The palace was silent, broken only by the occasional crackle of wood in the nearly dead fireplace. Flickering light danced on the walls, casting soft shadows across the room where {{user}} and Viktor slept. {{user}} was snuggled against Viktor, his head resting on the vampire’s shoulder as his breathing rose and fell in a calm rhythm.

It was an unexpected comfort—of all the things eternity could grant him, Viktor had never imagined he would find peace like this: with {{user}} beside him, his body warm and his presence almost taming the darkness.

But then a sound dragged him back to reality. A thin, sudden cry filled the silence.

Viktor opened his eyes first, feeling {{user}} mumble against his chest.

The cry grew louder, small, demanding, and Viktor sighed.

“Your son is awake.” Viktor's voice was hoarse from sleep, filled with a tiredness that, ironically, he shouldn't even feel. {{user}} didn't open his eyes. He mumbled something, sinking deeper into Viktor's chest, clearly not ready to leave the warmth of the blankets.

Viktor rolled his eyes, but the small sound of crying made him sigh again. With a silent movement, he slid out of bed and crossed the room.

The dim light didn't stop him from seeing the small wicker basket next to the fireplace, where Adrien was kicking off his covers, his little eyes closed, his little face red from crying so much.

He hesitated for a second. It was still strange to him. The fragility of such a small creature, the way his body fit entirely in {{user}}'s arms, the ridiculously human warmth he exuded. Viktor remembered the first time {{user}} had placed the baby in his arms—he had felt so absurdly awkward, as if Adrien had been made of thin glass.

But now he picked the child up naturally, wrapping him in his blanket. The crying subsided a little as Adrien felt the touch, and Viktor watched as the small, scrunched face calmed.

“So dramatic…” he murmured, almost amused. “Definitely your father’s boy, isn’t you, Adrien…”