Ok but like- how fucking funny would it be if Rayllum had a daughter then casually named her Leola after the constellation 😂 like they just came to the conclusion of that name on their own bc it’s pretty & they like stargazing together.
like I just imagine Aaravos coming back to be evil or whatever then seeing them being all nuclear family or whatever and he’s like “wait a damn minute there’s a new one”
So they’re like “oh yeah this is Leola we named her after the star”
“You WHAT.”
Like pls tell me someone else finds this as messed up & hilarious as me 😂
@jupiter-dragonsong @pavatopia @parsbooks @queenfishiethemagnificent thank you for the peer pressure :)
These are my fankids from The Roles We Must Play, a few months before the story starts. I actually drew this a while ago but never got around to finishing it, so I'm yeeting it cause otherwise nobody'll see it 😅
From left to right the kids are Grove, Sarai, and Wren. Sarai is five and the others are two.
Can't be bothered to pretty link right now but this is the story https://archiveofourown.org/works/59318293/chapters/151284688
So I wrote this in October 2022, before season 4, but never finished it. It doesn’t really align with canon anymore, and it’s just been sitting in my drafts unfinished. I didn’t want to delete, and I don’t want to finish it, so here it is.
TW: Childbirth
“Please sit down, Your Highness. Your worrying is not helping the princess.”
Callum wiped the sweat from his brow, barely acknowledging Opeli’s suggestion as she brushed by him into the bedroom. He attempted to follow her, only to have the door promptly shut in his face.
“She’s in the best possible hands, Callum,” Ezran assured. He moved the aging glowtoad asleep on the red velvet couch beside him onto his lap, gesturing for Callum to sit. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Callum glanced at his king, who offered him a sympathetic smile. Ezran had excused himself from the court hours ago, ready to stand vigil at his brother’s side. At sixteen, he was already taller than Callum, and far more composed and mature than the brooding mess his elder brother had been at that age.
“I know, I know, it’s just…. stuff can happen, stuff they can’t do anything about, and…” Callum bit his lip and resumed pacing, as he’d been since the moment Rayla was whisked from his sight, wearing a path into the plush carpet of the suite’s sitting room. It was impossible not to worry. His wife, his princess, was the love of his life, his everything, and even with the most skilled of assistance, women still died in childbirth. He remembered a classmate whose mother had died delivering his baby sister. Though the memories were vague (he only went to school for one year after all, educated only by private tutors once his mother wed the king), he would always remember the empty, reddened eyes of his playmate’s father each day when he came to collect his son from the schoolhouse. It was if he would never stop crying. Callum then became convinced the same would happen to Sarai, and howled for hours into Harrow’s tunic when the time came for Ezran to arrive.
He fancied himself more rational now, of course, but the fear remained. Ezran had summoned the most skilled midwives from throughout the Pentarchy to attend his sister-in-law’s labor, joined by several women from the Silvergrove, including Rayla’s own mother. Callum knew a more capable team couldn’t possibly exist than the one aiding his wife. But none of them had ever delivered a halfling child.
Rayla’s pregnancy had been smooth, for the most part. They’d scarcely been married three months when Rayla began to awake sick to her stomach, rousing Callum as she hurried to the bathroom despite her best efforts to remain discrete. He would kneel beside her, gently holding back her silver hair as she hunched over the chamber pot. He insisted his Rayla see the palace physician, and after several miserable mornings spent on the cold marble floor, she relented. Callum shared with the doctor his theory that some elf-hating kitchen worker was poisoning his new bride’s food, and nearly collapsed when the woman instead laughed warmly and informed the couple that the princess was not only perfectly well, she was with child. It was the happiest and most terrifying moment of their lives. They were both so young, still learning to live as husband and wife, and now they were about to be parents. They cried together, both in fear and utter joy, and immediately began squabbling over names.
As far as the doctors and midwives could tell, the baby was growing healthy and strong, and Rayla seemed her usual vibrant self. But no one really knew what to expect. Neglecting his high mage duties, Callum spent many long hours in the royal library, scouring for information on halflings. Surely such children existed, but records were few and far between, and those that did exist spoke either of wretched abominations forsaken by humanity and the arcanums alike or of pitiful little waifs born too soon and dead before their first sunrise. He sought out information from many in the humans kingdoms and Xadia alike, to little success. A Skywing mercenary told him that he once traveled alongside an Earthblood companion with rounded ears and small horns, clumsily attributed to a poor diet as a youngster. An elderly shopkeeper from the Del Bar capital city recalled an infant born in her girlhood village, with four fingers and pale blue skin. The townsfolk shunned mother and baby, and both passed away during the winter. The story made Callum sick, and he felt useless to his wife and unborn child.
He’d scarely left Rayla’s side for the past week, except for when she ordered him out of the room because couldn’t he hear how annoying his breathing was? But elf pregnancies last eight months, humans nine, and she was right in between the two. There was no way he was leaving her when she could labor at any moment.
She’d woken him early that morning, just after the sun rose, grabbing his arm and whispering that something felt different.
“Different like… you want the moon berries inside the jelly tart this time?” he mumbled sleepily. Barius may well bludgeon him to death with his rolling pin if he bothered him again about the consistency of his crusts making Rayla nauseous.
“No, ye’ big dummy,” her violet eyes were big and excited and a touch frightened. “Different like… I think I’m havin’ the baby today.”
Callum shot up right, flinging the duvet onto the floor. “Wait, really? Right now? You’re sure? Okay, don’t panic, you stay right here, I—I’ll go get the doctor! It’s gonna be okay!”
He sprinted out the door, before scrambling back in and planting an enormous kiss on his wife’s forehead. “I love you!” Rayla could only shake her head as he charged back into the hallway, screaming for a maid.
That had been hours ago.
The couple spent the morning in the kitchen with Ezran, munching on pastries and fresh moonberries, before roaming the long palace corridors, Rayla holding Callum’s arm as she walked through the cramps. After her waters came away, her midwifes settled her in her bedchamber, and the pains began in earnest.
At first, the midwives allowed Callum to stay with her. He rubbed Rayla’s back, wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, lifted a glass of water to her lips—before spilling it all over her thanks to his shaking hands. She was in good spirits, all things considered. Certainly handling the whole ordeal better than he was.
“Would ya quit your frettin,’ ya big oaf,” she’d scolded fondly after he apologized for the tenth time over spilling the drink. “Ya’d think you were the one laborin’ with how badly you’re sweatin.’”
The pangs intensified in the afternoon, and Callum found himself wanting to cry at the sight of Rayla’s face, pinched and contorted with pain as she bravely breathed through it. Once the pains came consistently every few minutes, the head midwife checked her and, with a stern expression, ordered Callum from the chamber.
“It isn’t personal, Prince Callum,” Opeli assured with a kind smile as she guided him into the sitting room. “It’s simply the way things are done. King Harrow was not with your mother when Ezran was born either.”
“I know,” Callum stole one last look at his princess, recalling how he clung to his stepfather with all the strength in his little hands as he listened to his mother’s howls echo through the palace halls. “But… but he wanted to, didn’t he?”
Opeli smiled again. “You are like him in many ways.”
It seemed like an eternity had passed since Callum was shut outside the door. Except for Opeli checking in, and the occasional maid fetching fresh supplies, no one had left the room.
A pained grunt from within the bedchamber sent Callum to the door yet again. “Is everything all right?? Rayla, are you okay!?”
A young Moonshadow woman answered a few moments later, shooting the prince a dirty look. “You’re disturbin’ your wife.”
“She—she’s in pain. I just need to know she’s okay. Just—just let me check on her.”
“Childbirth is painful, Highness. She’s doin’ fine. Now sit back down, we’ll let ya know when your bairn arrives.”
Ezran stood up to put an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “She’s okay, Callum. You know how strong she is. And if something goes wrong, they’ll know what to do.”
Another cry tore through the room, and Callum felt the young king’s grip tighten, a flash of fear in his wide blue eyes. A stab of guilt prodded at his heart. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kid was only sixteen. His little brother. It was Callum’s job to be strong for him.
“Hey… you’re right…” he smiled weakly, returning Ezran’s embrace and internally scolding himself for acting like a fool in front of his brother. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ezran dropped his head down to Callum’s shoulder. “You love her so much. I know it’s awful to hear her in pain and not be able to do anything about it.”
Callum straightened the boy’s crown and repeated the mantra he’d be telling himself all day. “It’ll be over soon.”
Staying strong for Ezran lasted all of ten minutes. Rayla’s moans grew to agonized wails, so long and miserable that Callum feared she wasn’t even able to get in a breath.
“Callum… are you okay?” Ezran asked softly, lightly touching his brother’s hand. Even Bait appeared concerned, his skin a purplish green. It was then Callum realized he had tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I’ve—I’ve never heard her… scream like that before…” the mage’s voice wobbled, his throat thick. “It sounds like… like she’s—”
“Oh, Callum! Help me!”
Before Ezran could react, Callum was on his feet, nearly throwing the door off its hinges. “Rayla!” Two maids and the stern-faced Moonshadow woman hurried to stop him, almost knocked to the floor by the frantic young man.
“Callum, please, where are you!?” Rayla sobbed. “It hurts… Callum, it hurts!”
“Your Highness, you cannot be in here!” Opeli rushed to help the other women evict Callum from chambers.
“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded, fighting to reach his wife’s side.
“Callum!” Rayla gasped, her eyes finally locking with his. Her face was flushed and streaked with tears, eyes wild with pain. The thin white nightgown that usually hung so loosely around her nimble frame now clung to her skin, soaked through with sweat. But what scared Callum the most was the blood that stained the sheets around her legs. “Callum, help me!”
“Rayla!”
“Out. Now!”
“Callum, no! Come back, please!”
“No, wait—!” Callum grasped at his hair as the door was once again slammed in his face while his princess continued to scream his name.
“I’m coming, Rayla!” Pausing for a moment, Callum suddenly threw off his outer cloak and charged for the stairwell.
“Callum—”
“Stay there, Ez!”
The high mage barreled down the stairs and into the hallway, narrowly avoiding several collisions with mystified staff members, before sprinting across the inner courtyard to the base of the wide tower holding his study and personal chambers. Even so far below, he could hear his wife's cries, but now her ragged voice offered a glimmer of hope. The sight of the drapes flicking out above him in the evening breeze confirmed his suspicion.
The window was open.
"Manus. Pluma. Volantis."
It took only two powerful strokes to launch Callum up the full height of the tower. Tucking his wings to his side, the prince skillfully swooped into the bedchamber, striking them out again to balance himself as he landed on one knee, his sudden entrance prompting startled shrieks from at least half of Rayla's attendants.
"What is the meaning of this!?" the lead midwife gasped indignantly.
"Callum!" Rayla screamed, reaching out toward her husband. "Callum, ya came!"
In an instant, Callum was at his wife's side, clutching her hand and pressing kisses to her temple. "I'm here, love, I'm here... it's okay, I've got you..."
The midwife attempted to speak. "Prince Callum—"
"Ach, just let him stay, for pity's sake!" Tiadrin barked from her vigil at the opposite side of Rayla's bed, venom in her glare. "Muh poor lass is sufferin' enough without ya draggin' her husband away like a criminal!"
The woman swallowed and glanced back at Opeli, who only shook her head permissively. "Very well. His Highness may stay with the princess so long as he does not interfere with our work."
"I won’t, I swear. I just need to be here with her."
"Oh Callum," Rayla whimpered, a sob escaping her as she gripped his hand with all her strength. "I can't do it, Callum, I—I'm so tired, I think—I think I'm goin' tae die..."
"Shhhh... you're not gonna die, love, you're doing such a good job," Callum assured, tucking a loose strand of her shimmering silver hair behind her ear. "Just hang on a bit longer. It's almost done."
"Baby's head is nearly born, my lady," the midwife announced. "I need you to push with this next pang."
"Callum, I can't!" Rayla bawled, collapsing back against her pillow. "I can't!"
"Yes, yes you can, Rayla! I know you can!" Callum wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her upright, squeezing her hand as if he could share his strength with her. "You're so close, Rayla!"
The princess screamed as the pain ripped through her body, bracing down and grasping her husband's hand.
"The head is born, my lady! One more push with the next pain, and your baby will be here."
"You hear that, my love?" Callum kissed Rayla's hand. "Just one more. You're so close." She could only sob in response, turning her head against him and gasping for breath.
