Welcome to Gaia! ::

Braedon cuddled his youngest son close as he sat in the kitchen, his older sons gathered close by as their mother's agonized screams rang out clearly from the near by bedroom. The experience was nothing new to the older boys, having seen their mother go through at least one birth prior to this. Gwiddion had witnessed five before now, and sat as quietly as his father, occasionally running a hand through his shoulder length strawberry blond hair.

"Would you like me to take him for a little while, D'ah?" Gwiddion asked as the cottage fell silent for a moment.

"I'd appreciate that, Gwid. From the sounds of it, it should be all over soon."

Carefully, the large man handed the yearling child over to a son who promised to be every bit as large once he stopped growing. At twelve, the boy's head reached Braedon's chest, and he stood well over six feet. Gwiddion's shoulders were beginning to broaden, his chest thickening, and already he was a muscular lad from all of the work with the horses and tending fields. Yes, Braedon's oldest would someday be every bit as tall, barrel chested and formidable as his father. If only he didn't have his mother's clear, mischievous blue eyes; they made him seem a small child trapped in a too large body.

Braedon surveyed all six of his sons, all of whom promised to grow into fine young men one day. All had hair of the same shade of strawberry blond, which was only fitting for members of the Averni tribe. There weren?t many self-respecting tribesmen in Gaul who didn't have hair some shade of blond or copper, or something in between. A darker crown meant a hint of something undesired in the mix, a Roman ancestor somewhere down the line. He'd never had to worry about that potential with any of his children until now. Again, he silently hoped that the baby was on time rather than late this time. If it was on time, it would be his. If not? Well, he'd rather not think about that right now.

Another scream broke from the bedroom, followed by the squalling of an enfant. He smiled up at his boys, knowing that it was all nearly over now. The younger boys resumed playing near the fire now that the screaming had stopped. A crying baby was nothing new to any of them, but their mother crying out in pain was always unnerving, no matter how often they heard it. Now that it was over, life would continue as usual.

Emerging from the bedroom, the midwife carried a tightly wrapped bundle, delicately handing to over to Braedon. "It's a girl," she said softly, although there was something strange and tense in her voice.

Braedon beamed, having not noticed it in his excitement to see the new baby. "?A girl," he repeated fondly. "My Rhiannon."

Carefully, he held the baby, while unwrapping the blanket so he could have a closer look at her, as he had done with all of his children. As he did, his breath caught in his throat and he went rigid. This was not his Rhiannon. The head full of almost black brown hair made her someone else's Rhiannon, and the blue-grey eyes peering blearily up at him would no doubt turn brown to match both her hair, and her father's.

Quietly, he wrapped the baby back up, handing her carefully to the midwife before slowly rising from his chair. Gwiddion watched him closely, looking for some cue from his father on how to react. He, too, had seen the brown which marred a once perfect flock, and suspected what it meant. What he didn't know was how to react. So he watched his father's quiet calm as he walked to the door, opened it, and closed it quietly again behind him. He was undoubtedly headed for the stables, and would be back some time later.

Wow, it's so sad! It's really good, and I can't wait to read the next part! All the foreshadowing at the beginning made me confused, but the second part cleared up any questions I had at the beginning. I can't wait to read more!

I have just noticed. On other thing that you might like to do when you have time is go through your post when you have time to edit out the question marks where your punctuation should be. Once again, I hope to see more of this soon.

Aileen sobbed as he turned and walked away. What was happening? Why had he spoken to her like that? She scrambled to her feet and ran to her horse, the laughter of the soldiers following close behind on her heels. Blindly, she rode away from there, as quickly as the horse would take her. She saw nothing until she reached the river, where she dismounted and looked down at the sleeping babe in her arms.

How hideous the girl seemed to her, with her almost black hair and high cheeks. There was something off in the shape of her nose and the slant of her chin, all of them making her alien, and all of them adding to Aileen's shame. Again she looked at the water, in which ice still clung despite the beginning of the spring thaw. Cold water, purifying water. Yes, the Loire would make things right. She shifted the bundle, holding a handful of the cloth in her hands as she waded into the icy water up to her knees. The baby woke and began to wail.

"Hush now," Aileen said, slowly making her way further into the swift moving current. "Everything's going to be alright. You really never should have been born, you know. You're an abomination. So I'll rectify it. I'll give you to the Loire. If it takes you, then I was right. If it brings you to a new mother, then bless you both, but you are no child of mine."

* * *

Braedon felt guilty for leaving the boys alone. They were already upset, especially Gwiddion and Ceallach, who were both old enough to realize what was happening. As hard as they had tried, the new baby had already earned a place in all of their hearts, and although they didn't understand all of the reasons, they knew their mother wouldn't be returning with the baby. He knew Aileen would be upset when she returned; women didn't carry a child for nine months before giving birth and not bond with them. He had only had four days around the baby, and it pained him to send her away. But she wasn't his. It wasn't his responsibility to raise her and provide for her. If she had looked more like him, he could have arranged it but there was no question she was Roman.

Again, Braedon considered what it would have meant to keep the girl. Certainly he could provide for her as well as his sons as far as clothing and food went. He was not a rich man, but a steady trade with his horses kept his family more than comfortable. It was what would come later that would surely be the problem. She'd have to be married some day, and how could he find her a husband? There would be no denying what she is, and there was no self-respecting man among the Averni who would take her and not beat her like a slave every day, a coward striking out at his oppressors through the only means available to him. No, Braedon was an honourable man, and he would not raise a child who would be sentenced to such a fate. The girl’s only hope would be with what relatives she had in Rome.

As he rode, born faintly to him on the wind, her heard the unmistakeable squalling of a frightened enfant. Curiosity getting the better of him, Braedon reigned in his charger and started towards the sound. Who would have a baby out this far?

The wails became louder and louder as Braedon drew closer to the river. As the trees began to thin, he could see a figure standing in the water, something bundled in a blanket raised to shoulder height and held in one hand. That something looked suspiciously like a baby. The woman holding it had her back to him, and stood waste deep in the river, which was swollen and swift flowing from the melting snow and ice. His heart nearly stopped as he recognized the woman. Dear gods, what was Aileen doing?

Without thinking, Braedon dug his heals into the black, silky flanks on his mount and raced into the water behind Aileen. He was upon her in a moment, and wrenched the screaming baby from her hands as he angrily demanded, "What in the name of all that’s sacred do you think you’re doing, woman?"

Aileen turned about to face, terrified as she stared up at him. This was not the gentle husband she had left at home, tending to their sons. This was not the tender man whom she had married. This was a warrior, commanding in his presence with a face stained crimson and contorted with rage. She trembled, and hunched forward.

"He won't take her," she sobbed. "He denied having ever seen me before, and I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't take her home. You wouldn't want her…"

"Is that what you think of me? Do you think I'd rather you murdered your own child than to take her home? Good sweet gods, Aileen, I was worried about the trouble she's bound to face when she's older, but I'd have never turned her away!"

"But what do we do with her? We can't possibly pass her off as yours!" Aileen was near panic. She should have acted sooner, should have simply stood on the bank and tossed the child in.

"And we won't. The girl is a stain to your honour, not mine. I'll raise her as I've raised my sons, and I expect your cooperation on the matter. You're not of your right mind, or else you would never have thought of doing something like this. Would have done it to Gwiddion, or Artan or any of the other boys?"

"No," Aileen whispered. But this was different.

"Then your daughter will be no different. Come, let's get you home before you catch your death out here in this water."

Braedon bent over to offer Aileen a hand up on to the horse's back, and she settled in behind him as the turned for home. He didn't offer her the baby, and she didn't ask for it. She knew very well he didn't trust her with the child, and she wasn't sure if she should be. As much as she scolded herself, she could not keep from thinking of ways to dealing with this thing, this abomination. Braedon's fondness for the girl made it difficult, but he'd see in time. He'd see that she was nothing more than an unpleasant burden, and then perhaps things would be different.

~ Fin

-Is speachless- Woah... I like... I love! So emotive, with just the right amount of description... I normally don't like to read off the comouter screen, I print it off if it's not too long, but once I started reading it, I totally forgot and had to carry on reading.

My compliments to you. I look out for more of your work...