Work Text:
Irene's knuckles are white, as she grips Helen's hand. “Promise me,” she says, through pants. “Promise me if I die here, you'll convince Gen to burn me. To scatter my ashes somewhere private.” She pauses to cry out, then gathers her and presses on. “I don't want - them anywhere near my body. I want,” her grip on Helen's hand tightens to the point of grinding bones against each other, “ peace .”
Tears are gathered at the corners of her eyes, not from emotion, but the strain of childbirth. She looks at Helen with the fierce, iron gaze her fellow queen has come to understand instead of fear, and Helen looks levelly back at her. The queen whose name means peace, who has never known it.
“I promise,” Helen says, and feels Irene's grip loosen slightly. “I will fight for you in death if it comes to that, Irene.”
The other queen’s eyes close and the tears finally spill over and trail down her temples. For a brief moment between contractions, she looks almost calm.