You had not been personally privy to the struggles of your mother, and it would be strange if you had. In her time, Natasha von Hohenzollern, formerly of Kislev, had given birth to a veritable brood of children. Which, in and of itself, was simply expected of most Kislevite women regardless of whether they were Godspodar or Ungol. If anything Godspodars were expected to have even more than the Ungols, due to their generally somewhat 'better' health care and facilities. There were even rumors, you remember Alexandra scoffing through writing in one of her personal letters to you, that there was a quiet push since the time of the first Khan-Queen to simply out-produce the Ungols at some point entirely until there were none but Gospodars throughout Kislev.
But Sabine was not Kislevite in the slightest. She was not the stocky Ostlander set of Serhild either. She had been slender, and soft, and for all that you could never begrudge her those qualities before now in this moment they brought you only worry. A single child, perhaps, might have been best from her. After all, there had been nearly no issues at all from Karola or Ortrud, but it was not as if they were entirely without issue either. The sheer exhaustion clung to Sabine's frame for weeks afterwards, even with the aid of the priests, priestesses, and wizards besides. Both times, even. But this time was…different. Clearly more difficult, for certain. That, and the fact that the outright Hierarch of Rhya herself was present only increased the worried beat of you heart.
While the Greatswords guarding the door did not even pretend to begin to bar your way, the overly stoic expressions on their faces spoke volumes more than the likely thought.
The room stank of sweat and just enough blood that something deep inside of you stilled in fear.
"M-Magnus?" Sabine lay in desperate repose on the bed, her fiery hair hanging limp and ragged with the sweat coating it, sticking it to her skin and the cloth around her.
She smiles at you, but it is a sickly thing, and cannot even manage to do much more than raise one shaking hand towards you. Before you can even take a step forward the steel-grey hair of Raina blocks you, the woman simultaneously one of the tallest and fattest humans you've ever seen. She's practically shaped like an upright barrel.
"Fool of a girl, don't even waste your strength that much. You had too hard a birth by far to be doing such things," comes her granite-hard voice, and there is a strange shimmer of priestly workings in the air as Raina mutters under her breath.
On the other side of the room, standing by three clearly hastily acquired cribs, are a duo of the Jade Wizards. The two of their group that did not accompany you on your campaigning. One looks up at your entry, clearly looking exhausted, and simply nods. The other, Jurgen, motions you over. For all that you think he's older than you by a decade, his nervousness is that of a child.
"Prince Magnus, I'm glad you are all right. The reports of the campaign were of quite the fierce fighting-,"
"I'm more than alive enough," you say as politely and calmly as you can, "What happened to my wife?"
He pales slightly, wiping his forehead with a cloth, before grunting and setting his shoulders.
"It was a hard birth, my Prince. The children were tangled by their cords, and while your daughters," he pulls back the cloth on two of the cribs.
And the rest of his words melt away, as you look at their quiet cleaned faces. Part of you accepts and files away the information that Hierarch Raina personally breast-fed them – despite her age – while Sabine continued with the birthing. That they screamed and cried just as all healthy childrenn do, and fell asleep soon after as the Hierarch of Rhya apparently sang a divinely charged lullaby to them. But you cannot help but see Sabine's aquiline features, faint though they are in a baby's face, on both of your newest daughters. He says, you think, many good things about your daughters. Their strength. Their health and rather surprising size and weight – which for them is good but was worse for Sabine.
But he does not speak on the third child, and it is enough to draw you away from their faces.
The expression on your face is enough for Jurgen to gulp and step back, gesturing towards the third crib to answer your unspoken question.
"Your son. He is…," Jurgen tries, struggles, and then simply pulls the cover away.
Small.
It is the first word that comes to your mind. Compared to your newest daughters, whose names you couldn't possibly fathom in this moment, or even compared to Ortrud or Karola. He is…small. Distressingly so. There is a twist and shrink to his limbs that are clearly of issue to him. But above all else, he is small. Unlike the other two, he does not breath calmly, or even cleanly. There is a faint cough to him in this moment, even in his sleep. Unbidden, Jurgen waves a hand over him, a comforting green glow to it. For a moment, that strange mixture of fear and worry spikes in you, a concern over magic you'd never possessed engendered in our heart now thanks to the Amber Brotherhood's cavalier outlook on 'supporting' troops. But it fades somewhat as you see the boy's cough ease itself away.
"What…happened," you say faintly. The world seems to be shifting under you without warning.
A hand lightly places itself on our shoulder, turning you slightly to look into compassionate hazel eyes framed by wrinkles aplenty.
"It happens sometimes, child," Raina says softly, shaking her head as she does. "Some children are born healthy and strong. Others are born…not so. Your wife," she jerks her head at a now sleeping Sabine, "She wasn't built for this many at once. Your root-chewers here," she juts her chin out at the Jade Wizards, "Say they did their best, but it'll be a while before I'd trust her to be on her feet for more than a few minutes. As for the boy…," the harsh cast of her face softens once more. "He lives. That is more than can be said for many children in this world."
Your response takes a moment, your brain shuddering and jerking in its thoughts.
"Can't you…fix it?" You stare helplessly at the Jade Wizard.
"We can do our best, Prince," Jurgen says with a shrug. "But I would…not advise simply trying to 'fix' a baby through flooding them with magic. Even our particular sort. Other than trying our best to ensure his health does not get worse, and helping ensure he grows as healthy as he can in the future…"
You resist the sudden urge to strangle him, dismissing the notion almost as soon as it arrives in your mind. He's too far away anyhow, and his companion wizard would likely take offense. You resist the urge to grab Raina by the shoulders, and shake this old grandmother of a priestess to do something in the name of Rhya. Or for Ilse, the other Jade Wizard present, to say anything at all in defense of their obvious failure. First the Amber Wizards, now this! Damn them for simply acting as if nothing can be done, you have seen miracle and wonder through the power of magic and the Gods, and this is not one of them?! Absurd! Cracks of red spike through the edges of our vision as you stare down at the boy, then over at Sabine, looking more like a corpse than anything else as she lays there. It is only the movement of her chest that says otherwise! This shriveled thing is not...it can't…
Then you stop.
Breathe.
Think.
Your mother went through something similar. Three of her children, deformed creatures that nearly slew her and Logan in the womb. Logan himself, accursed in the soul and forever altered by his exposure to the divine power of Ulric. Ostland's Hierarch of Rhya herself is here, and personally presided over the birth. The red bleeds out, leaving your world strangely stark. Once again, you glance down at your son. Your first, and possibly only, son. His rest was fitful when you arrived, but has smoothed out with the aid of Jurgen. He is not…deformed. He is just…small. He may be small forever. But he is your child. You can bend the resources of the Hohenzollerns as best you can to aid him. Because he is a Hohenzollern, and for all that you have seen in this world, you can accept one such as this as our blood. How could you not do your best to help him, especially given the precedent set by your father?
Carefully, you extend your hand, then but a finger, towards him as he lays in his crib. A faint twitch, and his hand, small even for a baby's, grips around your finger. It is a feeble little grip. But it is there. And that will have to be enough for now.
"It looks like your sisters will have to be looking after you," you say quietly, "Of course, we all will. But them especially, eh?"
"You could speak to the College," Ilse suddenly speaks up. Her muddy brown eyes glisten with unshed tears, though at what specifically you cannot say. "The Jade College might..."
"Ilse," Jurgen says with surprising harshness.
"It is the Hohenzollerns," she says quietly, shying away from him even though she is across the room. "It is the grandson of Frederick Hohenzollern."
Jurgen, showing none of the nervousness and flitting eyes as before, seems to swell slightly as he glares at her.
"It is not your secret to tell."
"And yet," you say quietly, "I wish to know."
Jurgen wheels on you, but his defiance and strength against Ilse is nothing to you. And he knows it.
"You might send a letter. I might assist you in it," he says carefully, looking very obviously at Raina who rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.
"Don't bother me none, young thing, I've got better things to do," she snorts loudly before going back over to Sabine.
"They might refuse regardless. But there is a possibility," he says slowly, "Of something being done."
"Something," you say archly.
"But there would be a price."
You sigh.
"There always is."
"Or," Raina says archly, "You see if he can grow on his own two feet. I've seen it all, young things. Strapping young babies dying of the sick a year later, little nothings like that turning into the tallest damn boys and girls in the nation. Rather than just throwin' magic at it and hopin' Rhya laughs with you or at you."
Then she shrugs.
"But then, what do I know? I'm just some doddering old woman."
Birth Results: Sabine does not gain a detrimental health trait mechanically, but she spends the rest of the year's chunk of months doing nothing at all but recuperating and caring for her children. Three children born. Certain Children Trait Descriptions Revealed Early. Will likely not want to be making more children for a bit. New Diplomacy Option.
- Daughters 1+2: Robust Health – Came out heavier than most children, this one's health is considerably robust and it shows!
- Son 1: Feeble Body – This one was born with visible weakness in their body. Will no doubt be shorter and thinner than most of those around them.
Naming Vote:
[] Daughter 1 (Write-In)
[] Daughter 2 (Write-In)
[] Son 1 (Write-In)
OR
[] GM's Choice
