Solo [Flashback] Defender of the People

[Alistair Fordren]

What wonderful news it had been when he returned home from patrol that night. His wife, Miria, was pregnant. For almost half a year now they had been trying to conceive, and Cyril was overjoyed when his beloved told him that she was going to give birth. They were up nearly half the night, discussing if the baby would be a boy or a girl. Discussing names. Talking about the future.

"I like the name Alistair. What do you think, dear?" She said as Cyril held her in his arms as the two relaxed in their bed.

"Alistair? Where did you get that name from? I've never heard of it." He said, giving his wife a suspicious look. "It was from one of your books, wasn't it?" Her smile gave it away without a doubt. "Knew it." He sighed.

"You don't like it? I thought it was nice! What, you have one better?" She nudged him.

Cyril smirked and shook his head. "I thought we could name him after me. Just as I was named after my father before me."

"And what if it's a girl? Are you going to name her Cyril too?"

"Hmm, we could always name her after you I guess."

Miria rolled her eyes. "Honey, if it were up to you, all men would have the same name and all women would have the same name."

"What's wrong with that!?"

"The world would be very boring." She looked at him accusingly. After a short pause both of them laughed. It had been just one of many conversations they had in the months to follow. But, just a few weeks before the young child would be born, Miria took ill. It was sudden, and without warning. Cyril managed to take off as much time as possible to care for his wife. He always remained by her side, leaving only to relieve himself and bathe (though rarely even that).

--

1st Summer, 494 AV

It was early on the first day of summer, and Cyril woke to find Miria not breathing. "Miria? No, Miria!" His hand felt her neck, looking for a pulse. It was there, but barely. "Help! I need help! Please!" It all happened so fast. The midwife running in. The doctor being called over. He could do nothing. Even as a Knight, trained in basic first aid, he could do nothing but watch as the doctor did the best he could.

"We have to operate. If we don't get that baby out of there, they'll both die. Ser Fordren, I'm sorry, but I can only save one of them. Her body isn't able to handle the stress of the child." The doctor looked to him with a frantic but stern look. "Ser Fordren!? I need a decision. Now."

"W-what? No.." He couldn't believe it. Only one? Why? Eyris, Tyveth, Yahal, anyone? Please! "It can't.. you have to save both.. please.. they mean everything to me.." He broke down. He had handled bandits, packs of wolves, monsters. But those were nothing. Nothing compared to this. If he could, he would give up his own life instead.

"Ser Fordren! Snap out of it! If you don't make your decision I'll make it for you, or we'll lose both of them, dammit!"

"The baby." He finally spat out. "Save the baby. She would want that. Please, don't let my baby die." He fell beside Miria's still body, holding onto her with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Miria. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. Please forgive me. I love you." He buried his face in her's, gently kissing her cheek.

"You need to get Ser Fordren out of here." The doctor said, one of the nurses had to practically pry his hands apart to escort him out. When she finally managed to bring him outside the room, he embraced the poor woman and sobbed. "I loved her so much. Why? Why did it have to be this way?" The nurse did the only thing she could do, and hugged him back.

It was the worst hour he had ever waited. Or maybe it wasn't an hour. He had no idea how much time had passed. It seemed like an eternity. What would he do if the baby didn't make it either? What would be the point in even living anymore?

When the doctor finally came out into the hallway, Cyril stood with so much anxiety he nearly lost his balance. He stared into the doctors eyes and waited what felt like another hour before he said anything.

"It's a boy, Ser Fordren." The way the doctor said it didn't sound so well. Cyril's heart began to sink even more than it already had, and he didn't even think it was possible for it to sink anymore. "He's alive." The doctor sighed. "But I'm afraid things aren't well. He's premature, and he seems to have trouble breathing."

"Let me see him. Now." Cyril demanded, pushing his way into the room. The doctor didn't even try to stop him. A midwife was sitting in a chair, holding the newborn which was wrapped in a towel. It seemed to be asleep. Cyril didn't even remember hearing the kid cry. That was a bad sign, wasn't it?

"Don't worry, he's okay for now." The doctor said behind him. "Salla, please let Ser Fordren hold his baby boy." He said to the midwife, who gladly stood up, letting Cyril sit down and hold his newborn son.

"A boy..?" Cyril said, tears still in his eyes.

"He's going to need a lot of care, Ser Fordren. To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure how much of a chance he has. He-"

Cyril cut off the doctor. "I don't care how much you want. I'll pay you anything." He said, nearly choking on his words as he looked up at the doctor. "Please help my boy. Please save Alistair." The doctor wasn't even sure what to say. It wasn't even a matter of money, at this point. But he wasn't about to argue with a man who just lost his wife and nearly lost his newborn son.

"Alistair? Is that his name?" The midwife asked carefully.

There was a moment of silence for a moment before Cyril responded. "Yes.. his name is Alistair..." He said slowly. "Miria came up with this name for him. She said it means... Defender of the People."

The newborn baby squirmed slightly in his father's arms, before finally beginning to cry.

<To be Continued>