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Kethron Thorne belongs to his owner, my dear friend, zepwik (on DeviantArt) / rhovinthorne (on twitter and tumblr).
A small tug at Kethron's robes had him halting dead in his tracks, a slew of curses sounding off in his head, though he uttered none of them aloud. After closing his eyes and taking a long, patient breath, the lordly warlock turned around, and sure enough, there stood little Valéria just behind him. She looked up at him with wide eyes, the early dawn's light from outside glimmering like gold on her short blonde hair and casting warm colors on the nightgown she was frocked in.
He hadn't anticipated her being awake at this time. He arched an imposing eyebrow at her. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?" he asked, a stern edge in his voice.
"I was scared of the weird noises," she answered softly, by way of explaining herself.
Kethron wasn't surprised. The power of his craft was at times most violent in nature, and always came with a cost. In blood. In life. Some sacrifice of a sort. And its demands certainly did not accommodate the fears of little girls who happened to be present in his realm when conditions were most ideal for things he sought to accomplish.
"You have nothing to fear," he told her. Not gently, but not harshly. "There is nothing that will harm you, so long as you are within my estate." Truth. All within his power knew to leave the girl untouched, and anything that did not... Would answer to him. Personally.
Valéria's eyes suddenly went very wide and she gasped. Pointing to his hand, she exclaimed, "You hurt it!" She stepped forward and grasped the warlock's hand, all innocent concern as she turned it to get a better look at the bandage tied over a shallow gash that was drawn over his palm. He hadn't had the chance to have it covered properly before she accosted him.
More inward cursing at the splendid timing of this child.
Then she did something else that Kethron did not expect. She became wholly focused on the warlock's hand, whispering under her breath, concentration and intention drawn in all her features. The fel taint in her eyes seemed... diminished somehow. As if the green luminescence was being overwritten by a stray sunbeam. The Light answered its tiny supplicant, and as a small flash of gold illuminated the shadows in which he stood, Kethron's hand was once again whole and perfect.
"All better," declared Valéria with a smile, planting a quick kiss in his hand where the offending wound had been before letting him go.
Kethron lifted his hand and stared at it. "So it is," he remarked. Good as new and healed by a child. Whatever her paladin mentors were teaching her, she had clearly caught on very quickly.
He didn't understand the faint sense of pride that he felt regarding this apparent fact. He swiftly decided to ignore it.
"You need to be more careful with yourself," admonished Valéria.
"Is that so?" Kethron found himself mildly amused by her obvious concern and childish seriousness. "I don't suppose that this carefulness is something that you learned from Aranya?"
Valéria shook her head 'no,' more serious than ever now. "She needs to be more careful, too," said the little girl.