I apologize for being late. I've been a pretty tired ducky with my summer job and all. I work as a tennis coach, and a fragile, delicate child like myself often feels drained because of the sun. I've also been trying to prioritize my other story, Starry Skies, because A. it's my main story, B. the chapters are waaaay longer, and C. I'm rewriting the earlier chapters because DAMN DID I NOT UNDERSTAND GRAMMAR WHEN I FIRST STARTED OUT WRITING.
Questions:
Just a bit confused with the whole rift for the magicians and normals. I'm pretty sure your aware of the fact that every human in Alma Torrance became a magician, so I'm just wondering why you decided to add this in. Does this mean you will change the tragedy of Alma Torran as well? Or will you keep that canon plot the same?: I am glad you asked, friend. HERE IS MY THEORY: I do recall it saying that every human became a magician, but only the humans who met Ill Illah. According to Yamuraiha's backstory, she was a magician born into a clan who served the Musta'sim family- and considering her parents weren't killed because of magician-hood, I have to assume that she was merely "chosen" to be a magician by the Rukh. If we follow that logic, that means one doesn't need to be a descendent of a magician to become one; likewise, just because one has magician parent(s) it doesn't mean that they have to be magicians as well. If this is true, then it makes sense how David was able to destroy the magician base. If every human became a magician, it doesn't make sense why they wouldn't fight back against David and instead leave everything to Setta. They heavily outnumbered the Elders, so why they wouldn't try to overpower them? The only answer I could think of was that they couldn't because they weren't magicians. That in mind, I decided to add in non-magicians into this story, even though it is not confirmed canon. Also, the rift between magicians and normals is going to be very important towards the plot, especially during the second half of the story. And no, I'm not going to change the tragedy of Alma Torran, mainly because this story doesn't actually continue that far.
When is Solomon is going to be born?: Keep reading :)
Catharsis
By Gold Sparrow
Chapter 13: Clarity
The early morning is dewy, foggy. And yet, a red light glows in the distance, illuminating the white clouds resting on top of the earth. The far away jagged mountains seem less harsh, the wide open plains outside of the palace are paler. Every twisting, sharp building in the capital now looks soft and gentle, purer than she has ever remembered it being.
Perhaps that's just the pain talking.
"Ah," Bathsheba gasps, squeezing her eyes shut. "Ah, Arba…"
But Arba is not there, despite how Bath calls for her. Instead, it's Ester, her long, orange hair undone from it's usual twists and loops. The woman looks half-awake, her emerald eyes blurry and cheeks pale without the usual rosy powder she applies to them. The handmaid sits by her mistress's bedside, her lips pursed nervously.
"It's alright, Mistress," She quickly soothes her Queen, anxiously studying the large swell of Bathsheba's stomach. Ester takes her hand, and Bathsheba is never so grateful to her than she is at that moment.
"Where'd Arba go?" She asks drowsily.
"To go get the healer," Ester tells her. "And to inform Elder David. He was not here this morning when you summoned me."
"Yes...That's right…" Bath squeezes her eyes shut. "He sleepwalks sometimes."
"Really?" Ester's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "He does?"
Bathsheba quickly realizes that she's revealed something sensitive about her husband to someone who probably shouldn't know about it. Not that she's trying to protect David, but should he be assassinated (however unlikely), there would be no point in all that she's done. So Bathsheba looks Ester in the eye and gently commands,
"Do not take a wife's sleepy word too seriously." Ester gets the point fairly quickly, lowering her gaze. "How much longer do you think it'll be?"
Ester very carefully sets a hand on her mistress's stomach.
"Perhaps a few hours." The beast queen nods and lays her head back down, deciding to remain calm throughout this ordeal. Excitement, clear and true, races through her body. Overtime she has embraced her pregnancy with open arms despite the complicated situation it has affirmed for her. She's dying suddenly to know the gender. David has never seemed to care about knowing, and the voices only hum with concealed joy when she asks them. It was possible to find out herself through the life magic she learned during her studies, or even ask a magician-healer, but she feels if neither David nor the voices will tell her, then she doesn't need to know. Now, however, she feels desperate to know. To understand. To have an ounce of stability when dealing with the precious life she's about to bring into the world.
"Don't worry, Mistress," Ester quietly murmurs. "You'll see your child in just a few short hours, aru."
"Milord," Arba appears before a large door, knocking on it. Hesitantly she looks around herself, at the dark corridors and the ominous carvings engraved into the doorway. Hearing no response, but feeling as though he's just not going to say anything, Arba quietly presses down on the handle and enters the room, finding it open. The interior of the art studio is something that she's seen just a few times but has never forgotten. The gray gaze of the strange woman David's painted over and over sticks to her as she enters and goes to a stool placed next to the bay window. The pure king sits there, facing the window. He's staring at the sunrise, the first sun peaking his head up before his siblings.
"Milord," Arba repeats, softly. She doesn't get much of a response, so she bites her lip and forces her to remember the circumstances. She clears her throat and says, "Elder David."
His shoulders tense a bit, and then he turns to her, face blank. He does not seem like he's in the mood to be dealing with anything, but doesn't snap at her like the few times she's interrupted him while he was in here.
"What is it?" He asks, his voice low. Arba momentarily forgets what she was going to say. David accepts this pause without question, continuing on, "I had a dream last night."
"A good dream?"
"A bad one. A memory I don't like." Arba kneels at her Master's feet now, looking up at him with wonder. She may not know what he's talking about, but the very fact that he's talking to her about this- and not Bathsheba- excites her. It makes her feel as though she's as special to him as his wife is.
"I dreamt I betrayed someone very close to me."
"Loyalty is a necessary thing." She repeats to him the lesson she's been taught year after year since the day she was born. "Everything will fall apart if not for bonds."
David isn't listening.
"When I awoke, I was here."
"It was a dream."
"And when I awoke, I realized that my fears were reality. I had betrayed that person."
"..." Arba rests her head on his knee, wishing she had the words or the charm to persuade him that he's not been wrong. Bitterness sweeps it's grimy, sharp fingers down her throat.
Perhaps Bathsheba could-
Her eyes widen.
Bathsheba.
"Milord!" Arba scrambles back. She does not startle David, but the man's hand hovers the place where her head was, as if he was about to start patting it. She wishes she had at least gotten to feel his fingers in her hair. It had been so long since he'd touched her last. Ever since his marriage to Bathsheba, he has barely even brushed his knuckles over her arm.
"What is it?" He questions. Arba's cheeks color as shame pours through her. How could she be thinking about her relationship with David at the very moment his wife is delivering their child? A deep, unsettling feeling buries itself in her stomach.
I'm a selfish person.
"Milord, Lady Bathsheba is giving birth."
The healer looks alarmed and nervous.
It makes Bathsheba alarmed and nervous.
Of course, she understands the woman's worry. The safe delivery of this child is, essentially, the biggest moment of the healer's life. It's do-or-die; and quite literally. God only knows what David would do to the woman should she mess up and kill- Godforbid- his infant or- Godforbid- his wife. It has become common knowledge within the court about how David has grown increasingly enamored with his pregnant wife, hardly wishing to break from her side. Bathsheba doesn't really understand the causes behind that. Perhaps he worries she'll harm herself and miscarry, or he wishes to curb her growing political power. But, she thinks, it is neither of those. She believes that, just maybe, he's grown…
Attached to me.
"Hm, you think?"
You're saying he does not?
"Would that hurt you, Bath?"
Another contraction. She pushes David out of her mind- honestly, she doesn't think she can deal with any of his crazy at the moment- and focuses on the thing about to leave her body. Honestly, she wants to throw up. The pain is immense, crashing upon her like cruel waves over a rocky beach, breaking down the stones until they are fine grains of sand. She remembers watching the sea often as a child, back before she left home to become a magician. Her mother, Shushanna, would wrap a quilt around her shoulders and cluck, wondering aloud why her daughter could possibly want to come to the seaside during the winter. But then her blonde, pretty mother would smile teasingly and kiss her, offering Bathsheba a chance to hold her little brother.
"He's a little fire pit," Shushanna had said, giggling. "I think he's a fire-type. Your father might have a stroke- you know how water-mages can be."
Bathsheba remembers giggling hysterically, quite understanding what her mother meant. Her father could get so worked up, turning his face red. It was a wonder he was able to feed himself before meeting his wife. But these memories make Bathsheba feel very lonely and sad, so she turns instead to another memory of the sea. This time, she was watching the sunset together with Ugo. The younger man had stuttered through most of his sentences, his cheeks red. She remembers thinking that he had such lovely wine-colored eyes, and that he was a good man.
"Do you remember what he last said to you?"
Bathsheba closes her eyes.
He told me he loved me.
"Why didn't you say anything back?"
...No point thinking about that now.
"H-huh?" Ugo looks up from his papers, heavy bags under his eyes appearing a darker color as the pallor of his face grows starkly white. "What's that?"
Nathan crosses his arms, his face stoic.
"Bathsheba is giving birth." He repeats, louder this time.
Jonathan looks up from the mountain of books he had been fussing over, his jaw dropped. Before Nathan's arrival that morning, Jonathan had been scolding Ugo for his lack of tidiness, trying to salvage his beautiful library's pristine nature. Now nothing seems more important than finding out the facts. Ugo looks thunderstruck, his powder-red eyes losing their shine as he looks down at his lap. Nathan reaches forward and claps a hand down on the man's shoulder, squeezing it. Then he turns his fire-like eyes to Jonathan, his intentions clear.
This child will distract the King. Then we will commence with our plans.
"Illah." Bathsheba groans, throwing her head back against the covers. "So this...Is childbirth...Huh…?"
Ester nods speechlessly, still gripping her hand. Bathsheba laughs airily, listening to the healer bark out orders to her. Outside, the suns emerge above the fog, glowing summer colors. One a light, docile yellow, the other a bright orange, the third a swirl of the two with splotches of vibrant red. They cast a multicolored summary of shades upon the city and plains, painting the world in different colors.
"Push!"
Bathsheba closes her eyes and does so.
Ah, overwhelming and wonderful and painful, so many things that leave her wracked with fatigue and writhing in pain, crying out for the child she wishes to hold as soon as possible.
A stunning moment of clarity.
Then, as she falls back into the realm of the living and the pained, the crisp, stark cries of a baby echo in her ears.
Ester stands shakily, holding out her arms. The healer, who is pale and cautious, slips the child into Ester's arms with slow movements as to not disturbing the baby's shrill pattern of cries.
"What a beautiful child," Ester breathlessly murmurs, her chin wobbling. She looks into the newborn's face, studying the wrinkled, precious appearance of the baby.
"His Majesty will be pleased," The healer says, but nervously, as if expecting reassurance that her life will be spared.
"My…My child?" Ester jolts, looking back to her mistress. Bathsheba struggles to sit up, breathing harshly. The healer scrambles forward, helping the Queen with her endeavor.
Ester takes a deep breath, a smile spreading across her face. Hours of this trial have left her and her mistress stressed and in pain, but it's over now.
The child is here.
Ester hands the bundle to Bathsheba, who exhaustedly looks down at her baby. Then, for the first time in many years, Bathsheba begins to cry.
Click, clack, click, clack.
David does not try to hurry too quickly down the hall, but cannot contain his own excitement. His heart beats quickly, reminding him with each beat that this blessed child shall be the one to strike him down. Arba is at his heals, barely containing her nervous fidgets. His anxiety feeds upon hers, but he reigns in his emotions and contains them, telling himself that even should he rush, he would not be allowed into the room as his wife gives birth.
Finally, they come upon the destination, and David lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Servants and Elders alike congregate outside, shifting foot to foot in anticipation and chattering eagerly to one another. Elder Nash, who sits apart from the main group on a bench, spots him first.
"Elder David," Nash quickly scrambles up out of his seat, smiling at his King. "I'm here to congratulate you on the birth of your child! What a blessing!"
"Thank you, Nash," David smoothly says. Despite his calmness, his fingers twitch with excitement. He wishes to see the son his wife birthed, and hear the innocent cries of his murderer. He pauses. "Say, what did she name the boy?"
Elder Nash blinks, his smile wavering slightly. He then presents a bright smile, as if deciding that he should not frown in front of a new father. Especially not a new father who happens to be the most powerful man in the world.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, My King," Nash pleasantly chuckles. "There is no boy. But your daughter, Princess Tamar Jehoahaz Abraham, has been born."
End of chapter! And, surprise! Turns out Bath had a baby girl. What do you think about that? ;)
Got any questions or suggestions? Something wrong about the chapter? Grammatical errors, something you didn't like? PM me or leave it in the reviews, I will reply and see what I can do to make the story better/clearer for y'all to understand. ILY MY DARLING READERS!
BYE~~~~~~~