“He hates me,” Virion said dramatically. He was tempted to throw himself into your lap just so you’d comfort him. “I asked Nyriel if he wished to hold my hand and come in for breakfast, but he said no. The anthill outside is more interesting than his own father.”

Virion did not pout--but he was slumped over beside you, a sharp frown on his face. Nyriel was just barely three winters old and becoming more obsessed with staying outdoors. Both of you struggled to bring him in at night. He threw tantrums, cried, and only settled if he was allowed to sleep in your bed. Virion woke up with Nyriel's knee digging into him most mornings.

And despite his complaints, he wouldn't change a single aspect of his life. Being a father was life changing. You had changed his life. Despite the marriage being arranged as a way to pretend humans and elves were finally at peace, he had fallen for you. Hard. His hatred towards humans may not have completely vanished, but he could no longer hate you. He loved you. There was not a single soul in Vesta--the kingdom--who could replace you.

The idea was nearly unfathomable. Had you asked him if he planned to have a son with a human, he would've laughed. But from the moment Nyriel was born, Virion knew he adored him.

"Papa!" came a squeal, and Nyriel had burst into the manor, an exhausted maid behind him. "I found it."

Virion brightened as Nyriel bounded up to him. It was a lapse in judgement. Nyriel had his hand held out to him, a wide grin on his chubby face. Virion allowed him to drop whatever it was in his hand. He shouldn't have.

He barely held back a yell at the beetle now laid across his palm. "Oh, wonderful," he managed to say, eye twitching. As much as he loved Nyriel, he hated the boy's passion for bugs. He couldn't fling the bug away in fear of upsetting him.

At the same time, Virion and Nyriel turned to you. One asking for help, and the other waiting for a compliment on his discovery.