Three Months (Chapter Ten)

Three months of trying.

And three months of failure.

Since the visit to the Land of the Unknown and Xibalba's chance of mind, the couple began to try for a baby. Every night of the first month became magical. They made love for hours, exploring each other's bodies passionately, waking up in late morning in each other's arms. For the first week or so, no results were evident, which was to be expected. But weeks turned into a month, and La Muerte began to worry.

She became anxious and panicked, wondering what they were doing wrong. The tiny romances had ceased, even when Xibalba attempted to woo her. She just rushed at times, falling asleep on her side when both were too tired to continue. The dark god tried to talk to her, calming her, but never succeeded. She was constantly frenzied, and there was never a moment of serenity in the castle. She became jealous of La Noche, reading the letters in an angry mindset, constantly thinking of the happiness and her husband were experiencing. She tried not to show her envy too much, but Xibalba noticed. He secretly read the letters, wondering just what could infuriate his wife so much. While he saw nothing inherently wrong, he wondered if he and La Muerte could relate one, if they were expecting a child just as they were. But as the new month rolled in, there was little happiness to relate to.

La Muerte became depressed, slowly losing all hope. She often disappeared at night to sit alone silently, either in her garden or in her library. She had many sleepless nights, seldom wanting to make love. The entire realm felt the sadness of their queen. Xibalba's heart broke every time he laid eyes on her, for all of her liveliness was gone. She no longer sang and danced, or interacted with the people. She rarely ate, or read her sister's letters. Every night she slept uneasily, keeping very much to herself. Xibalba could barely touch her; she would recoil, as if she was ashamed of herself. He had never seen her like this. The dark god deeply reflected on the idea of a child, until he too began feeling not just a mere want, but a need for a son or daughter. He himself never thought it would come to this.

One particular evening, he found his wife sitting by the fireplace in the palace library. She was sunken into her velvet chair, staring into the dancing flames. He knelt down by her, touching her delicate hands slowly. She let out a small, shaky breath.

"What am I doing wrong, Xibalba?" she whispered, her eyes locked onto the fire. "What is wrong with me?"

Her lip quivered and she covered her face with her hands as she began to sob uncontrollably. Xibalba felt as if his soul had shattered as her cries pierced echoed in the library. He couldn't stand it; he scooped her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could.

"Absolutely nothing is wrong with you, mi amór," he whispered into her ear. "Absolutely nothing. You are perfect…"

She sobbed into his chest and sank into his touch, breaking out every pent up emotion. His hand brushed her hair comfortingly and he kissed her forehead. She swallowed a breath and peered up at him with wet eyes. His face twisted into an ironically sad, but hopeful smile, and he stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away.

"Oh Xibalba…" she said quietly. "What if we really can't…"

"Don't talk like that…" he took a hold of her hand, setting her down onto her feet. "I will do anything I can. I will send for the doctors, the herbalists, the apothecaries, anyone I can find to help up. I won't let our efforts stop here."

She looked into his red eyes and wiped away the welling tears in hers. "Do you mean it Xibalba?" she sighed shakily. "Do you… truly care this much?"

"Of course, my dear…" He gave a small, encouraging smile. "I won't stop trying until we have a baby confirmed. You and I… well, mostly you…deserve this."

He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. "I love you so much. It kills me to see you this way. I wish I could give you everything, to take away everything that hurts. You know that."

She leaned on his chest and intertwined their fingers. "I love you too, Balbi."

He smiled. "And I'm going to love our future child just as much as I love their mother."

He felt a tear drop onto his robes.

But she was peacefully smiling.

"How many letters did we get back?" La Muerte asked, pacing back and forth in the bedroom. Xibalba was resting on the bed, sorting through the royal mail, flexing his wings relaxingly.

"So far, three." He tossed realm-related communications aside. "Your sister's doctor is staying with, well, your sister. But we've gotten word back from another doctor… he's some herbalist named Mecca…" He focused in on the letter. "Says he's been recognized in the Land of the Lost, has definitely been approved by the other fertility goddesses and he's good friends with the Creator."

La Muerte glanced over. "Land of the Lost? What kind of business does a fertility doctor have there?"

Xibalba shrugged. "He said he's an herbalist, not a specified fertility doctor. Does it matter?"

She sighed and scuffled over to the bed, sitting next to him. As she took the letter from him, he put his arms around her and cuddled her. He buried his face in her shoulder and rested there.

"Should we invite him?" La Muerte asked.

"Sounds good to me, my dear," he replied, muffled.

She giggled and kissed the top of his head. He peered up at her and smiled, running his hand through her thick hair. He sat up and kissed her sensually, and she accepted it wholeheartedly. He hadn't kissed her this way in what seemed like eons. His hands ran down her shoulders and arms, sliding onto her hips. She pulled back and glanced at him, smiling lovingly and touching his cheek.

"I love you so much, Balbi."

"I love you too, Muertita."

She slipped her arms around him and kissed him again. He held her a bit tighter, taking in the sugary taste of her lips.

"Shall we 'dance', mi amór?" he asked with a playful smile. Her bright eyes answered him obligingly, and he proceeded to unpin the back of her dress. She smiled and slipped his robe off of his shoulders slowly, leaning in to kiss him again. As he peeled her dress off of her body, she laid back into the sheets and reached around his neck. He kissed her and felt her body beneath him, positioning himself properly. He gazed down at her breasts, grinning playfully.

His hands cupped around them and he caressed her smooth skin. La Muerte shut her eyes and moaned ever so slightly. Her body tensed and relaxed as his long fingers danced along her sides. Xibalba kissed her neck and entered her when he had her body as relaxed as he needed. She gasped and cried out, grabbing a hold of his arms. Their rhythms synced as their bodies moved together. He led them first, changes tempos and listening to the sound of her cries. Sometimes she whispered his name, other times she screamed it. It was a composition in itself, and it was his favorite song to dance to.

They had both lost the sense of time, but the composition died away and the danced ceased when they were both exhausted. Xibalba laid back next to her, his chest rising and falling. He peered at his wife, whose eyes were glancing back at him brightly.

"That was amazing," he said, full of admiration.

She smiled lovingly. "Well, my love, now it's my turn."