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There were so many things in life that one could be prepared for. So many possibilities and eventualities and dreams and hopes that would form or fracture around you. Coalescing like storm clouds gathering on a clear horizon or popping like iridescent soap bubbles as they floated along on the warm summer breeze. Life itself was like that, he mused. A chaotic, twisting mess of a path that changed so suddenly from smooth polished marble flagons to thickets of edges thorns over cracked and broken rubble. And along the way you would find hands reaching out, alternately lifting you up and leading you along or tearing you down and impeding your way.
Those 'hands' - especially the ones that aided you - would so often turn out to be kindred souls who walked the path with you until they veered off onto their own tangled walkway through existence. Sometimes they came back, when your path mingled with theirs again, and it was all so very metaphysical and theoretical and philosophical. Just the sort of thing he would have spend ages pondering over in his lofty tower of sparkling sky blue crystal.
But life - his path - had made differing plans. And he had found himself flung through so much. Decades spent in the First, working to avert the calamity. Earning the trust and love of the citizens of the Crystarium as they together built a thriving civilization in the ashes of the Flood of Light.
Those precious years he had spent raising Lyna. From a chubby toddler with velvety furred ears into the strong and capable leader she was now, and his heart swelled with parental pride when he thought of how readily she had stepped up to fill the shoes he'd left behind.
Even the years fighting the Lightwardens, when he'd tried in vain over and over to summon W'ynter to the world that so desperately needed her. There had been an underlying sadness, of course, because he’d intended to sacrifice himself in order to safeguard her life. A final atonement for the way he had left her behind in the Source and then continued his deception during their quest to restore the darkness to Norvrandt.
And yet again, it would seem that Destiny - or perhaps Hydaelyn if he were being honest - was not finished with him. For she had bestowed upon him what he'd thought to be the most precious gift; that of a second chance at life beside the woman he loved so dearly. And even through the pain and heartbreak of the Final Days, the sacrifices made in Ultima Thuul…he'd been eternally grateful for that most precious of gifts; her smile and the time they'd been granted.
He'd thought there was nothing in the world that could hold a candle to the emotions he felt then, much less surpass them.
Until now.
Until this moment, on the eve of Starlight…crimson eyes locked on the miraculous tiny weight of his newborn son in his arms. There were…no words adequate to describe the hitch in his breath as his eyes memorized - for the 12th time at least - the tranquil sleeping features. The tiny hand curled beneath the infant chin, the tip of a black furred tail clenched tightly in small fingers. Tiny, perfect little ears tucked back against the thatch of black hair. There was a little red at the temples and his forehead, and the former Crystal Exarch rather suspected that as G'rehn grew older that his locks would become the same red streaked ebony as W'ynter's thick mane of hair.
He ever so gently stroked the back of one knuckle against a petal soft cheek and held his breath as the slight touch roused the sleeping baby and red eyes blinked open to stare up at him. It was much easier to see now that while they'd both seemed to be the same deep blood red colour initially… the right one was lightening up much the same as he’d been told his own had. Within a week, he had little doubt the sanguine hue of the Allagan eye would take hold permanently.
G'raha resisted the urge to squeeze his son tightly to his chest as that acknowledgment sent a wave of trepidation through him. No… their son would not have the same fate as he himself had suffered. To be whisked away from family and home for his own safety. They would make this world safe for their son, no matter what it took.
As G'rehn began to fuss softly, he crooked his arms to cuddle the baby closer and began to softly croon a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. Pacing in a small circle in front of the glittering Starlight tree in their small living room as he did his best to soothe the new life that the universe had seen fit to entrust to them. And wonder of wonders, but after the first few notes he watched that tiny face relax as the whimpers died down and soon a yawn was replacing the fretful crying.
"I heard him starting to fuss, but I see that I needn't have worried at all."
Glancing up at her soft voice, his tender smile only widened at the sight of his wife. Clad in a loose flannel gown, touseled hair down around her shoulders and body still recovering from the long labour that seemed so much more distant than yesterday… she was more beautiful than he'd ever thought before as she smiled gently at him and their son. Closing the distance, she carefully tucked herself in against his side and stroked gentle fingers through G'rehn's downy hair as the baby gave another soft yawn.
"Happy Starlight, Raha…"