i'll learn to breathe deep and make peace with the stars; for shah

[Shahrizai]

We're caught in the crossfire

of the war inside our soul

There is peace and comfort in the twilight hours when they curl together. The warmth of her pressed against him, the faint movement of her ribs and soft sounds of her exhalations reminders of her love and forgiveness. Some days it feels as though he must burden her too much with the way he so desperately loves and needs her, but every morning he awakens with her by his side.

The gently exuberant whuffling against his cheeks and still closed eyes bring a faint, quickly hidden smile to his lips. “Hmmmmm,” he grumbles softly as he opens his eyes to find their youngest pressed close, young face wreathed in delight. There is joy in that sight. A joy that quickly dispels the reminder of that which they had also lost.

But it still aches.

He had been terrified when Ilka had begun swelling with life after their world had been shattered by the birth of their stillborn son. Worried that this time it would take her instead. He would have had no one to blame but himself. But the birth of Sistine and Clockwork had been flawless. And then their youngest had arrived, as perfect as the rest.

Perhaps one day the shadows in his eyes would fade and he could banish the fear that burrowed deep in his soul when Ilka swelled with child. Were he a better man, he would never have placed her in such a position to begin with. But he is not, and he is certain that one day it would be his undoing. He could never hope to bring himself to let go because, ultimately, love has made him a terribly selfish man.

Gently, he traces his lips in a morning greeting across the satin skin of her neck and shoulder. With a smile, he places a kiss on her cheek before stretching long limbs and levering himself into a standing position. Phosphor’s impatience does little to hurry his leisurely rising, but once he has shaken the dust of the night from his roan frame, he turns the amused brown of his gaze to his youngest.

“A dragon, hm?” he finally replies, his voice low and thoughtful as he humours his son. “I know where we might find one. But it’s a little chilly there. You sure you’re ready to brave the cold?”

Shahrizai