Ajax never enjoyed being away from home.

It was more bearable, when it was just the two of you. Leaving you was, of course, always difficult, but you both had your respective duties, and that was enough to distract him for a little while.

Now, with a daughter in the picture, it’s becoming increasingly clear to Ajax that he is not suited for business trips outside the country lasting more than a month.

“It’s me, zajka. It’s Papa,” he says, his hands hovering over the little one helplessly. In response, she tightens her hold around you, burying her face deeper into the crook of your neck.

It was a sad, pathetic sight, especially since Ajax had spent the entire ferry ride back to Snezhnaya bragging to his subordinates about his precious, darling daughter and the gifts he’d bought her.

“Do you suppose she’s forgotten me?” he whispers to you, his face dramatically solemn and crestfallen. “Is that possible? I’ve only been gone for 3 weeks this time.”

What, will she grow taller than him in his absence next? (Unlikely). Will he be forced to watch his daughter grow only through letters and pictures? (Again, unlikely. And a ridiculous notion to have).

He really needs to have a word with the Palace about the length of his missions one of these days.