In Which Searle Aspires to a Change in Pace

July 13, 1178

After the events of the previous night, smiling was the last thing Searle cared to do, but his father didn't have any fault in the matter and if anything it was a relief to see someone who could possibly forgive him. For that, a tug of the lips was a small price to pay. "Good morning, Father."

A cordial response might have been in order, but his father just brushed past him, his hand landing a quick cuff to the side of Searle's head. The baron must have stopped by Veldora Keep on his way home. "Ow."

"Sit."

The same hand pointed to the couch, like it was Searle's childhood bedroom and he'd earned that dishonorable exile. All these years later, he hadn't learned a response other than to sigh and do as he was told. "I'm guessing you talked to the baron."

His father's fingers drummed against his hip as he tried to fight back a scowl. "He said that Sparron took credit for the idea, but he didn't seem convinced--and frankly, I'm not either."

Guilty, Searle slouched, his shoulders digging his grave in the cushion behind him. He wished Sparron hadn't done that. The gambit hadn't fooled anyone. No, that wasn't quite true. It had fooled Searle. "Father--"

"Oh, no. You don't get to talk first." No. Considering the blur of recent events, it was an unwarranted vanity to presume otherwise. "What the hell were you thinking? Look, I know you've still got feelings for Sparron and I know you'd go pretty far out of your way to help him out, but at Lettie's expense? How could you do that to the poor woman?"

He sunk a little further. "To be fair, I gave her plenty of time to say 'no'."

"And anything that isn't an outright 'No' is an automatic 'Yes'? Damn it, I taught you better than that."

Searle swallowed. It had been a foolish thing to say, especially with the way Sparron had reiterated that lesson last night. Don't. We can't. And when that wasn't enough, a shove and what might as well have been a declaration of contempt. "Father--"

His father shook his head. "You know, perhaps I ought to thank you. After all these years of repeatedly telling myself 'This is the fucking stupidest thing any child of mine has ever done', now I'll just be able to look back on this and tell myself that whatever matter at hand can't possibly compare. But enough about an old man's vanities; tell me, how is your daughter?"

"Rennie? She's well--"

"Glad to hear it, but I meant Alina."

Oh.

He would love that baby; he'd promised Lettie that he would, after all, and Lord knew he owed her one. But was it unreasonable to believe he could phase himself into that love? Get to know the kid a little bit, love her out of something beyond obligation? Wasn't it a little fairer for the both of them? Blind, stupid love was a dangerous thing. Thanks for that lesson too, Sparron. "Uh..."

His father sighed. "I don't care if she's Sparron's. She's going to need a father, and unless you want to hurt Lettie even more, Sparron can't be that for her. You're her mother's husband, and frankly, it was your idea to bring her into the world. You're her father, and if I have anything to say about it, you'd better be a damn good one."

Searle tried to pull himself out of his slouch, an ache creeping up his spine. His father was right, as usual. He'd be sure to spend more time with the baby, try to speed the process somewhat. It was the responsible thing to do. Responsible seemed like a good change of pace from 'idiot in love'. "I understand."

"Good." Face softening somewhat, his father shuffled forward and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, that gentle hand the same that had landed so firmly on his head. "You have quite possibly the biggest heart of anyone I know. I don't doubt that you'll find room enough for her."

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