Fic War Prompt from the Yankee Countess: Sybil is pregnant (your decision on whether it's their first child or another one) and the baby is kicking like crazy and she can barely sleep. So Tom tries to soothe things by "talking" to the baby (murmuring to Sybil's belly) and of all things, he talks about Irish history/politics :oP

I'm apologizing for the Irish history lesson that follows. I'm not sure if the Yankee Countess knew what she was doing when she gave me this prompt. For those of you who don't know, I'm working on my thesis to earn my M.A. in Irish Studies. My topic is the Dublin Lockout, and my overall research interest is in the 1900 – 1923 period in Ireland, as well as how this is presented in film and other media. That being said, I do go into other periods of Irish history that I'm not as familiar with. So if anyone sees any mistakes, please let me know. As I always tell people, I know a lot about Irish history, but I don't consider myself an expert.

I'd also like to thank piperholmes for assisting me with some questions I had about pregnancy as my knowledge is minimal.

Dublin, Ireland, Wednesday, 18 July 1923

A little after nine o'clock at night

Sybil sat in front of her makeshift vanity, brushing her bobbed, midnight brown hair, waiting for her husband to stop writing and come to bed. As she did this, she felt the thump, thump, thump of her unborn child kicking her. She sighed. The baby had been moving and kicking all day, even as she cooked and baked for Róisín's party. Sybil was exhausted and all she wanted to do was sleep. However, it seemed her little one had other plans.

Rubbing her stomach, she said, "Baby, please settle down. Your mam needs her rest."

However, the baby refused to listen to its mother, continuing to kick and squirm. Huffing, Sybil rose and walked to the bed, hoping that if she settled down, the baby would too. Climbing onto the bed, it took her five minutes to get the pillows just right in order to read for a bit. Once that was done, she started to read. However, after twenty minutes of sitting still and reading, the baby still hadn't settled down. Groaning and with a bit of a struggle, Sybil got out of bed and began to pace around the bedroom.

She was still pacing when Tom entered the bedroom twenty minutes later. Upon seeing his wife walking back and forth, he instantly became concerned. Oh God! What if she's in labour? It's too soon.

Tom forced himself to remain calm as he asked, "Are you all right, love?"

"No, I'm not. Your child refuses stop kicking me and go to sleep so I can sleep."

On hearing this, Tom couldn't help letting out a breath and chuckling. Sybil looked at him, arching her eyebrow.

"Sorry, love. I was worried that you were in labour. The last time I saw you pace like that was when you were in labour with Rosie."

Sybil nodded in understanding. Trying to get her mind off her restless, unborn child, her thoughts turned to her now three year old daughter. "Is Rosie still asleep?"

"She's still out and I doubt she'll be up before six," Tom replied. "You saw her this evening after she had some cake. One minute she was running around, the next she was sleeping on the floor sucking her thumb."

Sybil laughed. "She did look adorable curled up with her stuffed bear."

"She did, but she always looks adorable when she's sleeping. It's when she's awake that she can be a little terror." They laughed together over the truth he'd just spoken.

It was Tom who spoke first. "By the way, the meal was amazing, love. Especially the cake you made."

"I know you liked it. You went back for seconds," she teased.

"You had a fair few lemon tarts yourself," he replied.

She blushed, remembering how she devoured ten lemon tarts. Thank goodness Ma made so many up.

"I know. I'm craving lemons and lemon desserts this time around." She stopped for a moment to glance at the mirror. "Though I really should watch myself. I'm bigger at this stage than I was last time."

Tom was having none of it. "You look beautiful, love. This is the second baby. Rosie made room for this one, so the baby has more room to grow."

"Well, if I give birth to a ten pound baby in eight weeks, I'm never going to let you touch me again."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "You said something similar after Rosie was born, but if I remember correctly, you were the one to initiate-"

At that moment, Sybil grabbed her stomach, wincing at being kicked. Tom hurried over to his wife. "Are you sure you're fine, Syb?"

Looking up into her husband's concerned face, Sybil smiled. "Yes. The baby kicked me in two different places at the same time."

"Not even born yet and already a handful." He knelt down so his head was level with Sybil's stomach. "Now listen, little one. You need to be nicer to your mother. She's the one in charge in this household. We try to keep her happy."

Sybil chuckled at her husband's words, which quickly turned into a yawn. Tom stood up and helped Sybil get into bed.

As soon as she was settled, he went about changing into his pajamas, forgoing his undershirt on this warm July night. Sybil watched him as he changed, admiring his backside and how the muscles in his back rippled as he removed his shirt. Despite her exhaustion, she was starting to entertain thoughts of how to show Tom how much she admired him when she received another strong kick to her ribs from her baby.

"Ugh!"

Tom turned at the sound of Sybil's yell and noticed right away that she was rubbing her stomach.

"The baby still kicking?"

She nodded, a look of pure irritation on her face. "I just want to get comfortable!"

Climbing into bed next to her, Tom kissed her on the forehead then moved himself so his head was right next to Sybil's belly.

"Little one, it's time to go to sleep. Your mam needs her rest. I'll tell you a story to help you fall asleep." He paused for a moment, thinking of what sort of story to tell his unborn son or daughter. Deciding on one, he began, "Once upon a time, th-"

"Oomph," Sybil interrupted. "No fairy tales. This one isn't partial to them at the moment."

Smiling, he replied, "Fine. Let's see what would Baby Branson like to hear. How about some Irish history?"

"Really Tom?"

"It's never too early to teach children about their history."

She shook her head.

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"No."

"Good. Now where was I? Yes, Irish history. Some basic information to start out with, little one. Long ago, Ireland wasn't a Christian country, but followed the old religion. Then St. Patrick arrived here in 432 A.D. and he worked to convert the Irish to Christianity. St. Patrick is a very important man to remember. He's a patron saint of Ireland, along with St. Bridget and St. Colum Cille."

Sybil ran her fingers through his hair as he talked. She closed her eyes and listened as his voice flowed over her, calming her after such a long day.

Tom continued talking. "Ireland has been invaded and conquered throughout its history. The first known invaders after Christianity was brought to Ireland were the Vikings. They, in fact, founded the very city we live in, Dublin. Dublin is the capital of Irish Free State and was the capital for the entire island for over seven hundred years until the Government of Ireland Act. I'll tell you more about that later. The name Dublin comes from Dubh Linn, which means black pool. It's not called Duvlin because the English didn't understand how the Irish language worked and didn't know how "ibh" makes a v sound."

Sybil tapped Tom's hand, annoyed about the comment about the English. When he looked up at her, she quirked her eyebrow at him. He laughed and said, "I wasn't being mean. I was telling the truth. Remember when you were first learning Irish? You had a difficult time with lenition."

Chuckling, she said, "You're incorrigible."

Tom cheerily responded, "Thank you. Now where was I? I mentioned the English after the Vikings didn't I? I'll tell you about them in a moment."

Sybil listened intently as Tom told their unborn child story after story from Irish history. He recounted invasions by the Vikings and the English, as well as important figures such as Brian Boru and Diarmaid Macmurrough. He weaved his way through Ireland's turbulent history with his wife and unborn child as his captivated audience.

Tom paused and took a breath. "Perhaps this is because I'm a Catholic, but I take skeptical view of the Reformation in England. Basically, King Henry VIII only had one surviving child from his marriage to Catherine of Aragon – a girl named Mary. Apparently a future queen was not good enough and only men can rule a kingdom. Utter nonsense if you ask me. I find women to be incredibly smart. If there can be good kings and bad kings, there can also be good queens and bad queens. Henry wanted to annul his marriage to marry another woman. This caused many problems and started off a whole lot of back and forth between the Pope and Henry."

Brushing a hand through his brown hair, he added, "Most of the people of Ireland, including the Old English, didn't want to convert. Eventually, the Penal Laws began to be passed to punish those who did not conform."

Tom listed the various penal laws and what they meant for Catholics in Ireland, even correcting himself at one point. "Wait, one correction. The laws weren't just aimed at Catholics, but were also towards Protestant Dissenters. That would include Presbyterians as well as anyone not part of the Anglican Church."

Sybil interrupted him. "I didn't know that, darling."

Tom gave her a cheeky grin, and turning back to her stomach, said, "See, little one. You're not the only one getting a history lesson at the moment."

She gently smacked her husband on his arm which only caused him to laugh before continuing with his lesson. "As you can imagine, this did not sit well with people in Ireland. The laws were slowly repealed, but by the late 1790s, Catholics and Dissenters were still repressed. As a result, a group emerged called the United Irishmen and they rebelled in 1798. Unfortunately, after four months, the rebellion was crushed and Ireland was forced to unite with Great Britain in 1801. However, the United Irishmen were still around, and they led another rebellion in 1803."

Tom stopped here for a moment, and Sybil could tell he was gathering his thoughts. "If I'm being honest, it wasn't much of a rebellion. It began and ended on 23 July 1803, and of the two rebellions, 1798 was more successful. However, my little one, I wanted to tell you about an extraordinary woman named Anne Devlin. Anne worked for the leader of the 1803 Rebellion, Robert Emmet, as his housekeeper. After the rebellion's failure, she was arrested. The British authorities questioned her about the whereabouts of Emmet, even torturing her. Yet she didn't talk. She was sent to Kilmainham Gaol where she was kept in squalor and treated harshly. The British captured Emmet and still kept her in prison, going so far as to arrest her family. Still, she did not talk. Anne was kept in prison until 1806 and she never once uttered a word, even when Emmet told her to before he was executed. If anyone ever tells you little one that women are weaker than men, remember Anne Devlin."

Sybil smiled. "You told Rosie about her too."

"There have been other rebellions since 1803. There was one in 1848, but I think the timing was bad. Ireland was in the midst of the Great Hunger, and people were starv-"

"Please don't talk about the famine to the baby, Tom," interrupted Sybil.

"Why not?"

"You just talked about a woman being tortured. Now, you want to talk about what happened during the famine. No, absolutely not. I do not need images of starving children in my head before I go to sleep."

"Fine, love." Turning his attention back to her stomach and the baby growing in there, Tom continued talking to the baby. "As I was saying before your mother interrupted me, there was a failed rebellion in 1848. And there was another one in 1916." He paused as memories of his cousin Michael flooded his brain. "I had a cousin who was killed in 1916. He wasn't part of the rebellion. He wasn't that political in fact. He was killed by an English soldier because 'he was probably a rebel'."

Tom looked up at his wife and saw the tears in her eyes as they told their child about Michael. He recalled their argument in 1917 when he finally told Sybil about his cousin. He saw within her eyes both the ache for Tom and his loss, as well as some guilt that 'her people' had caused that pain. Leaning back down, Tom rubbed Sybil's stomach as he began to talk to the baby again. "I need to make something clear to you, little one. Not all Englishmen and Englishwomen are bad people. Your mam here is the best person I've ever met. She's fierce and kind, and has the biggest heart of anyone in this world. And she's an Englishwoman and the daughter of an earl. You're a very lucky baby, just like your older sister Rosie. Your both lucky to have your mam for your mam. Don't forget it."

Sybil sniffed, causing Tom to look up at her. He kissed her belly, then moved up the bed and sat next to his wife, wrapping his right arm around her. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and then on her forehead, gently rubbing her back to soothe her as Sybil snuggled into him.

"Are you all right, love?"

"I'm fine," she sniffed. "You just always know what to say to take my breath away. Or in this instance, make me cry. Though I blame the tears on my hormones."

He chuckled softly. "If it makes you feel better, I never intend to make you cry, though I assume those are happy tears."

"They are."

"As long as they're not sad tears. I made a promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness and I don't intend to break it."

Sybil looked up at him and said earnestly, "You have, darling. You've made me awfully happy."

Tom beamed at her words and began to gently rub her belly. "Is the baby still restless?"

She shook her head. "No, the baby finally settled down. Thank goodness. I'm exhausted. It's not easy being seven months pregnant with a three year old running around."

He nodded as he said, "That's all she seems to do. She's either running or sleeping."

"And we're about to add another into the mix."

"Heaven help us if this one is like Rosie."

"This one is always restless, more so than Róisín was. This isn't the first time he's kicked me in two different places at the same time."

Tom raised an eyebrow at his wife. "He?"

Sybil smiled, blushing as she did so. "I know that we won't know if the baby is a boy or girl until after he or she is born, but I just have this overwhelming feeling that this one is a boy." She paused. "I thought Róisín was a girl and I was right."

"As you usually are," he replied with a grin.

Tom looked down at his wife. "Do you know what you want to name the baby?"

"Well, I have no idea for a girl." She paused. "I like Francis for a boy."

His breath caught in his throat. "After my da?"

Sybil beamed as tears formed in her eyes. "You always talk about him and I've always wished I could have met him. I thought there was no better person to name our son after."

He couldn't find the words to tell her how much her words meant to him. He kissed her sweetly on the lips, and pulled her closer to him, never wanting to let go.