The longest night in Arctra was always a time of celebration, a last chance to revel before the hard work of surviving the winter came upon the people. In the new capital of Phalion, just a few months ago, the confirmation of the Goddess' favor had been shown in the birth of twins to Queen Ariana and her chosen consort, Rory - a boy and a girl, in the old tradition of the favored royal line. The celebrations for those births had gone on for a long time themselves, yet now would come to a close with the Dusking and the start of the deepest part of the winter. In the streets of Phalion, huge bonfires were burning, groups of minstrels playing, people laughing and dancing and talking, the whole city gripped with a festival feeling. And in one of the private wings of the fortress, the Captain of the Queen's Guard was pacing back and forth, waiting for news of his wife's labour in the bedroom not too far away.
"What is taking so long?" Liam grumbled, pacing impatiently back and forth, like a lion trapped in a cage. There might be a festival going on elsewhere, but here, there would be no celebrating until Liam was holding his son or daughter in his arms and knew without doubt that both mother and child were safe and out of danger.
Gregor Makos, the sergeant who had trained him and was now his stepfather, leaned comfortably against the wall as he watched the celebrations down in the streets of the city. "Babes take time being born," he said with a shrug. "Don't ask me, I never had any."
"Yes, but it has been seven hours already! What can they be doing in there?" he asked, even as he heard Shaye cry out in pain for the umpteenth time. He froze in place, his head jerking toward the room where his wife was giving birth, the tension and worry apparent in his posture and expression. He felt helpless, unable to do anything but pace and wait and worry. It was not easy for a man who was accustomed to rushing into harm's way to save those he loved, but this was a battle he was not equipped to fight.
"Lad, you want the intimate details, you talk to your mother," Makos told him firmly. "I'm here to stop you from charging in there uninvited. You need to spar or something?"
"I need a drink," Liam muttered, more to himself than to the man who'd once been a role model and was now his stepfather. It wasn't that he wanted to get drunk so much as he needed something to calm his tense nerves. Then again, knowing Shaye and their child were well would accomplish the same thing.
"Look at it this way," the old sergeant-at-arms said, making his way across the room to pour Liam a healthy measure of firewater from a bottle he had brought with him for just such an emergency. "She's only been making noise the last hour or so. Should be over soon enough." He offered Liam the glass with a wry tilt to his weathered face.
Liam grunted in reply as he took the glass from the older man's hand. Soon enough was not soon enough for him. He had never seen Shaye in such agony as this, and it jangled his nerves. As eager as he was for all this to be over, it was the outcome that worried him. He knew women didn't always survive childbirth, but Shaye was young and strong and brave. She was a fighter. There was no reason to believe she wouldn't survive this, just as she'd survived all the other battles that had come before this one.
As that thought came to his mind, another voice took over from his beloved wife's cries - a thin, reedy wail that declared the owner of that voice was definitely not happy with what was happening and would quite like it all to end now, please. Makos chuckled, slapping Liam on the back.
"Congratulations, lad," he said. "You're a father."
Unfortunately for Liam, he had just taken a long swallow of the firewater when he heard that wail and was given that congratulatory slap on the back. He coughed and sputtered as he turned his head in the direction of that wail, ears perked to any further sounds that might tell him how Shaye fared. Was that the indignant wail of a newborn infant he was hearing"
Makos chuckled at the look on his face. "It'll be a small while yet," he predicted. "Your mother will want her calm and comfortable before she lets you in there. That woman is as fierce as any Wild One when it comes to her own."
"But she's all right," Liam said uncertainly, but hopefully. It wasn't quite a question, but he seemed to be seeking just a little bit of reassurance - and from a man who had never had a child of his own.
"Liam, if there'd been any trouble, you would have known by now," Makos told him, squeezing his shoulder. "Meara's not the type to make a man wait until it's all over to tell him how wrong it went. Have a little faith in your mother, aye?"
Liam had plenty of faith in his mother; it was fear for his wife's life that terrified him. He and Shaye had fought too hard and too long to be together, even if they hadn't known it at the time. He simply could not lose her now, and if he did, he would blame himself. After all, it was his child she had been birthing.
"I need to know," he murmured, eyes fixed on the door to the bedroom, as if it might open all on its own.
"You will know. In about half an hour." Makos was obviously not going to let him go charging off before Meara came for her son. It was going to be a long half hour.
Liam grumbled again, as he dropped into a chair and drained the firewater in his glass. Half an hour might as well be half a year, as far as he was concerned. Hadn't he waited long enough' And yet, he didn't really want to see his wife and child covered in the gore of birth and afterbirth.
"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" he asked, curiously. He wasn't sure which he'd prefer. Every man wanted a son, but there was something about the thought of having a daughter.
"It's a child," was the older man's response. "You know I see no difference between boys and girls. I drilled the pair of you exactly the same way, and you've both done me proud. Although if that is a girl, I think your mother might throttle you if you sign her up for the army."
That, at least, got a small smirk from the big man. "I do not think it will be necessary for my daughter to follow in her mother's footsteps," Liam admitted in agreement with his stepfather. They were a country at peace, and while they still maintained a military force capable of defending their nation, there was no reason to think any daughter of theirs would need to fight a war.
He knew Shaye well enough to know that the life of a soldier was likely the last thing she wanted for any child, male or female. They both knew intimately the stain of blood on their hands, after all.
"Well, if a child of yours wants to be the First of the land, at least you know they won't have to kill to do it," Makos commented.
"What is taking so long?" Liam grumbled, pacing impatiently back and forth, like a lion trapped in a cage. There might be a festival going on elsewhere, but here, there would be no celebrating until Liam was holding his son or daughter in his arms and knew without doubt that both mother and child were safe and out of danger.
Gregor Makos, the sergeant who had trained him and was now his stepfather, leaned comfortably against the wall as he watched the celebrations down in the streets of the city. "Babes take time being born," he said with a shrug. "Don't ask me, I never had any."
"Yes, but it has been seven hours already! What can they be doing in there?" he asked, even as he heard Shaye cry out in pain for the umpteenth time. He froze in place, his head jerking toward the room where his wife was giving birth, the tension and worry apparent in his posture and expression. He felt helpless, unable to do anything but pace and wait and worry. It was not easy for a man who was accustomed to rushing into harm's way to save those he loved, but this was a battle he was not equipped to fight.
"Lad, you want the intimate details, you talk to your mother," Makos told him firmly. "I'm here to stop you from charging in there uninvited. You need to spar or something?"
"I need a drink," Liam muttered, more to himself than to the man who'd once been a role model and was now his stepfather. It wasn't that he wanted to get drunk so much as he needed something to calm his tense nerves. Then again, knowing Shaye and their child were well would accomplish the same thing.
"Look at it this way," the old sergeant-at-arms said, making his way across the room to pour Liam a healthy measure of firewater from a bottle he had brought with him for just such an emergency. "She's only been making noise the last hour or so. Should be over soon enough." He offered Liam the glass with a wry tilt to his weathered face.
Liam grunted in reply as he took the glass from the older man's hand. Soon enough was not soon enough for him. He had never seen Shaye in such agony as this, and it jangled his nerves. As eager as he was for all this to be over, it was the outcome that worried him. He knew women didn't always survive childbirth, but Shaye was young and strong and brave. She was a fighter. There was no reason to believe she wouldn't survive this, just as she'd survived all the other battles that had come before this one.
As that thought came to his mind, another voice took over from his beloved wife's cries - a thin, reedy wail that declared the owner of that voice was definitely not happy with what was happening and would quite like it all to end now, please. Makos chuckled, slapping Liam on the back.
"Congratulations, lad," he said. "You're a father."
Unfortunately for Liam, he had just taken a long swallow of the firewater when he heard that wail and was given that congratulatory slap on the back. He coughed and sputtered as he turned his head in the direction of that wail, ears perked to any further sounds that might tell him how Shaye fared. Was that the indignant wail of a newborn infant he was hearing"
Makos chuckled at the look on his face. "It'll be a small while yet," he predicted. "Your mother will want her calm and comfortable before she lets you in there. That woman is as fierce as any Wild One when it comes to her own."
"But she's all right," Liam said uncertainly, but hopefully. It wasn't quite a question, but he seemed to be seeking just a little bit of reassurance - and from a man who had never had a child of his own.
"Liam, if there'd been any trouble, you would have known by now," Makos told him, squeezing his shoulder. "Meara's not the type to make a man wait until it's all over to tell him how wrong it went. Have a little faith in your mother, aye?"
Liam had plenty of faith in his mother; it was fear for his wife's life that terrified him. He and Shaye had fought too hard and too long to be together, even if they hadn't known it at the time. He simply could not lose her now, and if he did, he would blame himself. After all, it was his child she had been birthing.
"I need to know," he murmured, eyes fixed on the door to the bedroom, as if it might open all on its own.
"You will know. In about half an hour." Makos was obviously not going to let him go charging off before Meara came for her son. It was going to be a long half hour.
Liam grumbled again, as he dropped into a chair and drained the firewater in his glass. Half an hour might as well be half a year, as far as he was concerned. Hadn't he waited long enough' And yet, he didn't really want to see his wife and child covered in the gore of birth and afterbirth.
"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" he asked, curiously. He wasn't sure which he'd prefer. Every man wanted a son, but there was something about the thought of having a daughter.
"It's a child," was the older man's response. "You know I see no difference between boys and girls. I drilled the pair of you exactly the same way, and you've both done me proud. Although if that is a girl, I think your mother might throttle you if you sign her up for the army."
That, at least, got a small smirk from the big man. "I do not think it will be necessary for my daughter to follow in her mother's footsteps," Liam admitted in agreement with his stepfather. They were a country at peace, and while they still maintained a military force capable of defending their nation, there was no reason to think any daughter of theirs would need to fight a war.
He knew Shaye well enough to know that the life of a soldier was likely the last thing she wanted for any child, male or female. They both knew intimately the stain of blood on their hands, after all.
"Well, if a child of yours wants to be the First of the land, at least you know they won't have to kill to do it," Makos commented.