Naomi's Braid

Caspian swallowed the lump in his throat. He had spent many, many hours of his life braiding various types of rope together. He thought nothing of braiding Naomi's hair until his fingers were already doing the work.

She inhaled deeply and leaned slightly into his hands, causing his stomach to do a little flip. The tips of his fingers tingled, but he pushed past the oddly pleasant sensation to finish the braid and secure it with a strip of fabric.

"There you are. As good as any rope on the best of our ships," He said, not adding that it was far softer and more alluring.

His wife turned to him to smile her thanks before scooting over to her side of the bed. She'd doffed the sling that helped hold her shoulder in place, but still favored it and the sprained ankle.

Caspian chuckled as she appeared frustrated. He lifted the blankets for her to slide underneath, and she gifted him with a chagrined smile.

He settled in next to her, lying on his back instead of steadfastly ignoring her by trying to sleep on his side as he had their first two nights in this bed.

She lay on her side, facing him, and he realized that her other shoulder, and her back, were both injured, so it was likely to be the only comfortable way for her to lay. He didn't much like being stared at, and she lowered her eyes when he glanced at her.

She shivered, and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Why was he still trying so hard to resist her? It didn't make sense, even to himself now.

Opening his eyes again, he caught and held her gaze with his own. She looked wide-eyed and a little afraid.

With a comforting smile, he lifted the arm closest to her in a silent invitation. She bit her lip until he frowned at it, and then scooted tentatively nearer to her husband.

He closed the gap and tucked her under his arm. Using his shoulder as a pillow, she rested one arm across his chest as a support for her injured shoulder.

Caspian laid his cheek against the top of her head, feeling himself deeply moved at the intimacy of her soft form pressed against his body. The feelings almost overwhelmed him, but the fact that she was injured was his saving grace.

The smell of her hair filled his senses. Where had she found scented soap to rinse her hair with? She probably injured her shoulder further in her efforts.

As Naomi slowly drifted to sleep against him, she relaxed by degrees. A feeling of protectiveness welled up within him, even more powerful than he'd felt when he had attacked the gargoyle.

How could she have so much trust in him?

She shifted slightly, nuzzling closer to him and murmuring softly. His heart skipped a beat and then took off like a horse race.

He pressed his lips gently into her soft hair, inhaling the scent deeply.

It was a long time before his heart calmed enough for him to sleep as well.

________

"What more can we do?" The General asked in earnest.

Tempers were running high in the Council chamber. Ever since the report that the Void had likely returned via the belief of a little girl, combined with the news that the Sea People had been going to other worlds for years threw them into quite a discussion.

"We need more information," The Judge said evenly. "It is clear that we know far less about these other worlds than we imagined. We do not even know how many there are, let alone what dangers lurk in each of them."

"The Void could be the least of our worries!" The Peacekeeper put in.

"So what do you propose?" The General put out the question in a different way. "We lived for hundreds of years blissfully ignorant of these other worlds. If we leave them alone, chances are we will not lure any dangers here again. Right now there is only the suggestion that it's possible the Void has come back."

"It seemed fairly certain to me," King Duncan sighed from his place.

"We should send an ambassador to find out all we can from the Cetoans about these other worlds, and catalog it for the archives," The Treasurer put in. "The more knowledge we collect, the better prepared we can be for what comes."

"An excellent suggestion," Agreed the Judge. "It should be someone with knowledge of other worlds as well as the Void so that we obtain the most insight possible."

The eyes of the room moved toward a sleepy Roland, who had been up several times with various babies. When he realized he was being stared at, he roused himself and sat straighter. It took him a moment to take in what was being suggested.

"With deepest respect, Members of the Council," He hedged, "My wife has recently had three babies. It does not please me to leave them to go on such a journey, and I am unwilling to put them through the difficulty of traversing so far."

"You are the most qualified, along with your wife," The General mused. "She has been to two other worlds and researched heavily into the history and origins of various herbs, races, and creatures."

"It is a hobby of hers," Roland tried to downplay her expertise, though he knew she was among the foremost of experts on the topic. He didn't want the kingdom to depend upon her for anything right now. 

"And you, yourself, played an integral role in banishing the Void, as well as possessing one of the only ways back to the Darkness. You are well prepared to look for signs of its return among the Cetoans," The Judge put in.

"I fear I cannot volunteer myself or my wife for such a mission at this time." Roland bowed his head. He really didn't want to go.

"The survival of our world, and consequently your family, may depend on the outcome of this expedition," The General leaned forward. "Though I will not vote to command you to go, I insist that you discuss this matter with your wife. I think we should adjourn for the day and reconvene tomorrow after she either urges you to go or insists on coming with you."

Roland's mouth snapped shut in anger at the General's presumption. The man was a high ranking governmental leader, and not to be trifled with. He supposed he should be grateful that he had not been ordered to go, at least, not yet.

Duncan stopped his son before he left, throwing an arm around the younger man's shoulders.

"From what I can tell, the General knows your wife quite well," He said with a hint of amusement. "I can't say I disagree with his predictions."

"She just had more babies at one time than some women will have in their entire life," Roland said with exasperation. "She needs rest, not more adventure!"

"Will she see it that way? I seem to recall her having a difficult time staying away from danger." Duncan tried to keep a straight face as he looked at his son.

"This time it's different. She wouldn't just be running at danger, she'd be dragging our three babies alongside her!" Roland was confident that his wife's protective instincts would keep her at home, but he couldn't deny the distinct possibility that she would push him to go.

If the fate of the world was truly at stake, maybe he needed to.

With a heavy sigh and a halfhearted smile of farewell for his father, Roland set off home.

His mind was occupied with numerous thoughts as he walked, so that by the time he arrived home, he was mentally exhausted as well as physically. At least if she insisted he go on the journey, he was likely to get more sleep.

He arrived home to a beautiful domestic scene. His wife and adoptive mother sat in chairs side by side, holding his babies as they cooed.

He came in and took one of the two that cuddled in his wife's arms after kissing her lips softly.

"Hello Roen," He smiled at the baby.

"That's Ivan!" Finn's brow furrowed.

"What? How can you tell?" He looked at the infant in his arms. Lily was easy, because Finn always wrapped her in a pink blanket or dressed her in gowns with little bows on them, and she had dark, beautiful hair. The boys were more of a challenge. Both bald and dressed in blue, they looked very similar to him. 

Finn sighed and looked at Mrs. Sherman, who was chuckling.

"Ivan has a little red birthmark on his forehead, right there," She pointed between the baby's eyes. "It will fade as he grows, but for now it is the easiest way to tell your sons from one another."

"All right," Roland sighed. "I'm sorry, Ivan. How are you?"

"He's well, and rested. They all did amazingly today," Finn beamed at the triumph. "How was the meeting?" The man closed his eyes at the question, dreading bringing up the subject, but not willing to put it off indefinitely.

"Well…"