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He was unworthy.
How could he possibly have the right to pick up his little Silver, that unblemished, pure human baby, with his hands?
With the hands that had maimed and killed and destroyed. With the clawed, blood-soaked fingers around his blade, matching his bloodied teeth and his even bloodier war cry. His hands would only stain Silver, leaving behind dripping red fingerprints, making the baby cry and shy away from his touch, no matter how gentle he held him. He would never be able to rub it off or paint it over with lies so thick he choked on them if he only imagined it.
It was better like this.
He could continue sliding on gloves when he held him or fed him or tucked him into bed, even though Silver didn’t like them.
Even though Lilia did catch himself sometimes, wondering how it would feel without them.
But it didn’t matter.
He was unworthy.
xXx
Lilia covered his eyes with his hands, spying through the gaps of his fingers at the baby cooing at him, and the short, chubby arms reaching out to him.
“Peekaboo!“
He revealed his face with a shout and gave Silver a grin that showed his fangs as the child began to giggle most adorably.
Lilia repeated the wonderfully simple motions with unwavering enthusiasm, and was never disappointed, for Silver reacted the same way every time. His high-pitched squeals and laughter filled the humble wooden house to the brim, and Lilia’s heart swelled. Which he still wasn’t quite used to, but embraced it all the more.
When Silver crawled towards him, Lilia rolled down from the sofa and swung himself up, so he hung from the ceiling. Silver clapped his tiny hands, squealing delightedly, with Lilia wholeheartedly indulging him, before he clasped his hands over his face again.
“Where is the little baby?“
He waited a second, for the dramatic effect, wondering for a second why Silver had stopped cooing, before bursting out:
“Peekaboo!“
Time seemed to stop around him as he saw the child fall from the sofa, fast asleep.
His heart missed a beat.
He cried Silver’s name and surged forward, amplifying his speed with desperate magic, and hit the ground hard. The child safely wrapped in his arms and pressed to his chest.
Lilia’s panting breath echoed in the suddenly silent room. But the terror that ripped at his heart and his constricting lungs already released him, trickling down his spine like beads of sweat.
The next moment, the realization that –even if he had fallen down– Silver wouldn’t have died hit Lilia square in the chest, and he felt stupid for his outbreak. Nevertheless, he clutched Silver as close to his chest as he dared without hurting him, until he didn’t feel so shaky any more and until his magic stopped pulsating out of him in frantic waves, and the soft breaths of the small human had calmed him down.
That was when he noticed that he held Silver without wearing gloves.
That he touched the baby’s skin, and it was as pure and pale as always. And soft.
His skin was soft, and Lilia caught himself stroking it carefully.
(And he didn’t draw trails of blood with his fingers, as irrational as he knew it was. The stink of ash didn’t fill his nose, forcing itself down his throat.)
Gently, almost only hovering over it, he caressed Silver’s right cheek, eyes widening at the sensation. Then couldn’t help but poke it.
He gasped, delighted, and poked it again.
And withdrew his hand abruptly, shaking his head at himself.
What was he doing?
But now that Lilia held him, his hand strayed to Silver’s face on its own accord. He traced his finger over the baby’s round ear, intrigued.
And stared.
And didn’t know what he should do now.
He was utterly fascinated.
Some invisible force held him in place, on his knees, on the ground. He didn’t dare move a muscle and risk disturbing the sudden sleep episode.
He hadn’t figured out yet if the falling asleep from one moment to the next was a thing all human babies did, or if it was something only Silver did. He really had to sort through the castle library again and try to search for the mysterious ailment…
Silver shifted in his embrace, sleepily opening his eyes. He looked directly at Lilia (and maybe even deeper than that), who went rigid. Then, he turned his little head to the side and noticed Lilia’s hand cupping his cheek.
He seemed to stare for a long moment. He had never liked the gloves, squirming away from the cold leather, devoid of a human’s warmth.
My hands are no different. I am unworthy. He hates my touch. He knows what I did. He will cry. He doesn’t want to be here with me. He-
Lilia took a sharp, shaky intake of breath as Silver leaned into the touch, letting out silent noises of contentment like he had never done before, and rubbed his cheek against the palm of his hand. Tears shot up in him, brimming in his eyes, while the child slowly untangled a hand from where it laid curled against his chest and grabbed his little finger. Lilia’s lips stretched into a smile that felt strange and unfamiliar on his face, painfully pulling at the muscles of his cheeks because he fought against the tears and blinked heavily so he wouldn’t miss anything.
Sunshine fell through the partly curtained windows and caused Silver’s hair to shine like dewdrops coating a frosty field of flowers in winter.
Lilia held his breath, his bottom lip trembling violently. He sniffed and couldn’t quite believe that the sound had come from him. He gasped for air audibly when he let the tears flow down his face, run over his nose, salt his lips and pattered on his hands.
Silver, instantly fascinated by the teardrops, tried to catch them, wiggling in Lilia’s arms.
Until his tiny hands accidentally hit his face.
Lilia needed a moment to understand that the baby intended to clumsily wipe away his tears, but when he did, he bent over with a strained grimace, embracing Silver again.
He sobbed into the small humans shoulder till he had no more tears to spend, letting it all out, allowing the wave of emotions to roll through and clean him.
On a frosty field coated in dewdrops, the first flowers began to bloom and open their petals.