Chapter 67: It’s a boy!

The day Vae’Thira dreaded the most came and at the worst possible moment.

The evening air around the palace had grown cool, carrying the sweet scent of the glowing Ageisha flowers that lined the outer gardens.

Thira walked slowly along the pale stone path, one hand resting beneath the heavy curve of his belly while the other held Khae’el’s little hand. His pace had become painfully slow in the final weeks, and every few steps he paused to breathe before continuing. Two Oroth soldiers followed several paces behind them, while two more walked ahead, keeping watch over the garden paths and the enormous white gates leading into the palace.

Khae’el was far less concerned with the guards than he was with the creature hiding beneath a cluster of violet leaves.

"There," Thira whispered, pointing toward the bushes. "Do you see it?"

His English had greatly improved and he could fluently speak to the boy without hassle even though the boy could now understand his own language.

Khae’el nodded enthusiastically.

The creature shifted.

It looked almost like a rabbit, except it had four bright eyes arranged across its tiny face, two smaller ones beneath the larger pair. Its ears were long and covered in fine silver fur, but there was no tail behind it. Instead, its hindquarters narrowed into a smooth body covered in pale brown fur, and when it opened its mouth, two tiny fangs appeared beneath its upper lip.

’The Tchki’ watched them suspiciously.

Khae’el squeezed Thira’s hand.

"Does it bite?"

"Only if you frighten it."

Khae’el immediately took a step backward.

Thira laughed softly.

"Then you mustn’t frighten it."

He lowered himself carefully onto one knee, though the movement forced a small grimace from him. His belly made the motion awkward, and one of the Oroths immediately stepped forward.

"My Lord, perhaps you should remain standing."

"I am perfectly capable of kneeling." He snapped.

The Oroth said nothing, but the faint tilt of his head made it obvious that he disagreed.

Thira ignored him and focused on Khae’el.

"Come here. Slowly."

The boy approached.

"Do not stare directly into all four eyes. Tchki interpret that as a challenge."

Khae’el looked away.

"Good. Now extend your hand."

The boy slowly raised his little palm.

The Tchki’s nose twitched.

It sniffed the air.

Then it took one cautious step from beneath the leaves.

Thira smiled.

"Very good. Don’t move."

The creature took another step.

Khae’el’s fingers trembled with excitement.

"Can I touch it?"

"Not yet. Let it decide."

The Tchki crept closer until its nose was almost touching Khae’el’s palm. It sniffed him once, then twice. One of its smaller eyes blinked independently of the others.

Khae’el giggled.

The Tchki immediately backed away.

Thira covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"You startled it."

"Sorry."

"Try again."

The boy steadied himself.

This time, the Tchki remained.

Its tiny nose brushed Khae’el’s palm.

Thira’s smile widened.

"You’ve done it. It trusts you."

Khae’el carefully stroked the top of its head.

The Tchki’s ears twitched, and then it leaned into his hand.

"See?" Thira said. "Taming isn’t about forcing something to obey you. It is about convincing it that you are safe."

Khae’el nodded solemnly.

Then Thira’s expression changed.

His fingers tightened around the fabric over his belly.

One of the Oroths noticed immediately.

"My lord?"

Thira didn’t answer.

A strange pressure had gathered low in his abdomen.

He stood very still.

Khae’el looked up.

"Thira?"

Thira took a slow breath.

"I think we should go back inside."

The Oroths immediately straightened.

"My lord?"

Another sensation came.

Stronger this time.

Thira’s porcelain fingers gripped his belly as his knees weakened. Then he felt warmth spreading beneath him.

He looked down.

For a second, he simply stared.

A clear fluid had begun running down his legs and dampening the fabric around them.

His eyes widened.

"Oh."

The nearest Oroth rushed toward him.

"My lord!"

"I think... my water broke."

The words barely left his mouth before the garden erupted into chaos.

The Oroths surrounded him in meee seconds.

One shouted toward the palace.

"Call the infirmary! The child is coming!"

Another lifted Khae’el into her arms as the boy began asking frightened questions.

"What happened? What’s wrong with him?"

Thira tried to answer, but another contraction seized his body.

His back stiffened.

"AAGH!"

A sharp cry escaped him.

He grabbed the nearest Oroth’s arm.

"Wait."

"My lord, we need to move."

"Shut up and wait!"

He breathed through the contraction, palms squeezed shut.

The pain slowly loosened.

Thira released his palms.

"Take Khae’el inside first."

The child struggled against the Oroth’s arms.

"No! I’m staying!"

Thira reached toward him.

"Khae’el."

The boy stopped.

"I’ll be alright."

"You promise?"

Thira managed a weak smile. "I promise."

The Oroth carried Khae’el toward the palace while another helped Thira walk.

They barely made it halfway across the courtyard before another contraction came.

Thira stopped.

His fingers dug into the Oroth’s arm, drawing blood and broken plating.

His entire body shook.

"Oh stars... It hurts."

The Oroth steadied him.

"We are almost there."

"I know."

His breathing became uneven. "I know."

The palace doors opened before them. Several Vashki attendants rushed forward. The moment they saw the state of Thira, they immediately understood.

The infirmary filled with movement.

Thira was placed onto a bed, his legs trembling beneath him as attendants surrounded him. He could hear voices calling for supplies, hides, herbs, and the attending birth specialists.

Another contraction began.

Thira cried out.

The pain was unlike anything he had experienced before.

It couldn’t even compare to when Tuk had killed his first child in him.

It began deep within his abdomen and spread through his back, tightening until his entire body felt consumed by it.

One of the attendants held his hand.

"Breathe."

Thira tried.

The contraction intensified.

His fingers closed around hers.

"I can’t."

"You can."

Another attendant checked him and exchanged a glance with the others.

"The child is descending."

Thira’s eyes widened.

"Already?"

"You are entering active labor."

The next several hours became a pain filled blur.

The contractions came closer together, each one stronger than the last. Thira sweated beneath his clothing despite the cool temperature of the infirmary. His ring was like an unstable bulb and his breathing became increasingly ragged.

He cried.

He cursed himself.

He cursed Tuk.

He cursed As’La.

He cursed Shira.

He begged for the pain to stop.

Nothing stopped it.

Eventually, the attendants helped him into a position that allowed him to push safely.

"Thira, listen to me," one of them said. "When the next contraction comes, you need to push."

Thira shook his head.

Exhausted.

"I don’t think I can."

"You have carried this child for months. You can do this."

The contraction arrived once more and Thira gripped the sides of the bed

He pushed.

A cry tore from his throat.

The pressure was overwhelming, and his entire body shook with the effort.

"Again."

He pushed harder.

His plating coming to life with luminescence.

The attendants encouraged him through every breath, reminding him when to relax and when to push.

Time seemed meaningless to him now not when another punishing contraction hit him.

Eventually, the pressure changed.

The attendants suddenly became more focused.

"I can see the head."

Thira’s breath caught.

"R-really?"

"The child is almost here."

Another contraction rose.

"Push, Vae’Thira."

Thira cried out and pushed.

The baby’s head emerged gradually, followed by the shoulders after another series of exhausting efforts.

Then, with one final push, the child slipped free.

A newborn’s cry immediately filled the infirmary.

Thira let out a shuddering sigh and fell back.

His chest heaved.

For several seconds, he could only stare into the blank space above him.

The attendants quickly wrapped the newborn in a warm cloth and placed the tiny body against his chest.

Thira looked down at the little mass cuddled against him. The child was small, porcelain like him, with tiny rings already glowing faintly and half formed around its body.

An U’Kan child.

His trembling hand moved across the newborn’s back.

The baby cried once more before settling against him.

Thira’s exhausted expression softened.

"Hello."

His voice barely existed.

The newborn’s tiny fingers curled around his own. Thira laughed through his exhaustion.

Outside the infirmary and in the palace, Khae’el sat anxiously beside the doors, clutching his stuffed rabbit while the Oroth soldiers stood around him.

Then the doors opened.

One of the attendants smiled.

"The child has arrived."

Khae’el’s eyes widened.

"Thira?"

"He is safe."

The boy immediately smiled.

Inside, Thira closed his eyes and held his newborn closer, listening to the tiny heartbeat against his chest as the palace bells began ringing softly in celebration.

"What will I do with you?"

The attendants parted way as someone announced the Emperor’s arrival.

The Miwa shrunk into himself and held his child closer instinctively.

"You’ve done very well, my beloved."

Tuk ran his large palm over Thira’s still swollen belly.

"A boy or a girl?"

"A boy, Your Majesty." An attendant bowed with her response.

Tuk continued to stroke his beloved’s belly as a thought formed.

I guess it’s time to get rid of that one too.