Her light brown hair was dampened with sweat and sticking to her pale forehead, her eyes shining with anticipation, though weighted with exhaustion. The labor had started before she supped the previous evening, and was just now to its peak, as the sun was rising over the eastern mountains.
Out in the hallway a nervous father paced back and forth, as he had been for many hours. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and pulled his silver watch from a pocket in his satin vest. It was nearing the time he should be rising from his bed, not be wanting to fall into it. He’d never been one to waste a day.
“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” He murmured, finally letting the hall chair relieve the weight that his legs supported for so long. It seemed so long ago that his father told him that. So long since he’d been the child.
He snapped the lid of his watch shut and slid it back into his pocket, before taking his head in his hands. The pregnancy was the longest nine months of his life, since the last one his young bride had suffered through. That one died, still even as it was born.
“But it was only a girl.” He reminded himself, trying to ease the knot in his stomach. “Perhaps fate will smile upon me this time, and a son will be born to me.”
The thought of his entire estate going to a mere girl was enough to turn his stomach any day. Girls were good only for dowries. Good only for marrying off to a man with money, and, preferably, a title. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He wouldn’t worry about what to do with a girl, unless he got stuck with one. He always tried to look at the positive side of things.
A shrill cry echoed throughout the entire mansion. His heart stopped with his breath as he sprang to his feet and strained to hear any noise from within the room. The gurgling cry of an infant. He grasped the edges of the hall table, allowing the carved wood to support his weight.
What did that old adage say? Did boys tend to be born in the morning, or was it the girls? He couldn’t recall. He thought back to the previous year. That one took all day, but was born at a decent hour. He let himself hope.
The door creaked open a few inches, and an old chamber maiden poked her head out into the hallway. She was an old lady. His nurse, when he was but a child.
“A daughter, milord.” She said softly, bobbling her head.
He felt his heart sink, but nodded. She disappeared within the room, quickly shutting the door. He sat down in the chair once more, suddenly feeling weak. He sighed deeply. “What have I done?”
He looked up at the cracking white paint on the ceiling, searching for the gods he didn’t believe existed. “If you gods are up there, answer me.”
His eyes flicked across ceiling, looking for a sign, looking for anything. “Answer me!”
“What must I do to prove my worth of a he-child?”
There was no flash of light. No crackle of thunder. Mere silence… and burbling cry of the little brat in the room behind him. He clenched his fists, pressing his knuckles into the bridge of his nose. He didn’t understand.
His young wife shrieked again. He lifted his head, listening a moment. “The little monster probably bit her…wouldn’t put it past a little girl.”
Another gurgling cry. He was on his feet in an instant, his heart leaping as he heard two distinct cries. Two children. There was hope yet.
“Rayll.” He breathed. “Rayll Kaw…that’s a good, strong name.”
The maid, Daenya, appeared at the door once more, excitement filling her wrinkled face. “Another one! A son too, Milord!”
She disappeared before he could answer. A broad grin broke out across his face, and he looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll never doubt the gods again. I believe.”
He waited impatiently as the babes were hushed, resuming his track—two paces past the door, turn, to the hall table, turn, back again. “Rayll Kaw Elstan…Lord Rayll Elstan…”
As the babes fell silent, he drew nearer and nearer the door, waiting for Daenya to grant him access to the birthing room. She did, a moment later. “Milady will have you now, Milord.”
He quickly walked through the door she held open for him, hesitating just within. His wife didn’t look good. She was pale and trembling, her breathing shallow and too rapid, but she looked prouder than he’d ever seen her before.
She looked up from the bundles lying to her side and smiled weakly. “We did it, Leikos. Look at how beautiful they are.”
He cautiously moved closer to the bed, and lowered himself to his knees. He carefully pulled the blanket back, and looked at the face of an infant, its face bright red and purple, hair still damp. The other one was just as wrinkled and ugly, but one of them was his son.
“What could be better than a daughter and a son at once?”
Two sons. He kept the opinion to himself, and merely nodded. “Which one…which is which?”
“This is our baby girl.” She said, stroking the one lying nearer her, before stroking the other. “And this is our little boy.”
He examined the boy closer. They looked the same, now, but he was sure that the boy would grow up well.
“One day, you’ll be big and mighty…Master Elstan.”
“Have you thought of any names?”
“Rayll.” He said softly, glancing up at his wife’s face. “Rayll Kaw.”
“Rayll Kaw Elstan.” She nodded, and he noticed the dark bags under her eyes. “I like it.”
“And what of little Miss Elstan?”
I don’t care. He kept that opinion to himself too. “Why don’t you name her?”
“No, we should name them together.”
“Mm…well, have you thought of any names?”
“Darrana is a pretty name.” She said, so softly he could barely hear her voice.
“Darrana…” Yes, that would do. “It’s pretty. Darrana Vivienne?”
“No.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to name her after myself.”
“Then what about Karine?”
“After my sister?” She thought a moment, brushing her hair back. She was trembling more than he thought she would be. “Yes, let’s.”
“And Darrana Karine.” She smiled broadly. “Oh, such beautiful names for such beautiful children.”
“Milady should rest.” Daenya was shooing him out of the room. “And Milord should as well.”
“Will be just fine. Rest.” She turned to the man. “And you, Milord, should scoot.”
“Yes, Nya.” He stole a final glance at his family, doubled in a single night, and then let himself from the room. It didn’t take long before the Lady was fast asleep, leaving Daeyna to fuss over the babes.
They weren’t doing well. Not one of them. The young missus hadn’t gotten out of bed in a week, and the babes were barely eating. Daenya sat in a chair in the corner, rocking both of the little Elstans, stealing worried glances at where their mother moaned in her sleep.
They weren’t going to make it. The babes were sickly. They’d never recover. She pulled them closer to her chest, hugging them tightly. “Get well, my loves. My poor missus’ heart couldn’t stand to lose you.”
There was a knock at the door.
Daenya sighed and stood up, gently setting each infant in their cradles. She moved toward the door, when Darrana began coughing, the poor child’s entire body shaking with the force of her coughing. Daenya turned towards girl, moving the blanket around her, angling her chin so she could breathe better. The knock again.
“Go away!”
“No.” The gruff voice accompanied a dark figure into a room.
Daenya whirled around, putting herself between the infants and the stranger. "Get out."
"First you call me here, then you kick me out?"
She could tell he was smirking, and narrowed her eyes at his face. Suddenly she placed him. "Zandyr!"
"Miss Daenya." He looked past her as Darrana coughed, fast and shallow, unable to catch her breath. Daenya whirled around, muttering under her breath as the girl laid still. "No, no, no, this can't be. Zandyr! Help me!"
He briskly strode past the old woman, pulling the blanket away from the girl. She laid still, her eyes rolled back in her head. He laid his hand on her chest, closing his eyes. He murmured charms for several long moments, his palm glowing with a soft, warm light.
He cursed, stepping back, rubbing his wrist. He glanced at Daenya, and shook his head. "She's gone."
"Then bring her back." Daenya snapped, futiley trying to revive her. "Bring. Her. Back!"
"You know I can't do that."
He twisted his right hip away as the old woman whirled around, hitting his chest with her fist before collapsing into him, sobbing. "Why didn't you get here sooner, then? She shouldn't have died! She did nothing wrong."
"I was rather occupied elsewhere." He was standing stiffly, one hand on a small lump behind him, the other awkardly patting the old woman's back. He'd never fancied himself good at comforting people. His side burbled. The woman jumped.
"What was that?"
He pulled a small child from a sling on his side. "As far as you're concerned, Darrana."
The old woman stared at him a long moment. He met her gaze impassively, smirking as realization washed across her face.
"Wh- no! No. Absolutely not."
"You know you want to."
"I refuse to--"
He stepped forward, shushing her as the young woman rolled over on her bed, groaning. He continued, lowering his voice, glancing at the bed. "Do you want to be the one to tell her that yet another of her daughters has died?"
"No, but--"
"Then why not take this one? She's perfectly healthy--"
"It wouldn't be right."
"It wouldn't be known."
Daenya glared at him a long moment, before her gaze flicked down to the swaddled baby. She was convinced. Even if she didn't know it yet.
Actually, all the names in here are original and lovely. Look forward to reading and reviewing more!
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