The circular stone staircase down to the castle dungeons was tight, like a corkscrew winding down into the earth. Balthasar was quite familiar with it, having made the trek down on numerous occasions for any prisoners who were suffering from health maladies. Today though he descended the stairs for a different reason, to bring news. The chirurgeon wondered to himself how they even managed to fit Beowulf down these stairs in the first place.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Balthasar could already hear the jester’s voice echoing through the stone hallways. The chirurgeon rolled his eyes and smirked, of course Thedrick would be down here, he had barely stepped out of the dungeon since Balthasar had discharged him from the infirmary. Though Balthasar already knew where he was going, he could have also just used the jester’s voice to guide him instead.

The dungeon was dark, naturally as all dungeons should be, only lit by sparse wall torches, but that was enough to find your way with. Balthasar could hear Thedrick’s voice getting louder as he got closer, and eventually made his way to the end of the hallway where he could see the jester sitting on the cold stone floor, leaning up against the iron bars of one of the cells, a blanket wrapped around his small body.

“Oh, Baz, hi!” Thedrick said cheerily, looking up as he heard Balthasar’s approaching footsteps. Balthasar was now at a close enough angle that he could see into the cell, noticing Beowulf seated on the floor on the other side of the bars from Thedrick, watching the little jester lovingly. It was a bit strange to see the large man dressed in plain linen clothing and without his helmet.

“Hello Thedrick, fancy finding you down here,” Balthasar quipped sarcastically with a small smile, stopping a few steps away from the jester.

“Why are you here Baz?” Thedrick asked, grinning up at the chirurgeon. 

“I’m here to let you know that the vampire hunter has left town,” Balthasar explained. “I actually tried to stop him, told him he needed longer to heal, but he did not seem very keen on sticking around any longer.”

Thedrick looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think he’ll ever come back and try to hurt me again?” he asked quietly, with an expression of slight concern.

“Do you?” Balthasar asked, almost chuckling. “The entire time I was treating him in the infirmary he looked terrified, like he thought Beowulf would come bursting in at any moment to tear his other arm off. I bet that's why he was in such a hurry to leave, and I doubt we will see him again. He also probably won’t be hunting many more vampires, the way he is now.”

“Well good… it’s not our fault we are born this way…” Thedrick muttered, pulling the blanket closer around his thin body.

“Thedrick…” Balthasar paused, not really sure how to word what he wanted to say. “Not all vampires are… as nice as you,” he settled on. “In fact… probably none are, I would bet.”

“Well, how would you know, have you ever met one?” Thedrick shot back, looking slightly hurt.

“Well no…” Balthasar admitted. Thedrick was the only vampire he had ever had a chance to talk to before.

“Maybe they are just misunderstood, that’s all!” Thedrick suggested, hope in his eyes. “Perhaps they are forced to do the things they do… just because we need blood to survive doesn’t mean we should be wiped out…”

“Alright fine, I will keep my hypotheses about the nature of vampires to myself,” Balthasar yielded. “Anyway, I have other news as well. Cassian is going to talk to Richard about letting Beowulf out early for good behaviour,” the chirurgeon explained with a small smile.

Thedrick’s face lit up. “That’s fantastic! I won’t have to freeze my ass off down here anymore!” he exclaimed in delight, and looked over at Beowulf who was smiling happily too.

“Besides, I bet the king is eager to have him back on the guard. I believe he is secretly impressed by what Beowulf did, and is sure to boast about his guard who can rip the arm off a man with his bare hands,” Balthasar said with a smirk. “This punishment was simply a formality for disobeying orders… and harming a guest I guess, even though that guest was an asshole.”

“I get to keep my job?” Beowulf asked, looking up at Balthasar hopefully.

“I thought you didn’t want to be a soldier?" Thedrick said in confusion.

“I want to stay in the castle so I can be close to you,” Beowulf told Thedrick while smiling. “I can’t take you home to my ma, she isn’t really keen on the whole vampire thing.”

“Cassian is probably going to punish you some more once you are out, he is rather disappointed that you ignored a direct order… though I think he is secretly impressed as well, as he never thought you had it in you,” Balthasar explained.

“I’ll accept my punishment, I did perhaps overreact a little bit,” Beowulf admitted, looking guilty. 

“Well there’s the understatement of the year,” Balthasar snorted, unable to stop himself from smiling. “On that note, I think I will take my leave as I must get back to work.”

“See you later Baz,” Thedrick said with a smile, both of them waving at him as he turned and walked away, back down the dark and chilly hallway. Balthasar glanced back behind himself for a moment, and saw Thedrick slipping his thin body in between the cell bars, before collapsing into Beowulf’s lap in a fit of giggles. Balthasar smiled to himself as he turned back and continued down the stone corridor.

****

A week later, Balthasar sat at his desk in the infirmary late in the evening, reading over some notes. He let out a yawn, realising he should probably pack it in for the night soon. Perhaps he would even go to Cassian’s bed rather than his own, as the night was feeling quite cold.

But Balthasar was suddenly startled into being alert when the door to the infirmary opened and the chirurgeon looked up to see King Richard standing in the doorway. 

The chirurgeon got to his feet in a demonstration of respect, watching the king approach in confusion. “Your majesty, what’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“Vivienne is in labour!” the king blurted out, looking panicked.

“Respectfully sir, isn’t that the midwife’s job?” Balthasar asked in bewilderment. 

“Something’s wrong! You have to help!” the king exclaimed in distress.

Then Balthasar saw Beowulf appear in the door, carrying Queen Vivienne in his large arms. Next to him stood the midwife, a small mousy woman with curly hair. The soldier and the midwife wore expressions of concern as they hurried towards Richard and Balthasar. The queen seemed to be groaning in pain, clutching her bulging stomach with her eyes closed.

“Okay, get her onto one of the beds and let me take a look,” Balthasar ordered Beowulf, who quickly complied while Balthasar hurried to grab a few supplies. “Now go with the midwife to fetch her supplies, like the warm water and towels please.” Beowulf and the midwife quickly hurried out of the room to do just that.

Vivienne lay in the sickbed, while Richard had fallen to his knees by her side and was holding her hand while trying to reassure her that everything would be alright, though maybe he was trying to reassure himself as well. Balthasar started his examination of the queen, checking over the rest of her body quickly first before hiking up her skirt and looking between her legs.

Once the midwife returned, she and Balthasar worked together to try and help Vivienne push the baby out, but nothing they tried seemed to be working. It was clear to Balthasar that the child must somehow be stuck in the birth canal, and the queen was quickly becoming exhausted from her efforts. The chirurgeon turned to the king, setting his mouth in a firm line.

“Your majesty, I’m afraid I am going to have to cut into her to get the child out. Though if I do… she might not make it,” Balthasar explained plainly.

Richard looked up at Balthasar with a distraught expression. “What do you mean?”

“She’s already so weak, I don’t know if she will have enough vitality to survive such an operation. But I can probably save the child. If we do nothing, they will likely both die,” Balthasar kept his voice and demeanour calm, staring intently into Richard’s eyes. 

The king looked conflicted, turning to look down at his wife’s face as she breathed heavily with her head resting on the pillow, eyes still closed. Then Richard cast his eyes right down for a moment, before swallowing heavily and nodding. “Do what you have to,” he said weakly, squeezing his wife’s hand gently.

Balthasar and the midwife jumped into action again, collecting up the tools necessary to perform the procedure. Balthasar administered a large amount of painkilling tonic to the queen, giving it a moment to take effect while he put on his gloves and cleaned the area he was about to cut into. Soon his gloves were covered in blood as he reached into the hole he had carefully cut into the queen’s bulging belly, and grabbed the small body of the child, pulling it out with some difficulty.

The chirurgeon barely even looked at the child as he passed it, covered in blood, over to the midwife, who held it as Balthasar pulled out the placenta, dumping it on a table next to the bed, leaving it up to the midwife to take care of the child and cut the umbilical cord while he now focused on trying to save the queen’s life. 

Balthasar worked as quickly as possible to try and stop the queen’s bleeding and pull the flesh he had just cut through back together. He thought he had done a pretty clean job of it, but despite his efforts, Vivienne’s breathing was becoming shallower and her heartbeat weaker. Balthasar swore in frustration. The bleeding had slowed but she was still dying, and he didn’t know why, or what he could do to save her.

The baby started crying as the midwife gently bathed it in a tub of water nearby, and Vivienne’s eyes opened and her face lit up. Richard looked into her eyes, clutching her hand tightly in both of his while tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Please my dear, hold on,” the king said in a wavering voice.

“Can I see my baby?” Vivienne asked weakly, looking around for the child.

The midwife quickly finished cleaning the child and dried it off, wrapping its small body up in a towel. She then brought it over to the bed and held it out towards the queen to show her. They all looked at the child, and Balthasar’s eyes widened in surprise.

The child had very pale skin, and its head was covered in tufts of white hair. The child’s eyes opened, pale lashes blinking as large crimson irises gazed up at the king and queen.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, smiling down at Vivienne gently.

The queen weakly reached out towards the baby, caressing her small cheek lightly with one finger. “She’s beautiful,” Vivienne said, smiling so warmly at her child.

“Do you have a name for her, my love?” the king asked, seemingly unperturbed by the child’s strange and familiar appearance.

“Maerwynn,” the queen breathed out softly, letting her hand fall back onto the bed, and closing her eyes, still smiling. She took a few more shallow breaths before her chest went still. Balthasar reached out and felt for her pulse, but when he found none he shook his head slowly at the king who was watching him. Richard turned back to his wife’s body, and leaned forward to rest his head against her chest as he cried silently.

The midwife pulled the child away, bringing her in close to her chest, trying to shush the baby who had also started crying. Balthasar stood up straight, then turned to exchange worried glances with Beowulf, who had been standing off to the side the entire time. The soldier was looking between the chirurgeon and the princess with an expression of bewilderment, though thankfully didn’t say anything.

Thedrick… what have you done?