Three (History Plays, Book 2)

5: shake him with so rough a storm, as others shall be warned by his harm

Edward

I wake up in my wife's bed, the sweetest place to wake, of course. I can feel her hair on my arm, the smooth sheets beneath me. A child is curled up against my chest, and I feel another at my back. The light is streaming in the soft blue curtains, fresh and bright from the east. I shift a little, but not much there's a kid on my legs as well.
"How many children are in this bed?" Pippa mumbles, half rolling over to try to look only to be trapped by a child.
"I've got the two babies," I say, patting either side of me and sitting up a little, "Edmund's curled up on your other side, and then Blanche is next to you, and Jon's on the floor by your side clutching a book, and Lionel's across our feet, and then there's three greyhounds in the middle." I lie back down and shift so that the baby can snuggle against my chest. Her hair is standing up all fuzzy, and she's been drooling on me all night looks like. I vaguely remember getting the two little ones but the rest apparently migrated here on their own.
"We don't own three greyhounds," Pippa says, not moving though, just petting Edmund's hair.
"That's the information I have," I say, holding the baby more securely and considering crawling over to kiss Pippa, but she doesn't look in the mood.
"Teddy, three dogs we do not own are in our bed with our children," she says, as I attempt to kiss her. Nope. Not in the mood, all right. She's one of the few people allowed to call me Teddy. My father called me that and naturally nobody else dares. But I don't mind it from her. She usually only does it when she's being soft and remembers the boy I was. Now half asleep with our children safe and sleeping around us. "Three strange dogs. In our bed."
"They fit in and look happy? Also they're asleep," I say, lying down anyway and giving up trying to get a decent make out in this morning.  Doesn't look like that's going to happen as basically all my children are in this bed. I was going to try though.
"I had an awful nightmare," Jon mumbles, clutching his book and crawling into bed next to his mother.
"Have anything to do with you falling asleep holding Kafka?" I ask, dryly.
Jon glares at me, "I still like the book."
"If you read things like that late at night that will happen," Pippa says, petting his hair fondly.
"You took away my internet."
"Jon, we all know you got back on the internet; it's probably on the fucking news," I mutter, patting  the baby who is stirring.
"Is this our new dog?" Edmund asks, waking up to realize he's half lying on a dog we apparently didn't have before.
"I mean, looks like it," I shrug.
"You're really not going to do anything about that?" Pippa asks me.
"Are you saying I should or are you asking me because I'm three kids deep, the baby is asleep, no I'm not moving unless I'm going to be kissed," I say.
"If I kiss you after will you get the strange dogs out of the bed?"
"Ah—again with the three kids deep," I say, Lionel is using my feet as a pillow, for reference.
"Mommy, Jon woke me up with his nightmare," Blanche says, waking up and hugging her mother.
"I wasn't crying," Jon, whose face is stained with tears, says.
"Edward. Dogs. Now. Thank you. I will kiss you after," Pippa says.
"Fine," I say, sitting up to wake up Lionel by stroking his hair out of his face, "Li, buddy, I've got to get up."
"Are you up?" Ned asks, walking in the room without knocking, then calls, out the door, "NEVER MIND BELLA, I FOUND 'EM. Hello mother, father."
To be clear, my son and heir has clearly not been to bed, is wearing one of his elaborate black leather jackets, biking pants, his dark hair is slicked back, and he's currently taking off aviator glasses.
"Morning, son," I say, lying back down because I've got someone to delegate getting dogs to, "Do you have an explanation?"
"Two, you may select your preferred one," Ned says, nicely, sitting down on the edge of the bed and not trying to get the dogs at all.
"What dogs are these?" Lionel mumbles, sitting up.
"Thank you, Lionel," Pippa says.
"Morning—oh there they are—sorry mom," Joan says, hurrying to try to get the dogs which are quite happily asleep. They flop skinny tails and try to snuggle deeper into my down comforter.  Joan also has clearly not been to bed, in a biking jacket like her brother, her red hair french braided out of her face and down her back.
"Explanation?" I ask, snapping my fingers.
"Morning! Oh all three, good," Bella says, coming in, as fully dressed as her siblings with her curly hair slicked into a small bun.
"Is there any way you three DIDN'T spend all night raiding a dog racing track?" I ask.
"None whatsoever," Ned says.
"They abuse, them, daddy, it's wrong," Joan says, trying to put leashes on the sleeping dogs.
"How many dogs are in this house right now?" Pippa asks.
"Three, the other ten are in the garage," Bella says, getting one on a leash.
"Well, don't put them in the garage they don't have any hair they look cold," I say, petting one that has gotten away from Joan and is licking my face, "Give them baths and feed them for now until your mother says if you can keep them or not."
"Yes of course they're staying, just introduce them to the Mountain dogs carefully," Pippa says. We have a mated pair of Bernese Mountain dogs that primarily watch the younger children. I left them in the nursery when I got the babies as I wanted to kiss my wife this morning and not have a big overly happy dog interrupting me. Look how that worked out for me.
"Really? Can I have one?" Edmund asks, petting the one that's licking my face.
"Ask your brother and sisters they're the ones who stole them. I'm here to look sexy and kiss your mother," I say, petting the dog's little ears as it licks my face. My father raised greyhounds so I'm not opposed to the creatures. I remember, being however little, probably as little as these babies are, hiding treats in my fists, trying to lure the sleek dogs to my bed so I wouldn't be lonely. And I'd wake to three, four, even five if I managed to get a pup, snuggled around me, licking my face like this when I woke. My mother would scream, and call someone to come fetch them. I pet the soft little ears as the dog tries to lick my face and my baby's, safe in my arms. The girl giggles and pats the dog back, with gentle baby fingers.
"Yeah, of course you can have one. Come and pick one," Joan says.
"I don't want one," Lionel says, moving away as one of them tries to lick him, "They smell."
"So do you," Edmund says, shoving him.
"Wrestle in the studio, with your dad," Pippa says, sitting up.
"I like this one," Blanche is hugging a dog.
"Let your brother and sisters bathe it, first," Pippa says, before seeing that I'm still lying with one cuddled up against me.
"I'll help you bathe them!" Blanche says.
"And don't think I didn't notice you three sneaked out!" Pippa calls as Ned and Bella just try to leave. Joan finally got one dog on a leash.
"How come Ned never gets in trouble?" Lionel mutters.
"Ned was born in trouble, and he's never gotten out of it," I say, pushing Lionel with my foot, "You have nightmares as well last night?"
"No, I heard Jon screaming and I figured Edmund put roaches in his bed again and so I didn't trust mine anymore so I came in here," Lionel says.
"Smart," I say, nodding.
The littlest baby in my arms wakes up snuffling and whimpering, she paws at my chest.
"I've got nothing for you, Chainsaw, but your mother's right here,"  I say, kissing her face. She's sweet, smells like baby lotion, big glittering black eyes like her mother. She grins up at me happily and I press my forehead against hers to smile at her.
"Come here darling," Pippa says, taking the baby from me.
Jon gets up, still clutching his book, clearly been crying all night.
"Maybe don't read horror at night and you won't have nightmares?" I say to him.
He shrugs, folding his arms.
"Right, bye, go on with your brother, go take the dog—Ned get back here, get this one, here, take your sister to her room, bye," I say, waving as I usher the last of the kids out of the room, then I am about to go kiss my wife but she's nursing the baby.
"Don't look at me like that, by the time she's done there will be another," Pippa laughs.
"The idea is to make out while she's asleep," I say, going over to kiss Pippa anyway, "I've got to catch my plane as it is."
"Right, be safe," she says, kissing me quickly.
"I will—um, I'm sending Audley and Lodowick back to you, they're gonna take the kids running tomorrow, should keep them out of trouble till I get home," I say, going to get my clothes and bring her clothes. I pick up a pair of her jeans and then a couple of shirts, "This, or this?"
"Second one is fine, get yourself packed," she laughs.
"If I procrastinate long enough the interloper will be finished with breakfast and I can kiss you all over your body two hundred times," I say, kissing her forehead before laying her clothes at the foot of the bed.
"You'll have like, half an hour to do that in if you want to make your flight."
"Yeah, no, I don't need breakfast I need you," I say, lying back down on the bed now that I'm half dressed in jeans and a belt, no shirt. "As you'll recall you owe me a kiss for getting rid of the dogs."
"You never did that."
"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget that."

Ned

"I haven't slept in forty seven hours," I groan, as Jon fairly drags me into his room.
"We need to go over the heist," Jon says. He's wearing a button up shirt and slacks, a little red tie, and he's got his hair slicked back.
"How did you get dressed that quickly—can't I have breakfast?" I mutter, sitting down on his bed. He's got white boards on every single wall of his room all covered in his neat handwriting, with a little step-ladder sitting underneath them so he can reach all of them because he's short. Like, he's really short I don't know if anyone has brought that up yet or not but he's really fucking short. No, he doesn't have a disease or anything, but our sire is five foot six in shoes which means that I just get to make fun of them because I'm five eleven and a half and I might grow more.
"Fine, you can have breakfast, then we discuss my plans," he says, folding his arms. I sigh. I think he thinks none of us take him seriously because he's stuck up and boring and he's absolutely right.
"Okay, tell me the plans now," I sigh.
"When the exhibition is in New York, that's when we're going to strike. I've assessed when security will be at it its lowest—,"
"I want to phone a friend —can't Bella come?" I sigh, I'm recognizing layouts for a museum. Bella honestly is the one I call on when flipping over laser grids and things.
"No. She can't. Just us, you promised," Jon says, glaring. He always glares.
"Okay, fine," I say, a little annoyed. I don't see why he's picking on me to interact with. Lionel's closer to his age. What did I do to deserve this? Better yet why doesn't he talk to dad? How did I become my younger siblings cool parent? Our parents are already cool parents I hate being responsible. I'm going to make such a terrible father.   I hate myself and all my choices. God, I want to go to sleep.
"Are you falling asleep?!"
"Nope, just fine, keep going," I say, rubbing my face to force myself to stay awake. Come on, Ned, focus. This is great practice for when you have kids someday. Like one. I'm only having one kid and I'm hoping he's nothing like Jon.

Catherine

I wake up with all three of my children curled up around me. Snuggled in bed, their faces in the soft grey sheets, hair messy and sticking to their flushed cheeks. I would kiss them in turn if I thought it wouldn't wake them. We are here, safe. I am home safe again, with my babies. And all is well.
I breath a little, watching them sleep. William says not to let them come into bed that it'll spoil them. I ignore him. He himself does not always grace my bed. He says he sleeps better in his own room. I don't mind that, although it amounts to him only gracing my bed chamber for his own entertainment. And each time he has chosen to do that he's gotten me with child. I could deny him I suppose. I don't know. I haven't tried. He is my husband. And I like my life here well enough and I like our children. The last time I was going to practice denying him but he was drunk as always when he comes to me and he's bigger than me so I got it over with.
But he's a kind man, he's not cruel to me and I don't ask for much. I'm better off than I was before we were married. And I have our children. And this peace of this fresh new morning. We'll be all right. My fears in the warehouse were unfounded. Edward Windsor didn't mean me any harm. On the contrary he delivered me home. And I am safe now.