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"Ezran, can we please just—"
Callum tugged on her arm, then held her steady when she stumbled back. "You heard him, Rayla." His voice was bitter as poison. "We're leaving."
"Ez—" she tried, one last time.
Ezran grabbed hold of the large, ornate door handle. Through the crack, before he shut the doors, he met her gaze. There wasn't nearly as much anger behind his expression as it had seemed; his blue eyes swirled with sadness and fear, as well. "I'm happy for you, Rayla," he said, earnest and strained.
And then the throneroom doors shut with a thunderclap that echoed down the hall.
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and yet Rayla could only stand there, shock not allowing her a sob. Hands were on her shoulders, turning her, and she found that Callum's sourness had been mostly replaced with concern. He embraced her.
"I'm so sorry, Rayla," he whispered into her hair while he stroked it.
"You warned me this would happen." She should've seen this coming—and she had, but she hadn't wanted to believe it.
Sweet, loving Ezran, a little brother to both of them: furious at what should've been the happiest possible news.
Except, that wasn't fair—it definitely should've been the most amazing news of Callum and Rayla's lives, but, of course, it wasn't, because this was complicated and difficult and Ezran was in a better position to see the danger inherent in this than anybody—nor was calling him furious; it wasn't disdain—it was frustration, it was panic, it was turmoil.
"That doesn't make it okay," Callum countered.
She pulled back, sniffing. The rest of the tears would come later. "Are you mad at him?"
He scoffed. Rayla knew that the tightness in his jaw was from trying not to take the anger out on her. "Of course I'm mad at him." She ran her thumb across his cheekbone. "Are you not?"
She shook her head. "I can't be. He's right—you know that."
He shook his head harder. "He's wrong in thinking he understands us. He doesn't believe we've thought it through at all. He has no idea how hard this is."
"You said it was selfish, Callum. I agree—and I agree that it doesn't matter, but it's the truth. Just accept it," she said, resting her head against his chest. "This isn't 'the right thing,' it's our choice. It's… it's gonna take a bit for that to even be understandable. But the people who love us will get there, right?"
He sighed; the hand on her lower back slid around to her front, landing on her stomach and pressing flat against it. "Right."
"And you should've seen the look on the guy's face! He was all, 'Woahhh, this guy totally just served my ass! Now I look like such an idiot! Wah!'" Soren flipped his hair. "Yeah, I'll bet he won't be showing his face around there anytime soon."
Coruvs sighed as he poured another cup of morning potion, sliding it across the counter to Callum. "You make it sound like some spectacular bar fight. It was a single rude bakery patron."
"And service workers deserve more respect!" Terry argued. He put a hand over his heart and gave a small bow towards Soren. "I, for one, admire you for putting that unkind grump in his place."
Soren raised his cup in appreciation. Corvus rolled his eyes, though that didn't fool anyone anymore.
Hopping up onto the counter, Rayla snorted and took a sip. Callum monitored her for a moment to ensure the action hadn't accidentally made her nauseous. It was hard to believe that, soon enough, she wouldn't be able to scale surfaces in that effortless, catlike manner of hers.
"So, what are you two doing here?" Corvus asked, arms crossed. "You never come this early."
It was true that Callum and Rayla no longer had much need to visit the dining hall for breakfast when they preferred to have their morning drink lounging on their couch, with whatever pastries they had last gotten from Barius—re-warmed with the help of magic, of course. Apart from the occasional discovery of a suddenly barren pantry, the only reason they came for breakfast was early council meetings—of which there were none, today.
They looked to each other, sharing a mutual lip bite as they wondered how to start this conversation. Before they had a chance to figure it out, Soren spoke up, asking, "Need a refill, Rayla?" and gesturing to her cup.
She began to nod, holding out her mug to pass it, and Callum quickly snagged her wrist—not nearly as gentle nor subtle as he would've liked. Trying not to linger on the three confused expressions being directed their way, he leaned in closer, keeping his voice low. "You're, um—Remember? Not too much…"
Understanding dawned and Rayla's lips formed around a silent oh. "Right, yeah." She waved it off, trying to appear casual. "Of course. My bad."
"Callum, dude—lay off," Soren interjected. His brow was furrowed and he couldn't seem to decide between genuine opposition and playful jeering, because he then smiled light-heartedly. "She clearly needs the pick-me-up. Look at her."
"Thanks, Soren." Rayla rolled her eyes. "But, that's actually… kinda what we came here to talk about."
Everyone froze, immediately hooked on their next words.
The arm Callum had leaning on the counter snaked out to take the hand Rayla had tucked under her thigh. They took a deep breath in unison.
"I'm—" Rayla blurted at the same time Callum said, "She's—"
Soren took a short and obnoxious sip from his cup, glancing around nervously—
"—pregnant."
—and promptly spat it out.
Callum was grateful for the diversion, however brief, Corvus clapping the Crownguard on the back as he choked, Terry wiping the morning potion from his own eye.
"A little dramatic," Rayla chuckled, though it was noticeably forced.
As soon as he could speak between coughs, Soren shouted, "You're WHAT?!"
Callum shrugged awkwardly. "Yup."
Corvus faced them again with concern, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "What… What does this mean?"
Their hands wove together tighter; Rayla's smile was genuine, if hesitant. "We're having a baby."
"In… how many months?" Terry asked—saying the quiet part out loud—with wide eyes.
Callum took a shaky breath, trying to remain steady for her sake. "About seven months."
The room went quiet. He found Rayla lowering her head, lip quivering, unable to hide her shame in the way she'd been taught to her whole life. He stroked her arm, pulled her closer, tried to comfort her with a mere gaze.
Having regained his composure, Soren stood tall at once. He pushed past Corvus to face Rayla, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders, expression deathly serious. He then pulled her into a tight hug.
"I'm gonna be Uncle Soren," he squealed, voice wobbly.
Rayla's doubt melted, and she laughed with relief as she embraced him back. "Yeah, yeah. You are."
Corvus softly said his companion's name in a tone that must've suggested something specific, because Soren pulled back swiftly, eyes darting to her abdomen as he mumbled an apology. With a warm smile, Corvus placed a hand on Rayla's shoulder and she squeezed it.
Callum was flooded with utter relief at this reaction. He'd been hesitant to tell anyone after what'd happened with Ezran, but seeing the love on Rayla's face filled him with a new sense of hope. When Soren turned on him, he expected a similar congratulations, but was instead met with a finger poking harshly into his chest.
"Callum," he tutted, eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
"Positive you want to know?" Rayla smirked devilishly.
"Hey—" Callum started.
He leaned back and Soren leaned increasingly further in. "For shame."
Rayla snickered as she shifted on the counter to get down, which Callum assisted in by taking her by the waist. Conveniently, this placed her between him and Soren—which was good because Soren was starting to scare him.
"It wasn't a one-person job, Soren," she trilled, certainly knowing Callum was going red behind her while she slung his arm over her shoulder.
Soren hardly looked less… disgusted, but he did back away and shrug. "So long as you had your—"
"Soren." Callum buried his face in his hand, feeling Rayla shake with her laughter.
He held his hands up in surrender.
"Hey, uh—" Terry piped up, breaking into the circle they had formed. "Really, really not trying to ruin this beautiful family moment—congrats, you two, of course—but…" He cracked a nervous smile and gestured at nothing in particular.
Callum's glance and moment of waiting was validated when Rayla cleared her throat, appearing able to handle this. "We've—" she began, then screwed her face up and backtracked. "We know that this is… just about the worst possible timing, but… it's what we want. We've thought it through—a lot—and, sure, maybe it's a little selfish of us, and, you know what? It's our choice, and we're going to do whatever we can to see it through—Aaravos be damned."
He thumbed away a single fallen tear. Hormones, she'd surely say.
They understood well enough, it seemed. The group traded determined glances and brave smiles, united under one more thing to fight for.
Soren was the one who had to break the illusion once more. "Wait," he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Does Ezran know?"
Callum and Rayla exchanged another glance.
"Rayla?" Janai said, startling her out of her daze. She blinked and realized she had been interpreting her wife.
"Everything okay?" Amaya signed.
Rayla shook her head as though she could literally scatter the fog, fiddling with the folds of her pants at her knees and attempting reassurance. "Oh, yeah! Didn't sleep too well, is all."
Callum was biting his cheek like she'd told him to stop doing—and would later remind him of again; she was tired of him getting sores, for both of their sakes—and implying he wasn't fooled. Duh, she thought, directing her throat-clearing at him, I'm not trying to fool you.
His apprehension was misplaced, as his aunts both seemed to accept that excuse well enough.
The flap of the tent opened—though, the buildings of New Aurea had largely evolved to just that: buildings, and even the remaining tents, such as the Queens' effective sitting room, were hearty and well-adorned—and in from the daylight came a human servent, tray in hand.
Janai perked. "Ah!" she said, accent curling around the words. "Here we are—the first Blaze Pepper Blossom of the season."
The golden platter hit the table, and on it was layers of stuffed hot peppers, all laid in a circular arrangement resembling a blooming flower.
"I know you're quite fond of the treat, Rayla."
It was true—since she'd first tasted the Sunfire dish, Rayla had been enchanted by the spicy, creamy, vibrant dynamics on her tongue.
But… ugh.
She started off with a smile, gazing upon the dish only for her stomach to turn. The little orange bursts of flavor she usually loved were an utterly sickening sight and she was getting dizzy from tracing the rings with her eyes.
She struggled to keep up the mask, folding her hands tightly in her lap. "Looks delicious, but—you know what? I ate way too much at breakfast." Instinctively, her grip went to her stomach, and although, given the context, the gesture was much more likely to be interpreted as, "I'm stuffed," she yanked her hands away before she considered it.
Callum chuckled nervously, eyes and grin far too wide.
Amaya's eyebrow arched in that incredibly effective way of hers, and she didn't bother with fluff, pointing at the two of them and simply signing: "Weird."
Well, Rayla thought, here we go again.
The silence was palpable.
Callum's hand tightened around Rayla's on her knee, and he continued on, repeating sentiments as though he merely needed something to say. "We've thought it through," he said, reciting what had become their script, at this point, "and we're ready to defend our decision."
"And—" Rayla piped up, flushing at how small and squeaky her voice came out, "We know not everybody is going to agree with it, or support it, or… think highly of us for it."
His aunts' gazes were fixed and unwavering as they took all of this information in. Rayla felt a chilled sweat beading on the back of her neck.
Snapping the thick tension, Amaya smiled wide and signed something along the lines of, "Then I'm happy for you"—Rayla couldn't focus on the gestures as the General stood and pulled Callum into an embrace, not nearly as tight as the bear hugs she usually gifted her nephews. She gave an even gentler one to a stunned Rayla, as well.
When Amaya pulled back, she kept her hands firm on her shoulders, gaze darting very briefly to her stomach and then crinkling back at her. Rayla nearly teared up as she looked into basically-her-aunt's eyes, suddenly aware that—besides Ezran—she was the first person to know who would share the baby's blood. Those dark almond eyes might even be theirs.
The three of them on one side of the center table all simultaneously became aware of the silence from the other; they turned hesitantly to Janai.
Rayla had been especially frightened of the elf, knowing how seriously she took matters of Aaravos. How could she be blamed? He had taken nearly all of her family. On top of that, the last seven years had given her the twins, so she knew what it was to love a child, your family, and to want nothing more than to watch them grow up, all while knowing that might get snatched from between your fingers.
Her expression was tense yet unreadable, hands clasped on her knees. Rayla regretted catching her gaze, deep amber and scrutiny—that was, until it softened.
"Your choice holds much weight. To take responsibility for another's life when the risks are piled so tall against them is…" she trailed off.
It was still hard to tell whether this would be praise or reprimanding.
Undecided, the queen stood to pace behind her seat. "If it were anyone else, I'd call it foolish. Selfish."
She… had set up a "but" for that, no? Hopefully, Rayla winced.
"But you two are not anyone else."
Phew.
"You are valiant fighters, and I know for certain that this child will be no exception to those you will go to great lengths to protect."
Rayla sniffed, secretly wondering if she could blame the pregnancy or if she really was just this sappy these days.
Janai finally cracked a smile, and Callum and Rayla shared an exhale. Amaya got up from where she had kneeled in front of the couple, meeting her wife and taking her hand.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you," Callum sighed in relief. As he appeared to relax, he suddenly added, "And no offense to the peppers, by the way! I mean—I assume it's an aversion—?" He looked to Rayla for confirmation, which she responded to with a shy nod.
He'd successfully lightened the mood and Janai chuckled. "That's a shame."
"It is," Rayla agreed. "It does look really good." She made the mistake of regarding the Blossom again, needing to turn her nose up instantly. "I think."
"When your mother was pregnant with you," Amaya signed, addressing Callum, "one thing she couldn't stand was melon."
He grinned, raising an eyebrow, almost posing his next words as a question even though he seemed to already know the answer. "But I love melon."
His aunt nodded. "You know what she couldn't eat when she was carrying Ezran? Persimmon." His second-favorite jelly tart flavor.
Rayla's eyes fell shut for a moment as they all laughed. When she opened them, she caught the tail end of a sign directed at her husband. She could only make out "happy for you" and "your mother," but that was, of course, more than enough.
She sighed to herself, running a thumb over the barely-there swell of her abdomen. It wasn't the first time she had thought of Queen Sarai, and she suspected it wouldn't be the last.
"So, what have you two been up to?"
The question made Callum choke on his own spit. Despite himself, he let out a wry sort of laugh once he cleared his throat, though it was more out of nerves than amusement.
When Rayla shot him a glare as quick and deadly as Ethari's best arrows, he promptly shut up.
She took their bag from said father and deposited it by her bed, her casually folded arms making for a surprisingly convincing air—but, then again, she had always been best at pretending in front of her parents. "Mostly the same as everyone else has," she shrugged. "Seven-ish months, and all that."
"I see," Ethari nodded sympathetically. "Well, no use ruminating on it." Her dads received letters whenever there was an important development, so Silvergrove visits were usually reserved for non-fate-of-the-world-related matters, anyway. "You kids get settled—I'll let you know when the tea is ready."
"Thanks, Ethari," Rayla said as he turned to leave.
The elf bowed his head in acknowledgement, then cast a brief glance at Callum over his shoulder—he grinned back awkwardly—before ducking out of the room.
"Ugh." Rayla groaned the second Callum shut the door. She dragged a hand over her face and flopped backwards on her childhood bed.
"Yeah, I know," he winced as he seated himself next to her. Stella made her way from his shoulder to her typical spot on the pillows. "This one's gonna be rough."
She released her eyes from her palms, arching an unimpressed brow. "Uh, yeah, because of you."
"What?"
"You're such an idiot around my dads!" She waved a hand over her head, whacking him lightly on the face; her tone was giggly. "I do not want to know what is going to come out of your mouth."
"I'm not that bad," he argued, frowning.
"I know, I know." Her hand fell to rest on her abdomen. "I'm sorry. I haven't exactly been playing it super cool, either."
"Well, I'm not saying I won't say something humiliating."
"I know," she hummed.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Callum broke it when he mumbled, thinking aloud: "They're gonna know what we did."
Rayla snorted. "Uh, yeah—secret's kinda out, at this point." She playfully swung her foot against his. "Y'know, being married 'n' all. Were you under the impression we came off as exceptionally chaste at any point in our relationship?"
He snorted back. "No, but—Now, it's, like, confirmation of the specifics and—"
"People are going to start thinking about it?" she guessed, shrugging in apparent agreement.
"What?!" He bolted straight up. "People are thinking about it?!"
"Well, you know, like: when someone says they're 'trying for a baby' and you think, 'Oh, yeah, okay. Thanks for that information—'"
"And that's the first thing you think of?"
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And it's not the first thing you think?"
He flushed as he leaned back on a hand, avoiding her amused gaze. "Okay, well—"
Rayla cut him off with a single, defined, "Hah!" and went back to staring at the ceiling, content with that response. At some point, she asks, "Did you see Runaan looking at me earlier?" Her face screwed up, tongue poking out of her teeth and earning a giggle. "It was, like, horn to toe. Ugh. Do you think he noticed this guy?" She pushed her tunic up, revealing the ever so slightly perceptible swell of her belly.
Sliding off the mattress and sinking to his knees between hers, he traced his thumb across her skin. "Knowing him? Probably." Callum might've had the honor of seeing her body nearly every day for seven years, but her father could pick out banthers from their spots.
Just as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her stomach, a knock on the door, followed immediately by a creak, startled them witless.
"Tea's ready!" Ethari called as he eased the door open. To the pair's relief, he stopped just short of where they'd have been visible and his footsteps sounded back down the hall.
They both released a held breath. Rayla sat tall and righted her clothing, her smile more of a grimace when she said, to no one in particular, "Let's leave something to the imagination, yeah?"
The tea provided an easy excuse to keep his mouth occupied. Rayla and her fathers kept up the small talk while Callum sat in his usual seat, praying to the Stars he looked somewhat normal.
This was far and away the conversation he had been looking forward to the least—granted, that was before the reveal with Ezran went worse than they had ever expected.
He didn't anticipate a similar attitude with them, at least not in the same way; their primary concern was Rayla, and if Rayla was happy about this—which she was—then what would there be for them to object to? Well, their love for their child would certainly and immediately extend to their grandchild, and their birth wouldn't just potentially endanger others—it would be a danger to the baby themselves.
Eighteen years of missteps had, thus far, earned Callum more than enough merit to defend Rayla—because they were her family now, but Callum had been the one ready to fulfill that role when she'd needed it most. It was arrogant, sure, and it wasn't as though he'd done so much for her that she couldn't have accomplished herself—she was the strongest person he'd ever know, of course—but the part of him that knew love for Rayla and nothing else would always hold a grudge against anyone who'd hurt her.
Himself included.
Plus, it was certainly nice—having in-laws who owed the reunion and happiness of their family to you.
But, now? Now, Rayla and her baby were being put in danger, and all bets would be off—
"Do you have any unique insight on the matter, Callum?"
"Hm?" He found three sets of eyes suddenly locked on him.
Rayla tried to assist earnestly, though she kept glancing back to her dads. "The weird pattern of wind currents this season? That Runaan is talking about?"
"Right, yes. Sorry," Callum lied. He'd been tuned out of the conversation for quite some time. "No, not—not that I can think of. You, uh, pretty much got everything." He took a sip of his tea.
Runaan had never been good at hiding his scrutiny, and it became obvious to Callum that he hadn't been practicing since the last time they'd seen each other; he furrowed his brow and narrowed his turquoise eyes. Rayla, meanwhile, was biting her lip, her leg beginning to bounce.
"Well…" Ethari attempted to carry the conversation along in spite of the odd shift that had occurred. "Do you two have any plans while you're here? Rayla, remind me again what the occasion is—?"
"I'm pregnant."
Callum struggled not to spit out his tea, lest they have a repeat of Soren. Rayla sat, expressionless, waiting for a response like she hadn't just blurted out what she had. Ethari's jaw hung open and Runaan's eyes were wider than Callum had ever seen—so wide that he could only imagine muscles were being strained.
"I-I—I'm sorry…?" Ethari sputtered.
"Yup," she said with a pop. "I'm pregnant. We're having a baby—in seven months. When the cosmic evil comes back. And that's what we decided. We want to have a baby; we're having a baby."
It was hard to tell whether she had simply grown tired of the difficult, drawn-out reveals, or if she was actually losing her mind a bit.
"You—you decided… Now—?"
"No. Not really. We didn't plan it. Not at all. We're just deciding to keep it."
Hopefully losing her mind.
Callum pinned his gaze on the wood between his boots, mouth buried in his palm. He would always stand by his wife, through anything, no matter how painful, but… damn, if he wasn't tempted to leave a Callum-shaped hole in the front door.
…That was, until Rayla hunched over with her head in her hands, and her shoulders began to shudder.
He gathered her in his arms and let her cry into his scarf. He didn't care what Runaan and Ethari had to say; she was what mattered. And if they couldn't see that—
"Rayla." It came from Ethari. The elf had placed a large hand on her shoulder. "It's okay."
She began to stubbornly wipe away remnants of weakness from her eyes—Callum assumed, anyway. That had likely been her way of framing it for some time—sniffling, "Is it?" like she didn't believe it in the slightest.
"It is," Runaan said, joining the huddle around his daughter. "If… if this is what you want—"
"Yes. Yes, it is." He hadn't seemed to need convincing, but Rayla nodded furiously anyway.
"Everything else can come later, yeah?" Ethari smiled as he cupped her face. "For now? This is wonderful, Rayla."
She didn't try to hide the tears, this time—just pulled him in tight.
"And, well," he chuckled, "if your parents hadn't made similar mistakes, we wouldn't have you." He kissed her cheek.
Runaan regarded Callum, expression flattening. Callum gulped.
But Runaan gave him the same steady shoulder-hand that his husband had given his wife, though the gesture visibly came less easily. "You're going to be a good father, Callum."
His heart melted into a warm mush. Rayla had already told him that, of course—but it was different hearing it from someone else. Especially her own father. "Thank you," he said, though it had come out as a whisper.
Runaan joined the embrace and, never one to let him escape a family hug, Rayla gave Callum's sleeve a tug, which he happily gave into.
It was a really nice hug.
"Are you just gonna stand there?"
Rayla had known he'd find her here, which is exactly why she'd come; everyone knew she loved this balcony. It was her refuge when a meeting made her thoughts race, when a gala had gotten too loud, when she just wanted to watch the sunset.
Usually, it was Callum's footsteps that made her ears perk up. This time, it was not.
"Depends. Will you allow me to sit?" Ezran said.
She didn't even glance over her shoulder, just patted the polished stone beside her.
It was twilight, and the sky swirled with soft purples and pinks. Little blooms of light were sprouting all over Evrkynd as people lit their evening lanterns. The king took his seat next to her; the empty space between them was pronounced and unfamiliar. Despite spending nearly a week bouncing between friends and family, avoiding this tension they knew awaited them back home, Rayla still found comfort in Ezran's presence next to her.
"Did you run into your brother?" she asked.
"Yes. I wanted to speak with you first."
"Then speak."
A beat of silence. Rayla finally turned, finding him pulling at a thread on his cloak. He never did that anymore; his hands were always stiffly folded like a ruler's should be. "I'm sorry, Rayla."
A deflection died on her lips. He should be at least a little bit sorry. But… "You were right—about a lot of things."
"Such as?"
She shrugged. "It's selfish. It's dangerous—for everyone. It's—" She wiped a tear she hadn't known was falling. "—stupid. Unnecessary."
"Did I really say all of that?" Ez said, brow furrowing.
She laughed, and sniffed. "Maybe not in so many words."
"It's not stupid." He finally made his own move to face her. The anger lingered, but it was a dull flicker of a flame, barely visible behind the conflicted sadness that had risen to the surface of his eyes. "I don't…" He sighed a heavy, heartachingly-burdened sigh. "I don't blame you for your decisions."
"But you don't agree."
"I don't know." It came out as though it was a surprise to Ezran himself, a shocking admission he couldn't believe he just let slip. It probably had been—the king always needed a definitive answer. "I never—I was never saying I wanted you to—to—"
"Get rid of it?" she supplied, mouth going sour even though she'd said it with indifference.
He nodded, jaw tensing at the crude words. "And I know it wasn't your intention, nor your fault."
"Not entirely—"
"Rayla."
"Sorry, sorry."
A sparrow landed on the railing of the balcony. Ez held out a finger and the bird flew to it, like he was a fairytale princess. The creature tweeted, head twitching in blinks. "And I know that means I can't exactly be angry with you for it."
"But you're angry. So, who else are you going to take it out on?"
"I am angry," he agreed morosely. "Not for you wanting this, after you've already wanted it so long." The sparrow flew off. Ez inclined his head in the direction it had gone, informing, "She had to get back to her chicks. I'm not angry with her for that, either."
Rayla laughed and was rewarded with a small smile.
"Yes," he continued, "I do think that it's dangerous; I'm angry because I care about you. And, maybe, because I don't want this to be another thing on my plate—but, then, I can't really criticize selfishness, can I?"
Rayla didn't answer. She sat straighter the next time Ezran spoke, surprised by how shaky his voice was. "I'm scared, Rayla."
She shuffled closer. "Yeah. I'm terrified."
Ez leaned into her, ever so slightly, closing the gap. After a moment, he said, "I was never really mad at you." It was barely more than a whisper.
"So it's just Callum, then?" she joked—mostly joking—but then he gave a small nod and she snorted loudly. "How does that work?!"
He shrugged, giggles finally escaping him. "He makes it easier."
"You love him," she reminded.
"I love him," he nodded. Ez fixed his gaze back towards the city, mirth dissipating. "And I love you." He let his head fall to her shoulder like it used to—though, he didn't used to be taller than her. His voice was sad, quiet, afraid. "I'm happy for you."
She rested her head atop of his fluffy hair, avoiding the crown. "It won't be easy, Ezran."
"I know that."
"We'll be okay." She placed her hand on her stomach. "It'll be worth it."
"I know that as well."
"And I love you, too. By the way."
And he knew.