In Which Riala Looks Twice

December 1, 1157

"Mama!" called Rifden as he ran into the house, toddling along as quickly as his five-year-old legs would carry him. "Mama, Falidor's here! Falidor's here!"

Riala pursed her lips, caught somewhere between hope and disbelief. "Is he?"

"Uh-huh," her youngest son insisted. "He's outside talking to Nora and Grandpapa."

Stepping away from the water bucket, Alsina sighed. "Great. He probably brought stupid Ailede with him."

"Alsina, don't call your sister-in-law stupid," Riala scolded softly, though privately, she did not blame her daughter in the slightest.

"Why not?" demanded Alsina. "She is."

Rifden bounced indignantly, as if worried that his family had forgotten his very presence. "Ailede didn't come!"

Ceidrid, Riala's middle child, gave a sigh of relief as he lowered his nose to the pot of soup Nora had been preparing. "Good. I hate her."

"Ceidrid!" exclaimed Riala. "Don't you dare say that when your brother comes inside!"

He shrugged. "You know, Ma... I think some part of Falidor hates her too. It's not like he married her out of love or anything. She's just some hussy who was looking to take advantage of some drunken idiot, and it turned out that the drunken idiot was him. Besides, have you seen the way she talks to him? It's obvious that there's no respect there whatsoever."

Riala sighed. "You shouldn't talk that way in front of your little siblings."

"Rifden's heard worse, Ma--and Alsina says worse."

She opened her mouth to ask exactly what sort of things Alsina was saying these days, but before she could, the door opened to reveal her firstborn... and someone else.

"Falidor," she addressed him, not fully capable of saying much else. "Oh, Falidor..."

"Hello, Ma," Falidor replied with a nod. "Ma... this is Fenrick."

Riala took a moment to cough, then smiled. "Fenrick? Your father..."

"I named him for Father," he confirmed. "He looks just like him, doesn't he?"

"And just like you," she added, her dark eyes meeting the baby's blue ones. Those were the most beautiful eyes in the world, she realized all over again. She had married those eyes... her three older children had those eyes... and now, her grandson did as well.

Falidor beamed at her fondly, as he had as a small child, fully in awe of his mother. "Do you want to hold him, Ma?"

She nodded. Gently, Falidor lowered the baby into her arms; the little boy was the spitting image of his father at that age, she saw only too clearly.

"He was born on the fifteenth," admitted Falidor sheepishly, "but he was sick, and I didn't want to take him anywhere until he got better."

For the first time in a week or so, Riala let out a slight laugh. "He's beautiful, Falidor."

"I know."

"How are you liking Fenrick, Mama?" asked Nora as she strode inside--Riala had to look twice.

"Oh my," she gasped between frantic blinks. "That baby looks just like Fenrick."

Falidor nodded. "She's his twin, Ma. Her name... is Riala."

She felt herself smiling again--she had to cough, but she resolved to keep it in while she was holding the baby. "I... don't know what to say, Falidor."

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her--God, he looked so much like his father.

Beside him, Nora nodded. "Sometimes words aren't enough, Mama."

Riala's grin only widened. "No, but oftentimes, they are all we have. When these two are older, you will understand."

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