Begoud

Chapter 3: Birth

Rating: R for language and childbirth

Disclaimer: Only the original characters are mine, all others are property of Mattel.  I think.

          It had gone well, in her mind at least.  She did not really want Ragnar in her life though she would have welcomed him in her son's, but it did not work out that way.  The man had even followed her out into the street, the very public street, and asked in an overly loud tone why she had told him.  He hadn't wanted to know about a bastard child, he would have been much happier never knowing.

          A bastard!  He dared call her son a bastard and would rather never know about him!  He was the bastard for saying such.

          She would never want someone like that who had so little regard for blood kin to have an influence on the child she carried.  Her son would be brought up properly, thankfully without that pig of a man who didn't even remember bedding her in the picture.  At least now, she no longer had to worry about him or whatever negative influence he would have undoubtedly had on her son.

          Zaehr was not of like mind.

          When Astrid returned home and relayed the more pertinent news of what had taken place, he raged blackly and screamed for days but she tuned the worst of it out once his rants became repetitive.  She finally even told him what Ragnar had bellowed at her in the street but still he did not calm down enough to think coherently until her fourth day back.  He was still fuming over it though. 

          "Did you not seek the assistance of the Council of Elders?"  He asked her that first day he was able to put two rational thoughts together over the incident.

          Astrid gave him a sideways glance from her seat in the over-stuffed chair in his study and wrinkled her small nose, "No.  I don't trust them and you know they've never trusted our kind.  They're human as well, you know they would have taken Ragnar's side anyway."

          He grumbled more.  "What about this man's father?  Surely he will―"

          "No, father, Ragnar's a grown man, I doubt he would have to listen to his father even if the man did agree with you.  I'm happy like this."

          This did not have the calming effect she had hoped for.  It was to be another month before Zaehr began to fully accept the situation and not erupt into a tangent of grumbling and growls every few days.  Eventually he even joined in her and her sisters' anticipation of the birth.

          Rhea and Griselda were beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of becoming aunts, constantly asking about her health and if they could touch her rapidly gaining belly, and the three sisters spent their free time discussing rather trivial things.  It was in Astrid's sixth month that Griselda, her eldest sister newly married to Sigismund, found that she was expecting a child as well and the two of them often sat or walked together, talking about everything they had ever heard of childbirth or asking the older women of the village about it.

          Most of it left them more nervous than they needed to be.

          At nearly eight months along, Astrid moved from the room she shared with Rhea to the room once occupied by her other sister and began the slow process of transforming it into a bedroom/nursery.  She had to rest often, use the loo even more often, and felt more a large barn than a woman, doing nothing for her self-esteem. 

          However, she was eagerly awaiting the day her son would finally be in her arms.  It was just a few short weeks away now. 

          "Have you chosen a name yet?" Rhea asked one day when the two of them were at market perusing the stalls of foodstuffs.

          Astrid paused from trying to find a ripe melon and smiled brightly.  "Yes."

          Her thirteen-year-old sister waited for all of a half-second for her to continue.  "Well…?"

          "Well what?" She picked up a bright blue melon and smiled, "ah, here's a good one."

          "Well," she began with a huff, "what is it?"

          The seventeen-year-old appeared to think seriously about it for a moment, tapping her chin with one talon-ed fingertip. "Alright," she sighed dramatically, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone." A vigorous nod was her reply and she motioned the younger girl closer to whisper in her ear.

          Rhea's mouth dropped open when Astrid finished with a grin and turned to pay for the melon and several other fruits.  She had begun to sputter indignantly by the time Astrid was moving on toward home.

          "What do you mean, 'it's a secret!?'"

          The last few weeks of her pregnancy passed in a blur of excitement and preparation for the coming birth.  She felt stretched far too hugely for her normally small frame to handle and she had begun to waddle when she walked anywhere making her want her old body back as quickly as possible.  She hated having to use the toilet seemingly every few minutes and being unable to sleep at night because the son she carried seemed to be getting bigger and ever more active with each passing day.

          She awoke one morning before dawn when the aching in the small of her back and a well-aimed kick from her son made her crack open her eyes and glance toward the window.  It was still dark; she didn't want to wake up yet. 

          With a grimace, Astrid shifted her cumbersome body, trying to find a more comfortable position when the ache raced around to her front and became a dull, but still painless, pressure that grew sharper.  Her golden eyes snapped open again abruptly.

          Now there was pain.

          Astrid sucked in a harsh breath as the pain grew in intensity before abating and something burst, sending warm liquid flushing out of her body.  Had she wet herself?  Oh, surely not.

          Oh dear, the Draca teenager thought as her mind grasped what was happening and her eyes flew wide at the realization.  Her water had just broken… that meant her son was on his way.

          Another pain washed over her, causing her to choke out a scream.  Gods that had hurt more than she expected.  Though panic had yet to fully set in, fear had as she floundered to get out of bed and get someone to help her, but before she had even reached the door to her room, it burst open and her father ran sleepily in.

          "What's going on?" Came a yawned question from Rhea as she poked her head around the doorframe to gaze at them.

          "It's time," was all she hissed.  Father nearly fainted, little sister merely blinked in disbelief.

          Boreas was sent out for the midwife with urgency while Zaehr tried to get Astrid to lie back down but she, for some reason, felt like being up and walking about.  It could have been instinct, it could have been that she heard somewhere that walking could help, she wasn't really sure. 

          "Father, you don't have to hover like that, I don't think you'll have to do any catching―" she gasped as another pain rolled through her, worse than before, followed by another much sooner than before.

          Everything seemed to escalate once the elderly midwife walked rather calmly into the room and Boreas nosed open the window to peer in and trumpet loudly upon sensing his mistress's distress, causing everyone to jump and doubtlessly waking the neighbors.  The window was promptly closed in his snout and the curtains were drawn while Zaehr and Rhea were ushered out of the room by one of the midwife's two assistants.

          Led back to bed, Astrid was checked over by the tall, austere older woman, who looked confused by whatever her findings were.  She surprisingly announced to both the labouring woman and her aides that Astrid's body was almost ready.

          "Why is that so surprising?"  The young soon-to-be mother asked during a break in the contractions, fearing that her son was in danger and that something was wrong.

          "Normally, things of this nature are far slower in their happenings… this is approaching far quicker than most I have seen, but sometimes the child is impatient.  Yours obviously is."  The midwife said with a smile to ease her mind.

          The contractions continued, building to near intolerable levels of pain and pressures.  Sweat dripped from her pores, causing her hair to stick to her temples in damp tendrils, her shirt to cling to her body.  She screamed― being told it was acceptable to scream she screamed loud enough to surely be heard in the undersea kingdom of the Muirgen. 

          Panting, wishing with all her breath this would end soon, she bore down with all her might during each spasm, screaming to the heavens until she thought she would die in agony.  This was torture, more excruciating than anything she could have ever imagined.  Gods, she just wanted it to end.  This was something she never wanted to go through again.

          With one last, final push, all the pressures and pain abruptly ended.  It was over.  Her son was here.

End chapter 3.

All right, baby Skeletor is in the world, the story's moving along quite nicely I think.  How's it going, by the way?  I'm only 1/25 of the way through this monster as of now so I better get crackin', don't you think?