Work Text:
Milah is in a rare good mood as she beats the bedding with a wooden paddle. Rumple’s yarn and her homespun has sold well this season. He’s promised a trip to the city soon. Their 3-and-a-half year old son is somewhat less dependent, too - at least he asks to be held or fed instead of wailing wordlessly. And he’s been weaned, which puts Milah in a more comfortable state. The void of her feelings for her son isn’t so bad when she doesn’t have to wrestle and squirm with the physical intimacy of nursing.
Her son, hearing the thwack thwack against the sheets, wanders to the doorway. Baelfire stands for a moment, wavering.
“Papa’s gone,” he announces.
Milah huffs. “Yes, Papa’s out at market. He’ll be home later.” Bae’s always asking for his Papa. Milah doesn’t usually mind that Baelfire is closer with his father than with her. Takes off some of the pressure. But - it does make her feel even less like his mother. Even less like she belongs here.
“Is Papa - is Papa your wife?” Bae grins.
“No, he’s my husband.” Bae starts up a giggle fit, and Milah can’t help but smile. “I’m Papa’s wife, silly!”
“One day…” Bae trails off, distracted. He kneels down to pick an acorn off the ground, groping for it with small, stubby hands.
Milah returns to beating the bedding.
“One day I’ll marry Papa.”
Milah stops and looks back. “What?”
“I want to marry Papa.” Bae’s face is tilted to the side, dark curls falling in his eyes as he turns the acorn over and over in his hands. Nothing could be more innocent.
Milah sighs and reminds herself that he’s just a toddler, probably making another dumb joke. She turns back to her work. “No, Bae, you can’t marry Papa. He’s your father. And plus he’s a boy, like you. Some day you’ll marry a girl.” If you manage to survive in this harsh world, she thinks.
Baelfire doesn’t reply and when she turns again, she finds him glaring at her in a way he never has before. He throws the acorn on the ground and runs off towards the forest.
“Bae!” she yells, and then realizes she doesn’t have anything to say. He runs further towards the trees. “Bae, you can play as far as the trees, but no farther!”
This is always the rule. He stops at the treeline and looks back at her. She can’t read his expression. Then he bends down, starts scavenging for leaves and sticks, like he often does. Lost in playing pretend.
He’s a good boy, Milah reminds herself. She just wishes he were someone else’s. On another day, she might have gotten angry with Bae for his attitude, but today she doesn’t care. Today she’s just glad the child left her alone to her work. Her arms and back ache, her knees complain, her body is exhausted from doing menial labor. When she’s alone she can dream. She can pretend she’s journeying to distant lands, fighting dragons and lions, seeking the greatest treasures somewhere far away. She pretends the work she’s doing has some purpose which stirs her heart.
She ties a white bed sheet to dry in the sun, and she imagines that it’s the sail of a ship. Rolls of white linen flow in the breeze and catch the sunlight. Onward, to new lands! She hears the sailors shout and the gulls cry, like they do on the docks, and she smiles. A man stands with her, a tall, strong man with a sword. Stands next to her with an equal fierce passion. Together they’ll make their fortune on spices from the East, sugar from the South. Gold and glory and woe to anyone who stands in their way!
If only Milah had been born a man - she could have made something out of her life, with her warrior's heart. Her husband couldn’t stay in the army for even a bloody month! Bloody coward. I should have told the boy that Rumple is indeed my wife.
An hour later, she sees Rumple hobbling up the path, laden with empty packs and fresh supplies from the town. She sees the smile on his face. She hears Bae shriek, “Papa!” so loudly that the sheep start bleating. Rumple kneels down, arms spread, as Bae runs into his embrace.
Rumple is a good father. More than good - he has everything Bae needs. She can see him and Rumple alone together. This cabin that’s stifling for her would be cozy for the two of them, with that strange, intense bond they have.
“Ohh, hello, hello, my darling Bae!” Rumple’s distant voice is full of all the joy and love that she can’t feel. Bae buries his head in his Papa’s shoulder. They hug for a long time.
Milah wishes they could be like that forever.