Untitled

So you both made peace with the idea that your family would do fine with just two children. After a couple years passed, more Shepherds had offspring toddling about the courtyards when they came to visit. With young Laurent and Gerome entering the fray first, they were welcomed quickly into the fold of the Shepherd’s adoration.

They were naturally followed by Kjelle, Nah and Owen, with Cynthia and Severa just beginning to crawl in behind them. The rest of the children were either works in progress or yet to be conceived, but it was surely not going to be long before the entire future crew made its debut in the present.

And while you adored meeting the cute, miniature versions of your favored Shepherdlets, seeing so many cute kids running about the castle courtyards was a bad influence.

All of a sudden you could hardly keep your hands off Frederick.

And of course your husband wasn’t any better; in fact, you were certain Frederick was tempting you, what with lingering in the bedroom before he went into the bath…and he seemed to keep his very handsome armor and cape on a while longer before changing when he got home. And worst of all?

He insisted upon many more date nights where the children weren’t home. It was after the ninth date in two months that something happened. As a matter of fact, it was just after Morgan and Marc woke up, one morning.

The pair shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and clutching their hand-knitted blankets. It was hard to understand what their mother and father were talking about, but they seemed to be bickering back and forth about something over the stove.

“I’m beginning to suspect you wanted this, General.”

“Lieutenant General, my sweet.” He reminded you, cheeky as ever, keeping his gaze focused on cooking eggs. “And I'm afraid I don't know what you’re referring to.”

“You know full well what I’m referring to– I saw that pleased look on your face when I told you I missed ‘it’, this month.”

“I was simply relieved to know you would not be in pain this week.” He responded smoothly, transferring the eggs to the waiting plate of sausage and bacon.

“Don’t be coy with me! I’ve already scheduled the appointment with Maribelle, so you may as well just admit this was your plan all along!”

“You speak as though it wasn’t also your plan. I seem to recall a number of mornings and evenings when you were rather brazen in your attempts to seduce me.”

“Oh? Does it bother you that I was able to seduce you more than you could, me?”

“Now that is ridiculous.” He scoffed, turning to set the food on the table, “We both know I am leagues above you when it comes to romance.”

“What’s ‘seduce’ mean?” Four-year-old Morgan yawned, nearly making both of you jump out of your skin. Frederick recovered first, fending off the pink blush before it could brighten into a sharp red across his face.

“It…means…something special that you say to your husband or wife. Once you have a partner, you’ll be able to say it.”

“So I can’t say it now?”

“Well, are you married?” Frederick asked simply, reaching for his little son and hoisting him to his hip. 

“Hmm…am I?”

“You are not.”

“Oh.” Morgan’s brow furrowed as Frederick gently swept his hair from his little face, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Will I know if I am?”

“I certainly hope so.” You chimed in, kissing Morgan’s cheek before you retrieved his little sister, who seemed content to blearily watch her family interact.

You squeezed her close, peppering her with much needed wake-up kisses. “Same goes for you, young lady. Though you’re only two…I doubt you can even pronounce the word yet.”

“I can help her!”

“No, Morgan.” You said in unison, prompting a sheepish chuckle from both his parents.

Of course the humor went far above his little head, but the questions were quickly forgotten once he was placed in front of a mountain of hot food ready to eat.

Marc was passed from mother to father, earning herself another round of kisses from her doting father before being set down beside her brother.

“What would you like first, children? Biscuits or bacon?” Frederick asked, his smile as warm and cheerful as ever. You brought over a basket of crumbly hot bread, jam and butter following while Frederick doled out the proteins.

It sounded silly, but your favorite time in the day was breakfast; watching two toddlers clumsily work through their food while half asleep was utterly adorable.

That, and Frederick was terribly handsome when he was cooking. Even if he was behaving like a sneaky little brat…

Ah, well. You would find out the answer to your accusation later in the day.

By the time you got your most pressing answer, you all but rushed for the royal barracks. Given the time of day, Frederick was likely in his office, prepping for the next meeting. It did not take very long before you were right at your husband’s door and rapping an impatient knuckle to the wood.

“Enter,” His commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine; gods, how many years had it been since he ordered you around like that?

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” You peeked your head in, and immediately his expression shifted to one of gentle joy.

Frederick rose from his desk, gesturing for you to enter.

“Never. Not when it’s you.” He replied, crossing the room to take your hand and shut the door behind you. He locked it quickly, looking at you with very expectant eyes. “So? How are you feeling?”

“I’m…perfectly fine.” You smiled back, leading him to the small chaise by the office window. He followed you dutifully, helping you sit with just a hint of impatience in his movement. “Maribelle says there isn’t anything to worry about, I’m in perfect health.”

“That is very relieving to hear. And I’m certain you explained to her why the impromptu physical was necessary, yes?”

“I did,” You nodded, biting back a grin. Frederick’s eyes crinkled, fighting the urge to laugh.

“Pray tell, what was the diagnosis? Are you…only in perfect health?” 

You tilted your head, raising six fingers.

“Six weeks.”

He gasped.

“Then-!”

You beamed, wiggling your fingers. “I’m six weeks along, Freddybear. We’re expecting!”

“My love!!” He nearly threw himself at you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and laughing with absolute joy.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, as best you could in spite of his armor (and that damned handsome cape).

He squeezed you close, kiss after kiss laid into your hair, along the side of your face, anywhere he could reach while also refusing to let you go for even a second.

“Robin!! What wonderful news…oh, I can hardly believe it!”

“You can’t? I thought we were rather diligent in making sure it would happen,” The comment was received with a scoff and a chuckle, finally pulling himself back enough to look at you again.

“It does not make it any less electrifying, my sweet. To think we will have another child– a third little one! How could I be anything other than utterly euphoric!”

“I couldn’t agree more, I just…I do worry some about the delivery. Do you think it will be as hard as Marc’s was?” You asked softly, and Frederick paused, considering your worries.

“...It may be difficult, yes…but, that does not mean we will not come out the other side in one piece. I will be with you every step of the way, and I will consult every physician I know to discuss how to avoid the challenges and health risks we had last time. We will be all right, because we are wiser now. We will face it, together.”

“Do I have permission to break your fingers if it hurts too much?”

“You may break every finger with as many fractures as you wish. And if I run out of them, I have plenty of toes to offer, instead.”

“Oh, stop!” You laughed, feeling your worries melt away. To be fair, though, they didn’t stand much of a chance in the face of Frederick’s unfettered adoration. 

“We will all be fine, my love.” 

Tender fingers wiped away his tears that spilled over, Frederick’s deepest joys almost always driving him to tears. To think a third baby was coming had instantly made this man’s world brighter, even in spite of the trials that would inevitably come.

“Oh, darling…my dearest, darling Robin.” He kissed you sweetly, drawing you back into his arms. “To be blessed with two children was already my greatest joy. To think we would be given a third is….words cannot express how I feel. I love you, so very much.”

“I love you too, Frederick.” You closed the distance once more, pulling him down to your level with a tug on his chest plate. Frederick smiled against your lips, drawing you onto his lap without missing a beat.

A soft gasp separated you, and you swatted his chest (well, his armor). “Frederick! What if someone sees?”

“The door hasn’t a window, and was locked the moment you entered.” He reminded you devilishly, squeezing your arms, “Allow me to bask in our joy a little longer, hmm? I wish to stay in it for just a moment more.”

“I…suppose it will be fine for a little while longer. But I mustn’t dawdle– I left Marc in the care of Vaike, and you know how he lets her do whatever she wants…”

“Of course. We will be efficient.” You bit back a giggle, loosening the straps around his greaves. The metal clanked haphazardly to the floor. “Quietly, dear! They are blind to our foolishness, not deaf!”

“Pray forgive me-” He was breathless, his gloves and pauldrons removed so he might lower you gently onto the chaise, “But we lost far too much time, I wish to waste not a second more.”

And you kissed him, the two of you delirious with joy at the thought of your precious family growing once more. Excitement and happiness swirled through you- what could a third child possibly look like for the two of you?

Telling the children had been a daunting challenge at first, especially because the secret had to be under wraps for at least three months.

12 weeks was the recommended time frame to tell them, and given their age, you were unsure they’d understand exactly what was happening  without having some sort of physical proof that there was something growing in their mother’s belly.

Morgan, of course, was somewhat suspicious. He had seen these patterns before. The whispering, the moving around of furniture, the explosion of yarn in his father’s basket, knitting the evening away when he returned home earlier than before…

That, paired with his mother suddenly avoiding foods she loved and the sudden rushes to the washroom…he began to suspect it.

“Mama,” He had suddenly paused his important painting, smears of color across his fingers and the parchment, “Is it happening again?”

“Is what happening, my dear?” You were half paying attention to him, looping Marc’s hair into wispy little buns while the two year old fiddled with a picture book in your lap.

“Is another baby coming?”

“What?”

“You and Papa are acting funny. Like you did when Marc was coming.” He continued to explain, “I need to know so I can add a baby to my painting.”

“....I see.” You tied off the second little bun, pulling Marc close. The little girl hummed, looking up at her mother’s pensive face. “If I said yes, would you be happy?”

Morgan considered the question, grabbing the little jar of red paint. “Prob’ly.”

“Probably?” You echoed, biting your lip. “Does that mean you might not be happy?”

“Well, if there’s two Marcs, and only one Morgan, it’s too many. I don’t think I can take care of two!”

“You won’t have to worry about taking care of another Marc, dearest. That’s what Papa and I are for.”

“But when it’s playtime, you don’t play with Marc like I do! It’s hard work!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah!” Morgan insisted, pressing painted palms to the stone floor to push himself up. “She’s a real good sword fighter, and if there’s two of her, I might lose!”

“Well, if it is another Marc, you will have plenty of time to get better at sword fighting until she can play with you two. Though I’m not sure you should be swordfighting with this Marc right now…”

“She’s real good, Mama.”

“Does Papa know?”

“We only get to train when Uncle Vaike’s taking care of us, so I don’t think so.” He answered in earnest, coming over to the two of you. Marc grinned at her brother, reaching out her hands.

“Mogi.”

“Sounds like I’ll need to have a word with Uncle Vaike,” You sighed, bouncing Marc gently on your lap. “But if it’s a boy, you’d be able to win against Marc more easily, right? Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s not gonna be a boy.” He said dismissively, grasping Marc’s hands with his painted fingers. You kissed the top of Marc’s head, setting her on the floor. 

“And how do you know that?” Frederick’s voice suddenly came into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You smiled to yourself; he must have snuck in when he heard all the chatter.

“Papa!!” Morgan and Marc both exclaimed, bouncing up to their father and launching onto his leg guards. He chuckled, lifting each one slowly after each other while he made a labored journey to you.

“Hello, everyone.” He came to a stop in front of you, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of your head. “Have you been resting well, my sweet?”

“I have, as per the doctor’s orders.” You confirmed, earning a pleased smile and a second kiss; properly on your lips, this time. “Morgan seems to understand the baby, but I wonder if little Marc does.”

“Then allow me to explain it to her. I’m sure she already suspects something is amiss; she is quite clever.”

“And I told her!” Morgan chimed in, “It’s gonna be another Marc just like her!”

“You mentioned that earlier; I’m afraid you’ll need to explain to me exactly why you’re so certain.” Frederick hummed, plucking his son up and kissing his nose.

“Because I’m a smart boy!” He declared triumphantly, wiggling in the air. Frederick set him down with an amused huff, replacing him with a tinier brunette girl who now hovered in front of him.

“Is Morgan really that smart, Marc?” He asked, and Marc nodded, suddenly quite serious.

“Mogi smart.” 

“Well, if you think so then it must be true.” Frederick kissed her rosy cheeks, holding her to his chest. “Shall we make dinner for Mama and Mogi?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s get to work.” He headed off, the toddler happily perched in her father’s arms. You watched him with a gentle smile, Morgan trailing after them to give you some reprieve.

The time passed quickly, and the family grew more excited at the thought of a baby coming into the house.

Frederick had gotten into the habit of leaving home later and returning earlier, especially when you started showing. He wouldn’t leave unless you pushed him out!

An interesting and somewhat concerning development that came with his lingering in the home was that Marc was strikingly more mischievous.

She got into the habit of trailing behind her father by sneaking out the door before either of you noticed. Though to be fair, you were on bed rest; it wasn’t easy to follow her every move.

So while you were reading that morning, you heard the door open about an hour after Frederick had left for work. As the sound of his footsteps drew closer, it was accompanied closely by breathy giggles that were unmistakably your daughter’s.

Which only meant one thing.

“My love, are you awake?”

“Come in, dear.” You called back to him, the bookmark already set in the closing book. Frederick appeared in the doorway a beat after, holding up a very pleased little toddler in his grasp.

“Your daughter followed me to work again.”

"My daughter?” You arched an eyebrow, Marc wiggling in an effort to be put down. She scurried to the bedside as soon as her feet touched the floor, grasping the edge of your nightdress and burying her face in the fabric. “Marc, were you being naughty while I was distracted?”

“No, Mama.”

“Don’t lie to your mother, young lady. You know better than to leave by yourself.” Frederick’s voice was stern, joining the two of you and sitting on the bedside. He lifted the girl back up, setting her in his lap; no escape from the lecture now.

You shared an empathic glance with your daughter, who now attempted to hide from her father’s chiding by burying her face in his chestplate.

“What if you get lost in the castle, and nobody can find you? Or, gods forbid, if you get stolen away by a stranger?”

“But…” She grasped his armor, looking up at him with that terribly sad puppy look that was impossible to fight. “I…miss Papa.”

Your heart clenched, and you fought the urge to give her every pass in the book. “Is that why you followed him to work?”

“Yeah...I wanna play with Papa.”

“I guess I’m not much fun to play with if I’m in bed all day.” You figured with a sad smile, looking back to your husband. You could see  guilt and joy fighting in his eyes; on the one hand he was worried about her safety if she chased after him, but on the other she loved him so much she wanted to spend more time with him…how could he possibly punish her for that?

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to continue his (not so harsh) lecture. “Regardless…it is not safe for you to wander alone, little one. Especially when your mother is looking after you, but she cannot leave the flat as easily.”

“Mm, good point. I’ll talk to the clerics about going on walks in the courtyards a little more often, Marc. Then we could have picnics and catch butterflies and beetles, and…oh, what fun we’ll have!”

“Picnics..!” Marc echoed, peeking at you with a cheeky little grin. You opened your arms, and she hurried away from Frederick’s scolding to fall into your hug.

“Let’s make sure not to sneak out of the flat anymore, then. Can you be a good girl for us, Marc? We don’t wanna worry Papa anymore.”

“We don’t.” She agreed with a grim nod, glancing back at her daddy who still seemed unconvinced.

“Then stay close and listen to your mother.” Frederick tousled her hair, “I’ll overlook it this time. But if I catch you sneaking about again, that’s no dessert for a week. Understood?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He rose from the bedside, taking care to kiss his daughter’s forehead, and then his beloved.

“I ought to head back. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

“Could I send-”

“-Not Marc.” 

“Boo.” Marc pouted, but giggled when his sharp-ish gaze cut back to the mischievous little girl. 

“Understood. I’ll let you know if something comes up…have a good day.” You squeezed his hand, which he returned with a kiss to your knuckles.

“Rest well. I’ll be home early, tonight.” The valiant husband swept his cape back and reluctantly left your side once more.

Marc decided it was time to bring you her favorite books to read to fill the time. The two of you had gentle fun while you waited for Frederick and Morgan.

Upon their return home, Frederick was thrilled to learn Marc spent the afternoon reading stories of gibberish and nonsense. She was happy to re-read them while he prepared dinner. Such days were sweet and filled with tender joy, even if the nerves around the baby’s due date was making things a little more chaotic.

The third trimester came with a vengeance, more challenging than with the prior pregnancies. You felt as though you were constantly struggling with some symptom.

Your emotions were a bit all over the place, your feet and ankles were prone to swelling if you so much as thought of stepping out of the flat, and nearly everything you used to enjoy eating or drinking simply smelled too overwhelming, or tasted miserable.

Tragically, even the metallic scent of Frederick’s armor was far too sharp on your sensitive nose. He was more than happy to remove the armor before he came home, but you lamented the loss of his handsome cape.

But Frederick seemed even more on edge than you. Since you were basically condemned to a chair or bed to delay delivery, he was nesting in your stead. The baby’s nursery was rearranged twice in one week, and he was doting on his two children so closely that even the quieter of the two was getting annoyed.

Morgan was able to escape the energy when he left for daycare. Marc longed to join him- but with a year until she was eligible, she was tragically the sole victim of her father’s antics. Which, unfortunately, meant she spent many mornings and evenings having her hair braided over and over by her father (they were pretty, to be fair).

It would all end soon, though. You were four weeks from the due date; a mantra you repeated over and over as you tried to eat the oatmeal and blueberries lovingly prepared by your husband. It was one of the last things you were able to eat without gagging, but…somehow it was still getting on your nerves.

Whatever possessed you in the past to have another child, you prayed it would never take hold of you again.

Your attention was drawn from the bowl when the bedroom door slowly pushed open, an unruly mop of brown hair sticking out from behind. Marc peeked into the room cautiously, scanning for her current arch-nemesis.

“Papa’s not in here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You informed her between mouthfuls. Little shoulders sagged with relief; it seemed being doted on constantly was annoying her, too.

“No more braids.” She muttered, waddling up to the bed and climbing in beside you. 

“I hear that.” You patted her back in understanding, “Though your hair is a rat’s nest this morning…did you go back to bed after breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Marc busied herself by smoothing her hands over your baby bump, feeling around gingerly for some movement just beneath the taut skin. “Mama okay?”

“Mama’s okay.” You tucked her hair behind her ear while her eyes sparkled, feeling her younger sibling kick against her palm. Softly you gazed at her, watching the curiosity fill her face as she pursued the game, searching for more fists and feet. 

“Are you excited to be a big sister, Marc?”

She nodded, the wild hair that couldn’t be tucked away swaying with each motion. You bit back a giggle; she looked like a little animal.

“Could you please go get Mama’s brush from the washroom? Papa will be upset if I try to get it.” Marc eyed you warily, her hands pausing. “...I’m not going to braid your hair.”

“...Okay.” She slinked away, narrowed eyes not leaving you even as she clumsily climbed off the bed. It was hard not to laugh.

Marc disappeared into the bathroom in search of the hairbrush, but that was about where the fun stopped.

A sudden pain burst from your core, nearly setting you upright. Oatmeal spilled to the floor, the bowl clattering down. That was odd…and very uncomfortable. 

“Marc…” You pushed up from the bed, managing to get your legs over the side before another, sharper pain hit. You doubled over, gasping sharply. “Marc!!”

“Mama?”

The little girl came back, her father’s comb in hand, seeing her mother’s body trembling with a sudden spasm.

“M-Marc,” Your voice shook, “Go get Papa. Tell him- ugh!” 

Marc jumped when you suddenly bent again, your hand braced against your stomach. 

“Go get Papa right now!”

The little girl could only do as she was told. She clung to the comb, bursting from the home and rushing down the corridor. She had followed her father’s path so many times she knew it by heart; even with the confused tears slowly filling her eyes. Why did you sound so upset? Why were you hurting? Everything was okay, then suddenly nothing was okay.

Marc rushed down the hallway, managing to make her way down to the courtyard on her own. Her father was in the midst of training new recruits as he always did this time of day. Marc fidgeted, remembering how he warned her not to follow him anymore. 

What if he was upset she came down? Just because Mama told her to didn’t mean Papa would be happy…

But she would have little time to consider her options. Frederick happened to glance towards his office, and spotted a little girl standing in the middle of the breezeway, looking rather pale. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to lose his patience with her in front of the troops. 

“At ease, soldiers! You’ve got 15 minutes to rest– not a moment longer!” He barked before striding over to the tiny tot all but trembling the closer her father came.

“Papa–”

“What are you doing down here, young lady? I told you not to come down here on your own!”

“Papa, i-it’s Mama!” She managed to squeak out, which was more than enough. Frederick froze, eyes wide when he saw the tears streaking faster down her cheeks. Willing himself to calm, he picked her up, trying to wipe away the tears. 

“What’s wrong? Is Mama all right?”

“She’s h-hurt!” Marc gasped. That was all she had to say. 

Two words Frederick had feared since the pregnancy began struck his ears. He broke into a sprint before the gasp left his lips. His comb flew from the poor girl’s hands in an attempt to hang onto his armor, leaving behind a mass of confused soldiers. 

But the chaos didn’t stop there. Frederick made it to the apartment in less than a minute; your cries hit his ears first.

“Robin!!” He called out to you, the door having been left wide open from Marc’s initial rush out.

There were several maidservants already inside, having heard your pained groans from the corridor. 

Frederick set Marc down, striding through the living room and making a beeline for the bed. The poor girl could only stand, shell-shocked, as she watched her father join the growing chaos in the bedroom.

“What’s going on?”

“I-i don’t know, sir–” One of the maids said, “We sent for the healers, but s-she started having pains suddenly just a few minuets ago. Really bad ones!”

His face drained of color. “No. It’s– we’re four weeks from the due date.”

“F-Frederick…” You reached out a shaking hand, your husband quick to your side and grasping it tightly. “Frederick, the baby’s coming right now.”

Your baby would be premature. 

“We must get her to the medical wing immediately. The summoned healers should arrive shortly, but she needs to be prepared for examination by then. General, can you-?”

“I will take her there. Alert the royal family, and send for my son. We planned for Princess Lissa to watch over them when the delivery happened, but I don’t know if she-”

“Frederick, wait, Marc-” You gasped out, squeezing his hand as another contraction rolled through. His gaze locked to yours, fighting the urge to lift you from the bed then and there. “W-where’s Marc??”

“She’s here.”

“S-she needs to know i-it’s okay…she’ll n-need to go with someone to Lissa…!”

“Breathe, Robin. Slow, deep breaths.” Frederick coached, protocol from the last two births taking over. “Marc will be all right. If you can spare me a few seconds, I’ll arrange it, now.”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the urge to exclaim again. The muddled mess of pain and anxiety that your brain felt was barely being tamped down by your concern for Marc. 

Morgan had been on a playdate with Owain and Cynthia when you went into labor with Marc. He didn’t have to see the pain and chaos that filled those initial hours. The thought of your daughter actively watching all of it with no clue what was happening made your heart wrench.

Frederick squeezed your hand once more before he left your side, returning to the living room. Marc was rooted to the spot, locked onto the scene unfolding in the bedroom. A pang of guilt struck Frederick- the last thing he’d said to the little girl was a reprimand for disobeying him.

All she was trying to do was help her mother. Frederick gingerly lifted Marc up, attempting to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Mama is going to be all right.” He coaxed, tilting her face away from the source of her fears.

“B-but…she’s…”’

“She’s getting ready to have the baby. It hurts a lot when a baby is coming, but that’s normal. The reason everyone is, er…excited, is because the baby is earlier than we wanted. So we’re a little worried.”

“You’re really worried.”

“...Yes, perhaps.” He conceded, sitting on the couch with a body twice as stiff as his voice. It seemed he wasn’t a very convincing comforter, in spite of his carefully picked words.

“Marc, Mama needs my help. Can you be a good girl and let the maids take you to Morgan? Owain will come to meet you with his mother a little while after that.”

“Will you and Mama come get us?”

“I will come get you as soon as I can.” He promised, just as another cry broke through the noise. They both jumped, his hands clenching around the little girl, whose grip in turn tightened on his armor. 

“P-Papa?”

“Marc, can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

Marc frowned, unconvinced he would be able to help much at all, but eventually she nodded.

“Yes, Papa.”

In the hours that followed, Frederick had whisked you out of the flat and straight to the medical wing, having the Exalt and the queen informed of the situation.

Morgan would be picked up from daycare by Lissa, who was gracious enough to watch after the children while you dealt with the early labor. Libra and Maribelle were summoned; the medical experts who had safely delivered your first two children.

But the risks associated with a premature birth were troubling even to them. Given how difficult the second delivery went, you and Frederick were already anxious.

He held your hand, squeezing tight with each contraction. They were washing over you more frequently, each one wracking your body with unfathomable pain. It was all he could do to watch, damning himself over and over for putting you back in this anxious situation in the first place.

The time passed far quicker in his mind; perhaps because there were so many things to worry about, it was impossible to tell what was going on around them. Not until Libra mentioned something about the sun setting did he realize evening had come.

A realization that was followed by a maidservant anxiously knocking at the delivery room door to inform the Lieutenant General that the princess had arrived.

Frederick managed to peel his eyes from your aching figure, catching a glimpse of blonde hair behind the woman.

“Milady must have brought the children.” He sighed softly, “Should I go check on them? Or would you prefer I stay?” Frederick asked you in as gentle a voice he could muster, in spite of the worry catching in his throat.

You managed a sharp nod; it hurt too much to speak. You were getting closer. Frederick rose from his place beside you, pecking your forehead swiftly when the nurses weren’t watching.

“I shall be quick. You are doing wonderfully– Just keep breathing.”

He straightened his vest, running a hand through wild hair in an attempt to look more put-together than he felt. As a matter of fact, he felt like he’d been torn to ribbons mentally. There was going to be another little one running around, any second. But first, he reminded himself as the door closed behind him, there were two little ones that needed tending to right now.

“Papa!!” Morgan exclaimed, tugging his hand free from Lissa’s to rush up to his father.

Frederick caught the boy, lifting him with a hug and a carefully crafted smile.

“Hello, children. Did you have fun today?”

“I did! I got to play with Cynthia and Owain a whole lot.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Milady,” Frederick offered a polite bow to his liege, who looked plenty more excited than he did. “Thank you for taking care of the children on such short notice. I apologize for any issues the sudden change must have caused.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble! I do love spending time with my little niece and nephew. Provided I get first visitation for the new baby, of course.”

“You may have to battle Lord Chrom for that opportunity, but I will do my best to ensure you see them first. Assuming everything will go well, of course…”

Lissa could see the anxiety rising on his face, troubled and grim. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering a gentle smile.

“It will be all right, Frederick. Robin got through the first two deliveries; she can get through this one, too.”

“Yeah, Papa!” Morgan chirped, taking Frederick’s hand with a playful tug. “It’ll be okay! Me and Marc can help too!”

Frederick forced a smile on his face, trying to hide his worries. “Thank you, dear boy. The best thing you can do to help is look after Marc and Lord Owain; and listen to everything Princess Lissa tells you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Morgan saluted, offering his bravest grin. Frederick passed the boy to Lissa, just as the doors opened.

“Sir Frederick, Lady Maribelle requests your presence.” 

The knight’s jaw clenched, the fearful sensation heavy in his chest. He glanced back to the trio.

“Milady, children…I will be back soon.”

“Bye-bye, Papa.” Marc waved shyly. With that, he disappeared back into the delivery room. Another pained cry was cut off when the doors shut. 

Morgan grasped Lissa’s skirt tighter. “Papa’s never made that face before.”

Lissa shook her head, taking each of their hands. “It’s all right, Morgan. Your Papa’s just a bit worried because the baby’s earlier than expected.”

“Is that bad?” Morgan pressed. Lissa gently pulled them along, returning to the royal chambers.

“Well, it can be, sometimes. Having a baby is always hard, Morgan, but this little one was just more excited to meet you guys than we first thought. Unfortunately, that can sometimes cause problems for the baby, but…since Robin’s here with us, she should have a safe delivery.”

“So…Mama okay…?” Marc piped up, wide eyes boring into Lissa’s soul. Her gentle smile brought some relief to the concerned toddler.

“I’m sure she will be. And you know what? If she’s not, Auntie Lissa will swoop in and save the day! So how about we all take a deep breath and, oh, I don’t know…go get some sweets!!”

“Sweets?!” They exclaimed; Frederick never let them have sweets before dinner! Lissa laughed and rushed down the corridor, the children whooping with joy. The fears of whatever was going on beyond the doors were redirected quickly. 

After all, what could they do but wait to hear back from the doctors? There was very little– but sharing pastries with Owain, Auntie Lissa and Uncle Lon’qu were definitely an acceptable pass-time.

Morgan didn’t remember falling asleep all too well. One moment he was “training” with his uncle to better fight Marc…the next he and Owain were carried to bed while Aunt Lissa giggled with his sister.

He recalled Lon’qu’s ears turning pink, but by the time the swordmaster tucked the boy in, Morgan was long gone into the realm of sleep.

What roused him from his hazy dreams was the sound of the bedroom door opening, and his father’s hand tender on his shoulder.

“…Are you awake, son?”

He squeezed his eyes tight, the sound of Frederick’s voice pulling him back into the land of the living. He yawned, rolling away from the still-sleeping Owain, only to blink up at his father crouched at the bedside.

“Mmn…Papa…?”

“Good morning, dear one. Did you sleep well?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan rubbed his eyes, slowly pushing himself up. “Why’re you here, Papa?”

“I came to bring you and Marc home. I thought you might want breakfast and a change of clothes before we go see Mama.”

That woke him right up.

“Mama?” 

Frederick nodded, putting a finger to his lips when Owain stirred. “Yes, she’s doing just fine. Let’s get home so we can go see her. Then you’ll get to meet the new baby.”

As if Morgan needed another reason to scramble out of bed. He bid a swift good-bye to his auntie and uncle, trailing excitedly alongside his father, whose hands were full with his half-asleep sister. Marc was always slow to wake up, but perhaps meeting their new sibling could remedy that.

They dutifully ate all their food, washed their faces and changed into clean clothes (the matching teddy bear sweaters you loved seemed the best choice to Frederick). They were out of the flat within an hour.

Morgan practically vibrated with excitement, wholly unaware that the sun wasn’t even up yet. Marc, who clung to her father and had her head pressed to his shoulder, seemed to know she shouldn’t be up.

When they reached the medical wing, it was much calmer than the day before. All those people rushing about yesterday were long gone. No mess, no noise…just a very quiet space, which led into a quieter room with a sole occupant.

“There you all are.”

The children perked up when they heard your voice. Sitting up in the bed and looking quite tired, you still seemed happy to see them.

“Mama!!”

Frederick lowered Marc to the ground, and the pair scampered up to you, climbing onto the bed with huffs and giggles.

“Hi, Mama!!” Morgan made it first, throwing his arms around your neck.

“Hello, sweet boy. Were you good for Auntie Lissa!”

“I was! I was the best boy.”

“And Marc? Did you- oof!” The little girl had nearly launched herself into your chest, hugging your waist as tightly as she could. You could see Frederick’s panic spike across the room.

“Gentle, Marc! Gentle!” He hurried over, gingerly pulling Marc back to reveal the tears building in her eyes, fingers curled into your clothes.

“Mama o-okay?”

“Oh, baby, I’m okay. See? Just fine.” You promised, motioning for Frederick to let her come closer. She buried her face in your chest, trying terribly hard not to cry. “You must’ve been so worried, Marc…I’m sorry you had to see me hurting like that.”

You stroked her hair, Frederick carefully sitting beside you to put Morgan in his lap. Marc nodded weakly, refusing to move with a shaky exhale. Your touch was a soft comfort after all the chaos.

“You were so brave, running to go get Papa. I’m sure you were very scared.” 

“Yes, you did so well, Marc.” Frederick chimed in, “If you hadn’t come to get me, Mama could’ve needed a lot more help. She’s fine thanks to you.”

Marc peeked up at her father, sniffling out, “Y-you’re not mad?”

Recalling the threat of no dessert for a week, Frederick laughed. “No, darling, of course not. You did the right thing, and now your mother and your baby sister are healthy and safe.”

The children’s eyes popped wide open. 

“Baby sister?!” Morgan gasped, staring up at his father, “I knew it was another Marc!”

“Would you like to meet her?” You asked them both, earning a shy little nod and a very bouncy, giggly one.

Frederick settled Morgan in beside you, rising to retrieve the newest addition to the family. You pulled both children in close, hugging them tight. They watched eagerly as he reached into the small bassinet by the window, and lifted a bundle of soft, knitted blankets.

He returned to the bed, beaming with pride and held the swaddled babe for them all to see.

“Morgan, Marc, this is your baby sister…Reflet.”

The children gasped. Snoozing happily in her blankets was the pinkest, tiniest person either of them had ever seen. Well, what they could see was a little face, and a tuft of white hair sticking out from the hat her father sewed for her…but judging by how happy their parents were looking at her, this was definitely their new sister.

“Baby…!” Marc reached out, pressing her hand to the blankets, just below Reflet’s chin. Her eyes sparkled with delight; Reflet was so warm! And she smelled sweet, like powdered sugar.

“She’s so teeny tiny!” Morgan leaned into you, peering at Reflet from behind his sister. “She’s even tinier than Marc! And she was real small when she was a baby.”

“That’s right. Marc was…hmm, six pounds, four ounces when she was born. But Reflet is only four pounds, three ounces.”

“Why?”

“Well, she came earlier than she was supposed to.” You explained gently. Frederick carefully sat down beside you, and Marc crawled into his lap to get a closer look at this “early baby”.

“Oh. Is that bad?” Morgan tilted his head, reaching over to touch the blankets. 

“It can be. She might grow up to be a little more fragile than you and Marc, but the doctors said that she seems pretty healthy. Just a little small. So long as she eats well and she can keep warm, Reflet will be just fine.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Then she’ll have to stay with the doctors for a little while until she’s strong enough to stay at home with us.” The explanation seemed lackluster to Morgan, brow furrowed as he stared at his littlest sister.

“She seems fine to me. Maybe a little sleepy.”

“A good observation, Dr. Morgan.” You giggled, poking his side. “She’ll be sleeping a lot the next few weeks. That means she’s growing. Think you can help me and Papa take care of her while she does?”

“Oh, sure! I can teach her how to sword fight when she’s awake.”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to hold a sword until she’s a little older, son.” Frederick glanced over at you warily. 

“I help.” Marc declared in a quiet whisper, grasping Reflet’s hand. Frederick kissed the top of her head, holding his two little girls close.

“You will be an excellent help, I’m sure. I’m counting on both of you to help me take care of Mama and Reflet. Now that you’re a big brother and a big sister, you’ll have to be good role models.”

“We’ll be the very best!” Morgan assured him, slipping from your lap to join Frederick and Marc in fawning over the little girl. Your husband settled in beside you, arms full with not one, not two, but three of his children, resting his head atop yours.

The four of you fawned over the sleeping princess, her squeaks and squirms garnering laughter from her older siblings, who couldn’t believe this little pink thing was their new sister.

In the light of dawn, peace fell over the castle once more. The Lieutenant General and Chief Tactician’s family was as close as ever, wrapped around each other and their newest bundle of joy.

Every time you woke up from your medicated sleep, your eyes would instantly dart to the frosted glass door, hoping to see his broad silhouette, but it was always just Sana sitting faithfully by your bedside, or Hoseok walking in with a quiet, sympathetic sigh.

"He's right outside, Y/N," Sana whispered gently one evening, brushing a stray lock of hair from your pale forehead. Her voice was soft, laced with a deep sadness for both of you. "He hasn't left the hospital. He’s the one handling all the paperwork, paying the bills, and speaking with the doctors. And every time the nurses say you’ve fallen asleep... he slips in. He sits by your side, holds your hand, and kisses your forehead while you sleep. But the second you stir... he leaves. He just... he doesn't have the courage to look into your eyes while you're awake. He feels like he failed you."

Hearing that only made the ache in your chest deepen. You wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that you needed him, but your own grief was a heavy, suffocating weight that kept you pinned to the bed.

When you were finally discharged a few days later, Jin wasn't the one who drove you home. Hoseok and Sana brought you back to the quiet penthouse.

The apartment felt completely different now, cold, vast, and hauntingly empty. The door to the spare room, the one Jin had excitedly planned to paint lavender just days ago, was firmly shut.

Jin was dealing with the trauma in his own, devastating way.

The powerful, unshakeable CEO of Onyx company completely vanished. He didn't go to work. He didn't answer his phone. The corporate empire he had built didn't matter to him anymore. Instead, he locked himself away in his private study at the far end of the penthouse, or vanished into the city for hours, walking aimlessly through the cold streets.

He became a ghost in his own home.

Every afternoon, Hoseok would show up at the penthouse, his usual bright energy replaced by a fierce, protective determination. He would walk straight past the living room, giving you a sad, reassuring nod, before heading to the study to drag Jin out.

From the hallway, you could hear Hoseok’s muffled, firm voice through the heavy wood. "Seokjin-ah, open the door. You need to eat. You haven't touched a single thing in two days. Come on, Hyung. Get up. Let's go get some soup."

A few minutes later, the door would click open, and Jin would step out. Your heart broke completely at the sight of him. He had lost weight, his jawline looking sharp and hollow. His usual perfectly styled hair was messy, and his eyes, the eyes that used to look at you with so much fierce, possessive love were completely bloodshot and dead to the world.

He would glance toward the living room where you sat, his gaze lingering on you for a fragile, agonizing second, filled with a raw, unspoken apology. But before you could stand up or call out his name, he would quickly look away, letting Hoseok guide him out the front door by his shoulder.

The two of you were drowning in the exact same sea of grief, living under the exact same roof, yet separated by a vast, heartbreaking ocean of guilt and unspoken pain.

The silence of the penthouse had become a physical weight, crushing whatever strength you had left. A full week had passed since the world fractured, and with every day that Jin slipped further into the shadows, a new, terrifying kind of grief began to take root in your chest.

Anxiety tore through your mind in ruthless waves. You looked around the vast, quiet bedroom, the empty space beside you on the mattress feeling larger than ever. What if this is over? The thought was a sickening, cold knife to the heart.

Your marriage had started under the sudden, whirlwind umbrella of a secret pregnancy. It was the baby that had brought him to his knees, the baby that had bound your lives together so tightly. But now... there was no baby.

Did he look at you and only see the loss? Did he regret it all?

The agonizing spiral of your own thoughts became too much to bear. You wept silently into your pillow, the hot tears soaking the linen until your body grew completely exhausted from the strain, and you finally drifted into a heavy, restless sleep.

°

Hours later, the bedroom door clicked open with agonizing slowness.

The room was bathed in the dim, silver glow of the midnight moon. Jin stepped inside, his movements completely silent, like a ghost haunting his own life. He looked completely worn down, his broad shoulders slumped as he approached the side of the bed. He dropped to his knees on the plush rug, just like he had done every single night while you slept.

Slowly, his large, trembling hand reached out. His thumb was incredibly gentle as he wiped away the track of a dried tear from your pale cheek. He leaned in, his eyes closed as he pressed a soft, lingering, and deeply broken kiss to your cheekbone, letting out a ragged, silent breath against your skin.

But this time, the sudden warmth broke through the fog of your exhaustion. Your eyelashes fluttered, and your eyes snapped open.

Jin froze.

The moment his dark, bloodshot eyes met yours in the moonlight, a flash of pure, panicking terror washed over his handsome features.

The guilt suffocated him instantly. He choked back a gasp, immediately straightening up and stumbling backward, his instinct screaming at him to run, to flee back into the dark corridor before he could cause you any more pain.

But you were faster.

Before he could pull away, your hand shot out from beneath the duvet. Your fingers wrapped fiercely around his thick wrist, your grip tight and desperate.

"Don't," you choked out, your voice cracking with a week's worth of unshed words. "Jin, please... don't run away from me again."

Jin’s entire body went rigid. He stood paralyzed at the edge of the bed, his back half-turned to you, his chest heaving violently as he tried to look anywhere but at your face. His wrist trembled within your grasp, but he didn't pull away.

"Y/N... let go," he whispered, his voice a broken, gravelly rasp that sounded entirely unhinged. "You shouldn't look at me. I can't... I can't be here right now."

"Look at me, Seokjin!" you cried out, the raw emotion tearing from your chest as you sat up, using your grip on his wrist to force him to turn around. Tears instantly blurred your vision again. "Are you leaving me? Is this over because we lost her? Please, just tell me if you don't want this marriage anymore!"

The words slammed into Jin like a physical blow. His head snapped toward you, his dark eyes wide with absolute horror and shock at what you had just said.

"What?" he breathed, his voice cracking completely. "What are you saying, Y/N?"

"You won't look at me! You won't stay in the same room as me!" you sobbed openly, your fingers tightening around his wrist until your knuckles turned white. "We got married because of the baby, Jin. And now she's gone... and you're gone too. I'm so scared that you're going to leave me because there's nothing keeping you here anymore!"

A violent, agonizing sob finally tore out from deep within Jin’s chest. The walls he had built up over the past week completely crumbled to dust in a single second.

"No! No, mama, never!" he cried out, his voice a raw, echoing wail of pure grief.

He didn't try to run anymore. Jin collapsed forward, falling heavily onto his knees right on the edge of the mattress. He threw his large, powerful arms around your waist, burying his face completely into your lap. His broad shoulders shook violently as he wept, his hands clutching desperately at the fabric of your nightgown, anchoring himself to you as if he were a drowning man.

"How can you think that?" Jin choked out through his violent sobs, his hot tears soaking straight through the fabric against your thighs. "I didn't run because I wanted to leave you. I ran because I'm a coward! Every time I look at you, I see how much pain you're in, and I know I couldn't protect our little girl. I failed you, Y/N. I failed our family."

He lifted his head, his face completely drenched in tears, looking up at you with a raw, agonizing vulnerability that broke your heart.

"I didn't marry you just because of the baby," Jin whispered fiercely, his large hands moving up to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own poured down. "I married you because I fell so deeply in love with you that I couldn't breathe without you. I don't care about the penthouse, I don't care about the company... I only care about you. Please don't ever think I would leave you. I need you, Y/N. Please... I need my wife."

Hearing his confession, the suffocating anxiety that had plagued you for days completely vanished, replaced by a profound, aching relief. You leaned forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him tightly against you as the two of you held each other in the dark room, finally sharing the exact same grief, together.

°

The weeks that followed settled into a quiet, heavy rhythm. The raw, screaming agony of the first few days slowly gave way to a dull, echoing ache, a period of slow, deliberate grieving. A profound silence took over the penthouse, the kind that makes the ticking of a clock sound like a heartbeat.

The nursery door remained closed, a silent monument to the future you had envisioned, but it was no longer a wall between you and Jin.

Instead of hiding in the dark corners of the apartment, you and Jin stayed glued together. You slept in his arms every night, waking up to the reassuring, steady thrum of his heart beneath your cheek. He didn't go back to the work right away, choosing instead to handle only what was absolutely necessary from the kitchen table, his eyes constantly tracking you whenever you moved through the room.

Jezi seemed to understand the heavy fog that had settled over her humans. The white Samoyed, usually so content to just lounge on her rug, became fiercely attentive. She would pad over to the sofa where you and Jin sat enveloped in a shared blanket, dropping her favorite squeaky toy right onto your laps. When neither of you moved, she would let out a soft, huffing whine, nudging Jin’s hand with her wet nose until he let out a breathless, fragile chuckle and scratched behind her ears. She wouldn't leave until she saw the faint ghost of a smile touch your lips, resting her heavy chin on your knee as if keeping you grounded.

You were never truly alone in the quiet. Your inner circle refused to let the silence consume you.

Sana and Hoseok visited almost daily, bringing life back into the apartment in gentle, measured doses. Hoseok didn't force his usual explosive energy; instead, he would sit quietly on the floor, helping Jin with mindless tasks or just talking about mundane things to keep his mind occupied. Sana would cook with you, her presence a warm, steady comfort that required no explanations or forced conversations.

Your parents and Jin’s parents practically took turns keeping the household running. They arrived with tupperware containers filled with warm, nourishing stews, quietly doing the laundry and tidying up the kitchen while you and Jin rested. Jin’s mother would often sit by your side, holding your hand in a silent, maternal understanding of a pain she wished she could bear for you. Their quiet care allowed both of you the space to simply exist without the pressure of being strong.

And slowly, beautifully, the healing began. It wasn't a sudden awakening, but rather a gradual softening of the edges of your grief. As the autumn leaves withered away and the air turned crisp, biting, and freezing, you and Jin found each other all over again in the quiet spaces.

You found each other in the late-night conversations where you finally spoke her name, shedding sweet, peaceful tears instead of bitter ones. You found each other in the way Jin’s grip on your waist tightened not out of fear of losing you, but out of total, unshakeable devotion to the woman you were.

Before you knew it, the calendar bled into December, and a heavy, familiar chill settled over Seoul.

It was a Sunday afternoon when the sky finally turned a heavy, bruised grey. You were standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, a warm mug of tea pressed between your palms, when the first crystalline flake drifted down from the clouds. Then another. And another.

The first snow of the year had arrived.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against a broad, warm chest. Jin rested his chin in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning hot against your skin as he looked out at the white flakes beginning to dust the city skyline.

Exactly one year.

One year since you had desperately stepped into his car, trembling with the terrifying secret of an accidental pregnancy. One year since a whirlwind marriage had tied your life to a billionaire CEO who was a complete stranger to you. One year since you had looked up at him under the very first snow of that winter, terrified of what the future held.

So much had been given, and so much had been tragically lost. But as Jin’s large hand slid down, intertwining his long fingers tightly with yours, you didn't feel empty anymore. The space where your pregnancy had been was gone, but your heart was entirely full of him.

"One year," Jin whispered raspy against your skin, as if reading your exact thoughts. He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your jawline. "Look at us, mama."

You smiled, a genuine, peaceful smile that reached your eyes for the first time in months. You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking up into his beautiful, dark eyes.

The bloodshot, hollow gaze from the hospital was gone, replaced by the fierce, protective, and profoundly deep love that belonged entirely to you.

"We made it," you breathed softly, a tear of pure gratitude slipping down your cheek.

"We made it," Jin echoed, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deep, and deeply healing kiss under the falling snow. It wasn't a kiss born of desperation or grief, but a promise of a new beginning.

The first snow of another year was coating the world in a fresh, clean slate of white. The scar of your loss would always remain, but as you held each other tightly against the cold, you knew you were completely healed. You had started with a baby, but you had ended up with a lifetime of love.

The quiet hum of the penthouse heating was the only sound in the room, contrasting beautifully with the silent, dancing white flakes outside.

Jin pulled the thick, plush velvet blanket higher, tucking it securely around your shoulders until you were completely cocooned against his chest. His strong chin rested comfortably on the top of your head, his arms wrapped around your waist like an unyielding shield against the winter cold.

Down by your legs, Jezi had climbed onto the sofa, refusing to be left out. The big, fluffy white Samoyed had curled herself right across your lap, her heavy head resting over your knees as she let out a long, contented sigh. Her warm fur radiated a cozy, comforting heat, and your hand automatically stroked down her back in a slow, rhythmic motion.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need for words anymore. The heavy, suffocating silence of the past year had transformed into something entirely different, something peaceful, sacred, and profoundly safe.

Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city of Seoul was slowly being painted in a pristine blanket of white. The first snow fell in large, lazy crystals, dusting the balcony railing and the distant skyscrapers. It was the exact same view you had looked at a year ago with a heart full of terror and uncertainty. But today, as you watched the flakes drift down, the tight knot in your chest completely dissolved.

Jin’s long fingers slid under the blanket, finding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your knuckles.

You leaned deeper into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment just to breathe in his familiar, comforting scent of cedarwood and warm linen.

You were no longer two strangers bound by a sudden twist of fate, nor were you two ghosts drowning in isolation. You were a husband and a wife who had walked through the darkest valley of grief and emerged on the other side, holding onto each other tighter than before.

Jin leaned down slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin. "I've got you," he whispered raspy, the deep rumble of his chest vibrating against your back. "Always."

You smiled against the blanket, squeezing his hand back as you looked out at the falling snow. The winter outside was freezing, but tucked inside his embrace, with your faithful dog in your lap and his heart beating steady against yours, you had never felt more warm.

“I love you.” You whispered against his neck.

He kissed your head and smiled, “i love you more than anything in this world.”

Previous part

A/n : And that's how their story ends 😭 they were bound together because of a baby but they ended up falling in love with each other, that even after the loss of baby, they remained in love and continued to heal each other's scars.

For me, it felt heartbreaking to write such an ending. But I wanted to write something like this, a story which is haunting yet beautiful.