“Yeah. I think there’s still some time to go. I’m sorry you got called this early, Asan. Some of us seem to have forgotten the part of the birth preparation where it was made clear it takes hours before the baby’s actually going to arrive.” She shot Kain an exasperated side-eye as she wrapped a towel around herself.
The doctor chuckled softly. “His Majesty is a first-time father, my queen. A little anxiousness is to be expected. Besides, I don’t mind. It’s always an honor to tend to a laboring mother, and no less so when she will birth the future heir to the kingdom.”
“We’ve been over this, Asan. I don’t want to be called ‘my queen’ while you’re delivering my baby. ‘Selma’ will do.”
She stepped out of the shower, allowing Kain to support her as she did. He had the vague notion that she mostly let him for his sake, so he felt like he was actually doing something to help. In all the anticipation of the arrival of his child, he hadn’t expected how swiftly he’d feel absolutely powerless. He was grateful to his mate that she somehow had the wherewithal to not only sense his fear, but also quietly let him know he was needed.
Silently, he bent to kiss the top of her head, then helped her towel off and get into a soft robe. He’d been excited for their son’s arrival. Now all he wanted was for this to be over and Selma safe once again.
“How are you feeling, m—Selma?” the doctor asked as he watched her tie the robe around her waist.
“Fine. Excited.” She brushed a hand over her protruding belly. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Asan smiled softly. “That’s good. If you’re not in discomfort, I encourage you to rest now before the contractions draw closer together, or perhaps even have a light meal. You’ll need your strength later. Call me when the contractions are about ten minutes apart, or if you feel you need me for any reason.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Kain growled as the man went to exit the bathroom. “You’re not fucking leaving while your queen is in labor!”
“Kain—” Despite her exasperated tone, Selma put a gentle hand on his arm.
“I will be right down the hall, Your Majesty.” Despite the aggression in Kain’s voice, the doctor still sounded entirely calm. “The queen is in the very early stage of labor. At this point, what she needs most is calm and comfort. In a situation where a breeder is as comfortable with her mate as is the case with Selma, the best thing I can do is be as unobtrusive as possible, until we move into the active stages of labor. Her birthing experience will go much smoother if she is calm and well-rested now. That happens more easily if the mother relaxes in familiar surroundings with just the father of her child there for emotional support.” He arched both eyebrows a half-inch. “Can I assume you are willing and capable of providing this support, my king?”
Kain gave him a withering stare.
“Excellent. I will check in once every hour or so and see how we progress.”
The second his Selma and his son were through this birth, Kain was going to fucking murder that man.
“You’re glaring, my love.” Selma reached for his hand and squeezed it. “He’s right. I just want it to be you and me for a few more hours.”
He looked down at his mate, his world zeroing in to nothing but her. “Just you and me,” he echoed softly.
“And then our son will be here.” She smiled brightly then, and the genuine thrill of anticipation at meeting their child shone from her beautiful chocolate eyes. “And we’ll be hard-pressed to find another moment alone for some time, so I think I’ll take the doctor up on his suggestion that we relax together while we can.”
Kain scooped her into his arms, being careful not to jostle her laboring body. “As always, your wish is my command, my queen.”
* * *
It was the first time in months Kain had allowed himself to fully release the pressures of ruling; the politics, the war. In those first few hours of Selma’s labor, he let the outside world fully disappear as his entire being centered on the astounding moments before he’d get to meet his son.
At first he held his mate and massaged her sore body, offering relief and comfort between her contractions. When they began arriving closer together, he bit down on his instinctive fear at seeing her in pain and supported her as she moved restlessly around the bedroom, offering words of encouragement when they were welcome and swiftly shutting up when they were not.
“It looks like we’re progressing nicely,” Dr. Asan said cheerfully when he entered to find Selma doubled over the bed, breathing hard through a particularly nasty contraction.
She shot him a glare that, had her light not been drained, could possibly have incinerated him. “Nicely? Nicely? The little bastard is trying to rip his way through my uterus! Do something!”
Kain gave the doctor an alarmed look, but Asan looked entirely undisturbed at the change in Selma’s attitude.
“Let’s take a look and see how far you’re dilated.” He motioned for her to lay down on the bed as he slid on a pair of latex gloves.
“He’s not ripping her, is he?” Kain murmured to the doctor while Selma got into position. “My son isn’t… hurting her?”
“No more than a human baby would,” Asan assured him. “The birthing process is painful, but we’re here to ensure she comes through it safe and sound. Whatever she says in the next few hours, try not to take it to heart. All will be forgotten once she holds her little one in her arms.”
An echo of another point in time shuddered through his mind. Nearly thirty years ago, another woman had prepared to birth her son within the confines of these walls.
His mother, in pain, forced to deliver a child she never wanted: him.
Had there been a single moment, after the hours of agony and labor, where she’d held him? Where she’d forgotten the horrors of her reality, and everything had been okay?
