RP:The Longest Night

Part of the Through A Glass, Darkly Arc

Summary: While enjoying early Yule celebrations, Uma and Alvina run into Valrae. The awkwardness of the moment is cut short by the very pregnant witch going into labor. Vulnerable and terrified, she asks them both to stay with her. In a moment of kindness and womanly solidarity, they both agree. After a long night, Valrae’s child is born.

“The universe took its time on you

Crafted you to offer the world

Something different

...

When you doubt

How you were created

You doubt an energy greater than us both”

- Rupi Kaur

The Crooked Door Inn, Great Hall

The great hall of the Crooked Door Inn had been locked away from the public, along with the westernmost rooms of the sprawling establishment, for the twelve days of Yule celebration. The coven, with witches who had traveled across from Uireasa to join the merriment and feasting, filled the hall with food and color, magic and light. Valrae had spread the silken cloths, in shades of reds and golds and greens, across the long feasting tables herself, while her aunt hung garland, holly and mistletoe. There were candles dripping pools of fat, glossy wax in tall candelabras and along frosted windows. The long oak table groaned under the constant rotation of pig, buttery squash, hearty potatoes, nuts and sweets. Mead, cider and wassail wine poured readily from deep pitchers of copper and silver. Though she was heavy with child and nearly due, Valrae made sweet breads and wassail, helped coordinate the burning of the Yule log and the julbock games. Bells hung from doors and windows, ringing cheerfully in the symphony of Yuletide merrymaking. Rituals and mythic plays were done each night, dances to invite the sun back from winter and the battle between the Oak King and the Holly King. Aunt Belinda and Valrae took turns wearing a golden ring around their necks, laughing and shedding tears of joy as business deals and oaths were made, marriages promised.

The first of her labor pains were felt and dismissed nearing the second to last night of the celebrations.

Uma made time to attend the celebrations each night. It was a struggle, as being mayor meant that she had to appear at many holiday celebrations for the city, and beyond that she had to arrange childcare for Marco at a few hours at night. She could never linger long, but still, being a witch was part of her identity, and had been her identity long before she'd become mayor. It was important to make time, however difficult it was. She's running late for this evening's celebration, though: incidentally she'd been meeting with Alvina regarding a food drive for homeless residents of the city. There had been a bit of mutual reassurance through purposefulness, as both feared the publication of a provocative news story outing Hudson's affair with Valrae and funding of the Larket resistance -- and subsequent control over Uma's administration. Neither woman had mentioned it directly but it was lurking in the careful pauses, the tentativeness in discussing future plans. The meeting had wrapped up with Alvina offering to accompany Uma to her next destination, which had been the Crooked Door Inn. "You're welcome to join us for a bit if you like," offers Uma graciously as they loiter, saying their goodbyes. "There's good food, although--" she is about to carefully allude to the presence of Valrae, but one of the witches in the coven comes upon them, taking them both by the wrist, her eyes dancing. "Finally!" the woman exclaims excitedly, clearly mistaking Alvina for one of them. "Come! Celebrate!"

Alvina pretended, in these meetings, that she was visiting Uma as she used to visit Josleen. To chat and catch up and swap opinions on how terrible things were happening around them, all while navigating the dark waters that her husband’s name could stir. She was not afraid of him, to be clear. It was for Uma that she held her tongue and she offered her time in exchange of a palatable solution. One where Hudson wasn’t the bad guy and they could face the greater evil together. When Uma’d mentioned a celebration, Alvina jumped at the chance to go along. Maybe they could find time together outside of these moribund times. The Crooked Door Inn was not what she’d expected. Uma’s invitation is overlapped by their being pulled in to a bountiful feast. The air was sparked with joy and peace. Though she knew no one here outside of Uma, she felt at home. Relief. As if this was another place, separated from time and hardship. “It’s beautiful.” She whispers, possibly to Uma or the room at large. What was at work here? Be it angels or demons, she was blissful enveloped. Saved from the uncertainty of the future by the ardor of those gathered here.

Belinda, ever the charming hostess, has moved in on Uma and Alvina in a matter of seconds. She was a short, plump woman of fair, silver streaked hair and laughing hazel eyes. The older witch was dressed festively, her skirts greens and reds and embroidered with holly and fat white snowflakes. The golden hof ring glistened and hung awkwardly around her thick neck. “Welcome back Mayor!” She beams, wassail wine on her breath. “Who is this?” She turns her attention to Alvina, immediately moving to take her by the hands. The resemblance to Valrae, in her former life, was there in the heavy womans color and the shape of her face but perhaps not enough to send Alvina’s mind spinning in Valrae’s direction. “I’m Belinda,” She offers helpfully, “And I hope you’ll make yourself comfortable here. We’re just about to start julbock,” This game in particular was one of passing gifts that works similar to modern day dirty santa.

Valrae had sat most of the night, mistaking her pains for false labor, and was sipping on cool water near the wide hearth. She’d only just seen Uma and Alvina when her aunt had swooped in and started to lead them both toward her. With great effort, Valrae manages to stand from her chair. She’d started to waddle away from the approaching trio when she felt something that sent panic spearing through her chest. Her water had broken.

Uma beams at Alvina as the other woman soaks in the scene of peace and celebration here. How could anyone hate witches when they instill such feelings of serenity and safety and family? Oh, perhaps that last bit was a projection from Uma — after Fitz’s death, the witches really had become her family — but surely the sentiment could be felt by any who observed the merrymaking here. Belinda’s appearance is a welcome one, and Uma introduces her and Alvina, “This is Belinda, Belinda this is my dear friend Alvina, not a witch but a bard so a sister in magic all the same.” Uma doesn’t mention the relation between Belinda and Valrae, surely Belinda didn’t know the story and if somehow she did know it, well, no one needed a refresher right now. “Julbock...” repeats Uma with a certain dryness to her tone, sharing a mischievous look with Alvina as they are led away from the entrance. She whispers an explanation in the other woman’s ear, “It’s a game where you exchange gifts but there’s a hitch to it - you can steal ..” her voice trails off as she realizes they’ve been led directly to Valrae. Oh dear. Belinda definitely hadn’t known. “Oh hello, good to see you, here we’ll get out of your way—“ Uma, addressing Valrae, commences a bright stream of politeness that would end under normal conditions in a strategic excuse to relocate to give the pregnant woman ‘space’ and spare everyone the awkwardness. Would end. Under normal conditions. Because it doesn’t and these aren’t normal conditions - Valrae’s water bursts spectacularly. It perhaps splashes on their shoes. Uma’s eyes are wide and she moves to take Valrae by the hand. “You’re alright, it’s just the water breaking,” she says in a soothing manner. “It’s almost over. Come, let’s get you a room to relax in.” She glances at Alvina and Belinda. “Is there anyone we can get for you?” asks Uma, knowing that Belinda will want to remain put, but sending Alvina out tactfully like this might be the best solution for all.

Alvina greets the dazzling woman known as Belinda with blissful ignorance to any relation she might carry to another important figure in her personal life. A sister in magic. Simple, eloquent and poignant."Lovely to meet you," and indeed it was. While the other women discuss a foreign activity, Alvina studies Belinda's necklace. The ambiance of the Inn soaks into her skin like a fine wine, leaving her warm and grinning. It's Uma's deviation from her explanation of Julbock that pulls her back to the scene at large. She's the last to realize they are heading in Valrae's direction (had she been here the whole time?!) And upon arrival, the bard is frozen. Valrae looks so alien now - like a woman she used to see without really knowing her. Maybe they'd passed in the same coffee shop around lunchtime every day. That same loose but intimate awareness. Her water breaks and Alvina watches the witches with uncertainty. Her delayed reaction is to whisper echoes of Uma's 'It's okay' in the shared panic until Uma looks back at her. Her own voice kicks back in with a start. "Yes! I can get someone!" She agrees hastily, too loud and eager to help. Uma and Belinda must be feeling it too; that overwriting script of maternalism that blots out everything else. This moment was for Val. "What can I do?" She looks from Val to Belinda and finally Uma, waiting for anything. Anything at all.

“Oh a bard!” Belinda had fussed. “A sister in magic indeed, the pleasure is mine!” The woman had laughed. Belinda clearly held the same familial feelings in her heart toward her fellow craft members. They’d always been her family, as she’d never married or had children of her own. “I’ve cousins on the Isle that married a bard. Fine folk! In any case, all are welcome to celebrate Yule, and we’ve plenty of food and drink to go around… Let me get you to my niece,” Belinda shares a womanly smile to the pair, chattering as they went. “She’s ready to pop any day now I’d say,” The witch was oblivious to the awkwardness that came from Uma’s quick assessment of their path. Perhaps it had been the wine, or the weariness of hosting nearly a fortnight of merrymaking, but the witch didn’t notice her misstep until Uma began to address Valrae as if she’d already known her. Even then, none of the palpable awkwardness could settle too deeply before Valrae’s water had broken.

“No!” Valrae blurts, gripping tight to the hand offered to her by Uma. “No, I-” Belinda seems shocked, her eyes locked on her dainty, bell embellished shoes as they glistened wetly. “There is no one,” She finishes through gritted teeth. Valrae’s eyes meet Alvina’s then. Any trace of awkwardness had been forgotten in the clear, shocking moment that she’d realized her pains for what they were. Alvina was a mother, Uma too and that knowledge had her reaching out to them as lifelines. “Please, don’t go,” She’d had a plan. A doula, a midwife. But nothing was coming to her mind now. Belinda has shaken herself from the shock of the moment. Sobering as much as she is able, the older woman rushes into action. “We have a room,” She addresses Uma and Alvina, snaps quick directions to another part of the Inn. “I’ll have to fetch the midwife, call someone to help prepare. Can you take her?” Valrae seems to be reigning herself in as well. “I know the way,” She offers now, bravely. “I can go, you don’t have to…” But she’d yet to release Uma’s hand.

Delivery Room

The room prepared for Valrae’s delivery sat at the end of a series of long hallways on the first floor of the Inn. It wasn’t so far that the music of the Yule Hall was completely squelched by the whitewashed stone walls of the tidy room. Belinda had notified staff members of their arrival and they were busily readying the room when they would enter. There was a fire in the hearth, for warmth and sterilization. Fresh linens were being arranged on a bed with a raised back. A couch rested underneath a window where glossy white curtains were drawn. Candles and witch light illuminated the space. A small bathroom connected to the room, another enchanted sink outside of it. Toward the middle of the room there was a large magical tub filled with warm, moving water. The doula was standing over it, whispering a blessing.

Uma exchanges a look with Alvina as Valrae replies to their offer of help by saying there's "no one" who can be fetched at this time. There had been enough conviction in the other witch's voice for Uma to not question it, but the answer had shocked her. Surely the child has a father, babies don't simply come into being out of nowhere. Valrae is begging for them all - even Alvina - to stay with her, and Uma feels her heart break to hear it: to be in such loneliness and fear of what comes next to ask this kindness of Alvina, the woman who will forever bear a scar. "Alright," Uma hears the authority in her voice, it comes easily now, after all this time as mayor. Better to agree now, and if Alvina wants to slip away later, she will. Belinda is formulating a plan, and Uma nods her understanding, squeezing her encouragement into Valrae's hand as she lets the other witch lead the way.

It's not a very long journey to Valrae's room at all, a mere minute or so in fact, and Uma tries to sow a little lightness into the moment by joking that between the three of them (meaning, between mayor, mobster's wife, and infamous rebel witch) they should receive any assistance they need from the inn. Uma squeezes Valrae's hand again. "It's going to go just fine," she reassures the other witch. In the end, they have Belinda to thank for making everything happen. In the private room, away from the boisterous merrymaking, the mood immediately seems more relaxed, less frenetic. Uma greets the doula immediately and likewise finds her wand in her purse to cast a blessing in the room. As the doula goes about directing Valrae to make herself comfortable, Uma pulls Alvina aside. "When you go out," she whispers, for Uma assumes that Alvina will not remain, that it would be too awkward, "will you please have the inn send a messenger to my home to let them know I'm here, for Marco?"

Alvina's ears ring when Val says there is no one to call. No father to note for the child. And now she's looking at Alvina. Was it because....it was Hudson? Alvina feels a nervous groan bubble out between her lips. She tries to disguise it as a cough. The silence after Valrae says ' you don't have to...' stretches on so long in her mind that Alvina wonders if they are all waiting for her to reply. Obviously, that's not the case, though she'd formed a sheepish 'Don't worry' with her tongue before Uma's voice rings out above all else. She's happy to fall in line on the other side of Valrae so they can make their way, safely and swiftly, towards the delivery room under Uma's charge. The Mayor's joke is lost in the foggy panic and detachment that makes this possible. What could Alvina say to Valrae during her labor? Hey, remember that one time we watched Hudson murder your brother? Or about that other time when I sat in that chair that had blood on it? Or maybe that day I rushed to tell you I made a witch hunting machine? Good time, eh? Eh? Uma goes about blessing the space with the doula while Alvina remains where she is, with Valrae, wherever she is. It's hard to keep track of what's happening. When Val is instructed, Alvina falls in step beside her automatically until Uma pulls her gently to the side. She blinks in response, shoots a glance over Uma's shoulder at the Red Witch, and then back to Uma. Was she supposed to go? Was this Uma's polite way of telling Alvina that she should leave? That Alvina was making things difficult for Valrae? That Uma knew that Valrae's secret baby daddy was Hudson and didn't want this to bust open? "I'm staying." Alvina says firmly. She gives Uma a hardened look, daring her to suggest otherwise and solidify Alvina's paranoia. "I'll go out and send a message for you but I'm coming back." Her self righteousness wavers and she looks away from Uma. "As a sister...in magic."

There was a profound sense of loneliness, Valrae would remember, in bringing a child into the world without the presence of its father. Without someone to worry lovingly, to coo, to love what she would labor and fight for on this night. Uma might have glimpsed the tip of this painful iceberg, but it was Valrae who would forever carry it deep within her chest. No, babies could not form without the help of a father, but this one could be born without one. Her single moment of panicked selfishness will have cost Alvina more than she’d known, but she couldn’t take it back now. It was too late. They’d led her into the birthing room. She’d managed to laugh at Uma’s jokes, though she was feeling the same dissociation that Alvina seemed to be feeling. It was all so unreal.

She had to be helped into a birthing robe. The doula braided back her wildly curling hair. The scents of lavender and the quiet of the room helped ease some of the nerves that wrecked her heart and mind. It was a little late, but Valrae thought she might not be ready, might be a little too scared, as she was coached through the first of her more serious contractions. The midwife arrived and offered pain relieving charms, Valrae only declined them through sweat, tears and a clenched jaw. When Uma pulled away to speak in hushed tones with Alvina, she’s busy breathing through her pains as the midwife checks her again. “It’s time,” She announces, nodding reassuringly to the young mother. “I’m not ready!” Valrae pants, eyes wide. The witch looks to Alvina, to Uma. Had they felt this way? They moved her to the birthing pool then. The doula brought towels and tools. The charmed water soothed, helped ease the nervousness and anxiety that rolled through her as viscerally as her contractions. After an hour of sheer maddening pain and breathless determination, Valrae gave birth. The baby was taken up, checked by the midwife while the doula tended the mother and the rest that came after the birth. The newborn wailed as the midwife cleaned him, rubbed healing salve on his dark skin and washed the birth out of his black curly hair. Belinda and the doula tended Valrae, helping clean and dry her before moving her to the bed. The midwife swaddled the baby and smiled to Uma and Alvina. “Would you like to see?”

In the frenzy, Uma hadn’t yet made the possible connection between Hudson and Valrae’s missing babyfather — but Alvina’s shift in tone forces it. How quickly Alvina had become a gangster’s wife in that moment! They both are embarrassed by it. Alvina looks away and Uma flushes, nodding her understanding as the incident is smoothed over immediately. “Of course,” Uma says steadily, praying silently for both of her friends that the the child isn’t Hudson’s. They move Valrae to the pool, and Uma crouches by it to lend her encouragement. At some point during Valrae‘s battle through labor, Alvina returns from her errand. Uma hadn’t been so sure she would, but she is there. Her face is hard to read, but fortunately Valrae appears only focused on herself and the birth - as she should be. When the baby appears and, wailing, is taken up by the midwife, Uma releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She strokes Valrae’s brow like a mother might. “The baby is here,” Uma says, feeling as if her smile held such a weight of joy it might crack her face in two. She glances toward the midwife when addressed, and takes a step toward the child, feeling her heart swell all over again for the sweet vulnerability of a newborn. The child’s tiny hands, curled into fists .. the dense dark hair .. Uma is reminded of how Marco has been, when she’d had him, what it had felt like to hold him, this tiny, perfect creature she had made. “So beautiful, Valrae, your baby is beautiful,” she breathes, leaving space for Alvina to stand next to her. Uma can feel the other woman relax beside her upon taking in the child‘s appearance, which apart from Valrae herself favored no one Uma knew. “It’s a boy,” says the midwife, for everyone to hear.

Valrae states her apprehensiveness about giving birth and it tugs a string in Alvina’s heart. She’d just been staring Uma down while the silent accusation of infidelity filled the silence, forgetting entirely that there were other matters. Even still, she feels for the new mother and wants to console her. This was a woman that had been burned alive at the stake, been revived with ancient magics and found a way out of Larket’s clutches to evade death again. But this tiny child caused more panic in her face than Alvina’d ever seen. Not knowing what to say, Alvina looks back at Uma, relaxing when she agrees and after a silent apology she leaves the room. She forgets, or rather doesn’t think, to send Hudson a message saying she’d be late. A bad habit she’d be burned by, especially if he found out WHERE she’d been. Maybe he’d be too shocked to be mad. She enters the busy room, can see first Valrae’s hair braided back. The small strays stick to her forehead, golden dust to crown her amid the glistening jewels of effort and hardship. Of motherhood and strength. She stays near the back, hovering just outside the crowd, afraid of what could happen and what she could offer or say. She didn’t want to look like a jackal circling either.

The baby comes, and Valrae looks spent. Like she’s just delivered her heart into the world, ready to let her own body deflate and be reborn. Still she glows, despite the observations of an intimate stranger. Alvina comes closer, beside Uma, as the baby is presented. Her first thought is selfish; the baby isn’t Hudson’s. The next she breathes aloud “He’s perfect…” before turning her soft gaze to Valrae. Bryce hadn’t been so small, but Luna had. Bald and wailing and…emotion stings the bard’s eyes. Suspicion and anxiety replaced with relief and awe. “You did it.” She smiles weakly, encouragingly, with an odd sense of pride that women share between one another for their labors. Instinctively, Alvina reaches out to gingerly squeeze Valrae’s shoulder before stepping away so the midwife can present the child to his mother.

In truth, nothing that Valrae had ever faced had managed to strike such fear and vulnerability into her heart. Now that it was over, Uma’s cool hand pressed against her damp brow and it touched the lonely, fragile places of her exposed heart. If she hadn’t already been quietly weeping, she would have lost it then. Though she thought she might not live through it, the witch managed to survive the after birth and was trembling the way new mothers do when she was finally dried and helped onto the bed. “A boy,” She echoed Uma faintly, an exhausted smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her eyes met Alvina’s then. They were only mothers, for a single heartbeat there was nothing between them but motherhood and the bond that could be shared between women as such. The rest was still there, the painful memories, scars and yet to heal wounds that had lead to Alvina’s earlier suspicions, but for that moment it hadn’t existed in Valrae’s mind. “Is he?” She replied, anxious to meet the life she’d brought into the world. When Alvina’s hand touches her shoulder, her own reaches up to touch it gently, absently.

At last, Valrae held the child she’d fought into the world. Everything changed, nothing changed. All of the decisions she’d made, every path she’d taken had driven her to this moment. To this small, helpless little life she held in her arms. The fear didn’t subside, nore did the loneliness, but both were so overshadowed with a sense of pride and unfathomable love that they were easily forgotten. His nose was impossibly small. She marveled at it, dazedly. How could something be so small? So perfect. Alvina had said it and he absolutely was. Sure, he was wrinkled in the way of all newborns everywhere but he was hers and he was flawless. She cooed and comforted, beamed sleepily at Uma and Alvina when she could manage to pull her eyes away. Later, there would be embarrassment and whatever other tangled things might come from having asked both Uma and Alvina to witness this moment in her life. For now there was only a sense of gratitude that she could find no words to describe. “Thank you,” It wasn’t enough, but it was all she could offer them for now. She wept again. Belinda, the doula and the midwife busied themselves around them, instructed her on the motions of skin to skin and feeding. The baby wailed and stretched his lungs, Valrae marveled all the while. And as dawn signaled the end of the longest night, Valrae drifted into sleep with her son in her arms and more love than she could carry in her heart.