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Adelaide was four the first time she noticed the scars.
It was the middle of summer, and for reasons he could not discern, Laurent had allowed himself to be convinced to spend it in Akielos, whose summers were intensely uncomfortable at best and completely unbearable at worst, with absolutely no middle ground to be found. How Damen had convinced him to leave the temperate summer climates of Vere behind and trade it for this terrible humidity, Laurent still could not be sure, but he was highly suspicious that Damen’s puppy dog eyes and Adelaide’s pout had something to do with it.
Incorrigible, those two.
Nevertheless, Laurent could not deny that the summer palace outside of Ios certainly was stunning during the season it was built for. It had dazzling views of the ocean beyond cliff sides, and lush gardens with lavish fountains located throughout the maze of pathways.
Laurent found himself there, on that particular day, underneath the shade of a tall poplar tree, his back against the trunk with a book perched on the bare knees his chiton exposed. Damen and Addy were busy splashing in the nearby fountain, Addy gleefully squealing as her father picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
“Patéras!” She cried. “Patéras, let me down!”
“Do you concede defeat?” Damen demanded of his daughter, raising the arm not wrapped around her tiny waist to poke at her sides, where he knew she was especially ticklish. Addy screamed delightedly, laughing, and Laurent couldn’t help but smile at the sound; their daughter’s laugher was absolutely the most precious sound in all the world.
Adelaide continued to squeal, until finally Damen decided to allow her the chance to breathe, and sat her back on the ground, where she promptly collapsed, still giggling from the ghost of her patéras’ tickles still vibrating on her skin. Damen laid down in the soft grass next to her, flopping down heavily onto his stomach, not caring a bit if it got dirt all over his loose, wet chiton, and laid his head on his arms,
After a few minutes, Addy’s giggles subsided, and she crawled over to where Damen lay to snuggle up next to him, as she was ought to do on occasion, such as when she had a nightmare, or during a late night thunderstorm. Laurent smiled as he watched her settle on her knees next to her other father, and peer down at him. He turned his attention back to the page he was reading, still smiling.
He felt his blood run cold when he heard Addy’s tiny voice say, “Patéras, what happened to your back?”
Laurent forgot how to breathe. He saw his husband rise to his elbow to look over at him, his brown eyes wide and unsure how to proceed, and Laurent met them, ice still in his veins. He shook his head, just slightly, and found that he had forgotten how to speak as well.
How was he to explain to his child – his wonderful, inquisitive, innocent child – that her patéras had been whipped within an inch of his life and it was her père that had been the one to order the terrible deed that had resulted in those scars?
They held each other’s gaze for a moment more, before Damen looked back at Adelaide. He softened his expression, and smiled at her, as she was now looking between them as though she had done something wrong.
“Patéras got hurt once.” He explained gently, smoothing his daughter’s curls down. “But it’s better now, see?” He moved aside the shoulder of his chiton, and took her little hand in his to touch one of the scars that ran along his bicep there, the scar tissue contrasting starkly with the rest of his dark skin. “It’s just skin,” he explained.
Addy looked at him, her big green eyes wide. “Does it hurt, Patéras?” She asked.
Damen shook his head. “Not anymore. Not even a little, I promise.”
Addy turned her attention back to the scar her little hand still touched, and Laurent watched her as she leant forward to kiss it, as her fathers were known to do when she fell and scrapped her knees on the cobblestones in the courtyard.
“There!” She said. “All better!”
Laurent let out the breath he’d been holding in out in a rush, his heart still pounding against his ribcage like war drums. He forced himself to relax, little by little, as Damen grinned at their daughter and scooped her into his arms and stood to walk over to where Laurent sat under the tree.
Laurent forced himself to smile up his husband and daughter, and Damen smiled gently and apologetically back at him as he offered him the hand that wasn’t holding Adelaide. Laurent closed his book and graciously took it, allowing Damen to help him to his feet.
“I think maybe it’s time we went back inside.” Damen suggested. “And out of this heat.”
Laurent nodded, and looked at Addy. “And someone is due for her afternoon nap.”
“I’m not sleepy!” Addy protested, and she accentuated her conviction with a long yawn.
Laurent chuckled. “The little lady doth protest too much.” He said affectionately. “You’ll be asleep before we’re even back to the gates.”
“No I won’t.” Addy glared at her père as she laid her head against Damen’s shoulder, yawning again. “Not sleepy.”
“We’ll see, little princess.” Damen said, and they began the walk back towards the palace, his hand still holding Laurent’s, who, not unconsciously, squeezed and held it tightly.
True to Laurent’s prediction, Adelaide was asleep against her patéras’ shoulder. Her fathers took her back to her chambers, and deposited her into the arms of her nursemaid. They very quietly left the room and made their way back towards their own.
“You had to have known she would ask eventually.” Damen murmured as he closed the door behind them. “And you have to know she’ll ask again.”
Laurent let go of his husband’s hand, and ran it through his hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
“Yes,” he said. “And yet I am still unprepared to answer her with honesty.”
“We will figure it out.” Damen promised, and Laurent opened his eyes to see him gazing at him earnestly. “She’s but four; she’ll accept the answer I gave her for a few years yet.”
“And then what, Damianos?” Laurent asked. “What about the next time she asks?”
“When she’s old enough to understand, we’ll tell her the truth.” Damen answered evenly. “And not a moment before.”
“And how, pray tell, will we know when she’s old enough?”
Damen shook his head. “I’m still as new to parenting as you are, Laurent; I don’t have all the answers.” He reached out a hand and laid it alongside Laurent’s cheek. “But we’ll figure it out.”
Laurent sighed, and leaned into Damen’s touch. He could still feel his heart pounding against his chest, twisting painfully at the memory of what he had done to his own husband so many years ago.
He looked up into Damen’s eyes. “And what if, when we do tell her, she hates me for what I did?” He was aware of how small his voice sounded. He knew it would not be lost to Damen.
Damen smiled at him. “That, love, is impossible. You are her père; she adores you.”
Laurent shook his head in disagreement.
“I have done inexcusable things in my life,” Laurent reminded him. “A few to you.”
“I am not innocent of hurting you, either, Laurent.” Damen said. “Neither of us is entirely blameless, but I believe it is safe to say we have forgiven each other for the past, and have agreed that it is better to look to the future. Wouldn’t you?”
Laurent found he was able to smile.
“Well, I did marry you…” He said.
Damen grinned, and Laurent loved the way his brown eyes shone when he looked at him like that. “Despite my barbarian tendencies and the fact that I'm still a 'giant animal'?”
“And your tendency to take up most of the bed, and the blankets, and the fact that you sometimes talk in your sleep, and your terrible habit for dropping pitchers when you see me in a chiton.” Laurent continued for him. He smiled. “But mostly because I love you.”
Damen kissed his forehead. “I’d hoped that was a reason.”
“Among others.” Laurent said suggestively, and Damen didn’t hesitate to nearly tackle him to the bed, wet chiton and all.