Chapter Text
When the nausea began, I blamed it on the food. It seemed entirely possible that I had inadvertently nicked a pastry set aside because it had reached the end of its shelf life on my late-night raids of Buckkeep’s kitchen. Perhaps somebody had missed that a sausage began spoiling before I cut it off and ate it in the spy tunnels. Possibly, I had only eaten too much. I didn’t believe I had indulged in too much drink, alcohol had lost its appeal to me a few weeks ago. This I could not explain. Nighteyes approved of my abstinence of the ‘poison water’, telling me I had finally developed sense and listened to my nose. Still, I could find no cause for my malady. I wretched into an abandoned chamber pot as I didn’t have the time to rush to our newly installed water-closet. Kettricken had already had one in her rooms and even I, sceptical of all change, was in favour of installing more throughout the keep. Still, the water-closet required five steps more than I had in me.
Nighteyes pressed his nose against my face, snuffling at the curls that had fallen into my face. What ails you, little brother?
I don’t know, I replied, feeling sorry for myself. If it were a stomach bug it should have long since passed.
Should I ask the Scentless one for tea?
If you would. Thank you, brother.
Of course. With a flick of his tongue across my cheek Nighteyes was gone. I heard him struggling with the door handle momentarily, but he succeeded in opening the door and nudging it closed behind him besides. The thought of him walking around in the halls of Buckkeep felt foreign to me still. But since Dutiful had acknowledged me as his cousin and Prince of Buck, he had also decreed that my Wit-companion should be treated with equal respect. People had shuddered and shied away from us during the first few weeks, then reheated all the old rumours. The Witted Bastard indeed. Although few would call me that within my or my family’s earshot. Everybody grew rather displeased when a prince of royal blood was insulted. Web, at least, thought the whole affair splendid. Of course, conservative Old Blood communities judged me for forcing Nighteyes to live indoors with me. But we always strove towards spending as much of our time outdoors - with him I had an irrefutable excuse to skip meetings - and Nighteyes greatly enjoyed the luxury of thick carpets and roaring fires and plush mattresses. Sometimes I had to remind him not to taunt the poor wolf dogs just because he roamed freely across the Keep. Learning the trick of doorknobs, in case nobody he could bully into opening them for him stood around, had truly improved his freedoms.
The smell of my own vomit made me puke again just as Nighteyes and Beloved returned.
“Oh, Fitz.” The tray with my tea clanked as they put it down. They held my hair back so I wouldn’t spit on it, their cool fingers soothing against my skin.
“Are you still no better? You ate just fine last night, I thought you improved.”
“I was hungry last night. I couldn’t eat much of anything all day. But I kept away from anything heavily spiced.” Beloved hummed.
“Well, will you be fine for a moment? I’ll take this away then.” Indicating the now full chamber pot.
“Yes, I think it would improve me.”
Perhaps you should eat some grass, counselled Nighteyes.
I think tea will be enough for me, thank you. Ginger tea seemed like the only restorative truly working for me, home remedy as it was. If this continued, I would have to ask Chade for one of his concoctions. Burrich would only deworm me again.
“Here, Fitz.” Beloved pressed the teacup into my hands and I inhaled the scent. Carefully, as to not upset the mattress and shake me, both because of the tea and the nausea, they settled on the bed with me. Beloved wore Lord Chances’ clothes today, the simple but well-made garb of a minor noble. With his darkened skin, it was almost ridiculous how flawlessly he passed for another person. Even more ridiculous that nobody had yet remarked upon the oddity that Lord Chance, the prince’s closest friend, and Lady Amber, the prince’s wife, were never in the same room at once. I heard gossip that they don’t like each other and thus avoid the other’s company, piped up Nighteyes. I chuckled into my tea.
“We have a private dinner scheduled with Web today. I think it best we postpone it until next week, when hopefully you’ll feel better.” they said, and I didn’t protest, truly thinking I would feel better by the next week.
I did not. Throughout the week, the morning nausea persisted, only for ravenous hunger to strike in the late afternoon and evening. This back and forth drained me more than I cared for. Often, I lamented the apparent limitation of my Skill-healing, though perhaps I would have puked all day if not for the Skill mending me each day. So when our rescheduled meeting with Web came around, I insisted we didn’t cancel. Web and Swift would travel around the Seven Duchies again soon, we could not reschedule too often until he’d be out of reach for months at a time.
“Fitz! It is good to see you. Word in the keep is that you have been ill?” Web greeted me warmly. As was Beloved’s and mine preference, we would eat dinner in our common room. The table had already been set, plates covered so the food would keep warm. Nighteyes lay beside the table, hopeful for a morsel. With the Buckkeep’s kitchen at his disposal, and Cook Sara rather fond of him even though she demanded he stay outside her kitchen for cleanliness' sake, I insisted we hunt or fish daily for his meal lest he grow fat. This did not stop his appetite, for he liked the same foods I did. Unfortunately, I loved all of Cook Sara’s Buck dishes.
“Nothing grave, I assure you.”
“If it were, I would have ordered Fitz to bed and heard no protests.” chimed Beloved. Amber’s colourful skirts swayed with their steps.
“Oh I know you would.” laughed Web. “But tell me, who else have you invited for dinner?” I frowned at him. “Nobody but you. Why do you ask?”
“Nobody? I could swear I feel another presence in the room with us. Their Wit-sense is frail as of now…well, must be somebody in the adjacent rooms I’m sensing.” I agreed, even as the exchange confused me. I too, extended my Wit, feeling Nighteyes, Web, and the eerie nothingness of Beloved. However… I could not shake the feeling that I felt something small. But that life seemed tethered to me, not somebody else in another room. Either way, I resolved to thoroughly deworm myself after all. A tapeworm might be the reason of my malady. Unlikely that it would grow enough in size that I could sense it with my Wit, yet I had not other explanation for either the nausea or Web’s remark.
Brother?
“Yes?” I said weakly, cradling the chamber pot, forcing down the nausea. I wouldn’t vomit again. I would not. I swallowed the saliva gathering in my mouth.
I think you might be pregnant.
“What?” My concentration broke and I heaved into the pot, feeling ill and hopeless. Beloved had already gone fetch the ginger tea. Meanwhile, Nighteyes sat beside our bed.
Web was right. Something is growing inside you. The Scentless one and you mate often, and is nausea not a symptom of pregnancy in your kind?
“Nighteyes!” I gaped at him. Of course he had a sense of what Beloved and I did in the bedroom during the nights he spend prowling the forest. I could not keep it from him entirely. Still, the suggestion rattled me deeply. How could I be pregnant? I was a man. I had no womb which could host a growing life. And yet… I extended a tendril of Wit, feeling for something in my belly. El’s balls. The bundle of cells could not be called a life yet, not really. It was a bundle of cells, nothing more. I suspected it only registered so strongly in my Wit because I could also feel it in the Skill. Quickly I recoiled.
Had Beloved and I manifested this? We connected in the Skill regularly during sex, finding catharsis in our all-consuming union. When I joked about asking Patience which herbs would prevent pregnancy, considering how often Beloved partook in my body, when for a moment, I grieved that we could not have children of our own… had this been enough of a Skill-suggestion for Beloved’s seed to stick? I suddenly felt ill, and not with nausea.
But how could this be? What do I do?
Have we not seen stranger things, brother? Nighteyes cleaned his chest with his tongue, then nibbled at an itch on a foreleg while lowering himself onto the floor. You keep the cub, of course. You want it, do you not?
For a brief moment I allowed myself this belief. A babe, of me and Beloved, in my belly. A clump of cells now, certainly, but in only a few months a creature with limbs and hair, coming screaming into the world. I rested a hand on my stomach, imagining it round and bulging. Imagined it flat again, but with the baby in my arms.
Of course I want it. I've wished for a child with Beloved. But...
But? probed Nighteyes, probably expecting me to worry old meat.
"But can it be real?"
"Can what be real?" I jumped and nearly jostled the vomit in the chamber pot. "Careful with that!" chided Beloved. "I'd hoped perhaps you'd be fine today, since you didn't vomit right upon waking. Tea?" We exchanged what we were holding - me striking the far better deal with the ginger tea. I eyed Nighteyes when Beloved turned their back, doing away with my vomit, so I could swear him to secrecy. Beloved sometimes felt, or almost heard, when Nighteyes and I used the Wit.
You're being silly. Tell the Scentless one.
They'll think I've lost my mind. I'm not even showing yet. Briefly I wondered how long that would take, then shook the thought free. A man couldn't be pregnant.
"So?"
"What?"
"Fitz, what can't be real?"
"Oh, nothing. Just the scarcity of game lately." I sipped my ginger tea. "Nighteyes has just been telling me about it." My partner sighed, world-weary.
"Don't lie to me." Perhaps rather weary of me. "I don't appreciate it, even if it's just a casual lie. Be honest with me."
"Nighteyes thinks I'm pregnant." I blurted out. The thought was so absurd it just sprang free from my lips, so unlike me that I felt shocked. Beloved gaped.
"Is that why Web asked about another presence in the room?" Of course they'd remembered that, sharp-witted as they were.
"Nighteyes thinks so." I would blame this entire conversation on Nighteyes, if that meant Beloved wouldn't think me complicit in such foolishness. They sat silently on the bed, staring into nothing. I stared into my tea. Nighteyes stretched in a picture of unconcernedness, back arching and claws scrabbling on the stone floor.
"We'll have to move away from Buckkeep for a bit."
"What? Why?" The idea dumbfounded me.
"There's only so much we can make Elderling magic responsible for. We'll move into a cottage, something cozy but discreet, no servants, and wait out the pregnancy. When we return with a child everybody will believe Lady Amber carried it."
"But I can't be pregnant! I'm a man!" The tea nearly spilled with my gesturing.
"Well, I can think of stranger things happening."
Ha! said Nighteyes.
"But." I actually had no arguments. Beloved was supposed to talk me out of the idea, not feed into it.
"Can't you see? If we stay we'll have to hide your pregnancy. I know you, you'd be frightfully embarrassed. The court would also wonder why you'd hole up in your room for nine months." They frowned. "Perhaps eight. Who knows how long you've been pregnant for already, though probably not too far along. 6 weeks, maybe. And then of course, the court would wonder about the child on Lady Amber's breast when she never showed. On the other hand, many noble women choose confinement on their family estates during pregnancy. Wouldn't bat an eyelash if we returned with a baby after months far away. Yes, yes this is a sound plan." Nodding, and completely ignoring my helpless gestures and stammering, they got up and brushed off their clothes. "I'll have to change into Lady Amber's clothes, that will bring me an audience with Kettricken more quickly. I know, I know, Elliania is queen, but Kettricken will have a cottage in mind. Well, Chade will, and Kettricken will convince him that we need to stay there undisturbed." With that, he left me and Nighteyes.
I'll be happy to explore a new territory. You won't need for meat, I promise you, said Nighteyes and fell asleep.
My confusion about the sudden turn of events had not abated by the time I found myself in a carriage. In all fairness, being forced into the carriage chafed at me. We specifically left in the afternoon so I would not be nauseous, and still I was not allowed to ride. Myblack trailed the carriage on a rope, as frustrated as I was with the slow pace. The chests and boxes the serving boys had loaded on to the carriage slowed us tremendously. But, as Beloved had pointed out, it would look unseemly for me to leave my wife all alone while I gallivanted ahead on horseback. I don’t know how they'd managed arranging the cottage and trip on such short notice, or what exactly they had said. Obviously, they could not yet tell my family about the pregnancy, though I still denied the possibility outright. Perhaps I had an insistent stomach ulcer, growing back each night. The ‘presence’ only the Skill and Wit at work in my body.
“What did you tell Kettricken?”
“You mean, what reason did I give?” Amber’s purple travelling dress contrasted with their gold hair, enhancing their natural glow.
“Yes.”
“Well, I did not want to alarm her. I said you were ill the last few weeks, which is true enough, and though nothing serious, I thought some time spend away from court would do you good. If Chade protested I don’t know about it, but Kettricken was understanding. Even about my wish of no servants. Coal will help unload, then turn the carriage around. It’ll be just us.”
And me. Nighteyes had refused sharing the carriage with us and I envied him the soil beneath his paws.
“And Nighteyes.” I repeated dutifully.
“And Nighteyes, of course.” We sat in silence for a moment.
“Can you cook?” I asked finally.
“Are you intending to put me to work immediately, my prince?” Beloved assumed a haughty voice, looking down their nose on me. As we were both seated and of a height, the effect was more silly than intimidating and I chuckled.
“No, no. It’s just that Hap complained about my food, once he had tasted better. I have a limited repertoire. If we’re without a cook for the next months… I fear you’ll grow just as weary of my cooking as Hap did. He still won’t eat fish stew, you know?” That he had written me in a letter once. Apparently, him and Sawtongue had had a bit of an argument because of my son’s utter refusal. Though Hap’s choice of apprenticeship worried me sometimes, I approved of Sawtongue once I learned the man liked fish stew. Somebody who liked honest food could not steer my boy too far from the right path.
“Ah, you’re a sweet man. Don’t you worry. I can cook my fair share of dishes and made sure to pack all the necessary spices. If you crave something we can’t make, there’s a village not too far. Likely I could procure us something from there.”
“Mhm.” I hummed. Beloved could not ride into the village as Lady Amber, not unaccompanied and later ostensibly pregnant. But Lord Chance could. As gossip had it, he left the Keep the night before the prince’s departure, readying the place so it would suit his best friend’s taste. That, and also proclaiming dominance in front of Lady Amber. Walking around court in two of their facets granted Beloved an amount of freedom they would not have as a single person. They could not seek out the company of women as casually as Lord Chance as they could as Lady Amber. On the other hand, the men did not invite Lady Amber for cards. When I suggested they present themselves as they are, neither man nor woman, Beloved had laughed. ‘Why, because I could move so freely as Fool? With everybody wondering what I had between my legs? No, thank you.’ However, I believe they also enjoyed the drama they could spin a great deal.
Although I did not believe in my pregnancy, and thus did not believe we needed this absence from court, I found myself rather glad about it once we arrived two days later. The forest creeped up around the cottage, swallowing up the formerly neat garden. Somebody clearly cared for the house, if not regularly. We busied ourselves with dusting and wiping down tables and beating carpets on our first day, while Nighteyes prowled the surrounding landscape. Beloved declared the bedroom with the best view of the garden and forest ours, adding curtains and pillows so we’d feel right at home. The other two bedrooms we aired out, but did not bother with beyond that. I was more occupied with the well-stacked library, probably Chade’s doing. True to their word, Beloved presented me with a spicy vegetable dish from their homeland for dinner. Doubting the reason of our stay or not, it provided me with a break and a level of privacy I had not even realised I had desperately needed. That night, I kissed Beloved with true happiness in my heart, not bothering to contradict them that I could not be pregnant when they rested their hand on my stomach.
“Beloved, I’m gaining weight. You’re spoiling me with your cooking.” Claiming I needed the calories, they nearly stuffed me in the afternoon and at dinner. Mornings I still spent puking, though surrounded by the loamy smell of the forest. I’d have considered it an improvement, but the cottage had no more chamber pots, sporting a rather modern water-closet instead, which made me wonder how often Chade updated his safe houses. Heaving into a wooden bucket felt worse than heaving into an enamel pot, painted with nondescript blue flowers.
“What makes you say so?” called Beloved from the common room.
“My leggins don’t fit properly. And my tunic stretches.”
You’re not gaining weight, little brother. It’s the cub growing in you, said Nighteyes from the sun-spot on the wooden floor. Something clattered as Beloved dashed into the bedroom.
“Are you showing?” excitement coloured their cheeks. I’d done such a thorough job ignoring the reason for our vacation from court, that the idea startled me. But as I pulled up my tunic to better examine my stomach in the mirror, I noticed the rounding of my belly. I cupped it with a hand, extending my Wit. And there it was, truly. Not shaped like a human baby, not yet, I could only be three months along at best. And yet.
“Beloved.” I whispered. “Beloved, I’m pregnant.” They closed their arms around me in a tight embrace. All the weeks before, I did not allow myself to give into this foolish hope that I could be pregnant. The thought was absurd. My illness must have clouded my senses. But here it was, undeniable proof.
“We’re going to have a baby.” I said, awed.
“We are.” agreed Beloved, stroking my back. Cold horror struck me then and I pulled free of them, clutching their shoulders instead.
“We have nothing prepared! No cradle, no clothes! No wetnurse! No napkins! A babe needs napkins, doesn’t it? Oh Eda, we’ve come so unprepared.” I bemoaned my steadfast denial. So what if I had gone insane? At least I’d have baby socks now.
“All is well, I thought of that.” To my surprise, Beloved pulled an unopened box from below our bed. When they had squirreled it away, I could not say. However, I could, and did, kiss them for the revealed contents of the mystery box. Napkins and baby wrappers and tiny, tiny socks spilled forth.
“How did you know?” I demanded, once my wonder had abated.
“This is not the first time you did not believe in what I prophesied. I thought it best I make arrangements ahead of time. And for the wetnurse…” they hesitated.
“Yes?”
“I thought when the time comes, we send for Burrich and Molly.” they said. “Molly has had their had their last son almost two years ago, and thinks of weening him by the end of the year. If we asked, perhaps she’d agree to nurse our child at first before we find somebody else in Buckkeep. Elliana's wetnurse, for example.”
“And Burrich?” I settled on the floor beside Beloved, reaching out to scritch Nighteyes behind the ears.
“He’s delivered every one of Molly’s children.”
“I know that.” I said. Burrich had proudly told me of all his children when we met after Aslevjal, including the fact that it was him who had delivered all of them with his own hands. “But do you think he could cut me open with a scalpel for this delivery? I doubt a birth canal will appear out of nowhere.”
“Oh.” We pondered this predicament in silence.
The Grey One could do it, offered Nighteyes. His hands are steady and he knows his way around knives.
Chade as my midwife. A ludicrous idea and yet…
“We’ll send for Chade.” I told Beloved. “Nighteyes pointed out his skill with a blade. He’s an assassin, no healer, but with his knowledge of herbs and of human anatomy, as well as his Skill…”
“He’s the best option we have.” begrudged Beloved. Since Aslevjal, Chade and Beloved’s relationship had improved a little. In the intervening years, Chade had tried to cut Beloved out only once or twice, and never maliciously. Still, he felt betrayed that I would trust Beloved more than him and it showed when Chade wasn’t being careful.
Albeit the swelling of my belly limited my clothing options and began hindering my movements six months into the pregnancy, it brought both Beloved and me great joy. Even Nighteyes occasionally rested his great head on my belly, feeling the baby kick.
“How are you and the baby doing? Ready for your massage?” Beloved held a scented oil which he rubbed on the skin of my stomach at night. If the Skill did not erase them, I would undoubtedly carry stretch marks after this pregnancy, oil or no oil. I appreciated the thought, nonetheless.
“We’re good. She’s kicking a lot today.” I said, cradling my baby belly.
“Hmm.” Hummed Beloved, lovingly working the oil into my skin. “Perhaps we could put her to sleep?” he suggested, grinning.
“We should.” It was convenient then, that Beloved already held the oil in their hands. They prepared me with slippery fingers. Later, Beloved’s hands wandered from were they held onto my hips towards the baby belly, supporting it as he thrust into me from behind. I moaned on hands and knees, basking in his love for me.
At six months pregnant, the morning nausea finally receded, too. Waking up that first day with no need of the hated bucket felt as freeing as shaking off a heavy cloak. In the absence of nausea, the hunger and cravings set in. To Beloved's chagrin, what I craved for weren't his exotic dishes, but the most basic Buck cuisine imaginable. Already, Nighteyes and I took daily walks for my health and physical strength. Often, instead of walking, I saddled Myblack and exercised her. My added weight irritated her but not as much as staying in the stable did. Now, however, Nighteyes and I frequently sought the forest stream so I could tickle for fish. It was harder with the swollen belly, for I couldn't lie down comfortably. Yet, I was determined. Nighteyes rejoiced at the fish and guts I tossed him, even as Beloved grew mightily sick of fish stew.
"It's not the taste. It's the smell. This kitchen used to smell of curry and cinnamon and cumin. And now..." they sighed.
I daren't eat raw fish, but I dropped another piece for Nighteyes. I can feel your hunger, Changer. It claws at me, too, he'd complained.
"Beloved, I would apologise, truly, I would. But this is all I want to eat. This stew and those hearthcakes." I added, gesturing. When the stew bubbled and needn't anything but cursory attention, I baked them in the hot ashes of the hearth. The nausea had drained me, yes, but constant hunger felt almost worse. The pregnancy could only partially be at fault, the Skill necessary to keep the baby alive probably consumed much more energy.
"But what about ginger cakes? Rabbit stew? That's still stew."
"Maybe tomorrow."
When we finally wrote to Chade - not because I thought the baby would come anytime soon, it should require two months of gestation yet, but so he'd be prepared when it ultimately did - he arrived on horseback with nothing but a traveller's bag the next day. I heard him and Beloved speak from the kitchen, where I was struggling with the dough for ginger cakes. Under the pretense that the pregnant Lady Amber required more than the baker could sell, Beloved had extracted the recipe from the woman, with the strictest orders not to share it. The idea that bakers guarded their specific ginger cake recipe had not occured to me before but seemed reasonable enough.
"Where is he?"
"A good day to you too, Chade." replied Beloved testily.
"No time, where is he? Does he suspect which poison? Is he still puking? I should have known something was seriously wrong when you squirrelled him away like that. But Kettricken instructed me not to pry, and foolishly, I just assumed the boy would go back to hermiting again." It dawned on me that writing Chade a letter instead of Skilling to him might have scared him. In truth, I didn't think I could have hidden my pregnancy from him in the Skill, or muted my thoughts surrounding it. His boy carrying a child seemed like the thing you'd want to discuss in person.
"Fitz is just fine. He's in the kitchen -" Chade barrelled through the door.
"I'm sorry for the letter." Was all I said before Chade fainted at the sight of my swollen stomach.
"Well. That went flawlessly." commented Beloved, then heaved Chade on a chair. The old man was already rousing himself.
"Fitz! El's ball what is wrong with your stomach? An ulcer? But why haven't you sent for me sooner, ere it could grow to this size?" I set a plate of my last batch of ginger cakes down before him. Lowering myself into the chair opposite took me a moment.
"It's not an ulcer, Chade. I'm pregnant. And I'd like you to perform the surgery when the due date arrives." Chade's head whipped around to Beloved who smiled in return. A deep scowl furrowed his brow when he turned back around.
"Breathe at me, boy, so I'll know what you've chewed for this hallucination. And then we're going to treat that ulcer."
"Just feel it with the Skill, Chade, I'm not high."
"I'll be the judge of that." Begrudingly, I obliged.
"Hmm." Chade's Skill pressed against me, and I allowed it the measure of my body. It was obvious when he reached the conclusion that yes, that was an embryo in my stomach, not an ulcer, for he jumped out of his chair, stumbled backwards and nearly toppled over the fallen chair.
"El's balls!" he repeated, with a little more fervour. "But how?"
"The same way you made Lant and Shine, I suppose." offered Beloved from the doorway. My old mentor didn't flush but I nearly did and scowled at Beloved. They were not helping and they knew it.
"We suspect the Skill." I said, drawing Chade's attention back to me. "I wished for a child with Beloved and... well, I suppose the Skill suggestion must have been strong for me to actually conceive."
"Well. I wouldn't have believed you if you had Skilled me, that's for sure." He sat back, contemplated. Tasted one of the ginger cakes, and approving, ate another. "Let's examine you then, so I'll know what I'm working with. How far along are you?"
"Approximately seven months. We aren't sure." I suspected Chade wished to examine me more for his notes and research than my well-being, but chose not to complain at this time.
"Are you going to write to Burrich?" Chade measured my belly, calculating the size of the baby.
"How'd you know?"
"He's always kept an eye on your health. You seem calmer in his presence, even when in great pain. Of course, he has also delivered a few children." We laughed at the choice of words. Burrich and Molly had quite literally bred a stable full of sons.
"We thought Molly might nurse the baby, too. Until we return to Buckkeep at least."
"So no milk production yet? No tender chest? Swollen nipples?"
"Chade!"
"A man has to ask, considering it should be impossible for you to be pregnant in the first place!"
Beloved wrote the letter for Burrich. I would have considered the task my duty, if not for the swell of emotions that overtook me at all times of day. Whenever I sat down to write the missive, thoughts of my boyhood with Burrich, the love I felt for him, brought tears to my eyes. At other times, anger for how he had distained my Wit, or even just the quill blotching ink, drove me to such a rage I tore the page into shreds. So, at last, Beloved inquired whether he and Molly could be present for the birth, and whether Molly might consent to be our child's wetnurse for their first few days.
Alas, the mood swings were not limited to letter writing. Nighteyes sought out the calm of the forest often, beyond our walks, in an attempt to soothe both our nerves. Meanwhile, Beloved proved the most patient being in all the Seven Duchies. Whether I cried, raged, laughed or demanded, they accommodated me as best they could. Each night they massaged my pregnant belly and swollen feet, helped me up at night when the baby pressed on my bladder - as it often did, now - and then rearranged me again for comfort.
"I've cared for you before, my dear. This time at least you aren't saying sorry quite as often." They grinned, tapping my nose with a finger as we lay in bed. Somewhere from the foot of the bed, out of my way to the water closet, Nighteyes yipped in his sleep. I hoped he dreamt of playing with our cub, as did I.
"You said something about a pregnancy, but you look slender as a reed." said Burrich critically.
"Ah, but I'm not the one pregnant. Fitz is. Chade is upstairs with him, though I'd warn you-"
"Stop complaining! It's not my fault you got yourself into this mess!" yelled Chade, barely muffled through the bedroom door.
"Then help me and cut it out of me!" Fitz yelled back.
"The baby has been keeping him up, he's a tad... sensitive, right now." finished Beloved. "Molly, might I offer you some tea? Something to eat? Fitz has been baking ginger cakes for weeks now, and I'm afraid I'll need help eating them all."
"Of course." Molly shot Burrich a quizzical look, which Burrich answered with a raised brow. I approved that Heart of Pack did not ask useless questions. Follow me, then, I told him, casting him a glance over my shoulder. As much as I liked his steadiness, the bristle at hearing my thoughts annoyed me. Alas, Burrich knew things about healing and child birth we did not, and either way, I went where I pleased, even at Buckkeep.
In the end, Burrich caved and posed the expected questions. I answered best I could, Chade interrupting me at times with his own theories, of which he had many.
"How far along are you?"
"Almost nine months." I said, at the same time Chade said "Approximately 39 weeks." I glowered at him, for he'd refused to speed the birthing process with either herbs or a decisive cut. At this point, I marvelled at the bulge of my belly only during sentimental moods. The heaviness, the swelling, the moods, the appetites, the constant peeing and sleepless nights... all these things combined meant I was deeply uncomfortable in my own body. When I voiced this feeling, Burrich only replied that this was common towards the end of pregnancies, in humans as well as animals. Then he'd eyed Nighteyes, who lay on the best beside the nest we'd made out of rucked blankets and pillows. At night, or with the bedcurtains drawn, it made a cozy den for whelping.
"Then you won't have long. Soon, the child will drop and the pains start, at which point it will be safe to cut her out."
"You think she'll be a girl?" A girl I could watch growing up? Whose hair Beloved could braid? Tears gathered in my eyes again and Nighteyes nudged me so I'd scratch behind his ears rather than cry again.
"Well, you fathered one before. As it seems I can only father sons, you might father solely girls." A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of Nettle, and then my son Dutiful. Nighteyes licked my face.
"Oh, what is it now?" complained Chade. I'd lost track of how many times I'd cried since his arrival two days ago. Likely more often than during my entire childhood. Not wishing to reveal Dutiful's pedigree, though, I only replied that I was hungry again. It was true enough, I could feel my stomach rumbling even as I said it.
"If you are that eager to birth your child, you could try eating spicy foods." commented Burrich.
"Really?" I perked up, tears and hunger forgotten. If there were natural ways of inducing labour, then Chade couldn't complain.
"The spice might stimulate your body into starting labour. Walks, help, too. Most effective method of inducing labour though is to massage the nipples or have intercourse." Burrich said it so casually, as if he weren't the man who raised me, staying at my house for the next few days or weeks until I gave birth. I blushed so deeply I almost got light-headed.
"Spicy food sounds adequate." I managed, and fled the room. Although fleeing in my condition meant waddling rather than walking.
Below in the kitchen, Beloved was serving Molly tea and ginger cakes.
"Fitz!" exclaimed Molly. Her gaze dropped to my belly in astonishment. "I did not quite believe it, not even when Lord Chance assured me of the truth of it. I am so happy for you." We hugged awkwardly but deeply, the belly a limitation but no hindrance.
"How did it go with Burrich?" asked Beloved, taking a sip of tea.
"He said we should have sex to induce labour." I said, perhaps a bit boldly. Beloved spluttered into their tea but Molly cackled.
"It works, though! When I was pregnant with the twins I couldn't wait to get them out. They were late, too. The midwife suggested intercourse as a means to speed up the birthing process and I swear, I was so desperate I jumped Burrich before she had even left the house!" laughed Molly. I couldn't help but join her, sharing a bit of gingercake with Nighteyes.
Just this once, brother.
I guard your birthing den and yet you would deny me a share of your food?
Go hunt some proper meat for us, lazy dog. Nighteyes nipped my hand playfully, then vanished out the back door.
"I think I understand you fully. I'm not quite ready for such desperate measures yet but," I heaved myself into a chair, "this is quite uncomfortable."
If anything, I grew more uncomfortable by the hour. Nighteyes and I could not increase our daily walks further unless we intended to spwmd all day outside, but Burrich encouraged and supervised light exercises. The time I spend with Molly sewing more babyclothes was spend as much on sewing as on gossiping about Burrich's strictness. Of course, I wanted my child born sooner rather than later, but I found I hadn't missed Burrich ordering me around at all. Worst of all were the times when Chade offered an opinion on herbs or the like which might ease the childbirth itself. Then the old men would bicker like fishwives. Beloved meanwhile reclaimed dominion over the kitchen. Since Burrich had suggested spicy food, they felt obligated to once again feed me to a myriad of dishes from their homeland, although they increased the level of spice in increments lest I suffer indigestion.
A week after Burrich and Molly's arrival, Beloved woke me with gentle kisses across my face.
"Hrm?"
"You can sleep a little longer, my drowsy prince." promised Beloved and nuzzled my cheek. "I just wanted to let you now that I'm headed for the village, we're out of a few things."
"What time is it?"
"Almost noon. Stay in bed Beloved, Burrich says your body needs the rest."
"Mmh." I agreed, burying my face deeper into the blankets. Beloved chuckled, then quietly closed the door to our bedroom behind themselves. I must have dropped off immediately, for I woke some time later to a discomfort in my lower back. Likely, I had slept in an unhealthy position again and twisted my back. I groaned into the pillows.
Brother, are you alright? You feel restless. Nighteyes was prowling through the forest, hunting for a sunny spot in which to nap.
Just slept too long, I think.
"Fitz?" called Burrich from the kitchen, alerted to my wakefulness through my conversation with Nighteyes.
"I'm up!" I didn't bother putting on a shirt after I completed my absolutions, none of them fit me properly anyway. The backpain had not settled yet, though I'd hoped the movement would help. I rubbed my back as I trudged into the kitchen, where I sensed Burrich, Molly and Chade.
"Is there any hot tea left?"
"You dropped." said Burrich by way of a reply.
"What?"
"He means your baby dropped. Your stomach is much lower." Chade watched me over the rim of his teacup as he clarified Burrich's statement.
"Oh. Is that why my back hurts so much?" I glanced around the kitchen in search for tea and food. Molly already poured me a cup of what smelled like ginger tea, then paused.
"You're lower back?" she asked.
"Mhm." I had found a heel of bread and buttered it generously. "Gods, I am hungry. Is Beloved back yet? They said they were going into the village."
"Not yet. Fitz, are you sure you're lower back hurts?" At Molly's intense expression and the glance Burrich and Chade shared, I gulped down my mouthful of bread.
"Yes, lower back. The pain woke me, and has been getting more intense since then. Why?"
"Why?" Molly laughed. "Fitz, you idiot, you're finally going into labour! Your baby will be out in no time." She clasped my hands in hers, beaming.
"If Burrich agrees, it would be safe to cut the child out now." said Chade.
"He's been pregnant long enough, and won't be able to give birth naturally anyway. There's no reason to wait any longer." Burrich eyed my stomach critically but nodded. "Disinfect your scalpel, and we'll be good to proceed."
"Not without Beloved. I'm not doing this without them." I protested. Molly squeezed my hands in understanding.
"Of course not." She assured me.
Half an hour later, when Beloved still hadn't returned, Nighteyes went after him. I'll find the Scentless One, he promised. They should be with us for this. I agreed wholeheartedly. Despite my resolution to not give birth without Beloved present, Chade and Burrich prepared all that would be needed while Molly kept me company. She reassured me that it was only natural that I would be nervous, she had been nervous before every birth even though she had never experienced any complications.
"Besides, it's the first child you'll birth. It's okay to be scared." I assented that she was right, breathing through the contractions. Beloved had left before noon, but it was almost midafternoon now. Had something happened to them? I dared not consider it.
An hour later, I held myself up by a bedpost, grunting in pain.
"Fitz, we should start -" tried Chade.
"Where is he?" I demanded. "I am no doing this by myself." I groaned against the wood of the bedpost, rocking with the pain.
"I understand, but Fitz, be reasonable, you're not alone -" A wolf's howl sounded from just outside, and I joined in. Moments later the front door crashed open, steps pounded on the stairs, and Beloved burst into the room, Nighteyes at his heels.
"I'm here! I'm here! The Myblack threw a shoe, and the blacksmith offered to reshoe her, but I'm here! Nighteyes got me!" They gasped. "It's happening, then?" I let out a gutteral moan of pain.
"This is your fault!" I accused Beloved. "You got this into me, and now you almost weren't here to get it out!"
"I'm so sorry, Beloved-"
"Apologise later! Into bed with him!" ordered Burrich, pointing at me. "He refused the willowbark tea so you and I will hold him down while Chade cuts." Somehow, I found myself efficiently moved to the bed, lying between Beloved's spread legs. They threaded their fingers through mine, and secured my torso. Burrich pushed a piece of leather between my teeth, then moved to hold my legs as best he cold without invading Chade’s space. Usually, Chade would have administered a drug cocktail for this surgery so I wouldn’t be able to feel the knife part the layers of flesh. However, we did not quite know how that would affect the baby, so Burrich and Chade had voted against anything stronger than willowbark. And I would be damned if I ever drank of that tea again. Besides, I didn’t wish to be too groggy to hold my own child once it was born. Privately, I quite envied Molly. She stood at the ready with hot water and clean linens, a job I would prefer.
“Alright, deep breaths, boy. And remember, your body exerted a lot of Skill energy carrying this child. I will sew you up and get the healing underway, but you are not to fully heal the wound, do you hear? Not until you had a few days rest.” Satisfied with the grunt I gave in response, Chade wiped my stomach with alcohol, positioned the scalpel, and careful applied pressure. Beloved squeezed my hands while I bit down on the leather. Nighteyes growled softly in the corner. I’m sure Burrich would have preferred it if Nighteyes had stayed outside, but his presence sustained me as much as Beloved’s. My old mentor gutted me carefully, intent on keeping the cut as small as possible. Had I wanted to, I could have named each layer of skin, flesh and muscle he cut through, as well as the components of the blood I lost. I’d closed my eyes against the sight when Chade and Beloved gasped.
“You’re bleeding silver!” exclaimed Beloved.
“Molly, hand me the gloves by the nightstand.” Ordered Chade. The pair was one of Beloved’s favourites because of how thin they were. However, I doubted they’d begrudge Chade for using them. Who could guess whether the Skill in my blood could taint skin as much as pure Skill did? Once he’d pulled the gloves over his bloody hands, Chade continued.
“There’s a layer of Skill here.” He mumbled. “Almost like a cocoon. I wonder...” Slowly, he slit it open. “Just as I thought.” Chade put the scalpel aside. “Molly, ready those lines.” And then, quite suddenly, Chade held my child in his hands. The umbilical cord was shot through with silver, as was the placenta Chade removed.
“I’ll leave the Skill cocoon as it is. Likely, your body will reabsorb it.” While Chade sewed me up with a steady hand, I only had eyes for my child. I spit the leather piece.
“Is it healthy? How is my baby? Molly?” When Molly didn’t reply immediately, Burrich jumped up as fast as his game leg allowed, examining the swaddled baby. It didn’t cry. Burrich cleaned its face, blew ita nose to clear the airways. Still, my baby didn’t cry.
“It’s a girl.” Said Burrich quietly.
“What’s with her? Why isn’t she crying?” I attempted to push myself up on my elbows but Beloved pushed me back down.
“Chade isn’t done yet.” They apologised. Nighteyes growls increased in volume, and he crept towards Burrich. Heart of Pack didn’t pay him much mind.
“Fitz...she very small-“
“I can feel her life strumming within her! Give me my child!”
“Fitz-“
“Give me my child!” I roared, and although the Skill command pearled off from Burrich he flinched nevertheless. Whether affected by the Skill command or simply as anxious as I, Beloved unfolded themselves from behind me, strutted across the room and plucked our baby from Burrich. Then he pinched her with a viciousness I didn’t think them capable of. Immediately, our daughter emitted a warbling, high-pitched wail.
Our cub is loud for someone who didn’t breathe when they should, commented Nighteyes.
“She breathes.” Declared Beloved. Finally, he handed me our daughter, settling her on my bare chest. I cried as a soothed her, almost as overwhelmed at this new world as she must be. Her hair was still damp from the womb, but so pale and wispy that I thought she would have the same dandelion hair as Beloved.
“She perfect.” I whispered. “She’s perfect.”
“She is.” Agreed Beloved. They knelt beside the bed, pushing sweaty hair out of my face.
“She’s unnaturally small. Even if her Wit-life beats strongly now, she might not life very long. And if she does, you might have prepare yourself for the possibility that she’s blind, or otherwise frail. She’s tongue-tied, too.” Said Burrich, shattering the bubble of content forming around us.
“My mother always said I had been an unnaturally small baby, too.” Assured Beloved, not taking their eyes of me and the baby. “It’s true that she might grow rather slowly, much as I did. But she’ll grow. And she’ll be healthy.”
“And tongue-tiedness can be solved.” Commented Chade. In a matter of moments he freed my baby’s tongue with a decisive cut. He acted so quickly neither Beloved nor I had a chance to argue. Our daughter wailed again at this new offense.
“Well that’s it!” Molly stomped. “Out of the room with both of you now.” She shoved bloodied lines and gloves at Chade and Burrich, then ushered them outside. Both men protested, but Molly wouldn’t hear it. “They all need a moment to adjust, and you are ruining it.” I was deeply grateful for Molly. Nighteyes jumped on the bed, inching closer and cautiously sniffing the cub. Beloved and I couldn’t do much more than marvel at the little creature I had grown, either. Her tiny fists fascinated me, as did her intent blue eyes. I almost felt as if she knew what was going on around her. A few minutes later, Molly had tidied the room as best she could and offered to nurse our daughter while Beloved wiped me down. I couldn’t get up yet with the wound, and I found that even if Chade had not warned me off about overextending myself, I wouldn’t have the strength to heal myself voluntarily. Perhaps I would wake up haggard tomorrow, thin as a scarecrow but healed. I had a feeling though that my body, and by extent my Skill, would need time to recover from the pregnancy.
“Have you thought of a name yet?” inquired Molly. Our daughter suckled contently at her breast. I was glad that Molly could nurse my daughter. Still, unbidden jealousy rose within me at the sight.
“I thought Marigold is pretty.” I suggested. “Or something from your homeland, Beloved.” I’d already considered about Marigold as a name for Nettle, but I as much as I wanted to choose my child’s name this time I didn’t want to rob Beloved from the experience.
“Hmm, let’s see...” Beloved listed several names in Mercen, all of which sounded beautiful and ethereal. But I could feel disapproval radiating from our daughter. As she was barely an hour old though, I dismissed the thought as sheer fancy. She couldn’t Skill yet.
“They’re beautiful, but so long. I feel like something shorter would fit her better. Something as small and fierce and she is.” We pondered a moment.
“How about Bee?” offered Beloved.
“Bee.” I tried. “Yes, that’s quite fitting, isn’t it? Bee.” I smiled at my daughter even as Beloved gently washed my face. They peppered soft kisses across my brow after they dried me.
“Thank you for carrying our child, Beloved.” They whispered into my ear.
“Thank you for making her, FitzChivalry.” I replied.
“Oh, I think you had as much a part of that as me. She has your face.” I disagreed, but only half-heartedly because of how tired I was. I nuzzled against Beloved.
“Sleepy?”
“Mhm.”
“Him and Bee both.” Said Molly. “She fell asleep while suckling. Do you want to hold her?” I did, very much so. But I was scared I would drop her while I slept or roll over her.
I will keep watch over you both, little brother. Don’t you worry. Indeed, Nighteyes had positioned himself right beside me, alert but comfortable.
“Yes, please.” I felt much better with Bee in my arms. After all those months of carrying her, I couldn’t imagine sleeping without her below my heart.
“Will you be alright, like this?” worried Beloved. “I should better stay with you.”
“Nighteyes is here. We’ll be fine.” I assured them, already falling asleep.