The room is quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. Nicholas kneels beside the bed where Alexei lies pale and trembling, clutching his swollen leg. His father’s voice is soft but steady, filled with both concern and determination.

Nicholas: “My dear Alexei, hold still now. I’m here. We will get through this, just as we always do. You mustn’t be afraid—I will see to you every step of the way.”

He gently lifts Alexei’s leg, inspecting the bruises with careful eyes, his hands steady despite the worry in his heart.

Nicholas: “Let me fetch the doctor’s tincture. You must rest, my son. Your strength will return, and soon you’ll be running through the palace gardens once more.”