A/N: Originally I wasn't going to post this (and the next chapter, which I'll be posting soon) until I was done with the modern storyline, but that's taking far longer than I thought and these have been gathering dust in my draft folder for longer than I'd like - so let's have a little interlude! And this one is considered "canon" insofar as the main fic is, too, even if it's not canon canon. But that one killed James, so it deserves to be ignored. Anyway, this one is set quite a bit after Catch the Wind, after James and Theodora have had their first two children.
"She has better form than her brother," James commented drily.
"I mean, I have a sneaking suspicion that has something to do with the fact that her brother is less than half her age," Theo replied.
The scene playing out around them was a level of picturesque that, when she was younger, she'd never have thought could actually play out in real life. No, once she'd have written it off as the stuff of sappy montages - figuring people who aspired to it were just setting out to be disappointed by reality. It spoke to how lucky she was that she now had it without trying.
Sitting in what she mentally referred to as the "family" section of their grounds (rather than that reserved for the vegetable patches and chickens), on a blanket in the grass with her husband, the late afternoon summer sun cast a golden hue over everything - including their two children.
"Or her warrior mother," he said with a small smile.
Theo huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back on her elbows. Here at home, when they expected nobody, she could get away with minimal petticoats and no corset, otherwise she'd never be able to manage such acrobatic feats as reclining and leaning.
"I'll take the credit if she switches to grappling."
Her own smile widened when Antonia let her brother land a gentle swipe at her legs - one she likely didn't even feel through her mucky navy skirts - and then gave up an easy chance to retaliate in favour of moving her stick to her left hand so she could correct Jamie's grip on his.
"They're good kids," she said "The best kids. We've been lucky."
"We've done well," he countered, his hand finding hers "It's no accident that they are how they are."
"By that reasoning, the third should be a cake walk."
She was painfully aware of how James stilled at her side - and the way in which his head slowly turned so he could stare at her. God, she hadn't been this nervous about announcing the impending arrival of Antonia. Then again, back then they hadn't had much clue as to the reality of the next nine months.
"...Hypothetically speaking?" he asked slowly, probing to make sure he hadn't misunderstood.
"No," she shook her head "A little over seven months from now. Give or take a few weeks."
He said nothing. And then he kept saying nothing - for so long that she gave in and turned to look at him, finding him gazing out at the children, his face unreadable. Purposely so.
"You're not happy," she said.
The look on his face at that quelled her fears as to whether he'd be pleased at the news or not, his frown softening as he pulled her to lean against him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Theo wondered if he didn't position them like that deliberately, so she could no longer see his face. Or the worry shining in his eyes.
"Of course I'm happy," he disagreed firmly "We've hardly been taking precautions against it. But…it feels callous to say I'm pleased when I know the toll it will take on you this next year."
"This one might not be so bad."
"Perhaps."
His tone told her he believed that as much as she did, but hadn't the heart to admit it. Nor was he the sort to bullshit her and completely pretend he thought otherwise, though.
"The baby be born around early next year," she pointed out quietly, ignoring how saying those first two words made it feel so much more real…and the trepidation that began to weave throughout her chest "Meaning I'll be at my heaviest in the cold months. Jamie was a summer baby, and that was absolute hell at the end, remember. This one should be more comfortable in that aspect, at least."
James nodded in agreement, and she could practically feel the countless calculations and plans rolling off of him in waves as he considered what the next year or so of their life would look like.
"We have Groves now, too," he said.
"Groves? Does he have a secret talent for midwifery?"
"He has an established career in Norne - and the respect of the men. When the time comes, we can trust him to shoulder some extra responsibility when we cannot."
"When we can't? I won't be fit for travel, but that's no reason for you to stop."
"Don't be ridiculous, of course it is."
"I tell you I'm carrying yet another of your children and you call me ridiculous?"
James smirked down at her "You cannot yet use that as a fail-proof method of winning our disagreements just yet."
"Oh? When can I start?" she pulled away so that she could see him, resting back on her elbows in the grass.
He mused for a moment.
"When you're sweating bullets, trembling, and clutching at a sick-basin, I think."
Well. The first part of that had almost sounded enticing. And though it had the sound of a joke, there was a certain grim set to his jaw that told her he was picking up her habit of joking the dread away.
"That's not exactly fair," she griped lightly "I'm never in much of a state to gloat when those episodes hit."
"I have seldom known you to be in a state so dire that it prevented just a shred of gloating," he teased softly "I have faith in you."
"I'm grateful," she snorted.
"No…"
James leaned back into the grass the same as she had, although he had to slump a fair bit more than she did in order to ensure they'd be eye-to-eye with one another. Once they were at eye-level, he continued.
"I mean it. I have faith in you. You will get through this - and I will do all I can to ensure that you do so as comfortably as possible. Whatever it takes. Gladly."
The relative peace, quiet, and ease of their life now compared to what it had been in the first few years in which they'd known one another might have tempted her to forget the intensity that lurked within her husband…had she not known him as well as she did. And had he not seen fit to remind her of it in moments like this. It sent her heart all aflutter, and it eradicated any will she might've had to joke it all away.
"I don't know how I feel about the Groves solution," she sighed quietly.
"He'll be pleased by the extra responsibility. He knows it's not a level of trust either of us bestow lightly," James said "And he owes it to us, for stealing our maid."
"I'm not sure we can resent him for that given he married her rather than hired her."
"I think we can."
"We were at the wedding. We're godparents to their children. That ship has sailed."
"I shall re-forgive him when it becomes more convenient," he teased drily "I am a skilled tactician."
"Oh, I would never mistake you for being just a painfully handsome face," she nudged her knee against his "But my problem with the arrangement wasn't with Groves. I don't want you to end up growing resentful or feeling hemmed in if you decide to limit yourself to only travelling however far I can manage to travel at any given time."
"Do you know me to be the sort of man - the sort of husband - who might resent you for a decision I myself have made? You haven't demanded it of me against my wishes, and the circumstances behind it aren't a mere flight of fancy. I also recall having a slight role in those circumstances, come to think of it."
"I think it can safely be called a joint, enthusiastic, venture," she said ruefully, smoothing a hand over her still-flat abdomen.
"There is not much of the burden that I can shoulder," he said "Would that I could. The sickness, the dizziness, the pain…None of it. The first time, we had no children to concern ourselves with as you battled through it. The second time, we had Hope."
"We're hardly without servants now," she said - although she had to admit that Hope had undeniably been a god amongst maids "...And she and Groves don't live far away. If I absolutely had to, I could ask for her help if I needed it and you were gone."
"You would not," he said flatly - knowingly "Unless the house was ablaze, or you were vomiting blood."
Well. He wasn't wrong.
"I don't endeavour to keep you within arm's reach throughout the entirety," he continued.
"Your sanity would never survive that."
"But Jamie was more strenuous on you than Antonia, and if this babe follows that pattern…I should not be able to venture to Maryport, even for the day, without going mad with worry. We are close enough that if some great disaster occurs I can be there on the same day, but such occasions are hardly frequent, and Groves is more than capable of acting as a go-between otherwise."
Theo looked on at their children, sighing quietly. She was excited - really, she was. If she hadn't wanted this, if they hadn't wanted this, she would have taken precautions. The ones available to them mightn't have been as foolproof as the ones back in her old time, but they would have been better than nothing. But she had wanted this, so she hadn't. The trepidation of what lay between now and their meeting their baby just outweighed whatever excitement she could muster - like how it was always difficult to get excited about summer break back in her school days when an exam preceded it.
"I don't see the point in us both having to suffer," she said finally, but without much conviction.
"And I refuse to go on as normal while you labour with this," he said, an air of finality to his tone…before it softened as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear "I won't pursue this decision to the detriment of our livelihood, but I will pursue it seriously. You will get through these coming months, and you will do so with me by your side throughout. As we have done all things."
How could there be any arguing with that? Especially seeing as how he spoke it like a vow. Heart swelling in her chest, she sighed warmly and leaned against him, her head nestled in the gap between his chin and his chest. James pressed a kiss to the top of her head, but before anything else could be said - or a comfortable silence could be settled into - a yelp came from the direction of the children.
Antonia had grown too comfortable, and Jamie too brash, resulting in one of his swipes connecting with his sister's knuckles surprisingly harshly. She dropped her 'sword', her face crumbling as she waved her hand in pain and seemed to debate on whether she wished to cry over it or not. Before she could decide - and before either Theo or James could move to intervene - Jamie cast aside his own stick without hesitation, seized his sister's hand, and began endeavouring to kiss away the bright red, angry mark splayed across the back of it.
Theo blamed her condition on how the sight threatened to choke her up.
"It'll be worth it," she murmured finally.
"It'll be worth it," James echoed, his own voice laced with pride.
