In Which Severin's Paradise Is Lost

February 16, 1158

Severin was not ordinarily a man to put much faith in supposed extra senses, but for some reason, he could not shake the nagging little feeling that something was going to happen, and soon--something disastrous.

He didn't even know where it had come from. His day had been pleasant enough, if not rather busy; he'd been surveying the progress of some of his villages, and had found that they were growing quite nicely. Not a single tenant had given him any impression other than a favorable one, and even Roderick had seemed to be in a relatively pleasant mood when he'd stopped by the castle briefly. Hell, even the weather had smiled upon him today--and yet, he couldn't help but sense that his good fortune was about to forsake him.

The courtyard was quiet--too quiet. It was sunset, but he might have expected to see at least some activity as he made his way up the castle steps and into his home. Where were the guards? The grooms? Not all of them lived in the castle, of course, but usually there were a few of the ones who did still walking around outside at this hour. Where was everyone?

Sighing, Severin trudged up the stairs and stepped into the castle's front room, where he was greeted by a smiling Falidor.

"Ah, my lord!" the steward exclaimed, setting down his quill and beaming up at him--as starved for hours Falidor had been in the early stretch of his marriage, it seemed he was now often very eager to head home to see his little twins. Not that Severin blamed him; Lord knew he couldn't get his fill of his own children, and he would've been quite reluctant to leave them with a woman such as Ailede all day. "I trust everything went well?"

Severin nodded. "Perfectly, thank you. Is Alina all right?"

A quizzical look appeared on Falidor's face. "Yes..."

"My babies?"

"Yes..."

"Good," he breathed in relief. "Now, would you mind telling me where all the workers are?"

"The king announced the death of the queen today, my lord. They were so shocked that I had no choice but to give them the day's leave."

That certainly explained Roderick's good spirits--as far as he was concerned, all this Geneva business was over.

"Fair enough, I suppose," Severin muttered. "Although if we're ever at risk of being under siege, I trust you'll keep the guards on hand, at the very least?"

Falidor nodded. "Of course. Is something troubling you, my lord?"

He shook his head. "Nothing in particular, Falidor. I just have a bad feeling about something, and I'm not sure why."

The young steward frowned, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh. Well, in that case, my lord, it's probably a bad time to inform you that your father and brother have come for a visit."

That explained a lot.

"I'm sorry, sir," continued Falidor uneasily. "I told him you probably wouldn't want to see him, but then he said that he was a duke and you were only a lord, so..."

"It's fine," Severin attempted to assure the boy, though he suspected he sounded anything but assuring. "I just... wasn't expecting this. I trust they accompanied King Farilon?"

Falidor closed his eyes. "I think so. Again, I'm sorry about this."

"Don't trouble yourself, Falidor," he insisted as he opened the door and started to make his way into the next room. "Now, feel free to go home to your babies whenever you please."

"Thank you, my lord," the steward acknowledged him.

Sending the young man one last quick, half-hearted grin, Severin closed the door behind him and surveyed the room. The baby, he supposed, was asleep in the nursery. On one couch sat Alina, her pregnancy just beginning to show, while their nephew Searle jumped on the other. Raia sat on the rug, playing with Noah's ark, while--much to his great dismay--Lonriad and Rudolphus stood by the fireplace, living proof of their own presence, Jadin in Lonriad's arms.

"Papa!" Raia announced him, dropping her toys and toddling toward him as fast as her two-year-old legs would carry her. He was rather relieved that it had been his young daughter who had noticed him first; he would now have an excuse to greet her before his father, and perhaps she could give him the strength he lacked to face Lonriad.

"Hello, angel," he addressed her with a grin, picking her up and bouncing her slightly as he often did. "Good Lord, you're getting big. It won't be long before I won't be able to hold you anymore, so I'd better take advantage now."

Raia frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Why?"

"Because Papa's getting old, and his joints won't be the same in a few years," Severin told her, prompting a giggle.

"You're not old, Papa," she laughed stubbornly. "Grandpapa's old."

Ah; as if the mere sight of Lonriad wasn't enough of a reminder that he was actually here. And he had met Severin's children; true, it had probably been inevitable, but he'd been hoping that it would be at least a couple of years. Now that his babies had met their grandfather at their tender young age, he would have to become a part of their lives. Severin could just hear them--"When is Grandpapa coming?"--"Will Grandpapa bring me presents?"--"Grandpapa lets me eat cake whenever I want"--

"Papa, can I jump on the couch with Searle?" asked Raia suddenly, her eyes wide in fascination as she watched her older cousin bounce back and forth between cushions. "Please?"

Severin spied Searle out of the corner of his eye--the boy was jumping a little too sporadically for his liking. "I don't know, sweetheart. By the looks of it, he might jump on you. How about you jump on the couch after Searle's done?"

"Severin!" scolded Alina. "Don't encourage her!"

Lonriad chuckled to himself as he stared fondly at his young grandson. "Oh, you're one to talk, Alina--if I recall, you were once an avid couch-jumper yourself. Ruined some of Viridis's most expensive furniture, you did, you and Severin both. By the way you two keep multiplying like bunnies, and the way the desire to bounce on cushions runs in the family... mark my words, you'll have a new couch every month."

So Lonriad had spoken; now, Severin would have to acknowledge him.

Alina gave a small smile. "Oh, Lonriad, I'm sure you're just jealous because you've had the same couch for a decade, and it will probably last a decade more."

"Oh, we'll see about that," he wagered with a wink. "I've got two new little bouncing babies of my own now, so the poor couch may not have as many years left as we thought it might."

Once again, she laughed; how did those two manage to get along? She knew how he felt about his father--and yet, she was still friends with him. Oh, but perhaps that was selfish thinking on his part. Who was he to say who could and could not be friends with whom? He needed some way to clear his head; being around his father never did provoke a rational thought in him.

Finally, Lonriad turned around and faced him. Their eyes met--for a few painful seconds, neither of them spoke. Then--

"Severin."

He nodded curtly. "Father."

"You seem to be doing well," Lonriad complimented him; he seemed sincere, but there was still that ever-present awkwardness between them.

"I am," he agreed. "I have three beautiful children, a fourth on the way, and a positively radiant wife. What more can I ask for?"

His father shrugged, bouncing Jadin slightly; the little boy giggled. "Admittedly, not much. Your shire seems to be prospering."

"Really, I have little to do with that," insisted Severin, lowering Raia to the floor and gently patting her on the head. "The people work very hard."

A small smile appeared on Lonriad's face. "That is because they wish to please their lord, son, and that is because he is a good one. You always did sell yourself short."

Severin didn't look back at his father as he started off toward the couch upon which Alina sat. "I suppose that is because no one ever expected much of me anyway."

"Severin..." warned Alina, trying to disguise her disapproval with a grin.

Severin shook his head. "Later," he told her.

Fortunately, Lonriad seemed too stunned by the comment to make note of their conversation. He set Jadin down, then--much to Severin's chagrin--joined the two of them on the couch.

As his father sat down beside him, Severin automatically leaned toward his wife, slinging one arm around her.

"You're being awfully rude, I hope you realize," she hissed at him in a whisper.

"Why didn't you send him away?" he demanded of her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Because he's my children's grandfather," answered Alina. "I know you don't like him, but can't you at least try to be civil? For their sake," she added, her blue eyes flickering between Raia and Jadin.

He sighed. "Princess, no one knows better than you--"

"Don't you 'princess' me," Alina snarled, suddenly elbowing him in the side.

"Hey!" gasped Severin; Alina had always had a strong elbow, he was suddenly reminded. "Please, Alina, just let me decide--"

"Oh, you can decide all right," she promised him. "Are you sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms? Or on the couch? It's your decision."

"What are you talking about?" asked Rudolphus out-of-the-blue; Severin had almost forgotten that he was in the room.

Severin bit his lip. "Uh... where's Searle?"

"I'm right here, Uncle Severin!" the page exclaimed--not for the first time, Severin regretted giving his younger son the same name as the boy's cousin. In fact, since the birth of Alina's, four of the five Sadiel sisters now had their own young Searle, named for their father; surely the other sister, as well as each of the elder Searle's sons, would name a son Searle as well. Perhaps it was just as well that Severin's family was rather isolated here in Naroni--if there was confusion here, then he could barely even imagine what it would be like dealing with the many Searles of Dovia.

"Oh no, not you," he laughed. "Baby Searle--Little Searle."

Searle seemed aglow; he liked it when people referred to Severin's Searle as "Little Searle", because then, by default, he himself was "Big Searle".

"Oh, he's asleep in the nursery," Lonriad answered as he watched Searle jump, an amused, perhaps envious smile on his face. "But don't worry about that, Severin; we already met him. Besides, we're here all week, so we'll have plenty of time to see him, right Rudolphus?"

His eyes glazed and his expression stony, Rudolphus nodded slowly. "Yes, Father. We'll certainly be getting our fill of Alina's babies," he confirmed, more than a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Severin's babies. Severin and Alina's babies."

Severin could only lock eyes with his wife and grimace. "Princess," he addressed her through gritted teeth, "this is going to be one long week..."

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