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August 7, 1198
"I must say: from what I've seen here, our arrangement seems to be working as planned in both kingdoms." Oswald gave a ruler's self-indulgent smile, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to convey his pleasure. Roderick had done that when he'd been alive, but it had only ever looked forced and foolish on him; Oswald wore the regal grin as if he'd been born with it. "You've kept me as informed as I'd hoped to be on the workings of the kingdom, but not to the point where anyone's trust has been shattered--and I daresay both your son and the queen trust me more than they would have without such an explicit endorsement from you, knowing I have no interest in infringing on their lands."
"The people are somewhat more at ease about that too," Celina added--though it had made her feel shamefully out of touch to learn that a Dovian reclamation was such a concern among a primarily Dovian populace! Well, beyond the extent to which war always was a concern, that was.
"The people of Dovia as well. I don't expect much to change by December, but regardless, we should still reconvene then."
Celina nodded. Under the laws of both kingdoms, they only needed to see each other once a year in order to keep their marriage valid, but to err on the side of caution--just in case something kept the would-have-been traveling party in the kingdom unexpectedly--they'd opted to meet biannually. Oswald had arrived in July, just in time for Celina's birthday, and stayed the whole month to get a scope of things here. Oswald's birthday was in early December; Celina doubted she'd stay nearly so long, to the point where she was confident she'd be home by Christmas, but the birthdays were well-spaced enough that they made logical target dates, and they'd keep to them as long as they worked.
"Has anything else come up on your end that you want me to keep in mind before we meet next?"
"Nothing comes to mind, no." Oswald--eager to hit the road, most likely--pulled her into a quick embrace and pecked her on the cheek. The kiss leaned far more toward fraternal than sexual, and while the marriage had been consummated, it was far more comfortable that way. "Any last concerns over here?"
"Nothing major--though, Leara apparently got a letter from her sister in Carvallon. Ramona plans on visiting some time next year."
"Ah, yes. Well, from what I've heard, she's a much more... stable figure than Carvallon's previous queen, if perhaps not as politically inclined." Oswald bit his lip, but a twinkle in his eye gave a bare hint of amusement. "Devidra did rule that country well as her son's regent, but her personal discipline leaves much to be desired. I do believe the last time I saw her was... thirty years ago? Roderick and I both visited Carvallon; I had young Searle along with me, and Roderick brought Severin. We had a productive conference, and she both stunned me with her smarts and shocked me with her language. That, and Severin was between marriages at the time, and I suspect Devidra spent most of the meeting with her foot in his crotch under the table."
Celina raised an eyebrow. Whatever Severin had done between his two marriages... well, that was in the past now, and at least he hadn't been breaking any commitments, and Lord only knew he how much he loved and respected both Alina and Nora. That said, it was odd to be reminded that such a time had existed, and odder still to be reminded by Oswald. "I hadn't pegged you for a gossip, cousin."
"And I usually strive not to be, but the events surrounding a sleepless night spent in the bedroom right beside the one in which your cousin loudly copulates with a dowager queen tend not to leave the memory as quickly as one might prefer." He sighed, then took a few seconds to regain his composure. "My apologies for the lapse in decorum. I shall write to Ramona myself and tell her to notify me when she has a specific time in mind; I suppose Dovian and Carvalli royalty are overdue for a meeting, it might as well take place in neutral Naroni."
"That would probably be for the best." Assuming, that was, that Devidra opted not to come along with Ramona. If she did, then perhaps the Queen of Dovia would have business elsewhere--business that only Lord and Lady Veldora could tend to. "Write me when you reach Dovia as well; I at least would like to be assured of your safe return."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 28, 1197
"Well," Oswald started as Celina stood before him, still wrapped in her winter coat. Renata and Nora had both seen fit to accompany her, but Celina had insisted that she speak with Oswald alone first; the steward had surely taken their coats and lit them a fire by now. "I can't honestly say I expected to see you before summer."
"It was an important decision, and I appreciate you giving me the time to make it--but any more and I might have just talked myself out of it."
The king chuckled, a spark of fondness in his eye. Whatever happened, he was still her fond older cousin. That was a comforting thought. "Is that a 'yes', then?"
"It is. After thinking it over, and bouncing it off some trusted parties, I've come to the conclusion that our marriage would benefit both kingdoms, even with me remaining in Naroni." And of course she would. She was to be an ambassador, after all. And she had to keep Searle's castle for little Ovrean. "As for the issue of a lack of trust in me given how much of my life has been devoted to Naroni, I figure the fact that my granddaughter is set to be the next Countess of Bandera should render that point moot; Dovia's best interests are my family's as well."
"Yours and mine both; your granddaughter's daughter is our mutual great-grandchild, after all. Curious, to think that we'd have a mutual grandchild even given--" He brought himself to a halt, an awkward twitch at the corner of his mouth. "That is to say, you... I mean, you still look the picture of youth, but--"
"No need to beat around the bush, cousin. You do flatter me, but I'll assure you that I am several years past the point of bearing you a child."
Oswald sighed. "Thank God. A king shouldn't have too many sons, I don't think; it was difficult carving out positions for my younger four, and I suppose I ought to be relieved that their sons likely won't be my problem."
"Your younger sons' sons are all princes, then?"
"My younger sons' sons and their sons--but I draw the line there." Oswald shook his head. "Not many monarchs before me had younger sons. Whatever you and Roderick and the rest of you woke in the forest when you headed west, it must have cursed us all with more fertility than we can handle. Anyway: would you prefer to wed tonight, or shall we take a few days to plan a proper ceremony?"
"We needn't a large ceremony, but I believe we ought to wed on the first." Celina kept her head high, the rings of Dalston and Ovrean around her neck more charm than burden. "A new year, and a new era."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 20, 1196
"I must say, though, cousin," Celina started as Oswald released her from their hug, "the only thing more surprising than your previous letter stating you intended to spend Christmas in Naroni is the fact that you've apparently chosen to come and see me before Dea--or any of your nieces and nephews."
"Don't worry about my nieces and nephews; I'll have ample time to see them all, and their children. But you are my first cousin, and we did grow up side by side. Besides, in truth--" Oswald straightened his stance, now less a cousin and more a seasoned king. "--the reason I chose to come here in the first place was to discuss something with you."
"Oh?" Now there were two things more surprising than his letter. "I can't say I immediately see what business with a twice-widowed mother of a duke would be urgent enough to make the King of Dovia spend Christmas abroad."
"International relations. I will of course relay to Dea all of which you don't deem to keep private, but I thought it disrespectful not to talk to you first. I don't know how much you here in Naroni hear about sentiment in Dovia below the ruling class, but until the university opened, most in my kingdom scarcely paid yours a thought." Not unsurprising--apart from the occasional scandal, not much that happened in Naroni could have been of particular interest to the average Dovian merchant or farmer. "However, now that the university has become prominent and the people have a reason to consider Naroni's existence, they've grown somewhat wary of it. Some think you've forgotten your Dovian roots, or perhaps are trying to surpass us intellectually. The more paranoid of the populace are even talking about a potential attempt to conquer Dovia."
Conquer Dovia? Celina would have laughed if not for the implications of such unfounded panic. "That's absurd! We scarcely have the military might to defend our own borders, much less launch an offensive. Besides, Dea has no interest in unmotivated warfare."
"You and I both know that, but the people of Dovia do not. I doubt the unrest would settle unless a firm formal arrangement could be reached." Oswald crossed his arms, gold ring a stark contrast with his now-silver hair. "Which is why I propose that you and I marry."
And that was a third more surprising thing. "You and I. Marry."
"I know it must be a shocking idea, but hear me out: there's no need for either of our respective lifestyles to change. I will of course keep living in Dovia, and you will stay in Naroni, and we'll see each other just often enough to avoid divorce in absentia. If the Queen of Dovia--the Dovian-born Queen of Dovia--were to live in Naroni, to work closely with the Naronian rulers, then perhaps the Dovian people will feel as if they have some representation in the daughter kingdom."
"Or they could feel as if a Queen of Dovia--who has lived in Naroni most of her adult life and birthed the Duke of Armion--living in Naroni and working closely with the Naronian rulers could very well be a double agent eager to make this Naronian invasion a reality."
"Not impossible--but, the people trust my judgment, if Searle Minara's intelligence network is to be believed, and they were fond of your mother and fond of you. So long as you wear your new title proudly, they will accept you as Dovia's ambassador. And you needn't worry about me whispering my political agenda into your ear; all I ask is some advance notice on any developments that might affect my kingdom, and otherwise I will leave both you and Naroni to act according to your own judgment."
"Hmm. Fair enough." Though, in all honesty, she hadn't expected to marry again--even if it did affect her own life minimally. "But I will have to think about it."
"Of course. I'll tell you what: if you choose to accept, come to my castle in Dovia before your birthday in the year after this next, and we will marry there. If you choose not to, then there will be no hard feelings, and I will figure out another way to reassure the populace."
Celina nodded. A year and a half was a significant chunk of time. She would have her decision by then. "Fair enough."
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 4, 1187
"Dead?" Though surprised, the king gave no indication of sorrow. Mernolt, sadly, was not surprised. Felron was his own brother, and he hadn't felt much either. "How?"
"Murder, it seems. But the details are..." What was the word for it? He wasn't sure there was one. "...odd."
"How so?"
A pity he hadn't had a chance to rehearse the story to his wife. He could stumble and stutter in front of Imena. King Oswald... not so much. If only he'd had that easy, personable nature of Garrett or Nythran. Either one would have been a better choice of informant. "Well... the steward found him on his desk, lying on his stomach. He was probably knocked out first--bruise on his head. Or maybe that killed him, I don't know."
"If it wasn't that, then what?"
"Well... his tunic was slashed open, and he had some cuts on his back. Whoever did it used his own knife, it looked like; they stabbed it back through his hand after they were done. There was a lot of blood."
"Deep cuts, then."
"Yes, but..." Christ. Who had ever heard of such a thing? The killer must have been grateful for Felron's broad back. "Not so deep as to tear him apart. There was a message carved on his back."
"A message?" So perhaps the king had heard of such a thing. He was not so shocked as Mernolt would have guessed. "What did it say?"
"'Happy birthday, Rina'." Mernolt swallowed He didn't doubt that his niece would be no more worked up about her father's death than anyone else, but he feared the message may raise a few brows. "You don't think she had anything to do with it, do you?"
"I doubt it. From what I know of her, being a country away from him would be a better way to heal than going through the trouble of planning his death. But it does point to someone who cares for her." It did. Mernolt had feared that too. "I'll send Sidwein to inform Rina and Arkon about this; he can visit his brother while he's there. And I'm sure your mother will be able to manage the shire until Arkon graduates."
"She will, yes." If anything, it would take her mind off of things. It must have been a horrid feeling, losing a child you couldn't bring yourself to earnestly mourn.
"I've known her for many years. A very capable woman." The king crossed his arms, a flicker of fondness in his eye before the mask of serious business came down once more. "I suppose I should ask: did anyone at the castle report anything suspicious last night? Sounds? Sights?"
Ah, yes. Yet another question that would have been better left to Garrett. "Actually... a number of servants claimed to have seen my father."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 23, 1187
"Another tax hike in Tagrien?" Oswald scowled. There wasn't a king alive who didn't understand the importance of taxes--they were a good portion of a lord's salary, after all. But in exchange for their taxes, the lord was to provide his subjects with protection, maintenance of infrastructure, support... perhaps even the occasional service. With higher taxes, one was to expect improvements to those aspects.
But since Felron had succeeded his father as count, since he'd driven the tax rate up more months than not, not one Tagrien denizen had reported any such improvements. Indeed, Searle's network had intelligence indicating the opposite. The only purpose those extra coins served was the further weigh down Felron's pocket. "Tell me he's at least put men to work on some new docks at the lake."
"I've had no reports on any construction in that area. Or any other, for that matter."
"Damn."
The worst part of it was that technically, Felron had broken no laws, so Oswald could not punish him. The Shire Autonomy Statute of 1056 gave the lords of Dovian shires the right to do as they pleased with their tax money, with no attempt at policing from the king. It also prohibited a king from deposing a lord unless said lord had been found guilty of a crime by a jury of his peers. If Oswald intervened, even if they understood his reasons, the other lords would grow wary. Threatened. And he wouldn't be able to blame them.
However...
"Poverty in the region is increasing. The people are having to choose between feeding themselves or paying their taxes--and Felron's brutish collectors make it an easy decision. Some of the lords have confronted Felron about it, but he says that if his people want to eat, they ought to work harder. Of course, it's difficult to work when no one's willing to pay."
"Tertius never would have stood for this." But Tertius wasn't around to change anything. And as long as Felron kept to the law, Oswald's hands were tied if he wished to remain a just king. Yet, this was getting out of hand. "The people won't take this for much longer. There will be riots. Felron will squash them. That will lead to more riots. The shire will become a cesspit of violence and chaos, people stabbing each other in the back for a loaf of bread, crowds howling at the castle gates day in and day out. They're my people too; I don't like sitting idly by while Felron drives their home into ruin."
"I wouldn't either, in your shoes." His son-in-law's hand twitched. Some days, Oswald wondered if Searle had been too obvious a choice for the role of spymaster, but at his core, Searle was an honest man. His talents lay in using that honesty in dishonest ways--but never so dishonest as to be treacherous. To those he liked, at least. "Perhaps it would be in our best interests to... move Tagrien along in the line of succession. Make Arkon the count. Nearina would make an excellent regent while he finishes his schooling."
"Searle, if I could have deposed Felron, I would have done so some time ago."
"Indeed. But what if he were otherwise eliminated?"
Oswald clenched a fist. Of course. Searle knew the law as well as any. He hadn't meant that Felron ought to be simply stripped of his title. "You mean if he were assassinated."
"Well, it wouldn't be common knowledge. Natural deaths can be faked. Murders too. There's a whole shire full of people who want Felron dead, after all."
"Searle, I'm not framing one of my subjects for murder."
"And I'm not saying that you have to. I have a plan, and I know of just the man to execute it."
Was this what it meant, to be a just king? Pulling strings in the background, plotting covert assassinations of his own noblemen to avoid doing wrong by the others, to avoid violating his forefathers' own laws? It left a sickly taste on the roof of Oswald's mouth.
Nonetheless, he stepped forward. "I'm listening."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 30, 1174
A shaking hand grasped at Tavrin's forearm and squeezed--stunned, disbelieving, but beyond ecstasy. "He's waking up!"
Indeed, the Dovan's breathing had steadied and his eyes were beginning to flicker. There had been a brief moment during which Tavrin had thought they'd lost him, but he was fine now. He was going to be all right. "He is."
"Ren." The word was little more than a hoarse whisper, but it was still a word. A name. Her name. "Ren?"
"Searle!" The woman's grip tightened, her nails digging into his arm in spite of the borrowed cloak's scratchy fabric. Not that Tavrin could blame her. She loved this man. He wouldn't have been watching his fingers either had that been Atala on the bed. "You're alive!"
His eyes drooping, the man pushed himself upright. He might as well have just been waking from a nap. "It sure looks that way, doesn't it?"
His wife let ring a controlled giggle. As close to a smile as such a grim-looking human must have ever come, the Dovan slipped off the bed and greeted her with a kiss. "I love you."
Clinging a little more tightly, she rested her chin on his shoulder. From what Tavrin could see, there was a hint of a tear in her eye. "I love you too."
"Promise me something?"
She nodded. He stepped back and looked her in the eyes for a minute, then sighed. "Let's grow old together, all right? Really old. So old that we'll be halfway rotted and no one else will want to look at us by the end. But it'll be all right because we can look at each other. And then we can die in our sleep one night, maybe holding hands under the covers if our fingers haven't fallen off by then." He wove his hand between locks of her hair and began to play with her curls. "Can we do that?"
"Of course." The tear was gone and replaced by a small sparkle. It swelled a little as she stood on her toes and met him with another kiss. "You always said we'd be together forever."
"And we will be--no matter what happens."
The rest of the room might as well have not existed. Tavrin might have been intruding by simply not leaving. He'd played his part already. He didn't have to stick around for their happily ever after. Besides, didn't he have a love of his own? Didn't he have his own happily ever after waiting for him back in Naroni?
"Excuse me?"
Or maybe he still existed in Ren-and-Searle World after all. "You're the one who healed me, aren't you?"
Not sure what else had to be said, Tavrin nodded. From what he'd heard, the man was the type to dismiss others as idiots, but perhaps there were certain things that cast all doubts aside. "Thank you."
Tavrin's lips twitched into a small smile. "Not problem."
"Searle."
It was a voice he'd grown familiar with over the past few days, the voice of that silly Dovan lady with the funny hat and the perma-pucker lips. Tavrin glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, she'd risen from her place on the couch and was now staring at the man, waiting for his acknowledgment of her presence.
Somehow, Tavrin got the feeling that she would be waiting a while.
The man locked eyes with his wife for a moment or so before shooting a glare the way of his younger brother. "Ietrin, did you bring her here?"
The boy buried his face in his hands. The red-haired Dovan on the couch turned his head, slouching somewhat. "Searle, don't be too hard on your brother."
"I shan't be." The hat lady flinched. Tavrin knew why. The older man's advice had said nothing in regards to her.
The seconds ticked by with an agonizing slowness. The boy and the girl and the redhead exchanged their glances. The man's fist clenched and his wife bit her lip. The hat lady just stood there, looking like she might crumble to pieces at the slightest disturbance.
But to Tavrin's relief, the tension was eased by the arrival of two more Dovans from the other room--one of whom was very small. The youngster flashed a goofy grin Tavrin' s way, then bounced up and down in the Dovan King's arms and reached toward his father. "Papa!"
"My baby." The man rushed to his wife's side and held out his arms to receive the child, who greeted him with a hug around the neck and a slobbery kiss on the cheek. "My big, beautiful boy."
The baby laughed. A tad more serious, the man ran his fingers through his son's silky hair and held him back a little, just enough to look him in the eye. "I'll never leave you. You know that, right? I'll never leave you. Not now, not later, not even when I'm dead. I'll never leave you--never."
For some reason, the hat lady bowed her head, frowning. There was something amiss with the Dovan's wife as well, but it was harder to pinpoint; maybe he'd been wrong in assuming she'd just be happy to see her husband alive. "Searle..."
"I just want him to know that." He kissed the baby on the brow, then nodded to the Dovan King. "Thank you for watching him, your majesty. It's a shame that my father and your late wife can't be here with us today, but you yourself are more than all the grandparent my children will ever need."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 2, 1168
Having grown up with an almost perpetually ill mother, Farilon's children knew how to put on a brave face. Now that his own time was nigh, the king was relieved to see that none of the three of them had lost that ability; he felt he could enjoy his last few days with them to the fullest if none of them let their sorrow get in the way.
Really, though, he was just grateful that his younger two and their families had come all the way from Naroni for a few weeks. He'd been blessed with a last visit with all the grandchildren he'd scarcely seen, and he probably still had a few days to get to know them just a little better.
Right now, though, he was focusing on his children. His older grandchildren were out for a ride, and the younger ones playing under the supervision of his son-in-law and two daughters-in-law. He would see them again when he was feeling just a tad stronger; right now, he was more than a little tired. His now-grown children were about all he could handle just about now.
"Comfortable, Father?" asked Holladrin, taking his hand in her own, a soft, tired smile on her face.
Farilon gave his best attempt at a nod. "Yes, thank you, dear."
Meanwhile, Oswald briefly turned away from the fire, drawing the poker from the flames. "Warm enough, Father?"
"Quite," Farilon assured him. He half-expected Roderick to ask him something as well, but his middle child remained silent--indeed, the normally loud, almost obnoxious second son had let his siblings do most of the talking since he'd arrived. It must have been the residual awkwardness of his prior exile. Farilon himself had let that go years ago now, but perhaps it still took its toll on Roderick. Maybe it was irrational to expect otherwise.
Still, he was a bed-ridden old man with perhaps only a few days left to live; he had to make things right. "Oswald, Holladrin, will you please excuse us for a moment? I'd like a word with Roderick."
The two pairs of their mother's blue eyes locked, they both nodded. Oswald strode over from the fire and placed his hand on his sister's shoulder. With a last parting glance their father's way, they turned around and headed toward the door.
As the two of them made their exit, Roderick stood with the stillness of those infernal marble statues that Laralita had scattered about the castle in Naroni. Farilon didn't think it was because he'd spent so much time looking at those hideous things--well, not entirely, at any rate. "Sit down, son."
Nodding, Roderick hurried to the other side of the bed and obeyed--something Roderick had rarely done even as a small child. Perhaps this was the advantage to dying.
"Roderick, I hope you know how sorry I am for everything," he began, smiling in spite of his son's seeming refusal to look at him. "You made a mistake, of course, but I punished you too harshly. I hope you can forgive me."
Roderick sniffed. "Father, please--you know as well as I do that I'm far better off in Naroni than I would have been here. I'm still not even sure what I'm going to do with my second son; perhaps I shall exile him and see him start his own kingdom."
The pains in depths of his chest strengthened, but Farilon laughed all the same. "If every king with a second son did just that, we'd each be king of our very own acre--but I suppose it did turn out well for you. I just wish I could have seen more of you and your family while I had the chance."
"You didn't have a chance." Roderick's words were neither reassuring nor accusing--they simply were. "Your duties to Dovia come first, as do my duties to Naroni. You know it, and I know it, and Oswald and Holladrin know it too."
Farilon relaxed and permitted himself a small grin; after a stressful life as a ruler, a few last moments of contentment were more than welcome. "In that case, I suppose I've taught you all well."
"Indeed." The last word was as neutral as any of his others. Farilon did not know what to make of it, but he supposed there were worse things than brevity and the following silence. He'd apologized to his son, and his words had been accepted--that was all that mattered.
"Father?"
He turned his head to find that Roderick was staring at him, his hand raised, his expression troubled. "Father, do you ever look back on your time as king and wonder if people will remember you?"
Now this was the Roderick he remembered; Farilon did not care to crush him by telling him that he would not care in death. "I suppose the thought crosses every mind from time to time."
His son crossed his legs and clasped his hands, perhaps to keep from fidgeting. "How do you think one can tell if one has left a legacy?"
Silly boy. Farilon had taught each of his children as well as he could, but in his heart, he knew that for every man and woman, there were a few lessons that could never be learned. "Life is hard, son, whether king or common-born; just getting through it is a legacy in itself."
NEXT CHAPTER:
February 2, 1165
As usual, Ietrin needed to be met with his stepmother's elbow in order to be reminded of his manners. "Hello, Uncle Oswald," he greeted his uncle dully, rubbing his arm with a grimace; Laralita did have a good elbow on her, Roderick knew for a fact.
Oswald replied with the subtlest of nods. "Ietrin. Where are Leara and Camaline?"
Ietrin rolled his eyes. "Oh, they're at Armion for the day, them and my stepsister Elhina. They were allowed to go because Father likes them so much more than he does me," he added, the bitterness clear in his young voice.
As often was the case, Roderick had half a mind to smack the boy, but he did not think it worth the five steps required to reach him. "Ietrin, we've been over this; it's not because I like them more than you, but because their behavior has been better than yours, and therefore they were allowed to go as a reward."
The boy slouched and began to grumble. "And I have to stay here as punishment."
Roderick shot his son a warning glare, then turned back to his brother. "Don't mind him; he gets it from his mother's side."
Again, Oswald barely deemed this worthy of a response; it seemed a blink and a slight shrugged were all he thought necessary. "So, how are things in this little kingdom of yours?"
"Well, other than the occasional incident of someone being brutally slaughtered in the middle of a forest or poisoned by some variety of roses or something of the like, I suppose we're doing well enough."
Even this seemed to bounce right off of him; Oswald had never been among the most emotional of men, but in this instance, Roderick might as well have been talking to a statue. The body was present, but the mind seemed to be elsewhere. "I see. And how are things in your own household?"
Roderick nodded toward the two girls playing on the floor. "Perfectly fine, thank you very much. These two are absolute angels--just like their mother," he added with a wink Laralita's way. This merited a rather charming giggle; it was nice to know that his wife, at least, found him worthy of a suitable response. Really, what was Oswald's problem--he was a king, for God's sake! "Anyway, how long are you staying?"
"Until after Holladrin has her baby," Oswald informed him, "which should be sometime within the week, she claims; she asked if I would be the godfather, so I plan to be here for the christening. Are there any other events that might cause me to stay longer?"
Most unusually, he sounded almost hopeful; Oswald had never been keen to stay too long in Naroni before. "Uh... well, Celina's not due until late April or early May, and I don't doubt that you'll be needed back in Dovia before then. Other than Holladrin's baby, the only upcoming event of any interest is my former steward's wedding, and obviously that's not too important."
Oswald's eyes narrowed. "I take it that you weren't invited."
Well, at least the man had not forgotten how to joke, Roderick mused as he began to laugh. "Oh, Oswald, you fool! I am a king, in case you've forgotten--if an occasion is announced, then I am automatically invited. In this case, I am simply choosing not to go, as I have much more important things to attend to than a mere gentleman's wedding."
His brother frowned. "Especially if said gentleman once impregnated your late wife."
"Indeed--and would you believe it? He's marrying some girl who's currently carrying another man's child; ironic, is it not?"
Oswald failed to appear amused; if anything, he seemed annoyed. "Roderick, I didn't haul my sorry carcass all the way to your godforsaken, backwater country for idle gossip about who's marrying who and who's pregnant with whose baby. I'm here to inquire as to how things are going for you, and nothing more; I'll stop by before I leave, but I did plan on spending most of my time here with Holladrin and Octavius. Thank you for reminding me exactly why."
Roderick sniffed. "You forget who is king here, Oswald. You should be very fortunate that you are my brother, for there are very few from whom I would tolerate such rudeness."
Behind him, he heard Laralita shift on the couch. "Ietrin, would you mind grabbing one of your sisters? I think your father and your uncle would rather speak in private."
Ietrin snorted as he pulled himself off the couch and grabbed the squirming Riona, leaving young Ramona to his stepmother. "I'm sure."
The girls in arms, they hastily brushed past Roderick and Oswald, Laralita stopping only to plant a kiss on Roderick's cheek and Ietrin not at all. Seeing her stepson into the corridor, she closed the door behind her, the fading sound of her light slippers against the tile following Ietrin's heavier, booted tread. Roderick waited until he could no longer hear either set of footsteps, then allowed himself to lock eyes with his brother. "Is something wrong, Oswald? You don't seem yourself."
He chose not to give an immediate answer, but Roderick refused to break eye contact so long as Oswald remained silent. He was a king, after all; it was his duty to see to it that all questions were answered. Finally, Oswald sighed. "Roderick... do you ever look at your second wife and see a woman who is both pleasant and loving, and then feel horrible for resenting her just because of her one great flaw of not being your first wife?"
Roderick shook his head; what a ridiculous notion! "Honestly, I can't say that not being my first wife is a great flaw."
His brother's lip curled inward, but he remained otherwise motionless. "Then you cannot possibly understand."
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