Guilt threatens to overwhelm him and Eeros tosses the goblet down, wine splashing across the polished stone floor of his bedroom. He should be with you, or at least check on you but instead he sits in his bed, propped up against the headboard with a handful of concubines scattered around the room. He scowls and waves one of them off when she tries to coax him into laying down, snapping at them all to leave him be. When they scatter like frightened birds he heaves a sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. The midwife had told him that you'd be just fine, that everything was going well and that the baby should arrive within a few hours but Eeros hadn't brought himself to go and see you.

He wasn't a good man, knew that as well as anyone but he'd outright failed as your husband and partner. He'd hardly paid any attention to you for the first months of your marriage and after that it had been a tentative peace between the two of you. One night of unchecked passion and now you were having his child. It was to be expected, anyway, to provide heirs for the kingdom but a large part of him wished things had gone differently, that he could be the man you wanted and deserved. He realizes then that he's slightly drunk and barks out a harsh laugh. Drunk and keeping company with whores while his wife births their child. Pathetic.

Some hours later, after he'd scraped himself up for the day to occupy the desk in his study a servant appears in the open doorway, knocking politely and informing Eeros that he was now the father of a lovely baby girl. A perfect little princess, of course it would be a girl. He dismisses the servant, holding his head in his hands. A son he could have handled, would have raised in his own image to be cunning and cruel and all the things you would despise but a daughter... Eeros wasn't a religious man but he prayed the girl would turn out just like you, kind and compassionate where he wasn't.

Eventually he leaves his desk, letters and charts left abandoned on the shiny wooden surface as he makes his way down to your rooms. It'd been hours since your labor had started, a few more since the servant's announcement. Eeros would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't eager to see you and the baby, had stayed away for fear of interrupting the process but he wanted everyone to believe that he simply didn't care. It was easier this way, to feign disinterest when in reality all he wanted for the last year and a half was to hold you close and be held in return. He scowls at the thought, resentful of his own weakness as he stalks down the halls.

He doesn't bother knocking, just eases open the main door to your chambers, his eyes landing on the still sealed bedroom. Eeros isn't even sure you'd want to see him and he hesitates for almost a full minute, debating on turning back but in the end he moves forward, knocking softly on your bedroom door before gently pushing it open without waiting for an answer. His gaze immediately lands on you, flickering to the bassinet beside the bed and the pale blue priest's robe draped over your chaise lounge, evidence of a visitor. Soris, no doubt; It was always fucking Soris, Soris who'd supported you through the pregnancy and now the high priest had been in attendance for the birth of Eeros' own child.

The realization enrages him and Eeros can't decide if he's more angry with you or himself. He should have been here, he thinks again as his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He moves further into the room, closing the door quietly behind him so as not to disturb the newborn and stops just beside your bed, observing you and the baby in turn. You looked exhausted, worse for the wear and he almost says something about it but there are more pressing matters at hand.

"He was here."

Eeros doesn't have to elaborate, knows that you'll take his meaning. Soris was here with you for the hard parts and now here was Eeros, smelling faintly of wine and perfume that wasn't yours. That same guilt threatens to swallow him whole so he bolsters it with anger.