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“You can hold it even tighter,” Casteel said, his voice nearly as strained as Poppy’s had been.
Poppy listened, squeezing his fingers tighter.
That first contraction she’d felt yesterday in the garden felt like ages ago. It also felt like the gentle graze of a lover’s hand against her cheek compared to the agony she was in now.
“Don’t worry, alright? The healer should return any moment and she’ll-“
“Cas,” Poppy ground out. “Are you trying to comfort me or you ?”
Casteel laughed breathlessly and her eyes darted to where he sat by her on the bed. His brows were furrowed, a wry smile on his lips.
“Both of us?”
He’d been in absolute hysterics for the past hour. While the healer had dabbed at Poppy’s sweat coated forehead and provided her with a tonic to ease the pain, he’d asked a myriad of questions in what Poppy assumed he had thought was a quiet voice…
“Is it normal for her to be sweating so much?”
“She said she had a headache… there’s no chance of brain damage right?”
“She said there was some sharp pain in her back during the contractions… I heard that sometimes that can be caused by the baby being in a breech position…”
Comment after comment, the healer had assuaged Casteel’s worries, all the while Poppy did her best to maintain her breathing. To focus on her instincts and not the taste of fear and panic radiating off of her husband. More and more concerns spilled from Casteel’s lips which the healer met with equal parts patience and efficiency.
She gave Poppy a sympathetic smile. “A lot of new father’s are like this during labor. He’ll probably be better the next go around.”
Poppy had nodded, all the while balking at the idea of doing this a second time. Gods, how was she meant to even consider such a thing at a right now?
Casteel took the hand Poppy clenched and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll try to calm down,” he grimaced.
Feeling slightly guilty, Poppy shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“Can I help? At all? I feel useless…”
“You’re not useless. Just let me keep slowly breaking your fingers,” Poppy smirked.
Casteel laughed and Poppy clung to the sound. This pain was not forever. It would soon come to an end. Then there would be more laughter. Much more laughter for years and years to come.
A sharp pain went down her back and snaked to her pelvis again, long and deep. Poppy gritted her teeth, her grip on Casteel’s hand tightening. There was a ringing in her ears.
Slowly it subsided and she gasped for a breath.
“Gods, are you okay?”
“Not. Helping.”
“I’m panicking again. I’m sorry,” Cas muttered.
Poppy considered telling him that it was fine again, but he interrupted her…
“Any chance you could do something for my nerves,” he said with the caution of a condemned man, waiting for his sentence.
Eyes wild with disbelief at his request, Poppy’s head snapped in his direction.
Casteel paled, swallowing. “Never mind. I can see that you’re… preoccupied.”
When the healer returned with an armful of towels, she was accompanied by her assistant who held a bowl of steaming water. As they entered Poppy came to the stunning realization that this was real. That this was happening. That very, very soon they would be meeting their daughter.
While they had lightheartedly referred to one another as “father” or “mother” over the past year, they would soon be looking upon the face of the person that would one day call them those very names. No longer would the three be faceless to one another, passing murmurs through Poppy’s bump. Their words would fall upon her ears. Their daughter, who had spent twelve months growing inside of Poppy, would no longer be in the comfort of her womb, but in their arms. Something they could hold. Could speak to.
Casteel’s comforting words were a quiet buzzing in her ears as she read the healer’s lips that urged her to push and push and keep pushing.
She tried to shut out the pain and the panic and the world. To focus only on the feeling of Casteel holding her hand and her breathing.
It wasn’t until a cry pierced the air that the sound of voices became clear again.
The throbbing pain between Poppy’s legs was a faraway thing as she watched the assistant begin cleaning and tending to the small bundle in her arms, while the healer cared for Poppy’s broken body. That was how she felt.
Broken and in a state of disrepair.
And strangely content with that.
The healer’s assistant crossed to Casteel. “Your majesty,” she said meekly, offering to place the baby - Coralena - in his arms.
Poppy looked up at him as he stood from his seat on the bed, his back to her as he faced the assistant. Poppy could see Casteel was shaking ever so slightly. Trembling as he accepted the bundle. The very second it was secure in his arms, he froze, head ducked.
Poppy was vaguely aware of the healer finishing her job of cleaning her up, removing the bloody towels beneath Poppy before easing her legs to lay flat upon the bed.
She felt her eyelids droop as exhaustion suddenly seeped through her. The healer pulled the sheets over Poppy’s body and the Queen sunk back against the bed. The assistant was soon there, arranging the pillows behind Poppy so she was reclined slightly, but sitting up.
Poppy’s eyes did not leave Casteel’s form as the two healers fussed over her. She could only make out part of his profile, but she could see his lips were moving, curled up at the corner so a dimple stood out in his cheek.
“Drink, my Queen. For the pain,” the healer said as Poppy felt the rim of a cup press to her lips.
She obeyed, gulping down the entirety of the drink that she couldn’t tell was hot or cold. All she knew was that Casteel was steps away, holding their daughter.
Miles and miles away, from a different world, the healer said, “...will be just outside if you need us, your majesty.”
Poppy nodded and the two healers left the royal bedchamber.
Her vision was blurry with exhaustion as Casteel faced her, but she could see that his eyes were wet and that a broad smile painted his tear streaked face.
He returned to his seat beside her on the bed, extending his legs and scooting beside her, angling his strong arms so Poppy could get a better view of the baby in his arms.
CoraCoraCora.
They were the only words her brain could currently form at the sight of the small baby cradled by Casteel. Feathery black hair was spread about her scalp, eyes shut as she whimpered and squirmed just slightly.
“You did so well, Poppy,” Casteel murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You did so good.”
Poppy’s head fell against Casteel’s shoulders. Her eyes fell shut, the image of her husband’s elated expression and her daughter’s sleeping face imprinted on the back of her eyelids.
When Poppy woke, it was dark outside the palace windows. On the nightstand sat a silver tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a goblet of water. The door to the bedchamber shut as the lady’s maid who had no doubt left the food exited, likely concerned that she had awoken her Queen.
Slowly, Poppy turned her head on the pillow. Beside her, Casteel slept. On his chest, Coralena, also fast asleep.
The sight was so comforting, so beautiful, that Poppy drifted to sleep once again. Her eyes not leaving the sight before her.
“I wonder what color her eyes will be,” Casteel murmured, his chin on Poppy’s shoulder so he could still watch Coralena intently while she lay in his wife’s arms.
Poppy had never been one to enjoy being idle, but she was overjoyed with the bed rest she’d been ordered to take. Especially when Casteel insisted on not leaving her side. On squeezing every ounce of alone time he could with them.
Before Coralena was introduced to the Kingdom. Before the world knew her face.
She was a beautiful secret right now.
“I’m hoping she has your eyes,” Poppy murmured.
“No, no, no.” His hot breath licked her neck. “See, she’s already got my hair. If she has your eyes, it’s a perfect combination of us both.”
The corner of Poppy’s lip hitched up at the idea.
She’d hoped for a miniature Casteel at first. A version of the person who made her happy beyond reason to live on and on, long after she and Cas had left this world.
Because a world without Cas was unthinkable. It was uninteresting in the strongest sense of the word.
But this way, with Coralena taking after the both of them, they both would continue on - together. The world Casteel would find so unthinkable without Poppy would be that much more bearable. He could have the comfort Poppy had wished for herself.
They could both take heart in their love living on in this one, perfect person.
“What do you think she’ll be like?”
Casteel chuckled, his chest rumbling against Poppy’s back. “She’ll have your quick wit. Your kind heart. Your loyalty and love and barbed tongue.” A sigh. “And she’ll have my equal cleverness, my charm, hopefully not my temper.”
Poppy laughed. “Ripping hearts out of people's chests as soon as she can hold a spoon.”
“Don’t even joke.” He nipped at her ear. “She will be funny and charismatic and kind and only the best things about us.”
His words were comforting, but Poppy released a slow, shaky exhale of concern that clouded her mind.
“Hm?” Cas prompted at the noise.
“I don’t think… that I’ve ever been this scared.”
“Gods, I’m so glad you said that,” he laughed.
“Oh, good. We’re both terrified.”
He laughed a little harder. Coralena yawned hugely in response, causing Poppy’s heart to squeeze. Both parents gasped at the small motion and then their daughter quickly settled back into sleep.
“It’s only natural that we’re scared. It’s a good thing. Think about it,” Casteel began. His finger raised to trace the fabric of the blanket bordering Cora’s face. “Just before battle, fear and panic settles in. It sharpens you, heightens you, prepares you.”
“How comforting that parenting will be like the battlefield, ” Poppy snorted.
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re both very talented on a battlefield.” He placed a kiss on Poppy’s neck, thumb gently swiping over Coralena’s cheek. “Especially together.”
Poppy felt her chest expand at the words, a smile spreading on her face. He was right. They were a very efficient team. Even faced with the most unlikely odds, coming out on top time and time again.
“We’ll make mistakes. We all do in the midst of a battle,” Casteel added. “But it doesn’t mean we won’t win. It doesn’t mean we will fail.”
Poppy turned her head to look at him. “We can’t afford to.”
“And we will not.” His forehead touched her’s. “In the meantime, let’s not borrow-“
“-tomorrow’s problems today,” Poppy finished.
His answering smile was warm. “Right.”
Casteel’s eyes held Poppy’s for a moment, and she could see and taste a number of emotions from him. Love, reverence, fear, gratitude, pride, anxiety.
Happiness.
When he finally looked away, it was to peer down at Cora.
He held out his arms, gesturing for Poppy to hand over their daughter. “Alright, now you’re hogging her. It’s my turn again.”
Poppy couldn’t help the tears that stung her eyes as she gingerly set Cora in his arms. “Here you are, father .”