Lyanna's Curse

LYANNA

It had been almost four months since we were married. John was a man of few words and kept to himself, only ever speaking to me if first spoken to.

I was growing accustomed to my new quiet life, serving in my community and working to survive.

I stood in the backyard, swinging my axe above my head and dropping it with force into small logs, chopping them into pieces. I had been working all morning, doing all the normal household chores.

John usually chopped the firewood, but the council had been so busy lately that he didn't have time. I stopped, pausing to look down at my blistered hands, raw and red from the hard labor of chopping firewood. I hissed at the sight before dropping the axe and walking inside to wrap my hands.

I came back outside and began piling wood beside the back door, stacking it up a few logs at a time.

“Lyanna?”

I straightened at the faint sound of my name before ignoring it when I didn't hear it again.

“Lyanna?”

This time I knew I heard it as John's voice, laced with frustration, echoed through the house. I stopped, my arms filled with wood as I looked up at the back door to see my husband walk through it.

“Why is the house so cold, I—” he stopped as his eyes settled on me and my pile of wood. “Oh…I see.”

“You've been so busy that you forgot and we ran out of wood,” I said coldly, irritated that he'd had the audacity to comment on how cold the house was.

“I apologize. I'll do the rest of this, you go inside,” he said, clapping his hands together.

“No need, I've already finished,” I said, dropping my armful of wood into his arms and stomping inside.

He followed me in and walked past me as I sat on the couch. He placed the logs inside the fireplace and rekindled it, making a warm glow fill the house.

“I'm sorry, Lyanna,” he said again, his back turned to me as he gazed into the fire.

“I know,” I muttered.

“I'll see about hiring someone to come do the chores for me,” he said quietly as he walked across the room and sat beside me on the couch.

“You don't need to do that…,” I replied, shaking my head defensively.

“I do. I’m going to be busier now that the winter has come.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, placing my hand on his.

He shook his head silently before turning to look into my eyes. “I saw my mother in the village this morning.”

“And?” I grimaced, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

“And she asked if you're pregnant yet,” he continued.

I shrugged. “We'll find out in a few days.”

He placed his hand on my stomach gently. “They're all just anxious to see our family started.”

“I would like to have some time that's just us…,” I replied as I stared down at his hand.

“We have a responsibility to—”

“I know, I know,” I interrupted, pushing his hand away. “I know all about our responsibility. It will happen when it happens.”

He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch with a sigh. “The winters are always the hardest.”

“I like the snow,” I smiled, looking out the window at the white covering on the ground.

“I hate it…,” he muttered. “It's cold and damp and causes so many problems in the settlement.”

I shrugged, knowing not to push it. He didn't like it when I countered his opinion.

“Dinner?”

“In a minute,” I replied, staring at the warm fire and not wanting to leave this spot.

***

The next day I walked outside the front door and made my way to the village market. I walked around to each booth, searching for the things I needed.

“Good morning dear!”

I turned to see my mother approaching me with a sickly sweet grin.

“Hello, mother,” I smiled.

“What are you doing out and about in this chilly weather? You should be at home, resting.”

“Why?”

She looked around before leaning into my ear. “It's been four months, Lyanna. You can't hide your secret forever.”

I shook my head, “Mom, I'm not sure if…”

“Oh, posh. I was pregnant with your brother after three days of being married!” she chimed, laughing to herself. “You are definitely keeping a little secret. But don't worry, I won't tell!”

“But…,” I tried to argue but she just whisked away, leaving me in a stupor.

That evening, I sat in my room with a frown on my face as I stared at the blood spots on my clothing.

My face shot up at the sound of the door opening. I quickly crumpled up the blood-stained clothes and tried to hide them as John walked in.

“Sorry I'm late… Did you by chance leave anything for me to eat?” he asked, pulling his tie off from around his neck.

“Uhh…yes!” I stammered. “There's a pot sitting on the stove.”

He gave me an odd stare before deciding not to push it and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

I sighed as I took the clothes and shoved them into the bottom of the hamper.

I laid down in bed, sad and disappointed that once again I would have to tell John it wasn't happening this month.