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The first few days Qifrey spent in the care of Beldaruit were a blur. He remembered snippets--being held in someone’s arms and rested on someone’s knee, and curled up in blankets in a cocoon of safety he never wanted to leave. And on the first day of full lucidity, the man had looked him in the eye and asked him if he wanted to be a witch.
He didn’t know much of anything at this point. He knew he was smaller than he had any right to be, and he knew he only had one eye. And he knew something deep down was missing, but the thought always slipped away from him before he knew how to properly grasp it.
He heard the whispers as soon as he was well enough to decipher them, of course. He heard their snark, the snide comments they thought he either couldn’t hear or they hoped cut him so deep he would just leave. The comments cut deep, and Qifrey was beginning to lose hope and do what they said he should, but then Beldaruit turned honest-to-goodness puppy eyes on him and he had to pretend his soul wasn’t shattering into billions of pieces and proclaim he was unbothered.
And if he curled up against his bedframe and screamed into his arms after he had an absolute overreaction to having his hair tussled, no one needed to know.
Olruggio was persistent, Qifrey had to admit. The boy followed him around rather like a lost puppy, and Qifrey would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it at least a little bit. And sure, maybe his voice was starting to become more soothing and something he looked forward to in the day rather than the annoying squeak it was when they first met, and maybe he looked for Olruggio to see if he was present before sitting down in the dining hall, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
After their little outdoor adventure, which saw Olruggio bleeding from multiple wounds on his body after attempting to help Qifrey (a far too kind act in his opinion), Qifrey locked himself in his room and slumped against the door, his breath coming out shaky and his hands trembling so hard he feared he was shaking the whole room with the effect it was having.
He had to stay away from Olruggio.
Well. This was harder than it seemed. Olruggio was everywhere Qifrey looked, trying to talk to him, trying to be with him. It was like they were each others’ only friends, and wasn’t that depressing?
Try as he might, he could not shake the presence of the other, and resorted to locking himself in his room when mealtimes were in session, hugging his knees to his chest to reassure himself that this was for Olruggio’s good. He wouldn’t get hurt just for the crime of associating with Qifrey.
And that was a good thing right? Right?
The grumbling of Qifrey’s stomach said otherwise, and yet he still could not bring himself to move. That was until one of the voices he least wanted to encounter leaked through the door, laced with a concern only a mentor could have.
“Qifrey? Qifrey, are you there?” the anxious voice of Beldaruit sounded through the wood.
If he just stayed still…still and silent…
His stomach gave another grumble, and he flipped himself off the side of the bed to curl up on the other side of it, hands over his head. And then astonishingly, as the door creaked open and the clipping footsteps of the sealchair began making their way over to the bed, it was accompanied by a flash of memory.
“Darling, won’t you wake up for your mama?” a female voice sounded.
Blurry eyes blinked open to view the outline of a woman bending over what had to have been a cradle, and two tiny fists waved in the air in greeting.
“You always know how to make me laugh,” she said, and flowery perfume invaded his senses to plant a kiss on the gurgling baby’s nose.
When Qifrey came back to himself, he had been picked up from his curled position on the floor, hands still poised over his ears as he rested on Beldaruit’s lap. The man was murmuring nonsense into his ears, patting his back gently, and Qifrey startled before settling again. The hand paused.
“Are you with me, child?” Beldaruit asked.
Qifrey nodded, uncurling. He was exhausted, and the grumbling of his stomach had ceased for now. He just wanted to sleep, or maybe this was edging closer to unconsciousness. But for once Beldaruit would not listen to his requests to be left alone, and instead held Qifrey securely in his arms as they departed the room.
“Olruggio tells me you’re avoiding him,” the man began once they’d arrived in his room. “And you’re also avoiding meals, and lessons, and study time. What’s this about, Qifrey?”
He raised his head for the first time, meeting his master’s oddly intense gaze and fidgeting, nails digging into his skin in anxiety. Something warm ran down his palm and he blinked, finding red dribbling from crescent shaped fingernail marks. Beldaruit followed his gaze, inhaling a little when he spotted the blood and immediately bringing out a handkerchief to wipe at the marks. They refilled again and Qifrey blinked again, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.
“Won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Beldaruit prompted, applying pressure to the cuts, keeping his arms firmly around Qifrey even as he did so.
“…got him hurt,” he murmured, giving up on trying to see them again and resting his head against his master’s chest.
“Who?”
“Olruggio. He wanted to be my friend and now he’s hurt. Because of me.”
“Oh, child.” Beldaruit sighed, despairing. “Olruggio’s injuries are superficial. He’s absolutely fine. Nothing that happened to him was because of you, he wanted to follow you. He won’t do anything out of pity from what I’ve seen, he's even more stubborn than you in that way. He was there because he wanted to.” He waited for a slight nod, then continued. “You can’t keep punishing yourself because of this. You have to eat. Or even drink something, but you cannot waste away because of an incident that turned out alright.”
“But what if it happens again?”
“Then we’ll sort it out then, alright?”
A pause, and then… “…okay.”
Beldaruit smiled, then pressed a kiss to Qifrey’s hair. He would likely need to have this conversation a few more times, but this was a start.
There was a knock on the door, then. A hot chocolate was delivered, which the older man helped Qifrey drink, but not after wrapping his hands up in bandages. They may have a Healing Spire, but he still kept a first aid kit in his room for occasions like this.
He was also lucky that his bed was the size that it was, as Qifrey had dropped off to sleep immediately after finishing the last drop of hot chocolate, his body finally being able to rest after living off fear over the past few days.
“Goodnight, child,” Beldaruit murmured, pressing a kiss to Qifrey’s white hair. He honestly looked adorable all tucked up in the covers, looking a lot smaller than he usually acted while awake.
“G’night dad,” was the sleepy reply before Beldaruit could wax more poetic about his apprentice’s son's appearance, and he could feel his heart physically swell from affection towards his somewhat feral, traumatised child.