Make Love: Not War
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 7：The Castle Full
Five Years Later
The grand hallway of the royal family wing echoed with the sound of running feet, laughter, and what could only be described as joyful chaos.
Vance stood at the entrance to the main commons area, coffee in hand—his perpetual state these days—watching sixteen children ranging from six years old down to three months navigate their morning routine with varying degrees of success.
Kayla, now six and a half, was attempting to organize her younger siblings into some kind of formation. It wasn’t working. Zarya was braiding Lyra’s hair while simultaneously preventing two-year-old twins Daemon and Sera from climbing the furniture. Marcus and Theron—the original quad boys—were engaged in a sparring match that looked suspiciously close to actual combat. Alexander, now four, was reading quietly in the corner, completely unbothered by the chaos around him.
The second set of twins—Elena and Viktor, age three—were having a disagreement about toy ownership that was escalating rapidly. The triplets from pregnancy three—Cassia, Darius, and Nova, age two—were doing that thing where they communicated in their own language that no one else understood. And baby Aria, three months old, was being passed between nursery staff like a very precious, very fussy football.
“Controlled chaos,” Mira said, appearing beside him with her own coffee. “We’ve upgraded from complete disaster to merely controlled chaos.”
“I’ll take it,” Vance said.
Zanera emerged from their bedroom, seven months pregnant with what the medical scans promised would be “only” twins this time—babies seventeen and eighteen. She moved with practiced ease despite the belly, navigating the obstacle course of children with maternal precision.
“Marcus! Theron! Outside if you’re going to spar. You know the rules.” She caught Elena mid-tantrum. “We share toys in this house. Viktor had it first.” She kissed Alexander’s head as she passed. “Good morning, my quiet scholar.”
“Morning, Mama.”
Vance watched her work, still amazed after all these years. “You’re a miracle.”
“I’m caffeinated. There’s a difference.” She accepted the mug he offered, took a long drink. “Although two more and we’re at eighteen. Only two to go after this.”
“You say that like it’s a small number.”
“It is when you’re planning for twenty.” She rubbed her belly. “These two are active this morning. I think they’re fighting already.”
“They’re definitely our kids then.”
A commotion from the entrance drew their attention. Kyra strode in, looking slightly frazzled—a rarity for the warrior princess. Behind her, her bonded mate Jackson Reeves carried their three children: four-year-old twins Kira and Jax, and two-year-old Reese.
“We need to borrow your nursery staff,” Kyra announced. “Jackson and I have a meeting with the defense council and our usual nanny called in sick.”
“Sure,” Zanera said. “Mira, can we accommodate three more for a few hours?”
“What’s three more when we’re already managing sixteen?” Mira took the children with practiced ease. “Come on, little warriors. Let’s get you some breakfast.”
Kyra watched them go, then turned to Vance and Zanera. “How do you do this? Eighteen children. I have three and I’m losing my mind.”
“We have excellent staff,” Vance said. “And we’re both slightly insane.”
“That’s fair.” Kyra glanced at Zanera’s belly. “Eighteen. You’re actually going to hit your goal of twenty.”
“Two more after these,” Zanera confirmed. “Then we’re done.”
“You said that after the triplets.”
“This time I mean it. Probably.”
Jackson appeared in the doorway, looking amused. “Kyra, we need to go. The council doesn’t like being kept waiting.”
“I’m coming.” She started to leave, then paused. “Oh, Vance? The Institute numbers for this quarter—forty-three successful pregnancies. Six more bondings pending. The program’s working.”
“I know. It’s incredible.”
After they left, Vance pulled up the latest reports on his datapad. The Human-Valtharian Reproductive Compatibility Institute had been operational for five years. The numbers were staggering:
127 successful bondings
89 hybrid pregnancies (231 children total)
Sterility rates among Valtharian nobility down 40%
Peace treaty holding strong with zero military incidents
Cultural exchange programs thriving
Hybrid children showing remarkable adaptability and health
They’d started a revolution. A genetic, political, cultural revolution. All because he’d tried to save one wounded princess in a crashed dropship.
“Daddy!” Lyra ran up, tugging his hand. “Come see what Alexander built!”
He let himself be dragged to the corner where Alexander had constructed an elaborate fort out of cushions and blankets. It was architecturally impressive for a four-year-old.
“That’s amazing, buddy.”
“It’s a defensive position,” Alexander explained seriously. “With multiple exit routes and supply storage.”
“Of course it is.” Vance ruffled his hair. “You’re brilliant.”
Zanera joined them, settling carefully onto a cushion. “All right, family meeting. Everyone gather around.”
It took several minutes and the combined efforts of three nursery staff, but eventually all sixteen children were assembled—sitting, standing, being held, or in baby Aria’s case, sleeping through the entire thing.
“We have an announcement,” Zanera said. “In about two months, you’re going to have two more siblings. Two more sisters.”