Chapter 1: Married Life & Other Adventures ...

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Adult Romance  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Reads: 307



Chapter 10: Married Life and Other Adventures -


Of course, the main difference was that I did not stay in the cottage all the time. Rather I alternated between realities, spending as much of my spare time on the other side while still maintaining a more normal life on this one. Sometimes, however, the realities seemed to blur more than a little. Often when I was asleep I could feel Sairya in my arms, lying just the way she liked to when we were together at home. The warmth of her body and the sound of her breathing would soothe me if I became restless, and a deep sense of contentment would wash over me.


One night I had to get up to go to the bathroom. When I came back, I was almost certain I could see her lying on my bed. When the weather was too hot, both of us preferred to sleep naked, and she had thrown the covers off so that I could see her entire form. As I approached, alas, the vision faded again.


Our home on the other side was little more than a cabin, and was really only big enough for the two of us. Our bedroom was in the loft, accessible only by a ladder. The ground floor was a single room divided in two by a cabinet. The one half was the kitchen, and the other a living room complete with two chairs, a sofa - which opened out to become a sleeper couch - and a large bookshelf. The only separate room was the bathroom.


I had been away for just over a week, and Sairya and I were in the lounge. She went to the kitchen to pour herself a drink, and returned with an envelope which she handed to me.


“I hope you are relaxed.” She said, “It might come as a shock to you, but you must read it.”


Puzzled and somewhat perplexed by her statement, I opened the letter nonetheless. Sairya sat on the chair facing me, a strange look on her face that unnerved me even more. When I opened it, I found that it was in the form of a short poem, which read: ‘Our lives are going to be extra sweet, because our family is growing by one more heartbeat.’


I stared at the page for a while, not realising what the poem meant. After about a minute or so it dawned on me. I looked up and saw a broad smile on Sairya’s face, tears trickling down her cheeks. My mouth fell open in disbelief.


Once I had recovered, I exclaimed in a whisper: “Are you pregnant?”


Sairya nodded, unable to speak. I repeated my question, this time overwhelmed with excitement, and she was able to answer before joining me on the sofa, her arms wrapped around me. I held her there, kissing her neck. I did not know whether to laugh or cry as my emotions were in turmoil. Due to a rather painful accident that occurred when I was in the army, there had always been some doubt as to whether I would ever be a father, but because this happened on the other side, I guessed that the injury I sustained did not count.


“How did you find out?” I asked, still choked up.


“I went to the doctor.” She explained, “I have not been well lately, and I am also a week late. So I went to doctor Rendel, and she ran some tests. She sent me the results this morning. They are in my back pocket.”


I took out the piece of paper, and the contents confirmed that Sairya was at least a month pregnant. We laughed together, holding each other tightly.


Sairya then stood up and suggested: “I think we need to celebrate! Shall we share a drink? Soon we will not be able to for a while, so we must enjoy it while we can.”


I agreed, and we shared a glass of wine. When I had finished mine, I lay with my head against her tummy, imagining the little heart beating inside her womb. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself holding that little bundle in my arms as it slept. I have never been so content with life as I was at that moment, not before and not since either!


The pregnancy seemed to be going well until the middle of Sairya’s second trimester. Apart from the normal morning sickness, she seemed to be fine. Then, just before we had planned for her to have her first ultrasound, something appeared to have gone very wrong. Sairya felt very weak and was nauseous for most of the time, so much so that she could hardly eat anything without bringing it all up again. We booked an appointment with Doctor Rendel, and she conducted a series of tests as well as an ultrasound. It was the latter that revealed the shocking truth!


I was called into the Doctor’s consulting room where Sairya was lying on the bed. The physician told me to sit down, and then reported: “I am afraid there is a complication.” She projected the image from the scan onto a screen and enlarged it so that we could see it more clearly. Then she continued: “Here is the foetus and the placenta.” Using a pointer she indicated where these were situated, “But here is where the problem lies.” This time she showed us a minute mass, barely a centimetre in size - which meant that it was even smaller in real life - that seemed to have formed next to where the unborn baby was placed, “This is extremely rare. I have never come across it in all my years as a doctor, but it seems that there is an undeveloped twin in the uterus as well, even though it is nothing more than a tiny cluster of cells. Because I am unfamiliar with this condition, I will need to do some research into it. So shall we book another appointment for the day after tomorrow? Hopefully I will have some definitive answers by then.”


In a state of shock, we both agreed. I was almost too scared of the answer, but asked nonetheless: “Can you at least give us an idea of the prognosis?”


“From what I have heard, this poses a few problems.” She responded, “None of which are insurmountable, especially because the second embryo is so under-developed. But I will let you know more when we see each other again.”


Her words did little to assuage the feeling of dread that had come over us, but we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to wait and see the severity of the problem, and how we were going to move forward from here. The next thirty four hours were terrible! Both of us hardly slept a wink that night, and even less the following one. By the time we arrived back at the clinic, we were worn out and very nervous indeed. Sairya’s nausea had started at about three in the morning, and we were afraid that we would have to reschedule, but luckily it seemed to calm down by mid-morning.


At last we were back in Doctor Rendel’s rooms. She closed the door, and then updated us of what she had discovered. She reported: “Well - I was able to speak to a colleague of mine who has dealt with a case like yours, and she gave me some insights into how to proceed from here. I am happy to say that it is not all bad news. As I have said, this condition is extremely rare. It is related to something called a ‘Foetus-in-Foetu’, a condition in which a twin forms either within the other foetus or attached to it, often sharing a number of organs. But in your case, the second embryo is separate. They even have separate placentas. If the second embryo had developed normally, we would be expecting twins, but as it is the second twin has barely grown passed the bud stage. It is not dead. Its development seems to have become completely arrested just after the blastocyst stage - about eleven or twelve days after fertilisation, thus is unlikely to grow any bigger than it is now. This cluster of cells is commonly known as a Mole.”


“Is it putting the fully-grown foetus in any danger?” I asked.


“Not at present.” Came the answer, “Only if it either dies or it begins to develop further.”


“So what happens next?” Sairya enquired.


“We cannot remove the mole without endangering the other foetus, so we are forced to treat this as per normal.” The doctor stated, “We will need to check on baby’s progress on a regular basis, say once a week. Otherwise just do not over do it, and if there are any problems or changes, just let me know and either you can come back to the clinic, or I will visit you at home.”


We thanked the physician, and left her rooms feeling quite a bit better than we had before our appointment. We stopped at the dispensary to collect the medicines that the doctor had prescribed to try and bring the nausea back to normal, as well as to help with the fatigue. On the way home, Sairya received a message from Doctor Rendel which read: “There seems to be another symptom of which I was unaware when we spoke, and that is that mothers that have this condition are more likely to give birth prematurely than normal. This will only pose a problem if the delivery is too early.”


When I returned to my own reality again, I searched the internet to find any correlation to this condition here. While I found references to Foetus-in-Foetu, otherwise known as ‘Parasitic Twin Syndrome’, I found none that matched Sairya’s case. I also discovered something called a ‘Molar Pregnancy’, in which a defective egg that has lost its DNA is united with the father’s sperm, and attaches itself to the uterine wall in the same way as a normal embryo would. The only difference is that there is no further development and the result resembles a tumour rather than a foetus.


But the one discrepancy was that there was very little evidence of there being a viable embryo present at the same time. In most cases there was only one mole. But it was hypothetically possible for a fully developed twin to coexist with a molar pregnancy. After all, twins can be fraternal, resulting from two eggs being fertilised by separate sperm, so the possibility did exist that one of the ova could be defective. But there were no documented cases of this happening. This made me think that it might be something unique to the Sylvan race, but another possibility dawned upon me and it concerned me greatly. What if this happened because humans and sylvan are not perfectly compatible? Perhaps it was because our child would be half-sylvan that this complication had occurred.


Upon my return to Alvar, I went to see Doctor Rendel to ask her about this, and she assured me by saying that the other cases were ones in which both parents were Sylvan. She said that research into the condition had revealed that it was possibly genetic, but by definition could only exist in the mother.


I informed her that I had found no evidence of a molar pregnancy coinciding with a normal one.


“Yours must be an isolated example.” The doctor responded, “After all, at this stage nobody knows for certain.”



Early on the fifteenth of Viresse, the sylvan fourth month, at about four o’clock in the morning, I was summoned to the other side. Sairya told me that her waters had broken, and that she was in labour. The physician had been right. Sairya was almost exactly a month early. We rushed to the clinic and I contacted the doctor on route. We all arrived at about the same time. Under doctor’s orders, Sairya was wheeled straight into the theatre as a precaution, just in case she required surgery. I was taken to a room next to the operating rooms so that I could change before accompanying my wife. By the time I arrived, she was on a table with her legs in stirrups. Doctor Rendel and her team were examining Sairya with the aid of all kinds of equipment, ranging from heart monitors to ones that measured her blood saturation and breathing.


I looked down at her face, now covered in perspiration, and she managed a brief smile as I took her hand in mine. Just then her body was racked by another contraction. She gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might until it passed, and she was able to relax once again. But her relief was short-lived. Another spasm coursed through her, and she pushed, this time even harder than she had before. She clutched my hand so tightly that I was certain that she had broken some of my fingers. The medical team encouraged her in her own language, and she bore down yet again. Her entire body was shaking under the strain, and her hair was drenched with sweat.


There was a shriek of joy from the midwife, followed by cheering from the rest of the team, and soon a tiny bundle was presented to Sairya, who wept with joy despite being almost totally exhausted as she held it to her bosom. Soon the little cry became a whimper as the child found its mother’s nipple and began sucking. Quizzically Sairya looked up at the doctor who was now standing next to me.


She assured: “The baby is fine, despite being three weeks early. You have a healthy son! Congratulations!”


I was overcome with elation as I bent over and kissed Sairya’s sweat-soaked lips. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the little miracle now dozing off against his mother’s breast. Gently he was lifted off and taken to be cleaned and examined before being returned in a tiny crib. Sairya was wheeled to the maternity section where she was able to wash and change her clothes. When our son joined us, we were thrilled that he had not even stirred while he was away from mum, and was still asleep next to her bed.


We named him Eideard James. His first name was one of the original forms of Edward, coming from Gaelic. Edward was my father’s name, although everyone called him John. The name James was significant for two reasons: Firstly it was my nickname when I was a child - my dad used to say: “Home James, and don’t spare the horses.” - whenever he picked me up from school, and the name stuck. The second reason was that it was the name of my late great uncle, my grandfather’s youngest brother. He was an RAF pilot during WW2, and was killed along with the rest of his crew when the plane they were flying crashed into the side of one of the mountains in the Pyrenees on the border of France and Spain. One thing that I only realised later was that my son shared the same initials as his paternal grandfather as well, excepting that he was missing a ‘B’.


What worried me was, that even after James was born, Sairya’s health did not improve. In fact it was so bad that she was confined to bed for three days before we decided to go back to the doctor. Sairya kept trying to assure me that it would pass and she would soon feel better, but when she didn’t, I insisted that we make an appointment. We had been told that once James was born, the mole could detach itself from the uterus and pass out of her body on its own, but it was obvious that this was not happening. Time for a second option!


As soon as Doctor Rendel heard of Sairya’s condition, she contacted the operating rooms to inform them that the staff should prepare for an emergency. The operation was similar to a Dilation and Curettage, or Therapeutic D&C in which the contents of the uterus were removed, including any defects. Everything seemed to have gone as planned, and within a few days Sairya’s health improved dramatically.


Two weeks later we were back at the doctor’s for a final check-up. There was one question that both of us needed answering, and once Sairya had been examined and given a clean bill of health, I was the one to bring it up.


I asked: “Will this effect our chances of having another child?”


“The possibility exists that this could happen again, but it is highly unlikely.” Came the answer, “In normal cases in which a Molar Pregnancy has occurred, the mother is quite capable of conceiving again, and having a perfectly normal pregnancy. So I would say that the chances are pretty good. We will just need to monitor the early stages to see if there are any abnormalities.”


We left the clinic feeling extremely relieved by the doctor’s words. When I returned to this reality, I was once again encouraged by the evidence that everything that had transpired up until that point was real. Not only had we encountered problems, the likes of which I could never have imagined or dreamed up, but without prior knowledge of the details, I had experienced things that were proven to be factual when I researched them on this plain of existence. Things that had happened on the other side were not that unique, but were similar - if not identical - on this one.


Soon after James, now referred to as Jamie, had turned a year old, we moved into another house, this time with two separate bedrooms and no stairs, everything being on one level. It was also much closer to Alvarius, as well as being near to Eastcairn. Naeryn and Aubron visited regularly, and Sairya’s guardian was quite besotted with his first grandchild, a sentiment that was definitely shared. I - on the other hand - spent a lot of time alternating between realities, trying to see my family as much as I could. Most of my visits were during dream time, but sometimes I would go into trance in order to sneak an extra moment with them.


The passage of time was different on the other side. One day here on earth would mean roughly three in the other dimension. Thus the time that I spent with my family, even though only a few hours passed here, was very fruitful and precious to all three of us. Being away from the other two was difficult, and I always looked forward to seeing them again.


I understood, perhaps for the first time, how my father must have felt when he went away on his geology trips, what we used to call ‘Geologizing’ for fun. When he was home, however, he always made sure that he spent as much quality time with us as he could. We used to go rock climbing or canoeing in the river on the weekends, and during school holidays we would even go out camping. Sometimes we could accompany him at one of the sites where he was working, and this inspired my brother to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a geologist himself. I on the other hand just loved being out in the bush, something that I still enjoy to this day.


I tried to do the same with my family as my dad had done with us, and there were plenty of forest areas to go and explore. When Jamie was just over a year old, we went hiking along a trail that we had not explored before. Alas - even in a realm where crime was scarce, almost non-existent, there were still isolated cases here and there. One of these was the setting of traps and snares to catch wild animals, the pelts and trophies of which were sought after among certain echelons of society.


We were walking in an area where the foliage brushed against our legs, being so close to the side of the otherwise well-trodden path. I was walking ahead and carrying Jamie on my back when Sairya suddenly screamed in shock and pain. I turned to see what the problem was, and saw her sitting in the path, her right leg at a strange angle.


“What’s the matter?” I asked as I headed towards her.


“My leg is caught in something.” Came the reply, “I cannot move it! Please help!”


I crouched down and cleared the underbrush to get a clearer view of what the problem was. To my horror, I saw that Sairya’s trouser leg was soaked in blood that seemed to come from just below her knee. My horror soon changed into panic when I could clearly see a thin line of what looked like fishing gut wrapped around her leg, so tightly that it was now embedded into the skin. It was attached to a stake that was hidden in the thick undergrowth so that nothing and no-one would be able to see it until it was too late.


I had seen these things before on our farm in Rhodesia, where we had often found dead animals - jackals, buck, and even feral cats and stray dogs - that had been either strangled to death or had perished from either loss of blood or sheer exhaustion. Starvation, dehydration and infections were also common causes of death, each of them slow and agonising! The main problem was that the individuals who had placed these death-traps did not check on them regularly, and the wretched victim was often left to decay, still ensnared in that cruel contraption. But this one was very different. Far from being a crude noose made of either wire or some kind of cable, this one was fashioned out of a fine thread, barely bigger than a surgical suture. It was fed through a plastic eye that was connected to a trigger mechanism. This was spring-loaded, and designed to snap shut with such force that it could easily sever the limb, or even cut through the neck, of a small to medium sized animal. It was clear that this monstrosity, like its more primitive forerunners, was designed for one diabolical purpose: To ensure the slow and painful death of its victim!


It was obvious that there was no way that I could remove the snare from Sairya’s leg without causing more damage, let alone excruciating pain. Using my training that I had received years before as a paramedic, I applied a pressure bandage around her leg to try and slow the bleeding, but I knew that it would not hold for long. I had the presence of mind to take a snapshot of the contraption so that I could report the incident to the authorities.


Luckily we were only just about a kilometre and a half from where we had parked our auto, so I was able to support Sairya as she hobbled slowly towards the vehicle. It took almost an hour to get back to the auto, by which time the dressing was oozing fresh blood. Without removing it, I put another bandage over it in order to apply more pressure to the wound. I then lay Sairya on the back seat with her leg raised, put Jamie into his cot, and raced back to Alvarius as quickly as I could. Sairya was groaning as I drove, and her moans became screams every time I had to stop or turn the vehicle. I tried to concentrate on my driving in an attempt to shut out the sound that cut me to the core!


After what seemed an age, we pulled in to the clinic and headed straight for the emergency section with the aid of one of the nursing staff. As soon as Sairya was being seen to, I went back and collected James who had been crying softly all the way from the start of the trail. It was as though he was aware that his mother was suffering, and it upset him greatly even at such a young age.


He did not even make a fuss when I left him in the auto, and was waiting anxiously for me to fetch him. By the time we returned to the casualties, a doctor had been called. We were told to sit in the waiting-room until the staff were ready to come out and speak to us.

About three quarters of an hour later, the attending physician came to update us. He managed a smile and said: “You must be Tristan, the patient’s husband, and this is James I believe.” I told him that he was right, and he continued, “A dreadful thing to happen indeed! We have been able to remove the twine from your wife’s leg, and have given her special fluids to counter the loss of blood ...” I guessed that this was similar to Haemacell, a plasma replacement fluid used when patients suffer from hypervolaemia, or excessive loss of blood. He went on to say: “She will require specialised surgery to repair the damage if we do not want her to lose the leg. I have arranged for a re-constructive surgeon to come in and perform the operation. She is already on her way up from her rooms. The procedure will be performed here. It will take quite some time, so I suggest that you take your son home. Get some rest, and we will call you when it is all over.”


Reluctantly I agreed and left the clinic with James in my arms. As I drove off, the shock finally hit me, and by the time I arrived home I was shaking uncontrollably, my throat choked up and tears running down my face. I fed James and put him to bed, then I sat in the lounge without turning the lights on, and waited for the call. I felt sick to my stomach and had lost my appetite. I turned on one of the small lights and tried to read, but gave up after a few minutes. So all I could do was sit and wait for that damned call!


I lost track of time, but the next thing I knew I was back in my physical body. I had set up a system in order to alert me if there was an emergency on the other side, and I had only been back for less than an hour when it was activated. Immediately I went into a hypnagogic state, and was soon back in my other home. My com-link was signalling that there was a message for me. I answered, and the very tired voice of the surgeon could be heard on the other end of the line.


“Ah - Mister Biggs.” He stated, “I am glad to hear your voice. I am also pleased to tell you that the operation was successful. Your wife is very fortunate that you were able to halt the bleeding. The thread had severed a number of blood vessels, and she would have lost a lot more blood if you had not treated her effectively.”


He went on to describe how they had to suture from the deepest part of the wound, which was right through to the bone on the front part of her lower leg, and then worked from the inside until eventually being able to stitch the skin closed. Altogether it took over three hundred stitches to completely close the wound. I was also told that she would have to stay off her feet for at least a week and a half, and that even after that, she would only be able to stand for short periods with the aid of a walking frame. Altogether her convalescence would take nearly three months. The doctor concluded by saying: “Your wife will have to have regular check-ups, but in the beginning it would be better if we came to see her at home. This would mean that she would not need to get up for any length of time. Once she has recovered sufficiently, we will then see her back here at the clinic. For the next two days though, she will stay in hospital, so that we can monitor her properly.”


I had informed Naeryn about what had happened as soon as I had put Jamie to bed, so when I told him that Sairya was going to be immobile for ten days, he insisted that we stay at Eastcairn until she was able to move around more easily. When she was discharged, she was transported to the mansion by ambulance. James was insistent that he wanted to accompany his mother, crying every time he was taken away from her. The ambulance attendant agreed to take care of him for me, so I gave him to her, and drove behind the vehicle alone. Upon arrival, we were met by the butler and Aubron who helped take her to the bedroom that had been prepared for her.


Jamie had fallen asleep on route. I carried him to the room and lay him down in the crib that had been made up there for him to sleep in. I then sat down on Sairya’s bed, my hand on her shoulder. It was at that moment that I could no longer contain my emotions. I buried my head in the pillow next to hers and sobbed until my eyes burned. She hugged my neck and tried to comfort me. We lay like that until the house servant came to bring us some food. Only then did I realise just how hungry I was. Sairya was still nauseous from the anaesthetic, and ate only a little before drifting off to sleep once more. A separate bed had been made up for me, so I lay down, and soon found myself back in this reality once again.


As had happened so many times before, there were still some reminders that the whole horrific event was real. My throat was sore, and I felt as though someone had thrown grit into my eyes, a sensation that reminded me of the tears I had shed at Sairya’s bedside.


When I returned, we discovered that the Alvarian authorities had launched a massive campaign to rid the land of traps of all kinds. Already they had removed fifty from the natural areas around Alvarius alone, and countless more throughout the state. Not only that, but a number of people had been taken into custody, or were suspected of being involved in this horrendous crime. These included park officials, business leaders, and even at least three members of local councils. There was talk, that if found guilty, those sentenced would face the full extent of sylvan law.


The most severe sentence was excommunication. This meant that the accused would lose everything, and would be forced into abject poverty. All of the assets would be seized and the funds would be used as restitution for any who suffered as a result of the crimes committed by the individual. The duration of this sentence was determined by the severity of the charges against the criminal. In the case of more heinous offences, such as murder or treason, this would be for the rest of the lawbreaker’s life! In the past, this penalty even went as far as making the accused a total outcast from society. No-one was allowed to offer the wretch any aid or help in any way until the sentence had run its course. The person could not even beg for alms, because nobody was permitted to give them. This aspect had been removed almost a century before, but the fact remained that any who suffered this judgement were seldom able to escape its long term consequences.



After six weeks, Sairya was able to walk unaided, but still had to wear a special brace so as not to put her leg under too much strain. We started taking walks together a week after that, but only short ones. At last I felt that she was truly on the mend, much to everyone’s relief.


On one of my visits to the realm we were invited to stay at Eastcairn. Sairya was still struggling with her leg, and James loved the open spaces and forests that surrounded the mansion. We had purchased a carrier so that we could walk with him sitting on our back. From this vantage point he could see much more than if he was in a pram, and it also meant that we could walk along paths that would otherwise have been too rough.


One afternoon we were out following one of our favourite trails. The weather had been mostly sunny when we left with a few clouds around, but about half way the mist began to gather. Although it was not very thick, the fog was enough to soak us through. Luckily we had made some provision so that Jamie did not get cold, but we thought it wise nonetheless to head back to the mansion. By the time we got back, James was almost asleep in his carrier, so we gave him an early supper, bathed him and put him in bed.


After our own meal, we sat together on the sofa in the bedroom sharing a glass of wine. A fire warmed up the room from the fireplace, and the light from it enhanced the romantic atmosphere. Sairya had taken out an old picture album from the shelf, and we were looking through the old photos inside. She leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head, and she turned to look up at me inviting me to plant one on her lips. Our tongues began exploring as she took my hand and guided me down between her thighs. Soon my fingers caressed her soft mound beneath her panties, and it was not long before they found their way to those silky labia. I heard her moan softly as her hips rose to meet my touch.


I removed her underwear and she finally put down the book. I spread her legs, using my tongue to lave her maidenhead until I could taste her sweet moisture. Inserting my finger, I began to stroke her inner folds. In response she cried out as her breathing became more and more erratic. Sairya sat up so that I could remove her top and her bra, exposing her ample breasts to my touch. I took her nipple in my mouth and felt it harden. Her hand found its way into my jeans, her fingers curling around my excited manhood. Soon I was naked from the waist down.


Sairya lay on her back, her legs wide open inviting me to enter her. I buried my cock deep inside her and began to thrust, slowly at first and increasing my pace as our passion flared. I knew that it would not be long before I reached the point of no return, so I stopped and we shifted position. She lay with her back against me and I resumed, this time from behind. With her one hand she stroked her clitoris and the under side of my rampant member. Once more I felt as though the end was coming too soon. Reluctantly I withdrew. She knelt on all fours and I pushed myself into her again. It was not long before I collapsed on top of her, my hips jerking as I unloaded myself inside of her. She straightened up and took me in her one hand as she arched backwards to kiss me. It was as if she was squeezing the last drop out of me.


That night we slept on the settee in front of the fire, waking only when it had died down and the heat started to leave the room. We clambered into bed, and were soon fast asleep again, naked and in each other’s arms. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my own room, a warm sensation flowing through me as a reminder of the encounter.

Submitted: April 03, 2020

© Copyright 2022 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.


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