In Which Tavrin Takes a Hint

January 1, 1171

Raia's friend and his woman had been arguing for a while now--a good angle of the sun, at least. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that things weren't going so well. Vaguely, Tavrin wondered how things had gotten so out of hand between them. He and Atala fought, his sister and her man fought, his grandparents fought... but never like this. This was more than a disagreement, more than a simple difference of opinion--much more.

"Oh, like hell you will, you spineless mass of vomit!"

"Don't think I won't!"

"As if I couldn't! You don't have the guts to walk out of here!"

"I'm at my breaking point, Ailede! Fourteen years of putting up with all of your shit, and what do I get in return? Nothing!"

Exalted Ancestors! How long could they go on like this? If there were any children, Tavrin hoped they were out of the house; he'd only ever known one parent, but if he'd had two, he didn't think he would have wanted to hear something like this. Well... unless they were both horrible like this crazy lady, maybe. That might have been amusing. Did the Dovans have a word for that? The Germans did, he was sure of it; he wondered if he might have been feeling that now if the man hadn't been Raia's friend.

Not to mention, if he hadn't felt pressed for time and wasn't sick of waiting for the man to leave already.

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't you realize how much I've done for you, you worthless ingrate?"

"What you've done for me? What you've done for me?" Through the window, Tavrin could see the man's fist hit the kitchen table, the resulting thud! audible in spite of the stone walls. "You treat the children like chopped liver, waste my money on things you never even use, can't be arsed to bring in any income or even take care of the God damn house, and fuck around with everyone but me! By God, when your sister went to the convent, I should have sent you right along with her!"

The man opened the door and stormed out, fire in his eyes and mouth and movement though the air was pure ice. The woman was an even sorrier sight; Tavrin couldn't help but recall the time he and Atala had once watched that one Dovan family's angry old sow give birth. "If you leave this house, don't think for one second that you'll be welcome back!"

"Fine by me!" He stepped outside and slammed the door behind him. His fury still burning, he let out a livid roar and strode up the path toward the road, overlooking Tavrin entirely; even if he had noticed him, the man was clearly in no mood to talk.

And yet, that was precisely why Tavrin was there. "Hey!"

The Dovan--what had Raia said his name was? Faldor?--froze. "Who's there?"

Tavrin hurried alongside the path and cut in front of him, stringing together a bit of the man's language in his mind before letting it fly from his mouth. "You is Faldor, yes?"

An eyebrow arched, the man gave a wary nod. "And, uh... what the hell are you supposed to be?"

He was asking who he was--as if that was important. "I am friend to Raia, but no matters. You go to castle now."

"I was just heading there." The man lunged as if to sidestep, but Tavrin was not to be out-maneuvered by a mere human. "Now, if you just--"

"Wait!" Annoyed, the man glared at him; he chose to ignore this. "You hurry to castle and warn father of Raia, yes? You hurry to castle and tell father of Raia--"

"Tell him what?" the man roared, clearly at the end of his rope.

Tavrin scowled; he could take a hint. "Know what? Forget it!"

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Raia Hears the All-Surrounding Sound

July 20, 1170

Orrick and Senwick both reached for the green-clad doll, then looked at each other for a minute before Orrick picked up the red-shirted figure instead. A grin on her face, Raia watched as the two of them began to play. "They're so cooperative."

"They play more nicely together than any of the others ever did, that's for sure," Falidor agreed, sending a fond glance the boys' way before looking up at her from the bench. "Just between you and me, I think it would break their little hearts to learn... well, you know."

She did know. Poor Falidor. It was obvious that he loved Ailede's kids--all of them--as his own, but he still had to live with the knowledge that most of them were other men's. That must have stung, even if any fondness he'd ever had for his wife had long since disappeared; still, it was probably not something he cared to dwell on, so she figured she had to say something. "I wonder what it would be like to have a twin."

Falidor shrugged. "Probably rather like having any other similarly-aged sibling."

"Killjoy," she teased, somewhat unimpressed by his dull answer. "I suppose I wouldn't have gotten much more out of a twin than I did out of Jadin, though--unless we were identical, of course. Wouldn't that be something? Can you imagine all the tricks you could play?"

Smirking, the steward leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Do you think the world could handle two Raias?"

"Not at all." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and beamed at him. "It could use a couple more of you, though."

Laughing, he opened his mouth to say something in response, but was cut off by an angry shriek from downstairs. "FALIDOR!"

Raia bit her lip as a disheartened Falidor pulled himself to his feet, sighing. "And so the witch returns to her keep."

"Falidor! Where the hell is my sister?"

A walking cloud of bitter contempt, Ailede stormed through the door, glaring around the room in search of her husband; when her eyes found Raia, she scowled. "What is she doing here?"

"Raia came over with Nora earlier," Falidor answered in the same resigned tone he always used around his wife. "Nora left a while ago, but the boys wanted Raia to stay a little longer, so she agreed to do so."

Ailede snorted in disbelief, but didn't press the matter further; she had other things on her mind. "Where's Neleine?"

Falidor's too-large wedding ring fell to his mid-digit; he pushed it back to his knuckle with an absent mind, apparently too used to this to think much of it. "The abbey."

"The abbey," Ailede repeated, each syllable dripping with enough venom to kill a cat or a small dog. "Why is she at the abbey?"

Falidor crossed his arms and stared at her; Raia had heard this story mere hours earlier, and had she been in his place, she would have been surprised and annoyed too. "You said you wanted her out of the house, remember? You told her that when she told you she was pregnant again."

"Yes, but my slut sister wouldn't take the veil out of her own free will! You sent her there, didn't you?"

Falidor sighed again. "I didn't have much of a choice, you know. You told me to either get Neleine out of the house or you'd trick Riala into marrying some boy; obviously, I would have rather seen your sister go than my daughter."

Ailede's face, already scrunched into a tense ball of fury, folded into even further malice; Raia was reminded of one of the mutts her father let sleep in the stables, a cranky old sack of bones with more wrinkly, sagging skin than his body knew what to do with. "Shutting her in a nunnery, though? How could you do that to your own family? You should have just found her husband!"

"You think I didn't try?" Falidor's mouth sunk into a hopeless frown as the lights in his eyes flickered out. "I must have asked every bachelor for miles around, and they all laughed in my face! Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, and all that--"

Whatever 'all that' was, Ailede didn't care to hear it. Her hand flew across Falidor's face with such force that Raia felt herself swaying backward as if propelled by the shockwaves. Her mouth pulled itself into a scowl. Where did this woman get off? "Don't talk about my sister that way, you pathetic excuse for a slab of meat!"

"Why shouldn't he?" barked Raia, unable to contain herself any longer. "In case you've forgotten, you already did so yourself!"

Falidor froze in an awkward sort of horror; meanwhile, Ailede turned around and poised her glower like a knight might draw his sword. "What did you say to me?"

Frustrated, Raia ground her teeth; dear Lord, had a more irrational person ever walked the earth? "You were railing at him for implying that your sister is a slut--and you called her a slut yourself just a minute ago, you stupid cow!"

Ailede's jaw dropped, her piggy little eyes as wide as they could ever hope to be. The effect was not so menacing as it was pathetic. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard the first time! Why should I repeat myself? The only thing wrong with your ears is the lack of anything between them!"

By the wall, Falidor shook his head in a vain attempt to dissuade her, but Raia did not think she could afford to take her eyes off of her opponent. Ailede bit her lip so hard that a brief wash of blood could be seen across her teeth. "You dare insult me in my own home, little girl?"

Her home? "It's Falidor's home!" Raia snapped, not sure how much more of this stubborn egocentricity she could take. "It's Falidor's house! Nora asked for this house for Falidor! My parents gave this house to Falidor! The only reason you're here is that he's the only one of your millions of men who was kind enough to take you in, you ungrateful whore!"

Ailede shrieked, plunging her foot to the hardwood so firmly that it was a small miracle--or misfortune--that she didn't plummet right through to the room below. "You horrible little bitch!"

"Oh, I'm the bitch? At least I'm not milking some poor man for all he's worth while fucking the rest of the shire without even bothering to cover my tracks!"

"That is it!"

She pulled back her arm and hurled it forward. Raia cringed, bracing herself for the same stinging pain that Falidor must have felt only moments before--but it never came.

She opened her eyes and gaped. Ailede was standing several feet further back than she had been, struggling to free herself from her husband's grasp. She squirmed and kicked and bit, but to no avail; he was too strong for her. "Let me go!"

"NO!" The word ricocheted off the walls and rang, long and loud and definite--all-surrounding, all-encompassing. Falidor was a sight to behold. Never before had Raia seen him so angry, and she doubted it was a different case for Ailede; where the woman had been livid before, she appeared now both startled and frightened. His hand crushing her arm in its iron hold, he pushed her away. If she wanted to do something more than just stand there, she didn't--she couldn't.

"Get out of here, Ailede." Ailede didn't move. "Did you not hear what I said? Get the hell out!"

The vitriol in his voice was enough to push any fear past the crippling effects of shock. She shot one last glare back at Raia, then hurried to the landing, slamming the door behind her.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Hears Bad News Put to Ill Use... Again

August 8, 1166

"I know he was a horrible person and nobody liked him and we're all probably much better off," choked Ailede between sobs as Falidor rubbed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, "but he was still my father! I just can't believe he's really gone!"

Uneasy, Falidor placed a hasty, awkward kiss upon his wife's brow. While he knew firsthand the pain of losing one's father, this reaction was not one he might have expected of the almost unnaturally cold Ailede--even if he had been led to believe that her feelings for her cruel father were anything less than hatred. "There, there..."

Ailede wiped a tear away from her eye. Gentlemanly conduct might have dictated that Falidor do that for her, but he found he could not move his hand any nearer to her face; some insensitive, perhaps paranoid part of his mind couldn't help but notice more than a few similarities between this instance and the last time a family member of Ailede's had passed. Her brother had died. She'd cried about it, and he'd comforted her.

Then, she'd taken the chance to tell him that she was pregnant with another man's child. It was so typical of her--manipulative, opportunistic, and selfish beyond belief.

"You know, I blame him and my mother for this," she moaned. "When she came over here with the news, she said he'd been having some troubles with his heart for a few months now, but they decided to just keep it between themselves. Didn't want us to worry, she said--well, maybe if my idiot sister had known, then she wouldn't have sat down at the dinner table and blurted out that she'd missed her monthly!"

Well, that explained why he had come home to find Neleine in the guest bedroom, unloading a small bundle into the dresser drawers. Ridiculous. His pregnant sister was a bad influence on the girls, but hers was a young woman in need of a home? And how old was Neleine anyway? Thirteen? And did Ailede even like her all that much? "So, she's... staying with us, then?"

Shaking, Ailede nodded. "Mother blames her for what happened to Father, so she threw her out, and Eblor won't take her."

"What about the father?"

She shrugged, brushing him aside as her tears slowed and she began to make her way toward the door. "It's a moot point. He's married, and too old for her anyway; she said she had to tell him she was sixteen."

What on God's good earth had he married into? He doubted he could find a less functional family if he tried. On a more positive note, perhaps his worries had been needless--what were the odds of two sisters announcing their pregnancies a day apart?

"Anyway, I'd better talk to my sister. I'm thinking that we can just keep her inside once she starts showing, then pass off our babies as twins."

Just high enough, apparently. "You're pregnant too?"

She didn't even bother answering; she simply left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Shaking his head, Falidor made his way to the bench and collapsed upon it--muddy boots and all. If she didn't mind Lord knew how many men who'd had Lord knew how many women defiling her nether regions, then he saw no reason why she would have problem with her husband defiling her furniture.

He should have expected this--in fact, he had expected this. He wasn't surprised; he wondered whether or not that was a good thing.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Hears Bad News Put to Ill Use

February 22, 1163

"I just--just--it's not fair!" Ailede choked at last, her tiny fists balled as though she desired nothing more than to pick a fight with God Himself. "It's like--just--one day someone's there, and you think they'll be there the next day too, but..."

"I know," Falidor whispered, trying to assure his wife as best he could.

She paid him no heed; he didn't blame her. If nothing else, she needed the time to set her thoughts straight. "And they didn't even come to tell me themselves! They sent the neighbor with the news! They probably aren't even grieving themselves, and they couldn't have bothered to tell me--his sister! Their sister--their daughter! Did they want me to be as uncomfortable as possible?"

"I think the discomfort is a given, dear," he muttered under his breath. "It's never easy, losing a loved one. I know--"

"Oh, what do you know?" she wailed snappishly; startled, Falidor began to gradually edge away. "At least all your dead went slowly; it was no surprise to you when they were finally gone! You'd been expecting them to go for months--years! But how could I have seen this coming?"

"Ailede..."

He stopped speaking, as it dawned on him that she may have had a point there. Maybe he didn't know exactly how she felt. Maybe he couldn't truly empathize... could he? "Maybe you're right. I'm sorry, Ailede--for everything. For your loss. I had no idea you and your brother were so close."

"Oh, don't be sorry!" she scolded him with a sniff, the last of her tears finally streaming from her face. "It's not like it was your fault, stupid. And we weren't really that close, it's just... he was my brother, you know?"

Falidor nodded; even if they didn't always agree, he couldn't imagine losing Ceidrid or Rifden. Then again, they had always been fairly close... but maybe that was in part due to the fact that their parents had always been laughing, smiling, loving? Ailede and Senwick's parents could not possibly have been any more different than Falidor's own--and maybe that alone merited even greater sympathy from him.

"I'm going to start cooking supper, all right? Maybe it will help me take my mind off of this."

"Fair enough. Don't strain yourself."

It was a delicate, tragic situation--yet, Falidor could not help but smile as Ailede made her way out of the bedroom. For once, it seemed that his wife actually did have some depth to her, did care about someone other than herself. Maybe it had been in her all along, and it took an unfortunate incident such as thing to bring to light that side of her; that was a shame, but perhaps knowing this, he could now grow to like her. Perhaps he could even grow to love--

"Oh, by the way, I'm pregnant again."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Is Every Ounce the Idiot

May 31, 1160

Immediately after he had come home, Falidor had taken to the twins' room, where he'd ended up staying for hours, just playing with them and talking nonsense. They were two and a half years old now, and growing bigger by the day; it seemed like only yesterday that Laveria had walked out of the bedroom and placed them in his arms!

After the three of them played with the twins' toys for quite some time, Falidor had put the pair of them to bed and told them a story about a group of pirates. Since that was one of Fenrick's favorites, though, it seemed only fair that Falidor also tell one that happened to be more to Riala's liking, one about a beautiful princess and a dashingly handsome knight. Following the stories, he'd sung them to sleep, then tucked them in, kissed them good night, and put out the candles. He'd watched them for a while, simply reveling in the peace of the house's lone sanctuary until he could be certain that Ailede was fast asleep.

And, from the looks of it, she was. Asleep was the way Falidor liked his wife best--as cruel as the thought was. But really, he didn't find it too appalling, considering the way she treated him when she was awake. At least she was decent to the children, to his great relief, if not somewhat aloof toward them; for the most part, she did keep to herself.

Sighing, Falidor undressed and made his way to the bed. He was not quite tired, and rather warm, so instead of crawling under the covers with Ailede, he simply lay atop them, propping up the pillow and reclining, drumming his fingers across his midsection, the cold burn of his wedding band sending a slight sensation throughout his body.

Were it not for the twins, he would have regretted ever going down to the tavern on that fateful night. Though he would not say it aloud, they were the only blessing that had ever come out of his unfortunate first meeting with Ailede; if not for Fenrick and Riala, he would have considered the encounter the worst mistake of his life.

"Oh. You're back."

He must have woken her; damn him, not minding his weight as he lowered himself to the bed!

"I didn't mean to wake you," he insisted defensively as she rose to her feet. "I can sleep on the couch if you want."

Surprisingly, Ailede only shrugged--he'd been expecting scoldings and insults. "Don't bother. I'm feeling rather hungry anyway; I'm just going to go down to the kitchen for a bit of bread, if you don't mind."

If you don't mind? That must have been the most polite thing she'd ever said to him. He was almost tempted to ask what was wrong.

"Uh... all right," replied Falidor with a raised eyebrow. Although... now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a little peckish himself. "Would you mind bringing me some too, while you're down there?"

Maybe he was pushing his luck--she'd never done him a favor in their entire marriage. Seconds later, he even had some difficulty believing he'd actually asked.

"You stupid man," sighed Ailede as she made her way to the door. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it is extremely rude to hassle a pregnant woman?"

Well, that might have explained the sudden lack of hostility towards him.

As she closed the door behind her, he found himself smiling. A father once again! Now, he would have another reason to not regret ever marrying her! And to think, now that the twins were growing older, he was sorely missing having a baby around; he'd actually been working up the courage to ask Ailede about having another baby, and now he wouldn't have to. She'd taken care of it herself, the sly little girl...

Actually, no. She couldn't have taken care of it herself. It wasn't physically possible; obviously, he himself had...

...not touched her since the twins were born, he remembered a moment too late. This was all the proof he needed; he was, in fact, every ounce the idiot she claimed him to be and more.

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Falidor Figures It Out

March 25, 1157

Falidor had been a married man for all of three months, two weeks, and one day--not that he was counting, of course--and yet, he still could not claim to know his wife in anything other than the biblical sense. As he stared into the dying embers of the fire, he tried to list all of the things he knew about her, and found himself struggling considerably.

She was the second of five surviving children, and the fourth of ten altogether. Her birthday was the twenty-seventh of May, but he only remembered it because it was exactly a week after Thetis's; he wondered whether or not Ailede knew when his birthday was. She hated the smell of flowers, the songs of birds, the touch of spring grass on her bare feet...

"So are you planning on making yourself at all useful today, or aren't you?" Ailede suddenly demanded of him from the bed.

Sighing, he pulled himself to his feet, one eyelid suddenly rather heavy; either he was more annoyed with her than he thought he was, or he was regaining his childhood lazy eye. A part of him wanted to point out to her that she wasn't doing anything at that moment either--and really, hadn't done anything since they'd moved into their own house--but he didn't want to upset her. When Ailede was upset, she screamed like a banshee, and, quite frankly, Falidor could do without the resulting headache.

"Ailede, it's my day off," he insisted.

Ailede rolled her eyes. "It's always your day off. Maybe you should work more and make us some more money."

"I make more money than your father does," Falidor reminded her, "if you couldn't tell by the fact that this house is so much nicer than his."

She scowled at him; he'd never found her to be particularly pretty, but the occasional, sincere smile would have certainly helped. "Maybe I would have taken that into consideration if the house hadn't been a wedding gift from his lordship--and if he hadn't only given it to you because your sister asked him to."

"True, but I still make more than your father does."

"You could make even more if you worked more," she pressed once more.

He was tempted to tell her that he could get away from her if he worked more, but he then decided against that; he didn't want any trouble.

"So... is that a new dress?" asked Falidor, making an attempt at a pleasant conversation as he set himself down on the bed beside her.

"Yes," Ailede replied. "I bought it in the village last week. I hate it."

He compensated for his drooping eyelid by raising his brow. "Then why did you buy it?"

"Because it was the most expensive one in the shop, of course!" she sighed, as if it were the most obvious answer to any question ever asked. "If you can afford the most expensive thing in a shop, you buy it, regardless of whether or not you like it."

Falidor frowned; she didn't seem to understand that he was the one who had to work for that money. "Or you could save the money and buy something even more expensive in the future."

This seemed to spark her interest.

"Oh?" she cooed, a rare enthusiasm in her voice. "What sort of thing are you thinking of?"

Falidor groaned inwardly. "I don't know, something. Ailede, I can deal with the fact that you tricked me into marrying you, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw my money away by buying things you don't even want."

"All the more incentive for you to make more, don't you think?"

He'd tried to like her--he really had--but she was just so damn unlikeable. Oh well; he was stuck with her now, and all he could do was chastise himself for being an idiot. Maybe he would get lucky; maybe God would pity him and strike him with a bolt of lightning or something.

"We also could have had more money if you'd gotten yourself over to see Lady Alina about that maid's job before Nora did," he pointed out to her.

Ailede frowned. "She needs it more. Besides, it won't be long before I can't work anyway."

What in the hell was she talking about? She was young, healthy, and perfectly capable of holding a job. Well... she'd been a little sick, maybe, but it was only the occasional bout of nausea. And she'd put on a little weight, but surely by actually forcing herself to go out and help him earn some money, she could easily lose it. And the odd eating habits of late... well, that was probably just her trying to annoy him.

Either way, she was still certainly an employable young woman.

Clearly exasperated, she stood. "Figure it out, genius; figure it out."

And so she strolled out the door and left him to his own devices. For this, he was grateful; it was much easier to think when she was out of the room, and...

Oh dear good God.

NEXT CHAPTER: