Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thursday, January 15th, 1857

Liverpool, England

5:02 P.M.

Twenty-two year-old Sir Anthony Frost paced back and forth at the bottom of the staircase, many questions racing around his mind. Why wasn’t the doctor down here yet? Why couldn’t the midwife come down in his place if he was so busy? Didn’t they know how much he wanted to know of his wife and baby’s well-being? He swore he could still hear some of her cries of labor… what was happening? Was Moira alright? Was his new son or daughter okay? Why was this taking so long?

It had been about three hours ago that his wife had gone into labor and he hadn’t heard anything from her or the doctor since, minus all the loud painful screeching and the midwife’s shouting. Oh, how he wished he could rush in and hold her hand, but the midwife had told him to stay put and wait, so he did. 

He’d went off and sent a messenger boy to inform members of both of their families that the long-awaited birth of their newest member was happening at long last, then spent his time waiting and waiting. Patience was a virtue, yes, but damn were the doctor and midwife taking forever. Those three hours felt like long eight months to him, longer than the wait for his child — hell, even more than the wait for his child to even be conceived.

(After their wedding in the spring of 1855, they had initially gone into their wedding night thinking they would make a child… but no child was made on that night. They tried again the next month and the young couple was met with the same result: no baby. A year passed, and they eventually stopped actively trying. It wasn’t like they were taking precautions because it would get in the way of Anthony's explorations or Moira's practice in becoming a music teacher — no, no, quite the opposite in fact. Moira took no herbs, no special medicine, no supplements — nothing. It just wasn’t happening for them… until eventually, about two years after their wedding, she checked her bed lining, only to find no red stains upon her sheets. 

And oh, how happy the young couple was to find that their fertility issue was a mere yearly delay.)

Finally, just as Anthony was about to lose it, Dr. Sullivan came downstairs. Anthony was quick to rush up to him before he came to the bottom of the staircase. “Well? How are they?”

Dr. Sullivan smiled. “Your wife has successfully given birth to a healthy baby boy and is going to be fine.” His smile faltered a little. “Though while he may be healthy, your son’s got a peculiar case of…”

Anthony gave the doctor a worried look. “A case of what, exactly?”

“Sir Frost, your son is very… long, for a baby,” Dr. Sullivan explained rather awkwardly. “That's not to say he has a birth defect — no, he’s just… longer than the usual infant.”

“Long?” asked Anthony, raising his brow. “Doctor, you’re not making any — oh, nevermind.” He shook his head for a moment, then, “All that matters is that they’re fine, yes?” Seeing the doctor nod, he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I was worried for a second that…”

Dr. Sullivan gave a nod, his expression becoming serious. “I can’t really blame you for your concerns. The birth nearly got complicated due to the length of your son, but thankfully it went well enough. Still, while Lady Frost ought to make a full recovery, I want her on bed rest for a while — three weeks, at most. A good chunk of her energy was lost during the birth.” He leaned in and whispered, “And due to the near complications of this birth due to your son’s, ah, unusual length, I would highly recommend not trying for another child.” 

“To be fair, Dr. Sullivan, we stopped trying for children after our first year of marriage,” Anthony pointed out. “The reveal of our son’s conception was a bit of a…surprise.”

Sullivan nodded again. “I see. Nevertheless, you must take some precautions to ensure a second pregnancy won’t happen. If your genes combined could make such a long child during this pregnancy, heaven knows how a second one would turn out. Even if your wife was to stay in confinement every semester, I don’t think it would end well for her or the child.” He put a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “I apologize, but I am afraid you’ll only have one son to pass your legacy down to.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “More children might have sounded nice at one point, but if I were being honest? Having a child to carry the family name at all is more than I have ever dreamed of in the past — not even discovering new creatures could come close to this.”

“I can imagine,” Dr. Sullivan said, smiling. “In a minute, you’ll be able to see your new son. The midwife’s just getting things settled. Later on, we’ll discuss the bill.”

“Of course,” Anthony laughed heartily. “Thank you for your service, doctor. You can sit down and relax in the sitting room. I’ll get the maid to bring in some tea and other refreshments.”

“Thank you, Sir Frost, and congratulations.” The doctor patted his shoulder, then brushed past him as he went down the stairs. 

Anthony hurried up to the floor where his wife was, finding the maid dusting a potted plant. He quickly told her to make a cup of tea for the doctor, then raced to his wife’s room and waited outside.

Thankfully, it was only a minute later that the midwife opened the door, smiling at him. “Are you ready to see your son?” 

“Of course,” he said softly. The midwife stepped aside, allowing him to walk in, his stomach churning with anxiety. 

Moira was sitting up slightly in bed, propped up by pillows. She looked so wan and worn out, yet the smile on her face shone brighter than any star. In her arms, she cradled an awkwardly long bundle wrapped in an ocean blue cloth. For a moment, Anthony felt as if the world around him stopped. The scene before him felt like a dream yet when he shook his head, he found that it was real. “Moira?” he asked as he approached the bed.

Moira looked up at him. “Oh, Anthony,” she said as he sat down next to her. “Isn’t he a darling?”

“He’s a precious little lad,” Anthony agreed, looking down at the baby. The doctor had been right: the boy was pretty long for an infant. His face was a healthy pink and he kept reaching his tiny little hands out as he looked between his parents. “He has my nose,” the new father noticed, seeing that the baby’s nose was a bit more pronounced than other infants. 

“Oh yes,” said Moira. “And your eyes, too. Look, they’re a nice blue.”

Anthony checked and indeed, his son had inherited his eyes. However, he also saw that his son got some of his mother’s features as well. “You’re right, dear, and look: he has your structure.” 

Moira looked at her son. “He does… hopefully, he’ll grow into these features.” She held her son close to her chest. “It still feels like a dream. After a whole year of being unable to conceive…” 

“He and I had discussed that earlier,” her husband told her. He could still remember that year clearly — trying multiple times to conceive, only for nothing to happen. Neither of them really knew what was preventing the conception at the time, and they still didn’t know now. Was it Anthony’s adventurousness? Was it Moira’s frame? Was it the anxiety? There were many questions, but no answers. Moira had cried after the final failed attempt, and Anthony himself nearly shed a tear at the very thought of never being able to have a child. During their courtship, they had been thinking of starting a family together and the thought of never being able to hold a child, to call them their own… it was a type of suffering both were thankful to never go through.

But after that time of grieving, they had decided there wasn’t a use in trying to force a child into the world. They were newly married, and they were going to make the most of their first years of marriage, so they occupied themselves with many other things. Anthony’s explorations, Moira’s music, each other — anything to stay happy and ignore that yearning for a baby.

And then, nine months ago, Moira missed her monthly bleeding. There was no doubt or question about it — Moira was a healthy woman with a usual cycle, so this meant only one thing: she was pregnant. They’d visited a doctor after this though to make absolutely sure and indeed, it was true. The months following that were anxious yet excited anticipation, and finally today, right after lunch, her water had broken.

And now, all of it was paid off with a baby boy. Anthony felt like he could burst from all the happiness. “It's real,” he whispered, reaching out to gently stroke his son's forehead. “He's real.”

“I know.” Moira leaned against him, eyes glistening with tears. “Our little boy…”

Anthony grinned. “A Frost boy.”

Moira’s eyes rolled. “Anthony Frost, if I were not holding your son in my arms, I would smack you right now.” 

There was a happy little silence as the parents enjoyed a moment with their new son. Then, Moira asked, “Anthony?”

“Yes?”

“What should we name him?” 

“Ah, his name…”

From the moment they learned she was pregnant, there was a struggle in naming their child. For a girl, it was simple — Lorina. For a boy though, they had been rather torn between two choices — Lionel or Phineas. Moira liked the name Lionel, while Anthony was in favor of Phineas. Now, with the little one here, they were stuck.

“We could name him both,” Anthony suggested. “Though I’m not sure in which order.”

“Easy,” said Moira, certainty in her voice. “Lionel Phineas Frost.”

“Lionel Phineas?” asked Anthony. “Why not Phineas Lionel?”

“Because Lionel means son of lion,” Moira explained. “And lions happen to be my favorite animal.” She looked down at her son and cooed, “What do you think, Lionel? Do you like the name?” 

The baby boy gurgled, pulling at both of his parents’ hearts.

“Fine,” Anthony accepted. “Lionel Phineas Frost, it is.” He smiled down at his son and extended a finger out. “Hello, Lionel. I’m your father, and I’m so glad to have you as my son.” 

Baby Lionel cooed, taking his father’s finger into his tiny hands. This got a giggle out of both parents. With his free arm, Anthony pulled Moira a little closer. “And I’m sure he’s glad to have you as his father,” she whispered to her husband. 

He beamed, feeling a new warmth inside him. A wonderful wife and a new son — how could he ever ask for more? “Welcome to the world and to our family, Lionel,” he whispered to his son. “My son.”

He would teach him all that he knew, pass on his knowledge of cryptids and tell him of his adventures — his legacy would live on in his boy, who was sweet and precious as could be. His son would be a proud Frost man, a fine honorable addition to the family. 

There was no doubt within Anthony that one day, his boy would make history. He could only hope that he’d be there to see him reach his accomplishments, but in the meantime, he would be there to guide his son as he grew up in this world.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, January 3rd, 1860

Puebla, México

12:00 P.M.

Really, Don Félix Rivera shouldn't have been nervous about his wife giving birth. After all, he already had two sons — three year-old Tomás and one year-old Agustín, who were both with their maternal grandparents, Abuelita Amalda and Abuelito Diego, at the moment — after three years of marriage to his wife, Catalina, so having another kid shouldn't have stressed him out this much, but it did. It stressed him out so much that he began tapping his feet anxiously and gritting his teeth. What was taking those imbéciles so long? They claimed to be “professionals” but clearly, they weren’t being so professional now. 

Just as he was ready to open his mouth with an angry comment, his mother and father came in. “Mijo,” Rufina began, noticing how impatient he was, “give the doctor some time. The baby is a week early.” 

“Yeah, well… it’s only the third time Catilicia’s given birth,” he argued. “He should be used to this by now.”

“Well, the baby was supposed to come next week, so it’s a little disruptive of the cycle,” Rodolfo pointed out. “The third time isn’t always the charm, ¿ya sabes?” 

He sighed. “Si, lo sé… but still, it's been hours,” he grumbled. “It’s midnight, and the bebé still hasn’t been born yet! I’ve barely even heard anything from the doctor at all! What’s taking this child so long? It’s been nine months — he should be here now!”

Nine months. It had been nine long months since his querida Catalina had told him that they’d be having a third child, possibly another son. Félix had been over the moon, so excited over the prospect of having another son that he had begun preparing for the baby’s arrival right away, from telling his family to setting up the baby’s room and getting toys — although Tomás and Agustín didn’t quite get it at first due to their age — to a grand party in celebration of the soon to be new arrival.

Nine months were spent preparing for this boy’s arrival and yet when day finally came just a week early, he was taking forever to come out! What was wrong? What was the holdback? Did something happen? Did the doctor somehow mess up? Why wasn’t his new hijo here yet?!  All of these questions kept racing through Félix’s mind as he tried finding some reasoning for his third son’s delay in birth, but he found none. 

His madre saw him tense up impatiently. “Oh relájate, ¿quieres? The bebé will come soon enough,” she said. “Besides, if anyone should be impatient, it should be her parents, your padre and I. After all, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten any new grandchildren.” 

Félix’s eyes narrowed at his mother and was ready to make a snarky remark, when Dr. Bolaños finally came in. 

“Well?” Félix asked him, attitude in his voice as he tapped his feet. “Have you finally come to give me some news about my esposa y hijo?”

Dr. Bolaños smiled sheepishly. “Your esposa is doing fine, Don Rivera. As for your hijo…” he trailed off, seemingly nervous.

“What about mi hijo?” asked Félix, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, um… how do I put this? Uh…” Dr. Bolaños seemed to put his finger to his lips as he looked down, trying to find a way to break the news. “Well you see, Don Rivera, your hijo is… he’s uh…” Feeling the man stare into his soul, he gave a nervous grin and quickly blurted, “Your hijo is actually a hija!” 

“¡¿QUÉ?!” Félix cried in shock. Did he hear that right? Was his son actually a daughter? No, it couldn’t be. He must have heard that wrong.

So he pushed past the doctor despite his cries and went into the room where his Catalina was in, ignoring the midwife’s cry of outrage as he went over to his wife’s bedside. “Catalina?”

He stopped when he saw his wife look at him and the little bundle wrapped in red that she held. There were some bags under her eyes, but aside from that she looked so happy… almost happier than she had been when Tomás was born, or even when Agustín was born. “Catalina…”

Catalina glanced at him as he sat down next to her. “Félix, have you come to see your new daughter?” she asked with a smile. 

“Daughter?” Félix repeated in shock. “But I thought we were having another little niño, not a niña.”

“So did I,” Catalina replied, sighing. “But it turns out we were both wrong… we have a pequeña niña bonita instead.” Looking back at the little bundle, she smiled. “But we were right about one thing: our bebita is muy preciosa.”

Looking down at the baby girl, Félix found that he couldn’t disagree. The baby girl was about the size of a china doll. Her skin was darker than his light honey brown skin, but still a little lighter than her mother’s dark copper skin — a fine terracotta chestnut shade. She definitely had a lot of his mestizo features, yet he could see some of his wife’s african features reflected in the child as well and knew they would most likely grow more prominent when she grew older.

She reached one of her tiny little hands out as she looked up at them. “She is preciosa,” Félix admitted. “And hey, I think she has my nose!”

“Maybe she does,” Catalina said, looking at her daughter’s features. “But she definitely has her Papá Diego’s eyes. Look at the little emerald hues.”

Félix looked closely and yes, his daughter did have his father-in-law’s eyes. “Better Papá Diego’s green than her Papá Rodolfo's amber. Looks better in contrast.”

"Yes," agreed Catalina. She was silent for a moment, but then: "Félix?"

"Sí, querida?" 

"Her name."

And ah, there it was — the hardest part about this little girl's birth. Since they had been expecting a boy, they'd decided on the name Arturo with the middle name being Alfonso... but now that the baby was here and it was a girl, the naming process now became a little difficult. How did one name girls? There were just so many names to choose from, how could one even start?

"Hmm... well..." Félix pondered for a moment, trying to think up of a good name befitting such a little girl. "How about... Evangelina?"

Catalina was going to say something, but the baby in her arms cut her off by fussing loudly as if she were trying to object to the name. "Doesn't sound like she likes that name," the woman remarked.

"Guess not." Shaking his head, the man tried again: "Concepción?" 

The baby fussed again, even louder this time. "That's another no from her," said Catalina.

"No? Ay, ay, ay..." Félix sighed. This girl had come out of the womb barely an hour ago, and already she was being stubborn. "Fine. How about... Adelina?"

Catalina looked at the baby girl, anxious to see her reaction. Instead of scrunching up her face and fussing again, the baby let out a coo. "I think she likes it." 

"That's it then, that's her name," Félix decided, relieved the girl finally made up her mind. "Now, her middle name..."

"Hmm, well, I like Angelina," Catalina said with a small smile as she cradled her daughter, who cooed at the suggestion. "And it seems she does, too."

"Sí, sí, but Teodora is a good one too," Félix said, beginning to ramble on. "And so is Ernestina and Antonia and who can forget del Jesús?" 

At each name, little Adelina cooed, seeming to like all of them.

"Why not all of them, then?" Catalina suggested. 

Félix looked at her, then at their daughter. "Alright then. Adelina Angelina Teodora Ernestina Antonia del Jesús Rivera Saldaña, it is then."

The baby let out another coo, reaching her tiny hands out and clapping them much to her parents' delight.

"Oh Félix, ella es un poco querida," cooed Catalina as she looked at Adelina.

"She is," her husband agreed.

Minutes passed with the new parents as they fondly looked over their new daughter, until finally, all four grandparents and their two older boys came in.

"There they are!" cried Diego as he carried Tomás in. "Your papá, your mamá and oh, your new hermanito too!"

"Well, actually, hermanita," Catalina corrected her father.

"Wait, ¿es una chica?" Amalda gasped while holding Agustín whose face scrunched up immediately. "We thought you said it was going to be un chico!"

"Oh trust me, we did too!" Félix replied. "We're just as surprised as you are."

"Well, niño or niña, we're just glad to hear that they're — I mean she's — here at last," said Rodolfo with a smile.

"Since it is a girl, what is her name?" Rufina asked her son.

"Adelina," he replied, and they all looked towards the baby. "Adelina Angelina Teodora Ernestina Antonia del Jesús Rivera Saldaña."

"Awww," both Rodolfo and Rufina cooed.

Meanwhile, Amalda and Diego set their elder grandchildren down on the bed. "Go on, mijos," Amalda urged her nietos.

"Say hi to your hermanita," Diego said, grinning widely.

Both Félix and Catalina smiled as they watched their two sons move over to their little sister. The two young boys looked at the girl as if she were a stranger, raising a tiny eyebrow at her before one of them decided to say something.

"Mamá, can you put her back?" Tomás asked. "I don't want her."

"She's too puffy!" Agustín exclaimed, poking the baby's cheek.

Before their parents or even grandparents could scold them for such remarks, little Adelina beat them to it by letting out a whine and pinching Agustín's hand. “Ow!” cried the toddler. 

“Hey!” his older brother cried, eyes narrowing at his little sister. “Bad baby, bad !”

Adelina merely stuck her tongue out at him, blowing it and surprising all the adults in the room with her behavior.

“Looks like we’ve got quite a feisty bebé on our hands,” Diego joked.

“En efecto, we do!” agreed Rodolfo with a chuckle while both their wives rolled their eyes. 

“Men,” the two older women said in unison. 

Félix and Catalina looked between each other and their daughter in shock. 

“Do you know where she gets this temper from?” Catalina asked.

Félix shook his head. “No, mi amor, I have no clue!”

But even if the two didn’t know where the little girl got her attitude from, they did know one thing: she was going to be hard to handle. Then again, with their big family and their experience with two sons, perhaps it wouldn’t be too hard and even if it was, it was worth it to have their new daughter — their little Adelina — welcomed into the family.