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He pressed another kiss to her belly.

"Then our daughter has better manners."

Fae was sure it was their daughter who promptly kicked his hand.

***

The nights were worse, not because Blaidd neglected her. He had developed the ability to wake whenever she so much as shifted beneath the blankets. If she turned onto her other side, he was awake. If she sighed, he asked what was wrong. If she rose to use the privy, he followed her to the door in case she tripped or fell…or got kidnapped by the bats in the attic.

Once, at three in the morning, she had woken to find him staring at her.

"What?" she demanded sleepily, "You are being weird again."

"Are you comfortable?"

"I was."

"Your breathing changed."

"Because I was dreaming. And now I am wondering if I need to to pee again."

"Was it a bad dream?"

"I was dreaming about bread."

He considered this.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"There's fresh bread downstairs."

"Blaidd."

"I could get some. With some of that blueberrry preserve."

She pulled the blanket over her head and ordered him to go get it.

A moment later, his enormous body settled carefully behind hers, his arm curving beneath her belly to support its weight. He had learned how to hold her without pressing against the babies. How to rub the aching muscles of her lower back. He was now an expert at warming her cold feet between his calves.

He had also learnt how to endure the indignity of being used as a pillow, a footrest, and occasionally something to shout at. He bore it all with extraordinary patience.

Until she cried over her weight. It happened one evening when she stood before the mirror, wearing a gown that had fit her only a fortnight earlier.

"Look at me," she whispered.

Blaidd looked up from the documents on his lap.

"What?"

"I'm enormous."

He set the papers aside.

"You're carrying twins."

"I know that."