- Chapter 7: The Birth of the Heir -

It wasn't until the evening following the party that Nick had the opportunity to speak to Mayfair again. She brought Stock with her to dinner, which was a bit inconvenient for the talk he had in mind, but certainly not unexpected. It was still a relatively private meal, with only the three of them and Gyan at the table.

"This looks very good," Stock said towards the opening course, a creamy vegetable stew. "Your cooks obviously take good care of you."

"I'm glad you appreciate it," Nick nodded. "A good appetite is a vital thing."

Mayfair took one spoonful of soup, as though merely to taste it, then set her spoon down. "Nick, I'd rather we skipped past the small talk this evening."

He raised his eyes to her. "Have we something important to discuss?"

"A few things. To begin with, I would like to be frank: You invited Stock to Castle Cypress for my benefit." Nick shot his eyes to Stock, who looked a bit taken off-guard himself. "No, Stock didn't tell me, nor did anyone else. It wasn't hard to deduce. And in spite of whatever self-serving reasons you may or may not have had for inviting him, I want to thank you. If nothing else, it shows that you are not as ignorant of my feelings as I may have assumed."

"He's not ignorant; he just doesn't care," Gyan quipped, in between sipping his soup. Nick gave him a dark look. Gyan grinned back. "I'm sorry. Does His Majesty prefer to be considered ignorant over insensitive?"

"I am not ignorant of Mayfair's feelings, and I do care," Nick returned. "But sometimes there are more important considerations."

"I understand that, Nick," Mayfair said. "And part of my role as queen is to relieve you from some of those considerations. That is... part of my reason for spending so much time with Duke Herrig recently."

"Doing so has only added to my list of considerations."

"In the short term, yes," she nodded. "But perhaps this experience will teach you to trust me in the future."

"If you want me to trust you, you should follow my advice," he said sharply.

"On the contrary. Trust is usually established when one acts in a way distinct from how his friend would have in the same situation. If you only trust me so long as I do exactly what you would, of what use is that trust?"

Stock paused in his eating and cut in, "Mayfair, have you got any idea how stuck-up you sound right now? If you want His Majesty to listen to you, stop laying the attitude on so thick."

Nick couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of Mayfair's cheeks turning a very pretty shade of red, so he could hardly reprimand Gyan for snickering. "I didn't mean to sound condescending," she managed to murmur. "I suppose I could have avoided that by coming to the point right off. I've arranged for most of the lands under dispute to be turned over to Duke Herrig."

The smile was torn from Nick's face. Even Gyan seemed stunned.

"Lord Annroy came here this morning, by my invitation," she went on, pulling forth a small document. "I was able to convince him to sign over the lands in question. He does not know that Herrig ever claimed the lands were his by right, so take care never to mention the incident to him."

"So," Nick said, trying to analyze all this as fast as he could, "...you discovered that Herrig was lying."

"I don't know whether he was lying or not. Since we're trying to avert a fight, not start one, it doesn't truly make a difference. If your usual good judgment were not clouded by your emotions, you would have realized that too, Nick." Her tone was genuinely modest, not condescending at all. It almost sounded as though she admired him for how he would have handled the situation in different circumstances. "I approached Herrig with an open and sympathetic mind, so he was open to compromise with me. I did not hand over all the lands he asked for, but he is satisfied, and even a bit grateful, I think. We do want his support, don't we?"

"Yes," the king admitted. "But I would have preferred to have it without giving him whatever he wants."

"He wasn't asking for all that much, and we didn't give him all he asked for," she replied. "Finding something to give Annroy in exchange was a bit more difficult, and had you been more... amicable about the issue, I would have asked your advice. Of course, given how unreasonable I was being, your defensiveness is understandable. Fortunately, the solution proved to be fairly simple. First, Herrig has allowed the laborers on those lands to remain in Annroy's service. I need not remind you of the casualties from the wars against Woldol and Iom; like many lords of Cypress, Annroy is short-handed, and lacked the laborers to fully harvest those lands in any case. Herrig's territory is better manned, and besides, I suspect acquiring the disputed lands was largely a matter of possessiveness for the duke."

"On that point, you may be certain."

Mayfair frowned. "If you were to spend a few evenings with him, as I have, I think you would not so thoroughly condemn Duke Herrig. He has his faults, but he is wise, gracious, and respectful to his servants." Nick decided it would be best to let that pass, at least for the moment. "As for Annroy, it turns out that one of his greatest concerns is for his son's welfare. So Duke Herrig and his wife have agreed to take him under their wing until he comes of age; that will ensure the boy has a good education and a better chance at marrying someone of noble blood. Perhaps he will even be considered as a spouse for Peppe. Through my visits to their household, I discovered that the duke and his wife find it a bit lonely in their household at present, which helped give me the idea. They are pleased with this end of the bargain as well." She paused for a spoonful of soup. "This solves the problem, doesn't it?"

Nick looked at her with quiet admiration. She was again as he had always known her: Wise, calm, collected. Knowing she couldn't simply have come to her senses on her own, he wondered if Stock had something to do with this. That was likely, but nonetheless, he was impressed.

"You've handled the matter admirably," he said, the words both praise and admission. "This more than sets my mind at ease. My apologies... for having doubted you."

Stock gulped down a spoonful of soup. "How about that. For once, Nick actually admitted he was wrong."

"That's only because he rarely is wrong," Mayfair said. "Besides, the fault for this was largely mine. If I hadn't..." She froze, a look of shock congealing on her face. Even before her breathing began to quicken, Nick understood, and was moving to his feet.

"Gyan, watch after her," he said. "I'll summon the midwife and attendants."


Nick sat on a chair in the hall outside, far more anxious than he was willing to let on. This was a moment of triumph for him: the birth of a successor, an heir to the throne. He had at last accomplished the single most important task of his life, succeeded where his two siblings had failed. He had sired a successor to the throne, a continuation of the legitimate bloodline of Cypress. And yet, he was filled with trepidation.

What would the boy be like? Wise and strong, certainly; his parentage, and his mother in particular, ensured that. What worried Nick was what the boy would be like in his own eyes. Will he be someone that I can... love?

For a long time now, he had only loved his father, and perhaps his sister Jenny. And they were both dead. The thought of being able to love a living person made him almost tremble with anticipation.

"Cousin Nicholas?" Barro reached and grasped at his hand. "How long is it going to be?"

"Probably a while, Barro," he replied. "This is her first time."

Of course, he didn't really know for sure; he had been too young when his siblings were born. But he understood that it was not an easy process, and Mayfair's body was inexperienced in the ordeal it was going through.

Barro sighed. "I don't like waiting."

"Well, you'll simply have to get used it," Nick said, glancing over at Deanna, who was seated on the opposite side of the hall. He wished he would either say something or leave, but the taciturn Iomite remained silent and still, and Nick couldn't reasonably expect otherwise. After all, Natasha was in there keeping Mayfair company. Not that Nick approved of that part of it, either; when in labor, the queen should only be in the company of those facilitating the royal birth. But Natasha had brushed aside his objections on the grounds that Mayfair "needs our support", and the days where he could order Natasha as her king were obviously gone.

Stock and Gyan were also waiting outside, of course, and provided scarcely better conversation than Deanna. Gyan no doubt would have liked talking up Deanna and Stock, but as the Royal Protector, he was forbidden to speak to anyone other than the Royal Family of Cypress except when necessary for the good of the country. Gyan wasn't exactly a stickler for rules, and Nick had let that particular one slide on occasion, but now was not the time for it.

With little he could comfortably say in this company, Nick gave Barro only a half smile that he hoped would be reassuring. Barro smiled back; he was not a particularly strong or wise boy, but he made the best he could of things, and there was certainly plenty of love in him. For a moment, Nick felt happy on a more personal level than he was used to feeling, and he cherished that.

Then Natasha came out, face slightly flushed, one hand holding up the skirt of her robes. Nick and Deanna both shot to their feet.

"It's okay," she said, then looked directly at Nick. "It's almost time for the final push. She wants you to be with her."

He shook his head. "The queen should have no need for moral support. My mother delivered all three of her children with my father absent."

"She said you'd say that," Natasha replied, with a slightly smug smile - apparently she still regarded Mayfair with daughterly pride. "And she said to tell you that with her having to put up with so much pain, the least you can do is not imitate your father for once and show your face."

Nick considered a moment, then nodded in resignation and followed Natasha into the room. No doubt she and the others would assume "so much pain" to mean her labor, but Nick suspected that what Mayfair really meant was the emotional pain she had endured throughout their marriage, and especially now that she was now bearing his child.

What he found in the room nearly took him aback. Mayfair was laid out on a bed, legs spread, chest heaving for breath, sweat streaking her face and even her hair. He had never seen her like this before, and it seemed almost unnatural. Attendants were hard at work all around her, but even so, it looked quite undignified.

He stepped up to the bed. "I should not be here," he said to Mayfair.

"You can't... think of anything better to say than that?" she panted.

"I'm sorry. I know that you're not -"

"Don't be sorry," she cut him off. "And good spirits, don't tell me what you think you know, especially about me. Just give me your hand."

He complied, but said, "I didn't think you'd need this."

"I don't." She gripped his hand tight and spoke forcefully, each sentence coming out in a harsh rush of breath. "I want it. I want you to have been here. I want you to be unable to just turn your head and close your eyes while I'm working hard to bring our son into the world. Do you understand? He isn't just my son, or your heir. He's our son. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He squeezed her hand back. "I do."

But his anxiousness and excitement remained, even in her normally calming presence, and it was all he could do to keep his hand from shaking.

Mayfair turned her head to the ceiling, still holding his hand, and with what seemed a result of deliberate effort on her part, the final contractions began.

It was a strange, remarkable scene. Though Nick had never seen a delivery before, he knew it was expected for the mother to cry out, even scream. Mayfair did not. She sweated, gritted her teeth, grasped Nick's hand very tightly, and periodically let out a small gasp of air, but she did not allow even one cry to get past her lips.

This was unexpected, but in retrospect, he couldn't imagine Mayfair handling herself any differently. It was fitting that a woman of such unshakable strength should deliver her child without losing her composure, and Nick was thoroughly pleased.

Then, at last, their boy was brought out into the world, and he was certainly not as quiet about it as his mother was. The head came first, and it was disappointingly small, no bigger than Nick's fist. Before long, the midwives had extracted the whole child, a squirming, bawling mass of scrawny, misshapen limbs and undeveloped torso. Nick felt...

Nothing.

The boy was handed over to his mother. She released Nick's hand and took the baby in her arms with a brighter smile than he had seen on her since they were married. "Good spirits, he's wonderful! Look at him, Nick! Just look at him!"

Her instruction was unnecessary, but all Nick felt when he looked at the boy was cold disappointment. He willed his heart to feel something, even guilt or fatherly anxiety, but there was nothing. All he could think about was how small and weak the boy looked.

An attendant with paper and pen in hand tapped King Nicholas on the shoulder and asked, "May I have the boy's name?"

It embarrassed Nick to realize that he didn't know. He and Mayfair had discussed names some weeks before. He had suggested Gadrios, which she had firmly opposed. Not being one for naming, he had told her to come up with a name herself and let him know when she had. But she hadn't let him know, and he hadn't thought to ask. The only answer he could give the attendant was to look to Mayfair for help.

She smiled, sweetly and very lovingly. "Eli."

The attendant nodded and wrote it down. Nick realized that Mayfair was looking at him in expectation, and said, "It is a good name." She still seemed to be waiting for something. "You... have done well, in giving me an heir. Our son will no doubt make a worthy king. Now, since I am no longer needed here, you must excuse me, for I have... duties to attend to."

There was little doubt in his mind that all eyes were on him as he left. It had been a weak excuse, he knew, but the truth - that it was important for him to have his much delayed dinner, if he was to continue functioning at the peak of his potential - would have sounded crude and unworthy. Besides, he had needed to get out of there, for he could already feel tears of frustration and self-disgust brimming in his eyes. Once outside, he brushed past Natasha and Gyan without a word, and hurried onward towards the dining room.

Nothing - he'd felt nothing, for his own first born child. Only disappointment at his smallness, his lack of visible strength, had filled his mind. And what more foolish thought could there be, when he has at least 15 years to grow and train towards a toned body that equals or even surpasses my own? When his mind, of which I know nothing, is the more crucial element to being a king?

There was a serving girl standing wait by the dining room. "The queen is perfectly well, and has delivered a healthy son," he told her, marveling that those words did not fill him with joy, as they should have. "Have the rest of my dinner brought to my study."

With that, he swept on past before his face could betray his feelings, or lack thereof. He made his way to his study without further encounters, though he was sure that Gyan must be following after him. Once there, he closed and locked the door behind him and then, at last, he had a minute or two where he could allow himself to weep in silence. To let the tears wash away his selfish grief.

Nick had never thought it would be necessary for him to love his wife. The fact that he didn't love Mayfair bothered him only moderately. But surely, it was wrong for him to not love his own son. His own father, King Gadrios the first, had not loved his mother, but he had certainly loved all the children he had with her.

An heir to the throne had been delivered, a continuation of his father's prestigious line. He should be proud for Cypress. Instead, he only felt ashamed for himself.