The Dove and the Hawk Pt. 08

Many thanks to my advance readers, including Not_E and happyyy_, as well as to my editor LaRascasse.

Content warning: depictions of childbirth, references to maternal and infant death

***

Bethaer awoke early the next morning, Litheian still in his arms. He watched her sleeping form awhile, the soft rise and fall of her body. He wanted to reach out and stroke her hair, whisper to her belly and tell their child how beautiful and strong her mother was, but he didn't dare.

At length she stirred and smiled when she saw him watching her.

"Did I walk?" It was the first thing she asked him every morning.

"No, im-uvnya."

Her smile broadened and she stretched. "Perhaps the sleeping draught is working."

"Perhaps."

Her face fell, and his stomach dropped. "I'm fine," she told him. "I just remembered I wanted to ask you. The man who helped me escape from the rashd, did he...."

Bethaer shook his head. "He did not survive."

She sighed and looked away. "My brother told me they tried for years to infiltrate the palace. And the whole time, I never thought...." She turned abruptly to look at him. "How many of my people suffered, trying to help me? To plant even one person in Jashil, how many died trying?"

He reached out and took her hand. "I will ensure he is returned to his family."

She nodded, her eyes gazing off into the invisible distance.

"Come back to me, im-uvnya," he said, reaching to cup her cheek in his hand.

She faced him again and smiled, holding her belly. "He likes your voice, im-uvnyan. Talk to him."

He leaned over to her large belly, scarcely believing she had invited him to do what he'd only just imagined. He caressed her gently, putting his face close. "Good morning, dear child. Is it true, what your mother says? Do you like the sound of my voice?"

"Ach," she huffed, wincing. "He kicks so strongly."

He brushed her belly, leaning closer. "You must be more gentle on your mother, dear child. She is doing her best to help you grow, so you must do your best not to trouble her." Sitting back, he asked her, "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Marid," she replied. "Or Meakia."

"Meakia," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "I have never heard it before. Where does it come from?"

"I found it in a history of the old empire, in your library," she said shyly. "I was so bored I would read anything. I thought it was only a list of families and parentage, but then I came across the story of a holy maiden who led her people across the desert to their new home. They called her 'the promise of light.' Meakia."

" 'The promise of light,' " he repeated, smiling. "That is a fitting name for a daughter."

"Isn't it?" she murmured, looking down at her swollen belly, her eyes full of love.

He watched her, enraptured by the tenderness of her gaze. It made a spring of warmth bubble up inside him, and he realized it then.

He loved this woman. The clarity of the thought was matched only by the pain of it, constricting his heart. He couldn't burden her with this, not when she had already given up so much for him and for their child.

"I will miss you," he said, more yearning in his voice than he'd wished to reveal.

She looked up, surprised. "That's why you must follow us as soon as you can," she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I will," he promised.

He wanted to stay here, in their bed, safe from the daylight curling through their windows. But the sun rose all the same, peeking through the shutters, summoning the servants who attended them.

Soon enough the room was emptied of her few belongings, the trunks lashed in place and the carriage ready to leave. He walked her to the main gate, her brother and father following behind. Her stepmother and maidservant were already inside the carriage, waiting for her.

Litheian pulled away from him and took his elbows in her hands. He returned the gesture, and they held each other, foreheads meeting in the middle.

"Be well, im-uvnya," he told her.

"You also, im-uvnyan."

He helped her into the carriage and shut the door and watched as she rode away from him. He followed them with his eyes until the road turned and they were out of sight, and would have stayed watching longer.

"Come," Leitham said, putting a hand to his shoulder. "We have much work to do."

Bethaer nodded and turned away, setting aside his fear and doubt. His people needed him.

Leitham's words were an understatement if anything. Anderar's finances were in shambles, his father having thrown everything into warring with his neighbors for ten straight years. The fields lay fallow and the cities were filled with peasant refugees and former soldiers. Bandits harried travelers on the roads, which the combined forces led by Berelthia's generals were dealing with as best they could. Bethaer worried it would take twice as long to set the kingdom straight as it had to ruin it. He yearned for his child to inherit a stable nation and threw himself into his duties.

The first thing he did was move the seat of government from Jashil to Kiridas, the old capital his father had eschewed. He established convoys to ensure safe passage for farmers back to their lands, temporarily appointing Berelthian commanders and their units to assist the local lords with protecting their domains.

This winter would he a hard one, he knew. Many of his people would starve, and they would need to borrow an enormous sum to buy out the extra grain from surrounding kingdoms. But Anderar was full of lush plains and great rivers, and he knew that if they could only hold on until spring, then this time next year would yield abundant crops once more.

Leitham assisted him in liaising with the Berelthian forces, and his Sytheiran cousin did the same. The representatives of other kingdoms weren't so keen to cooperate, but Endorran applied a firm hand to his allies. It surprised Bethaer, given how cool his father-in-law was towards him, but he supposed the king had set aside his animosity in favor of ensuring his daughter's future happiness.

By contrast, Leitham had warmed to him, and they grew closer the more time they spent working together. They ate in the great hall, now, with the rest of the court, and Leitham made a show of friendliness by always inviting Bethaer to sit with him. They traded stories of their youth and their training, even sparring on occasion when their workload lessened. It kept his mind away from worrying about his wife, though he knew she'd arrived safely from the messenger pigeon they had received.

Bethaer awoke one morning to a bright white light peeking through the shutters, and when he opened them he found the grounds of the court covered in a dusting of snow. Now was the time, he knew. He needed to leave before the high mountain passes became too perilous to traverse.

To his surprise, Leitham volunteered to winter in Anderar in his stead, overseeing the plans Bethaer had labored over with his advisers. It relieved him, and he thanked his brother-in-law profusely, but the man only clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. Bethaer was less enthused to be traveling with his father-in-law to Lamath, but at least the weather was still good enough to ride horseback. It would have been painfully awkward sharing a carriage with him.

They set out on a clear, cold day, the air crisp and breezy. Bethaer rode behind Endorran, and their group slowly descended the switchback roads until they came to a natural pass. Bethaer slowed, gazing down at the low mountain ranges spilling out before them like waves in the sea.

"The Ritan mountains," Endorran said at his side, and Bethaer nodded. These were the mountains that guarded the southern border of Berelthia and would take weeks to traverse.

He wondered briefly how Igandrion had managed to make it all the way to Lamath without being discovered, hitting the palace with such ferocity that the royal forces were forced to flee rather than follow after him as he retreated with their princess.

Bethaer shook his head; there was no use in thinking about it now. Whatever weaknesses in Berelthia's defenses that Igandrion had made use of, his father-in-law had surely strengthened. So he kicked his horse into a trot, making his way down the pass.

Endorran set a brutal pace, clearly used to traveling hard over the difficult terrain. Bethaer, more familiar with the plains and forests of Anderar, struggled to keep up. Each day's ride exhausted him more than the last, but he forced himself to stay upright, to grip his horse by the legs and hold on tight. They switched horses regularly, and while Endorran did not display his banners, he flashed his signet ring quietly when necessary to procure rooms for the night. If there were no inns, they made camp by the road. It was more spartan than Bethaer had imagined the older man would tolerate, but then, he had spent the last ten years at war.

Each day felt longer than the last, though in reality the daylight shortened considerably as they journeyed onward. The mountains turned into ridges and the valleys widened. The trees turned bright colors, and the farms they passed were busy planting winter crops.

At last they topped the ridge overlooking Lamath, passing a guard post where the men saluted, clearly recognizing their king. Bethaer itched to set his horse into a canter down the long, straight road to the city, but he held back. Endorran sent a herald ahead to announce their imminent arrival, and Bethaer watched the man gallop off, Berelthia's blue-and-green flag snapping in the wind.

Nervously he turned the empty spot where his signet ring used to be. He had refused to wear his father's, commissioning two new rings for his wife and himself. He still had his father's medallion, though he was loath to wear it, especially here. He wondered if the people of Lamath would recognize him as they rode through the streets toward the royal palace.

He needn't have worried, for the crowds gave him nary a second look. Passing through the gate, only Endorran was announced, which Bethaer was grateful for. The king had donned his robes and kitted his horse in Berelthia's colors, while their escort attached pennants to their polearms. Riding through the main road toward the palace, the streets were lined with cheering city folk waving green and blue ribbons. They must have been elated already to welcome home their long-lost princess, and now their king had returned, victorious.

Bethaer kept his eyes ahead, on the great walled castle where his wife had been raised and would now bear her first child. To his impatient mind it felt as though it would take an eternity to reach the castle gates, but once they passed through, his stomach began to knot, his hands to tremble. What if the child had already been born? What if it had gone wrong and she'd lost the baby, or worse, her own life?

Surely the crowds would not have been so jubilant if that were so, he assured himself. Glancing over to his father-in-law, the man was stoic as ever. They headed straight for the stables, where Bethaer hung about awkwardly after tending to his horse. At last one of Endorran's men steered him toward the main entrance of the palace, where the king was being greeted by his wife and their various children, several daughters and a young son.

Bethaer cast about for his wife and spied her walking purposefully toward him, flanked by a small army of attendants. She waved them off as she descended the steps, making straight for him.

"Im-uvnya," he said, bowing as she approached.

"Im-uvnyan." She wrapped her arms around him, her belly large between them. She had grown even more since they had parted, her breasts engorged. Hesitantly he returned her hug as she held him tight.

"Thank you for arriving before the baby," she murmured into his chest.

"I could do nothing less," he replied, warmed by her embrace.

When she finally pulled away there were tears in her eyes, which he tenderly brushed away. "You should greet your royal father," he told her, and she nodded and walked over to the rest of her family.

He watched her go, walking slowly but unsupported, her steps more sure. She must have gotten stronger, he realized; if her attendants were content to let her walk on her own, then he would be as well.

Endorran and his wife turned to go inside and Litheian beckoned him over. "I still need help up the steps," she said, embarrassed, but he smiled and took her arm.

The Berelthian royal palace was an older style but just as grand as any newer castle. Litheian led him through several large halls before taking the stairs to the royal apartments. It was the custom in Berelthia, he knew, for the men's and women's quarters to be separate, so he hesitated to follow her to her chamber.

"Are you sure I am permitted here?" he asked her, as he caught yet another servant glancing at him curiously.

"Yes," she said firmly. "These rooms in the middle are for married couples. My brother was meant to take this chamber first, but for now it's ours."

He nodded and entered, finding the room spacious and warm. The furniture was heavier and daker than he was used to, the rugs and tapestries richer, the heavy curtains thick to keep out the cold. He glanced over at the great bed, which was low to the ground and heaped with furs.

"I grow cold more easily," she said, seeing where he was looking. "But now that you're here, you can keep me warm."

He flushed, though he knew her words were innocent. "Who has been staying with you?" he asked.

"Lisse watches me at night and helps me when I walk," she answered, sitting on a bench covered in pillows.

He went to join her. "And how often is that?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Not as often," she said quietly. "But I... I've started to remember my dreams."

He held her hand more tightly, not knowing what to say.

"I always realize I'm dreaming," she continued, "but I can't change anything. I just have to watch it happen all over again." Her voice tightened, and he put his arm around her. She leaned into him, and they sat like that for a while.

"You must stay here with me, im-uvnyan," she told him, and he nodded.

"As you wish, im-uvnya."

Soon they were summoned for the midday meal, which was served in a smaller hall near the apartments, with just the royal family in attendance. Bethaer was introduced to Litheian's half-sisters and little brother, who seemed confused by his presence. The young boy asked a particularly delicate question in the blithe way only a child could, and a tense, awkward air filled the room. His mother gently chastised him and bade him apologize to Bethaer, which he did reluctantly.

"He knows who you are," Litheian whispered to Bethaer, "but he doesn't understand how we are suddenly so accepting of you. Just give him time."

He nodded and smiled at the boy, who frowned in return.

Time, Bethaer reminded himself, returning to his meal.

The days turned slowly but easily, a mix of their routine at the high court and when they had shared his rooms in Jashil. In between naps and meals, Litheian showed him what parts of the castle she liked. She most often visited the library, where the servants kept a table reserved for her, already stacked with scrolls she favored. He perused the honeycomb shelves, amusing himself with collections of Berelthian tales he was not yet familiar with, letting the names he encountered trip across his tongue.

On one occasion, when the sky was clear, she pressed him to take her to the royal observatory so they could watch the stars together. She pointed out to him the constellations she remembered, and he memorized the sound of the strange syllables in her voice. He was still deciding on a secret name for their child, but knew he wanted it to hold some piece of his wife's life here in Lamath, before it had been ripped away from her.

The waiting pressed on him, dredging up memories he'd almost forgotten -- of his own mother's figure, heavy with child in her last days. The excitement he'd carried, praying each night for a sister. The confusion he'd felt, being told she was gone forever. The slow, aching realization as he saw her lifeless form, the scrunched-up face of his stillborn sister nestled in her arms. These images haunted him, shadowing Litheian's face over his mother's. Dark thoughts crawled their way to the front of his mind no matter how fiercely he scrubbed them away. Your seed is cursed, they told him.

It took all his strength to force them back into the void from whence they came. Each time they threatened to overcome him, he would go and find her, just to be near, just to see that she was well. She never questioned his presence, his need to be close by, though on occasion she would look up to find him gazing intently and give a small, half-laughing smile. Perhaps she thought him simply attentive, but the fear bubbled in his blood, and he felt as though he'd never again feel certain she was safe.

A week passed, and then another, and the nights continued lengthening. Then it became a month, and soon midwinter was upon them. Bethaer tried to enjoy the spiced wine and seasonal dishes at the banquet celebrating the turn of a new year, but all the while he could only wonder how much longer the child would make them wait. The midwife had advised them she could arrive any day, and with each day that passed the more his heart quickened with every small movement Litheian made, wondering if her time was upon them.

***

"You cannot be serious," Bethaer said, his voice incredulous.

Litheian put her hand on his arm, and he turned to look at her, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I am quite serious," the midwife replied calmly. "Lying together may encourage the child to come into the world."

"There must be something else we can try," he protested, turning back to the older woman.

"We have already tried everything else," the midwife reminded him.

"But surely it cannot be safe for her, or the child," he argued.

"It will be safe as long as you are gentle," she assured him, and he flushed, looking away.

"Im-uvnyan," Litheian said firmly, tightening her grasp on his arm.

He looked back at her, perhaps to protest further, but she gave him a sharp glance and he sat back, sighing.

"Thank you for your counsel, il-shusvya," Litheian told the midwife. "My husband and I must discuss this matter between us now."

"I understand," she said, rising and bowing to them both.

Once the midwife had departed, Litheian rounded on him. "This woman delivered all of my younger siblings, and she was there when I was born too. We should at least consider her suggestion."

He shook his head. "Did you forget how much I hurt you at the spring festival?"

Litheian sighed. She had put off discussing it with him, thinking they had more time. "Did we not agree to let go of our guilt towards one another?" she asked him.

He put his hands in his face. "I have tried," he murmured. "But it haunts me so, im-uvnya. How much I hurt you, and" -- he swallowed -- "how good it felt for me. I even --" He looked away, embarrassed.

Litheian smiled softly, reaching for his hand. "Did you touch yourself, im-uvnyan, thinking about how you took me?" she asked gently.

She could see him flushing again and knew his eyes must be full of regret. "I did," he answered. "But that was before I realized how much I hurt you." He turned back to face her, his expression pained. "You would not even let me see you. That was when I realized," he said, voice quiet but firm. "I did the same to you as my brother."

"You did not," she countered, but he shook his head.

"You... you were so much smaller than me. I could hear you crying out in pain. I wanted to go slowly, but then you -- you said those words." He shut his eyes, no doubt recalling how strongly he'd reacted to them.

"I was worried you wouldn't be able to finish," she explained gently.

He took a deep breath, as though steadying himself. "Tell me truthfully, im-uvnya," he asked, voice tight. "What you said to me... were those the same words my brother used?"

Her stomach roiled. She hadn't wanted him to know. Hadn't wanted him to feel this guilt. But she couldn't lie to him. "Yes."

He got up and walked away, opened the doors to the balcony and stood there, facing the cold air and the weak sun. She shivered and pulled a blanket over her shoulders, waiting for him to compose himself.

When he shut the doors and returned to her side, his eyes were calmer, his face determined. "I understand why you did that, im-uvnya, and I forgive you. But I do not think I can do this for you, now." His voice broke. "Every time I see you undress, or bathe, or hold yourself, I cannot help but hear those words again."

She reached out a hand to caress his face, and he moved to kiss her palm. "I'll give you new words, im-uvnyan," she said softly. "New memories."

He let out a ragged breath as she dragged her fingers through his short brown curls. "What if I hurt you again?" he murmured.

"You will not," she assured him, smiling. "Because I know you, and you'll be as gentle with me as you know how."

He took her hand in his and kissed it longingly. "I do not deserve your trust, im-uvnya."

"You've proven worthy of it over and again," she replied, and he exhaled shakily.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" he asked, his eyes searching hers tentatively, still unsure.

"Yes, im-uvnyan," she answered. "I want to you to hold me gently, and take me sweetly, and fill me with your body."

He groaned at her words. "You must tell me if you are in pain, im-uvnya. I cannot bear the thought of hurting you again."

"I will," she assured him. "Now come and kiss me, husband of mine."

He relented, leaning over her large belly to catch her lips in his. They were warm and soft, and his breath smelled musky, making her yearn for more. She pressed her tongue against him and he opened his lips, letting her explore his mouth. She dove deep, licking and brushing against his tongue. He responded by curling it around hers, tentatively reaching beyond her own lips.

She pulled back and inhaled deeply and could hear his ragged breath as well. She reached forward for more and he gave it to her, their tongues dancing together. She put her hands on his shoulders, slipping one of them down his chest, feeling the strong muscles under his clothes. He moaned, and she reached further downward, toward his trousers.

Litheian found her husband's organ, already straining against his undergarments, and kneaded it gently. He gasped and kissed her harder, bringing his own hand slowly down her chest toward her swollen breasts. He paused and she pulled him closer, rubbing his member through his clothes.

He groaned at this but pulled away to caress her face tenderly. "May I touch you here, im-uvnya?" he asked, brushing the tip of her breast. Her nipple stiffened, and she let out a breathy moan.

"Yes, im-uvnyan. My body longs for you."

He smiled and palmed her breast, sighing as he did so. She could feel him growing even harder, larger under her hand. His thumbs found her nipples and pressed them inward, massaging in a circular motion. She moaned and kneaded him harder, feeling her nipples leaking under his hand. After a few moments she pulled away, needing more.

"Help me undress." She turned around and pulled her braid over her shoulder so he could unlace her gown.

He did so slowly, and she wriggled with impatience. He chuckled softly and kissed her neck as he continued to untie and pull apart her laces. Finally she was able to shrug it off, stepping out of it as it crumpled to the floor. She raised her arms for him to pull off her thick winter underdress, but he shook his head.

"It is too cold, im-uvnya."

"Then let us go to bed."

He pulled her close and kissed her again, his palm on her belly. "I would like to take my time," he replied when he pulled away from her lips.

She relented and let him guide her back to the sofa, making sure she was settled before putting his hands to her breasts again. As he kissed her, he rolled her hard nipples gently between his fingers, and she moaned with pleasure. His touch was sparking heat in her, flowing from her taut, leaky breasts down to the space between her thighs. She clung to him, resuming her kneading against his organ. They continued like this until she could stand it no longer.

She broke away from his lips, saying, "You should touch me somewhere else, im-uvnyan."

"Where?" he asked huskily.

"The place my legs meet," she answered, and he groaned.

Carefully he helped her up, leading her to the bed. She sat up against the headboard and watched as he removed his jacket and shirt. He kept his trousers on, kicking off his shoes and climbing in beside her. She lifted the covers for him, and they snuggled against each other for a few moments, warming up the bed.

At length he began kissing her again, tracing the neckline of her underdress. She reached down to the hem and pulled it upward, and he helped her peel it off, casting it to the floor. He gazed at her naked form adoringly, and she blushed, embarrassed by her distended figure.

"You are so lovely, im-uvnya," he said, reaching for her face. "Your breasts are swollen and tender, your nipples dark and delicious. And your belly is big with our child." He leaned in to whisper, "You are so beautiful, and I want you."

She blushed again. "Then touch me, im-uvnyan. Feel how ready I am for you."

He reached out and stroked her nipples, then leaned forward to suckle them as they began dripping with milk. She sighed and tilted her head back at the strange, wonderful sensation. He moved on to her other breast and did the same, until they both felt emptied.

"You will nourish our child just like this," he murmured in wonderment. He moved his hands down her belly and she put her own hands on his shoulders to brace herself.

He reached the hair above her slit and pressed into the area, rubbing her skin hard against her bones. She whimpered and squirmed, needing more. Slowly he moved his fingers down to her slit, teasing her lower lips. He brushed against them lightly, running his finger up and down the edge of her opening, almost entering but not quite.

Litheian gripped him and moaned as he finally slipped his fingers inside her, rubbing along the inside of her lower lips.

"You are so wet for me," he murmured, pausing at the top of her slit. "And so swollen, too."

Gently he moved his fingers in a circular motion, and she whimpered. "More," she begged him.

He smiled and began pushing harder, circling faster, until she could feel something building inside her. It was like their wedding night, only better, closer, just out of reach.

Her heart was racing, her breath coming fast. "More," she said. "Please, my love, don't stop."

In response he moved his two fingers to the top of her slit, rubbing back and forth as she moaned.

"Yes," she whimpered, clutching him tight. "Yes, yes, oh, oh!"

Suddenly she was flooded with warmth and light, a powerful surge that kept rising as Bethaer continued massaging her. It crescendoed until she was gasping for air, her legs cramping and her toes curled in delight.

Finally the great wave came down, and she could breathe again. Bethaer pulled away from her and held her face in his hands, smiling freely and eyes full of joy.

"What," she asked, "was that?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "You have never felt that before?"

"No, im-uvnyan."

"Not even by your own hand?"

She squinted at him, still catching her breath. "You mean... touching myself?" She knew it was something men did, but could women, too? Well, her husband had just done it to her, so why couldn't she?

"Yes, im-uvnya. You have never done so?" His eyes were wide in amazement.

"Never." It had never occurred to her. Before her husband, the space between her legs was just a place for men to abuse her, a part of her body she wished she'd been born without. She could never have imagined it could do something so wonderful, make her feel so blissful.

She opened her mouth to ask him again, but he kissed her, long and hard. When he pulled back his eyes were shining. "I am overjoyed that I could help you discover this."

"But what is it?" she asked him.

"It is fulfillment," he said simply.

"Oh." She blinked. "So this is what you felt, on our wedding night? And at the spring festival?"

His smile faltered. "Yes, im-uvnya. Though I thought... on our wedding night...."

"I believed that was the most I was meant to feel," she murmured. It had been pleasurable, but nothing close to the ecstasy she had just experienced.

So this was why all those men had been so eager to use her, to attain that feeling.

She bit her lip. "I'd never want to hurt someone just to feel that again."

Bethaer leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Nor I," he said softly. "That is why I regret the spring festival so much."

"I don't," she told him, lifting her hands to hold his face, too. "You kept me safe for two months."

He smiled sadly. "I wish it could have been longer." He sighed and shifted himself, and she remembered that he still hadn't reached fulfillment himself.

"Let us speak of something else, im-uvnyan."

"Such as what?" He was brushing her face softly, as though he were not still hungry for her.

"Such as how I want you to enter me." Gazing at his loins, she could see his member twitch at her words. She smiled.

"Tell me more," he murmured, "so that I can become ready again."

"I want to undress you," she began. "No, I will undress you." He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. "Then I'll kiss you there, and lick you, and suck on you. Would you like that, im-uvnyan?"

"Yes," he moaned. "I want to feel your mouth around me."

"Then let me do so," she whispered, reaching for his buckle.

He sat back and let her undo his belt, which she cast onto the floor. Then she began pulling his trousers down, revealing his organ tight and hard against his undergarments. These she unlaced, letting his cock spring free. It was just as large as she remembered, and dripping with seed already.

Bethaer lay down and stripped his clothes from his legs, throwing them in a heap next to the belt. She leaned over him, resting herself on her forearms before his loins, stretching forward and catching the head of his organ between her lips. He sucked in a breath as she licked the tip of it, where his seed was oozing from. Then she opened her mouth wider, sliding over his shaft as far as she could. He groaned as she took him deep in her mouth, until she hit her gag reflex and nearly choked.

"Easy, my love," he said, pulling back.

Litheian wiped her lips and smiled, then popped him back in her mouth. She went down on him again more slowly, careful not to go too far. She bobbed up and down, trying to imitate the sensation of thrusting, and he moaned.

"Oh, yes," he murmured. "That feels divine." He rested his hand on her hair as she continued moving in and out, until he pulled back again. "I am too close, my love."

She looked up at him, his eyes glowing with pleasure as he stroked her face. "Can you only reach fulfillment once?"

"Sadly, yes. It would take me hours to be ready again."

Litheian sighed, licking her lips still tasting of him. She would have liked to make him feel that glorious sensation by her ministrations alone, but it was more important now to do as the midwife had advised. "Then you should come inside me, im-uvnyan."

"Are you certain, im-uvnya?" he asked, gazing at her with a mixture of lust and hesitation.

She paused a moment to consider what her body wanted. A part of her was content, but another wanted more. "I want you inside me," she told him, staring at his cock longingly. It twitched with desire, and she smiled again.

"Then you should lie down," he told her. She nodded and lay herself down sideways.

He joined her at her back, in the same position as they often slept together. She could feel his member pressing hard against her, and then he moved it down between her thighs. Her stomach fluttered at the thought that he would be inside her soon, and she tightened her legs around his cock.

He groaned in response, and she clenched him rhythmically between her thighs. He began thrusting between her legs, moaning as he did so. His shaft rubbed against her slit, opening her lower lips and covering him with her wetness. It made her yearn for him all the more.

"Come into me," she said, needing him inside her. "Open me, and enter me, and fill me with your body. Move inside me until you reach fulfillment."

"Oh, my love," he groaned in her ear. "May I enter you?"

"Enter me," she demanded, lifting her leg, and he chuckled.

She felt his hand move his cock, and then it was grazing her lower lips, slowly parting them. She gasped as he reached the opening to her core, for he was so large.

"Does it hurt?" he asked her, pausing.

"Only a little," she assured him. "Be gentle, im-uvnyan."

"Of course, my love," he promised, kissing her hair.

Slowly, tenderly, he pushed his member inside her. She bit her lip as her opening was stretched wide to fit him, for it stung. He must have sensed her pain, because he stopped there and reached his hand to her slit and began rubbing her again. She gasped and sighed and squirmed, until the pain receded.

"Fill my body with yours," she said, and he moaned in response.

Cautiously he thrust further inside her, little by little, until she felt his pelvis against her buttocks. He sighed and nuzzled her neck, kissing her behind the ear.

"Is this what you wanted, my love?" he asked her.

"Yes, im-uvnyan. Now give me your seed."

"As you command," he murmured. He pulled out and thrust himself back inside her, moving slowly but steadily.

It was nothing like the spring festival; she felt large and swollen and ready to swallow him inside her. Every thrust made her ache with pleasure, rubbing against her inner walls and sliding over her inner lips.

"More," she moaned, and he began to move faster, harder, bottoming out inside of her each time with a grunt.

It felt delicious, and she could feel the promise of another wave of pleasure itching between her thighs. She reached down and hesitantly found the nub at the top of her slit, teasing it in circles just as her husband had done.

"Are you touching yourself, my love?" he asked her, and she blushed.

"Yes, im-uvnyan. Should I stop?"

"No, im-uvnya. Just the thought of you pleasuring yourself makes me feel...." He trailed off, thrusting deep inside her, his ball sacks slapping against her softly.

"I want us to feel it together," she said shyly.

He groaned in response, and she continued to rub and push and knead her wet flesh, going faster and tighter as she inched closer and closer to her peak. Bethaer was thrusting deep and hard and fast, and she knew he was growing close. Tentatively she touched her nub, pressing lightly back and forth, and this pushed her over the edge.

Her whole body tensed, and she could feel the blood flowing through her, flooded with bliss. Her core was clenching against her husband's member inside her, rhythmically gripping him in her strong muscles.

"Oh, my love," he moaned, and then began to jerk his hips, releasing his seed. It filled her with warmth and wetness, spurting over and over, flooding the head of her womb.

She gasped for breath, her heart still racing, and went limp on the bed. He was still inside her, pumping her full, and she smiled to herself. How she loved feeling him empty himself into her.

Soon he was done, breathing heavily and softening inside her. He made to pull away, but she reached back for him.

"Stay," she said, and he did. He kissed her cheek tiredly, then lay back down and pushed his face into her hair.

"My beloved," he murmured, passing his hand over her swollen belly. Her heart ached with joy, and she savored the sound of his words.

She let out a great sigh, suddenly exhausted, and closed her eyes, letting sleep pull her away.

***

Bethaer awoke in the dark of night, on his back and half-covered in furs. He considered getting up to wash himself and use the chamber pot, but didn't want to wake his wife. He stretched out his arm to feel her shoulder, brushing her skin softly. She shuddered and he pulled away, not wanting to wake her.

But then she moaned. It was so faint he nearly missed it, or perhaps he'd imagined it. He lay gazing up at the darkness, drifting off to sleep. Then heard it again.

It was most definitely a moan, this time followed by breathing -- the slow, deep breaths the midwife had showed her for when her time arrived.

Her time. He sat up and leaned over her to hear better. She was humming between breaths, and then she sighed, and he felt her form relax.

"Im-uvnya?" he asked softly.

"It worked, im-uvnyan," she murmured. "But it's too soon to fetch the midwife. Go back to sleep."

"How can I sleep when you cannot?" he protested. "Tell me how I can help."

She was silent for a moment. "Hold me," she said softly.

He lay back down and put his arms around her, reaching for her belly and finding her hands already there. He covered her hands in his and kissed the crook of her neck.

When the next contraction came he breathed alongside her as the muscles of her womb tensed long and hard. When it was done he murmured to her how well she was doing, how strong she was. Then it would begin again, and soon the room turned from black to gray as fingers of daylight brushed under the heavy curtains.

Bethaer counted between contractions, feeling the time between them grow shorter and shorter. It was only a few minutes now, and she was beginning to rock back and forth as her pains strengthened.

"Let me call for the midwife, my love," he told her, and she nodded silently, clutching his hand. He kissed her temple and rose to dress himself before opening the door to the hall where he knew a maidservant would be on night duty.

The young woman stood the moment she saw him. "It's time," he said simply.

She nodded. "I will fetch the midwife."

He returned to find his wife in the throes of another contraction, and she sat up afterwards.

"Help me use the chamber pot before the next one," she said, and he did.

Afterward she walked about and he followed, holding her when the pains overtook her. Soon the door opened and the midwife appeared with her assistant and Litheian's stepmother and eldest sister in tow.

"Go eat, im-uvnyan," she told him.

"And you?" he asked.

"I cannot bear the thought of food."

"Then I will return shortly, my love."

She nodded and waved him off as her stepmother took over while the midwife began laying out her supplies.

He made for the large kitchen, where he knew the servants would be eating at this hour. He came away with steaming-fresh bread and leftover stew to eat it with. Quickly he downed the meal and returned to Litheian's chamber.

The curtains were open and the pale morning light flooded across the floor, illuminating her against the windows. She bent over and groaned, leaning on her sister's arms, and he hastened to her side to take her hand.

"I'm cold," she panted, and he cast his eyes about for her underdress.

Lisse brought it forward, still rumpled from lying in a heap on the floor. Between the three of them they managed to help her into it before her next pains.

They were coming faster now, lasting longer. Around him the servants bustled and the midwife spoke, but he had only eyes and ears for her. He walked with her, circling the room, supporting her as she rocked and moaned, sitting her on a stool so the midwife could check how close the baby was.

"It is almost time," she said after yet another inspection.

He nodded and kissed Litheian's forehead. "It's too bright," she complained, and Lisse ran to close the curtains while another maidservant set to lighting the lamps.

The room grew warmer, and her pains slowed. "He's coming," Litheian announced, pulling down into a squat.

The midwife's assistant brought the stool over for him to sit behind her, and she leaned back against his knees. His mother-in-law guided his hands under Litheian's shoulders so he could hold her up, just in time for another mighty contraction that made her scream.

"Gently, gently," said the midwife. "I can see the head. Once more, my princess."

She nodded and leaned back. "His name," she moaned.

"I will know it when I see her," he assured her, and then she tensed against him.

Litheian gave a great cry, and then his heart skipped. Another cry had joined hers.

Bethaer looked over her shoulders and saw the midwife holding a small, wrinkled, bloody, squirming infant. His heart was near to bursting with joy and relief, and then the fear and grief washed over him like a riptide. He pushed at the feelings, confused, but they circled his heart like briars, stabbing at his elation. Shaking his head, he looked back at his wife, sweaty and disheveled and more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.

"You did it, my love," he told her, and kissed her temple as the midwife wiped the child clean.

"You have a daughter," the woman said as she handed the fragile, tiny life into Litheian's arms.

Bethaer felt shaky with love and fear. She was so small, so delicate, and he knew he would die a hundred deaths to keep her safe. The shining light of his world, whom he scarcely dared to touch. Already the thought of losing her terrified him.

"Im-uvnyan," Litheian said, and he blinked, realizing he was crying.

The name came to him between one breath and the next, and he smiled. Carefully he leaned down and whispered into his child's ear. "Meyal," he murmured. "Welcome to the world."