Author's Note: They didn't give this story line enough closure to suit me.

"Bash? Pascal?"

Kenna pushes herself against the stone wall to avoid physical contact as another family of nobles hurries past her through the castle corridor. It's been hours since she has seen either Pascal or Bash, and she is beginning to worry.

A sense of relief washes over her as she hears Pascal's voice through the large door to her right.

"Kenna!"

As she opens the door, relief turns to dismay. The chamber is full of dead, plague ridden bodies. Pascal, clothing bloodied, stands next to the prostrate body of a man who, based on the clothing, is most certainly Bash. She bites back a scream as bile rises in her throat.

"Please don't leave me! They'll burn me!"begs Pascal, boils beginning to rise on his skin before her eyes.

Behind her, Kenna can hear the guards approaching. An orange glow of torchlight reflects off the walls, getting closer and closer…

Kenna sits straight up in bed, heart racing and tears streaming down her face. Instinctively, she reaches for Bash, a fresh wave of tears appearing when she discovers he is not there. Silently, she curses Francis again for leaving the castle. If Bash wasn't so determined to oversee the guards in his brother's absence, he might be here by her side when she needs him instead of off trying to save the kingdom, thereby also putting himself in harm's way.

Although it is already dawn and the room has begun to take on the pink and orange hues of the sunrise, Kenna lights a candle with shaking hands. She's had enough darkness for one night.

It's been a week since they lost Pascal to the plague, and even though Kenna misses him every day, she has not truly grieved. She thought it would be something that she and Bash would do together. The boy had had no other family in the world. The least they could do was give him the honor of remembering him with the grief and love that every lost child deserves.

After cooling her face with water from the nearby basin, Kenna paces across the room a few times before walking determinedly over to the trunk in the corner and opening the lid. Only a few short weeks ago, she had done this very thing with Pascal beside her.

"While we are staying in the castle, I thought you could use this trunk for your things."

Her hand brushes gently across the blue doublet on top as she sinks to the floor. "He only wore this once." She thinks, carefully refolding it and laying it at her side before reaching for the garment underneath.

Within moments, the small trunk is empty and Pascal's worldly possessions sit in neat piles around her. There isn't much—a few sets of clothing, a toy or two, a set of smooth stones he must have been collecting—but Kenna knows the boy treasured it all. She is about to close the lid again when she notices something shiny at the very bottom of the trunk.

It is her mother's cross necklace, the one she had given to Pascal on the very first day she met him. What was it she had said to him, then? "My mother gave this to me when I left Scotland. She said it would always keep me safe. I wanted you to have it." In the end, neither she nor the necklace had been able to keep the little boy safe. He was gone forever.

The floodgates open finally, and Kenna wails openly, choking on heaving sobs as she clutches the necklace hard enough to feel the edges of the cross digging into her skin, threatening to draw blood.

She doesn't protest at all when she feels Bash's arms encircle her from behind, pulling her into his body as he sits behind her, whispering soothing words against her hair.

"I couldn't save him." She cries brokenly, turning into her husband's arms. "I couldn't keep him safe." Pressing her face against Bash's, she finds her own cheeks are not the only ones wet with tears.

By the time the crying ends, Kenna and Bash find themselves sitting entwined against the trunk, both starring at the cross necklace Kenna idly caresses in her hands.

"I've made arrangements for a churchyard burial." Bash finally murmurs against her ear.

"He was a pagan." Kenna says, turning slightly to meet his eyes.

"I know," replies Bash. "But he was also a child. He deserves a proper resting place, not an unmarked mass grave.

"I really felt like he was ours." Sighs Kenna, settling back into his arms, a solitary tear sliding down her cheek.

"I know." Repeats Bash, his arms tightening around her slightly.

"Bash," says Kenna, sitting up suddenly and turning to fix him with her full attention. "Do you want children?"

"Of course...Yes." Says Bash looking at her incredulously.

"How many?"

"Kenna, I hardly think…"

"How many?" She insists.

Bash sighs in defeat. "At least two. In my experience, I think it best for children to have at least one brother or sister as a companion."

"I agree." States Kenna before crawling into his lap and ghosting her lips over his. "Bash, let's have a baby." She purrs.

"Kenna," pleads Bash, trying to stay rational as his wife peppers kisses along his jaw. "Are you sure? We have lost our home, Francis is still missing, food is scarce, and the plague is only just receding. Having a child of our own will not replace Pascal, nor will it be any easier to keep a child of our own safe."

Kenna sits back, a disappointed look on her face. "You could have just said 'no'."

"Kenna," says Bash, leaning forward to take her face in his hands. "I want children! I want children with you! But I also want to make sure we're making this decision for the right reasons—for us and our family, not as an emotional reaction to tragedy and grief."

"Bash," replies Kenna, reaching up to press his hands closer against her face. "If there is one thing I realized sitting alone in that room with Pascal, surrounded by death, it's that life is short and our time together is precious. I think Pascal was sent to us so I wouldn't be so afraid of being a mother anymore. I want children with you; you want children with me. Who knows what tomorrow may hold? Let's not waste any more time. Let's start trying for a baby!"

A long moment passes before Kenna sees Bash swallow hard, clearly coming to a decision seconds before a mischievous look enters his eyes. "Well, when you put it that way, I think we'd be much more comfortable on the bed." He states matter-of-factly before scooping her into his arms and carrying her across the room.

Kenna wonders briefly if the candle she lit earlier is still burning, but she soon ceases to care in the heat of her husband's embrace.

Instead of nightmares, her next few nights are filled with dreams of tiny pink humans with Bash's eyes and smile.