But imagine Cullen Rutherford finding out he’s going to be a father.
Cullen, who, if you had asked him a year ago, would have said he didn’t want children. Not because he doesn’t–Maker, does he–but because he can’t imagine any woman would want his children. Doesn’t think he deserves that happiness.
Cullen, who would be so afraid of hurting them or breaking them, because that’s what he’s been trained to do his entire life–to bash, and crush,and kill.
Cullen, who thinks himself too broken and filled with horrors to be around something so innocent. How could he comfort his child when they have nightmares, when he still wakes screaming?
But then the woman he loves tells him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, that she’s with child, his child. And she’s so happy and excited that he feels himself become excited, and finds himself smiling at the prospect of teaching them–boy or girl–how to fight with sword and shield.
And a few months after that, when his love suddenly takes his hand during a war council meeting and puts it over her belly, so he can feel their baby kicking. He almost starts crying right then at the feeling. How could he have ever been afraid of hurting them? He realizes he would give his life for his child and their mother, who, he thinks, has never been so beautiful as now, when she’s full and ripe with life.
And then a few more months after that, she’s screaming and cursing like a sailor while old women try to keep him from their chambers. But who would dare stop the Commander of the Inquisition? He takes the steps three at a time and suddenly he’s there–holding her hand and kissing her brow. She’s still swearing, but the fear has gone out of her eyes.
Imagine Cullen holding his child for the first time while his love sleeps. Holding them and talking to them–not nonsense, but introducing himself and promising to keep them safe, no matter what.
I’m your father, Cullen. I’ll always be here to take care of you, my little one.
dededos
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
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