Chapter Text
The baby’s cries are strong.
How is this possible after so many days?
“Please, my son,” he murmurs, fingers tight on the bottle, “please eat.”
Tiny lips part only to scream.
This was not supposed to be his task. Seska enjoyed breastfeeding, from the moment she—
No.
He cannot let memories overwhelm him.
Yet he begins to whisper stories of the mother his child will never know. He becomes lost, as he had feared, in the velvet of her voice, the intelligence of her eyes.
He returns to himself. Looks down.
And the baby has taken the bottle at last.