FYNN
FIVE YEARS LATER
My father's threats proved to be idle. He never sent men to arrest me or tear Anya from my arms. For that, we were both grateful.
I returned to my post the following day. Things with Daniel were tense. He might not have talked to me if not for the fact that we still had to work together. When I told him that I had gotten married, he took the news grudgingly, but his concern seemed more about the fact that I rushed into things than over who I married. He called Anya a bewitching beauty, but not the right girl for me.
A week later, I was sent home. Father made no mention of my marriage over the phone, and I didn't bring it up either. Maybe he thought I had listened to him. Perhaps Daniel didn't report anything further. Whatever the case, Anya was an unpleasant surprise when we arrived.
The controversy of me marrying an outsider rocked the nation and created tension within my family for several months. My mother welcomed Anya into the family with open arms. My father, not so much. Though as soon as Anya began to show, he started to warm up to her.
When the war ended and Daniel was able to return home, he avoided us like the plague until I demanded that he attend a private dinner with the two of us. There was silence at the table for a good five minutes before we finally all dumped our feelings on the table and hashed things out. By that time, Anya was about ready to pop with our first kid. When she asked Daniel to be the godfather, that melted the ice around his heart. I'm beginning to think that babies solve all problems. If that's the case, I'll keep Anya pregnant until she hits menopause. I want a large family anyway.
Anya has proven to be an asset to the crown. Refusing to be content with simply bearing and mothering my children, she's taken on several roles throughout the years. She helped the transition of absorbing her small country into our nation go a lot smoother by giving a local voice to her people and alleviating their fears of the changes that were coming. She assisted in the effort to rebuild the harder hit parts of her country, making me fly with her to get down in the dirt with multiple reconstruction projects. Together, we've built schools and houses, and thanks to her patience and understanding, I've been able to get a better grasp on her people's needs. She's a huge supporter of children's charities, helping the homeless, and research for curing diseases such as cancer and HIV. It feels like every weekend she's dragging me to some function for a good cause.
Thanks to her involvement in both local and foreign affairs, my father's hatred for her has completely disappeared. In fact, sometimes I think he believes she makes a better royal and child than I do. He's constantly telling me that I got lucky when I found her.
“You didn't think so back then,” I remind him with a smirk.
He brushes the comment away as if the past never existed. He's great at that, not admitting when he is wrong.
Anya has dragged me along to the opening of a new children's hospital that we helped to fund. With three girls of our own and another baby on the way, we've had our fair share of medical scares, though thankfully nothing major. We left the kids at home with their nanny tonight, and I immediately miss them as I see the faces of the ill children flashing up on the large projector screen behind the speaking podium.
I squeeze Anya's hand, my eyes falling to her belly, praying to God our next baby is healthy. We shouldn't have come here tonight. Anya's due to give birth anytime now. She doesn't need the stress of being around so many people, but she insisted on speaking at this event. She's stubborn like that. Originally, they had planned to open this hospital two weeks earlier, but there were some issues that pushed it back.
“Are you going to be alright?” I ask her quickly when they announce her name.
“Stop worrying about me,” she chastises me. “You fret too much.”
I do. It's a bad habit. But it's hard to watch the love of my life waddle up on stage when the doctor specifically ordered her to stay home. I shift uncomfortably, my eyes falling to her ass for a moment before moving up to her arms which are clutching her stomach like it takes effort to carry it up the steps to the stage. Pregnancy has made Anya's hips fill out beautifully. When she turns to face the audience, I can't help but smile at how she glows. She was born to bear my children.
Anya clears her throat, her eyes sweeping the room before she looks down at the notes that she brought with her. She's spent countless hours memorizing her speech, but she always brings a sheet or two of paper with the most important points jotted down. When her eyes meet mine, I smile at her for support, thinking about how stunning she is in her long white lace dress. She looks every bit the princess she deserved to become.
“My fellow patrons, doctors, nurses, staff and supporters of this project,” she begins. “We are here today to celebrate the opening of Willow Gardens Children's Hospital, the first hospital in Palperroth fully dedicated to the cure and treatment of children's diseases and illnesses. Prior to the conception of this project, the nearest facility with a focus on pediatric care was ohhh.” Her eyes shoot down to the paper on the podium, and she clutches her stomach. My body tenses and I sit up straight in my chair, but the second that concern flashes across my face, she seems to recover. “Sorry about that,” Anya laughs uncomfortably. “I think the baby just kicked.” She swallows hard before refocusing her attention. “The nearest facility with a focus on pediatric ughh.” This time she grips the podium, and when she hunches over, I fly to my feet to come to her aid.
By the time I reach her, medical professionals have already crowded around her in concern. The wetness beneath her feet spells exactly what's going on.
“Come on guys,” one of the doctor's yells. “It looks like Willow Gardens is going to experience its first birth.”
Everyone claps as my wife and I leave the podium and make our way to labor and delivery. Anya puts on a brave smile for our onlookers, trying to hide her pain. The hospital is brand new, and our obstetrician came with us just in case this exact thing happened, so we have no worries about delivering here. Still, I feel bad that she's giving birth so far from home and our other children. But we talked about this possibility well before leaving the palace.
Once they have her settled in, I stay by her side, clutching her hand. She's been through this several times already, but I always feel like she might break my fingers when the contractions hit. It makes it hard not to grin. She fucking hates it when I grin while she's in labor. That's when I get the most backlash—the 'I hate yous' and 'Why did I let you do this to me AGAIN.'
“You've got this, babe.” I brush her hair away from her forehead; it was matted to her skin with sweat.
She glares at me. “You're so getting snipped after this.”
I shake my head, fighting back a smirk. “Nope. We still have to do this two more times.”
“You say that from this end.” She crushes my fingers in her palm as another contraction rips through her.
“You know it will all be worth it when this is over,” I try to soothe her.
“I know,” she breathes heavily. “I just want it to be over.”
Two hours later, and it is. I stand by Anya's side as she clutches our son in her arms, doting on his tiny little fingers and toes and cooing at him as if the pain never happened at all. Now she's glowing for a different reason. Perhaps we both are, as proud parents yet again.
“I don't hate you anymore,” she tells me with a smile.
“I would hope not.” I crouch down beside her, trying to steal some of our son's attention, though he seems completely fixated on his beautiful mother. I can't blame him. “Look at that, it's like I don't even exist. Like you're the only person in the entire world.”
“He's just getting used to this new world. Aren't you?” She glances around the room as if the four walls painted with brightly colored animals are a wonder to behold.
“Looks like the apple didn't fall far from the tree.” I gently brush my hand over his wispy brown hair which is reminiscent of mine when I was a baby.
“He does look a lot like you. He's got your hair and your eyes. But I think he has my nose.”
“That's not what I meant.” I look up at Anya. She meets my gaze and is swept up in momentary confusion. “From the first time I laid my eyes on you, you became my entire world, too.”
“Oh Fynn,” she beams at me. “I love you so much.”
“But not half as much as you love this little guy.” I carefully shake our son's hand. Finally, he glances up at me, though his eyes are quickly drawn back to Anya.
“Maybe just a little less than I love him,” she admits, her voice going serious, though I know she's just teasing me.
“Looks like I've got competition for your love.” My eyes flash playfully.
“You knew you would have competition for my love the second you knocked me up. And yet you keep doing it.”
“Indeed.” I grin. “And I can't wait to do it again.”