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**Four Years Later – Moscow, 1953**  
          
          The Kremlin is quieter than it’s been in decades—no more late-night executions, no more whispered paranoia. Just Sergei sitting behind his father's old desk (though he still scowls at the title of *General Secretary* like it personally offended him).  
          
          Nikolai lumbers into the office with Eliot clinging to his back like a tiny, giggling barnacle. The boy waves enthusiastically as he spots Sergei. **"Papa! Up!"**  
          
          John leans against the doorframe nearby (still somehow managing to look effortlessly handsome in a suit), raising an eyebrow at Nikolai: **"You spoil that kid."**  
          Nikolai just rumbles and nudges Eliot closer toward Sergei's desk—because apparently even former Soviet leaders are now glorified jungle gyms for toddlers.
          
          ---
          
          Sergei sighs but lifts Eliot onto one arm without looking up from paperwork… only for little hands to immediately smack down on documents labeled ***TOP SECRET.***   
          Eliot grins toothily: **”Dada read?”**
          
          

*Owen was just shuffling down the stairs, disheveled and tired* "Nhhh... Mornin'-" *rubs his eye.* 
          
          *Owen didn't overdo his outfit. He was wearing his pajamas, which were basically plaid pajama pants and a white tank top. But there was one problem. The athlete doesn't have long sleeve, so Owen's Dark Mark was visible.*

MUSZÁJ ELOLVASNOD AZ EGYIK KÖNYVEM, MERT HA NEM AKKOR ELMEGYEK ES MEGCSIKIZLEK TÉGED ESTE 

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