"Caspar, please, stop. I cannot lay here and watch you pace circles around me. It will be fine," a breathy voice said from inside the room.
He pauses only to look at his queen and then continues. "They say we are weak. I have spoken to all the healers and they all agree."
"Dear, we cannot worry ourselves with things we cannot contrOL," her voice catches a spasm of pain radiates through the lower half of her body.
"Why isn't Brighton here yet? We sent for him an hour ago! Guards?!" The door swings open and two men in deep green cloaks appear soundlessly.
"Find him," is all the king says before the two disappear again without reply.
"Caspar, relax. You're acting like your the one that—" she squeezes his hand tightly.
"I just, I'm worried that it will be a boy are Kingdom cannot stay magicless for much longer and what if..." he looks away, unable to finish the thought.
He doesn't need to say it, Nikoletta knows his fear; she shares this concern. "We'll be okay, dear. All of us."
She touches her stomach and as another wave of pain irregulars her breath the door flings open.
"I'm here! My apologies, your highnesses."
"You are forgiven. My wife now, Brighton."
"Yes, yes. Let's have a look now." He flips the blankets up over Nikoletta's knees, "Ah, yes, he's nearly here."
He. The word hits them both like a stone. A sigh pulls from Caspar's breathe before he can stop himself.
"I'll need you to push now, my lady. Yes. Perfect, just like that. One more. Good. Good." The small man steadies Nikoletta by holding her knees. "Ready to push again?" She nods, a scream ripping from her throat from the force of the push.
"Good, I see the head. Would you like to see, Sire? No, ah alright. One more push would you please, my lady. Yes, good."
This continues for another half-hour before, "Good job, my lady, well done. I'm just going to take the little one over here for a bit."
"Why isn't he crying?!" Brighton scurries off while the words still hang off Nikoletta's lips.
"Caspar! Caspar, he's not crying. I can't... I can't do this. Not again. Caspar!"
Caspar does not speak. His lips are pressed into a firm white line, his eyes shining like a lake about to overflow. He takes Nikoletta's hand as she screams and sits down next to her on the bed.
From where they sit they cannot see what Brighton is doing, but they still don't hear even a sound coming from the baby or Brighton. The two sit together, Nikoletta in a huddled mass of despair with Caspar holding her together in silence. It's a mirror image of nineteen months ago; two broken parents still without a child.
Brighton coughs from the other end of the chamber, once, twice, and then a cry is heard. A shrill, eardrum-shattering, heart-lifting cry. Footsteps. They can't believe what they are hearing. Unable to move, unable to breathe, they wait.
"Your highnesses," Brighton begins walking toward them. As he places the squirming bundle of blankets in Nikoletta's arms, he whispers, "It is a girl."
~theeShadyLady~