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The pair hadn’t been gone long, by previously set standards. The last few days were nothing compared to the many weeks of last spring, or near all of the following December. Despite only being gone a half day longer than the weekend, they had no doubt their boy would still act as though it had been years.
They were right, of course.
The grass squishing beneath their eager feet, they broke a healthy speed walk towards the house and turned to grin at each other as they climbed the stairs to the porch.
She knocked, rising briefly onto her toes and then falling back onto the balls of her feet in anticipation.
The door was opened to reveal their default babysitter, the dhampir raising an eyebrow. A curious, not displeased, expression based on the quirk of his lips. He’d turned and called the boy’s name before anyone could do anything else, and the chubby redheaded toddler barrelled into his mother’s arms within seconds.
She cooed to the squealing little one while her husband took an extra moment to ruffle the kid’s hair before striking up a conversation about the monsters killed, the cleared village, statistics, and all the similar things the boy was too busy being cuddled to care about.
It wasn’t the first and certainly not the last happy reunion that would occur in the Belmont house.
[Years Later]
Leaving the village often held a bittersweet mood, the assured sense of anticipation to fulfill his duty as a hunter at odds with the disappointment of leaving his family behind. Usually he had friends to go with him, so he wasn’t deprived of companionship, but just as often did his wife go with him‒ and this time she’d be staying behind. He’d mourn the company that he was so glad of, but he didn’t want her anywhere near combat while she was heavy with child. At least there was a silver lining in that it meant their son had one parent with him. He’d gotten to the age where he didn’t understand what his parents left to , but he did understand that they were leaving .
The hunter tried to look on the bright side; the boy being so upset of his absence only made him all the happier when his father returned. Though leaving was bittersweet, the return was nothing but joyous.
It was early, so early the sun had barely crested the horizon and the hunter’s heavy boots made wet squishing noises in the dew-washed leaves and grass rather than crunching on the dry evidence of autumn.
He’d already bid good-bye to the hunt’s partners, which was perhaps for the best; he wasn’t embarrassed by how excited the imminent reunion with his family made him, but he did look a little childish, quickly crossing the village’s roads with his fist already hovering to knock and a wide grin plastered over his face.
He came to the house, the newer stones brighter in the morning light compared to the original base erected so many years ago, the more recent rooms added to the home over the years cleaner and more even. The garden enmeshed the little stairway to the deck, and he took a knee amongst the grass and vegetables to lift a small wooden boat, the underside marked with the carving, “S.B.” The hunter sighed. Boy had to stop leaving toys outside; the potential for mildew drove his mother insane.
Rising to his feet, the man drew a breath and filled his lungs with the cold autumn air, and ascended the couple of stairs. His feet had hardly connected with the wood when the door was thrown open and he was met with the sorely missed sight of his wife. The welcome view of her face was cut short as she threw her arms around him. He melted, holding her tightly. “Illyana,” he breathed.
“Christopher!” she exclaimed, voice breathy. “You said you weren’t to return until Monday!” She pulled back, touching his face.
The blond sighed, leaning into the touch. “Turns out the problem wasn’t so much the quality of the monsters, just quantity. We slayed them by the dozen and had the forest cleared by Friday.”
“No injuries, then?” she asked, inspecting him.
“None.” His hands slipped to her waist. “How have things been here?”
“It’s only been a few days,” she chuckled. “But if you must know, Soleil only threw four tantrums about your absence.”
“Oh, lord,” Christopher muttered. “How many neighbors did the lad wake?”
“Neighbors? He’s loud enough to wake the dead , the neighbors are a lost cause.” She shook her head. “On that thought, come inside. He won’t mind being woken as long as it’s by you.”
“I suppose I’ve been gone long enough.” He huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around her waist. The couple walked inside, closing the door behind them, as many others had before, and many more later would.
The town fell back into a pleasant stillness, silent but for distant birdsong and rustling leaves, the comforting shadow of the castle cast over it acting as a monument to the immortal promise made many, many years before. To build. To grow.
To last for generations.