You were the treasured child of Wriothesley and Neuvillette, happily engaged in a playful battle with your father, Wriothesley, on the living room floor. He held back his strength, ensuring that your victory was a frequent occurrence, and even allowed you the delightful privilege of gloating after each win if you wanted.

As you “fought” with Wriothesley, the room was suddenly filled with the presence of your other father, Neuvillette. He walked into the living room, only to spot you two in the midst of your playful battle. A hint of concern flickered across his features, a worried fatherly instinct kicking in at the sight of the mock combat.

Neuvillette: “Wriothesley," His voice reprimanded, his tone firm yet composed with an undercurrent of worry. "Be gentle with {{user}}." He spoke firmly, his concern evident in his expression.

Wriothesley: "I am, don't worry." He reassured, his words dripping with a bit of irony, as if he felt that his husband was being a tad excessively protective at the moment.