"Don't you think I did well father?"

I open my eyes looking down at a young Nathaniel. His hair is long and untamed. He doesn't want me to wash it. He doesn't want me to bathe him.

I sigh, nodding gruffly, at the tiny animal he's whittled out.

He smiles softly holding it in his small, dirty hands.

"Time for a bath," I pick him up by his arm. He starts quitting and screaming tell me he doesn't want to. It doesn't matter.

I drop him in the water anyway. He cries. I watch him. Wait for him tire himself out. I want to say something to comfort him, but I'm not sure what.

He doesn't want to do something but he must and there's nothing I can do to change that.

I start with his hair, taking off my cap and fur.

"Father will you tell me of mother again?"

I pause. "She...was nice. She left you a note," I say simply hoping he'll change the subject.

I lie to him, when he speaks of her. I don't know her, don't know anything of her, and there's too much on my mind to remember every tale I spin.

But his eyes gleam and his smile widens when I tell of her adventures, and the note she left and how much care she used to put him in a tiny basket and hand him to me like a present.

"And she tied me in a bow, father?"

I wipe his face, with a nod. "She did. With a tiny little bow."

I close my eyes and when I open them Nathaniel is frowning at me, older now, perhaps a teenager.

"There was never a bow was there? Or a note. How exactly did you find me?"

I purse my lips. "Eat your dinner Nathaniel."

"I don't want dinner. I want the truth. Where is my mother? Why did she leave me?"

I clench my jaw. "I don't know. Po took you from the woman at the temple entrance. I don't know much more."

Nathaniel storms away, leaving his dinner untouched. He does to practice his swordmanship.

I sigh looking down at my plate. I'm not hungry. I push away from the table, going out into the courtyard. He stares at me.

"I'm going into town," he grunts.

Normally I would deny him, but...

"Go on," I grunt.

I sigh, blinking. When my eyes open, I see Solice. I look around. Where did Nathaniel go?

His hands are soaked in blood. "I can't do this. I'm not like you. I just want to be human! Why did you do this to me?!"

I swallow. "I-"

Dion shifts in his plave, holding himself, his body bruised.

"I understand that..."

Not this day. No...I don't want to think of this.

"I understand that you couldn't hear me," he whispers. "But why...why did you keep that man alive, Slade?"

I clench my jaw. I want to change this moment. I want to tell him, that I will. I will avenge him.

"The balance must be kept," I say instead. "If it were a normal human, Dion...I would. But I am a god. And the balance must come first."

No...no. He looks down, nodding. In this moment, I have lost the respect of my son. I try to tell him I love him. That I'm sorry.

He turns around. "You know when I younger...I thought you were amazing."

I look down. "Dion?"

He paused looking back. This is my chance. To say something different. To be better.

But I can't stop myself from handing him a coat.

"It's cold out there."

I close my eyes, flinching as he takes if. "Yeah...thanks Slade. Thanks for everything."

I open my eyes. "Wait-"

Fallon looks up at me, Victor's body in her arms. "Why didn't you save him? I loved him."

I turn around, stumbling back. I fall, my back on the ground. Wait a moment...I look over, a figure smiling at me in the darkness.

"Hey..." I mutter. "What god are you?"

He cocks his head with a smile. "Ascetiphil. God of dreams."

"You're doing this?"

He shrugs, sitting up. His eyes are yellow. How discombobulating.

I sit up as well, looking around. "Gods don't dream."

He grins. "They don't...unless I make them."

I nod. "Who sent you?"

Ascetiphil comes up to me. He walks jerkily, for some reason like a child unused to walking.

"I can't eat them you know? Dreams. I can take them from you?"

I stand. "No. These are my failures. My responsibility. I owe it my children, at the very least, to deal with the consequences of my actions."

I open my eyes. Solice peers down at me.

"Seems fine," he murmurs, putting some tools away.

"What is that?"

Solice looks at his bag. "I'm a doctor."

"You were dreaming. Honest to gods dreaming," Monika frowns. "Is everything okay."

I sit up, reaching out to pat Solice's head. "That's really good, Solice. I'm proud of you."