In Which Falidor Succumbs to a Smile

February 2, 1161

The twins played as they always did, Fenrick chattering away loudly as he maneuvered the figurines about, barely allowing his sister to get a word in, while Riala rolled her eyes and followed along, occasionally committing some rebellious act such as stealing an animal or 'accidentally' kicking her brother in the leg. It was just another day for them; the little dears didn't even realize that their mother was noticeably absent, giving birth to their sibling on the floor below.

Half-sibling, Falidor corrected himself hastily. How bizarre this was, his wife was about to have a baby that was not his. She hadn't even bothered to pretend that it was, nor did she claim rape or immaculate conception or anything of the like. She had simply been unfaithful--end of story.

Perhaps she knew he was a soft man, and did not fear him. What would he do to her? Nothing. Maybe he should have. Maybe he might have if he honestly cared more.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the nursery door. "Yes?" he called with a sigh.

"Everything went well," Laveria assured him as she barged into the room, Ailede's baby in her arms, "or, as well as it could have gone, I suppose. Ailede named her Madelheina, for her mother."

Falidor had to admit, he was somewhat surprised that his wife had named a child for one of the parents she so despised--it seemed almost a crime to willingly christen a baby after a person one loathed, a mark of some similar emotion felt toward the child herself. He had spent little enough time feeling sorry for himself, but even that which he had might have been better spent feeling sorry for the baby.

"Madelheina," he whispered as he pulled himself from his seat and made his way toward the pair; the name seemed somewhat prettier when not applied to his shrewish mother-in-law. "Does she resemble Ailede much?"

Laveria quickly glanced down at the infant's face, frowning. "Not really. Looks more like Willott's former apprentice than anyone else. I hear he's set up shop in Chalwin Village in Tetranshire if you feel the need to go pound the stuffing out of him."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Falidor declined; he did not think it wise to pick a fight with Grayer Maesflein, who was not only considerably bigger than he was, but also a man who tore apart dead animals for a living.

She allowed herself to laugh, for which he was grateful--he didn't appreciate the way most people had come to walk on eggshells around him upon learning of his wife's infidelity. "Come and see her."

Shrugging, he did as he was told. At first, he had no idea what to make of the girl--though he could not claim to love his wife, the baby was a sort of symbol of his humiliation--but as those brown eyes met his and that little mouth formed a small smile, he could not help but return the grin. This tiny angel, he was fully aware, had nothing to do with her own conception. This was a little girl, with a distant mother and no father, and all she could ever want was just a little bit of love.

Falidor was not the smartest of men, nor the strongest of men. He was neither a smith of words nor a great visionary. Even he himself was well aware that there was nothing at all remarkable about him.

And yet, he had a lot of love--more than enough for his wife's baby.

"Can I hold her?" he asked as they continued to gaze at one another.

Laveria nodded, then gently lowered the baby into his arms. She was not a small newborn, but all the same, Falidor could not recall seeing anyone ever so tiny.

"Papa?" asked Riala suddenly from the floor. "Papa, who's that?"

"This is your sister, dear," Falidor informed her--the word 'half' seemed suddenly insignificant. "Be gentle with her, though--she's only a baby."

His daughter nodded solemnly. "All right."

"Good girl," he muttered as he held the baby close. "God, she's warm."

"She's perfectly healthy, if that's what you're thinking," insisted Laveria. "Besides, I'm somewhat warm as well. It may just be the room... or you."

Falidor raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Most men are a little colder when presented with their wives' bastards, you realize," she sighed.

He snorted dismissively. "Well, maybe their wives' bastards just aren't as sweet as this little one. Isn't that right, Maddie?"

The baby replied with a small yawn, then snuggled herself into his shoulder. She was such a darling; it was true that he wasn't her father, but he was perfectly happy to be her papa.

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