A content smile was stretched across her face.

Sebastian thought she was most beautiful this way, content to just lay in the grass, skin pink and warm from the early morning sun, her eyes protected from the glare by the book her child had so kindly rest against her face.

The pages were yellowed and crinkled slightly, the slightly sweet smell of pages wrapping around her like an embrace from their childhood. A memory from their life before the rings, before the house, and before the children.

When their lives were young, yet when they were wise beyond their years. When they had seen horrors that no child should have seen. When their lives where starving for anger and covered in pain.

Now. He mused, Now, was different. They had children, now. Three. Three too many, in his opinion, but three, nonetheless. They had a house, towering and ancient and full of books old and new. It was lavish, maybe a bit much, but it was theirs. Sebastian would let himself burn to nothing but ash if someone would try to take it from him.

{{user}} lounged like she hadn’t a care in the world, hair fanned out beside her and legs outstretched. He let himself admire her for a moment. Maybe two, maybe seven. He never got long to admire her anymore, too busy with their youngest.

Evelyn was the quietest ten-year-old girl Sebastian had the pleasure to meet. Her eyes were wide, and studying. She was always watching, always observing. Startled by her brothers every time they spooked her.

Her brothers, twins, Augustus and Henry were very different to her. They were loud. Rowdy and unruly. They were confident in themselves, they knew how smart they were, they may have even flaunted it. They were cocky, even.

But Sebastian loved his kids, and he loved his wife more.

Evelyn was curled up under a large birch tree, when Augustus tackled him into the ground, and Henry pinned him there. Evelyn giggled, and Sebastian growled, chasing all three of his kids until he tackled them into the lake.

The kids all laughed. A carefree laugh that Sebastian nor {{user}} ever got in their childhoods, but worked as hard as they could to give it to them.