In Which Nora Acknowledges the Better of the Alternatives

November 3, 1198

"So..." Nora drummed her fingers together as she stepped back to look her husband over. They'd both lucked out on the aging front, she supposed, but surely he moreso than her, especially considering he was nine years her senior. Her own grandfather had been grey and wrinkled well before he'd been Severin's age. If not for the faint bags beneath his and the slight, stubble-hidden creases around his mouth, he would have been regularly mistaken for one of his sons.

Or hell, these days, one of his older grandsons.

But, looks aside, the two of them weren't immune to the occasional reminder of their age, and the events of today would be one of them. "Any unforeseen tragedies aside, this will be the last wedding any of our children have."

"Not being keen on unforeseen tragedies, I should hope you're right." Severin shook his head, a couple strands of hair breaking free from his ponytail. He rarely wore his hair back, and put tended to put little effort into it on the rare instances that he did, but that only made the occasion of a well-brushed, face-framing hairstyle all the more pleasing. "All of our children will be married. Well... I suppose Thetis isn't married legally, but we know better."

"Indeed." The excuse of 'discouraging would-be harassers' may have satisfied the general public's curiosity toward the gold band, but Thetis had never been subtle about her preferences around those who loved her well. Honora was perhaps more reserved, but Nora would have wagered a tidy sum that Had and Winter were just as aware as she and Severin were.

But it was Donnie's day, not Thetis's--for all it was another shock entirely, considering that Thetis was in fact the youngest. "I don't recall so much time having passing since Donnie needed a table leg in order to stand."

"Not much has, really; that lazy boy wasn't about to bother standing while there was still the chance of someone else carrying him." Severin smirked. "But there's no denying that we're getting old, though I doubt you'll ever look it. I'm three quarters of the way to having as many great-grandchildren as I do children, and I wouldn't give it more than a few years before your oldest granddaughter marries and you join the great-grandparents' club for yourself."

Nora rolled her eyes. Her and Jothein's oldest granddaughter would be finished at the university the spring after next, and she did have a serious suitor. Happy as she would be for young Leonora when the time came, that occasion would no doubt bring with it a handful of mixed emotions. "I feel quite old enough being a step-great-grandmother. But, I suppose there's no sense denying that growing old is a hell of a lot better than the alternative."

"Indeed. Too many die young as it is." Severin took Nora's hands in his, rather more calloused than they'd been on... well, not their wedding day, not when neither of them could claim to remember much of it. But more calloused than they'd been at the almost blasphemously informal mock-ceremony they'd hosted a few days later, certainly.

More calloused--but no less sincere.

"For what it's worth, Nora: I'm quite enjoying myself, growing old with you."

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