ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

Pregnant.

Imogen might be pregnant.

There could be a tiny little child growing inside of her, a mixture of her and I.

There could be a creature with ten tiny toes and tiny fingers and the cutest little sloped nose and fuck, I never knew I wanted something with such desperation that it nearly kills me inside.

When she first revealed her missed period, my first thought was to retreat. Run. Run. Run.

There can't be any possible chance she could be carrying my child, because how could I deal with that when she's destined to marry Leighton? Yet, the idea lingered inside of me for a few moments longer and I can't help but fall in love with the thought of her like that.

If she truly is pregnant, we'll run to the hills and never look back. Fuck this war, this agony, this prison. We'll forge our own paths in a kingdom untouched by destruction. Our children will never have to live in the midst of blood and hunger, because I will protect them and her and gods. I love her.

Still, panic sets in as the day drones by. As much as I adore a potentially pregnant Imogen, I know jack-shit about birth and babies. I don't know how the hell to father a kid, let alone hold a newborn. How do I make it stop crying? What if the baby is afraid of me? Babies are so fragile and squishy—what if I harm it? I've been trained as a knight, and that's all I've been taught. Swords. Sharp weapons. Blood. All of it is dangerous to little children.

Fucking hell.

I cross my fingers that Imogen knows a thing or two about children. At least this parenting gig requires teamwork, and Imogen just so happens to be the partner I'd choose over and over again.

When nightfall arrives, I sneak back over the walls of the Lagulonian castle. I scale the premises until I land on Imogen's balcony. She awaits my arrival, wandering outside and gripping her hands into my tunic. She tugs me into the privacy of her chamber.

When I look at her, I know everything will be alright. Those two moons hold galaxies in them, a whole realm meant to be conquered by a reckless petty thief.

I grin. "I started coming up with baby names." I did, because my mind has been locked on Imogen's potential child all day, and this was the best I could do to pass the time.

Her expression deflates as I mention the baby, her gaze drifting away. "Oh..."

"If it's a boy, what about Blair?" I comb a stray lock of blonde hair from her cheek, coaxing her to meet my gaze. When those misty grey eyes meet mine, they're empty except for the tears that swell within them. Disappointed, I swallow the name back into the depths of my stomach. "So not Blair, then..."

"I need to tell you something before you reveal all your ideas," she whispers as she laces her hands between mine. Her touch remains cold.

I lean in, longing to warm her up with fire. "Anything."

She takes a deep breath in, releasing it as hot air fans against my cheeks, followed by the drowning scent of vanilla. Her lips part as if to speak, but she hesitates, finding solace in being in my presence. She takes a step closer as she buries her face into my chest, breathing in the scent of me. My arms tether around her like ropes, caging her in my embrace.

Against the fabric of my tunic, her birdsong voice cuts through the silent air. "I'm not pregnant, Tobin."

I must've tensed, because she immediately reaches her palms up and cups my cheeks, guiding my attention back down to those two moons.

"I'm on my period," she whispers. "I'm not pregnant."

"You said you were three days late," I mutter under my breath.

"That's all it was... three days late."

"But..." I hold my tongue. She never guaranteed me she was. She was just notifying me that her cycle had been delayed, and that it could equal a potential pregnancy. It was all a conspiracy without knowing.

Inside of my chest, my heart fractures at the slight. I want to steal her and run to somewhere far from this place, and the pregnancy was a valid reason to do so. Maybe, for just a flicker of this storm we find ourselves in, I thought there could be a future for us. We're destined for disaster, to be torn apart again and again because of a fucking king on a throne.

My lost eyes track up to the walls, a vast void inside of me opening up for a life I can never have with her. There's a month and a half left until she's in the hands of a monstrous devil, and I still have no fucking idea on how to rescue her.

No. Fucking. Idea.

Imogen tilts my head down and presses a deep kiss against my lips. She tastes like everything. Ethereal moonlight against my tongue, tasting of sweet vanilla that I could drink up for eternity. It's clear she's come to term with the reality of this—she will marry Leighton, for she cannot risk an obscure pregnancy. Not even from me, the man her heart has chosen to be with.

She knits a fist into my shirt as our bodies stumble backwards towards her bed. Dainty fingertips sneak beneath the hem of it, grazing over the ridges of my abdomen. When the kiss breaks, her breath fans against my jaw.

"We still have so much time left," Imogen whispers, but to me, it feels like so little time. "I don't care what we do, but Tobin... all I ask is that you stay until morning comes."

I do stay, and we find ourselves spooning on the quilts of her bed. We remain close, woven tightly with limbs entangled, but there's a distance in us that I don't know how to close. Am I a complete asshole for wishing that she was pregnant? That she was carrying my baby? That she would run away with me and leave this mess of a betrothal behind?

Hell knows how long has passed by, but I know Imogen lies awake too, thinking of the possible pregnancy that would've shifted everything between us.

I tether an arm around her chest, burying my lips into her neck as I comfort her with the softest kisses. It's then, the moment my lips make contact with her neck, she breaks out into a soft sob.

I wipe away the tears that carve their way down her cheeks. "It's okay," I mutter. "We'll figure something out."

"Tobin... it's going to sound stupid..."

"Nothing sounds stupid when it comes from you."

"I wish I was pregnant."

The words cut through the air. Every bird and cricket from outside Imogen's bedroom silences themselves, and even I come with a loss for words.

She wanted it to be true too.

She nestles even deeper into our spoon. "I woke up in the morning and realized that my regular cycle had started. At first I was relieved, but I could never shake the thought of having a child away, especially when I knew that it belonged to you."

I roll my body over on top of hers, meeting those tear-stained moons that always light up the night. Everything I have in my possession, I want to give to her. I want to be the reason she smiles when she awakens, the reason she lights up with hope. This is the woman I want to build a family with, but every corner I take is a warning sign to never do just so. She's already chosen her destiny: to save her kingdom, and I've already chosen mine: to save her no matter the cost.

To do that, there can't be a child in the mix. No matter how vigorously we both long for it.

"I'll figure out a way to end the war," I vow. "There's no fucking way I'll let you stay tied to him forever, and when that day comes, I'll be waiting for you."

Imogen shakes her head. "You're a thief. What if you get sent to the gallows before then?"

"No, I'm your thief—sent from the Parias bloodline to serve the king and queen of Adorid, a noble status that I'm sure your father will admire. And if he decides to send me to the gallows..." Her hand runs over my back, knowing that I've been through trial after trial as a knight for Leighton's militia, "...I've escaped death before."

"How can I help?" it's a question she's asked before when I told her that I would save her, but didn't know how I could ask for the resources.

I will kill Leighton.

I will bring him to his knees before his entire kingdom, exposing him of the sin burned deep under his skin. I will wear the blood on my hands for doing just so, but these lands demand to be restored to the peace they once had.

"I need to speak with your father."

Imogen tenses. "He'd kill you on the spot."

"I'll need security and men if I even want a fucking chance—"

"No," she shakes her head. "Don't you see, Tobin? My father agreed to this whole betrothal to Leighton because our men were being carelessly slaughtered on the warfront. No army will be able to subdue the Adoridian military. At least not ours alone."

"I don't have time to run to Thivalon and beg on my knees as one man," I mutter. "They'd never listen to me without some sort of royal escort by my side. That's why I'd need your father's help."

"It won't work," she whispers, and I can already see my chances of rescuing Imogen before the betrothal falling to pieces. "My father would never agree to this, especially since you're the man trespassing into the castle and sleeping with his daughter."

"He'd know my father, because he came here just before I had to flee Adorid. Just ask him about Berin Parias. Please."

Imogen tenses beneath me, not because she doesn't want to help me, but because bringing my identity to light will put us both in danger. Me more so than her.

There's a soft hum in her answer. "Okay."

Okay.

Her answer is simply okay, and that's all I need.

In that moment, I begin to scourge up whatever plan I can to save her, to spare her from a lifetime of misery. This won't be a barging-through-the-throne-room warfare. It'll be calculated, strategic and planned with every second and inch accounted for.

Until Imogen can provide me with some sort of answer, I fear I might have to face Leighton alone without the security of anyone. Doing this alone will be suicide.

But it's worth it.

The moonbeam sleeping in my arms owns everything that I am, and I intend to keep it that way until our dying breath.

── •✧• ──

Are you all ready for some action? A lot's going to happen in these next few chapters so now is the time to prepare yourself! I suggest bringing along a box of tissues and a pillow to cry into because everything is going to be flipped upside down like a pancake.

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