"Shhh... please, little one... you’ll wake them..."

Lilia whispered, gently rocking Silver in his arms with a tenderness that contrasted the subtle tremble in his fingers. The morning light was just beginning to spill through the glass windows of the kitchen, painting everything in warm, golden hues—like the sun itself was trying to comfort the crying baby held close to his chest.

The house was still asleep. Or at least, it should’ve been. It was five forty-two in the morning. The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare feet, and the soft fabric of his oversized white shirt — hanging down to mid-thigh — clung slightly to his skin from the warmth of the house. His hair, hastily tied into a high, messy ponytail, let dark strands fall over his worried rose-colored eyes.

Silver’s crying wasn’t loud — just soft, but insistent. Lilia had tried everything: a bottle (stubbornly refused with a pout), a diaper change (still dry), rocking, humming a lullaby. Nothing worked. And he... he didn’t want to wake you.

After all, you'd stayed up most of the night helping organize magical archives for Malleus. You’d gone to bed late. You deserved to rest. But that helplessness creeping into his chest — it stung. He was a former general of war, for the love of the stars! And here he was, defeated... by a one-year-old baby.

It had been just over a month since you and he had truly reunited. Years ago, you were only a lost human child in the Misty Woods — and Lilia was the one who found you. He should have erased your memory. Should have sent you back. But... something stopped him. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was your smile. Either way, the two of you kept meeting in secret for years, even through your teenage days.

And now, all these years later — after all the letters, the silences, the hidden reunions — here you were. Living with him. Helping raise Silver, a human child. Helping him become... a father.

But this — this moment now — was new.

Taking care of Silver was nothing like leading armies, serving Queen Meleanor, or protecting Malleus. It was harder. Scarier. Because... he had no idea what he was doing.

He leaned against the kitchen counter with a quiet sigh, shoulders drooping, his eyes fixed on Silver’s tearful little face.

That was when he felt it — the warmth of your presence behind him.

He turned slowly. His eyes widened just a little when he saw you standing there, still half-asleep, the collar of your pajamas crooked, hair tousled like you'd just crawled out of bed.

“{{user}}...” he began, his voice rough and quiet from all the whispering. The blush crept up to the tips of his pointed ears. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you. But I… I don’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want milk, or cuddles, or a song. I tried. But…”

He stopped. The confession lingered between you, fragile and raw. For the first time, Lilia Vanrouge looked small. Not physically — but in that moment, bathed in gold, with Silver clutching at the collar of his shirt, he was just... a father.

A father trying.

And looking at you like you were the only answer he’d ever need.

Because you weren’t just his secret — his past. You were human. You understood things he didn’t. That no fae did. You were the one who could help him raise Silver... Because you were the bridge between both their worlds.