Chapter Text
Rhineland, February 1193
The roads of the Holy Roman Empire, in the late winter, were mostly frozen ruts and deceptive mud. And the royal travel wagon of the Duchy of Austria heaved violently to the left, the wheels finding a pothole deep enough to swallow a sheep. Inside, Duchess Lena of Austria let out a sharp hiss, muttering a vivid, biting curse in German, bracing a hand against the velvet-padded wall to stop herself from colliding with the opposite bench.
Alongside the wagon, two mounted riders rode close enough to peer into the cabin. "Careful, my love," Kara said, her voice dropping to that low, practiced rumble she used when the world was watching, the voice of the Duke. She leaned across the cabin, her hand hovering protectively over Lena’s midsection. The Heir.
Kara flashed a stern look back, the deep, booming bark of the Duke fading as she pulled the thick leather flap closed, shutting out the guards before sagging back onto the velvet bench.
Lena slapped her hand away. "The Heir is currently a bag of wool, Kara. And if this infernal box hits one more rock, I am going to birth it right here, and it will be a very fuzzy, very dusty pillow."
Kara blinked, then a grin broke through the tension that had held her jaw tight for the last league. The mask of 'Lord Karel' slipped, revealing the exhausted woman beneath. "A fuzzy pillow. Strong name. Very Austrian."
"Stop it." Lena leaned back, exhaling a cloud of white breath in the frigid air. She reached under her heavy fur cloak and unlaced the bodice of her traveling dress. With a grimace of relief, she pulled out the 'Royal Bump', a carefully constructed sack of lambswool and goose down, and tossed it onto the seat opposite them. "It itches. And it’s too hot."
"It has to be convincing," Kara said gently, though she reached over to rub the spot on Lena’s lower back that had been aching since Vienna. "The scouts at the border... they were looking, Lena. Really looking at you."
"They were looking at you," Lena corrected, leaning into the touch despite herself. After a moment, Kara withdrew her hand. Kara was tall, her shoulders broad from years of sword drills. "Wondering why a terrifying Templar Knight was sweating like a novice squire."
"I wasn't sweating," Kara protested, though she absolutely had been. "I was... radiating paternal terrifying anxiety. It’s part of the cover."
"You were terrifyingly adorable," Lena murmured, her eyes slipping shut as Kara’s thumb worked a knot out of her spine.
Kara pushed the leather drape aside a fraction and looked out. "But we are past the checkpoints now. We are almost in Rhineland. No one would be looking here. We are safe." The landscape had changed with the rolling, brooding forests of the West. The air smelled different here. Like damp earth, pine needles, and the faint, metallic scent of the great river that divided empires.
It smelled like her childhood. Before the armor. Before she became a Knight to save a realm.
"Your mother made this possible," Kara said quietly. "Lillian found him."
Lena opened her eyes. The playfulness vanished, replaced by the sharp, strategic gleam that Kara loved and feared in equal measure. "Lillian doesn't just 'find' things, Kara. She plots. She conveniently found a Luthor bastard who would serve our cover perfectly. A son of the House of Luthor and the legacy of Kings. By blood, he should be a monster. A weapon in swaddling clothes."
"Or," Kara said, taking Lena’s hand. "He’s just an orphan who needs a home. Like us."
Lena’s gaze dropped to their intertwined fingers. "An orphan," she echoed, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "I remember exactly how it feels to be the despised bastardin. The hidden tutors. The meals taken alone in the tower, entirely segregated from the real family. I lived like a ghost until my father's dying breath finally legitimized me. Lex was absolutely furious, but he could do nothing to stop it."
"And now Lex is gone," Kara noted softly, a dark, quiet irony settling over her features. "And we are taking his child."
"We are," Lena agreed, her voice hardening with sudden, fierce resolve. "And I vow to you, he will never be hidden away in a tower. He will be raised as our true son. But..." The Duchess hesitated, the vulnerability returning to her eyes. "I still have no template for this. I lost my mother before I could truly know her, and my only example since is Lillian. I have absolutely no clue how to be a mother."
Kara’s thumb brushed gently over Lena’s knuckles. "My own past is also a fractured tapestry," she confessed, her broad shoulders slumping against the velvet. "I lost my mother before I could even hold her face in my memory. Then my father fell. And suddenly, I was uprooted from my home."
Kara looked away, the memories heavy in her voice. "I was blessed, truly. I was taken in as a ward by a Lord and his loving family. But then he died, too. After that, we kept each other. Eliza, Alex, and me. A loyal friend of our parents stepped in to protect us. But it was never the same."
"But you had Richard," Lena offered softly, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. "He helped raise you in the court, did he not?"
Kara shook her head, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. "Richard didn't help me, Lena. He just understood my grief. He had lost his older brothers and father, and he knew exactly what it meant to be left exposed to the world. He didn't offer me a father's guidance; he offered me a choice. He presented me with the armor so I could protect myself and my birthright. I think it is why he suggested the Templar path, and why I followed him."
Kara swallowed hard, looking back down at their intertwined hands. "The day I put on that steel, I surrendered the dream of having a family of my own. I know how to fight. I know how to bleed for my land and my faith. But now, I am terrified because I have absolutely no idea how to be a father."
Lena turned her hand over, lacing her fingers securely through Kara’s hands. "Then we will simply have to be terrified together," she whispered.
A quiet understanding passed between them over the roar of the wooden wheels. They were entirely unprepared, but the deception was already in motion.
Kara let out a shaky breath, a small, wry smile touching her lips. "I was going to ask if you were ready to see him," she murmured softly. "But I suppose that is a foolish question now."
"I am not ready in the slightest," Lena agreed dryly.
The pitch of the wheels suddenly shifted to a deep, hollow thudding as they crossed the great stone bridge. Kara pulled back the heavy velvet curtain and peeked through the window. It was a remarkably bright, cloudless afternoon, the sharp winter sun glinting off the frosted landscape.
Beneath the bright sky, the valley was roaring. A massive river like the Rhine ground its way through the gorge. The constant, echoing crack and groan of massive ice floes colliding and shattering against each other rose up from the water.
As the grand wagon cleared the bridge, the cabin suddenly pitched backward. The horses whinnied, straining against their harnesses as the steep, grueling ascent up the cliff began.
Kara reached out, bracing her hand against the carved wall. "Hold on," she warned Lena softly. "The road up is steep. But here we are."
Lena immediately reached for the wool sack and shoved it back into the bodice of her dress, wincing slightly as she tightened the laces to secure the false pregnancy.
"Then let us go meet our son," Lena said, looking up at her with a sharp gleam.
Kara closed her eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath of the freezing air, her hand resting protectively near Lena's waist. They were not two terrified orphans anymore; they were the Duke and Duchess of Austria, and their heir was waiting.
The wagon suddenly leveled out, the grueling ascent ending as they passed beneath the heavy iron portcullis. Lady Eliza’s estate was every inch a fortress. Perched high upon the craggy peaks of the Siebengebirge, it loomed over the gorge like a jagged crown of dark volcanic stone. Basking in the stark brightness of a sunny winter day, the castle seemed to grow directly out of the trachyte cliff face, its impenetrable curtain walls reinforced with the sharp paranoia of a family that had survived two political purges and religious quarrels. High above the grinding river, the royal wagon rolled into the heavily guarded courtyard.
They finally halted, and they were welcomed immediately by the Ducal Captain.
Alex looked tired. The red-and-black uniform of the Austrian Guard was stained with travel mud, and her hand rested habitually on the pommel of her sword. But when she saw Kara, her shoulders dropped two inches.
"Welcome! The courtyard is held, My Lord, Duchess," Alex said with a bright smile, though her voice was tight and formal for the benefit of the stablehands. "I have ensured my household is prepared for your royal arrival. Let us get you inside."
Kara stepped out first, the cold air biting at her cheeks. She was wearing the blue tunic of the Duke, the fur mantle weighing on her shoulders like the expectations of the Empire. She turned and offered a hand to Lena.
Lena took the offered hand, stepping down with practiced grace. She kept one hand resting protectively over the freshly re-installed 'bump' as she finally got a clear view of her husband's childhood home. She paused, mesmerized. The sudden, sheer verticality of this Rhineland gorge was entirely different. The dark, brooding stone of the fortress towered against the bright blue sky, feeling like a spear thrust up from the earth.
Lady Eliza stood at the top of the stone steps.
"My Lord," Eliza said, dipping into a formal curtsy. When she looked up, her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
Kara stepped up, her voice pitched low. "Lady Eliza," she greeted formally, pressing a kiss to the older woman's knuckles.
Eliza squeezed her hand, her voice remaining steady for the courtyard to hear. "Welcome, Duke Karel. Duchess Lena. The winter winds are cruel tonight. Guards, dismiss the staff. No one is to disturb us in the Great Hall."
They moved swiftly inside, and the guards hauled the doors shut. The thick wood slammed with a resounding thud, instantly cutting off the howling wind and the prying eyes of the courtyard. The Great Hall was a sanctuary of warmth, a massive hearth roaring at the far end and casting long, dancing shadows against the familiar tapestries of Kara's youth.
At the sound of the closing doors, Kara slumped, the rigid military posture melting away as her voice lifted back to its natural, lighter cadence. "Oh, thank God."
Protocol completely forgotten, Kara crossed the stone floor in two strides and wrapped her mother in a crushing hug, lifting the older woman entirely off her feet. "Hi, Mother."
"You’re crushing my ribs, Kara," Eliza laughed, her voice cracking with emotion as she squeezed back just as fiercely.
She pulled away, her gaze shifting to the mud-splattered Captain lingering just behind them. Alex unbuckled her sword belt, letting the cold steel clatter to the stone floor with a deeply exhausted sigh.
The captain’s rigid guard finally dropped. "I brought her back in one piece, Mother," Alex mumbled into Eliza's ear, her voice rough from the biting wind.
Eliza smoothed a hand over Alex's damp hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I am delighted to have you here, my girls. Welcome back home. Both of you."
"I missed you," Kara breathed, looking around the roaring hearth and the ancient stone walls with profound relief. "I missed this castle so much."
"And we missed you," Eliza said warmly. She stepped past Kara and extended both hands to Lena. "Welcome to our land, Lena. I see the time of the journey has already done wonders for your condition."
"It's a nuisance," Lena rested a hand on the wool bump.
"Well, let us thaw you first," Eliza smiled warmly, stepping over to a side table where a steaming silver pitcher waited. She poured a measure of hot, spiced wine into a goblet and offered it to Lena. "To chase the coastal chill from your bones and help to ease your burden."
Lena took the goblet, letting the heat seep into her freezing fingers. She took a slow sip, her eyes widening slightly at the rich taste of cloves and honey. "It is wonderful. Thank you, Lady Eliza."
"Yes, well, you won’t have to suffer it any longer," a cool, aristocratic voice echoed from the far end of the room. "And I see the Duke, is still as devastatingly sentimental as ever."
Standing by the fire, holding a goblet of wine with the casual arrogance of a woman who owned the room, was Lady Lillian.
"Finally," Lillian said, not turning around. "I was about to send a search party. Or a heavily worded letter to the Emperor complaining about the ridiculous number of border garrisons in his own realm."
"Apologies for the delay. We had to keep the pace believable with a pregnancy," Lena said, her voice stiffening slightly.
Lillian turned. Her gaze swept over Kara, dismissed her, and landed on Lena. She walked forward, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the 'pregnancy'. "A little low," she critiqued. "But it will pass inspection for anyone who isn't a midwife. Good work with the padding."
"Where is he?" Kara asked, cutting straight to the point.
Lillian’s expression shifted. For a fleeting second, the mask of the cold matriarch slipped, revealing something darker, more complex. "Upstairs. In the nursery. Lady Eliza just fed him before you arrived."
"Is he..." Lena hesitated. "Does he look like Lex?"
"Yes, he looks like Lex when he was born," Lillian replied, swirling her wine. "But with a shock of pitch-black hair."
Kara blinked, looking at Lena’s hair. "Like yours. Wasn't Lex's hair black, too?"
A sudden, genuine laugh escaped Lena, startling the tension in the room. "No, Kara. That was a very expensive wig. My brother was completely bald."
Lillian let out a long, long-suffering sigh. "He was a redhead as an infant. But that is entirely beside the point. The child is a Luthor and an El, there is no doubt."
Kara crossed her arms, the Duke's protective suspicion creeping back into her posture. "How can you be so certain?"
"Because a trusted associate of mine found the mother," Lillian countered smoothly. "She was one of your lesser cousins, Lord Karel. An illegitimate daughter of Richard’s father from his campaigns in France. She was hidden away in an auberge in Paris, pregnant and thoroughly dishonored."
Lillian took a slow sip of her wine. "At least my son had the sheer decency to arrange and pay for her lodgings until the birth, besides breeding into the El house. God only knows what Lex planned to do with her afterward. Nevertheless, she perished in childbirth a month ago. Lucky for us."
"Mein Gott, Mother," Lena snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. Beside her, Kara’s face contorted in visible disgust at the sheer callousness of the remark.
Lillian merely rolled her eyes, entirely unbothered by their moral outrage. "Oh, spare me the theatrics. The reality is this: my son is dead, and the boy’s mother is dead. And you, Duchess," Lillian pointed a finger at Lena's wool bump, "just suffered an early birth because the journey from Vienna was simply too harsh for your delicate constitution."
Lena’s brow furrowed, her strategic mind immediately catching the flaw. "But even if we claim an early labor, a newborn is vastly different from a child of a few weeks."
"You are the Duchess of Austria. Tradition dictates a strict, month-long lying-in period for your recovery." Lillian countered smoothly, already ten steps ahead of them.
Lena caught on instantly, her spine stiffening as the tactical brilliance of it settled in.
"Utter seclusion. No one but the mute wet nurse is permitted inside your chambers," Lillian said, offering a flat, terrifyingly cold smile. "By that time, his size will perfectly match our lie. Congratulations, Your Graces. You have a son. Now, shall we go upstairs so you can meet him?"
Kara and Lena exchanged a single, bracing look. Kara offered her arm, and together they followed as Eliza led the way up the winding stone stairs, holding a candle to guide the small procession. The door to the nursery opened with a quiet creak.
A young woman in a modest linen dress stood beside the wooden cradle tending to a small fire in the hearth. Lillian stepped past Eliza with her usual entitlement and gave the girl a curt, dismissive nod. "You may leave us. Wait in the hall."
The wet nurse curtsied low and quickly slipped out the door.
Alex stepped into the room, the exhaustion in her posture softening as she brushed a hand over the polished edge of the cradle. "My old bed," she murmured, a rare, nostalgic smile touching her lips.
"It is," Eliza agreed softly, stepping up beside her eldest daughter. She reached out to gently tap a delicate string of carved wooden stars suspended from the canopy, making them sway in the firelight. "But the stars are new. A grandmother's first gift for the newest little bird of the family."
Kara’s breath hitched at the sight of the swaying stars, deeply moved by her mother's immediate, fierce acceptance of the child.
Lillian, entirely immune to the sentimentality of the moment, stepped to the other side of the cradle. She looked down but her expression shifted into something uncharacteristically soft.
"Here he is," Lillian murmured, stepping back. "Your mighty heir. I will leave you to your lying-in, Lena. Lord Karel."
Without another word, Lillian swept out of the room, her skirts whispering against the stone floor.
Alex leaned forward, eager to get her first look at her new nephew, but Eliza gently caught her arm.
"Let them have a moment, Alexandra," Eliza whispered, offering Kara and Lena a warm, knowing smile. She tugged a reluctantly compliant Alex toward the door. "We will be just down the hall if you need us."
The door clicked shut, leaving them in the quiet, warm glow of the hearth.
Kara and Lena stood alone. Slowly, they approached the cradle as if it held something sacred.
The baby was asleep. He was swaddled tightly in white linen. He had a shock of dark hair, just as Lillian had said. He was just impossibly tiny. His little face was round and soft, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber, and two small fists were curled tightly against his cheeks. He let out a tiny, grumbling sigh, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The sight of him, so entirely helpless and fragile, shattered the last of the Duke's armor. Tears welled in Kara’s eyes, hot and sudden, spilling over her lashes before she could stop them.
"Oh, God," Kara choked out, a wet, breathless laugh escaping her. "Lena, look at him. Look how small his hands are."
Lena stepped up beside her, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. The sheer terror of being a terrible mother evaporated, replaced by a profound, overwhelming ache in her chest. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and gently brushed her knuckle against his tiny, curled fist.
The baby shifted, leaning instinctively into the warmth of Lena's touch.
"We were so terrified before," Lena whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "I thought I would look at him and only see my family's legacy. But he is just... a child. An orphan who needs us."
Kara wrapped her arm securely around Lena’s waist, pulling her close as they stood over the cradle. "He isn't an orphan anymore," she said fiercely, pressing a kiss to Lena’s temple. "He will never know he was one. He has us now, Lena. He is ours."
Lena leaned into Kara’s side, her thumb gently stroking the baby’s soft black hair. "Welcome home, Konrad," she murmured, the name feeling like a vow in the quiet room.
Kara smiled, her tears drying as she looked down at her family. "Konrad van Elders. Konrad von Austria."