She accepted him and for those moments before he spoke, Zevulun felt his heart swell with the love he felt for his daughter. No matter what they did or did not do, Zevulun could never keep from feeling the abundance of love he felt for his children when he had them near. They could beat him over worse than the protective mother bear that’d normally taken his life, and in the end, if asked, Zevulun would never utter any words indicating he did not love them. Maybe, in that way, he understood why Nephilim did not fight Mariael - despite the fact he was physically weak to - he allowed her to take her anger and her frustration on him so far it took his life; Zevulun felt he would do the same to alleviate the pain his children felt.

Catori broke away shortly after he spoke. Her eyes met his. Why? A one-worded question with a million answers. He witnessed the soft glisten of tears shimmer in her eyes and the pain it inspired in his chest burned and tightened his throat. There were so many things he could and needed to apologize for, but the one that came to his lips first, as he made sure to keep his eyes locked on hers, was, “For failing your mother.” They dropped as almost a whisper, but loud enough to be heard by Catori. He added, “For failing you.”

It had not just been Larka he left behind when he was frustrated with her; it had been Catori, too. It had been his daughter he chose to turn and walk away from, ushering his others to the safety of the Savanna, when his own pride was too great and his mind was too fogged with thinking he needed to follow every piece of leadership advice Riesling gave him. It was Catori who had to watch him return home only to watch him choose to walk away, and no child should ever have to see that from a parent.

Zevulun knew it all too well. He looked over his daughter with heartache he wanted to hide from her, not because he was ashamed of it, but because it was only her heartache he wanted to focus on. His own pains be damned, it was his children who he wanted only the best for in life.

“I was wrong,” He admitted to her. Catori was the first, and maybe even the only one, who would hear that from Zevulun, that he had now come to think… he’d acted too brash. He’d been… he took in a breath and said, “I was scared and I listened to fear instead of to your mother, instead of you,” he remembered the way Catori had cried out when he and Larka had argued; and when Larka had chosen to walk away with her. “I can’t change what I did, and I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but just know…” He trailed off softly, looking over her face as if to remember it as it was now: open, honest, filled with emotion - in case she shut herself away from him after he spoke. Zevulun knew she’d have every right. They always did; he could never just do the right thing.

“I am sorry.”