Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 20: The Man in the Arena

"But that was weeks ago," he stammered. "I thought...I thought..."

"You thought we'd know sooner?" Elba shook her head in disbelief. "I'm the one with the womb, remember? It takes more than a couple of days to figure out if you're pregnant. Sometimes, it takes longer." She took a step back, releasing Libro from her vice-like grip as she sat down on the bed, suddenly weary. As if her energy were needed elsewhere.

Libro swallowed, realizing the crossroads he was standing at. Here he was in a dangerous land with the only person who ever truly loved him, now pregnant with his child.

His child. The word alone sent a pulse of fire and ice rushing through his veins as his thoughts raced to keep up. Memories of his mother, of his father, of countless nights weeping over the two of them. The constant cycle of fear and love, the endless tilting scales. Would this be his child's fate as well? Would this be the life he'd bring into the world?

"No," Libro breathed.

"No?" Elba looked up at him, gasping as he bent down to one knee, placing his hand in hers.

"I'm so happy," Libro said, feeling the bitter bite of tears in his eyes. "I have a child. I'm going to be a father." He paused to look at her, unable to keep the reverence from his voice any longer. "I'm going to be the father of your child. I'm so scared, and I'm so, so happy. I'm so many things at once right now."

"I didn't know how to tell you," Elba said, the trepidation in her voice earlier slowly melting away. "I had some suspicions when I first started getting sick, but I thought it was the food to be honest."

"The soup here is absolute shit," Libro admitted.

"It is," she laughed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "It really, really is. But after the chambermaid offered me a goddess damned pregnancy dress to wear it all fell into place. The irregularities, the irritability, the lack of menses. It all made sense."

"Menses?" Libro asked.

"My...monthly bleeds." Elba waved her hand for emphasis. "Is that the right word you southerners use for a collection of thirty days?"

"Thirty to thirty one, but yes I'm catching on now." Libro filed the information in the back of his mind for later.

"Anyway, I didn't know how to tell you." She reached down and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm so scared, Libro. I've never done this before. I've never been pregnant before. I only remember what Gretta told me when Kirick's Mah kept pushing out little ones, and I was barely listening half the time."

Libro felt a pang of guilt in his chest, knowing how much she'd sacrificed to be with him. Her people. Her very way of life.. And now he'd trapped her with pregnancy, it felt like. To bear the child of an ancestral enemy. It made him feel like scum for some reason. "We need to get you back to Byzantia."

"What?" Elba snapped her head up.

"I'll have Cent and Moss escort you back. Brand too if need be. I can find Regis on my own."

"That's not going to happen. Do you hear me?" Elba grabbed a handful of Libro's hair, pulling him painfully back so she was nose to nose with him. "I'm not going to leave. I'm never going to leave you again. Do you hear me? I'm never going to lose you again."

She cried harder now, tears pattering onto the stone floor, onto Libro's arm. Shadows danced from the many candles flickering about the room, an audience dancing to the tune of pain and love.

"Never!" She said.

"Never," Libro repeated back to her. "Then we stay, and face this together. No matter what."

"No matter what," Elba said, releasing him from her vice-like grip.

Libro fell back, ass cheeks kissing the stones as he sat staring up at his amazing wife, skin radiant in the half light. His eyes trailed over to the dress still clutched in her grasp. A black material was woven into the fabric, discs of it sparkling, shimmering glass that caught the light with every movement. His brows went up as he realized it was the same material the creature in the tower had worn as armor.

Black glass.

"It's beautiful," Libro said.

"What?" Elba looked down at the dress. "Oh, this thing? Don't know how I feel about it yet. I've never been one for clothes like these, you know me. Not even a year in the south could break my love for pants."

"You're stubborn, I'll give you that. But I've always said, you do look magnificent in a dress. Shows off your legs," he added with a wink.

And there it was, the familiar flush of color to her cheeks when his words struck gold. "You sir are a cheese vendor!" She chucked the dress at him, a hard disk of black glass smacking him square in the nose.

"Gah!" Libro went down hard, the dress more like a weighted net as it smothered him, pinning him to the ground until Elba was forced to pull it off.

"This thing weighs as much as chainmail," Libro gasped as he stood up. "Guess we don't have to call it a dress anymore. It's practically armor."

"You'll not wiggle your way out of this one, you silver tongued cheese monger. "Elba wagged a finger at him. "But I have to agree. It is strangely weighted. The disks are strong too. I took my sword to one and it bounced right off."

Libro's eyes flickered over to his own clothes strewn about the bed, noticing them for the first time. They were expensively made given Danic standards, a long coat of thick leather with a sheep hide inner lining. The ensemble was matched with breeches and tough boots, all stitched with black glass plates, expertly sewn over vital places of the body. The chest glittered with the stuff, inner thighs equally patterned to protect the major arteries.

"They want us protected, that much is certain," he said.

"But why? Are the rebels expecting trouble?" Elba's hackles went up as her eyes snapped over to where her sword sat against the wall.

"They're expecting something, that much we know." Libro fingered at the buttons of his coat. "I may keep my chainmail on just in case."

"Think the others are getting equally dressed up for tonight?"

"Jarl Kriggith seems the generous, eccentric sort. I feel secure in believing they were given equally armored clothing, which means their suspicions have likely been raised as well. Let's try and meet with them before dinner starts, see if we can't deduce the Jarl's plans."

"Right then," Elba slapped her knees and stood up from the bed. "First things first. We need to get you dressed up so we catch the other boys before they scamper off to the dining room. Get up so I can undress you."

A l wave of panic washed over Libro as he hastily obeyed, forgetting how commanding his wife could be when the mood suited her. She stepped over, popping the rest of the buttons he'd missed with her deft fingertips. His coat was tossed aside without ceremony, her hands working at the straps of his breastplate, gorget, and pauldrons.

Libro smiled as he watched her, settling into the familiar pattern of their routine. She had armored and unarmored, robed and disrobed him a thousand times over already, helping him at his lowest. Truly he did not deserve her, and he would spend the rest of his life hoping to become the man she deserved.

Their eyes met and a gentle smile curled up one side of her lips. "You're staring," she cooed.

"It's hard not too," he said. "Men can only dream of the view I have."

Elba rolled her eyes and pushed his face away. "Forget cheese monger. You sir, are a goddess damned cheese wizard."

***