Silent Siren

Like Father Like Son

"Prince! Baby, where are you?"

The little ifrit in question giggles at his poor mother's desperate attempts at finding him as he runs down the corridor that leads to his parents' room. He knows he isn't supposed to be here, which makes it the last place his mother will think to look.

Grinning at his genius idea, the toddler hobbles into his parents' room and runs to the closet to hide.

Taking his small notebook and marker out of his large pockets, he sets up shop on the floor of the large closet, knowing fully well it will take his mother as much time to find him as it will for him to finish a masterpiece.

As he starts drawing, his sea blue eyes wander towards his father's side of the closet. His ideas for a new art piece has been dwindling down lately so perhaps he can seek inspiration from his father's shirts. Afterall, there are only so many superheroes a boy can draw.

Approaching the dark rack, the little boy looks around, looking for something that will give him a boost to reach his father's shirts. Out of the corner of his eye, he finds a stool, most likely intended for his mother to reach the top shelf.

Using the convenient stool, Prince reaches up and pulls down one of the plain white button downs.

Well, this isn't what he had in mind. How can he make a masterpiece in honor of his father when his blank paper already looks like it. Reaching up, the little boy continues to pull shirts off of the hangers, growing agitated as each one comes up blank.

This won't do.

Prince cannot have his father wear these boring, unimaginative shirts when his were so full of color and so... cool.

Suddenly, the child was struck by inspiration. What other way to show his father love than to help change his boring shirts into works of art?

Hurriedly grabbing one of the white button ups, the little boy collapsed on the floor, his markers working over the fabric, concealing the white with bright arrays of blues, blacks, and reds.

Minutes later, Prince Ambrose was surrounded by once boring button up shirts that have now been transformed into incredible works of art. Just as he was about to leave to fetch his mother, the door to the closet burst opening, revealing his crying mother and his fuming father.

Prince stared in confusion, his father isn't supposed to be home right now. He was supposed to be at work. And why was his mother crying? Did she get hurt?

"Mama, hurt?" the child asks, his concern for his mother outweighing his confusion over his father's presence.

Immediately Lilly runs to her baby, lifting him off the floor and crushing the child 3 year old against her chest.

"Oh my sweet boy! I thought you were gone! I couldn't find you anywhere!"

She was too distracted planting kisses on the child's face to notice her husband growing more and more livid behind her.

"He was in our room the entire time?"

The doting mother slowly sheepishly towards her cross husband. In her arms, the child reached for his father with an enthusiastic, "Daddy!"

Regardless of his irritation towards his wife for making him waste work time for a simple game of hide and seek, the father crossed the closet to reach his son, lifting him out of his mother's arms and cocooning the toddler with his own.

Truth be told, Rikkard Ambrose had absolutely no hesitating about leaving work to come to his son, his pride and joy. He hugged the little boy closer to his chest as he placed a loving kiss on his head, relieved none of the scenarios involving Dalgliesh played through.