Page 50 of Boundless
"We'll figure it out, love. Between your brains and my brawn—"
"Naw, absolutely nae brawn until ye've healed from giving birth, yoong lady," Granny interrupted, frowning at Daega. "In fact, we'll probably need t’ keep ye here a’ th’ camps fur th’ next couple o’ months. Ye canae be traveling in yer third month—treaty or naw. So settle in fur some mandaetoory relaxation, Princess."
Daega sobbed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pregnant Pauses
LEN
LEN BEGANdrafting the letter to his father in his head as soon as they had returned to their tent, Daega still weeping quietly and earning lots of confused and concerned looks on the walk back to their tent. He knew it would take him days, if not weeks, to find exactly what it was that he wanted to say. Well, not quite—it was more that it would take that long to find the rightwayto say things. He knew the core of the information he'd be imparting, though: he and Daega would not be returning for some months, that the reason for this would be because Len was to be a father himself, and that the birth of his heir would necessitate a trip on the part of the council and his father the king to christen the occasion.
Len was confident King Haedelon would hate every last bit of it. Worse yet, after two attempts on his life, he feared what this development would mean for his growing family. Would he see more attacks? Would they, by some miracle, give up and leave him alone? And would he ever find out who, exactly, was behind it all in the first place? Was it his father, a disgruntled noble—who, in the name of the gods, wanted him and the peace treaty dead?
He was surprised to find that while he was nervous about the king's reaction, he found that he was less outright terrified of his father’s ire than he typically would be. Was this Daega's doing? Was it just because there was finally some real distance between him and his progenitor? Perhaps it was both, because when Len really searched himself and inspected the knot of fear tangled around his ribs, he found it was fear of the unknown that had him in its grip. It wasn’t any of his old fears resurfacing, and wasn’tthatoddly refreshing?
"You really think I'll be a good f-father?" he asked Daega as he climbed into bed with her to talk things out. Perhaps because of how their relationship had started, they'd taken to having their heart-to-hearts in bed, tucked under the covers and huddled close enough together to hold hands and share breaths and kisses easily.
"Of course, you madman. Which is very good, as our bairn should have at leastonegood parent."
She tried to laugh away her poor joke, but the tears that trailed from the corners of her night-dark eyes told the truth of it. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, his fears slipping away to the back of his mind in the face of his wife's distress. "Why do you thinkyou'llb-be a bad parent?"
She shrugged, biting her plush lip as she avoided his eyes. "I'm too crass and loud. I’m a little…uncertain with little ones. I'll traumatize the poor thing before they can even spit venom."
He filed that troubling fact away for later. Hedidrecall seeing her spit something caustic onto her attackers during the raid at the inn, but apparently he'd have to worry about hisbabyspitting up venom as much as bile. "Daega...my love..." He wriggled closer, tugging her into his arms so her face was pressed to his chest. "Darling, your s-saying too many curse words in front of the baby isn't going to hurt it. Look at me, hm? My scars are from neglect. B-belittlement. Coldness and d-distance. You know this, I think."
He felt her nod against him. "Aye, but right now itfeelslike I'll break the wee thing outright and be haunted by my mistakes for the rest of my life."
It was a fear he shared. But he was finding that in the face of Daega's anxieties, his own were quiet enough that finding reason was easy.
"I think most parents have this fear. Certainly th-the good ones." He stroked the smooth column between her four wings that marked her spine, thinking. "P-perhaps a trip to your parents' tent is in order. They'll be d-delighted to hear the news, and I'd imagine with four children they'll have s-some advice for us."
She laughed tearfully, squeezing him tight with her good arm. "Aye, that they will. On both counts." She pulled away enough to look up into his face. "You're so damnedsmart, Len. You're officially in charge of all the decision-making."
They got out of bed and Len stepped back into his boots. Then they were making their way across the little distance to the moderately-sized private tent shared by Daega's parents. It was close enough to the noonmeal that they were both within, coming to the flap to see who was calling when Daega rattled the charms that announced visitors.
"My baby!" Kevothaen boomed at seeing his eldest, making Daega whimper beside Len. Daega's distress triggered her father's, and Gayeh and Len shared a commiserating look as they guided their misty-eyed spouses inside.
"What's the trouble, nugget?" Gayeh asked gently once they were all settled on the stuffed poufs the Istarii Drakan favored for lounging in their homes. Len took his wife's hand, smiling at the nickname. Daega's hand clutched at his, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked at his face. He cleared his throat, turning to his in-laws and steeling his nerves. This wasgoodnews. They would behappyto hear it, and he had nothing to be nervous about.
He swallowed, trying to wet his cottony tongue. "W-we just s-s-saw Yo-Yollyn," he began, Kevothaen paling. Len hurried to continue. "E-Everything's well! I-it's only—it's just. Well. D-Daega's—"
"I'm preggers, lads!" Daega finished with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Both of her parents turned to him as if to confirm and he nodded, beaming and swallowing back more happy tears. "We're n-not sure how but—yes. A-about a month along."
They were dragged to their feet and pulled into tight, warm hugs, congratulations and joy flowing from Daega's parents over and over, drawing Len's tears forth like a hot compress drew foulness from a wound. Why was it so impossible for his father to do this for him? Why was Haedelon only ever coldness and cruelty to his son? Didn't the elf kingwantthis? Didn't he ache to hold his child as much as Len ached tobeheld?
Gayeh and Kevothaen hugged him tight and showered him in warmth, and it shifted the way he was thinking about this incredible news in relation to his father. Len was his only son, his heir, and he was sick of feeling like they were always on opposite sides of a deep chasm. The two Istarii Drakan were leaders for their people as well, and they’d not felt compelled to keep their children at arms’ length, begging for any faint scrap of affection—they’d given their four children all their love, and look at how much stronger their four girls were for it. Len wasn’t going to start his child’s life holding any shame, any resentment, and it would start now, with the announcement of the birth. He was proud that this baby existed, he was thrilled that he was to be a father, and everyone else would just have to find a way to share in that pride and that joy if they wanted to remain in Len’s life. He returned Gayeh and Kevothaen’s affection readily, his chest and throat aching with the complex swirl of emotions barely contained by his mortal flesh.
After several minutes, calm descended, and preparations began: they'd announce the good news at a special meeting after the evening meal, which runners would begin announcing right away. Len would compose a letter to his father tonight making his own announcement and inviting him and the council here to celebrate the birth and the strengthening of the treaty. In the face of his in-laws’ boundless enthusiasm, he’d decided to say to hell with his father and just deliver the news plainly. Their love had inspired Len, made him defiant of how he always felt the need to coddle his father’s bigotry and prickly, ever-changing feelings. This wasgood news, and he refused to play his father’s games in this.
The last thing that they decided was that Len would begin gathering the bairn tea ingredients and diving into the drawn-out brewing process. It was a tradition for expectant fathers to make it, as it granted them a special vision of fatherhood. Kevothaen was fairly certain it would be safe for elves to drink. Len would double-check with Yollyn that this was so, and as long as it was safe he was resolved to do it. He found that he was developing a kind of…taste for the Istarii Drakan culture. He wanted to dive into it head-first and immerse himself in the ways of the people who had produced such warm and wonderful beings.
To say the rest of the night was a blur was almost giving it too much credit; it seemed like Len blinked and then he was seated in front of a blank piece of parchment, Daega gently snoring and passing gas on their bed behind him. He was tired in every molecule of his being, but there was still this task, and it had been haunting him this whole night. While everyone else had been delirious with happy celebrating, he'd been quietly turning over phrases, rejecting one sentence in favor of another, drafting letter after letter in his head while he smiled and laughed and accepted the drunken congratulations of the Istarii Drakan and, to his surprise, his guards, still lingering around the camp.
All that was left was to put pen to paper and make it final.
Father,he wrote at last,I write to you with the happiest of tidings, though they come with some inconvenience.
