What Does One Do For Fun?

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Ylva Kvalheim

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Having been sufficiently knocked up by Asparuh, Ylva had been generally ignored since nothing of interest had occurred over the last four months. When the Patriach and Matriarch met, she had believed that nine months in someone else's home was tolerable enough, but not when she discovered that she couldn't leave at will. She had noticed that those of the family blood line, but specifically those with the tattoo (though she didn't know it), were able to enter and exit freely. Ylva ventured outdoors only rarely, so most of the time she had was spent in her room, reading. Needless to say, it wasn't the most thrilling place to be for nine months; she was only up to four at the moment and she was 'dying' in the solitude. Without warning she clapped her book closed and rose, gliding up to the large doors of her room and entering the vast hallway. Ylva was sure she had been everywhere that she was permitted to be, nothing else being of interest to her other than an exercise chamber, dining hall etc. Yet instinct gave her a good feeling about a bit of exploration as she stepped down the passage without a sound, her hand brushing the walls as she passed.

Up and down marble staircases, traipsing the narrow bowels of the house, Ylva soon came upon a door that she did not recognise. It was large enough and as ornate as the rest of them, but she must have missed it only because it was somehow built further inwards than the others. A meter-long overhang shrouded the entrance to ... whatever was in the room, and on the overhang itself hung a thick curtain. The curtain was not dusty, Ylva noted, so the room had been recently used. She stepped through and was suddenly plunged into the gloom between the curtain and the closed door. Lightly she ran her fingers across the wood till she touched upon the handle, and tested it. It was unlocked. Generally an unlocked door in the Zhefarovich household meant free for all, so Ylva took the initiative and pushed it open. She was shocked as she immediately recognised the Patriarch. Or ... not the Patriarch. Whoever it was was sleeping on his back, looking in every way like Asparuh Zhefarovich but in some ways obviously not him. Taken aback, Ylva stared for a moment at the man sleeping on his king sized bed in black robes; and she swore he was wearing shoes beneath the covers. Ylva flipped her hair back as she always did when she was uncomfortable, but she couldn't help moving down and leaving over the sleeping man with a perplexed look. If he wasn't Asparuh, then who was he? Ylva moved back to a safe distance before folding her arms and asking him the same question. "Who are you?".
 
Things were not as clear as Arnost wanted to be. Vixen was in the care of her cousins, and Arnost was still in no shape to tend to his daughter. He could barely tend to himself. After wondering the country for weeks, staying in various hotels to keep clean and just think, Arnost had finally returned home. He had not slept in days, and all he needed was a few hours to stay alive. Arnost was trained to never sleep unless necessary. It was dangerous for some of the Zhefarovich's were hunted down for their devious deeds. Arnost was no different. Meeting a small woman did not help him at all. Instead of choosing to sleep with her, or killing her, he left her be at a random hotel. Arnost had never experienced that much generosity in one setting. Of course, that was not to say for some of the drunken morons that were in the place. Some were silenced and others were harmed cause they got on Arnost's nerves.

He had laid down in his bed, not bothering to undress, and after clasping his hands over his chest, Arnost appeared to be the sleeping dead as he fell into blackness. Dreams of Vixen and Thorine inhabited his mind. Though he helped raise Ivaylo like his own son, it would never replace Vixen. The dreams just made Arnost even more depressed and full of anger. He was going to stay in the Manor, probably, for the rest of his days until he just dies like the rest of them. It was then when he heard a voice call out to him. He didn't recognize her, and she sounded much too foreign to be the woman he truly loved with his heart. But she was dead now. Asparuh was right, he needed to move on. Arnost opened his onyx eyes and his head turned to the direction of some woman. Arnost did not recognize her for he had been gone the entire time she had been here. Naturally, the Duke of the Zhefarovich glared at her, and within an instant, he was out of bed, with two wands aimed at the woman. Arnost growled in a fearsome, icy voice laced with his Bulgarian accent, "Who are you?" Arnost's resemblance to Asparuh was uncanny. When someone snuck up on Arnost, he always prepared for the worst. His hair was still neatly tied back, and he lacked any of his usual emotion on his face. Arnost was in no way pleased. This was why he hated to sleep. Someone could have just killed him just then.
 
Well, he certainly had good reflexes. Ylva was relieved to have had the foresight to step back before announcing her presence. But even though the pseudo-Asparuh was still hostile, the silent Death Eater made no move to remove her own wand, figuring that he would at least know better and find out her origins before cursing her. She was right, and the stranger asked (in an unnerving manner) who she was. Still she frowned, and replied with a short "I believe I asked you first," before falling silent again. Ylva engaged in a wordless glaring match before relenting, announcing "Ylva Kvalheim." in her brusque Danish accent. The man was Bulgarian, she noticed, so he must be some sort of twin of Asparuh's. Surely she would have noticed if he had a sibling? She had been here for four months, after all. "Now who are you, to look so much like Asparuh Zhefarovich? Perhaps he might have told me he had a brother so that I would not be as 'alarmed' as I am now," said Ylva, obviously shocked and irritable by discovering something she didn't know and being threatened double wands. It was mostly the fact that she remembered making love to someone that looked exactly like this man, but who wasn't. It was extremely off-putting.

Then Ylva deigned to calm down and her posture went from rigid to leaning slightly to the right, as was her 'relaxation' pose. It was a formality of sorts, showing him that she was no threat to his person. The look of annoyance melted away and back into impassive curiosity, a default look. "This is your room, is it not?" she said in a quiet voice that was more genteel than before and suited her much better. "Please excuse me. Wands are not safe to point at a growing child, at any rate." she added.
 
Arnost gripped the both of his wands firmly, and it stressed the wood. The rage in his chest was about to be released upon this woman. The frowning caused him to pause. Why would she frown like so? Did she expect him to know her? The glaring that Arnost continued to hold did not let up in the least bit, until her name was said. That reminded him of the female Death Eaters. After one has been in them for so long, one would remember names, but not faces. Nonetheless, it did not explain how she got in, and why she was hovering into his private quarters. “The Patriarch only answers questions to those that ask, and if it were too revealing, he would shut them up instantaneously. I am Arnost Zhefarovich, younger twin of Asparuh Zhefarovich III.” Not a single crack of emotion had come to his face, as his mind summed things up. So, she knew of Asparuh, and spoke of him as if he were an ally of hers. That meant that either she lived here out of Asparuh’s word, or she was forced to remain here for unknown reasons to him.

After she spoke again, Arnost’s eyes went to her stomach to realize that she was pregnant. Ah, so somehow, she managed to conceive a Zhefarovich descendant, and from the way she spoke, one of Asparuh’s. I see, thought Arnost in his mind. “You mistake me for someone who cares about a child’s life,” Arnost said in a dark yet icy tone. But leisurely, Arnost lowered his wands, and before long, he put them away into his robes. To Arnost, Ylva seemed a little bipolar. From irritated to calm within a matter of moments. Arnost added, “Seeing that it my niece – or nephew, I will bring it no such harm. This is my room, which is why I was asleep here when you entered.” As if it weren’t obvious enough. Arnost glanced up at the portrait that faced the bed from the front. A much younger yet the same appearing Arnost gazed darkly down upon them. The portrait moved on some occasions, but mostly, it stared, with a smirk upon his face. Arnost did not reveal that smirk now however. He had to recover from the momentary shock that overcame him.
 
Ylva, too, glanced up at the portrait as she followed his eyeline, seeing a younger man that was unmistakeably the one in front of her. She raised her eyebrow at it but did not comment. The practice of painting portraits of different stages of life in the family was strange to her. The last thing she wanted was her mother hovering over her bedhead and whispering evil things in the night, or whatever she was likely to do. Ylva had worked hard enough to kill the old crone. Why did she want her to live on, immortalised in oil? No doubt the rest of her ancestors were as vile as Yanina Kvalheim, and she could imagine her own portrait tormenting the child still growing in her womb. A child that Arnost Zhefarovich obviously did not give two figs about. "I expect that the child is female. I paid dearly for it as well, and if you brandish a wand in my direction again, I now know where to find you." said Ylva softly, still looking up at the portrait that stared down at her. Her words were not spoken as a threat, but a threat it was. Perhaps not the most polite introduction, but he knew where they stood now and she need not say anything else on the subject.

Arnost seemed to be slightly more animated than Asparuh, despite the fact that she saw no traces of emotion on his face, just like his brother. Ylva liked him already; a highly uncommon occurrence, and the most recent and startling of all being her recent instinctive respect for Asparuh. No doubt she would tolerate this man accordingly and leave him well alone if he so desired. "It was merely the fact that I had not seen you in all the months I'd been here that prompted my surprise. Either way, I would not have asked your brother. I didn't care to know." she said, which was true enough. If Arnost had lurked here and there in the Zhefarovich mansion, she would likewise have given him no thought. But having stumbled upon his sleeping form, she was now intrigued; and amused. Ylva gave no sign of her considering leaving. "Four months ... traveling?" she inquired, a small smirk playing on her lips.
 
“Really now. That tempts me just to fire a curse at you just to see how far you are willing to fight before you miscarry. Then, whatever you have paid for will be void; unless there is no way out of what you have indeed – paid for.” Arnost thought it was highly ridiculous to think that a child was bought like some muggle off the street. It was almost horrid. But Arnost did not care. He wasn’t there to raise any of his children except for Arnost, and he was willing to raise Vixen when he was able and in the right state of mind. Still pining for Thorine, he would have to let her go before returning to raise their daughter, with the delightful company of a squib. Arnost truly had no idea what lay for the future of Vixen. A sly and devious smirk crossed Arnost’s lips. He was intrigued by this woman, this Ylva Kvalheim. Who was she? And how she came to bear a Zhefarovich descendant.

Arnost glanced over in the direction of a chair in which he often sat in. He walked past Ylva and he sat down. He had one of his arms on the armrest, and his hand in front of his face, as if he were in thought. His onyx eyes studied Ylva, but not in a licentious manner. No, he was merely watching. “I have been away for the majority of the Autumn and Winder which as passed. While you are in this Manor, I would highly advise getting to know whom is whom, or else you could lose your life to one of us if you cross the wrong person.” Arnost was one of these deadly assassins. He could rip a person apart in over a hundred ways, some of which while the person would still be alive for a few minutes afterward, death by bleeding too much for the human body to function. “Traveling, I suppose you could say that.” The body count rose dramatically in certain parts of Russia, but he had led the authorities in another direction – toward China. Arnost went to Europe while the idiots traveled toward the inner most divisions of Asia. Arnost gave no sound, mind or thought as to why Ylva had not left him. He could feel more inconsiderate.
 
It struck Ylva that Arnost had said exactly what she would have herself, facing her own retort. She watched the smile drift onto his lips and buried the urge to return it. He wasn't smiling at her; who knew what he was smiling at, but she found it inexplicably infectious. What a curious person he was. “In this case, damaging what I have paid for would be simultaneously damaging the payment herself. I offered my ... alliance,” said Ylva, entirely unwilling to voice the word ‘servitude’, “In return for an heir, including the alliance of my living relatives. So in that sense, I would not only be fighting for my daughter’s life, but for the lives indentured to your family.” She smile mirthlessly at him. “It would be some fight.” Ylva hovered forward for a moment simply in order to move, for she did not like standing still for long periods of time. Sitting was another matter. “Unless you yourself would compensate for the loss.” Now she really was jesting, further implied by the smile upon her lips. Ylva folded her arms into what was a naturally comfortable position for her. It was at that moment that her dress seemed to 'awake', rippling in response to her amusement. Why had it not reacted to his earlier threat? She unfolded her arms to smooth it down, exposing the sign of her pregnancy - a small, soft bump at her waist that almost disappeared with the cut of her white dress.

She watched him seat himself with a hawk-like stare then promptly conjured a seat for herself, confirming her intention to stay. If she left now, she would be back to reading. So far this was proving at least slightly more interesting. The chair she had conjured was very low set with a black satin cushion, its wood angled in typical Japanese style. Instead of sitting upright Ylva rested her weight on her left hand, still somehow managing to convey a sense of perfect posture while the hem of her dress pooled at her feet. Considering his words, she spoke again. "No need to advise me on that, of course. I had done so before I had even met your brother. Twins, on the other hand ... I didn't expect to mistake one for the other. I am not accustomed to miscalculation." said Ylva softly, once again making it sound like an entirely impersonal observation. "I know ..." she said softer still, "... what is at stake." Still her eyes traced over Arnost's face, wondering. The subject moved on and she obliged. "So your formal occupations allow for leisure time? Though I can hardly imagine a Zhefarovich sunbaking or suchlike." Ylva's eyes glowed for a moment with the warmth of humour, the dark orbs melting into chocolate.
 
Arnost smirked slightly, he thought it was rather odd to be paying for a child, but maybe it was a custom. So, Asparuh gained yet another family. It was intriguing how fast he was gaining control or allying the Zhefarovich’s. Was something to happen, or did Asparuh just want to make sure his newborn Asparuh IV was cared for properly? “A brave act, allying yourself and your family for an heir; or an act of desperation. Whichever suits the situation the best.” Arnost could not hold back the smirk that crossed his face once more. It lasted only a short while, before it faded to his usual cold expression. A fight. With how many Zhefarovich’s there were now, and with how many that they have allied and controlled in the world, it was a force to be reckoned with. “Jest, I admire that. Something so reminding and yet so ridiculous, it has to be an act of desperation; that is, if you were serious.” Arnost watched with utter interest as she folded her arms, and unfolded them just to smooth down her dress. This one was rather particular. Ylva Kvalheim, in service and under the protection of the Zhefarovich family while she held a descendant of said family in her womb, a pure-blood and a Death Eater at that. It was so interesting, to find someone that reminded him even the smallest bit of Thorine. That brought him some grief, but he refused to let it show. He had to be strong, and he had to face the facts.

Her every move was scrutinized by Arnost, even as she sat down. The chair was rather weird in his opinion. It contrasted with his room heavily, which took the appearance of a warlock back in the medieval periods. The manor was built then, but it was taken over by Ivaylo I back in the 1770s. Even the way she held her posture was utmost captivating. It told Arnost the type of person Ylva held herself to be, and that was something Arnost could respect. It almost reminded him of himself. Arnost wondered however how old this woman was. It would be best not to ask that however. Arnost chuckled, “Oh, you have. Not surprising, however. Yet, it is almost miraculous that you are still alive and well, after coming across the worst of them alive.” Arnost paused for a moment. He continued when he gathered the right words together, “It happened every once and a while. Very few can tell myself apart from my counterpart. I can act like him, at times, but if you want a challenge to distinguish twins apart, try my little sisters, Rayna and Raisa, when they are in unison. Even I have the hardest of times.” Arnost admitted this easily. Rayna and Raisa, both Death Eaters and violent at that, were astonishing. “I often read or train for duels. I spend more time out of the manor than in.” Arnost answered with a cool, almost callous attitude.
 
Ylva waved her hand derisively at his statement. "Perhaps it would be an act of desperation, but it would be a calculated act, just the same as my 'union' with your brother. It was an extremely fortuitous circumstance that I could not ignore. However, in relation to your hypothetical eradication of my hard-fought for child, I would do my best to turn your compensation into an act of revenge." she said, running her eyes over his face and smiling once more. She was doing a lot of smiling around him; or smirking, as it were. It was true. Children were great leverage when they needed to be. As demonstrated with her young boy, Araxfell, Ylva had no qualms about sending him elsewhere to achieve her own aims. He was precious as a Kvalheim decedent, but ultimately irrelevant in her grand scheme. She imagined what sort of child Arnost might have, and if he some of his own already. If he was anything like his brother, which he then proceeded to partways confirm, then he would have quite a few. Suddenly Ylva recalled Asparuh saying in their first meeting that Asparuh would be useless as a partner (or so he said then) because he had recently lost his love. Interesting, thought Ylva as she listened to his vague explanation of his absence. Perhaps that was the cause of his recent travels. She did not judge him for this, although she had done nothing of the sort. Ylva did not grieve for her past husbands when it was she who had sent them to the grave. Amiably, she supposed that she might act in a similar way if she ever found anyone worthy of her affections.

"Ahh, I do know Rayna and Raisa," she said, and so she did. Not personally by any means, but having heard of them was enough in this case. They were greatly skilled and she thought them quite respectable. "Though likewise I couldn't tell you which I had seen. They are astonishingly alike. But perhaps if I knew them better ... at first glance, you and your brother are indistinguishable, but it has taken me very little time to identify the obvious differences," Ylva said thoughtfully, running her foot along the carpet unconsciously. Her white slipper made no sound, silk on fiber. Admittedly, she was taken aback once again by the similarities in their pastimes. She could not help but mention it. "I engage in similar activities. I would train more often and venture further outside, but strenuous physical activity is prohibited in my current state and the cold in this part is something I only tolerate." she said. She lifted her eyes to his. "So my days are spent reading. I wouldn't object to company, but on the whole the occupants of this house and I mutually ignore each other. This is a welcome change," and she looked at him still, wondering what was going on in his mind.
 
“Many others have said that, yet they usually never perform such an act. I suppose he has his own reasons for taking you into his care, whilst he has so many other things he is doing as of the moment,” Arnost spoke without much of an emotion. He began to wonder, where had Asparuh been for a while? He hadn’t seen him since his return… Arnost had seen Danielle though, and as beautiful as she was, Arnost did not find her very appealing. She was too much like Asparuh, and it would have been rather uncomfortable. But he had not seen her leave, and Asparuh was still lurking about. I guess he had found a replacement for Liyla. Huh, that was rather fast. Guess he didn’t love afterall. Arnost thought with a sly smirk on his face. Arnost shrugged lightly, “Doubt you’d live if you were to have one descendant of each twin, one dead or not. It hasn’t exactly been common.” Arnost used that as a code to say, ‘Trust me, it would not be revenge at all unless it was against me.’ A slight insult if she were to see it. Then again, Arnost used his words carefully to hide his messages. It was a wonder if he had gone to Hogwarts, if he would have been sorted into Ravenclaw. Asparuh, no doubt, would have been in Slytherin. Arnost wondered what house his daughter would be sorted into for neither parent went to Hogwarts. Well, if Thorine had a will on where she wanted to send her children, he would obey it to every single written letter. He mourned for Thorine, but he would do his best to get his mind out of the past. A true love never die, they say, and his did.

Arnost thought for a moment, and there was really no way to tell them apart. “I suppose if you have seen one smirking or laughing about something running about here, that would be Rayna. Raisa is the colder twin who spends most of her time in England.” Arnost remembered training them. Rayna and Raisa were to be feared when they were together, just like Arnost and Asparuh. A force to be reckoned with. “The appearance my brother and I share is remarkable. However, he carries this aura that even I cannot ever emulate. I tend to smirk and laugh much more than Asparuh ever could.” This could help her distinguish between them now. They dressed alike, had the same hairstyle, and same color eyes. It was rested behind the eyes and the aura they possessed is what set them apart. “I suppose no one has shown you our own training facility. Then again, I suppose they would not either, seeing as it is against the laws of the Zhefarovich family to put you in harm’s way in any case,” spoke Arnost with a thoughtful expression, yet that of an ice statue all the same, “I only give attention to those that return it. I do not object to talk, however if you truly wish company, with a guardian, you could leave the Manor, and take a walk. Granted, only if someone who holds a member title takes you, considering the deal that was made by the Patriarch, and you do carry his offspring.” Though words of reason flowed from Arnost’s tongue, his thoughts were only on his daughter and his other ones as well. And, of course, Thorine.
 
Ylva took in what Arnost said slowly, making sure to think before she said another word. Her fingers picked at a loose black thread on the cushion beneath her. Although she looked perfectly serene and at ease with her surroundings at all times, Ylva was constantly moving something, whether it just be a twitch of her fingers or a slow movement of her feet. She regarded him with a mask-like face, betraying nothing of her thoughts and feelings. I sincerely hope that Asparuh Zhefarovich does not consider me under his care. If I had it my way, there'd be none of this ridiculous family possession. Partial control of the child, by all means, but of me and my kin? Hardly a respectable way to live, thought Ylva. I can already see how the rest of my life is to pan out in such an environment as this. "Well we can be glad that I am not having another descendant, then." said Ylva, finally and mirthlessly. Oh, if she had it her way ... no, perhaps she did not regret her decision. Her reasoning at the time had not been flawed, since she had been given a daughter and there was no stronger stock to be aligned with. "No, there will be no more children," she said, completely aware of what he was implying and pointedly ignoring it. "Just the prospect of boredom and living out the rest of my terminal existence in this place," said Ylva. Somehow the way she said it made sound like an observation instead of a complaint.

“I take it twins run in your family, then.” said Ylva, thinking to Rayna and Raisa and also the children of Nicolette Styx that she’d heard of. “In fact, they practically gallop,” she added under her breath, a perfectly nonchalant look on her face. “Suddenly I feel fortunate not to have had twins myself. Females are more common in my family. The Kvalheim genes seem to have won out in that respect,” she said. Ylva felt profoundly grateful to whatever forces existed that she’d not had multiple children. That would have caused her a whole world of trouble that she didn’t need. Shaking her head, she focused on the primary objective of finding something better to do in the household. "No, no one showed me the facility but I found it all the same. I would have set up camp there if it wasn't for my daughter." she said dryly. With the suggestion of a guardian to go for a walk in the gardens with, Ylva stood and the chair beneath her melted away into nothing, betraying her eagerness to breathe fresh air. "Then perhaps you will oblige me a walk?" said the tall woman as she seemed to glide forward beside his chair. Up close Arnost seemed taller even when he was sitting, but she hardly cared. At this point she would much rather profess her undying love for the cold man rather than spend another minute in the confines of the house.
 
Arnost could not defy the humor that spilled from Ylva’s mouth. He shook his head slowly, and he had to admit; he had heard that repeated from almost every woman in the family, descended or no, say that. Yet, they kept coming back for more, like it was a buffet. It was humorous really. Rarely was there an abortion in the family. Why wasn’t there? No one wanted to get rid of their children. It was odd really. “You say that now,” Arnost remarked with a smirk upon his lips. She held within her a strong child. There was no weak children from Asparuh. Even Prodan was strong in his own right, which was not exactly what others expected. It was just odd for Arnost. Why keep around the black sheep? Apparently his secret-keeping skills are worthy enough to let him live. “You may find enjoyment in other places if you seek vigorously enough.” Arnost was never truly bored. There was always something here to do.

“They descend from my mother’s side. They were unusual and uncommon until the Nozhetvakas’ entered in. I suppose the gene was strong within that pure-blooded family.” Arnost shrugged and shared some information that was not really necessary but it was crucial to know that the twin and multiple gene did not run in their family originally. “Males are much more common in this family, as is male dominance.” It was a fact. There was hardly a family head and the Patriarch was the main role, and it would never be the Matriarch. It would just never happen. Arnost stood up on his feet, and he turned his palm up to offer her a hand to apparate out of here with him. “I would oblige, if you state your destination.” Arnost had a sly smirk upon his face, but nothing indicated that he would attack or cause the pregnant woman any harm.
 
Ylva sent Arnost an irritated look. What did he hope to gain from teasing her like this? Of course she was not having another child, especially not from a Zhefarovich. She had two children and in her opinion it was two children too many. She'd only gone for a second out of necessity, and there'd be no more if she kept her legs firmly shut. It wasn't exactly hard to do since she had no desire for anyone at all, let alone those whom she was dwelling with. Ylva decided not to retort but made sure that her disapproval was plain. Yet perhaps he was right in some respects about finding enjoyment in other activities around the manor. She couldn't help but take a cynical view of it, though. "I daresay I would find something else to occupy my time here, however there is little that can be done in my current state. Even after I birth my child there'll be no time for more pleasurable pursuits whilst running after a squalling babe." said Ylva, glancing down vaguely at her pregnant stomach. Little time for training, less for reading ... more for feeding and burping and all the things she found the least appealing in life in relation to children. But there was a sense of pessimism in these thoughts that she found unbecoming in herself. If Arnost said there were more interesting things to do then perhaps he was right ... and perhaps he would show her.

She knew quite well just how strong the male lineage in the Zhefarovich family was, which was one of the few qualms she'd had about choosing to have a child by one. Now that she knew there had been a good chance of twins as well, Ylva frowned to herself and counted her circumstances as lucky. The male supremacy made her uncomfortable as well. "By contrast, my own family places females at the head of the family," she said simply, eager to move on and accept Arnost's offer. He held out his hand though, just as Asparuh had done the night in which the had sealed their deal. Suddenly they looked very similar again, only Arnost was smirking and it made her want to smile, also. Ylva refrained from doing so and almost hesitantly took his hand. "I think ... there are a few places I would like to visit, but first I would like to stop at the Kvalheim manor. There are a few creatures there waiting to see me," she said, the smile finally sliding onto her lips as she stepped in to apparate with him.
 
Arnost could not resist himself a smirk when he saw that he had somehow gotten into Ylva’s mind, if you can call it that. Irritation made him smirk. “Oh yes, you are under the protection of the Zhefarovich family. It is perhaps the strictest but you will know that you are guarded and will not be harmed.” Arnost paused for a moment, and though there was nothing really she could do. “The majority of the time around here, the elves and such look after the ‘squalling babe’.” Arnost could not help but mock Ylva’s words. The sly smile however revealed that he meant nothing in harm to her. Though he was a rough man and a killer at that – he could respect a woman, even one who slept with his brother to conceive an heir.

“I have heard a family like that. They aren’t exactly in power of their Matriarch anymore for she had died because of our future Patriarch. The child was enough to kill her in birth.” Arnost stated this with pride. It was excellent and a beautiful event. This baby would be the greatest in Zhefarovich history, if he lived up to be like his father that is. Arnost felt her hand in his, and Arnost smirked a bit, before he apparated to where she pleased, with one thing in mind – to bring her back to the Zhefarovich Manor – kicking or screaming.

Sorry, but I have to end it here. Unless you wish to post to end it. I am only doing major RPs whilst I am computerless.
 
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