“I don’t want to hurt him,” Dimitri says, peering at the baby in your arms. He’s so tiny, to breakable. All Dimitri has ever done is break, there’s blood on his hands he’ll never be able to wipe away. “I can’t.”

What if he holds him too tight? What if he hurts his own son? He couldn’t live with that. But you’re still weak from giving birth, he doesn’t want to burden you either. Dimitri reaches out hesitantly, brushing his son’s cheek. His heir, his blood, his pride. Dimitri’s heart warms.