Chapter Nineteen
London, November 1948
In a quiet corner of the hospital, Gwyn Phi laid in her bed, pale and feverish, breath rattling, lungs heaving. There was a small cup by her side, a few lily of the valley poking out. She wondered where Anthony had found them at this time of year.
Anthony sat beside her, one hand grasping hers, the other holding a swaddled, sleepy baby. "He's perfect, Gwynnie." He whispered, dropping her hand to wipe her forehead with a damp cloth. "You did really well."
"Can I...see him?" Gwyn gasped, and Anthony helped her move her arms so the baby could lay beside her, Gwyn's face close enough that she could smell the freshness, the new skin and bones and life that she had laboured to create and bring into the world.
And he was perfect.
Soft tufts of coppery hair tickled her arm, and his nose was a little button, perfect and round, eyes scrunched and toes curled, fists waving. Really, he must be like all the other babies, but to Gwyn he was a miracle, an unexpected piece of universe just for her and Anthony to love and protect.
"His name is Silas." She let the name trickle from her, wrap her tiny son up and settle with him.
"Silas." Anthony grinned, unable to reign in his joy. "That's perfect Gwyn."
Gwyn slipped into sleep then, and stayed in her dreams for over a week; the muted words of doctors and Anthony barely made their way through, and she was mostly peaceful.
When she did come out of it, weak and sore, Anthony was waiting. He took her home, where she was able to care for Silas. He was a quiet baby, who didn't like to cry or fuss much, mainly just cuddle close and sleep.
When the world was slumbering, and Anthony had finally dozed off, Gwyn would coo at Silas, rock him gently. Already she could see Tom, in his dark eyes and lips, a nose that she was sure would become sharp and elegant. There was no doubt that this was Tom's son, and she was afraid – Anthony told her of Wizard news, the rumours. She feared for her son's life.
For now though, he was little, and they were safe, just the three of them, wrapped up in their cozy flat, everything felt okay.
A/N: A baby BOY! Little Silas Lacroix, what a looker he'll become...
Question: What do you foresee for Silas? Will he be like his Mum, or his absent (or present?) father?
Happy summer!
Rose
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