Nightly Urges

    Nightly Urges
     Black Jewels Trilogy fanfic
   

     Lucivar awoke slowly, just barely aware of the discomfort in the lower regions of his body, the itching not really registering.  Turning his head carefully, he glanced at his wife sleeping next to him and gently caressed her cheek, forgetting for the moment the strange sensation that had pulled him from slumber.  It was Marian’s Moon time; the first since she’d given birth to their son, Daemonar.  The past couple of days had been difficult for her…no, aggravating.  Not only was she reduced to only the use of basic Craft, but the cramps had been especially painful as well, not to mention Lucivar’s constant fussing.  The Eryien had lost count of how many times she’d snarled at him for hovering.  Smiling softly, he brushed some stray strands of hair from her face, admiring the way the moonlight played in her hair.  It hadn’t taken his lovely, brilliant, devious wife long to turn his worrying on him.

     They had gone to bed slightly angry with one another on the first night of her Moon time.  She had been upset because he had attempted to send her to bed early after what she had considered an unproductive day; Lucivar, on the other hand, had been upset because he’d found her helping in the kitchen a couple of hours later.  Daemonar, the Darkness bless him, had settled their dispute in his own way.  The babe had awoken, screaming, just after midnight, waking up both of his parents, who resided in the adjoining room.

     “Oh, Lucivar, it’s my Moon time; I’m too exhausted.  Would you go take care of him?” is what Marian had muttered, never opening her eyes.  Seeing her game, he had climbed out of the warm confines of his bed with a resentful smile and spent the next two hours trying to coax his son back to sleep.

     Lucivar cringed as he was pulled from the memory by a violent stab of pain in his groin.  He began to panic at first, thinking at first that he was somehow back in Terreille, a Ring of Obedience reminding him of his Lady’s unhappiness.  No.  This was Kaleer, and Jaenelle despised the Ring.  Then what?  He grimaced again and shuddered, working hard to suppress a laugh as he realized what the strange sensation was.

     He had to go to the bathroom.

     Snickering, he began to climb out of bed and then stopped, remembering his son in the next room and that the toilet sat on just the other side of the wall from the child’s bed.  Any noise in the bathroom would more than likely wake Daemonar, and he would have to spend another however many hours trying to get him to sleep.  Gritting his teeth, he crossed his legs and jammed his elbows into his groin, intent upon waiting it out.  He could go in the morning; he could…

     He was out of bed, padding softly toward the bathroom before he knew what he was doing.  Bracing himself against the wall with his hand, he sighed with the kind of sick pleasure one feels once they’ve relieved themselves.  Suddenly realizing how loud the sound of liquid hitting liquid must be for his son just on the other side of the wall, he halted in the process, wincing as the itching sensation returned.  Maybe if he knelt so he was closer to the water.

     After what seemed to be an eternity of very careful, very quiet, urinating, Lucivar finally stood, reached to flush the toilet, and stopped.  If he thought that going was loud, the sound of the running water would be like thunder in the next room.

     Turning on the sink so it was merely a thin trickle, he washed and dried his hands and then automatically flushed the toilet.  “Mother Night and may the Darkness be merciful,” he muttered, throwing in a few extra whispered curse words as he waited to hear his son’s inevitable cry over the sounds of the water running through the pipes.  He suppressed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping, when no sound came.

     Moving slowly and quietly, he made his way to bed, forgetting completely about the slightly raised threshold between the bathroom and the bedroom.  After another string of whispered curses, he silently pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, thanking the Darkness that Daemonar had remained asleep.

     Sighing with contentment, he moved closer to his wife, barely aware of the soft rustling of the bed linens until he heard his son begin to cry in the other room.