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Emperor Philza paces quietly in front of the closed doors, knights guarding the room as huffs and short screams spill from inside, filling his heart with dread and anxiety and hope in one fell swoop. His wife’s lovely voice grows hoarse at the other side, and Phil can’t help but want to enter and be by her side, hold her hand and kiss her brow.
Alas, the nurses would most likely kick him out, he’d probably get in the way and such a delicate process had to be done with the utmost care from the many maids and nurses at the other side of the door. Childbirth was a long, long task.
The knights can easily see the Emperor’s worry, the way his wing twitch and fluff out with nervousness each time a gasp makes its way from between closed doors, the way he hesitated before sending a maid to fetch his sons with the news of their newest sibling being born-- still after hours of labor. There’s a sudden heaviness in his shoulders that couldn’t compare to anything else; the stress of past wars was nothing compared to now.
Then, suddenly, there’s a flurry of movement, quick footsteps and startled shouts before the Empress screams , voice loud and filled with pain, and amid the scream, there is the wargled, soft cry of a baby taking its first breath.
Everything stills for a moment, and Philza looks at the closed door with thin-veiled disbelief. The baby’s cries-- his child’s cries are soft but strong, slightly muffled for a few seconds. He wants to come in, he wants to see his baby for the first time, wants to hold his wife and their youngest and never let go. Heart hammering on his chest, he takes a hold of the door’s golden handles just as a maid opens them.
“Your Grace,” She curtsies, and her voice is airy with relief, “You may enter now. Congratulations, the young Prince is healthy.”
Prince. He has a son, a baby boy. Phil feels giddy, and enters the room-made-infirmary with quick steps. He can’t look at the many maids who aided the birth, focusing only on his way and the little bundle she’s currently nursing. Kristin looks tired, sweat clinging to her brow and hair in disarray, but she grins at him as he gets close, eyes crinkling with unbound happiness.
He kisses her, her lips and hair, muttering “I love you” over and over again, praising her for a job well done, breathless with relief and love, laughter escaping the Emperor’s lips as he presses his forehead to hers, and both of them share a few seconds of pure, silent bliss with eachother. The maids scurry out of the door, taking with them dirty towels and half empty bassins, leaving the royal family to bask in the glow of a new life.
“You did so well,” Phil mutters, tension melting from his shoulders. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Kristin giggles, then gently, she cradles the little bundle in her arms closer to them. The baby stirs and suckles his lips for a moment, still keen on nursing and squealing in protest at being pulled away from it. “Someone wants to say hi.”
Phil gently, very gently, takes his baby into his arms for the first time. He’s small, the smallest thing he’s ever held in life, pink with chubby limbs and soft tufts of blonde hair on his head. The Emperor cradles his son in the crook of his arm, and the baby snuggles into the warmth of his body, gurgling quietly.
“Hello little one,” He says quietly, eyes bright and slightly wet. Kristin coes at the sight. “I’m your dad.”
The baby gurgles again, suckling on the fabric of his uniform. Phil chuckles, kisses his baby’s forehead tenderly, feeling warm on his lips, before handing him over back to his wife’s arms. “He’s precious.”
“He already looks like you,” Kristin musses, smiling fondly at her youngest, cooing at him as the baby moves his clumsy limbs. “What a handsome little boy.”
Phil chuckles, amused and lightheaded. Only the quiet knocks on the door at the telltale sound of hinges creaking call his attention. Peering from the door, his oldests stare at them with wide-eyed fascination, Wilbur and Techno look now more than ever like mirror images of surprise and wonder; mops of brown hair sticking into every direction, wide eyed and mouths open in a little ‘o’ shape as they look inside. The nine year olds stare at their father for a few seconds.
“C’mon Wil, Tech.” Phil calls them, and the twins don’t take a second to enter the room, closing the door for the sake of privacy before both boys stay by their father’s side, eyes transfixed on the small bundle in their mother’s arms. “You two are big brothers now.”
“Is it a boy? Or a girl? Techno says it’s a girl.”
Kristin giggles, and her twin boys’ stares are firmly on her. “He’s a boy. You two have a baby brother.”
Techno groans, and Wilbur cheers at the news-- a game between the two, the parents supposed. A small bet, it’s amusing to see. The baby squeaks at the loud noise in protest, and soft cries come from the blanket cradled against Kristin’s chest.
“Not so loud Wil,” Phil gently admonishes, and Wilbur nods at him, still eyeing the bundle where his little brother is. “Do you two want to see him?”
“Yes,” Wilbur says, Techno nods his head quickly, just as focused as his twin brother. They both shuffle closer to the bed their mother is resting in, and hold their breath as Kristin gently shifts the blanket away from the baby’s face.
“He’s really tiny,” Techno whispers, transfixed on his baby sibling. “Mom, he’s super tiny.”
Kristin giggles, nodding. Wilbur gently pokes his baby brother’s chubby hand, and gasps as the tiny little fingers wrap around his index in a tight grip. “Woah.”
There’s a quiet moment of bliss, Phil looks at his family with utmost adoration in his eyes, and feels the fire of protectiveness burning in his chest at the sight of his children and his wife huddling together, cooing over the newest addition to their beloved family.
“What’s his name?” Wilbur asks quietly, gently prying the little hand from his finger. The baby makes a chubby fist and gurgles softly.
Phil and Kristin share a glance, still smiling. “We haven’t decided yet.”
Wilbur hums, thinking. Techno looks at the gurgling baby, pokes his nose with a finger and watches as his baby brother flails his tiny arms at the contact. He’s just so tiny but so squirmy.
“Theseus.” He supplies after a few seconds, pronouncing each syllable carefully, afraid of getting it wrong. “His name should be Theseus.”
Wilbur wrinkles his nose, Kristin hums thoughtfully and Phil laughs gently. “Theseus? That’s a boring name.”
“It’s a cool name,” Techno sniffs, leveling his twin with a look that Wilbur returns wholeheartedly. “Warrior name.”
Of course, Phil thinks fondly, of course his twin sons would pick those sort of names. Piglin nature-- even if halflings, remains strong. Names akin nature, (Wild Boar, turned Wilbur once adopted) weaponry, (Technoblade, the closest translation to the Piglin name his son adorns) or warriors are common among Nether inhabitants.
“Theseus,” Kristin musses quietly, earning her sons’ attention. “Hmm.”
“Theseus Craft,” Philza tries out, an amused smile on his lips. “It has a ring to it.”
“Theseus...Tommy. Theseus Craft, for the prince. Tommy, for our little boy.” Kristin supplies, and Wilbur grins at the name. “Little Tommy, baby Tommy.”
Techno stays silent for a moment, but nods his head eagerly after a few seconds. “I like it.”
“Theseus “Tommy” Craft is it then.” Phil declares. Kristin kisses the top of Tommy’s head and the baby coos at his mother, “The smallest Prince.”
“Techno, we’re big brothers now.” Wilbur whispers excitedly, crawling onto the bed. Techno follows his twin’s lead, and both huddle together with their mother, looking at the newborn with glee.
Phil chuckles, wings spreading out in the room and guarding his family with them. The love he feels is so strong it threatens to drown him. The Antarctic Emperor holds his family close, thanks the End for its blessings, and swears to never let them go.