Weston tossed and turned in his bed, groaning in irritation. He could hear the faint cries of the babies, despite being on a completely different wing in the castle. Easton, who was only a few rooms down, must’ve heard the same thing, for the twins hopped out of bed at the same time and glanced at each other.
"You go," Easton said, not wanting to get on the King’s last nerves, since it was a command to not disturb the screeching babies at night.
"They’ve been crying like this for three days," Weston solemnly said, despite just rolling around in bed, infuriated by the sound.
"Surely, it’d damage their lungs if we let this continue," Weston added on. The babies never stopped crying at night and sometimes, the twins would sneak in, heat up some milk, and put the pacifier in their mouths afterwards.
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"But the doctor examined them this morning, saying their bodies are perfectly healthy, including their lungs," Easton noted. He was worried about being caught by the King for disobeying his command.
"That is because the King’s powerful blood flows through them," Weston murmured. "But you forget they’re part human, and they’re not as strong as us."
Weston tightened his robe and frowned. "Now let’s go. We have our godchildren to feed."
Easton stared at him. "But neither the King or Queen made us their godparent."
"We might as well be," Weston responded. "Well, at the least, I will be since my relationship with Lydia—"
"Wait, brother, do you hear that?" Easton suddenly said, not wanting to hear the lovey dovey bits of his brother’s relationship. It only reminded him of how awfully single he was, and how much Minerva would never love him back.
"Hear what?" Weston asked, his scowl deepening to form lines on his forehead. "I don’t hear anything."
"Exactly!" Easton exclaimed, his eyes wide and curious. "The babies stopped crying on their own! It’s a miracle!"
Weston paused, letting the information settle in a bit. Have they finally learned to be independent? But it had only been three days since their birth! Seconds went by, and his face paled.
"It’s not a miracle, but a curse!" Weston shouted, running out of the door, his brother hot on his trail.
"What’s the issue?" Easton g.r.o.a.n.e.d, chasing after his younger brother. All he wanted to do was hop back into bed and lay there until the sun came up! Even though vampires rarely slept and needed their rest, it still felt nice to lie down and take a break.
"Babies do not stop crying on their own. Either they’re suffocating or they’re being murdered," Weston hissed at his older brother. "How stupid can you get? Would it kill you to pick up a book once in a while?!"
"Well excuse me for being optimistic and wanting the best!" Easton shouted back.
They raced up the stairs and towards the King’s direction. Easton glanced at the King’s bedroom, worried he might’ve overheard them. He felt like cold water was splashed on his face and the rug was yanked off of his feet.
"U-uh oh, W-Weston—"
"Shut up!" Weston hissed, ignoring his brother’s observations. He began to quickly approach the door, not realizing that Easton was staring directly at the open door of the King’s bedroom.
Weston entered the nursery in time to see a shadowy figure standing near the infants’ crib.
"Hands off or you lose it," Weston growled, his fangs protruding out of his lips, his eyes bloody red.
The tall and dark silhouette did not respond. Instead, he bent down and observed the quiet babies, who squirmed in their crib, wide eyed.
"W-Weston—"
"I said shut it—"
"That’s His Majesty!" Easton shouted, just as he flicked on the lights to reveal the haunting figure of the King dressed in a loose, silk robe, his back turned to them.
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"Your Majesty," Weston breathed out, but he was still on high alert.
The King was not in the right state of mind right now. Who knows what he’d do to the newborns that put their mother in a coma?
Weston took a step forward, frightened that the King was going to hurt his own children. His hands trembled as he slowly advanced into the room, hoping to grab the babies before it was too late.
"T-think about Her Grace," Weston stammered, attempting to reason with the King.
"Please!" Weston pleaded when the King bent down and picked up the youngest.
Elias stared at the baby’s face, tiny and squishable. The baby peered up at him, mouth opened, fascinated by the sight of their father.
Elias felt a strange emotion stir from within, a sense of protection towards these monsters. But the realization of what they’ve done completely wiped his protective instinct.
Elias began to experience a murderous rage, his blood boiling. These little monsters were the cause of his wife’s coma. They were the reason that Adeline was lying motionless.
"I should strangle you to death, perhaps it will bring my darling back," Elias murmured, his hand creeping closer to the baby’s neck.
"No, Your Majesty!" Weston cried out, rushing forward, but was quickly held back by Easton, who was afraid they’d be the next victim.
"G-gah!" The baby cried, squirming in response, thrashing about, tears rolling off their moistened cheeks, bright red from their previous tantrum.
"What gives you the right to cry?" Elias harshly demanded, going through the five stages of grief within three days.
First, it was the denial and shock of her birth, next was the anger for his children, and now, he was going to bargain their life for hers.
"How dare you cry and throw a tantrum when she is unconscious because of you?!" Elias hissed as the baby instantly shut up.
The baby peered up at him, frightened and confused.
Elias’s c.h.e.s.t rose and rose with each thunderous breath he took in. The sight of his own child infuriated him. If they were monsters, then what was he?
Depression and melancholy replaced the hatred and pain in his heart. He stared at the baby, who was only a few days old, but was beginning to resemble Adeline.
Elias could see it in the child’s bright green eyes. It was like he was looking directly at Adeline. The baby had gemstones in her gaze, sparkling under the chandelier lights.
"How dare you…?" Elias whispered, his hands trembling, as his throat tightened and his nose clogged. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming wave of agony. He shakily brought the baby to his n.a.k.e.d shoulder and c.h.e.s.t.
"And how dare I treat you like this?" Elias murmured, holding his baby tight to his body, a skin-to-skin that none of them had ever experienced. "When I’ve sworn to her I’d treat you like my flesh and blood?"
Weston’s guard slowly became lowered. He stopped struggling against Easton’s hold. The King was going through the second to last stage of grief—depression.? Weston pressed his lips together. The King was the kind to grieve in peace and heal himself in solitude.
"W-wahhh!" The neglected newborn in the crib cried, jealous that their youngest was receiving all the attention.
"Oh no," Easton whispered, taking a tentative step forward, just as Weston did the same.
Elias paused and glanced down. The eldest had his eyes, bright red like rubies. He balanced one child in his arm and carried the other, allowing both to have skin-to-skin with him.
A moment of silence fell over them when Elias stood there and soothed the babies like it was no problem, when it took an entire team to calm them down. Indeed, it took a village to raise a child.
"Let’s go," Weston whispered to Easton, knowing this was a moment of privacy for the King. Easton nodded and the two immediately headed for the door, understanding the King had it handled from here.
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