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"I am with child."
Your voice was barely more than a whisper in the wind. Such a fine day it was, with a bright blue sky and many, many clouds. The sun was present too, but too shy to show itself, instead opting to hide between the whites in the skyline.
Something you wished to do yourself.
You never thought to dread the moment when you told your husband you were pregnant.
It should be news worth festivities.
Unfortunately, for you it was not.
Shaking, you grasped Simon's hand in yours. A small, timid gesture you hoped he would accept.
Instead, he pulled his hand away. The warmth went with it and you felt cold again.
You knew his question before he even voiced it.
How? "How?"
You couldn't help but laugh humorlessly. What was there to say? That you were not careful? That he was not swift enough?
When he took you in bed, it was a time of ecstasy. And when you came down from the high, your eyes rolled behind, you came down together. On some nights, you would fine dine and drink expensive liquor and then your love would so great that he would remain plunged deep inside you even after he finished. It would take you by surprise once the aftermath caught up with you. There was less to clean.
"It will not take," he would tell you the morning after, his pistol on his hip, the boars in the forest all but waiting for him in neat lines. So sure in himself.
It did take.
"It does not matter," you told him promptly, your eyes glossed with unshed tears. His question was his to answer on his own. "You and I both know there is nothing we can do. We shall embrace this."
"You cannot expect me to-"
"When we make love," you began, your throat choked at having to explain yourself. "We make love together. This child is as much of your doing as it is mine. I am choosing to accept it, for what we did in bed to pleasure ourselves warrants nothing less. If you are who I think I married, then you shall do so too."
You motioned for your handmaidens to come with a flicker of a wrist. As they hitched their skirts to near you on the grass, you gathered your own silks and looked at your husband. "And I am hoping for that with my entire heart, Simon."
* * *
"When are they to arrive?"
The hunting trip took exhaustingly longer than usual. Two days turned into a week of absence. You could not tell whose doing it was, but if it was Simon who stood behind the delay, you didn't know whether to feel angry or sympathetic.
It was the news he did not want. Something you knew he outright avoided.
At least you had your family to keep you company. Tucked away in the impregnable, mighty estate you learned to call home, you realized that somehow Simon's empty office made the palace seem emptier that the barren hallways.
"Within the hour, your grace."
"Well then," you stood up from your bed. Your undergarments were slick with sweat from the night before. "Help me look presentable then."
"Certainty, your grace."
While she scurried off to gather silks, you pressed your hands against your stomach. The physician could not quite determine the stage of pregnancy you were in. Far too ahead to be feeling nauseous enough to puke your soul out every night. But it was what you grew accustomed to. Waking up during late hours of the night and reaching for the closest release site has become a normality of a sort. Dry heaving was worse than puking your tea but you withstood it.
For your child, of course.
It seemed to you that in the week of Simon's absence your belly had grown the most. The swell was perfectly visible when you looked at yourself nude. They even had to fashion you new clothes to better fit your new state.
You loved looking at yourself.
Even now, when your maid scurried off like a mouse for clothes that would fit you, you did not hesitate to take off the thin fabric off your body. Cold air prickled your skin, goosebumps arose, and your breath hitched in your throat.
Each time. . .
You looked so. . .
"Beautiful."
You smiled softly, your voice an enchanted whisper. "Yes. Beautiful."
With every uncovering, you looked more beautiful. A mother. A force to be reckoned with.
But still, somehow Simon made the force bend. For the better or worse you did not know.
Turning around, you let him take you in. A new state. One only you dreamed about.
When he took a step towards you, you did not falter. You placed protective hands over your belly, overwhelmed with an instinct to protect your child. A flicker of hurt flashed in his dark eyes, but it went by so quickly you did not register it. Simon walked onward, unafraid.
Your skin prickled with a new sensation, as it always did when he was near. Even more so now that he was gone for so long. Your breathing was shallow, the tips of your swollen breasts hard with anticipation.
He smelled of forest and rain, of leather and wildflowers. He was all hard lines and chiseled muscle. He was strong and powerful.
Simon.
You must have spoken his name in a breathy whisper, for his eyes burned with lust at your words. Simon placed a rough hand on your bare hip, drew you closer into him, his eyes melting into your skin. Your new heavenly body. "Look at me."
So you did.
He kissed your brow and your cheek, your ear and your jaw, raining kisses that had you curling your toes. "I'm sorry."
"Truly?"
He placed his other hand on your stomach, right where your own were pressed. "This child. . .I do not know it."
You stopped breathing.
He went on, his thumb circling your hip. "But I know you. And I love you. More than life itself."
His hand travelled down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. "And in time I will learn to love this child too."
He found your throbbing spot when he found your lips. He parted them with ease, his mouth molding with yours. You grabbed his arms to steady yourself, to pull him closer as you lost yourself to the feeling of his body against yours. His clothing set you on fire, your bare skin brushing against rough fabric. He did not stop his pace, pleasing you with his mouth and hands.
That night, you talked of dreams and conquests, both acquirable and not. The child you would welcome into the world. The life you would give it.
You were four months along at the time.
It was five months later that you welcomed a boy into the world.
And he was enough.
More than enough.
He was everything.