Rivina rubbed her temples in deep, calculated irritation, reluctantly sinking into a nearby velvet chair. Her sharp eyes never left Arthur. Across the room, Lilian completely ignored her husband's lethal aura, throwing her arms around Silver's battered frame. Despite the fierce, protective warnings she had muttered just the night before, it was clear she fiercely, unconditionally adored her son.
"Oh, my baby... look at your face," Lilian choked out, her maternal facade cracking. She used the heavy sleeve of her dress to carefully wipe away the smear of fresh blood from his cheek before pressing a tender kiss against his bruised forehead. "Are you alright, my boy?"
Arthur watched them, his heavy jaw clenched as his patience visibly wore thin. This familiar theater between mother and son had been repeating itself since the day Silver took his first breath; Lilian had never cared for his grand, terrifying warnings, and she wasn't about to start now.
