Chapter Twelve- Backed Against the Wall
Achilles' instincts were renowned. They kept him and almost all of his men alive in battle. They made him sharp and quick-witted, able to defeat someone in verbal and physical confrontation. He trained himself to get to the point were his instincts ran without his consent, keeping him always on his toes.
But they slipped up on him. That's what he kept telling himself as he sat out on the balcony of Pat's room. The boy was asleep in his crib, exhausted from crying. Achilles didn't blame him for his tears. He missed the presence and love Briseis gave him. Being apart from her for nine days was hard on him. It was even harder that she was in the room right next to his.
The physicians said that sometimes a little bleeding occurred, just the body's way of adjusting to the burden of carrying a baby. The bleeding did cease, but she did not recover. She lay unconscious on their bed, the breeze rippling her hair softly against the pillows. Her fever wavered from extremely hot to extremely cold.
She could not intake any food or fluids; her skin turning ashen as the days progressed. From a healthy figure under a warm glow, Briseis lost excess amounts of weight and looked a fragile as glass.
The only comfort was the timing. She was five days short of nine months. If she went into labor, the child would not be too small. But because of how weak she was neither, midwife nor physician could say whether Briseis would survive the birth. Achilles prayed everyday, watching her slowly draw light, feathery breaths that she would survive.
The baby needed her, Pat needed her, and he needed her.
The baby. In the back of his mind, he knew the outcomes of this situation. She gave birth and both were fine; the child would be taken and she would die; the child would die before birth; or both would die. The image of a pyre for either made his heart bleed. He wasn't prepared to lose, only gain a child. He knew only what it was like to have them both.
He heard another piercing cry followed by heavy breaths and moaning. He pressed his hand to the door, hoping it would comfort her somehow. She awoke only a few minutes before she felt birth pains. He didn't even get the chance to see her before being ushered further away by the mid wife.
Within, Briseis cringed from the contractions, gritting her teeth as well.
Seven hours passed and the child remained inside, twisting and turning uncomfortably. A few of the nursemaids worked with grave looks upon their face. She heard them whisper that she would not make it; the child might die as well. But the midwife wisped them off.
"They deliver one or two children and they think they have seen it all" she said, wiping Briseis' forehead with a wet cloth. "Do not worry, my child. You will live to see this child grow strong." Briseis wanted to thank her for the support, but more pain shot through her weak frame.
Another hour drew by and she started to give out. Her body was unprepared for this, no weight, no muscle, no strength at all. She leaned against one of her handmaidens, Dorlia, forcing herself to breath. She heard them whisper again: stillborn, dying from contractions, bleeding out. Tears streamed from her eyes onto her cheeks.
"I won't let this child die" she whispered. "I will not let my baby die"
She screamed loudly, making everyone jump. The pains increased and it felt as if death was crushing down upon her. But the midwife just smiled at her. "I believe this child wishes to be with us now." Briseis felt the bones and muscles of her legs stretch and move aside. More tears, cries, and hurt came to her. But she was determined that this child would live.
"On three my lady. One, two..." She pushed down with all that was left in her body. The pressure ceased and a tiny mew came forth. It quickly elevated in volume and their second child was placed in her arms, supported by Dorlia. The babe cried out, confused and scared of the world outside the womb.
Briseis stroked her child's arm, letting the tiny fingers coil around her index finger. She knew it was a boy by his cry and smiled, knowing she gave Achilles another son. "He's beautiful."
"Congratulations on the birth of your new son" the midwife said, gently placing the child in Achilles' arms.
"Another prince for us" he asked happily to the sleepy-eyed child. He smiled when the baby yawned, just like his brother at birth, curling up in his arms. He carefully memorized his child's appearance. He looked much like his mother with small brown curls on his head and dark eyes. He followed the mid wife into the room. On the bed lay an exhausted Briseis.
"He looks like you" Achilles said softly, sitting next to her. She smiled brightly, fingers stroking the down of her baby's head, tracing his cheek down to his chin. Briseis felt a tired darkness start to cover her. Before drifting off to sleep, she watched as Achilles pressed a kiss to their second child's forehead.
She awoke to the sound of Pat's little voice. Turning her head, her heart warmed at the sight she beheld. Achilles sat on the couch, holding his youngest in his arms. Pat stood on the cushion, looking into his brother's face.
"Baby dada" the two year old said again, hopeful that he called the little one by the right title.
"Yes, its a baby. Your little brother." Achilles shifted his arm and pulled Pat close to him. She watched as her eldest touched the hand of his new sibling. It was weird to say that, her eldest, and youngest. Now she was the mother of two princes of Phtia, sons of Achilles. She smiled lightly and turned her focus back to her body.
Her hands showed the greatest signs of her condition. The skin stretched over her bones, pale and cold. She shifted her legs lightly, grimacing silently. The echoes of giving birth remained on her thighs and hips. She pressed against her belly and the realization of what happened sunk in. Even after giving birth, women maintain weight from the pregnancy. As she lay there, Briseis realized she had not only lost the weight she gained, but more. She felt weak and sickly, exactly as she was.
She heard the hungry moans of her son and turned to see Achilles trying to rock him into comfort. But the moans turned into sniffles and were about to become tears.
"I think he's hungry" she said softly. Achilles looked over to her, relief washing over his face. He crossed the room and helped her to sit up. Since she slept, some of her strength returned to her. She cradled the babe and he quieted down, instantly realizing he was in his mother's arms. She slipped her shoulder strap down, exposing her swollen breast. He latched on and lay perfectly content to feed. She gently pulled part of the blanket over his head, blocking out the sunlight.
"We were worried about you" Achilles said. "The midwife said you just needed sleep, so I didn't try to wake you."
"Thank you for that" she said, rocking lightly.
"How do you feel"
"Tired, weak, hungry." She gave a small laugh. She cradled the baby against her chest, rocking him gently as he fed. When satisfied, the baby nuzzled against her skin, wanting to be held closer. Achilles watched with quiet amazement as Briseis brought the child up to just below her neck and rocked back and forth, humming lightly. The baby slid off into slumber under her warm gaze and sweet voice.
As he placed their newborn in his basinet, Pat climbed up the side of the bed and into her arms. She pulled him close, inhaling the scent of her child.
"Momma miss you" he garbled into her chest. She smiled and kissed his cheek, fingers running through his dusty blonde hair.
"I missed you too my darling." Achilles sat on the bed next to her, the basket-style basinet on the bed in front of them. Within, the child slept soundly. Briseis gladly accepted his arms around her, leaning back. They kissed, savoring each second of it. Pat sat on his momma's lap, curled into her. "We haven't named him yet."
"I didn't want to without you. Have you thought of any"
"Not until I saw him. I want to name him after my brother, Kytelus."
"Why" Achilles asked with curiosity. She looked down into the basinet, eyes locked on her youngest child.
"When we were children, people would say that my brother and I looked like we were twins. Same hair, same eyes, same height. He was only a year older than I was. He died in the attack on the city when I was five." She stroked Pat's hair absentmindedly. "You said he looked like me and so he looks like Kyte."
Achilles once again started to say something but was interrupted by Pat's excited voice. "Kyte? Kyte kyte kyte kyte kyte kyte kyte."
"Well there's no going back now" he said, kissing her cheek.