HARPER
Harper never anticipated being a father. He’d always dreamed of starting a family, but only in the vague sort of daydreams that any family-minded man had. In his home world he knew his life was too dangerous, too involved, to ever see that through. But then he’d ended up in Caido. Had met Phoebe. And things had finally seemed like they could be different.
Except at the end of the day, they weren’t. He got his wish - and he lost something else.
He doesn’t know where Phoebe is. If she’s lost to sickness and wandering as he once had been. If she is cocooned once more in Frey’s arms, like the last time he lost her. All he knows is she is gone, leaving him behind with a child he is learning to care for alone.
That’s not to say Harper is a bad father. No; he is entirely devoted to Jude, to learning everything he can about infant care and combining it with his own modern day knowledge of medicine and child rearing. He refuses to forsake his council duties or his teaching position, and so Jude comes with him to everything in the sling that keeps the babe tethered to Harper’s chest.
Except Harper can’t remember the last time he slept, now.
Jude is a sensitive, colicky baby. Harper internalizes it terribly, convinced if Phoebe were around that things would be easier. That it’s a reflection of his parenting somehow. When Jude cries, Harper cries with him, terrible quiet things that shake his shoulders that strain beneath the weight of raising a baby alone for the first time. Jude won’t sleep through the night without the rocking sensation of Harper walking, and so his nights are spent wandering the neighborhood.
He can’t do it anymore.
He shows up at the Court, curls too long and stubble days old. His own needs forsaken in favor of Jude’s. And when Maeve answers the door, tears prick his eyes and burn color to his cheeks, ashamed but knowing even then that Maeve is family before she is his Queen. She will help him. He knows it. So he steps slightly forward into the half-opened door, and he bows his head towards her smaller frame and tries not to cry. “I need help, Mae-bell,” he chokes, voice thick. “I can’t do it alone. I can’t -” and the dam splinters and breaks, and the tears come quiet as they always do now, trained into silence long before but a habit kept anew to prevent his grief from worsening Jude’s cries these days. He leans towards Maeve and knows she will catch him.
Except at the end of the day, they weren’t. He got his wish - and he lost something else.
He doesn’t know where Phoebe is. If she’s lost to sickness and wandering as he once had been. If she is cocooned once more in Frey’s arms, like the last time he lost her. All he knows is she is gone, leaving him behind with a child he is learning to care for alone.
That’s not to say Harper is a bad father. No; he is entirely devoted to Jude, to learning everything he can about infant care and combining it with his own modern day knowledge of medicine and child rearing. He refuses to forsake his council duties or his teaching position, and so Jude comes with him to everything in the sling that keeps the babe tethered to Harper’s chest.
Except Harper can’t remember the last time he slept, now.
Jude is a sensitive, colicky baby. Harper internalizes it terribly, convinced if Phoebe were around that things would be easier. That it’s a reflection of his parenting somehow. When Jude cries, Harper cries with him, terrible quiet things that shake his shoulders that strain beneath the weight of raising a baby alone for the first time. Jude won’t sleep through the night without the rocking sensation of Harper walking, and so his nights are spent wandering the neighborhood.
He can’t do it anymore.
He shows up at the Court, curls too long and stubble days old. His own needs forsaken in favor of Jude’s. And when Maeve answers the door, tears prick his eyes and burn color to his cheeks, ashamed but knowing even then that Maeve is family before she is his Queen. She will help him. He knows it. So he steps slightly forward into the half-opened door, and he bows his head towards her smaller frame and tries not to cry. “I need help, Mae-bell,” he chokes, voice thick. “I can’t do it alone. I can’t -” and the dam splinters and breaks, and the tears come quiet as they always do now, trained into silence long before but a habit kept anew to prevent his grief from worsening Jude’s cries these days. He leans towards Maeve and knows she will catch him.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
