His Majesty's Devious Sin Chapter 204 – War Would Be Waged

Nannies and wetnurses were hired for the babies whose father had yet to glance in their direction. The genders were kept hushed and only the two nannies and two wetnurses knew about it. 

The infants were fed and cared to their heart’s content, but they never stopped crying. All day, the castle was filled with their tears and shrieks. The only time they paused was to sleep and drink their milk. 

The King strictly forbade skin to skin. Once a wetnurse pumped her milk out, it was placed in a bottle to feed the newborns. Afterwards, they were placed in their cribs and entertained.

“Oh dear, it’s alright, little ones,” one of the nannies softly said, swaying the babies in her arms as they continued to thrash around and sob until their lungs turned hoarse. Then, they’d drink their milk, be burped, and placed to sleep.

“How could the King be so cruel?” the wetnurse asked, placing her freshly pumped milk into the fridge set at a perfect temperature. It only needed to be heated up for the children to drink it.

“He has not visited them once. If only he allowed us to have skin-to-skin, the babies will be calmer,” she added on, a sympathetic expression on her face. 

One of the infants had finally fallen asleep after giving them a lot of hassle.

“The King has his reasons,” the first nanny responded in murmur, careful to not disturb the baby more than they should’ve. Once the newborn is put to sleep, everyone was to be escorted out of the room. It was a dangerous thing to not monitor newborns. 

The nannies and wetnurses felt like the King was just waiting for them to be assassinated. They were children of the King of Wraith, whose list of enemies was thicker than a textbook. With no guards or protection, what will happen to them?

“I know he does,” the wet nurse said with a sigh. “I hear the Queen is in a coma… But at the least, shouldn’t he love the children she sacrificed her life to push out?”

The nannies sharply turned to her with a frown. The second one who was unoccupied with a baby immediately spoke up. “The Queen is alive. She did not sacrifice her life. Besides, Politcian Weston and Easton were able to advocate for the nursery to be placed on the same floor as the King’s bedroom. That says enough about his affection for these children. With his presence, no one will dare to hurt the children.”

“Well, I was just—”

“Why is our royal baby still crying?” A voice sharply asked from the doorway.

Everyone turned at the cold and solemn voice. Immediately, they bowed their heads in greeting.

“Hand them over,” Weston said with a frown as he took the infants from one of the nannies’ arms. 

Weston shot them irritated stares whilst resting the infant’s head upon his shoulder whilst resting their body upon his chest. It was one of the only ways Weston could provide them a bit of skin-to-skin with his neck.

“Don’t worry about my brother, he is always in a horrible mood,” Easton chirped with a bright smile, easing the tension in the room. 

Easton was always the mediator, especially for the gloomy Weston and somber King. It had always been like this for centuries now.

“Thank you for your duties tonight, as always,” Easton warmly said. “A car has been prepared for your ride home. If we need anything else, we will call upon you.”

“T-thank you, Mr. Fitzcharles,” they said, dodging their head and eyes from the glowering Weston. Everyone quickly left the room, not wanting to be in the infuriated Pure-Blood’s presence any longer.

Easton closed the doors behind them and followed them downstairs, making sure they didn’t wander, whilst reminding them to keep their mouths shut.

“There, there,” Weston muttered, affectionately patting the baby’s back. Even he did not know the gender, but he didn’t care. He already loved the children, whether or not he knew their names. 

Weston always wanted children, but they hated him. His face was too serious and stern for any children to approach him. Easton, who hated babies, were always treated kindly by them. Every child loved Easton because of his cheerful nature.

Regardless of a child’s response to him, Weston still enjoyed holding and playing with them. There was something interesting about childlike wonder and joy. He couldn’t describe it, but seeing them smile and laugh warmed his frigid heart.

Weston suddenly envisioned Lydia with a baby, one that’d cling onto his leg, or ask him to play ball. The thought nearly made him tear up, but what made him want to cry was the knowledge that the King’s children will never be properly loved by their parents.

“Your mother loves you very much,” Weston whispered to the infant who was continuing to scream into his ears. 

By now, Weston was used to the sound of babies crying.

“She just can’t hold you right now,” Weston reassured them. “But once she opens her eyes, you will receive all the love in the world.”

Weston could not say the same for the King. The King had never left his bedroom. He was in there for three days now, whilst Weston increased the search for the extremely rare O negative or positive match in Pure-Bloods. It was impossible. 

Sooner or later, war would be waged.

“Your father will grow to love you both,” Weston continued talking, whilst patting the infant’s back. 

The baby was growing a bit quieter now, as if they understood him, and wanted to hear his reassurance.

“He’ll love anything your mother loves,” Weston said. 

Weston carried the now silent infant to its crib, but didn’t lower them just yet.

“But I think he already loves you both,” Weston whispered. “If not, he wouldn’t have allowed both of you screaming banshees to be moved onto this floor, where his hearing is extremely sensitive. I know he hears your desperate cries for love. Sooner or later, he’ll come around to you both, I just know it.”

Weston pressed his neck even closer to the infant, knowing this was the most stubborn one of them since it was the youngest by a few seconds. This one, in particular, refused to sleep and screamed the loudest. But it was easy to reassure this one with kind words.

Just as Weston predicted, the newborn was beginning to fall asleep on his shoulders. Weston continued to stroke the back of the baby, whilst whispering soft, comforting words.

“Once your father heals from the unbearable pain of losing the love of your life in the same time she gave birth to the next love of his life, you will receive all of his affection. He just needs time,” Weston’s voice wavered towards the end. 

Weston squeezed his eyes shut, the memories of the King’s haunted, shattered expression imprinted onto his expression.

Before Weston left that day, he had seen the King drop to his knees for the first time in his life. It was as if the atheist King was praying to a God he used to never believe in.

“Your father is suffering, please give him some time,” Weston said.

Weston would never forget the King’s wretched screaming the first night of Adeline’s coma. Nor would he forget the deserted and distant stare in the King’s gaze, as if all the light was dimmed in the world, and darkness took over his hope.

Weston tried to forget the King’s murderous expression when they all rushed out of the room. For a split second there, Weston thought the King would’ve killed the children on the spot, out of fury and vengeance. 

“Time will heal him,” Weston said, but he knew that was not the truth.

Nothing will ever heal the King who lost his Queen too soon. Nothing will ever fill the King’s empty chest, for he had placed his heart in the Queen’s hands, and now, she was gone.