"Child of Captivity"
Summary: Kíli gives birth to a son whilst imprisoned in Mirkwood.
Notes: Inspired by prompt: Kili gives birth while they're imprisoned by the elves (or orcs if you want to go dark) and is terrified out of their mind that his child is going to be taken from him. This is Kíli x Fíli, dark, angsty, with incest being forbidden so there's trouble ahead.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, no copyright infringement intended.
Kíli shivered. His brown eyes dilated as his body convulsed. This wasn't supposed to happen, not here and not now.
No, No, No.
The thoughts sounded in his head, then became a mantra and before he knew it he was whispering the words into the thin air. It became hard to breathe and he grasped blindly at the stone walls behind him, and kicked his feet against the iron bars of his cell.
Sweat started to pour down his face and tears formed in his eyes. His whole body was trembling as shock after shock waved through his tummy and it felt as if his body was about to be torn apart.
No, for the sake of Durin, no.
Luckily he had the mind to unbuckle his belt and to slide the trousers down his trembling legs. They were wet, he realized, covered in blood, and he weakly kicked them aside before he fell back on his back and gritted his teeth in agony.
The bars offered an open view and if any of the elves would come now they'd spot him there, naked, body trembling and voice hoarse of agonizing screams as he clawed his hands at the dirt of the ground. Blood covered his thighs and started to pool in between his legs but he couldn't care less.
Though he wished no one would find him like this.
His eyes closed firmly in pain and he arched his back. 'Not yet,' he thought, 'it's too soon.' But he wanted to push and squeeze the little rascal out of his body for it just hurt to keep him in.
In the darkness he could hear the imaginative whisper of his brother, shushing him and telling him that all would be all right and if he could just keep strong. And he tried. He really, really tried, but in the end he cursed his brother loudly for his predicament and pushed, pushed much too soon.
His body tore and he yelled, but he pushed again for he knew that dwarves were made to do this, that they survived births like these and that he could do this too. With or without help.
The moment seemed to last his entire life, but after hours of clawing at the stones, pushing and crying in the dark another new cry mixed with his own and he knew that he had succeeded. The tiny body had slipped away with one final push, out of his body and onto the cold stone floor, into a puddle of blood.
He tried his best to reach over for the babe and found his eyes grow wide when he realized the umbilical cord was wrapped round the dwarfling's throat and he instantly snatched at it and unwrapped it before cradling the baby in his arms. The cord hadn't been around him that tight, and the youngling was all right but still the fear of losing the child was fresh in Kíli's mind and he coddled the child and kissed the baby's head as he pressed him close to his chest.
"You're safe now," he said, still lying on his back, "you're all right."
His brown eyes widened when he for the first time realized that this was his child he was holding, his baby, and how beautiful the child actually was. With a tuft of blond hair on top of his head and bright blue eyes, there could be no mistaking who the other parent was.
"So much like him." Kíli muttered, and kissed the child again.
The dwarf felt tired. His muscles ached and his body was sore. Yet the leaking hadn't stopped and violent tremors followed before his body discarded of the placenta. He helped the child up in his hands and looked around, but finding nothing sharp – for the elves had taken all their weapons- he saw no other alternative and used his teeth to bite the umbilical cord, then used his own clasps of his cloak to stop the bleeding of the baby's navel.
At this point Kíli should have had no energy left, and he felt that way as he lay like a heap of bones in his cell, legs still exposed, blood and placenta covering the dirty floor, and a beautiful, gorgeous dwarfling on his chest. But then the baby started to cry, loudly, and his body reacted almost instantly. The energy returned to him and he lazily tugged at his shirt, undoing it because the baby demanded it of him. And soon he was feeding the child.
Hours later, when the guard passed by, Kíli was seated in a corner of the cell with the baby tucked underneath his shirt, pressed against his chest, half-asleep but safely held by the dwarf in a manner he couldn't suffocate but was still shielded from the elf's eyes. The blood had dried upon the dirt but wasn't very visible in the dim light. The placenta was half-buried at the other corner of the cell for Kíli found no strength to hide it any better or dig any further. He was tired and had used his last strength to dress in his blood-stained trousers. And now he sat, asleep, with the baby pressing his tiny face against his chest.
Lilting voices roused the dwarf and he opened his eyes in shock. Kíli was instantly alarmed when the voices came closer to his cell and he could distinguish the Elven King. Their words were foreign but he knew all too well that even with their kind tone of voice the elves were up to no good and would probably be out and about to get their latest victim for torture.
No, he couldn't think like that. And panic filled his whole being as the baby in his arms started to squirm.
He looked down at the child who had been peacefully asleep and was half set on killing the elves for disturbing the young dwarf's sleep. But the other half of his mind was screaming at him. What if they would find the child? They had separated him from his friends. They had separated him from his brother.
They had deliberately separated him from his lover.
If they found the child would they take it away too? The thought of the baby being ripped out of his arms and thrown into another cell made him cry. Lonely, on the cold floor, with no chance to survive. They couldn't be so ruthless, could they?
But yes, somewhere deep in the back of Kíli's mind he could hear a voice saying they could be. A voice that told him the elves were indeed as ruthless as that and if they saw the baby they would take him away for sure. They would keep them for themselves, the voice said, and anger and rage filled Kíli's chest.
And then he froze.
The baby cried.