16. Edward

My father left two days later, satisfied with the progress on his town and even liking the name Swanville for it. However, as he confessed before he boarded the helicopter, he would have still liked to have one of my princess’s swans for supper.

The very idea of it turned my stomach. It wasn’t so much the idea of eating swan—growing up I had eaten all kinds of dishes considered exotic—but one of them? In my mind, it was equal to eating another person even though I had no idea why I felt that way.

“I do like your bride, and there is something to be said about a woman who can’t talk, eh?” Dad boxed me in the ribs, and I swallowed a sharp retort. I would have loved to hear her say I love you. Just once. But that was Dad. Women had never mattered to him as anything else but to produce an heir or for entertainment.

“We’ll see you at the wedding,” I responded.

“Whatever kind of wedding that will be.” He shook his head. “Not a legal one for sure, without even knowing her name,” he tsked. It bothered him. And it bothered me that it was one thing we actually agreed on.

As much as I hated it though, he was right too. Our marriage would not be official. We were going to hold it in the backyard, with only a few friends and family, and of course the swans. No matter how much money we had, there was no wedding officiant who could make it legal unless we procured a false identity for my bride.

“Make sure you adopt the kid when it’s born,” my father pressed, having one leg already inside the chopper.

“Kid?”

“I’m not stupid, that woman is carrying a child. Your child I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Then see you make that legal,” he said, already turning his back to step into the chopper.

I didn’t want his words to affect me, I really didn’t, but he had a point, albeit different from what he thought. My name would be on our child’s birth certificate, hers however…

I needed to talk to her.

She was in her old room, working on another nettle mantle, wearing tight gloves to protect her skin, so absorbed, she didn’t hear me enter. She didn’t startle though, when I sat down next to her.

“We need to talk.”

She looked up at me and put her sewing aside, giving me her full attention. One of the many things I absolutely loved about her: whatever she did, she did it wholeheartedly.

I took her hands and peeled her gloves off. Despite the protective plastic, there were small red welts on her fingertips and I kissed them. “I wish I knew why you’re doing this to yourself.”

Her hand reached up and brushed my cheek.

“That’s not what I want to talk about though. Listen”—we entwined our fingers—“we need a name for you. There is an agency that specializes in the intake of persons coming from Fable Forest. They help former residents to become legal here, but for that we need a name for you. I know you can’t give me yours, but you will need to pick one for the papers.”

Her eyes welled up and I hated doing this to her. “I understand, I really do, but you need to think about our son or daughter. You need a name, princess.”

She pulled our entwined hands to her stomach. Utter delight spread through me at the thought of my son or daughter being inside of her. Growing, being nourished and loved.

She held two fingers up and I creased my brows trying to figure out what she meant. “Twins? You think we’ll have twins?” It finally dawned on me.

She giggled and shrugged her shoulders, causing a storm of emotions to spread through me.

“We need to get you to a doctor anyway,” I reminded her. We had planned on doing it, but my father’s visit had thrown things off a bit. “I can pay for it, so we won’t need to hurry with a name for you, but for the wedding and birth, you’ll need one.”

Again she shook her head and held up two fingers.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said a bit frustrated. I knew she could read, had seen her in the library, devouring books. So it was only logical to assume that she could also write. So why in hell wouldn’t she pick up a pen and write what she wanted me to know instead of always playing charades?

It was infuriating.

One of her many mysteries.

I reminded myself once again that this was the person I had fallen in love with and I had to take her as she was. I knew she loved me too, I knew she was an honest, sweet person, but the mystery enshrouding her was slowly unraveling my composure.

She pointed at my watch and made a circular motion with her hands.

“Time?” I asked. She nodded and held up two fingers again.

“Two hours?”

She shook her head.

“Two days?” She shook her head again.

Alright, I thought, let’s keep going. Finally when I asked, “Two years?” She nodded.

“You will give me your name in two years?” I double-checked a bit exasperated. My exasperation only grew with her nod.

“Why two years?” I demanded.

Her eyes pleaded with me.

“Let it go?” I exhaled.

Another nod.

“Fine!”

She took my hands and pulled me to her, pressing my hands against her chest.

“I know you love me,” I assured her. “I won’t ever doubt it, but… I’m a man.” I tried to chuckle, but it was dry. “Whatever it is that is bothering you, that you’re doing, I want to help. I want to make it better. I need to protect you. That’s what I’m here for and I can’t do that if you won’t—”

She leaned forward and shut me up by pressing her lips against mine. Effectively ending this discussion.

Two days later, we were sitting in a doctor’s office, awaiting the doctor to come in and tell us her results after performing several tests and drawing blood from the future mother of my baby.

“Well congratulations, you were right, you are expecting.” Doctor Weiler beamed.

“Thank you,” I replied, squeezing my fiancée’s hand.

“A question though, do twins run in either of your families?”

“Twins?” I asked dumbfounded and then my heart skipped a beat since this was the second time the word had come up in a few days. My head turned to the woman by my side and a secretive smile spread across her lips.

“They run in yours?” I was astounded, but in a good way. “We’re having two babies?” I checked with the doctor.

“It looks that way. Congratulations.”

I rose, pulling my princess into my arms. “Thank you, thank you!” I showered her face with kisses.

The doctor cleared her throat. “I take this as in we’re pleased?”

“Very much so, thank you!” I offered my hand to the doctor.

“I honestly wasn’t involved in this.” She smirked.

The soon-to-be mother of my twins giggled and held her hand out to the doctor as well.

“Since you’re carrying twins, I’ll need to see you more often. For now, please make sure you take plenty of vitamins and…”

Her voice trailed off in my head. We made another appointment and left the office, but the entire time I felt as if I were walking on a cloud. A cloud of such immense happiness, I was sure I would explode.

“You are amazing,” I told her when we were on our way home. And just because I felt like it, I asked, “Daphne?”

She laughed out loud and I didn’t need to turn my head to know the answer to my question was another no.

The next weeks flew by. My princess remained stubborn about assuming an identity. Every time I brought it up, she held up her two fingers.

Two years.

Fine, I thought, I can wait two years,for her.

The wedding was rescheduled even though I didn’t feel right about it, having not one but two kids out of wedlock just didn’t sit well with me, no matter what she said. Or in her case, didn’t say. It was the source of our first fight.

The second fight came when she continued sewing on her ridiculous nettle mantles. I could have understood her sewing something for the babies growing in her steadily swelling belly but that wasn’t the case.

Still, I couldn’t fault her, she worked just as tirelessly on the nursery. I offered to have staff brought in, a designer, a painter, but she refused, navigating the internet with no problems whatsoever, ordering anything she needed.

One day I walked in while she was neatly folding baby clothes to stack into the newly arrived dresser. A very domestic sight, a sight that should have warmed my heart, instead, unease moved through me when I noticed one of the swans by her side, folding clothes with his beak.

I faltered against the doorway. Who was this woman?

As much as I hated it, Father was right. I knew nothing about her.

No matter how much I loved her, no matter how sweet and wonderful she was, we were about to start a family. I was about to become a father and with that came certain responsibilities, like making sure my babies were safe.

Easy, I told myself, this is still the same woman you met over a year ago.

Yes, but I know as much about her as I did a year ago, a voice sounding like my father’s argued back.

Maybe she trained the swans, I tried to justify.

She can read and write but refuses to do so to tell you anything about herself, the same voice returned. She doesn’t want to go to the authorities who would help her establish a life for herself, she won’t even tell you her name.

Fuck!

How could I possibly argue with that?

This wasn’t just about me anymore.

Two years, my heart insisted. Two years.

Alright, I compromised. I will wait two years, but she better come clean then, or…

But that was just it, I had no or. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, kick her out. I could never leave her.

She accepted you for who you are, my heart whispered, can’t you do the same for her?

Yes, I thought, yes I can, ignoring all nagging, lingering doubts and voices that whispered that even swans with human eyes didn’t fold clothes. Or listened when you talked to them. Or…