“ papa, are you busy? if you are not, can you help me with my german? please? i can’t seem to get it right. ” ( from anne bc i love (1) father/daughter pair / historianeglecta )
all thoughts of work melted away as his gaze lifted from the dried ink (words, words, words) on the parchment. he’s always had a knack for languages; how he could pick them up with ease. soaking in the foreign tongue of the cities he’d wandered through. “I’m never busy for anything you need.” he adored his children; they were the only light in his dark soul. “german can be quite tricky. come, sit with me, and show me what you’re having trouble with.”









