Dorian wondered to himself, "I've never seen a baby in the process of digesting a biscuit and be able to hold a cup in his mouth."
Cedric let go, still mid-chew. Surprisingly, the boy didn't dip the biscuit in the water, just sat there like a champ, enjoying the hell out of it.
Then Selene groaned.
Dorian turned fast, the water in his hand sloshing slightly as he walked over to her side. Hers was sloshing ever so slightly, too. He placed hers down beside her just as he took another sip from his own.
Aaa..
Then put his down next to her, almost as if he was waiting for something, but no, he was just staring at his angel.
Around the room, nurses had started settling. A few sat in chairs brought in temporarily, and the furniture still hadn't all been delivered. The manor was grand, but new. Two years into their marriage, and it still looked half-finished in places. Selene was only 21. Dorian, barely 23. Too young, by most standards, to have this many children, this much space, this much responsibility.
People assumed in hushed whispers that it was an accident. That it was all a mistake, that they had just gotten lucky.
But none of it felt accidental.
He glanced around and then subtly signaled the nurses. "I've got this," he said low. They nodded, understanding.
He lingered at selene's side for a second.
"Where's Dorian...?" she whispered weakly, shifting against the pillows.
He was already next to her. She turned her head and saw him standing over her, a soft smile crossing her tired face. She lifted her hand slowly and placed it on his. He took it gently, then smirked and bowed.
Not just the hand. The whole body.
He bent onto one knee and pressed a kiss to her fingers before rising again.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, smirking. "The sun only illuminates it."
Selene smiled faintly, then fell back into sleep.
Dorian leaned over, checking her pulse just to be sure. Two nurses rushed toward him, but he raised a hand.
"She's just tired," he said calmly, pulling his hand away.
He turned to the head nurse. Fatima.Tan-skinned, early twenties. Brown eyes calm, sharp. Her hair was pin-straight with a slight curl at the ends, tied up neatly in a wrapped bun at the top of her head. She looked alert but steady, the kind of nurse who didn't crack under pressure.
That was the ideal head nurse, right?
"Get more water," Dorian told her. "Just in case."
She bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."
Dorian turned to walk away, then paused mid-step. He leaned back and grabbed his water again.
As he headed for the door, a small voice behind him broke the silence.
"Dada."
He stopped.
Cedric stood there, crumbs all over his face, sugar stuck to his cheeks, half the biscuit still in his mouth as he started chewing again.
Dorian sighed, then grinned as he picked him up again, wiping the mess off Cedric's face with the side of his shirt.
"Can't leave without you, huh?"
Cedric giggled, his arms wrapping around his dad's neck.
And then, they stepped out of the house. Dorian adjusted Cedric on his hip, pushed open the doors,'c'mon, let's see what the hell the rest of the day's got for us,' Dorian muttered as he stepped outside.
He placed Cedric down once they reached the bottom of the steps, giving his back a light smack."Go play," Dorian said, watching as the boy's little legs kicked into motion, running off toward the open field near the side gardens.
"Morgan," Dorian called. One of the guards straightened. "Keep an eye on him. Play with him if he asks.""Yes, your grace."
He pointed at another knight on standby, whistled sharp. The one loitering by the stable gate snapped to attention and jogged over, taking up position beside Morgan.
Dorian exhaled slowly, his boots crunching along the gravel path as he walked down toward the main gates. Something felt off, too still. He pushed them open slightly and squinted out at the trail beyond. Just trees. Air. A breeze that didn't feel quite right.
"Shit," he muttered, hand immediately lifting to his temples.
He didn't even have to see it. He knew. The sound of those wheels was always a little too smooth, the horses too well groomed.
Selene's grandfather.
Dorian leaned forward a bit, curls falling across his face as he gripped the gatepost. It wasn't that Cecil was bad; he wasn't. Just annoying. Intense. Like a hurricane in formalwear.
The other knights didn't even flinch. They already knew.
Dorian sighed, stepping back and gesturing."Open it."
The knight did. The carriage door swung out, and Cecil was already halfway down before it fully opened, one heavy boot hitting the ground like thunder. His butler, small and quiet, shut the door behind him.
"Hello there, Dorian!" Cecil boomed with a wide grin, glasses low on his nose and his sharp dark-violet eyes already scanning Dorian's face.
Dorian gave a shallow bow, eyes closed, jaw tight.When he rose, Cecil clapped him on the back so hard it staggered him forward. He caught himself on the gatepost.
"Hoh! Your generation's awfully weak, isn't it?" Cecil laughed.
Dorian straightened, biting his tongue. "Yeah…"
They walked toward the manor, Cecil's giant hand still casually hanging off Dorian's shoulder like he was guiding a child, not a grown man.
"So," Cecil said, voice lighter now. "How's my little girl?""She's fine," Dorian said. Then hesitated. "There's… three newborn children now."
Cecil stopped. Dead center of the path.
He turned slowly, towering over Dorian. "Three?"
Cecil narrowed his eyes behind those stupid lenses. "You remember what happened the first time you had a kid?"
Dorian scoffed, stepping back a bit and throwing his hands up. "Really? You wanna fight because we had three damn kids?"
"Yes."
The longsword emerged from thin air, a slow pull from a fitted spatial portal near Cecil's side. The edge gleamed under the early light, runes faint but visible.
Dorian watched it come out and didn't move.
Cecil rolled his shoulders. "Prove yourself."
Dorian exhaled. "Fine."
The knight nearest the gate suddenly yelped as his sword was ripped from its sheath by invisible force and hurled straight to Dorian's hand.
He caught it without flinching. Let the weight sit in his grip for a second.
They walked, quiet now, down the right path from the estate. Away from the gates. Through the hedge line. Past the practice fields and servant quarters.
Toward the training yard. Massive. Empty except for a few off-shift knights leaning on the far wall, turning at the sound of boots on stone.
Cecil stepped into the center, sword already resting across his shoulder. That same dumb smirk spreading across his face.
"You ready?"Dorian stepped into the ring opposite him. Rolled his neck.
"Yeah," he said, settling into stance. "I'm ready."