Salem here, I've got yet another story for you guys. But no updates on anything else, so hurrah for scattered motivation. This one was a product of my out of control love for holidays and the cycle of the Eight Sabbats that Wiccans celebrate as holidays. As a true witch, I should have started with Samhain, because that's our new year. However, all life begins with a birth and ends with a death, so I've started it at Yule instead.
-WARNINGS- I rarely do these because, hey, you know what you searched for, you randy heathen. However, there is some awkward and uncomfortable subject matter in this fiction, and it's different than any of the others I've written thus far. I will post the warnings for each chapter in the A/N above each one so as to not spoil anything.
THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES: Male pregnancy/non-descriptive birth
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, the characters within, nor do I own the ritual words. Those all belong to their respective owners.
Sorry for the lengthy A/N, I hope you enjoy.
And So He Spoke, the Wheel Turned.
By: Salem True
[From the Absence of Color Springs Red, Gold, and Green]
Click.
Click.
Zexion flipped another light switch, the office room's light blinking on happily. He wandered slowly into the room, one hand flat on his distended stomach, searching for other lights to turn on. A flashlight was hiding in the desk drawer; he flicked it on and set it on top of the desk. The gooseneck lamp was turned on as well, adding to the already bright room. Brushing long, slate-colored bangs away from his face, he slowly leaned over, checking the other desk drawers. No more lights, but he did finally find where he'd set the nail clippers.
His body tensed and he leaned heavily against the desk for support. It was no easy task walking through the house to turn on all the lights tonight, because tonight was the night. And it was Zexion's job not only to push the Sun back into existence, but to coax him back into existence. It was the biggest job in the world and of course, he was the one to do so, every year without fail. Thus, the light hunt. The contraction petered out, and Zexion took a deep breath. They'd been getting closer and closer together all evening, and he was really starting to become impatient with it all.
Ambling out of the office, he made his way to the stairs. He gazed up at them, their height daunting. There was darkness up there, cool and inviting, but he knew that if he wanted this done right, he'd have to set all the bulbs ablaze. Zexion grimaced and began the slow ascent upstairs, pausing every few steps to catch his breath or grit his teeth through another contraction.
The darkness welcomed him like a second skin, feeling safe and comfortable. His body was starting to ache as he turned on the hallway light, banishing the shadows regretfully. He was too old for this right now. Every turn of the Wheel he figured would be his last. When would this be too much? Didn't deities get to rest? Didn't anybody see that he was tired? He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the main light, as well as the small moon-shaped nightlight plugged into the wall. Zexion paused, looking at himself in the mirror.
Only a deity would get the cursed privilege of both male and female reincarnations. His face sagged with age, even his hair looking weary. His stomach was round like a cantaloupe, and hidden underneath the baggy sweater, he assumed it didn't look much better than one. Men's bodies were not made for this, but he was neither man nor woman. Hell, anybody who looked this old wasn't made for this. He huffed and watched his face contort in pain as another contraction rolled through his abdomen. Neither man or woman, young or old, but tell that to the Universe. It was a cruel joke and he sighed thinking about it.
Trying not to pout, he moved on to the next room, a guest bedroom done in sleepy blues and purples. Hormones always made him grouchy, but who could blame him for wanting to get this over with? Motherly love and all, but really. He pulled the chain on the nightstand lamp and nearly bent double as his breath caught on a particularly intense contraction. Zexion closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.
Please, not on this carpet, on any carpet but this carpet, I like this carpet, he chanted in his head, willing his water not to break. The sensation passed, without carpet damage, and Zexion hurried as fast as he could out of the guest room, his breathing coming a bit heavier now. If his suspicions were correct, he had only a few moments before the next contraction hit to turn on the remaining lights in the upstairs.
Light switches thrown, electronics turned on and turned down, lamp cords pulled, nightlights clicked on, candles lit. He saved his room for last, turning on every light he could reach before easing his body down onto the bed. A wave of pain rolled through his body and he whimpered quietly, thankful nobody else was around to witness his struggle. His bangs fell in front of his face, obscuring his vision as he took deep breaths. The comforter underneath him was a rich, shining gold, embroidered with a red sun. Small stars were peppered here and there, and the bedposts had been carved into a stag's head and an owl, creating a simple but effective makeshift altar. Zexion pushed himself onto all fours, reaching into his mind and pulling up the energy for a circle, letting it bloom out around him. He swayed back and forth for a few moments, trying to calm down as his body rested momentarily.
A shudder raced down his spine as he felt his water finally break on the next contraction, making him queasy. It'd been ages since he'd been reincarnated as a man and he would never get used to the slick sensation. For a moment, he mourned the lovely comforter.
That moment was quickly shunted aside as another wave of pain hit, making Zexion grit his teeth. He was restless, but he wasn't opening circle now, not with the energy that was beginning to rise. His heart fluttered as he glanced at the clock on the end table, and he almost slumped onto the bed face first. He had hours left of this, knowing the hour and minute of sunrise. It wasn't fair.
The lights were making him woozy with their intensity. How he hated to watch this part, bathed in light, forced to embrace responsibility. He was too old for this, but what was age when time was a loop and you never had a beginning in the first place? Nobody else could do this, only he could. An ache settled into his lower back and his shoulders tensed up.
Zexion closed his eyes and begged his mind to settle.
)O(
Having his mind settled was the easy part.
Getting it to settle while he was in the middle of excruciating pain was the hard part. The circle hummed around him, a frequency he could only barely make out. It kept the nasties away and all the good stuff inside, but he wished it kept the pain out as well. His thoughts were jumbled, and his muscles ached with exhaustion. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, it did, blooming like blossoms in fast-motion, except it was slowed down just enough to be drawn out into agony. It seemed like he had forever left to wait, but it was only a matter of time now. His body was weakening with the passing hours and he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer. He needed this to end.
Zexion took the deepest breath he could muster, his body shuddering, and exhaled. He forced his mind away from the pain in between contractions and let it empty completely, imagining tuning it like one would tune a very old radio. It was fuzzy at first, the sound of snow against the background bite of ache, but then voices began to ooze out of the static.
Ancient Mother, I look for your opulence…
I call to the darkness…the light burns as the wheel turns…
May this light give you strength…the darkest of nights…
…gives birth to the sun…
The weight inside of him sat heavy and low, pushing nausea up into Zexion's throat. The whispers in his head couldn't be stopped now that he'd let them in. His muscles contracted without his consent and he groaned, pressing his face into the blankets.
Great God of the Sun…
We welcome your return…
He'd stripped himself of his restrictive clothing hours ago. Fingers wrapped around slate locks as he pulled against the push, yearning to cancel out the pain.
Hail to the Sun.
Hail to the cycle.
Energy thrummed through his entire body, setting his teeth on edge as he clenched them to keep from vomiting. Everything was hazy and he wasn't thinking his own thoughts anymore, focused only on the magick building up from inside. It pushed against his insides, eager to be set free, shoving everything into fast forward as the time approached.
Zexion inhaled sharply and a spike of fear was met with an intense pain. He forgot how to breathe for a moment, panicking.
It was going to kill him this time, it was going to kill him for sure. He couldn't do it; he wouldn't. He'd fail and the entire universe would suffer and implode and…
The pain intensified, and he felt like he was going to split in half, caught in a silent cry.
From fallen leaves…
From our deepest fears…
From the midst of the wasteland…
The light…hail the sun…hail to the cycle…
Energy pooled into his circle from around the earth, filling him up completely. The sky outside was a soft, milky gray. The sun hovered on the edge, waiting.
Zexion held his breath.
Death will not be forever.
He let it go.
The light is reborn.
Zexion collapsed onto the bed as every light in the house went dark at once, plunging the room in shadows. It was silent, his heavy panting the only sound reverberating in the circle. His hair clung to his face with sweat and surely, he thought, this was it. He'd failed, it had killed him, it was going to kill him, it—
A weak beam of sunlight slid over his pale arm, causing him to blink.
Sitting up was a struggle, but the only sound in the room was still his breathing, which didn't make sense anymore. His heartbeat raced as he glanced down at the wet, disgusting mess that was the light reborn.
Zexion's eyes widened, and he rushed to tear at the slimy tissue, fingers working themselves nimbly (yet shaking) into the membranes. There was a slight pause, then a thin wail began to penetrate the quiet. He sighed in relief, nearly crying.
A caul. The baby had been born with a caul.
This was a first in…Zexion couldn't recall the last time the sun had been born in a caul. He peeled it carefully away from the infant's face, being sure not to tear it too much. It was a good sign, this upcoming year would be a blessed and enchanting one, heralding surprises and not to be taken too seriously.
Holding the baby close, Zexion opened the circle. The moment it was gone, the exhaustion of the night overtook him, making him dizzy. A door opened downstairs and he laid down on the ruined bed, taking care to be gentle with the newborn. Somebody was here to let him rest, now.
He had done it. It hadn't killed him.
He could sleep.