My teeth clenched, a silent vow etched behind them.No one—no god, no demon, no man—would harm him.
Lazarus, as if carrying the weight of his sin, stepped forward.Carefully—too carefully—he reached for the squirming bundle, cradling him for a breath before thrusting him toward me.
“Meet Marcellious.Your son,” he said, his voice heavy with forced solemnity, a weight that crushed my chest.
Time stopped.
The world narrowed to the small, perfect face peering up at me—my son.Our son.Blood of my blood.The war I had fought and the losses I had endured all led to this fragile moment.
Emotion surged in me, wild and consuming, a storm that tore through everything I thought I understood.My hands—hands that had wielded swords, shattered shields, and taken lives—trembled as they reached out.
And then he was there, against my chest, his warmth bleeding into my bones like sunlight after endless winter.His breath fluttered like a whisper, his heart beating against mine—a rhythm that ignited a different war within me.
A fight not of blades and blood—but of love.Of protection.Of insolence against a world of shadows that would seek to swallow him whole.
At that moment, I became something more than a warrior.
I became his father.
And I would incinerate the world to keep him safe.
Cradling Marcellious to my chest, I felt the dam—the barrier that had held back oceans of dread, guilt, and sorrow—shatter.Tears slipped down my face.I didn’t wipe them away.I let them fall, let them trace the jagged edges of the man I had become.
His tiny fingers curled around one of mine, gripping with pure instinct, a silent trust that tore through every hardened layer of me.That grip wasn’t just survival—it was faith in me.
“Marcellious,” I breathed the name of a wound and a balm in the same breath.Saying it out loud felt like bleeding and healing at once.Elizabeth… she remembered.Across the chasm of lies and forced separation, she had honored my wish.She had given our son the name I had dreamt of, spoken to her long before the world fell apart.
That choice… was her whisper of love, carried to me across time, distance, and grief.
My heart surged with a love so fierce it threatened to break me.And beneath it, a new pain.The agony of holding our son while knowing she was gone, knowing that the gulf between us might never close.
And then Dancing Fire’s voice, rough with bitterness, broke through the fragile stillness.
“She will return to England,” he said, his gaze distant, fixed on something far beyond the cabin’s walls.“She won’t stay here.She refuses to be a party to this madness any longer.”
The words didn’t register at first.They floated in the air, senseless, foreign.
“What?”I muttered, breath catching like a snare in my throat.
“That’s what she told me,” Dancing Fire said, arms crossed, his stance as solid as stone.“She’s stubborn.I begged her to stay.But she refused.”
Lazarus—ever the immovable force—merely nodded as if none mattered.“Let her go,” he said.“England will serve as a sufficient veil over the truth.”His words held no emotion, no mercy.“The twins must grow under different skies, unaware of each other’s existence.”
My grip tightened around Marcellious, his warmth pressing against my skin, the only living tether to Elizabeth I had left.The chill that radiated from Lazarus’ words felt like death creeping under my skin.
“Have you no heart?”I grated, the question tearing from me, raw and bitter.“Elizabeth bears wounds deeper than flesh.You’ve torn her child from her arms, cast her into grief.Shouldn’t she at least know why?Shouldn’t she have the chance to kiss the brow of the son she’ll never see again?”
Dancing Fire’s voice joined mine, laced with steel.“A final goodbye—that’s not too much to ask.Do you want to shatter her world but deny her even at that moment?Cruelty doesn’t begin to name it.”
“No!”Lazarus’ voice cracked through the room like thunder, silencing us all.
His gaze locked on me, on the baby cradled in my arms—the child I would die to protect.His eyes held no remorse, only resolve.“The boy comes with me.He shall be under my tutelage.He must be prepared for what lies ahead.Some truths are too dangerous, too heavy to bear.This is the path we must walk—for their sakes, for the world’s.”
I stepped back, the instinct to shield Marcellious rising like a tidal wave in my chest.No.Not him.Not now.
But then Dancing Fire stepped forward, rebellion burning in every line of his face.“No.Give me the child,” he demanded, hands outstretched, eyes locked on the infant in my arms.“I am here.I can raise Marcellious, train him, and guide him.Let me shape him rightly for the road ahead.”
His voice cracked, grief threading through the fire.“Elizabeth will never allow him to fulfill his destiny.She told me herself.She wants to shield Roman from his Timeborne gift—she would do the same for Marcellious.She would smother the power in him… out of love.”
