Alaric
Snow fell soft outside the cabin windows, the kind that turned the world into a snow globe. December had settled over Hollow Oak again with its usual quiet magic of lanterns glowing warm, smoke curling from chimneys, the scent of pine and cinnamon everywhere.
The bedroom door opened. She emerged carrying a leather-bound journal, the one she'd been working on for months. Her chronicle of Hollow Oak, she called it. Stories and histories and magic written down not for the world, but for the town itself.
"Morning," she said, settling onto the couch. "Coffee smells good."
"It's almost ready." He poured two mugs, brought them over. "How's the chronicle coming?"
"Finished, actually." She set the journal on the coffee table with a satisfied thud. "Last entry went in this morning. The wedding, the battle, everything leading up to now."
He sat beside her, arm automatically going around her shoulders. "Can I read it?"
"Eventually. I want Moira to look at it first. Make sure I didn't accidentally document anything that shouldn't be documented." She sipped her coffee. "But it's done. My record of how Hollow Oak saved me instead of the other way around."
"You saved us too." He kissed her temple. "Don't forget that part."
"I didn't. Whole chapter on the journalist who talked down hunters with nothing but a cell phone and attitude." She laughed softly. "Twyla's going to love that section."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching snow accumulate on the porch railing. This was his favorite time of day; early morning, before patrol, when the world felt small and safe and entirely theirs.
"Alaric," Elara said quietly. "I need to tell you something."
His wolf immediately went alert. He set down his coffee. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. At least, I don't think anything's wrong." She turned to face him fully. "I went to see Freya yesterday. For a checkup."
His heart stuttered. "A checkup. Are you sick?"
"No. Not sick." She took his hand, placed it on her stomach. "Pregnant."
He stared at where their hands met, his brain trying to process. "Pregnant."
"About ten weeks, Freya thinks. I've been feeling off for a while, but I thought it was just winter blues or too much of Twyla's cooking." Her voice turned uncertain. "You're not saying anything."
He couldn't say anything. Couldn't breathe. His hand stayed frozen on her stomach, feeling nothing yet but knowing everything had just changed.
A baby. Their baby.
"Alaric, please say something. You're scaring me."
He looked up. Her eyes were wide, worried, searching his face for a reaction she couldn't find.
"Is the baby okay?" The words came out hoarse. "Are you okay?"
"That's what you're worried about?" Relief flooded her expression. "Yes. We're both okay. Healthy. Freya says everything looks good."
"Good." He exhaled, his hand pressing slightly firmer against her stomach. "That's good."
"But?"
"But nothing. I'm just—" He stopped, tried to organize thoughts that were flying in every direction. "I'm trying to process that I'm going to be a father."
"I know it's fast. We've only been married nine months and I know we didn't plan this, but—"
"Elara." He pulled her close, buried his face in her neck. "I'm happy. God, I'm so happy I can barely think."
Her arms came around him. "You're sure?"
"I'm terrified and thrilled and completely unprepared, but yes. I'm sure." He pulled back to look at her. "We're having a baby."
"We are." Her smile was tentative, hopeful. "A little wolf, probably. Freya says shifter genes usually dominate."
His wolf surged, possessive and proud. "Our pup."
"Our baby," she corrected gently. "Human word, remember? We're raising them in both worlds."
"Right. Baby." He touched her face. "You're really okay? No complications, no concerns?"
"Freya wants me to come back in a month for another check. And I need to take it easy, apparently. No more helping Rowan haul firewood or climbing ladders to hang decorations with Twyla."
"No more of that anyway," he said firmly. "You're staying safe. You and the baby both."
She laughed. "There's the overprotective wolf I married."
"Get used to it. I'm about to get a lot worse." He kissed her, soft and reverent. "Thank you for giving me something I didn't know I wanted until right now."
"It's not just me giving you something." She covered his hand with hers. "You gave me a home. A family. A place to belong. This baby is just us making that official."
They sat like that, hands stacked over where their child grew, until Alaric's coffee went cold and the sun climbed higher outside.
"I should tell people," Elara said eventually. "Diana's going to cry. Twyla's going to start planning a baby shower immediately."
"Tell them tomorrow." He pulled her closer. "Let me have one day where it's just us knowing."
"Okay." She settled against his chest. "One day."
His wolf was already calculating. They'd need to expand the cabin. Add a nursery. Baby-proof everything. Figure out how to raise a shifter child who'd need to understand both worlds from the start.
"Stop planning," Elara said without opening her eyes. "I can hear you thinking."
"Can't help it."
"We have time. Seven months before everything changes." She tilted her head up. "We'll figure it out together. Like we figure out everything."
They stayed on the couch as morning stretched into afternoon, making quiet plans and dreaming about a future that suddenly felt more real than ever.
A child. Their child. Running through these woods, learning to shift, growing up protected by an entire town of people who'd already claimed them as their own.
When Elara finally dozed off against his shoulder, Alaric let his hand rest on her stomach and let himself feel everything he'd been holding back.
Joy. Pure, uncomplicated joy.
And underneath it, that fierce protectiveness his wolf carried. Not just for his mate now, but for the life they'd created together.
He'd protect them both. With everything he had. For as long as he lived.
Wolf and truth-seeker and the future they'd chosen together.