Nemesis..

A rasping intake of breath shook him. He reached out his hand, tentatively placing it on the head of his son. Gently taking him in his arms, delicately touching his face in mute adoration. A grimace of pain tore at his mouth. With these same hands that had killed, and maimed so many sons. These hands that had destroyed so many hearts, made so many fathers' blood turn to ice and hearts to stone. These hands that turned the nursery song of so many mothers into the wailing and shrieking of mourning; and he wept. He wept with the deep knowledge of all he had done. Truly done. He wept with the guilt of what he had taken from so many. He wept with the pain of knowing he didn't deserve this child.. He, who had taken the children of so many. Their faces came to him then. After so many years, each and every face etched in perfect detail, carved upon a soul he didn't know he had. Racking sobs shook him as he cradled this life, this undeserved and precious life and held him to his heart and swore his son would know nothing of pain, or bloodshed, or the way of the sword. His son would be pure, his own sins and the blood on his hands would never taint the heart of his precious boy. All of the glory, and honour he had won turned to ash in his mouth. All of the things he had fought and killed for, bartered is soul for, all of the wealth of the world wasn't worth a single drop of his son's innocent blood.