The wind was still.
For the first time in what felt like months, there was no threat at the gates. No council demanding a report. No nobles sending veiled threats hidden in courtly language.
Just silence.
And anticipation.
Yuno was now over eight months along.
The once-subtle swell of his belly had grown into a full, beautiful curve — heavy with life, pulsing with mana that now had its own signature. Caelum was no longer a flicker in the womb.
He was present.
He moved with will, kicked with purpose, and sent flurries of wind magic through Yuno's body whenever his father's voice filled the room.
A Hidden Sanctuary
The Black Bulls, with Julius's blessing, had begun constructing a protected sanctuary deep in the mountains — far from prying eyes, enchanted to be invisible even to the most refined detection magic.
It had only one purpose:
To protect Yuno and Caelum.To give them a place to be born free.
Asta visited it every morning before training. He'd place his sword against the newly carved stone altar and whisper:
"Not long now, Caelum. You're almost here."
Yuno's Transformation
Yuno, once reserved and sharp as a blade, had softened. Not in strength — he was still a royal, still a commander, still a warrior.
But in love.
He touched his stomach now with gentleness, his hands often tracing small circles over the place where Caelum pushed or kicked. And when Asta held him at night, spooned close behind him with both arms wrapped around the swell of their child, Yuno felt safe in a way he'd never thought he deserved.
They still trained. Sparred sometimes. Made love when the pain didn't bite too hard. But more than anything, they prepared.
Because it could happen any day.
Late Night — The Moment It Begins
The fire was low.
Asta snored lightly, cheek pressed against Yuno's back, one hand resting just below his navel.
Yuno stirred.
His face tightened.
And then he gasped — not in pain, but surprise.
A low cramp ran through his lower belly, strong and twisting. His breath caught. He shifted in place and felt it again.
Stronger.
This time, Asta woke up.
"Yuno?"
Yuno's hand gripped his wrist. "It's time."
Asta sat up so fast he nearly fell out of bed. "What—? Are you—? Now?!"
Yuno gave him a look, tight-lipped but amused even in discomfort. "Yes, now. Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking!" Asta lied, already grabbing towels, water, magic stones, and the prepared birthing spell scrolls.
The Beginning of Labor
Yuno was strong.
But childbirth… was strength of another kind.
It came in waves — deep, primal, shaking his very mana. His wind magic lashed out at times uncontrolled, shattering a lantern and nearly blowing open a window.
Asta never left his side.
Not once.
He held Yuno's hand through every contraction, massaged his hips, kissed his forehead, and whispered steady promises:
"You're not alone.""You've got this.""I love you. I love both of you."
When Yuno cried out — high and guttural — it wasn't from weakness.
It was from the sacred, brutal effort of creation.
And Asta thought, not for the first time, that there was no one stronger in the world.
And Then… Silence Again
It happened in an instant.
A cry pierced the air — not Yuno's, but smaller.
Newer.
The wind in the room stilled.
Yuno collapsed back into the bed, body shaking, sweat clinging to every inch of his skin.
Asta held the tiny, squirming infant in trembling arms, eyes wide, overflowing.
Tiny curls of golden-green hair.
Faint wind magic fluttering in invisible waves.
And then — impossibly — the baby opened his eyes.
And the room filled with the scent of warm spring air.
Asta leaned down and kissed Yuno's forehead, voice breaking.
"He's here."
Yuno, weak but conscious, smiled with a kind of exhaustion that was holy.
"Caelum."
Asta nodded.
"Our son."