A quick note: This series of short stories is what I call a "What If" scenario. If you are familiar with this cast of characters and the RPLS, keep in mind these are not canon in any way, as they take place in a future under circumstances that may never happen, and therefore these stories may never happen. It's just me, having fun after being inspired by an exchange in a David Eddings book.

FFXI belongs to SE. About half of the player-characters here are mine. The rest belong to their owners, and they know who they are. One name is inspired by another source; it should be fairly obvious what the source is.

Sophia grimaced and took a seat on a nearby stool. She'd been feeling dizzy all morning, and now she was starting to get shaky. She ran a hand over her face and looked at the half-decorated cake on the counter in front of her. It needed to be finished. More than any cake she'd ever made before, this one had to be perfect. It was going to be the centerpiece for her husband's campaign dinner the next night; it was the last such event before voting commenced.

Not that a cake would be the thing that won his seat in the Senate. Roy had enough charisma, vision, and fire to do that on his own. This was actually for herself. Sophia was by nature not politically inclined and had melted into the background whenever the public eye started to move in her direction. Earlier in the week, though, she had glanced at a newspaper while cleaning up a table in her bakery, and her eyes had fallen upon an article related to the election.

"While candidate Mustang still leads in the public polls for the vacant seat in the Senate, but his favor seems to be dropping after comments from rival candidate Fulrich's wife during a society event last Lightsday:

"I find it terribly odd that Mrs. Mustang has not been at her husband's side during his campaign. It's a well-known fact that behind every successful man, there's a happy and loving wife. I am also very aware of my husband's opponent's reputation [from when he was younger], and I find it entirely possible that the marriage may be a stunt to give him the appearance of a maturity that he has not reached…"

Goddess damn it, her blood still boiled thinking about that article. She hated politics and hated dealing with high society; she had thought that personally avoiding those arenas would be thousand times better than going in, running her mouth, and causing a scandal for Roy to deal with. But, oh no, that woman – that harpy – had gone and opened her mouth and…

… The room was actually spinning now. What the hell? Sophia tried to get up, but in addition to spinning the room suddenly tilted to one side and the lights went out.

#############

Sophia stared up at the ceiling with a frown. That wasn't her ceiling… or was it? Did Roy finally make good on his complaints and repaint it white? He must've done it right after she left for the bakery; she couldn't smell the paint. Just antiseptic and…

She tried to sit up, but the dizziness returned and darkness started to creep up on the sides of her vision. With an annoyed, and somewhat panicked, huff she flopped back on the pillows and resigned herself to just turning her head to look around. A hospital room? Why was she at the hospital? The door opened a moment later, admitting her regular doctor and her concerned, but widely grinning, husband.

"Morning." Roy took the chair next to the bed, reached over, and took her hand. "How're you feeling?"

"… Weak." Sophia admitted, then frowned. "Wait, morning? Oh, shit… I didn't finish the cake…"

Roy pushed her back into the pillows. "Forget the cake, Sophe." He glanced at the doctor, who nodded with a smile on his face, and then kissed her on the forehead. "And you're not going back to the bakery for at least a week, not until we get your anemia under control. The baby is taking a lot out of you… we'll discuss later what's going to happen with the bakery when you're further along."

Sophia stared at Roy in utter shock for several long moments. Then she licked her lips and looked over at the doctor. "… Baby?"

"Congratulations. I'm currently estimating you to be about ten weeks," The doctor adjusted his glasses. "But you could be as far as fourteen. You have a bump, which first time mothers don't typically start to develop until somewhere between twelve and sixteen weeks. All that muscle might be exaggerating things, so it's not a very good indicator for you. The fainting and anemia, and a few other little things that aren't anything to worry about now that we know they're there, are more common for those under twelve weeks. We'll know better after a few more tests."

"But… I had my…"

"Still had your monthly? That's not uncommon; it was light, I take it?" He waited until she nodded. "You might continue doing that up until nearly the end. It shouldn't be anything to worry about as long as it stays light, but you should still let me and the midwife know about it whenever it happens."

Sophia nodded again, this time a bit numbly. A baby. They were going to have a baby. She felt like she shouldn't be so floored over it. Having kids was sort of expected when one got married; they'd been married for a few years now but previous attempts had yielded nothing. She looked over at Roy, and frowned at his giddy, excited expression. "… Aren't I supposed the one that looks all happy and excited, while you stumble around as you finally realize how babies are made and where they come from?"

Roy laughed. "Oh, I went through that phase last night. If you want, when the night nurses come back in, I'll track down the ones that saw me stumbling around and they can tell you all about it."

"Tonight? But… you have the dinner to go to…"

"Nope." He kissed her again. "Not going. I'm ahead enough still that missing the event won't kill my chances."

Sophia shook her head. "No. You can't do that. I saw the paper, saw what Invidia said at that stupid society event last week. You were still leading when the paper was published, but the polls were reported to have been slipping from your favor. This'll be too much, you'll completely lose your lead, or worse if that bitch runs her—" She had to close her eyes and stop talking, as the room was starting to get wobbly again. "… Dammit. Why now? We tried for a year and nothing happened. This just isn't a good time… you already warned me that the first couple years in the Senate will have you crazy-busy, and it'll be a while before another seat opens up…"

Roy looked up at the doctor, who nodded in understanding and quietly left the room. When the door clicked closed, he moved from the chair onto the bed and pulled Sophia into his arms. "Sophe, listen. There's never a 'good time' for a baby. No-one is ever so perfectly ready that there won't be bumps along the road. But it'll be okay, I promise. I won't go travelling unless it's absolutely necessary. I'll be home every night for dinner and in bed with you by midnight at the latest. I'll learn how to make breakfast, and whenever I have enough of a break during the day we'll go have lunch or I'll come home so you can get a quick nap. On my days off, I'll have all take-home work done by noontime and the rest of the day will be for you and the baby." He paused. "And if it gets to the point where I can't do that anymore, I'll resign from the Senate. I want to make the Republic better, but not at the expense of our home… our –family-."

It was a good thing, Roy mused, that the doctor had warned him about this the night before. It had given him time to think, to consider the storm that would eventually brew in Sophia's head. All the stories talk about is the radiant mother who takes on everything but the cravings and late-pregnancy mood-swings with grace and good humor. The doctor told him that first-time mothers, however, tend to be more emotional and in need of lots of support and reassurance. And if things went well for Roy in the next couple weeks, as the first-time expectant wife of one of the youngest Senators elected, Sophia was going to be in the news a lot. Everything from names to diapers to how she carries the baby in public would likely be reported, debated, and even good and proper choices would likely get questioned or cast in a bad light. If she didn't realize it right away, the doctor advised, she'll find out as soon as the news turns its attention onto her.

Sophia let out a long breath. "Sooo many promises…" she half-chuckled, "How many of them are you still gonna keep after a year?"

"Every one of them. And you have full permission to kick my butt if I even start to slip a little."

"Hm. I might have to get new shoes, then. I haven't owned a pair of ass-kickers since we got married." She paused. "… The event tonight… what happens at things like that?"

Roy looked down at her, noticing the small speculative frown on her face. "Well. There's the dinner, and I'm expected to circulate around and talk to people, shake hands, that sort of thing. Give a little speech at some point." He eyed her. "It's terribly boring, to be honest, and there's a lot of people there that I'd rather not look at, never mind talk or shake hands with. You'd be irritated within five minutes. And I've already given word that I won't be making it. So don't worry about it."

"Oooooh no." Sophia shook her head. "We're going. Invidia –insulted- me. I'm not letting that slide, especially when I have such good ammunition to throw in her face now."

"But—"

"I can sit at this thing, right? Then there shouldn't be a problem. I can do the same thing there that I could here or at home, plus get enormous satisfaction of metaphorically spitting in that harpy's face."

"Women." Roy mock-complained. "Just when I think I get the lot of you figured out…"

"Love you too." Sophia giggled. "… Oh. Can you call Margarete for me?"

Roy blinked. "My sister? Whatever for? I thought she terrified you?"

"Well… I think she's the only dressmaker around that can whip up exactly what I want in just a couple hours."

#############

It was perfectly timed. Sophia doubted that even if she had told Invidia and the reporters where to stand and what to talk about, the situation couldn't have been better. She and Roy had snuck into the hall before the event had started and literally hidden in a corner to wait for the other guests to arrive. An hour after the event started, the natural flow of the crowd had brought Invidia and the reporters wonderfully close to that corner, and Invidia was standing with her back to it.

"—looking forward all week to sampling the cake that Mrs. Mustang was to provide for tonight's dessert." The fifty-some-odd woman was saying, a look of false disappointment on her face. "I'm not one for sweets, you know, and never had reason to visit her bakery. I've heard she's quite good, though… 'Tis a pity that she doesn't take her husband's opportunity for a career seriously. And now Candidate Mustang himself isn't here… I do hope it wasn't a silly argument that kept him away."

Absolutely perfect. Sophia flashed Roy a quick grin as she straightened up, and the two of them stepped from the shadows to right behind Invidia, in full view of the reporters.

"Oh. There was a silly argument." Sophia laughed lightly as she inwardly gloating at the other candidate's wife as she spun and sputtered. "Roy tried very hard to keep me from coming tonight. But this was such an important event, I couldn't let him miss it. I eventually had to have the doctor come in and assure him that a night out wouldn't hurt the baby or myself."

As the reporter's attention shifted onto her and Roy from Invidia, Sophia was very quickly aware of an absolutely wonderful sound; that of another woman chewing on her own liver. They stood there for another five or so minutes, answering questions while the older woman remained trapped before Sophia turned to Roy and asked if he could help her to a seat; she was starting to feel a bit dizzy.

"I thought you didn't play at politics." Roy murmured in her ear as they moved through the crowd.

"We've been together how many years? You honestly didn't think I wouldn't learn a bit about politics in this time?" Sophia giggled. "Besides… that really wasn't politics. It was woman's warfare. There's a subtle difference."

He chuckled as they reached their table. "By the way," he murmured in her ear as he held her chair. "That really is a stunning dress… when we get home, don't be so quick to get changed out of it."