Going on Living Part 1
Ch.1
The oppressive summer heat seeped under the cracks of doors and oozed through the wooden slats of the cabin walls. Though the evening air now held a bit of crispness to it, the interior of the cabin may have very well been the inside of an inferno.
A group of five young women, barely teenagers, bustled about in a flurry of activity. They stepped lightly though, and tried not to let their stress cause them to hurry and potentially make a mistake. The absence of noise was almost eerie, but they could not let anyone hear them. Even the shrieking from the back bedroom was muffled.
No one must hear them lest it be death for all involved.
A still blossoming blonde woman lay on one of the two beds in the second bedroom in the process of something no "still blossoming" woman should have to go through.
She was giving birth.
The pain was intense. Her innards felt as though they were in the midst of a rousing game of tug-of-war. It was as though she were being ripped in half from the inside.
Within her head, she cried and cursed while simultaneously reassuring herself that it would all be worth it only to then damn the bastard who did this to her. She kept pushing only because one of her companions, she didn't care to figure out which, held and hand and insisted she must.
She was sweating, but was cold. She couldn't get comfortable. Why would she be comfortable though!? There was only a human forcing its way out of her body!
But she had already grown close to this child of hers. Had felt the baby kick. Had watched her stomach grow as the baby grew; delighted in the progress which then upset her as she worked dubiously to hide the bump from her "employers". And she knew her baby would be beautiful. After all, the baby's father had been beautiful.
For a moment, she allowed herself to escape from her painful reality and remember a happier time. She remembered meeting the baby's father. He was so kind, and warm, and handsome. She never expected him to notice her.
She remembered the way his dark hair swept to one side when they met clandestinely in the tall grass under moonlight. The way his eyes glittered mischievously when they met in secret. The way his mouth formed perfectly against hers.
She truly loved him. He may very well be the only man she would ever love. And she wouldn't have it any other way. If only he were here. If only he were by her side, then maybe she would make it through the night.
She needed him.
And her baby needed her.
Her baby. Her beautiful baby that was almost here. Almost in her arms.
She could do this. She had to do this. She couldn't give up now when she was so close.
With one last burst of energy, she pushed.
…
A candle flickered on the bedside table; the six occupants of the modest cabin crowded around the bed to see the baby boy in his first moments of life. His mother nestled him tenderly, holding her boy firm to her chest. They were both exhausted.
Her boy did not cry, did not squeak. He simply observed the world around him, his blue eyes so very much like his father's. The pair's contented silence influenced the rest of the group who looked on with wonder.
This was dangerous, uncouth, yet they could do nothing but stare. The mother could be reprimanded in the morning. For now, the world was at peace.
"Have you thought of a name?" One voice ventured. Inquiring minds often want answers at the most inopportune times, but the mother was not perturbed in the least.
She had learned of her pregnancy before the boy's father had to depart. His last words to her were a wish: a plea. If the child happened to be a son, he asked her if she would name the boy –
"Roxas."
…
Two years later…
Though Luna's blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, a few strands kept coming loose and sticking to her sweaty forehead. She wiped the sweat and wispies away as best she could with the back of her hand before returning her concentration to the task in front of her.
She scrubbed the glistening stone with a renewed vigor. Her hands stung with blisters that were only agitated further by the soapy water. Her knees had long ago bruised purple. But she was content for the time being for these winter months offered her a reprieve from working outside under the searing summer sun.
She sat back on her feet to rest a moment. She preferred working in the castle to slaving away in the heat, but there was an advantage to the warmer months: she could be closer to her son.
The thought of the boy's face made her smile. Lunafreya knew she was probably too young to raise a child all on her own, but she could find nothing to complain about. She loved her son dearly, and would not trade the small boy for anything.
Luna's face darkened almost instantly. Her son.
She shook her head. There would be time for dark thoughts later. For now, there was work to be done.
…
Lunafreya worked the cabin door open as best she could without dropping the oversized basket in her arms. For a moment, ice and snow leaped through the doorway, whirling around the confined space, before the door thumped shut, and the small fire filled the tight yet cozy slave quarters with warmth.
Ashelia, a young woman barely out of adolescence, added another log to the fire to keep the quietly dying flame from dwindling to nothing. The other occupants of Cabin 22, save Vanille who methodically stirred some sort of stew in the pot over the fire, were seated around a quaint table. Serah leaned exhaustedly against her sister Lightning who wouldn't normally have allowed such behavior even from her sister, but looked equally exhausted and was probably glad for the support.
Rinoa, the last actual denizen of the cabin, sat rather perturbedly as a small blonde bundle of energy twisted and tangled her hair in front of her face.
Said blonde bundle looked up, his petite face lighting up the room, warming Luna's heart.
"Mommy!" he cried, reaching for the frostbitten blonde. Rinoa lifted the clambering child off her lap, tired of his youthful antics. Luna handed the basket of dirty laundry over to the pink haired sisters. She would be up most the night washing the clothing for the nobles of the king's harem, so she would enjoy the moments of jubilation while she could.
She bounced the two year-old on her hip, delighting in the squeals of laughter the blonde emitted. "Shh baby, shhh," she shushed her boy. "You need to be quiet now for mommy."
He made a sheepish face, clasping both chubby hands over his mouth. "Shhh," he repeated, then giggled.
Lightning made a disgusted noise. "Oh sure, he shuts up for you!" She rolled her eyes, looking around for some agreement in the room. "I've been watching the little brat since lunch and he hasn't stopped yapping once, but as soon as mommy comes home…"
"Of course!" Luna rubbed her nose against her sons which elicited stifled giggles from the boy. "Because he wubs his mommy."
Vanille announced the completion of the stew, and brought the steaming pot over to the table. Luna gathered her little ball of energy onto her lap while the rest of the group sat down in anticipation.
Though slaves to the king's whims, the six ladies plus small child were able to construct a modest meal for themselves almost every evening. Vanille, the self-proclaimed cook, worked diligently to ensure that very thing.
The meal progressed in silence until Lunafreya inquired about something that had been weighing on her mind for a while. A large sigh directed the company's attention to her.
"How will we hide Roxas once he starts getting bigger?" Thunks resounded through the three room cabin as spoons were released back into bowls. Unlike the easy, pleasant silence before, a thick tension now hung in the air. The boy's size would become an issue quickly and they all knew it.
"Honestly," Serah started, "I'm surprised we've held on this long without anyone noticing. Right now, Lightning has most the afternoon off and is able to watch him after I leave, but she's being reassigned. We can't leave him here alone all day. What if he runs off, or someone comes to inspect the cabin? I'm not sure there's much we can do!"
"So you're saying I should just hand him over to the overseer?" She hugged Roxas tight to her. "He'll be killed."
"You will be too, and every one of us for helping you," Rinoa fixed Serah with a fierce look, putting a stop to any rebuttal the girl had been preparing. "I may not be the biggest fan of the little bugger, but we can't just let him die. And I refuse to go down with him."
"The floorboards." The group turned their eyes to Ashelia who, though normally quiet, was the one to offer the solution.
Vanille replied with skepticism, "Excuse me? And what about the floorboards?"
"They're loose. If we converted a few of the floorboards into a trapdoor and dug out some space beneath it, we would be able to hide him no problem."
"I don't want my baby growing up underneath the floorboards!" Lunafreya rose in her anger. This was her child after all. She should get to decide what was best for him, and she did not think this was it.
"Luna," Lightning wanted to reassure her, but she knew her words were still going to sound callous. "If we don't hide Roxas under the floorboards, he won't grow up at all."
Luna sank back in her chair, the wood creaking underneath the weight of her and her child. She didn't like it one bit, but what could she do? She refused to give up.
She met her son's eyes. The eyes that were so much like his father's. You will meet you father someday. I promise. I promise that I will do whatever it takes to make sure you see that day.
Her son was strong; she knew that. He wouldn't complain about being confined. He wouldn't complain about being left alone in the dark. He would do it because he loved his mommy.
She almost wished he would complain, if only just once. It was her fault for being sold into slavery in the first place. It was her fault for falling in love with a man she could never be with. It was her fault for bringing her son into the world when the king's law specifically forbids his slaves from doing so.
Roxas should not have to suffer the mistakes of his mother.
If asked later, Luna would deny the event, but in that moment, she was struck with a vision. She is not the religious sort, and will eventually convince herself it was just a dream she constructed, but someone (God, the Fates, Destiny, bad meat) sent her a vision.
She saw an adult Roxas: strong, resilient. His blonde hair long and falling in spikes. His eyes burning with the same determination she once saw in the eyes of his father. He sat on a throne: a leader of men. Though remorse boiled just beneath the surface, his countenance was one of… happiness.
Without questioning how, Luna knew his subjects loved him. She knew he had led them to great victories. She knew that he had made difficult sacrifices along the way. And she knew that he would continue to do great things for not only his own kingdom, but for all kingdoms.
Silent tears traced a path down Luna's cheeks. Her son, her boy. He would go on to do such wonderful things. She could not let the overseers ruin that.
She dried her eyes on her sleeve. Roxas looked concerned, so she kissed his head in comfort, and said, "The floorboards."
...
This story will be updated weekly. Any and all feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy!
Ali