Chapter 6: The Twins of House Ravenclaw

The night was calm.

Inside the high chambers of House Ravenclaw, a soft golden light bathed the stone walls in warmth. The flicker of enchanted lanterns danced across polished marble floors and ivy-draped pillars. Heavy velvet curtains hung around tall windows, shielding the room from the quiet world outside. A gentle breeze stirred the edge of the tapestries, carrying the scent of blooming duskroses from the garden below.

The chamber was silent, save for the low murmur of voices and the occasional rustle of cloth. Everything in the room had been prepared with care—the finest linen, the softest silks, and bowls of warm water waiting at the side. At the center of the chamber stood a grand bed carved from dark ashwood, its frame inlaid with runes of blessing and protection.

On the bed, Lady Elyndra Ravenclaw lay back against a mound of pillows. Her golden hair fanned across the cushion like a river of light. It clung slightly to her skin, damp with the effort of hours in labor. Her skin, pale with a faint glow, bore the natural grace of her elven blood. Her green eyes, bright like new leaves in spring, were heavy with exhaustion but sharp with focus.

Despite the pain, she was serene. She had always carried herself with a quiet strength—the kind that didn't shout but endured.

Beside her, Lord Ardyn Ravenclaw sat in a tall-backed chair, leaning close. His presence was grounding. He was a tall man, his features carved sharp with time and discipline. His black hair was short, thick, and slightly tousled. His skin bore a sun-kissed tone, a gift of his northern lineage. But it was his eyes that people noticed first—a piercing blue, cool and commanding, but now softened by worry.

He held Elyndra's hand firmly in his own. Not too tight. Just enough.

Across from them, three midwives worked in careful rhythm. The eldest among them, a woman named Marla, had delivered every noble child in the house for three decades. Her voice was low but sure as she spoke.

"Steady now, my lady. Just one more push."

Elyndra nodded faintly. Her breath came slowly. Then deeply. Her fingers clenched.

The moment stretched.

Then—a cry.

Small but strong. Sharp enough to pierce the hush of the chamber.

Marla smiled. "A boy."

The newborn was wrapped in a soft green cloth, his tiny limbs flailing gently as he voiced his arrival. His skin was pink and warm. His hair was light—soft gold, fine and wispy.

The child was placed in Elyndra's arms. She pulled him close, breath catching slightly.

Ardyn leaned forward. His fingers brushed the child's cheek.

"Kael," Elyndra whispered. "He'll be Kael."

Ardyn smiled faintly. "Golden as the dawn."

Kael quieted in her arms, as if soothed by the familiarity of her heartbeat.

Elyndra's eyes softened as she stared at him. She traced the curve of his ear with a thumb.

"He has my hair," she murmured.

"And your spirit," Ardyn added. "I can already tell."

For a time, the room was still again. A new presence had entered their lives, and everyone seemed to feel it. Gentle and bright. Alive.

Then, Elyndra winced.

She shifted slightly. Her hand tightened on Ardyn's again.

Marla's expression changed. She moved quickly to the foot of the bed, her tone more alert.

"Another," she said. "He's coming."

Ardyn looked startled. "Twins?"

Elyndra gave a faint, breathless laugh. "I wondered."

Kael was gently lifted from her arms and carried to the crib beside the bed, where another midwife swaddled him anew.

Elyndra's breath came faster now. The second was coming quickly.

More pain. Short, intense. A pressure deeper than before.

Marla leaned forward. "Just a little more, my lady. He's nearly here."

Elyndra nodded. She gritted her teeth and pushed.

And then, just moments later, another cry.

Softer than the first. Steady. Not as loud, but full of life.

The second child was lifted carefully into Marla's arms. He was wrapped in a dark blue cloth. His eyes were closed. His hands were still.

His hair was black. Thicker than his brother's. It curled slightly near the ears.

"Another boy," Marla said, voice quiet with wonder. "Smaller. But strong."

Elyndra reached out with trembling hands. Marla laid him against her chest.

The child did not cry again. He simply lay there, breathing slowly. Warm and quiet.

"He has your hair," Elyndra whispered to Ardyn.

Ardyn placed a hand gently on the infant's head.

"And your grace," he said. "He feels like still water."

Elyndra looked down at the tiny face resting near her heart.

"Mark," she said softly. "His name is Mark."

The twins rested together in her arms. One barely moving. The other fidgeting slightly.

Kael and Mark. Born beneath starlight. Sons of Ravenclaw.

The midwives stepped back. Their work was done. The eldest bowed her head.

"Two healthy boys. A blessing beyond measure."

Ardyn stood quietly, eyes fixed on his family. The room felt smaller now, not in space but in focus. The world beyond the chamber faded. All that mattered was here.

He leaned down and kissed Elyndra's forehead.

"You were strong," he said.

She closed her eyes. "I'm so tired."

"Rest," he said. "I'll watch them."

She shifted slightly and let herself sink into the bed. Her arms still held the twins, but her grip loosened.

The lanterns dimmed just a little. The wind at the curtains stilled.

Ardyn sat back beside her. His hand brushed over the boys' soft heads. Their breathing was soft. Peaceful.

He stared at them for a long time.

One son with golden hair and a strong voice.

The other with dark hair and a quiet presence.

He smiled faintly.

Balanced.

Together.

Twins.

Born to light and shadow.

To the house that bore wisdom and pride.

House Ravenclaw.