Alvina is still fighting to get her throne back. To save her brother, her country and her own sanity. They only need one leg-up and then the war will be over.
Quinn is struggling to stay in the present. Stay with his family and not give into the gr...
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I kissed Àlvar's head and inhaled. "Have you noticed how great he smells?" I murmured and smiled down at the small boy, showing me how toothless he was.
"It'll never disappear, that smell. There's a spot on your head that'll always smell of you. No matter what you do," Islo said and smiled from his position next to me. He was reading while I was feeding our son.
"Is it always gonna be like this?" I whispered and offered Àlvar the bottle again. He liked breaks when he was eating.
"What do you mean?"
"Will I always love him this much?"
Islo smiled and leaned his head on my shoulder, looking down at the little boy in my arms. "Yeah. That won't change."
"I can't wait to get to know him better. Like when he's going to talk and walk? I'm so excited but at the same time I don't want him to ever grow up. I want him to stay little forever."
"I know what you mean. And he's so small too. Isla was bigger."
"Do you think he'll be short?"
"There's no telling. Isla won't get much bigger than what she is now, I reckon. And she's not very tall for a girl." He shrugged a little and then ran his hand over Àlvar's head. "Gods, he's so cute."
Àlvar shied away from the bottle again and looked up at his father, smiling. Islo smiled back and I handed the boy over.
"Hi, my love," he said softly and brought the boy close to his chest. "Are you done eating?" I handed the bottle to him and he tried feeding Àlvar. The boy happily continued to eat. "He just wants all the attention today."
Àlvar liked us to switch between feeding him. Sometimes while he was in the middle of a feeding time. He demanded our constant attention and we'd happily give it. He didn't cry much. He was a very mellow boy which... Gods, I was so afraid I had ruined him before he was even born just by being so broken. I still had nightmares. I still could crumble if I just thought of the wrong thing.
But he wasn't broken. He was a normal and healthy little boy who smiled and laughed. He recognised us already and was so curious.
"He's going to be pretty," Islo said. "Just like his father."
"He's already prettier than me."
Islo chuckled and Àlvar stopped eating again. In the beginning we couldn't even talk while he got fed because he got too distracted. Now it was only sometimes he'd get fidgety and wanted to change who fed him. But he continued to eat and Islo sighed a little.
"I love him," Islo murmured and glanced at me.
"You do feel like he's yours too, right?"
He smiled and looked back down at our son. "I do. I know he's not biologically related to me, but neither are you. It's kind of like that. You're my family and through you, Àlvar becomes mine as well. I don't feel there's any difference between him or Isla. There's no difference in how I feel as a father for them. I don't know if I'm making sense." He was rambling a little, and I wasn't sure if I understood.
