In Which Falidor Faces the Extent of His Mistake

December 16, 1156

"Well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!" Falidor exclaimed as his sisters stepped inside; after having spent the past six days being bossed around and verbally chastised from every direction, he'd never appreciated his own, sweet family more. A pity he didn't live with them anymore--he'd never thought that work would become a welcome escape from home.

Nora's nose wrinkled slightly, which, considering her usual accommodating nature, really said something. "Falidor, what's that smell?"

"My uh, brother-in-law just came back with supper," he explained, still struggling with the term 'brother-in-law'. He'd taken to privately referring to Senwick as his 'bother-in-law', and had developed a slight fear of letting the nickname slip into his speech.

"Is that your baby, Falidor?" piped up redheaded Alsina.

In Falidor's arms, Neleine sniffed. "I'm not a baby. I'm three."

"Well, I'm seven," Alsina boasted. "So there."

Neleine stuck out her tongue; Alsina retaliated with a much ruder gesture, one that Falidor wouldn't have guessed she'd known.

Nora shook her head, smiling to herself. "Speaking of babies--"

"Not that I know of," Falidor answered quickly. "Nora, I haven't even been married a week yet."

Married. Another word that never failed to wreak havoc upon his tongue. He knew he should have just spent that day instead of home instead of going to the inn with his grandfather. That night had been the biggest mistake of his life.

"Dammit, woman! Where the hell is my bread?"

Falidor's in-laws were fighting again.

"Get your own damn bread!" Madelheina shrieked; she was a sour, screaming woman who probably hadn't smiled in a good decade or so. "You know where the bakery is!"

"But I told you to go, and you know I have to have my bread when I come in from the field!" hissed Lonel in reply. Lonel was even worse than Madelheina--not only was he constantly angry, but he often wreaked of beer.

"Well, I guess not today, unless you go and get it yourself!"

Lonel sent a scowl in his wife's direction. "You useless wench!" he growled. "If you aren't going to feed me, then the least you can do is pop out another brat! Remind me to force you down tonight!"

"Well, that'll be shitload of help, considering this whole menopause concept!"

"You're only thirty-eight!"

"Some women get it early!"

"Hag!"

"Drunkard!"

"Bitch!"

"Ogre!"

Shaking her head in exasperation, Madelheina turned on her heel and retreated into the bedroom.

"Where are you going, you filthy slut?" demanded Lonel.

"Jerusalem. Where do you think, asshole?"

What in God's name had he married into?

"Hey! Falidork! You're going to the bakery later!" Lonel barked at him as his wife slammed the door shut behind her.

Falidor sighed. "Fine."

"Damn right you will!" his father-in-law insisted. He continued to send one of his squint-eyed glares his way, until suddenly, his green eyes widened at the sight of something they obviously found pleasing--much to Falidor's horror.

"Well," slurred Lonel as he approached a slowly-recoiling Nora, "what's your name?"

"Er... Leonora," she whispered in reply, her eyebrows raised slightly.

Lonel's eyes lit up, like those of a wolf who had just discovered that the farmer had forgotten to close the barn gate. "Leonora. Pretty name... although, I guess that's not surprising, considering you're quite a pretty girl."

Nora's expression remained unchanged. "Uh... thank you?"

"Just telling the truth, sweetheart," Lonel assured her with a wink.

Managing to turn away from him, Nora's eyes met Falidor's, her unblinking stare engraving the message 'What the hell?' on the surface of his mind.

"We'd better be going," she muttered after a few strained seconds. "Come on, Alsina. Bye, Falidor."

"Bye," Falidor bade his sisters, sorry to see them go.

"Goodbye, Leonora," cooed Lonel as the girls left, his eyes perfectly fixated on Nora's ass; Falidor wanted to hit him, but he knew he'd probably end up getting pinned to the wall with a pitchfork if he tried.

"Well?" the older man hollered, not a moment sooner than Alsina had shut the door. "Put Neleine in the crib and get going!"

Neleine pouted. "I don't wanna go in the crib!"

"Either you sleep in the crib, or you sleep in the cabbage patch!" snapped Lonel. "Now, get her in the crib before she starts crying!"

"Right," he relented, making his way behind the curtains and into the two makeshift bedrooms; he would have to remember to ask Lord Severin for fewer days off.

"Ailede, can you take your sister for me?" he inquired of his wife as he stopped in front of their bed. "Your father wants me to go to the bakery."

Ailede sniffed. "It won't kill her if you just drop her on the floor, you know."

"Shut up, whore!" screamed Neleine; was Falidor a horrible person if he thought the three-year-old was just as awful as everyone else in the house?

"You shut up, brat!" Ailede snapped back at her. "Get her out of my sight, Falidor."

He nodded, secretly wishing she had asked him to get out of both of their sight instead.

"You know why I picked you?" his wife demanded suddenly.

Falidor raised an eyebrow. "Picked?"

"I want the hell out of this house," she continued. "You're a steward; I figured you'd have your own household."

So his suspicions were confirmed; she had planned it all. It had just been an attempt to get away from her family--not that he could really blame her for wanting that.

"Ailede, I told you. My mother..."

Angrily, she dug her heel into the foot of the bed. "I don't care about your mother; I'm just sick of having to put up with mine. And with all the rest of them too."

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