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A Wife and Her Major

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A Wife and Her Major

May 1st 1836-Fort Wagner, Izrel, Ferdern

Mira couldn’t believe it. He was finally home. Henry had practically fainted as he stumbled into the house, his torn and dusty saddle bag hanging off his arm, and blood leaking through his shirt despite the bandages wrapped around his wounds. Thankfully the baby had been asleep, so Mira could dedicate her full attention to Henry. She caught her husband as he fell, torn between smothering him in kisses and tending to his wounds then and there. Mira nearly ran out of the house to go kill the stupid ass that let him travel alone. She knew he had probably threatened the medical officer until the idiot finally gave in-for that was Henry’s way. Threaten and intimidate until he got what he wanted, but to think that the medical officer would threaten Henry’s life like that. Oh, the thought still made her burn with rage. After dragging Henry upstairs and looking at his wounds, he quickly washed before collapsing onto their bed. That was at two in the afternoon. It was now eleven in the evening and he hadn’t stirred, but it didn’t matter. He was home. After two long and miserable years, he was finally home.

Mira carefully and delicately shifted so she could be closer to her husband without actually waking him. The poor man was exhausted. The army pushed their soldiers too hard. It was a wonder they had anyone left in the Ignis in any condition to fight. Mira gently propped herself up with her hand and rested her elbow on her pillow, her long, lush red hair tumbling down her face. She brushed it behind her ears and her alluring blue eyes glowed as Henry mumbled in his sleep. He never knew when to turn off. Oh how she wished she could hold him and smother him in kisses. She still couldn’t believe how horrible he had looked as he walked-ha walked-collapsed through their front door. She had been so afraid he was going to die then and there. She was going to kill him when he healed. Stupid moron. Mira’s eyes gazed down her husband’s bare chest and frowned at the bloody bandages wrapped around every inch of his body. Dear God, they had turned him into neutral cheese, how was he still alive? Well that was a silly question. Henry wouldn’t die until he was good and ready. Her stupidly brave and stubborn soldier. She smiled as he twitched. What was she going to do with him? While Mira hoped that their son was as brave as Henry, she prayed to god he was not as stubborn, although with both Henry and Mira as his parents, the poor boy was doomed. Mira quickly glanced at the crib, grateful that Hermes was such a peaceful and well behaved baby. She was convinced that he could take care of himself if she needed him too.

Mira’s eyes returned to Henry and rested on his tanned and beaten face. Even though he was only twenty-four, he looked older. She could see the Ignis around his eyes and creases in his forehead. Her poor soldier. Mira shifted even closer, so their noses were almost touching, and it took all of her will power to prevent herself from kissing him. God, it had been too long. Two years was a long time to wait and she had been faithful. There was no one like Henry…She settled with gently dancing her thin fingers up and down his arm, tracing each and every scar. She frowned at a fresh stitching on his bicep. It must have been only a few weeks old. Maybe the last wound he received before shipping back to Ferdern. It was nothing compared to his other wounds, but it broke her heart. No one wanted to see their husband treated like a pin cushion. He would roll his eyes and gently reprehend her if he could hear her. It was nothing, just a flesh wound. A flesh wound her ass. She bit her lip as he gently furrowed his eyebrows. Mira pulled her fingers away from his arm even though they longed for his skin, but she didn’t want to wake him. This was probably the most he had slept during the last two years. She didn’t want to ruin that for him, but God she had missed him.

Mira frowned slightly as he shifted in his sleep. Oh, she hoped she hadn’t disturbed his slumber, but he almost deserved it for not telling her he had been promoted to major. It was so strange to think that Henry had left her a 2nd lieutenant and had returned as a major. In two years…that had to be impressive, right? Mira didn’t know. She was going to pretend it was impressive until she had a chance to ask Theodore or John, because Henry would never tell her the truth. He would shrug it off and pretend it wasn’t important. God, he drove her crazy, but he was here. He was actually here. Please God don’t let it be a dream. Please don’t be that cruel. Mira’s long and delicate fingers gently brushed the rebellious strands of golden hair out of his young face. Henry twitched, but thankfully he didn’t wake. She knew she should just leave him alone and let him rest in peace, but she wanted to touch him, to hold him, and kiss him just to make sure he was actually lying next to her. Oh, how many times had she dreamt of him returning home, her honorable and proud soldier back from war, basking in glory? How many times had she imagined Henry taking her in his arms and kissing her like he had never kissed her before and then they would go upstairs and…well Mira bit back a smile. Yes, it was foolish and Henry would blush and sputter if she ever told him, but could anyone blame her? She loved him so much and he was so handsome, the war god Bhae personified. She knew many people probably didn’t understand her attraction to him. He certainly wasn’t a charming man, but he was powerful. His mere presence would swallow her whole and leave nothing left and whenever he entered a room he controlled that room and everyone in it. And he was handsome, despite the few scars from his boxing days. His face was strong and he had a severe nose, but it was his eyes, his eyes were a bright brown and she swore they glowed in the dark. A hawk’s eyes, and while many people thought they were made out of ice, she knew better. She had learned how to read those steely eyes of his and they relieved a beautiful and caring soul. A man who felt too much. That was the man she loved. Yes, she was proud of the soldier and he certainly made her flush, but she loved the man.

Mira drew back as Henry groaned and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Theodore, we have to get up. Patrol is in five,” he muttered.
She closed her eyes as his voice washed over her. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. It was strong and deep like a trombone, but sharp and clear like a flute with a hint of the mournful bassoon. Mira had almost forgotten how rich it was. Two years…two long and lonely years since she had heard his voice. Two long and lonely years since she had felt his skin. Two long and lonely years full of fear that he would never return, wondering what she would tell their son if he did not return…but he was here. Thank God, he was here. Mira opened her eyes, smiled, and gently brushed the stubbornly rebellious strand of hair out of his face. Henry slowly opened his eyes and their eyes met. Mira felt her heart melt as she stared into his slightly confused, eyes and she nearly cried. He was truly home. This wasn’t a dream. Thank God and His Son that it wasn’t a dream. Henry raised his hand and motioned towards her cheek, but hesitated. Instead, he simply stared at her, uncertainty and fear etched into his face. Mira laughed before plunging into a kiss. Henry rose slightly to meet her lips and delved his rough and callused hand deep into her red hair, running its silk strands through his fingers. Mira never wanted their lips to part and so after the long kiss, she attacked his mouth with a small kiss which he greedily met. He rose even more as he rested his other hand on her side and they would have kept kissing if he had not winced. Mira pulled back alarmed and looked down at his bandages. A new blotch of red oozed from his abdomen.
“Oh, Henry.”
He lightly brushed his lips against her. She met his kiss briefly before pulling away and giving him a demanding glare. He smiled and slowly lay back down.
“I am excited you’re home too, but you have to rest.”
“I’m fine,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Mira stared at him exasperatedly. He sniffed humorously before brushed her hair behind her ear and resting his hand on her cheek.
“I thought I would never see you again.”
“Me too.”
He studied her face before sighing, “You’re more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
Mira laughed, “That’s a good line. Did Theodore teach you it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I know you so well.”
Mira leant over and kiss his forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed, his hand traveling from her cheek to the back of her neck. She adjusted and rested her forehead against his.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered, also closing her eyes, “I was so worried.”
“I know.”
She pulled away and laid down next to him, stroking his arm. Henry winced as he attempt to turn over, so he settled for turning his head to face her. He stroked her cheek as he continued to study her face, almost as if he was trying to memorize it.
“But you shouldn’t have been.”
“Says the man who walked into our house half dead.”
“Oh, you’re exaggerating,” he scoffed.
“You couldn’t walk into the house by yourself.”
“I was just tired,” he said, turning away and rubbing his eyes.
“Among other things.”
He stared at her slightly annoyed while she gave him a cheeky grin and brushed her lips against his. He rested his hand on the base of her cheek and pulled her into the kiss, wincing as he tried to turn over. Mira pulled away and stared at him like a school teacher staring at her problem student.
“I think we’re going to have to institute a reward system,” she said stroking his cheek.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, every time you behave and rest, I’ll give you a little kiss. Every time you misbehave, you’ll getting nothing.”
Henry smiled.
“And what’s to prevent me from just taking it?”
Mira laughed.
“Like you could in the condition you’re in.”
Henry attempted to lunge forward and pin her to the bed, but didn’t even get halfway up when he scrunched his face in pain and a grunt escape his lips.
“Told you,” she smiled smugly.
Henry glared at her.
“I should probably take a look at it, now that you’re up.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Henry, you’re bleeding through,” said Mira, her hair behind her ear as she climbed out of bed.
Henry sighed as watched her leave. Mira quickly raced into the next room to pull out the bandages that had been shoved into his bag. She would have to cut up some linen and make more as she had a funny feeling he was going to need them for a while. After grabbing the bandages, she filled a bowl with water and threw a cloth in, before returning to their bed room.
“Henry!” she snapped exasperated as he tried to sit up.
She gasped as they heard a murmur from the crib, but thankfully Hermes continued to sleep.
“Will you stop being an ass!” she hissed, waving the bandages at him, “Now lie down and let me take care of you.”
“Mira, I’m fine.”
She shot him a withering gaze that even he didn’t dare argue with. He laid back down, grumbling, as Mira knelt as the side of the bed and gingerly untied the bloody, used bandages. She bit back a gasp at his oozing and open wounds. Her poor soldier. She could not help the tears that swelled in her eyes. What had they done to her beloved husband? Henry grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“It’s all right.”
“But it’s not all right,” she whispered.
Henry shrugged half-heartedly.
“It’s war.”
Mira shook her head as she washed the blood away. Henry stroked the back of her hair, running his hands through her long, brilliant red hair, enjoying its softness. His bright brown eyes studied her before traveling to the crib and a frowned slowly tumbled across his sun dried and chapped lips.
“How is he?”
Mira looked up and raised an eyebrow.
“Who?”
“The baby.”
“Oh, he’s perfect. He’s such an angel,” she said returning to Henry’s wound, “I was so worried because I’ve heard all of these horror stories, but he’s so well behaved. He could probably take care of himself if I needed him to.”
Henry smiled.
“So obviously he takes after me.”
He raised an eyebrow and suppressed a laugh.
“But he’s an early riser like you and he’s very stubborn.”
“That I know he got from you.”
Mira pursed her lips.
“Don’t start with me. I can make your life incredibly painful right now if I wanted to.”
Henry chuckled and watched the crib.
“How old is he now?”
“About a year and a half.”
Henry’s face softened.
“Oh, Henry, you busted the stitches! No wonder why it’s bleeding like a butchered pig. We’re going to have to get a doctor.”
“No, get me a needle and some string and I’ll do it,” winced Henry, resting on his elbows.
Mira stared at him exasperated.
“What?!”
“Quiet, you’ll wake up the baby.”
“You are not going to stitch up your own wounds.”
“Why not? I did this one,” said he, nodding towards his bicep.
“And it’s a work of art,” said Mira sarcastically.
Henry rolled his eyes.
“Just go get it.”
“I’m not getting you a needle and thread. It’s not even the correct thread.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing!” she said, her voice becoming shrill.
“Shhh!”
The baby cried for a second before hiccupping and falling silent. Mira held her breath until she was convinced Hermes was still sleeping.
“Henry Joseph Banks, you’re going to drive me to a breakdown.”
“Trust me. It’ll be fine.”
Mira glared at him before rising with a huff.
“Fine, I’ll let you stitch it now to stop the bleeding, but tomorrow I’m calling a real doctor over.”
“Fine,” sighed Henry, rolling his eyes, “But you worry too much.”
“He makes our bedroom look like a butcher’s shop and then tells me I worry too,” muttered Mira leaving.

Henry waited until she was completely out of the room, before painfully rising. He had to bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out in pain. He held onto the bed and hobbled towards the crib, nearly falling as he crossed the small empty space between bed and crib. Henry grabbed onto the crib and leant against it for support. He closed his eyes and panted as pain shot up and down his body and he felt blood drip down his side. Although he would never admit it out loud, Mira was right. Still, Henry couldn’t let any type of injury get in his way. The pain was surmountable if he remembered that he was in control of it. Henry slowly opened his eyes and smiled as his son looked up at him. Hermes was so small. He would probably fit perfectly in his arms and his hands and feet combined were barely the size of the palm of one his hand. Hermes waved his feet in the air and rubbed his eyes with a scrunched nose before shaking his tiny head and staring at Henry. His large eyes were almost the size of his head and they were a bright brown, just like Henry’s. His little tuff of brown hair was sticking straight up. Oh that would never do. Henry gently tried to flatten it and as he drew his hand away, Hermes grabbed it. His tiny fingers could barely wrap around Henry’s hand and he seemed fascinated by it. Henry gently turned his hand so Hermes could study his palm. His son stared at it for a second before placing his tiny hand against Henry’s bigger hand. The major’s face softened as it sounded like Hermes had chuckled and his big eyes traveled to Henry’s face. The poor boy was confused and he should be. They had never met until this very moment. God, this was his son. This tiny, curious, uncoordinated baby was his boy. How was that even possible? Well he knew the mechanics of it, but to think that he could ever have a part in making something this beautiful…Henry wrapped his hand around Hermes’ tiny hand and the boy seemed surprised. He tried to pull his hand away, but couldn’t. Henry smiled until Hermes started to whine.
“All right, all right, its ok,” he said, releasing Hermes’ hand, “See, still there.”
Hermes quickly pulled his hand away and threw Henry an annoyed glance only Mira could manage.
“Ah I see your mother has already started to corrupt you.”
Hermes waved his hands and feet in the air and it looked like he was trying to get up. Henry watched curiously as his son struggled to turn over.
“All right, it took me a while, but I,-Henry!”
He looked up and saw an alarmed Mira, needle and thread in her hand, standing in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t use that language in front of the baby,” he frowned.
“Oh, he’s asleep,” scoffed Mira walking towards Henry.
She let out a gasp as Hermes pulled himself up and stared at them.
“Oh, Henry, did you wake him,” said Mira bustling towards him and slamming his arm.
“No, he was already awake,” said Henry, pleased to see his son so independent.
The boy stared at his mother and giggled and bounced up and down. Mira sighed and kissed Hermes’ forehead.
“I love you, but not now. I need to deal with your stupid father.”
Hermes continued to stand and whined as Mira pulled away.
“Hermes,” warned Henry, his voice dropping an octave lower than normal.
The boy stared at Henry before slowly sitting down and stared at them through the bars.
“Now you, moron, come here,” said Mira draping his arm over her neck, “And let’s get you back to bed.”
Henry tried his best to stand on his own as they trudged towards the bed. He collapsed onto their bed with a groan and Mira glared at him.
“You deserve all the pain you’re about to feel for being so stupid.
“I had to see him.”
“I would have brought him to you,” she said, exasperated, “God, sometimes you can be so stupid. Now be quiet, I need to concentrate.”
She bent down, and stuck out the tip of her tongue as she tried to thread the needle.
“Mira-”
“Quiet!”
Henry shared a glance with a curious Hermes as Mira spent the next five minutes failing to force the thread through the eye of the needle.
“Mira, I can do it.”
She threw her hands in the air before handing him the needle and thread. Henry furrowed his eyebrows as he threaded the needle.
“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”
“Language, Mira,” said Henry handing her the needle.
“Where the Ignis did you learn how to do that?” asked Mira.
Henry smiled.
“There have been plenty of times where I needed to mend my own uniform.”
“Yeah, well if the stitches were as straight as the ones on your arm, it’s a miracle you didn’t ruin your uniform,” muttered Mira, studying his wound.
Henry pursed his eyes and glared at her.
“All right, here we go….Wait! Do you want something for the pain? I might have some whiskey left over.”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
Mira stared at him uncertainly, but he nodded his head. She sighed before returning to his wound.
“All right.”
Henry tightened his hands into fists as she stabbed the needle into his flesh. She stabbed it through the other side of the wound and pulled, pulling the edges of the wound closer to each other. Henry clamped his eyes shut and rested his head against the head board as she continued to pull at his skin. Each pull of the needle tugged at his skin, threatening to simply rip it off his flesh. He bit his tongue as she stabbed through a rather sensitive part of the wound, but could not prevent the groan that emerged from his throat.
“Almost done,” she said, her voice cracking as her hands were caked in his blood.
He tightened his fists as she pulled for the last time, tugging tightly at his skin. He heard her clip the end of the thread and tie the knot. He slowly opened his eyes and couldn’t help but laugh at Mira. She had pulled back and was sitting on the floor, panting as she rested her forehead against the only clean spot on her hand.
“You could be a nurse.”
“Oh, shut up, you pain in the….rear,” she said, eying their son, who was now standing up again, staring at them with furrowed eyebrows.
“Love you, too,” he said, leaning over and kissing her forehead, groaning as he pulled away.
“Stop hurting yourself!” she said, “I am not stitching anything else tonight. Now stay still as I wrap new bandages around you.
When she was done turning him into a walking roll of bandages, Mira looked at her hands in despair.
“I am going to wash this off. You do NOT move! I’ll be right back.”
Henry rolled his eyes as she walked out of the room, but he behaved. He was in too much pain to do otherwise. Mira practically ran into the room, a whiskey bottle in her hand, and let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank God you listened.”
“I can occasionally follow instructions.”
She smiled and placed the bottle on the side table.
“Just in case.”
“I’m fine.”
“So you keep telling me,” she muttered as she walked towards the crib, “Come here, Hermes, let’s properly meet your father.”
Henry’s face softened and he sat up as she cradled Hermes in her arms and brought their son to him.
“Open up your arms, Henry.”
“Mira, I don’t know-”
“Oh, you’ll be fine. Open your arms.”
“But…what…what if I drop him?”
“You won’t drop him,” said Mira, rolling her eyes, “Besides he’ll be fine. He has a thick head, just like his father.”
Henry hesitated before uncertainly opening his arms, straight out like he was about to receive a heavy package.
“Oh, you are so helpless,” she laughed as she lowered Hermes into his arms, “Here, support his head and wrapped your arm there. See? Easy.”
Henry gave her a look that said, “Speak for yourself.”
She rolled her eyes as she walked around the bed and climbed into the bed from the left hand side. She sat down next to him and waved at Hermes who was staring at her in slight alarm.
“It’s ok. This moronic grump is your father. For the love of God, do not take after him.”
“Thank you, Mira. That was a great introduction.”
“Oh, he’s not going to remember any of this.”
Henry glared at her before turning to face his son. The boy felt so…tiny, so fragile in his arms. How was this little thing, this helpless creature supposed to grow into a young man? It didn’t seem possible. And even if this little thing survived and grew up into a young man, would he turn into a functional Ferdarian? Hermes looked at him and raised his hand, Henry assumed to grab his nose. He carefully moved his hands so he was still supporting the baby, but able to tickle the little boy’s nose. Hermes giggled and wrapped both small, delicate hand around his finger. Henry smiled and prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in to help him properly raise this precious boy. To ensure that he did not ruin his life, that Hermes would somehow find a way to be happy even though he was Henry’s son.
“Say something to him,” said Mira, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Like what?”
“Anything. Talking to him will help him recognize your voice.”
Henry stared at the boy as he yawned and rested his tiny head against his bandaged chest. His big, bright eyes were struggling to stay open and his little hands slipped from his finger.
“Hello, Hermes, I’m your father.”
The boy grinned before turning in Henry’s arms and closing his eyes. Henry pulled Hermes close to his chest and smiled as Mira kissed his cheek. How could something so small feel so important? He had never truly felt the full weight of responsibility until this moment. This was his son, a young Ferdarian he would have to mold into a honorable man. True, he had to look after the troops in the Ignis, but it wasn’t the same. Those boys were already formed, already people, but this boy…he was just starting to form. It was Henry’s job to make sure he was a decent and dignified young man, a benefit to society, and, most importantly, a better man than Henry was.
“He’s still scared of me,” he whispered.
“It’ll take some time, but he’ll get used to you,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder again.
Henry sighed.
“Do you think he will understand? I mean...depending on how fast I heal, I may return to the desert and there will be other assignments. Do you think he’ll be able to forgive me?”
“Of course! Not only will he understand and forgive you, he’ll worship you. He is going to make the other kids jealous with how much he loves you.”
Henry sighed and stared at the little creature in his arms. It was hard to accept that this was his son, his responsibility. It would not be hard to train the boy to be better than he was. He had so many flaws…already the boy was a far more patient and quiet man than Henry ever was. But what if Henry was too strict with him. He had a horrible habit of demanding too much from people. What if Hermes severely disappointed him? What if he severely disappointed Hermes? The son had the responsibility to be better than the father, but the father always had a responsibility to the son. But what was that responsibility?
“Mira.”
“Hm?”
“I never had a father growing up. I…I don’t know how they’re supposed to be.”
Mira raised her head and looked into his bright eyes and smiled.
“Just love him, Henry. Just love him and let him love you and it will work out. Besides, I’ll always be there to fix things when you mess up.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
She laughed and said, “Here, let me take him. I’ll put him back in his crib.”
Henry looked down at Hermes one last time and silently made a promise, ”I will never let anything bad happen to you.” before handing the boy to Mira. His face softened as he watched her walked towards the crib and gently place Hermes down. His son…A heavy responsibility…an impossible task. He slowly lowered himself onto the mattress as Mira climbed into bed and laid next to him. She gently rested her head on his shoulder and draped an arm over his bandaged chest and closed her eyes. Henry wrapped an arm around her waist and sighed contently.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered, tightening her grip.
“So, am I.”
He snuggled closer to her and watched her fall asleep, afraid that if he, himself, closed his eyes, he would wake up tomorrow in the desert and this all would have been a wonderful dream.
Wooohoo! This is the first story I'm posting with my new computer!

Anyway this is a story about Mira and Henry Banks back when they loved each other and didn't want to kill each other. Even though these two eventually end up divorced there was a time when they were incredibly close and had a strong bond. They certainly aren't my most romantic or passionate of couples, but they love each other very much and they once had one of the strongest relationships-before Henry dedicated himself to country.

The story starts here
And continues here

Anyway I hope you enjoy!

(c) me
© 2014 - 2024 Pepper-the-phoenix
Comments4
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Jallarial's avatar
Aww, this is too cute and sweet and lovely all rolled into one. You've expressed their emotions very well and very realistically.