Enjoying the warmth of the evening breeze on her skin, Tersa leaned back onto the carriage as the driver loaded the last of her shopping bags. It was a relatively quiet twilight in Raida. Well, Tersa mused with a suppressed smile, it would be a quiet one if Andulvar wasn't bargaining heatedly with an Eyrien shop owner over that sturdily built bow.
He stretched her aching back as the shop owner finally gave in and Andulvar strode over to her side with a satisfied grin, holding a bow that looked like it weighed as much as he did.
Tersa smiled amusedly, but it turned out more to be a grimace. Her back was really killing her today, more than usual. Andulvar noted this with a Warlords unfallibly sensitivity to females, and without further delay she was helped into the carriage and made comfortable.
Andulvar barked orders at the driver; "Back to the Hall. Keep to no wind darker than the Rose."
"But my Lord, it'll take us at least an hour to get back if we don't take the Green or Gray-"
"Are you employed to argue with me or to take me where I want to go?" Andulvar said heatedly. "I say light winds, you stick to light winds."
"Yes my Lord." The driver dove into the seat and the carriage jerked to a start, in the direction of a Yellow phsycic wind.
"How does Saetan manage to avoid your temper, Warlord?" Tersa asked, leaning back momentarily as the pain eased.
"Oh, he doesn't," Andulvar answered cheerfully, adjusting his wings. Tersa laughed as the carriage entered the Yellow wind and was swept away towards the Hall.
-
It was almost exactly midnight when her birth pains started. But rather than Tersa's moans of pain announcing the start of them, it was rather Saetan's thundery voice booming throughout the Hall, ordering the servants to contact their Healer, bring refreshments, open the windows to let in fresh air...
Indeed, Tersa's discomfort wasn't half as bad as all this activity was hinting it out to be. Although after a couple of hours, she could hardly say the same. Saetan was at her side, providing a hand for her to squeeze when she needed to. He snapped at anyone who entered the bedroom, even the Healer, to whom he did nothing less than a thorough cross-examination before she could assure him that yes, she had done this countless times before, and yes, she had already done every trick in the book to lessen her pain.
Tersa was slipping in and out of the Twisted Kingdom. Pain had always been a factor that pushed her there. But this time, with every drop of strength, every inch of her being, she fought to stay away from that misty inner border- to stay in the present, to feel the sweat on her brow and see the look of fierce encouragement in Saetan's golden eyes.
Finally, the heir of the Prince of the Darkness, the High Lord of Hell, was born. It was a relatively uncomplicated and easy birth, physically. But mentally, Tersa was utterly exhausted. As she looked at the tiny bundle in her arms, a healthy boy with his parents' colouring, she closed her eyes and sighed with the effort it had taken her to remain out of her inner abyss. Saetan gently took the child out of his exhausted mother's arms with a sense of sadness. It would be the only time she could hold her babe in her arms, as broken witches could only concieve once. Yet she was too tired trying to remain out of the Twisted Kingdom to even enjoy a moment of the feeling. Quietly Saetan left Tersa to rest, ordering the curtains to be drawn and the fire to be rekindled.
The Healer came up to Saetan. "My Lord, he needs to be fed."
Saetan nodded. "Call the wet nurse. The Lady needs to rest."
Reluctantly, he parted from his forth, yet no less dear, son; Daemon SaDiablo, as the little dark-haired bundle was carried away to the plump breast of the wet nurse, Manny.
Then he walked to his study, and with a quick gaze at the red glow of the rising sun outside, collapsed onto his couch and fell into a dreamless sleep.