Harwood spent one morning out to breakfast with Julienne, his girlfriend, and he presented her with the best engagement ring that the Ironstars could afford. Even if the end was near for Harwood and he couldn’t ever marry anyways, he wanted to make the most of it that morning until he got a reminder on his phone.
“Birthday party at 11.”
Back at home, Eva carried Sheila to the birthday cake for a small first birthday party, and the whole household was required to be there. It was also Eva’s elder birthday, but she didn’t want to admit it until she had to.
By all accounts, Sheila was adorable. The entire house wanted her wrapped around their finger, but everyone but Harwood was too busy to do anything with her.
In fact, Vega had plenty of things to worry about, too many for her to think about Sheila. The future, her hopes and dreams, the unfinished Vial of Bliss, and most importantly, her heir.
After a short labor, he was there.
Vega lifted him up, noting his steely-complexion and ten little fingers. Maybe all nooboos looked the same, but she swore that he already looked like his father.
The little larva was her friend for eternity. Vega wanted to imagine all the plates of ambrosia they’d eat together, all the reminiscing they would do about their days in “the good ol’ Twinbrook,” and the early parts of the dynasty they had to stick through together. But at that moment, all she could see was her nooboo, a little worm without anything to worry about. He would be an undying old man for most of his life, and Vega wanted to appreciate his youth when hers and his were so ephemeral.
He was Screwtape Ironstar, the second one.