Work Text:
Baasha shifted, trying to ease some of her discomfort without waking up her husband and instead felt one of his hands slip down to rest over her belly.
“Are they giving you trouble again?” Edward asked fondly from his place by her side.
Baasha smiled at his concern and laughed lightly, “No more than I can handle.”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and seemed to fall back to sleep with a dopey grin still on his face.
He’d confessed to her that the past few months have been the happiest of his life. It was easy to believe him. Doubly so after she had told him she’d planned to stay with him in Parabola once she started showing and at least until the birth.
It had been an easy enough decision to make, with her newfound status and significance among London society she also found herself among those expected to follow the surface tradition of hiding away during the more obvious months of pregnancy. Anything else could put her reputation at risk of some scandal for the choice.
More importantly when it came to making the decision, she hadn’t anticipated how protective she would feel once she was in the family way. Suddenly, death was once again more than a moderately unpleasant setback and a visit to her friend the boatman. There was once again weight to the violence of the city.
She reached down to put a hand over Edward’s where it still rested and felt the little life shift inside herself yet again. Less little now, she silently joked to herself. She felt a little ridiculous with how big her belly was compared to her small frame. She had, by now, repeatedly blamed Edward for the disproportionate size of their child.
She looked at her sleeping husband who was curled contentedly around her and smiled. Unlike the circumstances of her parentage this child was so deeply wanted. They would grow up with enough to eat, their choice of any specialized schooling they wished, anything a mother with money and connections could buy in London. Also, a protective nightmare for a father that could provide things that couldn’t be simply bought. With these thoughts, despite the physical discomfort, she managed to fall back to sleep.
For the time being, they decided to keep a crib in their bedroom in the nightmare orphanage. Eventually their child could have their own room as well. Edward had argued they should wait until after the birth before they committed to the addition. This was the only point he’d shown real hesitance over since she had told him the news. Baasha wasn’t sure if it was the change to the orphanage that bothered him or the reality that his child would be spending at least part of their childhood in the orphanage but she decided not to press him on the point. Otherwise, he delighted in discussing details with her. Potential names, clothes, books, lullabies were all common topics. His most recent project was a toy replica of her zubmarine. She had pointed out they wouldn’t be able to play with something like it for some time. He simply remarked that he liked to have something physical to work on.
With the days growing closer to the birth itself she had the midwife she had hired come through the mirror to stay until the date. The only sour note of the whole affair was that she couldn’t reach out to Dr. Vaughan. She knew that there wasn’t a single doctor in the Neith she would trust more than her. Understandably, there was no way she would take the news of her child’s father well, let alone agree to come to stay with them. She simply counted herself lucky that she’d had an easy pregnancy otherwise.
It wasn’t going well. This was her first pregnancy but she recognized the feeling of death by blood loss well enough. It was time to call it. She thanked any god that was listening that she had convinced Edward to keep to tradition and not stay by her bedside during the birth. Her midwife agreed and she began the preparations for the caesarean operation. She felt herself slipping away as she prepared to make the incision. Another blessing.
She found herself on the familiar slow boat. The usual dread settled into her bones and she made her way up to the Boatman. He turned to watch her approach.
“Its been some time since our last game,” he pointed out and gestured towards the board, already set.
Baasha found it in herself to smile at him as she took her seat and made the first move, “I’ve been busy, my second child is waiting for me to meet them back home.”
“Is that so?” he asks in his otherworldly voice and makes his move after careful consideration.
He has long since known Baasha as a worthy player, she’d never again gain unearned victories due to him underestimating her. She didn’t need them though.
When she woke back up she found that the midwife had taken her leave, she hoped, and Edward sat in the chair adjacent to her in bed. He was holding her baby, a soft tuft of dark hair like hers was all she could see from her position in bed. He stared down at them seemingly enthralled. He had removed his mask as she had him agree to do to meet them although it was still at arms reach on the dresser next to him.
“Hello my loves,” she greeted them both.
With gentleness he seemed rarely capable of, he carried their baby over to her and took a knee by her bedside.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, searching her face for signs of lingering pain.
“Honestly, I’d probably feel worse if I hadn’t been to the Boatman,” she tells him as she took her first real look at her child.
She found herself once again staring back at her own dark eyes. She was blindsided by tears beginning to form. In all of her hopes and guesses of what they might look like she had been picturing Edward’s eyes. A wave of loss hit her unexpectedly as she reached out for them.
Seeing her expression Edward began softly assuring her, “He’s healthy, 7 pounds, and he stopped crying nearly the moment that woman handed him to me.”
“We’ve both been waiting patiently for you to get back,” he tells her as she takes in the sight of her son squirming in her arms.
“Hello Silas,” she tells him. It was the name they’d already picked if they had a son. One of Edward’s many suggestions, once he had told her it meant ‘prayed for’ she had been convinced.
Her baby cooed at her and she felt overwhelmed. It hardly felt real. Her husband silently watched the two of them from the side of the bed. A beautiful son, her devoted husband, things she was never meant to have. Things she would have been foolish to reach for. She felt the tears rolling down her face and realized she was crying.
The first few months of their son’s life felt slower than the dramatic way he entered their lives. Much of the care she found Edward better suited too than her. She tried to banish the feelings of inadequacy. On the surface everyone may have preached that a women should know these things instinctively but hadn’t she lived the evidence against that? Besides, she did love to walk into their room to see Edward holding their boy and murmuring him lullabies.
Edward was taken aback when she told him that their son should stay with him most of the time, at least until he was old enough to begin school. He seemed surprised not only that she agreed he was well suited to care for their son but that she’d be visiting nearly every day from then on.
She hadn’t quite noticed the slow change in her husband’s demeanor as Silas was being weaned and needed her less. The change back however was immediate. It was obvious now that she could see the stark contrast. As she started spending more time back in London and taking a more active role back in her various projects he was counting the days until she would tell him their son was staying in London with her. He was sure the extra time that she was spending with him and the time he had with their son in person was limited.
The anxiety he had when he was away from Silas, she had originally taken as him naturally doting on his first child the way she had whenever Clara let her take a turn of keeping the hybrid occupied. She hadn’t realized that it was also tinged with fear at the inevitable separation. Truly, not much different than her limited time with her first child. She tried not to feel bitter over his fears being unfounded while hers were proven correct.
The night after she had told him about her decision when he returned to their bedroom after putting Silas to bed in his own room he clung to her tightly. His face was buried into her hair at her shoulder. It was something he had done much more often when she’d first allowed him to start touching her.
“What’s the matter?” She cooed to her husband as he continued to hide his face from her.
Arms tightened around her waist and she wondered if she would get an answer. Absently, she put her penny dreadful aside and stroked his hair.
“Thank you for not taking him from me,” he eventually murmured to her.
She wondered what to say to that. Her beloved husband was no stranger to attempts to emotionally manipulate her. Without a doubt, he had little issue with playing the poor abused orphanage boy if he thought it would help him worm his way into her heart. She liked to think she could tell the difference when he was being genuine.
“I hated growing up without a father, and I hated him for-,” she cut herself off, it wasn’t important anymore.
She leaned her head against his and continued, “That man could have chosen to be my father until I left for London and I would have accepted him.”
“I wouldn’t take you from our son,” she quietly admitted.
He still didn’t release her. With his face still hidden at her shoulder, she pretended she couldn’t feel the dampness of his tears soaking into her nightgown.
As the years passed and Silas began to grow up, it became increasingly obvious Edward was his father. His looks which had originally seemed so clearly Baasha’s now more clearly showed Edward’s influence. While his hair and eyes remained as dark as when he was born, he had his father’s face. Rosy cheeks and cute dimples that charmed all of her friends and associates who were lucky enough to meet him on one of her outings with him.
Beyond only looks, as he learned to speak it was Edward’s manner of speech he mimicked. Baasha sometimes worried if he was too influenced by his father but mostly dismissed the thought. She hadn’t turned out like either of her parents after all. When she took him into the city she did her best to explain her plans in a way a small child could understand although she knew she often fell short.
It was increasingly common that Silas would ask her to spend more time at home with him and his father.
“Hm, and did your father tell you to say that?” Baasha asked him in an amused tone.
Silas pouted.
She laughed, “It's alright, I’m not going to be mad at him if the answer is yes.”
“Maybe,” he told her with an adorable huff.
“The answer is still the same, I’m busy with work here but I’m never going to be mad at either of you for wanting to spend more time with me, alright?” she told him “And you can tell your father I said that.”
Between both of them, it was obvious they spoiled their son. There were still some rules for him to follow in Parabola, naturally. Even in the orphanage itself there were some halls and sections off limits to him. Edward also didn’t like him playing with the orderlies. Silas knew he could always use them to get Edward wherever he was in the orphanage but that was it. The first and only time Baasha had seen a small Silas, just barely walking and babbling go up a nightmare orderly and tug at their apron for attention she watched her husband freeze. The orderly reached down and gently turned their son back around towards them but as its hand nudged Silas, Edward started shaking.
It had been her that set the rule. Edward never brought it up but it clearly never got easier for him. Even when just walking by, Edward was always more likely to put a hand on his shoulder or put himself between them. Silas never seemed to notice his father’s discomfort around them.
By the time she had begun looking into schools for Silas to start attending, Edward broached the topic of potential siblings.
“Easy for you to suggest, Silas hasn’t killed you yet,” she pointed out.
Edward grinned at her through his mask, “You don’t really hold that against him.”
She sighed at him and put down the expense reports from her Unterzee Trading Company. Clearly wasn’t going to be able to get any work done until the conversation was finished.
“That’s fair but maybe I hold it against you a little,” she tells him, crossing her hands over her lap and waiting for him to challenge her statement.
Edward’s grin doesn’t waver, “Why would that be?”
“When it comes to having children I think you get the better half of the deal,” she tells him unimpressed.
“You have a rough few months, I would never imply otherwise, my sweet.”
He slipped his mask off and set it down on his, now their shared, desk.
“Then I take care of them until they’re old enough for schooling,” he finishes his statement with a hint of teeth. The years in Parabola had seen him shifting his form slightly, his teeth were almost normal but for the addition of fangs.
He had a point.
She looked at his confident, still boyish face. Boyish despite his own monstrous additions. She wondered sometimes why he didn’t just change his features themselves but never asked in case her curiosity spurred him to do it.
“I’ll think about it,” she tells him noncommittally.
When she found out she was carrying twins she could barely tolerate how smug her husband seemed to be.
“I said one more child,” she complained to her entirely unsympathetic nightmare husband.
Edward had the audacity to giggle at her, “Are you implying that I somehow did this on purpose?”
“You absolutely would have if you could’ve.”
“I suppose that’s fair, my sweet wife,” he admits with a kiss.