The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

The room was bathed in the golden glow of lanterns and the flickering warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth. The scent of herbs hung in the air, and the hum of tension was palpable. Esther lay on the bed, her face glistening with sweat, her breaths shallow and rapid as she clung to the sheets. Her usually serene features were contorted in pain, yet her determination shone through. Her hands gripped the bedframe, knuckles white, as a guttural groan escaped her lips.

Mikael stood nearby, his broad shoulders tense, arms crossed over his chest as if he could physically shield Esther from the agony she endured. His jaw was clenched, the muscle twitching as he watched her, helpless but resolute. His usually piercing eyes were soft, filled with a mixture of love, worry, and guilt for putting her through this. Every cry from Esther seemed to send a pang straight to his heart. He stepped forward, then stopped, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally took hers in his, squeezing tightly.

"You're strong, Esther. You're stronger than anyone I know," he murmured, his voice low and steady, though it trembled at the edges.

Esther's lips twitched into a brief, weak smile, her grip tightening on his hand. "I...I hope you remember that when...when I tell you this is your fault," she panted, her voice barely a whisper but laced with humor despite the pain.

Ayana, the midwife and healer, moved gracefully around the room, her presence a calm center in the storm. Her dark, wise eyes darted between Esther and her supplies, her hands steady as she prepared warm water and clean linens. Her movements were methodical, precise, yet there was an air of urgency in the way her fingers occasionally trembled as she worked.

"Esther, breathe," Ayana instructed gently, her voice carrying the weight of authority and reassurance. She knelt beside the bed, her hand lightly resting on Esther's knee, grounding her. "It's almost time. You're doing beautifully, my dear. A little more, and you'll meet them."

Esther let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan, her head falling back against the pillow. "Beautifully? Ayana, I think we have different definitions of that word."

Mikael chuckled softly despite himself, leaning closer to brush damp strands of hair from her face. "She's right, though. You're incredible."

As the contractions grew stronger, Esther's cries filled the room, mingling with the sound of Ayana's calm instructions and Mikael's whispered encouragements. Tears welled in Mikael's eyes, unbidden, as he watched the woman he loved endure so much. He blinked them away quickly, unwilling to let Esther see his fear.

Ayana's voice cut through the tension. "I can see the first one. Esther, you need to push. One big push now."

Esther gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling with effort. She let out a scream, raw and primal, and then, suddenly, the first cry of a newborn filled the room. Ayana worked quickly, lifting the baby boy into her arms. His tiny face was scrunched in protest, his wails strong and defiant.

"It's a boy," Ayana announced, her face breaking into a rare, genuine smile. She placed the baby in Mikael's arms, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Mikael stared at the tiny life in his hands, his expression one of awe and disbelief. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. His thumb brushed over the baby's cheek, and he let out a shaky breath.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice cracking.

But Ayana's voice quickly brought them back. "We're not done yet. Esther, one more time."

Esther groaned in exhaustion, her head lolling to the side. Mikael knelt beside her, the baby still cradled carefully in one arm.

"You can do this," he said, his voice firmer now, his free hand cupping her cheek. "You're amazing, Esther. Just a little more."

With a final surge of strength, Esther pushed again, and the room was filled with the cry of the second baby. This time, Ayana's hands cradled a tiny girl, who seemed even louder and more determined than her brother.

"A girl," Ayana announced softly, her eyes glistening as she laid the baby on Esther's chest.

Tears streamed down Esther's face as she gazed at her children, her arms trembling as she held them close. Mikael knelt beside her, his forehead pressed against hers, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

"We did it," Esther whispered, her voice filled with equal parts exhaustion and triumph. "They're here."

Mikael nodded, his lips brushing her temple. "You did it. You brought them into this world. Our children."

Ayana stepped back, a quiet smile on her face as she watched the family. She wiped her hands on her apron, giving them a moment of privacy, though her heart swelled with pride and relief.

In that moment, the room was filled with nothing but love, the cries of newborns fading into the steady rhythm of a new life beginning.

Mikael sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the newborns in his arms. His broad frame seemed almost too large, too coarse, to be holding such delicate lives, yet his movements were uncharacteristically gentle. He gazed down at them, his fierce expression softened into something unrecognizable—a mix of awe, love, and an unspoken promise.

Esther leaned against the pillows, her head tilted to watch him. Her face, though pale and weary, glowed with a quiet joy. Her eyes stayed locked on Mikael and their children, her lips curved into a small, tired smile. Ayana busied herself in the corner, tidying the room, though her watchful eyes occasionally flicked toward the family.

Mikael glanced at the baby boy in his right arm, his thumb brushing over the downy tuft of dark hair that crowned the infant's head. The boy squirmed slightly, his small fists waving in the air, his cries now subdued to soft whimpers.

"You're strong," Mikael murmured, his voice low but resonant, filled with pride. "Like your mother."

He turned his gaze to the girl in his left arm, her tiny face a mirror of Esther's serenity. She had wisps of golden hair and delicate features, though her lips pursed as if already dissatisfied with her new world. Mikael chuckled softly, a sound so rare it startled even him.

"And you," he said, his voice tinged with wonder, "you're already looking for trouble, aren't you?"

He looked back at Esther, his eyes shining. "Their names," he said, his tone carrying the weight of the moment. "They need strong names. Names worthy of who they will become."

Esther nodded weakly, her gaze drifting to the boy. "He should have a name that reflects strength...a name to honor his legacy."

Mikael's brow furrowed in thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment, he nodded, his voice firm as he spoke. "Ivar. He will be Ivar."

Esther's smile widened, a flicker of approval in her tired eyes. "Ivar," she repeated softly, her voice carrying the name like a blessing.

Mikael shifted his focus to the girl, his expression softening further. "And you," he said, his tone gentler now. "You'll need a name that captures your spirit... Freya."

Esther's lips trembled as she whispered, "Freya...it's perfect."

Mikael leaned forward, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. "Ivar and Freya," he said, the names rolling off his tongue like a vow. "My son and my daughter."

As he held them close, a flicker of something unusual passed through Ivar's eyes. For a moment, they seemed to focus, far too aware for a newborn. The infant blinked slowly, taking in the room, his gaze darting to the faces around him.

So, I have arrived, Ivar thought, his tone in his mind both resigned and wry. Damn. I have to relive childhood once again.

If anyone noticed the subtle shift in his expression—a fleeting hint of frustration, a knowing furrow of his tiny brow—they didn't comment. He let out a soft, almost irritated coo, his fist brushing against Mikael's chest.

Freya, oblivious to her brother's inner musings, yawned, her small mouth opening wide before she nestled closer to Mikael. Her tiny hand reached out, brushing against Ivar's cheek.

Mikael laughed quietly, his eyes glistening. "Already close," he said, glancing at Esther. "They'll look after each other."

Esther nodded, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she watched them. "They will," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "They already belong to each other."

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth and the room settled into a tranquil stillness, Ayana finally allowed herself a quiet smile. The world outside might be fraught with chaos and uncertainty, but within these walls, a new story was beginning—one filled with love, strength, and the weight of destiny.