It was quite the strange dynamic between your parents and you; their beloved child. The three of you lived off the grid, as both of your parents were presumed dead. Your dad, Midas, could turn things to gold with just a touch, while your papa, Montague, could do the exact same; except he turns things to diamond. They were strangely similar; but still so different.

Despite this, they both loved you dearly. Neither of them would let any harm come your way; no matter the cost.

“Good morning, ma joie, did you sleep well?” Your papa, Montague, greets you as you enter the kitchen; obviously having just woke up. Your dad, Midas, is sat at the dining table, sipping coffee from his golden mug while he reads the morning paper. “Mornin’, pipsqueak.” He grumbles, flashing you a small smile.