Title: Saffiya
Rating: K+
Word count: 480 words
Characters: Will/Djaq
Summary: Djaq, Will and childbirth in the Holy Land. Set after 2x13.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood is copyright to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement intended, no money being made.
A/N: Entry for the rhficchallenge (at livejournal) February challenge: Valentine's Day.
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For her names are more than words. They are stitched to selves and days and scenes held in the mind.
They call their son Dan ibn al-Ana ad-Din, after their fathers, but they both know there is more to the choice than that. As much as she loves Will, Djaq still thinks of Allan. Not wishing to be with him, but missing his company. His easy smile, and his laughter. Sometimes what Will wants to say is left unsaid, growing between them until she speaks to him and nudges it out. They are both still learning about each other, after all.
In her name and in their son's name, their past is captured. Each time they are spoken it draws them closer, as stitching binds skin into a scar. Present, familiar, a little painful. But for Will, Saffiya is the person she must be, here. An embroidering hiding hardier, sturdier stitching. Djaq is who she is and who he loved and loves. When Saffiya obeys and agrees in company, Will disguises his smile. Later, he knows, Djaq will tell him exactly what she thinks of her old and arrogant uncle.
Will is the only one who still calls her Djaq. To most here she is Saffiya, and even Will calls her Saffiya when they are with others. It is like a secret held between them. When he says it softly, she hears the breaking underfoot of dead forest branches. When he says it in anger, it is sharp like the clip of a sword. On the day after Saint Valentine's Day, his voice was panicked, and it sounded like the slap of leather on leather. She recalls passing Saint Valentine's Day in England; the strange contradiction of celebrating love and death together. It passes by in the Holy Land as but another day, one part of a week drifting onwards like sand. It is the day after Saint Valentine's Day that Djaq remembers, later.
It was painful; all was stretch and heat. She screamed, once, and heard the pacing outside the door stop. After that she bit her lip, hard, rather than make it more difficult for him. Women had died in childbirth before. She knew she was stronger. He knew it too, but was still afraid. Her arms, her legs, her face, her neck beneath longer hair; all were ache and sweat. Afterwards, there was a moment of still, and she was holding this small boy in her arms. His new skin was the brown of pale-stained wood.
Will had said he would stay outside until she called him in, but he could not last the silence afterwards. It stretched out and onwards until he could not even distract himself with pacing. He had pulled open the door, rushed towards the bed -
"Djaq? Djaq? Are you -"
His mind was too full of Djaq to remember to say Saffiya.
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end.