Chapter 19
MILO
“ H appy supposed-to-be birthday to you! Happy supposed-to-be birthday to you! Happy supposed-to-be birthday dear Bran, Emeric and Zale, happy birthday to you!”
The babies just blinked at us owlishly, their gazes moving from faces to the small cake covered in candles that they couldn’t blow out. Despite the fact that we’d had them with us for five weeks now, they’d only just reached their due date and made it to the size of average newborns.
They were healthy. They were happy. And so was I.
Wren blew out the candles, and we all cheered. I lifted Emeric up against my chest, gently stroking his back, which was still smaller than my hand. They were tiny replicas of their mother, though she didn’t see it. I could, though—it was there in the small tilt of their noses, the little rosebud lips. Three little pieces of my Wren.
I loved her even more now. She held Zale in her arms, while Néit was casually holding Bran like he’d done it a million times, like they weren’t tiny and breakable. I had no idea how he did that. I always expected them to break. I felt like that old adage of a bull in a china shop—too big, too clumsy.
I watched my family as they ate cake and laughed with each other, the love flowing more freely than the alcohol I used to drown myself in to feel nothing. Now I felt so much that my chest threatened to burst.
Tryp picked up some gift bags, shooing away the animals from beneath the table. I huffed a laugh as he found Von, the battle kitten, curled up in one of the bags. I didn’t know how this messy chaos had become our lives, but I wanted to thank whoever put us on this path.
Tryp rolled his eyes, lifting the kitten onto his shoulders as he passed the bag over to Wren. “We got them a gift. It wasn’t Von, though she is definitely a gift,” he cooed at the small cat. She was definitely enamored with the Genii, and if she wasn’t curled up near the babies, she was usually with either Erus or Tryp.
Wren shook her head. “They can barely lift their heads; they don’t really need gifts,” she chastised gently, but her eyes were dancing.
She pulled out an absolute abundance of the pacifiers that they adored, which they also lost at an alarming rate. I wondered if some of the dogs hadn’t been stealing them away. Underneath those were a couple of board books, because Teron insisted reading was important, even at this young age. Lastly, there were three tiny stuffed axes.
Wren looked at Néit, raising an eyebrow. He just grinned back. “Just like Daddy’s, hmm?” she teased. “Thank you, guys. We love them. But you all are the best gifts they could have. This life filled with love and happiness is all we need.”
I leaned over and nuzzled her hair, breathing her in. These last five weeks had been bliss. The island was blockaded, thanks to some old Egyptian God, and even the Valkyries had taken the opportunity to relax a little. They were out by the pool now, laughing and swimming, though still on alert. I wondered if they’d ever had a day off in their eternal lives.
The village now had time to rebuild, and the residents had time to either leave, or come to terms with the insanity of having Gods in their midst. Some of the younger townspeople had suddenly become believers, and I appreciated the tiny power boost.
But more than that, I was happy to be normal. Slipping Emeric into the baby carrier on my chest, I stood. “We better get ready. Clio and Morrigan will be here soon, and the townspeople will start to gather outside the walls.”
We were celebrating. The first village-wide party we’d had in, well, nearly a century. It was a thank you from us—or maybe an apology. Demke was looking excited; years ago, we used to have a huge annual celebration in his honor, as well as one for the Goddess. They’d been some of the best days of our long lives, and although it was different now, that old thrill still buzzed around the group.
Erus stood and stretched. “I’ll go check the ward once more, make sure it’s strong so we can all relax.”
Demke stood as well, his hand reaching down to stroke Zale’s head, and then the long mahogany fall of Wren’s hair too. He looked at Cy. “We best go talk to the Valkyries and the pack about security for tonight’s event.”
It had been Cy’s suggestion that they pair up the Valkyries and some of the pack into teams. Now, most of the Valkyries had hound offsiders, and those offsiders were looking a little chunkier than the street dog waifishness they’d once had. I had a sneaking suspicion that some of them would find their way back to Asgard when this was all over.
Cy walked over to Wren, rubbing his face over the top of her head. He was touchy-feely, and you didn’t need to be one of the Fates to know that their destinies were tightly intertwined. Whatever history they had, they were keeping to themselves for now, and I was okay with that. I wasn’t like Teron and Demke, with their insatiable quest for knowledge and the need to know the hows and whys of all of life’s little mysteries. Wren knew, and she seemed happy with it, and that was good enough for me.
Emeric was now asleep against my chest, and I reached out for Bran. Néit stood and slipped him into place into the carrier. The sheer width of my chest meant I could babywear all three at once.
Wren slid Zale into the last spot, then leaned forward to kiss me softly. “Have I ever told you how sexy you look strapped with babies?”
I groaned deep in my chest. “Not today, you haven’t.”
“I’m starting to see the appeal of keeping you barefoot and laden with newborns,” she joked. “If only you could have the babies too.”
Kissing her hard, I wished I could as well. I loved that this was one small thing I could do for my family. I wasn’t just a tool made for war; I could be something soft and nurturing too. “If I could, I would. I’d have a dozen kids running around this place. Tiny little girls with your big eyes. Boys who look like toddlers when they’re born. Little siblings for these guys.”
However, nearly losing her during childbirth still gave me nightmares. I wasn’t sure any of us was in a hurry to do that again.
Bran was snuffling around, hungry, and I knew it was time for their feed and nap, especially if we wanted to stay at the party for a while tonight. Leaning forward, I whispered in Wren’s ear, “Why don’t you go have a long bath while I feed, change and put our babies down for a nap?”
She groaned and bit her fist. “Milonos, I do believe you have dirty talk down to a fine art,” she purred, but her eyes laughed at me.
So beautiful.
Dragging myself away, I headed to the kitchen to put bottles in the warmer. Rocking from side to side, I made shushing noises so Bran didn’t wake his brothers. I hummed a lullaby that was buried deep in my brain, one that my mother had sung to me and my siblings. The words were lost to time, but the tune was still there on my tongue.
A longing for my family, for my own kind, hit me in the chest. Having Wren and the babies had ripped open a wound that had only healed on the surface. I had this family now—and some of them I’d had for lifetimes more than I’d ever had my blood family—but there was something tragic about being the last of my kind.
Shaking off the hints of melancholy, I grabbed the now-warm bottles and moved toward the nursery. It was beautiful. Tryp had painted a mural of winged horses and clouds floating through an azure sky, and I’d made most of the furniture over the last few weeks, usually at night as I kept watch. The babies were still sleeping in the one crib I’d made, swaddled tightly. They almost seemed incomplete when they were separated; they’d cry and fuss until they were all together once more.
Moving to the bed, I slowly unstrapped each sleeping baby like they were bombs seconds from detonating. Zale and Emeric stayed blissfully asleep, and I shifted them gently to the crib, except for Bran, who was staring up at me with big, unblinking eyes. The color should be impossible this early in their life, but it was a vivid, ensnaring blue. It was one of the few differences between the boys. Each had a different eye color, from Emeric’s murky brown to Zale’s foggy hazel that lightened to green more and more every day.
Bran’s expression seemed older than it could possibly be, and while it had been a little disconcerting at first, I’d grown used to his stoic baby face.
“Let’s feed you before your brothers wake up, what do you say?” I whispered to him. Sliding into the reinforced rocking chair, I held him easily in my arms, feeding him the bottle as he continued staring up at me. “You’re an old soul, aren’t you? You’ve been here before.” He waved tiny hands, like he was trying to grab the bottle for himself. So independent already. “You’ve got such a big destiny, but I’m always going to be here to stand between you and danger. I promise you that.”
Bran just continued to drink and stare into my soul. I chuckled low, enjoying the moment. His brothers would wake soon, because they were like clockwork when it came to feeding. Then it would be a matter of juggling one, so the other didn’t think he was going to starve and start crying down the house. As if they knew what I was thinking, one of them let out a tiny whimper of indignation.
Tryp poked his head into the nursery. He’d probably been loitering outside the door, waiting for this moment. Tryp had been a surprise when it came to parenthood. He’d always been the most easygoing of us, all about whatever felt good. But he loved Wren, and I knew he loved these babies as an extension of her. He was the first to offer to do night feeds, he changed diapers, he snuggled fussy babies. He was more helpful than any of us could have predicted.
He seemed to enjoy it too, which was almost as surprising. Smiling into the crib, he looked over at me. “Need a hand?”
Bran still had half a bottle to go, so I nodded. “Yes.”
With gentle but greedy hands, he picked up Emeric and cuddled him close. “It feels almost supernatural, the connection I feel to these little guys. I don’t need Wren’s vision to know that my destiny is wrapped tightly to their happiness,” he said softly, and I grunted my assent. “And I don’t mind, even a little,” he cooed in a high baby voice. “It doesn’t hurt that I saw your mama naked a minute ago, all slippery and wet in the bath, and that just makes the whole situation so much sweeter. Who would want to escape this fate?”
Smiling to myself, I looked down into the face of the baby in my arms once more. “Who indeed?”