Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.
Arjiki Encampment,
The Great Kells,
Winter,
1858
It was now evident that she was with child.
Though not heavy, at twenty-four weeks, there was a definite swell to her abdomen, and the baby was starting to make its presence known in movement; when Fiyero rested his hand to her abdomen, he could feel the light kicks and movements of their child. At night, he would lay beside her and rest his hand upon her belly, feeling the babe move within her. They often spent their nights discussing what to call the child that grew within her, though in the end, they never agreed.
She sat among the blankets of their tent one evening, working on a blanket for the cradle their child would sleep in once out in the world. Fiyero watched her silently, noting how she would rest her hand against her abdomen on occasion, and a small, knowing smile would cross her lips. Her long black hair hung down her back in two thick black braids, and she often tossed her head, sending the braids flying, to relieve the crick in her neck from her work. Earlier in the week, he had built a small hanging cradle for their child; it resided by their bed of furs and blankets, waiting for the babe to arrive so it could be of use.
Silently, stealthy, he got up, moving around the fire towards her, before settling behind her; so concentrated on her work was she that she didn't hear him, and only jumped when she felt his arms go around her from behind. She turned to meet his gaze, and he smiled softly at her. After several minutes, she set her needle down and held up the small blanket for him to see.
"Marito, bene? Pensi?"
Did she really want to know what he thought? How their child was so lucky to have her as their mother? He sighed, meeting her gaze. "Perfetto." She broke into a smile, before setting the blanket down, and nuzzling her nose against his. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. After several minutes, she climbed out of his lap, allowing him to stand and then took the hand he offered. Without a word, they left the tent, joining the others in the encampment around the bonfire that burned bright in the evening's darkness.
It was the beginning of the winter solstice, what the white called 'December'; the time when animals went into hibernation and snow blanketed the ground. The tribe would spend the winter months- from December to February- at the base of the Great Kells, their tents close together, much like when the swarms of pioneers crossing the Thousand Year Grasslands circled the wagons to protect their families on nights when they had to settle camp.
The fire burned bright, sending sparks into the air, towards the stars to join with them. She watched in silence as young men danced in honor of the Great Father, he who left them only what they needed in the months of the winter solstice, always with the promise that Great Mother would return in spring. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched her husband take part in the dancing; she rested her hands against her belly, caressing it gently through the soft buckskin of her dress. She could feel the babe move within her, and she chuckled softly. "Facile, piccolo uno." She gently stroked her fingers over the soft material of her dress. My little one, so like his father.
She caught her husband's eye, and without a word, he left the dancing, joining her. His hands instantly found the soft mound of her belly in the faint light, and he tenderly caressed her through the material of her dress. He chuckled softly. Our child is rambunctious. He hears the music and wishes to join in. He met her gaze. "Vuole partecipare." She nodded, laughing softly, as the babe continued to kick against their hands.
Or she. She thought, meeting his gaze. "Marito, o lei."
He chuckled. "O lei." Without another word, he leaned down, kissing her soundly, as the music and dancing continued. He still tasted of the water from their visits to the waterfall, and she eagerly drank him in, as though she were dying and he her last chance at survival. He pulled her close, holding her to him, one hand resting against her belly, the other wrapped around her waist. Her arms went around his neck, holding him to her, her hands moving to tangle into his hair. Though others in the tribe noticed, they did not acknowledge such a display between their prince and princess, for it was inappropriate to invade such a private moment.
When they finally broke apart, he took her hand, tugging her from the light of the fire into the darkness. They walked for several minutes, before finally coming to a small clearing not far from the camp. Above them, twinkled hundreds upon hundreds of stars. He pointed out constellation after constellation, telling her the stories of his people, and how the moon fell in love with the sun, but that her father, Daylight, had prevented the union. In order to keep his daughter from taking her own life, Daylight permitted the moon to appear during his time every hundred days, so that the two lovers could be together, if only for very brief moments. And how, Mother Night had cast stars into the sky so that her son might know that the bridge of stars was there for him to cross to join the Sun every hundred days.
She slowly tore her gaze from the stars overhead. "Marito, cosa andiamo chiamare questo piccolo uno?" She waited patiently for his response, studying his features, as he thought over her question.
She was asking for a name. Traditionally, within the tribe, a child's name was not revealed until they made their entrance into the world. For a child's name to be considered before it was born meant that it could be taken by the spirits before it even left the womb. He met her gaze. Whatever name we choose, it shall be a strong one. He gently laid his hands on her belly, pulling her close. "Moglie, pazienza. Presto ci sarà avare un nome."
He chuckled softly as she crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. She hated being told to have patience. As stubborn as a black bear, you are, my Sophelia. Her father's words came back to her, but she quickly shook them away. They had no place in her present, or her future.