My bunnies...they can come up with the strangest things...
So this particular drabble revolves around an ancient Egyptian curse that, if you write the name of the individual and their punishment on a clay jar and broke it that the curse would come true (one such curse being sterility - which may have just told you what's coming next). This, coupled with who's involved...well, I think you might be able to guess where I'm going with this. I also hold the belief that Mrs. Ishtar lost a child before she took in Rishid and the rest of the Ishtar siblings came along, which is why she's...well, you'll see in a bit.
Set precanon and I hope you all enjoy - I'll be disappearing again for the next two weeks to focus on finals and get through the end of the year and updates will be sporadic :D
The air was thick with tension, neither the man nor the woman moving. One held a bundle of torn and ratty blankets, from which the thin and feeble wail of a baby emanated; the other held a small clay jar, hieroglyphs written in black ink that was still drying on its surface.
It was almost as if time had frozen, the disbelief the man felt plainly visible and the woman, though stunned, defiantly holding the jar in front of her. Neither of them dared move, both fearing what could be set in motion by acting. The flames in the torches danced and crackled, alternating between casting them in shadow and lighting them.
"You would not dare." The man broke the silence first, his lavender eyes glinting strangely underneath his hood. "You would not dare bring the curse of infertility upon me."
Her chin lifted and she met his gaze, though her knees trembled. "Test me, then."
His eyes flickered as he gazed at her, then to the infant in his arms. "You would defy me for a child that is not even yours?" he asked coldly. "It goes against the rules of our clan. The child was not born into the clan and belongs to the outer world. We have no obligation to it."
"I will not return him to suffer a slow death," she said quietly. "Rishid is only an infant—"
"You've named it already?" he countered, his voice thick with disbelief.
"I have named him," she replied evenly. "I will not change my mind in this matter, nor will I allow you to kill him. Even you are not that inhumane."
He fell silent, his gaze moving from between the woman in front of him to the still crying baby in his arms; the malice and intense hatred that appeared on his face as he looked down at the infant terrified her and for one terrifying moment she thought he would throw the child against the wall.
"I will not acknowledge it as my son," he said at last, his voice cold.
"I am not asking you to." Her own voice was even, but there was a slightly desperate edge to it. "Please, let me have Rishid. I have lost one child already—will you be so cruel as to take another from me?"
His eyes flickered once more to the jar in her hand and after one last moment of tense silence his face clouded. "Very well. This will be the only time I surrender to your will. If you ever threaten me again as you have now I will show no mercy," he said stiffly, holding the infant out to her.
She set the jar down and hurried forward, almost snatching the baby from him before he could be allowed to change his mind. "Thank you," she murmured with visible relief, cradling the bundle close to her chest as she bowed her head submissively.
His eyes narrowed. "You do understand, however, that there is a price for keeping this child under my roof," he said, and her head snapped up to look at him tensely "You will provide me with my heir."
"…As you wish."
He watched her for a moment and then snorted. "Get it to stop crying," he growled, storming from the room.
She did not see him leave—her gaze was already softening and her hand closing around the tiny one in the blanket, speaking soft reassurances and rocking the whimpering baby in her arms.