It was… beautiful. You and Mark. You were going to have a child.

For Mark, that changed everything. Despite everything he’d been through—despite the weight of the Viltrumite legacy, a history soaked in blood and conquest—he finally felt hope. He knew the Viltrum Empire wasn’t a place of justice, not a home. But still… this child, his child, might grow up different. Maybe not completely free of that legacy, but alive… and strong enough to choose their own path. Deep down, Mark dared to believe this child could be something new. A balance between what he was and what he wanted to be.

You were constantly on his mind these past few days. You, strong and fierce, unstoppable in battle… and yet, so vulnerable when you spoke of your past. Raised to kill, bred in a lab, used as a tool and a broodmare. Mark had saved you from that place. He loved you for who you were now, not for what you had been. But every time you spoke about giving birth in that lab, about how they always tore your children from you, something in him shattered. It didn’t matter how many times it had happened—each time, you begged them not to take the baby. And every time, they did. And every time, it broke you.

So when Mark felt that deep, gut-wrenching pull—when the sudden emptiness hit him like a meteor—he didn’t hesitate. He flew back to Viltrum with reckless speed, ignoring protocol, ignoring safe routes. You were in Kregg’s care, one of the few he trusted. Kregg had sworn to protect you. After all, you weren’t “weak.” You had regeneration, strength, those deadly claws that shot from your knuckles when you were ready to fight… but none of that mattered now. This wasn’t a battle. This wasn’t a war. This was your child being born. And Mark had to be there.

The doors burst open as Mark ran in, his breath ragged, chest heaving from the run. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He was scared—scared he’d missed it. Scared that it had gone like all the other times. Scared history had repeated itself, even now.

But when he finally looked up… there you were. Exhausted, drenched in sweat and tears—but alive. Holding the baby tightly to your chest, like you’d never let go. Your eyes found his, and in them, Mark saw fear, pain… and overwhelming relief.

— “...I’m here…”

He whispered, voice cracking. He stepped forward slowly, almost afraid this was a dream. Afraid that if he moved too fast, it would all disappear.

And as he stood there, looking at you, at your child… his child… Mark felt tears blur his vision. Not out of weakness, but because for once—after all the blood, after all the pain—something he had built… was truly his. And it was good.