Chapter Text
When: Six months after Origin’s destruction
In retrospect, the first sign that something was off was Jill flipping the covers over her head and rolling over when Clive would get up to leave their cabin in the mornings. That she slept past sunrise more and more lately was a bit odd, as she was usually up at the break of day.
They were with Mid and her crew on the Enterprise, seeking out a place that didn't carry the weight and imprints of their years of trauma and struggle, they'd both noted changes as they struggled to adjust to the mundane repetitiveness of open sea travel and bodies that no longer channeled aether.
So, they both chalked up her extra sleepiness to not having a timeline that involved getting up to go monster hunting each day, as well as adjusting to a prolonged trip at sea.
Jill had been picking at her food after awakening for a while before they boarded, although by evening, her appetite seemed to have returned. As they traveled further, her evening appetite even broadened, and she started being willing to sample some of the strangest meals the ship's cook had devised with animals fished out of the sea.
Some of the experiments were at best dubious, but sometimes Jill and the cook were the only two eating the questionable concoctions and eating them with relish.
If she was bent over the chamber pot every now and again in the morning, they assigned the blame to the cook's iron stomach and willingness to combine ingredients that should not be put next to each other and her sense of culinary adventure. Or just her having shaky sea legs.
And if he noticed that she was a little rounder in certain places, well, Clive may not have been as smart as Harpocrates, but Elwin Rosfield didn't raise no dummies either, so he just enjoyed her fullness and kept those thoughts to himself enjoying the bloom of health that seemed to radiate out from her, which he thought could be attributed to them no longer having Ultima hanging over their heads.
Overall, though, she was her usual Jill self, so while Clive noted the subtle changes, it didn't occur to him that those changes might be something important. It was only later that he realized how completely obtuse he'd been.
How completely obtuse that they'd both been, although in his defense, he hadn't had anybody to explain to him the ins and outs of women's bodies and how they worked beyond the obvious. All of his tutors had been men, after all, and it wasn't like his mother was going to take the time to explain the mystery of women to him.
They’d been nearly two months at sea heading out to the outer continents and were on their fourth month exploring the strange cities they’d found, trying new cuisines, learning about new cultures. They’d travel along the coast until they spotted a new town, then they’d dock, trading for goods they’d purchased elsewhere while talking with the locals, ex-pats from Storm, and even rescued Bearers.
They were living a life that had nothing to do with magic or Eikons, Mythos or Ultima. There was no history to carry, only their own curiosity and adventurous natures.
One particular morning after Jill's fatigue and periodic bouts of nausea had been going on for several months, an island had been spotted on the horizon, so Mid decided to stop. They’d been crawling along the coastline looking for the next city to visit when her lookout in the crow’s nest had spotted it on the horizon.
The map of the outer continent they were currently on--Lysidia--didn’t note the island, so Mid, in her boundless curiosity, wanted to take a detour to explore.
"That lazy bones not up yet?" Mid asked as Clive approached her at the wheel, throttling back the engines as they came nearer to the island.
"No," Clive answered. "Still sleeping."
"You been workin' her too hard?" Mid asked, cheekily, earning a stern, "Mid." in reply.
Unabashed, she only grinned at him.
"What? I was talking about your morning fight practices. What do you think I was talkin' about? Anyway, we'll be within rowin' distance of that island in not too long. Definitely want her with the shore group 'cause we don't know what could be living there."
Since they knew nothing of the lands or islands they’d come upon, with every new location, they tried to have Clive and Jill be part of the landing party. They were the only fighters on board, so they generally went ashore with each new landing to protect the sailors and help restock their supplies.
It had been strange, relearning how to fight without magic. Clive had started his training well before he received the Blessing of the Phoenix, but Jill had only been pressed into fighting by the Ironblood, after Shiva.
So on most days when the ship was chugging away, surrounded by nothing but open water, he and Jill sparred, practicing their timing and teamwork, trying to retrain the magic muscle memory into other attacks. Some of the sailors expressed interest in learning at least a few things, so many days they had some of the hands going through some basic moves as well.
On this particular day, with a shore expedition likely, Clive didn't want to wake Jill, especially since the night before, she had kept him up, flipping him over on his back and having her way with him. He thought maybe part of the late sleeping this morning was that she was exhausted from that. She had done most of the work, after all.
He had been her very willing victim, and he had greeted the day with a smile on his face and a definitive spring in his step at being so thoroughly used. But now they were dropping anchor to get ready to row out, so he needed to rouse her.
He headed down the stairs to their cabin.
-----
Jill opened her eyes slowly. Founder, I'm so tired, she thought, before remembering the activities of the night before, and just like Clive had, assumed that was why she was so exhausted.
She didn't know what had come over her, but they had snuffed out the candle and she'd leapt upon him, flat-out lust pumping through her blood.
She had ridden him until he was gasping for air and still it wasn't enough. Not until he had come, groaning her name and she ground herself against his shuddering body did she hit her peak. As she rode the waves of pleasure, she thought their lovemaking in the past few weeks had felt different somehow but couldn't pinpoint exactly how. Slowly, slowly, she had relaxed, draping down across him, limp as a noodle.
In bed still, the memory of it had her smiling until suddenly, her eyes popped open and she scrambled out of bed, grabbing the chamber pot just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into it.
Since she hadn't eaten since last night, there wasn't much, but her stomach heaved again.
"Jill, we're...." Clive opened the door, stopped in his tracks then rushed over to kneel next to her on the floor. "Jill, are you okay? It was that pickled eel, wasn't it?"
At the "pickled eel", she started retching again. When she was done, she allowed him to gather her up off of the floor to sit on the bed, with her across his lap, as she closed her eyes and willed the nausea to pass.
"Remind me not to try Howard’'s next concoction," she pleaded, referring to the ship's cook.
"I don't know how you even stand some of those dishes. They look....." revolting "....interesting to say the least."
Jill shrugged a tiny bit. "I don't know, just sometimes I get so hungry, especially since I don't really feel like eating much when I first wake up. But Howard never seems to have these reactions. Well, except that one time."
Clive swallowed hard at the visual image that popped in his head of that particular dish. Even Jill had said, "No, absolutely not" when Howard presented it. So Howard alone ate it, and he alone spent the next two days with his head hanging over the side of the ship.
"Well, maybe this is just your body reacting to not having magic any more." It was something he'd been pondering as a possible explanation. Although he couldn't help but notice that his body was the same as it has always been, but then, Mythos had been a unique thing.
"You're not having this happen," she pointed out, again echoing his own thoughts. "Maybe I've just lost my sea legs."
"Seems strange that you''ll be okay for a day or two, and then have it come back. I don't think that's how it works." He paused. "And...you know, you seemed to have this issue a bit in Port Isolde."
"Well, if it's not the food, the loss of magic or my sea legs, I don't know what else....it....could...." she trailed off, mouth dropping open, sitting up straight. Her eyes widened.
"What? Jill?" Alarmed at the expression on her face, he gripped her shoulders with his hands.
She shifted to look at Clive who was staring at her with concern. In her head, she thought back over the past few months. Metia had visited her in that stream 6 months ago, so the water could cure her of the Curse.
She had not had her monthly blood since then, but she hadn't thought anything of it. She hadn't had her blood in years, which Tarja had told her was because the Curse had affected her womb. She had long-since resigned herself to never having children of her own, and one quiet night in the Hideaway, she had told Clive this, and they had wept together.
But then Metia and Leviathan's element had cured her. But it hadn't occurred to her that it may have meant she was completely cured.
And so they had carried on with business. Frequently. In all manners of places and positions. Never once thinking of the possible outcome of such dedication because it had heretofore been impossible.
Never once thinking that his seed might actually have fertile ground on which to take root.
"Clive, I think...maybe, I'm not sure but...."
Tears gathered in her eyes as everything clicked into place: the fatigue, the nausea, the strange cravings. She'd also noticed her clothing being much tighter. And by the Founder, when Clive touched her nipples, she almost got off right then and there, because they were so sensitive. When he put his mouth on them? She struggled not to scream out her ecstasy.
Oh blessed Metia, is it possible?
As if on cue, a swirl of wind blew through the open porthole in the wall, ruffling their hair.
Most devoted one, rejoice.
Jill gasped, and the tears spilled as she focused on Clive's face. His brow furrowed as he stared at her in concern.
"Clive," she said. “I think…I think we’re having a baby.”
Everything in him froze. His eyes widened and a million emotions flitted across his face as he stared at her.
"You....you're," he stammered, trying to get his thoughts to march in a straight line. "You're..pregnant? Wait, are you sure?"
"I think I might be," she said, suddenly giddy, as every piece of evidence clicked into place for her. "It's the simplest explanation for how I've been feeling."
"I...." Clive didn't know what he was going to say. He dropped his eyes down to her abdomen. Smiling, she took his hand and put it there. He stared then looked back up, tears in his own eyes. He leaned forward, forehead touching hers, eyes closed, "Jill."
Then he kissed her, softly and sweetly.
"I thought we couldn't ever...." he said.
"So did I," she said, "I hadn't had my monthly for years, and then when Metia cured the Curse, and it didn't start back up, I assumed I still couldn't bear children. So, ah, I didn't start any precautions."
"And I never thought to ask. There was just so much going on after we left Boklad."
They both thought, That's an understatement .
Then Clive straightened as a thought occurred to him.
"Wait, if the Curse was cured in you six months ago, and you never started your monthly blood, does that mean...." Clive trailed off. Their first time making love after Origin was seared into his memory, because they'd had to stay in Boklad for nearly a week before he was recovered enough to make the long trip back to Bennumere, and then they traveled for a week to get back to the Hideaway. With Joshua and Jote's constant presence deterring any opportunity to express their relief physically, a hunger had started gnawing at him.
He'd catch a hint of her scent if he was downwind of her and find himself having to shift uncomfortably on Ambrosia. He watched her mouth when she was talking and had to grit his teeth to get his mind to go elsewhere. Her hands moving to pack items were mesmerizing.
He had thought it was just him until one day, when they were about to break camp and start traveling again, he had wandered into the bushes to relieve himself and after finishing had turned back to camp and found her waiting. She'd leapt at him, wrapping arms around his neck and legs around his waist.
He turned, pushing her up against a tree, thinking that he didn't care what Joshua and Jote heard, because he felt like he had been crawling through a desert and someone had just handed him a mug of water. She clearly felt the same and started tugging at the cords holding her shirt together.
"My lord marquess? Lady Warrick?" Jote called from the edges of the brush. "There's a group of people heading our way, but His Gr....Joshua thinks they might be bandits."
Pulling apart, breathing heavily, Clive swore under his breath. Jill's face was a study in frustration.
"We'll be right there."
It turned out that Joshua was correct, and the four of them made quick work of the brigands, and maybe Clive was a bit more forceful than he might have otherwise been, but he couldn't help it. He felt wound up tight like a spring and needed to release the tension.
Once, after they'd made camp, with Joshua taking the first watch, he'd woken up on top of Jill, ravaging her mouth, his hand under her shirt, caressing her breast. Her hand was under his waistband, with the other on his backside, pulling him more firmly on top of her.
A fake cough startled them out of the kiss, and they turned to see Joshua with his back to them, staring diligently up at the stars. Clive glanced at Jote just in time to see her close her eyes, pretending to be asleep.
"Founder," he'd breathed, then rolled off of Jill and scooted his bedroll away from her. Away from temptation.
Much longer and he wasn't going to be able to help himself, witnesses be damned.
And then after arriving at the Hideaway, it was hours of talking to their friends about what had happened. Everyone had come to see Cid and welcome him home, expressing joy that he had survived, when they had all feared the worst. He'd had to retell his story over and over.
When they finally retreated to their quarters, they had attacked each other as if they were starving. He hadn't been able to look at his desk the same way after that.
He remembered the desk, and then....the floor, the couch and then around dawn, the bed.
"How far along do you think you are?"
Jill thought about it, trying to think of when she really started feeling off. The entire time they'd been on the Enterprise, yes, and then, wait, back at the Hideaway, right before they left with Mid to start the move to Port Isolde and the prep for their journey, she had to ask Clive to wash Torgal three times because she suddenly could not stomach how he smelled, which was ridiculous, because he smelled like he always smelled: which was like a giant wolf who spent a lot of time outside in the fresh air.
Poor Torgal , she thought. They'd left him with Joshua since a prolonged ocean voyage was not ideal for a wolf, especially having no idea how long they might be at sea.
Then she remembered asking the gardeners for any fruit to add to her water because the regular water started tasting off. And then asking Molly for an extra loaf of bread. And Yvan for three bowls of his weird morbol soup.
She, too, recalled their first night home in the Hideaway.
"Founder," she breathed, "Clive, I think I might be six months along."
"SIX months?" he echoed, stunned. His mind turned cartwheels as he stared down at her abdomen, which had maybe had a hint of a bulge. Although maybe he was imaging it, too. A memory flashed in his mind of overhearing his mother snidely remarking about one of the ladies in court saying she was eight months pregnant, but "looking more like 3 or 4, if you ask me. It appears that maybe the cart came before the horse."
When the lady in question indeed gave birth to a healthy boy not too long after, his mother had been heard to sniff, "Women with peasant backgrounds can spit out babies with barely a hitch in their gait or a bump in their waists. Their bodies are meant to do nothing else but churn them out."
"If you're right, we'll never get back to Storm in time," he said, an edge in his voice. Panic? "Even if we turned around right now."
She sighed. "I know. We’ll be having this baby on Lysidia it seems." She thought of the cities they’d recently visited, and one in particular that had felt calming and welcoming. Built on the coast, with white sandy beaches and pink houses. Mischan was the name.
Maybe they could head back there and find a midwife there.
To divert himself from the myriad of problems and issues they suddenly had to solve and face, Clive said, "I hope she's a girl with silver hair and eyes like the shimmer of the moon on water, like her mother."
Just that quiet muse, and the soft smile on his face as he imagined her, was enough to tamp down Jill's worry, too. And then she thought to herself, We're going to have a baby.
It struck her fully, and the joy bubbled up and over. She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him with all of her might.
"And I hope he's a boy with black hair that no comb could ever conquer and eyes like the summer sky, like his father."
"Father," Clive echoed. "By the flames, Jill. I'm going to be a father."
"The best father," she affirmed.
They both jumped when a knock sounded on their door and Mid yelled, "Hey, lovebirds! It's time to head to shore!"
"We'll be right there," Clive yelled over his shoulder. Turning back to Jill, he said, "This changes a lot."
She smiled. "It changes everything."
She kissed him again and then leaned back.
"Let's go talk to Mid."
---
A little over three months later, Jill was trying to sleep but could not get comfortable. Besides having to use the chamber pot what seemed like every ten minutes, she alternated between super cold and super hot, and her hips hurt when she tried to lay on her side, but then she felt like she couldn't breathe when she tried laying on her back.
She'd also been having contractions for the past day. She hadn't said anything because she knew Clive would start getting anxious about their lack of physicker. Samuel, the sailor who had some medical training, had never had anything to do with delivering babies, so there was to be no help from that quarter.
Mid and her engineers were the only other women on board, and all of them were Mid's age and had no experience with this matter either.
Jill and Clive were truly on their own for this.
Might as well wait until the last minute , she thought, since this baby was coming whether we are ready or not.
A month earlier, Clive had wound up fashioning her a pillow that he stuffed with the feathers of a few birds he'd hunted on one of their stops. It was almost as long as she was, and it worked great to support under her belly and go between her knees, but this night even that body pillow wasn't helping. A pillow wasn't going to stop her labor.
Her belly was now obviously swollen with a baby. The maybe imaginary bump had become unmistakable seemingly overnight, and it continued to grow and grow until she couldn't see her feet any longer. There were nights when she would sit up in bed reading, while Clive kept his hand on her bump, smiling every time he felt a kick. The first time he'd felt one, he'd started crying.
After telling Mid, and dealing with her snarky commentary which she used to deflect the emotions she had in response, they had asked her to return to Mischan so they could find a place to stay and a midwife. Mid had agreed, although she’d noted that she was heading back to Storm shortly thereafter, so they’d have to wait for a return voyage in another year if they wanted to head back to Storm.
After that discussion, they’d decided to just head back to Storm now. They estimated having three more months until she delivered, and it was only a six week voyage.
At least, it was until a storm hit them, knocking one of the engines off line and casting them well off course. It took Mid and her crew several days of fiddling to get the engine working again. Then another week to catch up the ground they’d lost to the storm.
The storm and the engine trouble meant that when Jill sat up in the middle of the night, suddenly wracked with a pain that wrapped around her entire belly, they were still at least a week away from Storm.
The sudden move startled Clive awake.
"Jill?"
"It's nothing. Just.....oh, Founder!" she gripped his hand, squeezing so the bones ground together.
The pain receded and there was silence before she said, her voice shaking, "The baby is coming."
"But we're nowhere near Port Isolde!" Clive sat bolt upright. “And you’re not due for another month!”
"I don't think he cares about where we are or the timeline that we were only guessing at in the first place.."
"Well, SHE had better care! We've already established that Samuel has absolutely no experience with delivering babies. And nobody else here does, either!" Clive leapt out of bed, at a loss for what to do next.
"I do. I helped Tarja with Edda," said Jill. Although, she privately knew that "helped" was a bit of a stretch. She was in the room, anyway. But Tarja had taken the opportunity to teach Jote about childbirth, and Jill, wanting to keep her mind occupied instead of fixating on Clive and Origin, had listened, too.
"I'm pretty sure you're going to be otherwise occupied," Clive said, dryly, momentarily pulled out of his panic.
"Well, since there's no one else around, it looks like you'll be delivering your son," Jill said, before gritting her teeth as another contraction hit.
"I'll be sure to give my daughter a very stern talking to," Clive countered, trying to distract himself. He started pacing. This can't be happening. She isn't going to deliver our daughter in the middle of the sea without anybody who knows what they're doing to help!
Jill watched him pace, pulling a hand through his hair in agitation. Not that you could possibly tell that he'd just done that since his hair looked the same before and after the motion.
Then she saw him stop, take a breath and turn to her.
"Okay," his blue eyes met hers. "We can do this. We will do this."
"I have every faith in us," Jill replied, grimacing when another contraction hit. Although she realized that she meant it. If she couldn't have Tarja, or a midwife, there was no one she felt safer with than Clive.
He moved forward and gave her his hand to squeeze again. Once it passed, she released him. She remembered their discussions over the possible ways the labor could go, and how he'd gulped at several moments. Jill wondered if the world did a disservice to men by not teaching them more about how this significant part of life worked.
But if anybody could hear about a terrifying scenario with impossible odds, and then plunge forward into the thick of things anyway, it was Clive. She watched him straighten his shoulders and turn to her.
"Okay, Jill, tell me what we need to do."
----
Hours later, just as the first rays of the sun were poking up over the horizon, Clive assisted his son in sliding out into the world. In his hands, so small he probably could have held him in just one, was his son.
His son.
Unable to tear his eyes from the baby, who took one breath in and screamed his displeasure at the cold and brightness of the world, Clive didn't feel the tears streaking down his face as he said, "Jill, we have a son."
Having fallen back into the pillows after Clive had helped pull the baby out, causing her pain to suddenly and instantly reduce to next to nothing, she struggled to sit back up. A second ago, she had thought she'd have no more energy to do something like pick up her head, but now she felt like she would climb a mountain to see him.
"A boy?"
Clive started laughing. "Yes! A boy! You were right, as ever! Even about the hair!"
He handed the baby to Jill, and the sight of her smiling down at their child, with a full head of pitch black hair, brushing her fingers over his cheek, was a spear to his heart. Oh, Father, I wish you could see him. He's beautiful.
He remembered the umbilical cord and reached for the twine they had prepared for that.
Outside of the door, having heard the baby's crying, Mid yelled, "Well?!"
Mid had offered to help but as soon as Jill's water broke, and the less romantic parts of labor suddenly became obvious, she had turned white as a sheet and said, "Um, yeah, I think I need to do...something....else....not here," and fled. Clive had watched her retreating back wistfully.
"It's a boy!" Clive yelled back, through the door, cutting the cord. "But I don't think you want to come in just yet. We're not quite done in here. Could you get a couple buckets of hot water?"
"Right-o!" came the reply.
Jill, hair plastered with sweat, was smiling at their son, who was latched onto one her breasts, quieted by his mother's scent and voice.
"Hello, my love," she was murmuring.
Clive thought about every painful moment of his life in rapid succession. Every single one, even the absolute worst ones, were worth this moment. He wouldn't trade any experience he'd lived and suffered through if it meant it wouldn't lead to this. The woman who was his other half holding their son, smiling softly at him.
He leaned over and kissed Jill's head, then stroked his son's hand, which grabbed the end of his fingertip in a tiny, tiny fist.
"He's perfect," Clive breathed. "Just perfect."
"Like his father," Jill said, tilting her head up.
"No, this is definitely something he gets from his mother." Clive kissed her. "How are you doing? What do you need me to do for you?"
"I think," she winced, as her pain started picking back up, "I think the last part is coming."
He was confused, and then remembered: the afterbirth. He mentally ran through her list of instructions for that, and settled back down on the stool by her feet.
"Let's finish taking care of Mama, little man. Then we'll get that water, clean us all up and get ready to present you to the world."
-----
Just over a week later, Clive and Jill were in a wagon, traveling towards Uncle Byron's manor. Logan Elwin Rosfield was bundled in his mother's arms, wearing nappies made out of several of Clive's old shirts. Having not planned for a baby to be on the ship, they'd had to improvise pretty much everything. Thankfully, Mid and her crew were up for the challenge.
Samuel, the medic/sailor, to make up for his lack of baby experience, actually used some rope to fashion a sort of bassinet, which they'd used next to their bed.
Their goodbye to Mid was, as typical for her, cheery. "Well, can't think that the next trip I go on will be quite this productive, but you never know! I was thinking that Allan is looking pretty debonair recently!"
"Mid," Clive chided, before hugging her to him. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."
When they arrived at Uncle Byron's manor, Rutherford ushered them into Byron's study, where Byron leapt up at seeing Clive.
"Nephew! Rutherford told me you and my niece-in-law had arrived! I hadn't expected you for several more months...." Byron trailed off, spotting Jill walking next to Clive and the bundle she was holding.
"Is that...?"
"Logan Elwin Rosfield," Jill said, "Is very pleased to make his Great-Uncle's acquaintance."
"Logan Elwin," he repeated, blinking a few times. Giving himself a shake, Byron clapped his hands together and did a little jig. Addressing Clive, he said, "I'm a great-uncle! Why didn't you tell me when you left on your voyage, my boy?"
Clive glanced at Jill, and they both shrugged. "We didn't know either. You could say he was just as big a surprise for us as he's been for you. Saying we were ill-prepared is an understatement. He's wearing one of my shirts for a diaper. Amazingly, there's no markets in the middle of the unexplored sea."
Byron dashed past Jill, poked his head out of his study and yelled, "Rutherford! Come here at once! Emergency!"
He pulled back and then approached Jill. "May I?"
Smiling, Jill handed Logan over, putting her hand over her mouth to hide the quiver when Bryon's watery smile came out, and he stage-whispered, "Hello, lad! I'm your Uncle Byron! And we're going to have such adventures together, aha!"
Rutherford, that long-suffering man of many talents, poked his head in, "Yes, my lord?"
"We need to send Wilfred...my housekeeper, you know," Byron said, turning to Jill, "to market! We need baby supplies! Clothes! Diapers! All of the various sundries that only a woman who has had babies would think of. Also, dig out that crib that we have in the attic."
He turned to Clive, "You and your brother both slept in that crib at one time or another. So did your father and yours truly. Rosfield family heirloom! That viper demanded a newer grander one when she was carrying you, Clive, so Elwin had it moved here for when they'd travel here to visit."
Logan stirred for the first time, yawning as he opened his eyes, which were Jill's blue-gray. He blinked at Uncle Bryon, who cooed at him, "That's my lad!" Logan yawned again, much to Byron's delight.
Clive, who had come over to Jill to put his arm around her said, in a low voice, "We may have a hard time getting Logan back from him."
Jill chuckled.
"This is quite the unexpected and wonderful surprise," Byron said, voice thick with emotion. "Your brother is due to arrive in the next week or so. We've come up with a plan for restoring Rosaria, but meeting his nephew will be a much more pleasant event!"
-----
That evening, tucked into the most comfortable guest quarters he had, Logan sleeping in the crib Rutherford had indeed dragged down from the attic, Clive and Jill lay in bed talking.
"They're going to try to get Rosaria extricated from the Empire," Jill said.
"Yes," Clive replied. "It shouldn't be that difficult, given that the Empire is in shambles. Getting the people to accept the Triunity Accords, making that official, may be slightly more difficult, but I don't think so. Rosarians, from what the Cursebreakers told us, never liked Imperial rule in the first place."
"But what about what Byron said, about other nobles asking you to be Archduke, as the eldest son, now that the Phoenix is no more?"
Clive was silent for a moment, his hand stroking down her hair as he thought. Byron had warned him that there was chatter amongst the ruling classes of putting him up as the new Archduke over Joshua.
"I don't want it. I've never wanted it."
"I know you don't," Jill said, turning so she was leaning across his chest to look at him directly, "But you often lose yourself to duty."
Clive huffed out a laugh. Even Joshua didn’t seem him as clearly as Jill. She saw him through to his bones. "This is true, but it isn't the same. I may be willing to lose myself to duty, but I am not willing to lose you to it. Or Logan."
He paused. "Besides, I....can't....go back to Rosalith. I'm not sure I ever will."
They were both silent for a moment.
Jill then said, "I have been thinking about that. About where do we go now? Back to the Hideaway? The wilds of Rosaria? I don't know, but..."
"But?"
"But maybe it's time we stopped running. Maybe we find a part of Storm that doesn't have echoes of our lives, or at least, not the bad ones, a place where we can raise him that doesn't cost us the peace we've fought so hard for."
Clive hummed, thinking.
"The North," he said, suddenly. "Why don't we consider somewhere in your homeland? I wouldn't want to be far from Joshua, but going to Rosalith is not...possible."
"No," Jill agreed, softly. "Not yet, anyway."
"But what about the North? The Blight was already receding by the time we left. Maybe we could make a home with your kin, help them rebuild. I know you don't remember them well. Would it be too hard to return to them?"
Jill thought about it. She had very vague memories of her father, a large man with the same silver hair that she had and a booming voice. She had no memories of her mother, who died when she was a baby.
Going back? She had cousins, she knew, if they were still alive. An aunt, with whom she'd never been very close. She had no attachment to the North.
But it also meant, she had no nightmares about the North, unlike everywhere else on Storm.
As she pondered it, the idea struck her as a very viable option. Close to Joshua, technically part of Rosaria, which Joshua and Byron were working hard to extricate from the in-shambles-Empire, and yet, it was outside of their struggles.
The North was wild and fierce and untamed, even as part of Rosaria. She could find the space to spread her wings there, as she'd always wanted.
"I think that is a wonderful idea," she concluded. "We can bring it up to Joshua and Byron when Joshua arrives."