commands for michael to leave the room fall on deaf ears. he isn’t leaving her side – she wants him there, and he isn’t going to abandon her when she needs him. not when his mother died like this. ❝ i’m here, ❞ he murmurs softly, barely even flinching when she squeezes hard enough to break it ( his hand is less important, the physician can see to it later ). there’s nothing he can do besides hold her hand and give her gentle encouragements, so in the quiet, he prays. prays for her. prays for their child. the silence is deafening, but then he hears those tiny little cries, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d even been holding in. ❝ you did it, my love, ❞ he says, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.
You did it. His words bounce around her addled mind. She can barely hear the wails of the child, it feels like there is a thick cloud around her head, pressing down on her and making it hard to think or focus or breathe. It’s meant to be over now, but there’s still pain deep in her core. “Michael...” her voice is hoarse and fades into a pained moan. Push, her body tells her, PUSH. So she does as she is told, not really understanding what’s happening. The physician acts quickly, calling out about "another one!” Another one? Another baby? She cries out and it feels like the whole process begins again, pushing despite the pain and exhaustion seeping into her bones. And then finally it’s over. Again. This little one is much more vocal than his sibling, his wails are loud and fill the room almost immediately. Everyone begins fussing over the new twins, none of them noticing how the life seems to be slipping out of the little queen as blood stains the sheets red.
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