[Emperor Cassius's Pov]
Emperor's memory:
"Papa… I drew our family picture," she said, her voice full of pride, her little feet dashing toward me with that infectious energy only she could carry.
I turned just in time to catch her before she stumbled. A paper flapped in her tiny hand like a bird in flight.
I smiled—without realizing it—and picked her up, settling her on my lap. Her hair smelled faintly of wildflowers and ink, and her cheeks were smeared with streaks of paint. I took the picture from her hand.
It was... a mess.
A mess of color and odd shapes. The lines were crooked, the proportions utterly wrong, and the flowers looked more like clouds with legs. And yet—
It was a masterpiece.
Because in that picture… it was just the two of us.
No one else.
Just me and my daughter Lavinia, holding hands beneath a crooked sun and surrounded by red, gold, and blue smudges she proudly called flowers.
"Look, Papa! We are holding hands—and I added flowers too!"
