momolady:

A commission for @lavendermintie that has turned into one of the sweetest stories I’ve done. I was so glad to be able to write this story and take on a dark elf!

I was young when I got married, probably too young. That’s why, when my husband died, it seemed like such a tragedy. I was too young to be a widow, too young to have a baby on my own. Sophie wasn’t even born yet. He never got to see her, not even once. He knew I was pregnant before he was shipped off, but that’s about it.

   I devoted my life to Sophie after that. I wanted her to grow healthy and independent, something I feel that I lacked. I didn’t want her to lose something so young like I did. I wanted her to grow up knowing safety and comfort for as long as possible. Isn’t that what any parent wants? I also made sure Sophie knew the things her father did. She was so much like him; it was like his spirit was inside her. I swear, Sophie could climb before she could walk. She took to water like a fish; I never knew a child who insisted on having baths as much as she did. Even as a baby if I wanted to comfort her a warm bath was all it took. I swear, by the time she was three I thought she could fly.

   My parents asked me to go out and meet people. Sophie needs a father was a regular mantra of theirs. Sophie had a father, and I knew he was guiding her. A male figure in her life? She had several; my brother was always around, both sets of grandparents were still around, my uncle spoiled her more than any of them. My uncle, Eric, was the reason I even met my husband. He had raised him since his home life was far from perfect. My husband’s father was a drunk so he would often run away to the docks that my uncle owned and operated. He taught him everything he knew and considered him a son. So to him, Sophie was his granddaughter as well as his great niece.

Keep reading