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Chapter Six - The Catalyst

          I awoke in the library the next morning and when I opened my eyes Endellion was there also, asleep on the sofa across the room. I wondered which of us had fallen asleep first and as I sat up slowly I became aware of my protruding stomach. Something was different today, my body was different and I could feel it. My back was sore and my mind was uneasy but a different type of uneasy than the sort I have become accustomed to. Please don't let it be today. Ignoring my mind I looked around and noticed the breakfast tray on the table by the door. What time was it? How long have I been asleep? The room smelled like cinnamon and the clean sweetness of fruit. Making my way to the small table by the door I wondered if this insistent hunger would cease relatively soon after the baby was born or if I was also cursed to be consistently famished. 

          The muffins were still steaming and the fruit was cold. I picked up one of the cinnamon muffins and watched the sides crumble onto the plate before piling fresh berries around it, reminding me of an island I had read about the night before where children never grow up but stay small and naive to the world forever. I made another plate before walking to the sitting area and placing it on the table in front of him. Plucking the open book off of his chest, I flipped to the first few pages and found a familiar name scribbled across the front; Aria. It was no wonder now why he was battled so often between broken and beast; he was a broken child grown to a broken man all while harboring the hate, guilt and rage taking refuge in his mind, fighting to take control of who he was- of who he is. Now when I see the beast in his eyes again, it will be less frightening and so much more heart breaking. I eat quickly for no reason and when my hand finds an empty plate where food once was I am brought back to myself, my mind no longer tiptoeing through Endellion's history, searching every corner for signs of Aria. I wonder how much of her he has in himself and I assume it to be quite a bit. I have never met her and yet I feel as if I know her completely. I wonder, had the terrible truth of their history not been so, would we have met one day? Probably not, but I imagine if we somehow did we would have become great friends, the three of us.  When he stirs on the couch across from me I hold my breath as if the simple sound would disturb him, waking him from his slumbers. For reasons I cannot make sense of, I wish to watch him sleep. It is not the slow rhythm of his chest or the way he sometimes sighs when he breaths, but the way he looks with his eyes closed, his face peaceful for the time being. His eyes open and find mine easily, as if he knew exactly where I was and what I was doing. He smiles and I wonder if he was ever really sleeping.

          "Good morning. Someone has brought us breakfast, still warm." He moves so easily and I am reminded that he is lethal; his movements, swift and graceful, remind me of a python; beautiful to look at but deadly if you find yourself too close. He pulls the top off of his muffin and begins to eat it, brushing the crumbs off of his shirt as they fall.

          "I love cinnamon. You fell asleep last night and I felt bad waking you. I imagine you do not sleep much. I hope you don't mind. I gave you a pillow and blanket and let you sleep here."I look over to the window and notice for the first time the pillow propped against the side of the wall.

          "No, thank you for that. You are right; I have not slept so well lately. Did you stay here all night?"

          "Yes. I did not want something to happen in the night and you to be here on the other side of the manor, so far from everyone. I consider this and wonder if he senses the difference that I am feeling.

          "Oh, yes. I do feel a bit strange today." 

          "I suspect you do. I can feel the energy in the air, it is different than it has been. I suspect the time is almost here."My stomach and throat clench at the thought and my discomfort must be obvious because like a snake, he is next to me, eyes intense, muscles coiled ready to strike but at what I am unsure. "Are you alright?" I place my hand over my stomach and the other on the seat behind me to help hold myself up. I don'tknow what to say, so I stay quiet. Am I alright? "Let us go to the main hall, we will gather Avanees and she can make sure you are well. She is trained in childbirth, you know, as well as other medical conditions of course. We do not leave the manor  very often.