Children of Halos
Lilia hummed a soft tune, purring deep in his chest, as the child clung to him. The halls of Night Raven College gleamed in the moonlight, torches lit with green flame. He could smell Malleus’ displeasure in the air. Lightning struck in the far distance as his Prince’s storm approached, light flashing through the tall windows. He’d have to take the first opportunity he could to go to him, explain the situation, and hopefully, his firstborn wouldn’t be too terribly upset. Though, Malleus was more likely to be upset at not being invited to the ceremony. Not that Lilia had technically been invited either, but they were residents of the school, and therefore, they were allowed to go wherever they so pleased. After all, who would ask permission within their own home?
His fingers traced a gliding path through the child’s hair, gently untangling the bloody, grimy strands. Magic wound around his fingers, sinking into the child’s skin with every pass, muddling the child’s mind. There was no need for them to suffer unnecessarily. He hummed a lullaby through magic, weaving a spectral blanket around the little being in his arms. The walk to the infirmary was a long one, but it at least gave him the opportunity to plan out his next move.
Legally, he wasn’t technically allowed to accompany an unclaimed child, not that anyone would be able to stop him if he wanted to. Then again, legally, no fae over the age of 70 was permitted by law near an unclaimed child, with the exception of school staff and students. Lilia chuckled quietly, swaying side to side as the child stirred. There were dozens of other exceptions, of course, all of which he would gladly and eagerly take advantage of.
Dire gave him a jerky nod as they approached the infirmary doors, disappearing before Lilia crossed the threshold. No doubt, he was on his way to inform the appropriate authorities of the situation. That gave him somewhere between thirty minutes to an hour, more than enough. He’d have to give the boy a reward later. Truly, what a thoughtful young man.
The child stirred again as he released his hold on their mind, dimming eyes taking in the hospital-esque room. The child’s head lulled on his shoulder, a soft puff of air ghosting over his neck as they scoffed. Their arms tensed around his neck, though he doubted the child even realized. Lilia watched with a sort of dark amusement as the child’s gaze skirted around the room, lingering on the beds as though they expected them to be filled. There was a familiarity there, a soft desperation, a new bleeding grief. He could taste it on his tongue, see it in how the little one slumped against him, feel it in the lethargic, weak exhale that shuddered through the child. There was a fresh wound bleeding in their heart, dripping out, staining their blood in iridescence.
Lilia hummed as the child’s legs went completely limp in his hold, clutching them tighter before he rose higher into the air. Gently, he flipped them, muffling his laughter when the child yelped and hugged his neck tighter. Slowly, they drifted down, landing lightly on the bed he’d chosen.
A small hitch against his neck had his eyes snapping downward. The child’s breath came short and fast, skin growing almost blue as they trembled faintly. With a soft click of his tongue, Lilia gently lifted the child onto his chest, tucking them close to his heart.
“Just a little bit longer, Little One. Hold on just a little bit longer,” he whispered softly, relaxing back against the pillows. It was useless to get attached, he knew, but could he really be blamed? Such a small child, so injured and alone. He’d seen countless people, human, fae, adult or child, die. He’d been the cause of many a death, but still, that frantic little heartbeat pressed against his chest tugged at him. If only his past self could see him now, he’d be absolutely disgusted. So much sympathy, so much weakness, for a creature that truly hadn’t earned it.
Lilia sighed softly, shifting his uniform jacket aside. His geas fell away with a barely visible shimmer of light, leaving his wings free from their magical confines. A grimace twisted over his face as he slowly wrapped them around both him and his temporary charge, pain lighting up his nerves as he forced too stiff joints to move. His cocoon of leathery skin covered them from head to toe, the thumbs of his wings locking together above his head, shielding them from the bright white lights.
He blinked in the darkness, eyes finally relaxing, though it did nothing for the steadily rising tension in his temples. What was he to do with this situation? Had it simply been a few decades earlier, he would’ve brought the child to a hospital himself or, barring that, perhaps to a family open to a new addition. Alas, humans live to complicate things. Adoption was not nearly as easy or clean-cut as it had been before the end of the latest fae-human war or even a mere century ago.
Lilia sighed deeply as he went back to stroking the youngling’s hair. He was getting too old for these things. Far, far, too old. There was little he could do but wait, either for the medics to arrive or for the child to succumb to their injuries. Until either came to pass, he’d provide what comfort he could.
Magic flowed from his fingers once more, sinking into the child’s skin and then deeper through torn muscles and fractured bone. He wasn’t good at healing others, but he could at least ease the pain and stifle the blood flow. He could only hope it’d be enough to save the child. He closed his eyes, focusing on the magic around him and the small, terribly damaged body on top of him. His chest thrummed as he began to hum quietly, trying to drown out the rattling breaths that brought far too many bad memories to the front. He could almost hear the metal and leather-clad footsteps of soldiers and the death rattles of his men. The echoes of time tormented him when his mind grew too quiet, when peace felt too much like an illusion just waiting to be broken.
He had held many as they died. Mercy killings had been one of the very few “mercies” he’d given his men. He’d held the ones too weak or too injured to be healed, a small blade hidden in his hand. His fingers trailed through the child’s hair, down over their scalp, to the very base of their skull. How many times had he sunk that blade into that divot, into soft, delicate flesh? How many times had blood, human and Fae alike, soaked into his skin? How often had he practically bathed in the lifeblood of soldiers and civilians?
It didn’t matter. The war had been over for centuries. His men had been dead for centuries. There was no use in dwelling on the subject, but he couldn’t help it. Not when he could still see signs of it everywhere he went. It had been centuries, and that was a very short time for fae. Human society had evolved around their victory, had moved on, even if that society was dyed in the red of the fallen on both sides. So many things change, yet even more stay the same.
He mouthed the words to a lullaby, humming all the while. So much had changed in the years. He had changed so much over the years. Perhaps he was simply getting introspective in his old age, but he liked these little moments of stillness and silence. He liked looking over his life and realizing how much he’d grown from the impulsive little brat he’d been.
He had kids now! Plural! Two of them, sometimes three. His younger self would retch at the thought. He laughed quietly at himself, warmth growing in his chest. How would Silver and Malleus react if he brought home another child? Sebek would no doubt be ecstatic, but his first and second? He could practically feel Malleus’ judgment and, well-hidden, annoyance. He could still remember the day he brought Silver back. Malleus had spent a solid thirty minutes just staring at him and then spent another forty staring at the infant like he thought it was diseased. That had been the first time Malleus had ever seen a baby, much less one as young as Silver had been.
The child shifted on his chest, breath stuttering as they woke. Lilia rubbed a hand up and down the child’s back as they buried their head in his chest. Trembles ran over their body, limbs shivering and spasming. A tiny bloody hand clenched around his shirt, fingers twitching with the effort. Slowly, ever so slowly, the child shifted in fits and starts, rolling over onto their chest. Lilia held as still as he could, trying to ignore the way tiny, bony elbows stabbed into his stomach.
Hazy jewel-green eyes blinked up at him, slow and dazed. Truly, the child shouldn’t have even been awake, but perhaps Lilia’s healing magic had gotten better over the years. He couldn’t say for certain how much blood they’d lost, but it was more than enough to kill, especially such a small child. The bruises under the child’s eyes were dark purple, standing out against greying skin. The dried blood stood out starkly, splashed across a gaunt face beneath half-aware eyes.
“Awake now, Little One?” He whispered, giving the child his most cheery smile. Empathy bled from his heart as the child’s breath caught like they hadn’t expected him to be real. They stared at him for a long moment, eyes widening the longer they looked. Their mouth dropped open, eyes locked somewhere in his hair. For a moment, he thought one of his bats had crawled into his hair. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“What are you?” The child whispered, their voice a mere ghost disappearing into the air. Awe and fear tangled with curiosity leaked from their high, lyrical voice, and Lilia felt a part of himself melt a bit. His heart tightened almost painfully in his chest. Oh. Oh, damn it all, not again. This was not another Silver. This was not going to become another Silver situation.
Malleus really was going to lose his mind if Lilia brought home another child. He didn’t know how Silver would react, especially to a child so close in age. How did humans introduce their children? Did he need to worry about them fighting? He couldn’t see Silver getting territorial, but humans were weird sometimes. He could do it slowly, then. There was no reason to rush things after all. He could see how the child reacted to Fae antics, see how his own children reacted to a potential addition, and if things worked out well, then he could see about taking the child as his own.
That decided, Lilia pondered the child’s question and how he wanted to respond. It was perfect, really. This way, he could test their mind and potentially get their name or at least get a solid understanding of them.
It was quite odd the child didn’t recognize a Fae, especially with how wary, rightfully so, humans were of them. There were very few places the Fae didn’t inhabit, no matter what form they took. It at least narrowed down the places the child could’ve come from, and where their attackers would likely still be.
“Oh? What am I?” He whispered back, tilting his head as he wondered what exactly he’d have to do to find the ones responsible for the child’s state. He’d have to take some time off, no doubt, but he hadn’t had a vacation in a long while, and it’d be the perfect opportunity to give Silver a little test run as a guard.
“That’ll cost you, Little One,” He murmured, perhaps a tad bit too darkly, a tad too quietly, but the child didn’t react other than to scrunch their nose up. The child’s head bobbed slightly, listing to the side as their eyes went hazy. Lilia’s hand tightened around their waist as they slumped a bit more onto his chest.
“Cost me what? I don’ think I have any money; s‘all in my trunk,” the child spoke, their words slurring together ever so slightly.
Oh what a dangerous question to ask. Perhaps it’d be better to leave the child in the care of humans if they walked with peril so easily, so obliviously. Amusement bubbled through him, his wings shifting. What a grand idea this little test was. It was almost enough to make him feel young again. He brushed his fingers through the child’s hair, curling over the round edge of their ear, a chill leaching into his fingertips as they grazed the soft skin.
“I’ve no need for silver and gold, Child,” indeed not; He had too much money to know what to do with, “No, no coin would be worth a trade.”
Lilia hummed, deep and low, still brushing his fingers through the youngling’s hair, though they didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in staring at his ears. What would be a good trade, a good test, for a child this young? What would be the best way to see if the child could survive among his kind?
He turned his gaze back to his current charge, roving over glazed eyes and inky black hair. Perhaps a classic, then. Yes, a classic would be perfect. He had no true desire for the child’s Name, but it would help find their origins and, following that, the human authorities would need it.
“Tell me then, Child, and I shall tell you. What are you?”
The child tilted their head, eyes glazing over, teeth gnawing at their lip as they frowned. Lilia fought back laughter when the child grimaced, face twisting as their lip split. He’d never seen Silver or Sebek look so confused. His second and sometimes third were almost arrogant in their confidence, though Silver hid it better. Sebek didn’t bother hiding his confidence, inflating it to hide his insecurity instead. It was refreshing to see another’s emotions shown so freely, but it was another point against taking the child. Emotions were another form of currency; to give them with no regard, no caution was to walk a very fine line between vulnerability and safety.
Lilia leaned his head back, relaxing against the bed once more while the child pondered over their answer. It was somewhat relieving the child hadn’t just given their name without any caution at all. He closed his eyes as he waited, a far softer smile tugging at him when the child nuzzled into his chest. If he could ignore the overwhelming scent of hospital and serpent, he could almost convince himself he was back home, cuddling with one of his sons. Probably Malleus; he was the only one out of Lilia’s children who liked nuzzling. Silver was more likely to simply fall asleep on him than cuddle and Sebek only ever cuddled when he was truly exhausted.
He broke out of his daydreams with a startled noise, heart jumping in his chest, as the child sniffled. Warm liquid dripped through his shirt as he pushed the youngling’s hair back, getting a glimpse of bright green watery eyes and silvery tear tracks before the child ducked their head.
Lilia sighed soundlessly and leaned back, hands caressing the child’s back, patting gently until their tears began to dry. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected the child to take so long answering, though he was far from displeased. Caution and wariness would save their life in the long run, so long as it didn’t stray into paranoia.
The child shook their head weakly, pressing their forehead into his chest again. A soft choking laugh broke the silence, the tinkling sound of a child’s laughter tainted with faint simmering anger and long-held bitter resentment. Lilia pressed his tongue to a fang, a long nail digging into the flesh of his palm. There was something to that laugh that made him writhe, a sleeping threat held at bay by youth and weakness. He almost wanted to know what exactly the child was thinking, to make such a sound.
“I think I have an answer,” the child breathed in a dead, dull voice. Lilia kept carefully still, carefully relaxed as the child gazed at him. The youngling’s stare near burned with its intensity, expecting something, a certain reaction.
“Oh? Then what are you, Child?” He asked as softly as he could like the child would break if he spoke any louder. The air grew tense, power beginning to rise as the child opened their mouth. Lilia took a deep, slow breath as he prepared himself, embracing the slowly rising heat.
“I’m an orphan.”
The magic crashed down on him before he had a moment to truly comprehend what the child said, confessed more like. Electric heat consumed him in a tidal wave of effervescent power, sinking into him, straight down to his soul. It weighed him, his intentions, threading itself through him. It grabbed him in an inescapable grasp and dragged him down-
-deep within himself, within the soul of the small child, through the veils of time and reality. Before him stretched an endless plain of white lilies, gold dying their stems, swaying gently in a light breeze. There was pressure weighing down on him, circling his neck like an iron band.
“Harm him, and no realm, mortal or divine, will protect you from my wrath.”
Copper red danced around him, haloing ethereal green eyes set within opalescent skin.