He waits, patient but anxious outside your chambers, pacing every few minutes just to give himself something to do. The sounds coming from your rooms are nothing short of jarring but Soris has an incredible amount of faith in the midwife. After all, the old woman had attended to nearly every noble birth since the king himself was brought into the world and Soris knows he shouldn't worry so much. Hours pass with few updates from your maid and he begins to grow worried until, at last, he hears the soft cries of your newborn. Soris isn't the father, of course not but secretly he wished he was instead of Eeros. Your bastard of a husband hadn't even bothered to show up, the king of Polura off with his harem or some other such nonsense instead of being here with you as he should be.

It'd been Soris who'd supported you through the pregnancy, Soris who'd laid hands on your rounded belly to feel the little life inside, delighted when he felt the baby move and it was Soris who was here now, as close to your side as was allowed. He wondered if the new baby was a boy or a girl but only a few minutes later does he hear your voice demanding for him to be let in. There is the lingering scent of blood but the maids have done well in getting both you and the child cleaned up and Soris wishes more than anything he could see you. As it stands all he can do is come to your bedside, his large, calloused hand finding your forehead and stroking over your sweaty hair.

"The nurses tell me everything went well."

He smiles softly, listening as the midwife and nurses make their way out of your bedroom in order to give the two of you privacy to talk. He knows he should leave you to rest but you'd been the one to ask for him to be here and he'd be damned if he left you now. Soris gives your hand a gentle squeeze, sweeping his foot back and forth until he finds the chair placed by your bed, settling into it with a soft sigh. Sometimes he very much resents his blindness but now isn't the time for self pity.

"How are you feeling, dearest?"

The pet name comes naturally to him after the last couple of years, when the two of you had grown from priest and parishioner to close friends. Soris had even been named the child's godfather, much to Eeros' disapproval but the king hadn't made too much of a fuss after everything was said and done. He hums softly, petting your hair and taking your free hand in his while your other arm cradles the baby at your breast. He can hear the quiet sounds of suckling and a warm feeling blooms in his chest; The baby was healthy, eating now and you were just fine, if not exhausted. You'd always been so independent, would have gone through this ordeal with just your staff if Soris hadn't insisted on waiting outside. It still burned at him that your husband wasn't present but secretly he was thankful, grateful to have this time alone with you and the baby.

He wants to ask which name you'd chosen, remembers long hours spent together in his office feeling your belly swell and round more by the day where you had discussed potential names depending on the sex of the child. The midwife had informed him on her way out that it was a girl, a perfect tiny princess who, at just minutes old, already had Soris wrapped around her little finger. He was normally a stoic man but right now all the wants to do is weep with joy, elated that you were both alive and well after such a difficult labor.

"Other than tired and sore, that is."