The child was calm, quiet, and bright-eyed, sitting before the hearth
and playing with a pegboard Amiboshi had dug from the old chest of toys for
her. 'What will we do, aniki? There's no way Soi will take this child
back!" Suboshi hissed, in a panic.
Amiboshi scanned his brother's face with a small, sad smile. His brother lived in the palace, and had taken Soi up on an offer, and had ended up with this small girl-child. There was no way Nakago would take kindly to Suboshi having sired a child by his lover, whom he had yet to impregnate. Fate had its quirks. "I... I could raise her, here," he said cautiously, looking at the docile little one. Her hair was soft chestnut and shoulder-length, falling silkily. It was combed to a soft luster, and the round, gentle face reminded him intensely of his brother at that age. The girl's eyes, though, were brilliantly indigo, and her body was slender and fragile. "I'm certain she wouldn't be difficult."
"Oh, aniki, I couldn't impose..." But Amiboshi could see the desperate light in his brother's eyes.
"You can and you will," he said firmly, his eyes dancing. "Besides, it gets lonely here without you." He wasn't lying; it did, and often. The small bed was cold, and the wintry breezes filtered in through the windows. At one point, they had slept in the same bed, keeping each other warm. But this child, this tiny girl-child, looked sweet, looked kind. Another for Amiboshi to raise, as he had his brother, sheltering and comforting.
"I thank you... I will visit you often!" Suboshi pressed his brother's hands gratefully, his eyes wide. "I promise it!" Then he hurried off, back into the tempestuous storm outdoors, and Amiboshi watched until his twin was nothing more than a black-cloaked figure against the gray horizon.
The little girl was watching him when he turned back to her, her eyes wide and fearful, her little fist pressed against her lips fiercely. "Papa. Mama." The two words were spoken in a soft, sweet, muffled voice, and Amiboshi's heart went out to the tiny creature he was confronted with. What a beautiful creature!
"Papa can't stay, precious. Mama is sick," Amiboshi soothed. "But I will take care of you." He held his arms out, kneeling, and was startled to feel the tiny form rush into his embrace, weeping fitfully. "Oh, sweetling..." A rush of warm paternal feeling moved through him, and he suddenly felt kinship with this little one, something far more than the title uncle betrayed. He was this child's father, would stand for his brother in this respect.
He cradled the little girl, smiling softly and making gentle noises of calm. "Little indigo-eyed princess. Shh..."
The girl quieted slowly, gazing trustingly up at him. "Papa." Her voice was an unearthly whisper of soprano. Her face was so calm, though wet with tears. Amiboshi gently wiped them away with one hand.
"Yes, I'll be your papa, sweetheart. For always."
Amiboshi sat before the fire that winter night, with the little girl in his lap, fast asleep, and played a sweet lullaby on the flute. It had been far too long since he had loved anyone in this selfless way, anyone aside from his brother. Now this child, his brother's child, had captured his heart entirely. It was a funny irony.
He had been aware that his brother was the more virile of them, with his brilliant strength and deft movements. He had known that only one of them would be able to sire children, and he laughed mentally. That medic lady was never wrong about the children in the village.
Now. What would he name the pretty little bit of life he cradled in his lap? Amiboshi paused in his playing, setting his flute aside to caress the soft, pale face. Should he name her after his brother? Should he name her --
Sairan. Such a pretty name. Would it fit the girl? Amiboshi gazed at the delicate face, the tiny, slim hands, the long, graceful body. Yes.
"Sairan," he whispered, "my sweetling. Wake..." The girl slipped into wakefulness, rubbing her eyes.
"No. Sleep," she protested. Sairan swatted at him with one delicate little hand in her sleepiness.
"Yes, love, we're going to bed," he said, smiling softly. He stood, cradling little Sairan against him with both arms. The pair settled in bed happily, sleepily, and didn't wake until the morning light.
Amiboshi scanned his brother's face with a small, sad smile. His brother lived in the palace, and had taken Soi up on an offer, and had ended up with this small girl-child. There was no way Nakago would take kindly to Suboshi having sired a child by his lover, whom he had yet to impregnate. Fate had its quirks. "I... I could raise her, here," he said cautiously, looking at the docile little one. Her hair was soft chestnut and shoulder-length, falling silkily. It was combed to a soft luster, and the round, gentle face reminded him intensely of his brother at that age. The girl's eyes, though, were brilliantly indigo, and her body was slender and fragile. "I'm certain she wouldn't be difficult."
"Oh, aniki, I couldn't impose..." But Amiboshi could see the desperate light in his brother's eyes.
"You can and you will," he said firmly, his eyes dancing. "Besides, it gets lonely here without you." He wasn't lying; it did, and often. The small bed was cold, and the wintry breezes filtered in through the windows. At one point, they had slept in the same bed, keeping each other warm. But this child, this tiny girl-child, looked sweet, looked kind. Another for Amiboshi to raise, as he had his brother, sheltering and comforting.
"I thank you... I will visit you often!" Suboshi pressed his brother's hands gratefully, his eyes wide. "I promise it!" Then he hurried off, back into the tempestuous storm outdoors, and Amiboshi watched until his twin was nothing more than a black-cloaked figure against the gray horizon.
The little girl was watching him when he turned back to her, her eyes wide and fearful, her little fist pressed against her lips fiercely. "Papa. Mama." The two words were spoken in a soft, sweet, muffled voice, and Amiboshi's heart went out to the tiny creature he was confronted with. What a beautiful creature!
"Papa can't stay, precious. Mama is sick," Amiboshi soothed. "But I will take care of you." He held his arms out, kneeling, and was startled to feel the tiny form rush into his embrace, weeping fitfully. "Oh, sweetling..." A rush of warm paternal feeling moved through him, and he suddenly felt kinship with this little one, something far more than the title uncle betrayed. He was this child's father, would stand for his brother in this respect.
He cradled the little girl, smiling softly and making gentle noises of calm. "Little indigo-eyed princess. Shh..."
The girl quieted slowly, gazing trustingly up at him. "Papa." Her voice was an unearthly whisper of soprano. Her face was so calm, though wet with tears. Amiboshi gently wiped them away with one hand.
"Yes, I'll be your papa, sweetheart. For always."
Amiboshi sat before the fire that winter night, with the little girl in his lap, fast asleep, and played a sweet lullaby on the flute. It had been far too long since he had loved anyone in this selfless way, anyone aside from his brother. Now this child, his brother's child, had captured his heart entirely. It was a funny irony.
He had been aware that his brother was the more virile of them, with his brilliant strength and deft movements. He had known that only one of them would be able to sire children, and he laughed mentally. That medic lady was never wrong about the children in the village.
Now. What would he name the pretty little bit of life he cradled in his lap? Amiboshi paused in his playing, setting his flute aside to caress the soft, pale face. Should he name her after his brother? Should he name her --
Sairan. Such a pretty name. Would it fit the girl? Amiboshi gazed at the delicate face, the tiny, slim hands, the long, graceful body. Yes.
"Sairan," he whispered, "my sweetling. Wake..." The girl slipped into wakefulness, rubbing her eyes.
"No. Sleep," she protested. Sairan swatted at him with one delicate little hand in her sleepiness.
"Yes, love, we're going to bed," he said, smiling softly. He stood, cradling little Sairan against him with both arms. The pair settled in bed happily, sleepily, and didn't wake until the morning light.