In Which Laveria Sees What Should Have Been

January 9, 1156

Laveria had always believed that all castles and manor houses had foyers, but now, she was not so sure. Severin's front room looked like a cross between a Danish mead hall and a Moroccan dining room--there was no way this could ever be called a "foyer", except maybe by that mysterious race who had built all these castles in the first place. The Naron... Laveria couldn't help but feel a little queasy at the thought of them. Sure, they had left their valley for now, but what if they came back? What would happen to all the people in Roderick's new little kingdom? Not all of them would be welcomed back with open arms in Dovia, she was sure of it.

The strangeness of it aside, however, it seemed to be a decent dwelling, surely much better than whatever room Severin had been sleeping in at that monastery. She had been asking about him all around the village, and she had gotten the impression that he and Alina were quite popular among their tenants; it was nice to see that he'd finally found somewhere he belonged.

But all the same, that hauntingly familiar crest of Lonriad's family could be found upon a shield hanging dead center on the back wall, immediately noticeable to any who entered through the front door. Would Laveria and her son never truly escape that golden lion? She hadn't seen Lonriad in years, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't think of him often. There was something about that man, almost as if he had the ability to split apart his very being and set some sliver of his essence upon her for the rest of her days. How she hated him, and how she loved him; she would always hate him, and how she would always love him.

"Can I help you, Mistress?"

The voice was that of a boy who had just emerged from a door off to the side, a smiling infant in his arms, beaming up at him.

Laveria looked him over. "You're a little finely dressed for a kitchen boy, aren't you?"

"I'm not a kitchen boy!" he exclaimed, slightly offended. "I'm the steward!"

She wasn't entirely convinced. "How old are you, kid? Twelve?"

"Fifteen," he corrected her.

"Well, that's still a little young for a steward, don't you think? Mind you, I suppose if you're old enough to be a father, you're old enough to be a steward."

"Oh, this little girl isn't mine!" the boy assured her. "Although sometimes I wish she was, so I could take her home with me. She's such a good girl."

"Look, kid, I know babies, and I know you don't want one," Laveria told him hastily. "What's your name, boy?"

"Falidor Wythleit," he introduced himself. "What about yourself, Mistress?"

Laveria laughed. "Oh, never mind that! How'd a kid like you get to be a steward, anyway? I know Severin has some strange ideas, but he'd have to be out of his mind to hire a fifteen-year-old steward."

Falidor shrugged, then took the baby in his hands and began to gently bounce her, provoking a series of giggles. "I don't really know, Mistress, but I'm a good steward; I actually do my work. The king's steward is twenty-one, but he spends all of his time in the queen's bedchamber, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure you're doing your work by playing with that baby," sneered Laveria. In truth, the kid was starting to grow on her, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

The boy laughed. "Well, Lord Severin prefers to do most of the work himself. I just do the easy stuff, like greeting people and telling him they're here."

"Well, since you're still here talking to me, you obviously aren't doing a great job of that," she snapped. "For the amount you do around here, you might as well get yourself a sweetheart."

"Who, you?" he asked slyly.

"Not a chance, you stupid boy!" Laveria scolded him, chuckling slightly to herself. "I could be your mother."

Her eyes shifted from his face to the infant's. "By the way, whose baby is that, if not yours?"

"This little girl? This is Raia. She's Lord Severin and Lady Alina's daughter."

Her granddaughter. She should have known the second she'd laid eyes on the girl. Those same dark eyes were the ones that greeted her every time she glanced her reflection in the mirror, and every time she looked upon the face of her son--this girl's father. Suddenly, there was no person more important or more beautiful than young Raia anywhere in all the world; the center of the universe was neither the earth nor the sun, but Severin's daughter.

"So are you going to take me to Lord Severin or not? Make up your mind, boy," she ordered him.

"I would," he answered, "but he's not here right now. It's just Lady Alina."

"Then tell her I'm here, foolish child!"

"Oh. Right. Yes, Mistress," obliged Falidor sheepishly. Raia still on his arm, he hurried off to the door opposite the one he had entered from and vanished into the room on the other side.

So Alina was just beyond that door. Laveria hadn't seen Alina since the girl had been barely up to her knees. What was she like now? Surely just as beautiful as her mother and sisters, if not more so. And kind, just, bright... she could not imagine Severin loving any woman who was not.

"Go on in," Falidor instructed as he reentered the room, the baby noticeably absent. "I daresay Lady Alina could use some intelligent woman such as yourself to keep her company."

"I'm sure she does, after a day of being home alone with only a baby and you," agreed Laveria as their paths crossed.

As she walked through that door and caught sight of Alina's young, perfect body, little Raia in her arms, Laveria, for the first time in her life, felt like an old woman. So long ago it was now, when she herself had been a striking young woman of twenty, with a brand new raven-haired, brown-eyed baby to call her own; she would never again be youthful and graceful as Alina was, and at her age, would likely never have another child. No... Laveria's early womanhood was a flower of last spring, reduced now to the soil of the coming one. It was Lady Alina's turn to bloom.

"You know, I never understood where half of you Sadiel kids got that red hair," she mused as she approached the younger woman, "seeing as both your parents are as blond as Norsemen."

Alina turned around and smiled. Laveria had been right; she had all the beauty of her mother, and then some. "Laveria!" she exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing in Naroni?"

"A new little kingdom like this can use my talents," answered Laveria, oddly aware of that golden lion staring her down from behind Severin's desk. "Besides, is it a crime to want to live out the remainder of my days near my only child and his family?"

"Oh, not at all," Alina agreed. "How long has it been since I last saw you, Laveria?"

Smiling, Laveria crossed the floor to the other side of her daughter-in-law and turned on her heel to face her. "I'll be damned if you were more than five. I'm sure Severin was eight at the time, maybe nine. Now, let me get a good look at my little granddaughter."

Alina nodded, then adjusted the baby so she faced slightly outward, toward Laveria. "Of course."

Laveria had never been one to actually talk to babies, but much to her relief, Raia seemed perfectly content with just a wave and a smile; Severin, she remembered vividly, had been much more demanding at that age.

"I imagine she has a dozen suitors already," she sighed. "That steward boy seems quite fond of her, and I heard talk that your cousin Dalston wants her for his son."

Her daughter-in-law laughed. "If Falidor plans on marrying Raia, he'll definitely have to wait a few years. As for Lorn, Severin doesn't want to force Raia into anything against her will. He says it's hypocritical, considering how we got married, and after seeing what I went through with Rudolphus, he doesn't want to put that pressure on any of our daughters."

Daughters. Plural. Laveria would never have daughters; she was running out of time to even have a daughter.

Laveria's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open, then closing once more.

"Well, I'll be damned," declared a familiar voice. "I haven't seen you in a good three or four years."

Three or four years, she saw now, was a very long time. The man who had just entered the room was not her flighty, stubborn son of nineteen; he was a different person entirely. Someone powerful, someone cunning, someone who knew exactly how to get whatever he wanted and would see to it that he did just that...

"Forgive me, Severin," she muttered under her breath. "You look so much like your father."

Severin chuckled slightly. "Good God, I hope I don't have that many gray hairs. Anyway, how have you been, Mother?"

"Oh, same as always," replied Laveria as her son stepped forward and embraced her. "I see you've got a little village growing not too far from here."

"They're in need of a herbalist," he hinted.

"You don't say? I wonder where they could get one."

Severin smiled. "Say the word and I'll have a house built for you down there."

"The word," she repeated with a smirk.

"Then it's done!" he exclaimed as he released her. "Mother, have you seen my father recently?"

Laveria frowned. "No, I haven't. Not since I last saw you."

"Oh." Severin inhaled softly, then gave a quick sigh. "I imagine he's still angry with me?"

"From what I've heard," admitted Laveria, "but he never could stay angry with you for too long. I wouldn't worry--at least, not about anything other than making me some more pretty grandchildren."

A familiar grin emerged from Severin's features as he exchanged a playful glance with his wife; however, Laveria had never before seen that grin on him. "How about that, Princess? Think we'll have enough time between Raia and the next if we start trying now?"

Alina giggled. "Oh, Severin! I haven't even lost all the baby weight yet--I don't want it to accumulate! Maybe next month?"

"Whenever you're ready, Angel."

Princess. Angel. Laveria had once been someone's Princess, and someone's Angel; never again would she hear those two words directed at her.

Looking at the three of them together was not what it should have been. Laveria knew she would never truly see the three of them together; they would always reconfigure themselves in her mind's eye, taking on forms that were not their own, mere ghosts of what once was and what should have been.

"What would you think if we named our next daughter after you, Laveria?" Alina offered, bringing Laveria back to her senses.

Despite herself, a grin broke her face. "Not your next, and not the one after, but the fourth daughter," she insisted. "You've got your own mother, Alina, and Viridis practically raised Severin. Don't you name any daughters for me until they've each had one named for them."

"Fair enough," stated Severin. "I hope you realize you'll be joining us for dinner tonight."

"Couldn't get out of it if I tried, I'm sure," she muttered in mock annoyance.

He sent her one last smile, then turned to receive Raia from Alina.

This was what should have been. Viridis was a strong woman; she would have survived if Lonriad had left her. He had never loved his wife, but he had loved Laveria once. She would have liked to think he would have run away with her, raised their baby with her, and maybe even had more. But he was a duke, and being a duke came before being a father and a lover. It shouldn't have been that way, that was the one thing she was sure of; but it was. For Lonriad, it always would be.

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