Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2005, Found: 2018.- Licia
Her labor started in the late hours of the fourteenth of October.
She stumbled to the door of the boudoir, her cries bringing Cattery. "What can I get you, Your Majesty?" The young maid knew the signs of a woman's labor; she had helped her mother deliver many children when she herself was no more than a child, and was well-trained in the herbs and poultices that would help a woman through the phases of labor and childbirth.
The young empress grabbed the maid's hand, squeezing as a contraction took control. "Send for Doctor Dillamond, Cattery, and your mother. And inform my husband that my time has come. Hurry." The girl nodded, rushing off to do as told. She could hear footsteps on the stairs, and knew immediately that her husband- as well as Glinda, Partra, and Locasta- were on the way. Elphaba had requested that only the family be in attendance when the baby came; the birth of a child would no longer be an affair for the court, but the family.
"Fabala-"
She looked up as Trism skidded to a stop before her; Glinda stayed back in the hallway, as Partra and Locasta entered. The blonde had no idea what to do or say to support her cousin, and so she hung back. "Trism!" She grabbed his hand, squeezing as another contraction started, and cried out. "Oh... the baby... oh..." She forced herself to release a slow breath. "Mmm... our son... he's coming..."
Gently, he slipped an arm around her waist, with a chuckle. "Our daughter, you mean."
She shook her head. "No... only a son would... cause... this much pain... oh..." She glanced at her husband, taking a deep breath, at the feel of liquid sliding down her legs and puddling on the floor at her feet. "Please, don't let it be red... I couldn't bear if it was red..." And Trism pulled her closer, understanding her fear; the miscarriage was still strong in both their minds as though it had happened the day before.
Locasta laughed softly, going to her daughter-in-law. "Oh, Fabala, your waters have ruptured, darling. Your baby is on its way."
"Really?" Locasta nodded, recognizing the fear in her daughter-in-law's dark gaze, in her voice. She wrapped an arm around her waist, taking her other hand.
"Come on, that's it, sweetheart. Deep breaths."
By the time Cattery returned with her mother and Doctor Dillamond in tow, the young empress had been stripped of her clothing, leaving her in only a simple shift; her long black hair was held back from her face, and she was seated on an ottoman, leaning back against Trism, who was sitting on a chair, rubbing circles on her back. Her eyes were closed against the pain, and she held tight to both Locasta and Partra's hands.
"Let's get the young Majesty up. She cannot birth a child on an ottoman." Midwife Ottokos replied, as the two older women helped the young mother-to-be to her feet. The midwife had brought a birthing stool, and once the young woman was seated upon it, she and Dillamond proceeded to check her progress. Dillamond trusted the midwife, and she trusted him; they had both worked in the hospitals in the north at one point, and there was a healthy dose of respect between the two medical professionals. But they both also knew that the young woman was carrier of the royal disease, and that there was a high probability that if the babe were a boy, the implications and concerns would be great.
"Trism, maybe you should-" Partra started, but Elphaba shook her head.
"No!" She took another deep breath. "This is... our child... I want... him... here..."
"Fabala, my darling, it's not proper for a man who is not a doctor to witness a woman in the throes of childbirth-" But her granddaughter cut her off.
"He's my husband!"
"I know, Fabala, but not even your father witnessed the births of you and your siblings-"
"I am not my mother! Trism is not my father! He is my husband! I want... my husband... here... for... the birth... of our... baby... Don't you... understand that, Grandmama?"
"Of course I understand, Elphaba, but in my day-"
"This is not your day!" Elphaba cried, as another contraction took hold. "This is my day! My time! My era!" She dug her nails into her mother-in-law's hand, crying out. "I am empress, not you!" Partra sighed, realizing that her granddaughter was right and that she'd overstepped her boundaries.
"You're right, Your Majesty." The dowager met Trism's gaze, and he nodded in understanding.
"Is she going to be all right?" Everyone turned, to see Glinda still standing in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. Tears filled the blonde's eyes, and Partra knew she was thinking of Melena, of the disease Elphaba carried in her blood, of the very real possibility that her cousin, as a carrier, could hemorrhage during the birth...
"Glinda, come inside, shut the door, quickly. We don't need to worry the rest of the household more than they already are." After a moment, the blonde did as told, shutting the door and leaning against it. She remembered the nights Shell would bleed so badly that he would cry from the pain, and feared for her beloved cousin. Elphaba let out a cry, pressing her hands into her husband's thighs; he sat behind her, stroking her back, running his fingers through her hair, whispering soft words of encouragement to her.
The midwife sent her daughter to the bathroom for towels and warm water, before checking the young empress's progress. With the skirt of her shift pushed up past her thighs, the midwife gently checked the laboring mother's progress, meeting Dillamond's gaze, who was checking the young empress for fever, as was common during childbirth. Cattery had since returned with the required items, lying them out on the floor at her mistress's feet. "The crown of this little one is already pushing through its mother's opening; I suspect this babe has been ready to be born for hours before anyone realized."
"Ah... Trism..." She pushed herself slightly off the stool, before reaching back for her husband's hand.
"I'm here, I'm right here." He kissed her palm. "I've got you, Fabala. I'm not leaving you. I promise."
"Push, Your Majesty." Elphaba did as told, crying out in pain, eyes snapping shut and teeth clenched. Mama, how did you do this five times? "Again, Your Majesty. Push."
After an hour of pushing, Glinda finally spoke up. "Can't you make it stop? The baby's killing her!"
"Glinda, shut. up!" Elphaba ground out, pushing again.
"Fabala, if you start hemorrhaging-"
"If you don't be quiet, I will have you removed from Colwen Grounds and placed on the next train back to Gillikin! Now shut up!" The blonde snapped her mouth shut, and after a moment, Elphaba laid her head back against her husband's shoulder. "I will not hemorrhage, Glinda... because the baby is not... coming..." She blew strands of hair out of her eyes and pushed again before returning her head to Trism's shoulder.
"The babe is coming, Your Majesty. Slowly, but it's coming." She moved aside so Dillamond could check the young empress, and he glanced at the young mother.
"Your suspicions were right the first time, Midwife."
"What?" Elphaba asked, sitting up slightly. She glanced at her husband, who was just as concerned as she was. "Is something... wrong with the baby?"
"Not wrong." Dillamond replied, taking a damp cloth and gently dabbing at her feverish skin. "The babe is just a little bigger than anticipated, Your Majesty. That does not mean that a normal birth cannot be achieved; it might just take a little longer than most. But you are young and healthy, and you are doing just fine. No worries, just focus on delivering your heir."
Once the midwife returned to her place between Elphaba's legs, she nodded to the young mother. "Push, Your Majesty. Push!" Sitting up, the young mother did as told, letting out a scream. It was not proper for a laboring woman to respond to the pain of childbirth vocally, but no one objected, realizing that she could not remain silent, so great was the pain. It was not until a few years earlier that midwives and doctors both began encouraging laboring mothers to respond to the pain vocally, breaking centuries of tradition. "Harder, Your Majesty!"
"I can't!"
"Yes you can, my love." Trism whispered against her hair, but she shook her head.
"No, Tris, I can't... I can't push anymore... I don't want to..."
"Fabala, look at me." She met his gaze, and it was then that he saw how exhausted she was. She had been at this for hours, he knew. Gently, he cradled her chin in his hand. "This is our baby. This is the little one we've waited all this time for. Our little princess. She wants to be born, darling."
"Our prince." Elphaba corrected, and he chuckled.
"Or our little prince. Either way, they want to be born, sweetheart. You can do this. I know you can." He kissed her feverish forehead. "I'm right here, Fabala." He threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand. "My strength is your strength. We do this together; partners, remember?" She nodded. "I'm your king and you're my queen. You're the strongest piece in this game, my love. You can do this." He kissed her temple again, letting her squeeze his hand as she sat up. "Push! Come on, Fabala, push! Harder! That's it, my love, keep going! You're doing great!"
Slowly, she felt the baby's head continue to move out of her body. Time passed slowly, and she laid her head back against his shoulder, catching her breath. Dillamond checked her temperature again, and she felt Locasta and Partra take her hands, as Trism wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, giving her his strength.
"Push, Your Majesty! Keep pushing! Keep pushing! Harder!"
"You can do it, Fabala-"
The young empress shook her head at her mother-in-law. "It hurts."
"I know it hurts, darling, I've been there. Partra and I both have. But it's all worth it in the end. Because you'll be a mother. You'll have that beautiful baby in your arms and you and Trism will be parents."
Elphaba glanced at her grandmother, who nodded, and then sat up, pushing again. "Ah... get him out... I want him out..."
"The baby's coming, Fabala. You just need to keep pushing." Partra replied, catching her granddaughter's eye.
"Keep going, Your Majesty! The head is coming! Push! Harder, Your Majesty! Harder! As hard as you possibly can! That's it!"
"Trism..." He kissed her hair.
"I'm right here, Fabala, right here. I'm not going anywhere."
She pushed again at the midwife's urging; Dillamond nodded to Cattery and Glinda. Cattery nodded, and after a moment, Glinda followed. Each held one of her legs back, helping to ease the stress on her body. Gently, Cattery rubbed the porcelain skin of her mistress's thigh, humming softly. "That's it, Your Majesty, keep going. That's it."
Glinda studied her cousin in silence, before whispering,
"Th... that's good, Fabala... you're doing good..." She glanced at Partra, who nodded.
The young woman kept pushing; she dug her nails into her grandmother's and mother-in-law's hands; with the young maid and her cousin holding firmly to her legs, it was easier for her to bear down, and she felt the baby continue to move out of her birth canal. The midwife checked her progress, turning to Dillamond for assistance, and after a moment, he nodded, turning his gaze to the young mother. "Keep pushing, Your Majesty. The head is almost out. You need to keep pushing."
"You hear that, Fabala?" Elphaba nodded, meeting her grandmother's gaze. "Come on, Fabala, you can do this. Push!"
Her granddaughter did as told, letting out a scream. "Oh... how did Mama do this five times? I can't!"
Yes you can, Fabala, my darling. You are stronger than you think. Childbirth is all about strength; strength under tremendous pressure and pain. A woman is stronger than any man, because she bears the line. It's because of her that the lineage continues, and everyone knows it.
Elphaba shook her head. I'm not in control, Mama. How can I be when this child is tearing me apart?
She could hear her mother's soft laughter, feel her stroke her fingers through her hair. Oh, my Fabala, childbirth is about letting your body take control. It's about trusting your body enough to do as it says. That is where the strength comes from.
In her feverish state, she could see Melena, standing behind the midwife, watching her daughter with a calm that Elphaba had seen many times. Her long hair was pulled back, and she wore the dress she'd worn the night of the massacre. After several minutes, Melena seemed to pass through the midwife as she made her way towards her daughter. As the former empress knelt over her daughter, meeting the girl's gaze, the young empress shook her head. I wish you were here, Mama!
Melena brushed her fingers over her daughter's skin. I'm here, darling. We're all here. Papa, Shell, Nessa, Raina, Elia, we're all here. We wouldn't leave you, not during an important moment such as this. Focus on that strength, and use it to bring this baby into the world. Focus, Fabala! Do you hear me? That's it, that's my good girl. Over her mother's shoulder, she could see her father, her brother and her sisters, as healthy and whole as the night they all walked down those twenty-nine steps and into that basement that would turn into a slaughterhouse.
You are all-
Of course we are, Fabala. Melena brushed a kiss to her daughter's head. We will always be here. We will never leave you.
"Push, Fabala! Harder! Harder, my love! That's it, my queen, keep going!" Trism's voice broke through her revere, and she bore down as hard as she could...
"The babe's head is out fully, Your Majesty. Take a couple moments to catch your breath." Elphaba nodded, leaning back in Trism's arms.
"Oh, Fabala, black curls." Glinda whispered, meeting her cousin's gaze, tears in her eyes. "Like you and your siblings." Elphaba didn't say anything, but she caught her sisters' gazes over Glinda's shoulder, and Nessa giggled, clapping her hands in excitement, those same black curls that her niece or nephew had obviously inherited bouncing. The midwife quickly cleared the baby's airways, before holding the baby's head as Dillamond gently removed the cord, checking the baby's breathing. Once that was done, he nodded to the young empress.
"Push, Your Majesty."
Elphaba did as told, as Trism helped her sit up. Once again, she bore down as hard as she possibly could, her muscles spasming slightly from the exhaustion. Pain soon filled every fiber of her being as she felt one of the shoulders push against her opening, and she cried out; a very primal, animalistic cry, a mother wolf in the throes of delivering her pup. "That's it, my darling! Keep pushing! Harder, Fabala! As hard as you possibly can, my queen!" She did as her husband ordered, for once, the roles being reversed.
Slowly, one shoulder began to appear; Glinda watched with worry in her eyes as the baby slowly entered the world. She met her cousin's gaze, giving the young empress a small smile. With a puff of her cheeks, Elphaba bore down again, straining against the pain. Finally, the shoulder slipped out, followed quickly by the other one.
"Come on, Fabala, that's it! You're almost done! Push!"
"The babe's almost here! Again, Your Majesty!"
"Keep pushing, Your Majesty. You're doing wonderfully."
"That's it, Fabala, you're doing great."
It was a swirl of voices, of orders and... for the love of the Unnamed God, the pain! Time seemed to slow as she continued, as the midwife and Doctor Dillamond helped her to deliver her child. She met her mother's gaze, but the one voice she focused on was her husband's; his gentle words of encouragement in her ear, his soft praise, his tender commands. He kept her grounded, reminded her that she wasn't alone, that they were in this together, that his strength was her strength.
"You're almost done, my darling! It's almost over, you just need to keep pushing! That's it, that's it, my queen... keep going! Keep pushing!"
She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. "I can't, Trism-"
He caught her gaze in his. "Look at me, Fabala, look at me. You can. You're almost done, our baby is almost here. A few more good, strong pushes and it'll all be over." She shook her head, but he stopped her. "Yes. Yes, Fabala, you can. I'm right here with you, you're not doing this alone. I'm here. I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm right here. I love you, my beautiful queen. Now push! Push, Fabala!"
She took her husband's words to heart, bearing down with all her strength, a scream escaping her throat. The labor had lasted all through the early morning, afternoon, and into the early evening; at twenty minutes past ten in the late evening of October fifteenth, the strong, healthy cries of a newborn greeted the Vinkun king and his Fliaanian empress.