In Which Florian Becomes a Father

October 3, 1156

Death was not a foreign concept to Florian. His father had died when he was three years old; his mother had died when he was nineteen. In between those two deaths had been that of his brother, all of his aunts and uncles, and every last one of his cousins. For as long as he could remember, there had not been a year during which at least one family member had not met their untimely end, save for the first year in Naroni.

Now, he had to pay for that one year, that one glorious year in which not a single person he held dear had been taken from him. Perhaps that year should have been his year; he wished it had been. He did not want that extra year at the cost of his best friend, the woman who had spent her last two years caring for him so that he might have just one more. All she had wanted was a child, and now that he had finally given her one, she would not even be there to see the boy grow up.

She hadn't deserved to die. He should have been the one to go.

"Papa?"

What had Evera just called him? She'd never even spoken in front of him, although he knew Electra and Thetis had both been teaching her some simple words. Which one of them had lied to her and told her that Florian was 'Papa'?

"I'm not your Papa, Evera," he told her bluntly.

The poor child, already being lied to so early in life! But on the other hand, he supposed she would have to get used to hardship--after all, it was only a matter of time before Florian too was dead. Then what would become of Evera and baby Setran? Surely they would not go to Thetis and her vile husband. Perhaps Halford and Arydath would take them in? Or maybe Lord Severin and Lady Alina? That would be a splendid thing for them, being the foster children of a lord and lady...

But they would want to have more babies eventually, as would every other couple in Naroni that he would deem suitable; he couldn't ask anyone to care for two additional children in that case. No, they would just end up in the orphanage that was being built near the church, and then Evera would be sent back to a Dovian covenant to become a nun, and Setran to a monastery to be a monk. His son, a monk; Florian couldn't possibly think of a less interesting occupation for the boy.

"Papa? Where Mama go?"

Mama? Did she mean Thetis, or Electra? Either way, he couldn't answer; such a young child would understand neither "at home with your abusive father" nor "dead". What had his mother and brother told him after his father had died? Had he ever even asked them where he was? Somehow, Florian felt that he had always known what had happened to his father, even at that tender young age. Papa was with Jesus--or maybe he was with Satan. Or maybe he was just buried in the churchyard, rotting away, doomed to a dreamless sleep for the rest of eternity; Florian didn't really know.

Of course, that was just one more reason as to why he couldn't answer.

"Papa?"

"Evera, I'm not your--"

And then, it hit him; Evera was telling the truth. Florian was her papa. He wasn't her father, that was for sure, but he was the closest thing she had to one--maybe the closest thing she would ever have to one. And really, so far, he'd been doing a lousy job of it.

Well, that would have to change.

Sighing, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way toward the girl. "Evera."

She put the doll back in the ark and turned around as he bent down to pick her up. "Papa?" she addressed him once more.

"Hush, angel," he soothed her, not entirely sure if his voice was quite soft enough. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

She looked so peaceful with her head resting on his shoulder. He didn't think she knew that she would never see Electra again; how could she know? And how would he tell her?

"Where Mama?" the girl inquired once again. "Papa?"

"Mama loves you," he assured her; Thetis did and Electra had, and that was the only fact he knew.

He carried her to the foot of the crib, where Setran now lay, staring off toward the curtain. He too did not know where his mama was, but unlike Evera, he could not ask--and unlike Evera, he would never know his mama anyway.

"Look, Evera," Florian instructed her as he gazed down at his baby son. "Your brother."

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