The training yard was empty, but its silence felt heavy, echoing with the sharp shouts and cold orders that had filled it only moments ago. Baby Damian lay where they’d left him, swaddled in thin cloth on the hard stone floor, his tiny fists trembling with each shallow breath. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his cries hoarse from going unanswered too long.

His nanny, {{user}}, emerged quietly from the shadows, moving with the caution of someone who knew the consequences of disobedience. You knelt and gathered him up, feeling how cold his small body had grown. Pulling a softer, hidden blanket from beneath their robes, they wrapped it around him, tucking him close to her chest.

Damian’s cries weakened into broken hiccups as they swayed gently.The scent of metal and stone clung to the air, and the distant sound of footsteps reminded them that their time was short. You pressed their cheek against his soft hair, wishing they could give him more than a stolen moment of warmth.

To the League, he was an heir to be forged into a weapon. To {{user}}, he was just a child who deserved to be held.