Birth, for the weekly challenge.
[I hope I'm doing this right -- posting in the right place, in the right way. Sorry if I haven't. (I didn't know what a 'cut' was, so I kept this to under 500 words). And: here is a story for the weekly challenge, set in my (book-canon) Resistance world, but I hope stands alone.]
The fireworks were bursting over the town. Caspian leaned out, smiling, until the last gold flower had fallen into rain, then turned, leant back against the battlements, and surveyed the dark, still face of his brother.
“She’s done well, hey?”
“She has done what you expected, I suppose. I congratulate you.”
“Ah! Don't envy me, Miraz! You will be an uncle, if not a father. And if we both have had our share of ill-luck in our marriages, we both have had good fortune, too! Prismia may have failed you, but she has more grace in her little finger than…”
“I do not consider my wife to have failed me.” The words came gratingly.
His brother grinned, but spoke with a clumsy attempt at placating. “Well, brother, all is well now. You chose for beauty, but I with an eye for the future, as was my duty as king. And see? my lumbering mare has delivered the foal!” He slapped his brother on the shoulder, with the careless air of patronage he had worn since childhood. “And may your own luck change, Miraz! Your choice may yet be seen to be the wise one! Consider - you may yet have an heir, but I am clogged by that tedium for the rest of my life!”
“Thank you. Do you go to see her soon?”
“Soon? I think no-one would thank me for intruding in the women’s quarters tonight! Is not Prismia there with the rest?”
“She has been. She has told me she believes Mavrian would be better for seeing you.”
“Ah, she thrives well enough, I expect, and she will be the better for my not pestering her just yet. The women quite enjoy the little six-month freedom from a husband’s attentions, hey? And… I may enjoy a little freedom of my own, these quiet months!”
“It was a hard birth, she told me. The Queen does not do well.”
“Ah!” The light of mischief was in Caspian’s eyes. “So… my luck might change too, perhaps! I may be hunting a wife amongst the flowers of Terebintha before the year is out, you think?”
“Let us hope not.”
“Oh, he’s offended! Sobersides! Do you think I really wish her ill? You … See? that’s your trouble, Miraz. You can’t take anything lightly. That is why they Named me, not you. A King must be able to know when to laugh!”
“You may be right.”
“And what better night for mirth than this? The birth of my son!” He paused, and became more serious. “And your nephew, Miraz. Never think I would exclude you from my family. His uncle shall be parent and guardian as much as I, I promise you that.”
“And I promise that I shall guard him as close as ever child was guarded. He will need to fly by night to escape my care!”
“A joke! Sobersides has made a joke! This is a great night indeed!”
Miraz smiled, bleakly, and the two went inside.