Chapter 595
Five years later—
The carriage door opened to sunlight.
Too much sunlight.
Ivan didn’t step out immediately.
He looked at it first.
Measured it.
Judged it.
“…This is aggressive.”
Kaelan jumped down first, boots hitting the ground with ease. He turned back, already reaching a hand up.
“Come on.”
Ivan placed his hand in his like he was accepting a burden, not help, and stepped down with controlled precision, his expression already tightened against the heat.
The moment his boots touched the ground—
He inhaled.
Paused.
Then—
“…Why is it hot?”
Kaelan didn’t answer yet.
He was already turning back to the carriage.
“Alright, princesses,” he said, softer now.
Lana came first.
Of course she did.
She stepped down carefully with his help, posture already composed, dress perfectly arranged, chin slightly lifted like she had somewhere important to be.
Then—
Ivanna.
Kaelan barely had time to set her on the ground—
Before she froze.
Eyes locked.
Across the gardens—
A small figure stood between Jaden and Alaric.
Seraphim.
Ivanna gasped like she had just spotted salvation.
“SERAPHIM!"
And then—
She ran.
Fast.
No hesitation.
No permission.
“Ivanna—” Ivan started, already reaching out like that might somehow stop her.
It didn’t.
She was already gone.
Hair loose, steps wild, completely ignoring everything that had just been carefully arranged about her existence.
Ivan closed his eyes briefly.
“…Jesus.”
Across the distance, Seraphim turned—
And lit up.
“IVANNA!”
Collision.
Immediate.
They crashed into each other in a completely undignified hug, already laughing, already talking over each other in a language only five-year-olds understood.
Ivan pressed his fingers to his temple.
“…I dressed her.”
Kaelan snorted.
“You tried.”
Beside them—
Lana watched the scene.
Calm.
Measured.
Then she looked up at Kaelan.
“May I go, papa?”
Polite.
Controlled.
Like she had rehearsed it.
Kaelan smiled faintly.
“Go.”
That was enough.
Lana didn’t run.
She walked.
Properly.
Straight line.
Steps aligned.
Until—
Halfway—
She sped up.
Just a little.
Ivan saw it.
“…I saw that.”
But she was already gone too.
Kaelan watched both girls disappear into chaos.
Then glanced at Ivan.
“…You raised them.”
Ivan turned slowly.
Sharply.
“I refined them.”
Kaelan grinned.
They started walking.
The gardens were full—decorations, movement, voices, the soft chaos of a celebration already alive.
Ivan opened his hand fan with a sharp flick.
Elegant.
Immediate.
He fanned himself once.
Twice.
Then looked around like the entire place had personally offended him.
“…Why is this event happening under the sun?”
Kaelan walked beside him, unbothered.
“It’s outside.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It’s her birthday.”
Ivan looked at him.
Flat.
“…Birthdays can occur indoors.”
Kaelan huffed a laugh.
“She’s five.”
Ivan fanned himself faster.
“I am going to faint.”
“You say that every summer.”
“And every summer,” Ivan replied dramatically, placing a hand lightly against his chest, “I am correct.”
Kaelan reached out, steadying him by the waist without even looking.
“You’re not fainting.”
Ivan leaned just slightly into the hold.
Just enough.
“…If I collapse,” he said with quiet dignity, “you will carry me.”
Kaelan smirked.
“I always do.”
Ivan didn’t answer.
But he didn’t move away either.
Ahead—
Their daughters laughed.
Loud.
Alive.
Already completely out of control.
They reached them just as Seraphim darted past again, dragging Ivanna into some new, urgent game that clearly could not wait another second.
Lana followed at a more controlled pace—until she didn’t.
Alaric turned first.
Jaden followed, one hand resting lightly over the soft curve of his abdomen, posture relaxed despite the noise around them.
Ivan inclined his head with polished precision.
“Your Highness.”
Then, to Jaden—
“My lord.”
Kaelan nodded.
“My Lords.”
Jaden gave a small smile.
“You made it.”
Ivan’s gaze shifted.
Paused.
Settled.
The curve.
Subtle.
Undeniable.
Kaelan saw it too.
Jaden noticed.
Of course he did.
“…Four months,” he said, like he was saving them the question.
Ivan blinked once, then composed himself immediately.
“I see.”
Kaelan nodded.
“Congratulations.”
Jaden brushed a loose strand of hair back, the rest tied behind his head, a few pieces falling softly around his face.
“Thanks.”
Behind them—
“SERAPHIM WAIT—!”
“I’M NOT WAITING!”
“YOU HAVE TO—!”
“NO!”
A crash.
Not serious.
Just loud.
Ivan closed his eyes briefly.
“…They are unsupervised.”
“They’re five,” Jaden replied.
“That is precisely why supervision is required.”
Alaric’s mouth curved faintly.
“They’re fine.”
Another shout.
This time followed by laughter.
Ivan didn’t look convinced.
Then—
Something shifted.
Small.
Internal.
His gaze flicked—just for a moment—to Jaden’s stomach.
Then away.
Kaelan noticed.
His hand came to Ivan’s waist without hesitation, steady, grounding.
“I’m happy for you,” he said to Jaden and Alaric.
Then, more casually—
“Normally I’d be thinking about having more.”
Ivan’s eyes flicked to him.
Sharp.
Kaelan didn’t look at him yet.
“But just have Seraphim,” he continued. “Makes sense.”
Jaden snorted.
“She feels like three children, not one.”
Alaric said nothing.
Which meant agreement.
Kaelan finally glanced down at Ivan.
Brief.
Intentional.
“I’ve got two,” he added simply.
A beat.
“That’s enough.”
Ivan didn’t answer.
But the tension in his posture eased—just slightly.
Kaelan shifted the topic.
“Where are the royals?”
Alaric lifted a hand, pointing toward the far side of the gardens.
An open tent.
Fabric moving with the breeze.
Inside—
Serafina, composed, fan moving in slow rhythm.
Dimitri beside her, still as ever.
Ronan relaxed, clearly enjoying the entire situation.
“There.”
Kaelan nodded.
“Thanks.”
They moved again.
A few steps.
Silence.
Then—
Ivan spoke.
“…What was that.”
Kaelan didn’t look at him.
“What.”
Ivan opened his fan with a sharp flick.
“You declaring satisfaction with two daughters.”
Kaelan exhaled.
“I am.”
Ivan tilted his head slightly.
“Are you.”
Kaelan stopped.
Turned.
Looked at him directly.
“For a long time,” he said, quieter now, “I thought I couldn’t have any.”
Ivan stilled.
“If it wasn’t for you… I wouldn’t have taken that risk.”
A pause.
“I didn’t expect one.”
He stepped closer.
“And you gave me two.”
No humor.
No sarcasm.
Just truth.
“For me,” he finished, “that’s enough.”
The noise of the children carried behind them—laughing, arguing, alive.
Ivan’s fan slowed.
“…You are certain.”
Kaelan’s mouth curved faintly.
“I don’t need a pack.”
A beat.
“I need what’s mine.”
Ivan looked away briefly.
Then lifted his chin again.
“…Good.”
He snapped the fan shut.
“Because I refuse to endure that again.”
Kaelan laughed under his breath.
And together—
They continued toward the tent.
While behind them—
Three small girls argued loudly about something that absolutely did not matter—
And somehow meant everything.