"You lied."
An enraged voice sounded from the silhouette of a woman.
She stood in a relatively dark room, lightly illuminated by the brilliance of the starlit skies making their way through the swaying curtains.
"The Thunder Princess is about to give birth." She leaned closer to the telephone, her voice softer, though the rage still lingered, along with a tinge of panic.
"We underestimated her resistance, but don't worry. We just have to move on to Plan B," a hoarse voice came from the telephone.
"Plan B is risky. If he finds out..." She paused, her body slightly trembling as she remembered the said individual.
"I know death will be the least of our problems," the voice continued her thoughts, "but trust me, it will work..." they added, their tone resolute.
"That is..."
Knock! Knock!
A knock interrupted her, her heart almost jumping out of her chest.
The receiver hit the cradle with a definite snap.
She hung up quickly, her chest heaving up and down.
Stabilizing herself, she inquired.
"Who is there?"
"Madam, the Patriarch has summoned you," the voice behind the door answered.
"Okay, I will be right there..." She tidied herself and elegantly moved to the door.
.
.
.
In a relatively large room, the smell of herbs and beeswax filled the air.
Hanging curtains barred a bed in the center, two blue-haired, middle-aged women moving about, one hurriedly crossing the curtains.
"Madam, we are ready. Please push," she said politely, her words directed at the arrogant-looking woman on the bed.
She lay with her legs open, her swollen belly proof of her pregnancy, ready to give birth.
Yet her expression said otherwise.
With naturally arched eyebrows, she had a look that was eternally fierce.
With her round face, disheveled short dark orange hair with a tint of yellow, coupled with her striking golden eyes, she looked like a battle princess, beautiful and valiant, like the beauty of a wild horse.
"Madam, please push," the midwife urged.
The lady clenched her jaws, brows slightly furrowed, as she let out a powerful push, one so great that half of the baby's body was instantly exposed.
The midwives' eyes widened in surprise, as one would need at least ten pushes for half of the body to come out, but considering it was the Thunder Princess, this was not a surprise.
"Madam, a few more pushes."
She once again pushed, this time the rest of the body coming out.
A water blanket emerged from thin air, wrapping around the baby's body, cleansing it of blood and amniotic fluid.
The second midwife's hand movement gestured that she was the one controlling it.
...
"He isn't crying," the midwife thought, lightly slapping the baby's buttocks, yet she only got a glare from the baby, her brows raised in astonishment.
This was the first time she had seen this in her twenty-plus years doing this job.
She had seen babies who refused to cry, and most had issues with their lungs, thus she ignored the baby's glare and proceeded to massage him.
Doing all that she could, yet the baby refused to cry, only letting out a babble but never a wail.
"What is the holdup? Let me hold my child," the Thunder Princess said irritably.
She had watched them seemingly playing with her baby, and it was getting on her nerves.
"Sorry, madam, but he refuses to cry. It might..."
"Cry?" The Thunder Princess tilted her head in confusion.
"You expect the son of the Thunder Princess to cry..." she added, brows raised, truly ignorant of issues with babies not crying.
She had been on the battlefield most of her life, basic knowledge not common to her.
"Give me my child..." She gestured for them to give her the baby.
They hesitated before giving her the child.
"If your baby cried at birth, that doesn't mean mine will," she snapped at them, her tone not mocking.
She truly believed her words.
The midwives could only bow their heads.
They couldn't talk back to her.
Whatever the case at least the baby babbled, which meant his lungs was ok, he just refused to cry.
If it turns out to be anything serious they would handle it later, they were the best at their jobs after all.
...
The room was silent except for the sounds of the midwives moving, tidying the place for the Patriarch to enter.
Both mother and infant looked at each other with curiosity, the infant more so than the mother.
"What the f*ck is going on?" the infant thought to himself, trying to make heads and tails of his surroundings.
He was sure he had died, his brain matter probably still fresh on the cave grounds, yet here he was, in the body of an infant.
Alaric Silva, at least that was who he remembered he was, but a few seconds ago, he, a grown man, was being spanked.
His body was foreign to him, years of toned muscle replaced by jiggly fat.
"What's happening? Is this really hell?" he mused, breaking eye contact with his mother.
"Or does hell not exist..." he thought to himself, believing he, a soldier, would surely go to hell, as the blood on his hands was far too great.
But here he was, an infant cradled in the arms of a woman he knew not.
"Where am I?... What is this place?!..." His eyes darted around.
He observed his surroundings, noticing the blue-haired women work through the opening of the curtains.
Their hands moved, the water in the basin moving with them, following their gestures as they cleaned the place.
"Water bending?" These were his thoughts, as it looked just like the show he and almost the whole world had watched.
This made him further confused.
If this wasn't hell, then where was he?
A game, an anime, or rebirth?
His eyes widened as the thought crossed his mind.
He might have been reborn, a trope so common it became cliché. Not to mention, he was a soldier; there was no need to believe in such a thing.
"Let's observe more..."
There was no need to jump to conclusions. For all he knew, this was hell, just the devil playing tricks on him or something.
"What are you thinking?" The Thunder Princess touched his cheeks, pulling his diverted gaze to hers.
Her touch was not in the least soft, her calluses scraping on his soft cheeks, the gesture making his cheeks redden.
"What the f*ck, lady?" he tried to curse out, but only angry babbles came out, luckily alerting the midwives, who noticed the grip of the mother on her child's face, as if he owed her money.
"Madam, please be gentle," one of the midwives quickly rushed to their side.
"Please, he is delicate. Be careful..." She hesitated to touch the Thunder Princess, her actions prompting her to let go of her baby's cheek.
She hadn't consciously caused him harm, just curious as to what the baby was thinking about so intently.
"Please avoid touching him for now. The Patriarch will be here soon," the midwife said with a smile, her eyes shifting to the rough-looking palms of the Thunder Princess.
If not for the cloth around the baby, the baby would have cried from just being held.
"I understand..." the Thunder Princess said dismissively, the midwife surprised she hadn't retorted, unaware she had calmed because of the pained expression on her baby's face.
No matter how much of a brute she was, a mother was still a mother.
"Raika... how are you?" The Patriarch stepped through the door.
___________
.
.
.
A/N
1/2