Work Text:
The feast of the exceptional rose was in full swing, seemingly everyone was caught in the festivities, wearing cheap masks and drinking even cheaper wine; but this was not the case for Josephine.
She was tired, felt it in her bones, whenever she closed her eyes to have a wink of rest, a piercing cry would echo out through her house and she'd come rushing over to her daughters side.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept for more than 6 hours, and the constant carousing coming from outside was really starting to annoy her.
The chair was comfortable at least, and Maighréad wasn't moving around too much, but Jospehine was tired, whenever she blinked she had to will herself from plain falling asleep in her chair, and the warmth from the little human held in her arms didn't help.
Maighréad’s little chest was moving up and down, her eyes closed as she was gently lowered into her crib, as Josephine stroked her face.
The pillows on her bed were fluffed, the bed warm and inviting but when she lay on it, a constant urge to get up, to make sure her daughter is safe is the only thing that courses through her head.
A deep ache spread in Josephine's back, the odd position in the bed certainly not helping as she tossed and turned, her eyes were closed shut, had been for what seemed like an age but what kept her awake wasn't the nightmares that had plagued her before, nor worries over her lab and it's staff, but of family.
The creaking of the house, her own breath, voices from outside; every single wave of sound seemed to seep into her ears and worm its way into her mind and keep her worrying.
What if someone broke in? Is Maighréad breathing properly? What if she hadn't been turned over properly?
her breathing hastened, and her eyes opened to a room shrouded in complete darkness.
Maighréad was lying in her crib, the same as Josephine left her, fast asleep, hopefully dreaming.
The pillow softened the blow, Josephine fell back down in the soft bed.
despite the pervading exhaustion in her body, she could not sleep.
The mother kept vigil at her child's side all throughout the night, feeding her and cleaning her and keeping her safe.
The sounds of revelling from outside had slowly come to a halt as the night passed, and as the gas lamps outside began to ignite, Josephine had still not slept.
The light sound of footsteps outside, the din of a city was all muffled by the walls, all seemingly so distant from Josephine as she lay in her bed.
Until a loud, and quick knock on the bedroom door shook Josephine out of her stupor.
Jospehine sat up, blanket covering her legs as the door opened, revealing a similarly tired looking man who Josephine could only recognise as September.
A hint of a smile graced his face as he stumbled over to their bed, overclothes still on as he fell into bed next to her and kissed her on the cheek.
For the first week or two after Maighréad was born, Josephine only slept fitfully, half hours at a time while not being fully asleep enough to actually feel rested and being just anxious enough that the sleep she did get was plagued with worries and anxious thoughts.
But Josephine was not alone, far from it. September was nothing but helpful towards her and the little one, September truly cared about his wife and child, and seeing Josephine anxious, bedridden and exhausted ate at the man.
A smile crept along his face, disguising his worry as he slowly wrapped Josephine in a soft hug, nuzzling his face into her hair as he silently lay there.
For the first time in hours, Josephine felt like she could take an eye off of Maighréad, knowing that September was here, knowing she'd be safe if she just… took…. a quick break….
Within seconds, Josephine was dead asleep, and September had some work to do
Carefully shifting his weight so as not to disturb his wife, September slowly stood up and snuck around to the foot of the bed, crouching down and still careful not to make too much noise, he pulled an old bottle of whisky out from underneath the bed.
The bottle in his hands was dust coated, the brown glass hiding the pale coloured liquid from the light.
Sourced from some distillery in the Highlands up on the surface, September “loaned” this from Balmoral, the castellan not knowing anything was taken at all.
But September wasn’t as quiet as he believed he was, maybe the floorboards had shifted a little bit too much. Maybe it was just bad luck; but the wee bairn was awake now.
Her eyes gazed at the ceiling as Maighréad began to fully awaken, legs writhing and hands squirming as she fully woke up, looking curiously around the room, until they finally caught glimpse of September, crouched at the foot of the bed.
September was at his daughter's side in an instant, but still careful not to wake up Josephine, still completely unconscious on the bed.
As he leaned over the crib, he reached his hand inside and let a single finger rest in Maighréads hand.
In less than five seconds, Maighréad was attempting to either devour her father's index finger, or pull it from its socket.
But little Maighréad was not that strong, and the worst she could do was make him shift his hand a bit as a dumb smile spread across his face.
September had Maighréad in his arms as he left the room, planning on a little excursion to a nearby bookshop for a gift for his wife, and with Maighréad waking up at such an opportune time, it seemed like a good idea to bring her out for a small walk.
Pushing the pram along the cobblestones, September felt the humid air against his skin, it was not a dry day, and whatever wind the neath had seemed to be blowing west, bringing the stench of the zee further inland.
As the two of them approached the bookshop, September, nose still wrinkling from the fishy smell in the air, picked up Maighréad and holds her as he walks inside
The bookshop was strange, September had never been there before on his own, always following Josephine down some back alley, until she spied the wooden sign denoting that this is where Virgil & Co is situated this week.
The shelves were cramped, towering things, and the thick scent of decaying parchment and sulphur filled the air; but September felt no sense of worry while he walked along the shelves, it was plainly obvious that the place was run by a devil, and Josephine had come here many times before without any complaints.
September hadn't seen anything that caught his fancy, until the spine of a book seemed to catch his eye.
Making sure Maighréad was secure, he pulled the book out from the shelf, the cover of the leather-bound book read “The scot who I caught”
With a bewildered expression on his face, September skimmed through the beginning of the book. It seemed to be a very bad romance novel about a woman catching a Scottish thief who had been breaking into the houses of the rich and robbing them blind.
Not wanting to ruin the surprise on how bad the book could get, September approached the counter, where a devil wearing a battered fedora lay resting, without even sparing September a look, he outstretched his hand awaiting payment.
Leaving the bookshop, Maighréad in her pram, September only needed one last thing to make this a good date night, a home cooked meal!
Maighréad didn't like her high chair, the wood was hard and cold and it tasted bad, but right now her attention was placed solely on her father, currently attempting to sauté some mushrooms on a pan, and failing horrendously.
It wasn't that September didn't know how to cook, it was more he was doomed to fail, September did not know that the stove he was attempting to cook mushrooms on was inscribed with celestial language.
It took several attempts, and another trip to the grocers until September finally managed to not horrendously burn the fungus, September believed it was finally time to set everything up.
Josephine wasn't dreaming of nice things, the recent addition to her family was constantly shocking her unconscious thoughts, worrying that if she slips up once, that Maighréad will be hurt, that she'll be gone just like Gabr-
Blinking her eyes, sleep still holding her mind, Josephine barely even noticed the redhead sitting next to her, until he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.
On the bedside table, an uncorked bottle of whisky lay, with two small glasses next to it, a plate of mushrooms not too burnt sat next to it.
Josephine snuggled next to September, slowly noticing the gifts he had for her.
With a wordless gaze, September reached over and handed Josephine the accursed book, a smile on his face as she read the title.
As Josephine put the book down, she asked September where Maighréad was, seeing her not in her crib.
September mentioned calling in a favour, for a friend just to take care of Maighréad for tonight
Downstairs, a woman dressed in white with a small flower in her hair was explaining to Maighréad how to properly intimidate someone, where to threaten them, that sort of thing.
Maighréad, not understanding most words in the English language, stared intensely at February, enraptured by every word coming from her mouth.
Upstairs, Josephine was enjoying a plate of mushrooms, sipping on whisky as September cracked open the Horrible novel, the book was bad, but entertainingly so, and as September read out lines from the Scotsman in the novel in his own voice, Josephine was happy.
As the mushrooms were finished, the whisky half empty and the two lovers properly drunk, they lay in each other's embrace, the bad novel sandwiched between them as they slowly drift off to sleep again.
As she lay there, face half covered in ginger hair and knowing that her family was safe, Josephine was happy.