The sea had finally released him. After long, brutal weeks battling storms and silence, he stepped onto solid ground. The village was alive with celebration as families welcomed their warriors home.

But Dorian moved through them as if in a trance, his heavy boots echoing against the wooden floor, his mind already far from the revelry. He had barely stepped off the ship when the news reached him, your name, spoken in hushed reverence and bright joy. You had given birth during his absence.

His steps slowed as he neared the cabin, where thick woven cloth veiled the doorway to your chamber. There was a heaviness in his chest that no battle had ever given him. Not fear, something deeper.

With a rough, calloused hand, he brushed the curtain aside.

The air inside was warm, dense with the scent of sweat, herbs, and the unmistakable trace of new life. Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by a small oil lamp beside the bed. You lay there, pale with exhaustion. His breath hitched in his throat as he sank to one knee beside the bed, fingers trembling slightly as they found your hand.

“I should have been here,” he whispered. “You went through all of it without me… and still, you look like the fiercest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You shifted faintly, just enough to guide his gaze toward the cradle in the corner of the room. When he turned, his breath left him in a single, stunned exhale. “Gods…” He moved closer, knees nearly buckling as he crouched beside it. “Two.”

His fingers brushed the edge of the cradle, but he didn’t touch them yet, just watched, like they were too sacred to disturb.

“They have your nose,” he chuckled and glanced back at you, eyes full of emotion when he returned to your side. “You gave me more than I deserve. I swear to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”