I couldn't stop staring at them.
Two babies. So small. So perfect.
My son lay in the crook of my left arm. Dark hair is still damp and messy. Eyes squeezed shut. Tiny fists clenched tight.
My daughter was in my right arm. Pale blonde hair, wispy and soft. Face scrunched up like she was mad at the world.
Both of them are breathing. Both of them are alive.
"They're so small," I whispered.
The healer was packing away supplies. "They're good sized for Lycan twins born at six months. Strong lungs. Good color."
I'd done it. Given birth in ancient ruins with no preparation and they were okay.
Tears ran down my face but I was smiling.
"Hi," I said softly. "I'm your mom."
My son made a tiny sound. Not quite a cry. More like a squeak.
My daughter's eyes opened just a crack. They were gold. Actual gold, glowing faintly.
"Oh," I breathed.
"Lycan eyes," the healer said. "They'll shift colors as they grow. Normal for royal blood."
Royal blood. Because their father was the Lycan King.
I looked up. Vaelor was still there, kneeling beside me. He hadn't moved since birth. Just staring at the babies like he couldn't believe they were real.
His hand was outstretched, one finger touching our son's tiny fist. The baby had grabbed it and wouldn't let go.
"You should hold them," I said. I didn't know why I said it. Should've kept them away from him.
But they were his too. Couldn't deny that anymore.
His eyes snapped to mine. "Can I?"
I nodded.
He moved carefully, like they might break. Settled beside me against the stone wall.
I shifted our son into his arms.
Vaelor looked terrified. "I don't—I've never—"
"Support his head. Like that."
He cradled our son against his chest. The baby was so tiny in his arms. Vaelor was all muscle and strength, and our son was this small fragile thing.
But he held him like he was made of glass.
"Hi," Vaelor said softly. Voice rough. "I'm your father."
Our son made that squeaking sound again. His little hand opened and closed.
Vaelor's finger traced over the baby's face. So gentle. "He has your nose."
"He has your eyes."
"Not yet. They're still changing." He looked at me. "What are you going to name them?"
I hadn't thought about it. Been too busy running and hiding to think about names.
I looked at my daughter in my arms. Then at my son's.
"Caelum," I said. "For him. It means sky."
"Caelum," Vaelor repeated. Smiled slightly. "I like it."
"And her..." I looked down at my daughter. "Lyra. It's a constellation. My mom used to point it out to me when I was little."
"Caelum and Lyra." He touched our son's tiny hand. "Perfect names for perfect babies."
We sat there in silence. Just the four of us in the ruins. The healer had stepped outside to give us space.
It felt surreal. Hours ago I'd been running. Now I was sitting here with him, holding our children.
"They need to eat soon," I said quietly. "I should try to feed them."
"Do you know how?"
"No idea. But I'll figure it out."
The healer came back in. "We need to move you all to the camp. You need rest and proper care."
I was tense. "I'm not going back there."
"You just gave birth to twins. You're bleeding. You're exhausted. You don't have a choice."
"I always have a choice."
Vaelor spoke up. "She's right. You need medical care. So do they."
I looked at him. Our son is still in his arms.
"If I go back, I'm a prisoner again."
"No." His voice was firm. "You're the mother of my children. My mate. Not a prisoner."
"That's what you say now."
"That's what I'll always say." He met my eyes. "I know you don't trust me. But trust this—I will protect you and them with my life. No one will hurt you. Not the Council. Not anyone."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.
But trust didn't come easy anymore.
"Can you stand?" the healer asked.
I tried. My legs shook. Everything hurts.
Vaelor handed Caelum to the healer and was there instantly, supporting me.
"I've got you."
"I can walk—"
"You can barely stand. Let me help."
I was too tired to argue.
One of the guards brought a stretcher. They laid me on it carefully. The healer placed both babies in my arms.
"Don't let go of them," I told her.
"I won't. I promise."
They lifted the stretcher. Vaelor walked beside me, one hand on the edge, eyes on the babies.
The walk back to camp felt endless. Every bump hurt. But I kept my eyes on Caelum and Lyra.
They were so small. So fragile.
So mine.
When we reached camp, they took me to a bigger tent. Clean bed, medical supplies, everything ready.
"How did you—" I started.
"I had them prepare it days ago," Vaelor said. "Just in case."
They settled me on the bed. The healer took the babies to clean them properly while I was examined.
More bleeding than normal. Tears that needed stitching. But otherwise okay.
When the healer brought the babies back, they were wrapped in soft blankets. Clean and warm.
"They need to eat," she said. "Can you try feeding them?"
I nodded.
She helped me position Lyra first. Showed me how to hold her, how to help her latch.
It took a few tries but finally she started nursing. The feeling was weird and uncomfortable but also kind of amazing.
"Good," the healer said. "When she's done, try the boy."
Vaelor stood in the corner, watching. Silent.
After both babies had eaten and fallen asleep, the healer laid them in a small bassinet beside the bed.
"Get some rest. They'll wake up hungry in a few hours."
She left.
Just me and Vaelor now.
He moved closer to the bassinet. Looked down at them sleeping.
"They're incredible," he said quietly.
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
I looked at him. "For what?"
"For keeping them safe. For being strong enough to bring them into this world." His voice cracked. "For not giving up."
"I wanted to. So many times."
"But you didn't." He sat on the edge of the bed. "That makes you stronger than anyone I know."
I didn't feel strong. I felt exhausted and scared and overwhelmed.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now you rest. Heal. Get your strength back."
"And then?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Then we figure it out. Together."
"I don't know if I can trust you."
"I know. But I'm going to prove you can." He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, he took my hand. "I failed you before. Left you when you needed me. I won't make that mistake again."
"You didn't know about them."
"I should've come back sooner. Should've searched harder." His grip tightened. "But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
I wanted to pull my hand away. I wanted to keep the walls up.
But I was so tired.
"Stay," I said quietly. "Just for tonight. In case they need something."
Relief crossed his face. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."
He moved a chair beside the bed. Sat down without letting go of my hand.
I closed my eyes. Listening to the babies breathing. Feeling his thumb trace circles on my palm.
For the first time in months, I felt something other than fear.
I felt hope.
Maybe this could work. Maybe we could figure it out.
Maybe—
A cry broke through my thoughts.
Caelum. Awake and angry.
I tried to sit up but my body protested.
Vaelor was there instantly. Lifted Caelum from the bassinet, brought him to me.
"Easy," he said. "I've got him."
I took our son, positioned him to eat.
Vaelor sat on the bed beside me. Close enough that our shoulders touched.
"We're parents," I said.
"Yeah. We are."
"I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Neither do I. But we'll figure it out."
Caelum finished eating and I handed him to Vaelor. "Burp him. Pat his back gently."
He did what I said. Looking terrified and determined at the same time.
When Caelum burped, Vaelor looked so proud I almost laughed.
"Good job," I said.
"Thanks." He laid Caelum back in the bassinet. "Get some sleep. I'll watch them."
"You need to sleep too."
"I'm fine. Just rest."
I was too tired to argue.
My eyes closed. And for the first time in forever, I felt safe.
Because maybe, just maybe, I wasn't alone anymore.