Fox's Glade my knees are cold

wife. children. now he knows, and he chides himself for having been so dull as to know have seen it before. of course she'd wished to be wed, to start a family of her own—she'd left her home for that, hadn't she? 

what a fine, fine mother and wife she would be. strong, beautiful, independent. loving and caring in ways he could never be, no matter how soft she'd make him, like water smoothing over a boulder. he'd still have jagged edges and deep cracks. 

he'd question if she wished to have him even then, but he already knew the answer. she'd already proved she'd take him for whatever man he'd become, for whatever direction he'd walk. 

dolce truly doesn't know how good a father he could be. he's strong and dependable, and would protect his own with everything he has. but is that enough? would it be enough for her, for their children? it's a daunting, terrifying thought. but he'd weathered through storms and through betrayal, through violence and greed. 

if she saw him fit to sire her children, then that's all the encouragement he'd need. she has a way of seeing the good in him that he's blind to. 

he holds her closer, possessive and with a tenderness that belies his gruffness. nose presses to the crown of her head, lingering. "you'd make a fine wife, 'n an even better mother." he rumbled. low, intimate. "i ain't gonna pretend like i'd be some...father of the year, but i can promise you this; i would die to protect you 'n our little ones." 

he draws in a deep breath. "i will make you a wife. i will make you a mother, if you're willin' to take that chance with me, dove. i'd give ya anything." because life without her was dull and lifeless, and he'd fight tooth and nail not to return to his past self. if she saw good in him, then he would be good. 

he will be everything she needs of him, no questions asked.

with a crooked grin, he chuckles. "now teach me how'ta say husband in your tongue. 'n father, too."