A/N: I was hoping to get this out sooner, but terrible writers block hit me hard for a bit when real life rained on my sprits for a little while. In any case, sorry this took so long to get out...we're reaching a busy part in my year...anyway, on with the fiction.

Chapter 11

Whispers had been murmured in the city streets in such a way, it seemed almost laughable to the outside observer. After the wedding that famously bound a mere butler to a princess, the townsfolk found themselves a new conversation piece to weave outlandish tales about…and, for what little it could be afforded, even Mira found the stories amusing as they praised her name in welcome.

The sisters doubted they'd be able to count the many speculations that went on just beyond their earshot. They were positive that the ones they could here were merely the tip of the gossip mill.

Some would ask questions about Mira's chosen garbs, or her spouse, who until the wedding had been of a lower class. Her simple answers appeased the ones who asked, and those who didn't voice their concern found ease in Nike's acceptance. Though some found it odd, most of the town tittered in merriment instead of spitting slander. For a short time, things began to calm down, a sense of peace drifting over the castle once more, but, as luck would have it, it was not meant to last.

It was a short fortnight after the nuptials when Nike stopped leaving the castle walls. An official report stated she was occupied with more pressing matters, however, the rumors spoke differently. Some said it was because she was deathly ill, others speculated it was because she hadn't been able to summon rain and hid in shame. There were a few who even assumed it was because Livius had become an overbearing, greedy king, who would not allow his wife out of his sight. The most ludicrous statements came from the church, as Lani thought to question Bardwin's honor, a fact that Livius took pleasure in.

While all of the theories were amusing in their own way, Nike's reasons were her own.

As time went on, she grew less energetic, and found rest a much sought after thing. It was, as her aunt told her, expected. Something of an omen to be heeded, yet not fretted over. Nike could not summon rain, and it was true that she had seen better days…but she was neither deathly ill, or shameful in her condition.

In fact, more often than not, she glowed with a renewed sense of happiness that spoke of blessings instead of curses.

The horrific sound coming from their bathroom paid tribute to what was sure to be a rather difficult offspring in the near future. The moons cycle, or the fact the Nike had lacked it for quite some time thus far, indicated that not only had she blessed with a child, but that it was healthy and strong…

Not that the baby seemed to care that its mother couldn't keep down some very mild porridge. "Must you be a difficult child?" Nike muttered weakly as she patted her gut. "Really, to kick up such a fuss." Another wave of nausea hit her and she barely leaned back over the toilet in time.

"The child has a will of its own. Of course it must." Layla said with a snicker. "It is yours, after all. I'd expect nothing less."

Nike rolled her eyes. "Please, don't remind me."

"This is what's known as divine retribution, Nike." Her aunt said, though as she helped tend to the ailing queen, she could not keep the smirk off of her face. "Have you written home?"

"We are returning home after I regain my sea legs." Nike said, as she was guided into bed. "Livius thinks it would be best to observe proper traditions. It helps that he has no family of which to speak. So there is no one here to aid and observe the childbirth that would not otherwise be back in my father's country."

"It would do me good to also make an appearance anyway." Mira said, as she sat at Nike's bedside. "In mother's last letter, she was still quite displeased that we didn't hold a second wedding that grandmother could witness."

"Not that she would take witness anyway." Nike said quietly. "You know how she is."

"We all know how she is." Layla said, having chosen some fresh robes that were much easier and more comfortable to rest in. "Your grandmother has seen many things in her years of life, some of them quiet awful I should assume. It only comes to pass that because of those events, as distant as they are, that she wouldn't take kindly things that she knows little about." Layla shrugged then.

"I understand her worry." Nike said to her aunt as she sought some much needed help in the simple act of getting dressed. "But, does she need to distrust Livius to terribly?"

Her aunt merely offered a kind smile as she pulled Nike's nightgown over her head. "It is merely her way."

"Yes, well I do hope she's learned a thing or two about forgiveness." Nike said, feeling as though her departure hadn't been on the best of terms. "I would rather she weep in front of me, than close a door and hide."

"She was never given the chance to have what some might called a woman's weakness." Layla considered, pondering that little detail at great length before brushing the rather painful topic aside. "I shall draw you a bath, Nike."

The woman dearly wanted one, but wondered if she was too weak, her tummy turning once again. "If it is not too much to ask, I'd like a water basin today."

"Not an uncommon request, dearie." Layla smiled the slightest bit at that. "Weak in the knees?"

"And the belly." Nike nodded, holding her head in her hands.

"Troublesome pregnancies are part of the family history." Layla said as she went to fetch some warm water. "It should also be noted that those with the gift are more attuned to the magic of the earth. It would not be the first time, nor the last, that you find yourself suffering weakness during this time."

"It is quite strange, isn't it? The youngest sister in the family finding herself with child before the eldest." Mira sighed, feeling a bit inept as she drew the window coverings closed. "That your child will be the oldest in the new generation begs several questions about progeny."

With warmed water drawn, Layla grinned, her smug expression speaking wonders. "Neil is smitten with you, thusly, I wouldn't worry." As she set the basin down, she also placed a soothing scented oil into the basin, mixing it thoroughly. "A man's seed is a fickle thing. It will only sow a life precisely when it means to, and not a moment before."

…

Nightmares ravished his dreams as of late, memories of funeral pyres and just who lay atop them forcing him to jolt from slumber more often than he cared to speak of. In fact, some dreams bothered him so terribly, that sleep then eluded him for the rest of the night.

Distant and old scars that had been buried deeply seemed to bleed anew. He knew why…though, he also knew he was not like his fellows before him.

A gift of a new life, was strange news to him.

It not only made his heart swell with a deep sense of pride…a slow fear was like a terrible ichor within his heart. It clawed at him mercilessly, and every time he tried to escape such thoughts, they nipped at his heels until he gave into them. He did not speak of that illness within his mind to anyone, although he was sure they noticed, and likely wondered if he was going mad.

Sometimes, he doubted they were incorrect. Still, the idea of an heir tickled him.

If one was to ask him just what he expected, he would report that he'd rather a son than a daughter. A little prince that would grow to become a strong heir to these lands. He would want the boy to be in his image, and he would like it if someplace, deep within the pit of his heart, his son would learn a thing or two about his mother's tenacity and kindness. Perhaps he felt that way because he was a man of his people…or, simply because he felt a distant connection to a man he couldn't recall.

His father was indeed a very interesting man, an enigma, they would call him. Even if he was little else to Livius, he would always be a fable of his people.

Livius took after him in looks, and as he had been told, some very strange personality quirks. However, that was the end of their similarities. Their differences were a great many that would be left buried in the shadows, because truth be told, many feared to speak of the father that Livius never knew.

"Livi…" Nike shouldn't have been wandering about the castle at night, especially when the bedroom was far away from this wing, not to mention the damp air that bespoke of the holding cell. "You should come to bed, love." Some might even think it uncouth that she would traverse the dark passages all by herself, but, she had been in far worse than this.

"Nike, you shouldn't be down here." He chided gently, knowing she would do strictly as she pleased.

"What's bothering you?" Nike asked, coming to stand behind her husband. As he sat in an old rocking chair, unmoving, she felt even more drawn to his sometimes stoic and distant gaze. In his hands, a picture that had seen better days seemed to be his fixation.

"My father…" He said quietly. "His death, and what it ultimately represented."

"This is not something you should consume yourself with." Nike said quietly, resting her hands on his shoulders, peering at the black and white photograph. "You have other duties to ponder over."

"Our child will never be completely safe from the eyes of those around them." Livius said after some careful thought. "My mother was locked away at great length within these castle walls. I do not recall a time when she would go out into the streets, but, I have heard stories of when she did." He leaned forward then, putting the photo in a little drawer hidden by a stone slab. "Now that you are with child, I must come to terms with the fact that history may indeed repeated itself, or worse." He stood then, pouring some wine into a goblet that Nike had never seen before.

"It is unlikely." Nike told him. "You are loved by many, Livius."

"As such, there are many enemies who refuse to speak." He said to her, taking a drink. "They are an unknown force, a risk I refuse to take." The wine wet his lips in a way nothing else could. It both soothed him, and dulled his rapid train of thought. "It is one of the many reasons I intend that you give birth away from this castle."

"There is nothing for you to fear." Nike told him, shaking her head. "The shadows of your past haunt you needlessly."

"Haunt me?" He almost laughed. "Nike, the actions of my father, and my grandfather before him are all over this castle. Every step I take, I leave a small footprint in what was once one of their own. I am much less haunted than I might seem." In fact, if he were honest, what he faced was not anything like a ghost. "I merely worry that I may not be stronger than my father…and, I fear my child will one day be forced to be even stronger than me."

"Livius, of course our child will be stronger than you." Nike said, a trace of amusement in her voice. "It's our job to see that such a thing happens...that our child grows to be better than us. there is no sin, no tragedy in that."

"Inherently, you're right." Livius said with a careful nod. "It's merely the events that worry me."

Nike shook her head. "Come to bed Livius, there are much more pleasant events to foresee, and far different memories you could make."