Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 49: In The Face Of Death

     There had been nothing to say. Nothing could be said. Nothing could be done. No amount of soothing, of comfort, of sympathy could ease the sorrow.
      On these days, the children did not run a muck. There was no training. Anthony and Nicolynn kept to themselves down in the undercroft. The other Rutherford children tended to the losses of eachother privately. The Montilyet's took care of their infant sisters. Maeve and Solas looked after Octavia and Torrance. And all the while Cassandra kept her sullen Cullen in warm company to the best of her ability.
      This was not saying much. His disposition was unshakable, his pain unimaginable. All of his siblings, his parents, dead. Cassandra holds him as they stare up at the ceiling if her old quarters. She kisses his cheek and nuzzles the side of his stubbly face with her nose. She smiles in an attempt to lighten him. Cullen does not respond.
     He merely sighs and closes those lovely amber eyes of his. "Please, Dear. Not today." He begs of her. His tone is icy and his words daggers in her side. It has been but a week. The pain has not faded one bit. Cullen cannot bear to look at his neice or nephews. He sees Anthony only when the boy seeks them out. He eats on rare occasions and his bursts of motivation to do much else are sporadic.
     He is in a permanent state of distress and it seems nothing can bring him out if it. Cullen sits up, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, his night shirts falling open widely at the collar, his too long hair brushing the back if his neck. Cassandra rises behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. They carefully rub the tension away, crawling up his neck to his scalp, twisting in his curly locks.
     Cassandra begins to chuckle for no apparent reason and one of her hands comes away from his head. Cullen turns to look back at her, severely confused. There is a look of light humor and great happiness on her face. But there is also guilt. Guilt at taking pleasure in small things when her husband aches for so great a loss.
      Her hand rests over her growing belly. It seems to Cullen to get bigger in the slightest everyday. He cannot see the happy side of this anymore. It is but a day he grows closer to death. She stifles her laugh and takes his hand in her empty one. She places it under her own. This allows him to feel tge flutter in her tummy, the sharp ping of strength from inside her, the kicking of their unborn child.
     Cullen lets out an exasperated breath and hugs Cassandra around her middle very suddenly. They fall back against he pillows and in yet another moment of vulnerability, Cullen lapses into a fit of tears. "I have died one million deaths everyday we grow closer to her birth." He sighs. Very gently he lifts Cassandra's blouse and laces kisses across her skin, just above where their sleeps. "But with every death, I am brought to life again by the unearthly happiness her life will bring me. If I am to die by Gilderoy's hand, then I will go contently, knowing that I saw our baby born." Cassandra strokes his hair as he speaks.
     "Be it into this ugly, unjust world, she has made me the happiest man in this moment."