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When Adaleigh cried for the third time that night, Caspar thought parenthood was unnervingly similar to war: unpredictable, relentless, and exhausting.
But one similarity made his heart swell with pride. Just like those draining six years of strife, Hilda put everything she had into it.
“There, there, darling, Mama’s coming,” she mumbled, the fatigue in her voice more profound than during any war-time march.
In a sleepy stupor, she unfolded herself from the blankets and crawled towards the edge of the bed, jostling Caspar more awake with each bump and fumble. Before she reached the end of her pillow, however, she collapsed and whimpered, “Just let Mama close her eyes for one more minute…”
“You can do it, Mama,” Caspar said drowsily, and patted the bed near Hilda’s back. “Wahoo. Go, Mama.”
Hilda whined in response to his dozy cheers, but summoned the strength to stumble over to their daughter fussing in her cradle.
“At a girl!” he commended when she took Adaleigh into her arms. “Now just five more sets of that by morning.”
Hilda humored him with a dry laugh, and then nuzzled Adaleigh, saying, “Papa’s being silly.” The baby gurgled in response, earning a doting giggle from Hilda.
From the bed, Caspar watched as Hilda rocked their little girl gently, humming a tune he recognized from a harvest festival in Ordelia territory. The nearby fireplace cast both mother and daughter in a warm glow, highlighting Hilda’s affectionate expression as she nursed Adaleigh.
Hilda had many kinds of smiles, but the serene one that graced her lips presently was of the rarer sort. Caspar had spied it after successful sieges that rebuked all of Hilda’s doubts in her own tactics, or after earning a heavy purse of gold at their impromptu jeweler stands. Now that proud smile occurred every time she cradled their daughter in her arms.
Caspar adored that smile.
He just wished he could keep his eyes open to enjoy it a little longer. But Hilda’s voice cast a spell on him just like it did on Adaleigh.
Thankfully, his fight against sleep wouldn’t have to be endured alone much longer. Hilda’s lullaby came to a close with a whisper of “Sweet dreams, darling,” and soon the comforter rustled as she slipped back into bed.
Roused awake again, Caspar wrapped an arm lazily around her waist. “I like that song,” he muttered. “Adaleigh’s got good taste.”
Hilda tucked herself against his chest and whispered, “Sorry, I hoped you would’ve fallen back to sleep.”
He hummed sleepily. “Nah, told you I like that song. Don’t wanna miss out on hearing it.”
“You’re going to get real sick of it real soon.”
No tease accompanied her tone, but Caspar was too tired to bear it much mind. “Eh, doubt it.”
Now that Hilda had returned to bed, he relented to the lull of his dreams. The steady beat of her heart was as soothing as any lullaby. However, sleep seemed far from Hilda’s restless mind.
“You don’t have to sleep in here, you know,” she said, piercing the calm. “You can go to your own quarters or even the Knights Hall.”
That woke him up.
Caspar pulled her onto his chest and playfully rocked them both. “Then who would be around to lull you back to sleep?”
Hilda repositioned her head onto the pillows so they were at eye level. In the dim light from the fireplace he could just make out her solemn expression.
She traced his cheekbones, sweeping tendering over his swollen eyes. “Your warm, hunky body is definitely good at that, but I’d rather you get rest than suffer through this a million times a week. You won’t make for a very good knight if you’re falling asleep on duty.”
Caspar peppered a kiss to her palm. “Eh, I’ve been through worse. Remember when we marched to Enbarr? I barely slept at all because I was so anxious.”
Hilda moved her hand to his jawline and frowned. “This is going to be for months, Caspar.”
Caspar frowned back. “I’d miss you too much.”
She sighed. “I’d miss you too, but you heard Holst this morning. ‘My Goddess, Caspar, I doubt you can defeat your breakfast let alone an Almayran foot soldier. Pluck up, my boy.’”
Caspar chuckled at her impersonation. “He was just joking around. Besides, nothing major has happened at the border since Claude became king.”
“What if bad luck strikes? I’d feel terrible if you got hurt because I kept you up all night.”
“Holst wouldn’t let me fight if he thought my decision making would be impaired.”
“But—“
“I’ve slept with you by my side for over five years,” he interrupted, not unkindly, “and I’m too stubborn to change that habit.”
To prove his point, he pulled her close again, tucking his arms under her head and across her side like they always slept while camping. They faced the chill of the night and the possibilities of danger, but they always had the stars and each other. Why should the trials of parenthood be any different?
Hilda fell silent, and the crackling fire ticked off the minutes. Just when Caspar had almost drifted off to sleep again, her soft voice cut through the dreamy haze.
“Maybe I should hire the nurse after all, like Holst suggested.”
Caspar peeked his eyes open. “No, you shouldn’t.”
“Yes, I should,” she protested. “Especially if you’re going to be stubborn, and refuse to leave my side for a decent night’s sleep.”
“No, you shouldn’t because you don’t actually want to do that.” His voice rose with his frustration, and instantly he felt guilty. Thankfully, Adaleigh didn’t stir. Lowering his volume, he added, “You said you suffered through all the miserable parts of pregnancy so there was no way you’d let someone else finish the job poorly.’”
“That was before. It’d make things easier for us.”
She didn’t meet his gaze, and Caspar knew her well enough to know that her concern for finding the easy way out was for his benefit and not spurred by her own desires.
“I don’t care if things are easy, Hilda,” he assured with a crooked grin. “Come on, you know me. A few blows won’t knock me down, and if they do, I’ll get right back up.”
Hilda sighed, her exasperation evident. “This isn’t something you can muscle through, Caspar. Unless you can train yourself to sleep through babies’ crying, you’re going to be miserable.”
“Nah, I’ll be happy. Ecstatic even.”
“If by happy you mean all loopy from exhaustion, then sure. You’re not doing yourself any favors by staying here at night, Caspar.”
His brows knitted together. “Do you think I’m doing you a favor? Cuz I don’t think of it that way at all.”
Hilda plucked at the fabric of the blanket. “I don’t know. It’s just an awfully big inconvenience to you. Sure, you’re really adorable with your cheering and compliments, and I appreciate that you try to help me change her sometimes, but—“ She swallowed the lump of guilt in her throat— “your duty as a knight should come first.”
Given her history of requesting favors from even the most stoic and focused soldiers, the statement would almost be comically ironic if Caspar didn’t know her so well.
He tilted her gaze back to look at him, thumbing her cheek sweetly. “Look, even if I don’t get a wink of sleep, I won’t regret spending every night with you and Adaleigh. I wanna help you, even if all I can offer is moral support. I wanna make sure you know what an amazing job you’re doing.”
Caspar glanced over to the cradle, and added, “She’s our daughter, so I’m with you, two-hundred percent.”
When he turned back to Hilda an adoring smile curled at her lips. “I swear you get more stubborn everyday,” she teased.
“Someone’s gotta remind you we’re a team,” Caspar said, laying his head back down to soak in her loving gaze. Humored and genuine, she only ever smiled like that around him. He adored it, as much as her rare proud grin. “I’m sticking with you through everything, the good parts and the inconveniences. I swore an oath as a knight, but my oaths as your husband come first. Always.”
Hilda puffed out her cheek, but it looked more like she was suppressing laughter than proclaiming her defiance.
“Fine! You win!” she huffed. “It’s not fair that you’re both cute and convincing.”
Caspar chuckled as she snuggled closer against him, relaxing finally. He ran his fingers through her hair and said, “Learned from the best of them.”
Hilda giggled, just as sweet as a lullaby. A comfortable silence followed, and just when he thought she resigned herself to the peace of dreams, she said in a soft voice, “To be honest, I feel like I’m doing this whole mama thing all wrong. But every time I really start dwelling on that, you compliment me, and I think, wow, maybe I’m doing okay after all.”
She tightened her arms around him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here. I don’t want you to sleep anywhere else, but it just feels so selfish when you have important things to do.”
“It’s not,” Caspar assured. “I wanna be here, Hilda.”
He pressed his lips gently against hers, determined to quell all her remaining doubts. Hilda kissed back sweet and reverently, and the night felt like it paused, like they both slipped into dreams. And like the best of dreams this one was meant to be savored and cherished. Both husband and wife were so very, very tired, but every languid exchange held the weight of Hilda’s relief and Caspar’s adoration.
What was a favor but an assurance that he loved her? A promise that he’d always love her?
For all of Caspar’s preference for fanfare and shouting, he knew the strongest promises were whispered and gentle, heard by the heart alone.
Like this kiss.
Eventually, Hilda pulled away with a contented sigh. “You’re really persuasive, you know that?” she whispered as she rested her head on his shoulder. “And a really good pillow too.”
Caspar chuckled. “Sure am! Want me to prove how great at lullabies I am too?”
She snorted, and shook her head. “Eh, let’s leave the lullabies to Mama. I hear Papa’s very good at bedtime stories though.”
Caspar laid a weary kiss on her cheek. “Once upon a time, I met an amazing woman named Hilda, and swore I’d love her forever.”
Hilda crooned drowsily. “That’s my favorite one.”
Tenderly, she caressed his back, sweeping her hands in lethargic circles. Within moments, the motion slowed to a crawl as she finally succumbed to her fatigue. His own eyes felt heavy, the comfort of her warmth and love too lulling.
“Good night, Hilda,” Caspar whispered. “See you in two hours.”
She mustered the faintest laugh before she drifted off to sleep.