The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

When Quell wakes in the morning, he is relieved to find Coral, curled up and asleep, in his arms. He holds her close, burying his face into the side of her neck, breathing her scent. When she stirs, he sorrowfully looks into her eyes, “Coral, I am sorry.”

She reaches up and cradles his face, “I am sorry too, Quell. I should have told you about it but I was afraid that it would bring up painful memories for you.”

“It… it did,” he says, “but I shouldn’t have acted so rashly. It is not my place to tell you what to do, I just… I worry that once you see what it is like to have a foal, you will want one too and I cannot even think about having a child-not after what happened to Searra.”

Coral rests her forehead against Quell’s, “I understand, but you need to think about this differently-instead of thinking strictly of me, think of the mothers. What if one of them got injured? What if a foal got injured? Someone needs to be there who can assess the situation and take action if needed.” She hesitates, wanting to make her point but not wanting to hurt him in the process, “What if I could have helped Searra?”

As the thought is driven home, Quell closes his sad eyes. He doesn’t speak for a moment, his woe throbbing in his body. He pulls her close, “All right, Coral.”

…

Coral sits alone in the apothecary. Though the past few days since its opening have been busy, there is a lull in the needs of the humanfolk and she is thankful to have the time to herself. The past week has been a whirlwind of emotions and she finds solace in the quiet. The bell above the door chimes when it is opened; sighing, she turns to see who has entered and is surprised to find a familiar face.

“Margaret,” she speaks softly.

“Hello, Coral,” the maiden who was plucked with her replies, “I have been sent here to get you for the birthing.”

Her brow crinkles in confusion, “I didn’t realize that you were a part of it?”

Margaret takes a seat at the counter across from her, “Yes. I was plucked because of my knowledge and desires to be a midwife.”

“Oh,” she responds, still shocked; thinking upon it further, it occurs to her that Margaret is the oldest in her large family, having seven younger siblings she has been with her mother through all of the births, “I see. I guess I didn’t know.”

She huffs a laugh, “I assumed they brought me here to bear half breed kin but apparently they just want me to help bring those abominations into this world.”

Coral does well to keep the anger from her face and words, leaving her expression surprised, “Margaret-those are very harsh words, it would serve you well to watch your tongue. You should remember that you now live amongst them.”

“Not by my choice,” she grumbles, “in case you have forgotten, neither one of us had a say in the matter.”

She keeps her voice level, “I suppose we did not but it isn’t as if there was something keeping us tied to our old lives. I was a burden to Piers and your parents had a hard enough time feeding all those mouths-we both know that no one had intentions of making you any offers.”

Margaret winces at the jab, “Be that as it may, I had intentions of leaving for a neighboring town on my own. I could have found employment and made a life for myself.”

“You have left for a neighboring town, found employment and are making a life for yourself,” she reminds the woman, “if nothing else, see this coming year in Centuarna as a way to hone your craft-you will have plenty of opportunities to assist with birthings and I am sure that there will be human bairn as well, not just foals. When your time is finished here you will have knowledge that you could never have hoped to gain otherwise.”

Sighing, she ruefully admits the truth to the healers words, “You have a way about you, Coral, that always eases those in your company.”

Gathering her medicine case, she follows Margaret out of the shop, locking the door behind her, “Are you staying in town?”

“Yes,” she replies, “I have been given a room in Janis’ home-she is the head midwife. Though it is a tight squeeze with her, her… mate… and their foals, I am thankful to have a roof over my head.”

Coral can sense her apprehension about living so closely to the centaurs. She knows that it will take time for Margaret to come around, “Is it amiable?”

Tensing, she leads Coral through the buildings off the main road and towards the smaller paths of the houses surrounding the market. She keeps her voice quiet, so that they will not be overheard, “I can manage well enough, though it is clear that Janis does not like me. Her mate is courteous when he speaks and their foals do their best to leave me be.”

Before they can continue their conversation further, they approach the house of the pregnant woman. The wooden, single story building has a wide door and tall roof like all the others, to accommodate a centaur’s stature. The woman’s mate paces outside, having already been kicked out of his home; he looks to Coral, relief washes over his face, “Lady Coral, Mate to Quell Second Prince of Centuarna, I am Erwon. Having you here eases my heart.” He bows slightly to her.

Coral nods, offering a small smile to the man before entering the house. She sets her case down, Margaret grabbing her wrist, looking for the first time at the metal cuffs around them, “You… you took one of them as a mate?” Her voice is a quiet, shocked whisper.

She ignores the growing disgust on Margaret’s face; instead she reaches out and squeezes the woman’s shoulders, “There will be plenty of time to talk later; right now, we have a job to do.”

When she is introduced to Janis, Coral immediately understands why the midwife and Margaret do not get along. Janis is a hard woman-though knowledgeable in her craft, it is clear that she has also seen the tragedy of loss. She doesn’t curtsey to Coral, simply gives her a gruff nod before helping the pregnant woman down onto an old pillow. There are two other midwives present, Clara and Aileen. Clara, though younger than Janis and Aileen, is still several years older than Coral; she hands the woman a large steaming mug of something before making her way to Coral and Margaret. She curtseys, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Coral.”

Coral smiles in return, referring to the mug, “What is it that she drinks?”

“A tea steeped of raspberry leaves and wolfberries. It is used to induce labor once a woman reaches her eighth month.”

“Does it always work?”

“No,” she says in a hushed tone so that the pregnant woman will not hear, “for one in ten, it will not. Then we must break her water manually and it is not a pleasant experience for anyone.”

Coral does her best to be helpful; Janis has no qualms about barking orders to both of the young women. Margaret, despite her disdain for the centaurs, does her duty to the fullest, providing as much comfort as she is able to. By the time the pregnant woman finishes her third mug of tea, her contractions hit her hard and her water breaks on its own.

It is a long seven hours before the cries of the newborn fill the small house; Coral watches with both awe and dismay as Janis hands the foal to its mother. Its tiny torso gives way to a light brown miniature horse body, the creature awkwardly kicking all four of its legs in protest. Using it as an excuse, she wipes her hands clean and walks out into the growing dusk to Erwon. She puts a smile on her face, “You have a beautiful young boy-would you like to see him?”

He nods nervously, “My mate…?”

“She is tired, but fine.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, quickly entering the house.

Coral sucks in the cool, night air, stretching her stiff limbs. She struggles to come to terms with seeing the foal born from a woman; though she respects the centaurs, the sight of the tiny half breed jarred her sensibility. Taking a seat on the step, she stretches her legs out.

Margret soon comes out as well, sitting beside her in silence. It is a while before she speaks, “That was…”

Nodding, “Yes,” Coral understands entirely.

“Well, I am glad that both the mother and the-the foal-are healthy. There is something good about that, if nothing else.” Her voice is quiet, pensive.

“Margaret,” she asks, glancing over at her, “there are quarters above the apothecary. Since I live in the castle with my mate, they remain empty. You are welcome to live there, if you wish.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

She looks over, surprised, “I would like that very much, Coral. Thank you. Janis is going to remain here for the night; Aileen and Clara are cleaning up. Since the house is so small, especially now that Erwon is inside, Janis said we are free to leave.”

“Good,” she smiles. Slipping back into the house, she bids the women fair well before grabbing her medicine case. When she shuts the door behind her, she is surprised to see Margaret standing tensely just outside; a few steps out into the night, two large centaurs wait patiently. She smiles when she recognizes them, “Evening, Junta, Tomir-is everything all right?”

Tomir shifts uneasily, his eyes locked on Margaret. Junta answers for them, “All is well, Lady Coral. Prince Quell is simply worried for the safety of you and the midwives and doesn’t want anyone to be alone at night; he wanted us to make sure that everyone had an escort home.”

She nods; though Margaret sees it as a the centaurs keeping track of them, Coral knows it is due to the issues in Centurion, “Janis is going to remain here over night and the other two are not quite finished. If one of you would care to wait for them, the other can walk with Margaret and I.”

“I will escort you and the maiden,” Tomir says almost eagerly.

Junta throws a sideways glance at his younger companion, “I guess that means I will see to the others.”

Offering Junta a smile, Coral hands her case to Tomir, “All right then. Margaret is now staying at the apothecary, so we can see her home on our way back to the castle.”

They walk in silence; Margaret is nervous to be around a strange male centaur and Coral keeps her smirk to herself. Even if she had no knowledge of horses, the visual cues in Tomir’s usual stature would be obvious-his back is rigidly straight, drawing his posture up tall and proud, his tail is almost arched up into a fountain of hair and there is a clear bounce to his step, almost as if he prances. When they reach the apothecary, Coral gives Margret her key as she has another back in the castle.

“Thank you, Coral,” she says sincerely, avoiding the watchful centaur gaze.

“Of course,” she replies, “I will see you soon.”

“Good night, maiden,” Tomir’s deep voice interjects, a soft smile on his lips.

Margaret draws in a deep breath, only responding with a small nod before she lets herself into the building.

They continue on in silence to the castle, though Tomir’s tail flicks uneasily as his mind is fully occupied.

…

Coral looks down at the innocent creature in her arms, his tiny hands wiggling, his legs stretching out as he begins to cry. Gently, she strokes his chestnut back, walking towards his mother; despite all she has been through, the Centurion woman doesn’t hesitate to grab her foal and nuzzle him close.

She rejoins Margaret and Janis-the doula insisted that three of them were more than enough to help with the birthing. Though the mother was timid and frightened around the strangers, she had grown to trust her doula and allowed them to see to her.

“The father is a centaur,” Janis speaks quietly, the tone in her voice disapproving.

Margaret looks as if she is going to vomit or pass out, all of her fears about centaurs now having some weight.

“It does not matter,” Coral says, “the foal will grow up here, where he will be taught the right way. The mother is safe and she seems to hold no grudge against her bairn-let us be thankful for that.”

Janis nods reluctantly, “You will tell the King?”

“Yes,” Coral replies. Her heart sinks a little, finally realizing that the centaurs are more similar to humans than they care to admit-while some are capable of great compassion and kindness, others are still savage beasts.