In Which Severin Defends a Distressed Damsel

July 13, 1157

"Two horsies," Lorn insisted, nudging the two animals toward each other with the head of his doll.

"No," argued Raia, promptly pulling one back. "This donkey--that horsie. Stupid!"

Severin shook his head. "Be nice, Raia; you're Lorn's guest, remember."

He wished he could have left her at home with Alina and Jadin, but the truth was, he needed a pretense... and what better pretense than a play date? It was an awful feeling, using his own daughter like this, but his last visit with Celina had told him all he needed to know; something had to be done.

"Well, they seem to be enjoying themselves," Dalston noted as he stepped into the room. "Quite unfortunate that they insist on arguing over that mule, though."

"At least we know that each of them understands half of what a mule is," insisted Severin.

"Indeed. If we could combine their minds, then we may have the most intelligent two-year-old the world has ever seen."

Nodding, Severin carefully stepped over the ark and made his way to Dalston's side, then faced the duke with an incredible grimace.

"So," he began, figuring it was best to start with some meaningless small talk. "How is little Xeta doing?"

"Quite well, thank you very much. She's an exceedingly mild-mannered baby," answered Dalston fondly. "Have you see her yet?"

"Indeed, I have."

"It's nice to have a baby that sleeps through the night," the duke continued in his reverent manner. "I remember Lorn was a real cryer when he was that age; fortunately, he grew out of it fairly quickly. I'm also happy to have a pretty little girl around now."

"I think it can only be a good thing to have one of each," Severin agreed, wondering how much more of this would be necessary before he could deal with his true business in coming here. "Mind you, it won't be long before I have two of one kind."

"Or perhaps you shall have one of a third kind."

"If that be the case, then I suppose I can claim a full set."

Dalston laughed. "There is not much that you find unusual or unacceptable, is there?"

"Why not accept that which one cannot influence?" mused Severin, relaxing the aching muscles in his mouth; never again would he grimace so widely! "Should force of God or nature bestow upon me a hermaphrodite child, then who am I to consider the idea an abomination? Anyway, as amusing as these philosophical discussions are, they are not why I'm here--in fact, I'm not here simply because of our children's play date either."

Dalston raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why are you here, Severin?"

Severin sighed. "Dalston, I'm sorry that your son is here to witness this."

Before the other man could reply, he struck him across the face, the resounding clap of contact echoing through out the room.

"Jesus!" Dalston swore, stumbling slightly backward. "What the hell was that for?"

Severin rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well what that was for."

"Severin, I already apologized to Celina--"

"Yes, but has it occured to you that an apology may not be enough?" he demanded; he'd given this lecture before, long ago, and had always hoped it would never again be necessary. It was lucky for him that he himself was a man--had he been a woman, then he would have had to actually live with this sort of nonsense. "This isn't like stealing the blankets, Dalston; you can't just say 'sorry' in the morning and expect everything to be just fine."

Dalston's eyes narrowed. "Well, what else can I do? If she'd rather avoid me whenever possible, then that's her choice. I've done all I can for her."

Where else had Severin heard that before? Oh yes--he'd been ten years old and his father had been complaining to him about a fight he'd had with Viridis. If he'd been in this situation before, then why not deal with it the same way? He would tell Dalston exactly what he had told his father all those years ago.

"My God, you're an idiot," he dismissed, suddenly very much unaware of the fact that this man outranked him considerably. "Look, a woman interprets her husband's adultery as him having fallen out of love with her, or having found someone he would rather be with than her. That sort of insult isn't one that can be erased by a mere apology."

"But I do love her!" declared Dalston in exasperation. "And I tell her I do! Why does she think I don't?"

Severin shrugged. "The female mind is a thing far too complex for the likes of you and I, but I would suggest some sort of gesture--one considerably greater than an apology. And while you're at it, maybe tell Geneva to stay away from here; I know she's been visiting."

"Do you think I haven't?" Dalston snapped. "You should know by now that she won't be told what to do. You of all people, Severin--don't you ever look at Geneva and see the resemblance between her and Mother Dearest?"

Of anything Dalston could have said, Severin had not been expecting that.

"Don't you dare liken my mother to that whore," he hissed after a stunned moment. Oh, but what if it was true? Was his mother really any better than Geneva? They had both stolen a man away from his wife, and that fact could not be argued; but at least his mother had not had her own husband, and his father had been unfaithful to Viridis before...

"I'm sorry," muttered Dalston meekly. "I didn't mean it. I just... just..."

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