Nine months was a very long time to wait for something.
Well… not that long. Not as long as the many years of trying and failing to conceive. Not as long as the two years Alistair and Elissa had spent apart while she searched for a way to cure the Calling. And yet, for Alistair, the past nine months had felt like the longest he had ever waited for anything in his entire life, every day a test of his composure as he waited for his wife's belly to grow like a Mabari waits for a treat from its master. Alistair remained a steady and supportive presence during the whole ordeal, holding Elissa's hair back during bouts of morning sickness and raiding the larder whenever a craving struck and lending a shoulder to cry on in case of a mood swing. Normally all frenetic energy and wanting nothing more than to run about the palace yelling his excitement so the Maker himself could hear, he had kept calm and relaxed for the sake of his wife, who constantly worried that she'd spent so long wishing for a child that now that she was going to have one it'd just get taken away from her.
And yet, nine months had come and gone without incident, and the Maker had smiled upon the elated couple as they welcomed their little bundle of joy into the world, and Alistair had come to realize nine months was hardly nothing at all.
A tinkling cry, clear despite being quiet in volume pierced through the fog of sleep, growing louder as Alistair stirred himself awake. He sat up in bed, reaching for a matchstick to light a candle and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Elissa." Alistair nudged at her form lying beside himself, hair askew and face planted in a pillow, dead asleep like a log. "Baby's crying."
"Mmph," she grunted. "Your turn."
Alistair threw off his side of the covers, getting out of bed as the crying continued unabashed. "Do you think she's hungry?"
"Can't be, I just fed her less than an hour ago," Elissa said more clearly, moving to sit up in bed. "Bring her to me, please."
Alistair padded over to the bassinet on the other side of the room. Inside, little hands and little feet flailed as the baby cried, rubbing her tiny fists over her face. Alistair reached in, wrapping her in a blanket and gently scooping her up into his arms.
"Shh, now," he whispered to the baby, slowly rocking her. "It's alright, my dear. Daddy's got you." He turned to head back to the bed where Elissa was waiting. "Let's go see Mummy, shall we?"
Climbing back onto the bed, Alistair handed the baby over to his wife, and Elissa cradled the child in the crook of her elbow, cooing and rocking. Alistair sat close beside her, observing as his wife quieted their newborn daughter. The light of the candle cast a warm glow over the little one, highlighting her two perfectly pink cheeks and perfectly large eyes, eyes that stared up inquisitively into her mother's face smiling down at her, eyes the same warm shade of spice brown as her father's.
The baby gradually stopped fussing, content to listen to Elissa's quiet humming. After a moment, Elissa turned her tired gaze upon her husband and smiled wearily at him.
"Hard to believe a four-day-old baby calls the shots over our sleep, yet here we are."
"We could start keeping her in the nursery with a wet-nurse at night," Alistair suggested.
Elissa hugged the baby closer to her chest. "I don't want to," she murmured.
"Good. Neither do I."
They both went quiet, content to bask in each other's presence.
A few minutes later, Alistair held his hands out to Elissa. "May I?"
Elissa handed the baby over to Alistair. Cradling her to his chest, Alistair breathed in her scent—like flowers and fresh air and something totally indescribable but when Alistair had mentioned it, the midwife had just smiled and said, "All newborns smell good, Your Majesty," and yet Alistair was completely certain that no baby in the world smelled as good as his.
The child snuggled close to her father, and Alistair ran a hand over the back of her head, stroking the wispy blonde curls. Born a week earlier than expected, Alistair marveled at just how little she was—how her small head fit in the palm of his hand, how her little body fit snug within the confines of his arms. These first few days, he'd done little else but watch her—watch as her mother fed her; watch as friends and family cooed over her; watched as she slept in his arms, the perfect fit.
With her mother's nose and her father's eyes, her features formed a harmonious blend of the two new parents, but when Alistair stared at that tiny, delicate, beautiful little face, nothing reminded him more of the woman in whose life he'd chosen to share.
"She's perfect."
"So you've stated several times now."
"I mean it, Elissa, I honestly don't think anyone's ever had a baby this great. She's just… wow."
Elissa rested her head against Alistair's shoulder, her hand reaching out to ghost across the baby's cheek. "I know. Wow."
"I think she's going to really take after you, you know. I can tell."
Elissa snorted. "How do you figure?"
"Well, for one thing, she looks just like you. A Cousland nose, and all that. Her lips also do that smirky thing you do when you think someone's said something stupid."
"I do not. And newborn babies don't smirk, Alistair."
Alistair threw Elissa a cheeky smile. "Yes you most certainly do. And I don't care what other newborn babies do, ours smirks. I can tell she's very ironic."
Elissa rolled her eyes. "Right, I forgot. You're the baby whisperer." She leaned over, cupping the baby's cheek. "Don't listen to Daddy, my love. He's just being silly."
"And Mummy's being mean, so you don't listen to her," Alistair told their child as Elissa swatted at his arm. "Anyway, let's see, how else are you just like your mother? You're smart, obviously, practically a genius even, I'm sure all the other babies out there are just begging you to share your superior knowledge of the world. You're beautiful, that one's a given. You're going to be a fantastic warrior one day—"
Elissa cut him off. "How do you know? Was she swinging a sword around while I wasn't looking?"
While Elissa was speaking, the baby wrapped her hand around Alistair's index finger, holding it to her little chest.
"Strong grip."
"Ah."
"And lastly," Alistair said, staring into his baby's eyes, entranced, "I'm madly in love with you, the same way I am with your mother. Well… not the same way, it's a different kind of love… oh, you get it."
Elissa snuggled closer to her husband, pressing her lips to his shoulder. "She takes after you, too. She has your eyes," she murmured softly.
"You do have my eyes, it's true," Alistair smiled, placing a kiss against his daughter's forehead. "I guess you've got some of me in you after all, Eleanor."
"Hmm," Elissa hummed in approval, her eyes having closed and breathing growing heavy. Alistair kissed the top of her head as she nodded off against his arm.
He thought about bringing Eleanor back to her cradle, but instead was content to remain and watch his little girl's chest rise and fall with every tiny breath.
No, he thought, a nine-month-long wait is hardly anything at all.