Tiz celebrates just being a father.

Despite all the joking from the village that ewes give birth to twins more often than not, Agnès has just one little girl. Tiz is taken immediately with their child, and on his first chance to hold her, he gets lost looking at her peaceful face, her soft eyelashes, her brown eyes and her overall perfect, wonderful features. So lost, in fact, that he gets dizzy and cries for the first time in years, his tears splashing onto the baby's face until his partner takes them both gently into her arms.

Agnès names her Olivia.

Being a father is not something he had ever imagined happening to him, and though he's cared for and nurtured for other beings most of his life, this is something else entirely. This is his child. Special. He has to be the perfect father, just as he had tried to be the perfect friend and guard, and then partner to Agnès.

So he tries. He tries his hardest, keeping one eye always on both Vestal and daughter. He fetches water for Agnès, makes sure she's never wanting, keeps them both warm and comfortable. They get pillows and blankets, or Agnès favorite foods, or books to read, and he makes sure his partner gets lots of rest both with the baby and without. When Agnès sleeps, his daughter receives his full attention. Tiz himself finds that he can't sleep, because he knows babies roused at night, and he keeps a vigilant watch.

Olivia is given the best clothing and toys he can find for her, and he spends so much of his time just watching her as though he can't believe she's real. That an existence such as his had resulted in something so perfect. There's so much of her mother in her, he thinks, and he brushes her soft skin carefully with the back of his finger.

"Tiz," Agnès says one day, Olivia carefully wrapped in a sling against her chest as she joined her partner at the kitchen counter. "You really need to rest." She's been watching him the past few weeks, always careful with her, careful with their child.

And she's noticed… she's noticed he's afraid to really hold her. Oh, he would carry her gently, holding in her hands or putting her into the little woven bassinet that was their gift from Karl, the same one that Owen had used as a child. But he's never held her since that first time. She can't fathom why.

Tiz glances over at her. "You're the one who needs to rest, Agnès. Are you okay to be on your feet so much?" He sets down the carrots he was chopping up so that he can wrap his arms around her shoulders, frowning with worry.

She places her own hands on her hips. "Tiz! Please. I will need to get back on my feet some time. I need to be able to walk around." He looked somewhat abashed, at least. "I'd like to take a walk - perhaps visit Mrs. Leigh and return her casserole dish. Will you please watch her?"

"Of course." Tiz readily agrees. Perhaps some exercise would be good for Agnès, not that he would ever voice if that way. His holds out his hands for his daughter as Agnès carefully extracts the infant from her sling, and… blanches when the child is pressed gently against his chest instead. "Agnès?"

"Hold her." His partner says as she slips on a jacket over her dress. "Just hold her, Tiz."

Slightly overwhelmed and uncertain of himself, he waits until Agnès leaves his home before he carefully, very carefully moves over to the stuffed chair just a few feet away, sitting in it gingerly. Olivia doesn't seem to have noticed his movements, too young to care about anything but the warmth of her father. Her tiny fingers clutch at the fabric of his apron, and though Tiz tries - just once - to pull her away, her grip is too strong. He doesn't want to hurt her, so he lets her cling.

Slowly he relaxes, one of his hands curving around his small daughter to hold her a little more closely, leaning back so that he has gravity to assist and make sure that he doesn't accidentally hurt her. She's still so small, she fits perfectly. His free hand gently runs the expanse of her back and her head, feeling the little wisps of brown hair. Someday, he imagines, it will be and long as beautiful as her mother's, but for now it's laughable, and he smiles somewhat as he tugs gently on some strands.

His fingers move to her chubby arms and her fingers, noting that with her strength, she could be a good fighter someday. Perhaps Auntie Edea will take her under her wing? But if Olivia wants to be a Vestal as well, following in the footsteps of her mother and namesake, that would be okay with him too. Or perhaps she'll be like him, a humble farmer. Or something more, whatever she wants. He'll do anything to make sure her life is filled with the peace and happiness that he had stopped experiencing at the age of 19 and only just recently rediscovered. Anything.

Tiz finds his eyes burnng as he continues to gently caress his daughter's head, the baby awake and alert, but quiet as she rests against him. He leans down to press a kiss against that downy hair, and to his relief, she doesn't start crying, he hasn't hurt her. What had he ever been afraid of? He couldn't imagine ever letting her go now, he could hold her forever.

When Agnès returns an hour or so later, carrying yet another casserole baked by the older woman despite her protests…. it's to the sight of her partner asleep in the big stuffed chair he'd built with Ringabel, his knees drawn up to help support the baby he's holding against his chest. Mouth slack, Tiz is fast asleep and slightly snoring as he naps. Agnès places the casserole in the kitchen before tiptoeing back over to fetch the baby.

Olivia is awake, but doesn't make a peep as Agnès expertly plucks her up from her father's chest and holds her against her own.

"I see you took good care of him," Agnès tells the baby happily as she settles down next to Tiz. There's just enough room for her to do so, nice and cozy and warm. Tiz mumbles slightly in his sleep and turns toward them. "Please continue to do so."