General

You can bring an army and I won't beg. For one who asks for such things is beyond pleasantness and acting from the heart. Such a person is empty except for that urge toward power and dominance. You'll do what you'll do, so I won't behave in a way that gives you more of that sick pleasure you crave. We're done. I can face myself in any mirror, see my true self and love what I see... you... I pity and I save my prayers for those who deserve them, those who at least try to love and be kind.

General

I could see it in his eyes that he was broken. He had lead an army. He was proud. Yet he stood with tears falling for the first time in his thirty eight years. He bore the expression of a child who has been told his mother is gone, which is of course what happened to him when he was nine. I'm told he never cried then, whatever pain it caused has stayed locked tight inside. He never speaks of his battles. This stoic man never hugs or shows love, his ways are gruff, coarse and unyielding. Yet as I stand at the door with our son in my arms and the cart packed to go, he is bereft. Shaking. Then he says "please, Cornelia" and I know I've reduced him to begging. This man who saved the city is quaking to see us leave. How was I to know he loved us? I place Julius on the ground and he runs to his father. These bonds that were invisible moments ago are now tangible threads between us. We will never speak of this again and he will never change, but this moment will sustain me from now on.

By maisywolfe5, October 20, 2014.