Haven was the first to answer him, his vivid green gaze almost accusatory, glaring hard at his king. Perhaps it was paranoia, that his first assumption was that he was to blame... But the air was so hostile, so tense! He could hear the horses nickering nervously and stamping their hooves, disliking the overwhelming scent of wolf blood permeating the stables. Jacquez clenched his jaw, forcing his hand to release the splinters of wood he had been wrenching silently from the doorframe. Pinpricks of his own blood welled to the surface of his pawpads, but he felt nothing, nothing at all. He pulled the door shut, absent-mindedly noting the change in temperature.
The tall Optime moved stiffly into the dim barn then, his fathomless stare suddenly met by Firefly's wild gaze. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes welling with tears of pain and confusion and regret. He tried not to visibly flinch, shocked by how hard it was to recognize the proud woman. This whole scene was so far out of his comfort zone, he did not know how to handle himself at all. He could not be warm and caring, but he could hardly be dignified or regal either, and there was not much he could be angry about since he didn't want the whelps anyway! Or... was that true? Even in their passionate fighting, he had never told her to abort the little worms in her belly. They were hers to do with as she wished.
"S'not your fault," he acknowledged gruffly, just as uncertain to what he meant as she was. Deeming it appropriate to squat on his haunches and join their level, the king flattened his ears against his skull at the dreadful noises he was hearing. A healthy childbirth was a repulsive act that made him nauseous, which made this the most horrifying event he had ever experienced. It made him glad that he had not been born in the traditional way, but rather came into existence as an adult, missing only his arm. No one could achieve greatness when their first breath was drawn as a bloody gasp in a slithering pool of placenta.
He was not watching Alaine and her quick professional movements, but he could feel her eyes on him after a moment and turned to see why she had diverted her attention. Gone was the timid southern belle that had greeted him in the hallways of the hotel; this woman was fierce and dutiful, master of her craft and dominant in this crisis. Her eyes were flecks of ice as she stared him down, wordlessly pushing something towards him.
Jacquez glanced down at it, and felt the blood drain from his face, felt his stomach heave violently. She was handing him a slimy little corpse, its bug-eyes sealed shut forever, its disproportionately large head lolling in her delicate fingers. The king turned to one side and retched, colorless vomit spattering the hay below him. It was the most vile thing he had ever seen, still slathered in its mother's lifeblood. Screwing his eyes shut, the mongrel quickly scooped a handful of straw, then grabbed the premature infant, dropping it behind him as swiftly as he could. It was going cold already. This was utterly sick, how much longer could it go on? Firefly... It would probably be a mercy if she died now, rather than having to suffer through this any longer.