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bi-n-big · 2 months ago

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The Run-Away Prince and His Knight (original story)

*WARNING: This is fetish content! Read at your own discretion.*

Warning #2: VERY. LONG. 10 thousand words.

Also putting up some preemptive rules here:

You do not have my permission to re-post my writing (reblogging is welcome and encouraged, but not re-posting).

You do not, under any circumstances, have my permission to use this or any of my works for generative ai purposes.

With that out of the way,

The long awaited run-away prince x knight story is here! I tried to make this a long one but hopefully not to the point that it’s boring to read. Basic background is that a prince and his ftm trans knight run away from their kingdom which demands the prince be married and blah blah some medieval fantasy politics that the prince wants to avoid. The prince and his knight are in love with each other, though they don’t quite know it yet. But they’ve already been sleeping together and… well… made an oops!

This story has:

Very intense and realistic depiction of birth

Stealth FTM knight

Mostly long pushing phase (again. seriously. this is 10k.)

A cranky old midwife who is probably a witch but we love her for it

Dad’s (the prince’s) pov

Sappy love confessions

Introducing these original characters I made for this story and now totally love: Bastian and Leo. And their baby, of course.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bastian knows he’s pacing. This is fine. There’s nothing wrong with pacing, especially when his nerves are absolutely on fire and he has no other outlet. And here, though he’s struggling to accept this, it’s okay for him to let his guard down, to be afraid. Here, he is not a prince. Here he is just Bastian, with no duties and no expectations.

They had to stop somewhere in the south of Spain, Bastian and his knight, who is the bravest of all indeed. Their decision to run away together and leave France far behind had been an impulsive one, but one that barely needed spoken agreement. Leo, his brave, beautiful, strong knight, sees him like no other. And it is the same the other way around.

In the kingdom, Bastian was the only person with whom Leo had shared his secrets. Perhaps this was because, since early adolescence, they had essentially grown up together. They were not bound by the rules and expectations that a prince and a knight would normally follow. They were different, always had been.

So, it was only Bastian who Leo came to, to share his secret. This was a secret not a single other living person knew, and a secret Bastian had intended to fight to keep to his grave:

Leo was a woman.

Well, he was a woman only in the sense that his body was female. In all other respects, he was Leo, who had always been a boy, now a knight. He had told this to Bastian many years ago, when they were still adolescents and the weight of the world and all its expectations had not yet come down on them.

It was fun, for a while, keeping the secret. Now, it’s dangerous. Now, only they two can know.

Bastian had stopped denying his love for Leo a long time ago. What would be the use to deny it, when it burned so fiercely? He only hoped that Leo shared these feelings, though he was afraid to ask. He was not the brave one of the two of them…

They shared a certain carnality for each other that was undeniable. The first time they made love was when they were still within the kingdom, hiding who they were in the shadows, always keeping an eye on the door. They would meet in the stables and lay together there on the few nights a year that they had the chance.

Now free, unbound, they made love frequently and without guilt.

Of course, this came with its own consequences.

In the tavern’s cheapest, darkest, and most isolated room, Bastian continues to pace. He steals glances at Leo, afraid that if he stares too long he will break with guilt for what he’s done to his love.

Leo is also pacing, though much slower and waddly. As he waddles, his head drops forward then back, his long red hair shifting to cover his face. His expression is hard to make out in the dim candlelight, but Bastian can detect the hint of tightness between his brows, though Leo’s hair once again covers his face, and he can see it no longer.

Leo is still wearing his white linen tunic that he wears under his clothes, which once was long enough to go down to his knees. Now, it’s the mound of his belly that lifts it up and stretches the fabric taut, lifting the hem to the point of his hips. Leo’s hands are supporting the small of his back as he breathes very deeply and slowly with intention, closing his eyes to concentrate against the pain.

He has swelled very large in the last several months. For a time, the life within him went entirely unnoticed by both Leo and Bastian. Leo is not a small man, though he is not large either. He is slightly taller than average and very lean, with narrow hips. His muscles, of which there are plenty, are unique in that they hide so well beneath his skin, one would never know that he is a war-seasoned swordsman.

Perhaps it was his thinness or the tightness of his abdomen that made the mound invisible for so many months. Now, though, it has practically spilled out from the front of his body, round and low over his pelvis, with a popped-out bellybutton that is strangely sweet to behold.

Bastian’s eyes unwillingly take him to Leo’s belly and he can’t help but stare. It tightens inward with each wave of pain, which it seems Leo is having now, and it is honestly fascinating to watch. It pains Bastian, though. Really, he feels useless.

Leo has been labouring well though, all things considered. That is, it’s his first time and the two of them don't know enough about childbirth.

How careless Bastian has been. It is his fault Leo suffers now.

His eyes on the floor, Bastian hears a slap and looks back up to Leo, who has just batted the old lady away from him as he moans and breathes.

They had picked up an old woman in this town, a few hours after the onset of Leo’s labour. Or rather, she picked them up. She had seen them in the town’s stables, Leo moaning and clutching his belly, though he tried to hide it beneath his thick winter clothes, and had known instantly what was going on. She asked no questions, just took them along with her and got them a room in this tavern.

She did everything with an odd indignance, as if chastising Bastian and Leo for being stupid children. Bastian’s first impression of her, if he’s being honest, was fear. In all aspects, she resembles a witch. A bent back, long knobby fingers like twigs and overgrown, scraggly white hair. She even has some sort of wart or mole on her chin. She is the picture of witches in the fairy tales Bastian’s servants read to him growing up.

But as far as he can tell, she is not a witch. She had told them that she could help, that she is a healer and midwife, and of course Bastian immediately accepted. They didn’t know what they were doing, and certainly needed help.

Leo, on the other hand, had not been so welcoming to her. In the past, he often dealt with pain by putting it somewhere deep inside. Bastian, still, is the only person who has seen Leo vulnerable, the only person who could ever treat his wounds and who Leo felt safe around.

“Old witch,” Leo had privately called the old woman, with a twitch to his mouth, when she had gone to get water from the well and they were safe inside the room. Bastian had barked a laugh.

Then when she had returned, the old witch had put a wrinkled hand on the top of Leo’s belly. He had drawn back, his hands protective over their child, but the old witch had kindness in her eyes as she told him, “She will be beautiful and fearsome.”

Leo and Bastian had both been in a state of shock. “She?” Leo had asked in a quiet voice.

The old witch had only smiled with her eyes.

Bastian knows that Leo is still convinced it will be a boy. Bastian tries not to put thought into it, because thinking about it would then make it real. He tries to stay present in the moment, to make himself useful in any small way he can, though it is so hard to see Leo in pain.

The thing is, he has seen Leo in pain, many times. His knight is a valiant fighter and protector. Too many times, it was Bastian who would patch up Leo’s wounds or offer a damp cloth for his head when he was tired after battle or after protecting Bastian outside the kingdom.

It’s all Bastian can think to do now, offering a cold cloth for Leo’s head.

He takes it, still waving the old midwife away. He puts the cloth over his face and inhales, and Bastian watches quietly as the midwife surprises him by backing off.

He only notices then that she has mostly honoured Leo’s wishes. It is clear that Leo does not want to be touched or spoken to, and that he will only let Bastian assist him. The midwife, though they all know that the time is coming for her to be more hands-on, stays back and simply busies herself by stoking the fire in the fireplace and hooking a pot of water over it.

Hours pass like this. The only way Bastian can tell the time is by the notches in the candles around the room. The midwife replaces the shorter ones too.

Hours crawl on until it is deep into the night, and Leo’s labour takes him all around the small room.

He is free to move as he pleases, though Bastian knows he is still keeping so much control by not making loud sounds. There’s no real reason why he should be quiet beyond the fact that Leo does not like to be seen in pain. That, and the owners of the tavern had not been notified that one of their lodgers is in labour.

And it’s real, now. Leo labours hard, pacing the room, leaning on the baseboard of the creaky bed, then finally kneeling on the floor, rocking forward and back as each pain causes him to moan and growl lower and deeper.

Bastian knows it’s coming soon, then. He kneels on the floor next to his knight, who is still working hard to get through this one pain.

Bastian makes himself useful by gathering Leo’s hair into a twist and moving it off his neck. It’s so long and soft, so orange and beautiful. Bastian adores every part of him, even the deep grumble of his breath as he leans down into the floor, hands like claws on the boards.

Finally, Bastian finds his voice. “Leo,” he whispers, “you are so strong. I’m with you. I’m right here with you.”

Leo surprises him by grabbing his wrist, pulling him down with him as he grunts a little bit tighter, pressing his bottom down into his heels, his head tucking down and all his long hair spilling loose.

Bastian scoots in front of him, both of them kneeling on the floor, so Leo can grab his arms. The sounds he’s making are different than before.

“If you feel a lot of pressure,” the midwife says from across the room, “you can push down with it.”

Leo slumps forward then with his first real grunt, tight and deep. It seems his body commands him to do it, as it just goes on and on and on and he’s unable to get a breath. All Bastian can do is clutch his arms and Leo clutches his, and bite down on his tongue as he steels himself for what is to come.

An eternity later, it ebbs away and Leo is able to gasp in a breath. He grabs at Bastian’s arms, his nails biting his skin.

“My prince,” he gasps, ignoring the midwife, “I-I need to push. It’s time. I have to…”

Bastian looks quickly to the midwife for help, his heart jumping in his throat.

“Try it,” she says. “Push down with the pressure.”

But he doesn’t, not consciously. His face is pinched in fear and strain, his cheeks pink, as his knightly instincts command him to look to Bastian for direction.

His body does it for him then, forcing him to squeeze down, groaning tight in his chest. Bastian holds him fiercely, sweating just watching.

“Ican’t…” Leo garbles out as he’s bearing down, his teeth bared. Then the tightness releases him just enough to grunt out, “I have to– UHH! Oh, GOD! My prince, I need to push!”

Bastian takes his hand this time, prying Leo’s rigid fingers from his tunic. “Then push, Leo,” he says. “Only you can do this. Trust your body, and push.”

One heavy breath, then two, a fearful, brave moment of eye contact. Then wondrously, Leo doesn’t resist it. He bites down, clenching his teeth and closing his mouth, and sends it all the way down into the floor, and then it’s happening. This battle into the unknown.

Bastian remembers Leo telling him once, that before he decided to become a soldier and eventually was knighted, he grew up on a small farm. He had assisted ewes in the births of lambs; he's no stranger to animal birth. At the very least, he knows the strength and determination that it will take to push.

Bastian, on the other hand, is in over his head. His only anchor is his knight, and so he puts all of his trust and love into Leo, simply following his will and his body’s urges. It is only Leo who will be able to bring this baby out.

It’s coming now. It’s coming.

After those first efforts and Bastian’s words, something in Leo visibly changes. He is emboldened, focused, ready to go headfirst into the pain like a bull.

He rips off his tunic, now damp and stained with his labouring sweat, and takes charge of the pain. There is no fear in him as he exposes himself fully naked with the midwife in the room, something he never would have done before this, and he lets the pain flow in and out.

Bastian knows how it is in Leo’s mind. Leo hardens himself with the same fortitude as he does before heading into battle.

Pushing does not take much adjustment. Leo simply follows the will of his body as it commands him to bear the child down and out. The sounds he makes go from powerful and guttural to almost mute as he concentrates.

Countless minutes are spent where Leo goes into a sort of up-down rhythm. He stands up, planting his feet firm and wide beneath him, and pushes quietly with his knees bent. Then he comes down and squats wide, his hands still on the tops of his knees, and continues to push that way.

He goes up or down according to his own will, holding each push for a while before it bursts airily out his lips. His efforts seem big to Bastian, though he expects Leo to be louder so he looks to the midwife for guidance.

She does not linger her gaze on Leo, knowing he doesn’t like it, but every once in a while she looks over and nods, speaking soft words of encouragement. She is busy sanitizing linens in the pot of boiling water.

Leo is upright as another pain comes on, and he puts his hands on the tops of his thighs as he bends down and open like he’s sitting in the air. Then with a big breath in, he closes his mouth tight and visibly tightens as he bears down.

His skin is so pale, Bastian marvels at how quickly Leo’s face, neck, and chest turn red with his effort. He holds it for only a few seconds, his eyes squeezing shut, and Bastian wants to encourage him but cannot speak.

“Bwuh,” The effort bursts out of Leo. That is when Bastian gets his bearings and sits in front of his love, offering his shoulder for support.

Leo takes it immediately as he locks in for another push, unable to speak, balling up Bastian’s tunic in a fist on his shoulder as he squeeeeezes down, opening his legs more.

Bastian gets a full view of his belly and crotch, the skin of his belly tightening and going in. It looks hard to the touch. Compelled by love and overwhelmed at the sight of Leo in such pain, Bastian puts his hands on Leo’s belly and feels the effort with him.

“Buhh” Leo expels airily, then tries to breathe slowly. His belly drops back outwards, but Bastian had felt something shift within. The mound is still hard; Bastian knows Leo is not done with this one.

“Breathe,” he tells him anyway, and Leo does.

Then Leo bends forward and over Bastian, spreading his legs wide and bending his knees down, and Bastian puts his hands on Leo’s hips to support him. Bowing over and leaning his head on Bastian’s shoulder, Leo grips Bastian’s biceps and holds down hard. Bastian can feel the strength of it against his own forehead, which is pressed to Leo’s big hard belly.

Both of their eyes are closed, just feeling it together. Leo is so strong, doing so well, Bastian has to hold back his tears as he feels Leo’s belly tensing, tensing, tensing, and something tumbling beneath the surface.

That is them, their child. And Leo is working so hard to get them out… Bastian is terrified to think about it, but as he feels their little feet kick against his forehead, he finds himself leaning into it, making his touch known.

Then Leo has to let the pressure out with an airy, “Dhuuhhhhh,” still against Bastian’s shoulder, and Bastian feels him gasp right away and bear down again. He squeezes Leo’s wide open hips, keeping him upright as he trembles and dips down just a little more and more.

Then something incredible happens. There’s an audible pop, then before Bastian can understand what’s happening, a huge splash of warm water all over his lap.

Leo expels with a sudden and strained sound, his legs shaking. The midwife is coming closer, assessing the waters it seems. Bastian is beside himself, panting as if he were the one pushing. Leo leans back, and it seems his body is finally giving him a break. They look at each other, and there’s fear there, but there is also bravery, determination, love.

Leo puts his hands on his belly and rubs down and up, both of them looking at their child. His eyes are so soft and glassy, the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks as he pants, and he’s smiling.

It’s then that Bastian knows Leo will fight with his life for their child, and the fight begins here. He loves him.

The skies spill hail while Leo regains his strength after this pain. It is loud against the roof and the window sill, though not as loud as Leo’s breath as he trains it to calmly come in and out, filling his entire body.

The midwife gives him water to drink, which he takes. The three of them know that this is where it begins: they are just at the threshold of the real hard work, and Leo needs every bit of strength he has.

When he needs to push again, he goes away from Bastian and retreats into himself, focusing. He stands, gripping the baseboard of the bed and spreading his legs wide as he bends down into it again.

“HHhhhhrrrrmmmmmmmmhh………..” he grunts into it quietly, a rhythm, one push after the other. He is a warrior, barely stopping for breath, trying so hard to work with his body and the baby.

Bastian’s only view of him is from the back, his red hair already clinging to the tacky skin of his back in clumps and strands. He has already worked up a sweat, and when the candle flames flicker just right, Bastian can see beads of it roll down Leo’s thighs and ankles.

“Is he feverish?” Bastian asks the midwife, trying to keep his voice calm.

She has no reaction to his little slip-up. It’s likely she has already heard Bastian refer to Leo as ‘he’ or ‘him’. Never once has she inquired or judged. Bastian feels that she already knows, and does not care.

“No,” she tells him, “it is just effort. Birth is hard work.”

It certainly is. Bastian had no idea. He tries not to get stuck in his head feeling guilty for doing this to Leo, as he watches Leo labour and sweat.

Of his own accord, Leo lets go of the baseboard and resumes a squat on the floor. This time, though, he leans his back against the end of the bed and leans back on his bottom, pulling his shins wide open and back, causing his feet to lift off the floor.

He must be truly in the throes of it then, Bastian realizes, because he’s exposing himself completely to the room, to the midwife who stands near Bastian.

Nothing can be seen of the baby just yet. Leo grunts as he bears down, his belly hardening and pointing, but his opening remaining unchanged.

He grunts hard as he pushes now, very focused on some invisible spot in the room which he squints at, crunching up his face and baring his teeth. With every grunt, he pulls his shins open and points his crotch up to the ceiling, curling in.

Leo’s next grunt is louder and more guttural than the last, and Bastian has to take a step back. He looks at his knight, naked and red in the throes of labour, his legs crunched up on either side of his distended belly and his teeth bared in a horrible grimace, and he can’t resist thinking anymore, I did that to him.

Bastian gets stuck thinking this, just standing there as Leo throws his head back and shoves his shoulders down with another push.

It’s happening now, and there is nothing Bastian can do to stop it. Nothing he can do to ease the pain or help bring their child out. If he could just get a hand in there and pull the child out, he would. Hell, if he could push it out himself, he would suffer double the hours and pain of Leo’s labour if it meant Leo could just rest.

Leo’s next grunty release startles Bastian into action. He goes to his knight as Leo pants and pants, still holding his shins, his legs folded up so tightly his feet aren’t touching the floor. He just pants, exhausted, as the midwife whispers calming words: “Good, you are using all your effort now.”

“Leo,” says Bastian. His own voice is shaky and foreign to his ears. “You want to hold my hand?”

But Leo is already grunting down again, spreading his trembling legs just a bit wider as he manages a tight and grunty, “Icanh…….” He holds it, holds it, holds it, and Bastian looks down at his opening.

He’s a bit shy, but still he looks. Leo is spread so open it’s almost lewd. But this is childbirth, Bastian supposes, the truth of childbirth. Past Leo’s wiry red pubic hair, it seems there’s a bulge, like the head of their baby is knocking at the door. He’s not opening much, not from what Bastian can see, but as he holds down the pressure harder and longer, the bulge presses outwards, beginning to stretch his swollen tissues.

Leo startles Bastian by releasing with a “GNUUHHH!!” and the bulge dips right back in. Leo pants hard.

Bastian manages to get his bearings. He brushes Leo’s stringy hair off his forehead and says, “Breathe, sweetness… Slow down and breathe.”

Panting, but trying to slow his breaths down, Leo slowly lets go of his legs. They stay open, but floppy, his feet now on the floor.

The midwife saves Bastian from feeling useless by instructing him to sit on the end of the bed behind Leo. This way, he can help hold Leo up as he pushes.

He does, and first puts his hands under Leo’s arms before he realizes this is uncomfortable for Leo who needs to use his arms. Instead, he puts his hands the other other place they can go, covering Leo’s breasts from the midwife’s eye. His fingertips brush the hard top of Leo’s belly as he makes it to the end of another push, grunting tight and loud.

He’s working hard now. The candlelight is dim, but Bastian can see the big slope of Leo’s belly, how it crunches in with each long and loud grunt, and Leo’s wide open legs, his curled toes which lift off the floor.

Bastian leans down over Leo’s shoulder, hugging him and cupping his breasts tight, and now he can see Leo’s opening from this angle. He’s curled so tightly, he’s practically exposing himself to the ceiling while still tucking his chin down into his chest. There is not much to see yet, still, but Bastian swears as Leo grunts hard one more time that he can see his tissues beginning to bulge out.

“...ggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRUHH!” Leo grunts out, and his tissues and belly relax. “Fuck. Oh, no…” he whispers, and Bastian realizes he’s trembling.

Bastian thinks Leo is done, but the midwife comes to sit in front of Leo and speak to him.

“Do not fear,” she says. “You can go into it stronger than that, just let your body guide you.”

Leo gives one small push, but it does seem that he’s done.

Then a knock at the door startles Bastian and he looks over. Leo is so into it, so tired, he doesn’t seem to react.

The midwife holds up a hand and groans as she gets to her feet. She only opens the door a crack, and there are whispers.

Bastian tries to lean in to see, but he cannot. The midwife is standing between the room and whoever is at the door, blocking anything from sight. If she were to open the door all the way, surely Leo would be seen. The bed is up against the wall at the head of the small room, the door on the side wall. The foot of the bed is practically in front of the door with how small the room is. No doubt they can hear Leo panting.

Thinking quickly, Bastian grabs the bed linen behind him and drapes it over Leo’s naked body. His legs are still parted, but he’s put his feet on the floor.

Bastian presses his lips to the salty skin of Leo’s temple, soothing him and whispering comforting words to him, rocking him a bit.

“Doing so well, just breathe now,” he whispers, and Leo does.

“We heard a concerning noise and wanted to see that everything was alright,” one of the voices says at the door. It’s then that Bastian recognizes it and the other voice along with it as the brother and sister who own the tavern.

“I have someone labouring in here, but everything is just fine,” the midwife explains.

Still rocking Leo, kissing his forehead and cheek, Bastian trains his ears and hears one of them gasp. He can imagine their fearful expressions. He leans down further, kissing and nuzzling Leo’s cheek, smelling him, and Leo brings a hand up to bury in Bastian’s dark wispy hair, leaning his cheek into Bastian, nuzzling him back.

“We will get a doctor for you!” the brother says at the door.

Kindly, the midwife tells them to fuck off, which startles a laugh out of Bastian.

Then Leo’s breaths pick up, and Bastian can feel the top of his belly harden under his fingers. Feet planted and relaxed on the floor, Leo opens his legs more, holding his belly. He whispers, “‘scoming…”

And Bastian can’t find it in him to care any longer about the people at the door and their muted discourse. He rubs the skin of Leo’s chest, presses his lips into his cheekbone as Leo grabs his shins and his belly points down as he bears down hard.

“Strong,” Bastian whispers into his ear. “Push as hard as you can, Leo, c’mon.”

He grunts good and hard with it, tipping his face back this time so he can hear Bastian’s encouragement in his ear.

“Good, good, bring him out,” Bastian whispers.

The voices at the door insist on getting a doctor one more time, as the midwife tells them that the person labouring knows what to do, and that she herself has delivered hundreds of babies.

“GGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUHHHH……” Leo grunts deep and tight, his wide open legs trembling.

The midwife slams the door then and turns back into the room, giving Leo space.

Leo gives a few more hard pushes, each with a crackly and prolonged grunt. Every time he releases, all the tension drops out of his belly and legs, going a bit floppy, before he steels himself and shoves down again.

It’s obvious Leo is getting tired. As Leo rests, Bastian covers his eyes with a cold damp linen and keeps his hand there, kissing his cheekbone.

Bastian looks at the midwife as she goes around the room lighting incense from somewhere in her pack, and he asks her if everything is alright.

“Yes, everything is normal,” she assures him, her voice flat as if she’s bored, or maybe that is just how she talks. “Just be patient. It takes a lot of strength and time to push a baby out.”

Bastian flushes at the prospect that she would think for even a moment that what’s making him restless is impatience. He will hold Leo through every pain as long as it takes for him to get their child out. But he doesn’t correct the midwife.

This goes on until one of the shorter candles burns out, Leo going from being curled up against Bastian’s legs to leaning over the floor on his hands and knees.

Eventually, he gets on the bed, and Bastian knows his role by then. He sits with him, always close to him, whispering to his brave and strong knight, his love, to keep working and push,

and push,

and push…

Every release is dizzyingly loud and hard, speaking to the immense effort Leo is exerting each and every time.

“UUHHRRR!” he grunts out, the sound high and strained at first and ending very deep and guttural. Then he just pants, gripping the tops of his thighs as he sits on his heels, facing the headboard of the bed.

Sitting behind him on the bed, Bastian can do nothing but rub his hand up and down the back of Leo’s shoulder, and he feels the tension under his skin as he breathes hard and fast like an animal.

It sounds like Leo’s body commands him to push, as the urge catches him in-between breaths and he tenses with a very tight and grunty, “Hhuh–”

“Well done, Leo,” Bastian whispers, still holding his shoulder as he trembles severely, his skin reddening. Then, after at least twelve seconds, Leo releases with a very strained sound: “..........UHHH! Please…”

“You are amazing, Leo. Keep pushing if you have to.”

And Leo does, breathing into it and preparing himself at first. He brings his fingers down to feel, sighs out his air in an almost frustrated way, then readjusts by sitting up on his knees more, opening his legs as much as he can in that position.

Then, to Bastian’s surprise, he reaches back and flaps his hands until Bastian laces their fingers together. He sits up on his knees behind Leo, mimicking his pose, and Leo whispers the count of two to himself before he grips Bastian’s hands and shoves down with a hitch of breath.

Bastian can feel the effort in his own body as Leo leans his torso slightly forward and down, crunching down towards his belly but still kneeling upright and gripping Bastian’s hands with such force that Bastian winces.

He feels a bit stupid as all he can say is, “Oh, Leo.”

Then the inevitable release: “.............................UUUURRRHH!” A huge inhale. Then he just grunts horribly the whole time he pushes. “UUUUUUUUUURRRHHHHH!!” Another. “UUUUUUUUURRRRRHHHNNG!!” Hard and deep and powerful, each time bearing down with his entire body, raising his shoulders as he gasps and sending them down hard and fast with each gigantic push.

Across the room, the midwife has been busy replacing the candles again. She seems so unbothered by Leo’s noises while Bastian doesn’t know what to do with himself. He tries to absorb some of her calmness, tries to comfort Leo by kissing the backs of his shoulders. His skin is salty with sweat and so warm. His entire body is hard and shivering with the pain and effort.

Leo’s next release is a grunty scream, his hands clammy in Bastian’s. “GNAAOOOWWMYGOD—” Then, already pushing hard, so strained, “............got..g’ttagetitout……..uururrrrRUUUUHHHHGOD!!”

“You are strong enough,” the midwife says from across the room. “Visualise yourself opening for the head and push the babe down with all your effort.”

“Ngh…” Leo grunts, “...ngI’mtrying…”

“Push the babe down,” she says again, her words calm and slow. “Open, open.”

Her words seem to work for Leo, because he gives hard and silent pushes one after the other, raising his face this time and Bastian can just about see his horrible grimace.

“.....................................................DHUHH!! …Shit. It’s burning.”

“That’s good,” the midwife says, coming closer. “That’s good, that means the head will soon come. You’re pushing well.”

“I-I-I can’t breathe,” Leo pants. “I need a minute. I need…”

“Take a break,” the midwife permits. She comes with a damp cloth and leans over the side of the bed to wipe Leo’s face, petting away his stringy red hair as he pants and gasps loud and wild, his hands still intertwined with Bastian’s behind him.

“Breeeeeaaathe,” the midwife reminds him, then shows him how to inhale deeply through his nose.

Slowly, Leo’s body begins to relax, and he lets go of Bastian’s hands to lean forward on his elbows, moaning and swaying his hips side to side. Bastian gets a view of his bottom raised in the air, but he still can’t see their child’s head yet. If any of it was poking out while Leo was pushing, it sucked back in.

Instinctually, Bastian begins massaging up and down the long length of Leo’s back as he keeps breathing and moaning and swaying, opening his pelvis. Leo is so lost in his own world, but it seems like it feels good.

The next time Leo gets a pain, there’s no warning. It seems to catch him off guard too, as he’s still on his elbows with his head way down, his hands clasped on the sheets in front of his head. He just tenses his back, and Bastian can actually feel each individual muscle hidden beneath the skin as with a little hitched grunt, Leo bears down hard.

He leans his bottom back and down as he pushes, so Bastian can’t see his opening. Leo’s bottom is touching Bastian’s legs, as Bastian still kneels upright behind him, and Bastian can feel him tremble. He can see the exertion, because Leo’s skin from the back of his neck to his middle is turning a violent red, his head down and beginning to tremble so hard.

Then Leo releases with a loud grunt, and he raises his head to gasp in as the midwife kneels down over the side of the bed and puts her hands over his, still above his head.

Just as she whispers, “Huge push,” Leo shoves back again, trembling even harder, his body somehow stiffer and his back absolutely shining in the candlelight, the sweat pooling in the long dip of his spine and the dimples at the small of his back.

He gives a few very big pushes for this one, almost screaming out at the end of each one. He thumps the mattress with a fist as he breathes too fast, complaining of a burning sensation once more.

Then for the next pain, he gets himself upright again, but shuffles towards the headboard this time so he can grab onto it. He moves according to his body’s will, and ultimately comes up in a deep squat, still facing away from Bastian with his hands gripping the headboard hard.

The midwife tells Bastian to press on Leo’s hips as he bears down, so he makes himself useful and does just that. He sits on his heels, pressing his palms firmly, and rests his cheek on Leo’s slick shoulder blade as the pain comes yet again. Leo does not have much of a break anymore.

“—UUUURRRRRITHURTSSOBAAAAAAD…………..”

Leaning over his sweaty, rigid shoulder, Bastian can see Leo’s big belly flex inwards between his wide open trembling thighs, his bellybutton poking out. Leo is incredible.

Bastian whispers into his shoulder and neck, feeling himself grit his teeth and wince too, “It’s there, beauty. Push hard.”

One after the other, Leo rocks down to push hard and long, with big loud gasps in-between, filling his lungs so his belly expands before tightening inwards.

“..............UUUURRRRHHHHN!!......................................................UUUURRRRHHHHYEAH–..........................................................OUUUHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh……”

All the while, Bastian encourages him into his shoulder, moving to mutter into his sweaty red-hot cheek, pressing his lips to his skin, “Goodgoodgoodgood Leo, you are strong. You are incredible.”

Leo’s head is loose on his neck, either going back over Bastian’s shoulder with a push or crunching forward. This time, as he gears up for a very big push, Leo crunches his chin practically into his breasts, gripping the headboard so hard it creaks as he roars.

“Good, push your baby,” the midwife says. Then she tells Leo that when this pain has passed, he’ll have to move. “You need to open. In this position, you will push your baby into the bed and that won’t be very helpful.”

Leo, who is definitely not in the mood for jokes, tells the old woman to shove it up her ass.

She takes this with grace, though Bastian blushes and looks at her apologetically. Then she reaches out and tells Bastian how to help her move Leo.

The midwife suggests he squat on the floor, but Leo follows his body and comes to stand next to the bed, leaning over the mattress and dipping down and up as he breathes evenly, opening his legs wide.

There is an air of intensity in the room as everything seems to have kicked up a notch. It’s close, Bastian can sense it. Not much longer now. Soon, Leo will finally be able to rest. His beautiful, loyal, strong knight…

Bastian looks at Leo, his knight, his love, labouring hard, and he feels his throat tighten. Leo is the picture of effort. He’s bent down, his quivering legs spread open and his knees bent, his fists trembling with effort in the sheets. His teeth are bared, eyes squeezed shut into tight wrinkles as he grunts hard and high.

Bastian and the midwife, who is sitting on the floor behind Leo, both keep quiet as Leo works hard.

It bursts out of him with a deep, animal grunt. “MNGUUHHTHEHEADIS– SOBIG–”

“Keep going,” the midwife coaches. “If it gets to be too much, just breathe it down.”

There’s no way to know if Leo hears her, because he’s still pushing. God, it looks so hard. His face is beet red and shiny with sweat, his hair plastered over his skin in knots. He has an expression on his face that reminds Bastian of constipation, and he guesses the sensation is really not too different.

“That’s good, that’s good, I see hair,” the midwife says. Then as Leo bursts his air out and seems to bear down even harder, twisting his fists in the sheet with that horrible expression worsening on his face, she says, “Oh, lots of hair.”

Bastian is beside himself, his heart thumping out of his chest as he watches his love work harder than anyone.

The sounds and faces Leo makes would be embarrassing, but he is so beyond modesty, embarrassment, and privacy at this point. Nothing in the entire world matters more in this moment than pushing their baby out of him and into the world, and he puts every drop of effort he has into the task. Bastian wonders if he’s even aware of the expressions, sounds, and secretions his body is making. It wouldn’t matter. All that matters is that the midwife sees hair!!

Bastian jumps back into action, putting his hands over Leo’s which are still tangled in the sheets.

“Push, sweetness, you are almost there. You are so strong, so brave. You are my pride, my knight. I know you can do this. Push.”

Leo had gotten at least two good pushes in as Bastian was talking to him, and it seems he’s done now, truly spent for breath. He puts his red cheek on the bed and his gasps for air sound more like exhausted shouts, as he flinches and a tear drops from his tightly closed eyes.

“Where is he…” Leo croaks out, truly spent, as Bastian brushes his hair out of his face. Bastian leans down to kiss his cheek and forehead as Leo still keeps his cheek on the bed, panting and heaving and animalistic.

“Not long now,” the midwife says softly.

Leo heaves out his air, then he suddenly raises his head and makes a quiet pained sound, almost like panic.

“He’s–he’s– ohh-h, why is it going back in…”

Bastian puts his hand over Leo’s fist on the bed as the midwife explains, “The babe’s head has to rock in and out to stretch you. Just let your tissues relax, let your bottom relax. Every time you push, you bring the head out little by little.”

“Every time,” Leo repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. He’s exhausted, dazed, putting his head back on the bed with his eyes closed. He has the strength to hold Bastian’s hand, though, and that is enough.

“Reach down and feel the head next time,” the midwife says. “Feel how it comes down when you push.”

Leo seems afraid to touch, possibly for the same reason as Bastian. Touching the head, feeling it, means it’s really coming.

But, brave as always, he does. He keeps his head on the bed and puts his hand down there, feels around for a moment, before his eyes snap open and he looks at Bastian.

“Is it there?” Bastian asks him, and only then realizes there are tears in his eyes.

Leo nods. “He’s right there.” Then his face crumples in a grimace as he grits out, “Iwantitout—.....” before he gasps, shouting. “Hoh! Oh! OoohhhitBURNS! Is’toobigIcan’t……”

The midwife tells him to wait for the urge to push, to not force it out. She tries to tell him it’s important for him to stretch, but Leo is in it. It’s impossible for Bastian to tell now whether he has a pain or not. After feeling the head, he’s sure Leo is ready to keep pushing hard until the whole baby is out.

And so he dips into another vicious push, baring his teeth, his face turning completely red and the vein in his temple bulging out.

“---OH! Ouuhh..hohh…” and his body commands him to bear down extremely hard again, of its own accord. “Ouuhhhhhhhh……..hhhhhyesohyesohyesohyesouuuhhhhhh……..” Then he releases with a huge breath, panting hard and loud. Bastian can only put his hand over Leo’s which still grips the bed. Leo’s other hand is still between his legs, waiting and supporting as he pushes the baby’s big hard head into his own palm.

Chin on the edge of the bed, Leo begs, voice wrecked, “Pull’mout! Aoh, God!” And as the midwife is saying, “We can’t it is all you!” Leo shoves back, almost in a squat now, as he grabs the edge of the bed with both hands and extends his arms, his knees touching the outsides of his elbows, and roars down, his head trembling severely from the effort.

“Yeeeeesssssss, yesyesyes, exactly there!” the midwife cheers, the first big smile appearing on her face. In a strained voice, she coaches, “PUSH! PUUUUUSH!”

Leo garbles out a scream then, coming more upright and standing in a crouch over the bed, still gripping the sheets with so much force they rip. He’s pushing his bottom back towards the midwife, who has her hands supporting his opening, though Bastian cannot see. He only sees Leo’s beet-red screaming face, the tendon jutting out of his throat, and his bare breasts dangling down as he pushes so hard he gags with it.

All Bastian can say is, “It’s coming, Leo, you are almost done!”

Then with barely a breath, Leo forces down with his entire body, clinging to the torn sheet on the very edge of the bed, going down into more of a squat so the midwife has to scoot back more to see, as he strains deep and hard and guttural, gritting his teeth up to the ceiling.

“HHHRRRRRRRNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG…..GH…GH..GH…………”

“Yesss, good work, you’re stretching,” the midwife says to him at the tail end of the push. Then, “Alright, let’s get you on the bed now. You, open those shutters! He is burning up.”

Belatedly, Bastian realizes she’s talking to him. His arms and legs are tingling and his head light as he leaps up from the bed and stumbles to the window across the room. Behind him, his love grunts again, so hard and tight and deep down in his core, and he hears the midwife telling him to just breathe, just breathe.

“I’mtryingI’mtryinghe’scomiiinnngggg….” Leo grunts as Bastian’s shaking hands finally get the latch on the shutters open. He flings them out and they bang against the outer wall. The sky is beginning to lighten; it’s almost early morning.

It’s a small window, but any window is large enough to let out all the sound in the room for the whole town to hear. He will worry about that later. Now, he needs to be with Leo.

It’s as he’s having those thoughts that Leo, behind him, starts to push again. It’s a hard and gritty sound, totally involuntary, and in the middle of it he says, “Mnggrrrrrrrrmyprince–.....”

And Bastian snaps into action, turning back into the room to run to his love. “I’mcomingI’mcoming, I’m here with you!”

He doesn’t even see where he’s going, just runs with the only goal of getting to Leo’s side. But the midwife jabs him in the side and he blinks down.

“You,” she says, “come look! Look at your baby’s head!”

Bastian does.

Leo is lying horizontally at the foot of the bed now, his legs spread open so wide his thighs are flat. He’s keeping them that way, gripping underneath his thighs. The midwife, in a gesture of kindness, has thrown the sheet over Leo’s breasts, though most of his belly is still exposed, a mountain of tight and sweat-slick skin. Between his thighs, nestled within his wiry red curls, is a wet dome.

The midwife had pulled a stool over the floor to her side, where she has a dish of butter balanced, some damp linens, and a holder with several candles. It’s this light that allows Bastian to properly see…

Leo’s opening is stretched to an almost impossible degree, unrecognizable to Bastian’s eyes. His folds are pulled back, the skin taut, to make room for not a sliver, but a wide circle of curly, wet hair. It’s a little wrinkly, and definitely not out to its full circumference, as Leo’s tissue is bulging out around it, proof that there is more within. But it’s there. A head! There’s a little indent in the shape of a circle at the tip of the scalp, from when Leo must have been stuck trying to push it past that stage.

Bastian feels a sob bubble up his throat as the midwife brings the candle closer and gently pulls on a little curl so he can see the colour.

Their baby has red hair.

My baby… Bastian thinks, awestruck and speechless. A whole person, half him and half Leo, the love of his life…

“Tell Leo what you see,” she says.

Bastian goes to Leo, kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed so he can lean over and brush Leo’s stringy hair off his forehead. “He has red hair,” he says, his voice damp with tears.

It’s after this moment that Leo goes quiet, drawing into himself and summoning the last bit of strength he needs. Bastian keeps quiet as Leo concentrates, breathing into the urge to push their baby to a crown. It’s coming. So soon.

The pain takes a long time to come, and Leo touches the baby’s head to embolden himself. It hasn’t gone back in this time. Bastian watches, and sees that it’s surprisingly squishy, likely mostly scalp and not skull. When he’s done feeling, the midwife takes a clump of butter and starts applying it to Leo’s tissue around the head. Then Leo’s belly hardens, and it’s finally time to push.

He means business right away. He hooks his elbows under his knees, lifts his torso off the bed to crunch in, and forces down with a hitched grunt.

Immediately, the head bulges forth, pushing at the tight barrier that is Leo’s tissue. It is not that he’s not strong enough; far from it, he’s pushing with every fibre of his being, turning completely red, veins poking out of his skin. It’s that his tissue is tight, keeping the baby’s head in place in a ring.

Bastian whispers to him to encourage him, holding him up beneath his back. “Push… push… push, it’s coming out more!”

It is! The head pushes and pushes, jutting out and back in just a bit as Leo’s strength wears out, taking his tissue with it, and then Leo grunts out hard and falls back to the bed. The head goes back to where it was, but just a fraction of it is more visible.

It goes on like this, Leo pulling his legs back and pushing pushing pushing with every ounce of his strength, the baby’s head bulging out and taking his tissues with it, and Bastian expects Leo to tear clean open, the head bursting out. But that doesn’t happen. It’s a slow, burning stretch, and Leo uses all of his strength. No stopping now.

“A crown!” the midwife cheers as Leo drops his head back to the flat mattress, straining and grunting, his grip under his thighs slipping due to the sweat pouring off of him.

The midwife is trying to help him stretch, using small linens on either side of his opening, gently stretching the tissue back and open. She regularly reapplies the butter, which is beginning to clump in their child’s curls.

Leo is indeed burning up, staying so red and sweaty, so Bastian wrings out a cold cloth and puts it over his eyes. Leo is just a grimace then, blind under the cloth, as he crunches his chin into his neck and reaches down to grab the bottoms of his feet.

He doesn’t put his feet together, but pulls them wide open and back, his arms extended out straight. His legs tremble so hard, his toes curling over his hands as he white-knuckles it, giving their baby a good long shove each time. The head stays at a crown, moulding around Leo’s tight tissue.

He doesn’t even grunt out at the end of each push. He’s too focused, pushing much too hard. Every release is a quick and quiet hiss of air through his teeth, “Tihh,” before he takes in a huge gasp right away and goes again.

Bastian begins to fear that Leo cannot get past this stage. He finds himself retreating into his own mind against his will, the sight of his love in such pain and effort so overwhelming.

He cannot be sure, but he thinks he can pinpoint the time they made love that resulted in this child.

They had been on the run by then, in their shared tent in the night, well off the beaten path. The fireflies had lit up the grasses outside their tent and, awestruck, they had pulled the flap aside to see.

Bastian had been staring at Leo, which he had not noticed he’d been doing. There was something about the fireflies’ light that made the strands of his red hair glow, like embers.

Bastian had been touching his hair, tucking it behind his ear, and Leo had leaned in to accept a kiss. Then Leo had climbed on top and Bastian had slipped inside. They rocked together, humming and sighing in bliss and freedom.

That’s right; It was the night they ran away together.

Leo’s beautiful red hair fans out on the sheet around his head as he falls back against the bed, still managing to hold on for their child, his eyes still covered by the cloth, his skin red as a beet and his teeth bared like an animal, trying so hard…

He’s pushing more frequently but not as strong, and his pains are slowing down.

Finally, Leo releases the last of his effort with a breathy grunt, and he tips his head back, gasping and gasping, his chest heaving under the sheet. Sweat rolls off of him in the candlelight.

He’s let go of his feet, but he leaves his legs to fan out wide open against the bed. His bottom is on the edge of the side of the bed. If he were to extend his legs, they would simply fall over the edge.

The midwife is telling Leo to breathe deeply, to get his strength back, that the head is almost out. She doesn’t seem too worried.

Leo talks to him then, his voice a ragged croak. He says his name, and Bastian looks down at him as Leo removes the cloth from his face, blinking weakly up at Bastian.

“I can’t…” he says, “I cannot do it… I’m sorry, my prince… I tried.. so hard…” He turns his head to the ceiling then, and a tear slides down his temple. “I am sorry for not having the strength…”

And Bastian has heard enough already. He gets close, finding Leo’s sweaty hand and gripping it fiercely.

“Leo,” he says, “of course you have the strength. He is right there, you said it yourself. It’s just a little more effort and you’re done, I promise. I will never, ever let you hurt like this again.”

“I thought I could do it…” Leo groans, looking away as another tear slides down. “I wanted to keep your baby safe—”

“Our baby,” Bastian corrects. Leo looks up at him silently, and he says it again. “Our baby.”

“Leo, listen,” he speaks quietly and intimately, his heart hammering out of his chest, “you could never disappoint me. You could never fail me. We are free, now. I will ask just two things of you now, and then never demand anything again, and that is to push…” He gulps, fixing his grip on Leo’s hand. “...and that you let me stay by your side. I love you, more than anything in this world.”

And there it is, that bravery and light returning to Leo’s beautiful eyes. He assesses Bastian’s face, really drinks him in, and his breaths become laboured.

It is all the motivation he needs to hear in his life.

With a heave of a breath, Leo grabs under his knees, pulling his legs so wide open he could split in half, and he throws his head all the way back against the sheet, hitching his shoulders down, hitching his belly and his hips and every last drop of strength inside him, to puuushhh their baby’s big head out.

Bastian sobs at the sight, seeing Leo’s effort and the way their baby’s head juts out. “Oh, push, my sweet love. Push with all of your strength. You have it.”

“Steady,” says the midwife, as she gently flexes the baby’s scalp as it comes forward. “Steady…”

Bastian is mute with awe. Leo pushes their baby’s head out so beautifully. Every second slows down to a hundred seconds. Their little redhead’s wrinkly scalp trembles out with Leo’s effort, and the midwife keeps pressure around Leo’s tissue which has the head in a vice lock. His skin is so red, stretched beyond belief, but he still has not torn.

Steady, steady, out comes a forehead, facing down to the mattress and slightly sideways. Bastian leans in to see, and it looks like a little old man with its wrinkles.

Leo is still keeping that same push going as then comes out the baby’s brow, then their little crunched eyes, and out pops a tiny nub of a nose. Bastian knows he’s crying loudly as, with massive effort, Leo pushes out the baby’s lips.

Here, Leo releases with a huge breathy grunt, unable to hold it any longer. Bastian is still watching their baby’s head, so he sees how it dips back in just slightly, not quite fully out yet. Leo must think he’s done because he’s panting.

“Come on, now,” the midwife says as she wipes some goo off the baby’s face, “one more push.”

Bastian steals a quick glance at Leo’s face as he’s gearing up for another push. Leo is in another world, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, exposing the long length of his throat. His skin is completely red and shining in the candlelight, his red hair thrown about the sheets around his head. Leo gasps in once, and Bastian looks back down at their baby’s head in time to see Leo’s hands on the undersides of his knees grip hard again, his nails white, and he makes a sound like, “HUP—”

“Big big big big…” the midwife mutters.

It takes little effort at all. Compared to the rest of the night, it is nothing. Leo holds down hard, his body and raised feet trembling and his pelvis slowly widening more, and their baby’s head trembles out, out, and out comes the chin with a squirt of blood and a huge burst of air from Leo.

It’s out! The whole head! Bastian sobs, not knowing what to do with his hands. He kisses Leo’s forehead, but Leo is still in another world.

His battle is not over yet.

Bastian has seen Leo in battle. He has seen him swing a sword with the strength of several men. He has seen him stumble back from a battle with arrows piercing his armour, seen him pull a dagger from his own flesh, seen him ride into the fray on his horse, head high in bravery, and he has seen him keep that fortitude after so many unspeakable horrors.

All of that is nothing, nothing compared to the strength and effort he exerts to give birth to their child.

Every fibre of his being, every single muscle in his body is used for those long, long moments it takes Leo to push their baby's shoulders from his body. He hardly makes a sound, but for a barely audible, tight groan deep in his throat that just keeps going. Bastian frantically looks from Leo’s face to their baby’s slimy head as his love just keeps that gigantic push going.

It is incredible to watch. It is the most intense moment of his life. A look back at Leo’s face shows that he is deep red and puffy, veins absolutely popping from his neck and temples like roots, but his expression is completely calm. His mouth is closed and curved in such a way that it’s almost like he’s smiling. His head is tipped back all the way, almost upside-down, and his shoulders are lowered as he concentrates every morsel of strength in his body down.

Down and deep, incredibly long and hard without break. Bastian watches as the midwife’s wrinkled hands don’t even touch the baby. His little wet head turns, and there is his little purple face already grimacing. Bastian can feel himself pushing, helping his love grunt down, as their baby’s chubby shoulders begin to appear, and the pouty lips open with a wet gasp, and then the baby slides and trembles out.

It’s not fast. Shoulders, then elbows, then belly and cord, and the baby is already crying and gasping wetly, then his little hips, and Leo is done, he can stop pushing now, but he’s still pushing. He still pushes harder and longer than he ever has and ever will in his life, his legs shaking horribly and his grunt getting louder behind his closed mouth, until the entire baby is out, little feet and all. Then a massive grunty burst of air rushes out of Leo and he lets go of all the tension in his body, and the baby hiccups and starts crying, and Bastian is sobbing.

Their baby is pink and slimy and wiggly and shrieking already as the midwife turns it over in her hands and puts it right on Leo’s deflated belly.

Leo uses the last of his strength to rip the loose sheet off his chest, still moaning and gasping loudly as water and blood pour out of him, his hands open to accept their child. It takes him long moments to come back into his body as he lays there gasping, his eyes half-open and darting around the ceiling, his legs still wide open.

Bastian can’t speak, he’s crying so hard. The midwife is rubbing the baby with her bare hands, trying to get it to keep crying, and it does, gurgling and spitting up some mucus onto Leo’s blood-streaked breast.

Looking at their baby, Bastian realizes how small it is. Now on the outside, in the world, it does not seem so gigantic. It is chunky, for sure, with big chubby purple cheeks and fat rolls on the arms and legs. The baby is swollen and bruised from birth, but Bastian drinks in every detail of their little face. Their little nostrils, their impossibly tiny fingernails, the curve of their ears stuck against their big coned head, their wisps of long, wet red hair!

He is all at once overwhelmed by the bone-deep urge to wrap his body around his baby and protect them with his life.

“You did it, you did it,” he hears himself sob as he brushes Leo’s hair back, kissing his damp forehead. “I love you so much, you did it. You can rest now, my darling.”

Finally, Leo looks down at the baby on his chest, hovering his hands over the elongated head and the little wrinkly back. In his euphoric state, he rubs the baby’s flesh, sighing and sobbing himself, and then he lifts their little chunky thigh.

His glassy eyes go wide, and he says, “Oh!”

“Oh?” Bastian’s throat tightens.

But Leo looks up at him in shock, and his bottom lip wiggles as he says, “A girl! We have a girl!”

Bastian sobs again, practically falling over his little family. Outside the door, he hears the voices of the tavern siblings cheering, and then some. He laughs.

“Bastian,” Leo says in his ear, “I love you too.”

And Bastian hugs him tighter, careful not to crush their baby, dropping kisses to her little head and kisses all over Leo’s sweaty face as Leo laughs.

The midwife is congratulating them, telling Leo he did a very good job. She’s doing something with their girl’s cord, checking for a pulse, possibly.

Leo cranes his neck up to see her. “What is your name?” he asks her.

The midwife smiles a toothless smile at him. “Yvette,” she says.

“Yvette,” Leo repeats, dropping his head back to the mattress and gazing down at their baby girl. “Yvette…”

And all at once, there she is. There they are, the three of them. Free.

END.

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