Offspring Welcoming

The banquet haunted my thoughts like a song I couldn't shake. The grand hall of the Alanian palace had been a display of both wealth and tension, with golden chandeliers illuminating a crowd of finely dressed nobles. Despite the polished smiles and pleasant small talk, I felt out of place amid the grandeur.

I wore a gown that shimmered like molten gold, courtesy of Princess Elysia, who had taken great delight in styling me for the evening. The rich fabric hugged my figure, a daring slit revealing a hint of adventure with each step—just enough to evoke the heroines from old tales. With its cinched waist and flowing lines, the dress lent me a regal air—like I had stepped out of a mythic story.

Tonight wasn't just any banquet—it was to celebrate my triumph in the Masked Melee Tournament, an honor that brought me both pride and nerves. My heart thudded in my chest when I entered the hall, warm light from countless chandeliers dancing over the sea of nobility. Despite the hum of conversations, I felt a thread of unease tugging at me.

After finding my reserved table, I noticed respectful nods and glances from fellow nobles, their gazes reflecting both curiosity and acknowledgment of my recent victory. My nerves mingled with anticipation. This was my chance to shine—not just as a skilled warrior, but as a respected member of the empire's elite.

A hush fell over the hall as the Herald, adorned in an ornate tabard with the kingdom's crest, stepped forward. His voice carried with it a note of reverence, heightening the sense of ceremony.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests of the Ironclad Empire," he proclaimed, "it is my honor to present to you the champion of the recent Masked Melee Tournament—Lady Ava Liron!"

Warmth rushed to my cheeks when I caught sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror, the gown's golden sheen even more radiant under the chandeliers. My adoptive parents, Count Eldric Liron and Countess Cierra Liron, sat nearby, their faces lit with pride. Their unwavering support felt like a steady pillar behind me.

"Joining her are her noble parents, Count Eldric Liron and Countess Cierra Liron," the Herald continued. "Their guidance has been instrumental in Lady Ava's remarkable achievements. Let us welcome the Liron family this evening!"

Applause erupted throughout the hall as my parents rose to greet the guests. Count Eldric's commanding presence and Countess Cierra's poised grace showed the Liron family's high standing. I felt a wave of gratitude toward them, knowing their support had been crucial to my success.

As the Liron family moved gracefully through the crowd, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging. Tonight was about more than just my victory; it was a testament to our family's unity and strength. The admiration in the eyes of our guests reflected not only my personal achievement but also the collective pride we shared.

I caught Kazmir's gaze from across the room; his usually steady eyes showed unmistakable surprise before he turned to whisper something to a nearby dignitary, leaving me lost in a sea of unspoken thoughts.

Moments later, Kazmir approached me for a dance, just as I finished chatting with Pierre and Papri. Even though we danced, Kazmir kept himself distant. His hand rested lightly but firmly on my waist as if he wasn't sure whether to be close or keep his distance.

"You've been awfully quiet," I said, trying to break through his guard. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," he replied dryly, the word dropping like a wall between us.

His sudden departure at the end of the night left a cold void. He didn't even bid me goodnight before vanishing into the shadows of the grand hall. The memory lingered, an unsettling echo that refused to fade.

By morning, feeling confused and frustrated, I sought solace in the training hall before dawn. Light warm-ups did little to quell the restless knot in my chest. What had I done to upset him? Why couldn't he just talk to me instead of shutting down?

Needing a change of scenery, I decided to take a walk to the coastal market. I timed my departure with the guards' shift change, slipping out of the palace unnoticed with Drakehart, Kazmir's dragon-turned-horse, who seemed almost amused by my plan. I kept my Mana Dimension sword strapped securely to my side—a silent reminder of my power and responsibilities.

"Morning, Sir Drakehart. Up for a little rebellion?" I asked, patting his neck.

The horse snorted, which I took as agreement. A quick burst of aura concealed my presence enough to slip past the palace gates undetected. The cool ocean breeze hit me as we approached the bustling marketplace, merchants setting up stalls brimming with colorful goods. The lively chaos and the tang of salty air brightened my mood. A carved dolphin pendant, along with a matching sculpture, caught my eye—its playfulness reminded me of Kazmir's hidden warmth. Without thinking twice, I bought them, along with a green necklace that matched the color of his eyes, and tucked them into my bag.

We continued until the first rays of gold spread across the sky. Finding a quiet spot by the shore, I listened to the waves crash, hoping their steady rhythm would calm my nerves. But the peace was broken by quick footsteps.

A ginger-red-haired boy, whose hue oddly matched my original hair color as Amira, ran straight to Drakehart, eyes shining with excitement. "Wow! Auntie, look—a horsy!"

His aunt hurried after him, bowing apologetically. "I'm so sorry, my lady."

I smiled, bending to greet the child. "No need to apologize. He's just excited."

The boy gazed up at Drakehart in awe. "Can I pet him?"

Despite his aunt's protests, I waved off her concern. "Drakehart loves new friends," I said softly. "Want to ride?" The boy's face lit up, and I lifted him onto the saddle, climbing up behind him to ensure he wouldn't fall.

"Thank you, my lady," his aunt said, bowing again.

"Please, call me Ava." I returned her bow with a polite nod. "No need for formalities."

The boy squealed, pretending to race with imaginary competitors. His laughter was infectious, easing the tightness in my chest. Then, he turned to me with a shy smile. "Mom… can I call you that?"

I blinked, taken aback by his choice of words. Maybe he meant "Ma'am," but his chubby cheeks and bright eyes made me pause. "Of course," I said gently, poking his cheek. "But only if you ride safely. We can ride again soon if you want?"

We shared a few moments of joy, but then I spotted a familiar figure hastily striding toward us—Kazmir. My heart sank, seeing the frustration in his eyes. As he drew near, I knew I'd need to talk to him.

I gently dismounted with the boy, turning to him with a regretful smile.

"Johan, I'm sorry, but I need to speak with someone for a moment. Stay by your aunt, okay?"

The boy's lips jutted in a small pout, his eyes both bright and serious as if he had more to say. His aunt tugged him away gently, apologizing for his sudden tantrum. Yet, as he left, I couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze held a message—one I couldn't decipher.

"Apologies, my lady. We have to go back now." Johan's aunt immediately ran away with Johan still crying. I think Kazmir scared her off.

Kazmir reached me, breathing hard, and gave me a pointed look. "Is he…your child?"

"What? No!" I laughed in disbelief, but Kazmir didn't look amused. The boy's aunt led him away, whispering apologies as they vanished into the crowd.

Kazmir's disapproval turned to me. "You shouldn't wander off alone," he said, voice clipped. "It's reckless."

I crossed my arms. "Why do you care? It's not like you said goodnight last night—or anything else."

"You have the same hair color," he muttered under his breath, calling me by the name Amira in a low voice. Before I could ask him to repeat himself, he stepped closer.

"Come with me," he ordered.

"What—"

Before I could resist, Kazmir pulled me into a fierce hug, his heartbeat thudding against my ear. With a mischievous glint, he hoisted me as though I weighed nothing and marched straight into the shallows of the ocean.

"Kazmir!" I yelled, pounding on his back. "Put me down!"

"Not until we talk," he replied calmly, ignoring my protests.

"You're the one who refused to talk all night," I countered, annoyed. He set me down, waves lapping at our feet and soaking my boots. I glared at him.

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're reckless," he shot back.

We stood in silence, tension thick between us while the ocean roared. Finally, he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Don't you know how scared I was looking for you? Also, I saw you last night—with Pierre. You looked…happy."

Realization dawned on me. "Kazmir, he's smitten with Papri and asked for advice. That's it."

His cheeks colored slightly. "Oh."

I crossed my arms, suppressing a smile. "You were jealous, weren't you?"

"I wasn't jealous," he insisted. The faint pink tinge on his cheeks told another story.

I teased him with a small grin. "Idiot."

His lips curled into a begrudging smile. "Maybe."

Pulling out the carved dolphin pendant I'd bought, I handed it to him. "Peace offering?"

He eyed the second necklace I wore—a green stone that reminded me of his eyes—and smirked. "Only if you admit I was right about you being reckless."

"In your dreams," I said, fastening the pendant around his neck anyway.

A fragile warmth settled between us, only to vanish when Kazmir's playful streak re-emerged. "It's payback time," he declared, delight dancing in his eyes. Without warning, he threw me into the shallow water. I sputtered, my cloak heavy with seawater, tunic soaked through and clinging in embarrassing ways.

Kazmir froze, cheeks reddening at my disheveled state. "Let's get you back," he mumbled, carefully wrapping the cloak around me. "Before you catch a cold or scandalize the entire coast."

With surprising gentleness, he hoisted me onto Drakehart and guided us home in tense silence. Upon arriving at the palace, Kazmir—still very much red in the face—escorted me straight to my quarters. He directed the maids to help, keeping his gaze on the floor. I caught his embarrassed glance just before he fled, my heart fluttering strangely at the memory of his possessive warmth.

Later, after a hot bath and a moment to calm down, I wandered to the palace gardens at sunset. The hush of nature surrounded me, with soft birdsong and the sweet fragrance of early spring blossoms. Yet a pang of worry gnawed at me—how long would this fragile peace last?

In a week, we'd be returning to the Ironclad Empire to continue wedding preparations. The past three months had been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and revelations. But that evening brought another surprise at dinner when Emperor Isaac joined us at the table. The Xylos seemed at ease, though I felt awkward. Suddenly, Princess Elysia cried out—she was going into labor.

Chaos followed as we scrambled for help, the Imperial doctor rushing in while Prince Rolan stayed by her side. Time seemed to drag, each minute thick with tension. The corridors pulsed with low, worried chatter. I remembered how earlier that day, Johan's small hand had wrapped around mine with simple trust—would my own child look up to me with that same innocence someday?

Midnight struck, and at last, Elysia's maid burst through the door, face bright with relief. "Both the twins and Princess Elysia are safe!"

The hall erupted in grateful cheers. Kazmir embraced me gently from behind. "I can't imagine if it were you," he murmured, burying his face into my shoulder. "I will never look away, just to make sure you're safe."

A fierce warmth spread through me at his words. Witnessing Elysia's struggle, I realized childbirth demanded a rare kind of courage, one that risked everything for a new life. Strangely, I found myself both awed and excited by the idea of experiencing it myself someday—of holding a child who might grasp my finger like Johan did and smile up at me with unconditional trust.

We were ushered into Elysia's room, where she lay exhausted but radiant, holding two tiny bundles. Caspian and Marin had inherited their father's tanned skin and their mother's snowy hair. Despite her fatigue, Elysia managed a playful grin.

"So," she teased, "when will my twins get cousins?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but Kazmir only smirked. "Don't worry, sis," he quipped. "I'll give these nephews an entire battalion of mini Amiras."

I glared at him half-heartedly, but the lighthearted banter dispelled the earlier tension. Carefully lifting baby Marin, I marveled at his peaceful face, recalling Johan's innocent laughter earlier in the day. The baby stirred, gripping my finger with surprising strength. How remarkable it was, this tiny life with infinite possibilities.

Kazmir sidled up beside me, and Marin opened his eyes briefly, offering what looked like a toothless, dimpled smile. Kazmir leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.

"Make sure you can last a day for our own mini Amiras, my love," he whispered, teasingly confident.

I raised my eyebrows in amusement. Did he think I'd dismiss it like before? Judging by his startled expression, he realized I was no longer so quick to deny that possibility. If anything, the thought of motherhood—of a child with our combined features—both thrilled and terrified me. It doesn't matter what gender my child has, a child is a child, and it will never change anything.

In the morning of the following day, we are glad that before leaving the Alanian Empire, we were there to see the twins, also while reflecting on the banquet and Kazmir's earlier aloofness, I marveled at how quickly our dynamic had changed. Sharp formality and stifled emotions had melted into sudden warmth, playful teasing, and an oddly comforting sense of partnership. And now, in the wake of Elysia's dramatic delivery, I felt something like hope growing within me—hope for a family of my own, for a child who might giggle as brightly as Johan or clasp my finger like Marin.

Kazmir, with his secret depths and unpredictable nature, had become an unexpected source of stability in my life. He felt like a promise of shared laughter and unwavering support, no matter how many shadows from my past still lingered. And for once, the reflection staring back at me in the mirror seemed truly at peace—genuinely and irrevocably content.