Lyria's heart had never been more full than when she held her newborn son, Aiden, in her arms. Though only one day old, he had an air of quiet awareness that seemed impossible for a child so young. His silvery eyes, still large and full of wonder, gazed up at her, as though he was seeing everything for the first time, processing the world around him. But for Lyria, it was a moment of quiet peace—after everything, her son had arrived.
"Shh, Aiden," she whispered, gently rocking him in her arms as he stirred. She adjusted him closer to her chest, offering him the nourishment only a mother could provide. She could feel the warmth of his tiny body against hers, and the deep connection between them that was unspoken, yet undeniable.
His small fingers curled against her skin, a sign that he was already bonding with her, though he was too young to understand the depth of that bond. He instinctively latched onto her breast, a simple, natural act that spoke to the raw need of survival for such a tiny being. Lyria smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him.
"Such a good boy," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she watched him feed. His small movements were gentle but determined, and though his eyes were still clouded with the fog of infancy, Lyria couldn't help but wonder what kind of child he would become.
Time Skip: Days and Weeks Pass
As the days turned into weeks, Aiden's growth was both rapid and remarkable. By the end of the second week, he had gained a little weight and appeared stronger. His silvery eyes still held that quiet intensity, as if he was aware of more than a baby should be. Yet, to his mother, Lyria, he was the most precious gift, and every new sign of development filled her with both pride and unease.
One early morning, as the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Lyria sat by the window with Aiden resting in her lap. He was awake now, his wide eyes tracking the movement of the world outside. He made soft cooing noises, a sign that he was beginning to find his voice, though it was still infantile.
Lyria gently lifted him and cradled him in her arms, humming a soft lullaby. "You're getting so big, Aiden. I wonder what you'll be like when you're older…" Her voice trailed off as she gazed down at his innocent face, so full of trust and reliance on her.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Lady Elena entered, her sharp gaze softening as she observed her daughter and grandson. "He's growing quickly, Lyria," Elena commented, crossing the room with deliberate steps. Her eyes lingered on Aiden, who seemed to study her with those piercing silvery eyes. "There's something about him, something... different," she mused.
Lyria nodded, adjusting Aiden in her arms. "I feel it too, Mother. But for now, he's just my baby. I'll protect him from anything that comes our way."
Lady Elena's eyes narrowed slightly, though she didn't voice her concerns aloud. "Good. Keep him close, Lyria. Keep him safe."
As the days passed, Lyria's routine became centered around Aiden's care. She would feed him, hold him close, and walk with him through the lush gardens outside their home. The soft fragrance of blooming flowers and the warmth of the sun always seemed to calm Aiden, and he would rest peacefully in her arms as they strolled. Lyria would talk to him as if he could understand, sharing her hopes for him, her love for him, and even the uncertainty that weighed on her heart.
One particular afternoon, after feeding Aiden, Lyria gently swaddled him in a soft, knitted blanket and carried him outside. The sunlight danced across the garden, casting playful shadows on the ground as Lyria walked slowly, her gaze soft as she spoke to Aiden.
"Do you like it out here, little one? It's peaceful, isn't it?" She smiled as Aiden's eyes followed the fluttering of the leaves in the wind, his tiny hands reaching out, almost as if trying to touch the air itself. His movements were still jerky, typical for his age, but there was an eagerness in him that intrigued her.
"One day, you'll be able to run and explore this garden," she said with a wistful smile. "But for now, you'll just have to be content with my arms."
Aiden's tiny fingers grasped at the fabric of her dress, his way of holding onto her in a silent, infantile declaration of trust. It filled Lyria's heart with warmth, and she leaned down, kissing his soft forehead.
As Lyria and Aiden walked through the garden, Lady Elena watched from a distance, seated in a nearby chair beneath the shade of an old oak tree. Her sharp eyes never left Aiden, even as she sat with a book in hand. The more time passed, the more Elena noticed the quiet strength in Aiden, a strength that couldn't be explained by his age.
Lady Elena had seen children grow up in her family, many of them heirs to important titles, but none had captivated her like Aiden. It wasn't just his appearance—though his striking silver eyes were unusual—it was something in the way he carried himself, even as an infant. It was as if he understood the world around him on a deeper level than most children.
Elena's gaze softened as Aiden cooed in his mother's arms, his tiny hands reaching for the sunlight. "You're right, Lyria," she murmured softly to herself. "He is different. And I fear that difference will change everything."
That evening, after Aiden had fallen asleep, Lyria sat by his crib, gazing down at him. She ran her fingers through his fine hair, marveling at how quickly he was growing. Though only a few weeks old, he already seemed so strong, so alert. It was impossible not to feel a deep sense of pride and trepidation as she watched him sleep.
"I'll always be here for you, Aiden," she whispered to him, her voice soft yet resolute. "No matter what happens, I'll protect you. You're my son, and I'll keep you safe from the world."
As the moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow, Lyria leaned down and kissed her son's forehead. She stayed there for a long while, her heart heavy with the weight of the future, but also filled with an indescribable love for the child who would one day change the world.