A Tale of Romans and Slaves | PJO/HOO

Chapter 58: Piper

I felt like Jason wasn't telling me something.

He was sitting in his chair, hands in his lap. I could tell he was deep in thought. But about what?

I sat down on his bed, which he now shared with Reyna. I couldn't really wrap my head around that. He loves me, yet sleeps side-by-side with another woman. Even though I knew neither of them wanted to, it still summoned a knot of jealousy in my stomach.

I looked up at Jason. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his face. I sighed, and brought my hand down to my stomach. I still couldn't believe I was pregnant. The thought that there was a living thing inside me, growing, was mind-blowing.

I took a deep breath, about to ask Jason what he was thinking about, when the door swung open.

Both Jason and I turned to look at our visitor, a.k.a Lou Ellen. She looked frantic, and was breathing heavily, like she had run up the stairs of the palace as quickly as she could.

"Lou Ellen?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"It's Rachel!" Lou Ellen exclaimed breathlessly. "She's gone into labor!"

I shot up. "What?"

"She wants you!" Lou Ellen exclaimed. "C'mon!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I ran over to her, and we started running through the halls of the palace together.

We burst into the healing wing. It was the one for slaves, so it was small. Rachel was lying on a cot, breathing heavily.

"Piper?" She asked as I sat in the chair next to her.

"I'm here," I reassured her. "I'm here."

The only person helping her was a midwife, who was telling Rachel what to do. Apparently, her body was getting ready for childbirth. I took her hand in mine. A little time later, it was time.

Rachel's screams of agony ripped through my heart. They seemed to never end. Sometimes she cursed, mainly at Octavian. She gripped my hand so hard I was sure she had broken some of my bones.

After what seemed like forever, a second sound broke through the air; the sound of a baby's cries.

"Congratulations!" The midwife said. "It's a girl!"

A minute later, Rachel's daughter was placed in her arms, wrapped up in a blanket. Rachel was crying now.

The baby had Rachel's hair, and most or Rachel's features. But her eyes- her eyes were Octavian's. But where her father's blue eyes contained coldness, her's contained light. When I looked into them, I felt none of the sense of dread and fear I did when I looked at Octavian's.

"She looks like you," I told Rachel happily.

"I know," She said tearfully. "She does."

I couldn't even imagine what Rachel was feeling right now. She didn't want this baby. It was forced on her. Yet she was smiling.

"She's my child," Rachel said. "She's not going to be like him. Not at all."