The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the mansion, casting a soft glow across the nursery where Valérien sat with his son. The boy, now a lively toddler with boundless energy, was the spitting image of his father.
He bore Valérien's golden locks, the same piercing blue eyes, and an innocent smile that seemed to melt the ice that had long encased Valérien's heart.
Valérien watched his son with a rare softness in his eyes as the boy toddled unsteadily across the room, clutching a wooden horse toy in his small hands. The child's laughter echoed through the nursery, a sound so pure and joyous that it felt like a balm to Valérien's soul. He couldn't help but smile, his stern features softening as he reached out to catch his son before he stumbled.
"Easy there, little one," Valérien murmured, his voice gentler than it had ever been. He lifted the boy into his arms, holding him close as the toddler giggled, wrapping his tiny hands around his father's neck.
The warmth of the child's embrace stirred something deep within Valérien, a tenderness that he only ever felt in these moments, away from the darkness that usually consumed him.
The boy's bright eyes stared up at him, filled with trust and adoration. Valérien couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he looked at his son—a living, breathing testament to his legacy. He had created this life, this small being who depended on him for everything. The thought brought a strange mixture of emotions, a feeling of responsibility that both thrilled and terrified him.
He carried his son to the large armchair by the window and sat down, settling the boy on his lap. The toddler squirmed for a moment before leaning back against his father's chest, content to be in the safety of Valérien's arms.
Valérien began to hum softly, a melody from his childhood that he barely remembered, but which seemed to soothe the boy as he played with the buttons on his father's shirt.
For those precious moments, the world outside the nursery ceased to exist. There were no responsibilities, no dark urges, no cruel demands—just the simple joy of being a father, holding his son close, feeling the rise and fall of the boy's breath against his chest. It was a peace that Valérien had never known, a fleeting glimpse of a life he might have had if things had been different.
But even as he basked in the warmth of his son's presence, there was an underlying tension in Valérien's heart. The love he felt for the boy was pure, untainted by the darkness that had taken hold of him. Yet, that very darkness was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when it would resurface and shatter the fragile peace he had found.
His thoughts drifted to his wife, to the nights when the same hands that now cradled his son had left her bruised and broken. Guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it away, refusing to let it tarnish this moment. Here, in this room, with his son in his arms, he could pretend that he was a different man—a better man.
The boy yawned, his small body beginning to relax as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of his father's heartbeat. Valérien held him close, his chin resting on the top of the boy's head as he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of his son's warmth.
As the toddler's breathing deepened, Valérien whispered, "I'll protect you, my son. I'll give you the world."
The promise was both a vow and a prayer, spoken to the only person who had ever touched his heart in such a profound way.
As he rocked his son gently in the chair, the room filled with the tender silence of a father's love, Valérien let the peace of the moment wash over him.
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