Captain Blake's Home Archive

Blake lets Camilla move to the table and for a moment he just drinks in the sight. Lustrous blond tresses framing a gorgeous face, the swell of her breasts above the swell of her belly round with the product of their love, and finally her long shapely legs. The count wasn't a religious man, but his wife's body was a temple he worshiped at every day. He moves to the table and takes her left foot in his hands, he massages it gently in his hands. "Seem fine to me." He says with a grin and then he places a kiss to her calf. "Tastes fine as well, though perhaps I should check further up." He gives her a devious grin as his eyes roam up her leg.

Blake had tried not to look too victorious when Camilla faded them to black. He'd wound up dragging pillows and blankets from their bed to create a comfy nest next to the crackling hearth, she had her head on his chest and he absently stroked her hair. They really should be asleep, but though he was comfortable part of him couldn't bring himself to end this perfect day. At her insistence he looks at the little bump, reaching out to feel it. "Told you she was a fighter." He murmurs sleepily and smiles.

Things must have gone too well, for bad news came in the form of a letter. Camilla sat reading, her mood going from cheerful to frightened for her cousin.




Camilla dropped the letter, shooting to her feet and yelling for the butler to send for Naoki... She was beside herself, her voice hoarse as she paced the parlor, "She has to be stopped! What is she doing?! Oh, Gods!" She started to cry, hard, and even harder still when the first pain started. "Blake!!!!!!!!!!!!" She yelled, knowing that if he didn't hear her, someone would get him.

"It's Faisine... she's gone to Goraia thinking I hated her and now she could get killed." But there was something else in that panicked voice, he would be able to see her face ashen as she started going into labor much too soon. But she didn't know it was labor she thought it was the distress but didn't complain of her pain, not even at the moment her breath was robbed from her and amniotic fluid hit the floor, "She can't... die..."

She immediately rolled onto her side once in the bed, clawing at his arms as fire licked at her womb and back. "Oh god's, it hurts..." Camilla was already sweating, and forgot her cousin for the moment too, upset for going into labor already... "It's too soon!" she sobbed, "I can't lose my baby!"

He would see stark fear in her already pain glazed eyes as she gripped with vice like fingers. She rolled back onto her back and arched. Her lips had gone pale, and so had she... The grey pallor did not bode well for the situation. As the pain receded for the time, she panted.

"Don't leave..." she begged, for husbands tended to leave their wives to birthing. "Sit behind me and don't leave..."

After a time, her gown was peeled from her along with her shift, and a clean sleeping shift pulled over her head. If Blake stayed, she rested against his chest. The pain came again in about twenty minutes, causing her to arch, her fingers gripping so tightly in bed linens that they tore with but a tug from her. Her belly was felt, only for them to be told that the wee one was breech.

Also, nothing could be done to ease her pain. A numbing potion would have been wonderful but it was too dangerous a situation. Both she and the baby were in danger.

The night seemed to drag on and on, for the pain didn't come closer and dilation was happening slower than it was supposed to. She was already so very tired when she was told to get up and walk... Which did help. It was already dark when she lay trying to rest, and the pains finally started to come faster.

Another hour or so passed by before she was dilated enough that the midwife could try and turn the child around... ut it was much too painful. Blood started to seep into the linens, she tried not to bear down until she was told to. The birth was difficult, and the little girl was painstakingly pulled from her womb, feet first, and lay limp in the hands of the midwife. The babe was so tiny, and all odds were stacked against her. Camilla wasn't allowed to rest until the afterbirth was out.

She collapsed, crying softly at the sight of what looked like a stillborn. She held her arms out anyway, wanting to hold the lifeless child. She started to cry with grief, her thumb stroking the tiny rosebud lips... "Sh-she can't die.... Sh-she can't..." She was hyperventilating, tears falling upon the too tiny forehead. "Please stay with me, d-don't you go, my aby," she pleaded. The tiny girl gave a weak little mewl and latched her mouth around the stroking finger.

She reluctantly handed Ambre off to the midwife so her nose could be cleared, and she clung to her husband, for she was a wreck. "S-she... *sharp breath repeated three times* h-has... *more breaths..." t-to be.... *you get the point* alright..." Ambre was so tiny, but was a perfect replica of Camilla but for the thatch of curls on her head that were a darker red - Blake's dark hair had influenced that...

Camilla stared at the child, who eventually let out her first cry. Then, and only then, did she let the darkness overtake her. She passed out.

The babe made it through the night, as did Camilla. The latter was feverish the next day, but otherwise fine. She insisted a basket be placed on a table by the bedside so she could see for herself how Ambre Rhiannon Blake was faring. She could not nurse, they had to feed the child with a clean cloth dipped in goat milk. At some point, she was bathed and fed, herself, but slept off and on when she could. While she bathed, they changed the linens on the bed.

Her fever broke around mid day, though it was made clear that she was far from out of the woods yet. She didn't care as long as her child was in sight.