A Kiss for Shelter

by ArsinoetheXXVII

What if the courtesan was not the first to fall? One night is all it takes. And in Fate's hands a seed takes root. An honorable man will take responsibility and face the unexpected. Beyond passion, beyond possession and obligation he'll want for more, but find a soul unwilling to bow to him. Still with a little effort Byakuya might get what he'd forgotten he always wanted.

131. Chapter 131

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Word Count: 380

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A Kiss for Shelter

The Doldrums

The first week of March at Unohana's behest Xochitl was relegated to her bed.

Byakuya was on the fence about this development. But as always, Unohana gave sound reason.

"Kuchiki-Taichou, I say again, her labor will be more difficult than is common. Because of the spiritual pressure, her contractions will not be the only pains she undergoes during that time and it will take its toll on her. She must conserve her strength."

He didn't think it likely that Xochitl would adhere to the restriction. However, he found out that the young woman had made no protests and this only increased his sense of apprehension.

After the order had been handed down, Hachimoto, Sakura began to visit the bedridden woman daily and would delicately update the lord of the manor on the mother-to-be's disposition during mealtime.

It was a wonder that the noblewoman was so considerate and Byakuya, not for the first time, wondered about her loyalty. As it was he'd had no condemning visits or missives from the Elders. He had at least expected a warning note from his aunt, but she had been oddly silent.

The month ticked by like the hands of a clock, a steady, droning pace that when considered too often caused anxiety.

Everyday a moment came to pass when Byakuya was riddled with an impulsive desire to damn the restrictions and go to see for himself that Xochitl was well. But he held himself back- not only to keep from provoking the inevitable (that the Elders would eventually catch wind of his eagerness) but to ensure Xochitl did not know of his own preoccupation. The woman was far too intuitive to miss his nervous energy.

His impeccable discipline was slipping day by day. He was distracted.

An internal battle; he longed to be near her.

But, his feelings were mirrored in Xochitl, who found herself almost constantly near tears. Naturally she scolded herself and muttered about hormones. But she frequently found herself frustrated, salt-water springing to her eyes when she thought of the one person she wanted with her most as she awaited her child's arrival. Counting each waking hour, the heavy ache only increased.

And then, as March drew to a close, the hourglass filtered its last grain of sand. Time was up.