Chapter Text
It started out rather subtle, as a light sickly feeling whenever she drank her morning coffee, or lit her cigarette. Zelda brushed it off as a stomach upset, not much giving it a second thought.
Or, not until she woke up one morning and immediately hurried to the bathroom to vomit for a solid five minutes, until even Hilda had woken up and came to check on her.
“Are you alright?” she had asked with concern in her eyes, and brewed her a sage tea which was supposed to make it all better. It did not, unfortunately, but the sickness left as sudden as it had came.
Zelda had almost forgotten about it, shoved it to the back of her mind, right until 6am in the morning one day later, when she again collapsed in the bathroom and emptied her stomach. This was the first time it really got her thinking.
Witches did not get sick. They did not get food poisoning or whatever else mortals carried around with themselves. One benefit of following their Dark Lord was perfect health, and she had never head a reason to believe otherwise.
Which eventually lead her to the question what was wrong with her, and the reason which crept into her head at first notice made her even more sick in her stomach.
But it could not be… or could it? Fairly, she had no idea. She had been a midwife for many years, but never once given the idea of her own pregnancy a second thought, especially not after practically adopting Sabrina.
And so the following night when every other Spellman was asleep, she went downstairs into the basement, gathering a few useful supplies and performed a little ritual. A circle of salt, two candles, one lit. As soon as she spoke the words of the spell, the second one should be lit aflame as well, if she was indeed carrying a child.
Which part of her still rejected, since she had never, in her many years of sleeping with dozens of people, had a similar issue. At some point she had simply assumed it was not possible, which was fine the way it was. But now she was anxious, as she held the book which contained the spell in shaking hands.
The words filled the room, her voice also slightly trembling.
For a split second, nothing happened. It was utterly silent, not even her own breathing filled the room.
Then the second candle caught fire, burning with the same bright light as the first one.
Shortly, Zelda felt like she might faint. She sat down on the next available chair, her heart racing inside her chest. Her thoughts seemed to be spinning out of control. This was as unfortunate as it could be, being utterly honest with herself. What was she supposed to tell her family? And, even worse, the High Priest?
In Satan’s name, what had she gotten herself into?
At first she considered not telling Faustus at all, but she would never be able to hide it for all eternity. He was bound to find out, anyway.
Carefully, she rested a hand on her belly, not even aware why.
She knew that it was inappropriate to visit the High Priest in his office in the middle of the night, but somehow she felt like the issue could not wait. On the other hand she feared that in the morning, she would no longer have the courage to tell him.
Her hands were still shaking as she knocked on his door, waiting for him to call her inside. He did so almost immediately, which made her wonder if he might have expected her.
“Sister Zelda”, he greeted, not even looking up from the books he was studying. At this point, the formal term was almost a mockery. Finally, his dark eyes met hers. “It is the middle of the night. What can I do for you?”
It surprised her that he did not opt for a midnight spanking session on his desk, even though she would have had to decline, anyway. This had brought enough sorrow to the both of them already.
“I need to speak to you about something. A matter of importance.”
Something in her tone must have alarmed him, since he stopped reading and leaned back in his chair to look at her. “Very well”, he replied, making a gesture which implied for her to continue speaking.
Suddenly, she felt very dizzy. The thick air of the room seemed to cloud her vision, and she had probably fallen, if Faustus had not jumped from his chair in order to steady her. “Zelda, in Satan’s name”, he exclaimed, letting her lean backwards against the wood of his desk, still keeping one hand resting on her waist. “What is going on?” he demanded to know.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with much needed air. This was absolutely not going as planned. “I believe I might be-” her throat was too dry for her to continue speaking, the fear seemed to swallow every word.
He frowned at her, listening carefully. “You might be what?” he asked impatiently, just on the verge to sounding annoyed. Still, there was something else in his eyes, something others might have called concern. Or worry, at the least. She could not blame him, having almost collapsed in front of him just seconds ago. He was probably thinking she had lost her mind.
Again, Zelda was searching for words. Or the will to say them. “I believe I might be carrying your child.” It sounded much more simple than it was, and she said it in such a neutral tone that it sounded wrong in her own ears. But the words were out, and the High Priest’s face told her everything she needed to know.
An uncomfortable silence followed, neither of them willing to break it.
Eventually, Faustus submitted. “Are you certain?” he wanted to know, still not even thinking about expanding the space between them. His hands was still resting just above her hip, steadying her. She was not certain if he had ever touched her like this, while being fully dressed.
“I am”, Zelda replied, feeling as if her heart might jump out of her chest. She was hoping he did not notice.
Another five seconds passed in utter silence, the High Priest obviously trying to determine a course of action. “Very well”, he finally said. “So be it, then.”
Of all the things he could have said, this was the least she had expected. “Excuse me?” Zelda asked, more confused than anything.
“Perhaps the Dark Lord has finally seen it fit to give me my heir.”
Constance had died a good two months ago, during a rather complicated birth of twins who not even Zelda with all her skills could save. Faustus had gone into mourning for two weeks, even if not for his late wife, but only the children.
But even considering that, Zelda was utterly startled. She had expected him to curse her, send her away even, or perhaps say something along the lines of “I do not care, do what ever you please with the child”, but not this.
And it turned even more surprising when suddenly, he rested a hand on her belly. She would have winced at the movement, if she did not have the amount of utter self control she had ever practised.
“So how are we dealing with this?” she wanted to know, not certain what to make of this whole scenario. Was she supposed to be excited?
He looked at her for another moment, before slowly leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “However you would like to, Zelda.”
And in this moment, perhaps the future ahead did not look too daunting after all.