After Clover had delivered the news that she was bearing his children, the life of Sirius Revlis had become very complex. Harsh lines of black and white suddenly melted into many hues of grey, many shades of indecision and worry and emotion that he had not perceived possible to feel. He had ordered the woman to relocate permanently to his chambers - Not that the order was required, as Clover hardly resisted. Many of the luxurious pelts and furs that had made up his bed were now huddled in a pile on the floor, where the pregnant woman had arranged them into a snug little nest to best support her increasingly rotund frame.
The King slept lightly, and his gaze almost constantly flicked back to check the woman. Sleep had evaded him of late, in an insomnia born of impatience and excitement. Soon, the golden-haired woman had told him; Soon his children would come into this world. He could hardly bare to wait, and was so often brimming with eager energy that he would pace the chamber until she asked him to cease. Then, he would slump back into the high-backed stone throne, and his narrowed pupils would linger on her, conflicted.
Pregnancy suited Clover, the man thought absently. He watched subtly beneath dark lashes as she napped, soaking in the peaceful smile on her delicate maw, the way her hands rested lightly on the swell of her soft creamy stomach. There was an unexpected jolt of tenderness within him - She was the perfect vessel to bear his children, the perfect maiden to carry his bloodline. So beautiful, so pure. Black lips curved up in a tired smile, and he rested his head on one arm, tilted in her direction so that he could continue to gaze upon her. The constant rain outside was a gentle, monotonous sound, and a calm relaxation poured through his restless frame, making it still at last.
He must have drifted off, and just been dozing lightly, for it was her little shocked gasp that provoked his eyes into flicking back open. His body quickly followed, jolting back into consciousness, and the lean dark man was already rising from the throne and moving across to her before he was fully aware of it. Her expression was one he had not seen before, not even when the pups inside her wriggled or shifted, and some natural instinct within him stirred. A gentle sound of questioning, a soft purr-like growl, ebbed from his maw, and the man crouched down near to her - Not touching her, but hovering anxiously. Even the most passive pregnant women were known to get snappy and agitated when their time came, and his instincts told him to remain at bay unless invited forward into her private space. "Wander!" Maw was tilted back into the gloom of the room, and the man barked the name of his slave in a sharp command, pupils seeking her out. Eyes immediately darted back to the beautiful woman, and he whined softly, irritated by his own uselessness. Childbirth was an ancient art sacred only to women - Here, all his wrath and power and ferocious intelligence was useless. "Is it time?" The King asked breathlessly, acidic eyes glittering intensely.
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