Louis looked at Sif.
Sif glanced at him, breathlessly signaling with her eyes towards the door: "Go ahead. I'll be fine."
Louis gently held her hand, but finally stepped out.
Emily had already hurried over from the end of the corridor, wearing a robe, her blue hair haphazardly tied, clearly having risen in haste.
Upon hearing the situation, without any hesitation, she quickly entered the room, closing the door behind her.
It wasn't until the door closed in front of him that Louis truly realized, there was nothing he could do.
He could only stand under the corridor.
The corridor wasn't cold; the oil lamps on the wall and the fireplace near the birthing room kept it warm, yet his hands were extremely stiff.
The sounds coming from behind the door weren't loud, but each one struck his nerves.
There were Elena's calm and steady instructions, Emily's gentle reassurances, and occasionally Sif's stifled groans escaping from her throat.
