While out and about I saw a baby who had static hair from wearing a cap—and I kid you not, the baby had blond hair and blue eyes—and the way it stuck up looked kinda like Raphael's hairstyle sans icepick sideburns.
Blame this story on the baby…though I find that impossible to do, because babies are cute. Be prepared for precanon warm and fluffy overload.
Robert Knighton marveled at his firstborn son.
His first son was going to be the only child not named after one of their relatives. Lilith had strongly admired the often unmentioned archangel Raphael, and this had allowed her to give that name to their son. Robert had not one problem with that name, because for some inexplicable reason it seemed to fit.
The delivery had actually been rather quick and painless, though things had gotten dicey toward the last fifteen minutes. Then he had been ushered from the room by a flustered nurse and forced to wait in the room while his wife's cries faintly filtered through the door. He'd nearly gone back inside to be by his Lilith's side, but all was forgiven when the same nurse let him back into the room with a broad smile on her face.
Robert had never thought that his wife could be so beautiful—her wavy blonde hair framed her face like a perfect halo, and her blue eyes practically shone in joy. "Robert…come say hello to your son," she said in a soft but loving voice.
When he walked over to her and saw what was in that tiny bundle cradled in his wife's arms, Robert honestly believed that he was looking at a cherub. The baby's round cheeks were a warm, rosy color, and his bright blue eyes stared up at him in drowsy confusion. The baby blinked owlishly against the harsh light of the hospital; his soft blonde hair seemed to stick up in feathery spikes, though most of it remained flat on his head.
Lilith was more than delighted with her young son. "He's beautiful," she cooed, and Robert found himself agreeing with her. She shifted and then offered the bundle in her arms to her husband. After a few seconds of awkward maneuvering, Robert managed to get the baby settled into his arms.
"Hello, Raphael Charles Knighton," said Robert softly, his voice suddenly choked. He cleared his throat and added, "I'm your father, in case you're wondering."
The petite woman let out a tired sounding laugh. "I think he knows that already," she said gently.
"Lilith…he's perfect," said Robert in awe.
"Mais bien sûr," replied the slender blonde woman with a small laugh. She winced at the motion. "Though I think we'll wait awhile before we do this again."
Raphael, meanwhile, had been gazing up at the two adults with a curious expression; he instinctively knew that they were his parents, without even consciously registering the thought. After a few moments, the baby yawned and drifted off to asleep, most likely tuckered from the day's events. Lilith gently brushed away a lock of his hair out of his face, a warm smile on her face. Much to Robert's amusement, the strand of hair stuck up in the air after his wife's hand had moved away.
"I think," he joked as he brushed a hand over his sleeping son's head, "that static electricity won't be his new best friend."
Two days later, the Knightons returned home to their moderately sized mansion. The manor was located on the outskirts of Paris, away from the bustling streets and quiet enough for a young couple returning with their newborn. Upon arriving, however, they received a pleasant surprise: their own parents had come to visit.
Robert's father, Anthony, was nearly a spitting image of his son (the only difference between them lay in his neatly trimmed mustache). At the moment he was holding the two day old infant. "Look at him," he marveled, his brown eyes lit with wonder. "He's got his father's looks, that's for sure!"
Robert laughed, taking Raphael back when the baby was handed to him. "Certainly so, but he's got Lilith's hair and eyes," he replied. Noticing Lilith standing nearby, he felt a playful smile cross his features. "She won the genetic lottery this time, but I refuse to lose to a Frenchwoman!" he declared, artfully dodging a playful swipe from Lilith.
"We French are more sophisticated in fashion and food, Robert," she pointed out. "You would no doubt starve and wander through the streets naked if not for us."
"Ah, but whose country is it that is military deficient?" he teased, once again dodging Lilith's mock slap.
Robert and his family hailed from England; his father and mother both had brown hair and hazel eyes, though their hair was steadily graying. Lilith, however, had her roots lying in France; her own parents had blonde hair and blue eyes. Many jokes had already been exchanged on the subject, when the families had first learned that Robert planned to marry Lilith.
The two of them had met while Lilith had been visiting London and had instantly fallen in love. Though they did do things traditionally and waited for about a year and a half before they got married, it was apparent to both sides that it was entirely unnecessary. Robert had even agreed to move to Paris, for Lilith's sake.
Robert frowned now slightly as his sister-in-law entered the room, putting out her cigarette before joining the small crowd of people. Edith, Lilith's twin sister, was not someone he considered a friend. She was much more arrogant and more bothered about her public appearance, both in reputation and in appearance; the sheer amount of make-up she wore was a testament to that.
He glanced over at his wife, who was currently holding Raphael and chatting gaily with Pierre, Edith's husband. He wondered idly if Lilith and his two-day old son were in need of some quiet time.
But so far, Raphael had surprised him. The boy seemed to be basking in all the attention he was getting, perfectly content to be passed around amongst his relatives (though admittedly he would make a small sound of protest whenever taken from Lilith).
Anthony spotted his son and crossed the room. "You know, it's remarkable that your son hasn't cried yet," he remarked. "He's handling this as if he's a proper adult."
Robert nodded, looking over in time to see Edith open her arms, though her expression suggested she'd rather touch pond scum. His eyes narrowed at that reaction. If you don't want to hold my son, then you ought to say as much, he thought with annoyance.
Edith took Raphael into her arms. With a voice that dripped sugary sweetness, one that made Robert want to cringe, she said, "Hello, you darling little creature."
Raphael stared up at his aunt unhappily. He wanted nothing to do with this scary lady who looked like his mother, thank you very much. She smelled awful, talked awful, and he wouldn't have it.
Robert fought not to laugh when Raphael promptly started to cry. The start of his laughter choked into a gasp of alarm when Edith nearly dropped the baby and he shot forward. He needn't have worried, however. Lilith hastily took back her crying son before any harm came to him.
"Oh dear," she said, giving a tired smile to her family as Raphael's wails grew in volume. "I think that he's had enough for the day."
The relatives all nodded understandingly, saying their goodbyes jovially but in muted tones as they tiptoed out the door. Robert went over to where his wife had sunk on the sofa and was now rocking Raphael comfortingly. "It's all right now, sweetheart…there there, you poor dear. I guess everything finally caught up to him," she commented.
Robert had to forcibly stop himself from commenting on Edith's behavior, because whether he liked it or not the woman was his wife's sister. He took a moment before he spoke. "Do you want me to take him for a short while, love? You're probably tuckered on your feet, you poor dear."
Lilith looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, Robert. I'll go get changed into something comfortable," she said, hurriedly disappearing up the stairs and into their bedroom.
Robert decided that things would be more comfortable in the nursery; the room adjoined his and Lilith's own bedroom. So, after a brief moment to get his son settled comfortably in his arms, he carefully ascended the stairs.
Raphael's sobs were subsiding by the time Robert made it to the nursery, and the brunet sat himself in the rocking chair. "It's all right. I don't really blame you for crying—Edith scares me too," he said, pushing back and forth with his feet to move the chair.
Raphael hiccuped, blinking up at his father with watery blue eyes.
"To be honest I would have done the same thing, and I'm much older than you," joked the tall brunette man. As an afterthought he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Don't tell your mother I said that."
His smile faded, and his hazel eyes met with blue orbs. "But Edith's up and left, so you can take it easy. I've got you, lad, and I'll not let anyone hurt you. That's a promise."
The baby blinked away the last of his tears, once again staring up at his father. He hadn't understood a word of what this giant man was telling him, but that deep, reassuring voice was as soothing as that nice kind lady who was his mother.
At that moment, that was all he needed to know.
