Title: Clay Doll
A/n: Rough version, not betaed
Summary: Silas likes his new pet.
Silas loved three things: his brothers, animals, and small children. The current object of his adoration had dark eyes, dark hair and carried a ragged clay doll.
He loved her.
She was a good pet, better than any horse or dog. Silas watched her as she played in the dust and nodded. She was a very good pet.
Silas had found her months ago in a village, he and his brothers had raided. Standing alone amongst the burning huts crying for her momma, Silas had scoped her up on to his horse. Kronos had frowned, giving him the look that he’d done something foolish.
But Methos told him he could keep the brat so long as he kept her out of trouble. So, Silas kept her out of sight. Kronos’s sight at least.
Methos liked her too and that made Silas happy.
The girl had taught Silas a game and sometimes his brother Methos would play too. Methos, didn’t always have time to play games, but that’s why he had the girl. She always had time for Silas.
She never got tired of listening to him talk about his animals, or got angry with him when he forgot something. He forgot things a lot and that made his brother mad.
But not the girl. She never got mad at him.
Sometimes she’d cry for her momma and Silas wouldn’t know what to do, but pat her head. Sometimes when she’d cry he’d remember things he didn’t want to remember. Like a fire, and momma not answering his cries. Momma, where are you? Momma why won’t you wake up… Then he’d remember pain in his head. He didn’t like remembering that.
The girl didn’t cry often though. So it was okay to Silas.
In the distance thunder rumbled and Silas looked up. Methos had taught him that thunder meant rain. And rain was good.
Rain made his brothers happy.
Kronos didn’t look happy thought to Silas, as his brother walked towards him.
Kronos reached for the girl, and with a twist that barely gave her time to cry out he’d snapped her neck. Killing her.
Dropping the small body, Kronos looked at Silas. “She was distracting you.” He said simply walking past towards the tents.
Silas looked at the small broken body. His bottom lip trembled. He’d liked this pet. She’d been a good pet. A very good pet.
“Methos I could keep you.” He whispered to the dead girl, picking up the clay doll.
It wasn’t fair. She was his pet.
Silas sat there looking at the clay doll. Even as the long awaited rain started to fall, even as the dust turned to mud.
“Brother you’re missing the feast.” Methos’s voice came from behind him.
Silas shrugged his large shoulders. “Not hungry, brother.”
Methos sighed. “You can get another one.”
Silas looked up at his brother, and shook his head. “I don’t want another one. I liked this one.”
“There are plenty of more just like her, Silas. We’ll find you a new one.” Methos patted his shoulder. “Now come in the tent.”
Silas shook his head again. “I liked this one.” He repeated, staring at the clay doll. “He killed her." Silas said mournfully. "After you said I could keep her." Rain ran down Silas face, hiding what might have been tears.
Methos frowned not understanding and left his brother sitting in the rain.