"Shh." He holds up his hand, silencing her, and she realises he's nestling Lunete against his chest, holding her carefully to him. "She's sleeping, don't wake her. I got her to sleep."
"Thyself?" Lynet comes a step closer.
"Aye, for the first time." He smiles at her, and it's a radiant smile, a smile such as she hasn't seen in years, not since the madness began to take him. God, who would have guessed that exile, of all damned things, would have helped? Out here with nothing but heather and herself, and he's getting better, he's finally getting better. "Look at her."
"Aye, she's her father's daughter, she's snoring."
Gaheris laughs under his breath. "She is not."
"Listen to her!"
"I have been. I could hear her heartbeat. Oh, Christ, she's the most beautiful child in the world."
She rolls her eyes, but she goes to him all the time, and smooths back Lunete's hair. "If she looked like the devil's own, thou wouldst say it anyway."
"She looks like her mother."
"Thou prove'st me in the right."
"Ah, ah, wife, th'art growing contentious. Let me put her down and I'll come to thee."
Lynet watches him settle Lunete in the wooden cradle he built during the long winter before she was born. He looks like any other man. Oh God, like any other man.
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"Shh." He holds up his hand, silencing her, and she realises he's nestling Lunete against his chest, holding her carefully to him. "She's sleeping, don't wake her. I got her to sleep."
"Thyself?" Lynet comes a step closer.
"Aye, for the first time." He smiles at her, and it's a radiant smile, a smile such as she hasn't seen in years, not since the madness began to take him. God, who would have guessed that exile, of all damned things, would have helped? Out here with nothing but heather and herself, and he's getting better, he's finally getting better. "Look at her."
"Aye, she's her father's daughter, she's snoring."
Gaheris laughs under his breath. "She is not."
"Listen to her!"
"I have been. I could hear her heartbeat. Oh, Christ, she's the most beautiful child in the world."
She rolls her eyes, but she goes to him all the time, and smooths back Lunete's hair. "If she looked like the devil's own, thou wouldst say it anyway."
"She looks like her mother."
"Thou prove'st me in the right."
"Ah, ah, wife, th'art growing contentious. Let me put her down and I'll come to thee."
Lynet watches him settle Lunete in the wooden cradle he built during the long winter before she was born. He looks like any other man. Oh God, like any other man.
She's dreading the day the exile ends.