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The trip home was remarkably, thankfully, uneventful.

Together, Araceli and Detraeus made it back across the sea to their Ayr home, and armed with the recently attained knowledge that they had a third child to prepare for, they got to work. A room had to be set aside for them, a crib prepared, and initial purchases covered. On many things, they worked together, and over the passing months, as the season around them gradually shifted, Araceli grew heavier every day. Detraeus’ concern, as always, spiked high for her, more restless the larger she became—but better, still, by an infinite portion than he had for their first two.

There was something different about knowing, at least on some level, what to expect. He was excited. Worried, of course, but not petrified as he had once been, and eagerness filled that space. The child was going to be born around the onset of summer, according to Lithian, and so, as winter melted into the first chilly onset of new spring, Araceli was large as a body in bloom, toting around the weight of their third with all the difficulties that came with that.

On this morning, after rising early to greet the pre-dawn as was his habit, Detraeus prepared sweetened tea, hot, and brought it into their bedroom with him to set beside the small vanity table before moving to part the curtains—just enough to let the morning slip between them. After, he moved to perch on the edge of the mattress, and dusted fingers over his mate’s hair, kissing her temple.

“Mm. It is.”

Detraeus leaned, taking one up for himself and passing the other to his mate before eying her. Though Casseth and his mate had the means to visit relatively quickly now, given their true forms, the distance was still enough that, for the most part, the space was to themselves. Lithian had, however, left them with several components for making herbal teas. Simple, but designed specifically to help with potential muscle aches or cramps associated with pregnancy, and a bolster to the immune system for mother and child.

“And I did,” he added as an afterthought. “Sleep well, that is. How are you feeling?” Though open-ended and simple enough on the surface, Detraeus’ concerns about his mate still spanned past her physical health, especially so thanks to how she had initially reacted to the prospect of a third child. “I thought…we might discuss what to call him, mm?”

“You are still upset,” Detraeus said, frowning and ignoring — for the moment — everything else that came with the observation. “If you were so strongly against this…” He glanced to Araceli’s stomach, and then away, a knot of old guilt and anxiety returning full force. She was too far along now, surely, to have any other option open, but that did not change what could have been done at an earlier point. “We should have discussed this at more length sooner. A child should not be born if it is going to come into the world as a regret…”

At, ‘No other option…’ Detraeus pursed his lips. Much as he deeply wanted — more than he’d ever thought he might — this third child, it was always an option, and the most logical one at that, to decide it was not a good time, so long as the pregnancy was early enough along for termination not to endanger the mother. That argument, though, had long since been made, and though his opinion had not changed, reiterating it now would not help.

But it still frustrated him.

He wanted to say something to ease the mood again, to calm himself as much as his mate, but the lingering discontent made words momentarily escape him. At length, he grunted and shifted off of the bed, stepping towards the great bay windows and then out onto the adjacent balcony. There, he propped his elbows loosely on the rail, gaze trailing out over the scene where dawn spilled pink and gold onto the water of the tumbling falls. Behind him, his tail looped, slow lethargic sweeps like a pendulum.

He should have brought his tea.

Detraeus heard as Araceli rose, but didn’t immediately move, opting to listen instead and wait. When her footsteps padded out onto the balcony, he glanced, and took the tea when offered, watching her without comment. The quiet warmth, hope, and anticipation that always swelled soft in his chest at the sight of her, though, was dampened still by the unfolding events. Her reluctance. It wasn’t fair to blame her for her feelings, he knew, but it concerned him still — severely — to see repeated evidence of her misgivings, when said misgivings surrounded something that would, again, change their lives forever.

Something that he still wanted with everything in him.

His thumb swept up the side of the ceramic, thoughtful, and then his gaze flicked to her, blinking with surprise at her comment. “I am,” he said. “It is not something I ever imagined for us…not now, with our children grown, but…it…” His lashes dipped, attention flicking to her belly, and then up again. “It came as a something I could not have imagined wanting more if I tried, though I did not know it until the promise was there…” He looked out again, over the rolling falls and to the river below. “But yes. I do worry…for you, and for the child, and…” He hesitated. “For your happiness. It still, for me, is first. Always.”

“Mm…”

Detraeus’ eyes moved to her stomach again when she laid a hand to it, and some tension in him ebbed—a splinter of doubt easing back. Then, she moved for him, and Detraeus’ hand made it to her hip, palm just resting on the beginning rise of her belly—when her last comments came. Immediately, Detraeus stiffened. The spines of his tail rippled, and a cold knot bunched hard in his gut as his teeth grit.

“Nothing,” he growled low, beneath his breath, “will happen. Because I will not let it.” His fingers slipped back as he said it, winding to coil behind her back and rest there at the dip of it: gentle; protective; possessive. Leaning, he touched his nose to her hair, lips to her temple, and eyes shut. Behind him, his tail coiled, the soft, leathery pad of its smooth side looping to sweep up the backs of her legs. “Nothing can take you from me…”

Detraeus grunted. Again, however, a sliver of his tension eased at her words, placated, at least, that Araceli was not unhappy about this one thing. He made no move to release her, though, arms still looped about her and lips to his hair as he thought for a pause. The rushing, soft crash of water below filled the otherwise quiet morning, birdsong just beginning to twitter up from the surrounding trees and the sun now, finally, a full circle just above the lip of the dawn horizon.

“Danavan…Daerhn…Dantis…” He tilted his head. “Jarack.”

“Zaeyn.” Detraeus tested the name, letting it sit on his mind for an extended pause before glancing down to his mate. At length, he layered a hand gently over the swell of her belly, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Then Zaeyn he is.”