The sudden death of my new mother brought melancholy back into my everyday life. Even tho my time with her was very short, I could still clearly feel the love she had for me. And simply put she was my lifeline. She was safety and warmth, and with her death I lost that. 

Not to mention that the loss of my first mother was still heavy on my heart and this loss simply amplified my grief. 

So I became a very silent and obedient baby. I didn’t cry if I could help it and became very listless. This caused for both relief and sadness from my nursing maids. Everybody can appreciate an baby that doesn’t scream bloody murder, but it was clear something was wrong. 

Even the man that was my new father noticed something was of. After his first visit he came back often, but rarely during the day. Instead it would often be him picking me up from my crib when I was wrenched awake from an nightmare in the middle of the night. He never spoke much but simply held me as I shook of the of the last traces of my nightmares. 

Ever since my second mother’s death his face had gotten more and more gaunt. It was clear I wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. 

He was a rather handsome man. Thick wavy hair that was on the shorter side. A strong jaw and a straight nose. The only thing jarring his handsome face was a scar going from his right temple down across his eye to the right side of his lips. His sharp eyes squinted a little as he looked at you, seeming to judge every move you make. 

A warrior. 

It was very clear there was a killing aura around him. Even the servants hesitated around him and was very respectful. Still, I didn’t find him to be an mean man or hasty to anger. He just seemed lonely and sad. 

It was in the sorrow of this haggard stoic man that I found a way out of my own grief. There is great comfort in sharing your grief with someone else. Ever since my death and following rebirth I had been alone in my sorrow. Even though our grief was not the same I was not alone anymore. 

He didn’t know it, but by simply holding me he was able to give me relief. So I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone.

Reaching my tiny hand forward I placed it on top of his hand that was resting on my chest. He startled and his eyes that had previously been staring unfocused out the window quickly turned to mine. He lifted his hand slowly to touch my face. As his hand reached out I stretched out my own small hand and grasped his finger. His eyes widened a fraction as I squeezed his finger.

I desperately wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone.

His grip on me got tighter and I swear a ghost of a smile grazed his lips before he lowered his head towards me. 

He took a deep breath, as if desperately trying to stay composed. 

He took a second breath, more stable than the first. 

By the third breath his shoulder relaxed and the tension seemed to leave him. 

He lifted his head and looked at me. A crooked smile made his grief stricken face seem a bit more lively. 

———————————————

That night my father fell asleep holding me. And I could sleep a whole night without nightmares. 

We were awoken by the maids surprise at finding us snuggly together at dawn.

My father left with a simple humpf at the maids admiring chatter at how much of a doting father he was