The birth of Denemeer

Dalek paces back and forth outside the room where his wife is giving birth. The Healers refuse to allow him entrance, her contractions now coming close enough for her to begin pushing. He fears for her and his unborn child and prays to Mother Universe that they both make it out fine. He can hear her screaming now, his chest begins to pound, his throat is tight. He can feel her pain washing over him and he falls to his knees.

Their child has imbued her with this power that she previously lacked. She must be healthy, he thinks, to be able to project such energy through her mother. Hours pass. Dalek sits beside the door slumped against the wall covered in sweat. His wife has finally stopped screaming. The pain has finally passed.

The door creaks open and Dalek jumps to his feet but the Healer lifts a finger to her lips to stop him from speaking.

“You must be quiet. Mother and child are exhausted.” She smiles and motions for him to follow her into the small birthing room.

Dalek kneels beside the bed and gently runs his fingers through his wife’s hair. She’s holding a little bundle close to her chest, all snug in a clean blanket, her face hidden against her mother.

“Are you alright, Uma?” he makes sure to keep his voice low, “Is our baby alright?”

She looks at him and smiles, “She is as healthy as we’d hoped, my love.”

He rests his forehead against hers and exhales, “I was so frightened.”

Uma plants a small kiss on the tip of his nose, “We have her now and no longer need to worry.”

The bundle stirs and Dalek hears his daughter coo for the first time. Carefully, he moves the blanket to get a look at her; wild black hair adorns her tiny head, her features seem to be more his than her mothers but something about her eyes reminds him of Uma.

“She’s so beautiful.”

“She’s got a tough future ahead of her.”

“What do you mean?” he’s suddenly filled with fear again, his wifes visions are rarely, if ever, wrong.

“There’s no need to fret, Dalek. She will be safe but so much will happen around her. We will have to cross that river when we come to it.”

Dalek stares at his innocent child, “What name have you chosen?”

“I thought it would be best to combine our choices; say hello to little Denemeer.”

He chuckles, “Your ‘Denet’ and my ‘Meery’?” he nods, “I adore it.”



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