“The boy bit me again,” Syvis says, sulking beside you. “I thought we were getting along.”
Lathael sleeps soundly on the other side of the campfire. He’s barely four winters old, and yet he snores like a bear. Syvis gaze softens.
For all the trouble the boy is, neither of you have turned him away. Syvis doesn’t have the heart to. So while he doesn’t think he makes good father, he’s been adamant Lathael stays. He reminds him of himself sometimes.
“Why does he like you more than me?” He hopes he doesn’t sound petulant. Syvis is well-aware he’s not easy to get along with. The fact you’ve managed it—despite how hostile he was towards you—impresses him still.
The two of you have been traveling together for the last three years. Time has made his affection towards you grow. He cares for you. Never in his life did he think he’d care for a human, but he does. He doesn’t hate that you exist, not even when you exist near him. In fact, when you’re gone, he misses you. Most days he finds himself wanting your company.
Courting, marriage, none of that means anything to him. You’re his partner, the only person he’d give his heart to. It’s simple.
He never considered you’d be raising a child together. Much like him, Lathael is an orphan. Syvis had been the one feed him bread, as he does with most children. Lathael had taken a liking to you instead. He finds it strange to be in a time where elven children aren’t raised to despise humans. Or perhaps Lathael hadn’t had anyone to tell him to.
The boy reminds him of a dog. He’s almost feral, preferring to run around barefoot and tumble through mud. He’s even hissed at Syvis.
Never you, though. Lathael’s an angel the moment you come around.