It was later that morning when something other than the mouse he’d see later that day plagued his mind.

His children. Typically, he’d check on Anastasia, but now Nico was there, too. He’d had his things moved into the nursery room from the west wing the day he’d apologize—of course, he knew it wasn’t enough, but hopefully it was a step in the right direction.

Enid was right, he had to be a better father to his child—thing… cannot repeat. 

His younger cousin squints at him as he sets his paper, rises from his desk, and takes his robe from its hanger. 

“And where are you going?” Georgio asked.

“To see my children. Anyways, see to it that the note gets delivered before nighttime.”

By the time it was just before lunch, Helios approached the nursery door. However, he lingered in the hall for longer than he’d admit. The inside could be seen through a small gap. The room was furnished in marble and sturdy wood, built for the children of nobility. But…it had his late wife’s touches. Pastel colors, boutique accents, and toys.

‘I hope we have a boy, Helios.’

‘Oh, why not a girl?’

‘Well…a girl would be nice, but having a boy who looks like you would make me very happy.’

When Nico was a baby, it felt like the threshold between war and something softer, smaller. Something unfamiliar, but warm.

He took a deep breath, then opened the door. He went past the outer room to the child’s living quarters.

The warmth of the late morning sunlight gave the nursery a cozy feeling. The temporary nanny, Ines, sat to the side, cracking a window. When she heard the door open and saw who was at the threshold, she looked startled. He considered her with an objective look. A woman from the Southern Isles, he hired as a temporary measure after his wife’s death. She was a little younger than his cousin and old enough to have a child of Nico’s age.

“…morning, My Lord.” 

He acknowledged her with a nod.

“Is Nico still sleeping?”

She nods, although still visibly intimidated. “Do you want me to wake him up?”

“No, I will eventually. I’d like to be alone with the children.”

“I’ll ask the kitchen to prepare the Young Master’s and Young Miss' breakfast.”

The young woman gathered her skirt up as she sat up and quickly walked out of the room.

Helios looked around. The faint scent of milk and lavender. Toys lay scattered on the carpet, and near the cradle, he heard a soft, sleepy yawn. She slowly made his way over to the crib.

Anatasia stirred.

If his son was his copy, then Anastasia was her mother’s.

She blinked up at him, eyes as blue as the sky, like Lucia’s. Her tiny hands failed in the air before she gave a delighted squeal.

“Aah! Buh-buh!” she gurgled, then promptly reached for him.

Helios chuckled.

Anastasia is a chubby baby. Her cheeks puffed like little apples, her hair a soft, pale blonde fuzz that stuck up in all directions. When he leaned over the cradle, she kicked her feet furiously, babbling nonsense with a fierce determination that only infants could manage.

It had been six months since she was born, and she’s grown so much. Now that he thought about it, he could remember when Nico was small, like this as well.

“That’s my little lioness. Did you have a good sleep?” 

Anatasia squealed again in reply, slapping her hand against his chest when he scooped her up. Her fingers caught in the folds of his shirt, and she gave a breathless giggle, smearing drool on his collar.

Helio let her little hand grab onto his finger.

Her toothless mouth parted in a gummy grin. Then she slapped his face with her palm—the second time he’d been hit in the week; hers was more of a pat, really. 

She squeaked out, “Daaaa!”

He chuckled. 

“Oh?” he said softly. “Da?”

Her arms clung to his neck—her little body curled against his chest. Lucia would have loved to hold her like this…

A small cough from behind him made him turn.

Nico stood just inside the door of the other room, hugging a stuffed gyphon to his chest, looking at the two with his wide silver eyes.

“Father?”

Helios nodded at once. “Come here.”

The boy hesitated, then shuffled forward. Helios bent slightly and lifted him up with ease, balancing him on one hip while Anastasia curled against the other shoulder. 

“Did you come here for the baby, Father?”

“…I came to see you both. Why don’t we go out to the outer room of the nursery? Where the sun is better.”

The boy giggled. “You mean the couchy room?”

Helios raises a brow before laughing. “Yes, the council room.”

Nick left again, this time, lighter. “Father, your face is all scruffy.”

“scruffy?”

Nico reached up, patted his father’s stubbled cheek with a grin. “Like scratchy. Like when I rubbed my chin on the rug.”

He noted quietly. “I’ll consider shaving.”

“No! I like it!”

The outer room of the nursery was bright, with tall walls and a plush, low-seated couch that had become Nico’s favorite place for reading. Or at least Helios has been told that from the reports his nanny brings in. Helios sat carefully, placing Anastasia beside him in her cushion chair and letting Nico curl into his lap.

A soft voice chimed behind them. 

“Your grace?” so the nurse. She looked at him with her right brown eyes and freckles dotted across her cheeks. “They say that breakfast will take an hour or two. Do you need anything else?”

“No. You can take a seat.”

She nodded and quickly took a seat at the far end, watching them with a healthy mix of nervousness.

Nico leans against Helios’s chest. “Father?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

Helios thought for a omment and gaze the boy a sad smile. “I’ll come again tomorrow then.”

“Then…can Enid come with you after lunch? If she can’t, that’s ok. I know she’s busy.”

There it was.

That name.

Helios’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his voice even. “I will speak to her about meeting for lunch.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.” He pauses. “A Rhadros shouldn’t break their promises.”

“Okay,” Nico beamed. “She smells nice.”

Helios thought for a moment. She smelled like castile soap but also smelled like something sweater, like warm spices.

“Enid,” Nico said, wriggling slightly in his lap. “She smells like bread. And the stuff in tea. And her hugs are soft. Not like Ines’s…well, Ines is nice too! But Enid’s hug felt…different.”

Helios didn’t reply; he simply watched his children. 

Anatasia squealed again, kicking her legs in a frenzy, her chubby fingers reaching for Nico’s face—Nico giggling and leaning over to press his cheek to hers. 

They were small—so small.

They were just children.

 His children