Santana found that she had been greatly mistaken in believing she had seen the height of winter in the Abrams Kingdom. Cold took on a whole new meaning when she was deep within the castle and still able to hear the howl of the wind from the sea even through thick, stone walls; walls that were now practically ice to the touch.
Outside the castle walls was a whole new lesson in pain as the wind would hit her face like a whip and freeze her to the bone despite all the clothing she wore. Luckily her duties with Brittany never forced her outdoors, but on the occasions where she would travel through the servants' halls, which were full of windows and never heated, the brutality of the weather was impressed quite firmly.
Brittany, all things considered, was thriving. She had managed to request additional food reserves from the king sovereign using the same excuse she had for the furs, gaining the castle a bountiful surplus of food. A surplus that she used to barter favors from nearby castellans, keeping the colonies closest in her debt and happy. She had even begun tentative negotiations with the South after finding their winter rations were lacking, trading food for weapons; they weren't needed, but the queen felt that as long as they were willing to trade it meant that attack was less likely and would go far to earn their trust back without seeming to go behind her husband's back and offer terms he hadn't agreed to.
Matthew had been absolutely stunned by the proposition and readily agreed it was the best option. Santana knew that he was really more surprised that the queen had thought of it when he had not. But by now she had learned to accept that Brittany showing she had a thought in her head would never fail to earn the maximum amount of amazement; and that at the end of the day, no matter that Brittany was the one to present the idea to the council, Matthew would be given credit.
However, Brittany seemed to prefer it that way and that was the only thing that kept Santana from losing her temper about it.
Besides, she still had so much to deal with regarding the queen's upcoming delivery, which, according to Beiste, would be sometime soon. Santana had worked hard to keep the distaste off her face when Brittany spoke of her child. She had tried hard to stop thinking of its arrival as the end of their time together, but when Brittany would wake in the night feeling as though the time had come that shield of denial would shatter. Every time she would dash through the halls at night to find Beiste, so very sure that when she returned the child would already be born and Brittany would be gone, because in her mind she could not picture both of them alive at the same time.
It was a particularly cold and windy day when Santana sat at the queen's side in the warm study by a raging fire. She was once again struggling to only see the woman she loved and not the growth that could be seen protruding from her furs. Silently she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing it was further back to keep the sight from her. But Brittany enjoyed having her nearby too much, the queen's arm was resting on the side of her chair as close to Santana as she dared in Matthew's presence. In reciprocation, Santana would lean discretely against her to allow for the largest amount of contact they could maintain.
Matthew was currently reading off a long list of weapons a few castellans from the South had recently sent ending with a grudging word of thanks for the food. Having overestimated their food supplies the tentative relationship was based on life threatening need, though progress was clearly being made as this was the first gratitude they had been extended since the trading began. Thinking back on Brittany's initial idea even Santana had thought it would fail, despite the fact that the queen had accounted for the slow speeds of caravans and had the goods delivered by sea which also prevented seizure since the southern castellans controlled the nearest port along the coast. The plan was surprisingly smart, and now it was surprisingly successful.
"It is good to hear them gracious, maybe we no longer have to fear them scaling our walls in the night," Brittany said with a soft sigh.
Matthew looked dubiously at the note, "This could also be a ploy, they could be trying to seem innocuous in the hopes we will relax our defenses."
"I doubt that as they know we are at war on several fronts, but I will keep that in mind."
He nodded and shifted to another page in his ever-present stack of parchments, "The king sends word that he is delayed in the North. The winter is far harsher than anyone expected and many of his men are wounded so they will remain at Lord Nelson's castle, or what remains of it, until the season is warmer. Luckily the West is facing the same problem at our stronghold so it seems, for now, the fighting is on hold."
Santana tried to keep her face from falling in disappointment, but it didn't quite work, the queen seemed only mildly interested in the news.
"That will give us time to possibly get a few of the southern castellans firmly back on our side," she said airily.
"There is also a post script," Matthew continued slowly, when only silence came he went on, "The king believes that he will most likely miss your birthing and sends his regrets and his love." Santana disguised a snort as a cough and Brittany merely looked at her sideways, her eyes sparkling in amusement. "He also requests that you name his son after him; Archibald Gerdrick Abrams the second."
Both Brittany and Santana looked at him unblinkingly, there was a long silence before the queen cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.
"As much as I would love to heed my king's wishes I can only do so if I know them. A terrible shame I dropped that letter in the fire," Brittany said kindly.
Matthew seemed confused, "My lady, it's right here…"
"It can't be, I accidentally burned it, I'm sure Artie will understand how that can happen."
"I don't-"
"Matthew, give me the letter," she said, holding out her hand, and, still uncomprehending, he did just that.
The queen balled up the paper and threw it into the nearby fire with incredible accuracy.
Mathew watched the paper sail through the air and burn swiftly in the flames, "Right."
"Quite clumsy of me, really."
Fighting hard to keep from laughing, Santana asked quietly, "What will you name him, or her?"
"I don't know, but not Archibald Gerdrick Abrams the second."
Matthew clearly disapproved of their having a conversation when Santana was not supposed to be present at all, but he said nothing of it.
"There are worse names," Matthew grumbled.
"Name one," Brittany said with interest.
He thought for a moment, cleared his throat and pulled up the next parchment for her consideration. Santana could only smile.
"Ahem, well the last point we need to discuss is the war overseas."
Brittany rubbed her head, "Please tell me it has reached a standstill as well."
"No such luck, the king sovereign has made great progress, but has suffered incredible losses. We may be asked to send more soldiers that we cannot afford to spare and if he is told why we are so lacking he will know the king has failed in his negotiations."
She thought for a second before asking, "How is the queen sovereign?"
Matthew seemed thrown by the question and even looked confusedly at his paper as if the answer was written there, "Fine, I believe she made a full recovery."
"That's good," Brittany said, genuinely relieved.
"Indeed, and what of the troops?"
After shifting in her seat again she sighed, "I suppose we will have to deal with that when it comes time. Right now we are besieged on all sides with only a tentative truce with some of the castellans to the south as possible relief. We can't send him help and even if we could we can hardly send soldiers and expect them to not tell the king sovereign all that is happening here."
"I know, I was hoping you would see a way out of this that I did not," Matthew said solemnly.
She chuckled, "With all the challenges we have to face let's not go worrying ourselves over ones that don't exist yet."
He looked at her for a long moment before he laughed as well, "You do have quite a valid point. Your wisdom in the matter is much appreciated."
Santana wanted to jump in and tell him that Brittany was so much wiser than everyone else in the castle combined, but she had already spoken up once, which was one more time than she was supposed to, so she kept the comment to herself for the time being.
Council proceeded as expected, with the councilmen still standing in awe that the queen hadn't killed them with brazen, foolish choices.
They questioned relations with the South, which were going well, they questioned the finances, which, thanks to her careful negotiations, were more than sufficient. The individual relations with their own castellans were better than they had been even under the king sovereign and the castle was better supplied for the winter than any of them could recall it being.
Still a few of them felt the need to question her every action, occasionally directing those questions to Matthew as if there was no way she could understand them.
Santana, having learned to temper her dislike of their behavior, had her attention immediately drawn when Brittany began to fidget in her chair instead of locking in on whoever sat before them insulting her intelligence.
When she looked to the queen it was with questioning eyes, though it was not uncommon for her to shift position it was odd for her to look so pained. She wanted to ask if she was feeling alright, but there was a councilman droning on about the debatable wisdom in continuing to supply the South as this could be a chance to starve them out and weaken their forces for the inevitable war.
After a moment she went back to listening, a frown deep on her features and a bit later Santana allowed her mind to return to what she would do with her free time. Then Brittany shifted again, but this time with a light groan and, unwilling to ignore it a second time she whispered, "Are you alright?"
"No," filtered back to her quietly through gritted teeth.
Though the old man in one of the back rows was still talking Brittany cut across him, "My lord, I understand your concern, however, we should not pass up a chance to regain an ally, especially if all it takes is civility and some of our excess food. I must ask that we revisit this point later since I am afraid I'm not feeling my best at the moment."
The man merely gapped at her, "Majesty, this is most unusual," he sputtered as, even while he spoke, Brittany was standing to leave.
"I would argue that a human growing inside another is honestly a little unusual so allowances must be made," she said as Santana rushed to help her.
The councilmen muttered amongst themselves while watching her leave after having only heard a fraction of their grievances, questions, and complaints. Santana could only feel the usual, ever present thud of her heart that came when she feared the baby was on its way. She helped as the queen struggle with every step out of the massive room and once they were in the hallway she turned, hoping to see that Brittany had merely staged the performance to get out earlier.
But her face showed otherwise.
"Should I send for Beiste?" Matthew asked as he finally came into the hall behind them.
"Yes," Brittany panted, and it scared Santana more than anything else ever had, because this was the first time the blonde had actually requested her healer.
And just like that everything happened all at once, Santana watched in sudden horror as it seemed with every passing moment that this was the time she had dreaded. Beiste arrived and saw the queen alone in her room before coming back out, not to give them good news, but instead to request Matthew send for more healers to assist.
Santana looked into the bedroom to see Brittany laying on the bed some distance away and when Beiste closed the door to return to her, she tried hard not to think of how that may have been the last time that she would see her lover.
Like Sam, Brittany would become something distant, something untouchable, but in this regard the abandonment would be far more permanent.
Needing reassurance, and feeling like a child for wanting it, Santana turned to Matthew who stood nearby looking at the door with a solemn grimace.
"Will she be able to do this?"
He shrugged, "I don't know, Beiste is the best at what she does, she even delivered the king, and I hear he was unwilling to leave the comfort of his mother's womb. Maybe the difference for the queen from her sisters will be the quality of care given."
That did nothing to reassure her, "What should I do?"
"Wait here," he said before indicating she take a seat by the door, "I hear this can be quite a long process. I have things I must attend to," he said before turning to leave quite suddenly.
Santana gave the door a worried glance before sitting by it and not think about what was happening behind it. That was hopeless, however, and in the long stretching, never-ending time that passed she became more and more frightened.
Her nerves frayed, it was no wonder she scrambled to her feet like a guilty thief when the door opened. It was Beiste, and the large woman did not look like she had good news.
"The queen wants t' see you," she said before opening the door a little wider.
Santana felt terror grip her limbs as she pictured some sort of gruesome scene, but as the healer's large hand ushered he in she saw little had changed.
Brittany lay in her bed, the child still inside her, Santana was a little disappointed because she had hoped for the whole thing to already be over. Cautiously she approached the bed to find it surrounded by healers who seemed to be busy preparing for the inevitable.
The blonde watched her with steady eyes, and when she made it to her side, reached for her hand. Santana gave it, though her heart sank at the feeble and trembling manner in which she did.
"You're worried again," Brittany said quietly, a weak smile coming over her face.
"Of course I am," Santana snorted.
"Don't be."
"I…" her eyes trailed down Brittany's body, taking in her labored breathing under the burden of the infant that weighed on her, "I can't help it," she said sadly, her chest twisting at the thought of having to see the death of the woman she loved so much.
Brittany considered her words then turned to Beiste, "Leave us for a moment."
The large woman gave her a stunned look, "But m'lady-"
"You said it would be some time before I actually have to give birth, didn't you?"
"I did, but-"
"Then it won't be a problem for you to step out for a moment, I'll have Santana come get you should I feel the child stir," she said kindly.
Beiste thought the command over, obviously wanting to argue, but then gave a nod and ushered the others out.
With her gone Brittany returned her attention to Santana, "I want you here by my side, but if you can't, if it's too much then go, I'll understand."
"I'll stay with you," she said suddenly, and just as quickly she wished she hadn't, because running away seemed like such a novel idea.
Brittany smiled a slow smile, "That's what you feel you need to say, but I know you better than that."
Santana felt shame creep in and settle deep in her bones, "I want to go, I want to run, but you're always so strong for both of us and it's time I do my share, no matter how I feel."
"No," she said softly, bringing Santana's hand to her cheek, "You don't need to be strong in return, I'm your knight, and it's my duty to take care of you."
Santana wanted to be a pillar, to be someone who wouldn't crack no matter what, but she realized as she began her all too familiar crying act that she had a long way to go.
"It's not your duty, it's mine," she sobbed, wiping away the tears as fast as she could as though there was some hope of hiding them, "You aren't my knight, you're my queen, mi reina."
Her face brightened a little more, "Is that what it means?"
Still wiping her face, Santana nodded, "You're the queen of my heart, of my everything, and watching you hurt, hurts me," she cried, "You can't protect me unless you protect yourself."
While she fought with her tears Brittany continued to observe her, "Then I will just do both," she said easily.
Santana gave a shaky laugh, "If only it was that easy."
"It is," she said honestly, and Santana felt like such a coward next to the bravery and strength of the woman at her side.
"How can you just say that with no worry?" she sobbed, having not yet reigned in her emotions.
"Who said I wasn't worried?" Brittany laughed, "Santana, I'm very afraid, and I have been since I found I was going to have this child, but looking at you makes me brave."
And somehow that made her feel even more cowardly, "I'll stay here," because even if she were completely craven she could pretend to be otherwise for the woman who had sacrificed so much to make her happy.
Beiste and the other healers were allowed to rejoin them leaving Santana to feel out of place and in the way as she sat on the bed at the queen's side and held her hand. And for every pain that hit her Santana was there to hold fast, an inkling of pride swelling in her chest that she was here despite how she would have given almost anything to be anywhere else.
She sat patiently as the healers scrambled and shuffled, she hushed the queen and brushed her hair back when she was in pain. Time warped and stretched in that room with pain rolling in like the tide, the waves getting higher and higher until Santana began to worry, once again, that Brittany wouldn't be strong enough. She seemed to get weaker the longer the birth went on and according to the healers there was much more to get through.
Matthew stepped in momentarily, but the queen was in a state of undress due to the delivery, making him keep his visit short.
It went well enough for a while, and then Brittany felt a pain that made her scream and Santana felt a wave of terror that wasn't explainable simply from the shock of the sudden and loud noise. The sound shook something in her mind loose and suddenly her memories came crashing back, memories of the last time someone she loved had cried out in pain.
Santana hadn't seen her parents so vividly in her mind outside of nightmares, and even then she woke before too long. These images stayed and when Brittany screamed again she panicked. As much as she wanted to stay and face everything, as much as she wanted to be strong for Brittany in the moment she was most needed, she found she couldn't.
She ran.
She ran from the room and out of the castle, her legs pumping as hard as they could, the act doing nothing but reminding her more of that night. Her father had protected her, he told her to run and she had, though she realized that even if he hadn't she still probably would have left them there.
Because she was coming to realize that she was the worst sort of coward.
That she had run that night and had never stopped, even with how much she wanted to now, she couldn't. She had run from or ignored every problem she had faced in her life and now she was seeing for the first time how hopeless she was.
Only the fierce bite of freezing cold wind whipping in from the sea snapped her out of her frenzy. And when she realized she had reached the cliffs she sobbed, hot tears turning to ice on her face, because she wanted to go back so badly. She needed to, but there wasn't a single part of her that could muster up the courage to return and watch Brittany be in incredible pain and die. She argued furiously with herself in her own mind as she curled up against a tree with her back to the wind; she argued that Brittany was strong enough to live, that Beiste was the best at what she did and would solve any problems that would arise, that if these were in fact her last moments she should be there so her queen could pass on with a loving face to see her off.
But she just sat there, thinking those thoughts and hating herself so very much.
When she had arrived it was well past sundown so she had no idea how long she sat on the frozen ground, but at some point snow began to fall and cover her under an icy blanket. The cold ate through her coat easily leaving her as stiff as the tree she was leaned against, she accepted it because she felt if she were to abandon Brittany as she had it was the least she deserved. It occurred to her as her eyes tried to close that maybe it would be best if the snow buried her and she were never found. It, she felt, would be an end that served her best.
Fate had other plans however, because at some point in the night someone kicked her harshly in the back. In fairness it may not have been that harsh, her whole body felt like a frozen ball of pain so it may have been a gentle nudge since any contact hurt.
She turned and saw Puck glaring down at her.
Then she remembered why she was sleeping on frozen earth under a sheet of snow.
Then the shame returned.
Santana opened her mouth to ask what he wanted, but she found she couldn't feel her face, and besides that there really was nothing to say.
Puck seemed to know that too since he lifted her up, with great difficulty, and practically carried her back to the castle.
She expected him to take her back to the queen, or to take her to a healer since her legs barely worked, instead, to her surprise, he took her to the small makeshift tavern in the back of the kitchens.
Grateful no one was around, she sat in the warm room feeling her skin prickle from the temperature change.
"Yer n' idiot," Puck grumbled as he filled a mug full of the concoction that passed as drink in this place.
"I'no," she mumbled back, her jaw finally regaining enough mobility to chatter slightly.
He turned and brought the mug over, sliding it across the table to her frozen hands that could barely reach for it, "Do ya? Do ya got any idea how mucha one you are?"
Without answering she lifted the mug to her mouth, dribbling a little as she drank through numb lips.
"Ya coulda died!" he snapped and then paused to take a deep breath, "Matthew's got damn near the whole castle searchin' for ya, 'course none of them think t' look in th' last place a sane person would be."
"I'm s-sorry," she said, her teeth still clicking, despite the bitter sweet drink making her insides feel like someone had lit a fire to heat her belly and chest.
"Why'd ya do it?"
"B-because I can't watch her die," her heart felt like it stopped as she said the words.
Puck sighed and leaned against the table she was seated on, "So ta fix that ya ran off into th' arms a' death?"
"D-deserved it. I'm spineless."
He frowned, "Ya think leavin' makes you a coward that deserves death?" when she nodded he chuckled, "Childbirth isa hard thing t' watch, I bet I woulda run too."
"I ran from my parents w-when they n-needed me," she said before taking several deep gulps of the beverage that was starting to taste a little better as it allowed more function in her limbs.
With a sigh, Puck straightened and stood beside her, "I don't know about yer past and I ain't askin', alls I can say is yer the bravest woman I know. Ya gave up a chance t' be free t' be with the person ya love, there ain't many that would do that. Actually, besides you n' Michael I don't know any."
"What would you know? You don't even want to be free," she snapped, resenting him making her feel slightly better when she knew she should be wallowing in her disgrace.
He ignored her rudeness and answered, "I never said I didn't want freedom at all, I want it, it's jest the kind I want don't exist fer men like me. But if I knew fer a fact that goin' with Michael meant I'd get a happy life without ever worryin' 'bout money or some man livin' as my master you c'n bet yer life I'da gone. I got a woman I love too, but I don't think I would give that up fer her if I had th' choice."
"It may be as you said, that I was brave to choose as I did," she said downing the rest of her mug, "but I think my one streak of bravery has come and gone."
"Has it? Are ya really gonna to stay down here? Matthew's lookin' fer ya but I won't say I found ya. All I'll say is remember what I told ya; love her while ya can cause you'll regret it later if ya don't."
"But I can't," she cried, her face heating as more accused tears spilled, "I can't listen to her scream, I can't hear her pain, because it puts a fear in me that takes away all reason."
Puck shrugged as he backed to the door, "Then think about what happens if she dies tonight. How will ya feel when ya look back on this? Compare th' two and I think you'll work out what t' do."
With that he left her in the room that she was suddenly realizing was broiling hot, either that or the black drink was doing its job too well. She stood and flexed her limbs in an attempt to get them back to their normal mobility.
Santana was still stiff, sore, and completely unwilling to face her situation. Then she did as Puck asked and compared the horror of reliving her past to the possible future of having to live with herself if Brittany died alone and afraid.
It took less than a heartbeat for her to find herself racing back through the halls to the royal bedchamber.
Matthew stood outside the door pacing while worrying his thumbnail with his teeth. When he saw her obvious relief came over him and he met her halfway there.
"I have to go back to her," Santana said, trying to bypass him, but he caught her arm.
"Not now, the healers are working."
"They were working before," she tried to get free of him with no success.
"Santana, while you were gone, wherever it is you went," he added pointedly, "her condition has changed."
She felt dizzy, ill and oddly calm all at once, "What happened?"
"The child has still not come and there is bleeding that makes the healers quite concerned. Furthermore, I'm afraid her majesty has become far too fatigued. Beiste believes that should this go on too much longer-"
"She'll be fine," Santana snapped, pulling her arm away and heading back towards the door, but Matthew caught her again.
"Actually, she may well die from this," he said bluntly, "and in such a case the queen has given me the specific order to send you away."
At this she paused and looked at him, "What?"
"She wishes for you to be freed and has even bartered for you to have a home on the outskirts of our territories in the South, so regardless of the outcome of the war you should remain unaffected."
"How… when-"
"She has been working towards this for some time, but it is something I have been instructed to enact quickly and quietly. In order to do that you need to gather your things and wait for me to-"
"No, I'm not going to pack and wait for her to die!"
Santana pulled away from him again, but this time he was unable to catch her again as she dashed into the room running to the bed, praying it wasn't too late.
Several of the healers looked as if they were about to stop her approach, but one word from Beiste had them all back to their prior tasks.
There was little space on the bed except by Brittany's head where Santana crawled and felt her insides shrink at the sight of the blonde's face. Her skin was almost gray and her eyes seemed distant and dull, her breathing was strained and sweat coated her brow, however when those eyes found Santana a little of the light returned.
"There you are," she mumbled with a smile.
Santana felt herself tearing up again and again hated herself so much for not being a stronger person, with a shuddering sigh she curled up next to Brittany's head and whispered, "Don't die, I need you to live, you can't expect me to go on without you."
A weak laugh escaped her as she reached up and stroked Santana's hair, "If that is your command, I'll see that it's done."
Now a watery chuckle escaped Santana as she thought of a mere servant commanding the queen regent of the Abram's Kingdom to do anything.
"If you stay with me I'll be better," she cried softly, "I won't be so craven ever again."
She felt the queen smile against her hair as she said, "You aren't craven; you may not have known you were coming back, but I did."
It hurt so badly that even now, on death's door, Brittany was still playing the part of her knight, protecting her from everyone, including herself, "Live and let me be your knight, let me protect you, mi reina."
"Need some help here," Beiste said firmly, and when Santana looked up she saw the large woman was addressing one of the other healers who appeared to have been trying to inch closer to hear better.
The hand holding Santana close tensed and she felt Brittany writhe in pain, now too tired to cry out any longer. Taking the trembling hand, Santana held it tightly until the blonde stopped tensing to take a deep shuddering breath. The large woman had moved into position in case the pain signaled the arrival of the infant, but what she saw plainly upset her because after a moment she heard Beiste again, her voice was laced with worry, "We need this child born now or we lose 'em both." Santana refused to believe that would happen, because she needed to have faith in Brittany, for once she needed to believe in the woman she loved.
"We're gonna need the bed," Beiste said to her, already pointing out where she wanted the others.
"I won't be far," Santana whispered to Brittany before squeezing her hand and backing out of the way.
The sight of the queen was immediately swallowed by healers in cream colored robes as they worked to deliver the next generation of royalty.
And Santana felt pride in herself when she didn't flee at the gut wrenching screams that came from her lover, or panic at the amount of blood that seemed to be soaked in the towels that were passed from the bed. Because she believed in Brittany. She said she would live, and though deep down Santana doubted that any person could will themselves to live through mortal wounds or ailments, she did at that moment. If ever it were possible for a human her queen would do so now.
Even when the peeling cry of an infant filled the room Santana didn't let the feeling of dread take over. The one that warned her of the folly in ever thinking that the queen and her child could both survive.
The baby was immediately under the care of several healers while Brittany was attended to by the rest. Santana stood waiting for word of the queen, but it was some time before anyone moved from her side. When one particularly small, stubby man came over from the bed she thought she might be about to learn something, but he brushed past her to the door where he called for Matthew.
Santana had to stand and wait an eternity for anything of relevance to happen, which started with a dozen servants entering the room to assist the healers in removing the queen from the bed while a new mattress and sheets were brought in before she was laid back down. The brunette didn't even let it bother her that the queen seemed quite still, and decided they wouldn't take so much care if she were actually dead. Though she didn't know that.
But then Beiste stepped away, as did those with her, and the queen was left alone as they moved to look at the still squalling infant. Santana felt her world begin to spin until the enormous woman turned and gave her a subtle head jerk in the queen's direction.
Not needing another hint, she ran to Brittany's side and fought not to burst into tears; the woman looked past dead. Then her eyes opened and sluggishly found Santana before her mouth twitched in a way that could have been a smile.
"M'still here," she muttered.
Somehow Brittany looked small and delicate laying on the bed and when she reached to touch the hanging strands of Santana's hair the brunette thought of a frail, broken bird.
"You are," Santana said softly as she took her hand, placing a soft, discrete kiss on it.
"Pardon," said the same stubby man that had bustled past her before.
Santana turned and was shocked to see that the infant was being presented to her, swaddled in the plush, white blanket its grandsire had sent, though thankfully it had finally stopped crying.
She looked at the child then to the man trying to figure out what he wanted until he became impatient and handed the bundle over. Santana almost leapt back in her urgency to not take it.
The man practically glared at her, "The young prince needs to be held and my work here is done."
Prince. She'd delivered a boy. That at least was good news as it would keep Archibald from trying for another.
Reluctantly she took the baby, looking down at his red, wrinkled face and trying not to visibly show revulsion. To cover any negativity she might be tempted to display, she turned to Brittany as the small man marched away, "You have a son."
Brittany's eyes had closed, but when she spoke they opened and slowly found Santana again, "What's his name?"
The smaller woman frowned, "You are his mother, you should name him."
"I've never been good at names."
"What makes you think I'm better?" she argued.
The volume of her voice riled the baby and soon small cries came from within the warm fur. Glaring, she looked down at him and felt slightly chilled when familiar stony grey eyes looked back at her.
She had to fight not to sneer. She had to fight harder to not think of the child as an extension of his father and throw him against a wall. Instead of daydreaming about tossing him from the observatory she rocked him gently until his cries stopped.
"What will you name him?" Brittany asked again.
Shitface, Santana thought hotly before forcing herself to calm.
Brittany loved this baby and undoubtedly wanted her to do the same. For the love of her life she could try to do that, she owed her that much.
With a sigh she gave the question some thought, but honestly she didn't know any male names. She knew she had always liked her father's name, unfortunately she couldn't remember it. All the other names she could recall already belonged to those in the castle or men who had owned her and treated her horribly.
Then she realized that wasn't true. There was one name she could think of that would fit.
"Samuel," she said quietly, glancing to Brittany to see what she thought.
The other woman managed a real smile, "An excellent name for a prince or a king."
Santana shrugged as if it hadn't mattered, but it did make her feel a weird sort of connection to the child in her arms. And only for the sake of Brittany did she not fight it.
Beiste and Matthew approached and suddenly Santana felt like she had been caught, as if somehow they had heard the quiet discussion from across the room.
"Have you decided on a name for the young prince?" Matthew asked Brittany.
"Yes, Samuel."
Matthew nodded, "Excellent, the entire castle will know the name by sunrise."
"And that ain't long from now," Beiste laughed, "But so you know, m'lady, we stopped the bleeding, but yer still weak."
"I gathered that," Brittany said, a smile still on her face.
"Yeah, well, no more council or court 'til your color's better."
"I think I'll be able to manage that."
That made Santana smile as well.
"For now it is best that Prince Samuel stay in another room so as not to disturb you while you sleep, I have a servant in mind to look after the prince, so you need not worry. That is assuming you do not wish for Santana to care for him instead? I can find a new lady in waiting for you-"
"No," Brittany said, though she was in a foggy state somewhere between wake and sleep, "Santana will stay with me, and so will Samuel."
Matthew frowned, "My lady, that's a bit unusual-"
This time it was Beiste who interrupted, "She's weak 'n tired, don't fight with her, time enough for that later," she said before turning and signaling for the others to follow, "Watch her close while she sleeps, anything odd happens, fetch me immediately."
Santana nodded and Matthew gave an indignant, "Of course."
Once they were left alone he turned to her and rubbed his head looking down at the queen, "Well, if ever there was a time for her to need someone to share her bed it would be now. I'll have the prince's bassinet brought up right away."
When he left Santana was left alone in the quiet room with the resting mother and child. She looked at the small being that had very nearly killed her lover and tried to smile, she tried to let the small sense of attachment grow into something more, but all it did was make her head hurt. She didn't feel a great sense of love for the child at all, in fact, when his grey eyes opened for a moment she thought immediately of his father and she felt rather sure she never would.
Then she looked over at his mother and remembered a time when nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to see her thrown from the tallest tower in the castle.
Time changed everything for her relationship with Brittany and she could only hope it would do the same here.