The silence of the North had become Zaliyah's constant companion over the last four months. The "White Paradise" was now in the deep of Mid-Winter, where the sun only appeared for a few hours a day.
Inside the castle, Zaliyah stood by the window of the nursery, his reflection caught in the frost-rimmed glass. He was no longer the frail, hollow-cheeked boy who had tumbled into the snow like a broken bird. The four months of "The Great Consumption" a period of rest and indulgence coupled with the rich Northwest cream and the meticulous care of the twins, had filled him out beautifully.
His silver hair was had grown so long it brushed against his lower back, nearly reaching his buttocks. It was a chore to manage, but he refused to cut it, seeing it as a testament to the time he had survived in this cold fortress. His stomach had grown pass that small bump, it was a now prominent swell that dominated his frame. It was a rounded weight that made every movement an effort.
He touched the silk of his robe, feeling a kick from within that made him wince and smile simultaneously.
"You're restless today," Zaliyah whispered, his voice was melodic, . "Is it because the air smells like the Capital? Or are you just as tired of this snow as I am?"
Behind him, the nursery was a sanctuary of blue and gold, a deliberate contrast to the dark aesthetics of the castle. The twins had spent the last four months perfecting every inch of the room under Zaliyah's vocal and often bossy directions. He had been a demanding nuisance, ensuring the furniture was carved from light oak and the curtains were woven from the finest silk, reminiscent of the skies over the Ruo Han Residence.
Iruna entered the room, carrying a tray of spiced tea and honey cakes. She moved with a confidence she hadn't possessed months ago.
The shy, trembling girl had been replaced by a poised guardian.
"He's kicking again? He has his father's temperament," Iruna said, her voice warm with affection.
The didn't know the gender of the child so everyone assumed it would be a boy from Zaliyah's eating habbits and cravings.
Zaliyah's expression softened .
Every kick, every movement, was a reminder of the man whom owned his heart.
"He has Karas's strength," Zaliyah said, his hand lingering on the peak of his belly. "I can feel it in the way his aura pulses. But the more he grows, the more he shifts. He feels like... home."
"Which is exactly why we have to keep the shielding runes active," Harun said, stepping into the room.
The guard looked older now, his face more settled and his eyes constantly scanning for threats.
The "unpleasant sentiments" from the mountain were a distant memory now replaced by a fierce, paternal protectiveness.
As Zaliyah attempted to turn toward him, his strength betrayed him. He let out a small, frustrated huff, his face flushing. Harun was at his side in a heartbeat, placing a steadying hand on Zaliyah's lower back and another on his arm, helping him navigate the short distance from the window to the armchair.
"You move like a mountain today, Your Highness," Harun teased gently.
"I feel like a mountain," Zaliyah retorted, settling into the chair with a heavy sigh. "And I'm just as hungry as one. Iruna, are there any more of those pickled ginger roots from the traders? I woke up at midnight thinking about them and nearly cried when I realized the jar was empty."
Iruna giggled. "The maids have already sent for more. You've become quite the terror for the kitchen staff, your highness. Yesterday it was cold venison with honey, and the day before it was charcoal-baked bread with goat's cheese at three in the morning."
Zaliyah adjusted his fur coat , the one that had once been oversized but now barely met across his front, straining against his midsection. He huffed, looking down at the gap. "I am picky because I am carrying a little glutton. He has standards."
A shadow fell across the doorway, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Xulthas walked in, his emerald robes sweeping against the floor. Over the last few months, his relationship with Zaliyah had shifted into a strange, "frenemy" territory. He was no longer just a jailer of a Very 'expensive pet' , he had become a silent observer fascinated by the biological impossibility of the pregnancy.
"Still inflating, I see," Xulthas drawled, leaning against the doorframe. "I came to check the integrity of the shielding runes.
The child's aura is beginning to leak through the walls. It's... distracting."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. "If by 'distracting' you mean 'enchanting,' then yes. It must be hard for a cold-hearted warlock to be near so much light."
Xulthas walked closer, his green eyes fixed on Zaliyah's stomach. He reached out, his fingers tracing the air inches away from the silk. He could feel the resonance the dual pulse of demon and celestial blood, anchored by the human life force.
"You are still weak, Zaliyah," Xulthas said, though the insult lacked its old sting. "You can barely walk ten paces without your shadows catching you. How do you expect to survive the birth? The energy required to bring a hybrid into this world will drain you to the bone."
"I survived a blizzard and your hospitality, didn't I?" Zaliyah snapped back. "And I have something to live for. That is a power you wouldn't understand."
Xulthas's lip curled into a grin. He still thought Zaliyah was a fragile curiosity, but his perception had shifted. He no longer saw a "toy" but a vessel for a power.
"The maids are already placing bets on the child's hair color," Xulthas noted, turning to leave. "They seem to think a miracle is coming. I told them to get back to work, but even my threats can't ruin their excitement. They've started sewing tiny boots in the servant's quarters."
As Xulthas left, Zaliyah leaned his head back, exhausted by the short interaction. his long hair felt heavy, and the but the child felt heavier.
"He's right about one thing," Zaliyah whispered to Harun, who was still standing close. "I am tired. But I'm not weak."
Iruna picked up a silver brush and began the slow process of detangling Zaliyah's butt-length hair. It was a ritual that had become the highlight of their evenings.
"You aren't weak," Harun agreed. "You've turned this frozen hell into a home. You've made a Warlock care about a nursery, and you've made a King wait. You're the strongest person in this castle."
Zaliyah closed his eyes, feeling at peace by the rhythmic stroking of the brush. He thought of the Ruo Han Residence, of the warm summer winds and the sound of Karas's laughter. He wasn't there anymore, but as he felt the baby kick against his ribs, he knew he was carrying the best part of that world with him.
The maids bustled in the background, their whispers full of excitement for the "Golden child." The castle was no longer a prison.
And as Zaliyah drifted into a light sleep, he knew that whenever he finally opened his eyes to see his child, he would finally see the face of the man who had given everything for him.