InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sesshoumaru's Mate: A Valentine's Story - ON HOLD ❯ Part 8 - Love Is Stronger Than Pride ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.

 

Title: Sesshoumaru's Mate - A Valentine's Story
Author ElegantPaws

Genre: AU

Editedby: Meara

Part 8- Love Is Stronger Than Pride

 

How small this creature with the thin auburn down atop its head, thought the Western Lord, leaning over the crib. It gurgled unintelligibly up at him. Cloudy, blue-green eyes gazed at the shadow that hovered above it, small hands reaching up towards the protective, large shadow.

 

If it had known the name of the vibrancy it would have called it red. The new being understood there was a connection; safety, home, and the possibility of comfort. It was a bit cold right now and wet. This vibrant light could rectify this new unwanted feeling. It was the only thing it was sure of and so it continued to communicate as best it could.

 

“Serves me right for sending Jaken to sleep,” murmured the Taiyoukai, carefully lifting the wet bundle into his arms, being careful with her head. The Western Lord did not, however, reach the changing table in sufficient time. A rather virulent, indeed effluent, warmth assailed his delicate olfactory senses, and arms…wetly.

 

He quirked a brow at the small entity with disapproval and sniffed, “You will be mindful of your bowel movements in future, small one. This Sesshoumaru does not appreciate such familiarity.”

 

She gurgled in relief and yawned, revealing pink gums with tiny white protrusions. Sesshoumaru examined them with pride. Fortunately for Rin, he thought, breast feeding of a hanyou was short lived. Izoyoi would have fine, strong fangs soon. Her warm milky breath reaching his nostrils, he closed his eyes and nuzzled her hot little head beneath his lips. His heart stilled for a moment, memories of his own pups and more specifically Satori's dramatic birth came to mind.

 

Kagome, usually a caring, humane, kind woman of infinite patience, transformed into a crazed banshee during birth, yet stoically, he never left her side. Then again, now that he recalled in all its colorful details, he could not have done otherwise, considering the death grip that left his arm bruised for days afterwards.

 

Those many years in her tachi, and most unfortunately as best friend of his brother, became quite telling in her rather vicious and somewhat unfeminine use of language with respect to his noble personage.

 

Blame was cast, ignominies abounded and there was a strong and rather strident pre-disposition on her part to the effect that should this sacred aspect of life occur again, he must find the biological means of producing their next pup while she applied the damp cloths to his neck and forehead while and entreating him to breathe and focus.

 

Sesshoumaru found logic was not appreciated and all his years of quiet stoicism proved useful in the birthing chamber as more than once, it had occurred to him to smother his Mate where she lay. It had been touch and go as to whether they would have another, but Yoshiro was the easier birth and most deadly of all.

 

He came into the world gracefully and quietly as Kagome fainted from fatigue alone. Her labor had been long and suspiciously relatively pain free.

 

For the third time in the Taiyoukai's long life he experienced real fear when his son entered life blue, passive, unbreathing. Sesshoumaru and Tatsuo froze. A blood curdling scream brooked the silence as the Hanyou stormed into the room and held the pup aloft, growling into its small face. Surprisingly getting the desired response, a pathetic little mewl, before placing the new born back in Sesshoumaru's arms.

 

“Asshole! He needed a reason to live! Do your job. I won't always be here, ya know!?” Inuyasha said gruffly. “And tell lazy bones to wake up. She could sleep through anything,” he said, stomping back through the doorway.

 

Tatsuo did not flinch, but instead looked to the Taiyoukai who growled softly at the pup, giving his new born a tentative sniff before handing over the now squalling pup to the Healer. Sesshoumaru looked down into sleepy brown eyes and the soft tired smile of the Priestess.

 

“Yoshiro,” she whispered and closed her eyes to rest, her small hand gripping his arm, pulling him towards her. Sesshoumaru climbed atop the futon, folding his Mate into his arms and listened to her even breathing for a time, despite the pervading scent of blood, sweat and yes, tears.

 

The White Prince and his Lady lay quietly, while a white faced Hanyou stood in shadows catching his breath, quietly on guard a single tear rolling down his cheek.

 

Inuyasha had been afraid. Brushing the tear from his face roughly, he steeled himself, walking off with head held high, past the guards, including Masaru, who had kept a discrete distance from the birthing chamber.

 

He had his own shit to do. He didn't have time to take care of Lord Asshole and his brood; cocky shit that he was in every other aspect of his life except when it came to Kagome.

 

There were the guards to put through their paces now that the alternate heir to the Western Lands, his nephew, had come into the world. A slow smile graced his handsome, tired face. Ayame would be back from the North soon. He missed her.

 

His family was once again safe.

 

“Masaru, what the fuck are you grinnin' at? Inuyasha's gruff bark faded into memory. It was the last thing Sesshoumaru heard as he cradled the damp, salty forehead of his Mate, before sleep took them both to more peaceful pastures.

 

The Shiro was safe in the Hanyou's more than capable hands.

 

And time moved on to the present.

 

Placing her down, he readied her supplies, just as the adjoining door cracked a fraction, and Kagome padded over the carpet towards them.

 

“Why are you not asleep? It will be dawn soon, and the invasion will begin,” he said quietly, meticulously checking the water's temperature before dunking the wash cloth in and soaping it vigorously.

 

“We could bath her…” Kagome advised looking at his damp dark sleeves, amused by the stern expression she got for her interference in their private moment.

 

Sesshoumaru was meticulous about his person. The very fact that he had rolled the offending injury to his linen shirt away from his pale skin to attend his Grand-Pup said much in the way of his own evolution as being.

 

Izoyoi's needs came first.

 

“Had I wished to do so, I would have, Miko,” was his terse response, returning to the task at hand.

 

“So sorry, my Lord, you are not the only one in love, you know?” Kagome answered, ignoring her Mate and reading the new diaper and the little cotton shirt.

 

“She will need feeding soon.”

 

“I am also aware of this, Kagome,” the Taiyoukai said evenly, inspecting his handy-work while the warm, rubbery specimen in front of him pulled at strands of silver that had fallen, unbidden over his shoulder.

 

“It seems you have a new admirer, Lord Sesshoumaru.” Kagome chuckled, “She has excellent taste, if I do say so myself.”

 

He ignored the tug. She was strong, he noted matter-of-factly, extricating the cool, silk from a tightly clenched hand.

 

One last, careful sniff made sure she met with his approval, “Powder, I think,” he added, extending one hand to Kagome impatiently. If she would insist on standing there, she would be put to good use.

 

The Miko chuckled, handing said to her Mate.

 

“You're good at this,” she said as an aside, watching closely as he deftly creamed, powdered and redressed the infant. He inspected her once more, one claw carefully smoothing an auburn brow's furrow, before handing her to the Priestess with feigned dispassion.

 

She would be beautiful, he mused as she smiled up at him in thanks for the new dry feeling.

 

Izoyoi had been right.

 

This red glowing mass had proved protective and gentle and its voice rolled pleasantly within her ears, giving comfort.

 

“Take her to Rin. She is in need of nourishment,” was Sesshoumaru's response.

 

Another being held her then, it too was strong but of a different variety. This one overpowered her senses in an entirely different way, reminiscent of the life giver. Blue green eyes seeing only shadows closed, at the overwhelming brightness that came from this smaller being, whose warm hands held her possessively, while softly cooing in her ear.

 

Kagome smiled up into cool, imperious amber. Indifferent to the command in his tone, pulling him down by his shirt collar and planting a wet, promissory kiss on his lips.

 

“We are due for another.”

 

“Hnnn, perhaps,” he said noncommittally, returning to the clean up. How could an entity so small produce so much detritus, he wondered, as he righted the area to his exacting specifications. Jaken would awaken soon and chaos would engulf his home with the party guests and caterers. He was glad for the private moment shared with the only being he could not live without.

 

She need not know, he did not wish his Mate pain and with each birth, there was, however faint, the possibility of losing his life; her. Yoshiro had been easy, but he was almost still born, but for the intervention of his brother. The Hanyou had proved his worth that day, though he would never tell him so. It was simply understood.

 

-I-

 

Morning came quietly. It always did for the last hundred or so years. Each day began as it seemingly always did. Tea, practice in the dojo, sometimes with Kagome, most often Inuyasha, but today was different. The swarm had descended.

 

Noise! The sound of a hundred voices, foreign smells, hasty footsteps. He would hold up here in the study until most of the annoyances were done in readying the `birthday do.'

 

A gentle rap at the shoji pulled his attention away from the detailed report on Patrick Maeve Brennan. Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed with just a hint of satisfaction as his lips quirked. Finally, something he could work with.

 

“Come, Sango.”

 

The former Demonslayer looked cautiously about her before entering and sliding the shoji gently closed behind her.

 

Sesshoumaru looked up from the papers on his desk. “There is no need for caution. She and Ayame are in town with Inuyasha's brood, attending to last minute preparations.”

 

Sango glowered at the demon Lord then sighed, flopping into the closest chaise, before remembering to glare.

“I'm at my wits end with all these damn secrets I am being forced to keep, Sesshoumaru. Tell her already!”

 

The dog demon's ears twitched at her tone. Steepling his fingers, the Taiyoukai met her gaze blandly.

 

“You are losing your edge, Slayer. Strategy is everything in a military maneuver such as this.”

 

“Happy Birthday, Sango. I hope you had restful sleep, considering you were up half the night in preparation without any evident thanks or by your leave,” she retorted sarcastically. “I'm getting too old for this and deceiving Kagome is not my idea of fun, my Lord. I hope you are prepared for the fall-out?”

 

“There won't be any,” he said dryly, returning his gaze to the papers which he gathered and scooted towards her.

 

She leaned forward, retrieved them and grew silent, sporadically looking up for confirmation of what she read in his eyes. “Does Masaru know of this?”

 

Sesshoumaru inclined his head. “As does Inuyasha and Shippou. It seems we have the same prey, though by a different name.”

“How fortuitous,” she replied stifling a yawn and returning the three sheets of white parchment. “Might have known you would not agree without an ulterior motive,” she yawned again, slowly rising from the chaise, brow furrowed in thought.

 

“What?” the Taiyoukai asked without raising his head. There were a few finer points he needed to research himself about the Romans overtaking Britain and the ancient faith they had found there.

 

“You're worrying needlessly, my Lord. He won't make a move now. The gathering would preclude that and with Padraig at her side, not to mention…you and the rest of us. It would be next to impossible to succeed. We simply won't allow it. We are one.”

 

Gilded slits met her shrewd brown, before the Slayer snickered.

 

“You're real trouble tonight is a petite, onyx haired woman who is going to have your guts for garters when she finds out what this party is really in aid of.”

 

Sango turned, heading for the shoji, then stopped mid stride, “At least at first, that is.”

 

“Slayer…”

 

The Taiyoukai pointed a sharp claw towards the corner of the desk, where a plainly wrapped package lay, purposefully ignoring her comment. She was just as bad as the Hanyou these days, even if there was truth in her words.

 

Sango's eyes followed the tapered digit to its sharp nail's tip and the square box in its trajectory. She had noticed it, but had missed its potential significance, thinking it nothing more than the daily household mail and of no consequence.

 

“Take that with you. It is in recognition of your five hundred odd trips around the Sun.”

 

The Western Lord cleared his throat, reaching for his tea without looking at the female hovering over the box. Something was constricting his throat. He felt the shift in her aura and stiffened his jaw, warding off any further conversation on the matter.

 

Strong fingers touched the paper covering's surface tentatively before picking up the light package. She shook it speculatively with a half smile.

 

The Taiyoukai glanced at her dismissively, his thoughts returning to the Patrick Pestilence that had befallen the House of Taishou. He needed just a little more proof about the antecedents of the Celtic Plague his first born was so enthralled with, before he could be sure of his next move. The pleasurable thought of dispatching him was still an option, though he would need cunning to circumvent the females of his clan. He needed to think.

 

It would not do to thank him, she knew. Instead, she bowed and gracefully exited the study and quietly slid the shoji closed.

 

Sango looked up into the piercing sapphires colored eyes of Masaru, who had patiently waited for her return. He looked tired.

 

“You knew, didn't you?” she stated, rather than asked, pursing her lips in some semblance of annoyance.

 

Masaru's sighed, avoiding her question. “Kirara will not listen to me. She insists on standing guard over Izoyoi while Rin sleeps.”

 

“But Shippou is home. It is not her place to do so.” Sango exhaled in defeat, resting her head on his chest and groaned. “Remind me, to disappear for my birthday next year, will you?”

 

“Yes, but right now they are having a stand off over the crib and Jaken is hyperventilating as we speak in the kitchens. It seems several lobsters are missing and apparently one almost removed one of his claws in his clumsy attempt at retrieval. Patrick is seeing to him. It is your turn, woman. I must deal with Lord Inuyasha who is making a nuisance of himself barking orders at the catering staff and examining each ingredient the cooks are utilizing and finding all wanting and or potentially poisonous to demons.”

 

The Slayer growled, squaring her broad, all be they feminine, shoulders, and marched towards the nursery with Masaru a few steps behind; first things first.

 

She missed Masaru's smirk and the lecherous way he watched her round derriere in its rapid movement within the form fitting coral silk dress. Yes, thought Masaru, this was a very good day to die.

 

-I-

 

“You think it safe yet to go back?” inquired Yoshiro of his elder sibling. Never once had his home had such chaos. First the birth and now, near on a hundred foreign bodies had descended on their household. There was nothing for it but to retreat to their Mother's arboretum, under the circumstances. No one would find them here and call either into service. He felt for Patrick, but he was on his own. He might as well get stuck in on the deep end.

 

Satori held her head up, one, elfin, pink ear twitched. “No, not yet.” she said indifferently. She chuckled and nudged her brother. “Listen!”

 

Both sat quite still in lotus before bursting out laughing. “Uncle Yasha is hilarious!” Yoshiro snickered. “Imagine using a ladle that way…Ahhh Satori, didn't Mom say he couldn't use language like that in the house anymore?”

 

She nodded sagely, tapping her nose. “Only in her presence, if you remember.”

 

“We can however, use this to our advantage at a later date.” She winked at her little brother with an evil glint in her hazel eyes. Yoshiro shivered. She was more like their father than he was. The smile faded from his pale face, a sudden sadness overtaking the young Lord.

 

“I'll never be like either you or Father,” he said, attempting to school his face into blandness, carefully watching a single bee buzz around a pale, hybrid tea rose.

 

Hazel eyes appraised the young male, narrowing in understanding.

 

“He is proud of you, Yoshiro.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that. I can tell by how he avoids me and watches me with that vacant stare, and the disappointed tilt of his brow,” he spat back with more venom than he intended. He rose to his feet in one graceful movement in an effort to put distance between his emotions and the pain he felt at non acceptance from the one being he most craved it from.

 

Satori did not move detectably, though her muscles tensed in readiness to pounce. “You are a Taishou,” she said evenly, between clenched teeth.

 

Angry golden eyes turned on his sister, the tips of his white fangs showing below his upper lip. “Shut up! I should never have been born. You are the only one he thinks of, the only one he spends time with. So don't tell me I am a Taishou. You are the only one he needs or cares about!”

 

The slap that burned his pale cheek fire red was swift and stinging, bringing water to his eyes. Looking up at the male that had accosted him, Yoshiro flinched, as a lump formed in his throat. Proof positive now of his thoughts as cold citrine glared down at him.

 

“Satori, go. Assist your future mate. See to Jaken. Dispense with him if he persists in blubbering over the canapés. He grows tiresome in his old age. The humans are overrunning our home and they bear watching. Protect it…and if need be, hang your Uncle from the nearest tree bound and gagged until his Mate returns. Masaru has enough to do.”

 

Satori lowered her head, avoiding the Taiyoukai's eyes. She did not wish him to see, what he already knew was there; a smirk.

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

Silence…

 

Small though they were at his tender age, Yoshiro girded his loins, prepared for the worst. His father had never raised a hand to him in his one hundred years. He met his gaze with false bravado, attempting to be stoic, as the outer door shut to the arboretum.

 

“You were not meant…” he stuttered apologetically, his voice failed him as he lowered his gaze in shame.

 

Like rolling thunder, Sesshoumaru spoke, all be it paced thunder.

 

“Look at me, Yoshiro,” commanded the resonant baritone.

 

He could feel the swell of his father's jyaki and the young male's mouth went dry as he raised his eyes to the being that still stood two feet taller than him. Perhaps in another hundred years he would gain his height. That of course, depended on if he lived through the moment at hand.

 

“Never presume.”

 

It was not quite what Yoshiro had expected as a response, as he watched the back of the tall, broad shouldered being in retreat.

 

 

Author's Note

 

I hope you enjoyed. One more segment to go of this epilogue and this journey ends…expect the next installment of This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate shortly. I thank you in advance for your patience. THAT IS GOING TO BE ONE DAMN LONG CHAPTER. Be prepared to read (chuckle).

 

Namaste

 

EP