Birthing was not an easy task but she did not expect it to feel like this. Pain, yes, but the pressure was intense beyond endurance. It would be a nice thing to say that she did not snap out at the grass around her when she felt Praetor moving too close but it is a lie, her instincts demanding space despite the fact that he was giving it to her. How he suffered her temperament she didn't know but with each conclave of her belly she grew increasingly more agitated. She doesn't even notice his own panic, cannot even fathom it now as she prepares to give life to their children. Such an odd concept as she maneuvers and he exclaims and the world keeps on ticking. The children were but one blip in the radar of life. "Instinct," she growls, spitting the word out like a curse. He almost sounded like his father there with his whole far and close speech that she had grown to despise. It is not personal, it is all emotions. Instinct was going to kill her.

She is tired in a way she has never been before during this. When she cleans Aster, Praetor steps closer to nudge the child in an excited manner, and Aithne feels only a pale hint of amusement at this before she is back to the contractions again. It is only that which drives her away from him, hearing his excited words agreeing with the naming. It doesn't take long and then Praetor is moving around her to check out the small boy and she is worrying over him. It didn't seem right that he was so small and his sister so much larger. What if he died? The thought leaves a stricken expression on her face and she feels a moment of guilt wondering if Praetor would blame her if he did rather than sadness. Yet as she stares longer at them she feels a need to pull them closer, to feed them and protect them, and she grows restless merely watching.

Praetor has taken up the mantle of cleaning Lazarus and Aithne's ears turn to him, a sigh of relief expelled on his assurance. "I feared he was..." she started then stopped, shaking her head, for sometimes it is better to not say the words lest they be a jinx themselves. She positions herself around the children now, leaning towards them to nudge them into her belly where they will begun to flutter and suckle and become content beneath the sun of Iromar. Praetor positions himself behind her and she finds his presence comforting for he is a doting father and a loving mate and is she even worthy of such? "I am sorry I snapped at you," she says with her eyes downcast, ears back before glancing at him. "Lazarus," she murmurs in agreement, staring at them once more when he speaks once more, triumphantly. It causes a happiness to settle in her that her mate and imprint is so thrilled, his own joy spilling across to her and only dampened by her exhaustion. "I did not know it was that exhausting." She lays her head down now to the side so that one eye can examine the children curiously, her first step to becoming a real mother.

Nine - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne