Pooley ' s Pov:
*The morning sun is a harsh, unforgiving glare as I slip through the narrow alleyways, the familiar stones of the city pressing in on me. My steps are slow, heavy. I feel... different. Weirder than usual. A constant, gnawing thirst plagues me, no matter how much water I gulp down. My stomach is a bottomless pit, rumbling with a hunger that feels deeper than any I've ever known. And there's a new weight to me, a subtle but undeniable fullness in my middle that makes my simple leather cloth feel tighter. A wave of nausea hits me suddenly, and I have to lean against a damp, graffiti-covered wall, closing my eyes until the dizziness passes.*
*My friend Ax notices, of course. He's been my friend in the Takers for sometime, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He falls into step beside me as I emerge from the alley, his usual cocky grin replaced by a look of concern.* "You look like death warmed over, Pooley,"
*The water from Ax's horn cup hits my face like a splash of ice, breaking the spell of my horrified thoughts. I sputter, wiping the cold liquid from my eyes, my nervous smile widening into something almost manic.* "I don't know, I've been feeling weird for the last few moons," *I say, my voice a little too high.* "Probably got food poisoning, from Castrid's weird new recipes. I'll be fine."
*Ax just watches me, his expression unimpressed. He raises his hands in mock surrender.* "You sure? Seems more than that."
"Yes, I'm sure," *I reply, a little too hastily.* "Didn't need to offend You."
*He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head.* "It's just that... you're giving similar symptoms my momma gave before giving birth to my Little sister. Just saying."
*The world stops. My feet freeze to the cobblestones.**The word hangs in the air between us, absurd and impossible. I stare at the damp wall, my vision blurring as my mind races, rejecting the thought before it can even fully form.No. It can't be. It's just... just stress. Or the bad ale. Or... something else. Anything else.The thought is a stone dropped into a still pond, the ripples of panic spreading through me until my hands are trembling at my sides.*
*I feel Ax's gaze on me, his earlier casualness replaced by a cautious unease.* "You OK?" *he asks quietly.*
*I snap out of it, whirling on him. The fear is still there, a cold knot in my stomach, but I shove it down, burying it under a wave of forced bravado.* "Don't joke like that!" *I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. I punch his shoulder, a playful gesture that feels hollow and desperate.* "Let's go."*I hook my arm through his, my grip tight, and start pulling him along the bustling street. The noise of the market—the shouts of vendors, the clop of horse hooves, the chatter of the crowd—suddenly feels overwhelming, a wall of sound I can't break through. I force my feet to move, my legs feeling like lead weights.*
*Ax doesn't fight it. He lets me drag him, his earlier smirk gone, replaced by a look of quiet concern. He doesn't push it, doesn't ask again, just gives a small, tight smile and follows my lead. But I can feel his eyes on me, and his silence is louder than any question. It leaves me alone with my thoughts, with the terrifying possibility that had just been planted in my mind, a seed that I can feel already beginning to take root. I squeeze his arm tighter, needing the anchor of his presence, the familiar feel of our friendship, to keep me from drowning in the rising tide of my own fear.**The days bled into one another, a slow, tortuous crawl. The unease I'd first felt didn't fade; it deepened, solidifying into a cold, hard certainty in the pit of my stomach. My belly felt heavy, a constant, tangible weight I couldn't ignore. The cravings were maddening—one moment I'd desperately crave a sweet, ripe apple, and the next, the mere thought of the sharp, sour ale Ax offered me would send a wave of nausea crashing over me. And then, there was the silence. The one monthly sign that had been a faithful, if unwelcome, companion for some time was gone. A cold dread began to seep into my bones, a feeling far worse than any I'd known in my life of danger and uncertainty.*
*Determined to find the truth, I remembered a book I'd once filched from a scholar's cart, a tome filled with strange customs from distant lands. I read about a method to confirm a woman's condition. It was crude, but it was all I had.**For two days, I watched the crude clay cup I'd hidden in the corner of my small room, its contents a murky, unsettling secret. I tried to ignore it, to go about my business, but every glance at it sent a fresh jolt of panic through me. On the morning of the third day, I forced myself to look again. And there it was. The colour had changed. A faint, unmistakable tinge had spread through the liquid, a stark, undeniable confirmation of the fear I had been trying to outrun.*
*A strangled scream tore from my throat, raw and ragged. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated terror. I began to shake, a violent, uncontrollable tremor that started in my hands and raced up my arms.* "No, no, no," *I whispered, the words a desperate mantra, a plea to some unseen force to make it untrue.**The denials died in my throat, replaced by a choked sob. I scrambled back on my bed, the rough wool scratching my legs as I pulled my knees to my chest. My hands flew to my hair, tangling in the strands, yanking at the roots as if I could physically rip this horrifying truth from my mind. The cup slipped from my nerveless fingers and shattered against the floor, the sharp sound echoing the shattering of my world. I can't be pregnant. I can't. The words screamed in my head, a frantic, panicked litany. Not now. Not ever. The thought of it, the life growing inside me, was a monstrous impossibility. It was a sentence, a chain I had never asked for and could never escape.**The door to my small room crashed open, banging against the wall. Ax stood there, his face a mask of pure panic, his eyes wide as he took in the scene: the shattered cup on the floor, and me, huddled on the bed, a wreck of sobs and incoherent terror.*
*He rushed to the bed, his boots crunching on the broken pottery. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me gently but insistently.* "Poolee, Poolee! Look at me! Hey, hey, what happened?" *His voice was tight with fear, but I couldn't answer. I was trapped in a loop of my own horror, the world narrowing down to the cold, hard fact of my condition.*
*Seeing I wasn't responding, his grip tightened, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, were now filled with a raw, desperate concern.* "Look at me. Look at me. It's alright."
*I finally broke. The dam of my fear and despair burst.**His name tore from my throat, ragged and broken.* "Ax!" *The single word was a sob, a plea, and a confession all at once. All the fight, all the denial, just crumbled away, leaving behind only the raw, vulnerable truth of my fear. I collapsed against him, my body wracked with violent, heaving sobs. The tears I had been holding back finally fell, hot and endless, soaking into the rough fabric of his tunic.*
*He didn't hesitate. He pulled me into a crushing embrace, his arms wrapping around me so tightly it felt like he was trying to shield me from the world itself. He pressed my face into the solid warmth of his chest, his heartbeat a frantic, steady drum against my ear.* "Am here, am here," *he repeated, the words a low, grounding rumble. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling shakily, and began to rock me slowly, back and forth, a motion so primal and comforting it cut through the panic like a knife.**The warmth of his embrace is the last thing I register before exhaustion pulls me under, a deep and dreamless sleep. I don't dream of the shattered cup or the terrifying future, only of the steady, reassuring beat of Ax's heart beneath my ear, a rhythm that lulled me into a fragile sense of peace.*
*When I wake, it's to the soft, insistent tapping of his fingers on my shoulder. My eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. The first thing I see is his face, etched with a tired but gentle concern. A small, sad smile touches his lips as he uses the nickname only he ever calls me.* "Wake up, fire cracker." *His voice is a low rasp, thick with sleep but soft.*
*I push myself up slowly, my body aching from the tension of my breakdown. Ax is sitting beside me on the edge of the bed, a simple wooden tray balanced on his lap.**On the tray sits a small plate of thinly sliced gravlax, the salty, cured salmon glistening in the dim light of the room. Beside it is a horn cup filled with a deep, rich purple liquid—the blackberry mead he must have gone out to fetch. The sweet, tart scent of it fills the air, a stark contrast to the salty fish.*
*He gestures to the plate with a nod of his head, his eyes never leaving mine.* "Sit up. You need to eat something." *His tone is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. It's the voice of a friend who knows I'm teetering on the edge and needs a solid hand to pull me back.**He watched me take a few bites of the gravlax, my stomach churning at the thought of food. The rich, salty taste was too much, and I had to push the plate away, my appetite gone. I wrapped my hands around the warm horn of mead instead, staring into its dark depths as if the answers I feared might be swirling in there. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackle of the small fire in the hearth.*
*Ax sighed softly, a sound of pure exhaustion. He took the tray from my lap and set it down on the small wooden table beside us. He turned back to me, his expression one of profound, worried concern.* "Fire cracker," *he began, his voice low and strained.* "Talk to me. What is wrong?"
*His plea hung in the air between us, but I couldn't meet his gaze. The shame was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I kept my eyes fixed on the spot on the floor where the evidence of my breakdown had been, a dark stain on the wood where the contents of the cup had seeped in before he'd cleaned it up.*
"Hey," *he said, his voice firmer now, laced with a hint of frustration born from helplessness.* "Look at me. I know something is eating you up. I heard you screaming. I came in here and found you shaking, with a cup broken all over the floor. You can talk to me, Poolee. You're not alone in this."
*His words were a lifeline, but I was too tangled in my own fear to grab hold. I yanked my hand away from his when he reached for it, the contact suddenly feeling too intimate, too revealing.* "It's nothing,"*His voice cracked, the raw fear in it finally breaking through my own self-imposed wall.* "Hey, fire cracker," *he pleaded, his hands clenching into fists on his knees.* "Talk to me. I don't like the way you look... it's terrifying me. I need to know what's wrong. I feel so helpless. Please, talk to me."
*The raw desperation in his tone, the tremor in his voice, it was like a physical blow. It shattered the last of my resolve. My own pain was a selfish thing, but his was a wound I had inflicted. I sighed, a long, shuddering breath that seemed to come from the depths of my soul. I let my head fall back against the rough-hewn wall, staring up at the cracks in the thatched ceiling, the familiar patterns suddenly looking alien and menacing.*
*I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat, thick and heavy. I tried again, my whole body trembling with the effort, with the fear of the words themselves.*
"I.."*His question hung in the air, sharp and demanding.* "Who is the father?" *he asked, his voice tight. I couldn't meet his eyes, the shame a hot, burning flush on my cheeks. I looked down at my hands, twisting the fabric of the blanket in my lap.*
*He didn't let me hide. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His grip was firm, not cruel, but there was no mistaking the command in his eyes.* "Who is he?" *he asked again, his voice harder now.*
*The words felt like poison on my tongue.* "His name is Annex," *I whispered, the name itself a brand.* "He is... one of the King's guard."
*The admission seemed to shatter something in Ax. He flinched as if I'd struck him. He let go of my chin and stumbled back a step, his face a mask of disbelief and horror.* "Are you OK? Are you in your right senses, Poolee?"*He began to pace the small room like a caged animal, his boots thudding a frantic rhythm on the floorboards. The air crackled with his anger.* "A thief? For God's sake, Poolee, you're a thief, and you're having a baby for not just a guard, but the King's guard? Really?" *The word was laced with a venom I'd never heard from him before.*
*My own temper flared, a desperate, wounded thing.* "It was a one night stand!" *I snapped back, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and hurt.*
*He stopped pacing and whirled on me, his eyes blazing.* "A one night stand?" *he shot back, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl.* "Don't tell me you betrayed us. Don't tell me you snitched on us. Did you sell us out? Are you even one of us?"*His accusation was a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I stared at him, my mouth agape, the words 'sold us out' echoing in the sudden, deafening silence. The hurt was so profound it eclipsed even my own fear.* "No," *I choked out, the single word a fragile, broken thing.* "I didn't." *The fact that he, my friend, the one person I thought I could trust, would even consider it... it broke me. It shattered the fragile trust I had in this world.*
*He ignored my pain, his own fear and frustration boiling over. He started pacing again, his rant a torrent of logic and accusation that felt like a whip.* "You say it's a one night stand," *he spat, turning to face me again.* "But tell me, honestly. Did you see him before that night? Be honest."*His voice rose with each word, the sharp edge of his fear cutting through the air. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me, making me shrink back against the headboard. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in.* "Poolee, answer me!" *he demanded, his voice booming in the confined space. The sheer volume of it made me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. I had never heard him sound so angry, so... frightening. The man who held me as I cried was gone, replaced by this stranger, consumed by a paranoia that felt like a physical assault.*
*His eyes, wide and wild, locked onto mine, demanding the truth I was so desperate to hide. The plea died in my throat. I couldn't look at him. My gaze dropped to the tangled wool of the blanket, my fingers twisting a loose thread until my knuckles were white. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until his voice came again, low and dangerous.* "Poolee. Answer me."*The question hung in the air, a blade poised to strike. I couldn't meet his eyes. My gaze remained fixed on the rough weave of the blanket, the only thing in the room that wasn't looking at me with accusation. The silence stretched, taut and fragile, until it finally snapped under the pressure of his demand. His voice, when it came, was a low growl, stripped of all pretense.*
"Poolee. Answer me."
*My shoulders slumped in defeat. The fight, the anger, all of it drained out of me, leaving only a cold, heavy dread. I took a shuddering breath, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.*
"Yes," *I whispered, the sound barely audible.* "Yes, I did."
*He let out a short, sharp laugh devoid of any humor, the sound harsh and grating in the quiet room. He rubbed a hand over his face, a gesture of pure, unadulterated disbelief.* "You... you have to be kidding me."*He shook his head, a slow, deliberate motion that seemed to carry the weight of the world. The disbelief in his eyes hardened into something colder, something sharper. It wasn't just anger anymore; it was a cold, hard judgment.*
"Poolee," *he said, his voice dangerously low, each word carefully enunciated.* "How could you be so careless?" *He stopped pacing, turning to face me fully, his finger pointed accusingly at me.* "You were seeing a royal guard. Do you have any idea what that means? Only the gods know if he's not using you, if he's not trailing you, or worse... if you sold us out. If that wasn't enough, you slept with him and now you're pregnant?" *He threw his hands up in the air, a gesture of utter frustration.* "I can't, Poolee. I just can't."*His final words,* "I can't, Poolee. I just can't," *hung in the air between us, a death sentence on our friendship. The fire in his eyes guttered out, leaving behind nothing but cold, weary judgment. He turned his back on me, his broad shoulders a wall of finality. The silence that followed was worse than any shouting. It was the sound of everything we had built crumbling to dust.*
*Tears of pure, unadulterated betrayal streamed down my face. I couldn't breathe. My heart didn't just break; it shattered into a million jagged pieces, each one a shard of my own foolishness and his cruelty. I scrambled forward on the bed, my hands reaching out for him, my voice a desperate, ragged whisper.*
"Please," *I begged, the word torn from my soul.* "Don't tell Bjørn. Please, Ax, please. He'll kill me. He'll kill me."*He let out a harsh, humorless sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a bitter laugh. Without turning, he shook his head, a gesture of utter dismissal.* "I see," *he said, his voice flat and cold, stripped of all the warmth he'd shown me just hours before.* "You only care for yourself."
*The words were a physical blow, knocking the breath from me. The plea died on my lips, choked by the venom in his tone. He didn't wait for another word. He strode to the door, his movements sharp and final. He wrenched it open, the sound of the wood scraping against the stone frame echoing in the small room like a gunshot.*
*He paused in the doorway, his profile stark and unforgiving against the dim light of the hall. He didn't look back at me.* "Don't leave this room," *he commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion but ice.*
*The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him with a final, resounding thud that echoed through the small chamber. The sound was like a seal on my fate, locking me in with my shame and his rejection. The warmth from the fire suddenly felt distant, as if it had been extinguished the moment he left. A profound chill settled into my bones, deeper than the autumn night outside.*
*I remained frozen for a long moment, staring at the now-empty doorway. The silence was absolute, broken only by the frantic, hammering beat of my own heart against my ribs. It felt too loud in the confined space, a painful drum solo for my misery. Slowly, as if my limbs were made of lead, I slumped back against the headboard, the rough wool scratching my cheek. I let my head fall back, my gaze finding the cracks in the thatched ceiling again, but this time they seemed to twist and writhe like malevolent spirits.*
*Exhaustion, bone-deep and soul-crushing, washed over me.*