The Microfic/Drabble Meme
Prompt: "She's perfect in every way."
He knew that he was going to die.
According to everyone he'd ever known, death brought with it a flood of memories, from the beginning of one's life until the very end. For reasons he couldn't quite understand, his past did not flash before his eyes in a blur of motion.
Hector of Ostia remembered, in the minutes before his death, a quiet summer morning that had taken place two months after his wife's passing.
He stood on the balcony overlooking the gardens as the sun rose in the eastern sky. Warmth flooded through him as he watched the day begin. The air was still, but filled with scents and smells from the kitchen as they floated up from the open windows below, and in his arms, he held his daughter.
Still so young and innocent, she was in a dreamless sleep, one that kept her face smooth and unworried; it was a world where her mother still rocked her at night and made silly noises to coax her into giggling. Her small hands held his robe loosely, and as the sun washed over the two of them, setting her hair afire with golden light, he knew perfection.
No one could take that away from him, not even Death.
His pain returned, and he muffled a gasp at the sudden weightlessness in his arms. Death would come swiftly to take him; of that much he was certain. He had expected nothing less than a warrior's honorable death. He had lived long enough, and he was ready.
Worry lined his forehead; Lilina was still young. Would she be all right without him? He had to remind himself that she was a young woman, no longer that small baby that needed his undivided attention and care. Roy would look out for her; he knew he didn't even have to ask.
His conscience satisfied, the great Ostian general lived his last moments on a sun-drenched balcony with the smell of rosemary tickling his nose and the warmth of a tiny child snuggled in his arms.
I like Hector as a father. I hoped this would turn out better, though.