Moira slept, as she rightfully should. He couldn't imagine the pain the woman had been through, the torture. He felt unworthy as he looked upon her. Why did he deserve to have someone like her in his life? And what had he done to deserve to have this woman, this strong, independent, beautiful woman give him a child?
A small squak alerted him to the bassinet on her side of the bed. Azazel moved silently to its side, gazing down at the tiny being within. His daughter. A child made with intention, a child who's life was created by two people who loved each other. A little girl who was wanted even before she existed. He watched this tiny infant squirm a bit in its swaddling, little limbs moving beneath blankets. Her face began to screw up and little whines began. He didn't want to wake Moira, not yet. She'd been through enough and needed her rest.
"Shhhh," he soothed, his hand cradling her small head. "Shhhh is alright."
The baby thrashed a bit and her whines escalated. Azazel put his other hand down, cupping one under her head and the other under her body to lift her out, but was stopped by a fear. What if he hurt her? As he lifted only slightly, her body seemed to turn and flop in every way, her head unsteady. God, what would he do if he hurt her? She was smaller and more delicate than anything he'd ever put his hands on before. He remembered when Stefan and Jimaine had been born, they were tiny things. Margali or Johan would swaddle them well and pass them to him to hold. His breathing pitched and his heart seized as he realized his responsibility. He was in charge of making sure this girl was safe. He'd be charged with this until the day he died. Now, as this unsteady newborn squirmed in his hands, still against the bassinet, he felt unworthy. He didn't know how to take care of a newborn. He didn't know what a little girl would need.
The infant had begun to cry, and Azazel turned his attention to her again. A teardrop fell against the girl's cheek, not her own. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Azazel carefully lifted the child from the bassinet and settled her in his arms. It seemed to take forever to get her settled correctly, and he still worried if he were doing it right. What if her neck bent the wrong way? What if he pinched her leg? After a few seconds of squirming, the baby quieted in her father's arms. Her eyes were open, darting around a bit, but at once caught his own. Azazel gasped as her crystal blue eyes looked into his, and he felt more tears fall down his cheeks.
"Moya printsessa," he said to her. Her mother was his Queen. This girl was his Princess. He'd swear his life to her. "I am your Daddy, kraseevaya devochka."
She stared at him, in a way that seemed to judge him. It was as if she were measuring him. Did he deserve to be her father? Was he capable of taking care of her? As unreasonable as this thought process Azazel had was, he prayed she'd find him suitable. He wanted to be.
The girl shifted again, this time the swaddling coming loose in order for her tiny tail to sneak out. It found his wrist and wrapped itself around it, only making it halfway around. He let out a little laugh, feeling this moment to be an enormous validation. She wanted him.
Azazel shifted her just slightly, sitting gently with her on the bed. His eyes went from her to her mother and back. The girl took after Moira quite a bit. He was grateful. Moira was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in his world. He was happy his daughter had taken after her, in ways he was ashamed to admit. This girl's only expression of mutation was the tail, which Azazel loved. The validation that she was his. He knew that regardless of what this child looked like, she was his, it wasn't a question of his wife's fidelity. It was for him. He needed validation, to feel connected to his child. The tail was that. The rest, however, was her mother. It was clear she'd also inherited his eyes, though combined with her skin tone they looked far less mutant. The girl was nearly entirely human, a tail the only mutant quality she had. It shamed Azazel to realize that this was an answer to a secret prayer. The things he'd seen and the things he'd been through because of what he was, they were not what he'd wish upon his children. Kurt had been born of two mutants, there was little hope he'd be anything but. With this girl, the pendulum swung between human and mutant, and she could have been either. It scared Azazel how much he wished for her to be human, considering how hard he'd fought against them and how many years he'd spent despising them. Yet, when it came to his daughter, his wish was for her to be healthy, happy, and live a good life. Something that wasn't a guarantee for a mutant.
Still, regardless of what she was, the most important thing she was was his daughter. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her head, his lips barely brushing for fear of hurting her. "You are everything," he told her. She was. She'd never know how deeply her father loved her. She'd never understand how much her father had changed the moment he'd first seen her, and now in this first moment he'd held her. As he looked again to his wife, he knew she'd never know how much she'd done for him, how much she'd saved his life. He didn't need for them to know. He just needed them to be in his life.
The girl closed her eyes, growing content in her father's arms. Azazel mused at the fact that these hands, which for so long had been solely for the violent end of lives, could be gentle enough to cradle a new one. His lip quivered as he set her again in the bassinet, swearing to her that she'd never feel pain in her life, if he could help it. She'd never face hardship or grief. He'd protect her from everything. He was her father, and she was his world.
~&Q~
Glad to see people enjoying this fic! I have a bunch of these to post, and will be posting them here and there out of order. Again, if anyone has anything they want to see, I am enjoying writing these and would love to hear it!