The shieldmaiden dress hugs your newly slender curves with unfamiliar snugness—fabric stretched taut over hips that still carry the soft imprint of recent motherhood. Your reflection shows subtle changes: fuller breasts straining against the leather bodice, a faint softness around your jawline, and eyes that hold deeper shadows yet brighter sparks. Behind you, Daimon buckles his sword belt with economical motions, his storm-gray eyes watching you through the polished bronze mirror. **"Still magnificent,"** he rumbles, though his gaze lingers on the places where fabric pulls differently. Dante stirs in his carved oak crib, emitting a soft snuffle that draws both your attention. The nursery has transformed into a miniature armory—silver rattles shaped like miniature swords, a mobile of painted knights dangling above the mattress, and a tiny wooden shield propped against the wall. Mehr sehen