Two weeks into his teaching role, Leo found a rhythm to his new life. Three mornings each week, he guided Academy apprentices through exercises that made them grumble at first, then grow quiet with concentration as they began to feel the earth respond differently to their touch. Afternoons, he continued his work around Riverstone, reinforcing foundations and helping with construction projects that required his particular skills.
Evenings belonged to Marissa.
"You're different when you return from teaching," she observed one night as they sat on his small porch, watching twilight settle over the town. "More settled."
Leo considered this. "Feels good to pass something on. These kids have been taught to view magic as a weapon or tool. They've never considered it might be a relationship."
The days passed with comfortable predictability. Leo woke each morning feeling something he hadn't experienced in years—contentment. No one was hunting him. No immediate crisis demanded his attention. The weight of leadership had lifted from his shoulders.
Then Marissa arrived at his door unannounced one afternoon, her face drawn with an emotion he couldn't immediately identify.
"We need to talk," she said, stepping inside without waiting for his invitation.
Leo followed her to the kitchen table, a knot forming in his stomach. "What's wrong?"
Marissa placed her hands flat on the wooden surface, took a deep breath, and met his eyes directly.
"I'm pregnant."
The words hung between them. Leo stared at her, processing what she'd said. He'd been careful—meticulous even—using his magic to neutralize his seed after their encounters. But memories flickered through his mind: nights of abandon, moments where passion had overwhelmed his concentration, times when he'd lost himself completely in her.
"That's..." Leo started, then stopped, unsure what to say.
"I know this wasn't planned," Marissa continued, her voice steadier than her trembling hands suggested. "I understand if you need time to—"
"How long have you known?" Leo interrupted, his mind racing.
"Three days. I wanted to be certain before I told you."
Leo stood, paced to the window, then back to the table. A child. His child. The possibility had never factored into his plans for this quiet life he'd been building.
Leo stepped forward, taking Marissa's hands in his.
"I'll take responsibility," he said without hesitation. "Whatever comes next, we'll face it together."
The uncertainty etched across Marissa's features melted away, replaced by a smile that transformed her entire face. Relief flooded her eyes, glistening with unshed tears.
"You mean that?" she whispered.
"Of course I do." Leo squeezed her hands, projecting a confidence he didn't entirely feel.
Inside, his thoughts whirled in complete disarray. A child—his child—growing inside her. The implications crashed through his mind like a rockslide. What if the baby was born with pointed ears? What if its features clearly marked it as elven? His carefully constructed life in Riverstone would collapse in an instant.
Leo guided Marissa to sit beside him, maintaining his composure while panic coursed beneath the surface. His knowledge of cross-species births was limited to fragments of information he'd gathered over the years. For elven nobility like his family, children born of mixed unions typically took after the non-elven parent—human, dwarf, or otherwise. But that wasn't guaranteed, especially for high elves. He was still not sure about that information.
And Leo had no idea which way this would go.
"Are you alright?" Marissa asked, studying his face. "You've gone pale."
Leo forced a smile. "Just processing. It's a lot to take in." He placed a hand gently on her still-flat stomach. "How are you feeling?"
As Marissa described her first symptoms, Leo nodded attentively while his mind raced through possibilities. The artifact that concealed his elven features worked on him alone—it couldn't mask the heritage of a child. If the baby was born with unmistakably elven traits, questions would follow. Questions that would lead to discoveries about his true identity.
Everything he'd built here—his reputation, his position at the Academy, his quiet life—hung in the balance of something completely beyond his control.
Nine months crawled by with agonizing slowness. Leo found himself counting days, then hours, as Marissa's belly swelled and the reality of impending fatherhood settled deeper into his bones. He continued teaching at the Academy, but his mind often drifted to the future that awaited him—one filled with equal parts hope and dread.
"You're distracted again," Marissa observed one evening as she rubbed her enormous belly. They sat in the small living room of the cottage Leo had purchased three months into her pregnancy. "Thinking about the baby?"
"Always," Leo admitted, placing his hand beside hers to feel the persistent kicking beneath her skin.
Spring melted into summer, and summer faded into autumn. The leaves around Riverstone turned golden and red as Marissa entered her final month. Leo prepared the nursery with methodical precision, building a cradle from wood he'd selected himself, reinforcing it with subtle earth magic to ensure it would never splinter or crack.
When the first snow dusted Riverstone's rooftops, Marissa woke Leo before dawn, her face taut with pain.
"It's time," she whispered, gripping his arm with surprising strength.
Leo had rehearsed this moment countless times in his mind, but the reality sent a jolt of panic through him. He helped Marissa dress, then summoned the midwife who lived three streets away.
By midmorning, their small bedroom had transformed into a birthing chamber. The midwife, a stern woman named Greta, directed Leo to heat water and prepare clean linens while she examined Marissa.
"First babies take their time," Greta told them both. "Settle in for a long day."
Her prediction proved accurate. As morning stretched into afternoon and then evening, Marissa's labor progressed with excruciating slowness. Leo paced outside the bedroom when Greta shooed him away, then returned to hold Marissa's hand through contractions that left her gasping.
"You're doing wonderfully," he murmured, wiping sweat from her brow while his own anxiety mounted. Every hour brought them closer to the moment of truth—would the child bear any visible signs of its elven heritage?
As midnight approached, Marissa's cries grew more urgent. Greta positioned herself at the foot of the bed and nodded to Leo.
"It's time to meet your twins," she announced. "The next few contractions will bring the first baby."
Leo was dumbfounded.