it's a healthy, perfect, lovely little...

Maeve

A quiet hum fills the air as the Nightshade rocks gently in the rocking chair of her baby’s nursery, holding a little bundle in her arms with a shock of dark hair on their crown already forming curls, one tiny fist gripping onto the loose fabric of her nightgown. Maeve smiles as she looks down at them, singing the sweetest lullaby as they rock, candlelight flickering on the walls. That’s the dream she’s having when she wakes from a sudden pain, sharp and bright, a dampness on the sheets beneath her. It takes Maeve more than a few breaths to come to and realize what’s happening.

Panic spears through the pain, overwhelming her senses as she struggles to sit up, Aidon at her side in moments at the feeling of her distress. ”Locke… Go get Locke.” She pants, wincing as she manages to get a pillow behind her back to prop herself up, a hand pressing to her belly.

Aidon sprints from the room, wings already spreading as he jumps off the balcony, streaking through the night sky to find the Attuned in question. In the time he’s gone, Maeve prays. She prays to Safrin and to Vi and Mort and Frey. She prays for their guidance, for their protection, for their strength. She prays that her baby is fine. That nothing is wrong. That it isn’t too early. Gods, don’t let it be too early. She prays and she waits, doing her best to breathe through the contractions, jaw clenched against the pain as it blooms through her nerves.

Her bonded does his job. He finds Locke, willing to drag him to the Halenani with his teeth if he must, anything to get him there. To get him to Maeve. She needs him. Now and forever.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

LOCKE

He's on the beach, as usual, a half empty bottle next to him. The days have moved too slowly and too quickly for him to sort anything out really. At least he's not cursed anymore, right? He's still got some things to figure out but he'll get there with time. He's actually thinking of sleeping out here, enjoying one of the last nights it won't be too cold to do so. Maybe he'll set a bonfire up here, keep it warm.

Except there's suddenly a dragon careening at him and nipping at his clothes. Locke moves to smack Aidon away until he realizes there's no reason for the dragon to be coming to get him unless something has happened. He's up off the sand in no time, bottle and boots left behind as he follows the dragon down the beach, over the rocks, and towards the Halenani.

He practically shoves the bouncer out of the way, ignoring the growl that comes from him. It's fine. He'll pay him back later or something. He takes the stairs two at a time, following the flustered dragon.

Locke finds her flushed, in pain, and he's entirely lost. He stands in the door a moment, staring at her. What is he supposed to do? He's been around babies but he's never delivered one before. Is that even.. He finds her, hand held out in whatever form of comfort he can give. "Do.. Should I call for a doctor? A midwife?" Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Too many questions and too few brain cells to find their words. He presses a kiss to her temple, shaky and unsure. Would anyone even come if they called?

I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies

Maeve

There is a flood of instant relief at the sight of him. Even with the way his eyes seem wide with panic. He ran. It's clear with the way his chest heaves almost in time with hers, but he's at her side in an instant. His lips against her temple and his hand there for her to clasp. He smells like the beach and sun and home. Maeve drops her head against his shoulder, bracing against him as he asks his question, "Phoebe isn't here, I don't think. She's.. she's my midwife." Her mind races for another option, unsure if the demigoddess is even in the building or if she went back to Stormbreak once more, but it comes up short as she tries her best to breathe through the contractions.

She knows labor can be long and hard. She knows that she might have hours ahead of her still. Could she even push yet? Maeve didn't know and that was the scariest part of it all. Maeve swallows thickly, glancing towards Aidon where he was pacing at the end of the bed, sending an image of Phoebe and Pim along the bond with the silent instruction of trying to find them. If she was here, Aidon would get her and everything would be okay.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

call the midwife

Phoebe was around, if only just. Though she needn't be summoned by Aidon to know she was needed. Quite the opposite in fact - her morning tea had been oh so rudely interrupted by none other than Branbast himself. For his morning weather predictions of course (he was a seer cat after all, weather patterns were his favorite). Snowy, cold, with a chance of babies in warmer climates. A strange forecast that left her furrowing her brow at the smug looking, bowtie clad cat. What in Frey's name could he be on abou-...oh! Realization dawned as Maeve came to mind. She was very close to her due date after all and Torchline was nothing if not a warm climate.

With great haste she made her way to the Skyport. Of course, she had to wait in the dreadfully long line of people seeking warmth in Torchline. However, she was able to send along Pim, who certainly didn't need any assistance with flight. He could at the very least beat her to the brothel to assure Maeve that the midwife was indeed on her way.

Someday. Eventually. Whenever the line decided to move.

In spite of the irritations of travelling via the most popular method in Stormbreak, the Nightingale did eventually make it to sandy shores and hurried through the street to get to her charge. "Maeve?" she called out as she entered, but thankfully enough was quickly directed to the room the Madame turned Queen could be found in.

"Baby time, I take it?" she said chipperly before giving Locke a sidelong glance. "Let me guess, you want him to stay." she said with a sigh, placing the honeysuckle crown upon Maeve's head to relieve her pain in exchange for pleasure. Phoebe wasn't sure she would ever grow accustomed to having fathers in the labor room. Such a strange and wildly unnecessary thing.

Phoebe

the baby's coming

Code blatantly stolen from the fantastical, wonderful Odd

Maeve

Thank the gods for Branbast. That's what she would be thinking if she knew what the seer cat had done, but as it stands she's clueless. Maeve doesn't know how much time passes between her telling Aidon to find Phoebe and the demigoddess actually arriving, but she's grateful for her all the same. That gratefulness only blooms once she places that sweet honeysuckle crown upon her head, whisking away the pain to be replaced with pleasure instead, a spark travelling along her spine for an entirely different reason. "Baby time. I'm glad you're here." She breathes in relief, toes curling as she braces herself against Locke, nightgown hitched up so it doesn't get in the way.

At Phoebe's question she can't help snorting, a faint laugh pushing past her lips, "I do, but I don't think you could tear him away either way." She admits, squeezing his hand as the urge to push grew stronger, lashes fluttering as she draws in a shaky breath. Whether because of Frey's magic or something else entirely, everything seems to go quickly, the process painless and easy. It takes her no more than seven pushes before the high pitched wail of their baby fills the room, lungs strong as he makes his presence known, skin pink and healthy.

He's a tiny thing with a shock of still wet black curls on his head, little fists balled and eyes closed against the brightness of the world, legs kicking out much like he kicked in her belly. Tears are in her eyes as a love so blinding blooms through her chest she forgets how to breathe as their baby is brought up for her to hold, wrapped lightly in a spare blanket. "Locke... It's a boy. Our little star. Edmund."

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending

LOCKE

There's suddenly a lot going on. First he's on the bed, somehow. When did he do that? And then Phoebe is there. He would've left, if she had said that was what's best, of course. But Maeve is right, he wouldn't if he didn't have to. He does move to give the pair room, standing to one side, Maeve's hand in his. He's seen births happen but he's never been this invested. He doesn't talk, nor really even move, simply watching the pair work.

But it doesn't take long before there's a wail and a baby. He's loud. That's good, right? Locke still doesn't say anything, hovering over Maeve and Edmund but trying to give Phoebe room to work if she needs it. Frankly, he's a little out of place at the moment. But then Maeve is showing the little bundle of baby to him and he can't help himself.

"So little." Don't mind him, he's stupid right now. He may love his family, he may love Maeve, but he's never felt anything quite like this. He can't even find the words to express it. So he simply smooths a curl out of Edmund's face and presses a kiss to the top of Maeve's head. He'll remember how to talk eventually. Maybe.

I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies

Maeve

So little. So utterly perfect. Maeve leans into Locke, cradling Edmund against her chest as Locke leans over to brush a curl from his forehead, the hair still damp from all the mess on his skin. There is a bit of shuffling between them. Maeve lets Locke and Phoebe get Edmund cleaned up before she attempts to feed him. It's slow going, but eventually he latches, drinking his fill from her until he's full and sated.

Soon they're alone. Just the three of them with the instructions to rest. "Stay with me, Locke... Need you here." She murmurs as she starts to drift off, snuggling into his side even as she turns slightly to check the cradle that's beside the bed, Edmund already sleeping soundly inside. This was the start of their whole lives.

~FIN <3~

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending