Eshek hardly heard Ber's joke - though she would have been proud of him for loosening up if she had; instead, she had switched from kneading anxiously at the damp earth to pacing back and forth and round and round in restless circles, the fur along her spine prickling and her tail lashing. Dark dirt was caked under her claws, sticking to the poultice that she still had applied to her cut pads every morning.

Finally, she whipped back around and, sucking in a deep breath and looking Bermondsey straight in the eye, blurted out, "Ber, I'm pregnant." Silence. As soon as she said it, she was searching his gaze for a reaction, hoping the quiet wouldn't last long, her expression uncharacteristically nervous - brows pushed together, eyes doubtful and vulnerable. She bit at her lip slightly. If it was too much to hope for happiness, at the very least she didn't want violence, anger, accusations. She knew Ber - he was her friend, more than a friend - but even she didn't know exactly how he would respond to the news she knew he had never, ever wanted to hear. "They're yours."

When Ber backed away from her, a dreadful, burdensome grief hollowed out her gut. She had known that rejection of his kits had been a possibility - a distinct possibility - but to actually see it happening before her eyes filled her with a naïve terror like she hadn’t expected it at all. As fiercely independent as she gave off the impression of being, she wasn’t. She wanted to settle down, wanted to be nurtured, wanted to raise kits with a family, not by herself; and even though she knew Ber would never be her mate - except under the loveless commitment of duty, which would have broken her heart more and ruined their friendship irrevocably - she had at least imagined a future with him as their kits’ father. She watched him helplessly as his eyes closed. But then he was speaking.

What are we going to do? Despite everything, Eshek was unspeakably comforted by Ber including himself in the decision, the situation, the idea of parenting - last time, Funk, much as she had known he loved her, had laid all the responsibility for it on her. She almost let out a gasping sigh of relief, her chest heaving and her spine relaxing from where it had been tensed and stiff, and maybe she did. We. God, that was all she had ever wanted to hear in her whole life. But his next words, trailing off nervously, dashed all that comfort. For the first time since she’d received the news, all the fearful numbness was knocked away and fierce love crashed through her. She wanted these kits more than anything. Ber was then treated to a sight no one had ever seen before, and that made her look slightly ridiculous - all Eshek’s short fur puffed out, so she looked like an angry white raccoon. It was only for a moment, before her fur flattened again, save for a defensive prickling along her spine and shoulders. “We are not going to do anything, Bermondsey,” she replied sharply, spitting his name slightly. Her tail lashed once before settling into small, simmering flicking as she took a few steps closer to him, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She was vindicated, slightly, and reassured, by how immediately guilty he’d looked at the suggestion. “I’m having these kits, whether or not you choose to be a part of their lives. I would like you to be, but I’m used to toms letting down the cats they impregnate so I’ll survive if you’re not.” The words were biting.

But Bermondsey’s outburst - it sounded close to a panic attack - threw her. She’d thought his reaction, aside from his fear about the curse, had just been a tom’s typical unwillingness to own up the consequences of his actions. But hearing the words I’m never going to make a good father made her heart soften and crack. They sounded so afraid, so full of doubt. Not fear of the reality of accidental kits - fear of not being what they needed. It was the simplest demonstration of Ber’s concealed kindness that Esh had ever seen. “Well, that’s on you, then,” she replied harshly, but her expression was gentle as she padded over to her friend and sat down beside him, gazing at the side of his face with clear blue eyes. “No one knows what kind of parent they’re gonna be. You think I do? At least you had a mother, however messed up she was. I have literally no blueprint. And my last attempt at raising a kit didn’t exactly turn out that great.” Her upbringing of Lorah was one of her greatest regrets. She laughed scornfully, but her voice was tender as she continued. “You know what your own parents did wrong. It isn’t like you’re unaware and you’re just gonna blindly follow their example and do the same things they did. That’s way more than most parents can say. You’re already a step ahead.” She nudged his shoulder lovingly. “We’re probably the two worst cats in the world who could ever have children together, but maybe that’ll be a good thing - maybe we’ll cancel each other out.” She laughed. “You’re my best friend, Ber, and I think I’m yours. These kits aren’t going to have a mother and father who can’t stand each other, or who love each other destructively - they’re gonna have two friends who want the best for them and for each other. And you’re going to be a good father because you’re going to make the effort to be. Sure, we’ll screw up. Probably a lot. But you’re kind, however much you wanna pretend you aren’t, and you’re gentle, and you’re gonna care about them. Hell, I bet they’re gonna have you wrapped around their little baby paws.” She grinned, and it was fond and soft and so lovingly teasing. “And everything else, we’ll work out along the way. Maybe they’ll spend half a moon with me in DayClan, half a moon here. And when I’m here - ‘cuz I think this has made up my mind and I’m gonna come back part-time, so you can’t get rid of me, bucko - then we can be a horrible little family together.” Head still turned to Ber, she reached out a paw, the pad scabbed over from the glass, and rested it on his. “They’re not gonna be cursed,” she continued in a quieter voice, lowering her head slightly to gaze into his green eyes. “Because they’re gonna have a mother and father who love them, not an ice queen and a-a killer lothario.” She grinned crookedly, but it was soft around the edges and it faded a heartbeat later to a brief silence. “We’re not your parents, Ber. And we’re not mine.”

Eshek listened in irritated silence, slowly moving her paw away from his. "Apparently put a curse on them," she muttered under her breath with a sidewards look down at the ground, echoing his own words. But she didn't dispute him past that - she had promised the first time they'd met that she believed him, and even if she didn't entirely believe the story, she believed him. It was a strange distinction, but that was just her indiscernible brand of loyalty.

Tell me, what will you do if it's true? If this curse really does follow me? Follow you? "Then I'll deal with it when it happens," Eshek snapped back. "If it happens. But if you think how a child is raised has nothing to do with how the curse might turn out, you're an idiot. Of course it matters." She had never sounded - never felt - so defiantly optimistic as she did at that moment. "Even if you won't deal with it and you're running away from your own children like a coward, I will. I'm not going to let them hurt you, or me, or each other. And either way, frankly, you're just going to have to cope, Ber. Because I'm not getting rid of these kits. So unless you're going to fight me - and you'll lose, twink - then congratulations:-" she stood up, legs straight, and pressed her face into Ber's challengingly, fearlessly, "you're a father."

She turned away, dragging her fiery blue eyes away from, and started to stalk back into the woods - before she got her second wind. "And, by the way, it's not normal to come back from the dead. How do you know that's not a curse? Maybe our kits will have to worry about that more than turning into a bunch of psycho murdering freaks. You're so selfish, Ber. You can't see past your own damn issues enough to notice that everyone's life could be called a curse if you looked for a pattern." There was no actual venom to her words, not like their first argument on the roof top - she was just berating him because she was stressed and angry. Honestly, it was just a fight about nothing that you have with someone you care about where the voice is heated but the words are just the same recycled sentiment, long since meaningless. Lashing her tail and glaring daggers at the ground, Eshek stomped back to Bermondsey and sat down beside him again, her shoulders sharp enough to cut. She was silent for a moment, just fuming, before she added in that frustrated conciliatory tone that came at the end of an argument, "and I'm not doubting your stupid curse. I'm just saying that whatever happens, grandmother's curse or no grandmother's curse, we're just going to have to deal with it. And I'd like it," she growled stubbornly, "if you would be there to deal with it with me, but if you're not, I'll cope. And if you need some time to think about it, I can go. You can come find me when you've made up your mind."

Eshek sat for a moment longer before standing, giving Ber a grumpy knock against his jaw with her forehead without making eye contact, and stalking back into the dense ferns.

I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth. Eshek flicked her tail tip at him as she slid into the ferns and disappeared from sight, her scent fading soon after. As she loped through the gloomy forest with a lonely, muddled frown creasing between her eyes, she didn’t blame him, wasn’t mad at him, not truly - whatever happened, whether he decided to be a part of their kits’ lives and hers or not, she would never stop caring about him. And if he chose to reject them, she would accept it, but she’d never stop wishing he had decided otherwise, and her heart would never stop aching. But either way, she knew he needed time.

Unlike almost everyone she had ever known, he didn’t just rush blindly into the chaos of decisions and juggle the consequences later. That was precisely what set him apart for her, what made him an utter oddity and a particular mountain she had to puzzle out and conquer, befriend, circle round and round to understand, stake an innocent, joyful claim to if only in the sense that anyone who saw the flag at the summit would know that Eshek had done the impossible and succeeded, the popular girl finishing the weird dork’s sentences. It was a friendship she had never had before - he and her were the sort that would never normally cross paths, much less become close. And that complete difference was what made Ber mean so much to her, because everyone else she loved was so utterly like her. To have someone who wasn’t, who challenged her and argued with her and thought things through so she didn’t have to, was special beyond description. And to lose that would break her heart beyond repair.

---

A few days later, Eshek had just begun to show. Wandering quietly along the DayClan border, she was unusually listless, batting half-heartedly at dry, fallen leaves with soft paws and paying no attention to birds when they startled and threw themselves shrieking into the sky. Bermondsey still hadn’t shown up to tell her his decision and the harsh reality of having to possibly raise these kits by herself was starting to settle over her. Until that morning, even she didn’t think she’d properly realised just how much she wanted a partner in this. She needed a partner in everything - a partner in crime, a partner to watch the stars with, a partner to lounge with her in camp and go on adventures and get into trouble with. She was a two package deal in everything she did. And being a mother was all she’d ever wanted to be, only second to being someone’s mate - to have no one to share that with, to have no one to watch her kits take their first steps and say their first words and become warriors or hunters with, was a possibility more empty and terrifying than anything she’d ever faced before. She wanted Bermondsey to be a part of this more than she’d possibly wanted anything.

A gentle kick in her stomach made her stop. Smiling quietly to herself, Eshek sat down and touched a paw to her belly. “I know, I’m nervous, too,” she told the kit in a tender voice so unlike the harsh tones Eshek usually used. She lowered herself carefully onto a pile of crunchy brown leaves, still smiling misty-eyed at her stomach and purring quietly to the kits within it. Her fur was unusually sleek and shiny, healthier than it had ever been. In truth, despite her melancholy at the possibility of having to face this adventure alone, she was happier than she’d been in all her life. The look on her face - the soft joy in her eyes - showed that beyond any doubt.

At Bermondsey's voice, Eshek looked over her shoulder, letting out a little hum of recognition. When she spoke, she might have been aiming for dismissive and annoyed, not wanting him to know she had been waiting fretfully for him, but her voice just came out as drowsy and tender, her eyes still half-lidded. "Oh, Ber, you came," she greeted him, not getting up from where she was laid out on the dry leaves. They crackled beneath her as she leaned back, parting her jaws in a deep yawn. "Yeah, I feel okay, too. No more morning sickness. I'm just so tired all the time." Her voice was intimate and harmless, a lioness, for the time being, tamed.

She dropped back fully onto her side, looking up at him upside down. She was getting very used to seeing him from this angle. "Have you decided?" she asked softly. Even through the drowsiness, she could feel that familiar thrum of anxiety, of fear, of hope she dared not think on too closely in case fate dashed it - more than anything in the world, and more than perhaps she had even fully realised now that he was standing there in front of her, about to decide the course of her life and their kits', she wanted him to say yes. Yes, he'd raise them with her. Yes, he'd be a part of all their lives. Even as she lay there looking unconcerned, her heart was beginning to hammer, faintly visible through her short white fur. She drew in a breath to hide it.

The second Ber started with 'I don't want to promise anything I can't deliver', Eshek had to physically stop herself from sucking in a shaky, relieved breath and looking as tearfully happy as she felt; but even as she tried to maintain an impassive expression, forcing herself to stay seated and allowing herself to sit only a little more upright so she didn't just launch herself at Ber and tackle him in a grateful hug, there was a slight wet sheen to her eyes and she couldn't keep the smile completely off her face.

She nodded along as he spoke, little quick, eager bursts - she'd agree to anything, she just wanted to keep him on this track, with encouragement and by showing that she was willing to bend to any conditions he made, and not let him get spooked and start back-tracking. "Yeah," she agreed, with a final few nods, and her voice was slightly breathless. She could see he was still holding back, but this was a start. A wonderful start. She stood, a little clumsier and slower than she usually was, and padded towards him. "Whatever you want, Ber, what-whatever rules you wanna put down or anything like that, I'll do it." Eshek sat down in front of him, trying to catch his gaze, her eyes gentle and a brighter, clearer blue than they'd ever been. "We'll give these kits the happy upbringing we never had. I just want you in their lives - and mine. They won't be born for another two moons - we have time to-to think, and to prepare, and to work out how we want to do things. Y'know?" She grinned at him, big and happy, and it was so genuine.

"And if you need time now, too, then that's okay - too." She laughed at the overuse of the word. Her voice was equally tender as she continued. "I don't need you here - I have a medicine cat and friends, and a little cannibal who eats kittypets. So you don't have to feel trapped. We'll be parents together, but you don't have to start being one for a while yet. I can take it for the both of us for now." She smiled at him again, eyes not leaving his face.

"I'm sorry," she replied, her teeth poking out just a bit more than they usually did as her lips twitched back ever so slightly and her voice icy. "There must be some confusion. It sounds like you're telling me what to do. I meant rules about the kits' upbringing, Bermondsey, not about me. I'll stay in the mansion if I want to stay in the mansion, just like I'll stay in DayClan if I want to stay in DayClan and kill kittypets if Innocentia wants to kill kittypets." Her voice dropped impossibly quieter. "You're putting yourself in danger right now." After a second more of holding his gaze with her own cold, challenging one, Eshek whipped around, slapping Ber across the face with her tail, and stalked back to the leaf pile like a queen returning to her throne.

Maybe Ber had a slight point - she'd lost her last litter precisely because she'd been adventuring where she shouldn't have been - but she wasn't going to say that; he had to be put in his place before he got a taste for anyone and everyone doing what he wanted. She loved Ber, she loved Luc and Pinesimmer - but if any one of them tried to put restrictions on her, they'd leave the interaction bloody and broken. Or, well, not broken and bloody if that was more of a message for Luc. Back on the brown and red, crackling leaves, Eshek relaxed a little, looking back at Ber down the length of her nose bridge. She was still seething at his use of the word 'contract', though. He blew irritatingly hot and cold - and while it may have worked with anyone else, she'd seen enough of the idiotic, nervous, gentle-eyed Ber who'd become her best friend to know when he was putting on his distant Warden act. And, frankly, she didn't like that distant Warden very much right now. He was pissing her off. "Anything else? Am I allowed to be happy my kits will have a father for a second - or half a second, if that works more to your schedule, I'd hate to inconvenience you or be anything unbecoming of an obedient, submissive royal mistress - or are you going to keep trying to impress me with your Bermondsey act? He's very imposing. His mother would be proud. Oh! Wait. Wasn't that what we were trying to avoid?"

Growling quietly, she shook her head and looked away. She knew it would take time and effort for Ber to consciously unlearn enough of his parents' teachings for the sake of their kits to stop falling back on engrained behaviour but this was the ugliest display of the cold prince that she'd seen yet.

Eshek spat in surprise when Bermondsey slammed her tail against the ground. If it were anyone else she’d have backhanded them so hard they bled from their nose; but instead she just stood there in deadly silence, meeting his gaze over her shoulder until he finally lifted his paw and let her tail go, upon which she moved away so slowly, her pelt twitching again and again along her spine, that the slowness seemed violent. The quiet was broken only by a low, continuous growling low in her throat.

Laying stiffly upon the throne of red leaves, she listened to Bermondsey’s cold tirade with a matching sneer. She wouldn’t say it, but the implication that his mother wouldn’t approve of her hurt. However twisted his family was, and even though they weren’t mates, her longing for a mother had always given her the hope that her eventual mother-in-law would fill that loving, guiding role. To have that thrown back in her face so callously stung the part of her heart that hadn’t changed a bit since she was just a lonely kit. But even though everything he was saying to her was so icy, one thing he did made all the fight seep out of her - he called her by her name. It was such a stupid thing, so insignificant that he wouldn’t even have thought twice about it, but it was one of the first times he’d ever done it. She threw around his name like a joyful little toy, corrupting and shortening it to new lengths with every repetition - but, aside from the occasional mockery of her Clan name, he’d never really reciprocated. It was said in anger, and it was said unthinkingly, but it was said. And the fact that it just slipped out so easily, like she’d just become an inarguable facet of his life, almost made her want to cry. Even as he continued, all she could feel was that silent closeness between them. He was infuriating, and right now he was spitting bloody murder at her and not thinking any of these sentimental thoughts about her, but the very fact that he was even so riled up meant he cared - about their kits, about her. She was just Eshek to him - his Eshek. God, she really must be pregnant and hormonal to just be feeling irritated, hopeless love for him as he yelled at her. Truth be told, she was slightly turned on, too. But she wasn’t going to mention that. There was almost a bemused little smile on her face by this point, her whole body loose with the exhaustion of her anger.

“Of course I want to make sure they come out alive,” she replied when he was finished, and her voice was disarmingly calm, like she was explaining a simple, old fact to him - and not cold calm, just a genuine kind, drowsy and devoid of enough emotion to almost be called happy. “You know I lost my last litter before they were even born. All I want is to see these kits come into the world and be able to take care of them. That’s all I want, Ber. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her voice was soft with tiredness. “I can’t make any promises that I won’t put myself in danger. But I’ll hold back from the sort of things we’ve done together until they’re born. There’s plenty of time once they’re old enough for perilous family outings.” She grinned, crooked and toothy and with her eyes heavy. “I know you’re trying to take care of me, in your asshole way. I’m sorry for bringing your mother into it. It was a low blow.” She lowered her head slowly onto her paws as she spoke, her voice growing quieter and quieter. “And you hurt my tail.”

I don’t want to see you dead. “Stop, you’re practically spouting poetry at me. It’s disgusting.” Eshek leered up at him, thin and crooked, her eyes half-lidded and tired-soft. There’s only so much I can do to protect my family, you know. “Am I your family now, then?” Despite the bleary, teasing voice the question was asked in, full of the unspoken ’I don’t care if I am, you’re so cringey for even saying it’ her heart was squeezing. All she’d ever wanted was a family.

At Bermondsey’s fussing, Eshek raised her head and shook it slightly, drawing her tail around to run one scarred paw over it like it was a sentient creature like a nervous mouse and not part of her own body. “No, it’s fine. And anyway we have a medicine cat in DayClan. Better than your… niece. Does that make her my step-niece?” She looked over at him excitedly, like she’d just thought of something wonderful. “I’m gonna say it does.” She went back to petting her own tail, looking down at it with a smile on her face. Even if none of them wanted it, Esh’s desire for a large family meant that she was just going to adopt them all as her own. The softness in Ber’s voice and in his wide eyes also added to the happiness of her smile. As much as she loved Funk, and as much as he’d loved her, if she’d have done something worse than just get her tail hurt during her first pregnancy he’d have barked a laugh at her and called her an idiot for not being quicker to avoid it. It was nice, to be cared for for the first time.

She thought of ruining the moment by saying she wanted their kits to have a Clan name as well as one of their own to give them more options in their lives, but, as enjoyable as his horror and obstinance to that might be, for now she didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace with another argument. She’d wait to broach it when they were both calmer and ready for another fight. Then she’d grin at his refusal that they both knew she’d wear down in the end. But for now, the tranquil companionship of just having him standing there, however annoyed he still was, was enough for her.

After a minute or two of silence, with the breeze quietly rustling the browning leaves overhead and birds singing peacefully now and then from deeper in the forest, Eshek looked up at him and told him quietly, “thank you for choosing us. We’ll make it work.” Achingly aware that she might be rejected and trying not to let the tingle of nerves stop her, she raised her head higher, tilting her muzzle up to silently offer her nose for him to touch his own to. If he was leaving now, she wanted them to part with that little assurance of tenderness.