Lydia was sitting behind the big window in the bedroom, covered in blankets and holding a warm mug of hot chocolate. The first snowflakes were falling down and stuck to the glass. Lydia stared into the dark night full of colorful lights of the vibrant city. She let her thoughts flow without control, letting old memories draw small smiles on her face.

Lydia turned her head towards the hall when she heard keys unlocking the front door. It was him. Stiles. He was just coming from work as he did every day, Monday to Saturday. That impressed Lydia somehow and left her wondering why her boyfriend was such a workaholic. Stiles always gave her a short explanation as: I want to save up for the future; I thought I might get promoted... and then changed the topic.

After a while, Lydia stopped asking and created a theory on her own. He doesn't want to deal something. To face something in his life. So he works and works to bring his mind of off it. Sure, Lydia was curious but she believed that he'll tell her himself some day.

"Hey, Lyds," Stiles said, still standing in the hallway, hanging his coat on the wall.

"Hey, babe," she said in return, amazed as always by his intuition. He always knew when she was nearby.

"Have you eaten yet?" Stiles asked, entering the bedroom. Lydia put her mug down and looked at him, shaking her head. He approached her and gave her a small kiss on the top of her head, taking the empty mug into his left hand.

"Should I cook something?" Stiles smiled at her, retreating back to the door.

"You could, yeah," Lydia said and followed him down the hall.

"Alright," he said, not turning around.

Lydia poured themselves two glasses of wine and watched Stiles prepare dinner. She loved watching him to do random household stuff because whatever he did, it seemed to be just so percise and perfect as if he had done these things for the trillionth time.

"Lyds." Stiles interrupted her thoughts. "Hm?" she hummed, her eyes locked at his swift fingers peeling a potato.

"I was thinking that we could travel to Europe... Skiing or something, you know?"

"That's a great idea!" Lydia lightened up which made Stiles smirk.

"Where would you want to go?" Stiles asked.

"The Alps? Like Italy?"

Stiles didn't respond for a second but then he turned around at her with a smile.

"Why don't you look something up?" he suggested.

"Sure," she agreed and went for her phone.

"You wanna go during Christmas?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah, why not."

"Didn't you say that you originally come from Italy? We could look for some relatives of yours. Or just visit your hometown." Lydia smiled but it faded quickly when she noticed Stiles' frown.

"There's nobody left," he said causally, "My family isn't big and if there's somebody... they aren't probably even there anymore."

Stiles continued in his fast movement of hands which hypnotized Lydia for a few seconds. Suddenly, she felt somehow sad. Sad for him. Lydia had always lots of friends around, a big family and other people who expressed their love for her. But Stiles never talked about anybody, she never met any relatives of his or some old buddies. It was like he was all alone in this world.

"And what about your hometown?" Lydia asked at once, making Stiles stop slicing vegetables. He looked up from the knife he was holding and glanced back to his girlfriend with a patient smile. "Lyds, I just want to enjoy some snow and you. I don't wanna make this trip about me and some stupid village I was brought up in."

"So you are a village boy!" Lydia said with excitement, merely satisfied with herself that she made him share something about his past.

"Yeah, what a piece of information, huh," Stiles chuckled and shook his head. Lydia stood up and walked up to him to lean against the fridge. She eyed him until he looked at her, too. He raised his eyebrows at her, asking a silent 'what'. She shrugged and said quietly: "You aren't telling me much about your past, Stiles. You can't be surprised when I'm excited about such things like that."

Stiles put the knife down and approached her, never letting his eyes off her. "My past isn't that interesting, why should I bore you with some ordinary details of my life when there's the future ahed of us. Let's enjoy that, shall we?"

"But...," she murmured.

"For the bright and happy future," Stiles said and raised his glass.

...

"Stolos!" the old man cried out, worried about his son. A boy appeared in the bushes in front of the wooden house and ran towards his father.

"Yes, father?" he asked, breathing heavily from the running.

"Come home, they are in the village. You must hurry and hide."

"But father!"

"Don't question me, or they'll take you from me! Just like they took Michendros!"

The young boy's eyes filled with fear and obeyed his father immediately. He hurried to the house and found a small space under the wooden floor to hide. He covered his mouth with the his palm and closed the eyes shut in fright. It took only several minutes for the 'bad men' to bang furiously on the front door. Stolos could've heard the footsteps of his father and then the creaking door getting opened.

"Where is he?!" a harsh voice demanded loudly.

"What are you talking about?" Stolos heard the trembling voice of his father.

"Your son. We know that you have another son! He's supposed to be ten this year, am I right?"

"What...," the old man muttered.

"Don't bullshit us. Last time we've been here, we've taken just one boy... But you owe the empire more than that..."

"It was last year... Give me more time, please...," Stolos' father begged.

"Tear this place apart! He has to be somewhere!" the soldier ordered. Stolos heard several men walking above him which made his breath quicken. It were the worst minutes of uncertainty and then... They found him, ripped the wood from the floor, dragged him out of his small hole and threw him on the ground.

"Well, look at that!" the soldier exclaimed with a smirk, "it seems that you've tried to hide him!"

Stolos' heart speeded up as he saw the soldier point his sword at his father who knelt on his knees and cried for mercy. Stolos couldn't move. He was frozen at the spot. He was just able to watch as the man in the uniform pierced the older man with his sword. At once, the child started screaming. Fear, grief, pain, agony, desperateness, hopelessness. Everything at the same moment.

"No! Nonono! Father!" Stolos cried, feeling utterly alone and helpless. He watched the motionless body on the floor, blood slowly making its way out of his father's guts. His vision getting blurry from the tears. His head becoming dizzy, not sure what's real or not. The only clear thing was the scream. The scream of a small child who has lost everything.

...

Stiles woke up suddenly, feeling his heart pounding furiously. He looked at his right side where the redhead slept peacefully which made him feel safe, again. He run his fingers across his face, realizing that his cheeks were wet. He was crying.