Forever has been all he's wanted.

And one day he knows he can ask for it.

On that day they're having dinner with her father again, when James clears his throat. "Mr. Lowell?"

He looks up from the dinner he'd been focusing on. "Yes?"

"I," he clears his throat again, "love your daughter more than anything in this life, and wish to be with her forever." He turns to look at said daughter and smile fondly. "And despite all my flaws and mistakes, she seems to love me back."

Yvette smiles to the table bashfully, and reaches out to gently hold his hand.

Mr. Lowell squints just a little, off balance by the statement. That's not a question, so he doesn't need to answer, but he's being looked at and needs to reply in some sort of way in order for James to.... keep stating the obvious?

"... Yes?" he agrees, for lack of a better idea.

James's smile turns into a slight grin, and he lightly squeezes her hand. "And... there is nothing that would make me happier than having her hand in marriage. And I would ask you for your blessing."

"Oh!" Now the statement makes sense!

"Yes, absolutely, you have it," he agrees, with a firm nod.

Never change, Mr. Lowell.

The grin widens more broadly than than one could think possible and he turns again to look at Yvette, reaching inside a pocket to grab a gorgeous white gold ring with an intricate floral pattern and subtle diamonds around it that from a distance give it an understated but very pretty sparkle. "Yvette Lowell, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Yvette sporfles, then says, "Yes," followed by, "and how did you get that today, you haven't even had twenty-four hours yet, James this is absurd!"

James might under different circumstances have answered this, but right now what he does instead is stand up, pick Yvette up from her chair like it's nothing, and spin her around then kiss her passionately.

Squeak!!!!

She melts into his arms, giggling into the kiss.

And after he sets her down he can get on one knee and gingerly put the ring on the appropriate finger.

She beams at him and huffs a little delighted laugh once the ring is on.

"It's perfect," she informs him, admiring it. "But seriously how."

"I have a friend at that one shop."

"Well, good job to you and to him, it fits perfectly. I love you."

"I love you too."

Wedding planning is straightforward enough. If she were inclined to make more of an event of it, it'd be more complicated, but her plan is to flee the country with her shiny new husband to go become a vampire, so really, it's ultimately very simple. It'd be setting the wrong tone for her to put a lot of work (and money) into being a socialite and throwing a massive party just to disappear off the planet in six months. It'd be nice and sentimental, but there are other ways to get that. Small gatherings, visits with friends, giving away possessions that her father doesn't need and that couldn't come with her. Private goodbyes instead of a large, public one. The theme of the wedding will be tasteful and thrifty, not large and opulent. Catering will be handled by potluck, venue will be this modest church, dress will be this lovely gown that she found at a secondhand store and tailored to fit by a friend she's ruthlessly bribed with a quarter of her book collection, and so on.

She makes sure to impress upon everyone that James thinks his dentistry prospects will be better back in America; he was fine living cheaply when he was a bachelor, but now he's going to have a wife, and clearly he'd like to spoil and take care of her. This plays nicely with quietly getting rid of all of the things she can't keep as a vampire. Money's easier to take with you than a whole lot of furniture, for both humans and vampires. Some things she plans to keep - portraits, heirlooms, and other things that are properly irreplaceable. Everything else is efficiently attacked with the air of 'If I won't want it in a hundred years, and won't need it in the next ten, I don't want it now.' She'd joked about moving to Greenland, but it's actually simpler to have her real plans match her fake ones. Portland, Maine resembles civilization enough for her purposes. It's close enough to empty wilderness, without being some little nowhere town that no one would plausibly move to in order to make more money. James is informed that he has family there, which shores the story up nicely enough.

The engagement is planned to be short. There will probably be rumors about her already being with child to explain the fast engagement. These incorrect (and somewhat insulting) rumors are useful as explanation, so she doesn't go out of her way to discredit them, but they do annoy her a little. She resolutely ignores them in favor of the narrative of how they are very in love and impatient. ... Which they are, admittedly.

Her fiancé is in charge of the honeymoon. This is mostly because he'll enjoy it immensely, but also because he's just more suited to it than she is. She's happy to pretend to have caught her brother's wanderlust and want to do some sightseeing before settling down. No long boat rides, and no being near people for a little while, because she is going to be so sick of them by the time they're actually married. Look, even not being a socialite involves quite a lot of socializing, when one is saying one's final goodbyes before leaving the country, and this is a lot of work to do in a short period of time, and aughhhhhhh why can't she just disappear into the night with her soon-to-be-husband without so much as a goodbye without everyone kicking up some kind of fuss.

Yvette frets a little bit about Blair's lack of response to the letter announcing her engagement and plans, but a mysterious vampire shows up in town about a week and a half before the planned date of the wedding. His eyes have had time to fade from newborn red to gold.

"Hey, so, would you be mad if my wedding present is a house?" calls Blair, from outside James's house, in the middle of the night.

James zips to the window, laughs, looks around, then hops through it down to the ground. Then he zips to Blair to bear hug him.

Hug!!!!

"Taking that as a no! Hi! Congratulations!"

"Thank you! You insane man, how did you even get a house, where—Yvette is very worried you know!"

"In the uninhabited wilderness in easy running distance near Portland, Maine," sniffs Blair. "Is she? Aw, I'm sorry, I didn't want to get her hopes up in case I couldn't pull off actually finding you a house. And I'm faster than the post, so once I was sure it seemed better to just come myself."

"Well, she will want to see you in the morning, certainly—if you, ah, can?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of his own eyes.

"Yep! Not around open wounds without warning, but people are fine. I can breathe and have conversations and everything."

He grins. "Then she'll definitely want to see you. You staying anywhere here?"

"Not currently! I should avoid anyone that might recognize me, though, so I should be all sneaky and secret."

"You can stay at my place during the day, if you want."

"That'd be great, thanks!"

"Come on in."

And this time he can use the door instead of the window.

Excellent. It's almost like that's what doors are for, or something.

"So Yvette seemed happy, from her letters."

"I think she is, yeah. I hope so."

"Speaking from experience, she's pretty clear when she's unhappy, I don't think you need to hope."

He grins at that. "What about you, what have you been up to since we spoke last?"

"Went to America, practiced not eating people. Had several long talks with morally repugnant people to test my control. Met a couple of vampires, did not get into any fights. Worked on refining my tracking power. It's.... interesting. It involves a surprising amount of self reflection and introspection."

"Oh, tracking power, right, how does yours work?"

"It's driven largely by the personality and quirks of the people I'm tracking, and how well I know them on a personal level. It can find me people, if I ask it to, but it's... strange about the people it finds. I think it leans towards finding me people who I'd find interesting, over the objective best at whatever I'm trying to find. I also got it to track animals, on an experiment. Had a long conversation with a zookeeper for that one. Kind of not worth it for hunting, the range isn't longer than normal vampire senses without getting to know a particular animal. Which defeats the purpose."

"Easy enough to find animals with our regular senses, anyway." He looks wistful, though. "It would be nice to have a witch power, though, I'll admit."

"Eh. It has its downsides. I get the impression that if I wander too closely to Italy I'll meet some charming folk who are very interested in my power's growth and development. Though I guess they already have a tracker, so maybe they wouldn't be all that interested in me."

"Their tracker is differently specialized, I think."

"Ahuh. So maybe they'd want to collect the whole set. You see my point, though."

"Yeah, I... definitely do."

"We'll see what happens with Yvette. She'll probably pout if she doesn't turn out to have anything."

"Most vampires don't, I'm pretty sure."

"You will then have the unenviable task of comforting my poor heartbroken sister with how she merely has eternal life with super powers and the man she loves."

"I'm sure she will be so heartbroken."

"Mhm. Right." Eyeroll. "I think I actually had my witch powers when I was human, I just didn't realize it. They were too subtle. Maybe she's got something like that."

"Do you remember much of it? Your human life, that is."

"The general arc of it, yeah. Some of the people I knew, too, besides my family, I had time to think and put things together, and being here reminded me of some things. But a lot of the details have faded away."

"I have scraps, the barest ones. Not my family at all, though."

Blair nods, stone faced. "I'm sorry."

James shrugs, then smiles again. "Not a big deal. It has been decades."

"Fair enough," says Blair, nodding. He doesn't quite accept that answer, but - yeah, it's not like either of them can do anything about it right now.

He will instead gracefully change the topic! America is having a bad time, would James like to hear about Blair's observations of it?

Oh yeah for sure. He's heard about that economic downturn, he bets some vampires are having a field day with all the bankers.

And all of the other variously unemployed people, yep! It's pretty horrible.

And in the morning:

Here is Yvette! She has by now quit her job in preparation for fleeing the country with her vampiric husband; this has resulted in quite a lot more free time.

She knocks on her fiancé's door and singsongs, "Jaaaaames, save me from the horrors of wedding planning, I've been fussing with seating arrangements for way too long! I'm just about at the point where I start planning to burn down all of the seating and telling everyone to sort themselves out on the floor! It will make the church very unhappy with us, save me from myself so we don't have to elope!"

"Eloping is not that bad an idea you know. Hi, good morning, I love you, your brother's here," he says in a single breath as he opens the door.

"Hi, good morning, I love you too, oh good, I can stop fretting about his welfare and location," she says, gleefully flinging herself at him for a hug. "And if we were to elope now all of my work would be for nothing, which I will not stand for! Where is Blair, is he—" She spots him and beams."Hi Blair, is it safe to hug you?"

"Hey! It is, but I won't be very good at hugging back, so it'll be tragically one sided."

"That's fine!" She gives James a quick peck before going and flinging herself at Blair for another hug. Blair smiles down at her, even as he stays perfectly still so as not to break the squishy human. A hug is had, then she pulls away so she can talk to him.

"You! I'm so glad to see you, wow the vampire pretty is some nice stuff, oh good you have gold eyes, I'm so glad, and would it have killed you to send a telegram! I was worried the letter hadn't reached you at all!"

"Oh. That was a thing I could do, wasn't it. Oops. Forgot, sorry. As an apology, I got you a house?"

"Wh—how."

"Well, don't tell anyone, it's kind of a secret, but your brother's a witch." He winks. "I was very charming and helpful, got a discount, and paid up front!"

"I have so many more questions but, but, okay! Thank you! For the house!" Hug! "Love you, glad you're okay!"

"I was all proud of getting your ring on the same day we looked for them and he had to go and one-up me."

"He did not, he has probably been planning this since he realized you'd mated to me," sniffs Yvette, returning to her fiancé's side and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Besides, it's not a contest."

"Very prescient of him."

"Mhmmm. ... Also your house doesn't have any furniture. And it kind of needs some repairs. In my defense, I was rushed for time."

Snort.

"See, it's still not a contest, but you didn't have any caveats upon presenting me with my ring."

"Uh huh. 'It's not a contest, but if it were, you'd win...'"

"Well then aren't you glad it's not a contest, Blair!"

James laughs again. "I suppose I should get that house fixed for our honeymoon then."

"You have a week and a half until our wedding, and the house is on another continent," Yvette points out, raising her eyebrows.

"Blair, did that sound like a challenge to you? It sounded like a challenge to me."

"Sure did! This seems like the time to mention that I can't take part in the ceremony at all because I'd definitely be recognized, and that I am absolutely happy to assist with a conspiracy."

Yvette snorts. "As long as I have a groom for the wedding. And my fiancé doesn't disappear for a week and leaving me to deal with the horrors of event planning on my own."

"I am pretty sure you have most of the planning done at this point, but it does seem like poor taste to abandon the bride for a week right before the wedding."

"Just a little. I would get terribly sad and lonely. I might even worry you were getting cold feet!"

"I think the temperature of my feet is in this case going to be very misleading about the future of our relationship."

Yvette grins. "So I shouldn't make authoritarian demands about keeping your feet at a certain literal temperature for the state of our marriage? Good, the schedule and logistics for keeping buckets of warm water at hand was a little much."

"I am reminded why I got you a house," deadpans Blair.

"I would say you could keep this one but somehow I suspect this would not be an ideal thank you gift."

"Nah, thanks though. Besides, I like travelling, and it's not like I need to have a place to sleep."

"Nor to store memorabilia? I suppose the perfect memory renders that somewhat less useful."

"Maybe at some point, if I find something I don't think I can replace, but I've never been big on collecting objects. I like travelling light."

"You realize you don't have to sell me on vampirism, love. The only reason I'm not having you carry me off to turn me in the woods right now is to not worry everyone that knows and loves me." Pause. ".... And also I'd be very annoyed if all of that wedding planning was then made pointless."

"I am certainly not trying to sell you on it, love of my life, I am merely making you anticipate it more strongly. Speaking of which, Blair, have you ever been to Antarctica? It's beautiful, and quite unlike what normal cameras can capture."

"Not yet! But I do have time."

"Yes, yes, rub it in, it won't make me regret that I'll be sharing eternity with both of you, will it."

"Won't the next couple of weeks be so much fun? You have a lot to look forward to!"

"This is a bid to get me to elope with you, isn't it."

"Absolutely not, I think we should have a wedding that we will remember forever and then a honeymoon that we will remember forever. I'm just not a very good person."

Snort. "Ahuh. I think you just like tormenting me."

"That's what I said, minus the flourish."

"And just think," says Blair, dryly, "she's not even mated to you yet. I think I will be giving you two lots of space. Possibly for the next decade."

"Not going to help wrangle the newborn?"

Blair gives a little annoyed hiss. ".... Fine. I'll stay nearby, but not in earshot, you can come get me if you're going to try wafting humans at her. Ordinary newborn antics I expect you'll be better equipped to handle than I will."

Yvette's mouth twitches. "Hands where you can see them, flirting to a minimum, enforced personal space bubble of two feet between us whenever you're in eyesight?"

"Yep, that, all of that, I cannot express how little I want to know about my sister's sex life."

He laughs. "I should not have trouble with most of the wrangling, don't worry, we will do our best to not sully your mind."

"'preciate it."

After what seems like an eternity, yet paradoxically not nearly enough time for it to really properly sink in, a week and a half elapses. The day of her wedding arrives, and Yvette runs out of things to nervously micromanage. While the weight of the wedding planning had been firmly on her shoulders, she purposefully made sure the day itself would have as few moving parts as possible, so nothing could go wrong. What parts could go wrong and needed managing were delegated to competent people. This was mostly making sure the photographer - the arguably most frivolous and inarguably most expensive part of this wedding - had time and space to get set up somewhere scenic, and so that the ceremony would end well before the photographer arrived. That, and the more informal reception, but she expected to be able to actually assist with managing that. Not to mention that the reception came after all of the nerve-wracking bits, and was comparatively comforting to think about. It was all tidy lists and making sure everyone had a plate and saying hi to everyone.

Whereas the preparation for the ceremony involves squeezing into a rather clingy white satin dress, and holding still for her bridesmaids to fuss over her makeup, and waiting for everyone else to be in their proper ceremony locations while going over her lines, and then slowly and arduously walking with her father down the aisle to her quickly soon to be husband, without tripping over anything or looking stupid, but also without having anything to do but walk and probably smile. It is, approximately speaking, a whole series of things that didn't lend themselves well to letting off nervous energy, right after the other. There isn’t much to do besides think about things like, 'aaa I'm getting married, but I'm too young to be a Missus,' or 'what if someone cuts themselves on something sharp and James tries to eat them,' or, 'why didn't we just elope like lovestruck idiots, it would have been much faster!!' or any number of other things that kept coming, unbidden, into her mind at a breakneck speed.

  "No second thoughts?" wonders her father dryly, at very nearly the end of this parade of not being able to do things while having kind of a lot of nervous energy to deal with.

Yvette raises her eyebrows. The thought of fleeing and going through that nonsense a second time is about as appealing as sticking her hand on a hot stove. Less so, actually; burns would be easily fixed by turning and therefore take much less effort to mend. The timetable on turning would just be moved up, a bit, that's all. "... Maybe about the heels. I'd have trouble chasing down the judge if he tries to leave without making it official. I suppose that'll be James's job, if it happens," she muses.

  Her father snorts and cracks a smile; the banter's soothing enough to make her almost, almost relax.

Then the waiting is over and it's on to the walking, which is also nerve-wracking, but at least an improvement. She's doing something besides waiting, and every step is taking her closer to...

...the happiest man on Earth, probably, smiling brilliantly at her.

Oh. Yes, that. That's why all the trouble.

She grins brilliantly right back. Then, because she knows he absolutely heard her, she significantly raises her eyebrows and motions with her eyes towards the judge. 'Your job to chase down if he runs, yeah?'

Don't worry, my love, he is not going anywhere, says the groom with his eyes.

Good. They require him.

Soon enough, she's down the aisle and her hand's in James's and eeee they're almost done, they're almost married!!! There's a boring bit where the judge talks about marriage and commitment and whatnot, but she's so glad she went with a judge instead of a priest that might have droned on and on and on. In approximately no time at all they're at the part where they promise things to each other and mean every word.

"I, Yvette Lowell, take you, James Orland, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish." She gives his hand a little squeeze. "Today, tomorrow, and forevermore." Because neither of them are under the impression that mere death would cut either of them loose.

"I, James Orland, take you, Yvette Lowell, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish," he mirrors. "Today, tomorrow, and forevermore."

Rings go on assorted fingers; her wedding band tucks neatly next to her engagement ring, and his own matching band goes on the appropriate finger. All the while, Yvette is smiling brilliantly at him from beneath her veil. Eeeeeee they're almost at the part where she gets spirited away to spend eternity with him!!!

  "I now pronounce you husband and wife," says the judge. "You may kiss the bride."

James can instead grab her by the waist and lift her like she weighs nothing at all, twirling her a couple of times before stopping again and dipping her. He somehow makes it all look rehearsed and extremely pretty, but the crowning moment is the kiss, different somehow but still the same, still James and yet like he's never kissed her before, because she's his now, and he will have her forever.

Yvette squeaks, then starts giggling with delight. In retrospect, she really should have expected this. For some reason, she didn't. Maybe it was all of the infuriating waiting and doing nothing. On the other hand, the dipped kiss was much more expected; for that she can drape her arms across his shoulders and pull herself closer and kiss him right back. She gives a little happy hum into his lips.

She is his, and he will!

The informal reception afterwards is significantly more fun than the wedding itself. It is not a particularly large party - even counting the groom and bride, they don't break a dozen guests. They almost certainly offended some of her family with such a short list. Yvette's pretty sure that at least one of her aunts would have been less offended if she'd actually eloped with James, instead of having an actual wedding that she didn't get invited to. Her lack of presence isn't really a loss, and it's not like she's going to have to deal with social fallout. One bright side of dumping one's entire human life to go run off with your pretty vampire husband is that everyone's getting cut off anyway, so social consequences aren't really a major concern. Goodbyes, on the other hand, are. It's no secret that Yvette is leaving; there are lots of hugs, laughter, and even the odd set of tears to make up for her absence in the future. She promises everyone that she'll write, and makes a point of making it the best sendoff she possibly can. The photographer she hired helps with that, a bit; he's expensive either way, and he's already set up, so she's not particularly stingy on who gets to have their pictures taken.

Eventually, they run out of energy and time and food, and the evening comes to a close. It's a pity her memory isn't perfect yet, but James is a fine repository for all of the details. He can refresh her fallible human memories of everything important. All of the repetitions of goodbye and 'I love you' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I wish you all the best' and everything else sincere and heartfelt and yet not quite up to the task of really saying 'Goodbye, probably forever.' The hugs and laughs and tears and promises of letters and pictures and everything else that isn't, quite, the same as being around. Her dad, in particular, is hard to leave. While she's paid a friend to, well, essentially be his minder, he'll still be all alone with his grief, with only written words to keep him company. He gets extra hugs and 'I love you's' and one stern directive to take care of himself. She doesn't, quite, think that last one will be followed. She also doesn't think it's her problem to fix. No matter how much she'd like to.

Then it's time to go, and while she is moved to tears at the loss, she doesn't feel sorry. Even with all of the combined efforts of everyone here that loves and likes her, she's so ready to be away from this town, with its too long work hours and its too cramped living spaces and its grieving fathers and absent brothers and the thousand little papercuts that sliced away at her until she felt like nothing but a blood drained shell. Considering her current life choices, the irony of this phrasing does not escape her. Time to go never bleed again. She will not particularly miss it.

But first, there's the matter of the honeymoon. It's been quite enough waiting, thank you, and James has been insufferably silent about his plans. It's simpler for her to stay human and travel ready for it, and while they have forever together, her husband does only have a short period of time with his wife as human. Best to get all of the indulgence the two of them might like while they can. Her own major reservation to the idea is safety, but apparently James has practice at this sort of thing. According to him, she should be quite safe. It's not like they have to worry about the possibility of children, with the sterility of vampires.

"Do I get to hear anything about where we're going now?" she wonders wryly, as they depart the party.

He eyes her assessingly. "How much do you want to know versus be surprised? Guarantee you'll like it."

"Mmm. Mostly I just want to make sure I don't have to talk to or interact with anyone, do I get to not have to see or talk to or interact with anyone except you for at least a week?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Then I suppose the specifics can wait until you get to dramatically reveal them, since you seem set on doing a dramatic reveal."

"It doesn't have to be that dramatic. Oh is that a carriage with white horses and a chauffeur, wherever could it have come from."

Snort. "Not dramatic at all, that."

"I did not say zero dramatic," he replies primly.

"Uh huh. Of course. Well, I'll still let you have your dramatic reveal with maximum drama, anyway, because I love you and want you to have nice things."

"Good when things are symmetrical like that. Up?" he says, offering her hand up into the carriage.

"Up!" she agrees, taking the hand and stepping up.

He follows her into it and soon enough they're off to wherever it is James is taking her.

The inside of the carriage looks extremely expensive. And feels extremely comfortable. One could very easily fall asleep there, with the rhythmic clop-clop of the horse's hooves beating against the ground and the rocking of the cart as effective as a lullaby.

She notes this with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, is it part of your cunning plan for me to nap now, or no?"

"My cunning plan is indifferent to your napping, but I expect you must be tired after all of..." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the back of the carriage. "That."

Yvette snorts. "Yeah. Not quite sleepy tired, though. But I'll try to nap, since I expect..." her mouth twitches and she smirks. "I will probably not be getting all that much sleep later."

James smiles. "I am sure I don't know what you could possibly mean."

"Uh huh. Riiiight." She nestles into his arms and hums contently. "Pet my hair and tell me I'm pretty and that you love me very much?"

He pets her hair. "You are gorgeous and I love you with the fiery passion of a thousand suns."

"Eeeeeeeee I love you very much too!"

Okay. Sleeping. Attempting to sleep. ... She has no idea if she's pulling this off or not. Probably not. But! She is being petted by her husband(!!!!), which is very nice and soothing and probably close enough to napping for her purposes.

Her husband (!!!!) is constitutionally incapable of napping (literally) so he will continue petting her for the while it takes them to get to their destination.

She maybe naps on the way to their mysterious destination; she really couldn't say. It's nice and cozy, though, and so far the being married thing is pretty great.

So James maybe gently nudges her awake when they get to their mysterious destination.

It seems to be... a small wharf of some kind? It is not very large and fancy and it is very Definitely lacking in people. It has exactly one person that they can see, sitting on a wooden crate on the pier, fishing, and a boat. A small boat, for a crowd. A very large boat, for two people. Large and fancy. It's a boat that two people could stay in as something like their living quarters for quite a while. It is white and sleek and looks fancy and very, very expensive.

Yvette gives a little yawn upon (maybe) waking up, and then beams, when she sees the boat.

"Oh, good job, it's gorgeous and I will not have to interact with anyone but you for a long while," she murmurs appreciatively. Then her mouth twitches in self awareness. "I'm telling the fiscally responsible part of myself that's going, 'How much did you spend on this, you went overboard I didn't need it to be this fancy,' to shut up, because our expenses are about to become nearly zilch and we only get married once and we are planning to have forever. I think I've been wedding planning for too long."

"Perhaps a little bit," he says, grinning. Then off he gets and offers her a hand down.

She snorts, accepts the offered hand, then smirks and twists to let herself fall forward so as to expedite the inevitable bridal carry. If he weren’t a vampire this might be something he couldn’t react to in time, and she’d painfully drop out of the carriage onto the ground in front of him, but she does not expect him to have any trouble catching and carrying her.

He catches her easily enough, of course, and even makes it look artsy somehow.

"We are not even out at sea yet and you're already having trouble with your sea feet?" he needles.

Yvette giggles, draping her arms around his neck.

“Nope!” she declares, cheerfully. “I just love you and want to be carried off by my husband. You have my permission to drop me if you really want to.”

"I'm sure I do," he agrees easily, and just as easily trots off boatwards as if she weighs nothing at all.

She gives the driver of the carriage a cheerful wave as she’s carried off.

James approaches the fisher, who by now has noticed them and stood up. There is not much sun, but he makes sure to not let any catch his skin—and you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for it.

    "Ahoy! She's ready as can be, m'lord."

"Jonathan, what did we talk about last time?" James says in a mocking stern tone.

    "...'m sorry, Mr. Orland, ol' habits..."

"Mr. Orland was my father, Jonathan!" he admonishes, his eyes twinkling. "And I'm no one's lord, thanks muchly. I'm American."

    The man laughs. "Aye, aye." And then he looks at Yvette as if he hadn't noticed her, and bows his head. "An' you mus' be his lady? 'Tis a honour to meet you, m'la—ah—"

“A pleasure to meet you too! I’m Yvette Orland.” Yep, that’s very exciting to say and very weird and new. “Mrs. Orland was not either of my parents, so you can use it if you’d like, but Yvette seems like it’d match my husband better, if he’d rather be rid of ceremony.”

"Maybe after I've done something to earn it. Anyway, thank you very much, Jonathan, it was a pleasure meeting you."

    "An' you, Mr.—James."

Onto boat!

Jonathan can get a cheerful goodbye wave, too!

She is very excited about being on the boat. Outside observers can tell because she's smiling so wide her face might just split in half from the strain, and because she's nearly buzzing with sheer glee in James's arms. Eeeeeeeeeee!!! Married! Marriedmarriedmarried they're married!

After he steps into the boat he has to regretfully let her go to start untying the boat from the pier.

"I," he says amidst knots of rope, deftly unmaking them one by one and not looking at her, "will not kiss you again until we are away from the shore. Because I don't think I will be able to hold myself back and do not want to give people an unexpected show."

That statement makes it very tempting to be... well, tempting, and take advantage of his inability to kiss her to touch him. But yes, all right, maybe she should be good and not torment her husband. Yet. She doesn't particularly want to give people an unexpected show either, it's just the general principle of the matter. He is hers to tempt, after all.

"Yes, let's not. And I'll be good," she purrs obligingly, leaning against the nearby wall and... totally checking him out, because just because he's not looking at her doesn't mean she can't look at him.

He has not become any less hot over the past........ many decades, really. He notices her checking him out, grins, uses his super vampire sense of vision to check that no one is looking, and takes his shirt off.

It's tiring and physical work and whatnot after all, isn't it.

He's done soon.

Mmm, but he is pretty. Somehow, she successfully keeps her hands to herself. The physical space between them helps a bit.

"Do let me know if I'm teasing you a bit too much," she says, because the more intelligent part of her brain has not actually turned off in the presence of abs, "I know you, ah, said you have practice, but. Safety first."

"Whose?" he wonders, moving towards the wheel. "Are you ready, love of my life?"

"Mmhmm," she hums, trailing after him. "And my safety. I'm smart enough to be aware that teasing a super strong vampire is perhaps a bit... dubious while one is still human and squishy. Fun though it might be."

"You won't be a squishy human for very much longer, really," he says, starting the boat. It humms to life and starts accelerating away from the pier. Without the tree cover, the sun is free to make James glitter, but at this distance the human eyes won't really be able to tell so he can show off as much as he likes. "You can indulge in a little risk-seeking for the last time."

His wife can help him out in the not glittering department by coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around him to lean on him. There! The glitter is mostly covered up. She's so helpful.

"Well, yes, and I am, but—look, just let me know if I'm tempting literal death, I do have a forever to worry about. And I'm rather attached to having it, fun of risk-seeking or no."

"There is no literal death temptation here. There might be a loss of your by-now-only-technical virginity temptation earlier than planned. And plans are so very important."

"No, no, being overly attached to plans is my job, stop that. You're supposed to be the fun one tempting me to leave all sense behind and do something irresponsible." She nuzzles him. "And no calling attention to my technical virginity, we've met the stated definitional requirements and that's that."

James laughs, then turns a bit to look at her from the side of his eyes. "I love you."

“Good, it’d be terribly inconvenient if you didn’t, at this point.” She keeps her hands above the belt, but she does not keep them still. Hello, abs. “And I love you too, of course.”

"Of course," he says, rolling his eyes but still smiling. "Now, Mrs. Orland, unless you want me to destroy your beautiful dress right here and now, I believe you should go downstairs and get acquainted with the very spacious boat you will be occupying for the next while. I shall join you as soon as we are sufficiently away from land, which should be only a few minutes," he continues, the promise being only confirmed by their continued acceleration. This is one fancy boat.

Yvette giggles, but gives a theatrical sigh at this truly difficult sacrifice, then withdraws her hands.

"Fine, fine, I'll keep my hands to myself and await you below." But apparently not her lips, because she presses a quick kiss to his neck just before retreating out of reach.

"The beautiful dress is expendable, by the way," she says as she goes, "I am not planning to lug around my wedding dress for the rest of eternity. I'd be tempted to keep it for sentiment, but your memory is perfect, so..."

"One would think you want me to tear it off you," he says, growling menacingly with the word 'want' and looking at her with a look that he's........ never given her before.

Suddenly, he's dangerous.

But maybe...

...not in a bad way.

The look gives her pause. Dangerous-but-not-with-any-real-danger is a good look on him. It's distracting, and sends a little pleasant shiver up her spine.

"... Maybe a little," she hedges, eyelashes fluttering. And then the nervous giggles catch up to her and she flees below deck. Having her wedding night with her husband above deck where theoretically anyone could see is. A bit much. It's a bit much.

"Well, I suppose I will find out what you wanted if, when I find you downstairs on the large bed lined with rose petals, you are still wearing the dress, won't I?"

"I suppose you will!"

... Is there a large bed lined with literal rose petals? Actually, upon reflection, that's a silly question. There definitely is. He was being absolutely serious about that and actually did figure out a way to make that happen. Somehow. Yep, there it is, one large bed covered in literal rose petals, James was not exaggerating. She'd wonder why, except for how she knows why, because even if it's a bit much, it's romantic and sweet and silly and will make her giggle - like this, yep, here's her giggle - and of course he'd devote the time and energy into eviscerating some perfectly innocent roses to charm his wife. It's really endearing.

She makes a quick trip to the bathroom, then toes off her heels, lets down her hair, and removes most nonessential jewelry from her person. The engagement and wedding rings are essential, and accordingly stay on. So does the dress.

Not for very long, it doesn't. He returns, and the dress soon finds itself in multiple locations simultaneously and much less useful for dressing or staying in one place without active supervision. The bed fares better, and James has enough self-control that it stays mostly unbroken. Enough self-control, in fact, that Yvette sports no bruises that were not carefully planned and specifically intended.

She surprises him, he delights in her, and they exhaust themselves—to the extent that's a valid description of vampires—and they end in the mostly intact bed, snuggling and already cleaned up, enjoying the sway of the ocean and each other's company.

She loves him so, so much, and the nice thing about having put up with that annoying waiting period is that now they have absolutely nowhere to be except each other's arms. No sneaking around to speak of, no fussing with jobs or parents or friends fretting about getting pregnant out of wedlock. Impossible though that last one might have been, on account of her husband (!) being a vampire.

... right?

It is a little over a week later that Yvette finds herself throwing up over the side of the boat for the second time in two days.

"I blame the wedding," she grumbles miserably, once she's done, "I bet I caught some kind of bug, and I and half of our guests are now all going to be throwing up, and ugh. Being human sucks and I'm going to be so glad when I stop."

He can multitask enough to not need to be at the helm anywhere near as often as a human would, which means he can worriedly fret around her and pet her and then hold back from petting her because he's cold and maybe she shouldn't be around cold things and good thing he brought lots of water and if he has to he will literally swim somewhere to get more, and maybe some medicine, she was a nurse so they brought plenty, but??

"Maybe we should turn you early," he says, biting his lower lip hard enough to leak a little bit of fluid down his own skin.

"Eugh, don't tempt me." He's fretting over her and being self-conscious about touching her. This is terrible; he should stop that. She leans into him for snuggles and finishes off the available water.

"It's fine, it's really just a bit of nausea. I've caught way worse on nursing shifts. If it gets too bad we certainly can, but I do not want to go into three days of agony straight from being sick, that seems like it just extends my misery more than necessary." Pause. "Also it's scary and I'm putting it off a little, even if I really want the end result, and I don't want to make myself do scary things when I'm sick. Blegh." Leaaaaan.

Pet pet pet fret. "Okay. That makes sense. It will suck more than everything you have ever felt combined and multiplied by a hundred and you will not even remember why you thought this felt bad, for what it's worth."

"You know what, love, that really doesn't help," she snorts.

Pet pet fret fret.

"You're sure it's not seasickness? Humans get that, right?"

"I think if it were seasickness it'd have started sooner. But maybe, I guess? I haven't sailed before. I don't feel very ill, just. Kind of generally nauseous and cranky."

"Okay. Makes sense. Do you want anything? More water? Food? Wait, no, food is bad. Soup?"

Yvette giggles. He's fretting so much, it's kind of cute?

"Sure, water and soup. Food's not bad, love, I still need to eat, I just might see it again after. Foods like crackers and bread are less likely to be thrown up again, but honestly everything's a bit of a risk. Fluids are the most important thing to put in me. But really, this is not bad. Twice in two days? Pffffff. Dad once gave me food poisoning, I got to the point where I didn't have anything left to throw up. And yet kept trying. This is much preferable."

"I have not been sick in over a century and I have no memory of what it was like, give me some time!!!!"

And here's a peck on the forehead and he disappears to go find stuff.

"I shouldn't be sick long enough to give you time, because soon I'll be an immortal vampire and I won't know what it's like either, anymore!" she calls after him, amused. Then she trails after him to the boat's interior, to sit down or something.

"Are we anywhere near land, and if we do end up emergency turning me, I can safely hunt sea creatures, right?"

"We... are not particularly near land, no." Here, bottle of water, now to make some soup. "Sea creatures are fine, yes. Sharks are my personal favourite."

“Okay.” She carefully sips her water. “So that’s probably for the best, and we should stick to it. And if we need to turn me you can teach me how to hunt sharks.”

"You sink your teeth into them," he explains helpfully while starting on the soup at vampire speed where possible.

“Thanks, love, I’m so enlightened.” She rolls her eyes, fondly.

"You will acquire technique with practice."

“But I want to be graceful and elegant, damn it! Can’t you run me through the basics very quickly so I don’t embarrass myself with my clumsiness in front of my mate?”

"Not realistically." Chop chop chop not quite at the speed of sound. "It is almost entirely muscle memory. So to speak. You would be underwater so the problem newborns usually have with getting drenched in blood will not apply, that is already a plus."

“That’s true. But the muscle memory wouldn’t transfer very well to hunting on land. So I suppose for the first couple of hunts I should do so in the nude!”

"I expect anything that fights back would probably destroy whatever you were wearing anyway. Probably sharks are not sufficiently agile for this, but a bear or a large cat would be, I think."

"See! I'll just have to do all of my hunting while stark naked until I get a good grasp of table manners. Stalking through the woods at super speed, pouncing on my prey, getting help cleaning the blood off of myself..."

"I am not going to be distracted by your transparent attempts at temptation until I am done with this soup," he singsongs.

"Spoilsport. But insatiable honeymoon antics aside, it does sound fun."

And she can almost imagine it, like—

—looking at the world through painted glass, the colors brighter and sharper and prettier than she has the words to describe, senses leading her onwards to her prey to sate the horrible charcoal that is her throat—

—Yvette blinks, and frowns a little. Uh? Uh. Was that a hallicunation of some kind??

He has his back to her so he does not immediately notice it but there's a pause and a hitch in her breath and he's at her side. "Love?"

Oh, damn, and she'd just gotten him to stop fussing. Okay, fine, since he's here he can hold her.

"I'm fine. Ish. Fine-ish? I might want to go lie down, though, I had a weird moment of, of. I don't know, vertigo, or falling a bit too deep into my imagination? Like a very vivid daydream."

She can be quickly but carefully swept and then taken to her bed. "I will bring your soup here."

"Okay, dear," she sighs. Yeah, that's not a husband that can be argued with on this topic, is it. Fair enough, she guesses. "Can you also bring a book and then your lovely company so I don't get too bored by being terribly responsible?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Zip zap.

She gives another very dramatic sigh and consents to the indignity of being confined to their bed. In an entirely nonsexual way. Damnation. Maybe she should just be turned early, but...

... she doesn't...

... feel like she should? That's probably the fear of turning talking. She still doesn't want to make herself do a hard scary thing while she's sick, that's probably it.

(Why doesn't it feel like it, though?)

He cannot comment on her sense of foreboding when he returns a couple of seconds later with a book.

"Thank you, love," she says, smiling a little when she sees him. Ugh. Thinking is hard, the whole wedding was just a marathon of thinking, thinking, thinking. The whole point of this thing was to not do any kind of thinking at all. Can't she just be held instead??

"Hold me for a bit?" she requests, because obviously the answer is yes.

Obviously the answer is yes.

Mmmmm being married is so nice.

Being human is less nice. Whatever she has does not go away in a couple of days. It's not obviously debilitating, it just involves more of a ravenous appetite, and tiredness, and some odd but on the whole pleasant trips of imagination that would make much more sense if she was on some kind of drug regimen, and some very vivid dreams. One of those drives her to wake up in James's arms in tears about, about - she doesn't quite know, some shadow of an impossible life that she and James couldn't have, where they have a child and she's beautiful. She flips between feeling too hot and too cold and it's not even clear that she has a fever right now. Probably it's just that James is fussing endlessly and it's making her self conscious about her own body, but. But. What's going on...?

When she has a - a very vivid imagining of the taste of blood, of how delicious it would be and how much she needs to drink it, she sits up. What? That's not the first sort of hallucination in the vampire vein that she's had, but something about it feels very real.

".... James, love, I think I have a request of you."

"—yes, light of my life?"

God, this is going to sound so insane.

"Can you," she begins carefully, "go catch some sort of ocean critter, and then bring it back up here to drain the blood of. Into a cup. So I can, uh. Drink. It."

"I think you skipped some steps there love."

"Well it's just that I think I'm actually really craving blood right now and, a-and. I. It seems like a very cheap test to see if it's just a weird urge that will gross me out if it becomes reality or if it's. Something else. And if it's the something else it might explain what... is going on with me," she says, picking through her words in careful little packages, because she feels more than a little crazy, actually, but she doesn't want to sound like it.

James opens his mouth then closes his mouth. "I do not think people turn into vampires from sufficient exposure but admittedly have not heard of anyone who has been exposed to a single vampire for quite as long as you have without turning," he did carefully.

"Iiiiiiii do not think that is what is going on with me," she says, swallowing. Oh, boy. "U-um. James, I uh. I can't help but notice that I have a. A paunch." She motions to her abdomen. "That wasn't there two weeks ago. And I've been having very vampire centric hallucinations, and, and inexplicable dreams about being a mother, and food cravings, and nausea, and, and. How well tested was that sterility of yours, because we tested the everliving shit out of it."

He opens and shuts his mouth several times before saying, "I will be right back," and zipping out of the room.

Yvette waits, and tries not to fret. She can’t be pregnant, right, that’s crazy, and impossible, and. Wow, she really hopes that if she is pregnant that James didn’t sire any children before her. That... would complicate things. A lot. Especially since if she is pregnant, this is way too fast, she shouldn’t be showing after getting knocked up a week ago! ... maybe two weeks ago. Ugh. What does that mean for the child, what does that mean for her, is a half vampire baby even viable? Can a fragile human woman even give birth to a super strong half invincible baby without breaking her entire pelvis?

It’s very inconvenient that she sent her husband away to fetch blood for her to drink, because actually she’d really like it if he could hold her while she freaks out about this impossible thing that is definitely not happening!

He returns anon, still dripping salt water but holding a glass full of... well. That definitely is blood.

She expects to find it gross or offputting or something, but. No. No that just looks delicious. Yvette Orland downs the glass of blood in one long series of swallows, without any kind of pause. Then she has the good manners to look embarrassed about it.

".... So, definitely something weird going on," she says a little faintly, handing the empty glass back to her husband.

James takes it back silently, not shaking only by virtue of being a vampire. "Is... this is too early, isn't it?"

“For me to be showing for a pregnancy? Oh, yes, yes very much. And you’re definitely the father, I wasn’t - where would I have found the time.”

"I would have been able to smell it, if you were, it was not in question—how far along would this be?"

“God, I don’t know, I’ve never been pregnant before, James. I didn’t even work in a maternity ward. A... month or two? I think? Maybe more? I really hope it was our wedding night sex that did it because this is so much more alarming than it already was if it was just from a, a week ago.”

"I think... we should get to America sooner rather than later."

“Yep! Fast as this poor boat can go.”

"...faster. I think."

“Faster? What do you mean?”

"I think I can push it faster than it can go."

“You mean literal pushing,” she snorts. “Okay, sure. But... not all the time, okay? I... I don’t want to be alone for too long. I’m scared.”

"—of course. I can do it mostly at night, after you have fallen asleep?"

“Sure. I’m sorry, I realize it’s smarter to just throw all our resources in getting to land - we should aim for my brother and our house, he was working on it, if we can - but I. Can’t. Just be here on this boat alone.”

Then, quite reasonably, she starts crying.

Oh oh oh no it is absolutely 100% hugs time damn him and his being cold and vampiric here they have blankets just for appropriate snuggles.

Yvette clings to him and sobs.

"W-what are we even going to do, how does this even make any sense, how has no one figured this out before, James how many w-women did you...?" Sniffle. "Without eating, I mean."

"I don't—two. Other than you."

"Are they okay, do you know if they suddenly came down with vampiric pregnancy? Do... do you possibly have children you didn't even know about?"

"I don't know. I never—perhaps I should visit them. And find out."

"Well, not now, all of the important parts are probably over anyway, and you're mine until we have this sorted out and and forever more besides," sniffs Yvette. "... Just two? Really? I'd thought that you'd had a whole... series of..." She waves her hand vaguely.

"I did."

Oh, of course he ate them. Yvette whines, miserably. "... Great."

Hug hug hug?

Mhm, yep, hugs.

"God. What do we do."

"We—get to America and figure out whether we can safely deliver this baby and if not..."

Wince. "Right. Uh. I'd have expected to miscarry before now if the child wasn't viable at all, but I'm just guessing and perhaps indulging in some wishful thinking. Drinking blood is I think on the whole a good sign? Since it means that there's - some proverbial communication of needs that I can act upon. Instead of. Not that. I think we should probably plan to need a cesarean section for me instead of the ordinary delivery method, if she has even a little bit of super strength as a fetus I do not think my pelvis would have a good time."

"—she?"

"... I don't know where that came from either," says Yvette, frowning. "I... have a very strong impression that the baby is a girl??"

"...maybe she's a witch?"

"Oh. Oh that would make sense with the hallucinations I've been having, wouldn't it. Oh damn, okay. What witch power even is that, some sort of communication thing?"

"I don't know, you said you hallucinated being a vampire and drinking blood? Maybe she could be reading my memories and sending them to you."

"James, love, I think that's a bit too many steps for a child that's perhaps a couple inches long," she snorts. "It doesn't do the confusing aesthetic thing that witch powers seem to have, either."

He shrugs. "Speculating."

"Mmhmm. Try to keep your speculations realistic." She leans into him and gives a little hum. "I... really hope she'll be okay?? I'll probably be okay regardless, right, we have emergency turning available to us and it can save humans from the brink of death?"

"So long as... they don't die before the venom takes effect, yes."

“Okay. And it’s distributed by bloodstream?”

"I assume so..."

".... I'm wondering that if things start to get dangerous, if we should get the venom into my bloodstream first, and then, uh, remove her from me, so that we don't have the danger of me dying in the middle of the whole thing. But that introduces the danger of transmission of venom to our child, which could just. Kill her."

She gets a very comprehensive and artful vision of an infant ripping its way out of her heavily pregnant stomach. "Augh. I guess thanks for the heads up, kiddo, but augh."

"—hm?"

"Uh. So I think an ordinary birth is just. Not going to happen at all. I got a, a witch vision of her, um. Directly getting out. With her teeth."

"Yep! Yep that was approximately my reaction! Look, dear, she has your patience!"

"Light of my life, this is emphatically not funny."

"Oh, come on, that was a little funny," grumbles Yvette, pouting. "And humor is a perfectly good coping mechanism."

Whimper.

"Sorry." She pats his cheek. "I'll stop." Sigh. Even though it's such a great coping mechanism, and that was hilarious. But yes, serious talking time now, mhm.

"So, I. I don't want to just... not even try to save her. She's. She's our baby, we made her. C-section to remove her when it seems like she's big enough to live through it?" She gets a vision of James ripping her open with his teeth, and winces. "With... your teeth... apparently..."

"Love, I do not think I would be able to hold myself back if I actually personally tasted your blood right there at the time."

“Right then. So, rip a tooth out and use it as a makeshift scalpel?”

"—oh. Yes, I suppose that would work."

Yvette squints, and tries very hard to induce a witch vision to see if that’ll work. ... nope, nothing. Just her perfectly ordinary vision and her overactive imagination. Eugh.

“How do you plan to turn me, though, if you can’t ever taste my blood? Especially quickly. Or is it just, uh, that setting.”

"Normally drinking from—anyone, anything, involves only as much contact with blood as I want it to. If I were to be cutting you open with my teeth there would be... more of that."

“Oh. I see. The difference between brief to the point bites and making out with my stomach with your teeth. Gotcha. Do you think you can do multiple bites at major arteries to get a lot of venom in me quickly?”

James swallows dryly. "Yeah, that should be... possible."

Yvette nods, then rubs her husband's back. "This should be planned out and decided before we actually do it, to prevent the whole thing from being an emergency, so. We'd have time to send you off hunting to get filled with semi-delicious shark blood beforehand. Are there other methods of getting venom into a bloodstream besides biting, to maybe spare you? I know venom, uh, melts through. A lot."

She knows how she learned this fact, but she is of the opinion that the how is not the reader's business, so the narration does not expand upon this and will let the reader come to their own conclusions.

"If there is any material my venom doesn't burn through other than my own skin, I don't know it," he says, sounding apologetic.

"Okay, but it takes time for it to burn through things, right? I'm not saying something that would stand up long term, I'm saying a vial and a needle that can last for five minutes for you to spit into, and then inject into me. I guess it'd probably give me a higher dose of iron than I might like, or something, but uh. I don't think that'll be my biggest problem."

"...yeah. Possibly."

"But then I'd also be adding complications to a thing you can actually just do by biting me... You're very sure you can bite me multiple times without killing me?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then I'll stop fretting about that. I guess. And instead I can just obnoxiously hang around you every waking moment, because that is so incredibly different from what we'd been doing before."

"Almost like we are newlyweds or something."

"Almost! Weird how that works."

"You marry someone once and they go ahead and start thinking you should stay together forever. Madness."

“Mhm. Almost like it was in the vows or something.”

"Funny how that goes."

“Quite. … God I’m now so glad I was silly and decided to wait for marriage, can you imagine me getting pregnant with a half vampire baby while I was wedding planning? Or earlier? I feel so retroactively justified in wanting to have you all to myself with zero distractions!”

"...I suppose that is true, wow that would have been a headache."

"Yep. Now we just have an unprecedented pregnancy in the middle of the Atlantic but without any need to think of cover stories for every human that knows me." Pause. "... Wow, uh. Us. Parents. Of an unprecedented half-vampire baby."

"...I think I want to get to America as soon as possible and maybe enlist your brother's help."

"And definitely enlist my brother's help," she agrees, with a firm nod. "Normal parenthood is terrifying, how are we even supposed to feel about a baby half vampire!!!"

"We will figure it out," he says, confidently.

"Careful there, you'll get vampire whiplash. Being moody is supposed to be my job."

"Not moody! I am going to be very confidently optimistic about things so that I do not get overwhelmed by fretting! Maybe I should accelerate the boat."

She snorts.

"Yes, yes, okay. Go ahead. I'll do some reading and maybe actually try to process my complicated feelings. You'll hear me if I call you, yeah?"

"Absolutely, light of my life."

"Okay. Go channel your definitely not fretting emotions into something productive, my love." And she gives him a kiss goodbye, and heads off to nestle in bed with a book and think.

Mostly her head is full of screaming? It's just running in useless circles of I can't be pregnant and I am so incredibly unprepared for motherhood, let alone motherhood of an unprecedented half vampire baby and Probably the fetus isn't even viable and will actually just kill me despite what my nonsensical visions say, and the smart thing to do is to terminate the pregnancy early to stay alive, and But we made her, and it's not her fault! and the like until all she wants to do is crawl under the covers and hide from the world. She does that, and then (very quietly) cries to herself over the pressure. She is terrified and so incredibly unprepared, and God, she'd planned to not be one of those women that got accidentally pregnant, her plan had been to only conceive a child if she damn well meant to, and yet here she fucking is, and it's not fair. Other mothers get nine months (or so) to finish freaking out, and if she's showing already, she will have significantly less time than that! This is, in fact, too much pressure. No wonder James is just completely failing to introspect about this at all, that's probably the smart thing to do!

Aaaaaaa.

He only takes a couple of minutes to set the boat to autopilot its way before he returns to hug her in bed.

"I have been caught," she sniffles, hugging him back. "Hi, love."

"Hello, light of my life. We're on our way and I'll be able to tell if I need to steer the boat so I can just be with you, here. What do you need?"

"I have no idea. Everything is scary and overwhelming and I just want to hide."

Hug hug hug. "We have a plan, we'll figure it out. Our... daughter... seems to think so, anyway."

"What if I'm not having visions at all, just a psychological break! What if I am having visions, but they're exactly what the child wants me to see because otherwise we'd actually just, just. Not try. And even if everything works out perfectly we will still be parents!!"

"We will. We will be parents."

He sounds... not exactly sad about the prospect actually.

She peers at him.

".... are you excited to be a father, James," she says, a little amused despite herself.

"I," he says, "am a vampire and can only feel one emotion at a time. I am processing.

"Yes."

His wife snorts, and then giggles a little into his shoulder. It's just a trace hysterical, okay, she's fine.

"Well. Okay. Good? I'm extremely worried about whether a hybrid is even possible, will she be able to grow up okay, will she have any medical issues?? I mean I guess vampires were made from humans so there is some obvious overlap in biological systems, but, but. ... I want her to be okay."

"One day at a time, love. Let us take this one day at a time and we'll figure it out together."

"Okay. I'll try. It's just. Scary." Pause. ".... can you go get me some more blood to drink?"

"Yes, of course. I shall return anon."

Off he goes.

"Okay. Thank you, love."

The pregnancy progresses.

Yvette is constantly ravenous, for both food and blood, and eventually professes a preference for protein and mammalian blood, respectively. She gets better about keeping down food, which is nice. Her stomach becomes more visibly pregnant at a speed that's kind of alarming, which is less nice. Within a few days, she starts having something like hot flashes, and more inconveniently cold flashes, which she cannot trivially treat by snuggling her husband. The first time the latter happens, they bundle her in blankets and eventually end up solving it by dumping her in a warm bath until her shivering stops, James anxiously hovering nearby. The second time it happens, they have already rigged up a series of hot water bottles and blankets that are already warmed for just such an occasion. Fortunately, they'd planned for her to potentially be chilly, what with marrying a vampire, so they have this equipment at all on the boat.

It's hard to tell if she's doing well or not. The best answer they have is 'probably.' The pregnancy is clearly not a kind one; she's losing weight everywhere except her stomach, which continues to grow at an alarming rate. But she remains ambulatory, if a bit uncomfortable about it, and doesn't have any sharp declines in health, strength, or cognition. There are no dramatic fainting episodes or delirium or anything. Being pregnant with a half vampire baby is... actually surprisingly boring? Uncomfortable and often concerning, but it's not like interesting problems like the cold flashes crop up particularly often. She mostly ends up hanging out in bed reading, while her husband brings her whatever it is that she needs. The 'visions' (or whatever they are) come less frequently, but with more clarity. They're not usually very helpful with the couple's day to day pregnancy management problems, but they are (for the most part) pretty and reassuring. Apparently their little girl will be a redhead like her mother, Yvette will make it through turning just fine. They get an exact timeframe for arrival, some tips for catching just the right breeze to get to their destination a little bit faster, and the forewarning that Blair will be waiting for them when they arrive. Less reassuringly, the child will apparently start breaking ribs soon, though it seems they still have some time before that actually starts. So. That'll be exciting.

She calms down a little, mostly settling into the idea of motherhood to a half vampire (dhampir?) baby, and is definitely affectionate and protective towards her baby bump and child inside. Motherhood in the future is a distant and terrifying prospect, but the little girl in the visions seems like an absolute sweetie, and Yvette does feel some level of closeness to the little life she's devoting so many resources to making. It's sort of like watching something in her garden sprout, except she's the proverbial pot for the little seedling to grow in, and there's no wandering off to check back in on its progress later. The progress is obvious, at all times. It's weirdly comforting. Eventually, she takes to sarcastically narrating things to her unborn child, which turns out to be a great coping mechanism, and furthermore, hilarious. ("Your father's off to go kill unsuspecting wildlife again, I know, the poor whales won't know what hit them," "Okay, kiddo, bathroom time, this is what happens when you sit directly on my bladder, you have no one to blame but yourself," and "I'd read this book aloud, but actually, it's kind of terrible, and I want your first impression of literature to be more positive than this. Maybe later.")

James has a lot to juggle, as his wife's sole caretaker. Steering the ship, cooking ridiculous amounts of food, hunting down whales and the like for their blood, keeping the series of hot water bottles warm, snuggling his wife when she needs him to, for hot flash reasons and for 'Aaa I'm pregnant with a one of a kind half-vampire baby' reasons, and generally running errands for her, since staying in bed seems like the best move.

Not to mention pushing the ship: whenever Yvette is asleep, James turns the boat's engine off, jumps into the water, and pushes the ship at top speed. It's unpleasant and terribly boring but he's nothing if not diligent, especially when it comes to his wife's survival, and does make them move faster than they otherwise would.

He assumes a can-do proactive stance on the whole thing after he has finished having all the emotions he needs to have about it, one at a time. They're doing what they can, there's no point in moping or freaking out or worrying. One day at a time, as he said, although this is not that many days anyway. Running errands (even entirely frivolous ones) during the day helps alleviate the boredom of pushing the boat at night, and fills him with a strange sense of fulfilment. Making himself useful is good to calm whatever nerves he has leftover, and when Yvette starts taking to talking to the baby he can't help but to the same. Surely if their daughter can send visions and break ribs she must have vampire superhearing and be able to hear them. He takes to singing, sometimes, some songs he collected here and there (the less bawdy ones), his favourite ones and the ones he wants her to be exposed to from the start. Nothing but the best for their daughter.

The days pass, their honeymoon has substantially less sex than he had hoped and substantially more fear for his wife's life than he had ever expected, but they carry on.

(Yvette turns out to be horribly jealous of James's singing voice. She grumbles to her baby bump about it, and promises that she will learn how to sing once she is a vampire, but will not do any singing right now, because James has a perfect memory and their daughter might have the same. She nonetheless adores James singing.)

"Aurene says you'll be within shouting range of Blair soon. He apparently noticed something was up with his freaky witch powers," announces Yvette, upon James's latest return from a blood collection fetchquest. It's been about a week since they noticed she was pregnant, but neither of them have felt like counting the days was particularly important in these circumstances.

"—Aurene? Oh, because of the eyes? It's pretty, I like it."

"Hm?" She pauses mid blood-drink. "... Kiddo, you could have waited for us to actually name you instead of announcing what your name will be in advance," sighs Yvette. "It is very pretty, though her eyes will be more of a blue-green, not gold."

"Oh. She told you her name. Of course she did." He sits next to Yvette to pet her belly. "You're terribly smart and opinionated just like your mother, aren't you?" he coos.

"Or impatient! Or I'm just picking it up from being tuned in to the psychic radio hour at all times." She finishes her blood. "But it's funniest to say she just announced it, so."

"She is still our daughter so odds are high that she will be smart, opinionated, and impatient anyway."

"This is true. But don't feel crushed under our expectations, Aurene, we will love you even if you are dumb, indifferent, and have the patience of a saint. Granted, we will be very confused, but the love is nonetheless unconditional."

James laughs. "I think at least one of those ships has sailed, if those visions are anything to go by."

"Shhhh. Stop crushing our daughter under the weight of your expectations!" teases Yvette, completely hypocritically. "Now please go make eggs for the hungering maw, before you get distracted by shouting at my brother."

"Yes, ma'am." And to the belly: "I will be right back, honey."

Midway through eggs:

"So are you sick of the boat already, or did you two get impatient and turn her early?" calls a familiar vampiric voice.

"Neither!" he calls back. "Turns out male vampires aren't infertile!"

"What!"

"Oh, it's worse than it sounds! Very accelerated pregnancy, she's showing already! On the bright side our daughter is a witch who has been sending us visions of the future or some such!"

There is a long silence, and then: yep, that's another vampire, on the boat, looking pissed.

"Why," he hisses, "would you test that, she's human, how can it be worse than it sounds because it sounds like a death sentence—"

"Hi, Blair!" calls Yvette, from inside the cabin, even though the vampires are talking at vampire speeds that she can't actually hear. "No ripping my husband apart, that is not how we solve our personal differences here!"

Blair pauses, and gives another hiss, and then speeds away to go actually check on his sister. He makes a horrible hissing choking sound when he sees her.

"Great to see you too, brother dearest, hello."

"Blair, I don't know what to tell you, this is our honeymoon," he says, not leaving the eggs and trusting the other vampire to hear him just fine.

"I was expecting turning before honeymoon activities! Like sensible goddamn people!"

"Language," snaps Yvette.

"Wh—oh for the fetus that looks like it's sucking the life out of you?! Oh my god, are you two playing house with a bloodsucking vampire baby, what is wrong with you!"

Here's James walking into the room with eggs. "Say," he starts, serenely, "how long should we expect this," and he gestures in Blair's direction with his head, "to last before we can actually count on you to be part of the solution to the problem?" Here, Yvette, eggs for you.

"Solution to the problem, we're a bit fucking past that, aren't we, the best solution would have been earlier before it got this big—"

Yvette accepts her eggs and begins eating.

"I have no idea. It was all artful visions of him wringing his hands and rending his hair, not something with a visible sky or clock."

HISS.

"Mmhm. Well, Blair, if you want to take a swing at me, can we wait until we're moored and on firm land? I wouldn't want to damage the boat."

HISSSSSSSSS—

—Yvette throws a pillow at him.

"Nope! None of that. No swinging at each other at all! We are all adults here and we will solve our problems with words, not violence or hissing like a leaky faucet." She points at James. "You! No encouraging his bad habits, we've had a week to get used to this, and he just started."

....

(Hisss.)

"Our plan," says Yvette over the sulky hissing, "is to wait until she's big enough to definitely survive outside of me, get her out surgically, and then turn me immediately. We are reasonably sure this will work, through a combination of logic and literally seeing the future."

Something occurs to James. "I might want to borrow one of your teeth, actually, I was thinking I was going to rip one of mine off to cut through the shell without having to taste the blood but I might get too distracted by the pain."

"Why do you need a vampire tooth. Shell? What shell? Why is there a shell!"

"He's going to agree," puts in Yvette, "before it becomes an issue."

"Stop that, this is a lot to take in as it is without you, doing. That."

"Sorry. We really do think she's showing me actual visions of the future, and we really do think this is survivable. But we would appreciate help. Okay?"

He makes a vaguely affirmative sounding hiss, then grinds out, "I'm. Going to go hunting until I calm down. An angry vampire throwing a temper tantrum is the last thing you two need right now."

Okay good. "Sorry to dump this on you, brother. It has been... kind of crazy. But it will be fine."

Hissssssss.

But off he goes. To jump into the ocean.

"So I feel that went well," says Yvette, brightly.

"Yeah!" he sits next to her. "I was expecting him to have more of a freakout over the sex thing, it was all in all fairly subdued."

"I think he was trying not to think about that part too much, and will probably attempt to rip you apart over it later when his very breakable human sister isn't nearby. That's not from the Aurene radio hour, that's just sisterly intuition. He holds grudges."

"Sparring with him will be fun."

Eyeroll. “Of course that’s what you immediately think of. Of course.”

"I haven't had a good fight in a long time! Granted there will probably be some from turning you and having to restrain you but fights that turn into sex are their own thing."

"Shhhhh. I mean, yes, and I'm looking forward to them, but shhhhh. Let's not scar our daughter before she's even born!"

"...my love, she sends us visions of the future. I think she will have a very hard time not knowing about it."

"Don't bring your logic into my silly overblown mothering for our unborn child," she sniffs.

Pet pet pet. "Okay, I'll stop."

She gives him a kiss, for his trouble.

Blair returns as they near shore. He is completely unashamed of the dripping salt water, and his eyes are a lighter shade of gold.

"Right, okay," he sighs, sounding long-suffering. "For the record I think you're both being stupid, but I also don't think there's a way I can get you to stop without burning my bridges with both of you for all eternity. So. I guess I'm helping you make your incredibly self-destructive choices. Your house is mostly furnished, but lacking things like sheets, toilet paper, and food, and it's all sparse and to the point because all of the interior designer genes went very firmly to my sister."