As Madellaine roused from her heavy slumber, she first became aware of the coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance. The blankets in their bed were tousled and felt lumpy, as if she were laying on a bed of earth and rocks instead on their mattress at home.
Her dress felt damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. Glancing around, she half wondered if she was still dreaming as she sat up to take in the shafts of sunlight that burst in through the rafters of the tower's loft through the parapets of stone. Now she was awake, perhaps more fully awake than she'd ever been in the last few months. She let out a startled squeak of surprise as her husband's voice rang from beyond her line of sight, a soft smile forming.
"You're awake," he called out, sounding immensely relieved. "You've been asleep for almost two days." From high above, he leapt down from his perch on his favorite beam and came to join her, sitting with her on the edge of their bed. Letting out a content little sigh at seeing his wife relatively unscathed, he reached up a tender hand and ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it.
Slowly, he pressed his lips to Madellaine's. It was soft and gentle, a wave of warmth that filled them both up from the inside, spilling out from his heart and the warmth of his wife's lips upon his own, and rushing to every corner of his body, the crooks of his elbows, the tips of his ears, every inch saturated with love. Finally, he reluctantly broke apart, scooting back a few inches to look his wife in the eyes, study her appearance, scrutinizing every little detail.
"Darling, you're looking much better. How are you feeling?" he asked, gingerly helping her to sit up as she groggily ran a hand through her hair.
"I guess I didn't realize how tired I was," she admitted, shuddering as a cold chill went down her spine at realizing what she had been forced to do to Jehan. "What have I done?" she whispered, not wanting to look Quasi in the eyes. She knew her voice sounded calm, but she was not. Inside, she screamed. "I killed him." Wide-eyed and scared, she dared to meet his gaze.
"You've done a great thing," Quasi said softly, gingerly rubbing her shoulder. "For yourself more than anyone else. You must forgive yourself. You did the right thing, beloved. Jehan Frollo is gone. For good this time. I…" he hesitated, unsure how much he could divulge, but at least decided to tell her. "I could hear you talking in your sleep to Jehan, sweetheart. And to your father," he added, his voice sounding pained. When Madellaine shifted slightly to look at her husband, his handsome face was battered and hurt.
"I was," she admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching as a ghost of a smile fought to break its confines and escape onto her face, but she would not let it come. Her husband reached up and stroked her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, cradling her head in his hands. "Go and say goodbye to him," he whispered into the shell of her ear, pulling her forward gently until she was astride his lap. "He's your father, Madellaine. You need this closure, love."
"I can't," she choked, fighting back the lump that formed in her throat. She turned and shoved herself off his lap, storming out of their bell tower, alone.
Madellaine did not know why she was so drawn to this place, this place of death, loss, and torment. Somehow, though, when she was here, she felt strangely at peace. As a child, she used to wake in the night and wish for the sun. The darkness worried her; her childish imagination supplied many beasts with fantastical jaws to lurk in the shadows beyond her range of vision.
But now, these days she embraced it. The night provided cover from the flesh and blood monsters of the day, the soldiers with their swords, the ones who could be judge, jury, and executioner, all in the name of their king.
Even on the most moonlight of nights, she blended into the shadows, staying clear of the soldiers and their torches. Apart from her father, Darius, and Phoebus, she'd never trusted them. Especially not Frederic de Marten.
The graveyard Darius had told her where to find her father's tomb bearing his name wasn't hard for her to find. Rows of tombstones stood erect in silence to the left and right, in front and behind, like a vast sea of the dead.
Some were crumbled with the weathering of centuries; some were smooth marble with new inscriptions and lay with tributes. Most though, were overgrown and unkempt, for now even their mourners had joined them under the soil. As the bodies of the beloved return their matter to the earth, their souls, ageless since birth, return to God, their maker. Madellaine let her feet tread lightly over the soils that suffered under the harsh winds of winter and a fresh snowfall, until she was there, her eyes resting on his name, her heart hearing the sound of her father's voice as though he were right there next to her. Perhaps it was the memories that were the real bridge, that sense of love a key to open doors into the worlds beyond, yet here she was in the graveyard with her father, these moments of reflection their everlasting bond.
Oh, how I miss you, Papa. I wish you were here with me right now. "Papa," she whispered, her voice cracking, "what do I do? I need you by my side."
Now that she knew her father was here, she would visit him at least once a week, but probably more than that. Madellaine felt her heart swell with an overwhelming sadness that consumed her. She wished she could have saved her father from his horrible fate of dying from his battle wounds. She'd never gotten the chance to properly mourn him. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. Everything was just gone. A lone tear traced down her cheek, and just like that, she was gone. So many tears burst forth, spilling down her face. Madellaine breathed heavier than she ever had before. She was gasping for air that simply wasn't there. "I miss you." Her hot tears stung against the bitter cold, and she coughed once and swallowed a lump that was forming in her throat. She brushed her hands on the skirts of her long maroon gown. Madellaine hadn't bothered with a cloak, instead feeling the wind chill and shivering as it sent a tremor down her spine. If her husband were here with her, he'd be fuming she hadn't worn warmer clothing to protect herself. The cold never bothered me. It invigorates me. Madellaine looked around the deserted graveyard and felt like weeping. How could a place be so full and empty at the same time? All around are the tombstones with their faded etching, a roll call for the people who could not answer.
For when their bodies became still and cold, they became a cadaver, no longer a person. Their soul, their living being, had moved on to be with God, to walk with Jesus and be healed. She stood in the watery light of the dawning morning, living, breathing, and her life stretching ahead of her. Whatever she came for is not here. This graveyard is full. Full of stone, moss, yew trees, and the decaying remnants of bone and flesh. But it's empty. She knew that one day she would see her father again. "Someday," she whispered quietly.
Madellaine smiled as Lucien's voice rang in her ears. "Always, daughter."
There was a muttering of thunder from the blackened summer night sky as the wind tore the leaves from the tree. The rain lashed down, torrential and unforgiving. July crawled with a petty pace towards its end. The thunderstorm was coming. There were growling, ominous dark clouds billowing in from the east, gathering and looming over the bell tower of Notre Dame. There was a sudden downpour and through the rain drenches came the first long low rumbles of thunder. The wind was violent and unforgiving as it raced through the streets of Paris. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered, smiling softly to herself as she felt her husband come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck.
"Come inside," he whispered, his voice low and husky. Gently, he took her by her hand and led her back into the warmth of their tower. She looked at him with love in her eyes. In all the months they've been married, almost a year now, he'd treated her with nothing but love and adoration in his simple gestures. He kept his promise and never hurt her, never laid a hand on her when he was angry, which was seldom. Quasi was a simple man, but she loved that about him. There's a lot about you I love. She loved so many things about him. Madellaine loved the way he smiled at her. His world-weary eyes never failed to shine with benevolence upon her whenever he looked at her with his amazing beautiful brown eyes. His eyes were genuine, encouraging, and healing. When he smiled at her, she would quite often forget her own troubles for a moment. He smiled at her even when his own spirit was crushed by the weight of the world and obligations he never asked for.
His smile never wavered as he articulated kind words of compassion—never for himself—his words are only ever for her.
Madellaine loved the way her husband held himself. Tall and upright. Proud but noble. He behaved like a man wholly devoted to the people, always helping those who came to them in need, no matter what ailed them.
Quasi had a quiet confidence about him that spoke clearly of his nobleness and his worth. Madellaine often found herself straightening her posture whenever he was present, inwardly challenging herself to become more like the graceful man before her. She loved his effortless dignity. Complete submission and love for her. He understood that she did not need his protection, but he offered it, nonetheless. All these things he did in silence, completely unaware how his actions spoke for his character. Madellaine could not seem to get enough of his imagination. He was poet, a scholar, and musician. He walked in worlds so many others could only dream of.
When she saw him quietly regarding the morning, she could almost see the notes and rhythms dancing in his head. His brown eyes sparkled at her whenever she asks him to share his thoughts. He always did.
She loved his mouth, strange as that might seem. To her, it was warm and sweet. His lips pressing a hazy trail of kisses down her neck. How gentle he pressed his lips to her stomach, which had grown swollen and round with their child, due any day now. Verse and adulation always upon his tongue.
Quiet whispers in the night that never fail to soothe her uncertainties about her pregnancy and the life they've chosen for themselves. Madellaine loved his small gestures. Kisses each morning and night without fail, predictable as the rising and setting sun each day and night. With him, it had never been some colossal deed or declaration that had captured her heart and caused her to love him. No. He never strove to be anything more than what he was in her eyes. He never had to. His love for her had never been about causing the butterflies in her stomach as he looked at her or causing her heart to skip a beat and feel like she was having a heart attack. No, those things all came on their own. His love for her was expressed by the little things he did for her—things that spoke unmistakably of his love and unwavering devotion for her. It had always been the simple things. That was how she knew she loved him.
Her husband noticed her looking at him, for he glanced up from the book he had been reading and smiled softly at her, his eyes twinkling. Putting his book down, he came over and wrapped his arms around her and their unborn baby, enveloping her in a deep hug. She winced as she felt their child stir and kick for what must have been the hundredth time that night.
Madellaine would be glad when their child was finally born, and she would be free of the pains in her stomach. Her pregnancy had been hard, but Quasi had been there beside her for all of it. "You should be resting, beloved," he spoke up quietly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "It's late."
"So should you," she responded. "But our child seems to be as much of an insomniac as you. I get little sleep these nights." The sound of a gentle rainfall on their roof as the nights were beginning to get cooler as the summer season approached had almost caused her to drift off into a slumber, but the baby had woken her. Madellaine had not slept well the last few nights. It showed.
There were dark circles underneath her eyes, and her face was ashen from lack of sleep. Quasi whispered something inaudible to her, holding her tightly and she lost herself in his embrace, leaning against him and feeling the warmth of his bare chest soak into the shift she wore. For a moment, neither spoke. Then she did. "Quasi, is there something wrong?"
"Why do you ask?" he responded, kissing her neck.
"You've slept so little these past few nights." When he gave her a quizzical look, she added, "Your child wakes me up more often enough than I can tell. I can tell you have night terrors. You toss in your sleep and are talking to someone. What's going on?"
He flashed a charming smile at her that made her heart melt, and for a moment, she forgot her troubles. "Oh, so it's my child, now?" he teased, his brilliantly white teeth glinting in the light. "And here I was, thinking it wasn't."
"You are avoiding my question," she answered with mock sternness, but softened her tone once she saw his expression. "Whatever ails you, you can tell me anything. You know this," she muttered, closing her eyes for a second.
"I know," he said softly. Quasi sighed and turned his gaze back to the balcony and watched as a bolt of forked lightning streaked across the sky in the last of the late summer night storms. Autumn would be here soon, and hopefully by that point, they wouldn't get so much rain. Madellaine counted the minutes until the rumbling thunder followed. Once it had ceased, her husband spoke again. "My dreams have returned. I don't know what to do about them." "The ones about your father?" she asked quietly, laying a gentle hand on her stomach.
"Are they frequent?" Quasi nodded silently, the expression on his face saying all that she needed to know. On occasion, whenever he was worried about something, he dreamed of his father, the minister and judge.
Madellaine knew that were his birth parents still alive, they might not have had approved of the match, but she liked to believe that they would have, just as hers would have immediately liked Notre Dame's bell ringer. She knew for a fact her mother did, and her father would have appreciated the fact that Quasi treated her wonderfully. Despite him being happily married to the woman of his dreams, his nightmares had become rare. She knew that he must be particularly troubled for them to return and haunt him so. She had an inkling of why he was so disturbed. Glancing down at her swollen stomach, she knew it was a present reminder of how close her time was. Another few days, and their child would be born. Madellaine looked up at him, a bead of sweat on her brow. "You are nothing like your father, Quasi. I know you will be a wonderful father to our child. I knew Claude when he was younger. You are nothing like him and you never will be. Heed my words."
A smile as brief as the lightning flashed across his face at the thought of becoming a father to their unborn child. His smile faded as he stared off into the distance. She knew he would be a good father. He doted on her, and she had no doubt that when their child came, he would do the same for him or her. He rested a gentle hand on her stomach. "I know," he responded softly. "I just…" his voice trailed off as he wondered what to say next. "I just don't think I can take it if I turn out to be like him."
"You won't be like your father," Madellaine reassured him. Quasi was quiet. His father had been abusive. What had hurt him the most growing up wasn't so much the scars or the beatings, but rather, what hurt him the worst was the insecurity. The internal brokenness that only a person exposed to terrible abuse can experience. His mental scars were a tapering factor in the serenity of domestic life. They caused him agony that could only be seen on the inside. The pain that no one else but his wife saw, because no one else cared.
"He wasn't always so bitter," he murmured.
"There's no need for you to defend him," she said, an angry edge to her voice. Madellaine would never admit it to her husband, but she hated the fact that he still so desperately wanted his father's approval, even after his death. She could tell it still pained Quasi whenever he spoke of Claude, and how he had treated him growing up and well into adulthood. It infuriated her to think that anyone would treat her husband in that way, even more so when Quasi justified it. Taking a deep breath to calm her temper, she closed her eyes and tried again. He glanced down at her, his face pale in the flickering light. The lightning flashes were coming more frequently now in intensity, the thunder even closer. "I'm not angry with you," she said in hushed tones, and Quasi felt his face relax. "I only wish that you could allow yourself to feel it. I know that you loved your father, in your own way, despite your differences. Just as I knew, in his own misguided way, that Claude loved you. He spoke to me once of you, and I could see it in his eyes. He cared for you. He did." The two of them fell silent again, and for a while they listened to the rain as it pounded harder and harder against the glass window.
When Quasi spoke again, she was surprised to hear a waver in his voice. "I am afraid," he admitted. "I do not wish to become like my father, but I fear at times, I can't avoid it. I am his son."
Madellaine placed a gentle hand over his and stretched up to kiss his jaw. "Quasi, you will be a wonderful father to this child," she whispered, her gray eyes twinkling. "And any other that might follow. What shall we name our son?" she asked, desiring to turn his attention elsewhere. "We should decide on a name soon, if these kicking spells are anything for me to go by, he'll be arriving any day now," Madellaine, planting a gentle but brief kiss on his nose.
Quasi gave her an amused look, his smile radiating warmth and a contagious kindness that she'd always loved. "What makes you think we will be having a son? We could very well be having a daughter, my love."
Madellaine rolled her eyes and laughed, her laughter music to his ears. "It still applies," she said, grinning. She could feel the baby begin to kick again, this time with even more intensity, and her husband felt his eyes widen in wonder as he moved a gentle hand across her abdomen. The kicking intensified at his tender touch, and she smiled. "You see? Our baby already likes you," she teased, smiling at her love. He smiled back, and she couldn't help but adding, "If the look on your face now is any indication, I cannot believe that loving him—or her—will be a problem for you."
Quasi kissed her ear slightly, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. "It won't be, beloved. How did I ever manage to find a woman as wise as you, and one so beautiful?"
Madellaine smiled gently. "If I am so wise, it is only because of your influence," she retorted as she turned towards him. He kissed her forehead, and then gently bent his head down until his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss. A reverberating crack of thunder startled them both, causing them to break apart in alarm. He laughed and pulled her even closer, kissing the tip of her nose playfully before resting his forehead against hers.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Madellaine was puzzled. "For what?" she asked.
"For being so wonderful."
She smiled and rested a hand against her cheek, stifling a yawn. "Only because you bring out the best in me," she replied before kissing him again. "You and I, my love, we complete each other. Never forget that, not for an instant. I'll remind you."
Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist. "You give yourself too little credit, sweetheart. You've done me good for me and my life than you'll know," he said as he took her arm and guided her back towards their bed.
She did not protest as he helped her gently get into bed and climbed in after her. "As do you," she responded sleepily, pushing away a lock of stray hair away from his face as he propped himself up on one elbow to look down at her. Sleep was catching up with her quickly now, Madellaine would never admit it out loud, but this pregnancy was exhausting her. "I love you," she murmured quietly as she closed her eyes and her breathing evened.
Quasi gazed down at his love for a long moment, smiling as he smoothed her strawberry blonde strands away from her forehead. He hoped that their child would look like her. "I love you too," he whispered as he gently lay down next to her carefully to not disturb her, draping his arm around her abdomen. "Both of you," he whispered as the thunder died down to a nearly inaudible rumble and the rhythm of the rain against the roof slowed until, coupled with his wife's soft breathing, it quickly lulled him to sleep.
Gone were the days of wintry light kissing coldly upon her face, in those blustery days, the great golden orb above was friendly. When uncovered by snow or sleet laden cloud it gave color to the day, finding any glint of greenness left in the world. When spring came its brilliant rays shone not just brightly, but with a touch of warmth, a promise of the growing seasons to come. Now in the heady heat of July, she walked on the tinder of the forest floor, dreading the moment she would have to leave its dense protective canopy and walk the last mile beneath the unrelenting sun. The world was painted vivid by its rays, like a new painting with still wet oils. No longer was it gently warming her body, bringing life back to cold muscles; now it burns unprotected skin in minutes. In this long month the sun does not bring smiles, instead the people march on, head-bowed under its angry glare. In this heat, even the trees appeared defeated. Leaves that should have been firm and upward tilting droop, flaccid as old lettuce. The soil wasn't simply dry, but powdery to the touch. The grass that was always green this time of year was now early hay. Even the air was dry, not the usual humid warmth Paris had at this time of the year. Each day, the sky was barren, though of late, the forest fires have stolen the endless blue for a dull grey and each evening brings us a blood sun.
Any tree that'd been in the ground less than two years lost every single leaf, they just died, slowly. The sun was no longer a friend; it was an oppressive presence that sapped the energy out of every living thing. The citizens of Paris were desiccated from every pore, their water escaping to a cloudless sky. Her pale skin was glistening and the nape of her neck damp as she sought shelter in the shade from the sweltering summer temperature. Madellaine's blonde hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. The pain she was feeling commanded all her attention, demanding and with no breaks, no hope of relief. It had been her idea to take an early morning walk, to get out of the tower loft for a bit, get some fresh air.
She was, however, starting to think that she should have stayed back like her husband suggested, it was too hot, and her time was close upon her. But she hadn't been able to resist. The outside called to her, after so many years spent indoors. Madellaine loved the woods, being outside, the fresh crisp air filling her lungs. She had never been allowed outside when she'd been in Jehan's service, so she felt as though she had to make up for missed time. In this nature's hug of ever-open arms of brown, cozy beneath the canopy of greens, there was a welcoming spirit that calls out to her. It is as if there was something in her that the trees could feel and they chatter to it, her intuition perhaps. There was softness to the woodland floor, to the moss that supports and springs back. The woodland is the birdsong, it is the playful light and it is the serenity of time that flows without the clocks of man. Of all the things on this woodland walk, it was the acorns she loved the best. They lie cold on the soil, bright against the dark rain-soaked ground. Their shells glisten with drops poised to run home to earth, sitting proud on the impervious shell. She picked one up, so small and perfect, fingering it lovingly between her fingers.
How something so small could be so significant for the wildlife. Madellaine sighed, recognizing her time was up. She relished these moments of quiet tranquility, so fleeting but sweet. Madellaine trudged out of the woods and back to the tower loft, to her husband, to her new life, lifting the hem of her dress and allowing the soles of her bare feet to feel the earth beneath her feet.
How fragile it all was. Delicate, the earth was to be loved. "And so, I shall."
On her way up the tower steps, a spasm of pain went down her spine and she shuddered, closing her eyes and trying hard to regulate her breathing, deep and slow, like Sophia had told her. Her pains were infrequent but strong. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Not now…not yet," she begged, reaching out a hand to steady herself as a wave of nausea came on. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. Her scream tore from her lips like a shard of glass. Madellaine felt her eyes widen and pulse quicken, her heart thudding like a rock rattling in box. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human. The blood drained from her face; what little color was left.
The noise brought her husband running, winded and out of breath, looking absolutely panicked and beside himself, the summer breeze rustling his vibrant red locks gently. "Love, what's wrong? What is it? Are you hurt?"
"The baby," she whispered, grabbing his hands and crushing them as another contraction passed, ignoring the pained look on her husband's face. She hoped she hadn't broken them. "It's coming."
His face paled as he guided her back towards the loft, to her favorite chair, helping her to sit down. "Okay, just breathe, it's going to be fine. You're going to be fine. Just hang on; I'll go get Sophia. You need to sit down and stay sitting. I'd hate to have to tie the mother of my child to her chair," he teased.
She laughed, her worries momentarily stopping as she gazed into her husband's eyes, and she fought back the urge to giggle, seeing how worried he was. "Yes, love, but I really think you're overdoing it. You heard what Sophia said. I'm just supposed to avoid strenuous activity. I'm not an invalid!" she protested. He turned away from her for a moment to fetch her water.
"I also heard her say those pains were a warning sign."
"Did you miss the part where she told us the baby was fine?" Madellaine asked, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "Our baby is healthy, I'm fine. You're fine. It's going to be okay, my love. We'll get through this."
"I heard her," Quasi retorted, turning back to her and handing her water. "And I'm going to make sure you both stay that way. You're not allowed to lift anything heavier than this cup of water, which you need to drink. Now," he ordered, smiling as his wife stared up at him, awestruck, rolling her eyes.
"I like it when you get assertive," Madellaine, teased, a purr to her voice that he recognized well. Quasi laughed and knelt to kiss his wife. Her husband flinched as she let out another scream, biting her lip hard enough to bleed.
"I don't know what I'm doing, what do you need me to do?" he asked desperately, panic returning to his brown eyes. "Quasi," she whispered. "Calm down, I need you to be calm. Don't—don't yell around me…"
"Be calm? How can I relax when you're in pain?" he cried. "I don't—what do you need me to do?" he shouted, panicking. "Is there anything else you need from me, Lena, tell me right now and I promise, I'll—I'll do it."
"Hurry," she pleaded. "Go get Sophia. Please."
"Can't you just—can't you just hold it in?" he begged, sheer panic on his face. He ran a hand through his red hair in anguish.
"NO, QUASI! I CAN'T JUST HOLD IT IN!" she bellowed, irritated, closing her eyes and biting her lip as another tremor went down her spine. "My water broke five minutes ago, I—I've been trying to, but I don't think I can anymore. If I could…keep it inside," she grunted, fighting against her urge to push, "then I would, but I—I can't!" she screamed, clenching her eyes shut.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. "What can I do to help you? Tell me."
"I need Sophia, you need to go right now—"
"This—this doesn't happen this quick, no one has babies this quick!" the bell ringer shouted, his words frantic and laced together as they came out as a steady stream of panicked thoughts. "You were just fine this morning, Lena!"
"WILL YOU PLEASE JUST GO GET SOPHIA?" she screamed, tears streaming down her face as another wave of nausea threatened to consume her entirely. "Please," she begged, desperation in her voice. "I—I didn't mean to yell at you, love, but I need her. Go. Now."
He hesitated, but only for a moment. Quasi pulled his wife in for a desperate lingering kiss. He kissed her and just for a moment, the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.
"No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you, my love," he whispered. "I'll always protect you. Both of you," he smiled, laying a protective hand on his wife's swollen abdomen. "I love you both. I'll be back," he promised, and just like that, he was gone before Madellaine even had time to say anything else. The pain has unpleasant warmth to it, eating at her stomach. There was nausea too, just enough to make her hold onto the table for support and breath slow. Madellaine often prized herself in ignoring pain and just continuing regardless, but that just was not possible for her right now. It owned her, dominated every thought, controlled her every action. She wasn't in control and she hated it. Her pain was sharp like a needlepoint or a knife; it burned around her innards better than boiling water. Everything felt scolded and, move or not, she was in more pain than she could have ever imagined was possible. Despite the immense pain she was currently experiencing, she couldn't help but smile. She knew with every fiber of her being that he was going to be an excellent father.
"I hope I'm not interrupting?" Darius spoke up.
"Darius," she whispered, relieved she wasn't alone, turning to face the handsome priest. "Thank God you're here, I don't want to be alone. Are you sure you've nothing else pressing to attend to? I can't be alone right now. I hope Mathias didn't mind my insisting our baby be born in the tower, but I don't know where else I can go to—"
"None of that, Lena," Darius laughed, waving away her concerns with a brush of his hand. "Mathias is fine with the arrangement, I've told you three times already," he joked.
"What about the parishioners?" she groaned, gritting her teeth as another ripple of pain traveled down her spine. Darius smiled. "They won't hear you," he promised. "Easy, love. Just focus on your baby, nothing else. I've made a special arrangement with the Archdeacon and the Bishop that the cathedral is to remain closed unless someone has a dire emergency. No one will come up to your tower and interrupt the birthing process, or ask any questions about…the noise," he finished, looking away for a moment.
Madellaine groaned, clenching his hand tight. "Are you sure they won't hear? I—I can do it, I think, I—I can be quiet," she managed, gasping for air.
Darius shook his head. "Don't worry about it, love. No. I've made sure of it, you've nothing to worry about." "Nothing is more important than my family," he said, earning a beautiful smile from Madellaine at the comment.
"What are you doing here, Dari?" Madellaine asked curiously.
"Your husband asked me to come sit with you," he responded, smiling in a way that he hoped was reassuring to his brother's wife. "Why didn't you ask me to go get Sophia? Your husband should be here, with you," he said, a concerned look etched on his face as he gripped Madellaine's hand as she breathed deep and slow, like Sophia taught her.
"No, no, my husband needs a task to work on when he's nervous. I need Sophia, and I need her soon," she said, breathing deep and biting her tongue to avoid screaming. "I've never experienced a pain this great in my life and I've been through quite a lot," she whispered through gritted teeth and wincing at her friend's darkened expression. She knew he was thinking of Jehan and what he'd done.
Darius said nothing, just pulled up a chair and pulled it close so he could hold her hand as she worked her way through another painful spasm. "You're doing great," he replied soothingly, his voice gentle. "Deep breaths, nice and slow, that's it. Just breathe. Work through it, stay calm. That's it."
"I'm grateful you're here, my friend," she said softly, squeezing his hand tightly. "It means the world that you're here with me. I don't want to be alone right now, Darius."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else. You both are my life now." Madellaine smiled, leaning her head into his shoulder, shuddering as another tremor went down her spine. "It gets better," Darius said suddenly, his eyes glinting in the light of the sun as he looked out into the streets of Paris as he remembered Hanna. "It does. This pain you're currently experiencing will be worth it when you hold your child in your arms for the first time. There's no greater love than that. I know I haven't spoken much of my past but trust me." She smiled distantly, not looking at the priest for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was confident despite the pain.
"My child will be my child, whether it is a boy or a girl. My child already holds my soul in their heart, and my heart is forever his. Or hers. It doesn't matter. My child is free to live, to learn, to love whoever they will grow to love when they are older, for there is no rule in my eyes that can contain such a sacred thing. My child will have my support for as long as I'm alive, and my guidance should he or she ever wishes to ask. I know in my heart that I would walk through the gates of hell to keep them safe and feel honored to be given the chance. I would feel only gratitude to keep my child safe."
Darius looked at her with such intensity in his eyes she wasn't sure what to make of it at first. "That is why you're going to be a good mother. And I have no doubt that my brother will be an excellent father. He's certainly taken good care of you the last few months," he teased, laughing softly. "My brother loves you very much, with all his heart. He won't let anything happen to you."
"He has," she answered, her eyes sparkling. "It'll be worth it," Darius repeated, squeezing her hand. "I know," Madellaine responded. "It will."
It was a moment before Madellaine felt the beginnings of a mischievous grin creep onto her face, and she realized Jeanne and Alice were affecting her more than perhaps she cared to admit. "So, when is it Sophia's turn?" she asked coyly, biting her lip playfully as she waited for her best friend to get it.
Darius laughed, pulling her close and rubbing her shoulder. "Soon," he promised. "She doesn't know it yet, but…" his voice trailed off as he rummaged through his pockets of his brown monk's habit, procuring a pair of beautiful yellow gold wedding bands, very similar to hers and Quasi's.
Madellaine stared at them in his palm as he shifted them, her brain stuttering to catch up. Finally, she got it. "That's wonderful!" she squealed, flinging her arms around their priest's middle, engulfing him a tight hug, stronger than Darius Barret thought possible of the young blonde woman.
"It is," he agreed, his blue eyes twinkling. "And I have you to thank for that, Lena. Were it not for our conversation in this very spot almost a year ago, I wouldn't have dared to take the risk on finding love again in my best friend."
Madellaine smiled at him, not saying a word. She felt she didn't need to.
Sometimes, the silence was just enough. It said everything it needed to to.
She did not know how long they stayed like that, hands interlocked, simply feeling each other's presence, but it felt too precious a moment to ruin.
If it weren't for Sophia Damas, that godsend of a woman, Quasi felt for certain both he and his wife would have lost their minds several hours ago.
"Why doesn't it want to come out?" pleaded Madellaine desperately.
"You know what I think it is?" questioned her husband, in a last-ditch effort to make her feel better, his hand coming to rest on the swell of her stomach. "I think you've made such a nice home for our baby over the last nine months that it just doesn't want to come out," he soothed, reaching for a wet cloth to wipe her brow. "You're doing great, just…keep breathing, Lena."
Madellaine huffed in frustration, blowing her blonde bangs out of her eyes. She sighed and reached up a hand to caress her husband's cheek. "Look at you, making up crap for me," she teased weakly through her haze of pains.
"Twenty-one hours," Quasi croaked huskily. "You're a force of nature."
"Out," snapped Sophia, who'd pulled back the tent flap that covered their doorway towards their sleeping nook. She was looking livid. "Get out, Quasi."
"No!" he snarled, his face turning white with suppressed rage. His hand was currently held in a vice grip as his poor wife worked through another spasm.
"Please, please keep it inside," she begged through her tears, working to control her tears and her breathing. "SOPHIA!" she screamed hysterically.
Sophia sighed, brushing a stray dark curl away from her face. When she lifted her chin to meet Quasi's gaze, he was not all surprised to see that familiar spark of anger flash through her dark eyes that he recognized in his own. "I won't ask you again. Get out of here. You don't need to be here—"
"She's my wife, Sophia!" he bellowed, balling his hands into fists as he gingerly pried his left hand out of Madellaine's ironclad grasp. "I'm not—"
"Oh, yes, you are," came Darius's firm, slightly angered voice behind him, one of his strong hands coming up to grasp his shoulder, promptly yanking him out of their bedroom. "You need to mind yourself, brother. You really think the yelling and screaming out at your friend is going to help Lena?"
Quasi opened his mouth to argue at the same time another shrill cry came from their bedroom and he heard Sophia's soothing tones echo, doing her best to calm down a sobbing Madellaine. "Focus on your baby, love," Sophia's German French voice was instructing, flowing through their loft like a soft breeze. "Don't think about anything else. You can do this, Madellaine."
"Trust me," encouraged Darius, steering him further away from their tower, almost bumping into Alice and Jeanne, who were coming up the stairwell with bundles of fresh rags and hot water laden in their arms. "Here, let me." Darius did not wait before taking the buckets and promptly disappearing into their bedroom for a second, talking in low tones to Sophia about something.
Their priest re-emerged moments later, looking winded, his face pale, flexing his fingers. "Your wife has one hell of a grip," he complimented, looking impressed and wincing a little as he flexed the muscles in his fingers.
"She does." Quasi frowned, sensing the others weren't going to let him get within a foot of their bedroom, opting instead to drag a spare chair from his carving table over towards their sleeping nook, making as much noise as he could. He barely stifled his grin of satisfaction as Sophia angrily poked her head out. "What?" he asked, maintaining a cold indifference. "This is as close as you'll let me get since you won't let me in help her through this," he hissed.
Sophia was silently fuming, her dark eyes darting back and forth between Quasi and Darius. Her gaze landed on Darius, and something in her eyes softened, and she let out a weary sigh. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Q, I really am," she apologized, looking pained. "But you can over-react. You're not allowed in until afterwards. Darius, I'll call you if I need you," she said softly, ignoring their bell ringer's flustered look of utter outrage and left.
The minutes turned into hours. "It's all right. You're safe here. Your baby is coming. Don't think about anything else. You're all right, Madellaine. Breathe, breathe, just breathe! You can do this, Lena, I just know it." Quasi winced as he heard another ear-piercing scream come from their bedroom.
Agitated, he couldn't sit still anymore and began to pace the tower loft, wringing his hands together until they hurt, picking at a loose string on one of his gloves until he violently wrenched them off and tossed them in a corner.
He hated this. It wasn't fair that Darius was allowed inside, and he had to stay out here. He hated that he wasn't allowed to be in the room with his wife, helping her through the worst of her pain. "Oh, God, how did this happen?"
Quasi heard Jeanne let out a dry snort through their bedroom. "You got her pregnant, that's what, kid!" she called out, unable to help herself from commenting. "I would have thought that was obvious, Quasi. Use your head!"
He jumped when he felt Darius's hand on his shoulder, turning slightly to see the man he considered an older brother smiling sympathetically at him, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim light of their tower. "She's going to be fine."
"How do you know?" He could hear his voice breaking as he asked him. The torture for him was almost unbearable. Sophia, god bless that woman, had stayed with them for the better part of an entire day, but still, it didn't stop his incessant worrying. Darius smiled that sometimes annoyingly charming smile and did his best to reassure their bell ringer she was in capable hands.
"Madellaine is tougher than we give her credit for. She'll be just fine. Sophia's taking excellent care of her. She's not lost a single woman in her care yet. I would trust my friend with my own life. Madellaine could not be in more capable hands. You know this just as well as I do. Trust Sophia, Quasi."
He gave a curt laugh in response, but it didn't mask the worry in his voice. His heartbeat faltered for what felt like the hundredth time today and he noticed in a nearby mirror his face was extraordinarily pale and terrified. He a ran a hand through his shock of red hair, noticing a single gray hair that he could have sworn wasn't there this morning. "Jesus," he muttered. Darius snorted, unable to contain it. "You know, what you're feeling is perfectly natural. It's—" but he was interrupted by a piercing scream.
Despite her pain, Madellaine bit her tongue hard enough to bleed to make no further sound. She knew the noise was stressing out her husband greatly. When the pains passed, it was only for a minute or so and she breathed deeply with closed eyes, unwilling to re-engage with life outside her own body. Their bedroom might as well have been empty for all the awareness she had, and when the others, Sophia and Jeanne, did talk to her, touch, anything to gain her attention, she found it so hard. To reply, she had to find herself from the deepest recesses of her own mind and drag herself forward. Sophia was telling her to lie down. She was in for another long night, but she just wanted it to stop. She'd been in labor twenty-one hours already. Enough was enough. Madellaine could not stop her scream of pain from erupting forth. A long, piercing wail that her husband knew would haunt his dreams for the next several nights.
She cried, tears pouring down her face, begging Sophia to just end it, make the pain stop coming, and all the midwife could do was offer soothing words of encouragement. The pain of labor was a prison for the young woman's mind. In that prison cell of fear and confusion, the time passed without her being able to keep track. Her stomach tightened; she heard her own screams without being aware of making them. It was twisting and warping her insides, changing her, boiling her bloodstream ablaze. The day had dragged on for what felt like an eternity, well into the late hours of the night. At first, Quasi had been ecstatic that he was finally going to be a father.
He remembered how excited he had felt that the time had finally come. How excited he had been, carefully crafting a cradle for their child. But as the hours passed, his original worries of his wife's pregnancy began to resurface. Madellaine's labor was lasting unusually long, almost twenty-two hours at this point, and although Sophia, Jeanne, and Alice all assured him this kind of thing happened quite often, it did not stop his incessant worrying. He couldn't help it. He did not think he could stand it if he lost her. All he could think of was Esmeralda, how they'd lost her. Such thoughts only increased his anxiety. All he could do was sit there with Darius and try to drown out his wife's agonizing screams of pain. Would she and their baby be all right? Minus everything she'd undergone with Jehan the last few weeks, and a few weeks of morning sickness early on, once that passed, the months leading up to their baby's arrival had seemed so smooth and flawless. Once Jehan was well and truly gone from her life, she'd had almost no problems, at least not until this morning. He'd not thought ahead to this part. He never should have allowed this to happen. "Damn it," he muttered through gritted teeth, anguished. He visibly flinched as another of his wife's cries filled their loft. "I guess it's a good thing you closed the cathedral today, Darius," he said.
"She's going to be okay," Darius repeated quietly, unfazed by the outburst.
"How do you know?" he snapped, his fear surfacing in the form of his anger, acting as a shield for his pain. "No one can know for sure what will happen to her. What if my wife dies from this?" Quasi bellowed angrily.
Darius smiled, his blue eyes gleaming in the light. "I just do." He was leaning up against a wooden table, his arms folded across his chest, one foot crossed over the other. He was looking out one of the windows, though Quasi doubted he could see anything. His friend radiated an aura of peace, and whenever he looked as he did now, he seemed to hold the world in his eyes. Quasi remained silent, not sure what to think. His panicked thoughts were interrupted as Sophia rushed out of their bedroom, traces of red staining her palms.
Sophia had a beautiful smile whenever she smiled, although right now she looked exhausted. Her curly dark hair was piled up in a messy bun that was currently tucked underneath a brown headscarf, a few loose tendrils escaping to frame her face. Her hair was the brown of aged mahogany, rich and deep, yet with the subtle hues only time brings. With each stride the strands tumbled, reflecting the strengthening daylight in waves. Her hair was a lovely whisky, the color of fallen leaves browned and sleek with the first rain of autumn. Sweat beaded her forehead and she looked tired, but otherwise fine. Her eyes darted around the room until she met Darius's gaze and beckoned to him. Her brown-mahogany eyes scintillated with a mischievous glint that could be noticed next to the umber that rimmed her iris. Her eyes glowed with humor and playfulness that never seem to escape her eyes. Nevertheless, her eyes possess sorrow that placed a melancholic veil, which cloaked her eyes; it seemed as if it made the happiness in her eyes matte. Yet, when she smiled, the corners of her beauteous eyes lustered happiness in soft twinkles, which reflected the light that made her eyes copper against caramel. Sophia brushed her hands on her apron, which had traces of Madellaine's blood on them.
"Darius, I need your help," Sophia said breathlessly. "I need you now, if you are willing, my friend." The priest nodded and without a word straightened and hurried to follow the midwife to their bedroom.
"Wait!" Quasi cried out desperately. "Sophia. Madellaine, is she...?"
Sophia turned and paused. She sighed, fatigue in her voice. "She's fine, Q. I promise. I just need a little help for this next part of this birthing." She smiled weakly at him and glanced to Darius for his help. Sophia was the only person who could call their bell ringer by a nickname and get away with it other than his wife.
"NO!" shouted Madellaine, sounding exhausted. "Lena, it's all right," Sophia called out, using his wife's nickname and hoping it reassured her. She was smiling despite her charge's vehement insistence that she does not bring help into their room. "I can't do this part by myself!" "Do not bring Darius in here, Sophia! I don't want him to see me like this!" she shouted, crying as another contraction overtook her body. "Don't bring him in! He—he doesn't need to see this!"
"Lena, it's all right," called out Darius, his voice calm and reassuring, flowing into their bedroom like a soft wind. "NO! Darius, you are absolutely crazy!" she shouted. "No way!" "Listen to me, sweetheart! I've done this once before with Hanna. I can come in there and try to make things easier, or Sophia can do this on by herself. It will probably be more painful for you if I stay out here. It's your call. I'm happy to help Sophia in any way I can if it makes things easier for you, my love. Something tells me you could use the help," he called out, glancing sideways at Sophia for her reaction.
The midwife shrugged her shoulders and waited. Her response was a loud scream. She groaned and gasped as pain tremors shook her body. "I—I—okay, okay, you can come in, just—just hurry!" she begged, sobbing, grunting as she stifled another wail. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, this is torture, twenty-two hours! Sophia, help me, please!" she cried. Darius nodded and he and Sophia hurried into the bedroom, leaving him alone with Laverne. She was viciously guarding the entrance, which had been blocked with a curtain to give the women privacy and protect Madellaine's modesty. Laverne growled at the bell ringer anytime he got close to the entryway, refusing to let him past. He watched their bedroom anxiously, listening for any kind of sound, a sign.
A shout of pain, the cry of their child, anything. He heard nothing. The silence was killing him. Suddenly, he could hear his wife's breathing quickening and slowing done. Quasi's eyes grew wide. Could she be...? He took a step to the door and Laverne growled low, warning him not to come any closer. He glowered at her but backed off. Then he heard Darius's calming voice.
Although he could not see it, Darius held Madellaine's hand and spoke to her gently through her haze of pain. "All right, Lena, breathe. Stay calm, love. Look at me. Look at me. You can do this. Easy, just breathe. That's it. Okay, you're almost ready. When Sophia tells you to, I want you to push, all right?" His voice was quiet and kind despite the tension in the room. "You can do this, I know it."
"Please, please, Sophia, make it stop!" she begged. "This really hurts, make it stop! I don't think I can do this. I need—I need the valerian, just give it to me and I'll sleep through this. Please, please, I need it, I'll—I'll make sure there's time. I'll stop pushing, I'll stop pushing; I'll make sure it doesn't come out," she begged through gritted teeth, lowering her voice to barely a whisper as she pleaded through her tears.
"There's no time for the valerian, Madellaine, you're past the point of being able to take it safely. You're just going to have to get through this the hard way. I know it's hard and I know it hurts, honey, but I know you can do it. You can do this. You've made it this far. You're doing so great. Come on, Madellaine, push. I need you to push!" Sophia's tone was harsh and commanding but calm. Madellaine's screams filled the loft as she did what she was told, groaning and crying as she pushed.
Her pain came in waves, completely overpowering her and burning through her insides. She had never felt this way in her life and she just wanted this to stop. "Sophia, please, make it stop!" she cried. "Keep it inside."
"It doesn't work like that, and you're past the point of the valerian. Lena, stop crying. Stop crying and look at me!" the midwife commanded, her tone harsh and firm, but loving.
Madellaine blearily focused her view through her haze of burning agony, the pain twisting her insides. She met Sophia's kind gaze and tried to breathe deeply, willing herself to calm down. You can do this, this is it. Soon, it'll all be over, and we'll meet our baby.
"Okay, I need you to push. Come on, that's it, you can do this, love, I know you can, you're doing so great. Push!" came Sophia's commanding tone. The powers of nature and existence took over, and with strength she didn't even know she had, Madellaine began to bear down hard, gritting her teeth and biting her tongue so she wouldn't scream, pushing the baby out of her womb. The pain was worse than anything she'd ever felt in her entire life, crippling and degrading. But it didn't stop her. She propelled herself onwards, feeling the head begin to emerge between her legs. She groaned, collapsing her head back against the pillow. Madellaine saw a smile from Sophia, so she took that as a good sign. It's almost over...
"That's it, Madellaine, I can see the head, your baby has bright red hair like its father," she teased, loud enough for Quasi to hear.
Darius, encouraged by Sophia's words of comfort, offered his own soothing remarks. "Keep going, love, you're doing wonderful, it's almost over. You can do this, Lena." He flinched as her ironclad grip on his hand tightened. For all her strength and resolve, Madellaine could not overcome the pain, and her bloodcurdling screams carried on into the late hours of the night, but they brought with them the announcement of a new birth, a new life. Quasi froze, staring at the door, his eyes wide. His wife struggled and pushed, heaved one final groan and he could hear the slightest sound of release, and although she could not see it, Madellaine flopped against the pillow, panting, exhausted and crying.
"It's out, it's out," she gasped. The loud cries of a newborn infant filled the room. Quasi felt himself breathe an audible heavy sigh of relief. His child was safe. But was his wife...? He heard nothing from Madellaine. His stomach began twisting into knots again.
"You're a mother, Madellaine, to a beautiful baby girl! She's beautiful, love, I'm so proud of you!" Darius's kind voice filled the room and he placed a gentle kiss on Madellaine's cheek.
"Darius, you can look at your godchild later!" Sophia cried, amused but frustrated. "Take the rag and clean her off!" Sophia poked her head out from behind the curtain that led to their bedroom. She was exhausted but she was beaming. "Quasi," she said softly, "would you like to see your little girl?" She stepped out of the room, wiping her hands clean on a rag as she did so.
The bell ringer rushed over to her, taking his friend's hands in his, which still had faint traces of red on them. "Sophia, is Madellaine...?"
Sophia let out a tired huff of frustration and stomped her foot. "For God's sake, Q! I told you. She's fine. How long have you known me? She's going to be okay. Right now, she's just tired. I told you she would be okay. Give me some credit."
He nodded, silent. Sophia smiled gently and took his hand in hers and led him to their bedroom. He peeked around the door, his eyes cautiously sweeping the room. Sophia stood leaning against the doorway, smiling proudly at the new mother. She looked exhausted but radiant. She sighed and let her brown ringlets fall to her shoulders. Despite her exhaustion, it did nothing to take away from her natural beauty. The midwife surprised Darius by leaning down and pressing her lips to his forehead for a gentle kiss.
"Thank you, Darius," she said, keeping her voice low.
"For what?" he asked, shocked at her gesture.
"For your help tonight, you fool," she teased. "I couldn't have done it without you, old friend. Thank you." Sophia fell silent and clapped him on the shoulder, smiling softly.
"Of course," he said, looking up at her in surprise.
"She's beautiful, you two. Congratulations. You did so great!" Sophia spoke up quietly. Madellaine was propped up against a mound of pillows, her hair tousled, the color drained from her face, beads of sweat on her forehead. She looked utterly exhausted but was beaming as she cradled a small bundle in her arms swathed in blankets.
A startled cry from the newborn broke her of her moment with her husband. "Thanks for coming out of me," she joked weakly. "Hush now," she whispered to the crying baby in her arms. "It's all right, Mama's here. You're all right," she crooned, and the baby silenced at listening to her mother's soothing tone. Her gray eyes found her own and Madellaine's heart surged with loved as her daughter's miniature fingers grasped Madellaine's and held tight. She knew. Somehow, her daughter knew that her mother needed comfort; she knew she needed joy amid her pain. Madellaine held her baby to her chest tightly. She would never let this Monster Lines 365 precious bundle go, no matter what came, she would always protect her daughter. Even to the point of death, if that's what it took to keep her baby safe. Madellaine noticed her husband looking and beckoned him over with her eyes. Darius was sitting at the edge of the blanket, smiling, his blue eyes twinkling as he watched the new mother with pride in his heart. Sophia met his eyes and smiled gently. Darius felt sudden warmth in his heart but had no time to dwell on it as he watched his brother enter the room. Notre Dame's bell ringer walked over to his wife, kneeling beside his wife and new baby. She didn't say anything, only held out the warm wrappings to him. He pulled back the folds of the blanket and his heart melted, as he looked into the sleeping face of his daughter, his child, his little angel. His child had his red hair, although her hair was more auburn than red. When she would open her eyes later, it would be revealed that their baby had her mother's eyes. Her tiny fingers clutched at her father's gentle fingers in her sleep as dreams swirled around in her head. Quasi felt a single tear slide down his cheek as he planted a kiss on her forehead, placing her back in his wife's arms.
After a while, Sophia took the infant from Madellaine's arms, letting her sleep against the pillows. She rocked the baby in her arms before handing the baby off to Darius. Darius looked down into the face of his godchild and swallowed as he fought back tears. To distract himself, he asked the new father a question.
"What will you name her?" he asked softly, handing the newborn baby back to his brother, who cradled her gently against his chest. The priest turned back and smiled at the new parents, his family, with swelling warmth in his heart. Coming over to his brother, he looked down and placed a gentle kiss on his new godchild's forehead. "Didn't I tell you she would be all right?" he whispered, his eyes twinkling.
Sophia stood silently against the door frame; her arms crossed. Quasi stared at his brother, shocked. Glancing down at his daughter, he realized what Darius's words earlier meant. He didn't know how his brother had known, but he made a mental note never to doubt him again. He leaned down and kissed his wife. "I love you," he whispered passionately. She smiled too, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion.
"I love you too," she said quietly, closing her eyes and collapsing her head against the pillows. He finally had a normal life. A loving wife, a brand-new baby, a brother he'd do anything for, his guardians. His life was perfect. The two men left the bedroom to allow Madellaine time to sleep, Sophia trailing close behind. "What will you name her?" Darius asked again quietly as he watched the new father sit down gently and cradle his daughter as she slept. He'd never gotten an answer. His brother was quiet for a moment, thinking as he gazed down with love and adoration in his eyes for his child. He pulled his baby close, nuzzling her face tenderly, stroking her cheek with a gentle finger. He wanted to drink this moment in, with his little girl in his hands. Her eyes are more brilliant than he could have ever dreamed, her hands more delicate and tinier. She felt so light in his arms; she looked perfect and smelled divine. He knew he would be her protector as long as he lived and his love for his daughter and wife would last for all time, long after they were dead and gone. Darius can barely hear him he when spoke and had to strain to hear. "Well. We only had one name in mind if it was a girl. Charlotte," he whispered, glancing up at Darius with tears in his eyes. "Madellaine insisted," he said softly. "She would consider no other name. I hope…that it's okay…"
"What?" he asked, shocked, feeling his eyes grow wide, and tears of his own welling in his eyes. He met Sophia's eyes and he knew she was thinking the same thing. That there would be no greater honor than to be her godparents. Finally, Darius tore his gaze away from the heartbreak in Sophia's eyes and looked out the window, so neither would see his eyes misting. "It's a beautiful name," he croaked hoarsely. Glancing towards Sophia, he nodded. "Come, Soph. We should leave these two alone," he added, a soft smile forming. He held out his hand for her to take, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted it.
The bell ringer watched the two leave, hand in hand, a soft smile of his own forming on his mouth. "Find your peace, Darius," he whispered. After a while, Madellaine awoke, hearing their baby crying, despite Quasi's best efforts to keep their new daughter quiet so she could sleep. She was exhausted but smiling in a way that only a mother could explain.
"Here." She held her arms out, gingerly taking baby Charlotte from her father's arms, and wasn't at all surprised when the baby immediately began to wail. "Okay, okay!" she joked, mockingly raising her arms in surrender. "Later, then. I wouldn't want to leave Papa's arms either, sweet baby girl," she crooned, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on their daughter's forehead. Glancing up at Quasi, she didn't bother to hide the wide grin that crept onto her face. "She's going to be her father's girl through and through. Spoiled." "You know it, darling," he retorted back, a note of pride in his voice. "Go to sleep," he added, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes and beads of sweat forming on her brow. "I've got this. Trust me?" he asked lovingly. Madellaine smiled and closed her eyes, nestling her head into his shoulder, their newborn daughter cradled gently in his arms, snuggled against his chest.
"Until the end of the world." Quasi watched his wife slowly fall asleep, and then their baby closed her eyes and followed suit. He felt his heart swell with such an immeasurable sense of happiness and pride, he thought it would surely burst. His wife and daughter and Darius and Sophia held a place in his heart that was irreplaceable. His family was his own heaven's light, and no one would ever be able to take that away from him. They were home.