Chapter Text
Hamra watched from the rafters as the two maids frantically tried to figure out why the baby was screaming. No, screaming was an understatement. Wailing—horrified, pained wailing. The room smelled of sour fear and pain from the baby and sheer panic from the two maids. It made Hamra’s ears ring. From his vantage point, he could see the problem, but somehow the maids couldn’t.
“I—I don’t know what’s wrong!” the blond maid cried, flapping her hands. “He just started screaming!”
“Oh gods, oh gods,” the other maid, a redhead, wasn’t panicking as hard, but enough to add to the cloud of sour filling the room.
The maids had come in a few minutes ago to change the baby, and as soon as they had finished cleaning him up, the screaming began. Hamra had been sitting on the beam in the ceiling for about an hour now, enjoying the quiet the room provided as the baby either slept or quietly babbled to himself. This had become a kind of routine to him after training and bathing, since both were so crowded and loud. The baby didn’t seem to mind, after watching Hamra silently slink into the room the first time, somehow not crying at the Witcher’s eyes or scars. They just watched each other silently.
This was not the first time someone had come into the room while Hamra was there, but it was the first time something like this had happened. Normally, no one ever noticed him. Normally, someone would change or feed the baby, sometimes sing to him softly and then leave again, and Hamra always kept quiet, just in case he wasn’t supposed to be there. The last thing he wanted was to be chased out of his little haven, especially by the servants who had been so nice to him and his fellow Witchers. In a way, he was afraid that him being there would be the final straw, and he liked the servants! They were nice; he didn’t want them to leave because of him.
But the screaming—the screaming was too much. The ringing through his head overruled all other thoughts except ‘make it stop!’ Silently, Hamra crept down from the ceiling and landed behind the two maids. He made a soft noise, trying to alert them to his presence, but both girls screamed and jumped practically into each others’ arms.
“Oh gods!” the red headed maid screamed. “Oh gods, Master Witcher! W-we didn’t know you were there!”
“So sorry, so sorry!” the blond cried.
Hamra sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Too loud, too loud. He stepped forward and the maids parted, confusion adding to the mix of sour smells in the air. They let him through, though, and Hamra approached the crib slowly. With a glance to the maids, he reached for the baby and pried his little hand open—freeing the patch of his own dark hair he’d been yanking on. As soon as his hand was open, the baby immediately stopped crying. He hiccuped a few times, staring up at Hamra and the maids, and went silent.
Hamra could practically feel the maids’ shock behind him. The blond took a step back and put her hand over her heart.
“He… didn’t know to let go,” Hamra said softly. The red headed maid blinked up at him owlishly and Hamra stepped back, letting her finish changing the baby. Hamra stood near the wall, watching the two maids through his lashes as they finished up. Would they kick him out now?
The blond collected the dirty linens, watching Hamra with something akin to awe in her eyes. Hamra looked away. Eye contact was always hard. The redhead cleared her throat, though, and he looked up.
“Th…thank you,” she said, “for… that.” Hamra nodded, and she nodded back.
“Um… do you… do you come here often?” the blond asked. The redhead gave her a look Hamra couldn’t quite decipher, but he nodded nonetheless.
“It’s… quiet here,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Normally.”
Both maids looked at each other and then back at Hamra. “Well, thank you, sir,” the redhead said. “We don’t normally… This is the first time we’ve taken care of him.”
Hamra nodded, because he didn’t know what else to say. He looked down at the floor as the two maids passed him on the way to the door. Would they yell at him now?
“Where were you?” the blond maid blurted out. Hamra winced and pointed to the ceiling, where a few of his trinkets were still sitting on the beam he’d been lounging on. The redhead giggled.
“Well at least we know he’s being watched over,” she said. “Um. We’ll be going now. If—if you could not tell anyone about… this, that would be great.”
Hamra’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. Both maids looked relieved.
“Well, um…” the blond scuffed her shoe against the floor awkwardly. “We’ll be going now! Good day to you, Master Witcher, sir!”
Both maids scurried out of the room and gently closed the door. Confused, Hamra waited a few moments before the sound of the baby babbling distracted him. He approached the crib again, peering in as the baby popped his little fist out of his mouth.
“M’bah,” he cooed, and Hamra smiled down at him. Another moment and no one stormed into the room. The baby started reaching for his hair again and Hamra stopped him, curling the little hand into a fist around the end of his blanket. With one last glance to the door, Hamra crept back up into the rafters, laying down on his beam. The baby watched him for a few minutes, yawned, and closed his eyes. Hamra listened to his breathing even out, peaceful and quiet again.