"Daddy, when's the baby gonna be done?"
"Hmm?" Arthur looks up from his breakfast. "Oh, very soon I hope, sweetheart."
He casts a glance at Gwen who is finally catching some sleep over an elaborate arrangement of pillows on the sofa. It's almost comical, the way her middle swells away from her petite figure, her full breasts rising and falling with each delicate breath. But she is so very beautiful, with her hair braided over her shoulder, small flyaway wisps and curls framing her freckled face and a soft pout to her lips. He cannot laugh at that; his heart constricts at the sight.
He's become used to her slightly pinched expression when she tries to hide her discomfort, but he can read it in her every movement. Her insides are crowded and her back aches and it's nearly impossible to find a position she's comfortable in for long. But for now she looks just short of serene. His Guinevere.
"How soon?"
"Shh, Mummy's sleeping, Scout. And she won't be able to sleep very well when the baby comes." With a quiet groan, he lifts her onto his lap and bends his head so her eyes are level with his. "We're gonna need your help to take care of your little sister when she comes. Can we count on you?"
She takes a moment to consider before nodding.
"That's my girl," he kisses her on the forehead. "Now, what have you drawn for Daddy?"
"It's a castle."
"A castle!" he gasps, tracing a finger over the scribbles of blue crayon. "Is there a dragon inside?"