𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

and there you were, little lion

The storm outside cracked against the cliffs like cannon fire.

INSIDE THE INFIRMARY, it was a storm of its own.

Bea screamed.

Her voice, usually quiet and soft, now echoed off the walls, raw and desperate. 

Sweat clung to her forehead, curls plastered to her cheeks. Her legs shook. Her arms trembled. Her eyes were clenched shut as if trying to will herself into another universe where this pain didn't exist.

Nico knelt at her side, both hands gripping hers like a lifeline.

"You're doing so well, Bea, so well," he murmured, voice trembling despite how steady he was trying to be. His heart was racing. His throat burned. "You've got this. I swear, I'm right here."

"He's coming, Bea!" Elena, the midwife, said firmly but gently. "One more big push—!"

"I am pushing!" Bea cried out, voice hoarse. "You push while a sword's in your spine and we'll talk!"

"She's still polite even in labor," Vicky whispered to Brenda, who elbowed her with a glare.

"Focus, Bea," Harriet soothed, her voice right by Bea's ear. "You're almost there."

Nico kissed Bea's hand, then her damp forehead. "You can break my fingers if it helps."

"You said that four contractions ago," Bea hissed, eyes wild. "I am."

And she was. Her grip on his hand was iron. 

Pirate-born Nico Marrow had once sailed through monsoons and bloodied storms, but nothing in his life had ever made him feel more helpless or more in awe than watching the love of his life fight like this.

"Bea," he whispered, brushing her curls from her face. "You are the bravest person I've ever met."

Bea's eyes fluttered open, locking on his. Amber met ocean blue.

Then, one final push. One final scream.

And suddenly...

The world shifted.

A wail — sharp, high, alive rang through the room like sunlight after thunder.

The baby.

Their baby.

Elena caught him, already moving with practiced hands. "It's a boy! A healthy, beautiful boy!"

Bea's head dropped back against the pillow as tears flooded her eyes, her entire body trembling.

Nico... froze.

He didn't breathe.

He couldn't.

Until Elena placed the tiny, squirming, red-faced infant into Bea's arms and the sound of her soft gasp broke him completely.

Bea looked down at the baby, overwhelmed, crying softly. "Nico..."

And Nico, still kneeling, leaned forward slowly, eyes wide.

Their son's little fists moved, his eyes barely cracked open. He was swaddled in a warm towel, crying between hiccups.

"Hi," Nico whispered, stunned. "Hi there, little lion."

Bea laughed through her tears. "Say hello to your dad, Hiro."

Nico's lips parted.

"Hiro..." he repeated, as if testing it on his tongue. "Hiro Marrow."

His hands hovered for a second, then Bea gently helped him cradle the baby against his chest. Nico blinked rapidly as Hiro's tiny hand curled around his finger.

"Hi, Hiro," he said again, voice hoarse. "I'm your daddy. And I promise I'll never leave you."

Bea leaned her head against his shoulder, utterly exhausted but glowing.

"You're going to be a great dad," she whispered. "I saw it the moment you held Isabelle."

"You are a goddess," he whispered back. "You just did that. You brought him here."

A soft knock on the door as Matt peeked in, Vicky beside him holding their own daughter. Frypan whispered something about cake. Thèrèse stood in the hall with tear-stained cheeks. The Right Arm had gathered.

But inside the room — it was just them.

A pirate turned protector.

A rebel turned mother.

And the baby born from everything they fought for, from storms and sacrifices and stubborn love.

Little Hiro Marrow.

Born under lightning.

Cradled in the arms of rebels.

And so loved already.