Work Text:
Mirtul 1395
Baldur’s Gate
The mewling baby is placed into Eliwyn’s arms. She quickly pats him dry then lays him immediately upon his mother’s chest. Ailith laughs with mingled joy and relief, her face glistening from the effort of these past dozen hours or so. But the smile of utter contentment and overwhelming joy makes it clear that it was all worth it for this moment.
For the next hour, Eliwyn’s mother sets about her task of staunching the blood and stitching up what tears need mending. Eliwyn takes away the sheets and rags for cleaning and passes this tool and that salve to her mother. Once Eliwyn has ensured the baby successfully nursed for the first time, she takes him away to be properly cleaned and checked over.
He sleeps soundly, for the ordeal of entering this world was as hard on him as it was his mother. Eliwyn works quickly yet gently and quietly. He has all his fingers and toes. His breathing is unencumbered and his pulse strong. His coloring is maybe slightly tinged with yellow, but after a few days of feeding and plenty of naps in the sunlight that should clear up nicely. All in all, he is a perfectly strong and healthy little boy.
Eliwyn bundles him into a blanket and takes him into her arms. She stares down at the tiny face peeking through the muslin. It’s too early to tell for certain, of course, but…she’s sure he will look like his father. She taps the tip of his little nose ever so softly.
The door of the room creaks slowly before flinging open. Marek’s arrival brings a flurry of movement. Ailith gasps and makes as if she will jump out of bed. Eliwyn’s mother thrusts out an arm to keep her from doing so. Marek rushes to the bedside of his wife.
He takes her hands first, pressing them to his mouth and murmuring sweet sounding words into them. Then he cradles her face in his palms and kisses her so tenderly, as if she is the finest most delicate glass ornament on this plane.
Marek’s gaze flicks to Eliwyn. His blue eyes brim with tears. A smile of pure elation lights up his handsome face.
And Eliwyn is trapped within them.
She cannot move. She cannot think. She cannot breathe.
Then his eyes drop to the bundle in her arms.
“Eliwyn.”
Her mother’s voice, soft yet sharp, cuts through the spiraling of Eliwyn’s entire existence. Her mother gives the slightest shake of her head, and Eliwyn knows exactly what she is saying.
Do not let your feelings get the better of you. Be the master of your emotions. Self-restraint is the most powerful force on this plane.
Her lids flutter as she takes a shaky breath. She places the baby in Marek’s arms and retreats to her mother’s side. Sharp pain bites at the palms of her hands as her nails dig into the flesh. Her lip quivers only once before she is able to control herself.
For an age she watches the happy couple delight in their new family. Though it is as if she watches from some distant plane, far far away. Finally, her mother pulls her back down with a grip of her hand and a nod to the door.
That night, Eliwyn huddles at the top of the stairs listening to her parents' argument echo from the drawing room.
“You shouldn’t have taken her,” her father says.
“She needs to learn,” says her mother.
“This was not the way to teach her!”
“You agreed that I could do whatever I felt necessary to ensure she does not become a Forlorn. Or have you forgotten?”
Silence, bloated with words her father dare not speak for whatever reason, fills the space between the drawing room and the stairwell.
“I’ll go to her,” her father finally says.
“No, let me go. I’m already making tea.”
When the door of her room opens Eliwyn is sitting on her lounge chair, a book open on her lap bathed in moonlight. What the words on the page say she does not know. Footsteps pad across the floor. A warm mug presses into her hands.
“You did well today,” her mother says as she sinks onto the lounge.
Eliwyn grips the mug but does not look at her.
“I am sure you think this all very harsh. I have no doubt you think me harsh. But Eliwyn,” says her mother, a hand stroking the hair down her back, “it is for the best. There are as many types of love as there are flowers in a meadow. This was but one. When the stars no longer shine right through your eyes you will find someone who will be able to love you for all the centuries you deserve. Guard your heart until then, my little duck.”
After a long, warm kiss to Eliwyn’s head, her mother leaves.
Eliwyn tries to sip her tea. She knows it will make her feel better. But she cannot manage it with her chin trembling like this.
She does not want a meadow full of flowers.
She wants only the one.