The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 11-Stubborn Pride

The practice-labour pains I have been experiencing have intensified. So much so that they have long since surpassed from 'uncomfortable' and 'bothersome' as described by Mrs. Abbott, my midwife, to right painful. They are brought on oft times by even the slightest exertion. And the fragility of my condition makes me feel weak.

The stairs.

My, there are many stairs in this castle. And with each step I take, I feel the muscles in my heavy womb protest. A tightening begins in my back and wraps around my front toward my navel. Hardening and squeezing down into my pelvis, the weight of the child within me crushing against my bladder. I can feel as the joints in my hips loosen, opening at the force of the baby being pressed down by the contraction. And just when I feel as if he or she may fall through, crossing my legs as I stand still-breathing rhythmically and braced against the wall, it vanishes.

It happens after we make love. But I haven't told Robin. Although it has become increasingly harder to conceal. I am too afraid that he will become too afraid to touch me. View me as too fragile yet I am in a fragile state. Too afraid that if he were unable to touch me, he would replace me, even if, just until I am able.

The girls.

Perhaps it's only in my hormonal state that I have become jealous. I have no reason to doubt Robin's love and affection for me. But the girls in the clan have begun to set me on unease. Their flirtatious looks and high-pitched giggles. The seductive sway of their hips as they pass him by. He pays them no mind. Accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him, no doubt. But I have come to find it particularly disrespectful to me.

And a nagging part of me so wonders, who? Which one? How many of them? Which of these girls has Robin been intimate with before me? And I watch them, trying to decipher from any interaction they have with Robin. Trying to see who holds his gaze longer than the rest. Trying to see a flicker of knowing in Robin's eyes. A blush upon their cheeks. A hint of a smirk at the corner of their mouths.

Who used to satiate my young husband's lust before I?

This is what darkness lurks in my mind during the numerous celebrations of sorts that so occur here at the castle. And the De Noirs use any excuse for a celebration. As the girls and women dance and flirt as the drinks are ever filled, never left empty for but a moment as the music thrums on. A sea of black and red and silver. Dancing, laughing, dining, drinking. Unhindered. Boundary less. Formalities forgotten.

I couldn't blame Robin. Being raised in this way. Giving in to drink and violence and desires of the flesh. Even I find this lifestyle intriguing even though it is a stark contrast to my snobbish and prudish upbringing.

But I know I am being foolish. A lapse in judgment fueled by jealousy. For each time my eyes fall to Robin from amongst the crowd, whether at my side or across the room, I see that he only has eyes for me.

Stop being foolish, Maria! I scold the ridiculousness of my thoughts internally. If anything it is better this way. Just as Remy had told me at our wedding reception. Perhaps Robin's unabashed freedoms have allowed him to taste of what the world could offer and just as soon he has found what he truly wants.

And I know that is me.

I decided it best I remain sat at the bench. Using the table as a shield for my growing shape. My long black cloak did a fair job of disguising me but I know the clans people all too well now, and I wanted to avoid being swept off and made to join in the entrancing dance that jerked and flowed precariously to the deep base of the drums. Visions of witches dancing around a fire under the light of the moon, a portrayal of wickedness gleaned from illustrated tales in books, always played in my mind at the sight of the way the De Noir clan danced.