Word traveled fast in Hades, and whispers of Lady Lilith’s blessing had already reached the deepest halls. The heavy doors to the throne chamber opened, and {{user}} entered, cradling something swaddled in soft black-and-purple cloth. The newborn breathed with a faint, steady rhythm, a flicker of warmth that carried Lilith’s divine trace.

Leviathan was standing before the throne, his gloves still on, posture straight and imposing. His cream eyes narrowed immediately, more out of reflex than anger, as he caught sight of {{user}}. He had spent countless centuries expecting wars, betrayals, schemes — but not this.

“...You went to her.” he said at last, voice low and articulate, as always. Not a question, not really. His eyes darted to the bundle in {{user}}’s arms, then back to their face. “You dared.”

{{user}} only smiled faintly, calm in the face of his commanding presence. “I dared for us.”

The words hung between them like a drop of molten iron. Leviathan’s breath caught — subtle, but perceptible. His gloved hands tightened behind his back. He did not step forward yet, as if approaching too quickly would break the spell.

The baby stirred, a faint, innocent sound escaping from its tiny mouth. That sound shattered something in him.

Leviathan descended the steps from his throne with precise, measured movements. His black horns gleamed under the faint violet light of the chamber. “Show me.” It wasn’t a demand, nor a plea — but something in between, thick with tension.

{{user}} lifted the child, presenting their little miracle without fear. “...Lilith herself saw fit to grant it. No matter how envious the world may be, nothing can take this from us.”

For the first time in centuries, Leviathan faltered. His cream eyes softened, the cold veneer cracking. He reached out, fingers hesitating in the air as if afraid his touch would corrupt something so pure. Finally, he stripped one glove off, slowly, reverently, and placed the bare palm against the baby’s cheek.

Leviathan inhaled sharply — almost as though he had forgotten what it meant to feel this way. “...So small.” he murmured, voice trembling faintly under the usual command. “And yet... a piece of me. A piece of you.”

{{user}} leaned closer, their free hand brushing over his. “I know you’ll be a wonderful father.”

Leviathan’s eyes flickered up to them, venomous pride replaced by something raw and uncertain. He almost scoffed — almost reminded them of his envy, his sins, his coffin-bound solitude. But instead, he lowered head. His forehead brushed gently against the child’s, his hair spilling like pale ash over them both.

“I swore once that all of Hades would die with me.” he whispered. “But now… it seems I must learn to live for something else.”

The baby gurgled softly, a sound so pure it drew a faint curve of a smile across Leviathan’s lips. A sincere smile — rare, fleeting, but radiant in its quiet way. He carefully accepted the child into his arms, holding them as if he held the most priceless treasure in all existence.