Cariad

by johnwgrey

Summary:

Lucy is outside, in the garden. She hasn't noticed him, standing a few feet from her. He feels lighter the second he sets eyes on her. They're here. They're both here, and they're safe. His beautiful wife and his boy. His family.

Davy comes home from work to find his wife basking in the sun and is taken aback by her loveliness.

Notes:

• For martsonmars.

Before you read it, I just want to clarify that I didn't write this AU to redeem the Mage.

I wrote it for Lucy, who deserves happiness.
And for Marta, who wanted to see her happy.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

"Lucy?"

Davy's voice echoes in the hall of their cottage. "Hall" is such a big word for such a small room. It's barely a hall at all, merely a fancy name they give the space where the front door is. In fact, he takes a single short step and finds himself in the living room.

Still no sign of Lucy. Davy frowns as he sheds his long green coat and drops it on the couch where he usually finds her sitting with a book these days. But there's no book now, and no wife.

"Lucy? Darling?" he calls again. Worry is starting to creep at the back of his voice but he tries to swallow it back. She can't be far, he reasons. Heavily pregnant women living in the middle of nowhere don't just disappear. She must be somewhere.

Thinking that she must have gone upstairs to rest, he turns towards the old wooden staircase. He's going to have to be careful not to make it creak, if she is sleeping.

She's so tired these days. The baby is taking so much of her energy.

They've known for a while now that it's a boy but Davy keeps thinking of him as "the baby", even when Lucy refers to him as Simon. As her rosebud boy. When he's born, it'll be different, of course. He's got time. They've got time.

Doctors tell him that Lucy's fatigue is normal. Lucy herself assures him that she feels fine. Still, he worries. What would he do without her? How could he ever go on living?

His foot rests on the first step. He's trying to find his balance so that the plank doesn't scream under his weight, but then, he feels it. A light breeze coming from behind him, kissing and tickling the back of his neck. He turns around and sees that the back door is ajar. He reaches it in two strides.

Lucy is outside, in the garden. She hasn't noticed him, standing a few feet from her. He feels lighter the second he sets eyes on her. They're here. They're both here, and they're safe. His beautiful wife and his boy. His family.

Her sky-blue dress is billowing in the wind, transparent enough in the late afternoon sun that he can make out the silhouette of her slender legs. She's cradling her round belly and swaying gently, her face turned towards the sun. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are closed. She wears a secret smile on her full, red lips. Davy wants to kiss her so badly but he doesn't want to disturb her. Not just yet. She looks so happy.

A gust of wind sends her golden hair flying in the air and her dress between her legs. She gasps and laughs. Davy can't remember the last time she looked so lovely. (That's a lie. It was the very same morning, when he kissed her before going to work. She was lying in bed, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed. One strap of her nightgown had fallen off her shoulder. Her belly looked like a hot air balloon under the sheet. He kissed it, too.)

He's laughing with her now. His voice catching in the wind and flying to hers, dancing with hers in the skies. Lucy opens her blue eyes and smiles at him.

"Hello, cariad," she says, her voice warm as the sun.

He smiles at his wife's pet name for him. Cariad. It means darling. Sweetheart. Lucy insisted on picking up some Welsh when she found out she was pregnant. She said she wanted her baby to know where he or she came from.

"We're just getting some fresh air. Join us?"

Davy would love nothing more and says so. When she's in his arms at last, he kisses the top of her head and asks about her day. Between them, the baby is kicking.

"He's been so restless lately," Lucy tells him. "I think he'll come soon."

Davy places a gentle hand where his son rests, safe and warm.
"I can't wait to meet him," he murmurs, a smile on his lips and a kiss in his eyes.

Another gust of wind blows around them and snakes between their legs.

"Let's go back inside," he prompts. "It's getting chilly."

Lucy nods, hugging her arms, and follows her husband back to their cottage, leaving behind her the last rays of spring sunshine.