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Before they were sent to the First, they were scheduled for a litany of medical tests. Palamedes groused over this, “do they think I'm not already checking her kidneys? She's my cavalier, for God's sake” etc. Camilla was not terribly surprised when she was sent to the sexual health wing. Off world contact meant potential exposure to venereal diseases. She knew this. Still, she was surprised when they removed her IUD.
She shouldn't have been. There had been a multiple choice test regarding fertility (Anal sex prevents pregnancy, true or false? Select an option a-q. A)In 100% of cases. B) Generally, however—). This was a slightly more advanced version of the one they'd had her take when she was seven.
They hadn't asked her before removing the IUD. This shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. Even if she planned to have sex with any of the other house scions or their cavaliers, what if she didn't come back in time for an embryo to be transferred to a vat womb? How could she protect Palamedes if her body was compromised?
She was given a priority list of potential targets. The Third and Fifth had money, but the Fifth were not a viable source of sperm or eggs (“Both of them? Tough luck, ” a voice outside the exam room she wasn't supposed to hear had said). The Second was okay in a pinch. She would have to make her own decision about the Ninth; they didn't have the data to advise her, but she was left with ten pages of criteria to consider.
Palamedes's vasectomy has been reversed, and he'd been sent with six (six for luck) vials of his own sperm. The counts after the reversal weren't ideal, he'd been told, but there was a theorem that could—and he'd thrown Genetic Outreach out of his office.
They were sent with a remarkable number of condoms. The Seventh might love their genetic cancers, but it was the last thing the Sixth bloodlines needed.
Camilla had nodded and agreed, but she knew she wouldn't be performing any genetic outreach on the First.
She became more certain of this when she met the rest of the group sent to Canaan House. She was not going to let Naberius Tern anywhere near her vulva. She doubted he'd know what to do anyway. Besides, Ianthe Tridentarius had approached her on the second day.
“I know your miserable little House has probably told you to get yourself knocked up. What else is a Sixth House cav good for, anyway? But if you come near my sister I—”
Camilla had walked away. She'd never been one for dramatics.
The biggest surprise, of course, was Dulcie. The reproductive mission aside, she'd thought—
Well, she'd thought wrong, hadn't she? Palamedes's proposal had obviously been more upsetting to her than she’d let on. Something still seemed off, but Camilla had never really known the duchess. That much was obvious now.
The first few weeks had been spent exploring Canaan House, finding intel on the other Houses, and fucking.
As the Warden of the Sixth House, Palamedes had an endless cycle of meetings and paperwork and administrative minutiae occupying his time. It wasn't that they never found time alone together. They did, quite frequently. But there was always an appointment calling, always some necessary endpoint. Here, in the ruins of the First House, they had all the time they wanted. They worked their way through two of the trials in the basement, earning one key and learning the other trial had already been completed and the key retrieved. Palamedes had quickly discerned that the bond between necromancer and cavalier was being tested in the trials, and deduced that further bonding outside of the trials would surely assist in their learning. Camilla had agreed, mostly because he'd said this in the moments before eating her out.
They bonded in three separate trial labs. They bonded in secret rooms with moldering furniture. They bonded in the kitchen while the skeleton servitors were on break between meals. They even bonded in the dining room, Palamedes bent over one of the long dining tables. She had made a joke about the dining table and eating and he had flushed and looked pretty, and she'd eaten his ass about it.
And of course, they bonded in their chambers, on the big, soft bed they shared every night.
One particular night, they had come back to bed and found themselves unable to sleep. A new environment, too much stimulation, unprecedented access to natural light: all of this threw off their circadian rhythms. He had leaned over to kiss her, and then his tongue was in her mouth, so she'd rolled him onto his back, and neither of them had really been thinking when she sat on his cock.
Or rather, they had been thinking, but what they had been thinking was how good it felt, how right it was to be joined like this.
She'd gotten through three thrusts before he'd remembered.
“Condom,” he said weakly, and she'd looked down at him. He was completely inside of her, so deep and good and full and—
“Right,” she'd said, and she climbed off and rustled through the drawer of the bedside table. He had fumbled more than usual—he still wasn't used to it, and he was so hard and ready and—but he'd gotten it on and she'd sunk back down. She knew that preejaculate could contain viable sperm if the individual had ejaculated recently. Palamedes was twenty. He had always ejactulated recently. Still, his sperm count was garbage.
She'd ridden him, hard and fast. He rubbed her clit and told her how marvelous she was, so lovely like this, his strong girl, every star in the sky wrapped up in one human body with incredible thighs.
It wasn't until after that he realized the condom slipped off.
“Hm,” he said, and she shrugged and told him she still wasn't particularly concerned.
Her menstrual cycle had not resumed after her IUD was removed. She hadn't been worried about this, hadn't even considered it. She was so used to not menstruating.
So he'd reached inside her and pulled the condom out. Maybe it would help if he removed some of the sperm, he told her. That didn't have any scientific backing, she told him.
“Oh,” he said, “then you don't want my tongue, I guess.”
So she'd rolled him back onto his back and sat on his face.
And she didn't think about it at all until two weeks later when he did her weekly vitals check.
“Well,” he said. And he took off his glasses and rubbed both hands over his face. This mussed his hair, but when she reached out to smooth it—
“Your thalergy is elevated,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said slowly, aware she was missing something in his tone. “Something about the First, do you think?”
“Your HCG is elevated,” he said.
“Oh,” Camilla said.
“I can handle it, of course. Some mild discomfort, I've been told, some bleeding and abdominal pain.” She already knew all of this; why was he telling her this? She had known since she was small. It was a routine procedure. “I haven't done it myself, but it's fairly rudimentary flesh magic. I feel confident, but if you'd rather the Third—”
“No,” she interrupted.
“Right, then I just have to—”
She scooted back from him, just infinitesimally, but that was all he needed to notice.
“Oh,” he said again. “Oh, Camilla.”
“I'm going to—” and she went into the bath chamber and locked him out.
She never locked him out. It was always the two of them against the world.
“Cam,” she heard him say through the door, and she turned on the tap.
He didn't call to her again.
She filled the tub until the water was to her chin. She closed her eyes, warm water surrounding her.
If she went back to the Sixth pregnant, the fetus would be transferred to a vat womb to grow. The oversight committee would ask her who had impregnated her. She could lie, but if a child was born with any resemblance to Palamedes, they could be questioned and the child would receive genetic testing, and she and Palamedes would lose their positions. She wasn't sure what would happen after that. She didn't know of anyone who had carried an accidental pregnancy to term. It just was not done.
He was not on her list of approved genetic partners. Before she was allowed to compete for the role of cavalier primary, a genetic analysis was done on her eggs to ensure she was not a potential reproductive match for Palamedes. His cavalier had to be someone he could not have children with; it wouldn't do to waste a genetic match on cavalierhood. She and Palamedes shared recessive indicators for eight ailments. Three could be treated with medication, four would lead to lifelong complications and a shortened lifespan, and one was incompatible with life.
If she carried this pregnancy, she would be unable to protect Palamedes adequately. Her body would grow and change and leave her unbalanced physically and hormonally.
They had talked about it before the first time they had sex. It didn't seem likely that they would ever end up in this situation; it would have been more of a cause for concern if her strap could get him pregnant. They had always agreed, however, that if the unlikely occurred, he would end it.
It was selfish to consider it. Worse than selfish, it was illogical.
And yet there was a part of Palamedes growing inside of her. Something that was both of them.
(The Dulcie from her letters would have made a joke about other parts of Palamedes that had grown inside of Camilla, and Camilla would have smiled. Why wasn't she joking with them? Why was she focused on that Ninth house cavalier? But if Camilla started thinking about Dulcie again, she wouldn't stop.)
There wasn't an option to keep this. There wasn't a choice, not anything she'd be close to happy with. She wouldn't be allowed to raise the child. She was twenty and there were waitlists. They couldn't leave the Sixth. Where would they go?
She slipped under the water. She closed her eyes and exhaled. She was warm and comfortable and had a brief moment of wondering if she could just stay like this.
But that was not an option either.
She washed her hair and her body and stepped out of the tub. She took the time to dry herself thoroughly and ensure that her hair was straight and unruffled. She dressed in her slacks, her shirt, her robe.
And she stepped out of the bath chamber.
Palamedes was sitting less than a meter from the door, in a chair that hadn't been there when she'd gotten in the tub. He had a book in his hands, but he was still on page one.
“Camilla,” he said too softly.
“Warden,” she said, and she made herself look him in the eyes. His soft, beautiful eyes looked at her with such gentleness. She remained impassive.
“Of course you get to decide,” he said. “Camilla, my darling, of course you do.”
“What is there to decide?" she replied. “What would we even do if I… if I kept it?”
Maybe he could solve this. He had always been able to come up with solutions no one else could see.
“I don't know,” he said. “But if you want to, we'll find a way.”
Camilla took a breath in, counted to five and exhaled. She repeated this until she could speak again.
“It could be… exciting,” he said softly.
“I'd like a week,” she said suddenly. “To decide.”
“Of course,” he said. “Cam, come here. Let me—”
And she went to him, let him fold her in his arms. She angled her ear to hear his heartbeat.
—
Days later, they were examining the building when the Ninth house cavalier appeared out of nowhere. Camilla reacted in defense of her necromancer, and Palamedes had panicked. The Ninth cavalier was shockingly adept with her sword, but Camilla could have taken her on.
They had gone to the basement and helped the Ninth find her necromancer, dehydrated in a bone cocoon. It was just the sort of situation Palamedes would wind up in if Camilla let him out of her sight for more than a few minutes. They had examined the Ninth house necromancer—she'd be fine—and gone back to their rooms.
And everything felt so normal. She wasn't any closer to making a decision. She went to the restroom and when she wiped she idly noticed a spot of blood. Barely anything, just a hint of pink. She wouldn't have normally thought anything of it.
She washed her hands and reentered the bed chamber.
“I'm bleeding,” she told him.
“Where?” he asked in confusion. Her expression must have betrayed her, because all he said next was, “Oh.”
“That isn't necessarily a sign that anything has gone wrong,” he said after a minute of silence. “It’s not unusual, I've been led to believe.”
She wouldn't know. Gravid carry was highly unusual on the Sixth. Alexandrites and Nireids were brought back to the Sixth quickly for vat womb transfers. There had been a research study a decade ago, but Camilla had been a child. One of Kiki's friends had participated. It had been strange to watch their shape change.
Camilla certainly hadn't been privy to any details, though. Even if she had been, she wouldn't have asked about bleeding.
Maybe she shouldn't have backflipped down the stairs, she thought idly. Probably wasn't in the books they gave out to the participants in gravid carry studies.
“I can check your HCG levels again,” Palamedes told her.
She nodded.
He tapped her and came away with a bloody finger. He rubbed the blood between his finger and thumb, lips pressed together in concentration.
“I'm not an expert,” he said, which meant it was bad news.
Was it bad news, she wondered? Did she even want this? And even if she did, how could she possibly have it?
“It is lower than I would anticipate at this stage,” he said. “If we check again tomorrow, we can see if it is going up or down.”
Tomorrow seemed an eternity away.
“Would you like to—”
“I'm going to take a sonic,” she interrupted.
She stripped her clothing off, still dirty from exploring the crumbling building earlier in the day. There was a spot of red in her underwear.
She took a sonic.
Palamedes looked at her with an expression too close to pity when she returned to their room. She did not meet his gaze. She reorganized the swords and weaponry on the sagging cavalier cot.
When Palamedes returned from the sonic, she was already in bed, eyes closed. He climbed in behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist.
She woke several hours later. Abdominal pain. She went into the bathing chamber. On autopilot, she stripped out of her clothing. There was blood on her pad. Not a lot, but substantially more than the last time she checked. She sat in the bathtub, naked and bleeding. The cramping was quite severe. She counted to five, exhaled for five, looked at the small pool of blood gathering between her legs, breathed.
A strong cramp hit her. She stood up—why did she stand up?—and something slid out of her.
There was a clump of tissue in the tub. Not much of anything, it wasn't shaped like anything. She breathed and—
“Cam?” Palamedes said from the doorway.
She left the door open. Why did she leave the door open?
He was in his pajamas, robe thrown over his shoulders. He had his slippers on. His feet got cold without them.
“Cam,” he repeated and he was holding her. She didn't remember him crossing the room. She didn't remember him stepping into the tub. He was going to get blood on his slippers. She should tell him—
“I don't think I have to make a decision anymore,” she said placcidly.
His eyes looked pitying again, and she turned from his gaze.
The next few minutes felt like an eternity. She was still cramping and bleeding. He tested her HCG and kissed her forehead. He wrapped her in his bathrobe. He got her dressed and put her in bed and cleaned the tub (she told him she would but he did). He climbed into the bed next to her and she wrapped her arms around him. Her front pressed to his back, she held him tight against her.
“Camilla, I lo—”
“Don't,” she interrupted. He'd never said it before. She couldn't bear it if he said it now when she was weak and bleeding and aching. She already knew. He didn't need to say it.
“I do, though,” he said.
Stubborn boy.
“Reciprocated, Warden,” she said, because what else was there to say? She kissed his hair and tried to sleep.
—
She stayed in bed the next morning, so he stayed in their room as well. He'd been lent books by Abigail Pent, and he wanted to check them out. He had also been lent a book belonging to Coronabeth Tridentarius, and it was filthy.
When she heard Palamedes's stomach rumble, she got out of bed. She wasn't going to let him go to the dining room by himself. She took a sonic and tried not to think as dried blood flaked away from her thighs.
She sat down at one of the long tables in the dining area and waited for a skeleton servitor to bring her breakfast. Palamedes had stopped across the room to chat with Magnus Quinn. Camilla didn't imagine him to be a threat.
Something brushed past her at the same time as the skeleton. A cup of tea fell onto the floor and shattered.
“Terribly sorry,” Abigail Pent said, and she bent over to pick up the broken cup. Camilla reached at the same time and their fingers brushed.
Abigail's eyes met hers in understanding.
Fucking necromancers.
“I don't mean to be nosy,” Abigail said.
“Then don't be,” Camilla replied.
“I'm here, is all,” Abigail replied with soft eyes, and Camilla fled. She grabbed Palamedes by the elbow and pulled him back to their rooms. She locked all of the locks and turned the lights out and breathed and breathed and breathed.
–
Magnus had been inviting them to an anniversary dinner, Camilla learned that night. There wasn't a way out of attending, so she went.
–
The next morning, Abigail Pent and Magnus Quinn were dead.
–
There was another life for them. She only let herself think about this when she was well and truly depressed, when she allowed herself to wallow. There was another life where Palamedes never became the Warden. They would have been allowed to marry, if they'd wanted. They could never have had genetic offspring together, but reproduction and marriage were only infrequently done with the same person on the Sixth. She would have worked in data, and they could have applied for parental rights to a child if they wanted to raise one. Maybe even one of their genetic offspring.
Probably she wouldn't have wanted that. He wouldn't have either. Probably they would have gone their whole lives without really considering it.
She'd have been happy in that other life, she thought. She was less sure Palamedes could have been. Maybe if Dulcinea had been well, and he'd never become obsessed with her. Maybe then he could have used his ambition elsewhere. Followed in his mother's footsteps as Archivist, maybe, or found his way to the Warden title in his adulthood.
She hoped that there was a universe where they got to have that calm, quiet life.
In this universe, she was still bleeding and looking down at Abigail Pent's corpse.