Sage had nodded as jora spoke about their daughter, smoking down at the sleeping form curled into his side, shirt gathered in her hand. She was adorable kike this. Well, she was adorable anyway but ...there was something special about the sight before him.

Calm.

Peaceful.

Innocent.

"She deserves this," he hummed in agreement. 'she already loves freely. I'm sure she'll have no problems living this new baby," he noted fondly, running his fingers through the little girl's hair gently.

"Things may not always be easy.....but anything we come across is with this," he noted firmly. "Nothing will ever break this family apart." It was more than just a statement. A hope.

It was a promise.

"Yes," he agreed. "More kids means more happiness for everyone," he added with a chuckle.

Sage had nodded along side her comments, gaze fixed on their daughter fondly. "She deserves the best of everything," he agreed lightly. "The best we can ever give her." He really did believe that.

"Shell never need to suffer like either of us did," he added. It was a promise. They would keep her safe from the dangera of this world. It could be so cruel sometimes.

He wouldn't let it hurt his daughter. Or anyone in his family, really.

As she mentioned the scraped knees and crying and loud noises he chuckled with a nod. "It's all part of the love," he mused with a chuckle. "The sleepless nights, all of it." Some was better than some, of course, but he wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

Not ever.

(sure, I can work that out! Maybe up until she goes into labor like that night?)

Sage had just grinned in response to joras comments, shifting so he could peck her lips lightly without waking the sleeping girl in his arms, but nodding along to her comments.

Months later, they'd moved closer to civilization. The past few weeks they'd been living with Joras mother, as she was about ready to pop. The whole family was on edge, really, especially him. He was eager to greet his new child, of course, but there were always risks involved with giving birth.

Plus...well, he wasn't here for the last one.

He still felt guilty about that....he didn't want anything to go wrong this time. He had to be here. Everything needed to turn out alright. Jora and her mother had reassured him that it would likely be fine. Jora was healthy, and strong, and it wasn't her first time by now.

But still, he did worry for her a bit.

They were getting ready for bed now, sage helping to tuck Lyra in and tell her a night time story so she could relax before she went to sleep. He always enjoyed that....it relaxed him too, he supposed. Gave him good things to dream about.

(Sure)

Months later, with her mother’s house full and buzzing with that strange mix of anticipation and nerves, Jora could feel Sage’s worry even when he didn’t say it out loud. She saw it in the way he hovered, the way his hands lingered at her back or her stomach as if anchoring himself there. She didn’t fault him for it. If anything, it made her love him more.

As he helped Lyra into bed, Jora leaned against the doorway, arms loosely folded beneath her chest, watching them with a soft, tired smile. Her belly was heavy now, unmistakable, and she shifted her weight carefully as Sage started the story. Lyra listened with wide, sleepy eyes, clutching her blanket while Sage’s voice filled the room.

When the story wound down and Lyra finally drifted off, Jora stepped in quietly, smoothing the blankets and brushing a kiss into their daughter’s hair. She lingered for a moment, then turned to Sage, reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently.

“She’s out,” Jora murmured, keeping her voice low. She met his eyes, seeing the tension there, the old guilt he still carried. Her thumb brushed slow, soothing circles over his knuckles. “Hey… I know you’re scared,” she said softly. “But you’re here now. You didn’t leave. You won’t.”

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “I’m okay. The baby’s okay. And whatever happens, we face it together. Just like this.”

Jora let out a quiet breath, smiling faintly. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep while we still can.”

Sage had lingered at Lyra's bedtime, even after she was out cold. Even after she was tucked in all nice and tight, like she liked so much. She was just so precious. He sort of wished she could stay like this forever. But she would grow up ...she already had so much.

He loved her so much for it.

He took joras hand when she moved to wrap her fingers around his, humming softly in agreement as she spoke up quietly. "I know," he noted quietly, lifting her hand to his lips to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "I just want everything to go alright," he added, moving to wander over to their own bedroom with her.

They were both already ready for bed, so they climbed in and curled up as they normally did. It was a little harder to cuddle with her stomach being so large...it was bigger than last time it seemed, but he knew each baby was different. Either way, they'd figured out a way for him to get his arms around her where they were both still comfortable. He was definitely glad for it.

He drifted off rather quickly....despite having long since healed, he still found himself to be tired a lot of the time by the end of the day. It was probably just the heightened emotions of the whole household in preparation for the baby to come...and he didn't mind it. He certainly slept good as a result.

Jora didn’t wake all at once.

It came in layers—an ache first, low and heavy, pulling her out of sleep inch by inch. Her hand slid instinctively to her stomach as the pressure tightened, stealing her breath for a moment. She stayed still, eyes open in the dark, breathing the way her mother had taught her.

“…okay,” she whispered.

It eased—but didn’t vanish. And when it came again, stronger, there was no mistaking it.

Jora turned her head toward Sage, watching him sleep for just a second longer than necessary. His arm was still around her, protective even in sleep, and the sight steadied her nerves.

“Sage,” she murmured, fingers brushing his arm.

The next contraction made her suck in a breath, her grip tightening. “Hey—love. I need you to wake up.”

When he stirred, she leaned into him, forehead against his shoulder as she breathed through it. “It’s time,” she said quietly. “I’m having contractions. Real ones.”

Fear flickered—but it didn’t take over. She squeezed his hand. “We’re okay. But we need Selene. And my mom.”

Things moved quickly after that.

The house woke in hushed urgency—Selene appearing first, already alert, already focused, guiding Jora with steady hands and a calm voice that cut clean through the panic trying to rise. She helped her sit, helped her walk, reminded her to breathe when another contraction hit harder than the last.

Her mother was there moments later, robe half-tied, hair loose, but eyes sharp with experience. She didn’t waste time with questions—just pressed a warm hand to Jora’s back, grounding her.

“That’s it,” her mom murmured. “Just like that. You’re doing exactly right.”

Labor was different this time. Heavier. Longer. Jora felt it in her bones.

Selene stayed close, helping her change positions, wiping her brow, murmuring encouragement when Jora’s hands trembled. Her mother guided her through each wave, voice firm and steady, reminding her when to rest, when to push, when to let go.

“You’re not alone,” her mom said more than once. “You’re doing this beautifully.”

And Jora clung to that—clung to Sage’s hand, to Selene’s calm presence, to her mother’s strength—when the realization finally struck her fully.

“There’s more than one,” her mom said softly, awe threading her voice.

Jora laughed weakly through tears, half disbelieving even as her body already knew.

Hours later—exhausted, shaking, emptied and full all at once—Jora lay back, breath hitching as the room filled with sound.

One cry.

Then another.

Her heart stuttered.

She turned her head toward Sage, tears slipping freely now, laughter breaking through them. “Sage,” she whispered hoarsely. “There’s two.”

Selene smiled through her own tears, carefully placing the babies into waiting blankets. Jora’s mother hovered close, reverent, gentle as she helped arrange them.

A girl—tiny, fierce, already wriggling.

A boy—quiet for just a moment longer before joining his sister with a cry just as strong.

Jora reached for Sage’s hand with what strength she had left, wonder and disbelief written across her face. “We have twins,” she breathed, voice shaking with awe. “A girl and a boy.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed, then laughed softly through tears. “Our family,” she whispered.

It took sage a moment to wake, and when he did he sort of just groaned and tightened his hold on her slightly, not entirely aware of why she was waking him. Of course, when she mentioned having contractions, he shot upwards with a yelp of "you what," quickly sliding out of bed to call the older women.

He wasn't quite sure how Jora was staying so calm....he had been pacing until Jora reach for his hand, and then hed latched on, letting her rest her head in his lap, use his hand or arm as something to grip when a contraction came.... anything he could do to help.

Anything at all.

He barely felt the pain, either, knowing it was nothing compared to what was going on with Jora. He was just glad to have her mother and selene there.

When the baby slipped out, their little girl, he just watched them prepare it with awe. "God, Jora," he'd breathed softly, wonder written on his face.

Then she'd yelped again, and he'd frozen, worry slicing through him until her mother's voice hit him hard.

Two. There were two.

He found himself laughing alongside Jora. Hysterical, loose, exhausted, but happy. So, so happy.

And when their son finally came into the world, and Jora had relaxed, he just let out a shaky laugh, gripping Jora tightly, tears falling freely alongside hers. "I can't believe it's two," he murmured, shaking his head softly. "You did wonderful, love," he added, brushing the dark strands of sweat soaked hair off of her forehead, bending over to press a kiss to her head.