Overriding Orders
By: Manna


Florina had had enough. Her usual breaking point was one that, when crossed, forced tears out of her eyes and made others feel guilty. But this was different.

She was three months pregnant and quite healthy, thank-you-very-much, but for some reason, Hector didn't seem capable of understanding that. He hovered around her at every opportunity to ask stupid questions and to give her stupid orders. If an opportunity didn't present itself in due time, he seemed to make time, delaying important meetings and discussions.

It was getting to be quite frustrating!

She was tugging her hair back into a braid from her seat on Huey's back when her husband approached her. He had a parchment in his hand that he was probably trying dutifully to read, but he looked up as he approached and gave her a good long stare, his gaze lingering on her gently-swollen belly.

"Don't fly too high," he said before glancing back down at the paper in his hands. "It's a little chilly today."

Her face reddened, and she tied off her hair with more force than was necessary. "Of course," she replied, her voice strained.

"Wear your cloak," he added as he scrunched up his face to try and read what was, apparently, small writing.

Her small hands fisted around the reins. "I will."

"Oh," he smiled, looking up at her. She was almost ready to forgive him, if only because he looked as if he were about to say something sweet, but then he continued with, "And don't over-exert yourself."

"What?!" She couldn't help herself.

His eyes widened as she leapt off of her pegasus' back and onto the grass, but she ignored that.

"Hector!" she shouted, storming up to him to poke him hard in the chest. "I'm an adult, I fought in a war—I fought against a dragon—so stop telling me what to do!"

"What?" he asked in disbelief, clearly startled by her outburst.

"I don't tell you to go to sleep early." She poked him again. "And I don't tell you to stay away from the things you enjoy. I don't even tell you to stop chewing with your mouth open, or to stop stepping on my feet when we dance!"

He gave her a blank, open-mouthed stare before he shook his head. "You know what happened to Ninian."

Her irritation began to fade, and she laid her hands flat against his chest. "But Ninian was… Hector, Ninian was a dragon in human form. She knew that she wouldn't live long, here, and Lord Eliwood knew that as well."

"I don't want something like that happening to you," he said, his voice rough. Almost as if to reinforce his way of speaking, he tugged on the end of her braid. "I want you to deliver a healthy baby, and I want…" He swallowed, "I want you to live through it."

She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I will," she said. "I promise to." She crinkled her nose and tilted her head back to look up at him. "But stop telling me what to do."

"But Florina—"

She stood on her toes to kiss away his words. "No buts! I don't need a cloak because I feel as if I'm roasting alive, and I won't over-exert myself because we're not in the middle of a war and I don't have a reason to." She walked a few yards away before she threw him a grin over her shoulder. "I'll be fine, Hector." Her hands came to rest on her stomach. "And so will your daughter."

She was already on Huey's back again by the time her husband found his bearings. "A daughter?" he asked, his voice loud but holding a tinge of awe. "Wait, a daughter! Florina, you'd best not be thinking about training her to ride those winged beasts!" The delicate piece of parchment in his hands seemed to have been forgotten completely; it found itself crumpled into a ball in his fist. "They're dangerous, you know! One swoop of their wing could knock over a child! She'll have to study something safe, like—"

Florina chuckled as the sound of Huey's wings drowned out the concerned voice of Hector. If the man had his way, Serra would be teaching their future daughter the joys of holding a healing staff. Florina didn't quite agree on that small thing, but…she could sort that out later.

For the time being, she could enjoy the feeling of the wind in her hair.


Author Notes:

This is for Forced Simile, who requested it for the Spring Edition of the Microfic/Drabble Meme. (Why yes, this piece of writing has no point to it.)