Title: Moondrenched Shores
Fandom: RHPS
Characters: Riff, his mother, baby!Magenta
Prompt: 029. Birth
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Ritz and Fox own all.
He was the only one there with her when the baby finally came, ending countless months of sullen growth. The baby had taken root inside her, and it was a relief to both of them when she--somehow he knew it was a she--finally chose this rainy day to enter the world. He held her hand, the softly pale skin testimony to many days spent indoors, attending to the mainly social tasks of the upper class.
He remembered days like this one, when they had run through the rain, to come home soaking wet and laughing, and curl up with their respective books by the shimmering heat lamps.
Those had been good days, before she had taken up drinking as a way to pass the empty days, and He had come into their life. He was the advisor to the Prince, so she couldn't really refuse him, and soon found herself with child and no father who felt enough sympathy to take responsibility for it.
She cursed Him with every breath she had left in her straining body, every wave of pain that threatened to carry her off. Riff clung to her hand still tighter, his heart pounding in unison with hers, trying to soothe her, for somehow he knew that this wasn't right. Her hate was birthing this baby, when she really should be born into loving hands, not ones tainted with alcohol and contempt.
And so he bathed her all over with a soaking cloth, wiping the sweat and dirt and mistakes from her brow. She breathed easier after a while, and her eyes seemed to soften. He heard her fierce whisper, "This isn't his baby...It's mine." There were tears streaming down her pretty face now, "And nothing he can do will stop me from raising her and loving her as my baby."
It was those words that did it, seemingly, for suddenly there was a gushing of blood and slickness and that tiny, pale body was squalling on the sheets. Remarkably, Riff managed to unearth a paring knife from the clutter in the adjacent kitchen, and kept his hands from trembling long enough to separate mother and baby.
He figured she'd be cold, and so bundled the tiny bit of a life in one of his old shirts, singing lullabies to her until the sun finally went down and the moondrenched shores of Transsexual greeted her eyes for the first time.