09-24-2018, 12:03 PM
Vulgaris
The sound of her laughter brings him a sense of peace that he has not known before this moment. Leliana had offered it up to him on a silver platter, of course, but he had shied away from it back then. (It had been too great, too glorious for him to even lay his eyes on it.) Adna forces it upon him with the most minimal effort, fills him with serenity that leaves a smile even as she hides her face beneath her mother. He exhales slowly and then brings his eyes to meet hers when she speaks to him. Their child’s name had honestly never even occurred to him. Before now, it felt like a dream and giving her a name would have cursed it into never becoming a reality. But now the day has come and the girl is truly here – perfect and beautiful in every way.
“I have no idea. Is there a name good enough for her?,” he asks with an embarrassed laugh. How could a parent not even have a name for their precious heir? “You brought her into this world. You name her whatever you think is best.”
And then he’s pressing his cheek to hers, feeling the weak resistance of her tired muscles when he kisses his lips to her skin. Motherhood suits her and he’s silently thankful for this moment of paradise. The warmth of it stirs all those tender, delicate pieces of him to the surface where they can gasp for air for a while. These are all the vulnerable parts of him that Leliana has tried to reach for so long, all laid out for her to take at her leisure. His heart rests on the very surface of him, raw and bruised but waiting for her all the same.
More and more, this begins to feel like home and maybe this is salvation for him. But deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve this sort of joy. He was born to hurt just as Leliana was born to mother the perfect daughter.
Still, he’s willing to try his hand at being decent for them.