Happiness can be a curse, especially if you happen to catch the interest of a bored deity. Mayhem, misery and revenge are much more entertaining for those who live forever. Yet Tarquinius, heir to the Tarbraxian Empire, never worried about such things. He was blessed; he had to be. Almost the entire world flourished under his father’s rule, he was lucky to have an honourable code to live by and the love of his life was about to give birth.
His whole world had shrunk and existed only in the muted light of the bedchamber. Lurking on the threshold, he was neither brave enough to enter nor cold enough to leave. Anastasia no longer had the strength to pace the room. Hours ago, her knees had buckled and they had carried her to the bed.
There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.
The pain came in waves and he could now tell when it was the worst. She would stop her moaning and turn her sight inward. She remained silent for those moments and how he wished he could take the pain into himself. Locking eyes, she smiled serenely from the bed. By the Gods, she was beautiful. The midwives and his sister clucked around his wife. Their murmurs perhaps soothed her but it did nothing for his nerves. Excitement wrestled with nauseating terror. He could hardly stand it.
His first child.
There had not passed a day, where he had not prayed or sacrificed to the Gods for a boy. A future Emperor. Although, a girl would be a joy too. Healthy, strong and of sound mind were the most important things and if they were half as beautiful as their mother, the child would be blessed indeed.
His father joined him in the doorway and chuckled. “Back again? Get some fresh air, son. This is a special time for women, and you will only get in the way.”
“But-”
“Your Emperor orders you outside. Now!” His bark was softened with a knowing smile.
*
He lost count of how many times he had paced around the peristylium. Lamps had dimmed and guttered out one by one but his feet knew the path well. The moon had turned her face from the world, and the sky was a velvet canvas on which the Gods had placed their heroes in shining immortality.
He gazed up in wonder, imagining teaching his son the myths and lessons behind each constellation. Even a daughter could be interested in the stars. Anastasia had shown him women had more varied interests than he had been led to believe. He constantly marvelled at how much she knew. Both Tarquinius and their child were fortunate to have her in their lives.
On the eve of fatherhood, he had never been happier that he had fought to marry where his heart demanded, against his father’s wishes and the senate’s recommendations. There had never been one so determined nor so eloquent as Tarquinius when he had finally persuaded the-
Lightning tore the sky in half. Twice.
It struck the tower above his head. This close, the thunder rumbled deep in his bones and teeth. He cried out as part of the tower roof and wall broke free. Despite stumbling back under the safety of the portico, he was not fast enough to avoid shards of tile and plaster that exploded as they hit the ground.
Brushing himself off, he ignored the stinging lacerations covering his arms and legs. Anastasia! She must have felt it. The whole villa must have felt the impact. He should check she was safe and if he was a father yet.
He glanced up once more. The realisation there were no clouds wiped the hopeful smile from his face. Where did the lightning come from if there were no clouds? He was no expert on the weather, but it did not seem natural.
A foul breath from the depths of Tartarus transformed his blood to ice. Anastasia! He ran. He ran as though Mercury had loaned him his winged sandals. He ran as though Cerberus was at his heels.
A scream rang out, echoing through the atrium.
He burst into her room and stumbled to her side, ignoring the admonishments from the midwives.
“It is all right, my love… the baby is…coming,” she managed when the contraction abated. “What happened to you?” She wiped his cheek with a frown.
“Nothing you need to worry about. You concentrate on bringing our child into this world.” He could not even attempt a smile.
Something was wrong.
He tore his eyes away from his wife, in time to catch a silent exchange between the midwives. The woman, who had her hands on his wife’s swollen belly, gave a minute shake of her head.
His younger sister paused in sponging Anastasia down with cool scented water. “Should we move her to the birthing chair?” Water fell into the bowl, each drip magnified in the hush that had descended after her first scream.
After a pause, the wizened midwife, who had supervised the births of a hundred children from senatorial and patrician families, responded, “Not yet,” and she lifted the sheets to check her progress.
Another heart-wrenching scream escaped from Anastasia. Her knuckles were white as she crushed his hand. The midwife staggered backwards with her hands to her mouth, trying to force the horrified gasp that escaped back in. With a deep breath and an invocation to Juno, she returned to the bed.
“What is it?” His voice cracked as a bright red flower bloomed beneath his wife.
“Push, my lady. Push, and perhaps we can save one life tonight.” The midwife crouched between her legs and pulled.
The screaming was constant now. He was shouting at them to do something. Her once radiant skin blanched a chalky white as her life’s essence flowed unchecked from its precious vessel. The limp and silent body of a tiny boy child slithered onto the bed with a fresh wave of blood, adding to the metallic saltiness that permeated the air. The younger women swept the child to the side to see what could be done, but Tarquinius only had eyes for his beloved. Climbing onto the bed, he held her diminishing body and screamed at the Gods for help. Her cooling blood was everywhere; it soaked his tunic and coated his knees.
“Like this?” She tried to laugh, but a cough rattled in her chest instead. “I knew they would not let me-” Her unfocused eyes rolled backwards before closing. Her eyelids fluttered when his tears splashed onto her cheeks. She relaxed against him. Silent at last.
“Anastasia?” He shook her, smearing blood across her shoulders. Her head lolled and he sobbed. “No. No. Wake up. Please. I will do anything. Do not leave me....”
