Book 1: Brutality

Control

23

"Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat." — Ralph Ellison

~Trigger Warning~

It doesn't take me long to decide that I really hate being pregnant.

I faint a few more times, until Valindra finally bans me from the heavy work. I spend hours sitting with Lindor in the house or on the tree deck, feeling the low-level queasiness roil inside me, the dizziness, occasionally vomiting and hating Barathalion with a vengeance.

That he has subjected me to this! I thought most of my rage had been beaten out of me years ago, but now, my soul scratches and howls at the injustice, as I suffer constipation, sickness, violent mood swings and my belly starts to round out. It is hard, gross and uncomfortable.

What's really disgusting is that everyone's so happy for me. The water fey stop trying to snatch me off the bank and instead rub my stomach, cooing and asking when the baby's due.

Faeries make way for me in the freeways and the village, looking at my stomach with awe. Edhelel nods at me approvingly every time she sees me.

"A baby, eh? Congratulations, Albia! A new little one soon." She and the other female goblins have lots of advice to give me on what to eat and what to avoid, and as my pregnancy continues, Edhelel makes me drink a strangely spiced concoction in an unfired clay cup every few weeks.

Then, she makes me eat the cup. Apparently, I need the minerals.

Even the twins, rushing manically past, pause to congratulate me as I'm finishing off my final, dusty crumbs of the cup.

"Wow, a baby! Nice work, Albia! Let's hope it's twins!" And off they go, laughing madly as they swing themselves into the branches.

I watch them, feeling even sicker than usual. Twins. Please, no. I know I am one myself, but, the last thing I need is two babies. Two of Barathalion's babies. I shudder.

Valindra takes my hand. "Never mind them."

I squeeze her hand back. I don't know how I'd get through this without her. Only Valindra knows how awful this is for me. She's taken care of me when I wake up sick in the nights, she's held me while I weep in sudden, bottomless pits of despair.

She suspects what happened to conceive this child — of course she does, she's not stupid — but never brings it up or presses me for details. She just helps me get through it, one day at a time.

Now though, she stiffens with the look of angry disgust that only one person can inspire in her. "That man!"

Dismally, I look up to watch Gael approach across the main village platform, past the Knot. He's got a sort of basket-looking wooden thing today — I think it's a fish trap. He doesn't seem to do any hunting or fishing himself, but everyone wants a trap made by him.

He stops a few yards away, prudently out of striking distance from Valindra. "Good morning, ladies," he says. "How are you doing? How's Lindor?"

"Fine," Valindra says grudgingly. "He's starting to sit up on his own now," she can't help adding boastfully. She jiggles him on her hip, and he giggles madly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we must be going." She starts to lead me away.

"No wait." He takes a step after us. "We haven't had any sign language lessons lately, Albia."

Sorry, I sign and indicate my growing belly.

He takes a tactful look. Gael alone in the tribe hasn't congratulated me on my pregnancy. I think he's the only one, besides Valindra, who's noticed my misery. "Yes, but can't we start again?" His voice hardens. "You owe mw lessons, Albia. We agreed."

"He's right, you know," Valindra says grudgingly. "You can't renege on a deal, even that one." She sniffs — she still disapproves of my poisons.

Reluctantly, I nod. Tomorrow, I sign and he bows courteously. I feel him watching us as we leave the village, walking along the quiet freeway back to the cottage.

I sink down on our platform, knees giving away. Before me, my stomach sticks out like a small, hard ball and it's only going to get worse in the coming months.

I close my eyes against the dizziness, inspired by the exertion of strolling a mile slowly, through the canopy, along a calm and level treeway. Do women really do this voluntarily?

Bitterly, I wonder what Barathalion's doing right now. Probably out hunting with his friends, or partying at some Court revel and not sparing me a single thought.

Of course not, I think, my bitterness intensifying. Wh should he? What was I to him? Just something to be used for his pleasure and tossed aside to endure this. I shrink away at the thought and try to curl up, but my stomach won't let me. Yet another liberty taken away from me.

Slow tears trickle down my cheeks. I stare up at the gently waving green leaves against the blue sky. Why is everything always taken away from me? My parents, my home, my sisters, my voice, my virginity and my honour.

Now, I don't even have control over my own body. I don't have control over anything. A wave of vertigo washes over me, like I'm standing at the edge of a precipice.

Maybe that would be for the best, I think suddenly. After all, I was edging towards death even before the assault. I could just throw myself from one of the higher platforms and smash on the ground.

It would be all over in seconds. I wouldn't have to have the baby and the unicorn could hardly punish me then. Problem solved.

Downstairs, Lindor's voice rises in a complaining howl. "Albia!" Valindra shouts over the noise. "Come down! I need your help!"

Wearily, I drag myself to my feet, hauling my stomach with me. I can't kill myself. Who's going to help with Lindor if I'm dead?

~Fun Fact~

It is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky.

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