Anol shalom [Birthing]

[Ketterley]

we are living in a material world,

and i am a material girl

♦ ♦ ♦

She is loved. She is cherished. She is safe and secure. But more than that – and this is the dangerous part – her existence is so important to her parents, she completes them in some way that she is too young to describe, but old enough to feel deeply just how significant her birth is. And that is what worms its way into her heart, warmed and caressed by the almost impossible love that she receives. That is the seed that plants itself deep in her soul: a seed that tells her she is someone, that she deserves certain things, that she's special. It's a seed that will drive her throughout the rest of her life.

She watches with adorable interest as her mother manages to stand. She is pleased to see her father helping her mother; in the short time she's been alive, she's already figured out that this is what family should do for one another. And so she tries to help too, tries to steady her mother, or encourage her, or some combination of the two. Of course it doesn't work very well, because despite being uncommonly graceful she's still so very small, and Pevensie is so very weary. But it doesn't stop her from trying – and she always will try, at least as far as her parents are concerned.

Pevensie makes it to her feet, and stands beside Hurricane, talking. It doesn't take Ketterley long to figure out that they're talking about her; the way that they're staring, the way they seem suffused with something idyllic and otherworldly (it is love, but she doesn't have a word for love) – she can see it's all focused on her, focused on all of them together. And charmingly, adorably, she grins.

At length her father nudges her toward nursing, and she becomes aware that she is, in fact, pretty darn ravenous. With a flick of her tiny bottlebrush tail, she gracefully turns herself around so that she can nurse. She suckles greedily, but even now there is a characteristic daintiness to her movements. Case in point: when she pulls away, there is no milk on her lips. She's managed to perform the entire operation without getting herself messy in the slightest.

Sated – at least, for the moment – she looks back at the two of them again and promptly sneezes several times, equally adorably, equally daintily.

Perhaps it's that sneeze, or perhaps it's the sum total of all the things she's done so far and all the ways her parents have reacted to it, but it's in this moment that Ketterley understands exactly how adorable she is. She can see the way they look at her, see the love in their eyes, and it's that love that has inspired her to be certain that she deserves everything, and deserves the very best of all that everything. But now she understands that there is another mechanism available to her, that her adorableness is directly linked to melting hearts, to making sure that she is loved and adored. She is too young to be sad at the way she's absorbing their pure, unadulterated love and caring, and starting to turn it to something far more twisted.

She smiles at them, her grin pretty and her expression sweet. "Hi." she manages finally, her voice as precious as the rest of her. It's a baby-voice, high pitched and with a hint of excitability, but it's still sweet and soft. Someday, she'll have quite the dulcet voice.

But for now she's just a single, impossibly young girl, waiting to see just how much her parents can possibly adore her.

Ketterley

perfect little princess of hurricane and pevensie