The morning was relatively quiet. She'd mentioned the cramps, the constricting, and he had done what he could to soothe her. Which currently consisted of making her tea. His mouth wove into a light frown as he poured the boiling water over the basket holding the mixture of her various leaves. The aroma changed almost instantly, from plain to robust in comparison, albeit the color of the steaming liquid was quite light.

He had just turned and set it down upon the table for her before his attention passed back to the stove. Feeding it another log to continue keeping the room warm. "Would you-" Her sudden groan caught him off guard and he would lapse his sight to her. He fell quiet, giving her her peace as his lips gently brushed over the top of her wild locks. "I-I think we need the midwife." He offered her a nod, his own heart beginning to accelerate. Gently, he would squeeze her shoulder, a comfort as he sought to help her stand.

"Alright. I'll help you to the bedroom, then I'll send for her." Despite his calm intonation, there was a light shiver to his hand as he aided her (carrying her if she wished it). Adrenaline. Excitement. Slight trepidation. It all bled into his veins and he had had such little rime to prepare for this grand undertaking. She had written him, but alas, he had had no way to read her words. A fellow soldier had offered once, only to get sharply reprimanded as he had made light of something she had said. Since then, his knuckles had healed, but his trust in another to translate for him had not. He didn't know.

He didn't know he was going to be a father.

Hasty apologies had fled his lips, bitten back woes that he could not have been present for her longer. Their home leave was somewhat extensive, but even if it wasn't, no.man would drag him from her side in the moment. The flats, thankfully, had a desk of management downstairs, and he was quick to take them two and three at a time. "The midwife. Please." He beckoned the woman sleepily leaning across the desk scribbling in a leather bound tome. She shut it sharply, her features lighting quickly into a flushed smile. "Oh! Already! Yes! Yes, sir, at once!"

With his message delivered, he was quick to arrive back at her bedside, wrapping her delicate hand between the two of his as he had to swallow his heart to speak. "Is there anything I can get you? Cold rag? Lift your legs? Anything?"

He, of course, knew nothing of child birth, but as she bit her lip and held tight to the air within her lungs, he would shake his head. The motion was meant to be calming, placating as he spoke, "Breathe. Whatever you can breathe through hurts less." A poor explanation, but a lesson he had learned well over his years and the various scars that had decorated them. The deeper, the better. Though he wasn't quite sure of anything else to aid her with, that at least he knew for certain.

"I'm alright." She murmured softly after the spell had passed. Placating, gentle, as she ever was. It was odd to him, unnerving even that soon he would have his own small family. Not just the two of them any longer, but another. Another mouth to feed. Another to care for. Another to run their halls and keep her company when he couldn't. There was a twinge in his chest, unfamiliar and distracting. Would they have a son? A daughter? Would they dance like their mother or play swords with her? How much could he be there? How long would the draft keep him from the odd tranquility he had found under the roof he shared with her?

Would they remember him when he returned?

"Imagine..." she pulled him from the maelstrom of musings that encircled his thoughts now that the uncertainty had finally settled deep into his bones. Her hand squeezed his tightly, delicate, soft. "The old hen's faces when we go back to Sanctuary." The corner of his lips lifted slightly in the ghost of a half smile. "Mmm, that you should've gotten married?" Though the inflection was somewhat absent, he would taunt her all the same. Sanctuary, the tiny refuge that it was, was a mill of constantly churning rumors. Each and every one of the residents, though he found the elderly to be the most outspoken of such affairs, had an opinion about everyone else there. Tongues wagged like the tails of the hounds they raised. Most attempted secrecy, but every now and then the whispers were much louder than they were meant to be, not to mention the heightened sense of hearing that picked them up regardless. This was especially true when it came to matters concerning the woman who had instructed dancing and as far as many eyes were concerned her star pupil. "Or that the child will look nothing like Mr. Reade, your intended?"

He pulled her hand towards him with the final remark, a quiet spark of humor reflected within his gaze, as the sound of footfalls collected like droplets of rain on the window panes before spilling over into the flat. A myriad of voices cooing in hushed tones that were barely audible from the privacy of their room. His lips passed softly over her knuckles as he heard them coming towards them and the open door he had left for their entrance. Towels, water, the other necessities and what luxuries could be afforded during such a precious time. They set about the place as if it was there very own, an announced plan of how things would proceed, granted everything went accordingly. A dark inkling that had him holding her petite digits slightly tighter.