Ellana asked to see him the next day, and Cullen complied. He found her sitting in a chair on her balcony with Solas wrapped around her, both of them silent and still. He paused before they noticed him, heart heavy with grief. If it weren't for the shallow rise of her chest, she could easily be mistaken for someone who'd already passed on. He'd thought the Mortalitasi were skeletal and absent, but she was beyond even them. Flesh stretched over prominent bone, color drained from her face, the only sign of power in her the death sentence on her hand.

Then her eyes opened and she fixed him with her gaze, and it was so alive he lost his breath. She was still there, still vital and firm inside that wasted body, and that was the worst of all.

"Dmitri has offered to send his best mages here to help," he said. Cassandra had trusted the prince with the truth, with Cullen's agreement, and the Nevarran's response had been immediate.

But Ellana shook her head slightly. "I spent too much power sending Mythal and Fen'Harel into the Fade. I'm beyond their help. And I've learned my lesson," she said. "I thought once Corypheus died, my own death could have no purpose. But I was wrong. There's still a right time for me to leave. This is it. A divine Inquisitor has no place in this new world."

Solas sighed and stroked her arm, but Ellana only smiled as Cullen pulled a chair out to join them. "Which reminds me, I believe I should be congratulating you. Or possibly consoling?"

"Cassandra told you?" he asked, and she nodded. "I think I need both. How did you manage to keep so many people happy for so long?"

"Closing a hole in reality buys a lot of leeway." She looked at him meaningfully. "But Inquisitors don't get to go on patrol."

He groaned. "Don't remind me," he said. He put his head in his hands. "The King and Queen of Ferelden are already on their way here. Leliana says Morrigan is with them. They haven't said what they want, but I imagine it's not to shake our hands and give the thanks of a grateful nation."

"Josephine will charm Alistair, Leliana will play remember-when with Morrigan, and Cassandra will out-bully Elissa," she said practically.

"So what do I do?"

"You're decoration," she said. Her voice lowered to a confidential whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but I didn't do as much as people thought."

Cullen gave her a skeptical look. "I've been doing this for less than a day, and I had to use all of my meager stealth capabilities to get up here. I don't believe you."

She laughed lightly, and they sat quietly for a minute. A bird lighted on the railing and stared at them in mute curiosity. Ellana reached her hand out, arm trembling only slightly, and the bird hopped to her finger in a quick movement. Cullen held his breath as Ellana beamed, finger curling just a little towards herself.

"Will you sing to this one, vhenan?" asked Solas. The bird started and flew away at his voice.

Ellana dropped her hand and mocked glared at him. "I only did that once. And it was lovely," she said. "But Cullen isn't here to listen to me sing."

"Yes, why am I here?" asked Cullen. "I was hoping it was for advice."

"That's true. But likely not the advice you were hoping for," she said. She closed her eyes. "I can't tell you how to be the Inquisitor. Mostly because I don't know. I was a mistake, Cullen. A person who was never supposed to be, becoming someone who was never meant to happen. Fen'Harel and Corypheus created me, not the Maker. You and Cassandra and Leliana and Josephine finished the job. I hope I did well. I hope I did good. I know that I fought for this world, and I don't regret what I gave it. And I treasure what it gave back to me."

She squeezed Solas's hand as a tear rolled down her cheek. "In Lavellan I never fit. I was First because a mage always will be, but the Clan wasn't happy with me. I wasn't happy with them. They sent me to spy on the Conclave honestly, I'm sure, but they wouldn't have mourned my capture, or my death, as much as they pretended."

She looked at Cullen again. "It took me a long time to understand that. Even more to accept it. And that only happened because of this place. The Inquisition was more than a movement or a rebellion. It was all of you. A family. Love that wasn't conditional on my usefulness or my power. Brothers and sisters. A lover. Even a father," she said, smiling at him.

His eyes widened. "I'm not sure I was always very fatherly in my behavior," he said.

She laughed, and even Solas smiled. "You were. Even when you didn't know it, you were my father. And Cassandra was the mother I never had. I'm so happy you found each other. You were all so important to me," she said. She sobered. "But I forgot that I was only one of many. I put myself ahead of you in the end. I convinced myself that the Inquisitor wasn't just a sister or a daughter. She was the glue of the world, and I traded you all for her life. And that's when it all went wrong.

"I mistook significance for importance. I thought without me you would fall apart, and I took a deal with an evil worse than Corypheus to stop that from happening. And to keep you," she added to Solas. "It wasn't all selfish, I hope. I love you, you know."

Solas kissed her gently and whispered, "I know."

Ellana turned back to Cullen and wiped her eyes. "It wasn't until Mythal was truly determined to kill you all, when you were suffering and strong together that I knew I'd been wrong. I wasn't the glue. I was the catalyst, perhaps, but you continued without me. Family is family, and you stood together against her. You didn't break."

Cullen reached out to take her hand, and she clasped it in her own before continuing in a smaller voice. "And you still wanted to save me. I'd betrayed you, I didn't deserve to be saved, but still you were trying. Oh Cullen, I felt it. You want me to live so much," she said, and then she wept in earnest, great heaving sobs that wracked her frail body. Solas poured his strength around her, and Cullen gripped her hand as tightly as he dared. Tears gathered and spilled down his own face as she cried her disbelief.

The storm passed slowly, and she blinked at him through the final rumbles. "I didn't deserve it. But I'm grateful anyway, because now I can be here to say these things to you. Not how to be the Inquisitor, but how to be what I wasn't. I told you I believed in three things, but they weren't the right things. Solas does love me. And I've never lost faith in you. But the Inquisition is nothing. It's a tool. It's the package around something that's so much stronger. It's my friends given voice, the world brought together for good, and it's not the Inquisition that has that power. It's you all," she said. "Don't forget that, Cullen. Don't lose sight of them."

"I won't," he said. He rose up from his chair and leaned over her. Her head was bowed, and he kissed the mass of still-dark hair as he rubbed her shoulder. Like his father had done for Mia, when she was afraid. Like his mother had done for him, when there was something so wrong that nothing else could fix it. "I promise."

When he sat back down, she still wore a stricken look. "I'm sorry for what I asked Cassandra to do. I'm sorry I did that to you both."

"No more apologies," said Cullen. "You're forgiven. We survived. I don't want to spend my time with you remembering the things that could have been done differently."

She relaxed, and Solas rubbed her leg as her energy waned again. He looked at Cullen, and he took the hint to leave. She was already drifting off into the sleepy unconsciousness that was her usual state these days.

"One more apology," she said in a quiet voice as he stood. He paused and waited while she summoned words once again. "I'm sorry I won't be here for your wedding. It was going to be so beautiful."

She fell asleep then, breath coming soft and even. Cullen watched her for a moment, mind spinning in a new direction. "No apology needed," he whispered, then winked at Solas before walking back down the stairs to find Josephine.

Vivienne officiated the ceremony, coordinated and decorated by Leliana, Dorian and Josephine with an almost unseemly level of enthusiasm. Cullen waited on the balcony next to the Divine and stared at the mounds of fabric and flowers surrounding them all. Sera had plucked a large purple one to pin to her garish pink dress, and when she saw him looking she threw him a casual salute. Josephine and Leliana stood next to her in much more elegant formal wear, but they too had attached flowers to themselves. They giggled like girls as each one tried to grab at the other's to reposition it.

Ellana was sitting nearby, ready to stand in the first position as soon as the ceremony started. Solas supported her quietly, sliding what remained of his healing powers into her whenever she needed it, trying to help her ride a wave of health long enough to participate. She had no dress - nothing would fit - but Leliana had spent hours that morning pinning and gluing even more flowers to her dressing gown. When Cullen had arrived in his carefully tailored tunic and pants, created for him in secret so long ago, he'd taken her hands in his own and whispered, "You look beautiful, Ellana."

"Thank you, Father," she'd said with a grin, and he'd laughed with her.

Darren, Dorian, Varric and Blackwall flanked him, making for a very crowded balcony indeed, but Cullen wouldn't have it any other way. He would even tolerate their own clothing, which had gone straight past fashionable, completely missed esoteric, and wound up at nearly-undressed. Darren's bandage had dictated a shirtless look, to Dorian's delight, and the Tevinter man never needed an excuse to show off his own physique. Varric had been an easy mark as well, though Cullen still didn't know how they'd talked Blackwall into something that revealed such a vast expanse of skin. He suspected it had something to do with the man's faint flush as Josephine and Leliana eyed him approvingly.

Then Cole appeared, this time through the door instead of in mid-air, and Cullen's pulse quickened. That meant it was almost time. The spirit carried their rings, at Ellana's request, though he'd been nearly insensible with terror when he'd asked Cullen how to do it. Cole didn't know much about marriage, or about human customs in general, but he knew the rings were powerful symbols.

It had taken Cullen some time to understand his fears, but he realized that Cole was worried he would harm the rings with his touch, taint them in some way. Ever since Ellana had vanished behind another woman's mind, Cole had withdrawn into himself, no longer voicing thoughts or helping hurts. Cullen hoped doing this would bring him some comfort.

Cole took his place next to Vivienne, who smiled through gritted teeth as she accepted his presence. For Ellana, they'd told her, and she'd agreed more gracefully than they'd expected. She looked towards the stairs as the door opened once more, and Ellana rose slowly to take her place across from Darren. Cullen held his breath as he waited.

The day was beautiful and clear, with a hint of summer's promise that made the Frostbacks feel warmer than they'd ever been. Or perhaps it was only the heat, and nerves, rushing through his own heart. They'd been married before. They still were, in a way, depending on what Cassandra's mood was. But their wedding had been private, for them, and in a way it had never seemed real. A dream marriage, to complete the story he'd given her, but it was time for the dream to end. It was time to live.

When Cassandra appeared framed in the glass of the door, holding Bull's arm, his breath whooshed out in a great sigh. Her dress had been made long ago as well, but it fit her so perfectly it almost seemed molded to her. It was white and open, with a neckline that made his mouth water and a full skirt that had him longing to explore beneath it. She looked like the snowbanks in the quiet mountains where he'd escaped when the world became too much. Only she was more pure, more beautiful, and even more still than they could ever be. He met her eyes and realized that was because she was his new place of comfort, and she'd sworn she always would be. And now everyone would know.

A rush of possessiveness flooded through him, demanding and powerful, and she must have seen his face darken. She bit her full lower lip as she took his hands. "I know it's a little much," she said, looking down at herself.

"It's exactly enough," he whispered with a heat that had Dorian coughing behind him. "You're a vision. I can't believe you want to marry me."

Then she smiled, relief playing in her eyes. "The ceremony is not yet completed. I may change my mind."

The coughing spread from Dorian to the rest of their audience, and Cullen couldn't stop the wicked grin arching across his face. "No you won't. There's a wedding night waiting for you, sweetheart."

"If that roof was still open it would be waiting for all of us," muttered Varric. and the coughing gave way to spasms of laughter around the circle.

Vivienne was the only one to retain her composure, and she arched her eyebrow at the waiting couple. "If I may begin, my dears?"

They both nodded without taking their eyes off each other, and she began the Chant that would bind them together. Cullen only half-listened, choosing instead to memorize Cassandra's face as she focused on the Divine. All of the memories he had of it. All the new ones they would make.

He snapped back to the present when Vivienne asked if the Maker would find him ready. "Yes," he said. "I am ready for the Maker, and for my bride."

Cassandra answered the question in the same soft tones, and he squeezed her hand. Then Cole stepped forward, reaching inside his fashionably tailored pockets to draw out a ring in one pale hand. He gave it to Cullen with a serious look. "Hold this in your hand."

Cullen raised his eyebrow, but he did as he was bidden. Cole folded his fingers over his palm until the cool metal was warming inside his fist. "Think of Cassandra. What she is," said the spirit, and Cullen closed his eyes.

He thought about the face he'd just gazed at so intently. The delicious darkness of her eyes, the sinful pink shine of her lips, the arch of her brow whenever she sensed his gaze on her. The strength of her arms in the ring, the desperate belief she had in the Maker, the quick step of her mind when her patience ran out. Beauty. Safety. Comfort. And sex so sweltering that he could hardly believe he'd lived so long without having it. Love filled him and completed him as he let her overtake his mind. She was his princess and his warrior. And she would be his wife again.

When he opened his eyes again, Cole was smiling. He took the ring back from Cullen's unresisting hand and turned to Cassandra. "This is your ring," he said. "It is a promise to be all the things that Cullen needs. You promise to wear it always, to show your love so he will never doubt it. You promise to be the small moments. You promise to stay with him to hold back his hurting. You promise that when he is afraid in the night, you will take the fear away and light the dark for all the rest of your days." He frowned, then. "That is a lot of promises. Do you make them?"

"I do," she said. "I promise all that and more, Cullen." Her composure wavered a little as she slipped the ring on her finger in confirmation of her promise. Cullen couldn't stop staring at it, even when Cole handed her another ring and commanded her to think of him.

He only tore his gaze away when she opened her eyes. Cole took the ring back and turned to him gravely. His stomach flipped at the serious look on the spirit's face.

"This is your ring," he said. "It is a promise to accept all the things Cassandra is. You promise to love her in dresses and in mail and in nothing at all. You promise to protect what is hers, including yourself. You promise to be her knight and keep her paths straight. You promise to be strength when it is needed, and honor when it cannot be found. You promise to give the gift of yourself to her for all the rest of your days." Then he smiled brilliantly. "It is also a secret yet untold. Do you accept these things?"

"I do," he said, staring at her in wonder. Was it possible she didn't know how completely he loved her? How many times he'd dreamed of her in every aspect? If not, he would show her, immediately and always. "I promise my love to Cassandra, in all her glorious forms."

He realized that the group around him was crying, and his own tears mingled easily. He placed his ring on his finger with gentle care, then lifted the hand to her face. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. Vivienne wiped the corner of her eye and finished the final Chant.

As soon as her voice stopped, Cullen pulled his bride to him and kissed her passionately. His hands roamed over her as she responded, and he moaned when she mirrored his explorations. And while the catcalls and whistles made him blush, he didn't let her go until he'd shown her just exactly how much he appreciated her in whatever she was wearing. But especially in this.

They spent some time in a private reception in the Inquisitor's quarters until Ellana's eyes could no longer struggle open after they closed. That part was welcome, because he wanted her family to be with her while they could. And because Cassandra sat on his lap for most of the party. The dinner in the Great Hall was more onerous, a parade of well-wishers and congratulations that wore thinner the longer his hands weren't on her.

Bull sensed his annoyance and made a point of remarking at frequent intervals what an attractive wife he had. It was a very Bull thing to do, because each reminder of her attractiveness was a thorn, but each public acknowledgment of her status as his wife was the balm. He glared at the qunari mutely each time, but the man only laughed and poured more drinks.

A few hours in, Varric stood on a chair and pounded his foot on the table. "Folks, you can eat and drink later. The Inquisition is footing the bill for this whole thing, so don't be shy. But for now, the former Commander has been ordered to escort his beautiful bride to their wedding suite. By his bride. And we all know that, even for the Inquisitor, the Seeker is not to be denied."

Shouts of agreement came from all corners. Cassandra, bright red and furious, threw a napkin at the dwarf, who shook it off of his head with a careless laugh. "So, let's line the paths and wish them a speedy journey and a lengthy night, shall we?"

Cullen rose immediately, too eager to worry about embarrassment, and crossed to Cassandra to take her hand. When he tugged her towards the door, the Hall laughed. She scowled once more, but she followed him anyway. They wound their way through the atrium, across the bridge, and to the office they once again shared. Varric had assured him that the only unlocked door was the one in the front, and he flung it open with a flourish to another round of amusement from the residents following behind. He grinned and gestured for Cassandra to enter.

She folded her arms in mutiny, completely unaware of the affect that had on his view of her chest. He certainly wasn't going to tell her. But when she huffed out a breath, her breast rising and falling in a wave, he couldn't hold himself back anymore and pulled her in for another searing kiss. She growled into his mouth as her fingers tightened needfully in his hair.

He broke away with another smile. He swept her up into his arms, to the sound of roaring applause, and carried her inside the room. But the applause was meaningless in the end, as was everything else. When he swung her in a wide circle to kick the door closed, she finally laughed, and it was the high, pure sound that meant she was as happy as she could ever be.

By the time he made it up the ladder after her, regrettably unable to see anything due to the fullness of her skirt, she had the offending garment unhooked and draped across the dresser. Cullen stopped at the top of the ladder and gripped the nearest wall as he stared at her. She'd also removed the top covering he hadn't even known was there. A bodice was all that was left, giving her even more curves than he remembered her having, and her very, very long legs somehow looked even longer. And more delicious. "Maker's breath," he said. "How could you ever think I don't love you when you dress like this?"

Cassandra blushed and looked away, but he walked towards her, shedding his tunic in a single move. He spun her around to press against her back, and to his own surprise he wasn't needy and desperate, like he'd been in Nevarra. They had all night. There was no propriety and no watching eyes. He was going to worship her.

His hands slid down her waist to steady her hips as he planted soft kisses to her neck. He deliberately rasped his stubble against her skin, delighting in the shiver that coursed through her. "I dreamed of you in that Lothering dress. I wanted to have you in every corner of the place, behind all the tapestries and in each room. The slit up the side was so long, I could have slipped my fingers underneath it to stroke you without any effort." He suited actions to words, playing his fingertips over her thighs. "How wet might you have gotten for me, I wonder?"

"I already was," she said. She pressed back against him, rubbing against his stirring cock. He stifled a groan, whether from her words or her actions he didn't know. "Your eyes were so dark. But I thought you hated it enough to tear it from my body. I admit I was hoping for it."

He ghosted his lips over her earlobe, then licked at the spot below her ear that made her moan. "I did want to rip it off and lay you bare for me. But I never would have. If I had, how could you wear it again?" He pulled away from her and stared at the back of her corset and frowned. "Will I have to rip this one off?"

She laughed breathlessly. "No. It unties," she said. She pointed to her shoulder blade, and he attacked the knot with quiet focus. Once it was loosened he trailed a hand around to the front again, exploring the gentle swell of her breast. Even through the fabric he felt her nipple harden, and he growled possessively. The cord binding her slowly fell away under his patient fingers, and when the bodice was loose enough she yanked it down and pressed into his fingers.

"More," she said, and he complied, pulling her flush against him once more. He rubbed himself against her and brought both hands to her breasts, squeezing and kneading to the rhythm of her breathy sounds. "I love your hands. Strong. Rough. Your callouses feel so good when they catch -"

She broke off in ragged affirmation as he dragged his rough palm over her nipple once more, taking him past his limits of control. He spun her around to capture those sounds for himself, and he drank her in eagerly. She slipped her hands beneath his loosened trousers, cupping and squeezing his ass just as he'd done to her, and he moaned in turn.

Before he realized they were moving, she was leading him back to their bed. Her legs hit it with too much force, but she pulled him down on top of her as she fell. He caught himself on his elbows to avoid crushing her. He arched his back as he ground his half-clad hips into hers, groaning at the friction. "Careful," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm heavy."

Cassandra stopped moving, and he did the same. "Are you going to make another comment about my weight loss? I promise I've been eating," he said.

"No," she said. She struggled up onto her own elbows.

He rolled away from her, a little concerned when she didn't try to stop him. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"You're perfect," she said, touching his face briefly. He savored the new feeling of the ring on her finger even as he waited for her to continue. "You always are. But there's something you must know."

"Now?" he asked incredulously, then winced as she glared at him. "Of course. I'm sorry."

She sat all the way up, and he tried not to stare at her exposed breasts. She smiled wryly when she saw his struggle and reached behind her to grab a shirt from her night table. After she pulled it on, she looked at him as if to say, Better?

He raised his eyebrow to indicate it depended on the definition of better, but he settled back against the wall and ignored his greedy mind as best he could.

"It's about the fight with Mythal," she said.

His blood ran cold and all desire fled. "Did she hurt you? You hit the wall so hard. I should have insisted you go to the healers. Oh Maker, did I just hurt you when I fell on you?"

"No," she said, exasperated. "Cullen. I'm fine. Please let me continue."

His worry didn't abate, but he tried to stay quiet as his fists clenched and unclenched.

"Did you not wonder why Ellana took control at that moment? When I was at advantage, almost ready to sever the link she wanted to be broken?"

"She didn't want you to get hurt. If Mythal had taken you over, she would have tried to kill you. Just like with Sera. Ellana stopped that, too. She just had to be more direct."

Cassandra shook her head. "I would not have been hurt. I cannot be possessed," she said.

"Ellana might not have known that."

"She knew."

"Then why?" he asked, patience fleeing. "Just tell me."

Cassandra looked down at her hands. "Mythal was the Mother of the ancient Pantheon. She was not very motherly in temperament, but there were things she saw that might not have otherwise been obvious," she said. When Cullen didn't say anything, she sighed. "My mind cannot be possessed. But Ellana told me I am no longer alone in my body."

He stared at her in confusion, then covered his mouth as understanding dawned. "You're pregnant?" She nodded silently, and he scrambled across the bed to hold her. "Sweetheart. Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Have you seen a healer yet?"

"Yes, to all. It is too early for any sickness, and Solas says the child is well. And Ellana says there is no trace of Mythal's presence."

He leaned back, frowning. "Then why don't you sound happier?" Dmitri's smug face rose in his mind, a thought too horrible to ignore. "Do you think I'm not the father?"

She scowled at him in a way that was very reassuring. "Of course you are. There is no one else."

"I don't understand, then."

"I almost hurt our child," she said, voice breaking. "Your child. You wanted this so badly, and I could have destroyed it before it had a chance to be. How can I forgive myself for that? What kind of mother will I be if already I am putting it at risk? It's life is mine to hold. What if I don't love it enough? What if I'm too selfish to protect it as I should?"

Vestalus. Anthony. Her own, missing parents. "Cassandra," he said, wrapping his arms around her again. He rubbed her arms, soothing her with the strong hands she loved. "If you didn't love it, you wouldn't be so worried now. You aren't your uncle. You aren't even Dmitri. You don't do anything for your own ambitions. You do them for the whole world. What we were fighting for was important. It wasn't selfish."

He paused, moving to stroke her hair. "Did you even know you were pregnant? It must have only been a few weeks."

"No," she said in a small voice. "I didn't think it was possible. I'd only stopped taking the herbs when we went to Nevarra, to make traveling easier."

"And now that you know, would you do the same thing again? Would you fight Mythal?"

It was a serious question, and she thought about it seriously. He waited in silence, still tracing tiny circles over her. "No," she said eventually. "I would have found another way." She touched her stomach lightly, and his throat tightened. "This is a part of you, and you are mine. I couldn't risk that."

"I am yours," he said softly. He kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulder, and he ran his hands down to slip under her shirt. The corset was still there, but he spread his palm over her covered stomach. "We're yours. Oh sweetheart, I love you so much. I love this. You're going to be a wonderful mother. You're already a wonderful wife."

She turned her head to kiss him as well, sliding them both back into familiar heat, and he settled on his back to let her straddle him. The shirt was pulled away, and he stared reverently at her breasts again. "Maker. Those are going to get so big," he said in awe, rolling his hips beneath her as he reached up to graze them with his fingertips.

Cassandra laughed, shaking her chest in a way that had him curling up to capture her mouth once more. His hands roamed behind her back to untie the rest of the corset as she bit and nipped at his lip. "It's fortunate we married so quickly. This dress might not have fit otherwise."

"That's the kind of problem I like to have," he said incoherently, mumbling against her and pushing the fabric down and away. "Though I did like the way you wore it. I couldn't stop thinking about doing this to you." He punctuated his meaning by sliding his hand between their hips. "But is it safe?"

"Mmm?" she murmured when he found her wet and ready. "Oh yes. It is safe for some time."

They came together once again, sweeter but no less wanting, before she dragged her lips to his ear. "You can even be on top."

He grinned into the join of her shoulder. "How did you know that's what I wanted?"

"Because I know you," she said. "And also because it's what I want. You inside of me, long and slow and lovely. I want that very much. Please." She said the last with a gasp as he dipped his fingers inside of her.

He rolled over of her gently and planted a kiss on her stomach as he drew away the last of her clothing. "Your mother is so demanding," he whispered. "I won't get any rest at all."

"No, you won't," she said severely. "Not if you don't take me right now. Maybe not even then. You promised me a wedding night. And this time it won't be in an inn with too-thin walls."

Cullen laughed and trailed his mouth back up her body, stopping to lavish attention on each mark and scar until she threatened to go back out to the party unless he continued. And even then he moved slowly enough to have her cursing him, at least until he covered her lips with his own.

When he finally settled himself inside of her, she gripped his shoulders with desperate fingers that excited him beyond all measure. Him. He did this to her, and she never wanted him to stop. And he wouldn't. That night Cullen gave her exactly what she needed for as long as she needed it, wringing noises out of her that the entire fortress could probably hear, even with the roof covered. He didn't care. They were a family, now, in name and in deed, and when she cried out her love for him, he was truly home.

By the time he fell asleep with a protective hand across her abdomen, the sounds of her pleasure still echoing in his mind, he was smiling so broadly he was sure he'd never be rid of it again.