In Which Lonriad Is Only Quite Himself

August 15, 1178

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Lonriad shook his head as he shut--and locked--the door behind him. The protest made a strange sort of sense if he considered that Ashe was in the process of growing up for the second time. It hadn't been all that long ago when Lonriad had been growing up. He was well-versed in the lexicon of scared, angry young men. 'Leave me alone' was most typically used when that was the last thing a boy needed--or, deep down, wanted. "Yes, well, I'm not that good a listener. Besides, you can't expect me to learn something like that and just shrug it off."

He had a point there and Ashe knew it. The narrowed green eyes said enough. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"No." Even if it had been his secret to tell, who would have believed him? As for the Deian thing, he thought he had it worked out--for now. He'd arrange to visit Raia on days when she expected Tavrin. He'd bribe his niece and nephew to distract their mother while he pressed Tavrin about any plans Deian might have made. That wasn't telling anyone; surely Deian's own grandson already knew he was back? And if it was... well, he'd make damn sure Deian knew that Ashe had nothing to do with it. "But it's lucky for you that I found out. Now you have someone to talk to."

"You just said you weren't a good listener."

"Maybe not, but I'm better than nothing." A choice line of Lonriad's father's, even if the usual prompter had been more along the lines of 'You wouldn't understand'. So much for thinking it would be another decade or so before he had to use it. "Here's the thing about men and emotions: we're not made to feel so many things at once. Maybe women handle it all right--you'd know better than I would--but men just... don't. If you don't let a few of those feelings breathe, they're just going to mount until they explode right out of you like some sort of fucked up psychological diarrhea."

Ashe cringed. Under more casual circumstances, Lonriad might have snickered. "Look, we men have no qualms about discussing bodily functions. Get used to it, because it's only a matter of time before some drunk in a bar challenges you to a pissing contest. But anyway--keep this up and you're just going to keep blowing up like you did yesterday. And it's one thing to lash out at me, but what if you did that to Rona? Or the baby? Do you think you could live with yourself if that happened?"

He knew the answer before it was given. Ashe looked up at him for a couple strained seconds before turning back to the sheet of parchment in front of him. "No."

"Thought so. Sit with me." Lonriad jerked his head in the direction of a bench along the next wall, but he didn't move until Ashe stood. He waited until the other collapsed on the near end, then took the empty spot on the far. "So, what happened, anyway? How did you get all..." He couldn't remember ever having such difficulty finding a fitting word. "...stubbly?"

He thought it might have merited some sort of twitch, but Ashe just sighed. Maybe he'd exhausted himself the day before. "I'm not even really sure. It was about a week before the tournament and I was working at Seoth's place and I saw all those goons that were here to compete and I just... well, none of them were good enough for Rona. I had a run-in with one of the forest people and she said to try making a wish at the sex pond, so I just wished that Rona would be happy and..."

"The next morning, you woke up looking like that." Ashe nodded. At least Jadin's sex pond story made sense now--sort of. "Huh. If all you wished for was for her to be happy, it sounds like you two were meant to be together."

"I thought so too, but..." He shook his head as he threw the unfinished thought on a mental peg and left it to dangle.

But really, Lonriad couldn't not grab for it. "But what?"

"It's a little complicated." You don't say. "I mean, she talks about Aspen all the time and she always gets this look--sort of like an abandoned kitten, just all hurt and lonely and she barely even notices when I try to comfort her. She even wants to name the baby Aspen. I told her I didn't like the name, but I think she's still hoping I'll come around on that, and... God, the baby! How the hell am I supposed to feel about the baby?"

Huh. That was a new question. And given that he was talking to a man who used to be the girl who got fired for spitting on him, that really said a lot. "Um... maybe a little scared, but generally good?"

"'Scared' sounds right." He slumped forward, barely managing to catch himself before he fell right off the bench. It didn't seem right, someone like that girl all folded up in themselves like there was no use fighting anymore. He was larger than he'd been, but he'd never been so small. "She's really sick. What if... what if there's something wrong with it, something that's killing her? Do you think I--I mean, what if it was--?"

"No. Sometimes women just have rough pregnancies." This one was admittedly ill-timed--well, which weren't?--but the point stood. Probably. "Sorry that it's happening to Rona, though."

"Yes, well... not like you can do anything about it. Except maybe praying, if you do that sort of thing." Ashe lifted his foot and let it fall back down with a light thump!. Lonriad doubted he was the devout type, but he'd likely taken to prayer anyway--just in case. "I don't know. I just wish I could actually do something for her beyond trying to keep her comfortable. I try to make gestures every once in a while, but I'm never sure how far they go. It's like she'll only pretend to be pleased so that I won't worry so much about her, and that just makes me worry even more.

"The worst part? Aspen could probably make her feel better just by walking through the door."

Lonriad believed it--and his own prior romantic rivalry was suddenly petty and juvenile. Cord had been nothing. He hadn't been a friend, hadn't even been much of an acquaintance, hadn't meant much to Lonriad at all. Surely it was nothing on competing against yourself.

"Maybe you should just tell her."

Barely turning his head, Ashe glanced up at him out of the corner of his near eye. Lonriad didn't get a long enough look to read it, but it might have been for the best. He doubted he knew the language. "If she actually believed me, do you really think she'd want to know?"

Lonriad lifted a shoulder. An outright 'yes' was probably too much of a stretch, but by that logic, so was an outright 'no'. "She does miss you an awful lot, to hear Riona tell it. More than most people miss friends, really. I wouldn't be surprised if she was halfway in love with you before, even if she never knew it."

Ashe sniffed. Lonriad doubted he'd believed him, but at least he didn't outright say it. "Still a shock, though."

"Yes, well... still probably good for her to know. You know, with the major impact on her life and all." He snorted, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn't work, but it hadn't hurt to try--and if Ashe took no offense, if only because he hadn't noticed. "Honestly? If Asalaye used to be a boy, I'd want to know about it."

"And you'd be all right with it?"

It was probably a good thing Ashe wasn't looking; he had to smirk. "Why not? Just as long as she's not one now--which, trust me, she's not."

"Yes, well... I don't know. Rona's not you." No--nobody was quite Lonriad, or quite Rona. "I hate being two different people."

And nobody was quite Ashe. Not even Ashe. "Who says you have to be?"

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