the exit for the pew.

And she wasn't done.

"The love of my entire life is dead- he's gone!"
He was gone. Just like everyone else.
"I have lost fucking everything, Bonnie, more than you know or can imagine! I have absolutely nothing, and the only thing I want anymore is to die! I WANT TO DIE!"

She banged her fists on the wood of the pew in front of her, and she let out a guttural growl.

"My life has been terrible, you say? Hein? No, it's not just terrible. It's a tragedy- hell, my whole fucking life is an elegy!"

It had been a song about the dead and about death for the past thousand years. For a thousand years! And it seemed that that was what it would always be. Elegy after elegy!

"I- I- everyone I love- they die. They all die, and I'm left standing and grieving and I want to die, but I never do, and it's not fair, it's not right- oh, Bonnie, it's not-"

Sometime while speaking, she had stopped shouting, and she had begun to sob instead.

"I want it to stop. I can't have any more pain." She wept, as Bonnie hugged her, holding her close. "I just want him back. I just want them all back."

All of her was breaking and crumbling. And it had already been broken and crumpled from before, too. How much worse could it get?

"I should have died with him." Her body shook with sobs, and so did her voice. "We should have died together."

If she couldn't have died first, then that was what ought to have happened. They should have died at the same time, ensuring that neither had to live without the other again.

"We should have died in each other's arms, because we're not meant to spend anytime apart."

Not again, never again.

Even death shouldn't have parted them. Not them. They were Edmund-and-Sanya.

"I was alive with him," she had been alive for a thousand years, all for him, "and I should be dead with him."

She wanted to die with him. She wanted to rot with him. She just wanted to be with him. She didn't want this gaping hole where her heart had been. She wanted it to stop beating, so she could be with the one who had made it flutter and soar and glow with starbursts.

She went on crying, beginning to murmuring three words- words that she would think for the rest of her existence, "I need Edmund."

"I'm very sorry to intrude." Came a voice minutes later, as Sanya's sobs had quietened- it was Nurse Hart. "I know how important the time for prayer is. But the jaundice didn't take hold, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie, and the babies are being taken to your room again. Of course, you can stay here and pray as long as you wish, but they need to be fed-"

"Yes. Y-yes, of course." Sanya quickly and not very gently extricated herself from Bonnie's embrace, quickly wiping the tears off her face. She got up and clumsily made her way to where the nurse stood, saying, "I'll- I'll come right now. Yes, I can walk, yes. Yes."

"I'll stay." Bonnie said, as her best friend looked at her. "I'd like to pray, too, for a bit."
For the newborn twins, for her best friend, for her girlfriend, and for all those they had lost. And a word or two for herself, if possible- having graduated from university, she was now in the real world. She had several job interviews lined up, and the only thing she thought whenever she was reminded of them was that she was absolutely going to throw up.
"I'll check on you before I leave, promise."

Sanya nodded, and she began to walk out, following after the nurse.

But just before she left the chapel, she turned to look at the silver Jesus Christ again, her hands curled into fists.

He hadn't listened. Aslan hadn't listened.

What else had she expected?

The True, though she was no longer that, would have to keep grieving the Just, who was dead and would always be.

-
-✧･: °*✧*°:･✧-
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Andrew Garfield as Dr. Michael Wright

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Morena Baccarin as Nurse Ines Hart

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(Which had worse timing: Edmund's first 'I love you' to Sanya or Peter's proposal to Aura, or Susan's first proposal to Bonnie?)
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(The very last entry in the baby book that Edmund wrote 💔)
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(Look at how happy she looks 🥺🥺
For this brief, tiny moment, holding their children, she's in a bubble with only this warm joy and contentment, with all the sorrow and pain outside it. I don't think she'll really look any kind of happy again, unless it's a moment related to those two babies)
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(Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush inspired a bit of this scene. I was thinking of having a scene like this, anyway, and then relistening to the song made it 100% clear that I WOULD have this scene.
She prayed. She prayed for Edmund to be alive again. She hardly ever prays- and it's for Edmund she does.
In vain, though.)
-

(She's genuinely prepared to give up her own life for Edmund to return to his. I said this in another chapter- but her love for Edmund is almost devotional. It is sacred. She will not pray for anything, not even for herself, except for Edmund to return to life.)
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In the chapter titled 'Elegy', which is basically a song for the dead, you have the birth of new life. Nice juxtaposition there.
Welcome to the world, Emeraude Lailah and Syed Holmes. It's not the magical world your siblings were born in- but at least that means that there's less chance of you being murdered by vengeful djinns.

You know, I may have killed more than half of them and made fatherless all of them, but I have given Edmanya's children some DAMN good names.

Also, was it Chapter 47 of 'Alliance' that Seraphina was born? 'Volens Et Potens'? I think it was- see, I may have made the twins be born in Chapter 47 of 'Fairytale' as an on-purpose parallel, but it's also very likely that I just chose a random chapter for the birth to happen in.

Susan proposed!!! The Pevensie siblings really DO have terrible timing when it comes to romance, don't they? Lucy's lucky to not be afflicted by it.
Bonnie's a stronger woman than I, because if someone as awesome and as gorgeous as Susan proposed to ME, I would be going down on my knees as well and just sobbing 'yes'.
Their cuteness just keeps exacerbating. Even Susan's grief can take for a little while- as long as Bonnie is with her for the time.
And Bonnie, I am sure, will say yes sometime.
🎶 It's a love story,
Baby, just say yes 🎶

Sanya sobbing in Bonnie's arms about wanting to die, about how she and Edmund should have died together, about needing Edmund back- just heartbreaking. She literally prayed to die, offered herself up as sacrifice- and all for Edmund to be revived.

It's all heartbreaking.

And, as always- I humbly and unashamedly ask you to vote on the chapters, and perhaps comment, too :)