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A brief story following Valtameri's son's birth.
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It was snowing again. The fragile flakes drifted through the air, speckling the pale gray sky with white. Valtameri stood at the window, watching the snow fall and once more cover the temple grounds. A frigid breath of air blew into the room, brushing past her face and curling through the thick locks surrounding it. She did not shiver, did not even acknowledge the cold beyond pulling the thick fur blanket draped over her shoulders closer about her son as he lay cradled in her arms.
The priestesses had told her that his birth had been an easy one, quicker than it could have been. Valtameri had decided they had no idea what they were talking about. Nothing that caused that much agonizing pain and lasted that long could be called ‘easy’ or ‘quick’. She had gone through hell in battle, bled out pints on her Lord’s alter, but nothing had hurt quit that much. But, now it seemed distant, a faint memory next to what lay in her arms. He had been born three days ago, and had been dedicated to Necrucifer just that morning, all within the temple they now stood inside, the same one that she had found her faith in so many years ago. She lowered her eyes to her child, the stygian centers gleaming softly as she gazed at him.
He was sleeping; warm, content, safe in his mother’s arms. Valtameri held her son to her, hugging him gently to her chest, the only thing separating them a few widths of thin cloth. She stood, watching this tiny baby and feeling strangely calm, peaceful, and something that had almost become alien to her: happy. It was as though some pain within her had eased, some ache she had never even detected had faded. And now it was replaced with something else: a purpose, a meaning in her life she had thought was lost. She had lived for years, merely seeking to serve her Lord, to do His will and bleed His enemies. But, she had lost that ability, been cut from that service and told to find another way to prove her worth. And it had destroyed her…had cut her down, for she knew no other way to live. And then, He had gifted her with this child. And, when she had been able to accept him as His gift, she had found that he was not just a child of her God. He was hers, her son. And she had gradually learned why mothers always threw themselves before their children, protecting them from another’s blade with nothing more than their skin. And she knew she would do the same.
She slowly raised her son, leaning down to press her lips to his brow. He shifted against her, his tiny hand reaching out blindly to instinctively press against her cheek. Valtameri smiled and turned her face to press a mother’s kiss into the babe’s miniscule palm. Lowering him again, she looked back up, once more gazing out the window before her.
She had thought she would never care for another as strongly as she once had for Penthus…but she had been wrong. The care she felt for this child had surpassed even that emotion. And, it confused her. It made her wonder, had her mind puzzlingly over it like some hidden enigma, for she had always thought that sentiment was dead to her. But, regardless of what she had cut from her soul all those years ago, she stood, staring into the snowy landscape of Icewall, holding her baby and feeling her heart pulse with what she could only call love.
© LKW
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