Pickle 1, Blue Raspberry 14, Green Tea 5
Author: Casey
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Pickle 1 (it’s a boy - My Treat: Elizabeth gives birth to Beau and realizes Patrick may never meet him), Blue Raspberry 14 (salute) & Green Tea 5 (evening)
Toppings & Extras: Butterscotch, Sprinkles (Liz Highcastle), Malt (April Egg from Nina: Just Keep Swimming - Finding Nemo)
Word Count: 677
Rating: PG
Summary: Liz Highcastle has some second thoughts.
Notes: Cheesecake is not speaking to me right now, so I’m exchanging that for the new My Treat from Marina that is more inline with what I’m writing right now.
“Ma’am, do you need anything else before we call it a night?”
Liz smiled wearily at the young man. “No, Jack, that’s all right, thank you.”
Jack Reardon saluted her and then had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, ma’am, it’s hard to remember sometimes.”
“Get some sleep, young man,” she told him. “I suspect Luke will keep you training all day tomorrow and Beau and I’ve already kept you up too late.”
Jack glanced at the sleeping baby and smiled. “I don’t mind, ma’am, really. Pri - Beau’s a joy.”
“That he is,” Liz said, directing her gaze to her month old son. He was fast asleep, hands tucked in little fists against his chin. He was large for his age and already slept through most of the night, thankfully. Ren hadn’t slept this well until he was almost six months. Still, out here in the wilderness, it was nice to have a child as quiet as Beau. She heard Jack slip quietly out of their small two rooms in the caves. She stepped over to he son and ran a finger against his cheek gently. He let out a little huff of breath and shifted without waking.
Sudden despair swept over and she sunk into the chair by his crib, dropping her head into her hands. There was so much of Patrick in Beau - the bright blue eyes that hadn’t faded an ounce since his birth, the thatch of blond hair that was slowly darkening, the smile that graced his face whenever something amused him.
“Patrick, what have we done?” she murmured. When Patrick had first suggested she run, she hadn’t yet known about Beau, hadn’t really known what leaving would really mean. She’d refused on principle.
And then she’d missed her monthlies.
“Liz, you have to go,” Patrick told her. “Keep yourself and our child safe.”
There had been raging fights in the days and nights that followed. Hours of yelling and explanations and tears and the underlying ache because Liz knew she’d do as he asked, knew she would abandon her already born son to give the unborn child a chance - not that it was much of a chance, or choice. The child’s life would be consumed with the same dangers its brother was inheriting, just from a different, perhaps harder perspective.
She again glanced at her second son, at the boy who would grow up out here, without knowing his father or brother, an exile despite his royal birth. She would have to spend her life, and his, trying to explain why to both of them.
Beau woke with a whine, grasping blindly out, whine increasing in volume. Liz stood, crossing the room and pulling a bottle from the ice chest. The continued stress of trying to find a life away from civilization made the bottles a necessity, but those who had accompanied her were more than glad to do anything for the young prince - Beau had effectively wrapped them all around his small finger within days of his birth - including stocking the ice chest and buying cows to milk.
She scooped him up and stuck the bottle in his mouth. He immediately calmed, familiar blue eyes watching her as he drank. “What have we done, Beau? What have we done to you and to your brother?” Liz found she had no answers, besides they had done what was hopefully the best for the country in the long run. She could only hope that their decisions now, made with both boys far too young to understand, would one day save Tira.
Blinking back sudden tears, she tightened her grip on the baby. “Your father loves you too, sweetheart, so much. With any luck, some day, he’ll get to tell you that to your face. Gods, I hope he will,” she murmured.
Beau finished the bottle and she hefted him onto her shoulder, patting his back and wiping away the tears. They did the right thing, she told herself, they did the right thing and it would all work out in the end.
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Pickle 1 (it’s a boy - My Treat: Elizabeth gives birth to Beau and realizes Patrick may never meet him), Blue Raspberry 14 (salute) & Green Tea 5 (evening)
Toppings & Extras: Butterscotch, Sprinkles (Liz Highcastle), Malt (April Egg from Nina: Just Keep Swimming - Finding Nemo)
Word Count: 677
Rating: PG
Summary: Liz Highcastle has some second thoughts.
Notes: Cheesecake is not speaking to me right now, so I’m exchanging that for the new My Treat from Marina that is more inline with what I’m writing right now.
“Ma’am, do you need anything else before we call it a night?”
Liz smiled wearily at the young man. “No, Jack, that’s all right, thank you.”
Jack Reardon saluted her and then had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, ma’am, it’s hard to remember sometimes.”
“Get some sleep, young man,” she told him. “I suspect Luke will keep you training all day tomorrow and Beau and I’ve already kept you up too late.”
Jack glanced at the sleeping baby and smiled. “I don’t mind, ma’am, really. Pri - Beau’s a joy.”
“That he is,” Liz said, directing her gaze to her month old son. He was fast asleep, hands tucked in little fists against his chin. He was large for his age and already slept through most of the night, thankfully. Ren hadn’t slept this well until he was almost six months. Still, out here in the wilderness, it was nice to have a child as quiet as Beau. She heard Jack slip quietly out of their small two rooms in the caves. She stepped over to he son and ran a finger against his cheek gently. He let out a little huff of breath and shifted without waking.
Sudden despair swept over and she sunk into the chair by his crib, dropping her head into her hands. There was so much of Patrick in Beau - the bright blue eyes that hadn’t faded an ounce since his birth, the thatch of blond hair that was slowly darkening, the smile that graced his face whenever something amused him.
“Patrick, what have we done?” she murmured. When Patrick had first suggested she run, she hadn’t yet known about Beau, hadn’t really known what leaving would really mean. She’d refused on principle.
And then she’d missed her monthlies.
“Liz, you have to go,” Patrick told her. “Keep yourself and our child safe.”
There had been raging fights in the days and nights that followed. Hours of yelling and explanations and tears and the underlying ache because Liz knew she’d do as he asked, knew she would abandon her already born son to give the unborn child a chance - not that it was much of a chance, or choice. The child’s life would be consumed with the same dangers its brother was inheriting, just from a different, perhaps harder perspective.
She again glanced at her second son, at the boy who would grow up out here, without knowing his father or brother, an exile despite his royal birth. She would have to spend her life, and his, trying to explain why to both of them.
Beau woke with a whine, grasping blindly out, whine increasing in volume. Liz stood, crossing the room and pulling a bottle from the ice chest. The continued stress of trying to find a life away from civilization made the bottles a necessity, but those who had accompanied her were more than glad to do anything for the young prince - Beau had effectively wrapped them all around his small finger within days of his birth - including stocking the ice chest and buying cows to milk.
She scooped him up and stuck the bottle in his mouth. He immediately calmed, familiar blue eyes watching her as he drank. “What have we done, Beau? What have we done to you and to your brother?” Liz found she had no answers, besides they had done what was hopefully the best for the country in the long run. She could only hope that their decisions now, made with both boys far too young to understand, would one day save Tira.
Blinking back sudden tears, she tightened her grip on the baby. “Your father loves you too, sweetheart, so much. With any luck, some day, he’ll get to tell you that to your face. Gods, I hope he will,” she murmured.
Beau finished the bottle and she hefted him onto her shoulder, patting his back and wiping away the tears. They did the right thing, she told herself, they did the right thing and it would all work out in the end.