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January 10, 1204
"And that," Wolf concluded with the help of a triumphant wave of his arm, "is how the brave prince reclaimed the Kingdom of Cake from the tyrannous grasp of the evil Lord Broccoli!"
"Yay!" Jadin bounced about in his father's non-narrative arm, the image of this Lord Broccoli's launch from the spoon catapult no doubt more prominent in his mind than any gesture from an over-dramatic nominal adult ever could be. Gennie would privately admit to some amusement from both of them.
But out of duty, she caught her husband's eye with a disapproving frown. "Great. How on earth will we make him eat his vegetables now?"
"Eh, if he's hungry enough, he'll eat anything. The challenging job will be getting me to eat my vegetables."
"Then lucky for me that I'm not your mother."
"Lucky for me, too." He winked.
That did it. She couldn't fight back that grin. "You're impossible."
"And yet, here I am." Wolf contorted his mouth into that goofy smirk, causing their son to giggle as he always did. "But in all seriousness, if you stuff me full of too many vegetables, then only you can claim responsibility for the assault of sounds and odors that leak out of my ass as a result."
"Wolf!"
"I'm serious! Imagine how it'll be if there's nothing but green on my plate the night before your sister's wedding. It may be welcome entertainment for bored children, but don't expect Hollie or Ricky to ever forgive you for such unyielding flatulence."
"You weren't even listening, were you?" Gennie stood up and walked over to her husband, wagging her finger in a mock-scolding. "It's your mother's job to make you eat your vegetables. Me? I'm only the mother of your children."
"Children?" Amused, Wolf cocked his head to the side. "Plural?"
Gennie rolled her eyes. "Eventually, I should hope."
"Interesting." Her husband shut his eyes and let out a sigh of content. It was a quiet gesture she didn't expect of him, but he made it suit him regardless. "I'm glad to hear that I've managed to win you over in regards to making babies with me."
"And why shouldn't you have? When you're not discouraging vegetables, you seem to make quite a good father."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 27, 1200
"God, I'm just so glad you're all right--both of you," Wolf added in haste as he remembered the baby in his arms. Was it wrong that he'd been more worried about Gennie than he'd been about their child? His firstborn son and heir?
A couple seconds of consideration was enough to make him doubt that. He knew Gennie, had known and loved her for years. His knowing and loving little Jadin had only begun today. Of course he would have been more concerned about Gennie.
"Sweet of you to have worried, but Arydath said it was the easiest first labor she'd seen in years." And the sight of Gennie, stretched atop the bed in calm content, air more that of someone who'd just woken from a restful sleep than someone who had just birthed a sturdy infant, was succinct visual evidence of that claim. "You know, as uncomfortable as I was the last few months, I think I'll miss having him inside of me. I never felt alone."
Wolf took to rubbing their son's back through the swaddling. Some part of Gennie had probably felt alone ever since Dalston had--in her mind--jilted her. Wolf wasn't any more sensitive or intelligent than the average man of his age, but he hadn't been so naive as to believe that a baby would fix their marriage. But, if Jadin's presence eased Gennie...
"You won't be alone for a while yet. From what I know about babies--which admittedly isn't much--they need their mothers for years. Hell, I still need my mother from time to time."
"Hmm. Me too. I suppose you're right."
"It's not often that I am, but it's bound to happen every once in a while." He cradled the baby against his elbow and stuck out his tongue; Jadin returned that greeting with a confused blink. "He got your eyes. I'm glad about that."
"Mmm." Gennie twirled a lock of her hair about her finger with an absent-minded sigh. "But once he figures out how to smile, I hope we find he got yours."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 25, 1199
"You look great, really. It's just..." Dea stretched out her arms, as if the gesture would distract from any unconscious cringing. Her sister was a pretty woman--and, more to the point, she'd always found great pleasure in showcasing that. Something wasn't quite right if Dea could notice that a dress wasn't quite right, but the woman Dea relied on to keep her own wardrobe beyond ridicule couldn't. Such an event would have most likely been brought on by Gennie's going blind, but no--Gennie had spent enough time adjusting herself according the mirror to eliminate that possibility.
"I mean--it's a nice dress, but it's not really... you."
"I'm not quite sure what you mean?" There was an obvious force behind Gennie's smile, but not the mischievous smirk some devious part of Dea might have been hoping for--like the real wedding dress was underneath this one, and no one would know until she shed the robe on her way down the aisle. "A wedding dress is supposed to be fancy, right? What's fancier than a white gown with a gold brocade?"
"No, it's not that it's a wedding dress! It's just not what I pictured you wearing. It's a little..." Dea curled back her lip, cursing herself for her failure to transfer basic diplomacy to personal conversations. "...matronly."
"Sorry?" Gennie turned back around and looked her reflection over--but, from what Dea could see of her face, it wasn't a critical inspection, nor a search for reassurance. More... feigned interest? That wasn't like Gennie. If Gennie wasn't interested, she made no effort to hide it.
And on her wedding day? Not everyone married for love, true... but even in a marriage of convenience or politics, surely some emotion stronger than apathy was merited.
"I don't think it's matronly."
"Are you blind?" Hollie groaned from the bed, the first time she'd bothered open her mouth since Dea had dragged her up to Gennie's new room. "Dea's showing more cleavage than you. Hell, I'm showing more cleavage than you, and I barely have any. You're not a forty-year-old widow getting remarried for her children's sake."
"Be nice, Hollie." Though, she did privately agree. "Maybe it's your hair? You have such lovely hair, and you usually wear it proudly; that snood might be suffocating it."
"Suffocating? Dea, I can't believe I'm the one saying this to you, but it's hair." That made two of them who didn't believe it. "Besides, I'm going to be a married lady. I don't want to dress like this all the time, but no one needs to ogling my cleavage on my wedding day."
"Sounds like Wolf's in for a dull night," Hollie muttered under her breath; Dea shot her a silencing glare before turning back her attentions to Gennie.
"You just don't seem like yourself today. I was more excited on my wedding day, and I barely knew Henry back then--and I'd never been one for weddings anyway. Out of the three of us, you're the girly one; I always figured that when you got married, I'd be jabbing knives in my ears to avoid all the gushing over the perfect dress and the perfect hairstyle and how this was going to be the best day of your life."
"Best day of my life? Give your future nieces and nephews the benefit of the doubt; would you really tell Sparron or Jedaline that the best day of your life happened before they were even thought of?"
Dea frowned. That might have been a decent point, had Gennie's reflection not twitched at the words 'nieces' and 'nephews'. "Look, Gennie: Wolf's a good man. If you don't want to marry him, I'm sure he'd understand if you just told--"
"I do want to marry him."
And, to prove it, she and the mirror parted with a scowl as she stormed toward Wolf's desk chair--their shared desk chair, soon.
"Just... give me today to make peace with that."
NEXT CHAPTER:
February 11, 1199
"You didn't have to come if you had too much work, you know." It may have been a harsher hint than Gennie felt right about giving, but it never did seem to occur to Wolf that his presence at her family events was optional--even now that she was finished with university and he wasn't. "It's not as if it's a party--just a quiet dinner for my grandfather's birthday."
"It's all right. I don't have too much work." Never mind that he was now in his senior year and he ought to have been focused, especially considering that his major was actually relevant to his future. "I wanted to see you."
"Mmm." She wanted to want to see him. She supposed she did want to see him, sort of--but not in the way either of them wanted. Why? Dalston was out of the question, and he'd never been hers to begin with. "Well, my grandfather will appreciate your well-wishes."
"Well, I'll do what I can for the last birthday he has before hitting the big seven-zero. It's odd to think our grandparents are that old."
"Or that we're old enough to have grandparents who are that old." Gennie sighed. Her grandfather seemed more alive at sixty-nine than she felt at twenty-one. God, what was wrong with her? What was so great about Dalston, anyway? If she couldn't guess why she was so obsessed with him in the first place, then no wonder she couldn't figure out what drove her continued funk.
"Eh. We're not old, really," Wolf tried to assure her as he slung an arm around her shoulders; out of some vain hope to feel something, Gennie obliged and leaned into him. "Just... older, I guess."
"I suppose."
"I mean... life hasn't even begun for us yet." He kissed her on the cheek. He did have soft lips, she'd give herself credit for noticing. "Will you marry me?"
Gennie pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. It had only been a matter of time before that question slipped out of his mouth. It had been bouncing about his head for years, and she ought to have been more prepared. Or more excited. Or more willing to dispel his hopes.
But she was twenty-one and he was right that life hadn't begun yet. For her, it wouldn't until she put Dalston behind her. She couldn't miss a man who'd never loved her forever.
"All right."
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 8, 1198
"Damn you!" Gennie ground her teeth as she watched the letter crumble into itself, edges to ashes and center to flame. "Damn you damn you DAMN YOU!"
Her maid might as well have delivered a poison arrow to the chest. Lord knew it would have brought the same feeling to her heart.
Dearest Gennie,
I trust this letter finds you well, especially in the wake of your graduation--and congratulations for that, by the way. In spite of my grandfather's reservations, I believe I've settled in quite well here at the monastery--
Then why the HELL was he writing to her?
Hadn't it been enough, breaking her heart like that? Hadn't been enough, passing up the love of a princess for... for some dusty old books and a lifetime of kneeling? What need to he have to rub it in her face?
--Of all the letters I've received from my brother, there's not one in which you weren't mentioned. I hope you know just how fond of you he is--
And to rub that in her face too? Her misplaced guilt over not loving Wolf properly? She had thought him a better man than that!
The last of the letter gave way to the flames. When the fire had exhausted his kindling, no one would be able to tell what had been wood and what had been parchment. No one ever had to know there had been a letter there at all.
But Gennie would know, and she wouldn't forget it. How did one forget a letter from the man who'd scorned her? A man who, for all she knew, had given up all earthly pleasures for the mere sake of not having to look at her again? She'd know that he'd seen fit to remind her, even though there'd never been a chance of her forgetting. If only memories burned as easily as letters.
She'd have thrown every thought of Dalston to the fire years prior.
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 2, 1197
"Oh God, Gennie, I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner." Wolf punctuated his apology with a kiss on the cheek, though the idea that Gennie would have wanted him at the castle was more wishful thinking than genuine intuition. "My grandfather thought it would be a good idea if I was present for his audiences with the people today, and of course this would be the one day so many of them showed up..."
"It's fine. It was a quick birth anyway; it may very well have been over by the time the messenger reached Veldora."
Wolf sighed. He could probably count on one hand the things he knew about childbirth, but that didn't sound impossible. At least, he could guess by Gennie's lack of distress, that it had gone well. "So... Dea and the baby are both well?"
"Very. Here Mother was, thinking no baby could possibly go easier on her than Sparron had. Perhaps being queen merits some divine intervention when it comes to pregnancies."
"Well, a queen does need princes and princesses to succeed her, I suppose. Speaking of which--?"
"It's a girl." Gennie smirked. "Congratulations on taking a whole minute to ask the first thing most people want to know."
"Give me credit for asking about health first; you know that will be the first thing on my mind when we start having children."
Gennie blinked--and inside himself, Wolf cringed. What a stupid thought to voice, especially when they both knew she didn't feel for him quite like he felt for her. "You think about that sort of thing?"
"Uh... sometimes?" At least, he could admit it wasn't at the front of his mind all of the time. "I think about lots of things--most people do, really."
"Mmm. Yes, I suppose it's difficult to stop thinking." Though she probably wished she could stop thinking about the thought he'd just invoked. "Anyway, since you're here, you ought to come and meet my niece--or maybe occupy my nephew while everyone dotes on his new sister."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 6, 1196
"Sorry, kiddo. You'll need a stronger jail cell than that if you want to hold the evil wizard count."
His toy castle of course not equipped with a stronger jail cell, Rickard stuck out his tongue. Wolf chuckled the whole while and patted the kid on the head. Wolf was good with kids--Gennie would give him that. He was good with kids, while Dalston had always been so skittish around them, practically afraid of them.
Gennie had always wanted a ton of kids. Six or seven, at least. If she were to have six or seven kids, then one of her top priorities in a man had to be excellent fatherhood potential. Wolf had that in spades. Dalston had next to none.
Why, after all this time, did that still make her so... sad?
"He really likes you." From her arms, Sparron shot Wolf a toothy little grin. Both of her brothers loved Wolf. Her new twin sisters, once they were old enough to expand their social focus beyond their mother, would probably love him too. Gennie made a point to take that as a sign in Wolf's favor, but she hated that it would have to be a conscious effort.
"What's not to like?" Wolf smirked, his eyes alight as they always were when he looked at her. If there was to be a day when she could look back with the same way, then it couldn't come soon enough. "Hmm. Maybe if we found something we could shackle the count with..."
"You could take the lace from his tunic. He's always pulling it out anyway." Eyes rolling, Gennie shook her head at the little brother on the floor; Rickard squirmed, guilty but not sorry. "It drives Mother up the wall."
"Well, we can't have that. We'll use one of my bootlaces instead. Care to help me with that, Rick?"
Eager to indulge himself with his favorite habit of tugging on strings, Rickard crawled over to Wolf's outstretched boot and got to work, laughing as the lace left each fret. In Gennie's arms, Sparron bounced with glee. He was in an odd phase where discarded shoes were more enjoyable than any toys in his nursery. Wolf, knowing this, would be quick to nudge the boot in Sparron's direction while Rickard busied himself with the lace.
"All right, all right. I'll put you down so you can play with your boot." Gennie nuzzled her brother's nose and set him on the floor. With both boys under Wolf's watchful eye, she could go and check on her mother and the twins, run and fetch anything any of them might have needed, maybe sing to babies to sleep if need be.
But then, after that reprieve, she'd have to return. If she wanted Wolf to be the one, then she had to do a better job of convincing herself.
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 25, 1194
"Oh." Gennie looked up from her seat on the bench in her sister's study, surprised, but neither pleased nor disappointed. Wolf hadn't expected her to be pleased, so he'd take what he could get with the lack of disappointment. "I didn't know anyone had arrived yet."
"Most haven't. I was with my mother and your aunt, and your aunt wanted to come early, so we all did." And poor Hollie was stuck entertaining his younger sisters. Maybe he should have felt bad about leaving her to that feat. "How have you been?"
She shrugged--which, for Gennie, couldn't have been good. A gesture of apathy was not the lively, talkative princess he knew. "All right, I suppose."
All right. Probably still upset over Dalston. This may not have been a good idea.
But, he had to talk to her. Whatever she thought of him, she deserved to know that at least one man was fond of her. "Do you mind if I stay with you a minute?"
Another shrug. "Go ahead."
He sat down beside her, stride assertive but fumbling in his mind for a first word. He wasn't used to jitters. Just like Gennie couldn't have been used to shrugging. "You, uh... you look nice."
"Thank you."
"Not that you don't look nice every day."
Gennie frowned. Had that been stupid? Shit. It had been stupid. "Why would I think you meant otherwise?"
"I, uh... I don't know. I'm not very articulate today." And it might have been in his best interests to stop trying to be. Like his father, he was always better when he said what he meant. "I have feelings for you."
Gennie's spine snapped straight. Her face was still in profile, so he couldn't quite make out her mouth--but, she did blink. And maybe twitch.
But she composed herself and turned her head, hand to her chest as if to slow her heart. Or to jolt it back into beating at all. "Sorry?"
"I have feelings for you." Why was it so much harder to say the second time? The word, maybe. An interested girl didn't respond with 'Sorry'. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I knew you liked Dalston and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, that... that was nice." Nice. God. She probably just thought of him as Dalston's stupid kid brother. "You have the right to consider what you do or don't tell people."
"I guess." Nice. Should have stayed with Hollie and his sisters. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. I needed the confidence boost, I think." She tried to smile--not quite succeeding, but it was still effort. "And you're far from the worst boy to attract."
Far from the worst. Wolf smirked. Maybe he'd needed the confidence boost too. "All right, then. So... did you want to maybe... I don't know. Try?"
"Try what?"
"You know." Or maybe she didn't. There went the confidence boost.
But maybe he couldn't think about that just now. He'd gone far enough now that he had to follow through. "Be sweethearts? See if it works."
Gennie stared for a couple seconds, more than enough time for Wolf to consider running out the door and pretending for the rest of his life that the past few minutes had never happened. But, just before he could stand--
"All right."
Huh. So that was it. He had a sweetheart. He had a sweetheart, and she was a princess.
And she was also in love with his brother.
But he'd maybe save worrying about that for later. "All right, then. Neat."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 4, 1194
"You're becoming a monk?"
Gennie didn't even remember the walk--the storm--over to Aries House. All she remembered was Thetis's casual mention of this... this... dreadful development! And her demand for clarification. And, then, she was here. In the library, at Aries House, with Dalston. Who apparently wanted to be a monk.
"What the hell? I thought you said you'd think about it!"
Surely Dea wouldn't have lied to her! It had been the first thing she'd asked of her sister since Dea had become queen. Dea had little interest in arranging marriages for Gennie or Hollie, but she'd agreed to talk to Lord Severin, and they'd concluded that they had no problems with the match so long as Dalston didn't object. Dalston--Gennie was oh too painfully aware--did not quite feel for her the way she felt for him. But, he'd still said he'd think about it.
So much for dreaming, hoping--if only for lack of any evident competition--that he'd see the light. "I'm sorry, Gennie. I did think about it, but... well, it wouldn't be fair to you."
"Oh, yes, leaving me a woman scorned is the epitome of fairness!" Gennie spat. She didn't care for spitting--even spitting words--but in that moment, she didn't care for caring. "How would marrying me be unfair to me? Don't tell me you've taken my father's view of things--that a princess ought to do better than a mere Lord Veldora!" So he'd said the one time she'd dared mention Dalston to him while he'd lived. How could Dalston prove just as despicable?
"It's not that! It's just... I couldn't make you happy. I couldn't make anyone happy."
"You could try!"
"It's more complicated than that, Gennie. My marrying you--or anyone--wouldn't be in their best interests." He sighed, with the casual gravity of someone announcing a coming rainstorm. How was he so resigned? How was he not even a little emotional about this? Even anger at her daring to question him would have been preferable! "You're a beautiful, intelligent woman. You'll find someone much worthier than me."
"But I want you, you idiot!"
"But after a few years of having me, you wouldn't. And trust me when I say I wouldn't blame you."
"Don't presume to know what I may or may not want!"
"Then please don't presume that I'll learn how to make you happy. Please believe me when I say that the kindest thing I can do is let you find someone else." He turned around and pulled back his desk chair, form to the seat and head to the table. He wouldn't even do her the courtesy of eye contact. "Please leave. You deserve someone who can love you properly."
Love you properly.
What the hell did that even mean?
NEXT CHAPTER:
