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Zevran; tangled comfortably in his nest of pillows, was awakened first by the soft pitter patter of his son’s feet against the wooden floor. The door opened and his cherub faced boy peered from the cracked door.
"Papa, I can't sleep, Can you tell me a bedtime story?"
By the time they had reached his weathered father, Zevran had managed to roll over and wordlessly pull the blanket back to invite them in. He felt willing to humor his son and was also unwilling in that moment to crawl out of bed to escort the youth back to their own bed.
“Hmm” though he didn’t even open his eyes, Zevran was awake enough to think. He had no desire or need to scold his son, yet perhaps he would admit that he spoiled them so.
“Let’s see… ah..” his yawn was soft but he draped his arm around the small boy and subconsciously pet their hair like he had done so many times when they were a baby. In turn, the small hands of his son lost themselves in the mess of silvery-blonde the assassin sported.
“Once, there was a man and his son–” he began.
“Was it us?” the boy asked. Zevran laughed softly, and though he thought to deny it at first, decided for simplicity he would humor them.
“Hmm. Sì, mio figlio” he rolled enough to kiss the boy’s temple before grunting as he laughed back against the pillow comfortably again.
“So the handsome and deadly Zevran and his son–” he began again.
“The handsome and brave son, and strong!” the boy was more than unable to sleep, he was energetic it seemed. Zevran sighed and gave him a little ruffle of hair on their head.
“Quite so! The handsome and deadly Zevran, with his handsome, brave and super strong son had survived a night with a storm that ravished the lands. This Zevran, you see; was quite fond of his farming capabilities” he laughed, knowing that was far from the truth.
“It had been so rainy and windy however and both Zevran and his son went into the fields to see just what harm had befallen his land” zevran yawned again, continuing his slow pets and scratches atop the young boy’s head as they sat quietly and listened, enraptured.
“The extremely awesome son noticed something and cried out in surprise; ‘Father! Look there! The strong oak tree is lying uprooted upon the ground, while the frail willow strands unharmed by the stream, as beautiful as ever.” zevran’s son went wide eyed for a moment, curious as well about how such a thing could happen. He curled in against his father and listened with such a serious look upon his face and though Zevran’s eyes were still closed, he could feel the small hands clutching, waiting to hear what came next.
“The son was so perplexed by this, how could this be? He wondered. Yet as he asked his father how the strong, powerful oak had not beaten the might of the storm as it always had and yet the willow survived, the wise, dashing Zevran held back nothing from his son”
“’My son’ said the father, ‘the strong oak tree was forced to fall to the ground because it does not know how to bend. While the flexible willow tree gave in to the howling winds at just the right time to survive, thus suffered no harm.”
Zevran’s son, with his answer found a strange contentedness with the information and was soon yawning, his head resting against his father’s arm.
“Bend with the wind… and you will never be broken” Zevran sighed, opening his eyes just in time to see his son fallen asleep. He kissed the small rounded face before he too fell back to sleep shortly after.