I thought the whole family would drift back to bed, but only the children managed to find sleep again. The adults lingered outside my door, their presence a quiet weight pressing through the wood. I heard Maya slip into her room and return with something. Judging by the flipping of pages, it was probably one of her heavier books. Janus’s footsteps echoed up and down the hallway, restless and uneven, each pass making my own nerves flutter. Even from behind the door, I could feel his worry seeping in, mingling with my own.
It took me a while to realize that, despite my skills as a healer, I was the only one who truly believed this birth would be easy. For everyone else, anxiety filled the air. It was my first pregnancy—and with twins. Uncertainty shadowed their faces, and I couldn't ignore the very real chance that something might go wrong. If healing magic didnt exist, I could very well die, not to mention the babies fate.
I hadn’t expected to feel so much warmth from them. Even if I still felt like an outsider, their worry wrapped around me, heavy and real. On the other side of the door, their fear and hope pressed in, as if I were already one of their own. Still, a small, stubborn thought gnawed at me was it really me they cared for, or just the twins I carried? The question lingered like a thorn in the quiet between contractions.
In the end, was it painful?
No.
I’d once tried to tough out period cramps, thinking I could just grit my teeth and bear it—a mistake I promised myself never to repeat. But this was different. I refused to let pain stain this moment, not when so much was at stake, not when I wanted to remember it for something more than suffering.
Even with the pain dulled and magic easing the way, it was still the most exhausting thing I’d ever done. Sweat clung to my skin, soaking the sheets, while the priest scribbled away in his notebook, determined not to miss a single detail of this strange, unorthodox lesson. Benjamin surprised me with how steady he was. I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like for him, delivering the children of the man he once saw as a rival, and the woman he’d once asked to marry him. Did he feel nothing, or was he just hiding it behind a careful mask?
But those thoughts didn’t matter now. I pushed them aside, forcing myself to focus on what was coming next.
By now, we were already an hour in, and my contractions were becoming more frequent; now there were just a few minutes between them. This was unusually fast and made me wonder if I simply slept through the first few contractions, or didnt feel them inside the Laybrinth.
I assumed a sideways position to make it easier. As I shifted on the bed, I could feel the bedsheets cling to my sweaty skin.
Just as I was starting to settle into the rhythm of the contractions, I felt a sudden pop deep inside—like a balloon bursting. Warm fluid spilled down my thigh, soaking the bed beneath me. The pressure inside me grew, raw and primal, as my body opened further, preparing for what came next.
Now it had truly begun.
I matched my breath to the waves of tension, pushing in time with each contraction. Slowly, steadily, the twins edged closer to the world, every movement a small victory.
A groan slipped out not from pain, but from the sheer effort of it all. I stopped caring about anything else: the people in the room, the mess, even my own embarrassment. All that mattered was pushing, again and again, until it was over.
Out in the hallway, I heard Janus stumble, then stop right outside the door. I could almost picture his hand hovering, uncertain, over the handle.
“Are you alright?!”
I couldn’t answer right away—a fresh contraction stole my breath—so Benjamin spoke for me.
“She is doing well, soon we should be about to see the first head crowning.”
I could almost feel his worry pressing through the door, so before it swallowed him whole, I managed to add,
“He Huff, Huff is right. I will be fine, Huff, don’t worry.”
But I might as well have kept quiet, for it did nothing to soothe his worry.
Half an hour crawled by, and finally, the first baby’s head began to crown. Getting this far had drained me, but I still had to dig deeper, pushing harder than before. The groans I’d tried to hold back spilled out with every effort. Benjamin kept his calm, more than I’d expected, while Seymour quietly set aside his notebook, ready to help if things went wrong. We were almost there.
Benjamin and Seymour’s voices wove around me, steady and encouraging, as I gathered what little strength I had left. With one last push, the head slipped free, then the shoulders, and suddenly—there she was, my first child, born into the world.
“It's a Girl!”
Benjamin announced it, his voice trembling just a little, before passing my daughter—already wailing with a heartbreakingly tiny cry—into Seymour’s waiting arms.
Relief washed over me at the sound of my daughter’s first cry. Before I could even catch my breath, Janus burst through the door, his face pale and eyes wide. He hovered in the doorway, unsure if he was allowed entry, so he asked,
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, but just you for now, Huff, I can feel the second one coming.”
Janus didn’t wait for my full answer. He slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind him, and came straight to my side. He barely glanced at our daughter before seizing my hand, holding on so tightly it almost hurt.
He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on its back before whispering,
“Ruby, I love you.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at his worry, but there was something in his voice that caught me, fear bleeding through every word. I saw real terror in his eyes, as if he was hurting even more than I did. A fierce protectiveness rose in me, and I gently squeezed his hand and answered softly,
“I love you too.”
A wild, overwhelming love surged through me, fiercer than anything I’d ever felt. It filled me with warmth and a strange calm, as if courage itself had settled into my bones, letting me breathe again despite the exhaustion.
But there was no time to linger in that fragile glow. The second baby was already crowning, urgency sweeping away the tenderness. I gathered every last bit of love, fear, and hope, pouring it into one final push to bring my child safely into the world.
Moments later, another cry split the air—a second voice, new and fragile, echoing through the room for the first time. Benjamin, full of excitement and breathless, managed to announce,
“It's a Boy!”