Prince Baron rushed down the hall tossing his training sword to a guard and straightening his hair in the reflection of a silver shield as he passed it in the hall. He was feeling great. He hadn’t trained so hard in weeks. Jabina had finally convinced him it was safe to leave her side and go out for a while. She had to promise to send their fastest messenger to call him back if she had even a hint of labor. He had managed to get away to the Broken Meadow until the sun set trading blows with the best soldiers of Windal. Now a perfect soreness kneaded its way deep into his muscles and he walked with his normal confident stride. He had received message she was in labor as he washed up in the full moonlight down by the falls. He had ridden hard and flung the reins to the stable master as he ran toward the castle.

He nearly passed right by his white-haired mother in the hall as he charged toward his bed chamber. She sat dressed in her favorite billowed silver dress, with her large pearl earrings in her ears. Her gray eyes nearly matched her dress as they sparkled at the sight of him. Baron stopped himself and took two strides back to bend down and kiss her on her powdered cheek. She smiled and cupped his cheek in her silk soft palm. “Have you seen your father?”

“No mother he must still be in his room. Would you like for me to send for him?”

“Yes, please.” She said in her soft tender voice. “He should really be here to see his grandchild as soon as the little one is born.”

Baron straightened and signaled a servant. “Go up to the fifth floor and get my father. Make haste.” He knelt down as the servant ran for the stairs leading up to the next floor. “What do you think I should name her if she is a girl mother?”

Baron's mom smiled again and leaned back in thought. “Victra is a nice name.” She tapped her lips with one painted nail. “But I think this one is another boy, son.” She winked at him and leaned forward. “I had a dream that he had a great sword, and he saved the seven kingdoms from disaster. He stood against a mighty black dragon and...” She then frowned as she thought of the rest of the dream. “The dragon set out to burn us all with its fiery wrath, but he leaped into the flames. He will be a true Tarsh.” She tapped the family crest that hung from Baron’s neck.

He looked down at the golden crest of the roaring lion with one paw on the tail of the dragon. He flipped the heavy crest up to look at the elegant detail upon it. Face to face the dragon and the lion stood against one another. The dragon clawed at the lion’s neck and the lion batted at the dragon’s eye with its other paw. “I never understood whether we are the lion or the dragon,” Baron spoke softly to his mother.

She leaned forward and kissed her son’s cheek. “The dragon is strong and frightening, but the lion has already beaten him. He has arrested the wicked lizard with his paw on its tail and struck the eyes of its opponent with its dagger claws. The Tarsh have always been dragon slayers, son. Don’t you forget that. Teach it to your sons. When the dragons return, it will be up to us to drive them off again. The prophecies of Unstoppable have spoken.”

“When was the last time anyone has even seen a prophet mother?” Baron leaned back to look at a midwife leaving his room and looking around for him. “Or a Dragon.”

“I told you I had a dream. How do you know I’m not a prophet?” She looked down and adjusted the dress in her lap fluffing it to look more poised. Even in her old age she continually presented herself in the greatest of elegance.

“You mean prophetess.” Baron winked at her. “I have to go and see if young Victra has been born. We already have a prince to carry our name mother.”

“Well, if I am right, we will have two.” She smirked.

Baron patted her knee. “Well, we better hope not. I haven’t settled on a name for a boy.” He leaned in and gave her another kiss on the cheek. “I will be back. Greet father for me.”

Baron stood and met eyes with the worried midwife standing in the hall. She bowed her head dropping her eyes to the floor. Baron walked up to her and placed a hand around each shoulder. “Is the baby alright?”

“Yes, Prince. Your son is healthy and strong.” Baron’s cheeks burned, wondering if his mother had overheard. The midwife looked up at him fear in her eyes. “Princess Jabina has lost much blood though.”

“Take me to her.” Baron straightened and his voice became deeper at the serious tone.

The tiny Crull midwife turned and walked briskly before the prince but was soon overtaken by his long legs. He opened the door and took in a breath to calm himself so he would not alarm his wife.

She lay pale on the bed, her hair matted to the sides of her face and beads of sweat sprinkled across her face. Baron’s eyes fell on the blood-soaked blankets and towels. There was too much blood. His eyes widened and flashed back up to his wife. She could see the fear in his eyes but seemed too weak to have any of her own. She patted the bed beside her weakly. Baron walked over slowly and sat down even slower as if his heavy frame would break her. His breath came in short shallow puffs and his heart seemed to stop in his chest. His mouth went dry as he looked into Jabina’s blue eyes. He reached up and pulled her wet blond hair from her cheek.

“I’m dying Baron,” Jabina said in a hoarse whisper.

Baron stopped breathing altogether. He looked away from her eyes to the crib that sat a few feet away. Inside lay their son but he could not see him yet. He didn’t want to look at him. He wanted to stop her. He needed her. “You can’t go Jabina, we need you here. Our sons need you. What will Terin do without you? Who will read to him?”

“You will Baron.” Her voice was fading further.

“No Jabina don’t do this. Terin needs to see you now. Just wait let him come in here. You will regain your strength when you see his red curls, love.” Baron leaned in close to her face. “He needs you. I need you.”

Jabina’s lips curled in an effort to smile but her strength had faded. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes lost their light.

Baron shrank back. “No Jabina.” He shouted. “Wake up.” He crumbled on top of her balling up her blanket in his fist. “Wake up.” He sobbed. He squeezed his wife tight to his chest and kissed her wet hair repeatedly between wails. His mouth filled with involuntary slobber as he cried out to his wife, pleading with her shamelessly to stay. At last, he collapsed to the floor with his back to the bed unable to look at her anymore. He held his numb tingling face in his hands and sucked in gasps of sorrowful dry air.

In the crib, his son cried. Baron sat looking at the crib unable to move. The midwife stood by the door nervously, unsure whether to go for the baby to comfort him or flee the room. She searched the prince’s face for a hint. Baron glanced up at her through blurred eyes. She stepped toward the crib and froze waiting for permission to continue. Baron just rolled onto his side on the floor beside the bed that held his dead wife. The midwife walked quickly to the crib and wrapped the baby up in her arms. She carried the baby over to a chair and sat down with him to nurse him as his father fell asleep curled up in a ball.

Baron awoke in the morning with the dread already in his chest. He reached back and felt the blanket hanging from the side of the bed. Her blanket was still there though the blood was mostly dry. He pulled back his red-stained hand and looked at it. His throat felt as if it had hands tightening around it. He sat up and looked at the midwife asleep in her chair. His son was wrapped up tightly in a white blanket on her chest. He pulled himself to his feet and turned to kiss his wife once more. Then he walked solemnly over to his son. He gently pulled back the blanket and looked at his son for the first time. His fine golden hair shone in the morning sunlight. His soft round cheeks were rose-colored. His lips, so tiny, were puckering in and out. Baron’s heart ached. The boy looked just like his mother.

The midwife opened up her eyes and looked up at the prince. Her eyes flicked from the crest on his chest to his pained eyes. “What are you going to name him?”

Baron felt as if the world were rolling over top of him. He looked back at his dead wife and felt the tears welling up in his eyes again. He looked back at his son and back at Jabina. “I will call him… Jabin.” Then he whispered into his son’s ear. “It is like your mother’s name; it means light bringer.” Then he clutched his boy to his chest and sobbed again. She would not bring her light to their lives anymore.