175. Nicholaus

175. Nicholaus
The contractions do not slow. They come one after another, folding Echo forward with a force that steals her breath and shatters mine. I keep one arm around her waist as we walk, circling the room the way the healer instructed, but with each lap her steps grow shorter. Her fingers clutch my shirt, her forehead pressing to my shoulder every time the pain drags her under.
“Breathe,” I whisper into her hair. “With me. In… and out… that’s it. I’ve got you.”
Her nails dig into my arm when the next wave hits. Her body bows, her breath stutters, and a cry tears from her throat before she can swallow it back. The sound punches straight through my chest. I guide her down into another crouch, supporting her weight completely as her knees tremble. The healer kneels nearby, calm, watching the timing, her hands poised and ready.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Let your body go with it, my queen. Don’t resist the pull.”
Echo shakes her head, jaw tight, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes even though she refuses to sob.
“It hurts,” she breathes, voice cracking on the words.
“I know,” I whisper back, wiping her cheek with my thumb. “I know, my love. You’re doing everything perfectly.”
Her pain runs through the bond like a fevered river. I take as much of it as I can, grounding her with every breath, every whisper, every stroke of my palm against her spine. It’s unbearable — the way her body shakes, the way her magic flickers uncontrolled beneath her skin, the way she clings to me because I’m the only thing she can focus on through the agony. But gods, even through the fear, through the helplessness ripping me apart — I have never seen anything more extraordinary than her strength.

Another contraction strikes before she fully recovers from the last. Her body jerks, her fingers clawing at my arm.
“That’s too fast,” I say quietly, glancing toward the healer.
She nods. “Her labour is progressing quickly. Her body knows what it’s doing. Don’t fear the pace.”
I swallow, shifting behind Echo, rubbing steady circles along her lower back with the heel of my hand, the way the healer instructed. Echo gasps at the pressure, and I lean closer, my lips brushing the damp curve of her temple.
“You’re safe,” I murmur. “You’re not alone. I’m right here with you.”
Her answer is a breathless cry as the contraction peaks so violently she curls over her stomach, forehead pressed to my thigh. I slide my fingers into her hair, steadying her as her body shakes. When the contraction finally loosens its grip, she slumps into my arms, trembling.
“I can’t,” she whispers, voice hoarse.
“Yes,” I say immediately, fiercely. “You can. You are. Look at me.”
She lifts her face, eyes wet, glowing faintly with the effort of keeping her magic contained.
“You’re going to bring our child into this world,” I breathe. “And there is no one stronger than you, Echo.”
Her lips part on a broken, exhausted sound, but before she can answer, another contraction slams through her body, and she collapses against me. I hold her tightly, bracing her weight.
The healer rises quickly. “It’s time.”
My heart stutters. “Time?”
She nods once, already clearing the bed. “We need her lying down. The child is descending fast.”
Everything in me moves at once.

I slip my arms beneath Echo and lift her carefully, aware of every flinch, every tremor of pain as her contraction continues. She buries her face against my chest, breath ragged, body curling inward as another wave hits before the first has even ended.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head as I carry her to the bed. “Hold on, my love. Just hold on.”
The healers spread blankets, wipe their hands, prepare cloths and warm water. They work with practised calm, their movements a steady, quiet efficiency in the face of Echo’s shaking. I lower her onto the mattress slowly, and she arches with a sharp gasp as another contraction seizes her.
The healer checks her, then meets my eyes with a firm nod. “She’s ready. It’s time for her to push.”
Echo’s breath catches. “Nicholaus—”
I take her hand instantly, threading our fingers together, grounding her with my whole body.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here. Look at me.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and terrified and burning with determination.
The healer lifts Echo’s knees, bracing her position. “When the next wave comes, pull into it. Don’t hold your breath. Push with it.”
Echo nods — a trembling, frightened motion, and the contraction hits like a tidal wave. Her entire body bows, her hand crushing mine. Her face contorts with pain, a sound tearing from her throat so raw it splits something inside me.
“That’s it,” the healer encourages. “Push, my queen. Push.”
Echo cries out, breath breaking, her body curling as she bears down. I stroke her hair, whispering into her ear, telling her she’s strong, she’s brave, she’s almost there. Tears blur my vision, but I don’t let go of her hand. The contraction ends, and Echo collapses back against the pillows, chest heaving, sweat glistening across her forehead.
“I can’t,” she gasps again.
“Yes,” I breathe, cupping her cheek. “You can. You already are.”
The healer checks her again. “The head is crowning. One more strong push.”
Echo shakes her head, panic rising in her chest.
“Echo,” I whisper, leaning close until my forehead touches hers. “Our child is right there. You’ve brought them this far. Bring them the rest of the way. I know you can.”
Her breath trembles. The bond flares with fear, pain and exhaustion, but beneath it all is something more powerful. Love.

Another contraction slams into her. She screams, gripping my hand with a strength that nearly breaks bones. Her body curls forward, face twisted in agony and sheer, relentless will.
“That’s it,” the healer cries. “Yes—yes—keep going—”
Echo pushes again, a desperate, guttural sound ripping from her chest and then— There's a sudden shift, a release and a small, wet cry fills the room. My heart stops as the healer lifts a tiny, wriggling body into the light.
“A healthy baby,” she says, breathless with awe. “Your child is here.”
Echo falls back against the pillows, sobbing in relief, shaking, trembling from head to toe. I cannot breathe. I cannot think. All I can do is stare at the miracle crying softly in the healer’s hands. My child. Our child. Alive....Alive. The healer places the baby into Echo’s arms, and I lean forward, kissing Echo's temple while I let my tears fall freely.
"You did so well, my love. You did so well."