A Second Son

A Second Son

Who: Jet, M’tan,
When: Month 12, 204 AT (Backscene)
Where: Court of Shadows, Honshu Territory
What: Jet and M’tan’s new son arrives.


The last weeks of Jet’s pregnancy have often had the residents of the Court watching her from afar, both because there’s more than one who feel they should look after her as she and M’tan have looked after them, and because, though she might have long ago stopped working in the forge, she hasn’t stopped activities such as throwing knives and instructing Safiye in swordplay. When news of her going into labour filters through the Hold and nothing of a birth or a baby follows within the first day, the silence in the rooms and corridors is palpable, though not even Arlet dares to stray up the stairs to visit her mother, busying herself with tasks that keep her close to Akanyth. Silent throughout Khyrisan’s birth, this one has Jet howling from exhaustion and frustration as much as pain by the time she finally delivers another boy and succumbs to an oblivion that has the Healers handing him to M’tan and Kyramith lashing out at both Sirhyth and Akanyth in a manner that she means to allow her to isolate herself. The Healers promise it’s only the duration of the labour and not blood loss, nor anything internal that’s wrong, that find Jet unconscious and soon settled to the deep sleep body and mind demand, but it is, perhaps, little comfort.

Sirhyth has faced Kyramith’s wrath in the past, though Akanyth may not be fully prepared to handle the green, the bronze certainly is. He allows Kyramith’s backlash to hit him until Jet is settled and asleep. << Enough. She is resting. You are scaring the people of our Court >> he pushes at her, a flare of light and cold snapping. M’tan’s attention has been torn between his wife and his new son. He hovers over the Healers as they go over the necessary checks of his son’s health – and his arms are ready when they finally settle him carefully against his chest. He’s seated in a chair pulled close to their bed, his shirt off, so that his son may rest on his skin. A loose blanket covers them both. The Healers have assured him Jet will awaken and have promised to return every hour to check her vitals until she is up. Once the Healers have left, their menagerie of creatures trickle into the room. Firelizards take up residence all along Jet’s sides as a multi-colored, living, blanket. Even M’tan’s join Jet’s in the guarding of Jet and the new addition to their family.

<< I do not answer to you. >> Mate, he may be, but orders she will not follow, Sirhyth’s words rebuffed with a blast of atmospheric heat from the threads of a solar flare’s flame that Kyramith wraps around herself as she moves to the skies to put physical distance between herself and bronze and brown. It’s perhaps another hour before Jet stirs, Fira pressing her head against the fingers of a hand that twitches, while Inferno snuggles himself more securely against her ribcage. She blinks her eyes open, only to let them fall closed again, exhaustion still clinging to muscle and sinew, and though it might seem that she sleeps once more, she eventually takes a deeper breath and summons enough energy to murmur, “Baby?”

Sirhyth does not chase after Kyramith, choosing to stay nearer to their riders and the newborn baby. He evokes a shield of sort, blocking out much of the flames Kyramith’s mind can throw his way. What Akanyth may think of the green’s behavior is not the bronzes concern, he’s made it clear that the brown should keep his distance since Jet went into labor. M’tan’s eyes are quick to look to Jet, his smile wide as he moves to gently grasp her fingers in his hand. “He is well,” he tells her, “you need rest. When you’re ready to sit up, I can place him on your chest. He has your nose,” he adds, a huff of laughter in his words, “and all the name ideas I had for a her are lost now. Two boys,” he clucks his tongue, “most Lords would be pleased.” He kisses the top of the newborn’s head, “I’m happy, of course, but I wanted someone to fawn over me… not their mother.”

Jet slowly curls her fingers around M’tan’s, the hold she manages to form not all that strong, but one that she’s determined to maintain for the handful of seconds that she can. “…When I’ve forgotten how long this took, I might let you close enough to me to persuade me that another one is a good idea,” she drawls, eyes lifting open again. “Though I think it’s Kyramith you’ll have to convince, at this point.” For her green hasn’t come home, is nowhere in sight, and is busy doing what she’s always done best: keeping herself to herself. She turns her head, letting it loll against the pillow to bring M’tan and their new son more firmly into view, one corner of her lips lifting in a tiny smile. “We could always name him for Sirhyth and Kyramith again. They’re as responsible for his being here as we are.”

“No,” M’tan decides for them both as he holds fast to her fleeting strength grip, “We won’t try again for ourselves.” He shifts forward, his hands moving to cradle the infant against his chest as he moves to carefully transfer him towards Jet’s own chest. “If we are to have a daugther,” he grins crookedly at her, “she will be a time-jumper like Arlet or a child of need like Safiye. I will not put you through this again. I do not need it,” he tips down to press a kiss against Jet’s forehead as he kneels to support their young son against Jet’s own body. “Sirhyth is so angry with Kyramith today, my love,” he shares with Jet as he settles their son against her chest and tucks blankets in around to support them both. “He’d be hurt if her consonants led the name this time. “We could entertain the name Sirajet, which has you and Sirhyth,” he tips forward to press a careful kiss to her forehead. “I’d be happy with that.”

Jet manages to shift enough that she can prop herself back against her pillows, if not sit up entirely, her arms lifting to fold around the tiny baby as M’tan sets him down. She doesn’t speak immediately, too busy studying him and trying to blink away the tears that exhaustion allows to creep up on her, her smile a tremulous thing as a gentle finger traces his features and smoothes over his hair. “You really think that I would deny us another one of these?” she murmurs, still watching their son. “Maybe I’d like a little girl who our boys think is theirs to protect.” For even Safiye will be as grown as Arlet before Khyrisan can think to try. “…Kyramith doesn’t know how to handle fear of loss,” is a soft confession her green will never make. “There’s still much she has to learn about feelings.” She holds the baby more closely, her head tilting as she regards him more closely again. “Sirajet,” she echoes. “I like it. The A reflects you too.”

“I suppose it does, doesn’t it?” M’tan muses at the mention of his A bearing weight in their newborn’s name. “Sirajet.. Hm. He could be S’jet if he impresses. We can nickname him Sir. Can you imagine his nannies chasing him around, shouting, ‘Sir! Get back here!’” He grins at the idea. “With that in mind… maybe we should play with the arrangement a bit more. Do you have any other proposed ideas?” he asks, moving to settle himself on the edge of the bed so he can keep one hand on the back of their son and another on her thigh. “I’m not so quick to have another, Jet. You forget how hard it is on your body… and I have to watch you recover. It’s not easy to let you take all of that on yourself. I can’t do anything.” He kisses her forehead briefly. “I understand Kyramith’s fears. Sirhyth is in a mood – let him be in one. It’s good for his character to throw a fit himself sometimes.”

“Why not add an H? Soften the J to how to they sounded in my name before I Impressed. Sihrajet.” She sounds it out and spells it too, touching the tip of her finger to the baby’s palm as her gaze lifts to M’tan. “It’s going to be hard on me until he can stay longer with the nannies and eat proper food, but that isn’t all there is to it. I’d not change it or do what I did with the girls ever again. I’m hurting and tired and I probably will be for months more, but he’s ours and we get to be with him and that’s all I care about.” Jet reaches out a hand to cover her husband’s. “You’re here. You’re always here for us. That’s not nothing. Ever.” Her hold tighten a little. “I need to pay Fort a visit soon, besides. I’ve been hearing rumours. So, I will rest and get back on my feet and go see what’s going on there.” She smiles as the baby stirs against her. “And get back here before he needs me again.”

“What’ll bring you to Fort?” M’tan asks as he moves to settle on the bed beside her. He angles himself on the edge of the bed, his head propped up on his palm as he keeps his other hand resting on the small of their son’s back. “Last I heard, C’aol was trying to woo Isolwyn quite heavily to favor the leadership flightt. I should ask J’kson for information but he has been… less than useful.” He tips his face forward to press his lips against Sihrajet’s forehead, inhaling deeply. “I do love how they smell when they’re so little. Save for the pooping. That is //never// pleasant.” He smiles and tilts his face to consider Jet’s. “Shall I go and fetch the Healer? They can come take your vitals and I’ll check on the rest of our brood.” He shifts on the bed, causing the firelizards still napping amongst the blankets to hiss in annoyance. “I’m sure you’ll be well looked after in my short absence,” he drawls, glaring down at one of his greens. “And I’m sure this one will try to eat whatever I bring.”

“Precisely that. If he wins and she’s stuck with him, I wouldn’t put it past him to start harming her once the bond between their dragons is more secure.” Without her meaning to let them, Jet’s eyes fall closed, a deep sigh escaping her, though one finger idly brushes against the sole of one of their son’s feet. “Take him with you?” she asks with a measure of reluctance, practicality winning through. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake and I don’t want to hurt him.” Watchful, Fira lifts herself up and picks her way over and across her other firelizard companions to position herself with her tail wrapped around the greenrider’s wrist, her head resting against her shoulder after she noses at the baby too. “I love you,” Jet murmurs. “Both of you. Always.”

M’tan eases himself up from the bed and presses a chaste kiss to Jet’s forehead. “Always,” he murmurs before he gets out of the bed. He eases the baby from Jet’s chest to his own, practiced by now in handling newborns. He settles him in the crook of his arm and steals one of the many blankets from their bed to tuck around him. He doesn’t disturb Jet with any further words – he signals to the firelizards to keep watch of her while he slips from the room. Later, a healer will come in and check on Jet. Later, a meal will follow. Later, M’tan will be back at her side with Sihrajet settled in his arms and waiting for her care. For now, M’tan leaves her to sleep with her little guardians tucked in around her.

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