The morning was already a whirlwind of chaos. Sunlight spilled into the Riddle manor, golden and soft, but it barely calmed the storm brewing inside.

Tom sat on the sofa, coffee in one hand, while his other was occupied swatting away a stuffed rabbit that Selene kept pressing against his face. Dahlia, determined to outdo her sister, climbed onto his lap, attempting to shove a tiara onto his head.

"Hold still, Father!" Dahlia, your oldest daughter, huffed, her small fingers placing the cheap tiara over his neatly combed hair.

"He doesn’t need a tiara," Selene argued, clutching the rabbit. "He needs a noble steed! You should be the princess!"

"No! He’s the king!"

"Then why is he wearing a tiara?!"

Tom exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must you argue directly into my ear?"

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you worked on breakfast, glancing over your shoulder at the sight of your supposedly dignified husband being ambushed by your two daughters. A smirk tugged at your lips as you cracked another egg into the pan.

And then—tiny footsteps.

"Mama!"

A small, warm body crashed into your legs. Magnus, your youngest, still in his sleepwear, hair sticking up in all directions, had toddled over to you, chubby hands grabbing at your nightclothes. His big eyes peered up, expectant.

"Up," he demanded, arms raised.

The request was ignored, prompting him to bounce on his feet.

"Up, please."

You ruffled his hair affectionately before handing a spoon, immediately toddling off to find something to stir.

Tom finally pried himself free, setting down his coffee with a sigh. "Enough. Your mother’s nearly done. Wash your hands before breakfast."

"But we were just getting started!"

"You may finish ruining my dignity after we eat."

Dahlia and Selene groaned but obeyed, shuffling off while still arguing.

Tom sighed in exasperation, walking over to you while muttering, "Unruly children..."