In Which Aldhein Settles in the Middle

March 31, 1178

It wasn't always easy to be a good man.

Aldhein tried--maybe not as hard as Alsina deserved, but hard enough that he didn't feel bad about justifying the occasional slip-up. A rough patch at work. Becoming a grandfather. It was Alsina's time of the month and he didn't want to pester her.

This time, it was the kids. All four of them had come down with an early spring sickness; the older two didn't have it so bad, but the twins had been bedridden for a week. Alsina had caught a spell of it too, but she'd recovered. The children too were better than they had been, but it was still cause for a bit of stress on his part.

Still... it was stress on Alsina's part too, wasn't it? More, even--she was the one who cared for them in the day, after all. Maybe this wasn't such a good time for a lapse.

"Aydelle..."

He'd paused, but her fevered kisses never ceased save for the breathy gasps in between. "That's it, say my name..."

"Aydelle, this--"

She sprung onto his lap and slipped her tongue between his lips, running it along the curve of his teeth, forcing past them to the reaches of his mouth. Damn, she knew how to massage the palate. Not that his wife didn't as well, but sometimes it was nice to have someone a little more experienced--

No. Alsina was having a rougher time than him. He was being selfish. "Look, we can't do this right now."

"Oh? Getting to the age where it doesn't always work?"

She laughed softly to herself as she hopped back down to the cushion. Aldhein rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know everything works as it should. Just... the kids are sick and Alsina's stretched thin and it's just not the time."

Aydelle sniffed. He hoped she wasn't offended. He'd certainly enjoyed the last time and he didn't think he'd been subtle about it. Besides, she was a smart, confident woman; she understood.

...didn't she?

"No loss. You're not the only one who can satisfy my needs."

As if he hadn't known that. Not that he'd say it aloud. He'd known enough women in his life to realize there were more than just good girls and sluts--just like there were more than just good men and bad men. The middle was a difficult enough place without alienating the natural allies. "Thanks for understanding."

She nodded. She didn't seem to want to talk but that was all right. There was nothing left to say.

Or so he'd thought before the far door burst open. "Papa!"

Alarmed, Aldhein jolted to his feet. It had been quite some time since that voice had outgrown that word. "Dalston? Why aren't you at home resting?"

His eldest son dashed toward him and collapsed into his arms. Unsure, Aldhein gave him a light pat on the shoulder before stepping back and holding his hand against the boy's forehead. "You're still a little warm. What are you doing here?"

Dalston swallowed. Did his throat still hurt too? He'd sounded much less raspy that morning...

"Dalston?"

Nothing more than a choke.

"Is it your mother? One of your siblings? Dalston?" Was he reluctant to talk in front of Aydelle, perhaps? Oh Lord--he couldn't have been there long enough to have heard. Could he? "Dalston, please talk to me."

Alsina's dark eyes welled as Dalston's lips pried themselves apart. Every eleven-year-old boy thought he was too old to cry. Every eleven-year-old boy was wrong. "Papa, please come home."

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