Mother of Midnight

Chapter 255 – Waddling to War

“There’s a lot of them this time too,” Vivienne murmured.

She stood beside Rava atop the northern wall, both of them leaning slightly forward, their gazes fixed on the horizon. In the distance, the siege camp of Aegis was visible—just barely. A scatter of tents and banners like a rash on the landscape, tiny from here but unmistakably vast. Fires burned along the perimeter, casting thin plumes of smoke into the morning sky. The scent of war hung faintly on the wind.

Vivienne’s eyes, black and unreadable, narrowed slightly. Even from here, she could feel them. That crawling aether. The weight of so many minds and wills pressing toward Serkoth like a tide.

“I don’t remember last time too well,” Rava said quietly beside her. She stood with arms folded across her chest, posture stiff, ears slightly back.

Vivienne tilted her head, not looking away. “Thousands. More than I expected. I raided their camp the night before the assault—picked off a few hundred, maybe more, before they even reached the walls.” Her clawed hand came to rest on her belly, now significantly distended beneath her robes. She rubbed it absently, her expression unchanged.

“Can’t do the same here,” she added, tone dry. “For obvious reasons.”

The movement of her hand slowed slightly. She still didn’t entirely understand what was inside her—what it was going to be. It didn’t kick like a child. It pulsed. Coiled. Shifted.

It was hers, though. And Rava’s. That was enough.

Rava’s gaze flicked toward the curve of her stomach, and her scowl deepened.

“I don’t like that you’ll be taking part in this battle.”

“I must,” Vivienne said simply.

Rava’s head turned toward her fully, golden-blue eyes narrowing. “Must you?”

Vivienne finally looked back at her. “Yes. They trust me to hold the east wall. And they’re right to. I am the best suited for it.”

“That doesn’t mean you should. You’ve already done more than most. You fought at Drakthar. You’ve bled for people who barely tolerate you. You’ve risked your life more times than—”

“I’m not fragile, Rava.”

“I know you’re not,” Rava snapped, and her tail lashed once behind her. “That’s not the point. The point is—you shouldn’t have to. Not like this. Not with…” She glanced again at Vivienne’s belly. “Not with that inside you.”

Vivienne was quiet for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them as the wind tugged gently at her hair, pulling strands across her face like ink spilled on parchment. The breeze carried the faint clatter of hammers from below, the bark of orders, the creak of wagons. The streets of Serkoth were alive with tension—braced for the storm. Citizens and soldiers alike moved with grim purpose, reinforcing gates, stacking provisions, checking weapons.

Everyone prepared for war in their own way.

“I’ll be behind the wall,” Vivienne said finally, voice low and even. “And they aren’t even stationed on the eastern side. With you there—my eyes, my ears, my shield—what is there to fear?”

She glanced sidelong at Rava, her hand still resting on the soft swell of her belly. “You’ll rescue me if needed, won’t you?”

Rava didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

But there was no comfort in her voice. Only heat. Worry, buried beneath layers of frustration.

“That doesn’t mean I want you anywhere near combat,” she added, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “You’re not at full strength. You haven’t even transformed in days. Your summons are still strong, yes, but you—you’re slower. Less responsive. Your center of gravity is off. Your breath catches when you move too fast. You’re not—”

“—not helpless,” Vivienne finished for her.

Rava clenched her jaw, saying nothing.

Vivienne reached out and took her hand. Her claws curled around Rava’s fingers, holding them with surprising gentleness. “Perhaps I’m weaker than usual,” she admitted. “But don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, love. I’ve faced worse in worse conditions. And I survived.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not trying to.” Vivienne gave her a small, quiet smile. “I gave my word. I said I would hold the east wall. And I don’t say things I don’t mean. You know that.”

“I do.” Rava’s voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, her ears tilted back with unease. “That’s why it scares me.”

Vivienne stepped in, pressing her forehead lightly to Rava’s chest, letting her rest her chin atop the crown of Vivienne’s head. “You’ll be close,” she said. “If anything happens, I’ll call. And if anything threatens me before I can speak, you’ll feel it. I trust that.”

Rava stood still for a long moment, then wrapped her arms tightly around her.

“I’ll be watching,” she said. “The second it turns ugly, I’m coming for you.”

Vivienne chuckled softly. “I would expect nothing less.”

Rava didn’t let go immediately. Her arms stayed locked around Vivienne, her chin resting against the crown of her head like she could anchor her there through sheer force of will.

But the moment broke when a rapid series of footsteps echoed up the stairs behind them.

Both women turned as a scout appeared at the top of the wall, out of breath but trying to hide it. He was lean, coated in dust, with a sash marked in the violet and black of Serkoth’s outer watch. One of Korriva’s runners.

“Forgive the interruption,” he said quickly, bowing his head first to Vivienne, then Rava. “High Fang’s orders. New movement from the enemy.”

Vivienne straightened, her tail twitching once. “What kind of movement?”

The scout licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. “Three detachments broke off from the main force an hour ago. They’re circling wide—south and east. We think they’re trying to find a weakness in the perimeter… or draw attention from the north.”

Rava growled under her breath. “Diversion or flank?”

“Possibly both. They’re moving light. Fast. Not siege equipment—just infantry, scouts, and casters.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes. “How many?”

“Maybe two hundred in each group. No heavy armor, but they’re not marching blind.”

Rava turned to Vivienne immediately. “The east wall.”

“I know.” Vivienne’s hand slid protectively back over her belly. The child within was quiet now—calm, for the moment—but she could feel the tension crackling in the air, like a storm waiting for its cue. “Well. I’d better get to it.”

She turned her gaze back to the scout. “Tell Kavren I’m moving to the eastern wall. He’ll know what to do.”

The young lekine straightened at once. “Yes, Lady Vivienne.” He pounded his chest with a closed fist, a sharp and respectful gesture. “Good luck.”

Vivienne lingered on him a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a little grunt, she shifted her weight and began to move, her gait more of a determined waddle than a stride. Her swollen belly slowed her, but her posture remained proud, upright, and certain. Rava fell into step beside her without a word.

After a few moments, Vivienne spoke, her voice touched with a dry amusement. “The people here have gotten far too used to my presence. That boy barely flinched.”

Rava didn’t look at her, but her lips twitched faintly. “Because you’ve done nothing to prove you’re a threat to this city.”

“Mmm.” Vivienne tilted her head, feigning disappointment. “Unfortunately, you have family here. I can’t exactly spread the fear and dread I’m accustomed to. Not without… consequences.”

Rava snorted. “Consequences?”

“Burned bridges,” Vivienne said, tapping her chin with a claw in mock thoughtfulness.

“Burned what?”

“Idiom,” she replied smoothly. “It means to destroy a relationship so thoroughly it can’t be crossed again. Like if I were to devour your mother in the middle of a war council. Or rip out Kavren’s spine during dinner.”

“Please don’t.”

Vivienne gave her a sideways glance and an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun.”

“You have a problem,” Rava muttered, though her tone was warm beneath the words.

“I have many problems,” Vivienne replied breezily. “Like this little rascal in me reducing me to a penguin’s waddle.”

“A what?” Rava asked, brow furrowing.

Vivienne waved a clawed hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

They walked the rim of the white wall, the wide stone parapet stretching endlessly before them in a gentle curve. From up here, Serkoth gleamed like bone polished by time, every tower and spire gleaming in the sun, proud and defiant. The wind pulled at Vivienne’s robes and teased the edges of Rava’s fur, carrying with it the distant sounds of soldiers drilling, carts rattling, the clang of weapons and armor echoing faintly from below.

It took them over an hour to reach the section Vivienne had been assigned—her domain for the coming battle. Her pace had slowed the further they went, and Rava never strayed more than a step away.

When they arrived, Vivienne turned her gaze eastward.

Across the dry, cracked land, she could see them.

A smaller camp. Fewer fires. Banners bearing the gold and blue of Aegis fluttered faintly in the breeze like warning flags, posted proudly in the dirt. It wasn’t a major force, not yet, but it would grow. She could feel it. The pressure. The creeping certainty.

War was gathering like a thunderhead.

“The north will probably take the brunt of the attack at first,” Vivienne murmured, squinting toward the horizon. “But it’ll spread. There are too many soldiers for it not to. They’ll test every weak point. Erode our strength bit by bit.”

Rava’s arms were folded tightly. Her tail lashed once behind her. “Are you really sure you can take the eastern wall?”

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her black eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I’m not going to say I’m completely sure. No one can see the future.” Her voice was calm, even. “But yes. I’m sure enough. My songbeasts are stronger than ever. I’ve spent weeks refining them. The siege at Drakthar… it changed me.”

“Celestial exomancers can see glimpses into the future,” Rava said, her voice quiet but firm.

Vivienne gave a soft, amused snort. “I guess so. Shame I’m not one of them.”

But Rava didn’t laugh. Her gaze lingered on Vivienne’s face, studying the subtle strain beneath her confident exterior. The lines of weariness she carried in her bones, the subtle hitch in her breath from time to time. Then she said, with solemn clarity, “I trust you. I will be your eyes. Your ears. I will be your shield—your protector against the tide.”

Vivienne’s smile softened into something warm and bittersweet.

She extended a hand and made a little beckoning gesture with her claw, and Rava, understanding without words, bent the knee. The motion wasn’t ceremonial—there was no pretense to it. Just closeness. A way to meet her where she was.

Now nearly eye to eye. Almost.

“You’re so big now,” Vivienne said, her voice tender and teasing all at once. She lifted a hand to Rava’s face, claws curled carefully so the tips didn’t scratch. Her palm, cool and dark, cradled her lover’s cheek with surprising gentleness.

She traced her thumb slowly along Rava’s jawline, taking in the sharpness that hadn’t been there before, the subtle changes that still hadn’t stopped. The powerful build. The almost ethereal glow in her eyes. The way the blue veins of aether shimmered under her fur when the light hit just right.

“You’re not the same girl I first met,” Vivienne murmured. “Not that you were ever just a girl.”

“I’m still me,” Rava said softly, leaning into her touch.

Vivienne smiled a little wider. “You are. Just… taller. Sharper. Harder to drag into bed. Temporarily.”

That drew a faint smirk from Rava.

“Temporarily,” Rava agreed, with a low rumble in her throat that was almost a purr—warm, deep, and possessive in its certainty.

Before Vivienne could offer another smug quip, Rava leaned in.

Their lips met, slow and sure, not rushed or desperate, but full of quiet conviction. Rava's mouth was warm against hers, gentle at first, as if afraid to break something delicate. But there was heat behind it. A promise. A vow made in the silence between heartbeats.

Vivienne let her claws slip carefully to the sides of Rava’s face, cradling her jaw with reverence. She kissed her back without hesitation, letting herself melt into the moment, into the quiet hum of Rava’s aether so close to her own. The tension in her spine eased. For that brief moment, there was no war. No walls. No child pressing against her ribs. Just the feel of Rava’s lips and the strength of her hands and the steady, unwavering heartbeat beneath her skin.

When they finally parted, it was only by a breath. Rava didn’t move far, her forehead still brushing against Vivienne’s, their hands lingering in each other's grasp as if neither quite wanted to let go.

“You’re a bit of a sloppy kisser,” Vivienne murmured, voice dry but fond.

Rava smirked. “Don’t hear a complaint.”

“It wasn’t,” Vivienne said with a sly curl of her lips. She leaned in again and placed a small, precise kiss at the corner of Rava’s mouth, leaving the faintest trace of warmth behind before pulling away fully this time.

Her tail gave a slow, lazy sway behind her as she straightened. “Could you fetch me a seat? I think I’d like to sit before I start marking out summon points.”

Rava nodded, her expression softening again. “Of course.”

Then, without another word, she rose back to her full, imposing height—bigger than ever, practically towering over Vivienne—and turned. With a quick pivot, she leapt from the inner edge of the wall down to the barracks below, landing in a crouch with barely a sound. A few soldiers nearby startled at her sudden appearance but quickly relaxed once they recognized her.

Vivienne chuckled to herself, watching her lover move—graceful, lethal, utterly hers.

She exhaled and rubbed a hand over her belly.

“All right, little beast,” she whispered. “Let’s see what we can build here.”