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February 26, 1203
Was it a mercy or a tragedy, the fact that Nearina's younger daughter had no idea what a father was and wouldn't understand the concept for some time yet? If she didn't know what a father was, then she didn't know what she was missing and wouldn't ache over it. If she didn't know what a father was, then she'd never have the chance to learn firsthand, not unless Nearina remarried well before she thought she'd be ready to do so--if she ever was. Holladrin, at least, had had that couple of months to memorize Oswald's face, to associate it with love and comfort and a strong pair of arms to protect her.
Nanalie wouldn't get that chance.
Poor baby. Wispy brown hair, maybe dark like her mother's or maybe light like her sister's, but with no evidence of her father's golden blond beyond what she'd learn when she was old enough to ask. No hazel eyes, even. Not even teal green, like her sister's. Pale grey.
Like that man's...
Nearina shook her head before the thought could conclude. She'd been in such a fog in those days after Oswald's death that she couldn't even be sure that had happened. If it had, surely she would have had some feeling or another as evidence. If she'd wanted it, she'd have had relief, catharsis. If she hadn't, she would have had those raw wounds on top of those of widowhood and her despair would have compounded. She'd had neither response. She'd neither wanted it nor not wanted it. The fact that it had happened, if it had happened, had made no difference. Perhaps she'd imagined the whole thing, like she still imagined Oswald's form on the other side of the bed.
She lifted Nanalie to her shoulder and kissed that soft, tiny cheek. She had to be Oswald's. That calming presence was Holladrin's, was Oswald's. She was Oswald's, in spirit at least. And of course she was Oswald's in every other way too.
How could she have been anyone else's? She didn't know if she could distinguish the air of Oswald's plane-defying love for this new baby, but she surely would have noticed the lack of it, like some missing mystery spice in her favorite of her mother's recipes. Oswald, wherever he was, must have been happy. Surely he wouldn't have been, if her baby wasn't his child?
"Your papa loves you, baby. Wherever he is, he loves you."
Quite a few of Oswald's cousins had grey eyes, after all.
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 19, 1202
Ten days.
Ten days now, Oswald had been dead. The funeral had come and gone. Nearina had stashed her loathsome black gown back into its place of shame at the back of her wardrobe in obvious favor of her usual green, as if the emerald could bring her husband back by sheer virtue of vibrancy. It couldn't. She was a widow, at twenty-one, not even married a year, left to raise her baby daughter alone.
And her love was dead.
She didn't need any reminders of that fact, but everything was, from his scent on the sheets to the absence of his fingers drumming on tables. It would have been unbearable enough had she not insisted--apparently out of pure emotional masochism--on taking care of the loose ends Oswald had left behind herself. Tenants, hirings, firings, maintenance, working out with her father-in-law what would become of Oswald's castle. It would be part of Holladrin's dowry if she married a man who wasn't heir to his own family's property, but they'd have to revisit the issue if that wasn't the case and Nearina hadn't found other lodging. It wouldn't be much of a negotiation, if it came to that. If her daughter had no future use for the castle, then Nearina would leave, and Octavius or Prior or whoever was baron then could gift the place to someone else. The only reason she didn't leave now was that someone had to keep it running on her baby's behalf.
"My lady?"
Not that she was doing a great job of it, in her current gloom. She hadn't even noticed the guard in front of her. When she pried her head from the surface of the desk, she found she didn't even recognized him--and she ought to have, if she'd seen him before. He was almost certainly some Kemorin bastard. "My apologies. What did you need?"
"Today's my last day. I just wanted to thank you for the job."
Nearina raised an eyebrow. Had this man resigned? Had she processed his resignation? "Uh..."
"Oh, sorry--um, I gave two weeks' notice. Sir Oswald handled all of the arrangements. I just thought it wouldn't be right not to bid you farewell, and to express once again my sympathies. Sir Oswald was a great man."
Not quite. 'Great' implied some sort of renown. Oswald hadn't lived long enough to gain that. But Nearina wouldn't argue. "Thank you."
"I lost someone too, quite recently. My betrothed. That's why I'm resigning; she had a daughter from her first marriage, and I have to take the little girl to Dovia to live with her aunt. I'll be staying there, so I can keep an eye on her too."
"Oh." Given the age of him, his betrothed probably hadn't been any older than Oswald. Her daughter, certainly, would have been far too young to be without a mother. "I'm sorry for your loss as well."
The guard nodded, a hint of a tear caught behind a blink of his thick--Kemorin, no doubt--lashes. "Thank you. It's comforting, being around someone who understands."
It was. Not that she didn't have people in her life that hadn't known the same pain, but it wasn't so fresh for them. She wasn't quite ready for the perspective of someone who'd put this misery behind them, not when it felt so permanent in front of her. "Would you... maybe like to stay and talk, for a while?"
The man swallowed back a breath of air and bowed his head. "I would, my lady."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 30, 1202
"You know, I've got to wonder what they think about at this age--if they can think, that is. But surely they must? I mean... do you ever have a minute when you're not thinking? But then again, babies don't have a concept of thinking. Hell, they don't have a concept of anything, I suppose. So, then how do they think? And if they can't think, then how do they learn? When does the thinking start?"
Not having spent much time with babies--before Farr was born, at least, and there was no way Nearina knew about that--Celina couldn't admit to having wondered such a thing. But, it was an interesting thought.
Interesting enough, at least, to distract from that fact that even having given birth mere days ago and the fatigue of new motherhood still wasn't enough to make the happily married Nearina any less attractive.
God. She had to get over it. Nearina was her friend--and Celina would be joining Marsden in Dovia once she graduated anyway. That wasn't as far off as she would have preferred, it had occurred to her recently, but it would hopefully be enough time to get most of her pent-up energy out of her system.
Meanwhile, cooing over Nearina's baby could help spur on what Celina hoped would be the next set of urges in her life. The next baby she had, of course, would have her as the birthing parent, and the primarily nurturing parent.
Probably, anyway.
"Whatever she's thinking, it only contributes to her cuteness, I'm sure."
"She does have a lot of that, thanks to her father." Nearina tapped her daughter on the nose--which did, at this stage, resemble Oswald's somewhat.
But, Celina shrugged that off. "Oh, I don't think that was his single-handed effort."
"Ha! You and your flattery." Flattery? Lord, was that why Nearina's sister was always giving her the side-eye? At least Nearina herself hadn't picked up on it. Or had she?
No--of course she hadn't. Nearina and Oswald had been joined at the hip since they'd been old enough to realize the practical perks of possessing genitalia. If it even occurred to Nearina that anyone else could be interested, she was well past caring at this point.
"Care to hold her? She's probably wondering how arms that aren't drenched in sweat feel."
"I doubt you're half as sweaty as you think you are." At the very least, the presence of the baby had Celina's own sweatiness at bay. "But I'd happy to hold her if you'd like a break."
NEXT CHAPTER:
February 15, 1201
"So... do they ever spend any time together without their tongues in each other's throats?"
If either Nearina or Oswald heard Arkon's question, they didn't care enough to protest. On her own part, Honora--much as she loved her sister and while she had nothing in particular against her future brother-in-law--made a point not to lie to her own betrothed. "Not so far as I've seen, no."
Nearina and Oswald had, of course, spent time together outside of Honora's presence--but she didn't want to think about what they must have been doing then.
"Hmm. Well, if it makes them happy." Arkon, being a Kemorin, never had much more of a reaction to lewd-but-harmless behavior than a shrug and a smile. Some part of Honora envied him that. "They might have more self-control than they let on, though. I know we were all shocked when my sister walked the aisle in white, but I suppose you can be sexual without technically having sex."
"It amuses me that your family was shocked by your sister's white dress, but no one thought much of her husband wearing something similar."
"Hey, you were there; you know it wasn't similar at all." Arkon threw back his head and chuckled the way only a Kemorin could. "Adonis's dress was much prettier. I'm sure it won't be as pretty as whatever you have in mind for your wedding dress, though--if only because you'll be the one wearing it."
"That's sweet of you to say," Honora acknowledged, still watching her sister with mingled concern and envy. If twins had to fight in the womb over every available trait, then Nearina must have claimed nearly all of the libido there was to go around. That wasn't to say that Honora had no libido, exactly... but it took a while. And it wasn't nearly powerful enough to override any of the worries surrounding any extensive premarital activity--because if Nearina had taken most of the libido, then Honora had taken most of the worry.
Secretly, Arkon must have found her dull and prudish.
While Oswald--who was not a Kemorin, who probably hadn't grown up expecting adult life to mimic the stuff of dirty novels--probably thought himself the luckiest man in Naroni.
"Oh! Here I was, thinking I'd be the first one here."
Except, perhaps, for his cousin Marsden.
That wasn't to say that Arkon's cousin Celina had the same reputation as some of her Kemorin brethren, but there had always been something somewhat... off about her. A little mischievous, a little sinister, more than a little sensual. Perhaps a little predatory.
Or perhaps she was just strange, and Honora was a judgmental bitch who couldn't by a loaf of bread without making a hundred snide assumptions about the baker in the process. "...Hello, Celina."
"Honora. Cousin Arkon." Celina paid them a polite wave, but quickly transferred her attentions elsewhere--to the precise reason Honora was wary of her. "Nearina!"
Surely it wasn't too bitchy or too judgmental to have thought she'd seen those grey eyes flicker to her sister's ass? And then to her breasts as she turned around?
"Celina! It's been a while." Nearina, of course, hadn't noticed a thing. Not now, not when she'd been twelve with brand new breast and Celina had been a shyly ogling ten-year-old. "Think your cousin will be surprised that not only his old housemates will be here for his birthday party?"
"Probably. He never catches on to these things until it's too late."
Nearina snickered, unaware of her own pot-and-kettle situation there. Or maybe Honora was seeing things that weren't there, again. Celina seemed to like Marsden well enough, after all.
Then again...
"Are you all right?"
Honora snapped back to reality as Arkon snuggled up to her. Or snapped back from reality. In any case, it was for the best.
Probably.
"Just... wondering if your brother will be as surprised as we all hope."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 26, 1194
"Do you think you'll start your leave about a month before again?"
Alina nodded, a gentle pat to her just-showing stomach. She'd credit the high-waisted tunic for the deceptive physique--Ellie's suggestion, based on how Lady Rona dressed when she was expecting. "Don't worry; I don't intend to leave you to fend for yourself until late August."
And she wouldn't be gone long! She loved her children, and she loved being a mother... but, she needed something for herself. Her work at the bank provided that, and by the time she'd gone back after both of her girls, she'd been half out of her mind.
"You know... I kind of think this one will be a boy."
"Oh?" Rina slouched a little. If she was resentful of having to manage the bank on her own for a while, Alina couldn't fathom why. Alina may have had a better rapport with the clients, but Rina had the sharper business sense--and even with the clients, she'd done splendidly the last two times. "Does it... feel different from the last two times?"
"No, I think Thetis and Via varied from each other more than either did from this one. It's just a feeling."
"Uh-huh." Rina picked at one of her fingernails. She never did that at the bank, but for some reason, it was a frequent habit when she made social calls. "Did you get feelings with the other two?"
"Not with Thetis--what with that being my first time and all. But I figured that Via would be a girl. Maybe you develop more of a sense with each pregnancy."
"Or maybe it's just that there aren't many possible outcomes, so any guess has a reasonable chance of being right."
Alina chortled. "Maybe. Perhaps you can verify when--"
She stopped herself at the sight of her friend's dreary eyes and wilting lips--and cursed herself. Stupid! "Oh. Oh, Rina, I'm so sorry."
"It's fine." But Rina picked at her fingernail again. God damn it, Alina! Think before you say things like that!
"You know... two and a half years of marriage isn't really all that long. Plenty of people have to try a little longer."
"We're not trying."
"Oh."
For all Alina knew, that was true. Or, it was just a way of telling her to shut up.
She wouldn't ask which. It wasn't her business.
"Fair enough."
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 30, 1187
Rina only had classes in the morning on Fridays, so Severin had hurried over to Virgo House as soon as he'd finished with his own Zoology elective. He'd seen her more than once since the day she'd gotten the news about her father, but she'd chosen not to mention it; he'd learned via his own father, who'd asked how she'd been holding up since the baroness had summoned her, under the impression Severin already knew.
He didn't fault her for not telling him. How would a person go about talking about such a thing, even? Something they were expected to be sad about, but just couldn't be? With that in mind, he hoped his visit wouldn't be undue pressure. "How are you feeling?"
"Honestly?" She knew he knew, then. With his father as the steward to her step-grandfather, it had only been a matter of time. "Like after the doors of my life slammed shut, I finally managed to pry open a window."
"I'm glad of it." He stepped out of the hug, but dared hold her hand, more out of instinct than anything else. She didn't pull it back. "I mean... I'm sorry you got stuck with such a shitty father. But I hope you don't feel obligated to feel something you don't."
"Well, being away from Dovia helps. And most of the people I see from there either leave me alone or know what he was like. Nata spent most of the weekend making fun of him--making me laugh." Her roommate--and cousin. Severin knew Nata only well enough to guess that she had a naughty streak and a good heart. Not the worst of companions for Rina. "Her mother told her about 'Felron of the Flatpants', by the way."
"Oh." There was some uncomfortable warmth in the lower part of Severin's face. It was an alien sensation and he didn't much care for it. "Sorry, I'm sure you didn't want to hear about--"
"No, I thought it was clever." A smile--probably the widest he'd seen out of her since he'd brought Kevin back. The sensation faded somewhat. "Nata said Aunt Riona was in stitches for a week. She wants to meet you."
"The Baroness of Rexus wants to meet me?" If his mother had been here to hear it, he never would have heard the end of it.
"Her and her husband both. If they had their way, that ballad would be written on his tombstone. Don't be surprised if they ambush you when they come here for Tivalia's graduation."
"I'll take that as fair warning." He'd just have to make sure his sister spent that day otherwise occupied. If Alina heard about it, it was never long before their mother did. "Do you want to maybe go out for some drinks later? I have a few readings to do, but I should be able to get them done by evening."
"All right. I'll just finish some work of my own, then meet you at the inn."
"Great. See you then." He squeezed her hand one last time, then left her with a grin before he started for the door. Had the room been only a few feet shorter, and he might have been gone before her next word.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned back around, doing just as she'd asked as she caught up to him.
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 21, 1180
Red Severin--both dark-haired little boys on the floor were named Severin, and both were called Sevvie by their fathers, so Garrett had taken to distinguishing them by the color of their shirts--was Valira and Searle's younger son, the only child they had brought with them as their other three were plenty old enough to spend the night with only the nurses about. He and Karlspan were less than a year apart and played together well; Red Severin was by far the more outgoing of the two, but while many children his age might have been frustrated by quieter playmates, the boy had nothing but patience for his shy, mild cousin.
Blue Severin was Lonriad and Asalaye's eldest. He wasn't mean, but he seemed to prefer animals to other boys, if the plight of poor captive Sheba was any indication. His little brother, scared of the bigger boys as year-old children often were, clung instead to his father's tunic.
Garrett couldn't be sure what he might have done with little Karlspan if his brothers-in-law hadn't had the good sense to bring their own sons along. He would have done what he could for the boy, of course--what sort of horrible father wouldn't try to comfort his son when the only mother the kid had ever known could very well be in mortal peril?--but if he'd been the one distracting Karlspan, wouldn't that bring further emphasis to his own worries? Karlspan's preoccupation with his little cousins and the presence of the other men were the only things holding Garrett's own sanity in place.
Not that the men were doing the greatest job of it.
"Maybe Nanalie's at an advantage? You know, being a midwife and all." Searle's suggestion was a misguided attempt at reassurance where distraction would have been preferred. "She knows what to expect, and how to best compose herself. And she's not the sort who's prone to panic if something goes wrong, so extra stress shouldn't be a problem."
As if to punish him, Lonriad didn't only nod in agreement, but apparently felt the need to contribute. "Plus you know how everyone listens to Nanalie. She's probably nagged the kid out already, no problem."
Garrett glowered at them both. At least his father-in-law had the sense not to make such comments. But then he remembered that Nanalie's mother had died birthing her youngest and suddenly that wasn't any better. "Er, so... surely you've heard my uncle's thinking about throwing a tournament? Planning on entering?"
He drummed on the desk, fighting to keep a grimace in place as his brothers-in-law took their sweet time answering. Too much time.
And after all that--two shakes of the head.
"If I'm going to get that messy, I'd hope to have a better reason than some vanity contest of brute strength."
"And you think I'd risk this pretty face? What does that leave my poor extended family to refresh their eyes with after a glimpse at my sister's husband?"
His father-in-law's forehead collided with his open hand. Garrett could relate to the sentiment. "Really, nobody likes winners' purses any more?"
"What's the point? It'll just go to Casimiro or Ashe or Neilor anyway. Or Isidro, if he forgets his helmet and the mere sight of his ugly face scares his opponents right off their horses." Lonriad shrugged, planting a kiss on his little son's head before steering right back to the conversation Garrett had been trying to avoid. "What about you? Is your new little mite going to be able to see his daddy fight before he has the chamberpot figured out?"
For Christ's sake, if the next phrase out of your mouth isn't--
"Oh, hello Valira."
That hadn't been quite what he was thinking. Regardless, Garrett swallowed back some misplaced nerves and turned his head. His sister had indeed emerged from the birthing room.
And not unaccompanied.
Whatever the hell they'd been talking about forgotten, Garrett scrambled to his feet. "Nanalie--"
"She's fine." Valira gestured for him with a jerk of her chin. "Get over here."
Relieved and grateful beyond the point where disagreement was possible, Garrett did as he was told. Not that he needed to be told.
A little face stared at him: tiny baby lips in a half-imagined smile, a nose far cuter than whatever horror he'd braced himself for, eyes that were his own but somehow better. He hadn't expected this calm so soon. He'd been caught off guard. He was in love.
"Hello." He stepped forward and ventured a small wave; hazel eyes followed his hand. "I'm your papa."
The baby blinked. Valira propped up the little bundle for a better look at Garrett's face; this one had missed out on big brother Karlspan's newborn fear of large noses. "You're just adorable, you sweet little... uh, what--?"
Valira smirked. "She's a girl."
"A girl!" His heart somersaulted. Not sure how he wasn't bouncing off the walls, he glanced at his little son on the floor. "Here that, Karl? You have a little sister."
Karlspan dropped his doll, beaming. "Yay!"
"'Yay' indeed! Did Nanalie name her, or...?"
Valira nodded. "She wants to name her after her mother, if that's all right with you."
"Of course! Isn't this great, everyone? Now we have one of each." And he cemented that fact with a kiss to his daughter's brow. Nanalie was alive. Karlspan was glad to be a big brother. And the baby--his little Honora--was the sweetest little girl he'd ever seen. It was nothing like Karlspan's birth, what ought to have been a celebration marred by poor Elhina's fate, what he'd kept trying and trying and failing to tell himself would not happen to Nanalie as well. He did not think he'd ever been happier. He did not think he ever could be happier. Surely this was the pinnacle of happiness. How could it not be?
What could possibly make him any happier?
"Um... Garrett?"
It was his father-in-law--still quiet but no longer tense, calm and perhaps a little amused. But of course he would be. He had a new granddaughter, after all. "I'm not sure that's quite correct."
Eh? "Sorry, I don't quite--" Behind Adonis, a mischievous Searle gestured to the door.
Huh. Perhaps it was possible to be happier. "She didn't look that big."
"She is a tricky one, my sister." Mindful of Garrett's third child--holy shit, he had three children!--Asalaye kicked the door shut behind her. "You're lucky that they don't look the same."
Garrett took a minute to glance back and forth between the babies. It was true that they weren't identical--or even alike, really, despite being equally beautiful. They both had his eyes and they both wore them better, and they both had a few wispy strands of similarly brown hair, but that was where the similarities ended. There was the tiniest hint of a bump in the bridge of Honora's nose, and perhaps slightly more definition in the other's chin, and maybe some difference in the overall shape of the face. That would be more than enough.
Well, except... "So, this one--"
His sister and sister-in-law shared a giggle before responding in time. "Girl."
"Then we'll name this one for my mother. Hear that, Karl?" Garrett didn't have to look at his son to know the little mite was smiling. "You have two little sisters!"
"Yay, yay!"
And if ever Garrett needed two words to sum up this day, he couldn't think of any more fitting than those.
Yay, yay.
NEXT CHAPTER:
