You knew the moment the door closed behind Cassian and Nesta that trouble had arrived.

Not the kind with blades or shadows. The kind with chubby cheeks, a toothless grin, and a laugh that turned the most feared warriors in Prythian into puddles.

Little Leo. Their six-month-old baby boy.

You had offered to babysit for the day while Cassian and Nesta went away on a mission. What you didn’t expect was how hard it would hit Nyx.

Nyx had always been good with them—confident, gentle, playful. It never surprised you. He had his mother’s warmth and his father’s protectiveness woven into his bones.

But this time, something shifted.

It was subtle at first. Leo in his arms, gripping the edge of Nyx’s tunic, pressing his face against your mate’s chest. Nyx—calm, steady—smiled, his wings slightly flared in that instinctive Illyrian way. You watched the way the baby nestled there, right under Nyx’s chin, like he belonged there.

You’d seen him with kids before.

But never like this.

Later, Nyx was lying on the carpet in front of the fire, letting Leo crawl all over his wings. Leo pulled at them like toys, and Nyx just grinned like it was the greatest honor he’d ever been given .

He wasn’t just entertaining the little one. He was watching him—his brow slightly furrowed, gaze caught on the tiny features, as if memorizing every twitch of a smile, every squeaky sound.

And after Leo was asleep in the bassinet, your mate had gone quiet.

He stood at the edge of the nursery, hands tucked behind his back, wings tucked in, unusually still. You walked in behind him, slid your arms around his waist.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

Nyx exhaled slowly.

“I mean, we’ve been mated almost two years. We have a home. We have… love.” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to scare the thought away. “But I never knew I wanted this. I thought I was content—just us. I am. But… today, holding him… watching him fall asleep in my arms…”

He turned toward you. His shadows curled gently at his back, but his wings shifted slightly open, a subtle, protective gesture—like even thinking about your future child made his instincts hum.

“I want that. With you. I want a little one to wrap their fingers around mine. I want to watch you carry our child, glowing like starlight. I want our baby curled between my wings and sleeping on your chest. I want the chaos, and the quiet moments. I didn’t realize it until today… but I want to be a father.”