Archive of Our Own ^beta

Summary:

Shortly after Alena and Kiryl's first anniversary of wedded bliss, Alena gives birth to their first child.

Notes:

This chapter was inspired by this piece of fanart: http://coddledeggs.ichiya-boshi.net/kuriari17-omedetou.html

Kiryl couldn't stop pacing. Sweat glistened consistently on his forehead as his feet carried him back and forth in front of the infirmary. His father-in-law sat in a chair nearby, calmly reading.

Borya had long since ceased to try and calm the nervous former priest with words. Instead, he came back with a tray of tea and tried to encourage the young lord to drink. Kiryl refused, though, afraid that his nerves wouldn't allow him to keep any fluids or solids down if he tried to consume them.

Then there was the distinctive squalling sound of a newborn baby on the other side of the infirmary door, and Kiryl froze in his stride, turning to the door expectantly. His heart hammered in anxiety. Please be okay, Alena!

He couldn't help his fear and anxiety, even though he knew that his beloved wife was in the best of hands possible. His own mother had died in childbed, trying to give birth to what ended up being a stillborn brother for him. He had been so young at the time, he barely remembered her face now, but the devastating hole in his life after her death was still quietly raw, and the fear had stuck with him, in the back of his mind all this time. The sheer thought of losing his own wife to what had claimed his mother... He shook his head; he couldn't think about that. Alena was the strongest woman in the world; surely something so natural as giving birth wouldn't harm her!

Time seemed to freeze, and it took forever for the door to finally open and the midwife to step through, her apron stained with blood but her face bright and positive. "My lord, I am pleased to tell you that you have a beautiful and healthy son. We will let you in to see your new son and your wife in just a few minutes, but the Tsarevna insisted that I come out here and inform you that she is well and recovering."

His knees felt weak with relief. "She is going to be okay?"

"She is just fine, my lord," the midwife said with a knowing smile. "She is a very strong woman, you know. She is just very tired right now, and wishes to be presentable before we let you in. It will not be long." She disappeared back into the infirmary, door shut tight.

Kiryl felt a hand on his shoulder; "There now, my boy, I told you there was nothing to worry about," Tsar Stepan said with a smile. "You ought to know better than I do just how strong she is."

"Yes, sir, I do know. She is the strongest woman in all the world. But..." Shuffling his feet, he looked away. "I... just..."

"I know, lad," Stepan said kindly. "I know about your parents. And I know how it feels to lose a beloved wife suddenly. I understand completely. Pull yourself together, though. The last thing she needs, after going through what she has just gone through, is to see you falling apart."

"Come over here and have a seat, compose yourself, Kiryl," Borya advised. "Tsar Stepan is right, Alena doesn't need you fretting yourself sick. She's fine, she's safe, everything's fine, so just calm yourself down now. They'll have the room cleaned up in no time and you can visit her and tell her how wonderful she is. For now, try to compose yourself. Come on, there's a good lad."

Kiryl sank into the chair and sighed; he was shaking now as the tension that had been holding him rigid with anxiety began to wick away.

Time still seemed terribly sluggish; it felt like hours had passed since the midwife had gone back into the infirmary. He was starting to feel almost sleepy, he was so fatigued -- even though he knew how nervous he was, he hadn't realized just how keyed up he'd really been, how much of a strain it had put on his own body.

Then the door opened again, and the midwife came out, this time in a clean apron. Her smile was radiant and her eyes twinkled. "Your wife would like to see you now, my lord."

That was all the prompting Kiryl needed. He was on his feet in an instant, and barged gracelessly past the midwife into the room. It didn't even occur to him that maybe he was being rude. The first thing that hit him was that the room still smelled of blood. However, it was clean in here, and Alena was couched on the bed, propped up with cushions, wrapped in a pretty maternity gown, with a swaddled bundle in her arms. She looked exhausted, but her eyes lit up when he came into the room.

"Kiryl!" She said joyously. "Come see!"

He almost stumbled in his haste to come to her side. There, in her arms, was a tiny, wrinkly little baby with angry-red skin, sleeping quietly. He was taken aback for a moment. He'd never seen one so small and... well, not quite ugly, but...

Then again, he had never seen one so new, either. Babies usually were at least a month old before they were anointed in the faith of the Goddess. He had done anointing enough that he had become familiar with young babies, but none this young. He couldn't call this one ugly, though, because he wasn't... he was funny-looking, and yet... still cute in his own tiny way.

His heart ached with an unexpected swell of love. This was his son. His own child. He looked at his wife, his eyes filled with awe. "Alena..."

"Isn't he precious, Kiryl?" Alena's eyes were bright with happiness. "And strong and healthy too! I did well, did I not? It was hard, I will not even try to say it was not, but I am so happy to have him now."

"You are amazing, my beloved," he said, his voice slightly choked with emotion. "I am... I am in awe of you." He brought a hand to her cheek. "And now I do not ever want to hear you lament that you are not a good wife to me. You are more than a 'good wife' to me, Alena. You are amazing."

"Thank you," she murmured, awkwardly nuzzling his hand. "I love you, Kiryl. I know that I do not say it very much, but I do mean it." For just the briefest of moments, her eyes misted, and then they cleared up and danced mischievously. "Now say hello to your new son."

The former priest turned his attention to the drowsy baby cradled in her arms. One tiny hand reached up lazily, fingers splayed, as if trying to rub the tiny face.

"We will need to name him," Alena added.

"Did you have anything in mind?" He looked at her as he hesitantly brushed the newborn's tiny cheek with a knuckle, nervous of startling or upsetting the baby. During the past eight or so months since finding out that Alena was pregnant, he had thought of a whole array of potential names, but just now, at that moment, nothing would come to mind. He had been so keyed up and tense, any and all preparations for this moment had gone out the window.

She was silent a moment, biting her lip in thought. "I was thinking... I think of three names, and cannot decide between them. First is Vanya. Or there is Valery. Or Pavel. What do you think?"

Inwardly, he was relieved. He had been afraid that she would want to name the baby after one of their companions, or worse, after Solo himself. But instead, she had chosen a trio of traditional Zamoksvan names.

Rolling the three proffered names around in his mind, he looked down at the tiny infant. "I think... Vanya. Yes. Vanya is a good strong name for him."

"So you approve?" She sounded delighted, which baffled him and he looked up at her again. "I was afraid you might want to name him for one of our friends."

What? He blinked a bit stupidly. "But..."

She looked sheepish. "I suppose that is silly of me, but I do not wish my son to have to bear the same burden as our friends have."

He chuckled, a bit tiredly, as the strain of this whole day caught up to him. "I... feared the same thing for you."

It was her turn to blink stupidly; "Really?"

"Well, at least Solo... you seemed so taken with him at one time. And you are adamant that we owe him much."

"Taken?" She scoffed gently. "Your old jealousy is showing, Kiryl. We owe Solo much more than we could ever repay, but I have never thought of him in that manner."

He flushed a bit at her calling him on his old jealousy. "Can you honestly blame me for thinking so? I never expected you to... er... I did not think you even noticed me. I know I was foolish and blind," he added a bit peevishly as she laughed.

"You were not foolish, nor blind, my Kiryl," she said kindly, putting a hand on his cheek, simultaneously shifting their new son into his arms. "If anything, I was the blind fool, to have not realized what I was doing to you. You have always been my best friend, Kiryl," she added, "so I guess I just assumed you understood my thinking... even though I didn't really understand myself. Here, you should hold him."

He looked down nervously as he gathered the precious tiny bundle into his arms. "He is... so very tiny."

She snickered a bit. "Is he? He did not seem so very tiny coming out!" Then she yawned. "I am completely exhausted. That was much harder than I thought it would be. Fighting Psaro the Manslayer was easier than this!"

"My lord, I think it is time for you to leave," the midwife said gently, reaching in to take the baby from his arms. "Her Highness needs some rest, and you look like you could do with some yourself. Don't you worry though, we'll take very good care of them both. Besides, I believe you have a visitor, my lord."

Kiryl surrendered the baby with just a moment's hesitation, looking over at Alena. She was definitely exhausted, and in need of some serious rest. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly; "Rest well, my love. Our son is beautiful, and you have done a magnificent job. I love you."

"Thank you, Kiryl. I love you, too. Go say hello to our visitors, and get some rest yourself."

Chuckling at the fact that his wife was bossing him around even as she started to doze off, Kiryl allowed himself to be herded out of the room, and flinched as the door was shut firmly behind him.

"Do not worry, my boy," Tsar Stepan said with a smile. "That midwife delivered Alena. She knows what she is doing. She'll take good care of your son."

"Are you not happy that you are a grandfather now, Sire?" Borya inquired.

"Indeed I am," the Tsar said serenely. "But I know from being a father that the thing my daughter needs most right now is rest. Did you decide on a name yet?" The speed with which he changed topics belied his calm demeanor; he was indeed excited and eager to meet his grandson.

"Alena suggested to name him Vanya," Kiryl said, suppressing a yawn.

"Kiryl!" A voice called from down the hall. The three of them -- the Tsar, Kiryl and Borya -- turned in bewilderment as a scantily-clad flash of color flung itself into the fray, in a tangle of cloth, spangles and arms.

"Is there a baby yet?" enthused Maya Mahabala, a fiery sorceress and flashy dancer from Libeccio, as well as one of the seven companions that assisted Solo on his quest, along with Alena, Borya and Kiryl. She was oblivious to the presence of the Tsar, apparently. "We heard that Alena was about to pop so we came as fast as we could!"

"Uh, hello, Maya," Kiryl said awkwardly as he pried himself from the dancer's arms.

Tsar Stepan snorted and Borya groaned.

"Allow me to apologize for my sister, Your Majesty," Meena Mahabala, a fortune-teller from Libeccio and Maya's younger twin sister, said from nearby. "Maya gets excited when good things happen. We came as soon as we'd heard that Alena was in labor. We were coming by to visit anyway, but we hurried when there was a rumor that the Tsarevna was about to give birth."

"Meena! Maya! Would you ladies stop ditching me, please!" A voice called from further down the hallway as Solo stumbled into view. "You know I get lost easy!"

"Sorry, Solo, it's just that you know what kind of trouble Maya can get us into," Meena said. "She's over here tackling Kiryl and being rude to His Majesty, the Tsar."

"It is okay, this time," Tsar Stepan said patiently. "I understand your elation. I will visit my daughter, and then I have some work to do. Kiryl, make sure you get some rest. After all, I rely on you to keep my brat of a daughter in line." He said the word "brat" with as much affection as any one word could have, taking all sting out of it. With a gentle smile to his son-in-law, he motioned the midwife aside, despite her protests, and stepped into the infirmary.

"So," Solo said as he arrived where the others were, "how's Alena? I met with the girls while coming this way to drop in on you guys here at Zamoskva, and we heard that Alena was close to her due date."

Meena took over the narration; "When we got into town, we heard that she had gone into labor. I'm surprised you're not with her right now, Kiryl."

"I just visited them," the young lord said, feeling awkward.

"Them?" Solo picked up on the pronoun.

Kiryl rubbed the back of his neck; "It is a boy. We are probably going to name him Vanya, but we have not decided entirely. She is too tired to talk much. And, I must admit, I am very tired. I have not slept in... a while."

He felt a strong arm hook around his neck, and registered that it was Solo; "Congratulations, Kiryl, you old dog! A son, huh? Good on you! And Alena's no worse for the wear, surely."

"Thankfully, she is fine. I am very sorry, Solo, but I cannot greet you three properly. I am much too tired."

"I'll take care of things here," Borya said, muscling his way into the middle. "Solo, girls, I'll show you to some guest quarters, while Kiryl goes and gets some sleep. When he's had some rest and when Miss Alena is feeling better, we can all catch up on old times, and see the new baby."

Kiryl sighed in relief and turned back to the infirmary, wondering if he could slip in for a moment, to give Alena one last kiss before he went to rest for a while. But he abandoned the idea when he saw that even Tsar Stepan had already been evicted from the infirmary. He decided to scrawl a quick note on a piece of paper and ask the midwife to give it to Alena when she awoke.

He jotted down the note and then knocked on the infirmary door, and before the midwife could give him an earful, thrust the note into her hands, telling her to give the note to the Tsarevna as soon as she was awake, in the event that he was still asleep when she awoke.

As he sleepily headed off toward the suite he normally shared with his beloved wife, the midwife glanced at the note.

"Alena," it read, "I am proud of you and our son. I love you." It wasn't signed, but his handwriting was distinctive, and Alena would know it was from him. Smiling to herself, the midwife went to the sleeping Tsarevna's bed and placed the note on the table beside it, so that she would notice it right away upon waking. Then, patting the sleeping princess on the forehead, she murmured; "My lady, you have an adoring husband. You are a very lucky woman indeed."