Ravensblood Forest the bird and the bee [m]

Let’s assume they discussed names beforehand?
Also, opening this to all members of the family! 

[table width=85%][tr][td]

With infatuated eyes the new mother leaned against her husband and watched as her husband greeted their children for the first time and then whispered sweet nothings into her hear; but Olives senses were all fuzzy, her brain shellacked by the rush of endorphins bespoke by the labor pains. The pain and discomfort of the night was easily forgotten, surrounded to the all-consuming joy that emanated from the small babes, tugging greedily at her breast and making those sweet baby sounds as they consumed their first meal [olive wondered how much milk actually reached their tiny little bellies, as they seemed to quite enjoy rolling the white liquid around on their tongue and letting it dribble it out the sides of their mouths]. When the dark night moved away Olive resumed her caresses, feeling their soft fur and minuscule little bone structure under her touch and wondering how on earth such innocence could possibly exist and be borne from her body. Later, the mother would remember this delivery as the single most deeply spiritual and moving experience of her life.

In her mind, Olive responded to Dakarai’s “I love you,” but her mouth refused to move. The seraph was at a loss for words in that moment — how could she possibly speak the pure, white light that she felt radiating from within? Like so many of their confessions of love, it was felt but not spoken. It settled on her like moondust, falling from the sky and cradling her in its divine purpose and scheme; but soon she realized it was not moondust but Dakarai’s arms that held her and caressed her sore body. Here, surrounded her three suckling babes and the love she almost lost thrice, she felt something more than love. She felt infinite.

As the sun continued to rise over the treetops, finally Olive found her tongue — but her words came not in forms of endearment, but about their children [for a moment, Olive wondered if she would ever be able to speak about anything but]. “Oh, my king” she breathed, her voice soft and featherlight — these were the first few words she had spoke since giving birth and her vocal chords were quite strangled from the effort of the whole thing — but she spoke anyways. “I cannot think of a single thing more perfect than this moment.” Her black rose reached up and rooted around for the pulse spot on her neck, hopefully assuaging any anxieties that may have plagued the new father. While mothers experienced the physical pains of child bearing, it was often the fathers who felt helpless and bore the brunt of the stress. “Thank you for giving this to me.” She nuzzled and sighed, knowing that Dakarai understood what she meant by it: your sacrifices made this all possible. 

“Sirius” she said, licking milk from the muzzle of the largest boy — her firstborn. “Aries” was said of the second boy [a miniature version of his twin] who had come as such as surprise. “Cassiopeia” she christened the sole little girl.  “Just like we spoke about.” They had names planned out for more; but three was the perfect number. Three perfect little heavy pups who still pulled eagerly at her teats. With the last of her strength, Olive let out one joyful little cry — a small howl which’s energy and message carried high over the bleeding timbers, hopefully reaching the ears of her friend Carina who promise to stay close [and giving the entirety of Teaghlaigh a de facto update about the events of the night before]. The litter and mother appeared to be fine and healthy, but Olive trusted the sharp mind of the sheepdog over all else and wanted her trained eye to assess the babes. After, Olive laid back upon Dakarai and let her eyelids slip shut as true exhaustion took hold of her; she would not sleep but rest with her eyes closed, ears trained for sounds of any others that might approach.

[/tr][/td][/table]