"Are you sure, Nah? It's the second time in as many years that you've been pregnant." Yarne hovered around his wife with a worried look on his face.
Nah giggled. Yarne had been just as anxious when she'd been pregnant with Velvet. She thought he'd be just as anxious if it was their fiftieth child she was carrying. He was a wonderful—if overprotective—father and she was sure that he'd be the one to tenderly kiss every scrapped knee and nurse every sickness. "You forget I'm half-manakete," she said, rubbing his ears tenderly. "Thanks to my human blood, I'm already past puberty, but my manakete blood means it'll be a long time before I'm ready to stop having babies. We can repopulate your race for as long as you like, so stop worrying."
He snuggled in closer to her, tickling her face with his soft fur. "You ask a lot, my love. I just don't know what I'd do if I lost you. So promise me that if it ever gets too hard, you'll let me know."
She leaned in for a kiss. "You won't lose me. That's a promise you can count on."
"I kept my promise, Yarne." Nah's words came out as a half-spoken whisper.
Yarne had stayed with her as long as he could, but he was an old man, his death had been expected. She looked around the funeral, thinking just how many friends her timid husband had managed to make. Brady held his violin (which he'd be playing as Yarne's body was lowered into the ground) with trembling hands that didn't just come with old age. Next to him, his wife—Severa—was desperately trying to convince everyone she wasn't crying. Not all of the children of the future were there, of course. Laurent was already gone and Owain had gone out like a hero, fighting bandits along the Ylissean border, but all of them that were still alive had shown up.
Also present were several manakete—Tiki and Yarne's mother-in-law, Nowi—and the Yarne of this time. He was all grown up now. He had even married, though not to Nah—not even to the Nah of this time. She didn't mind. The Yarne of this time might have looked like him, but he wasn't "her" Yarne. Her Yarne had been scared of everything, he was even a bit of a coward at times, but he had also been truly brave. He had saved her from being kidnapped, saved her when she was scared and couldn't reach her dragonstone. He had been scared too, but he had saved her anyway.
The Yarne of this time had never had the same pressures that her Yarne had. In this timeline, Panne had survived and by the time she had given birth to Yarne, Nah had already had her first child. Panne and Frederick had even gone on to have other children after Yarne, children who'd never had time to be born in the time she came from. The Yarne of this time had never had to be afraid of being the last of his kind and had grown up bold, even reckless of his own safety at times. He was brave, but not in the same way that her Yarne was. The Yarne of this time never had to fight through fear because he was never afraid at all. He wasn't her Yarne and he never would be.
"Snnrrk," Nah felt tears running down her face as she sniffled. Before she knew it, she was surrounded by her children on all sides.
"It's okay, Mother, we're here for you."
"You can cry if you want to Momma, Papa was never afraid to cry!"
"I love you, Momma! We all do!"
"Momma, it's okay if you get snot in my fur, I don't mind!"
She laughed, trying to hug all of her children at once. Though she hadn't quite been pregnant every year of her marriage with Yarne, the two of them had been serious in their attempt to repopulate his race. Yarne had loved each and every one of his children, just as much as she had. He hadn't even been sad when their last daughter had been born with the traits of a manakete rather than a tanguel. Nah's eyes shined with pride and unshed tears as she looked at the children her husband had given her. Of course, they were one fourth manakete, so it was possible they would live longer than either Panne or Yarne had, but Nah thought that she would probably outlive most of them as well. Already, she was often mistaken for Velvet's daughter instead of the other way around.
Her children were such a gift and as she looked at each face before her, she knew that watching over them and their descendants would be her legacy to Yarne. She would guard the future of his race, making sure that they continued to multiply, watching over their bloodlines to make sure they didn't become too thick. Nah closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, Oh Naga, please give me the strength to watch over the taguel in the generations to come. And thank you for giving me one daughter who will be able to stay by my side while I do so. A small smile came to her face as she thought of all the future grandchildren and great-grandchild and great-great-grandchildren (and so on) that she would see and get to know. The first of her grandchildren had already begun to arrive and the thought of seeing so many more of them, of being the mother of an entire race filled her heart with warmth. Maybe she'd even allow a few marriages between taguels in another hundred years or so. The thoughts and the softness of the fur of her children comforted her grieving heart.
She would always miss Yarne and all the people that she had lost and would continue to lose as the years went by, but she had something to live for and memories that would never go away. Her life would never be without joy.