Episode: The Moment of Truth
Category: Gen
Rating/Warnings: K+
Sensible or not, she envied the women who were being instructed by Prince Arthur, preparing to do battle with a horde of bloodthirsty bandits in the village below. It didn't matter that they were in mortal peril, likely terrified out of their minds at the moment. No, the threat of danger seemed insignificant next to the privilege of being allowed to take up arms, of being given some measure of control over the fates of themselves and their loved ones.
She would've been proud to stand beside them, ready to defend her home with grim determination in her eyes and a weapon in her hands. While she knew nothing of combat, she was young and strong from her work in the fields – surely she would've been capable of putting up one hell of a fight before allowing Kanen and his men to get the better of her.
But rather than having the opportunity to find out, she was sequestered in these accursed caves with the children and old folks, gritting her teeth through another contraction as she railed at her own helplessness. She was well away from the others, a seemingly harsh but necessary precaution she'd insisted on when the first pains of labor had come upon her. Sheltered they might be, but still within hearing distance; she hated the thought that she might cry out and risk the exposure of them all.
The older women had come to check on her frequently at first, but as the hours had passed and her refusals for help had become more vehement, they'd reluctantly agreed to stay away upon the promise that she'd call when she needed them.
Of course, she had no intention of doing so.
As strange as it seemed, it was easier to endure her suffering alone. While this was the first child she had borne herself, she'd attended enough births to know what to expect, even if the pain was a great deal worse than she'd anticipated. Besides, it had become something of a personal conviction – if the villagers could be brave enough to stand against the menace they were facing, then she could certainly handle something as natural as childbirth on her own. It was silly, perhaps, but it was the only battle she was able to fight, the lone way through which she could prove her own courage.
It was as if her body was mimicking the scene taking place below. There had been the early stages, the much more mild contractions that had given her the chance to rest in between and the illusion that all would be well, that surely it wouldn't be so bad. That had been the waiting stage, torn between hoping for the best and fearing the worst just as the villagers must have been doing as they'd prepared for the onslaught to come.
But now the pains were coming fast and hard, her body sweating and straining in the darkness as the anguish she refused to give voice to came to her ears in distant echoes – screams of terror, cries of pain, howls of fury. She felt them all, even as she allowed herself nothing more than a succession of low moans and quiet grunts as she struggled to expel the child from her womb. The battle was right there inside her, the faint clanging of steel upon steel a reflection of the lingering strength in her own exhausted muscles as she bore down again and again, salty tears wetting her face and a plea for mercy left unspoken as she closed her eyes and smelled her own blood.
Yes, she could bear this alone, because in truth, she wasn't alone at all. Hers was not the only blood that would be spilled this day, and they were the only ones she needed beside her… not the wizened old women who waited up here in safety, but the fighters below to whom she silently willed some measure of her own courage, even as she drew upon theirs. It was an intrinsic connection she couldn't begin to understand, but felt all the same… if she managed to endure the excruciating process of giving birth, then Ealdor itself would mirror her own triumph and survive to see another day.
She knew the fight was over through the only scream she permitted herself to unleash, a high-pitched wail of pure suffering that ended with a gasp of relief as she grabbed her knees and pulled herself forward to stare down in wonder at the tiny infant that lay between her trembling thighs.
And just as he opened his mouth to let loose a lusty cry, she knew the battle had been won.
Cutting the cord with a dagger that would've served quite a different purpose if she hadn't been heavy with child when the attacks had come, she took her baby in her arms and cradled him against her heaving chest. The name she bestowed upon him didn't require a second thought, for it was the epitome of hope and courage, of defying even the most insurmountable odds for a just and worthy cause.
"Arthur," she whispered in the darkness, placing the most gentle of kisses to his tiny cheek.