Oliver slept quietly.
Too quietly.
Theo had been watching him for hours. Charles rested beside the bed, still exhausted, while the room remained calm.
After nearly six hours—
Oliver stirred.
His tiny brows knit together.
Then he cried.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Charles woke immediately. "He's crying— Theo— what's wrong?"
Theo stepped closer. "Check him."
Charles carefully looked at him, unsure what to do. The maid approached gently.
"Your Highness… I think the heir is hungry again."
Theo nodded. "Feed him."
Charles lifted Oliver carefully, adjusting him with the maid's help. As soon as he was close, Oliver latched, drinking eagerly.
Theo watched, then raised a brow slightly.
"He eats a lot."
Charles gave a small tired smile. "What a big belly…"
Theo added quietly, "How much can he eat? His belly is so small."
The maid smiled softly. "That's normal for children, Your Majesty. Newborns eat often, even with small stomachs."
Theo looked at Oliver, who was drinking seriously, tiny hands curling.
He leaned slightly closer and spoke softly, almost like a quiet scolding.
"How tiny you are… and yet you make your father suffer so much bringing you into the world."
His tone wasn't harsh — more protective than anything.
Oliver kept drinking, unaware.
Charles stroked his small head gently. "Drink slowly, baby…"
Then Charles winced slightly, tears forming again.
"Theo… it hurts…"
Theo's gaze softened as he looked between them.
"…He's stubborn," Theo murmured quietly.
But he didn't stop Oliver.
Because the child was finally calm again.
And breathing.
And alive.