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In the years since they’d married, Marianne had developed an endearing habit of bringing home injured things in need of help. It had begun with birds or rabbits in the gardens which had been hurt somehow. She would nurse them gently back to health and then release them once more when they were well. Gradually, it expanded to stray cats that she came across in the village, in need of food and water and a good farm to be adopted to, where they became accomplished mousers.
Lorenz loved this in his wife. He’d always adored how gentle her heart was. Marianne’s tenderness for the world had inspired him, as well, which was illustrated best by the twin boys they had adopted after the birth of their second child, Eleanor.
But he might have to draw the line when it came to the animals she brought home…
Lorenz couldn’t stop himself from grimacing slightly as he came outside to find all four of his children gathered around a cow.
A cow… of all things…
“Marianne, who is our guest?” Lorenz asked, his nose wrinkled in slight distaste for the hulking heifer in his tea garden.
Marianne looked at him, her cheeks rosy and bright. She really did glow when she was happy. It made him feel weak and aching in his chest, as did the sight of her in her barn clothes. Tight britches and a loose blouse. Even after giving him two beautiful daughters, she wore it well.
“This is Buttercup,” Marianne explained, coming to stand beside her husband. “She’s from the farm down the hill and is due to give birth in the next few days.”
“Many happy returns,” Lorenz commented. “Pray tell, my love, why is she here, though?”
“I examined her this morning, and it seems the calf might be mispositioned,” Marianne explained, leaning closer to Lorenz so the children wouldn’t overhear. They were too young to understand, they might get distressed.
Juliette was petting Buttercup’s snout, her lilac curls tied back with a prim ribbon that matched her dress. She was cooing at the cow while Eleanor meticulously tucked little flowers into Buttercup’s short coils of fur. The twins, boys with russet hair and freckles, toddled behind Juliette. Edwin and Kelly were just three and fascinated by their new house guest, but they were shy children and didn’t seem eager to play with her until they knew that she wouldn’t bite.
“I think it’s better if I keep her here for a few days,” Marianne explained. “Just… to help.”
Lorenz sighed, conceding to the cow’s presence. He slid an arm around his wife’s waist, letting his hand settle comfortably around her hip, his fingers stretching back just enough to touch her backside without being obviously wanton. It was a compromise they had learned how to make after their honeymoon. Quiet ways to keep the spark without drawing attention.
“If anyone can coach her through a difficult labor, it is you,” Lorenz murmured, kissing Marianne’s hair. Almost six years ago, Marianne had been in the same position as Buttercup. Heavily pregnant with a baby in breach… Lorenz’s eyes drifted to Eleanor. Darling girl… she looked so much like her mother. He had never prayed harder to the Goddess than he had that night, begging whatever entity was out there for his daughter and his wife to live through it.
Marianne tilted her head against his shoulder. “The children seem to be enjoying her,” Marianne added. “And just think of how much they’ll love seeing the calf before we take them both back down the hill?”
Lorenz chuckled at that. He could imagine Juliette dressing up the calf in one of her sunhats and conducting some little fairy story play in the pasture. The boys would squeal with giggles and Eleanor would pretend to be a dragon or a manticore.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “They’ll love it. Are you going to turn our home into a new maternity ward for barn animals after this?”
“No, no,” Marianne shook her head. “Nothing as dramatic as all that. Only in special cases.”
Lorenz smirked, leaning his cheek atop her coiled braids. “Good. I think I’d be overwhelmed if we were going to have herds baby animals swarming the manor.”
“Don’t worry about herds,” she reassured him, wrapping an arm around his back. “But… do you think you’ll be able to manage one baby?”
“...Are you implying that we will be keeping Buttercup’s calf?” Lorenz asked, the wince audible in his tone.
“No,” Marianne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I meant to imply that… Buttercup isn’t the only one expecting a child.”
Lorenz straightened his posture and turned to face his wife. His lavender-grey eyes were wide in shock.
“I thought you couldn’t… After Eleanor?” he blinked.
Marianne smiled nervously, placing a hand on her stomach. She must be early on, there wasn’t an obvious bump, but when Lorenz really focused on it, he could see something beginning there. Another baby… Another perfect flower in the Gloucester garden.
Five really was such a lovely number.
Lorenz wrapped both his arms around her, lifting Marianne’s feet off the ground as he spun her and kissed her cheeks over and over. It made her laugh, her voice like bells, and he couldn’t stop his grinning.
“You magnificent, beautiful, perfect creature!” he said between kisses. “Will there ever be a day in which you do not bless the whole of my existence?”
“Lorenz, please,” Marianne giggled, hugging around his shoulders and holding one hand at the back of his head, her fingers entwined in his hair. “You’re exaggerating!”
“No I’m not,” he insisted, setting her back on the ground. Lorenz looked into his wife’s face. Her warm eyes, her pink cheeks. He could still remember the first time he’d seen her. Their first day at Garreg Mach. She was so reclusive and burdened then, her shoulders hunched, her pain bottled in.
He had fallen a little bit in love with her that day. And proceeded to fall more and more so everyday since.
Lorenz smirked, tucking a loose strand of blue behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheek. “My love… I will never be blind to your perfection,” he whispered.
“Nor I yours,” Marianne whispered back, bringing her hand to cup his and hold his touch against her.
For a moment, they only smiled at one another, looking deep into each other’s eyes and looking back on all the moments of happiness they had shared. Looking forward to all the happiness yet to come.
“How shall we tell the children?” Lorenz asked.
“At dinner. Then we can have cake to celebrate.”