((One of my favorite projects recently was a “What if your character had met X before their current IC significant other.” We threw our names into a hat and ficc’ed out what would have/could have happened had things gone down differently in Warcraft history. Yva ended up with Shael O’Connaugh. For some reason, this piece sticks with me still, because I think it’s a little bit of insight into who Yva could have been without plague and the Undercity and her dark past.))

Shael O’Connaugh could hear them before he could see them. He was still on the street, hadn’t even walked up the drive yet, but the laughs, screams, and wails of his children already raised havoc on his ears. There was Missy and Evan, Saramia and – yes, that bellow was Lucas. He could see Jack’s dark head through the front window bent over a book, light bless him – and he was fairly sure that Aidan was about to drop something down the back of his shirt, the little bastard. Jessa was wailing, but at eleven months old, she wasn’t good for much else yet. Of course, because she was crying Chrysa was crying too. Twins seemed to do everything together.

At least the two of them looked like their mother. It probably saved their wee precious lives a few times. They’d been their only colicky babies, and it had almost made him wonder if he should touch his wife ever again. All he had to do was look at the woman and she was pregnant again, and he wasn’t sure either one of them would survive another round of sleepless nights and lullabies.

Bit late to worry about tha’, he thought to himself.

The ice cream was getting really cold in his palm.

He slid his key into the front door.

“DA!” Saramia screeched, abandoning her toy train to run across the floor. He swept her up into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Ye bein’ good for yer Ma?”

“Uh huh. I helped her make a pie with Grandma an’ then I got to have a sweet biscuit.”

He tried not to frown.

Fuck. In laws.

“Yer Gran’s here?”

“Nuh. She left at lunch.” Sara began to squirm and he set her down with a soft pat on her bottom. She nabbed her train and went into the front room, probably to bash Aidan or Evan over the head with it.

If they’re not screamin’ in pain, they’re fine.

There was some soft humming coming from the kitchen, and he recognized the song. It seemed to be the only one that would get the twins to sleep, and only when their mother sang it. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but then, who was he to question the magic that had gotten the baby girls to quiet down even on their worst nights. He found his way around stacks of laundry and abandoned toys. Misses O’Connaugh was bent over a pair of cribs, her dark hair spilling past her face. A baby fist reached up to tug on it, and she laughed, unwinding the pudgy fingers from her locks.

“No, no. Jessa. Be a good girl.”

“How are ye feelin’, Yva love?”

She stood up, her hands braced against her lower back. When she turned around, her prominent stomach bumped against the table, sending the vase of daisies toppling.

“Oh bloody hell.” She pulled a dishrag from her waistband and started mopping up the water. “Hello, darling.”

“I got ye ice cream like ye asked.” He placed it on the edge of the table and bent forward to help her with the flowers.

“Thank you so, so much. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, and the children have been unbelievable. Thank gods for Mother. She helped me get them off to school and . . . ” She stopped talking too fast, almost like someone had flicked a switch inside of her.

He glanced up at her, a bit taken aback at the murderous rage flashing in her blue eyes.

“Wha’?”

“Is that strawberry?”

“Aye.”

“But I . . . I wanted vanilla. I specifically asked for vanilla!”

“No ye didn’t.”

“YES I DID.” Her voice went from velvety soft to a roar in half a heartbeat. Behind her, the twins started fussing, their dulcet coos abandoned as their mother turned into an unparalleled shrew.

He felt his temper rising, but knowing she was volatile around the six month mark, he tried to keep his anger in check. “Yva, ye asked me for ice cream. With the twins an’ Lucas, vanilla made ye sick.”

She sputtered. “No, I said – I SAID – I wanted vanilla before you left. It’s all I wanted all day and . . . and . . . you never listen to me.”

“Yva,” he said through gritted teeth.

“DON’T YOU YVA ME!” And then a small, pale hand was fumbling around behind her, flinging whatever she could find at him. The rolling pin grazed his cheek and near missed taking his head clean off.

And that was it.

“YE AIN’T GONNA SEND ME OUT LIKE AN ERRAND BOY AN’ THEN PISS AN’ MOAN WHEN I DON’T READ YER MIND TA KNOW YE WANT VANILLA WHEN VANILLA MADE YE PUKE WITH THE LAST THREE BABES.”

“YOU’RE RAISING YOUR VOICE AND MAKING THE TWINS UPSET!”

“I AM? I AM? YER SCREECHIN’ LIKE A FUCKIN’ HARPY!”

That did it. She stepped back, her hand flying to her chest in righteous indignation. The babies were in full wail mode now, and Shael could feel eyes burning through the back of his shirt. He turned around, and sure enough, his three eldest children were staring at him in shock from the doorway.

“Sorry ye lot! We’re fine. Get yer bottoms into the livin’ room. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay Da,” they said almost in unison, scampering off to do as they were told.

They actually listened. Amazing.

It took about thirty seconds for Yva’s sobs to begin. She was trying to to calm the girls, but there was nothing a near hysterical woman could do to make her children feel better. Their cries just echoed their mother’s now.

He went around the table to gather his little wife in his arms. “Yva love, m’sorry.”

“N-n-no I am. I was being a harpy. I j-j-just . . . I shouldn’t shout. I just got all crazy. You know how I get in the third trimester. I feel all up and down and . . . “ She grabbed his cheeks and kissed all over his face, still sobbing, but now laughing too. It was the most confusing sound in the world. “I love you.”

He grunted, but as she pressed a kiss to his mouth, he found his anger seeping away. “I love ye too, now . . . I’ll cook up some dinner an’ ye clean yer face up an’ we’ll eat in a bit. An’ after, I’ll take the boys and get ye some vanilla ice cream, all right?”

She nodded and dashed at her cheeks. “Thank you. I’m sorry,”

“M’sorry too.”

And with that, she turned around and stooped over the girls, humming her song again.