Extra Chapter 8 – Babymoon (POV Rhydian)
The night air was crisp as I stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing out at the vast expanse before me. The moon hung low, casting its silver glow over the valley below. It was the kind of beauty that stole breath, that silenced thoughts, leaving only the quiet hum of existence. And yet, none of it compared to her.
Behind me, Luna shifted on the blanket I had spread out, adjusting her position until she was comfortable. Her hands rested over the curve of her stomach, fingers idly tracing small circles against the fabric of her dress. She was watching me, her gaze soft, knowing.
"You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?" she asked, her voice carrying through the night like the whisper of wind through the trees.
I turned to her, smirking as I settled beside her. "I wanted it to be perfect."
She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her expression. "You already know that anywhere with you is perfect to me."
My heart clenched at that, the simplicity of her words sinking into my bones. It was so easy, the way she loved me—so absolute, so unwavering. Even after everything, after the wars we had fought, the blood we had spilled, she still looked at me as if I were something more than just a king or a warrior. As if I were hers, and that alone was enough.
I reached for her hand, my fingers threading through hers. "This place," I murmured, glancing back at the view, "was my mother's favorite."
Luna's expression softened. "She came here often?"
I nodded. "My father used to bring her when she was expecting me. He said the moon always seemed brightest here, as if it was watching over them. He told me he would sit with her for hours, just like this, dreaming about what kind of life they wanted for me."
A breeze rolled through the trees, rustling the leaves, carrying the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Luna squeezed my hand.
"And now you've brought me here," she said gently.
I turned to her then, taking in the way the moonlight framed her features—the delicate slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the quiet strength in her eyes. She was breathtaking. But more than that, she was my home.
"I wanted you to see it," I admitted. "I wanted you to have a moment that was just ours, away from everything else. No court. No duties. No expectations. Just us."
She smiled, shifting closer until she was pressed against my side. "Thank you," she whispered. "For this. For everything."
For a while, we sat in silence, watching the stars flicker against the endless sky. But I could feel something lingering in the space between us—an unspoken thought, a hesitation.
Luna was never one to hold back from me.
"What is it?" I asked.
She hesitated, biting her lip before speaking. "Have you thought about names?"
My brows lifted in surprise. "For the baby?"
She nodded, looking almost shy. "I know it's still early, but… I can't stop thinking about it."
A slow smile tugged at my lips. "Tell me."
She exhaled, her fingers tracing idle patterns against my wrist. "If it's a girl… I was thinking maybe Elara. It means 'bright one.' And if it's a boy… maybe Caelum. It means 'sky.'"
Elara. Caelum.
I repeated the names in my mind, letting them settle there, feeling how they fit into the space they would one day belong to.
"They're perfect," I said finally.
Luna relaxed beside me, but there was still something in her gaze, something deeper. "What kind of father do you think you'll be?" she asked softly.
I stilled.
It wasn't a question I had truly allowed myself to consider. I had spent so much of my life preparing for war, for ruling, for protecting what was mine—I had never thought about the quieter moments. The ones that would come in the stillness of morning, in the laughter of a child, in the weight of tiny hands reaching for me.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I know that I want to be the kind of father they can trust. The kind who is present. The kind who will teach them that strength isn't just about power, but about kindness, too."
Luna smiled at that, resting her head against my shoulder. "You will be," she murmured. "Because that's who you already are."
My throat tightened, a warmth spreading through my chest that I wasn't sure I knew how to name.
This woman.
This woman who had walked through fire with me. Who had seen every part of me—my darkness, my rage, my scars—and had still chosen to stay.
I pressed a kiss to her hair, inhaling the scent of her—wildflowers and the faintest hint of something sweet. "You know," I murmured, "I never imagined this for myself."
She tilted her head. "This?"
I gestured around us. "A future like this. A family."
Her fingers curled against my chest. "And now?"
I exhaled slowly, letting my gaze drift back toward the horizon. "Now, I can't imagine anything else."
A slow smile spread across her lips, her eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. "Good," she whispered.
We stayed there for hours, wrapped in the glow of the moon and the quiet certainty of what was to come. And for the first time in my life, I felt it—an overwhelming, undeniable truth.
I was no longer a man defined by war.
I was something else entirely.
I was hers.
And soon, I would be theirs.