I found this old one-shot, don't know why I never published it. So here it is!
She was a child of war, a child of victory.
She was born two weeks early, but on the best day possible.
The past months had been brutal. Absolutely brutal. But on the very same bright September day that she was brought into the world, the war was won.
Almost six months to the day since Portland was claimed by the Resistance. Almost seven months to the day since her mother had been shot.
They hadn't been sure if she would make it.
But she was a fighter, that one. A true fighter. And she pulled through, furious that she couldn't fight until the summer. And thankful, beyond anything, that she could still feel the stirrings of another heartbeat inside of her.
She told him as she lay there, bandaged and gritting her teeth in pain, that they were going to have a child, and he cried. The man who never cried shed tears.
She tried to fight in the summer, but the July heat, the child inside her, and the pain from her wound of several months earlier made her collapse right there on the battlefield, and he forbade her to fight until the child came because he had been so afraid in that moment she fell, that he had almost lost her again. Lost them.
They'd already lost too much.
She still fought, though, from behind the scenes, strategizing and planning and organizing, her hand on her stomach feeling the baby kick, and the same fire and passion in her green eyes as before, when she charged into the fight with her braid swinging.
And the day the final battle was fought, she screamed and cried and brought a tiny little being into the world. She had dark hair like her mother and father, hazel eyes like a mix of her mother's green and father's brown. And she had fight, just like them.
The mother sobbed when she held the child in her arms. It was like a miracle – no, more than a miracle. Impossible and yet possible and the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Tack held Raven's hand as she choked out, in a tender whisper, "Blue."
They could've lived in Portland, sure, but Raven didn't want to. After nearly eight years in the Wilds, she didn't want to go back to city living.
Holding tiny baby Blue in her arms, their child, their precious, beautiful child, she told Tack about her dream.
And enfolding them both in his strong arms, he told her, "Yes."