In Which Farilon is Perfectly Fine

February 23, 1158

Perhaps Farilon had been wrong in exiling Roderick, he mused not for the first time in over three years now. Had what he'd done been really such a terrible offense? Farilon had to remember, Roderick had been drunk out of his mind at the time, and barely even remembered the incident--surely had he been in his right state, nothing would have happened.

No, all Farilon had accomplished was effectively dividing his family in two. He was now a grandfather of six, but he only ever saw Oswald's three children, who of course lived in Farilon's own castle. He had not seen Ietrin since he'd been a tiny baby, and he'd never even met Leara and Camaline. He was getting up in years; how much longer he'd be able to come and visit them, he couldn't be sure. Perhaps Roderick and his children would have to visit him in Dovia--he could still revoke Roderick's exile status, even if the situation was beyond the point where it was practically for him to return to stay. No, Roderick's home was Naroni now, and as much as the fact grieved Farilon, he understood, and only had himself to blame.

But really, he was pleased to see that Roderick had taken a bad situation and made the best of it. Now, Farilon would have two sons who would be kings and two grandsons who would follow. From his line would continue two nations, two separate entities forever intertwined by bonds of blood and legacy. In some ways, he had every right to be the proudest man in the world.

Well... there was that little matter with that whore of a daughter-in-law of his, but she'd been gone for several months now, so it wasn't entirely irrational to presume her dead. Besides, maybe Roderick would marry again and have more children; maybe some who didn't chew on their dolls or suck their fingers as much as Geneva's did, bless Ietrin and Leara's little souls and may their mother burn in hell.

"Is something troubling you, Father?" asked Roderick, interrupting Farilon's private musings. "You seem quiet. Are you feeling all right?"

"He's sad because stupid Leara's playing with me and he's not," Ietrin answered on his behalf--and quite incorrectly, at that.

Roderick sniffed impatiently. "I wasn't asking you, Ietrin. And don't call your sister stupid; she's going to be a duchess one day."

Ietrin, however, seemed thoroughly unimpressed. "So? I'm gonna be a king."

"Not for a long time, you won't be. Now... Father?"

Farilon looked up. "No, son, I'm perfectly fine, thank you--moreso than I've been in years."

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