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Lilia remembers the day he found a neat little basket abandoned in the middle of the forest. Left in the hand of fate, at the mercy of wild beasts and whatever laid in the shadows of the tall trees. A little basket in which slept a tiny little baby, preciously tucked in an immaculate blanket, seemingly protected by chance only. How the child rested for so long, uncaring of his circumstances and eerie environment, he will never know. Then again, perhaps he was so young, so innocent the perspective of loss and loneliness and danger could have never dawned on him.
He can't say he hesitated to take him in because, really, that would be a coarse lie. He did try, however, to search for the parents or any clue of a family of the poor soul. Unfortunately, all he had was the silence of the forest and a single, beautiful piece of jewelry. It didn't lead him far, and consequently he didn't try to venture too much.
Lilia recalls the sound of the baby's giggles when he would hold him to his chest and tickle his belly with the tip of his fingers. Bright, aurora tinted eyes would light up and the pure joy that bubbled in his heart felt like the greatest blessing to have been brought onto him. It used to feel like the whole world would stop and let the family bask in the moment.
Yet time was often a nasty, tricky thing to Fae. They would take a nap and days happened to pass. They had the time to let themselves float above the waters of eternity. Humans didn't, not when theirs was so short and when every minute mattered to make their lives significant and their deaths with less regrets than possible. Even he, as strong and ancient as he was, fell victim to its tricks. But he was ready to fight tooth and nail against time if it meant staying a bit longer with his son.
He remembers Silver's tiny chubby fingers wrapping around his, as he would laugh, or require his attention. And oh Lilia always gave it to him because if there was one thing in this world he held precious it was his baby boy's happiness. He'd do anything, even stepping back to let him choose his own path. Ultimately, the fae knows despite all the love that unite their hearts his child is human and he is not. Perhaps that won't change anything. He thinks it might.
(Because people at Briar Valley stared at him weirdly when they learnt he adopted a human, because fae don't know how to take care and live with a kind they fought with centuries ago - sometimes, time doesn't mend relationships, it only worsens them. Who is he to know, really ?- because maybe Silver might believe his place has never been with his old man. Again, will he ever know when all he does is guess?)
He remembers Silver's hand around his shoulder, now strong and firm, strengthened after years of learning how to use a sword and becoming Malleus' guard. He realizes how much time passed when he sees how big and calloused his son's hands are. They are bigger than his, now. It shouldn't make him feel funny, since he is plainly aware of his growth into a fine young man, but it does. Silver changes quickly. Lilia does not.
Soon, he thinks, these warm, strong hands will turn weaker, and deformed, and wrinkles will appear on the skin. His fingers will become bony, crumpled. His aurora eyes, vibrant and full of eyes, might just have a veil that stops them from shining as bright as when he was a little boy.
(So long ago, yet so little.)
And soon, Lilia will hold these old hands tenderly in his own, pristine, perfect, unchanging. He'll cradle them like he did decades ago, letting him wrap them around his hand like he did as a baby.
And then ? He isn't sure he wants to keep imagining.
But at the end of the day, Lilia recalls he might be the first one to leave.