#graveparents

“Ah, preciosa” he says, hugging her, just as papi sneaked to his side to help sijtli Micteca off the carriage “How good to see you!”

“Hola, tahtli” mami says, somewhat coldly, before turning to her mother with a warmer expression “Nantli, I have missed you both”

“You sound like you have” sijtli Micteca says, cocking an eyebrow. She knows what’s going on…Dulcea furrows her brow. What is going on? Her older siblings are on edge and it makes her feel as though she itches, but inside. She sees Mictlán refuse to shake Xibalba’s hand and even refusing to bow to him, as it would be proper taking in account he’s the Lord of the land. Mami purses both hands in fists at her side before motioning for them to come in, in a voice that’s strained and high-pitched and strange in Dulcea’s ears.

One very tense family brunch later, Dulcea feels as though the churros are giving backflips in her stomach and it has nothing to do with the fact that she ate at least ten of them. 

Sometimes it gets hard to concentrate in how she feels rather than how mami or papi or her siblings are feeling, and at this point, she isn’t even sure who is feeling what, the room is a mesh of bitterness and nervousness and anger and disappointment and three-quarter parts of wanting the visit to be done with already. 

Even Esteban seems as though tied to his seat, throwing nervous glances at the adult’s side, hands and feet tapping frantically in an attempt to free some of the energy and tension piling up in him. Miguel chews at the last of his pan dulce with his head low like he’s trying to avoid meeting anyone’s eye. Lucía is chewing on a toothpick while she rips a paper napkin in pieces as though intensely concentrated in the task. No one speaks, which is strange to say the least, the table is normally bursting with conversation, laughter and noise. The silence makes her feel even sicker. She has to bite her lip lightly to avoid making any noise. Tristán, seated next to her, catches on to the quiver of her body and raches a clumsy hand to rub her back in circles, the way he’s seen mami do it when either of them is ill. It helps a little.

“What’s wrong?” Adeleine asks in a whisper. He shakes his head and raises his shoulders in a slight shrug, so Adeleine reaches to touch Dulcea’s forehead and check for a fever and furrows her brow “Mamá?”

La Muerte raises her eyes from her practically untouched meal and sees her daughter’s hunching, tense form and she immediatelly materializes beside her.

“Mi niña, are you feeling ill?”

“She’s sweaty, but she doesn’t feel feverish” Adeleine informs. All eyes are immediately on Dulcea and, for a moment, a refreshing pause on the rush of negative feelings settles in and all she feels is gentle concern for her. She relaxes a bit as La Muerte lifts her from the chair and cradles her.

“Upset stomach, perhaps?” sijtli Micteca asks, all pragmatism, the way her fingers hold her wine goblet being the only thing betraying any uneasiness. Duclea shakes her head, whimpering a bit and La Muerte feels her temperature again, just to make sure, worried eyes scanning her face “Headache, then?”

Dulcea isn’t sure of what’s wrong either, but she knows it’s not really an ache. She just feels sick and tired and wants everyone to stop feeling so much all of the time, specially granpa Mictlán, who at this point is glaring knives at papi for not intervening in the discussion. It’s not that he doesn’t care, Dulcea knows, but he’d rather [La Muerte] take control and tell him what to do because even after all these years, he’s more confident in his knowedge about [Wounds and battlefield illnesses] than anything a child might get. If she tells him what to do, he’ll do it in a blink, but he can’t deal with the possibility of seeing one of his kids in distress and being useless.

Still, granpa Mictlán is bursting with ugly, hurtful feelings for papi. Contempt. Hate. If he could just grab him by the neck and throw him out of his daughter’s life, he’d-

Dulcea lets out a wail that makes everyone start and presses closer to her mother and immediately several sets of chairs scrape the tiles as her brothers and sisters surround La Muerte, asking what’s going on, if she’s OK, if they can help. She sees Luna shifting her feet in alarm, asking if she should go get help and Valdez meekly suggests getting aunt La Noche. Papi stays distant, mostly just ready to set off to get whatever mami tells him that will help, but she’s frozen, a whirlwind of different feelings emanating from her. Confussion. Alarm. Something about sinking. Alarm again. Sijtli Micteca approaches, expertly parting the sea of heads and walks to her, eyes set on her reddened face and for once Dulcea can rest because Micteca can feel but it’s still harder to catch what she’s feeling.

“…she’s stressed” she declares after a moment observing her, before turning to her goblet and drinking from it again.

“Stressed?” mami repeats.

“Feel her aura, yolotzin, it’s not that hard”

“But stressed from what?”

Dulcea senses something like an arrow, from granpa Mictlán and directly to Xibalba. He blames papi. He accuses him of many things, most of which Dulcea can only half-understand. It’s more than she can bear.

“Abuelo, stop that!” she shrills tearfully. Everyone freezes. All they get from her from then on are confusing whines about abuelo hating papi and it takes for La Muerte to take her to her room and reluctantly leave her on her own for a while for her to drift to sleep, still hiccuping.

When she wakes again, she’s very tired still. Her mouth is dry and her eyes feel sore and the back of her neck is bothering her. The grownups are outside her room, chatting, and she can hear every word, so she lays there and listens.

“-what I think about this…husband of yours is my own business” that’s granpa Mictlán.

“Not when it’s affecting my children, it isn’t” mami hisses.

“How was this my fault?”

“She called you out! Directly!”

“I hadn’t said a thing”

“Your behavior was eloquent enough” papi pipes in, annoyed but still keeping some semblance of calm.

“Don’t you talk to me like that-”

“Enough” sijtli Micteca cuts them with a sigh and the sound of a goblet being put down on wood “Your arguing would make the best wine taste bitter”

There’s a short silence during which Dulcea wishes she were still asleep.

“Father, I did warn you that I would not tolerate you disrespecting Xibalba in front of our children” mami says as a warning, trying to stay calm.

“I said nothing!” he insists.

“You didn’t need to!” papi mumbles.

“You-!”

“I think” sijtli Micteca says, as though following her own private conversation apart from the argument “Dulcea might be an empath”

The silence after that is heavy with interrogation.

“Empath?” mami finally says “As in…she can feel what others feel?”

“Is there any other kind of empath that I have not been made aware of?”

“But if she were, she would…”

“Realize that your father can’t stand Xibalba even if he didn’t say anything on the matter?” sijtli made a pause, then continued, her tone cold “Although I agree that your father has been very clear about his feelings with acts alone, it wouldn’t necessarily take an empath to know”

“Maybe one of her siblings told her” granpa Mictlán offers, embarrassed. Reluctant to even accept the posibility that he’s to blame for Dulcea’s breakdown.

“They wouldn’t!” papi snaps, offended with the sole prospect.

“She told you to stop….what were you even doing, Mictlán?” sijtli Micteca asks, already knowing the answer.

“Nothing! I was just looking at everything going on and…”

“And blaming Xibalba, am I right?”

An uncomfortable silence stretches.

“I can’t just stop feeling how I feel” granpa Mictlán finally whines.

“You will if you want to see your grandchildren again” mami hissed. The mood shifted immediately to alarm.

“You can’t-! You wouldn’t!”

“I will if you leave me no choice”

“Mi amor, please, reconsider” papi’s words take everyone by surprise “You can’t deprive our children of their abuelo…and their sijtli too, since I doubt La Reina would come here without her husband…” he witholds the rest of his words within him for a moment before deciding he can’t not say them “…and it would be cruel to deny your father the right to visit his grandchildren”

Mami hesitates. Then she finally softens.

“What should we do then?” she sighs.

“Teach Dulcea how to control this…ability of hers. There should be a way”

Granpa’s emotions become too bright and quick for her or a moment. There’s surprise because [that imbecile] defended him and his solution doesn’t even include forcing him to stop disliking [Xibalba, tar-for-brains] but directly stopping Dulcea from reading said dislike.

“Is there a way?” mami asks, ignorant of the battle within granpa’s chest.

“Definitely. I’ll contact a tutor tonight” sijtli Micteca says. The sound of her goblet reclaiming its place in her hand is somewhat soothing. It gives Dulcea a feeling of the actual argument being over.

“Still, until then…”

“Until then I’ll keep my dislike under control” granpa Mictlán declares, somewhat reluctant “…as much as I can, that is”

“We wouldn’t ask for more” papi says, somewhat mocking.

It’s already night-time in the land of the living when Dulcea’s grandparents are getting into their carriage. Dulcea, still having felt over-whelmed for most of the day, can’t wait for the visit to be done -it has more to do with exhaustion than anything else- but she sees something that still cheers her up and gives her something, small as it may be, to look forward to for the next time. And it’s so small, but so special:

“Careful!” Mictlán fuzzed, helping her out with touches so delicate one would have thought she'd crumble under his hands if he wasn't careful.

“Stop treating her like a porcelain doll” Micteca said, watching from a distance, although her eyes betrayed some apprehension “Can you at least wait until we're inside before you start your ridiculous pampering?”

“It's not ridiculous!” Mictlán defended “Ruling is stressful business, specially for a pregnant woman”

“I'm sure she manages”

“I don't doubt she does, but mi niña can probably use a little peace before the big day” at this he glanced at her belly, uneasy, as they started making their way to the doors “W-when exactly is the big day?”

“It should be later this week” La Muerte replied. After so many births, she shouldn't have been nervous anymore, and yet she was, her hands getting cold just thinking about it. Thankfully, the excitement about holding her baby was practically enough to keep it at bay, at least enough so that she could show herself calm.

“You don't know the exact day?” Micteca's tone, as she walked some good yards before them, was eloquent enough as to her thoughts on that matter, just in case the fact that she didn't turn to see them wasn't.

“Children are never an exact science, mi reina” Mictlán pointed out with a playful glimmer in his fiery eyes “You know this from experience” his wife hummed, without it being clear whether she was agreeing or not, and he turned to La Muerte, apprehensive “Could it be today, perchance?”

“Oh, no, I don't think so, tahtli” La Muerte ran a hand over her bump lovingly “I haven't felt anything too drastic yet and they always get very active right before it's time. This little one has been very calm all day”

“Ah, good to hear” Mictlán said, but his eyes rested on her hand over the bump in a somewhat eager way. It took her a moment to realize what he was thinking.

“Do you want to feel him?” she offered, halting for a moment. Micteca let out a small sigh ahead of them. La Muerte tried not to take offense on her mother's attitude, knowing she found pregnancies unsightly and overated, but it still rubbed her the wrong way when she acted like it personally offended her that she was pregnant. Mictlán, either ignoring the attitude his wife was taking, or too excited about the prospect of feeling his grandchild to notice, moved a hesitant hand close to La Muerte's belly.

“May I?”

“Of course” she pressed the boney fingers to the bump herself. As if reacting to his grandfather, the baby jolted once, in a way that made her grit her teeth for it's intensity.

“Well, hola pequeño” Mictlán cooed softly “I'm your grandfather”

“I highly doubt it understands a word you're saying” Micteca deadpanned, finally turning to see them.

“Mi Reina, please” he sighed “Instead of protesting, you should come here and meet him as well”

“I'll meet him once he's out of my daughter's womb, thank you very much. Now, can we get inside the castle? I take it she can't be on her feet for long with all that extra weight”

Despite the fact that the visit had originally been planned so La Muerte could rest from the responsibility being a mother and a ruler required of her, she spent a good part of it talking about her children and her kingdom, as well as the symptoms of her current pregnancy, much to Micteca's evident dislike. Her parents had made her lay on a divan full of cushions (La Muerte recognized her sister's craft in most of them) and commanded for refreshments to be brought for all of them. As per usual, her father all but gagged at any and every mention of Xibalba in her stories and made a point in leaving the most tasty parts of their lunch for his daughter...or he at least tried, sometimes his hunger betrayed him.

At one point, Mictlán retrieved a book on night terrors for La Muerte to read (Adeleine kept waking the family up with screams in the dead of night and she hoped she could find something that could help) as well as a cloak for Oscuro and a small chemise for the baby and excused himself, saying he had some 'Urgent matters to attend' (Micteca translated: He'd gotten an idea for a garment and had to sketch it down before he forgot it) leaving them alone to chat. La Muerte could feel a very particular tension between her and her mother and she couldn't quite trace the reason for it, so she remained silent, eyes on the chimney. Perhaps fazed by the sudden silence, the baby jolted a bit again, making her hiss between her teeth.

“What?” Micteca asked, the slightest edge to her voice.

“I think he enjoys hearing us talk” La Muerte explained as she rubbed soothing circles into her belly and shifted her weight over the divan to go easy on her battered back “He didn't like the silence one bit”

Micteca eyed the contents of her goblet, stirring it slightly with an ebony finger.

“...temperamental, hm?” she finally muttered, clearly unable to find anything else to say.

“A bit less than Luna, but yes” La Muerte chuckled, appreciating the effort her mother was making, although slightly nervous about it too “If I so much as sat in a position she didn't like, she'd be fuzzing for hours on end”

“She retains that temper, if I recall correctly” Micteca continued “Well, at the very least she gave you warning about it in good time, I really had no way of knowing what a magnificent temper you'd have when you and your sister were born”

La Muerte was unsure of how to respond to what seemed like a veiled reproach on a matter of which she had no fault, so she said nothing. The awkward silence that spread between them seemed to tick Micteca off the slightest. She let out a sigh.

“I really am not good of this 'Pregnancy talk' your father and sister are so fond of”

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to”

“Of course I do, it's all you'll talk about lately”

Again, La Muerte kept an uneasy silence, feeling at fault although not exactly sure of why. And again, Micteca felt compelled to fill the silence.

“Be as it may a topic I don't enjoy commenting on, I will do it if it's what you want”

“I...no, I...” sensing his mother's discomfort, the baby stirred, spreading is limbs. La Muerte had no problem with hands and feet poking at different parts of her anatomy, sore as some of them were, but when feathers brushed against her flesh from within, she couldn't help but squirm a bit, letting out a groan.

“What?”

“I...I think I'd like a walk” La Muerte said, as she tried to push herself off the divan. Despite the somewhat insidious disposition her mother had shown earlier, she was quick to help her get onto her feet again.

“Are you sure? Isn't it too much work for you?”

“No, no, exercise will do me well” the urge to get away from Micteca, at the very least until Mictlán returned, was overwhelming. It was clear neither of them was very comfortable with the other at the moment.

“You're supposed to get rest while you're here” Micteca protested weakly. It seemed to La Muerte like she spoke only out of obligation, also looking forward to avoid even more awkward talks putting some distance between them.

“You know me, nantli, resting is not something I do”

“...very well”

La Muerte hadn't completely been lying when she said walking would do her well. Were it because her state of mind eased or because the baby liked feeling the constant side-to-side of his mother's waddling, the only movement from him now were soft nudges and the usual squirming of a growing life. The goddess reminded herself that she needed to keep her temper in check, lest the difficult, rushed and painful events of Oscuro's birth repeated themselves with this baby. Her mind wandered to her own castle, where her children were being tended to by some of the good Remembered souls, only the ones able to handle the godlings. An almost unbearable urge to see them and hold them racked her and she made a resolution.

Mictlán and Xibalba had insisted that she shouldn't even try teleporting, just in case the effort were too much for her in her condition, but she was sure it was just an exaggeration. After all, she'd seen human women do much harsher things in her condition. Maybe she'd just check on her children for a few minutes and then teleport back before her parents realized she was gone. It couldn't hurt to try, could it?

Her mind made up, she started to twirl, and there she found the first impediment. Her gravity center made it exceptionally hard to spin, she almost ended up tipping over and falling, catching herself just in time when she remembered she could levitate. It took her a few tries of spinning over herself at a much lower speed and without adding the necessary amount of magic to propel herself between dimensions to catch the exact momentum and inclination to do it properly, but by then she was starting to get tired and breathless. The baby, that had just started to settle down again, seemed to toss, uneasy within her. She imagined he would be wondering what his mom was doing that meant so many turns and almost laughed. It had to be very weird indeed, being a passenger in a body that kept doing so many strange things, such as shapeshifting and teleporting. She gave herself a few minutes to rest, taking deep breaths, but somehow it seemed to have the contrary effect than she'd expected. Her belly felt like it weighed a ton and her heartbeat drummed in her ears ominously. Either she managed it on the next try or she'd be too tired to try again. Taking a deep breath that made her chest expand it's fullest, she twirled again. For a moment she thought she'd made it, feeling the pull of the magic to leap between worlds pulling her upward...but then, as though resenting the effort, the baby chose that moment to give a particularly strong jolt. A cry left her lips and by pure instinct, she fought the pull of the teleporting with all her might, knowing unless she managed to land where she'd started, she could get lost in the space between worlds. With one last tug, she freed herself, landing on her feet, on top of the carpet of her parents' castle, her body heavier than she remembered, her breathing shallow and labored, a very familiar pain vibrating within her.

“Oh, no...” she managed, pressing a hand to her lower back, where the pain was most intense. 'Oh, yes' seemed to say the little one, moving furiously.

She tried to walk, the walls spinning around her, but a contraction racked her, freezing her into place with a silent howl. It took her a while to begin counting, but when the pain started to subside she'd reached forty. Already such a long contraction! Not a good sign. As the beating of her own heart in her ears subsided a bit, she was able to make out voices coming from the hall around the corner of where she was.

“...you know how stubborn she is, you should have gone with her despite what she said, mi reina”

“She seemed eager to get away from me” judging by Micteca's tone, this wasn't the first time she had to say it “So I gave her some space”

La Muerte gritted her teeth and pushed herself forward, supporting herself on the wall, towards the voices.

“Yes, well, she's been gone too long, what if something happened?”

Just around the corner, if she made it around the corner, they'd see her.

“What could have happened? This is our home, she is perfectly safe”

She was trembling, yet bathed in sweat, and her legs threatened to throw her to the ground. She couldn't even summon enough magic to light a flare or levitate to where her parents' voices came from.

“I still feel uneasy. Call it paternal instinct”

“Mictlán, that does not exist”

“Humor me”

After what seemed a supreme effort, La Muerte managed to get to the corner and turn it, supporting herself on the wall all the while.

“There she is!” Mictlán greeted warmly, not noticing the state she was in for a moment. Micteca on the other hand, froze in place, her eyes scanning the sight before her “We were just looking for you, mi niña–!”

“What's wrong?!” Micteca all but demanded, just as her husband finally took in La Muerte's exhausted form.

“The baby–” her words were cut short by the start of the other contraction and she forced herself to keep her voice down, breathing deeply “I- I think it's time”

“...but y-you said-” Mictlán started, horrified.

“I was wrong” as if on cue, she felt the already familiar jolt in her insides, followed by a rush of liquid warmth down her legs. Her parents identified the sound of water dripping and looked at her feet in alarm “Oh, he seems to be in a hurry”

Mictlán hesitated in place, too frantic to properly think of anything to do to help.

“Dioses del cielo, what do we do?! Whatdowe–!”

Without a word, Micteca teleported next to her, grabbing her by the arm with perhaps more strength than necessary, her other arm enveloping her with a tenderness that contrasted. She coaxed her daughter to walk, hurrying her towards the next door, at a pace that allowed her to breathe through the contraction. With a swift movement of her hand, a bed rose in the middle of what seemed to be a study of some sort and she helped La Muerte down onto it, Mictlán looking over her shoulder apprehensively. Then, without a word, she all but flew out of the room.

“Where are you–!?” Mictlán started, but he was cut by La Muerte's cry, as she writhed over the bed, breathing hard, his attention turning to her immediately “Mijita, deep breaths, she must have...gone get help, but in the meantime, deep breaths”

Help indeed. Micteca's mind was a flurry of red lights, panic nibbling at her like a rat. She knew what had to be done...in theory. She had seen many a mortal birthing in her day, after all, but technical knowledge was different from actual capacity to do anything to help. She knew something had to be done, so she leaped into action, but hard as she tried to prioritize and order all the things that came to mind, it seemed impossible. She wasn't even sure of where she was going until black, menacing shapes of stone and falling ash caught her eye and landed in Xibalba's throne room like a flurry of white fire. The Ruler in question blinked up at her for a moment and Micteca vaguely remembered he had no news of La Muerte's absence in her Kingdom, her visit to her and Mictlán having been a last-minute occurrence.

“La Reina, what brings you here–?”

Before he could finish the sentence her hand had closed around the front of his armor and she pulled him to her face, every ounce of the panic and tension within her body put in the movement. Words piled within her like the steam of a pot, threatening to come out in a bunch.

“La Muerte” she heaved between breaths, unable to phrase coherently for the first time in entire centuries “She's...the baby”

Panic washed over his expression immediately

“What happened!?”

“She was visiting us” oh, thank Tlaloc, a coherent sentence “She said it was supposed to happen later this week...”

“Is she alright?!” Xibalba demanded, bristling.

'Great, now he's panicking too. Just great'

“She's having the baby right now” Micteca hadn't known tar could turn pale like that. Without another word, Xibalba spun, teleporting them back to where she'd come from, and then all but flew down the halls, calling for his wife. Mictlán's voice (“Here, you imbecile!”) indicated him which room was the right one and he was there within the minute, Micteca entering behind him.

“Xi-Xibalba!” La Muerte beckoned, reaching the hand Mictlán wasn't holding to her husband, who immediately trapped it between both of his.

“I am here now, mi amor”

“You brought him and you couldn't bring a doctor?!” Mictlán cried.

Micteca looked at him blankly.

“Doctor” she repeated flatly. Of course! But there wasn't any in the castle or the Realm, hadn't been for centuries. She didn't know who normally tended La Muerte for these cases and, by the looks of it, they had no time to look for them. Maybe she could get a human doctor from the Remembered but was there any time to spare? The red lights were back, in double intensity. She had to get help, she had to–

In a rush of inspiration, she teleported to one of the small cabins on the backyard of the castle, greeted by the sight of the servant who tended to the ravens and the horses sitting on his bed, polishing one of the silver bridles of the carriage. He was small, when compared to her and Mictlan, and his face was somewhat flat. His skin had a rich, reddish tone, like the clay a the bay of the ancient sacred lagoons, but his eyes were of a radiant green. He was a minor deity, product of an Ancient God's affair with a human woman; Mictlán had accepted him in his castle after his human mother died and he was left orphaned in a world that wasn't his, and ever since, he'd sworn allegiance to his house.

“Teo” she breathlessly called. He immediately got to his feet and bowed.

“Mi Señora”

“You tend to the births of many of the creatures in La Noche's realm do you not? The griffons and the manticores and faes and such”

“Correct, mi señora. I have also assisted in hell-hound births at the service of your son-in-law, Lord El Chamuco and the birth of the heirs to the house of Camazotz”

“Would you say you're good at it?”

Teo gave her an offended look that, in any other circumstance, she would have found unacceptable.

“I'm as skilled in such matters as I am in the care of my lord's birds and horses, I'd say”

Which was very, as Micteca knew.

“Very well, then, come with me”

Mictlán would have probably show himself more upset that the help she got was that of a servant more or less skilled in the births of lesser mystical creatures, hadn't at this point any help been welcome. La Muerte had only successfully refrained from screaming herself hoarse out of focusing on keeping her breathing even, and giving Xibalba's hand some dreadful squeezes in which he could have sworn he heard bones cracking. Teo, despite seeming a little taken aback by the scene before him and who was in need of his expertize, made no comment and immediately assumed control of the situation. Without asking for permission or losing time, he inspected under La Muerte's dress, feeling her belly at the same time.

“Mis señores, I will need the assistance of your other servants and some other things”

“Anything you need” Mictlán immediately agreed, snapping his fingers to summon the service bell.

“A clean blanket...it's better if the fabric is soft”

“There is one from when the girls were children” Micteca said, thankful for once about Mictlan's habit of hoarding useless trinkets.

“A pail of warm water and at least a couple of towels…” he took one look at La Muerte's sweaty, reddened face and added “Also, fresh water for the mother, she looks like she needs it”

“Done” Mictlán said, ringing the bell once. The servants rushed to the door of the room and he explained the situation and Teo's instructions to them, immediately scattering them, hurrying them to work and leaving some of the most trustworthy ones stay to aid him. Micteca watched him do, stealing glances at La Muerte's writhing form on the bed every now and then, itching to get to do something, anything to avoid bursting at the mix of energy and panic within her. When her daughter let out a sharp cry, tensing and giving Xibalba's hand a particularly strong squeeze, she all but started.

“The little one is moving, mi señora” Teo regarded her over his shoulder, as though sensing her tension. The fact that he seemed so sure about what he was doing sure made her feel a bit less like a pressure pot ready to burst with panic. Teo then turned to La Muerte, smiling in reassurance “You're doing fine. This will be over soon. Get ready to push”

She nodded, still focused on her breathing. The servants came and went with the things Teo had requested, most of them standing behind Micteca, worrying their hands or biting their lips, or just generally seeming very anxious at the sight. The only ones seemingly calm were Teo and Micteca, the latter of which still had enough clarity of mind to usher the bystanders out of the room, her husband included despite his protests.

“The room is too crowded, and Teo will need the space to work”

“How come Xibalba gets to stay?” Mictlán sulked. She held back the urge to groan.

“Do I seriously need to explain the difference to you?”

Suddenly La Muerte swore loudly, tensing over the pillow. Xibalba let out a surprisingly high-pitched yelp, no doubt consequence of his fingers being snapped under his wife's grasp. Micteca focused the strain of her ego seeing her child in such pain and being unable to do anything about it in all but dragging Mictlán out of the room and closing the door behind her.

It really wasn't long, just as Teo had said. It seemed just instants of La Muerte groaning and swearing before they heard the long cry of a baby and Micteca herself rushed inside the room, closely followed by Mictlán and the servants who, prudently enough, remained at the door, stealing glances inside. The child, so similar to how La Muerte and La Noche had been in the beginning, sugary skin (Although a bit darker than his mother's) and a fluffy cloud of black hair crowning the chubby face, was in Xibalba's arms, and Teo was cleaning blood and other less flattering fluids tenderly off the chubby body with a towel dipped in the warm water. The newborn seemed strong and healthy, if the volume of his cries was any indication, the little chest expanding furiously, the toothless, pink mouth opening wide. La Muerte, although exhausted, had a glimmer of pride in her eyes as she gazed at her son, held between his father's hands firmly, but gently. As they finished cleaning him and Xibalba presented him so he could be wrapped in the clean blanket, Micteca saw a couple of fuzzy, damp wings on his back, white as snow.

“Oh, mijita” Mictlán choked as the child was handed to his mother, finally letting his cries fade when she pressed him close to her heart for warmth “He looks so much like you!”

“Nada, don't try to warm me up to him” she said, as she looked down to the small, wrinkled face in mock reproach “Doing what he pleases already. Couldn't you wait until tomorrow or the day after that, you rascal? You're just like your father”

As was to be expected, Mictlán made a face at her words, but he made no comment, probably too much in a good mood to ruin the moment.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it wasn't all his fault, hmm?" Teo said, mock-innocently, as he washed his hands on what little remained of the warm water and dried them with another towel. La Muerte grimaced slightly.

“How did you know?”

He smiled.

“I'm good at what I do”

“What are you two talking about?” Xibalba all but demanded, perhaps resenting what seemed to be a secret shared between his wife and another man. Teo eyed La Muerte for permission and she nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

“She must have made some sort of exerting effort that, along with the baby's own determination to be born today, triggered the delivery”

“I tried to teleport...I just wanted to check on the children” La Muerte said apologetically, as many sets of accusing eyes settled on her. Xibalba eyed her reproachfully for another moment and then sighed, surrounding her with one wing and one arm.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Taking in account how many children you already have, we don't want to know” Micteca said, prompting Mictlán to let out a long-suffering groan. Now that the rush had passed she was left feeling very silly for having been so worried. La Muerte let out a breathy laugh, and then shifted the newborn in her arms so she could press her forehead to his, looking so happy despite the exhausted lines of her face that Micteca felt a somewhat envious warmth within her “You need rest, yolotzin, let your husband care for him for now”

“Do I have to?” La Muerte said, reminding her mother of when she was a little girl being sent to bed. The slightest hint of a smile curved her lips.

“Yes”

“What is his name?” Teo suddenly asked, seemingly getting ready to leave “The little one's”

“Who wants to know?” Xibalba interjected drily. His wife gave him a warning glance that didn't escape him and he sighed, defeated “...Rahui”

“Rahui” Mictlán repeated, as if relishing the word “Hmmm, yes, it has a nice ring to it. It means 'The day' doesn't it?”

“Ajá” said La Muerte, still unable to look away from her child's face “The entire family scouted all the name books and scrolls available. Tana found it and all of us loved it”

“Rahui, then” Teo said, searching among his clothes for something, until he found it; a small golden medal with a humble string to hang from. It was more or less the size of a peso coin and although it seemed ancient, it was shiny and well-cared for  “Mi Señora, may I ask for one grace of you?”

“After your service today, you could ask me for half my Realm and I'd say yes”

“I don't ask for quite that much” Teo said with a laugh, eyeing the medal one last time before offering it to her “My mother gave this to me when I was a child, I'd like your son to have it, if you allow it”

Xibalba took the medal before his wife could, examining it.

“It's engraved with a shepherd and a sheep” he said, cocking an eyebrow "What good is this trinket for a godling?”

“Xibalba!” La Muerte hissed, slapping him softly, before turning to Teo, her expression softening “Are you sure you want to give it away? A mother's gift is something priceless”

“All a lost soul needs to find their way home is a good guide” he said “The son of the Queen of Souls should remember that”

Mictlán laughed, delighted, clapping the servant's back softly.

“Such wisdom! I'm starting to that your talent is wasted with animals alone, Teo...” he paused for a second, considering “...then again, I'm not sure I could find someone half as skilled as you if you decided to leave”

“You don't have to worry about that” he said “This is my place”

“I think it's a fitting gift for a child that came to the world when he well damn pleased to” Micteca said “With a will that strong, he is sure to become a leader someday. A herder, so to say”

La Muerte pried the medal out of Xibalba's hands gently and examined it for a moment.

“We accept your gift” she declared “On one condition: I want you to be my son's godfather”

Teo's eyes widened and Xibalba did a double-take.

“What?”

“WHAT?! Mi amor, please reconsider...”

"And why not, hmm?" Mictlán intervened "Teo here is noble-born, and he has shown a wisdom you can only dream of, tar-for-brains"

Xibalba recoiled, looking somewhat like a kicked puppy. La Muerte put most of her remaining strength into glaring at her father.

"I do think I've asked you not to insult my husband, much less in front of his children“

Mictlán took one look at the bundle in her arms and softened his expression.

"Yes, yes you have. I apologize”

“Teo has a caring nature, and he has shown to be skillful, there really doesn't seem to be an impediment” Micteca said. Her voice was soft, but she felt like her heartbeat was only just starting to slow down to normal, tension unraveling slowly fro her limbs “Be reasonable, Xibalba, who better to care for the child than the man that brought him into the world? Surely you can trust him with this over any other God you've considered”

Xibalba let out a mild 'Hmph!', but if his expressive frown was any sign, he was starting to figure this was a battle he could not win.  La Muerte ran a hand down his wing softly and he shivered delightedly, letting out a half-sigh.

“Please, Balbi?”

“I...uh, yes, alright” Xibalba finally said, his tone considerably softer “I suppose it is reasonable...”

“All settled then” La Muerte celebrated, Teo's bewildered smile lit his reddish face considerably.

“You honor me, mi señora”

“You can retire now” Xibalba said, regaining his sour demeanor “If you'll excuse us, my wife is very tired”

“Yes, naturally” with a final bow, Teo left the room, motioning for the rest of the servants to do the same. They took one last look at the newborn and closed the door, leaving the family to their business.

“I do believe I told you to get some rest, darling” Micteca said and, I a gesture that surprised even herself, she gently took the infant from between her daughter's arms. Seemingly the 'Doing-without-thinking” wasn't quite done with yet. Rahui squirmed the slightest in the professional, detatched, one-hand-under-his-head-and-the-other -under-his -back grasp he was held in, droopy eyes opening very wide for a moment, grunting a bit, before Micteca, reminding herself that babies needed contact, brought him to rest against her chest, cradling his head gently so he rested on her shoulder “I will care for him in the meantime”

La Muerte's groggy gaze focused on her for a minute, surprised. Micteca was rather surprised herself, but she managed to seem as calm as ever.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course...he needs a bath, either way”

“In the meantime, I will write a letter to your sister” Mictlán said, with a joyful shiver running up his bones “Her husband and her will be glad to know everything turned out well”

“And that this time I didn't steal any names from her” La Muerte said with a somewhat bitter smile.

“That too. I'll throw in a letter for the Candlemaker as well. As I gather, he's always glad to hear from you”

“Thank you, papá”

“I'll go tell the children what happened” Xibalba said, squeezing his wife in a gentle hug one last time before getting to his feet “You get some rest in the meantime, you earned it”

La Muerte still stayed awake a few minutes after her husband and father left. Micteca saw her eyes drift closed, her breathing becoming calmer. Something stirred within her -something that reminded her how mere minutes before she had been so scared for her- and in a rush of tenderness, she approached, balancing the baby on one arm, to brush a few strands of hair from the beloved sweaty face and then carefully lower her lips to the sugary forehead.

She had forgotten how small babies were. Well, it had been a good couple of centuries since her daughters were that small, Micteca pondered, cradling Rahui's head gently. He'd stopped squirming, giving little coos and grunts every now and then as he examined his surroundings with wide eyes. His mother's eyes...Mictlan's eyes. Something tugged at her heartstrings at this thought.

“You are a good-looking one, I'll grant you that” she said softly, laying him down on the bed she and Mictlán shared for a moment to clap her hands, summoning her servants, immediately picking him up to prevent him from rolling and hurting himself “Bring me a clean basin, towels and some lukewarm water, the little one needs a bath”

She didn't miss the somewhat inquiring gaze they shot her before obeying. By the Ancient Gods, was it really that surprising that she wanted to care for her grandson? Her grandson. She looked at Rahui, once again marveled at the similitude between him and his mother and aunt at that age; and she remembered, as clear as if it had been the day before, the strange and yet gratifying wave of affection that washed over her the first time she'd been left alone with her babies, with their bodies balanced in her arms, so small, depending completely on her. How overwhelming that had seemed at the time! And how endearing! The basin was soon brought to her presence, as well as a vase full of pleasantly warm water and a couple of small, fluffy towels. She instructed them to be placed on the night-table, after it was cleared from papers, a hand mirror and a comb, and she unwrapped the rounded body from the blanket, handing it to a servant as another poured the water.

“Have that washed immediately” she said. Despite the time that had passed since her own daughters were infants, her body remembered the necessary motions. Rahui's naked form stirred closer to her, pressing to her chest. Despite the fact that Micteca's wooden form was nowhere as soft as his mother's he seemed comfortable. All the better for him, she guessed. She turned to one of the servants  “Fetch me diapers and clothes as well. There are some at the King's study. The rest of you may retire”

The servants bowed and did as they were told. Micteca held Rahui on one arm expertly and slowly lowered him to the water, never letting go of him and keeping his body, from the waist up, out of the water. The baby stirred, eyes scanning her face for a moment.

“Refrain from looking at me like I'm going to drown you” she said, grabbing the nearest towel, dipping it in the water lightly and then softly wiping the small face “It's been a while, but I do trust I remember this well enough”

He squirmed a bit, but seemed to relax at the warmth, chubby legs splashing a bit. Micteca imagined Mictlán's reaction at her dress getting wet by this ordeal and couldn't suppress a smile.

“Oh? So ruining a perfectly good carpet wasn't enough, now you're after my dress?” he let out a small noise, splashing more as she softly wiped his body with the towel, cleaning everything Teo missed “Just like your mother said, what a rascal...I would have to disagree that you get it from your father. Perhaps she's forgotten how mischievous she was as a child, but I certainly have not”

Was that a small smile she spied in the baby's mouth? Unlikely.

“Even now, she still manages to raise hell with her impulsiveness, even without meaning to. Look at the fright she just gave us! Well, both of you”

Perhaps sensing the reproach (Although Micteca didn't think it was possible) Rahui reached for her with both hands, chubby fingers opening and closing like starfish. The perfect image of innocence.

“Don't give me that, you little troublemaker” she chided softly, rubbing the small cloud of black hair on top of his head with the towel carefully. The servant with the diapers and clothes arrived, leaving them on the bed, along with another small blanket (That one was knitted...surely La Noche's, perhaps forgotten there after a visit with her own children) Micteca kept a guarded silence until he'd left the room again “Your first day here and you almost gave your father a heart-attack already...I tremble to think what you will do later on”

She hesitated with the wings (How did Xibalba do his? She had no idea) but ended up deciding to put the towel aside just sprinkle them lightly with her fingers. Rahui spread them a bit, as though enjoying the attention, and then closed them again, cooing softly. Micteca used her free hand to pour water over his body to avoid him getting cold, and he gurgled delightedly. Or was it a cough? She wasn't sure. Just in case, she took him out of the basin and wrapped him in the dry towel, resting his head against her shoulder again, rubbing comforting circles on his back and rocking from side to side a bit. He made some little noises, stirred a bit, yawning, and closed his eyes, no doubt much more relaxed by the bath. She waited a reasonable amount of time for him to be dry and then quickly dressed him, wrapping him on the knitted blanket when she was done. He fell asleep in her arms almost immediately, as she walked around the room, whispering soft reproaches and tough-loving names at him, a small smile on her lips.

“Hm, this is a sight I've missed” came her husband's voice from the bedroom door. A pang of disappointment at not getting more time alone with the child crossed her heart, but it was short-lived. Mictlán approached, a warm glow in his eyes.

“You're done writing? That was quick”

“I was excited” he sad unapologetically, his eyes setting on the night-table and the bathing utensils on it “Bathing just one is much easier, though, isn't it?”

“Naturally. And this one is much calmer than our girls were. Call the servants and have them pick that up and clean, though. I won't have water stains in my bed chambers”

He chuckled, but then his expression froze.

“Mi reina, that dress is wet!” his hands reached for the tiny form between hers almost instinctively and she conceded, leaving the baby to him “Take it off at once!”

She blinked at him for a second, waiting for the implication to reach him. It eventually did, his eyes seeming to shine brighter, setting on the parts of her body where wetness made the fabric stick to her, his jaw hanging open the slightest.

“I m-mean, you could catch a c-cold, querida...” he said, laughter in his voice.