The Bringer of Nations

The snow was falling heavily outside when both Soral and Nokiel entered Jaelan's home, shaking the snowflakes from their hair and turning bright, cheery smiles towards Minow, who was standing vigil over a bubbling pot that smelled most heavenly.

Jaelan made himself busy chopping the rest of the vegetables while his two friends joined them in the kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder with Minow, mouths watering.

"Where's Lady Senisari?" Soral asked upon seeing the female's presence missing from the kitchen.

"Sleeping," Minow replied in Jaelan's stead, eyes not leaving the bubbling pot of steaming stew.

Nokiel licked his lips, cheeks red from the biting wind. "Is it almost done?"

"She's been sleeping a lot lately," Soral mused as he huddled closer to the pot, outstretching his hands and feeling the heat from the steam wave over them.

Jaelan nodded his head absentmindedly. For the last couple of weeks, Lady Senisari had been sleeping through the majority of the day. Heekam had fathomed it to be due to the day of birth as it drew near.

He and Wylen would often have to go and awaken the reposing Priestess for meals, even during those times of day she slept. It had turned worrisome, but there was nothing any of them could do.

In the days where Lady Senisari was awake long enough to hold a conversation, she would reassure them she was fine.

"Really, Jaelan, I feel alright." The sapphire-eyed Priestess said sweetly, squeezing his hand. "For the first time in my life…I feel this 'calm' about me. I've had these visions ever since I could remember. It is nice to have peace of mind now…I thank you for that."

"But you will die once the child is born." Jaelan, devastated, squeezed her hand back. She had become such an integral part of their life that imagining her gone when he and Wylen got home simply hurt to think about. "Is there any way that this could be avoided? Any way at all? Wylen and I will do anything to help you!"

Lady Senisari chuckled, "We've been through this. I am not afraid of death, Jaelan. Every living thing on this land must face it at one point. I am just lucky enough to know when my end draws near…and I get the chance to do whatever I like before that day comes."

"Ah! Hot!" Nokiel pulled his fingers to his mouth, wincing as they throbbed beside his tongue.

Minow rolled his eyes, not even the slightest bit surprised and yet awed once again. "Your idiocy never ceases to astound me."

A few minutes later, the front door opened again, and in came Wylen and Heekam, shaking the snow from their heads and furs.

"I hate cold," Heekam grumbled as he looked about, finding most of the men crowded in the makeshift kitchen.

"Oh, that smells good!" Wylen grinned, inhaling deeply before bounding into the kitchen to stand beside Jaelan, sneakily putting his cold hands on his lover's shoulders and causing the shorter man to hiss.

"C-Cold!" Jaelan hurriedly shrugged Wylen's hands from him and then turned around, giving the taller warrior a most displeased look. "Why must you do that?" He chastised, although not seriously.

Wylen innocently looked at him before stealing a kiss in front of everyone and making the ivory-skinned half-god blush to high heaven.

Minow made a face to hide the smile that had crept onto his lips. Nokiel made a retching sound from beside him only then to be hit upside the head by a challenging Soral.

To keep the group from falling into an awkward huddled silence, Heekam cleared his throat upon joining the rest of the warriors. "Where's Lady Senisari?"

"Sleeping." The others said in perfect synchrony.

Heekam's eyes twitched, mouth going askew. "Right."

:::

Standing outside the woman's pavilion, Jaelan and Wylen shivered as the snow continued to accumulate on the ground. Each could hear the screams from within the tent, and at every high-pitched wail, their insides shook, worry growing with each fallen snowflake to hit their boots.

Unable to stand there any longer, Wylen threw his head back and muttered under his breath before taking to pacing back and forth in front of the entrance.

Jaelan stoically remained standing, chewing his nails to the nub, all the while staring at the tent flap as if just his will alone would cause it to open and allow him to see what was going on within.

Another scream filled the air, and both men visibly bristled.

Wylen rubbed his face with his gloved hands, quickening his pace and creating a rift in the snow with his movements. Jaelan, unable to watch him any longer, snapped.

"For the health of my sanity, Wylen! STOP PACING!"

Wylen froze midstride and whipped around, eyes on Jaelan's worry-creased brow. Swallowing his nervousness, he approached his lover carefully and placed a hand on his shoulder, an effort to stop the smaller man from shaking like a leaf in the wind.

At the first of Lady Senisari's cries, Heekam had been alerted by Wylen and had taken off at a fast gallop to Dorl. However, with the vast amount of snow falling this early in the morning, they feared the stubborn eunuch might have more than just a few problems getting back to his homeland.

Jaelan and Wylen's mothers had immediately come to usher Lady Senisari away, having been preparing for this day a month in advance. Jaelan's sisters had been awoken as well, the women running to and from the pavilion with basins of water, clothes, and other necessities needed for the birth of the son of prophecy.

"AHHHHHHH!"

Jaelan went from chewing his fingertips to biting his bottom lip, cheeks red from the biting wind as it continued to whistle through the settlement, sending snow and ice at their bodies with the fierceness of a battle-drawn arrow.

Wylen spotted three forms running to them as quickly as they could through the already deep snow from a distance. Hurriedly the taller warrior nudged Jaelan, motioning for him to look.

Jaelan's eyes jumped to the direction Wylen was pointing and felt a slight comfort wash over him as he recognized the running figures to belong to their friends and family.

In the lead was Nokiel, bounding through the piles of snow, furs bouncing with every leap he took. Behind him and swinging his arms back and forth as he puffed was Soral, followed by the tallest member of their troupe, Minow, long legs pushing him forwards.

"Jaelan!" He heard Nokiel call out and witnessed the man waving his arms frantically above his head.

As soon as the men drew near enough to grasp, they were pulled into a huddled hug. Words of thanks were muttered from both Jaelan and Wylen as they stood in the wintry wind, awaiting the birth of their son.

Just as the men were about to part from their jumble of arms, the tent flap opened and one of Jaelan's sisters ran out, a basin in her arms filled with bloodied water.

Seeing it, Jaelan inhaled sharply, eyes nearly doubling in size as he watched his sister fling the crimson water onto the snow, painting the white cluster a shocking red.

Before anyone could even open their mouths to ask her a question, the long-legged woman had accumulated clean snow in her basin and rushed back, the tent flap swinging closed behind her.

Like statues, the five men stood there, imagining all sort of horrors as another one of Jaelan's sisters rushed out with a similar basin.

"What's going on?" Wylen shouted out as his sister, by pact, shoveled snow into her basin.

"Is Lady Senisari alright?" Jaelan asked, almost cutting into Wylen's question.

His sister looked up as she hoisted the basin up, eyes weary. "She's bleeding a lot. More than she should." After licking her lips and adjusting the basin on her hip, she quietly added. "But the baby still isn't out."

Wylen and Jaelan swallowed simultaneously. Fear growing in their hearts as they watched the tent flap open and close once more.

Minutes turned to hours, but neither Jaelan nor Wylen moved from the front of the pavilion.

In an effort to keep the two men from freezing in their boots, Minow had rushed away and brought back bowls of steaming stew for them to eat, hoping that it would serve to warm up their chilled bodies. Both Wylen and Jaelan took the offerings gratefully, eating them faster than they ever had.

Nokiel and Soral had built them a fire beside the tent's entrance, ushering them to sit beside the snapping flames while they waited. Obligingly the two men did so. However, their eyes remained on the pavilion, ears filled with the screams of Lady Senisari.

"Everything will be alright." Soral tried to reassure them, eyes squinting as the snow flung itself into his face. "Don't worry."

"Yeah," Nokiel chimed in, his round, boyish face holding a smile as he attempted to comfort the people dear to him. "Your mother knows everything there is about giving birth! She had her fair share of labors to know how to handle them! Don't worry, Jaelam."

Minow nodded. "We're prepared. Everyone knows what to do. You just have to let the women handle this. Relax, your worrying will help no one."

Wylen and Jaelan exchanged silent glances, still unable to keep from fretting.

That was their child being delivered in there.

How could the others understand?

"AHHHH!"

Both Jaelan and Wylen tensed at the sound, their faces equally pale as they clutched each other's hands, the fire doing nothing to warm the chill that rushed up their necks and spine.

Around midday, a crowd had gathered around the birthing pavilion as anxious clansmen came to give their support to the parents of the child of prophecy. However, neither Jaelan nor Wylen paid their newcomers any attention. They had long since given up their seats by the fire and returned to their previous stance by the tent's entrance. Their lips were near to blue and furs covered in a fine layer of ice.

"What's taking so long?" Jaelan whispered loud enough for only Wylen to hear, his eyes filled with distress. "Is this normal?"

Knowing not what to say, all Wylen could do was offer his support by resting his hand on Jaelan's shoulder. "I don't know."

They heard another scream emit from within the tent. Immediately their hands found each other, fingers interlocking and holding fast. The adrenaline coursing through their bloodstream only increased the worry and the beating of their hearts.

"He probably doesn't want to leave the warmth and come out to this snow." Jaelan tried to distract himself. "I wouldn't want to come out either…it's very cold."

Wylen nodded, chuckling nervously. "Haha yeah—you don't do well with cold, Jae. It looks like our son is going to take after you in this regard."

"Who do you think he'll look like more?" Jaelan whispered, eyes still locked on the pavilion. The screams of the Priestess ringing in his ears, making him tremble and quake.

"He'll look like himself," Wylen said without hesitation. "Strong chin, dependable eyes, regal composition. A man people will flock to."

Jaelan pursed his lips, "He'll like us, right?"

"Mhm."

Sudden silence.

"…"

"Is—do you think…" Wylen tightened his hold on Jaelan, eyes darting frantically around the tent's opening once the screams ceased.

Not daring to even breath, Jaelan held his breath, lips parted and eyes wide as he stood perfectly still awaiting any news, be it good or bad.

A few minutes later, Wylen's mother stepped out of the tent, a broad bright grin on her face as she ushered them to come inside.

Both Wylen and Jaelan lunged for the entrance, darting within the pavilion with their hearts pounding fiercely against their chests. Once inside, their eyes raked over the scene, centering in on the bed with a sweat-peppered Lady Senisari. In her arms, a bundle of blankets.

Nervously both Jaelan and Wylen crept closer, eyes falling to the face of their son.

Two-button eyes stared out at them from a slightly reddened face, a cute small nose wrinkling as bowtie lips parted in a yawn.

"Y—Your s-son." Lady Senisari smiled, her face pale and eyes filled with tears as she shakily outstretched her arms towards Jaelan, silently requesting he take the child.

As Jaelan took the bundle from her, she let her weary limbs fall back onto the bed, lids begging to close from the exhaustion of a difficult delivery.

Wylen swallowed thickly, unable to look away from his son's face. Entirely and utterly mesmerized by the cherub-like countenance of the child's features—this was his son.

His son that he shared with Jaelan…their bloodline, a bringer of nations…

"H—His n-name…" Lady Senisari wet her lips as she forced her eyes to stay open long enough for her to name the child, "H-His na-name…" She whispered. "…Timur…"

Jaelan stared into his son's eyes, body filled with an emotion he could give no name. "Timur…" He repeated the name as Wylen leaned in and put his palm on the blankets, thoroughly mesmerized. "…Our son…Timur."