Mariella lay in the hospital bed, slightly confused. She'd experienced a mild seizure, but her blood pressure was also excessively high, and her bloodwork was abnormal. While she understood the need to be monitored, she didn't grasp why she was in the hospital. After all, the Salvatores were all doctors, and her babies were energy creatures. They could easily administer energy shots, and remove the babies without the drama.
The burning question in her mind was *Why?* Charles was napping in a chair beside her, and the Salvatores had gone to speak with the doctors about the day's monitoring. She wasn't allowed to move much, confined to the bed, and sporting the ridiculous belts that displayed her babies' heartbeats.
She wasn't overly worried, just disoriented. This was, after all, the largest hospital in Minnesota. The drive had taken over four hours, and she'd been unconscious for most of it. This distance also meant the men wouldn't easily go home; they'd stay at the hospital with her. It had been a week, and it was incredibly boring.
She felt fine, yet she was still restricted and under constant supervision. She was often irritated by one of the Salvatores watching over the recording, even though the babies were perfectly healthy. Damon wanted her to feel at least ten kicks from each baby, and it wasn't easy to distinguish between them. She felt like a failure sometimes.
Meanwhile, Number Two sat in the cafeteria with Number One, who appeared remarkably calm. Number Two looked at his well... clone, or a version of himself. It was too messy to think about too hard. Salvatore's magic was immense, so immense that it had always been the coven that dealt with it.
But since their grandparents had turned black, given birth to the next generation, and raised them as black, too, magic had suffered. It was healing magic, never meant to be wielded by black wizards or witches, so the universe got creative.
Originally created as either the first of ten Salvatore beings, but number two saw them as a group, they were a true Salvatore, a coven of magic contained within a single body. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he was created to balance the evil of their parents, who had conceived them with corrupted intent.
The universe had designed him as a "good" version, destined to safeguard and rightly wield the Salvatore magic. His evil twin, Damien, shared the same body, though only Damien was aware of this fact. Number Two pondered why this was the case; a test, or perhaps a safety measure. If he'd known of Damien, perhaps they could have coexisted, but the magic would have been lost. Was it a purposeful concealment, or an accident? He couldn't know for sure.
Damien inflicted great harm, but his purpose was clear: to heal and mend what Damien broke. Even now, they were still engaged in this task, as Mimi, his first and perhaps truest love, had been Damien's victim for a long time. Damien had broken her in countless ways, shattering their love. They were still trying to mend her, to heal the love.
Mariella, Number One's other half and his truest soulmate, complicated matters, creating a "lovemess." Nine hidden "good" versions of Damon had been hidden by an ancient being and then released when the time was right, all desiring Mimi on some level. However, Mariella, and they themselves, repeatedly caused problems.
Ever since Wulfe had grown close to Mimi, Number Two couldn't deny the restless feeling in his soul; he was losing her to Wulfe unless he could get his act together. He had almost succeeded, coming close to reclaiming his baby, but by a cruel twist of fate, he ruined it, creating a huge mess once again. Now he was left dealing with Mariella while Mimi and Wulfe grew closer than ever before.
They were somewhat distracting; the brothers all looked identical. However, each had personal features that distinguished them. These included the placement of their white stripe of hair, which marked them as wizards, unique hairstyles, clothing options, and mannerisms. Essentially, they were ten identical brothers, each called Damon Salvatore, and identified by their number.
Number Two, as he was found and put away first, felt troubled by something in Number One. Usually frantic with Mariella, Number One was now almost cold and condescending, making cruel remarks. Did Number One have some idea why they were there instead of at their house?
Number One lifted his gaze from his phone and said, "Yeah, I do. It's called teaching Mariella a fucking big lesson. I'm sick and tired of her drama. I've had to listen to her throughout the start of her pregnancy, even after Christmas. I'm just fed up, you know?"
Number Two raised his eyebrows, surprised, and said, "Yeah, she can be kind of dense, but what's the lesson all about?"
Number One replied, "Let's recap: Mariella is currently tied to bed, unable to walk, on a lovely healthy diet. We'll give her big energy shots to make those babies as big as possible. She will deliver them vaginally. Just think – squeezing three, maybe six or seven-pound babies out. She might not want to have sex anytime soon, as the babies have hijacked her healing, and it takes time for it to start. We'll make sure she starts to lactate and nurse those babies. She will be a mother, not a princess demanding we do everything. That's my plan anyway."
Number Two smiled, "I like that plan very much." He paused, then continued, "I have a few more ideas on how to truly transform the princess into a mother. I was displeased that she threw Mimi out of her bedroom simply because she wanted it as a nursery. Fine, she can have it, but we won't be the ones to prepare it."
Number One interjected, "Of course, things can change, but I suspect Mariella will be less inclined to have Charles nearby after he served as her protector for weeks. I'm planning on keeping her under our control at least until her 28th week, at which point we'll make her belly huge. Then, we'll prepare her for delivery through stretching and exercise, but only once she's heavy enough. And by the way, we can also pack on the pounds to make this as realistic as possible. I have my reasons for doing this, and the next part might surprise you, as it surprised me too."
Number One took a bite of his plate, sipped some coffee, and washed his mouth before continuing. "In the Christmas season and afterward, Mariella was, as you know, constantly clinging to me and wanting us all together. I desperately wanted to make that first Christmas special for the baby. I felt her nausea, her aches and pains, even though she didn't say anything. Mariella kept bothering me, preventing me from spending time with her, and she ruined my planned pampering day, among other things. Then, on Valentine's Day, it truly hit me: hate. I hated her. I hated that damn promise I'd made to her so much. I was surprised by this, but I didn't deny it. I had the right to feel it, and I have kept it."
After a period of quiet, punctuated only by the clinking of utensils and hushed voices, the two telepaths continued their conversation. The cafeteria was filled with other people, whose thoughts and ideas brushed lightly against their minds.
They had grown accustomed to it, although it could be irritating, akin to a fly persistently landing on you. Unlike a fly, however, blocking out the human minds, as well as the pack's telepathic network, wasn't easy. Even as the world around them had changed drastically since their birth millennia ago, they, too, had learned to evolve, or at least it felt that way, but some old-fashioned manners and habits persisted.
Number Two finally spoke, "There's more to this than just a lesson for Mariella. Let me guess: you wanted Charles here to reclaim leadership, since Mimi is currently leading, and Charles is occupied with his protector duties?"
Number One grunted in acknowledgment. He admitted that he desired to regain his power, and despite the humbling experience, he believed he was the best choice to lead the pack. Mimi was a capable leader, he conceded, but his reluctance stemmed from outdated notions and, perhaps, his ego.
Number One confessed, "I hate that I'm so weak. I have this need to ensure this lesson sticks, and it will, believe me. But at the same time, I'm wasting my opportunity to be with Mimi and, in effect, driving her into Wulfe's arms. I had no idea until Wulfe told me that he bound himself to Mimi in a very special way. Mimi gets stronger, but Wulfe keeps pace. Me? I never could. I'm a lousy alpha male, and that damn boy outsmarted me, even though he's older. Now he's the one keeping Mimi under control, and I'm not sure I can. I mean, she's going to have five, and they'll probably be tiny preemies. If I know myself, I might be too wrapped up with Mariella to help Mimi and our preemies, even though they'll need me."
Number Two grunted, then said, "But we have Numbers Five, Nine, and Ten, who are pretty damn tethered to Mimi. It's not hard for them to be there for her, even if we weaklings are too powerless to overcome Mariella's charm."
He added, "I was once called the wise Salvatore, but nowadays, I don't feel so smart anymore. But hey, we have time, and we have no idea what will happen. Thirteen years is quite a stretch; we might just improve ourselves. And think about the baby's expression when she has husbands—all the time, no 'me time,' but she has to learn to be a wife, mother, and business owner."
Number One grunted, acknowledging that life was not yet perfect, but he was already planning a lesson for Mariella, intending to be stern and nasty. If she were to ask, he had plenty of medical reasons for this, and he could also say that there were rules in this life. He had no problem bending the truth to Mariella, and in fact, he had never told her he wouldn't lie to her. He had lied in the past and might just continue to do so if it suited him.
A few days later, Mariella still had no idea about the upcoming lesson. Damon, however, was already rubbing it in.
He said to Charles, who was now watching her fetal monitoring while Damon checked on nearby restaurants and shops, "Charles, could you take a look? I know I am the protector of the pregnancy, but you know about her vitamins and such. See, here we have a nice deli shop with these ultimate fresh 'pick your salads.' Could you go with a few Salvatores, get us something to eat, and get Mariella a nice, filling, healthy salad and something she should drink, not pomegranate?"
Charles perked up; it wasn't about love; it was just his protector instinct kicking in, and he was very bossy. Mariella sighed and almost rolled her eyes in desperation, as this was getting to her nerves. She was bloating like a damn whale.
Ten Salvatores had given her huge energy shots, using magic to speed up the babies' development, meaning they would be pretty ready once it was time to give birth. Mariella had heard they wouldn't be preemies—not for her, as they gained weight fast. She felt it, and her body felt so damn alien.
Her hormones were all over the place; she was tired and in pain, partially, but didn't say anything, as she didn't want one of Damon's painkiller shots, meaning she would be sedated for the rest of the day but not euphoric.
Charles nodded and said, "It's good that you're giving her energy shots so we can load her food with vitamins and minerals. I'll take care of that. Also, like with humans, salt drives up her blood pressure and worsens swelling, so low salt is paramount. I'll get her a few nice, big bowls of fresh, healthy salads. Do you need any?"
Damon, number four, replied, "Nope, not good for us. I don't want to be in the bathroom emptying myself after we get home if we stuff ourselves with kale and salads. It's meat and fat, just like for Mimi. She can be a fierce protector, and she gives no mercy. And Charles, shut Mariella's fangs. No need for her to use up her resources for dentals."
Number one said, "I can do it. You guys go and get us all something decent to eat. I have to call the insurance company to check on our payments."
Number five was silent. He suspected this wasn't cheap, and insurance might not cover everything, leading to a hefty bill. It would force them to work earlier, as money didn't grow on trees, and he didn't want to use his savings for Mariella and her hospital bill.
Mariella stabbed the next piece of iceberg lettuce and chicken with her plastic fork, chewing at least twenty times before swallowing, as Charles had instructed. She sighed as the tempting aroma of French fries and hot cheeseburgers, and chicken nuggets wafted to her nose.
Number one munched his lunch happily, grease dripping from the corner of his mouth. The men were eating like pigs, with huge hamburgers and mountains of chicken nuggets. She hated her stupid body; she couldn't have any of it, as it was way too salty, and she had high blood pressure and low vitamins.
This damn endless bowl of rabbit food seemed never-ending; Charles had piled a lot of stuff there, and it wasn't too tasty. Mariella swore to herself to indulge in a damn good meal after she had given birth. She sipped her Coke; she could drink it, but it wasn't her favorite, as she liked fruity drinks. Pumpkin nuts crunched in her teeth, and she felt them stuck between her teeth. And she couldn't use the Coke, as it just foamed in her mouth.
Damon probably helped her brush her teeth again, as he had an obsession with it. Mariella took a breath, blaming her hormones for her dwindling patience with all the health issues. She was constantly reminded of the reason for all of this as the babies began to roll, move, and kick more as she ate.
She had to put these three first, and for a long time. There was no magic house to escape to once she became bored of caring for them, and no chance of boredom anyway. She simply had to learn her new role as a mother, not just a breeder or surrogate.
Life had a way of teaching lessons, and Mariella had no idea that this particular lesson was crafted by her husband. It would stick for quite a while, teaching them both an important truth: that it truly pays to give a lesson to those you love, and more importantly, never to deny negative feelings. While explosive, this made relationships so much healthier.
I must admit, this lesson that I gave to Mariella truly stuck with her, and it also changed something in me, the old vampire king who thought he knew it all and that nothing could faze me. Denying any negative feelings toward Mariella had twisted our relationship, and this was the point when it started to correct itself. It wasn't that Mariella appreciated what we became, but I do. I still do. But there are no more rose-colored glasses when it comes to Mariella, only honesty, sometimes brutal, sometimes passionate. - Damon Salvatore, number one.