The days had taken on a quieter rhythm, like even the sun was rising a little slower for me now. My belly had grown full and round, making everything from getting dressed to tying my boots a small adventure of its own. I moved with more caution now—not because I was fragile, but because everything just… shifted. My balance, my center of gravity, even the way people looked at me.

  They didn’t treat me like I was breakable, thank the Moon—but they noticed. And that meant something.

  Everywhere I went, pack members paused with soft smiles or teasing grins. Compliments rolled in like a steady breeze—on how radiant I looked, how strong I was, how close it was getting. I lost track of how many times someone stopped me in the fortress market just to place a gentle hand to their chest and whisper, “Any day now.”

  I’d nod, smile, thank them. Sometimes I’d laugh. Sometimes I’d tear up a little. It was all getting very real.

  I passed one of the older pack members while heading back from the garden, and she offered a cheeky wink. “You look ready to pop, sweetheart. You’ve got that moon-mama glow.”

  I rubbed the small of my back, chuckling. “Oh, I feel it, too.”

  Back in our quarters, I caught my reflection in the mirror—a soft, round silhouette that looked like it held entire galaxies. The stretch of my belly pushed out the fabric of my tunic, and I let my hands rest on it, fingers splayed. “Not long now, little one,” I whispered. “We’re almost there.”

  I’d barely made it to the edge of the bed before I had to pause, hand braced on my belly and the other rubbing my lower back. I wasn’t in pain exactly, just… heavy. Stretched and tired in that deep, slow way that comes from carrying life around every moment of the day.

  “Need a hand, Moonflower?”

  Apolloh’s voice came from the doorway, warm and full of that teasing affection that always made me smile—even now. I looked up and there he was, already crossing the room with steady steps and a look that said he was prepared to carry me if I so much as blinked wrong.

  “You offering both hands or just one?” I smirked, trying to ease myself down onto the mattress.

  “Both. And a foot if you need it.” He helped me lower with careful arms, then pressed a kiss to my temple. “You sit. We’ve got this.”

  Before I could ask what this was, Kailaa and Elias came rushing in with determined little footsteps. Kailaa held one of my folded shawls like it was a sacred offering. Elias was dragging over a pillow—well, attempting to, anyway.

  “We’re setting up your nest,” Kailaa announced.

  I blinked. “My what now?”

  “Your nest,” Elias echoed. “It’s like for birds, but softer. Daddy said you need one.”

  I turned to Apolloh, who just shrugged, all too pleased with himself.

  “It’s for comfort,” he said, crouching to arrange the pillows where I leaned. “And because they insisted.”

  “I told him birds do it,” Kailaa added. “So Momma should too. But fancier.”

  Warmth bloomed in my chest. As they bustled around—Kailaa fluffing blankets with a fierce kind of precision, Elias climbing up to hand me my favorite storybook—I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t just the silliness of it, or how earnest they were. It was the love woven into every motion. Every quiet glance. Every helpful hand.

  Apolloh sat beside me when they finished, one arm wrapping around my shoulders, the other settling across my belly. “They’re trying to make sure you’re ready,” he murmured, brushing his lips along my cheek. “But we all know you already are.”

  Apolloh moved first, as gentle as ever. He scooped Kailaa into his arms, her head lolling onto his shoulder with a sleepy murmur. Elias stirred when Apolloh came back for him, blinking up at me like he didn’t remember falling asleep.

  “Go on, little moon,” I whispered, brushing my hand through his curls. “Just moving you so I can stretch out.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled, already drifting again.

  Once they were both tucked into their bed across the room, snuggled beneath soft blankets, Apolloh returned to me. He reached down and carefully helped ease me into a more comfortable spot on the blankets, his hands supporting my back, my hips, the curve of my belly like he knew every contour by heart.

  I let out a soft sigh as I settled, one hand drifting to the roundness of my bump. “Thank you.”

  His brow furrowed. “For what?”

  “For loving us like this.”

  Apolloh didn’t answer right away. He just knelt beside me, one hand resting over mine on my belly, the other stroking back my hair. “There’s not a thing in this world I could love more.”

  My breath caught a little.

  Then he leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I know you’ve heard it a hundred times today, but it’s still not enough. Not for what I see when I look at you.”

  I smiled, even as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “I love you.”

  He kissed me slowly, deeply—one of those kisses that made the rest of the world fade to nothing. And when we finally pulled apart, he curled in close behind me, wrapping his arms around me, careful not to press too hard. His hand settled protectively over the baby, thumb tracing gentle circles.

  The night was quiet. The kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a lullaby. And in that silence, with Apolloh’s breath steady behind me, the pups’ soft snores filling the room, and our baby nestled safely beneath my heart—I let myself fall asleep smiling.

  ~~~

  One week passed like a soft exhale, drawn out in a rhythm of quiet mornings, warm afternoons, and steady moonlit nights. The kind of days where the world didn’t demand anything but presence—and that was more than enough.

  In those seven days, my belly had shifted even more—full, round, unmistakably ready. I’d caught my reflection earlier that morning and blinked at the sight. There was no more wondering or waiting for the “almost.” We were in the final stretch now.

  Walking had turned into more of a graceful waddle, which Apolloh called “regal,” though I caught him biting back a grin once or twice. Kailaa had started narrating my movements like I was a queen in a grand procession, while Elias treated every step I took like a top-secret mission that he had to guard me through.

  Pack members had begun commenting more often—compliments whispered or offered aloud in the corridors, in the fortress market, or even when we were just sitting out in the courtyard.

  “You’re glowing, truly,” one of the older women said, pressing a warm hand to my arm. “The little one must be soaking up all that love.”

  “She’s carrying high, isn’t she?” another asked. “Might be a strong little pup.”

  “I hope the baby gets her eyes,” someone else had told Apolloh. “But with his nose. You know… balance.”

  It made me laugh more than once. But it warmed me, too. Every small interaction layered into this quiet, powerful sense that we were being held—not just by each other, but by something bigger. Something that felt like home.

  Even the pups seemed to sense the change. They were a little gentler with me, a little more careful with where they climbed or how they leaned into hugs. But their awe hadn’t faded—in fact, it had only grown.

  “Momma,” Kailaa whispered to me the other night, when I tucked her in and kissed her forehead, “you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole pack.”

  I’d barely made it out of the room before the tears came.

  After leaving Kailaa’s room with a smile still on my face and tears shining in my eyes from her sweet words, I found myself in the hallway, feeling my heart full to bursting. I paused for a moment, watching the pups sleep soundly in their beds. The warmth of the day clung to me, and I let myself linger in the stillness of the moment before going to find Apolloh.

  I didn’t have to search long. Apolloh was sitting by the window in the living room, bathed in the soft light from the lantern. When he saw me, his expression brightened, and he stood immediately, concern and love mixing in his gaze.

  “You okay?” he asked gently, his voice low.

  I nodded, stepping into his arms. “Yeah. Just… Kailaa. She said I was the most beautiful girl in the whole pack.”

  Apolloh chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “She’s right, you know.”

  I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “I think she said that just to make me cry.”

  “I don’t think she needed much of an excuse,” he teased, his eyes warm. “You’re glowing, Laika. You always have been.”

  The quiet that settled around us felt like home, and I leaned into him, feeling the weight of the last few months, the long days leading to this moment. Just a few weeks left until our little one would arrive, and it all seemed too real.

  Apolloh placed his hand on my belly, his fingers splaying over the curve, and my breath caught at the touch. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

  “Big,” I said with a laugh, leaning into him. “And slow. It’s harder to move around than it used to be.”

  He chuckled and slid his hands around my back, pulling me close. “I think you’re beautiful just as you are.”

  I tilted my head up, meeting his eyes, teasing. “Even with this?” I gesture to my belly.

  His smile was warm, the kind that made everything feel right in the world. “Especially with the bump. You’re carrying our child, Laika. There’s nothing more beautiful than that.”

  His words made my heart flutter, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. The world outside, the uncertainty of what was to come—it didn’t matter. It was just the two of us, swaying together in the soft light of the room, and that was enough.

  “I love you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

  “I love you more,” he replied, his voice thick with affection, as he leaned in to kiss my forehead.

  As I sat down on the bed, my mind wandered back to the sweet moment with Kailaa. My heart ached with the love she had just shown me. My baby girl. I couldn’t believe how much she had grown and how much I loved her already.

  Apolloh sat beside me, pulling me gently into his arms. “She really does have a way with words, doesn’t she?” he murmured.

  I smiled softly, resting my head on his chest. “Yeah. She makes me feel like I’m everything I ever wanted to be.”

  He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re her hero, Laika. And you’re mine, too.”

  The warmth of his embrace comforted me, and for a moment, the world outside our room felt so far away. It was just the two of us, waiting for our little one, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

  The days that followed settled into a soft, steady rhythm. The kind of calm that felt like a gift—a quiet before the shift, when life would change forever.

  I moved slower now, each step deliberate. My belly had grown noticeably fuller, and even the simplest tasks required more effort and care. I found myself needing more breaks, more support, and more gentle reassurances from Apolloh, which he always gave without hesitation.

  And the pack—goddess, the pack had become my unexpected cheerleaders.

  It started with a passing comment from one of the healers. “You’re glowing, Laika. Like the moon herself blessed that bump.”

  Then it spread like wildfire. Compliments drifted in wherever I went—on walks through the fortress courtyard, short strolls through the market, or even just sitting outside sipping tea. “You’re radiant,” “You look so strong,” “That baby’s going to be lucky to have you.”

  And honestly? I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear it. Not just the beauty part—but the support. The encouragement. The affirmation that I wasn’t alone in this. That we weren’t.

  Kailaa and Elias had grown more protective too. They hovered closer, helped with chores without being asked (well—most of the time), and sometimes just followed me around like curious little shadows. Kailaa had taken to brushing my hair at night, murmuring softly about how pretty it looked. Elias insisted on carrying anything that looked remotely heavy. Even if it was just a folded blanket.

  “You’re gonna need your arms strong, Momma,” he explained very seriously one morning. “You’ll be holdin’ a whole baby soon.”

  I didn’t have the heart to correct him. Not when his chest puffed out with pride at the thought of helping me.

  And through it all, Apolloh remained my constant. His quiet tenderness, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, the hand he always placed on my belly as if checking in with both me and the baby—it anchored me in ways I hadn’t even realized I needed.

  Each night, we curled into bed a little more ready. A little more certain. And yet… still full of wonder.

  Still three weeks to go.

  ~~~

  Another week passed in a slow, syrupy blur. Time still moved forward, but everything about it felt heavier. Fuller. Like my body was preparing in every possible way for what came next.

  Now just two weeks to go.

  My belly had grown into its full-term shape—round and low, commanding the space around me like its own little moon. I couldn’t see my feet anymore. I waddled instead of walked, shifted awkwardly every time I tried to get comfortable, and sometimes, when I caught my reflection, I just had to laugh.

  “Who are you?” I’d ask the mirror, resting my hands on the swell.

  And from somewhere behind, Apolloh would usually respond, “The most stunning woman in this entire fortress.”

  He never missed a beat.

  Even the pups were in awe. Kailaa took to whispering little affirmations to my belly—sweet nonsense about how loved the baby already was—while Elias gently pressed his ear against it, claiming he could “hear the dreams.”

  The pack continued to offer compliments and support, almost like they could feel how close we were. Meals were dropped off more often. The healer checked in almost daily. The fortress buzzed with quiet anticipation, like the whole place was collectively holding its breath.

  But despite the weight, the swelling, the growing pressure in my back and hips—I felt ready. More than ever.

  And yet… the most beautiful part?

  It still didn’t feel rushed. It felt right.

  I was curled up on the large cushioned bench in the courtyard, a knitted shawl draped over my shoulders, sunlight slipping through the leaves above in warm dapples. My feet were up—thank the Goddess—and a tray of sliced fruit sat beside me. Not that I could reach it without groaning, but still. It was the thought.

  Apolloh had just returned from helping Jaxe with repairs on one of the outer walls. His shirt clung to him, hair slightly wind-tossed, and I must’ve stared too long because he smirked on approach.

  “You’re gawking,” he teased, sitting beside me and taking my hand without hesitation.

  “Am not.”

  He kissed my fingers. “You are. Can’t say I blame you, though. I am breathtaking.”

  I rolled my eyes but leaned against him anyway, chuckling. “That’s a bold claim for someone who leaves tools everywhere and nearly stepped on Kailaa’s art project this morning.”

  “She left it in the hallway! A hallway, I might add, that’s supposed to be neutral ground.”

  We both laughed, the kind of laughter that felt easy, familiar. My belly shifted as the baby gave a little push, and his hand was already there, steady and warm.

  “She’s getting strong,” he murmured.

  “She?” I raised a brow.

  He shrugged. “Or he. Or they. Or… a fierce little dragon disguised as a wolf pup.”

  I laughed again, then winced as I shifted. Apolloh immediately helped me reposition, tucking a cushion behind my back like he’d done it a hundred times. Because he had.

  “You know,” he said after a quiet moment, “sometimes I can’t believe this is real. That I get to have this. You. Them. Us.”

  I looked up at him, heart full, and nodded. “Same.”

  He kissed the top of my head, then leaned in just a little closer, his voice soft against my ear. “We’re going to be great parents.”

  “We already are.”

  Kailaa and Elias came bounding into the courtyard not long after, barefoot and glowing from whatever mischief they’d been up to.

  “We found caterpillars!” Elias announced, holding out his hand like it was the crown jewel of the fortress. “They’re so fuzzy.”

  “And we named them!” Kailaa added proudly. “This one’s Pancake, and this one is—”

  “No, that one’s Pancake,” Elias corrected, squinting. “You said the one with the fuzzy butt was Pancake.”

  “They both have fuzzy butts!” Kailaa cried, hands on her hips.

  I bit back a laugh as Apolloh looked to the sky, murmuring, “Thank you, stars above, for giving me the strength.”

  “Anyway,” Kailaa continued, climbing up beside me with no hesitation, “Pancake—whichever one—wants to hear a story tonight.”

  “Oh? Pancake made a request?” I said with mock seriousness.

  “Yep. A bedtime one. With dragons and a momma who saves the whole world.”

  Elias plopped himself dramatically against Apolloh’s side. “Can we do voices again?”

  “You just want to be the villain again,” Apolloh teased.

  Elias smirked. “I do a good laugh.”

  “You do a good laugh,” I agreed. “But only if you promise not to knock over the water pitcher like last time.”

  “That was the villain’s fault,” he insisted.

  ?

  As the sun began to sink, the four of us—five, really, with our little star still tucked safely in my belly—gathered in the den. Pillows were thrown together into a makeshift nest, and after a few shuffles and minor negotiations over seating arrangements, the story began.

  There was a brave Momma Wolf Queen, a mischievous prince and princess, and a very grumpy but ultimately kind-hearted king with a soft spot for fluffy animals. Apolloh provided dramatic flair, complete with terrible accents and exaggerated gestures, while I narrated the more poetic parts, stroking Kailaa’s hair as she slowly blinked sleepily.

  By the time the “great roaring beast of laundry mountain” was defeated and the family crowned with magical flower circlets, Elias was already snoring softly into Apolloh’s side, and Kailaa’s hand had gone limp in mine.

  I glanced at Apolloh.

  He nodded, scooping Elias up with care while I gently adjusted Kailaa and kissed her forehead. Once they were settled in their bed, tucked in tight and peaceful as could be, Apolloh returned to my side.

  “Want me to carry you too?” he teased gently, offering a hand.

  “With how sore my feet are?” I murmured, letting him help me up. “You might actually have to.”

  Apolloh didn’t let go of my hand once I was standing. Instead, he pulled me just a little closer, a soft grin playing on his lips.

  “No music tonight?” I asked.

  He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. “We don’t need it. I can already hear it.”

  I smiled, letting him guide me gently out onto the balcony. The night was quiet and still, wrapped in a soft breeze and the distant hum of life settling in below. The moon hung above us like a quiet witness, casting silver light across the stone floor.

  We swayed in silence, our movements slow and easy, my hands resting on his shoulders while his settled lightly at my waist—one of them instinctively drawn to the curve of my belly. There was no rush. No need for words. Just the soft rhythm of us, breathing together, holding each other through everything.

  Then, with a teasing sparkle in his eyes, he pulled back just enough to say, “Ready?”

  “For what—?”

  Before I could finish, he spun me gently, carefully, his hand guiding mine with a featherlight grip. I laughed, caught off guard, but he steadied me as soon as I completed the turn, holding me close again as if I were the most delicate, precious thing in the world.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I murmured into his chest, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in my ears.

  “I’m yours,” he whispered into my hair.

  He dipped his head then, and I lifted mine to meet him halfway. Our kiss was slow, tender, a quiet seal to the kind of night we’d both longed for. Peaceful. Whole.

  And when we finally pulled away, fingers still laced together, Apolloh smiled and whispered, “Let’s go to bed, love. We’ve got another day of magic tomorrow.”

  We left the moonlight behind, hearts still dancing even after the music had faded.

  Sunlight spilled softly through the curtains, golden and warm. I blinked against the light, my eyes adjusting slowly as I stirred beneath the blankets. Apolloh was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching me with that quiet smile that always made my heart flutter.

  “Morning,” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

  I stretched slowly, mindful of the weight in my belly. “Morning,” I whispered back, voice still husky with sleep. “How long have you been staring at me like that?”

  “Long enough to fall in love all over again.”

  I groaned and tried to bury my face in his chest, laughing softly. “You’re lucky I’m too pregnant to run from how cheesy that was.”

  He laughed, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “You wouldn’t run far. I’d just pick you up and carry you back.”

  The gentle hum of voices drifted in from the hallway—Kailaa and Elias were clearly awake and bickering softly over something again. I gave a sleepy smile.

  “Sounds like the chaos has begun.”

  Apolloh grinned. “I’ll go stall the tiny tornadoes. You take your time getting up.”

  I nodded and watched him disappear into the hallway, his voice warm and low as he greeted the pups. Their giggles followed him, weaving gently into the morning like music.

  I laid back for a moment, hands resting on the firm swell of my stomach, feeling the gentle kick of the life inside me. A quiet, steady reminder that every day from now on would be filled with more of this—more love, more laughter, more beautiful chaos.

  I was still lying back, hands curved protectively over my belly, when I heard the soft patter of feet outside the door. A hesitant knock followed.

  “Come in,” I called, already smiling.

  The door creaked open and Kailaa peeked around it, Elias close behind.

  “Daddy said we could come say good morning,” she said, stepping in.

  “Yeah, and we brought hugs,” Elias added proudly, climbing onto the bed without waiting for an invitation.

  Kailaa was more careful, climbing up gently and settling beside me with her head on my shoulder. “You look extra comfy today, Momma.”

  “I feel like a turtle on its back,” I said with a mock groan, making them both giggle.

  Elias poked at the blankets. “Is the baby squishing you?”

  “Constantly,” I replied with a laugh—then froze as a sharp little kick jabbed me from the inside. I gasped, my hand flying to my belly.

  Kailaa sat up straighter, eyes wide. “Was that…?”

  “Yep,” I said, breathless and grinning. “That was the baby.”

  “Can we feel?” Elias blurted, crawling closer.

  “Come here.” I pulled back the blanket just enough to show them where to place their hands. Kailaa reached out first, her touch feather-light. Elias followed, both of them holding their breath in anticipation.

  Then—another little thump. Just beneath Kailaa’s palm.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Momma! I felt it!”

  Elias gasped. “Me too! That was the baby! It kicked me!”

  I laughed, blinking back the sudden warmth in my eyes. “They’re saying good morning.”

  Kailaa pressed her cheek gently to my belly. “Good morning, baby,” she whispered. “We can’t wait to meet you.”

  Elias scooted closer, resting his head next to hers. “You better be nice. We already have rules.”

  The moment wrapped around us like a blanket of its own—soft, sacred, and absolutely unforgettable.

  The room stayed quiet for a while, the kind of hush you don’t want to break. Kailaa’s little hand stayed splayed against my belly, even after the baby had settled again. Elias had gone still too, nestled between the pillows like he was guarding something sacred.

  I let my fingers drift through their hair, brushing curls and wisps back gently, feeling the weight of time slow with them beside me.

  After a few minutes, Kailaa murmured, “Do you think the baby heard us?”

  “I do,” I whispered back.

  Elias tilted his head toward me. “Do you think they’re excited to meet us?”

  I smiled. “How could they not be?”

  That seemed to satisfy them both, and slowly, the soft spell lifted as morning truly began.

  Kailaa sat up with a sudden brightness in her eyes. “Can we tell Daddy the baby kicked?!”

  “Only if I get to tell him first,” Elias argued, puffing up dramatically.

  I laughed, stretching my arms out as I sat up with care. “You can both tell him—but only after we all go brush our teeth, deal?”

  They groaned like I’d sentenced them to a lifetime of chores, but they slid off the bed and padded toward the door anyway. Kailaa paused to look back at me. “Momma?”

  “Mm?”

  “You’re really beautiful today.”

  It hit me like a quiet thunderclap. I smiled, eyes brimming again. “So are you, sweetheart.”

  She beamed, and then they were off—calling for Apolloh at the top of their lungs.

  I exhaled a laugh and carefully stood, one hand on the small of my back. Time to start another day.

  I followed slowly after the pups, one hand braced on the wall and the other smoothing over my bump. My belly felt heavier this morning—rounder, fuller. I could see the way I carried now, my center of gravity shifted just enough that every step was taken with a little more care.

  Their voices echoed down the hallway, calling for Apolloh like the whole fortress needed to know.

  “Daddyyyyy!”

  “DADDY! Guess what!!”

  I smiled to myself as I turned the corner into the main room.

  Apolloh was crouched near the hearth, poking gently at the rekindled fire. He looked up, and the moment he saw me, the warmth that filled his eyes made me pause. He stood slowly, brushing soot off his hands, just as Kailaa and Elias barreled into his legs.

  “The baby kicked!” Elias shouted.

  “Right here!” Kailaa added, jabbing at her own stomach for dramatic effect.

  Apolloh’s brows lifted, and he looked past them to me. “Did they now?” His voice was low, touched with wonder.

  I nodded, resting a hand on my belly. “Strong little nudge. Took me by surprise.”

  He stepped over to me, the pups parting like they already knew this moment was for us. He slid his hands gently over mine, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my belly.

  “Morning, little one,” he murmured. “We felt that.”

  My breath caught in my throat at the tenderness of it all.

  “And how’s their beautiful momma?” he asked, straightening to meet my eyes.

  I let a smirk tug at my lips. “Heavy. Slow. Still being tackled by small, loud children.”

  He laughed and leaned in, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Still breathtaking.”

  “Ew,” Elias said, covering his eyes.

  Kailaa rolled hers. “You guys are so dramatic.”

  “We learned it from you,” I teased, tousling her hair.

  Apolloh grinned and looked between the pups. “Sounds like today needs to start with pancakes to celebrate.”

  “YES!” they chorused, darting off toward the kitchen.

  He turned back to me and offered his arm like I was royalty. “Shall we, my queen?”

  I took it with a grin. “Lead the way, my king.”

  The kitchen was already warm from the early morning light spilling through the windows, casting soft gold across the stone floor. Apolloh worked over the griddle like a man on a mission, flipping pancakes with flair that made both pups giggle every time he added an unnecessary spin of the spatula.

  Kailaa was perched on a stool, swinging her legs and announcing which pancakes looked like clouds, which ones looked like wolves, and which ones were “definitely weird blobs, but still delicious.”

  Elias, ever precise, was in charge of the syrup lineup—insisting that the berry one had to go before the maple or it would “mess up the whole flavor order.”

  I sat at the table, sipping a bit of tea, hands settled around the soft curve of my bump. The moment felt warm and suspended, like a painting I’d want to hang on the walls of my memory.

  “Alright,” Apolloh declared, placing a stack in front of each pup. “Behold: pancake masterpieces.”

  “Ten outta ten,” Kailaa said through a mouthful. “Would devour again.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Elias gave a solemn nod. “Respect.”

  Apolloh grinned and turned to me. “Yours comes with an extra topping of admiration, milady.”

  I raised a brow. “Is that a romantic way of saying whipped cream?”

  “Maybe.”

  ?

  Later that day

  The afternoon sun filtered through high windows as I stepped slowly down one of the fortress corridors, Apolloh’s hand warm against my back. My steps were slower now, more intentional, and the weight of our baby—a full, gentle fullness—made me pause every now and then to shift balance.

  Pack members passed us along the way, many offering kind smiles or quiet nods. A few stopped to compliment me, their words sweet and sincere.

  “You’re glowing, Laika.”

  “You make pregnancy look beautiful.”

  “You’re almost there, huh? You’re doing amazing.”

  Every word settled softly in my chest, and while I still felt tired and awkward in my movements, I also felt deeply seen. Surrounded. Held by a community that loved us.

  Kailaa and Elias were just ahead, skipping from stone to stone as if the hallway were a trail of lily pads. Elias turned back once to say, “I told everyone our baby’s going to be strong. I felt the kick.”

  Kailaa added, “And pretty! Like Momma. Or cool, like Daddy. Or both!”

  Apolloh leaned in and whispered, “They’re not wrong, you know.”

  I smiled as I watched them dart around a corner. “No. They’re not.”

  ~~~

  The late afternoon sun filtered in through the windows, warm and golden across the floor as I sat by the hearth, gently rubbing small, slow circles over the side of my belly. The pups were nearby, giggling softly over some game they were inventing with scraps of cloth and a row of neatly lined-up stones. Their voices were a sweet, familiar background melody, but even their laughter couldn’t quite distract me from the growing awareness blooming low in my belly.

  It wasn’t pain—not really. Just a deep, quiet pressure, like something ancient and patient was slowly shifting inside of me. Preparing. Settling.

  I exhaled slowly, letting my palm rest over the spot where the sensation lingered the strongest. The baby didn’t kick this time. Just a slow roll beneath my skin, like they were moving downward, finding their way.

  “Everything okay?” Apolloh’s voice was soft, but it still stirred something comforting in me.

  I nodded, giving him a small, calm smile as he knelt beside me. “Yeah… I think they’re just getting ready. Dropping a little. It’s subtle, but I can feel it.”

  He brushed a thumb along my cheek, his eyes scanning mine with a quiet reverence. “That means we’re getting close.”

  I nodded again, a flutter of nerves—excited ones—mixing with the peace I’d wrapped around myself. “Four weeks is flying by fast.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then my belly. “We’re so close, little one. You take your time, but we’re ready when you are.”

  Just then, Kailaa wandered over and plopped into my lap like she always did, gentle now that she’d learned to be careful of my bump. She looked up at me with that wide-eyed curiosity that always made me feel like the whole world was still full of wonder.

  “Momma,” she whispered, her head resting just under my collarbone, “do you think the baby can hear us?”

  “I know they can.”

  Elias slid over, pressing his cheek to the side of my belly, grinning as he whispered something only the baby could hear.

  Whatever he said must’ve been funny—Kailaa giggled, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too, even as the subtle weight in my belly reminded me: we were nearing the end of this part of the journey.

  And the beginning of the next.

  ———

  That evening, the fortress took on a slower rhythm—like even the walls knew to be gentle. The quiet hum of conversation drifted in from the courtyard windows, paired with the fading orange hue of dusk slipping behind the hills. Everything felt touched by tenderness.

  I stood with Apolloh in our room, my hands resting on his chest while his fingers drew slow patterns along the small of my back. He was humming something soft—something he swore wasn’t a lullaby, even though it sure sounded like one.

  We swayed again, like we had so many nights before. This time, though, there was a hush in the way we held each other. Like we were both listening for something we couldn’t quite name.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” I murmured, chin tucked beneath his jaw.

  He smiled, brushing a hand along the back of my neck. “Just thinking. About how different everything’s about to be. How beautiful you are. How I’m trying to memorize every version of this moment.”

  “You’re doing that thing again,” I teased, trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze. “The poetic thing.”

  “I only do it when I can’t find a normal way to say I love you.” He leaned down and kissed me slowly—soft and full and reverent.

  It was only when we pulled apart that I noticed how the quiet had shifted around us. Not heavy… just thoughtful.

  A moment later, soft footsteps padded in.

  “Can we sleep in your room tonight?” Kailaa’s voice was small but hopeful, Elias nodding quickly behind her.

  Apolloh and I exchanged a glance, something warm blooming between us.

  “Of course you can,” I said, already stepping toward the bed and fluffing the pillows.

  By the time we were all curled up under the covers, Kailaa snuggled to one side and Elias on the other, I could feel the shift again—that deepening pressure low in my belly. Not urgent. Not painful. Just… present. A reminder.

  I rested a hand there, Apolloh’s fingers lacing through mine.

  Two weeks left.

  But it wouldn’t be long now.

  ~~~

  The days passed gently, each one marked by soft routines and slower movements. By the time the third week of the final month rolled in, the shift in my body was impossible to ignore. My belly had dropped slightly, rounder and heavier now, resting lower as if the baby had begun the slow, silent descent in preparation.

  I’d gotten used to moving differently—slower, more deliberate steps, one hand always drifting protectively over the swell of my stomach. Bending down was no longer a casual act, and I found myself grateful for all the little helps from Apolloh and the pups, who’d seemed to instinctively adjust with me.

  Elias had started carrying things for me before I even asked. Kailaa had taken to massaging my feet while telling me how “goddess-like” I looked. I didn’t have the heart to correct her, not when it made her so proud.

  That morning, I sat on the edge of the bed, my hair a wild tumble down my back, watching the morning light pour across the stone floor. Apolloh was buttoning up his shirt across the room when I caught him staring at me.

  “What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “You look like you’ve been carved by starlight,” he said, voice soft and full of awe. “All curves and glow.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “More like carved by gravity.”

  He walked over and knelt before me, both hands framing the underside of my bump like it was something sacred. “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  His lips pressed gently to the stretched skin just above my navel, lingering there as I exhaled a deep, warm breath and carded my fingers through his hair.

  Outside, the fortress hummed with activity. We had a walk planned later—just around the gardens—though Apolloh had insisted he’d carry me if I so much as looked tired.

  And if I were honest? I was tired. But I also felt strangely at peace. As if something inside me knew—we were getting closer. Closer to holding this little one in our arms.

  Closer to everything.

  The sun had warmed the stones by the time we made it out to the gardens. I walked slowly, my hand tucked into Apolloh’s, his other hand hovering nearby just in case I wobbled or needed to lean.

  The path curved around the edge of the courtyard where a few pack members were trimming herbs and checking on the spring plantings. A few of them waved or paused to greet us, their faces lighting up when they saw me.

  “Look at you, Laika,” one of the elders said with a grin. “Absolutely radiant. Not long now, is it?”

  I smiled, resting a hand on my lower back. “A couple more weeks, if all goes to plan.”

  “Well, you’re carrying it like a queen,” another added. “We’ve been betting it’s a girl, but don’t tell the others I said that.”

  I laughed softly, letting them talk as we strolled on. Their warmth surrounded me like a soft blanket, lifting some of the quiet weight I’d been carrying with each passing day. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that kind of love until I did.

  Apolloh leaned down as we passed beneath an archway of flowering vines. “I think you’re making half the pack cry just by existing.”

  “I think the other half are crying because I look like I swallowed a moon,” I teased.

  “More like you are the moon,” he murmured, stealing a quick kiss against my temple.

  A few steps ahead, the pups darted through the garden paths. Kailaa had wrapped a silky scarf around her waist like a sash, claiming it was part of her ‘Royal Garden Guard’ outfit. Elias held a stick like a walking cane, using it to dramatically point out imaginary intruders they were pretending to protect me from.

  “Fear not, Queen Momma!” Kailaa called. “We’ve scouted the perimeters!”

  “No enemy shall pass!” Elias shouted, twirling his stick with flair before tripping and landing in the grass with a huff.

  Apolloh chuckled and jogged over to help him up while I stayed where I was, one hand on the top of my belly as I laughed. The little one rolled slowly inside me, as if stretching to take up all the space left.

  The moment felt like something I’d tuck away for later—a memory warm and rich enough to press between the pages of my heart.

  I closed my eyes, breathed in the scent of blooming herbs and soft soil, and whispered a quiet promise to the child inside me.

  Soon.

  ———

  The day faded into a softer hue, the golden light of the sun dipping low behind the fortress walls. Inside, everything felt quieter—more hushed, like even the stones had settled in for the night. The pups had cleaned up after their afternoon adventures, both of them now curled up on the rug near the hearth with half-sleepy eyes and tangled hair still smelling like lavender from their baths.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, brushing my hair slowly as Apolloh lit the last few lanterns. The warm flicker of their glow danced across the walls, casting gentle shadows that made the room feel even more like a sanctuary.

  “Think they’ll stay down tonight?” I asked, glancing toward the pups.

  Apolloh turned from the lantern, giving me a knowing smirk. “No chance.”

  As if on cue, Kailaa sat up with a sudden burst of energy. “Can we have a story tonight? One with dragons. And stars. And maybe a wolf prince!”

  “A wolf prince?” I repeated, setting my brush down. “Now who could that possibly be based on?”

  Kailaa grinned and pointed at Apolloh. “Him. But with wings.”

  “I accept this role,” Apolloh declared solemnly, stepping toward the bed and dropping down beside me. “But only if my queen joins the tale.”

  Elias shuffled over too, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Can the baby be in it too?”

  My heart gave a little tug, soft and sure. I reached for him, pulling him in close. “Of course. We’ll all be in it.”

  Apolloh gathered them both in his arms while I leaned back against the pillows, settling in as the story began to unfold—one we told together, one that changed and grew each time, like all the best stories do. One filled with castles in the sky, brave little wolves, and a queen with a heart so big it held the whole pack inside it.

  As the last of the made-up story faded into the quiet, Kailaa was tucked against Apolloh’s side, her small fingers curled loosely around his shirt. Elias had claimed my lap sometime during the tale, his breathing slow and even, already deep in dreams. I brushed a hand through his curls, feeling the soft weight of the moment settle around me like a favorite blanket.

  Apolloh met my gaze over Kailaa’s head and gave a quiet smile. We didn’t need to speak. It was all right here—soft, full, unspoken love humming in the spaces between breath.

  He rose gently, lifting Kailaa with ease and carrying her over to the nearby bed the pups shared. I stood carefully, cradling Elias in my arms. He barely stirred as I laid him beside his sister, both of them instinctively curling toward each other, peaceful and warm beneath the blanket.

  I reached down, brushing the hair from Kailaa’s face. “Goodnight, my loves,” I whispered.

  Apolloh stepped behind me, arms wrapping around my middle with the utmost care. His hand rested on my bump, fingers splaying protectively.

  “They’re going to make the best big siblings,” he murmured against my temple.

  I leaned back into him, letting the hush of the moment settle deep into my chest. “I think they already are.”

  We left the room hand in hand, one last glance over our shoulders before the door whispered shut behind us.

  As the last of the made-up story faded into the quiet, Kailaa was tucked against Apolloh’s side, her small fingers curled loosely around his shirt. Elias had claimed my lap sometime during the tale, his breathing slow and even, already deep in dreams. I brushed a hand through his curls, feeling the soft weight of the moment settle around me like a favorite blanket.

  Apolloh met my gaze over Kailaa’s head and gave a quiet smile. We didn’t need to speak. It was all right here—soft, full, unspoken love humming in the spaces between breath.

  He rose gently, lifting Kailaa with ease and carrying her over to the nearby bed the pups shared. I stood carefully, cradling Elias in my arms. He barely stirred as I laid him beside his sister, both of them instinctively curling toward each other, peaceful and warm beneath the blanket.

  I reached down, brushing the hair from Kailaa’s face. “Goodnight, my loves,” I whispered.

  Apolloh stepped behind me, arms wrapping around my middle with the utmost care. His hand rested on my bump, fingers splaying protectively.

  “They’re going to make the best big siblings,” he murmured against my temple.

  I leaned back into him, letting the hush of the moment settle deep into my chest. “I think they already are.”

  We left the room hand in hand, one last glance over our shoulders before the door whispered shut behind us.

  The morning passed easily enough. The sun had already warmed the walls of the fortress by the time I stepped into the common area, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from my eyes. My belly led the way, full and firm, cradled in both hands as I shuffled over to where the pups were curled up near the hearth, still only half-awake themselves.

  “Mommaaaa,” Kailaa mumbled sleepily, not even opening her eyes.

  Elias blinked blearily up at me. “You look bigger,” he muttered. “Like… even bigger than yesterday.”

  I chuckled. “Well, the baby’s growing fast. It’s almost time.”

  “Is it today?” Kailaa asked with sudden interest, finally opening her eyes.

  “No,” I said with a soft smile. “Not yet.”

  But then it came.

  A strange, low tightening across my belly. Not sharp, not truly painful—but not comfortable either. My breath caught slightly in my throat, and I stilled mid-step, one hand pressing instinctively to my bump.

  “…Momma?” Elias asked, his tone sharper now.

  “I’m okay,” I said quickly, trying to smile. “Just a… weird feeling. Probably just the baby shifting.”

  Apolloh appeared from the hallway just then, brushing his hair back and wearing the soft smile he always gave me in the mornings. But that smile quickly melted into concern as he crossed the room in a few strides.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just something odd. It passed.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Odd how?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It was… tight. Kinda like a squeeze. Not painful, just… uncomfortable.”

  His hand found mine without hesitation, warm and grounding. “Is that normal?”

  I gave a slow nod. “It can be, yeah. Sometimes it’s the body practicing. It’s too early for real labor.”

  Still… the unease lingered at the edges of my thoughts. A warning that something was shifting, however subtly.

  And deep in my belly, the baby gave one firm little nudge—like it was part of the plan too.

  ———

  The rest of the morning unfolded slowly, like the lull between heartbeats. I tried not to think too much about the sensations that kept weaving in and out of my belly like a shifting tide. They weren’t painful—just… present. Odd little tightenings that made me pause now and then.

  Still, I didn’t say much. No need to worry anyone, especially not Apolloh, who kept glancing at me like he was ready to scoop me off my feet at the first sign of anything unusual.

  Instead, I kept to the small things.

  Kailaa helped me brush out my hair while Elias gathered a few soft cloths to help clean the space by the window where we’d be reading later. They kept talking back and forth—about what the baby might look like, whether it would like blueberries, and if it would be able to howl right away.

  “Maybe it’ll be able to talk as soon as it’s born,” Elias declared proudly. “Like, say words. That would be cool.”

  Kailaa giggled. “That’s not how it works. Babies can’t talk until they’re, like, five.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a leap.”

  “Still,” Elias added, climbing up beside me on the cushions, “it better be cute. Like really, really cute.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be,” I said, resting my hand gently over the bump. “How could it not be with two older siblings like you?”

  Apolloh joined us after lunch, a book in hand and his voice low and rich as he began reading aloud. I leaned back into his side, letting his presence distract me from the occasional tight wave that fluttered across my belly. They were short-lived. Manageable. But every time they passed, I found myself glancing down, wondering.

  As the afternoon wore on, we moved to the courtyard, where a warm breeze whispered through the trees. I sat with my feet up, the pups busy playing some made-up game involving imaginary beetles and heroic rescues, while Apolloh dozed in the shade nearby—one arm over his eyes, the other still loosely extended toward me, like even in sleep, he wanted to stay close.

  The sensations came and went. Some so light they barely registered, others strong enough to steal a breath. But always, they passed.

  And I kept telling myself the same thing: It’s too early.

  Still… I found myself checking the sky a little more often, feeling the weight of time shifting—pulling me closer.

  ———

  As the sun dipped behind the trees and golden light spilled across the courtyard, a calm quiet settled over everything. The pups had worn themselves out with their wild adventures and now leaned sleepily against either side of me, murmuring in soft, half-formed words as their eyes began to drift shut.

  Apolloh returned with two warm mugs of tea—one for me, one for himself—and eased down beside me, careful of the growing bump between us. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, his eyes scanning mine like he already knew the answer.

  I rested my hand on the swell of my belly and let out a soft breath. “Okay. Just… tired. And tight. But okay.”

  He didn’t press. Just nodded and kissed my temple before wrapping an arm around me. “Let’s get everyone inside, then.”

  We carried the pups back to our room, their limbs loose and heavy with sleep. Apolloh shifted them into their little nest of blankets near the bed while I changed slowly, the muscles in my back pulling ever so slightly. The sensation came and went—dull, distant, like a whisper of what was still to come.

  By the time I eased into bed, the warmth of the blankets and Apolloh’s presence at my back had already begun to lull me. He curled behind me, hand splayed protectively over my belly, the baby quiet between us for now.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  “I know,” I whispered back.

  The moonlight stretched across the floorboards, soft and pale, as the world fell silent around us.

  Sleep took me gently.

  ~~~

  A week later

  The next morning broke slowly, sunlight creeping through the curtains as if it too understood the weight of this final stretch. My body felt heavier now—fuller, more pronounced. Even the soft stretch of my nightgown clung gently to the unmistakable curve of my belly, round and low like the moon just before it fades into dawn.

  I took my time rising, shifting onto my side before pushing upright. The baby stirred low, a slow, deliberate nudge that made me pause with a soft exhale.

  When I finally stepped out into the main room, the pups were already awake—playing quietly with a set of carved animal figures on the rug. Kailaa glanced up first, her eyes widening in admiration.

  “Momma,” she whispered like I was a goddess. “You look even more beautiful today.”

  Elias nodded solemnly, then added with all the earnestness in the world, “And even more belly.”

  I laughed, cradling my stomach. “Thanks, little ones. It’s all your baby sibling’s doing.”

  ?

  All morning, that quiet awe followed me—from the kitchen where an elder pack member paused mid-task to compliment how radiant I looked, to the halls where others smiled softly and stepped aside with gentle nods, offering hands and support even when I didn’t ask for it.

  Even the fortress market welcomed me differently. Stalls shifted to give me space, and I didn’t carry a single thing—someone was always there to help, to smile, to fuss just a little in that warm, pack kind of way.

  “It’s like I’m being wrapped in kindness,” I murmured to Apolloh at one point.

  He grinned, brushing his knuckles across my cheek. “You deserve it.”

  ~~~

  The sun climbed higher, golden and easy, spilling across the courtyard where I sat with Kailaa and Elias under the old tree. They took turns brushing my hair, tangling flowers into the strands like a crown, and singing little made-up songs that made no sense but filled the air with warmth. My feet were propped up on a cushioned stool someone had dragged out for me, and the way the breeze tugged playfully at my clothes made me feel like I was floating—tethered only by the weight of this child growing strong and ready within me.

  Apolloh checked in on us from time to time, always with a cup of something warm or a bite of something sweet. Each time he passed, his hand would brush my shoulder, or his fingers would linger at the curve of my back. It was wordless, but I could feel it—the way he was watching me. Like I held the sun inside me.

  ~~~

  Later that day, Zia and a few others helped me go through the soft linens and baby things we’d been slowly gathering over the past few weeks. They laid them out in the room we’d prepared just off our own—folded blankets, hand-stitched clothes, little carved rattles and comfort items made by members of the pack.

  “This one’s from the northern quarter,” Zia said, holding up a tiny hat. “They stayed up all night knitting it.”

  My chest swelled, a little ache blooming behind my ribs. “I feel like this baby is already loved by so many people.”

  “He is. Or she is.” She smiled, rubbing my shoulder. “Either way, they’ve got the whole fortress wrapped around their tiny, not-even-born finger.”

  We placed everything in gentle piles, pausing to coo and imagine what our little one would look like. The quiet was only broken by the occasional flutter of movement from within me. Lower, more deliberate now. Preparing.

  That evening, as the sky began to turn soft with twilight, I stretched out on a padded bench beneath the balcony. Kailaa and Elias were curled up beside me—one on each side. We watched the stars appear in clusters, pointing out shapes in the sky and giving them new names.

  “I think that one looks like a baby wrapped in a blanket,” Elias said.

  Kailaa tapped her chin thoughtfully. “No, it’s a potato.”

  I burst out laughing, holding them close. “Maybe it’s both.”

  They wiggled closer, their little hands resting on my belly. When the baby moved again, both of them gasped, wide-eyed and wonderstruck like it was the first time all over again.

  “You felt that?” I asked softly.

  Kailaa nodded, her voice hushed. “They’re saying hi.”

  Elias leaned his cheek against my stomach. “Hi back.”

  My heart was full. This—the stars, the laughter, the hush of love so deep it didn’t need to be spoken—this was the last quiet page before a new chapter began.

  ——

  woke slowly, blinking against the soft golden light of morning as it slipped through the balcony curtains. The warmth of Apolloh’s body still lingered behind me, one strong arm draped protectively around my middle, his hand gently curled against the side of my bump. Our breathing synced in the hush of early hours, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath too.

  And then—it came.

  A sharp, tight pull. Not painful… not quite. But enough to steal the breath from my lungs and make my brows draw together. I stayed still, eyes wide, heart beating a little faster.

  It passed just as quickly as it had come.

  I exhaled slowly, rubbing my palm along the underside of my belly.

  Not yet. But close.

  A second tightening wave hit while I was brushing my hair out on the balcony. This one was firmer—almost like the muscles themselves were bracing, preparing.

  Zia noticed the shift in my expression. “That feeling again?” she asked quietly.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Just… another one.”

  “You good?”

  “For now.” I smiled, but the butterflies in my chest had started to flutter. “It’s not time yet. Just… signs.”

  She returned my smile and passed me a warm mug. “Well. When it is time, you’ll know. And we’ll be ready.”

  They came and went. Not often. Not close. Just little whispers of what was coming, like my body was testing the storm winds, learning how to bend without breaking.

  Apolloh kept close all day—one eye on me at all times. He didn’t hover, but I could tell. Every time I’d pause and press a hand to my belly, his jaw would tighten just slightly. Every time I smiled through it, he softened again.

  “You know,” he said later, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, “you don’t have to be a warrior today.”

  I leaned into him, resting my head on his chest. “But I am one.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, you are. Just don’t forget—you’re allowed to lean.”

  ~~~

  It started with a dull, pulling sensation in the lower part of my belly—deep and low, enough to make me stop mid-step as I reached for a shawl draped across the bedpost. I rested my hand on my stomach, fingers splayed gently over the swell. This wasn’t like the fleeting pangs I’d felt before. This one lingered, spread, then slowly ebbed away like a retreating tide.

  A breath slipped from me. “That was new…”

  I heard movement in the hallway—light footsteps, the unmistakable rhythm of little ones, followed by Apolloh’s heavier tread behind them.

  “Momma?” Kailaa’s voice was cautious, but curious. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, schooling my expression before they walked in. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just a little cramp.” I offered a small smile, one I hoped was reassuring.

  Apolloh stepped in behind them, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he took in the way I was holding myself. He didn’t say anything, but he crossed the room in two strides and gently placed a hand over mine on my belly.

  Another wave hit, stronger this time. Not painful—not yet—but unmistakably rhythmic. I closed my eyes and breathed through it, my other hand reaching blindly for Apolloh’s.

  “Are they here?” Elias whispered, eyes wide and round. “The baby?”

  “Not yet,” I murmured. “But soon.”

  Apolloh was quiet, his thumb brushing slow circles across the back of my hand. “It’s time, isn’t it.”

  I nodded slowly, feeling the shift inside me—the deep, primal knowing that something had begun and there was no stopping it now.

  The pups were quiet, huddled close on either side of me. Kailaa gently pressed her ear to my belly, then looked up, her eyes wide with wonder. “I heard something.”

  Apolloh chuckled softly. “Could’ve been a kick.”

  I leaned into him, my voice low. “It’s starting.”

  ———

  Next Day. Day of Birth.

  I stirred slightly, my hand resting on my swollen belly as I let out a soft sigh. The sensation was subtle at first, a tightening across my middle that felt different from anything I had experienced so far. I had learned to recognize the signs of my body’s slow preparation for birth, but this felt… odd. Not painful, but more insistent, as if my body were trying to remind me that things were shifting.

  A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding left my lips, and I shifted slightly in bed. Apolloh stirred beside me, sensing the slight change in my movements.

  “You okay?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but still warm with concern.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, trying to mask the slight discomfort I felt. It wasn’t unbearable, but the sensation was stronger this time. The tightening came and went, making me wonder if it was just my body preparing in the quiet, unsung way it had so far.

  I glanced at him with a small smile. “It’s just… the baby’s getting ready.”

  Apolloh’s hand instinctively moved to rest on my belly, a comforting weight. He had become so attuned to my body’s changes, his touch grounding me whenever these moments arose.

  “That’s my girl,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “We’re almost there.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, my hand still resting over his. The tightening came again, though this time it was more pronounced, lasting longer than before. I felt it in my lower belly, low enough that it brought a sense of awareness I hadn’t quite anticipated.

  The sensation eased as quickly as it came, but it left me with a distinct feeling of anticipation. I shifted again, stretching my legs out beneath the covers, trying to find a more comfortable position as I quietly mused to myself. Was this the start of something? Something that would gradually unfold over the next few days? Or was this just another step in the process?

  I let out a small breath and shifted again, trying to relax. It was too early to call it—too early to make a judgment. I wasn’t ready to admit that this was it yet, but my body was definitely sending me signals that the time was drawing near.

  A few more moments of quiet passed before the sensation faded once more.

  Apolloh shifted to sit up, rubbing his eyes. “Should we get up? Check on the pups?”

  I smiled, a tired but loving smile. “Let’s stay here a little longer. I think I need to rest.”

  The moment passed, but I could feel a quiet sense of urgency building in my chest, knowing what was to come. I felt the baby’s movements and the slight discomfort again, but I was determined to stay present, to embrace it all, no matter how slowly it unfolded.

  As Apolloh leaned back against the headboard, I closed my eyes again, allowing myself to settle into the quiet, knowing that the day ahead would bring its own rhythm. And whatever it would hold, I was ready.

  ———

  I eventually rolled onto my side and slowly pushed myself upright, one hand bracing against the mattress, the other supporting the weight of my belly. Apolloh moved to help me without a word, his hands gentle and familiar. We exchanged a quiet look before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

  “Let’s start the day, yeah?” he said, his voice warm, steady.

  I nodded, brushing a hand through my hair. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

  We moved through our morning with a sense of ease. The pups joined us shortly after, Kailaa hopping onto the bed with a huge smile and Elias trailing behind her with sleepy eyes. They brought with them chatter and laughter, their small hands reaching for hugs and playful touches to my stomach, still fascinated by every movement the baby made.

  As the morning continued, though, the sensations in my belly were becoming harder to ignore. The tightening returned more often now, each one wrapping around my middle and then easing slowly. They still weren’t painful—just persistent. Insistent.

  I kept breathing through them, brushing off Apolloh’s concerned glances with soft smiles. I didn’t want to alarm anyone just yet.

  “I’m fine,” I told him more than once. “It’s just my body doing what it needs to do.”

  Still, even I could feel the shift. It was coming.

  After breakfast, I asked Apolloh if he wanted to walk with me. The air outside was crisp but pleasant, and I needed the movement. Needed the distraction. He agreed, of course, helping me bundle up while the pups promised to be on their best behavior for Zia and Jaxe while we were out.

  We walked in silence for a while, fingers laced together, the sounds of the fortress market behind us slowly fading into the soft rustling of trees nearby. I focused on my breathing, on the way the breeze kissed my face, on Apolloh’s thumb tracing circles against my hand.

  Then—another tightening. Stronger this time. I stopped walking and closed my eyes, bracing myself as the sensation moved across my belly, low and sharp in a way that made my breath catch. I leaned into Apolloh slightly, steadying myself.

  “That one was different,” he murmured.

  I nodded. “Yeah. That one—ooh—yeah, that one was something.”

  The pressure ebbed, and I started to speak again—

  —and then I gasped.

  It wasn’t the tightening this time.

  It was the sudden rush of warmth down my legs. A flood. My eyes widened as I looked down, heart stuttering.

  “Oh… oh no—” I breathed, stunned.

  Apolloh blinked, staring. “Was that—?”

  I looked up at him, stunned, a breathless laugh escaping me. “My water just broke.”

  His eyes widened. “Okay! Okay—okay! Alright! That’s—wow, okay—we’re having a baby.”

  I burst out laughing, partially from the nerves, partially from the surrealness of it all. “Yes, we are!”

  He moved into action instantly, one arm around me, the other waving down a nearby scout. “We need help. She’s in labor!”

  Everything around us suddenly felt sharper. Faster. More real.

  It was time.

  ———

  Apolloh moved quickly, but carefully, guiding me back toward the fortress. The warmth of his hand in mine steadied me, but I could feel it—the shift in the air, in my body. The baby wasn’t waiting anymore.

  Every few steps, I had to stop. Breathe. Let the pressure pass. It wasn’t painful yet… just insistent. Rhythmic. Like a slow drumbeat getting louder.

  “I’m okay,” I whispered, more to myself than him. He looked at me with that same quiet intensity he always did when things mattered.

  “We’re almost there,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I’ve got you.”

  We entered through the side courtyard, avoiding attention at first, but that didn’t last long. Zia and Jaxe spotted us from across the garden and rushed over. Zia’s gaze dropped immediately to the way I was holding my belly, to the way I winced and slowed again.

  “She’s started,” Apolloh said.

  Zia nodded, already stepping into action. “We’ve got the room ready. Everything’s in place. Let’s move.”

  Jaxe gently redirected a curious Elias who was beginning to follow, and I heard Kailaa’s voice not far behind, her small feet padding across the stone before being scooped up with a soft laugh from Jaxe. “Come on, sweetheart, your momma needs some quiet time right now.”

  Apolloh helped me up the stairs, step by step, murmuring things I couldn’t quite hear but felt all the same. His presence was a balm—his love wrapped around me like a second skin.

  Once inside, the quiet hit me like a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The room was softly lit, and the nesting space we’d been preparing for weeks now felt impossibly real. It was happening.

  “I’ll be right here the whole time,” Apolloh said as he guided me to sit for a moment. “Every breath, every push, every second—I’m with you.”

  A strong wave rolled through me. This one made me grip his arm, made my breath stutter.

  Okay. Okay.

  This was real now.

  Another wave gripped me. This one stronger—tighter. My fingers curled into Apolloh’s hand, nails digging into his skin. He didn’t flinch, just moved closer, resting his forehead gently to mine.

  “You’re doing so well,” he murmured, voice like velvet over thunder. “You’ve got this, Laika.”

  I exhaled sharply as the pressure ebbed, sweat already clinging to my brow. My heart was racing. “They’re getting closer…”

  Zia entered quietly, her presence calm but alert. “That last one was about four minutes apart,” she said gently. “It’s starting to move faster now.”

  I nodded. I could feel it—the way my body was shifting. Opening. Preparing. The baby had dropped so low I could barely walk without that deep, aching heaviness between my hips.

  Apolloh helped me to my feet again, and we swayed gently, the rhythm instinctive. My hands clutched his shirt, and he pressed kisses to my temple, my cheek, my forehead.

  “I love you,” I whispered, eyes shut tight as the next one came. It was sharper. A deep pull through my spine and belly. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you more,” he said against my hair, his voice shaking just a little. “I’ve never been so proud of anyone in my entire life.”

  When it passed, I nearly collapsed into him, my legs trembling.

  “We need to get her settled,” Zia said softly. “It’s time.”

  He lifted me gently, one arm behind my back, the other under my knees, and carried me to the prepared space. The bed felt soft, welcoming, though I already knew this was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Zia and another healer moved around the room with quiet precision, and Jaxe stepped in briefly, eyes flicking between Apolloh and me. “You’ve got this,” he said, low and sure, before disappearing again to keep the pups distracted.

  And then the next contraction came—deep and commanding—and I screamed.

  Apolloh didn’t flinch.

  “I’m right here,” he said, his forehead pressed to mine again, his hand in mine. “You don’t let go of me. You hold on, Laika. Just a little longer.”

  I nodded, and through gritted teeth, I said, “Let’s bring our baby home.”

  The next wave crashed harder. I cried out, my body arching as if trying to escape itself. My grip on Apolloh’s hand was iron. He never let go.

  “Breathe through it,” Zia’s voice was firm but gentle. “Don’t fight the pain—let it work for you.”

  I tried. Goddess, I tried.

  But it felt like my body was tearing open, each contraction clawing deeper. My legs trembled as I struggled to find any position that gave me relief. I turned to Apolloh, eyes wild, tears streaking my cheeks.

  “I can’t—” I gasped. “I can’t do this.”

  “You are doing this,” he said, brushing damp hair from my face. “Look at me, Laika. You’re not alone. You’re never alone.”

  I let out another broken cry as the pressure surged downward, heavier now—unrelenting.

  “She’s transitioning,” one of the healers said.

  “I feel it,” I gasped. “They’re coming. Oh—oh goddess—they’re coming!”

  Zia was already moving. “Laika, listen to me—when the next contraction comes, your body’s going to push. Don’t hold back. Let it happen.”

  I barely had time to nod before the next one hit like lightning through my spine.

  I screamed, primal and guttural, as my body bore down without mercy. Apolloh held me upright, his arms locked around me as I gripped his shoulders and bore down with everything I had.

  “There we go,” Zia said. “That’s it. We’re crowning. First one’s almost here.”

  I sobbed through the next push, the pain blinding. Everything else disappeared. The world shrank to pressure and burning and Apolloh’s voice grounding me.

  “You’re almost there,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. One more—”

  The next push came and I roared with it, everything inside me trembling—and then—

  A wet cry filled the room.

  My whole body froze.

  “A girl,” Zia announced with a smile. “She’s perfect.”

  Tears burst from my eyes as they placed her briefly on my chest. My arms were trembling, too weak to hold her long. But I saw her face—red and squishy, her little mouth open in a fierce, beautiful cry.

  Then they took her to be cleaned, and I barely had time to breathe before another contraction surged through me.

  “They’re not done,” I rasped, sweat pouring down my skin. “There’s more—”

  “Yes,” Zia confirmed. “I can feel the next one already.”

  The next came faster, harder. My whole body clenched again, and I screamed into Apolloh’s shoulder.

  “One more,” I sobbed. “Another one—”

  “Keep going, love. You’ve got more in you.”

  Push.

  Push.

  Scream.

  Another cry filled the room. Another tiny life pulled free from my body.

  “Another girl,” Zia said. “She’s healthy too.”

  I was shaking now, almost delirious with pain and exhaustion. But I couldn’t stop.

  “They’re still coming,” I croaked. “I can feel them—they’re still coming!”

  A third wave crashed. The room blurred. All I could do was hold on to Apolloh’s voice, his presence, his hands anchoring me as my body surrendered again and again.

  Push.

  A third cry—sharper, louder.

  “A boy this time,” Zia said. “He’s strong.”

  Three. Three beautiful cries. My chest heaved, and for a moment, I thought maybe that was it. That I could rest.

  But then—another contraction.

  Another shift.

  I whimpered. “No—no, there’s another.”

  “Yes,” Zia confirmed, her tone calm but focused. “One more. You’re almost there, Laika. Just one more.”

  Apolloh kissed my temple. “Bring our last one home, love.”

  And I did. One final push, one final scream—

  The last cry rang out like a bell.

  Another girl.

  Four. Four.

  I collapsed back into Apolloh’s arms, shaking, sobbing, overcome.

  “They’re here,” I whispered. “All of them. They’re here.”

  I lay back, utterly spent, with the faint cries of our babies echoing softly from across the room. My body trembled in the aftermath—every muscle sore, every breath a challenge. Apolloh never left me, not for a second. His arm stayed around me, his cheek pressed to my damp forehead, his voice a soft, loving hum in my ear.

  But just when I thought the worst had passed, a familiar ache stirred low in my abdomen.

  I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

  Zia knelt at the edge of the bed, calm but serious. “You’re not done yet, Laika. The placenta still needs to pass. It’s normal—this part can take time.”

  Time. As if I had any strength left to spend it.

  The ache slowly swelled, a dull, dragging pressure that reminded me of the first contractions. Not sharp. Not unbearable. But insistent. My body hadn’t finished its work yet, even if I had.

  “They’re not like before,” I murmured, eyes fluttering. “But they’re still here…”

  “I know,” Apolloh whispered, pressing his lips to my hair. “I’m right here. You don’t have to do this alone either.”

  He shifted to sit behind me, propping me gently against his chest. His hands found mine, and I leaned all my weight into him, eyes fluttering shut.

  Time passed in a strange blur. Hours, maybe. My body worked on its own while the room fell into a hush. The pups were swaddled and cared for nearby, their soft coos and whimpers occasionally cutting through the stillness. Every now and then, I tensed with another wave of pressure. They didn’t knock the wind from me—but they reminded me I was still halfway between agony and relief.

  Someone offered me water. Another adjusted the blankets. I could barely acknowledge them, lost in that place between awareness and exhaustion.

  “Almost there,” Zia murmured as she checked on me again. “You’re doing beautifully, Laika. Just a little longer.”

  I nodded weakly. Even that small movement felt like too much.

  Another contraction. I groaned through it, and Apolloh’s arms tightened around me.

  Then, finally, there was a shift. A heavy pressure gave way, and Zia nodded in quiet satisfaction.

  “It’s done.”

  The last piece of it—over. My body sank like stone. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

  But my heart swelled at the thought of them. Of the four tiny lives just a few feet away.

  I did it. We did it.

  ——

  I don’t know how I stayed awake.

  My body begged me to give in—to drift off into the dark and let the world fade—but something stronger kept me tethered. I needed to see them. Needed to hold them.

  “Can I…?” I whispered, my voice rough and tired, my lips barely moving.

  Zia didn’t even hesitate. With careful hands, she brought the first little one to me, swaddled in soft cloth, a tiny face peeking out with a sleepy frown.

  A soft, sharp breath escaped me. “Oh…”

  Apolloh adjusted behind me, holding me steady as Zia nestled the pup into my arms. I stared, wide-eyed, heart pounding with something wild and full and completely beyond me.

  “Hi,” I breathed.

  Another was brought over, and another. Until my arms were full of warmth and life and wonder. I couldn’t hold all of them at once, but I tried—I tried so hard to keep them close. Apolloh helped cradle one, the way he looked at them like he was seeing magic for the first time.

  We counted together. Four. Four perfect pups. Our pups.

  Each one looked different and yet so completely us. One had the faintest streak of silver in their hair, another a stubborn pout that already reminded me of Kailaa. One of them opened their eyes briefly—and my heart nearly gave out.

  I was crying again. I couldn’t stop. Happy, overwhelmed, stunned tears that slid silently down my cheeks.

  “They’re so little,” I whispered, brushing a trembling fingertip along the soft cheek of the one in my arms. “So perfect.”

  “You did it,” Apolloh said, his voice thick with emotion. “You brought them here, Laika.”

  I turned my head enough to see him—and saw that he was crying too.

  We leaned into each other, our foreheads resting together over the heads of our children. The moment didn’t need words. It was everything.

  Eventually, someone gently reached to take the pups from me—Elias, I think, guided by Zia, carefully cradling one of his new siblings as if they were made of moonlight. Kailaa stood close, awe painting her face, her hands reaching toward another.

  But I didn’t see much more than that.

  I let go. Finally. Fully. My body sank, heavy and safe, into Apolloh’s hold as sleep closed in like a blanket, and I welcomed it at last—with love wrapped around me on every side.

  ~~~

  Unknown POV

  The room was dim and quiet, bathed in the gentle flicker of candlelight. Everyone had trickled out one by one, giving space, giving time. Elias and Kailaa had whispered their goodnights, barely able to take their eyes off their new siblings, but Zia had nudged them gently along. Even she had stepped away, her hand brushing Apolloh’s shoulder with quiet reassurance before closing the door behind her.

  And then it was just them.

  Laika, asleep in the bed, her breathing deep and steady now. Finally resting after the storm she’d just weathered. Her hair was damp, cheeks still flushed, lips slightly parted. Apolloh hadn’t moved from her side, hadn’t loosened the arm curled around her.

  He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand, still amazed by the strength in those fingers. The strength that had brought four lives into the world just hours ago.

  He looked toward the nearby cradle—Zia had placed all four pups close enough for him to reach if needed. They made the softest sounds now and then, those tiny squeaks and sighs of newborn sleep, and he found himself smiling every single time. Their scent filled the room. Earthy and new and warm.

  He exhaled, pressing his forehead to Laika’s shoulder, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment.

  “I’ll stay here,” he murmured, not for anyone to hear but her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  And he didn’t.

  As the night deepened and the fortress quieted, Apolloh held his family close. He watched over them with reverence, soaking in the quiet after the storm, his heart still too full to hold steady.

  ~~~

  Laika’s POV

  Morning light streamed gently through the windows, soft and golden, brushing against my face as I stirred. It took effort—more than usual—to peel my eyes open. Everything ached. Not sharply, but deep, like my bones were humming with the memory of what they’d just been through. My muscles were heavy, my limbs slow, and my belly… empty.

  I blinked at the ceiling, trying to orient myself. The haze of exhaustion still clung to me, but it couldn’t mask the warmth I felt on one side—Apolloh’s arm, draped protectively around me, his chest rising and falling with calm, even breaths. He hadn’t moved. Not once, from the feel of it.

  A small sound pulled my attention to the other side. I turned my head with deliberate slowness, and there they were.

  Four tiny bundles nestled in the cradle beside the bed, sleeping soundly, their little chests rising and falling in a rhythm that made my heart twist and flutter all at once. I stared at them, barely breathing, tears welling as the memory of their first cries rang through my mind again.

  It was real. It had happened. They were here.

  My body may have been wrung dry, sore in every joint, but in my heart—gods, in my heart I was overflowing.

  A soft knock came at the door, followed by a gentle creak. Zia’s voice filtered in, quiet and warm. “Morning, Mama. How are you feeling?”

  I offered the smallest, tired smile I could manage. “Like I got hit by a boulder… but I’d do it again for them.”

  She smiled back, eyes full of something between pride and awe as she stepped inside, followed closely by Kailaa and Elias—wide-eyed and practically buzzing with energy they were trying (and failing) to contain.

  “Moooommaaaa…” Kailaa whispered, rushing to the bedside before stopping short, eyes catching on the cradle.

  “Can we see them again?” Elias asked breathlessly.

  I nodded, lifting a trembling hand to brush hair from my eyes. “Of course, babies… they’re your siblings now.”

  Apolloh stirred beside me, his hand curling over mine like it belonged there—and it did.

  And just like that, the room began to fill. With love. With life. With the tiny breaths of newborn pups and the laughter of two proud siblings, and the steady presence of the man who never left my side.