Work Text:
Historia’s pregnancy isn’t showing yet.
That’s for the best. It wouldn’t do for anyone to start asking questions.
Not yet.
“I’m afraid,” she admits.
“Don’t be.” He grips her arms, feeling the weight of her trust, that he is the one she chooses to be vulnerable to.
He understands her fear.
He feels it too.
“I’ll carry the weight of my sins.” His hand comes to rest on her stomach. “I won’t lay them on our child’s back. They’ll never have to carry my burden.” He brushes her hair back from her face. “I’m what my father made of me. You’re what your father made of you. That won’t be the same for our child.”