THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Birth of the True King

"Tristan! It hurts!" Isabel screamed while her voice was filled with agony.

"I'm here, my love. I'm right here," Tristan replied with a voice steady yet laced with worry. He held her hand tightly as his thumb brushed soothingly over her knuckles. "Breathe, just like the midwife said."

"I can't, Tristan, I can't!" Isabel cried out, her grip on his hand tightening as another contraction wracked her body.

Teressa who was bustling about the room, anxiously called out, "Tristan, get a basin of water! Quickly, now!"

Tristan immediately nodded with a pounding heart, and rushed obediently to comply. He filled the basin and brought it to Teressa, who was already wiping Isabel's forehead with a damp cloth.

"Just breathe, dear," Teressa said, her voice gentle yet firm. "You’re doing wonderfully. We’re almost there."

Mrs. Hawthorne, hovering nearby, added, "We need another pillow. Tristan, fetch it quickly!"

Tristan darted out of the room and returned with a pillow, placing it behind Isabel to help support her. By then, Isabel's face was already flushed, sweat streaming down her forehead. "Tristan, I'm scared," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Tristan wiped her forehead again, his heart aching at the sight of her suffering. "I know, my love. But you’re strong. You can do this. I'm right here with you."

Isabel looked him in the eyes and saw how much he believed she could do it. She couldn't possibly disappoint him and worry him now. And so even though her breathing was ragged, she summoned all her strength. "I don't know if I can...," she gasped, her eyes filled with fear.

The midwife leaned in, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. "You're doing wonderfully, Isabel. The baby is almost here. Just a little more, my dear."

Teressa and Mrs. Hawthorne exchanged nervous glances but kept their focus on Isabel. "You're so close, Isabel," Mrs. Hawthorne said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just one more big push."

With a final, primal scream, Isabel pushed with all her might. The room was filled with the sharp cry of a newborn, and the midwife held up a tiny, wriggling form. "It's a boy," she announced, a weary smile on her face.

Isabel collapsed back onto the bed, utterly exhausted. Tristan’s eyes welled up as he looked at the baby, his heart swelling with an overwhelming joy. "You did it, my love," he said softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. "He's here, and he's perfect."

The midwife carefully placed the baby in Isabel's arms, and she gazed down at her son, her expression with awe and love. "Hello, my sweet boy," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Teressa, tears of relief and joy streaming down her face, kissed Isabel's forehead. "You were magnificent, my dear."

Mrs. Hawthorne, standing back with a smile of pride, added, "He’s beautiful, Isabel. You did wonderfully."

Tristan looked on while his hand still held Isabel's, offering silent support. Despite the circumstances that had brought them together, he felt an immense sense of pride and responsibility for the new life that had entered the world. Isabel's son, who will soon be his king, cried out with its tiny voice trying to reach out to the warmth of his mother.

As Isabel cradled her son, she felt a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. She thought of Lucian, the father of her child, and wondered if he would ever know about the small baby boy who now lay in her arms.

Tristan saw the flicker of sadness in her eyes and immediately squeezed her hand gently. "We'll protect him, my love. No matter what," he vowed.

Of course he would absolutely protect the heir to the throne. It was his duty, after all. To serve and protect the crown. He would ensure this baby grew up with all the good things he could ever give to make him a fine king one day.

Tristan watched as Isabel gently rocked the baby, her eyes never leaving their son. The room, filled with the remnants of tension and the echoes of Isabel's cries, now held a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft coos of the newborn.

Teressa and Mrs. Hawthorne began to tidy up, their faces still radiant with the joy of the birth. "We should let the mother and child rest," Mrs. Hawthorne said quietly, placing a comforting hand on Tristan's shoulder. "You've both been through so much."

Teressa nodded in agreement. "Yes, rest is what they need now. We'll be just outside if you need anything."

As the two women left the room, Tristan pulled a chair close to Isabel's bedside and sat down, still holding her hand. "You were incredible," he murmured, his voice full of admiration.

Isabel gave him a tired but grateful smile. "I couldn't have done it without you," she whispered.

Tristan brushed a kiss on her knuckles. "There's nowhere else I would rather be, my love."

For a moment, they simply sat there, basking in the miracle of their son's birth. The quiet contentment of the moment allowed them to appreciate the life they had just brought into the world.

"He's so perfect," Isabel murmured, her eyes fixed on their son. "I never imagined he would be so beautiful."

Tristan smiled, his gaze equally captivated by the tiny bundle in Isabel's arms. "He's more than perfect, my love," he said softly. "He's our miracle."

Isabel nodded, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "We need to give him a name worthy of his future. A name that carries strength and hope."

Tristan considered her words carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. "How about Liam?" he suggested, his voice gentle. "It means 'strong-willed warrior.'"

Isabel's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Liam," she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with a sense of rightness. "Yes, I love it. Our little Liam."

Tristan reached out and gently touched the baby's tiny hand. "Liam," he whispered, smiling as the baby grasped his finger. "Welcome to the world, Liam. You are so loved already."

Isabel leaned her head against Tristan's shoulder, feeling a deep sense of peace. "Thank you, Tristan, for everything," she whispered and slowly closed her eyes, unintentionally falling asleep from exhaustion.

Seeing her drift off, Tristan gently took the newborn from her arms. "Mother," he called, his voice soft but urgent.

Teressa quickly walked back in the room and approached out of concern but also joy. "Yes, son?"

"Isabel's asleep. Can you take the baby while I make her more comfortable?" Tristan asked, carefully handing the newborn to Teressa.

"Of course, my dear," Teressa replied, cradling her grandson with a tender smile.

Tristan adjusted the pillows and blankets around Isabel, ensuring she was comfortable. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his expression filled with love and protectiveness. "Rest well, my love," he murmured.

Teressa watched them both with a warm heart. "He needs a name," she said softly, looking down at the baby.

Tristan nodded, moving to stand beside her. "We decided to name him Liam."

"Liam," Teressa repeated, smiling down at her grandson. "A strong name for a strong boy. You and Isabel are doing wonderfully. This little one is fortunate to have you both."