Epilogue #2
The contraction ebbs, leaving me shaking in its wake. My grip loosens, fingers slipping from his shirt as exhaustion settles heavy into my bones.
He doesn’t move away. Instead, he reaches for the cloth again, dipping it into cool water before brushing it gently across my forehead, my cheeks. The relief is immediate, fleeting, and precious.
“You’re doing great,” he commends softly.
I turn my head toward him, my vision finally clearing enough to take him in, his eyes fixed on me; the worry he’s trying to hide; the unwavering certainty beneath it.
A small, disbelieving smile tugs at my lips. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
He nods, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It really is.”
“Alexei?”
“Yes.”
My hand lifts, heavy, trembling, and cups his cheek. Warm and real. “I love you.”
He leans in without hesitation, pressing a kiss to my forehead, lingering long enough to steady me. “I love you more.”
My fingers shift against his, and I feel it, the smooth, familiar band circling his finger. Solid. Unyielding. A quiet promise made visible.
Mine.
The thought wraps around me, even as another sharp breath slices into my lungs. My brows knit together, my grip tightening again as pain surges back with ruthless precision.
“Okay, Your Majesty,” the doctor’s voice cuts in, calm but commanding. “This is it. You’re going to need to push.”
This is it.
I turn my head toward him, searching his face. He doesn’t hesitate, giving me a small, steady nod.
I’m here.
I lean forward as instructed, every muscle in my body drawing tight, teeth clenched so hard my jaw aches. I push; hard, sustained, counting without really hearing the numbers, only feeling the strain, the burn, the impossible pressure.
Then I collapse back against the bed, gasping, my entire body trembling with the effort. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.
“One more time, Your Majesty.”
The words feel distant. Everything feels distant.
He presses the cloth to my skin again, wiping away sweat that never seems to stop forming.
“I—I can’t,” I whisper, the words breaking apart as they leave me. “I…”
“You can.” His voice cuts through everything else.
Gentle, but unshakable. His hand lifts my chin, forcing my gaze back to his.
“You’re stronger than anyone I know,” he utters, each word purposeful, anchored.
“You don’t give up, not on anything, not on anyone.
You’re fierce. You’re protective. You love harder than anyone I’ve ever seen.
” His fingers brush my hair back again, and then his lips press to my forehead, warm, steady, real. “You can do this.”
The sound that leaves me is somewhere between a sob and a laugh. I bite down on my lip, nodding, even as fear and pain churn together inside me. “Okay,” I whisper.
His hand tightens around mine.
And I push.
The world narrows to that single act, to the strain, the pressure, the burning effort that feels like it might split me apart. I cry out, the sound echoing off the walls, tearing through my throat?—
And then…a sound. Sharp. New. Alive.
Everything stops.
My chest stutters as I drag in a breath, my entire body going still as that tiny, furious cry fills the room.
Our baby.
The doctor moves quickly, passing him off to the nurse, who begins her practiced routine, but I can barely follow any of it. My ears ring, my heart pounding too loudly, my eyes straining to catch even a glimpse.
“Your Majesties,” the nurse murmurs gently, turning back toward us.
And then he’s there, our son, placed carefully into Alexei’s waiting arms. So small. So impossibly small.
He squirms immediately, tiny hands fighting their way free from the blanket, his protests soft but insistent. Alexei cradles him instinctively, adjusting his hold, rocking him with a tenderness that steals the breath from my lungs all over again.
“M?j maly mu?,” he whispers.
The same nickname his father once used with him when I finally lifted my gaze, Alexei was already looking at me. There’s something in his expression I’ve never seen before, something brighter, fuller. Wonder, maybe. Or love in a form so pure it almost hurts to look at.
“He’s perfect,” he declares.
My throat tightens as I nod, tears slipping silently into my hairline. “Both of my boys are.”
He steps closer to the bed, careful, conscious. “Do you want to hold him?”
Every part of me aches to say yes; to reach for him, to gather him close and never let go.
But for a moment… I watch them. The way Alexei holds him. The way our son settles automatically in his arms.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Carefully, he transfers our son into my arms, guiding, supporting, making sure I have him. One hand lingers at my back, the other brushing my hair aside as he shifts closer, sitting beside me.
The weight of him is… everything.
Light, yet somehow anchoring me more firmly than anything ever has.
My fingers curl around his tiny hand, marveling at how impossibly small it is, how it still manages to wrap around mine. A strange, sudden energy surges through me, cutting through the exhaustion as I look down at his face.
Perfect. Every inch of him.
“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice soft with awe. “He is perfect.”
“Have you decided on a name?” the nurse asks.
I glance up at Alexei, and he looks uncertain as I feel. We had lists. Endless lists. Names we debated, argued over, laughed about, but nothing ever felt right.
Until now.
“I have,” I say quietly.
His brows lift, surprise flickering across his face. “We have?”
I nod, my fingers finding him again, lacing through them. But when I speak, my eyes never leave his. “Prince Fletcher David Novak.”
The name settles into the space between us, solid and certain.
Something in his expression shifts; softens, deepens, like the last piece of something falling perfectly into place.
“Prince Fletcher David Novak,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion.
There was a time when a future like this felt impossible.
I was an orphan learning how to become a queen, convinced the weight of an entire kingdom would always leave room for everything except the things I wanted most. A family. A home. Someone who chose me—not because they had to, but because they couldn’t imagine a life without me.
Then life gave me more than I ever dared hope for.
Not without a cost.
There were assassination attempts, impossible choices, and battles that stole pieces of us I’ll spend the rest of my life missing. Friends. Family. People whose absence will forever echo through every victory we celebrate.
But even grief couldn’t stop us from moving forward.
Now, with my best friend beside me, the love of my life looking at me the way he always has, and our child cradled safely in my arms—the best parts of both of us wrapped into one tiny life—I finally understand something I never could have imagined back then.
The future I feared would always be empty became fuller than I ever dreamed possible. This life, this family, these moments…they’re everything I once believed I’d never have.
And after everything it took to get here, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
I will never let them go.
And as I look at him, at them, I feel it, clear and undeniable.
This is where everything begins.