Belle POV
I watch from my spot on the grass as Carmadon tends to his flowers in his own personal garden. The already bright summer blossoms seem to glow under his care. I watch as he runs his hand over a meticulously placed yellow rose and as its petals brighten and open.
I look down at Darcy as he whines a little in my arms, his eyes closed and lips wet and slightly parted with sleep. I kiss his forehead and rock a little bit, shushing him softly. He stirs but does not awaken. I've got him swaddled in blue baby blankets with white clouds, his tiny soft head covered with a matching cap to protect him from the mountain's chill. I lock this moment into memory, the feeling of peace.
"Your garden is beautiful, Carm," I tell him as soft breeze blows past me. I pull Darcy's blankets up further.
"Thank you very much," he says walking closer. The sun reflects off his head, casting a shadow over me and Darcy and the grass only seems to get greener. "I must admit your presence has something to do with this," he gestures around him.
"I'm not the greenwarden," I say pointedly.
"No," he sighs, "But your presence brings me joy and my joy creates this. With all that is going on Dan must be away for long periods of time. Gets lonely around here sometimes."
"It must be hard then," I say as he settles beside me although on a bench. "Seeing your loved one marching off to battle all the time. I recall watching his father," I spare a glance at Darcy, "go off to battle. I remember telling myself not to think about all the things that could go wrong. I told myself that he would always come back to me."
Carmadon is silent for a moment but nods. He tips his head towards Darcy. "It doesn't get any easier," he says.
"No, it doesn't." But I suppose that's a good thing. That dread let's me know that Ptolemus still has his place in my heart.
"So," he starts. He tips his head towards Darcy, "technically your son is a prince."
"Yes," I say and any other mother would beam at that. But my heart only feels sad. I've seen what royalty, what a crown has done to people. What limits it has. If not for that damned crown my people like to prance around and fight over, me and Ptolemus could have been married. We could have had a lot of things. "I suppose so."
"You don't seem excited about it."
"Me and his father aren't married. And there are so many other obstacles, so I'm not even sure if Darcy really has any claim to anything. I'm not even sure they'll accept him, give him their name."
"You love him?" Carmadon asks.
I gasp. "Of course I love Darcy he-,"
"His father, I mean," Carmadon interjects with an amused chuckle.
"Oh," I blink. I look down at Darcy still in his slumber. "Well yes I do. I mean, we've been through some turmoil." And that is putting it lightly. "I mean he has been so stressed lately with the formation of the Rift and the pressures of his new role but we love each other. Besides how can I hate a man who has even me so much." I make a point to pull Darcy closer. "And he'll be so happy about our son's birth. I'm sure of it."
Carmadon smiles. "The age difference you pay no mind to."
"It's never bothered either of us before. I mean, my mother always said I was a forty year old in a teens body." I laugh although I feel a pinch of sadness at the thought of my mother. And then a boulder of guilt when I realize how long its been since I've thought about my own family.
"And his wife?"
I shrug. "She pays us little mind. She has her own lover in place."
"Odd. From what Dan told me they seem close. Truly fond of each other."
I scoff. Ptolemus and Elane fond. Maybe accepting. Maybe comfortable. Maybe. "No, definitely not."
Carmadon sighs. "What a complicated family."
I giggle as Darcy begins to stir from his nap. "Yes, us Nortan silvers do enjoy our," I pause, "complicated lives."
Carmadon raises an eyebrow, "Oh?"
Darcy opens his eyes and yawns but surprisingly doesn't whine or cry for milk. He blinks up at me, dark orbs concentrated on my features. "We must," I say. "Because we certainly do have the power to change the way we live our lives." Who's to say strong children cannot be born to two people who love each other.
Carmadon tilts his head to the side as he strokes a vine. "I see. Completely understandable. I suppose even in your country being with a man that is as much older than you, would make your lives slightly complicated. I mean your child is what 18 or 19 years younger than his sister."
"What!" I gasp.
Shock goes through us both rendering us mute for a moment. I replay our conversation in my head. Oh my-. Of course he thinks I'm with Volo. I practically just told him I was. My stomach lurches at the thought. But then I almost laugh. As if Larentia would accept such a thing.
"I assumed-," Carmadon starts but I can't even hear him say it.
"No," I say shaking my head. " I'm not sleeping with-," I shiver, "I'm not in love with Volo Samos. Darcy is his grandson not his son." Volo's face flashes before my eyes. Bearded and stern. Cold eyes that even my smiles could not soften.
Carmadon holds up his hands. "My mistake."
"I don't even like beards," I add as I fix Darcy's little cap. He struggles against his blankets for a moment but settles as I begin to rock him. "I don't even think Volo or Larentia like me."
"What is not to like?" Carmadon asks. He smiles kindly and I feel as if he is trying to make up for the thought that I was sleeping with Volo Samos. I suppose if our paths ever cross again, this will be a moment to look back on and laugh about.
I force myself to chuckle. "I should probably go check his diaper," I say as I rise from my crossed legged seat on the blanket.
_______
I sleep hard despite the fact that my body shakes with nerves and excitement. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going home. To Ptolemus, to his embrace. I can only imagine his reaction when I step off the plane, I can only dream of it.
Soft whimpers bring me from my sleep. I turn over willing Darcy to only be having a dream. I listen, slowly fading back to my sleep when alarms go off in my head. I shoot up, my head spinning.
No. He shouldn't be making that sound.
I turn over to my son and see that spit is trailing over his little chin. He is kicking his legs, his face flushed silver, gasping. His lips turning blue. I'm suddenly awake pushing the covers off and he's in my arms. Darcy cries only seem to amplify, as I rock him, hush him.
He coughs suddenly and I nearly jump, my heart like thunder in my chest. He's cough, it shouldn't sound like that. He's sick. He begins to gasp again and I feel my panic kick into overdrive. I feel tears burn at my eyes, and my heartbeat speed up.
I continue to rock him, moving him over my shoulder so I can burp him. Maybe he has extra air in his body from when I fed him. Did I burp him? Did I feed him? Maybe he's cold. Is this normal? No it can't be.
He coughs roughly again and I feel more panic twist my gut. No, he's sick. I'm reaching or the button on my lamp stand before I can register it. I feel my eyes widen. It's not there.
I crawl off the bed before I know it, Darcy still coughing and gargling in my ear. Hold on honey. I move around the room, my eyes ticking back and forth, trying to remember where I put it, trying to keep Darcy still in my arms as he begins to cry.
Ugh forget it. I rush to my door, throwing it open, forgetting about my single thin blouse and socks as pajamas. I rush to the hospital, wondering in my moment of panic when the hallways got so long.
________
I watch as Darcy sleeps quietly in the little crib, his chest moving steadily up and down, the small plastic oxygen mask covering his face. I stroke his little hand with my thumb, wishing for nothing more than a shoulder to cry on and my baby in my arms. My mother would know what to do.
A body sits next to me in one of the cushioned chairs, and I recognize the fragrance with ease.
"Ms. Belle," Carmadon greets his voice low and soft and surprisingly soothing.
I keep my eyes on Darcy. "Hi."
I can feel him watching me. "Have you eaten?"
Always food with him. "No."
I hear a crinkle of plastic and the tink of a glass before he presents me a sandwich and a glass of tea. "You must take care of yourself."
"My son comes first," I retort and I inwardly wince at the bite in my tone. Carmadon is being so kind, I shouldn't talk to him like that.
But if he notices, he doesn't show it. "I understand, Ms. Belle. I too am a child to a single mother." He pushes the food closer. "But you can't take care of him if you don't take care of yourself."
I finally turn to look at him and see that he himself is dressed down in a white button up, leaving a sight of smooth skin and a pair of soft pants. I immediately want to cover up my bare legs and pull back my tangled curls but Carmadon makes no comment or indication about my state of undress. His dark eyes are full of patience. I offer him a weak smile and take the sandwich peeling back the plastic wrap.
"Thank you."
He let's me eat in silence, his patience long and understanding as he waits for me to speak first. I make it through half the sandwich and a sip of the tea before I break. "Oxygen wasn't getting to his lungs," I say picking a tomato out of the bread. "At least not enough. He has a cold too. A small one but still. That's why he was coughing. Doctor says that the cold is normal, even good. Builds his immune system." I scoff dryly as I fold the wrap back over the sandwich. "I think she was just trying to calm me down."
I run my fingers over Darcy's again and will him to be dreaming of someplace better. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."
Carmadon waves it off carelessly. "Dan was wondering-,"
"I'm not going," I say. I've been running the idea through my head ever since the nurses told me Darcy would be fine. "I can't. Not with his health in such a fragile state."
"I understand," he says again. He hesitates. "And his father?"
Oh. Ptolemus. I've been so focused on surprising him, I've forgotten that I must tell him now. "I-," I pause. "I don't want to be anymore of a bother but-,"
Carmadon tilts his head the harsh lights bouncing off it. "Go on."
"Maybe the premier can deliver a letter for me."
"An excellent idea," Carmadon flashes his prestine smile before motioning to a nurse. "Pen and paper please," he glances back at me. "And a camera."
I raise an eyebrow. "Camera?"
"Proof of course. To show him you are unharmed. And." he tips his head towards Darcy.
Oh. I suppose that makes sense. I hardly believed the nurse when she told me I was having a child, as Darcy was coming out of me. I hardly expect them to believe he's here, especially knowing how I looked when I left. Definitely didn't look like I was expecting.
"What would I say?" I ask him as I watch Darcy stir in his sleep, his little feet kicking in sharp tiny jerks. I smile.
"The truth," Carmadon starts. "How you feel. How you and Darcy are doing. That you're unharmed."
I laugh, thinking of all the things running around in Ptolemus' head about why I haven't returned back in three weeks. He's probably driven himself mad by now.
"I think you're right."