Work Text:
The first thing Rylen does as he rushes into the delivery room is go right past the child, and the varied sounds of surprise and confusion that melt into laughter, to ensure that the pillar of his life, his love has not crumbled.
(Later he will say he did not 'rush', and Farie will kiss him on the nose, and Fiadh's sweet little hands will pull at his tunic. And Farie will laugh and say "You rushed.")
The second thing Rylan does, the very second he knows Farie is alright, her tired but amused chuckles ringing louder in his ears and heart than anyone else's, is turn and start at the second pillar of his life.
"It's a girl," someone says. (Later, he still will not remember who said it.)
She's perfect, is all he can think. Irrationally afraid for a moment to even breathe near her. So tiny and fragile it makes his heart twist. Miniature perfection in every limb, every heartbreakingly tiny fingertip.
"How do I hold her?" His voice is so hoarse that it takes him a moment to register it as his own. Farie is close enough to lay her hand against his hip, and that, perhaps, is all that's keeping him upright under the weight of this new love, this new care.
How heavy she is in his arms. How terribly light. How new. How immediately familiar, as if he has waited his whole life to feel it.
