Blackfeather Woods [m] i've known everything but this

He loved her so much, so very much more than he loved himself or anyone he'd ever met in his life - many lives. Through all of that he'd hurt so many people; his body grew tense with his wanting, with his lust, but worse still because of the guilt.
He had so much guilt over mistakes made as a child. A fool! He was a fool; he began that way, the destroyer of all good things —
and Maegi was so good, he couldn't
— he loved her, but he couldn't — Did I do something wrong?

The decima had been staring forlorn upon the shadows, the dirt, but not seeing it for what it was. When Maegi spoke she jarred him from his rounding thoughts but could not end them, merely quiet them — those memories, those voices. It hurt to imagine Maegi ever rebuking him for his love the way so many had before. It hurt to think of her hurting. But she was hurting now too, waiting for him and doubting.

She wanted him; together they could fill the forest with their own kindred spirits and they'd be better — that's how it worked, right? Children were meant to be improvements on their parents. 'I'm not,' he thought. But they could be better. Slowly his gaze draws up from the dirt to the luminous girl before him and he thinks, 'I only invite disaster.' And what if his love did nothing but taint those that came in contact with it? What kind of father could he ever be to an innocent little life?

He opens his mouth but can't speak; even if he'd wanted to, he merely rasps a breath laden with sorrow, and manages to say: Not you, Mou — and then he is overcome with too much emotion, and cannot continue.