Suddenly she felt a change in pressure, like someone had opened a window during a storm. Footsteps echoed up the main staircase.
"DRAVIN! Darling! I know you're here! Stop hiding in your creepy laboratory and come greet your favorite person in the entire world!"
The footsteps continued, getting closer. "I can feel your scowl from here! That's not very hospitable! I traveled three days to see you!"
The footsteps stopped right outside her nursery. She held very still in her crib, staring at the doorway.
A figure appeared, backlit by the glowing orbs in the hallway. Tall. Slender. Dressed in an emerald coat with gold embroidery, a cravat, boots polished to a shine. Long red hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sharp features, high cheekbones, a mouth curved into a smirk. Golden eyes that widened the moment they landed on her.
"What," the man said slowly, "in the name of all that is holy and several things that are decidedly not holy, is THAT?"
Excuse me?
He stepped into the nursery, moving closer to her crib. "Is this..." He leaned down, peering at her. "Is this a baby?"
Yes, obviously it's a baby. What else would it be?
The man's eyebrows shot up. "Dravin has a baby in his Tower." He said it like he was narrating his own disbelief. "Dravin. The man who once told me that children are loud, inefficient, and serve no practical purpose. That Dravin."
He circled the crib slowly, examining her from every angle. "You're very small," he observed. "And bald. Well, not completely bald. You have some silver hair."
I'm a newborn. What did you expect?
"And you have..." He leaned closer, squinting at her forehead. "Is that a moon mark? A red crescent moon?"
His expression changed immediately. "OH MY GOD." He straightened up, clapping his hands together. "OH MY GOD. DRAVIN! DRAVIN, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
From somewhere deep in the Tower, her father's voice echoed back: "No."
"YES! GET YOUR EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED ASS IN HERE THIS INSTANT!"
"I'm busy."
"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SUMMONING THE FORCES OF HELL! GET! IN! HERE!"
Suddenly the air beside the man shimmered, and her father came out of nothing, arms crossed, expression radiating irritation. "Leonarth," her father said slowly. "What are you doing in my Tower."
"What am I doing?" Leonarth gestured wildly at her. "What am I doing?! The better question is what have you been doing?! And with whom?!"
Her father's expression didn't change. "That's none of your concern."
"None of my concern!" Leonarth pressed a hand to his chest, staggering backward. "You have a child! An infant! A tiny human person! How is that not my concern?! We're friends! How dare you betray me!"
"We're associates."
"We've known each other for two hundred years!"
Two hundred—WHAT? How old is my father?!
"That doesn't make us friends."
Leonarth made a sound like a dying swan and turned back to her, gesturing at her father with both hands. "Do you see this? Do you see what I have to deal with? Two centuries of friendship and he still won't admit he cares!" He looked down at her. "You poor thing. You have the emotional range of a rock for a father."
I KNOW. TELL ME ABOUT IT.
Her father sighed. "Is there a reason you're in my Tower, or did you just come to be annoying?"
"His Majesty sent me." Leonarth's tone shifted, becoming slightly more serious. "Something about the northern borders and a demon incursion and blah blah blah, you know how it is. I wasn't really listening. But that can wait because Dravin." Leonarth spun back to face him, eyes gleaming. "You have a baby. You. The man who once incinerated an entire orphanage—"
"It was infested with mind-controlling parasites."
"The man who told the Queen that children should be seen rarely and heard never—"
"She asked my opinion."
"The man who swore, and I quote, I would rather die a virgin than deal with the complications of human attachment."
"I never said that."
"You absolutely did! It was at the Summit of Mages in 1247! You said it to Archmagus Helena when she tried to set you up with her daughter!"
"I don't recall."
"Well I do! I have an excellent memory! And now you have this!" Leonarth gestured at her again, his grin returning. "Explain! Immediately! Who is the mother? When did this happen? How did this happen? Actually, no, I know how it happened, but why did it happen?!"
"None of your business."
"Does she have a name?"
Silence. Leonarth's eyes went wide. "She doesn't have a name." His voice was flat. "DRAVIN. You didn't name her?"
"I've been busy."
"BUSY?! SHE'S AT LEAST A WEEK OLD!"
"Four days."
"FOUR DAYS AND YOU HAVEN'T NAMED HER?!"
Her father's expression was like a frozen fire. "I'm not good at names."
"YOU NAMED YOUR TOWER 'THE TOWER'!"
They glared at each other. She watched this exchange with fascination. Leonarth broke first, throwing his hands up.
"Fine. You're a terrible father, we've established this. I'm taking her then. Clearly you're not equipped to handle this, and she deserves someone who can at least remember to give her a name. I'll raise her properly. She can be the Southern Duchy's little princess. We'll teach her etiquette, politics, how to manipulate people without them realizing it. All the important things."
He reached into her crib. But Dravin moved faster. She didn't even see him move. One moment he was standing by the doorway, the next he was between Leonarth and her crib, one hand raised, magic crackling around his fingers like lightning. "Don't touch her."
Leonarth froze, hands still outstretched, eyes wide. Then he slowly smiled.
"Oh," he said softly. "Oh, that's interesting."
"Back away."
"You do care." Leonarth's smile widened. "You actually care about her. I can see it. You moved before you thought. That's not like you, Dravin. You always think before you move. But just now? That's pure protective instinct."
"I'm warning you, Leon."
"What are you going to do? Incinerate me? We both know you won't. His Majesty would be very upset if you killed his Southern Duke. Again. Remember last time? He sent three separate complaint letters."
"That was your cousin."
"Distant cousin, barely related. And he deserved it for trying to steal your research notes." Leonarth took a step back, hands raised. "Fine, fine. I won't touch your precious daughter. But you have to admit, this is hilarious. You, Dravin Kuro Noctis, the man who swore off all human connection, the infamous Archmage who terrorizes kings and burns down buildings when he's mildly annoyed, you have a baby. A tiny, helpless baby who can't even hold her own head up yet."
Dravin Kuro Noctis. So that's his full name. Actually, that's kind of cool.
Dravin lowered his hand slowly, the magic dissipating into the air like smoke. "Are you finished?"
"Not even close." Leonarth moved to lean against the wall, crossing his arms. His golden eyes fixed on Dravin. "So. Let's discuss. You're clearly terrible at this whole parenting thing. She doesn't even have a name, Dravin. The very first thing you're supposed to do."
"Kofery calls her little moon."
"That's a nickname, not a name." Leonarth tapped his chin. "Though it's fitting, given the mark. Does she have your power? Is she going to be a terrifying magical prodigy? Please say yes, I want to watch the other mages panic when they realize there are going to be two of you."
"She's four days old."
"So? Magical bloodlines manifest early. Have you tested her? Checked her mana core? Run any diagnostic spells?"
"No."
"Have you done anything besides keep her alive?"
"That seems sufficient."
Leonarth stared at him. "You're joking. Please tell me you're joking. Please tell me the great Dravin Kuro Noctis, the man who spends six months planning a single experiment, the perfectionist who once redid an entire summoning circle because one rune was three degrees off center, please tell me that man is not applying bare minimum effort to raising his own child."
Dravin said nothing.
"DRAVIN." Leonarth pushed off the wall. "She's your daughter. She has your blood, your mark, probably your ridiculous power level sitting dormant in that tiny body. And you're treating her like a houseplant. A magical houseplant that you water occasionally and otherwise ignore."
"She has Kofery."
"Kofery is your assistant, not a parent! Kofery is a sweet boy who means well but has the life experience of a sheltered academic! He's probably been reading childcare manuals and panicking about whether conjured milk is safe!"
From somewhere in the Tower, Kofery's distant voice called out: "IT IS SAFE! I CHECKED FOURTEEN TIMES!"
Leonarth gestured toward the sound. "See? He's doing his best, but he's terrified and out of his depth. She needs an actual parent, Dravin. She needs you."
"I'm not suited for this."
"Obviously." Leonarth's tone softened slightly. "But you're smart. Probably the smartest person I know, which is saying something because I know a lot of people. You can figure it out. You figured out how to create a stable portal to the elemental plane and how to modify ancient rune structures that were considered immutable for three thousand years. So you can also figure out how to be a father eventually."
"I'm not good with people."
"I'm aware. You once told a foreign dignitary that his face was annoying and you were going to rearrange it if he didn't leave."
"His face was annoying."
"You can't say that to diplomats, Dravin!"
"Why not? It was true."
Leonarth pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is exactly what I mean. You have no filter, no social awareness, no understanding of normal human interaction. But—" He held up a finger. "But you're not trying to raise a diplomat. You're trying to raise your daughter, and that's different. That requires honesty and directness. Things you're actually good at, believe it or not."
Dravin looked at her again. She waved one tiny fist in the air, because it was the only thing she could do.
"I'll think about it," he said finally.
"You'll think about it?!" Leonarth's dramatic outrage returned in full force. "You need to bond with her, hold her and talk to her and let her know she's not just some inconvenient responsibility you're pawning off on your assistant! She's a person, Dravin! A tiny person who's going to grow up and remember whether or not her father gave a damn!"
Dravin's jaw tightened. "I know that."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're already planning to keep her at arm's length. To maintain that careful distance you keep with everyone. And maybe that works for your colleagues and your acquaintances and even your friends, but it doesn't work for children. Children need attachment and connection. They need to know they matter."
Dravin was quiet for a long moment. Then he walked closer to the crib. Stood there, looking down at her. She looked back up at him with her purple eyes, trying to convey every ounce of stubborn determination she possessed.
I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours whether you like it or not. Get used to it.
He reached down slowly and touched one finger to her hand. She grabbed it immediately, her tiny fist wrapping around his finger with surprising strength.
He froze and stared at their hands. "She's strong," he murmured.
"Of course she is," Leonarth said from behind him. "She's your daughter. Probably inherited your ridiculous constitution. I bet she could survive a fall from the Tower right now and just bounce."
"Don't give me ideas."
"DRAVIN, NO."
"I'm joking."
"You don't joke." Leonarth made a choked sound.
Dravin carefully extracted his finger from her grip and stepped back, but his eyes stayed on her face for another few seconds. "Kofery will take care of her," he said finally. "He's sufficient."
"Sufficient isn't—" Leonarth started.
Dravin snapped his fingers. Leonarth vanished mid-sentence. The silence was immediate. Her father stood there for a moment, staring at the space where Leonarth had been. Then he looked back down at her one more time. "You're very small," he said.
I KNOW. EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING THAT.
"You're stronger than you look."
DAMN RIGHT I AM.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said, and it sounded like a confession.
Neither do I. We'll figure it out.
He stood there for another moment, then turned and walked toward the door. Paused in the doorway, didn't look back. "I'll think about a name," he said quietly. And then he was gone.
She lay in her crib, staring at the empty doorway, her tiny heart beating weird in her chest. From somewhere in the Tower, she heard a distant shout:
"DRAVIN! YOU CAN'T JUST TELEPORT ME TO THE MIDDLE OF A LAKE! I'M WEARING SILK! DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE SILK IS?! AND THERE ARE DUCKS! AGGRESSIVE DUCKS! DRAVIN! DRAV—"
The shouting cut off. She smiled. Her father was terrible at this. But he'd protected her from Leonarth without thinking. He'd let her grab his finger and admitted he didn't know what he was doing. Also he was going to think about a name.
Eventually you'll crack, father dearest. I've got nothing but time.