Chapter Text
The cottage was silent now, save for the occasional sniffle from Chayenne as Philza carefully tended to the dragonette’s injuries.
The poor lad’s horn had been broken, he noted with a wince. The core had been exposed and a deep bruise had formed around the base, a nasty wound that would need a styptic treatment to prevent infection. It would continue to grow at least, though at an odd angle. He just hoped Chayenne wouldn’t be bullied for the scarring, doubtful but people could be cruel for the stupidest things…
Fuckin hell. He shook his head at the thought. Worried about how folks will react to his scar when he literally could’ve died, what is wrong with you?!
“Papa Phil?”
Philza was broken from his thoughts by the little clawed hand that patted his arm.
“Yes kiddo?” he took the hand, smiling, hoping to keep his tone reassuring despite the quaver in his voice.
The images of Chayenne’s room, the blood that trailed across the floor, still flashed vividly in his mind. He could still hear the wood of the door crunching as he broke into the attacker’s hideout, could still hear the screams, could still taste the iron on his tongue as an arrow pierced his chest-
Shit he’d forgotten about that….
No wonder he felt dizzy.
Scatterbrained.
Lost.
Was it the blood loss from his own wounds? Or the adrenaline from the fight? Or the terror and grief of losing his child still fresh in his mind? Or maybe it was all of it that was making him list to one side…
“You’re bleeding, papa.”
Chayenne’s face was blurry. His voice sounded…far away…was he in a tunnel? When did he get to a tunnel? That wasn’t right….
Philza barely felt the floorboards when they caught his fall. He barely felt anything really. That probably wasn’t a good thing, he reasoned, but he couldn’t fully think of why.
Instead of bothering to do so, he let the warm, fuzzy grey that clouded his vision slowly engulf him. Like a welcoming blanket wrapping itself around his form.
It had grown dark when he finally felt the grey warmth slipping away, leaving him disoriented.
Why was it dark? Did he hit his head or had that much time passed? How long had it been-
The day’s events slammed into his memories at that moment.
Seeing a figure leaving the cottage, their hands covered in blood.
A trail of red droplets leading from Chayenne’s room.
Realising his son was missing.
The red that clouded his vision as he flew after the attacker.
The screams of the man as he demanded he tell him where his son was, again and again, striking out with claws and teeth as the attacker begged and pleaded it was his only choice.
The throbbing in his leg and chest from his wounds as he limped back to the cottage.
The little yellow duck plush, lying on the ground.
Chayenne, injured but alive, crawling out from under the bed.
Crying.
The taste of salt and iron.
Feeling relieved the wound on his son’s back wasn’t as deep as he thought it had been.
Feeling guilty as Chayenne whimpered from styptic powder on his broken horn.
Feeling dizzy…
Feeling nothing….
Fuck how long was he out for?!
Philza lunged upwards with a gasp, only for his vision to flash white as pain stabbed through his chest from the motion.
“Oh yeah sure, go ahead and fuck up all my hard work, dumbass.” A familiar voice chided as a gentle hand met his shoulder.
He grinned, relieved to hear Missa’s voice.
“You know how fuckin’ heavy you are?!” his partner continued to chide, wrapping his arms around Phil’s shoulders, guiding him to lean against him. “You’d think a bird man would be all hollow bones and feathers but no! You just had to be the most annoying sleeper build known to the island!”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Philza winced at the sound of his own voice, raspy and catching in his throat. “How’s kiddo?”
He saw Missa’s eyes, no longer shrouded by the skull shaped mask that now lay at his side, glassy and puffy as if he’d been crying.
“Asleep, for now anyways.” the Reaper sighed, lightly bonking his head against Phil’s shoulder. “Insisted on helping me patch you up, couldn’t get him to go to sleep until he knew you were okay.”
“Phil,” Missa pulled away suddenly, almost holding Philza at arms length from him as glowing eyes searched his own. “What happened?”
What happened. What didn’t happen?
Philza relayed with a growing shake in his voice, how he had heard something within the cabin that afternoon. How he had put Chayenne down for a nap before going out to the fields to work. How he had seen a figure, their hands red with blood, emerge from the cabin. How he had bolted after them once he had seen the blood strewn across Chayenne’s room. How he had nearly managed to kill them, how he thought his son was dead, how they had escaped….leaving him clawing his way back home to mourn….
“I thought…” his throat tightened. “I thought I’d lost him.”
He felt Missa’s arms around his shoulders and let himself sink into the man’s comforting hold.
“I thought I failed…I thought-” Philza finally choked back a sob, burying his face into his partner’s arms, wings trembling as the fear and pain of the day finally spilled out.
Gods he’d been so close to losing his boy, his Chayenne!
He’d nearly lost him! He’d left the cabin, he’d left him alone for not more than a half hour, he’d left him alone thinking he would be alright. He’d failed at killing the man who’d nearly killed his son! He’d failed Chayenne in keeping him safe, failed to achieve any form of retribution, and now his child had not only nearly died, but bore two prominent scars across his body. And had nearly lost his father as well…
“But you didn’t lose him.” Missa continued to hold him tight.
“ We didn’t lose him, he’s alive Phil, he’s alive and he’s going to be okay.”
Philza wasn’t sure he could accept those words just yet. Not now while the shock and emotion of the day’s events was still raw and visceral in his mind.
Perhaps later, once he’d had time to see Chayenne’s wounds heal, for the scars to fade. Once he could think with reason instead of the part of him that strained against its leash demanding to taste the blood of the man who had nearly taken his son from him, screaming at him of how much of a failure of a father he was… Once he could think with reason again, perhaps he could accept that things would be okay.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he could almost hear the faint smirk on Missa’s face. “Chayenne told me you were so badass and awesome you know.”
It did help a bit, Phil grinned.
“You have competition for best dad.” he muttered between wiping his face clean of tears.
“Time to go get myself almost killed then.”
“Please do not.”
Despite the days events, the night found the three sleeping soundly. With Chayenne curled between them.