Chapter Text
He had been in the house the morning that Alogar had apparently died for the first time. Of all the things to keep him… In hindsight it was the most mundane thing in the world. Shadia did not want to wear her shoes with socks for some reason, and it was his job to sit her on her bed, wait out her tantrum, and then try to negotiate with her to put the socks on. They had all planned to go out for some light shopping and a long walk to see the recently bloomed trees together as a family. A little tradition they had once the harsher rain season quit.
Of course, Al couldn’t wait a moment to go out. Of course, Thaisha, his lovely and ever kind wife, allowed him to run outside and go on the walk early so that Hal and Shadia could catch up.
The last thing Thaisha had said before kissing him on the cheek and walking out with Al was to meet at the Lloy estate, and that’s what they were going to do as soon as Shadia put her socks on. It wasn’t even far, but once the crabby toddler had finally listened to him and fitted her socks and shoes on properly, only to then demand to be carried as she rode out the after effects of her short cry, it was safe to say Hal was already tired.
Tired, exasperated, but relieved that Shadia was feeling better as she calmed on his shoulder. He loved these quiet moments and had already written sonnets and poems based just on this feeling alone. The gentle toddler noises, the cool breeze, the warm sun overhead, and the smell of petrichor. It was the perfect sense of peace, and something he'd grown so fond of over the years of starting his family.
It was the perfect distraction that kept him unaware of what had happened until he was close enough to smell the familiar tang of spilled blood. Every bit of his senses suddenly turned alert as he put a whining Shadia down on the ground and crossed the final couple of feet and skidded to his knees in the dirt.
His wife was cradling his son in the grassy mud under the gingko tree of the Lloy Estate.
His son was bleeding from the head into the grass for an unknown reason.
His wife was crying over him.
His son, his beautiful son, his first child, was breathing. He was alive.
He doesn’t know what happened, but everyone is alive, and that’s all that matters to him.
Shadia had started crying again as well, copying her mother, who shuddered violently when he touched her shoulder.
“Thaisha? What- what… Al? Hey baby, can you hear me?”
Al could only groan, his little hand reaching forward to try to grab him. Hal met him halfway and tried to maneuver his head to look at him, but stopped when Al whined in pain. It’s a sound no parent ever wants to hear, even less so when Hal had no context for what exactly happened.
I mean sure, he could guess… The tree, the bleeding head wound, the pained neck, and the slight impact in the dirt all point to Al falling out of the tree, but he doesn’t know why Thaisha was so distraught and unresponsive. A simple fall wouldn’t cause her to react like this.
She never answered him either, only held onto Al tighter.
“It’s okay buddy, we’re going to get you to a healer, and everything will feel better soon.” Hal looked up to Thaisha, then down to Al. “Thaisha. I’m going to carry him, but you need to let go so I can do that dear.”
“No.”
Hal felt something shift in his back as he bodily shifted forward and up upon his wife’s halted tone. “What?”
“No healer, no- no-” She broke off for a second, sucking in a breath, “home, let’s go home.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t sure who to comfort or who to give his attention to first. He felt pulled in every direction as invisible ropes tugged him back and forth between the 3 most important people in his life, each of them in their own stages of distress. Gentle was the first route he decided to go with. “Dear, Al is hurt. A healer would be best right now.”
“No!” She screamed, and Shadia cried harder.
Backtrack, no gentle tones, something more authoritative perhaps? Anchoring instead of comforting for now. “Okay, okay, maybe your grandma then? She should be home and it’s right behind us. Would that be alright?”
It took a moment of thought until Thaisha nodded softly at first before she violently shook her head free of whatever thoughts were plaguing her and shoved her arms under Al’s back and knees.
They moved very quickly, Thaisha carrying Al, and he once again carrying Shadia. Grandma Scyvah’s old bones creak as she opens the door, but once she sees them, she moves even quicker than they do. It’s only when he’s shut out of the room that Thaisha brings Al into, the door barred as he rattles the doorknob in protest, before Scyvah halts him from the other side that he takes a halted breath.
“Think of Shadia dear, she should not be near right now until Thaisha and I are finished.”
Fuck, he thinks as he stands, waits, and holds his toddler as she plays with his hair and swipes at the sweat pouring down his cheek.
He only gets bits and pieces, but he can feel his body sink to the floor when Thaisha admits she heard Al’s neck break. That he died, and she felt it and somehow used druidic powers to bring him back. His son had died, briefly, only for a minute or so, but that was too long. What would’ve happened if his wife hadn’t just discovered she had ties to her grandma’s druid magic? He would’ve… buried his first child, barely a handful of years into his life, and he wasn’t even there when it happened.
He didn't sleep that night.
Thaisha passed out at some point, soft breath tickling his hand where her head rests on top of it. Al was asleep on the bed in front of them, head wrapped and feeling a lot better. By all accounts, he was back to normal, talking all of their ears off until he fell asleep. Even now, deep in the throes of the night, he was still mumbling and talking. Ever energetic, ever young, and full of life.
Shadia had more or less calmed down, though still seemed a bit haunted, mostly toward their mother, unsure of what to make when seeing her like that. She had yet to let go of his shirt collar, even as she snored and drooled a river down his back from her place over his shoulder.
It was almost morning, and yet Hal refused to move an inch. Just watching and keeping guard like he did many years ago for Thjazi when they were both more harrowed and in an unfamiliar place out in the east. Old habits, Hal tried to reason. Even when sleep tugged at him, he refused it and recited entire scripts instead. He ached in both body and heart, and yet not even the dead gods could get him to rest tonight. That was fine. He could face being tired so long as death couldn't reach them. Hal would make sure it wouldn't.