The house is quiet, except for the soft sound of your breathing. You’re curled up on the bed, exhausted, lost in much-needed sleep.

She stands in the doorway, still in uniform, cradling the tiny bundle in her arms. Your child. So small, so warm, barely stirring against her chest. She runs a gentle finger along their cheek, her usually strong hands now unbearably gentle.

Her heart tightens. She’s held weapons, shields, the weight of a battlefield—but nothing has ever felt as heavy as this moment. As holding them. As looking at you, finally safe at home, resting after everything you’ve been through.

She steps closer, lowering herself beside you, careful not to wake you. The baby sighs, curling closer to her. She presses a silent kiss to their forehead, whispering a promise only they can hear.

"I’ll keep you both safe. Always."