In Which Had Stands in as the God of Sparks

November 22, 1168

Had nudged the log with the poker and tilted it toward the back of the hearth, a small spray of sparks bursting from the fire--then, within seconds, it was as if they had never existed. And yet, the fire kept on burning. Maybe that was how God saw people.

Hell, the way these past few years had gone, Had was starting to see people that way too. That couldn't have been a good sign. His father had a favorite joke in which he made note of his own cynicism and warned Had never to start thinking that way. Had didn't think his father was as cynical as he claimed to be, but with thoughts like that, he was beginning to wonder about himself. He hoped his father couldn't read minds; the man would've been disappointed with what he saw.

"Thank you for putting on the fire, Had," Lyraina's grandmother acknowledged from a few feet back. "You're always such a help around the house." She often told him that, but up until a few weeks ago, she had always concluded with a scornful 'unlike my good-for-nothing son-in-law'. Needless to mention, she didn't say that anymore. She would probably never say it again.

"My pleasure, Goodwife Fedurin." Had jabbed the log once again. Was this how it felt to be God? Creating a multitude of sparks only to watch as they vanished into nothingness? Uneasy, Had took to christening them: the duke, Lady Alina, Goodman Diarn, his own mother...

The older woman allowed him the brief courtesy of a forced smile, then turned around and headed into the children's bedroom. Lyraina's three youngest siblings were ill with a nasty cough that was going around, Cord was outside tending to the pigs, and Hilla had accompanied their mother to the market; with Goodwife Fedurin now gone, Had and Lyraina were alone.

As Goodwife Fedurin began to soothe the coughing children in the next room, Had put down the poker and turned to face Lyraina. "How are you holding up?" He was worried about her. She'd been so stoic since her father's passing--she had to be. She had to be strong for her mother and grandmother, and especially for her siblings. Had knew this for a fact. He himself had been the same way for a while after his mother died. He'd kept a brave face during the days, and then again during the nights, helping his father with the animals and tucking his siblings into bed; and then, whenever he had a moment to himself, he would shed a few of those pent-up tears.

Lyraina lived in a smaller house than he did. He didn't know when she might get a chance to be alone.

She pulled herself to her feet and looked him in the eye, her lashes flickering as the moisture welled behind them. Embarassed, she let her face collapse into her hands and choked. The sound was not unlike that of a stifled sob.

Had kissed the side of her brow and wrapped his arms around her. Lyraina was constantly teasing him because she was bigger than he was. He'd never thought she could seem so small.

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