In Which Evaleith Copes with the In-Laws

December 8, 1170

Rifden Wythleit may have been one of the most distinguished and highly skilled tradesmen in the area, but regardless of his successes, he was no more mature than any other young man his age--which was, to be precise, eighteen and a half. "So... when do we eat?"

Embarassed, Evaleith slouched in her seat. The boy's sister and brother-in-law--who were also his lady and lord, he might have done well to remember--had gone through all the unnecessary trouble of throwing a nice family gathering for Falidor's birthday and he couldn't even sit and make small-talk for twenty minutes before asking about supper. And he called himself a gentleman?

Not that it mattered, seeing as everyone else called him such.

The Wythleit siblings had been born peasants, but of the five of them, Evaleith's husband was the only one who still retained that lowly status. Not that she'd ever expected to marry a gentlemen--Lord knew she was twice the peasant Ceidrid was--but she was a little tired of feeling like an impostor. She'd come to the castle in her best dress, only to find that it paled in comparison to both Alsina's lacy red semi-formal and the kirtle Nora wore to accommodate the vast-approaching baby. Of the men, Ceidrid was the only one who'd even felt the need to dress up at all; the rest of them were wearing the same sort of clothing they wore every day! How was it that they were the only ones here who weren't fancy enough for some stupid family dinner?

And to think, it wasn't even as if Severin hadn't meant to make Ceidrid a gentleman years prior! Ceidrid had declined the offer, saying he would not call himself a gentleman until he felt that he had earned the title on his own merit. It was honorable of him, Evaleith knew--honorable, but stupid.

Ah, but maybe she was being too hard on the poor man. Peasant or not, she did love him, and it wasn't as if they were impoverished--far from. Their sons were well-fed and they never had any trouble making ends meet. She'd made such a social leap when she married him that she had likely grown unused to maintaining the same status years on end--yes, that had to be it.

"I'm a little hungry too," Alsina whined from her husband's lap--how on earth did she feel comfortable hanging off of the man in front of her siblings?

Aldhein groaned. "Well, if you are, the children probably are too."

By Nora's end of the couch, Severin's eyes narrowed into a pair of dark slits. He must have thought his in-laws somewhat immature--not that Evaleith could blame him, really. "It won't be much longer, I'm sure. Anyway, Falidor... how does it feel to be all of thirty? It's been so long since I was that age that I can scarcely remember."

Nora glanced up at her husband and snickered. "Yes, because we all know that eight years is a lifetime."

"It's not--and that's the scary thing," piped up Aldhein as Alsina pressed a daring kiss to the side of his neck--she must have had something to drink before they'd arrived. "Enjoy whatever you have left of your twenties, children."

His sister-in-law flashed him a devious grin, then cast a side-long glance toward her brother beside her. "All right, knock it off; I think you're scaring Falidor."

Privately, Evaleith had to disagree; however Falidor looked, it wasn't 'scared'. Indeed, she found it doubtful that he was even paying any attention to the conversation around him. He didn't seem to be quite all there--hadn't all evening, now that she thought about it. She wondered why that was--had his marriage declined even further than they'd thought?

Seeming to sense something similar, Ceidrid left his post at the fire and headed toward his brother. "You all right, bro?"

"Hmm?" Falidor took a moment to come to his senses; by the time he'd snapped to the here and now, every eye in the room was upon him. "Oh. I'm fine, thank you, just... thinking."

"Ah, he probably just needs to get laid," chuckled Rifden from the corner. Evaleith glared at him, but he only smirked--stupid child.

But to her surprise, Severin also laughed. "Perhaps you might take him on a tour of the local inns later tonight? Falidor on the loose--fathers lock up your daughters and all that."

At the sound of the word 'daughters', Falidor buried his face in his hands and whimpered, leaning forward as his elbows met his knees. Evaleith raised an eyebrow; had Riala or Maddie gotten into some sort of mischief earlier?

"Mama!" a small voice Evaleith recognized as Nora's daughter Ceira's rang from the corridor. "Mama, Papa, everybody! Supper's ready!"

"We'll be right there!" Severin took Nora by the hand and hoisted her to her feet, then glanced around the room, his gaze finally resting on Falidor. "Falidor, we shall let you have the pick of seats; if it makes you feel any younger, you're welcome to sit at the children's table."

If possible, Falidor slouched even further. "That... won't be necessary, thank you."

"Very well, then." He wrapped his arm around his wife's waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek before leading her out of the room. "Come along, everyone--dinner is served!"

Rifden scurried along after the pair of them, and Aldhein and Alsina after him. Ceidrid locked eyes with Evaleith and smiled. "Hungry, love?"

"A little," she admitted. "Yourself?"

He frowned. "More than I could say without encouraging Alsina and Rifden, anyway. Falidor?"

Evaleith watched from the corner of her eye as Falidor pulled himself upright, relieving himself with the heavy sigh of a man twice his age. Ignoring his brother's question, he rose to his feet with a distracted struggle and began the long, labored trudge toward the banquet hall.

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