In Which Severin Crosses the Chasm

September 8, 1170

"Searle, please let me in." Severin released the handle and leaned against the door, waiting in vain for a response he didn't expect to hear. This inexplicable moping had been going on for weeks now, and every time he'd tried to talk to the boy, he'd been hastily brushed off--I don't want to talk about it this or You wouldn't understand that. Wouldn't understand. He understood enough--he understood that his baby was hurting. "Searle..."

"Go away!" It was not a cry of rage, but of anguish. As far as Severin knew, he had little to do with Searle's uncharacteristic change of mood, and there was nothing in his son's voice to betray otherwise. He wasn't the cause of this--and yet, as a father, he couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. He had to make sure his boy was all right.

"Searle, don't think I won't pick the lock." All he heard in reply was a muffled sob. True to his word, Severin pulled a lock-pick from the pouch on his belt and jammed it into the keyhole. He fiddled with it for a minute or so before he heard the brief click! of a triggered mechanism, then pushed the door open and stepped into Searle's bedroom.

He found his son curled up on the bed, back toward him. Searle had been growing like a weed for the past few months, but he suddenly looked as small and frail as the day Goodwife Diarn had first placed him in Severin's arms. Was that really thirteen years ago now? His boy was getting older--all of his children were--and while it was a bittersweet concept, it was a fact of life that would take its course whether he liked it or not. There were two things Severin knew about growing up, and one of them was that it was inevitable.

The other was that it was tough. "Son? Won't you tell me what's wrong? I just want to know if there's anything I can do to help."

Searle stirred somewhat; then, his body shaking, he slung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself to his trembling, still growing feet. "Well, there isn't."

"Are you sure?" The boy trudged to the foot of the bed and nodded. Severin's stomach lurched; it was physically painful to see his bright, lively son so disheartened and resigned. "Will you at least tell me what's wrong, then?"

Rigid, his son looked to the empty toes of his precautionarily large boots, then stated in a whisper that was more breath than voice, "I think I like someone."

Severin sighed. Like everything else, it had only ever been a matter of time before his children started showing interests. He often caught Raia's eyes following men as they walked by, men he supposed she might have deemed handsome, and there was little doubt in his mind that she had been kissed--several times, perhaps. Jadin was even less discrete; Lonriad, ever the scheming young rascal, had tipped Nora off about a pile of discarded garters under his brother's bed only a month prior. Knowing the line from which they sprang and that he himself was no exception, none of these developments had come as a great shock to Severin, nor did Searle's admission. "Ah, kiddo, that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Yes, it is." Searle bowed his head and clasped his hands together, folding into himself and shrinking away. "It's someone I can't have."

His eyes widened at his own daring, as if he feared he'd given too much away. Perhaps he was worried he'd be seen as some sort of lustful sinner. If that was the case, he needn't have been concerned. He was just a kid; any feelings he had for some unobtainable girl at his age were unlikely to linger long.

Then again, Severin too had loved someone when he was just a kid. "Once upon a time, I couldn't have had your mother."

He crossed his arms and waited for the boy to say something--anything. He'd hoped that the mention of Alina would prove to be a reassurance of sorts, some sacred thing in which Searle could only find comfort; instead, the boy only shook his head. "It's nothing like that, Father. Mother liked you too... or, at least she could admit to liking you."

"Admit to liking me?" What an absurd notion; if not for the serious nature of their talk, he might have laughed. "Searle, your mother never 'admitted to liking me', as you put it, until she agreed to marry me."

"It's still different." Searle tilted back his head, a suspicious glint streaming down his face from the corner of his eye. "I mean... I don't know. It's not like anything can ever happen anyway."

Severin nodded, his heart sitting a little higher in his chest now; if his son could bring himself to voice that thought, then he would grow to be a wiser man than he himself had ever been. At the same time, however, resignation was not a thing he cared to encourage. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and see."

Searle shrugged. "I guess so..."

"As for right now, I'm glad to know that you are respectful enough not to force anything." Severin reached for the boy's face and wiped the lone tear away with the back of his hand. "You know how I feel about children being forced into betrothals--am I right in assuming that the object of your affections has been promised to another?" Somber, Searle nodded; Severin pulled him into a firm hug and sighed. "In that case, it would be wise to watch the boundaries, or at least be discreet about your feelings; if it's meant to be, it'll happen when the time is right."

"And what if it's not?" Searle sniffled from the woolen refuge of Severin's shoulder.

"Well... you're very young." He realized the irony in giving his son the same advice that his father had so unjustly wielded against him all those years ago, but now that he stood on the other side of the chasm, he could see the wisdom in it now, even if his own situation had proven an exception. "Just because you fancy someone at thirteen doesn't mean you'll love them at thirty. You still have plenty of time to figure out who you are and what it is you need in a woman. For all I know, this mysterious sweetheart of yours might be perfect for you, but it's a little too early to tell. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess." Searle nestled his head into the groove of Severin's neck. "I hope you're right, anyway. No one would let us be together anyway."

Severin tightened the embrace. Whatever was going on, he wanted his son to know that he would be there for him. "Searle, all I ask of any future in-law is that they make my child happy; as long as the one you love does just that, you will hear no objections from me."

Searle said nothing.

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