In Which Celina Is Looked Out For

May 21, 1205

"I didn't know you knew Mistress Ildaras all that well."

"I didn't. Not really." Celina didn't care to lie to her brother, but if she admitted to more of a relationship, she'd spark Wolf's curiosity. Of course, her request was likely to spark it either way, but she'd established that he wouldn't learn more--not from her, anyway. "Aunt Leara held her in high regard. So did Mother."

"Then chances are that one of them has set up a trust for her son, if Camaline didn't beat them to it."

"You're welcome to confirm that before setting up this one, if you like."

"I will." Wolf sighed. The prospect of the audits and paperwork involved likely troubled him more than his sister's apparent random act of charity. While she didn't want to burden him, this was why Celina had opted to talk to him over her grandfather; her grandfather would suspect something. "How much were you thinking?"

"I don't know. Enough to make sure the family is comfortable, and to get the boy educated. If they already have enough, then a reasonable gift-sized stipend."

"Celina--"

"Wolf, I know that Father delegated each of us a portion of his monetary inheritance from Grandfather, and I know that Grandfather still plans on honoring that; just consider this an early withdrawal from my portion."

"That money is supposed to be a safety net for you."

Sweet of him to look out for her. In different circumstances, he would have understood her looking out for Farr. "I don't need a safety net. My husband is young and healthy--and even if he died today, our daughter and I would be left with sufficient means. Even if that wasn't the case, there's no safety net better than a relation to Grandfather."

"I suppose I can't argue with you there." Wolf indulged her with a defeated grimace, his eyes briefly to the ceiling with the slightest of a roll. "Fine--but you owe me for whatever time I spend on this."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Dani Wouldn't Risk

May 21, 1205

It would have figured that the man Dani married would be one of Celina's cousins. Of course, Celina's cousins seemed to comprise about half the population--hell, Dani herself was a relation on her mother's side--but Severin was a first cousin. An honest to God, father's-brother's-son first cousin.

Enough of a cousin to merit a visit upon return from Dovia.

Why was she here, even? Dani had written promptly with the news of Aydelle's death, but judging by Celina's levity, she'd left Dovia before the letter had arrived--either that, or she was more callous than Dani had thought.

No. Celina was a lot of things, but if she were entirely heartless, she'd never have asked Dani to keep an eye on the kids. She'd left Dovia before the letter had arrived. She was probably in Naroni for yet another of her family's baby booms; CeeCee had just birthed twins, and Severin's stepmother was due any day now (and given the size of her, Dani suspected yet another set of twins). The timing was also such that Celina and Marsden could meet the Dovian delegation to the Princess Viridis's wedding as they returned from Carvallon, then accompany them back.

Val happened to turn her little head just enough to catch sight of her lingering by the doorway. "Mama!"

Dani tried to smile as her daughter beamed and her husband got to up to greet her. "Hello, sweetheart. Severin. Celina."

"Ah yes, my cousin here is trying to make as many visits as she can while she and Marsden are here." Severin kissed Dani on the cheek, lucky enough to not even suspect that his cousin may have had an ulterior motive. If Celina made a point to call on pretty much everyone she knew, then none would think it particularly odd if, say, Nearina and her children were included in that lineup--or, as Celina probably intended, Aydelle. "How was your day?"

"Oh, well enough, I suppose. I'll fill you in on the details over supper." In truth, the events of her day had quite slipped her mind at the sight of her old acquaintance. How lovely it would have been to have lacked the curiosity to get involved in the first place! "Would you mind running down to the kitchen for some biscuits? Since Celina's here, I might as well get her opinion on something--a woman's opinion."

Her husband smirked. Severin was clever enough, but possibly due to the melodrama of his parents' relationship as he was growing up, he had that exact lack of interest that would have spared Dani from her unfortunate role in Celina's mess of a life. "I'll make a point to dawdle, then."

The acoustics of the house were such that footsteps were prominent; Dani waited until Severin's left the stairs and fell to the floor before she herself approached Celina. "Here for the births, I take it?"

"Yes, although only because the timing was fortunate; I know I won't be able to make every family event, but the timing worked well in this case." Celina's eyes flicked to where Severin had sat before. "Are you going to sit down, or...?"

"No. I have a few things to do. You can resume visiting with Severin when he returns." Dani bit her lip. Who knew if anyone would tell if she didn't, and her distaste for her husband's cousin was not so strong that she would risk Celina showing up at Aydelle's old house only to make things awkward for her son and daughter-in-law. She also had no reason to force Cenric or Leonora into telling it yet again. "I take it you didn't get my letter."

NEXT CHAPTER:

What the fuck actually happened

Okay! So, my guess is that exactly 0 people still check this site, which is okay (and definitely understandable). That said, now that I have a chance to actually breathe for a minute, here's a quick rundown:

1) Seriously, what happened?

Long story short, my previously-good job went to absolute shit, I powered through it for about as long as I could because money, and eventually it got to the point where I pretty much spent all of my time either at work or asleep because I just didn't have the energy for literally anything else, and that's even considering how little effort I put into Naroni even when things were going well (and no, please don't argue that point--I don't even think it's a bad thing that I didn't put much effort into it, if anything that made it so much better, it would have felt like work if I'd done more, and I didn't want my random silly fun time to ever feel like work).

I'll spare the ugly details, but recently, things got to the breaking point at work, so I left. I have found a new job, but it hasn't started yet.

2) Is Naroni coming back?

At this point, I would have to say... I don't know. I do miss it. Hell, I miss doing... pretty much anything that isn't work. If it does, it certainly wouldn't be posted at the frequency it used to be. The main problem is that I forget where I was going with pretty much anything, and any notes that I have are so vague that they're pretty much useless. So, at this point, not saying no, but not saying yes either.

3) Hi.

Hello. I'm sorry if anyone has sent me any messages. I haven't logged into anything Sims-related in ages, I think it's partly that weird sort of self-feeding guilt that comes with long internet absences that results in you just staying away for even longer, and partly not having anything to contribute or even the ability to promise anything concrete.

So, in short... hello, I'm alive, I guess. For now.

In Which Ellona Is Up in the Air

April 19, 1205

Classes had finished over an hour ago, and Ravenhold Keep was not so close to the school grounds that Ellona could dawdle much if she wanted to be home for supper. Supper, however, was not sufficient motivation to hurry.

Her malcontent was probably stupid. Yes, Rahileine--until mere days ago, her youngest and only sibling--was eight. Yes, there was a four-year gap between the two of them. But her parents were still reasonably young, and Ellona knew enough to suspect that the years between children had less to do with any biological difficulties than it did with the fact that pregnancy had not been a comfortable state for her mother, and the fact that both of them had expressed concern more than once about the kingdom's exponential population growth. They were able, healthy adults with--little as she cared to think about it--an active sex life. The eventual third child had likely been inevitable, and its being a boy had been more or less the toss of a coin.

But that toss of a coin had dispelled Ellona's future. Lady Ellona of Ravenhold might have been an improbable scenario, but until her brother's birth, it had been the foreseeable one. Her parents had talked politics with her, let her sit in on conferences, allotted her the occasional duty that came with running their shire. She liked it enough that she doubted they'd take that from her, but there'd be no practical purpose barring any deaths she didn't want to consider. She'd have to start from scratch, to figure out something else to do with her life.

What, though? Both of her grandmothers were self-made women, so that wasn't impossible. But a self-made woman needed a goal, a vision. An idea. Having grown up thinking her future had been laid out for her, Ellona had none of those.

"Huh. I didn't think anyone else was still here."

She looked up, and the long-faced, lanky scarecrow figure that was Bernver Lowan smiled back at her. She greeted him with a blink. She had nothing against Bernver, but she'd never had much to do with him either. The most they'd ever spoken must have been about borrowing a quill.

"I mean--I live near here, at least. You don't."

"I know where I live." She watched his smile twitch somewhat. Perhaps that had been a little snippy. "I needed a place to think." A place that won't one day be the domain of Lord Falidor.

"Oh. Uh, do you want me to leave, then?"

Ellona shrugged. "You can stay if you want. I don't care."

"All right." He sat down at the other side of her table. "Do you want to talk, or--?"

"I don't care." Or maybe she did. A distraction might have been nice. "What do you think you'll do when you're older?"

"Me? Huh. I guess I don't think about it that much." That wasn't surprising. Who did? Until a few days ago, she certainly hadn't. "I'll probably end up being a steward, like my father."

"Do you want to be a steward?"

"Hmm. 'Want' might not be the right word, but I can't really think of anything preferable." And that, really, was the problem. That, plus the fact that there wasn't that was preferable to being Lady Ellona of Ravenhold. "Why do you ask?"

"Because apparently a newborn is more qualified than I am to be my father's heir, so my future is a bit up in the air at the moment."

"Oh." His grin faltered. At least he knew better than to mock her for thinking her parents would never have a son, as she herself had spent the better part of a week doing. "I, uh... I don't really know what to say about that. Other than that I think you'd be a great Lady Ravenhold, that is."

She snorted. "You don't know me."

"No, but I know that you take charge on projects and that others follow your lead. That's something, at least." Again, a grin. Did his mouth even know how to frown? "If you're thinking about this, at least you know how to think about the future. Most of us don't, I think. It's just easier to assume you'll do what your parents do, and maybe that's why so many of us never bother to do anything different, even if there's nothing we'd like more anyway."

"Maybe." But she wasn't quite sure she was ready to make anything of that. "You might not think about the future much, but you have some interesting insights on the present."

"Maybe--but it's probably best to balance both, somehow." Balance--that, she could possibly do, eventually. That was the main job of a lord or lady or empress, after all, even if it was nice to have an aim for that balance. "Anyway, would you maybe like me to walk you home? If your parents ask, we can say you stayed back to tutor me in mathematics; I know my parents would say I need it."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Celina Is Wasted

March 16, 1205

Was Celina a horrible mother if she wished her three-day-old baby... did more? Was a little more interesting? Surely it wasn't fair to expect much of a tiny little creature who likely still hadn't figured out just why all these shapes and colors had suddenly sprung into existence, why all these strange beings kept picking her up and speaking to her in sing-song tones, in random patterns of sounds that made no sense.

And surely it wasn't fair to Danthia based on Celina's reaction to her other children! She'd been in awe of Farr for every brief minute she'd seen him. She'd refrained from meeting Nanalie, but the very thought of her was the same. Indeed, she'd been smitten with Danthia too... but, she lived with Danthia. She'd carried Danthia. She would, Lord willing, see Danthia more days than not for at least the next couple decades. Perhaps Dani del Marinos had been right about her. Perhaps she was fickle, fleeting, easily bored.

Her love life had certainly come to prove that. Marsden was a fine lover--the best Celina had had, at least of the men she'd had as a woman, and she doubted she'd have gone through with the marriage if that hadn't been the case. But with each day and night of matrimony, it grew increasingly clear to her that no one person would ever satisfy her. She'd so far kept to her resolve of him being her only heterosexual partner, but she'd indulged in the occasional comfort of a willing housemaid, or followed up on the occasional rumor of a man who might have found her male form pleasing. Who'd known when she'd arrived in Dovia that she'd find one such man in the crown prince, of all people?

Pregnancy, alas, had kept her to one side of her sliding scale of anatomy; she may have been fickle and fleeting and easily bored, but she apparently wasn't so selfish as to risk harming the baby that way. Poor Prince Farilon was probably anxious about why Queen Medea's court hadn't sent any recent news with his favorite 'Naronian Royal Courier'. Worse yet, Celina herself... well, she did like being a woman, most of the time. But she had the rare gift of being able to switch things about! It was such a waste, not taking full advantage of every possibility!

"Ah, Danthia. There are so many things I'm not going to tell you, but let it never be said I didn't warn you that one shouldn't let one's talents lie unused."

The baby replied with a blink of disinterest as she settled into her arms. No surprise. Words, words, words. Babies didn't care about words or what they meant. No doubt Danthia didn't care so much about Celina's mouth as she did about her nipples. What an odd, likely stifling existence--not knowing much of anything, not even knowing enough to care much about not knowing, or to care much about anything at all beyond one's immediate comfort. Where did the will to live come from, when there was so relatively little to live for? Was there some innate promise of greater things to come, whispered in the womb in non-words the unborn understood?

"Well, I suppose I can at least find you baffling, and perhaps that's close enough to fascinating for now." She raised her daughter to a shoulder and rubbed her little back--and in turn, got a yawn for her troubles. "When you're old enough to find things interesting, I hope you find that interest lasts a little longer for you than it ever does for me."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Agathe Dismisses the Purpose

February 4, 1205

"Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I thought your translation was wrong but... I don't know." Agathe sighed. She did not doubt Eldona. In moments when she might have, she'd scanned passages of the original diary for common words, and they matched well enough to what she guessed to be their translated counterparts from what she could tell. "It's not what I was expecting, I suppose--not that I know what I was expecting."

"It's fine. Really, I don't know what I was expecting it to be either, but I thought it might have been more than that. Or less than that, perhaps."

"Less?" Agathe frowned. She didn't know her sister-in-law well enough to guess about her inner workings, but Eldona certainly said some odd things every now and then. "What could be less than that? Every page either devolves into nonsense or was nonsense to begin with."

"I don't disagree, but you must admit--some of the imagery is quite striking, and very specific. It's even clearer in the original Greek, if you'll take my word for it. It's madness, yes, but... madness with a purpose."

"What purpose could madness have? You know what my mother was like. You know her madness treated Searle. Surely there wasn't any purpose in that."

"I know--and believe me, I'll never find her actions toward him any less than downright repulsive." And if truth could truly spark in the eye, then Agathe saw it in Eldona's, but there was something else as well. Curiosity, maybe. Sympathy for the devil, perhaps. Some enlightened understanding that even villains could bleed. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to study the original text a while longer."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Dani Watches for Shipwrecks

January 12, 1205

Dani's daughter wasn't old enough to make a proper playmate for Farr, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem to mind much, really, and Dani wasn't yet sure what to make of that in regards to his parentage. Celina certainly thought herself easy-going, but that couldn't have been natural for someone so drama-hungry and egocentric. Aydelle? Dani didn't know her well enough to make that call. Aydelle was a guarded woman, which suited Dani just fine because she was a guarded woman too, only without the years of life experience that had added to Aydelle's guardedness.

Years that, if the thinning frame and the bags under her eyes and the worn woolen dressing gown said anything, might have been running out. "I get that you have some sort of agreement with Celina, but surely a young woman would be better off befriending someone her own age."

"If you believe that whether a person is similar in age to you is the only measure of compatibility, perhaps." Under cover of her skirts, Dani tensed her calf muscle. Her age or not, she'd never been one to actively seek friends, nor would she know how to go about it if she decided to do so. Having been visiting Aydelle on a semi-regular basis now, she supposed they weren't not friends, but any mutual fondness was incidental. She wouldn't have sought Aydelle's company if not for Celina's request, and she still wasn't quite sure why she'd obliged that request in the first place.

Toxic curiosity, she supposed. As horrifying as watching two ships ram into each other might have been, Dani wouldn't have turned away from the sight, and so too was the case with Celina's entire existence.

But as Celina herself was safely out of the country at the moment, Dani would attempt to focus on Aydelle herself. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, really." The older woman smirked. "But thanks for asking. And for the record, I've been around longer than a lot of people manage, and while I've made more than my fair share of mistakes, my children and grandchildren are flourishing, and I'm in a good place with everyone else I care about."

"That's... good?" At the very least, she wouldn't pry. Perhaps mortality, at least, was a topic better saved for peers of one's own age and relative health. "Though, I don't know if--"

"If I'm actually dying? Who knows, maybe I'm not. But if I am, then so be it." Aydelle sighed. "I'll be sad to miss Farr growing up, of course, but I know he'd be in good hands with Cenric and Leonora."

"I see." She didn't, but how else did one respond to such thoughts? At least, when one found soothing sentiments so fundamentally alien. "Uh... have you told Celina that you're ill?"

"I have not--and in case I do recover, I'd request that you follow my lead there." With a casual half-laugh, Aydelle slouched back, burying herself into the sofa pillows. "Though obviously I wouldn't be in much position to stop you telling her if I died."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Eldona Needs Something to Tell

December 10, 1204

Eldona had translated the diary. She'd read over that translation twice. She'd checked the translation, re-translated, read it over yet again, repeat. She could practically recite it--what she thought it said, at least--from memory. She was right, she was sure of it, or at least as right as she could be without the context of Searle's mother's fractured mind.

And she had no idea what the hell she could tell Agathe.

What was there to tell, really? Most of it was nonsense--the ravings of a madwoman whose madness had flourished under years of neglect and abuse and self-loathing. The rest of it was the years of neglect and abuse and self-loathing, a private account of deeply personal pain that belonged to a dead woman, pain that Eldona had no right to disclose. A cruel father, a crueler brother, a mother whose fate would repeat in her daughter. Agathe, at least, would be spared of that, in both life and knowledge. Perhaps that was the one comfort to be found in the early death of Riona as well.

But aside from the pain was... well, it was back to the nonsense. Something about a well, the blood of demons, trees with roots that knotted at the center of the earth and the things that slept amongst them. Something about beings made of starlight, clouds that rained emeralds, lions that devoured worlds. Something about seeds of darkness latent in the earth, windows masquerading as mirrors, the grave of the father.

Something part fiction, part delusion, part metaphor, part prophecy. Something Eldona couldn't explain, couldn't define, couldn't fathom. She had neither the ability nor desire to live in Eumelia's mind. She did not want to translate and read and re-translate and re-read again.

But she had to tell Agathe something.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Leara Sees Support for the Theories

November 2, 1204

While they had made arrangements for most of their children, neither Leara nor Lorn would have hesitated to break off any of those betrothals had the other party proven unsuitable: violent, ill-tempered, manipulative, neglectful, or otherwise a risk to a spouse's well-being. A dreadful marriage, indeed, did not a strong alliance make--nor would any alliance have been worth the cost of any hope for one of their children's happiness.

So far, however, their children's betrothals had proven to be, more or less, functional matches. Celina had been wary of Karlspan at first, but by the time they'd married, they'd grown quite fond of each other. Neva had grown up with Prior, and their relationship had eventually moved from friendly to affectionate. Privately, Leara didn't quite like Eliana as much as a mother-in-law ought, but it wasn't as if she was outright wicked, and she seemed to make Dalston happy enough. And of course, she couldn't have picked a better woman for Ricky than Hollie.

But if their streak of good fortune there was bound to end eventually, she was relieved to see that Koradril wasn't the one to break it. Farilon's early death had caused Camaline enough grief over her parents' political games, enough anxiety over an uncertain future. Koradril, for all Leara wouldn't have thought Camaline too keen on a widower nineteen years her senior, had both his Aunt Holladrin's steadfast goodness and his father Oswald's unfailing health. It hadn't been her chance at romance that Camaline had mourned with Farilon, after all, but her settled future.

Not that, Leara mused as she caught Camaline glancing Koradril's way yet again as he and Lorn carried on with talk of some trade route or another, romance was out of the question.

"You're rather quiet today, darling."

"Oh?" Camaline blinked, as though she herself hadn't realized this--or hadn't been overly aware of her mother's presence. "My apologies, Mother. I may have talked myself out for the day on that morning walk I took with Koradril."

"That's quite all right--though I didn't know you'd taken a morning walk."

"I didn't tell you?"

"No. I suppose that does support your theory of having talked yourself out, though." Leara smiled, as much to herself as to her daughter. The men's conversation, from what she could hear, did seem to skew in favor of Lorn's voice; perhaps Koradril had found himself in a similar condition. "That, or the theory of how little there can be to say in front of one's parents; I somehow doubt you and Koradril spoke much of trade routes."

"But why shouldn't we have spoken of trade routes, Mother?" Camaline looked over at Koradril quickly before turning back to Leara with a pink tinge to her cheeks. "A princess ought to know something of trade routes, after all."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lettie Has Enough for Now

October 30, 1204

"You know, it's funny: before I had any babies of my own, I didn't think they were that cute. They were just... red and fat and squishy. But from Rennie onward, they were adorable. Granted, I still think they're odd--what with the whole 'perpetually confused and afraid of everything' attitude--but they're cute, and so is that oddness."

As he tended to do whenever Lettie blurted out some ridiculous thought out of sheer discomfort, Abrich just smiled and nodded. She didn't think he did it to be patronizing, but she did sometimes wonder what exactly he would have said to things like that had he been a less tactful man. "I suppose confusion and fear are natural when everything is brand new."

"Maybe. Still strange to think about what must be going on in their heads, though." She gave her new little son a pat on the back. Whatever she thought of babies, she hadn't expected to still be producing them as a grandmother of eight. When she'd married Abrich, the idea for both of them had been convenience and companionship, not reproduction--they'd already had six apiece, after all. But Ramona had been born anyway, and not even a year later, this new baby was around too.

Though, she supposed that did technically fall under possible consequences of 'companionship'...

As did disclosure. Now that she knew her boy was indeed a boy, there was no sense putting off that conversation any longer. She kissed the baby before returning him to his crib, then turned back to her husband.

"So, given our culture's general hatred of bringing new names into the mix, I'd like to name him for my stepfather."

There. Start with the intent. If Abrich had questions, she'd deal with them as they went. Why couldn't her mother have married a man named practically anything else?

"Octavius?" Abrich pursed his lips--probably tallying off Lettie's children in his head. She didn't blame him for that. Everyone they knew had so many children it was impossible to remember who had just what number. "Well, I know he is my eighth, but wouldn't you feel odd about that?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly, no."

She hadn't told Abrich about Prior. Part of her wanted to--she didn't think he'd judge her for it, not when she already had a son out of wedlock that he did know about--and her own parts of that secret were inconsequential. But he'd want the whole story. That would require divulging Searle's secrets, Sparron's secrets, Camaline's secrets... no. What she could say would be insufficient, and the rest was not hers to tell.

"Really? Or is this one of your jokes--naming your seventh kid 'Eighth'?"

"It's not a joke. Like you said, he's your eighth child." But it was her suggestion. Damn. He'd want more than that. "And, Abrich, uh..."

His brows rose, eyes dilated, concerned, alarmed. She thought she could guess what he was thinking, or at least the line of thinking. It was wrong to take advantage, but she could use that.

"Alina... had a twin."

It wasn't a lie. Alina did have a twin. Abrich, from the look on his face, assumed that said twin was a stillborn--and he was sensitive enough that he wouldn't press her for more. Lettie, meanwhile, had never said that Alina's twin wasn't still alive and well and the heir to the Barony of Tetran.

It was a shitty compromise--but unlike the full truth, at least it was hers.

"So... Octavius."

She nodded. "Unless you hate it, of course."

"I don't hate it, no. It's... acknowledgment, isn't it? Of his sibling. Of your child."

"It is, yes." And, she supposed, there was one more piece of the truth she could share. "I think I need that."

And one day, perhaps--if Searle and Camaline were gone, if Prior and Alina were safe from any repercussions--she would tell him more. If she could figure out how.

But for now, the baby had his name. The name had its justification. Lettie had stated some claim to Prior, even if it wasn't complete, even if it would forever be private between herself and Abrich.

For now, that was enough.

"Thank you."

NEXT CHAPTER: