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Okay here is another writing challenge.  I realize there is a lot implied and not explained, but this is on purpose.  I used this writing challenge to add to another story I am writing.  ‘Amethyst in Mud’ is about Dorothy falling victim to a political opponent who arranges for her to abducted and sold into slavery.  This piece comes after her rescue.


 

Writing Challenge 9-8-2014


Requirements:
A character becomes sorry during the story. During the story, a character becomes pregnant.


Amythest in Mud – Reunion
by Nova

The trip home had been long and uncomfortable.  Dorothy had given a rough explanation of what had happened to her during her enslavement.  Quatre had been sympathetic and extremely apologetic.  He was taking all the blame on to himself.  No matter what she said he almost teared up each time he looked at her.  Her retelling was clinical and unemotional, just giving facts as they happened.  Trowa listened quietly and she could tell that he realized what was most important was what she had left out of the tale.  He said nothing, but allowed her to cry on his shoulder.

She didn’t know why she cried; only that she couldn’t stop.  All the passion, anger, worry, frustration, and relief came pouring out.  When it was over she felt stronger, more able to face the world.  Word of her slavery would, of course, be a royal scandal and political parties would be ready to use it to their own advantage.  The only possible recourse was to walk in with head held high.  Showing no weakness, disgraced or no, she would not be cowed by anyone.  She would continue on as if nothing had happened and dare anyone to mention it.  It was a good plan, but not so easy to execute.

By the time they made it to Quatre’s capital city, Dorothy knew the unspeakable had happened.  As much as she wanted to forget what had transpired and pretend it didn’t matter, it could never be.

After taking a brief rest in her room and comforting her maid, who had been completely distraught over the loss of her young charge.  Dorothy called Quatre and Trowa to her.

Quatre took a chair and Trowa stood near the door, his preferred bodyguard position.

Dorothy paced unable to remain still.  They were all adults and understood the nature of her enslavement.  The men had chosen not to ask her any details, but let her know that it had not changed their opinion of her.  It hurt her, that she was about to crush that.

“Quatre,” Dorothy began, “Thank you so much for not giving up on finding me.  I appreciate that you want to go back to our original relationship and so did I, but…”  She tried to think of a delicate way to say it, but nothing came to mind.  She moved to the window and stared out, not wanting to see their face.  Then she desperately needed to see their reactions.  She turned and quickly spat it out, “I’m pregnant.”

The room was silent.  For Dorothy time seemed to stop and she was trapped in that moment fearing their response; after all that had happened she was going to lose them anyway.  They would lose each other.  The air in her chest refused to move as she waited for eternity.

Trowa gave on slow blink and time resumed.

Quatre smiled at her gently.  He rose from his chair and came over to clasp her hands.  “Then we should be married right away.”

Convulsively, Dorothy gripped Quatre’s hands.  She looked deep into his pale blue eyes and only saw love and understanding.  Emotion choked her and Dorothy was afraid she might cry again.  What a horrible thought.

She swallowed hard and asked huskily, “You still want to marry me?”

The smile that Quatre gave lit up his face, “Of course.”  He lifted her hands and kissed the back of her fingers, “Any child of yours is a child of mine.”

She looked over to Trowa and he gave a nod.

“We always knew it was a possibility,” Quatre said.  “I knew that if by some miracle we were able to get you back, nothing that happened would stop me from marrying you.”  Dorothy watched his angelic face in amazement.  “I was prepared for much worse,” he continued, “than the chance to love your child.”

Quatre dropped to one knee in front of her.  At his place by the door Trowa knelt as well.  “Lady Dorothy, will you please marry me tomorrow?  Please spend your life with us?”

Dorothy was stunned, how could two men be so wonderful?  To want her back, no questions asked, just as she was.  Her heart ached and she nodded.

Standing Quatre wrapped her in his arms.  “Trowa,” he called over her shoulder.  “Send for the dress maker, we need a wedding gown.”

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