#look brone's my own personal blorbo rn but that doesnt mean he takes care of himself

[gravidwithlore]

Building a Home part 2 (part 1)

(Who wants to get a little taste of Brone's POV 😈)

word count: 4,700

Brone woke to the comforting sounds of the forest. At least the sounds of the not spooky part of the Wandering Woods. Usually he would wake up quicker, already be up and alert, especially with the baby kicking him practically all night long, but this morning he just felt too sluggish, but as he slowly woke up and became more aware of his body, he also felt sore. Very sore. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place what. He could also feel someone curled up behind his back, their thin arm wrapped around his waist, hand resting over where the baby- the baby… THE BABY!

In pure panic, his eyes flew open as he heard the gurgle of an infant, but not within sight, too far away, much too far away. Someone was taking his baby, his little Wulf, he should have known he wouldn't be safe, he should have kept a closer eye, he should have never let himself drift off to sleep. All this ran through his mind in the split second it took to break out of whoever’s hold, and leap over the side of the wagon. Reaching for the pommel of his sword, ready to fight and give chase after whatever no good asshole thought they could take his baby, his hand grasped around nothing, and he cursed himself for leaving the sword tucked away in the cart. Then, he looked up and froze.

Melian and Rhiannon, sitting by the still smoldering remains of the campfire and holding a happily babbling Wulf, stared back at him, also frozen.

“Hey, what gives?” Jiyan broke the tension a few tense moments later, sleepily sitting up in the wagon, bed-head on display for all to see.

“I um… I thought, I- uh…” Brone stumbled over his words, suddenly feeling silly and exposed after causing a scene in his panic.

“Breakfast?” The fighter, Rhiannon, he'd have to start remembering their names. He was pretty sure he owed them his life after what they've done for him, and it's only smart business to remember the names of the people you owe and the people who owe you. The bard, the annoyance, Jiyan, perked up and hopped out of the cart. He always moved like he was swaying to some sort of rhythm, and he swayed right past Brone, who was still gathering his wits about him, and towards the smell of food.

The cleric… or was it druid? It was so hard to tell what exactly their deal was, but their name was Melian. Melian drifted up out of their seat, annoyingly graceful in the way that elves always are, and gently deposited his son in his arms. It was as if a spell had been broken and Brone could finally breathe again. He suddenly felt tired, the exhaustion of the night before catching up to him, even with a few hours of sleep.

“Come, sit. You'll both need to eat.” They guided him to sit down with the group. It was so strange to let some else lead him, outside of combat at least. He'd always kept a cautious professional distance from whoever he was stationed with in the mercenary camps. It made him feel uneasy to know these strangers had not only seen him so vulnerable, but had helped him, had cared for him, were continuing to care not just for him, but for his newborn son as well. It scared him to think what they might want in return, how high above his head they would hold this information, how they would wield it against him and twist it in his back like a knife. It scared him even more to think these people may no longer be strangers.

But still he sat, carefully, between the sore, well, everything between his legs and the small newborn he held in his arms, it was a bit difficult, but he managed.

They all sat, mostly silent, except of course for the pestering menace that wouldn't stop teasing him, about what a ‘good snuggler’ he is, about how ‘tough’ he is for going through labor just hours ago and still being ready ‘to kick some serious ass,’ about how ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ his baby is (which is true, but something about Jiyan’s tone always set him on edge, it always felt like the lead up to a mocking laugh at Brone’s expense). And yet, he had helped Brone the night before, and if his memory served correctly, ignoring his own pain in the process. These conflicting warring emotions swirled through Brone’s chest as he ate, only broken out of his thoughts once he was done eating and Melian offered to show him how to breastfeed Wulf.

“Is that… something you need to teach people? I thought it was just, sorta… natural.” Brone blanched.

“Not always.” Melian shook their head. “Sometimes the baby does not latch on right away, and sometimes a parent needs help in encouraging their baby to feed.”

Brone relented and Melian shooed away Rhiannon and Jiyan to start packing up camp so that they could have some privacy for his ‘lessons.’ His head swam, as he began to realize just how unprepared for this he was. Just save up enough coin and fuck off to his own little imagined paradise in the middle of nowhere? Melian was right, what an idiotic plan that was, and he had even fucked up the finding a place to live part. He'd just imagined a perfect little cabin with all he and his child could ever need, and never even bothered to try finding it before it was time to squat his crying babe into the world. Maybe that perfect little cabin didn't even exist, and now he's really screwed up, and he's ruined Wulf’s life as well as his own.

Thankfully, Wulf was a hungry lad, and took to feeding almost immediately. Brone’s relief momentarily washed away the anxiety and shame and embarrassment at exposing himself in front of Melian. But just as it always had, it flowed right back in to settle down in it’s home deep in his chest. But holding Wulf, he felt the small but growing spark of an emotion he hadn't felt since he was small. Happiness. And somehow that made the anxiety and shame feel a little less heavy than it did before.

“I hope you do not mind.” Melian interrupted his thoughts. “But I had Rhiannon rework your cloak. It may no longer function as it once did, but it will be immensely useful in helping to carry Wulf around.” They added before he could object, as they held up his old tatty cloak, patched and repaired with neat sturdy stitches. It turned out, she'd cut and resown it to be one long strip of fabric that Melian instructed him to wrap around his waist and shoulders and how to secure a fed and burped Wulf to his chest.

“I had some towels that might have worked, but I had a feeling you'd want something of your own to hold your son.” Melian smiled sweetly at him. Brone felt like the rug had pulled out from under him at how thoughtful the gesture was. Not only did this help him keep his arms free and handy in case of an ambush, but they were right. He wouldn't have trusted anything they would have provided unless his was his own ol’ trusted cloak. Although not having the cloak to cover him, to disguise and obfuscate his body anymore left him feeling naked in a way he hadn't even felt while naked and giving birth. It made him uncomfortable and he couldn't quite say why, but Wulf's comfort and protection was more important, so he just mumbled out a gruff ‘thanks.’

_____________________

Later that night, the group found a sparklingly clear pool of water to camp by. Once everybody confirmed with Brone, who was still their guide, the pool was safe and not one of the deceptively peaceful but extremely dangerous spots in the Wandering Woods, they went about unpacking for the night.

Brone was relieved to still be a little help at least, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for being a useless liability in his state. It didn't help that Melian wouldn't let him lift the heavy horse harnesses, or chop firewood, or do anything that required physical exertion which was… most things you need to do in order to survive and make camp in the wilderness. The most they would let him do was start the fire and start cooking dinner. Plus, everyone kept fussing over him, asking if he needed to sit, if he was comfortable, asking if he needed to take a break from carrying Wulf. It was starting to feel overwhelming, and Brone was worried if he snapped at them they'd just leave him here and his son alone, the second half of his contract unpaid for failing to provide protection for the entire journey. By some miracle of the gods, he managed to hold his tongue.

While dinner was still cooking on the fire, Melian approached Brone and he tensed, ready to rebuff another attempt at coddling him.

“Would you like me to show you how to bathe little Wulf while we're here?” They asked. Brone blinked in surprise.

“I- uh, didn't know that was… another thing that needed to be taught.” Brone deflated, realizing for the 1000th time that day how in over his head he was in this whole new parenthood situation. Oh gods, how did he ever think he could do this?

“Not necessarily, but babies have a lot of… folds. I thought it might be helpful to show you some best practices, to save you from struggle later down the road. No pun intended.” They smiled and glanced back towards the path they'd spent the last four days traveling.

“Yeah, uh… sure.” Brone awkwardly agreed as he stood, slowly and carefully, his body still quite sore from the combination of childbirth and the days of traveling. Melian guided them over to the clear pool, discarding their cloak and flowy robes to just their linen underclothes. Brone hesitantly followed, stripping down to his underpants before following Melian into the water with little Wulf held tight in his arms. They didn't go very deep, the water barely up to their knees as they guided him to a spot with a large flat rock just barely under the water's surface, a perfect place for a baby to lay while they get their first bath. They instructed him on what type of soaps to use and which would harm his baby's skin, on which hidden baby folds to make sure get washed thoroughly and what parts to avoid getting soap into. Brone had never been a gentle man, in fact he'd had a long and storied career of being explicitly ‘ungentle,’ but something in him clicked when Wulf was born that activated some long dormant instinctual softness that he'd never thought he'd ever be capable of. Which is why it left him reeling in confusion when Melian accused him of being ‘too gentle’ while guiding him through the bath.

“What?” He said a little too forcefully.

“Whenever he fusses you begin to panic and hold back. He is just uncomfortable, but he will survive a bit of soap and water. Human babies are surprisingly resilient.” They explained.

For a moment Brone gaped at them like a fish. Then realizing how he must look, he snapped his jaw shut and nodded. He continued bathing Wulf, being a little less overly cautious than he was before.

“Brone… I apologize if I-”

“Thanks.” Brone grunted out before they could finish their thought. It was Melians turn to gape like a fish, confusion creeping in their usually calm demeanor. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.” He said again more clearly. “For not mincing your words. You're straightforward. I-uh… I appreciate it.” He got quiet again, using his concentration on the task at hand as an excuse to avoid acknowledging his vulnerability. All of his instincts fired up as he felt their hand on his shoulder, but he fought down the urge to tear himself away.

“No thanks needed Brone. I… appreciate that you appreciate my… demeanor. Most are not quite so… appreciative.” Melian looked down, their eyes momentarily full of sadness, and Brone was startled to learn he couldn't stand to see such an expression darken their face.

“Well, most people need to pull their gods-damned head out of their asses. I wouldn't give their opinions much thought if I were you.” He said. To his surprise Melian snorted into a laugh, any trace of sadness banished.

“Thank you, Brone.” They sighed a minute later as their laughter faded, and he found he didn't want to flinch away from their touch when they laid a hand on his forearm. “That is very much appreciated.”

To his surprise, he found himself smiling back at them, Melian's laughter having the strange effect of making him feel… good? Good about… himself? Wulf's happy babbling interrupted that train of thought, before he went down a track from which he couldn't return.

“If you want to bathe yourself, I do not mind watching after Wulf while you do so.” They offered. Brone considered it for a moment. So far, Melian had been trustworthy, even helping bring his son into the world. Besides, he would be within sight and sound traveled well enough over the water, he would be able to hear loud and clear if something went wrong. In this moment, in this time, in this place, Melian was probably the most trustworthy person to hold his newborn for the couple of minutes it would take for a quick wash up.

“Just in time.” Rhiannon interrupted before he could give Melian an answer. “I was just coming to offer to do your hair.” Brone looked down at Mel in confusion, wondering if this was part of the pairs usual routine, to find Melian looking back at him expectantly. His brows furrowed in agitation as he realized she meant his hair.

“What’re you talking about?” Brone asked, as he waded into the water, until it was deep enough to quickly duck underwater. He popped back up to the surface, wet hair clinging to his face. “All clean, see?”

Rhiannon shook her head, an almost dismayed look on her face. Brone felt something in his stomach tightened as the little voice in the back of his head screamed at him that it looked too close to pity. Nothing good had ever happened when people looked at him in ‘pity.’ Pity quickly turned to disgust, disgust turned to loathing, and loathing got him dirty looks from strangers as he just tried to go about his business.

“Nope. Come on.” Rhiannon said, her hands on her hips, lips set in determination. But not disgust. Or loathing. No dirty looks. Just resolve.

“I will be just on shore with young Wulf here.” Melian offered.

“I-” Brone started to protest.

“Melian and Jiyan can more than handle themselves, and would protect Wulf with their lives. And, we will both be well within hearing distance and close enough to run to help in case of an ambush or other emergency.” Rhi said, in the same tone Brone had heard the mercenary captains discussing battle strategy. Precise, no judgement or emotion, to the point.

“And they won't steal him either.” She said, sensing his hesitation. “Even if they were the type to steal children from their parents, which they're definitely not, I trust that they wouldn't leave me behind and stranded with an opponent as formidable as you are, even when you're not royally pissed off. And again, we'll both be within hearing and seeing distance in case something does go wrong.”

Brone appreciated her directness. Blunt in a different way than Melian was. He felt like Mel would tell him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. With Rhiannon, he felt like he was calmly, but expertly, being briefed on all the emergency exits and escape paths available.

“Fine.” He growled, accepting that she wouldn't take no for an answer. Melian took Wulf and walked back up to shore, while Rhiannon, already down to their underwear, directed him to where the pool began to flow into a small stream, into a little spot where he could sit in the water and lay his head back into the flowing water.

“You sure I'm not fine just dunking it under the water? It usually works out fine.” He tried one last time, eyeing the block of soap in her hand.

“Oh, honey, no.” She said, sounding a little mortified. “After last night, I'm pretty sure there's literally blood, sweat, and tears in your hair. It's going to take more than some water to make sure your hair is squeaky clean.”

Brone groaned in a reluctant but final assent, still antsy about being so far away from his newborn, every part of him tensed. When Rhiannon moved to brush a strand off his face, he kicked himself for flinching away, for failing to control himself when Rhiannon had taken pity on him and was sacrificing her own time to do him a favor. For the second day in a row now.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya.” She said gently, with not even a tinge of judgment or disappointment in her tone. He felt like somewhere over the past few days, he'd entered a strange twilight zone, the way these three treated him so much differently than anyone else did. Like he was someone deserving of kindness. It made Brone uncomfortable in a way that felt far too big and all-consuming for him to be able to step back and examine without breaking down completely.

Despite himself, he started to settle down and relax a bit, as Rhiannon’s fingers started to work through his hair, lathering up the shampoo, thoroughly massaging his scalp. He couldn't remember the last time someone else had run their fingers through his hair like this. Well he could, just barely.

It had been so long ago that she had done, perhaps, this very routine, his mother. Brone couldn't even remember her face anymore, as she washed his hair in their tub, as she told him to run and hide as their village was attacked. Since then he'd been left on his own to scramble and claw his way towards survival, so far victorious despite all those that had tried to kick him back down. It had been a long time since he'd hardened himself to the rest of the world, but now that he was on the receiving end of such a simple brief gentle touch, he found both his body and soul craving it more than anything.

“Brone, are you… okay?” Rhiannon asked hesitantly.

“Fine. Why?” Brone grunted out less harshly than he'd intended, inwardly wincing at the slight crack in his voice.

“Well, uh, you're crying?”

His hands flew to his face, where the track of a single tear wet his face.

“It's probably just the, you know-” He gestured to the pool and flowing stream around them, his face feeling hot as his embarrassment grew.

“Mhmm. Sure.” Rhiannon said, in a tone that somehow managed to say ‘I'll be ready when you want to talk about it.’

“It's just… been a while. Since anyone's done, ya know… this.” Brone offered up after a few minutes of silence. “Not since… not since the raiders took out my parents.” He added, before mentally kicking himself for voluntarily supplying such vulnerable information to anyone, let alone someone he'd met only four days ago.

“How old were you?” She asked quietly. Brone debated not answering, just pretending he didn't hear her over the stream gurgling in his ears, and go on pretending as if he hadn't bared a tiny piece of his raw soul to a person he barely knew. That's what he'd always done, that's how he'd always kept himself safe, keep it all deep inside where no one can ever see his hurts, his weaknesses, his soft spots. How else would he have made it this far in his profession? In his life?

“Eight. I was eight years old.” He whispered back a few minutes later and desperately hoped she wouldn't hear him. Rhiannon didn't answer for a minute, and for some reason his heart sank when he realized that maybe she really didn't hear him.

“I'm sorry it's been so long since someone's done this for you then.” She said, as she ran her fingers through his hair, the unspoken ‘I'm sorry your family died’ hanging in the air between them. Brone suddenly didn't have the energy to do anything but gratefully grunt in acknowledgement and relax into her touch. It seemed like it was both a few seconds later yet also hours later, when she directed him to sit up.

He moved to stand, assuming the favor, the moment, the ritual over. But Rhiannon put her hands on his shoulders to keep him in place and she sat behind him and started running her fingers through his hair again. Brone blinked in surprise, as it dawned on him that she was starting to braid his hair.

“Figured it'll be easier to keep your hair out of your face, for the next few days at least.” She explained.

“Thanks.” He found himself saying, for the second (or was it third?) time that day. And truly meaning it. For a man who'd built a reputation for toughness, for ruthlessness, for refusing niceties such as ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ he sure was racking up a lot of ‘thank you’s’ lately.

Rhiannon finished putting his hair into a tight simple half braid, keeping his hair out of his face but still long in the back. They both decided to take a leisurely swim back to shore, taking a detour towards the deeper end of the pool to really enjoy the cool refreshing water, when suddenly they heard the plap, plap, plap sound of feet running on a rocky outcropping above them.

“CANNONBALL!” Jiyan screamed, as he leapt off the rock and curled into a ball, landing with a giant splash right in between Rhiannon and Brone.

“Ji! You're supposed to be cooking dinner!” Rhi spluttered, as she wiped water out of her eyes.

“Oh it's fine, Wulf’s got it!” Jiyan said when he resurfaced.

“What?!” Brone coughed up the water that had gotten into his mouth.

“And Melian! I'm just joking, they're fine!” He consoled the bigger man, swimming so slightly out of his reach.

“You're a dumbass.” Rhiannon smiled as she splashed him before he could swim too far away. And so began the battle. Trading weaponry for water, and battle cries for garbled teasing through the water running down their faces. Brone rolled his eyes in annoyance at their childish antics and floated out of splashing range. It didn't take long for the battle to become so intense that the pair briefly forgot he was even there.

A mischievous smile darkened his face and he sluiced through the water towards them, as quiet as any person could be while moving through water. Only his face peeked above the water's surface, his arms widespread as he gained momentum. It was only too late, as Brone already towered above them, sheets of water pouring down over them, did Rhiannon and Jiyan become aware of a third challenger in their midst.

“Truce!” Jiyan coughed out, arms flailing as he drifted away, blinded by the water flooding his eyes. “Parley! I throw in the towel! I surrender!”

“As long as Ji doesn't win, I'm good.” Rhiannon croaked out a minute later, after she'd coughed out all the water she'd involuntarily swallowed from the devastating attack.

“When you are all done playing, I think dinner is ready!” Melian called out, officially declaring an armistice on their behalf.

“Oh gods, it probably means it's burnt to the nine hells and back.” Jiyan groaned. Rhiannon elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“You're the one who left them in charge of the food.” She said.

“And Wulf!” Ji protested. Both Rhiannon and Brone rolled their eyes in almost perfect unison.

“Come on you lot. The more you argue about it the more burnt it'll be. I'm sure it'll be fine.” Brone growled, but in an almost friendly tone of growl. It felt unfamiliar to his vocal chords, but not entirely unpleasant? Ignoring that thought, he gently shoved the pair towards shore where he could smell the savory aroma of a only slightly burned dinner and hear the happy gurgles of his newborn son waiting for him to get back.

____________________

He had to admit, Jiyan had a lovely singing voice. He was an excellent lyre player as well, but his voice just on its own was truly mesmerizing to listen to. One might think that's what would be expected of a bard, but Brone had met plenty of ‘bards’ on his travels that could barely define what a tune was, let alone carry one. Despite the fact that Ji was singing lullabies to help put Wulf to sleep, Brone couldn't help but find himself getting sucked in as well. He almost wondered if there was some magic in his song.

“I can weave some into the melody if you'd like.” Jiyan winked, and Brone was startled to learn he'd actually said that thought out loud.

“I-uh, no. No thanks. I just want to get him used to, uh, falling asleep naturally, I guess.” Brone stumbled over his words as he momentarily stopped swaying and rocking Wulf to sleep. No point in getting used to the blessings of magical sleep on a newborn, when they were just going to go their separate ways in a couple of days. Then Brone would be left with a fussy newborn already conditioned to be put to sleep by magic, and as usual not an ounce of magical ability in his body. Jiyan, no, the bard who he'd probably never see again once they parted ways, shrugged and continued to sing when Wulf, half-asleep, started to fuss.

Brone began to sway again, gently keeping rhythm with the melody. He tried to subtly eye Jiyan, who looked at Wulf so fondly and tenderly one would think the babe was his own. And the way he looked at Brone… it made Brone uncomfortable, but in a way that he'd only admit deep down inside himself, that he never wanted to stop.

Eventually his baby boy settled down to sleep and Brone settled him down in the back of the wagon so he could go about his evening routine without waking him up.

“Last night…” Brone hesitated as the last notes of Jiyans song faded.

“Yeah Papa Bear? It was a pretty big night huh?” Jiyan playfully winked and lightly elbowed him.

“I broke your hand didn't I?”

“Pfft! What- no! My hand? Never!” Jiyan lied. Badly. All it took was Brones eyebrows to furrow together, then one raised in mild frustration, for him to break.

“Okay, yeah fine, you did. But Mel fixed it with magic already, see? All healed!” He said as he raised up the hand in question and flexed it to prove that Melians magic had worked. “I just didn't want you to worry. You had way more important things to worry about.” Jiyan added, so earnestly and wholeheartedly that it took Brone aback for a second.

“I- uh, well… thanks.” He stammered out as he tried to look anywhere but into Jiyans eyes. “And sorry.”

“Don't worry about it Papa Bear, like I said! Good as new already!” Ji proclaimed, smiling as he continued to flap his hand around as proof, as he wandered off, presumably to go off and complete his own evening routine. Brone sighed and shook his head, as he tried not to smile back at him. Now he was up to four ‘thank you’s’ and one ‘sorry.’ It had only been one day of parenthood, and he was already getting much too soft.