Erik could never quite believe his luck when he came home. Their house. Their music. And now their son.

He was relieved to return to his sanctuary as he lifted Kristoff from his playpen. His son was watching Christine's vocal warm ups with wide eyes. One day, perhaps he would sing alongside them.

Christine waved at him, not missing a note as she sang through a scale. He sat down with Kristoff, content to bask in the glory of her voice.

Snap.

The cord on his mask broke as Kristoff tugged on it. The mask came off in his tiny hands.

It was not the first time Kristoff had seen his face. In truth, it had taken more coaxing to get him used to the mask than to the face it hid. Even now, he would sometimes refuse to be held if the mask was in place. Erik had to leave and deposit the mask in the bedroom. When he returned with his face exposed, he often received a toothless smile for his effort.

The boy now stared at the mask and then back to Erik, who was watching him curiously. Slowly, Kristoff raised the mask back into place before lowering it again in wonder.

"Yes, it is quite permanent, I assure you."

A few more repetitions.

"My face is still there. I've checked."

Again.

"You're lucky you're cute. You're the only person apart from your mother who is allowed to do this. I can see you've inherited her curiosity."

Once more.

Erik bit the bullet. "Peek-a-boo."

That was the magic word. Kristoff started giggling.

Erik smiled in spite of himself. He never thought he could enjoy being unmasked, but here he was.

He gently pried the mask from his son's fingers and set it on the end table. "That's enough for now, little one. We don't need that anymore."

Erik smiled again as he realized what he'd said. It was true. He didn't need the mask. Not here, where his true face was accepted and loved.

"Come along, little one. Let's see if we can't cook your mother some dinner."