Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Late morning sunlight streamed through the ornate window, giving the study a bright and airy feel, despite the stone walls. Soft rugs and plush chairs made it cozy, but the large desk and multiple bookcases gave credence to the fact that the room was for working, and not relaxing.

The lone occupant sat behind the desk, twirling a quill between her clawed fingers as she stared at nothing in particular. Books, papers, parchment, and scrolls were scattered in front of her, but she’d given up any pretenses of working. She had other, much more pressing concerns to deal with than the state of her country.

She supposed that made her a bad queen, but Sveta didn’t particularly care at the moment. The last two weeks had seen her distracted, irritable, and worried, and Matthew had noticed. Sveta knew she needed to speak with him, but she was dreading the conversation. Mostly because she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

She glanced at the desk before sighing and laying down the quill. It had belonged to Volechek, and before him, their father. Sveta wished they were there; it might have been a touchy subject for them, but they would have given her sound advice. She pushed back from the desk and walked around to the window—or tried to. She stumbled on the skirt of the gown she was forced to wear as part of her station. Snarling, the beastwoman reached down and ripped the bottom foot or so off of the gown. She hated the constricting things. She’d had more freedom—figuratively and literally—as princess than she did now, and she missed the loose pants of her youth. The next time she met with her advisors, she was going to make a law that the Queen of Morgal could wear whatever she damn well pleased.

Balling the shredded fabric up, she threw it into the fireplace and continued on to the window. From here, she could only see the wall surrounding her city, but she knew what she’d find if she could see past it. The people of Belinsk, her people, would be going about their day, hawking wares, shopping, meeting friends and loved ones. The minstrels would be playing in the square, and children would be running around everywhere.

Children.

Sveta lifted her hand and gently caressed her lower stomach. She’d always wanted children...

A knock on the door startled her and she stepped away from the window, dropping her hand.

“Come in.”

The heavy wood door opened, and blue eyes peeked around the door.

“You busy?”

Even full of turmoil, the sight of her husband still brought a smile to her face. “Never too busy for you.”

A soft smile lit up his blue eyes and Matthew walked into the study, closing the door behind him. The last eight years had been kind to him, and he was still as handsome as when he was seventeen. Older, of course, and he’d filled out more and had a few more scars, but underneath it all, he was still the boy she’d shared her soul with. The one she loved more than anything.

Matthew reached her and paused, looking down at her skirt. “New look?”

“Hardly,” Sveta scoffed. “I hate dresses.”

“I know.” Matthew drew Sveta into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Are you feeling any better today?” Sveta wrapped her own arms around Matthew’s waist and laid her head on his chest to avoid answering. She felt him sigh. “You know you can talk to me. If it’s something about Morgal, I can help you figure it out. If it’s something I did, then—“

“I’m pregnant.”

Matthew stopped speaking, and Sveta tightened her arms around his waist to keep him from pulling away. She hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but she couldn’t stand Matthew thinking she was angry with him. Now that she’d said it, however, she didn’t want to see his face; she was terrified of what she would find.

“Sveta...”

The Jupiter Adept closed her green eyes, hoping to soften the blow.

“That’s great!”

Sveta’s eyes sprung open as she was crushed to Matthew’s chest.

“Is that why you’ve been so withdrawn lately? You should have told me sooner! How far along are you? Have you seen a healer? I should write to Rief, or maybe Himi... and my parents! Man, Mom is gonna be delighted!”

Sveta drew back as Matthew rambled on, a huge grin on his face. “You’re not upset?” She asked quietly. He stopped and looked down at her, bewildered.

“Upset? This is the greatest news I’ve ever heard! What is there to be upset about?”

“Everything!” Sveta yelled. She pushed away from her husband and returned to the window, her claws digging into her arms as she gripped them tightly. After a moment, she heard Matthew approaching her.

“Are... are you not happy about this?” His voice was quiet, heartbroken, and that made Sveta’s heart twist in pain. Sveta let out a breath, her ears drooping.

“I am, it’s just... what if something goes wrong?” She whispered. Matthew was behind her, and she felt his warm hands pulling her ice cold ones away from her arms before he led her over to a chair and gently pushed her down into it. Sveta noticed small drops of blood and rips on her dress sleeves; she must have accidentally cut herself with her claws without realizing it. Kneeling, Matthew pushed her sleeves up before holding his hands over the cuts and casting Cure.

“What do you mean?”

Sveta let Matthew finish healing her before she spoke. Matthew remained in front of her, his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms. Sveta looked down at their joined hands.

“This. Us. What if the baby... what if I lose it? What if I can’t carry a half human baby? I am a beastwoman, Matthew. This will be the first hybrid child born between our two species. And then if the baby is born? What will it be like? What will it’s life be like? What if my people don’t accept it as their future king or queen? They wouldn’t even accept you as king.”

It had been one of the biggest battles of her life, almost as big as what happened at Apollo Sanctum, only fought with wits and laws rather than knuckles and Psynergy. While her people welcomed human visitors and travelers, after a decade of Sanan occupation, they were wary of having another human ruler. Sveta’s advisors had flat out refused to allow Matthew to be king, which had infuriated Sveta. Her people knew Matthew, they loved him. He’d been their leader when she and her friends had stopped the Grave Eclipse, and the beastmen had welcomed him back, celebrated his return as much as they’d celebrated Sveta’s.

But as much as they loved him, he was a human. He wasn’t to be trusted to act in the best interests of Morgal and the beastmen. Only last year had Sveta found a way to marry Matthew, and that was to make him Prince Consort.

It was an old law, one she’d found in a scroll detailing a long-dead country. It was a way for the ruling Queen of the country to marry without losing her authority. Matthew could help her, advise her, even make small decisions that had little to no impact on her people, but Sveta would have final say in everything. And even getting her advisors to approve that had been a nightmare.

Matthew was happy with the title. As great of a leader as he was, he wanted no part of running an empire. Politics bored him to tears, though he was clever enough to understand them. Instead, he studied the effects the Grave Eclipse had on the people of Angara, an off-shoot of his father’s research, and being Prince Consort instead of King gave him the time and ability to do that.

But children between them? A half human sitting on the throne? No one in her country would stand for it.

Sveta was broken out of her spiraling thoughts when Matthew squeezed her hands.

“Hey, who says we’re the first?”

“What?”

“Beastmen first appeared almost forty years ago, mutated from both humans and animals. You’re telling me that in all that time, there hasn’t been a single hybrid baby? No humans-turned-beastmen remained with the human lovers they had prior to the Golden Sun event? No human visitors fell in love with a Morgalian? No Sanans were beguiled by the beauty of the beastmen? I find that hard to believe. I mean, I fell in love with you the moment you revealed yourself to us in the Teppe Ruins.”

When he said it like that, Sveta could almost believe him. Matthew continued.

“And if there have been other beastman-human relationships, then there must be half human, half beastman children. And if other women have carried these children, then I don’t see why you couldn’t. You’re the strongest woman I know, human or beastman. I don’t like the word ‘hybrid,’ by the way. Not for our baby.”

“But that’s what it—“

“I’ll think of some other term, something that doesn’t have a negative connotation to it.” Matthew cut her off. “But please don’t call our baby a hybrid.”

Sveta nodded meekly. Matthew was making sense, and not just about the hybrid thing. She hadn’t given much thought to her people’s admittedly short history. Bilibin alone was home to both humans and beastmen; surely some of them had fallen in love with the other species. But still...

“And if my people don’t accept a half-human ruler?”

Matthew smiled. “You keep focusing on the human half. But the baby will also be half beastman. The blood of the Czamaral Clan runs through our baby’s veins, and none of your advisors would ever dispute that.” Sveta felt Matthew’s hand on her chin, lifting her face. Once his blue eyes had locked onto her green ones, he smiled proudly. “And your people love you, Lady Moon.” Sveta allowed a small smile at Matthew’s pet name for her, a nod to the ring he’d used to propose to her. “Morgalians have a fierce sense of national pride that I’ve seen nowhere else, and that love extends to their Queen. They’ll love and celebrate our baby, because you’ll love and celebrate our baby, and the people love you.” He studied her face for a moment. “I hope our baby has your eyes.”

Sveta gave a very un-Queenly sniff as tears threatened to overwhelm her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Matthew scoffed. “I’ll bet everything I own that it’s the other way around.” He sobered. “Are you going to be okay?”

The Jupiter Adept nodded and then hesitated. “Would you like to say hello?” She asked almost shyly.

With a full blown grin, Matthew settled into a sitting position in front of Sveta before gently caressing her lower stomach. Sveta watched with a full heart as Matthew talked to her belly, introducing himself and promising all sorts of outlandish things.

She was still nervous. The future was never guaranteed, and while there may have been previous hybrid children, there was no one to say that they’d been whole and healthy. And it wasn’t like she could round them up just for her peace of mind. And people were fickle. Sure, the beastmen may love her children, but they could just as easily despise them. But Sveta needed to have faith. She would do everything in her power to protect this baby, and any future children they had, and she knew Matthew would, too. He was promising the same at that very moment.

“—don’t care who it is, if anyone even looks at you askance, I’ll kill them.” He looked up at his wife with a boyish grin. “Do you know when I’ll get to meet him or her?”

Sveta ran her claws through his soft blonde hair. “About seven months, if I’m correct.”

“Seven months! That’s hardly any time at all!” Matthew jumped to his feet and started pacing. “We need to get the nursery set up, we need to get clothes and blankets and bedding and toys... you need to see a healer! We’ll get the best beastmen healers in Belinsk, all of them, and I’ll write to Rief, Karis, and Himi to get here now. And my mom, best to have someone here who’s actually had children. Maybe I can get Rief to bring my Aunt Mia, too, she’s the best healer I’ve ever met. I need to get to the rookery...” He gave her a distracted kiss on the cheek before turning and walking out of the study, mumbling about baby proofing the entire castle.

Sveta giggled to herself and caressed her flat stomach again. “Your father is a bit nervous, it seems. We should go after him and make sure he doesn’t traumatize the poor servants.” And still giggling, Sveta followed after her husband.

Chapter Text

Tyrell never cried.

The last time he could remember crying had been when his mom passed away when he was seven. He felt sadness, sure, but nothing that came after had ever seemed to compare to the pain of losing his mother.

He hadn’t cried when he left with his friends to get the roc feather, he hadn’t cried when they’d accidentally doomed the entire world, and he hadn’t cried when they had saved it.

He didn’t cry when they dropped Himi off in Yamato. He didn’t cry when he saw his dad for the first time in two and a half years, nor did he cry when he left Kalay seven months later. He didn’t cry when he was reunited with Himi. He didn’t cry when they got married. He didn’t cry when she told him that she was pregnant.

And he didn’t cry when she miscarried two months later.

Or when she lost the next baby.

Himi cried, though. His tiny, beautiful, brave wife cried. She raged and screamed and broke down, and Tyrell held her through it all, but he didn’t cry. He was heartbroken, of course he was, he wanted children of his own, wanted what all of their friends had. But consoling Himi and helping her recover had seemed much more important than crying about something that they couldn’t change. And he didn’t cry as he watched his tiny, beautiful, brave wife pick herself up, determined to try just once more.

Himi got pregnant a third time. They decided to wait to tell anyone until she couldn’t hide it anymore, just in case. Tyrell watched his wife grow round with their baby, he helped as best as he could while Himi went through mood swings and depression, the nausea and the weird cravings. He finally got to set up a small nursery in their bedroom, and he still didn’t cry.

Tyrell expected to cry when the baby was born. Amiti had cried after Karis had delivered their twins. And Matthew had cried four times, once for each child Sveta bore him, and Tyrell would bet anything that Matthew would cry again once their fifth child entered the world; Sveta was due not long after Himi was.

And as Tyrell sat there holding his tiny, perfect daughter in his strong arms, he wondered if something was really wrong with him. Because he still didn’t cry. He was happy, overjoyed and just so proud of his wife, of his baby, of the miracle that Himi had brought to life, and already so in love with their baby girl, but he couldn’t even cry happy tears.

Himi shifted in her sleep, curled up in the middle of their large bed, taking a well-earned, and much needed rest. Her black hair was a knotted mess and black circles ringed her eyes; her Third Eye stood out like a beacon on her pale, heart-shaped face. She was breathtaking. Tyrell was so overwhelmed for love for the Venus Adept that it choked him, but he still didn’t cry.

The blankets in his arms stirred, and Tyrell looked down, a small smile playing across his face. Uzume looked just like her mother, porcelain skin and a patch of fine midnight hair on top of her head. Curiously, she had even inherited her mother’s Third Eye, a paler red than Himi’s, but he could already tell it was darkening. Of course, that meant she was probably a Venus Adept too, but that was okay; some of Tyrell’s favorite people were Venus Adepts. And he loved his baby daughter more than he’d ever thought to love anyone, even Himi, but he still didn’t cry.

Zu made a soft noise, her mouth moving as if searching for her mother’s breast. As Tyrell watched her, she yawned, then sleepily blinked her eyes.

Eyes that were the same shade of pale blue as his.

Tyrell was floored. He hadn’t seen Zu’s eyes when she was born. Himi’s handmaidens had kicked up a fuss that Tyrell had insisted on being in the room; once Uzume had been safely delivered, they had whisked him out until both mother and baby had been cleaned up. Once he’d been allowed back in, Zu was already fast asleep, with Himi not far behind her.

He had expected Zu to have her mother’s crimson eyes; she just looked so much like Himi, it made sense. He hadn’t counted on staring into eyes that were mirrors of his own.

Mirrors of his mother’s.

Uzume stared up at him, her bright eyes watching curiously before she gave another toothless yawn. She wriggled in her blankets a little, and one tiny fist broke free to curl around Tyrell’s lapel.

Tyrell’s throat tightened, and before he knew what was happening, tears were streaming down his face. What would his mother say if she could see him here now? Would she have been proud of all that he’d done, of the man that he’d become? Garet often told him she would have been, but there was no real way of knowing for sure. He hoped so, though. He knew that she would have loved Himi; it was hard not to love her, but his mother would have doted on her as the daughter she never had. And he wished she could have been here to meet Zu.

He cried tears of grief for his late mother, for the two children he never got a chance to know.

Regret for his father, who hadn’t made it in time for the birth.

Pride, joy, and love, for Himi and Zu.

Tyrell cried like he hadn’t cried since he was seven years old. He cried for so long that he didn’t notice Himi waking up, didn’t hear her getting out of bed to perch on the arm of the chair.

“I told you that you weren’t broken.” Her voice was soft, almost as soft as the hand she used to rub the back of his neck. Tyrell didn’t look up as he swallowed a few times.

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve rested enough.” HImi laid her head down on top of her husband’s and they gazed quietly at the sleeping newborn. “We did a good job.”

“She’s perfect,” Tyrell agreed. After a moment, he softly added, “She has my eyes, Himi.”

He could hear the smile in Himi’s voice. “I know. I’m glad.”