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Sunlight filtered through the tall narrow windows of Diasomnia’s common study hall, fractured by stained glass into diluted greens and muted violets that spilled across the polished oak table where the four of them had gathered. The colored light shifted subtly with the drifting clouds outside, sliding across pages and sleeves like slow-moving water.
Dust motes floated in those beams, rising and falling in lazy spirals whenever someone turned a page or adjusted in their seat. The air carried the layered scent of parchment, old wood polished to a dark sheen, and tea that had been steeped far longer than necessary in Lilia’s porcelain cup.
It was peaceful.
Silver found that he preferred studying like this, within the reach of others, but not required to speak. Their presence formed a perimeter around him that felt steady and protective without being restrictive.
At the head of the table sat Malleus, posture effortlessly regal even in repose. The high-backed chair seemed less like furniture and more like an extension of his authority. Before him lay a heavy tome on ancient magical theory, its aged pages thick and slightly warped at the edges. Margins were crowded with neat annotations written in elegant, deliberate script. His gloved finger traced along each line as he read, lips moving faintly in silent recitation. Occasionally, he would pause, brows knitting together with mild displeasure before murmuring a correction under his breath.
Sebek, by contrast, studied as if preparing for battle.
His back remained ramrod straight. The intensity in his expression suggested that each sentence was an adversary to be conquered. His pen scratched fiercely across parchment, strokes dark and decisive, the nib pressing hard enough to threaten tearing the page. Whenever Malleus shifted—even slightly—Sebek’s head snapped up in immediate vigilance. Only after confirming that his liege required nothing he would return to his notes with renewed fervor.
Across from them, Silver read quietly.
One hand steadied the spine of his book while the other turned each page with measured care. His fingertips brushed over textured paper, noting the indentation of embossed lettering without consciously meaning to. His posture was upright but relaxed, shoulders loose, breathing slow and even. A faint breeze slipped in through a cracked window near his side, stirring the curtains and grazing cool fingers along his cheek before fading again.
He did not mind the chill.
He rarely did.
He found comfort in the subtle sounds of shared concentration, he liked the scratch of Sebek’s pen, the muted thud of Malleus closing one volume and opening another, the faint clink of porcelain when Lilia lifted his teacup.
Lilia lounged in his chair with elegance, short legs crossed at the knee. A thin book rested loosely in one hand, though the laziness of his posture was deceptive. Silver knew that nothing escaped him. Lilia’s crimson eyes drifted across the page with apparent ease.
Silver felt it before he saw it.
That subtle shift.
Lilia’s gaze lifted.
Not to Sebek’s, neither Malleus’s. But towards him.
After a moment, he raised his eyes.
Their gazes met.
Lilia smiled.
He lowered his gaze again to the page, though the smile lingered in his thoughts longer than the paragraph he had just read.
Time passed slow while studying. The sunlight shifted from gold to amber to something cooler. Shadows lengthened across the courtyard outside, stretching thin and delicate against stone.
At last, Malleus closed his tome with a quiet but decisive thud.
“This chapter’s interpretation of ancient warding structures is flawed” he stated evenly, folding his hands atop the cover.
Sebek straightened so abruptly that his inkwell wobbled dangerously. “As expected, Majesty! Your insight surpasses modern scholarship. It is an honor merely to witness your analysis.”
Malleus inclined his head with patient grace, neither accepting nor rejecting the praise.
Lilia snickered softly into his tea.
Silver allowed the faintest curve to touch his mouth before smoothing his expression again.
They spoke for a while after that. Malleus elaborated on a mistranslated incantation, explaining with calm authority how a single altered syllable shifted the ward’s intention from preservation to containment. Sebek agreed fervently with every correction, occasionally adding emphatic commentary that bordered on reverence. Lilia offered an offhand remark about how certain authors had been “dramatic even by fae standards,” earning a dry glance from Malleus.
Silver contributed when necessary, voice calm and precise. He suggested the possible historical context and how it may have changed. Conversation flowed easily, never heated.
When the discussion waned and books were closed one by one, Lilia set his own volume down with deliberate softness. He folded his hands atop the table, fingers interlacing loosely.
“Silver, dear” He began, tone bright and deceptively casual, “We will be conducting a special training session tonight.”
Sebek’s pen slipped from his grasp and clattered sharply against the table.
“A what? At this hour?!” he demanded, half-rising from his seat as though physically compelled to protest. “Silver requires proper rest for optimal performance! His schedule must remain consistent! Disruptions are inefficient!”
Silver blinked once. “I am awake.”
“That is not the point!” Sebek shot back, scandalized. “Rest is a strategic necessity! Even the most capable warrior must adhere to structured recovery periods!”
Lilia waved a dismissive hand, laughter light and lilting. “Oh, hush, Sebek. It will be brief. A little excursion. Moonlit endurance training.” His eyes glinted with playful mischief. “Don’t be jealous.”
Sebek flushed a deep shade of green. “Jealous?! I merely advocate for optimal combat readiness!”
Malleus observed quietly, chin resting against his gloved knuckles. “A nocturnal exercise does not seem unreasonable” he said at last. “Silver performs adequately at night.”
“More than adequately~” Lilia added, gaze flicking toward Silver once more.
Silver closed his book carefully, smoothing a hand over the cover. He felt Lilia’s attention settle over him again, more deliberate this time.
“Understood, Father” he said evenly. “What time shall we depart?”
Sebek made a strangled noise. “You are accepting this so easily?!”
Silver tilted his head slightly. “Lilia would not suggest it without reason. I will go.”
Lilia’s smile sharpened—pleased, almost triumphant.
“That’s my good boy.”
The words were familiar. Affectionate. Lightly teasing.
Yet Silver noticed the faint pause before them, as though Lilia had weighed the phrase before allowing it to pass his lips. He inclined his head once in acknowledgment.
Across the table, Malleus regarded Lilia with a look that lingered a fraction too long. If he understood more than he voiced, he did not comment.
They did not depart immediately.
Silver returned to his room to prepare. The corridor was cool and dimmer now, the last traces of sunset fading beyond arched windows. Inside his chamber, he exchanged his uniform jacket for a lighter shirt better suited to movement. He fastened his cloak neatly at his collar, ensuring it would not hinder his stride.
He reached for his sword.
His hand paused.
He frowned faintly at the hesitation.
Lilia had not specified combat drills. Still, habit guided him. He secured the blade at his hip and slipped on his gloves, flexing his fingers once to test their fit. The leather creaked softly.
When he stepped back into the courtyard, the moon had risen high enough to cast clean, deliberate shadows across Diasomnia’s stone pathways. The air carried the cool dampness of early spring, tinged with moss and distant water. Silver drew in a slow breath, letting the chill settle into his lungs.
He did not mind the cold.
Lilia waited at the dormitory gates.
Moonlight washed over him, silvering the edges of his dark attire. His crimson eyes seemed almost luminous beneath the night sky. He looked entirely at ease, more at home under stars and shadow, than he ever appeared beneath daylight.
“You’re punctual,” Lilia remarked lightly.
“You set the time,” Silver replied.
“Ah~. So obedient.”
They stepped beyond the gates together.
The dormitory lights faded behind them, replaced by the quiet dominion of night. Gravel crunched softly beneath their boots before giving way to packed earth and forest path. The scent of damp soil grew stronger, mingling with moss and distant water.
Silver became acutely aware of Lilia’s presence beside him. The steady rhythm of his steps, the faint rustle of fabric when their cloaks brushed. He found himself listening to the rhythm.
Their strides aligned naturally as soon as they passed beneath the first arching branches of the forest path. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in fractured beams, catching on leaves and spider silk, pooling pale silver in the shallow dips between exposed roots. Every now and then, a stray branch brushed against Silver’s shoulder, scattering a faint spray of dew across his cloak.
He adjusted his gloves as they walked, flexing his fingers once. The leather creaked quietly, a familiar sound. The distant, hollow call of an owl. The whisper of leaves rubbing together overhead. Somewhere farther off, water moved gently against stone.
Cool air slipped beneath his cloak and brushed the back of his neck. It carried the scent of damp soil and early spring growth. Silver knew Lilia favored nights like this—clear, quiet, illuminated by a full moon that turned the world into layered shadow and light.
“Are you comfortable?” Lilia asked after several minutes, his voice low so as not to disturb the surrounding stillness.
“Yes.”
“Not cold?”
“No.”
Lilia hummed softly in apparent satisfaction.
They continued deeper until the path widened into a small clearing Silver recognized from previous drills. The ground here was relatively even, though scattered with roots and slight changes in elevation—ideal for footwork practice. The trees ringed the space loosely, allowing the moonlight to spill freely into the center.
Silver slowed.
Something was different.
His gaze shifted to Lilia’s side.
“You are not carrying a sword.”
Lilia blinked at him, crimson eyes widening with exaggerated innocence. “My, how observant.”
“You usually insist I be prepared for ambush drills,” Silver continued evenly, stepping over a low root without breaking stride. “Especially at night.”
“And do you sense an ambush?” Lilia asked lightly.
Silver closed his eyes briefly to listen. It extended his awareness outward, allowing the forest’s natural sounds to settle into his perception. Insects chirred steadily. A small animal rustled through underbrush without alarm. The wind moved cleanly through the canopy, unbroken by tension or disturbance.
No unnatural silence.
No pressure in the air.
“No” he admitted.
“There you have it” Lilia replied, a note of quiet satisfaction in his voice.
Silver accepted the answer. He did not press further.
He stepped into the center of the clearing and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. The familiar weight grounded him. He drew the blade in one smooth motion; metal whispered faintly as it left the scabbard, catching moonlight along its edge.
He settled into stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Knees slightly bent. Shoulders loose. His breathing slowed, steady and controlled.
Without waiting for instruction, he began.
The first movement was a basic forward strike—precise, direct, the blade cutting a clean arc through the air. He pivoted on his heel, transitioning seamlessly into a defensive guard, blade angled to deflect an imagined attack from his right. His boots scuffed lightly against the soil as he shifted weight, testing balance against the uneven ground.
He advanced through a sequence drilled into muscle memory: parry, counter, downward strike. A fluid rotation of the wrist. A controlled step backward to regain distance. His cloak flared briefly with the motion before settling again.
Across from him, Lilia did not draw a weapon.
Instead, he lifted his magic pen between two fingers, twirling it once before holding it loosely at his side. A faint glimmer of dark-green magic flickered at its tip, subtle as a distant star. It was how Lilia preferred to spar—elegant, controlled, never fully committed unless necessary.
Silver adjusted his footing and lunged.
He imagined Lilia’s typical response: a sudden sidestep, a sharp redirection of magic toward his blind spot, forcing him to compensate instantly.
But Lilia did not move.
He merely watched.
Silver withdrew and transitioned into a horizontal slash, followed by a tight rotational pivot designed to guard his flank. His breathing remained even, each exhale timed with a strike. The blade sang faintly as it sliced through cool night air.
Still, no correction.
No sudden burst of magic to disrupt his stance.
During training, Lilia usually dictated the rhythm. He would alter direction without warning, shift from stable earth to loose gravel in a blink, force Silver to adapt to unpredictable obstacles conjured from shadow. Silver had learned to read the smallest indicators—the way Lilia’s shoulders coiled before acceleration, the faint narrowing of his eyes before a feint.
Tonight, Lilia matched him.
Step for step when he moved.
Stillness for stillness when he paused.
After several minutes, Silver decided to test it.
Without announcement, he shifted his center of gravity lower and pivoted sharply into a defensive sequence not part of their usual routine. His blade cut upward, then reversed in a controlled snap meant to intercept a counterstrike. He advanced two quick steps forward, then dropped his shoulder as if evading a spell cast from above.
His boots dug slightly into packed soil as he transitioned between positions.
Lilia did not interrupt.
Silver repeated the sequence, tightening the rotation of his shoulder this time, adjusting for the slight incline beneath his left foot. He deliberately allowed a small imbalance into his stance—a flaw Lilia would normally correct immediately.
Nothing.
Only observation.
After a moment, Lilia hummed—a low, melodic sound that seemed to weave itself into the forest’s natural chorus.
“You seem alert tonight” he remarked lightly.
Silver completed the sequence with a final downward strike and returned to guard. “I fell asleep earlier” he said, steadying his breathing. “I conserved energy.”
“Mm… good. I’m pleased you still have some left, then.”
Silver glanced at him briefly.
Lilia’s expression was relaxed. Almost contemplative. His pen glowed faintly between his fingers, but he made no move to attack. There was no teasing curve to his lips, no sharp commentary waiting to be delivered.
Only quiet attention.
Silver shifted his stance again, repositioning his feet on a slight rise in the earth. He executed another controlled turn, imagining an opponent closing in from behind. His cloak swayed with the motion; the blade flashed pale under moonlight before settling once more into guard.
His movements were clean.
Efficient.
Still, Lilia did not correct him.
Silver lowered his blade slowly.
He realized he was more aware of Lilia’s gaze than of the forest. A faint warmth settled beneath his ribs. He sheathed his sword with controlled precision and straightened.
“You are not correcting me” he observed quietly.
Lilia’s pen twirled once more before the glow at its tip faded entirely.
“Am I required to?”
“You usually do.”
Lilia tilted his head, studying him in return. Moonlight caught in his eyes, turning crimson almost black at the edges.
“Perhaps,” he said softly, “I simply wished to watch.”
Silver did not immediately respond. The forest breathed around them. Leaves shifted. The owl called again, farther away now.
He became aware of the faint sheen of exertion on his skin, of his heartbeat steady but elevated.
“Tell me, Silver” he began conversationally, as though commenting on the weather rather than combat, “If you were tasked with protecting something irreplaceable, would you guard it—or conceal it?”
Silver stilled for a fraction of a second before straightening.
He considered carefully before answering. “Concealment preserves strategic advantage” he said at last. “But open defense signals resolve. It can deter an attack before it begins.”
Lilia’s lips curved faintly. “And which would you choose?”
“That depends on the threat.”
“A practical answer” Lilia mused. “How very you.”
Silver glanced sideways.
Lilia’s gaze was not on the trees. Not on the path.
It was on him.
After a few more steps, Lilia spoke again.
“That will do for now,” he said lightly. “You’ve worked enough. Walk with me. Cool off.”
Silver paused only briefly before nodding. “Understood.”
The path beneath their feet narrowed slightly as the trees began to thin. The scent of water crept into the air, faint and cool. Somewhere nearby, reeds shifted with a whispering rustle.
Silver allowed his breathing to slow, the residual tension in his muscles easing as they moved.
Branches thinned one by one, their interlacing shadows loosening until slivers of sky began to appear between them. The canopy fractured gradually, as though drawn apart by unseen hands, revealing wider bands of indigo overhead. With each step forward, the air seemed to lighten—not warmer, but less enclosed. The hush of the woods shifted into something more open, more expectant.
Then the final line of trees fell away.
They stepped into a clearing Silver did not immediately recognize.
Moonlight poured down unobstructed, washing the broad circle of tall grass in liquid silver. Each blade caught the light at its tip, shimmering faintly when the breeze passed through. Beyond the field lay a small lake, its dark surface reflecting the moon in fractured brilliance. Ripples moved lazily across the water, breaking the reflection into scattered crescents that reformed and shattered again in quiet rhythm. Fireflies drifted low above the grass, their glow soft and intermittent—brief flares of gold rising and fading like measured breaths.
Silver slowed instinctively.
The air here carried the cool touch of water. Beneath it lingered a delicate sweetness, the faint perfume of night-blooming flowers somewhere along the shore. It was subtle, but distinct enough to be intentional.
No broken branches at the tree line. No disturbed earth near the perimeter. No unnatural silence suggesting concealed presence. The grass stood upright except where wind bent it. The shoreline bore no signs of recent intrusion.
No threat.
Only stillness.
Beautiful, deliberate stillness.
Behind him, Lilia remained quiet.
Silver reached the edge of the clearing and stopped.
“This is not a standard training location” he said at last.
His tone remained even, but certainty threaded through it.
Lilia moved.
For the first time that evening, he stepped ahead rather than beside him. His boots whispered through the grass as he walked toward the clearing’s center. His cloak stirred behind him, a dark silhouette against the silver wash of light.
“Observant as ever” Lilia replied lightly.
Silver did not immediately follow. Habit held him still for another breath as his gaze swept the perimeter again. He traced the tree line carefully. No carved training markers. No subtle shimmer of warding magic waiting to trigger.
The air carried only water, grass, and faint blossoms.
He lowered his gaze as he advanced a few steps.
There.
Near a fallen log angled naturally toward the lake, the grass had been pressed down in a smooth oval. Not trampled irregularly, but flattened with intention. At its center rested a folded blanket—dark fabric chosen perhaps for subtlety, though the moonlight revealed it clearly now. Beside it sat a small woven basket.
Silver turned his head slowly toward Lilia.
“You prepared this area in advance.”
Lilia clasped his hands behind his back and rocked once on his heels, the gesture almost boyish against the composed silhouette he cut in the moonlight.
“I prefer efficiency.”
“You arranged this before hand.”
“Perhaps.”
Silver studied him without speaking.
The scent of blossoms drifted again from the shoreline, mingling with cool water and damp earth.
“So, this is not for training” Silver said at last, his tone even, but no longer analytical.
Lilia’s smile flickered—so slight it might have been missed by anyone less attentive. It did not disappear, but it softened at the edges.
“Oh?” He tilted his head, crimson eyes catching the moonlight with a faint, teasing brightness. “And what makes you say that?”
Silver stepped closer.
He simply closed the distance between them by a measured pace, the silvered grass bowing beneath his boots. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Fireflies drifted lazily between them and the lake, their light pulsing in slow, irregular patterns. The water shifted with a gentle breeze, breaking the moon’s reflection into trembling shards. Somewhere beyond the tree line, a night insect hummed briefly before falling silent again.
Then Lilia exhaled—a soft sound that carried less mischief than usual.
“You ruin all my surprises” He said, though there was no real complaint in it now. His voice lowered, losing its playful lilt. “Of course this is not training, Silver.”
Silver blinked once, absorbing the admission. He turned slowly, surveying the clearing again. The blanket positioned at a natural angle toward the lake. The fallen log serving as a quiet boundary. The basket set neatly beside the fabric, fruit arranged with care rather than convenience. The deliberate choice of a full moon, unobstructed by cloud or branch.
Lilia tilted his head slightly, watching him. Moonlight outlined the curve of his cheek, the delicate edge of his profile.
“I have been here before,” Lilia said quietly.
Silver’s gaze returned to him—not sharp with suspicion, but focused with dawning recognition.
“With me” Silver said.
A pause stretched between them.
The breeze shifted again, scattering the moon’s reflection across the lake into fractured crescents.
“Yes…” Lilia answered.
The word was simple. But it carried years within it.
Memory surfaced without resistance.
Before Night Raven College. Before uniforms and dormitories. He had been smaller then, lighter in frame and shorter in reach. Perhaps five years younger than he stood now.
He remembered wandering too close to the water’s edge while Lilia had spoken something about constellations. Or perhaps about the phases of the moon, he could not remember...
But he could still feel him lying back in the grass, staring upward as Lilia’s voice flowed above him. He remembered the cool earth beneath his shoulders. The scent of water and flowers.
He remembered sleep claiming him without warning.
When he had woken, the night had deepened. The moon had shifted higher in the sky. And Lilia had been sitting precisely where he stood now, near the lake’s edge, watching the moon’s reflection with a quiet, distant expression Silver had rarely seen.
“You said something about the constellations” Silver murmured, eyes unfocused as memory aligned itself. “No… about how the moon’s phase alters the way it holds light.”
Lilia’s composure cracked visibly.
“You remember that?” he asked, the question stripped of artifice.
“Yes.”
Lilia looked away briefly, his gaze drifting toward the lake. The moonlight traced the curve of his profile, softening the sharper lines of his features and casting faint silver along the dark fall of his hair.
“The moon looks different,” he began lightly, though the usual mischief in his tone did not fully return, “Even if one have watched it for centuries.”
Silver did not interrupt.
“Most nights blur together after long enough” Lilia continued, more quietly now. “Battles. Kingdoms. Faces. Even stars shift their places in the sky.” His fingers brushed absently at his sleeve, a rare tell of introspection. “But some nights…”
He paused.
The breeze skimmed across the lake, carrying the scent of water and blossoms between them.
“Some nights are worth remembering.”
The words did not dissipate with the wind. They settled in the space between them, heavy in their simplicity.
Silver felt something tighten in his chest. A subtle awareness that this moment carried weight beyond instruction, beyond nostalgia.
“You brought me here because you wished to remember” he said.
Lilia’s shoulders stilled almost imperceptibly.
“…Perhaps.”
Silver closed the remaining distance until he stood beside him. Close enough that the edges of their cloaks brushed together in the faint breeze. The lake shimmered before them. The moon fractured and reformed endlessly across its surface.
“You are not accustomed to explaining your reasons” Silver observed.
“No” Lilia admitted softly. “I’m not.”
“Then I will not require an explanation.”
Lilia looked at him sharply.
Silver met his gaze evenly. There was no accusation in his expression. The wind shifted gently, brushing pale strands of hair across Silver’s face. Without thinking, Lilia reached out.
His fingers were cool as they brushed Silver’s temple, gently sweeping the stray strands back into place. The gesture was uncharacteristically careful. His touch lingered, just a fraction too long to be incidental.
Silver noticed.
He did not pull away.
The night seemed to quiet further, as though the clearing itself were aware of the fragile balance between them.
“Sit with me” Lilia said softly.
Silver removed his gloves first, tugging each free with deliberate motions. The air felt cooler against his bare skin. He stepped toward the blanket and lowered himself smoothly onto it, movements controlled even in something as simple as sitting.
Lilia joined him moments later.
Close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Close enough that Silver could feel the faint hum of fae magic that always seemed to surround Lilia. Neither commented on the proximity.
“You are unusually quiet” Silver observed.
“I am thinking.”
“How dangerous.” The remark was delivered without inflection, yet the corner of Silver’s mouth curved faintly, betraying the dryness of the jest.
He let a moment pass before speaking again.
“You selected this night because the moon is full.”
“Yes.”
“You prepared the clearing in advance.”
“Yes.”
Silver turned his head slightly, studying Lilia from the edge of his vision rather than directly. It was not suspicion that guided him now, but careful attention.
“This carries significance” he said quietly. “I can sense that.”
Lilia gave a soft huff that might have been a laugh. “Indeed.”
The levity did not fully return to his expression. Silver’s gaze softened, the guarded sharpness easing.
“What is its purpose?”
This time Lilia did not answer immediately. Silver met his eyes steadily, offering no pressure, only presence.
“For remembering” Lilia said at last, his voice lower than before. “Wanting to spend time with the person I love.” A brief pause followed, fragile but resolute. “And for welcoming the new season with him.”
The teasing composure fell away entirely.
The familiar gleam in Lilia’s eyes dimmed into something quiete. Centuries of poise thinned in that single breath.
“…Silver” he exhaled.
Silver did not look away. He did not falter.
“I am glad…” he said, his voice calm as ever—yet warmth threaded through it unmistakably, softening each word, “That you chose me.” Lilia inhaled sharply.
The fireflies seemed to drift closer, their small lights blinking like hesitant witnesses. Their glow caught faintly in Silver’s eyes, turning the usual cool steel into something almost luminous. The night air brushed cool against his skin, but a steady warmth spread through his chest, slow and undeniable.
Lilia extended his hand.
Silver did not hesitate.
Their fingers met—cool against warm.
Then Silver closed his hand around Lilia’s deliberately, firm but gentle, his thumb settling at the back of Lilia’s hand as if to anchor him there. It felt grounding. Solid. Real.
Lilia’s breath caught audibly.
“You are terribly unfair, Silver” he whispered, the usual lilt of mischief absent from his tone. In its place was something quieter. Almost vulnerable. “Look what you make me do! I’m almost crying from just thinking about you…”
“I did not intend harm” Silver replied at once, the honesty in his voice unguarded.
“Oh, I know.”
Lilia turned toward him fully now. The motion was slow, lacking its usual flourish. Their knees brushed as he shifted closer, fabric whispering softly in the hush of the clearing. The contact was light, but Silver felt it as distinctly as the hand clasped in his own.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
Lilia lifted his free hand.
He touched Silver’s cheek.
The gesture was reverent in its gentleness. His fingertips skimmed along the line of Silver’s jaw as though reacquainting himself with something precious. His thumb brushed lightly beneath Silver’s eye, tracing the faint curve there, lingering with quiet wonder.
“You have grown to be such a fine gentleman” Lilia murmured.
Silver leaned into the touch before he consciously decided to.
The movement was small—subtle. Instinctive.
Lilia stilled at once.
For centuries he had worn composure like armor—sharp wit, teasing words, calculated mischief. Now, beneath Silver’s steady gaze and unflinching acceptance, that armor felt thin. Transparent.
“You look at me” Lilia said softly, searching his face, “As though I am something steady.”
“You are” Silver answered without hesitation. The certainty in his tone left no room for doubt. “You have always been like that for me….”
Lilia’s lashes lowered, shadows fanning across his cheeks. For a heartbeat, he looked younger than the centuries he carried.
“Silver… I am not steady. I am old. I am selfish. I brought you here tonight because I—”
His voice faltered.
Silver tightened his hold on Lilia’s hand. His thumb brushed lightly over cool skin, a deliberate stroke meant to anchor rather than command.
“Because you wished to” Silver said gently. “That is enough for me.”
Lilia let out a soft, uneven laugh. It lacked its usual brightness. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple” Silver replied.
He lifted his free hand then, mirroring the earlier gesture. His gloved fingers brushed a stray strand of dark hair from Lilia’s face, tucking it carefully behind his ear. The motion was deliberate, almost tenderly formal, yet undeniably intimate.
“You wished for me to stand here with you” Silver continued quietly. “So I am here.”
Lilia’s fingers tightened slightly around his.
Moonlight washed over them both, outlining the curve of shoulders and the gentle incline of their foreheads as the space between them narrowed further. Silver rested his forehead lightly against Lilia’s.
The contact was soft. Steady.
Their joined hands remained between them, warm against cool.
“I am not easily swayed” Silver murmured. “You know this.”
A faint smile returned to Lilia’s lips—small, but genuine.
Silver’s other hand slid from Lilia’s cheek to rest just over his heart—not pressing, simply feeling the rhythm beneath fabric. The steady beat there, ancient and resilient.
“You are not selfish” Silver said. “You have done a good job raising me, na staking care of me. More than enough”
Lilia’s composure wavered again at that.
The breeze moved gently around them, stirring cloaks and grass alike. Fireflies drifted in lazy arcs, their light flickering around the outline of two figures standing impossibly close beneath a full moon.
Lilia’s hand shifted from Silver’s cheek to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into pale strands of hair.. His fingertips lingered there, warm despite the cool night air, anchoring him close.
“Silver…” he whispered.
“Yes?”
Silver did not look away.
Silver hand moved down to steady Lilia’s waist, thumb resting lightly against the curve of his side.
“I love you.”
The confession was quiet, carried on the breath between them.
Silver felt it immediately in the way the fingers at the back of his neck stilled, in the way Lilia’s breath caught halfway through an inhale. For a single suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to pause with him. The fireflies lingered mid-drift, their glow flickering faintly. The lake’s ripples softened into near-stillness, moonlight stretching across its surface like unbroken glass.
“I love you to, Lilia”
“…You say that” Lilia murmured at last, voice barely stronger than the whisper of wind through grass, “As it did not terrify you.”
Silver considered the question. He did not answer immediately. His gaze remained steady on Lilia’s face, taking in the faint tension at the corners of his eyes.
“I am not afraid of loving you” Silver said gently. “I have loved you for a long time.”
He shifted closer. The last inch of space between them disappeared. Their shoulders aligned fully; their thighs pressed together through layers of fabric, warmth meeting warmth. Silver could feel the subtle tremor in Lilia’s hand where it rested at his neck.
“I thought” Silver continued slowly, choosing each word with deliberate care, “That what I felt was gratitude. Or loyalty. Or simply…being a grateful son.”
His voice softened, the edge of formality dissolving. The silver-blue of his eyes gentled under the moonlight as he looked at Lilia “But when you look at me like this, when you prepare a night only to sit beside me, to remember with me—I understand it is more.”
Something inside Lilia gave way.
His hand slid from Silver’s neck to cradle his face fully, palm warm against cool skin. His thumb brushed slowly along Silver’s cheekbone, then lower, tracing the line of his jaw with almost disbelieving tenderness.
“You foolish, earnest child,” Lilia murmured, though there was no teasing bite to it now. Only tenderness, edged with wonder. “Do you know what you are saying to me?”
“Yes.”
“And you are certain?”
Silver nodded once. The motion was small, but absolute.
“I am certain.”
Then, slowly, Lilia leaned in.
There was nothing abrupt in it. He moved as one who had waited centuries and could afford to grant a few seconds more. Their foreheads brushed first—a soft, tentative contact. The coolness of Lilia’s skin met Silver’s warmth. Dark strands slipped forward, mingling with pale ones in the narrow space between them.
Their breaths mingled.
Lilia exhaled slowly, the warmth ghosting across Silver’s lips.
“I have loved you” he confessed, voice lower now—unsteady in a way Silver had never heard before, “in every way I told myself I should not.”
Silver’s hand slid from Lilia’s waist higher along his back, fingers pressing gently through fabric. The touch was not possessive. It was anchoring. Assured.
“I do not require restraint from you” Silver replied.
The words were quiet.
But they shattered the last of Lilia’s hesitation.
He closed the distance.
The kiss was gentle at first, a careful meeting of lips, tentative in its reverence. It was not hurried. Lilia’s hand remained at Silver’s cheek, thumb stroking faintly as if grounding himself in the reality of it.
Silver responded without uncertainty.
He tilted his head slightly, deepening the contact by instinct rather than strategy. His hand at Lilia’s back tightened just enough to keep him close. Their lips moved slowly against one another, soft pressure, lingering warmth and the shared breath between each subtle shift.
When they parted, it was only for air
Their foreheads remained pressed together. Their noses brushed lightly. Lilia’s fingers slipped into Silver’s hair more securely now, combing through pale strands with unhidden affection. Silver lifted his hand to cradle Lilia’s jaw in return, thumb resting near the corner of his mouth. He studied him with the same steady devotion he had always carried.
“You are shaking” Silver murmured softly.
Lilia let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “It has been… a very long time.”
Silver leaned forward again, pressing another kiss to his lips—softer this time, reassuring. Then to the corner of his mouth. Then, gently, to his cheek.
“I always be by yourside” Silver whispered against his skin.
Lilia’s hand slid down from Silver’s hair to his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric there as if steadying himself. He leaned fully into the contact now, no longer holding himself apart.
“Say it again” Lilia asked quietly, a rare thread of shyness beneath centuries of pride.
Silver did not hesitate.
“I love you.”
This time he brushed his lips to Lilia’s temple as he spoke, letting the kiss linger there—warm and tender. A quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped Lilia as he rested his forehead against Silver’s once more.
“You are unfair” he murmured. “You were meant to grow. To live. To choose freely.”
“I am choosing” Silver replied.
He hesitated only a moment before sliding his bare fingers into Lilia’s dark hair. The strands were softer than he expected—cool silk slipping through his touch. He drew Lilia closer, not forcefully, but with calm intent.
“You chose me first” Silver continued. “You stayed. You raised me. You watched over me. If that was selfish… then I am grateful for it.”
Emotion flickered openly across Lilia’s face now—unmasked, unguarded.
“Silver” he breathed.
Silver kissed him again—firmer this time. Lilia responded immediately, one hand sliding to Silver’s waist, fingers curling there as though anchoring himself to something precious.
The fireflies drifted closer, their soft glow outlining them in gold against the silver wash of moonlight. The lake rippled quietly, reflection fracturing and reforming without end.
When they finally parted, Lilia rested his cheek against Silver’s shoulder, arms wrapping around him without pretense.
Silver returned the embrace at once.
He felt Lilia’s heartbeat against his chest—faster than his own, unsteady in a way that stirred something protective and fiercely tender within him. Silver tightened his hold slightly, one hand resting securely between Lilia’s shoulder blades.
“You are mine” Lilia murmured faintly, almost to himself.
Silver felt the shift before he saw it.
One hand slid slowly from Silver’s waist upward, fingers gliding over the fabric of his shirt until they settled flat against his chest.
Silver’s breath deepened at the contact. He could feel the coolness of Lilia’s palm even through the thin layer of cloth, the faint contrast between fae chill and the steady warmth of his own skin beneath it. Lilia’s fingers spread slightly, as though feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat.
It was steady.
His hand traced a slow path upward, fingertips brushing along the line of Silver’s collarbone before slipping beneath the edge of his cloak to rest more fully against him. The gesture was unhurried, exploratory in its tenderness rather than its intent.
Silver watched him carefully.
Lilia leaned closer, lips grazing Silver’s jaw in a featherlight kiss. Then, another kiss followed—this one slower—pressed just below Silver’s ear.
Then lower.
Lilia’s lips brushed the side of his neck lingering. The contact was gentle, chaste, but deeply intimate in its patience. His hand remained over Silver’s heart, thumb stroking once in a slow, absentminded arc.
Silver closed his eyes briefly. “Lilia” he murmured softly.
Silver lifted his hands slowly and placed them at Lilia’s shoulders first, feeling the lean strength beneath layered fabric. Then, after a small pause, he slid one hand upward into Lilia’s hair.
He hesitated only a fraction of a second before gently patting the top of his head.
The gesture was soft. Careful. Affectionate.
Lilia froze.
“…Silver~” he said, voice caught somewhere between scandalized and breathless.
Silver opened his eyes, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips.
“You often do that to me,” he said simply.
Lilia’s eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “That is different.”
Silver’s fingers combed lightly through his dark hair instead, stroking once, then again—more a caress than a pat now. The strands were cool and silky beneath his touch.
“I wished to return it,” Silver replied.
For once, Lilia had no clever retort.
He leaned into the touch unconsciously, eyes fluttering half-closed as Silver’s hand continued its gentle rhythm. The vulnerability of it struck Silver more deeply than the kisses had.
Lilia tilted his face upward again, and Silver met him halfway this time.
He kissed him back.
His lips pressed softly but with quiet intent, lingering longer than before. One hand remained threaded in Lilia’s hair while the other settled at his waist, holding him close without force.
Lilia responded immediately, one hand sliding from Silver’s chest to rest against his side, fingers curling lightly into fabric. The other traced upward along Silver’s shoulder before returning to cradle his cheek once more.
Their kiss remained slow and unhurried, built of warmth rather than urgency. When they parted, Lilia did not move far. He rested his forehead against Silver’s again, breath mingling.
“You’re spoiling me” he whispered.
“I do not believe that is possible” Silver answered.
Lilia’s hand returned to Silver’s chest, “Stay like this…” Lilia murmured faintly.
“I am not going anywhere” Silver replied.
He pressed a final, gentle kiss to Lilia’s temple.
Lilia remained nestled against him for a long moment, fingers still splayed gently over Silver’s chest, feeling the steady cadence beneath his palm. The night seemed to narrow around them, the clearing holding its breath in quiet reverence. Moonlight washed over their shoulders, catching in strands of pale and dark hair alike, softening edges that in daylight were sharper.
Silver continued to stroke his hair slowly, methodically—each pass deliberate, soothing. He could feel the way Lilia leaned subtly into the touch, how his posture relaxed further with each gentle caress. It was not weakness. It was trust.
“Silver,” Lilia murmured again, lifting his head just enough for their eyes to meet.
“Yes.”
“You understand what you’re inviting, don’t you?” Lilia asked quietly. “If you keep looking at me like that.”
Silver did not look away.
Slowly, Lilia’s hand slid higher along Silver’s chest, fingertips tracing the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. His thumb brushed lightly along the edge of Silver’s collar, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to graze warm skin. The touch remained gentle, exploratory without crossing into urgency.
Silver’s breath deepened again, though he did not withdraw. Instead, he tightened his hold slightly at Lilia’s waist, grounding them both.
Lilia leaned forward once more, pressing a slow kiss beneath Silver’s jaw. Lilia’s lips traced a slow path along Silver’s neck, they were soft. One hand remained at Silver’s collarbone, the other at his waist, steadying himself as though the moment itself might sweep him off balance.
“You are warm” Lilia whispered against his skin.
“You are not,” Silver replied quietly, though his voice carried a faint smile.
Lilia huffed a soft laugh and lifted his gaze again, studying Silver’s face as though memorizing it anew. His hand drifted lower, sliding around Silver’s back beneath the cloak, fingers spreading across the fabric of his shirt.
Lilia’s fingers curled into the back of Silver’s uniform as he kissed him with open sincerity. His hands traveled slowly over Silver’s shoulders and upper back, When their lips parted, they lingered close enough that their breaths mingled.
“You’re shaking,” Silver murmured, his voice low and observant rather than teasing.
Lilia exhaled softly, the faintest smile curving at his lips. “Centuries,” he replied, tone touched with wonder rather than embarrassment. “And you are the one who makes me feel young.”
Silver’s gaze softened further at that. He shifted carefully, guiding Lilia backward with slow, unmistakable deliberation. Silver propped himself on one elbow, looking down at him. In the moonlight, Lilia’s dark hair caught faint highlights; his crimson eyes seemed almost luminous against the night.
“You are beautiful” Lilia said simply.
Silver blinked once, unused to such unadorned praise. A faint warmth colored his expression, subtle but real.
“So are you” he answered, equally direct.
Silver responded with quiet assurance. One hand rested securely at Lilia’s waist, fingers curved gently along his side. The other lifted to brush through Lilia’s hair, smoothing it back with affectionate care. When Silver shifted closer, he pressed a tender kiss to Lilia’s temple, then along the curve of his cheek before returning to his lips.
“You are staring,” Lilia murmured, though the words lacked their usual sharpness.
Silver’s hand slipped to cradle the back of Lilia’s head, drawing him nearer without pressure. He paused only inches away.
“May I?” he asked, the question simple and steady.
Lilia’s gaze softened, vulnerability shining openly now. “You may.”
“You have grown,” Lilia whispered against his mouth, voice threaded with quiet awe. “Stronger than I realized.”
“You raised me,” Silver replied, thumb brushing small circles at Lilia’s waist. “Everything in me began with you.”
The words dissolved what little distance remained.
Lilia arched a faint brow. “I am ancient.”
“You are beautiful,” Silver repeated. “Your smile. Your eyes. The way you look at me.”.
Lilia inhaled slowly. His hand drifted upward along Silver’s shoulder, fingers grazing the line of his collar before settling there. “You are terribly earnest.”
“I am sincere.”
A fond sound escaped him. Then Lilia leaned forward and kissed him again—this time initiating it fully, centuries of confidence returning not as arrogance, but as quiet command. The kiss lingered, their movements aligned effortlessly.
When they parted, Lilia rested his head against Silver’s shoulder. Silver’s arms wrapped around him without hesitation. “You are safe with me,” he said softly.
Lilia smiled against his collar. “I know. That is precisely what makes this dangerous.”
Silver lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes. “I am not afraid.” Silver’s breath deepened softly. His hand settled at the small of Lilia’s back.