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Jora woke slowly, the kind of waking that felt like surfacing from warm water rather than snapping back into the world. For a few heartbeats she didn’t move at all—just breathed, listening. The room was quiet except for soft, familiar sounds: the even rise and fall of Sage’s breathing, the tiny, uneven breaths of the babies nestled between them, and Lyra’s faint little sigh where she’d curled in close sometime in the night. Her eyes fluttered open. The sight stole the air from her lungs. Sage was wrapped around all of them, instinctively protective even in sleep, one arm curved carefully so it didn’t press on the babies, the other angled just enough to give Lyra space while still keeping her close. The blankets were tugged up and tucked in the way he always did when he thought someone might get cold. Caspian’s tiny face was turned toward Sage’s chest, peaceful. Their daughter was all soft hair and sleep-warm skin, one hand fisted into Sage’s shirt just like she used to do when she was smaller. Jora swallowed hard, emotion cresting sharp and sudden. This, she thought. This is it. She shifted just enough to prop herself up on one elbow, careful not to disturb anyone. Her free hand came up to brush her knuckles lightly along Sage’s jaw, stopping short of waking him. He looked younger like this—unguarded, softened by rest. Alive. Here. Her gaze moved back to the children, lingering on each of them in turn. She counted them without meaning to, the way a part of her always did now. Lyra. Caspian. The other small bundle tucked close, warm and real and theirs. Jora leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Sage’s head, then another to Lyra’s hair, and finally a feather-light touch to the babies’ foreheads. Her chest ached with it—love so fierce it was almost frightening. She settled back down carefully, easing herself into the curve Sage had made without ever realizing it. Her hand slipped over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath her palm, grounding her completely. “First day,” she whispered softly, more to herself than anyone else. “We made it.” Jora closed her eyes again, letting the warmth and weight of her family anchor her. Whatever came next—whatever challenges waited beyond this room—they would face it like this. Together. And with that thought held close, she let herself drift back into sleep, surrounded by everything she’d fought so hard to protect. |
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Sage hadn't moved when Jora woke...though some part of him registered the love that was being spread across the room, deep down inside his chest. He'd curled into her hand slightly when she placed it in his chest, just happy to be there, all curled up tight with their family. He wasn't actively thinking, of course, but some sort of him still felt it. He was stirred later when he felt the babies wake against his chest, stirring slightly as they first woke and recognized hunger. He groggily reached for the extra bottles selene had left for them, still a little warm. He shifted slowly, not wanting to wake anyone, as he gathered the babies close, placing the tip of the bottles where they could latch on and suckle. He let out a soft breath when they did, resting his head on his arm but keeping an eye on them just in case. Nothing bad would likely happen, but still ...he wanted to watch them anyway. The light from the moon filtered in through the window, so he let his gaze wander. Lyra was still curled up with them, Jora sleeping peacefully. This really was perfect. He loved them all so much. The babies had finished soon enough, and had drifted back off to sleep. He stayed up a bit longer, just watching everyone, before his own eyes grew tired again and he slipped off for the rest of the night. The morning came too early, babies whining for food, shifting against his chest. Lyra already up and excitedly asking to feed them. He groaned, but shifted to sit up with a yawn and a nod, telling Lyra to go get some bottles from selene, to which the girl ran off yelling her name. Hopefully he wasn't waking her up. He'd feel a little bad about that. |
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Jora stirred slowly, awareness seeping back in layers—first the warmth at her side, then the soft, needy sounds against Sage’s chest. Her lashes fluttered before she opened her eyes, the room still bathed in that dim, early-morning hush. Moonlight lingered faintly, giving way to the promise of dawn. She watched him for a long second without moving. The way he held the babies—even half-asleep, even groggy—was something that still caught at her chest. Careful. Instinctive. Like he’d been meant to do this all along. When Lyra popped up, all energy and excitement, Jora couldn’t help the small smile that curved her lips, even as exhaustion tugged at her bones. She shifted just enough to rest her hand against Sage’s arm, a gentle anchor. “You didn’t wake her,” she murmured softly, voice rough with sleep but warm. “Selene’s probably already half-awake anyway.” There was a faint tease there, but mostly reassurance. As Lyra bolted from the room calling Selene’s name, Jora let out a quiet breath—half a laugh, half a sigh—and carefully pushed herself up a little more. Her free hand brushed over one baby’s back, then the other’s, grounding herself in the moment. “Morning already,” she murmured, mostly to herself, then glanced back at Sage. Her eyes softened. “You did good last night,” she added quietly, knowing he might brush it off—but meaning it all the same. She leaned in just enough to press a gentle kiss to his shoulder, careful not to disturb the babies more than they already were. Tired as she was, her chest felt steady. Full. This—this—was worth every hard thing that had come before. |
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Sage had grunted in response to joras comment, still half asleep despite the noise that he'd woken to. The energy filling the room. Most of it was Lyra's, but the babies were wriggling around too by then. "I hope so," he muttered with a yawn, shifting slightly in order to sit up without disturbing the babies too much. Though, they were already up and yelling, so he supposed there wasn't much he could do to annoy them. Her kiss brought a smile to his face though, and he leaned into the touch happily, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "I figured if they woke Lyra up in the middle of the night, she wouldn't be quite so pleased with them," he mused. It was mostly a joke ...but there was some truth to it. Even so, when Lyra returned with bottles, eager to help give them breakfast, he smiled a bit wider, reaching over to help her take Caspian in her arms and offer him the bottle. Jora would take care of Saiya, and then he was sure Lyra would want to hold her younger sister too. He didn't have a problem with that. |
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Jora smiled at his sleepy mutter, the sound of it warming her chest as much as the sight of him rubbing the rest from his eyes. She shifted carefully, already used to moving around the small bodies between them, instinctively adjusting her posture so no one was jostled more than necessary. “I think they had other plans,” she murmured back, amusement soft in her voice as one of the babies let out an indignant little cry. Her hand brushed Sage’s arm as he sat up, steadying him and the bundle of blankets all at once. At his comment about Lyra, Jora let out a quiet laugh, leaning in to press another quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re probably right. She likes helping… just not being woken up,” she teased gently, eyes flicking toward their daughter with fond affection. When Lyra hurried back in with the bottles, practically buzzing with excitement, Jora’s heart swelled. She watched Sage help her settle Caspian properly, her hands hovering for a moment—ready to intervene if needed—but Lyra was careful, focused, serious in the way only children who truly care can be. “You’re doing great,” Jora told her softly, voice full of pride. She gathered Kaiya into her own arms, adjusting the baby against her chest before offering the bottle. Saiya latched on almost immediately, small fingers curling reflexively, and Jora felt that familiar tug in her chest again—the quiet, overwhelming rightness of it all. Her gaze lifted to Sage and Lyra, the three of them framed together like something out of a dream. “See?” she said quietly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Team effort already.” Once Caspian had settled, Jora nodded toward Kaiya. “When you’re ready,” she added to Lyra, gentle and encouraging, “you can hold her too. One at a time.” She leaned back slightly, letting the moment breathe, watching her family with a softness that felt endless. The house was alive now—no longer just a place, but a home filled with small noises, shared responsibility, and love stitched into every movement. And for the first time in a long while, Jora felt completely, undeniably at peace. |
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Sage settled there with Lyra in his lap, Caspian in hers, just watching the interaction between them. His hands lingered there, just in case, but there was no reason to worry. She was careful. And doing great at it too. He hummed in agreement when Jora mentioned it being a team effort, nodding along with a soft laugh. "I think Lyra should come feed them for us every time," he joked softly. Of course, the little girl nodded excitedly, declaring that she would. "I'm sure you will," he mused, knowing full well she wouldn't overnight, and would have other things to do through the day as well. Lyra had crawled over to hold Saiya too, after Caspian had fed. Sage had taken him back to burp him, just watching his wife and daughters interact happily, the adoration written over his face plainly. "You're going to be a great big sister to these guys," he hummed softly to Lyra, who just looked over at him with her big eyes and wide grin, and he felt his heart just absolutely melt. It took effort not to start crying all over again, and he had to shove down those emotions so as not to freak any of them out. Soon enough Lyra had scampered off again, and he chuckled softly as she ran, leaning against the wall next to Jora with a sigh. "She really is the best," he murmured. |
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Jora watched the scene unfold with a quiet, almost reverent smile, her body angled toward them even as she leaned back slightly. Seeing Sage settled like that—Lyra in his lap, Caspian cradled so carefully in her arms—made something deep in her chest loosen, like a knot she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “She really is,” Jora agreed softly when Sage spoke, her voice warm and certain. Her eyes followed Lyra as she moved about, all earnest care and bright excitement. “She takes it seriously. That’s what makes it so special.” At his joking suggestion, Jora let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Careful,” she teased lightly. “You say that enough times and she’ll hold you to it.” Her gaze flicked back to Lyra, who was already nodding enthusiastically, and her smile only grew. When Sage took Caspian back to burp him, Jora adjusted Kaiya in her arms, helping Lyra settle properly before letting go. She stayed close, a steady presence, but she didn’t hover. Lyra didn’t need that—she was confident, gentle, and proud in a way that made Jora’s throat tighten. “You see?” Jora murmured to Sage as she watched them. “She’s already got that instinct. Protective. Patient.” There was pride there, and a quiet awe too. At Sage’s words to Lyra, Jora felt her own eyes sting. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over his arm, grounding both of them. When Lyra beamed up at him, Jora had to look away for a moment, blinking hard and breathing through the swell of emotion. Once Lyra finally scampered off, full of energy and plans, Jora leaned into Sage’s side, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. “I don’t know how we got so lucky,” she murmured. “But I’m grateful for it every single day.” Her gaze drifted back to where Lyra had disappeared, then down to the babies, her smile soft and unbreakable. “This,” she added quietly, “is everything.” |
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Bright Sunshine with a few High Clouds
