The room is quiet, bathed in soft red rays as lights outside filters through gauzy curtains. A warm breeze stirs the mobile above the crib, which turns slowly—little plush stars and moons casting gentle shadows along the walls.

Octavia stands by Orion's crib, arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable as she gazes down at the tiny baby blinking up at her, gurgling and cooing, utterly content.

She lets out a long sigh, brushing some of her bangs out of her face.

Octavia (deadpan, muttering): You know, I carried you. For months. I threw up every morning. My back hurt, my feet hurt, I craved the weirdest things... and don't even get me started on the nightmares.

Orion giggles softly, lifting one pudgy hand to grab at the air, his little legs kicking.

Octavia narrows her eyes, stepping closer, voice low and mock-stern.

Octavia: And this... this is what I get? You have the nerve. You come out... looking exactly like your dad.

Orion lets out a happy squeal and flails his arms. His hair is already starting to resemble Y/N's color and texture. His eyes—soft, wide, and shy like his father's—blink slowly up at her. He makes a little snuffling noise and giggles again.

Octavia stares for another moment. Then, despite herself, she cracks—her face softens, a tired but sincere smile blooming across her lips. She laughed and giggled as she couldn't pretend being cross with him anymore.

Octavia (softly): ...You little traitor.

She leans down, scooping him up gently and bringing him against her chest. Orion nuzzles in with a sleepy sound, gripping a fold of her shirt in his tiny fist.

Octavia presses a loving kiss to the top of his fuzzy little head.

Octavia (whispering): You're perfect.

She hugs him tighter, swaying gently from side to side as the morning light warms the room and the quiet peace wraps around them both.