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October 18, 1200
"Good Lord. Those grey eyes are relentless," Camaline half-laughed and half-grumbled as she honed in on Prior's newborn son--her first grandchild. What a chore his birth had turned out to be! Neva had labored long enough that the women helping her had reached the point where they'd decided a napping rotation was in order. Camaline, as it figured, had been the one dozing off in one of the guest rooms when the baby had finally emerged.
But, looking at him now, it was hard to begrudge him for it. And the grey eyes, though clearly Neva's, were also those of Camaline's father--so, if she'd feared the baby would spark any question of Prior's maternity, she was no longer concerned.
"Yes, Grandfather Roderick's descendants seem more likely to have them than not. It's a little odd, but at least they're nothing horrible to look at--not on this little fellow, and certainly not on his mother." Prior smirked, his own Lettie-blue eyes twinkling. He and Neva had been betrothed since childhood--probably due to some fear on the part of Sparron or Octavius that he'd otherwise pursue Alina--and they hadn't had much to say to each other before they'd been nearly grown, but they'd become quite fond of each other since marrying. "Do you think Neva will object if I ask to name him for Father? After that labor, she deserves first naming rights, but... well, he's Father's first grandchild. Her father already has her sister's children."
"I see no problem with at least asking." She looked down at the baby again. A round, red-haired, grey-eyed baby was about the opposite of what came to mind when she heard the name 'Sparron', but if every son born to every parent in Naroni for the next hundred years was named for the best friend she'd ever had, that still wouldn't have been honor enough for him. "Lorn probably still feels too young to be a grandfather, so it might hammer in his age, a grandson named for him. Besides, he's still alive, and your father isn't; it's usually safer practice to name children for any deceased parents first."
"Well, you and Aunt Leara are both alive, so it's lucky he's a boy, then." Prior raised the baby to his shoulder and kissed the side of his head. Already he wore fatherhood well. Just like his own father had when he'd been born. "He would have been Camaline had he been a girl--or I would have fought for that, at least."
"You might have lost that one." She wouldn't mention that she'd only mentioned Lorn feeling insecure about his age because that's how she would have felt if presented with a descendant named 'Camaline'. "Ah, but you'll have a girl and then another girl before long. Just focus on this little one for now."
"That's the plan." Mindful of the boy's head, Prior lowered him somewhat in an attempt to meet his eyes. "Well, son: shall we go make the case for your name to your mama?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 3, 1199
"My God, Prior! You're so handsome and grown-up." Jeda stood on her toes to kiss her nephew's cheek--and still had to marvel that he was old enough to have hair on it. "I know you and everyone else your age is probably tired of hearing things like this, but it doesn't feel like it was all that long ago when I was cuddling you as a baby."
"It's all right, Aunt Jeda. For my favorite aunt, I'll put up with it."
"Just don't call me that in Leara's hearing; she's about to be your mother-in-law too now, you know."
"I guess you're right about that." But, if anything, Prior's grin only widened. "But I think she knows you'd have be my favorite aunt, and she probably understands; you were closer with my father than she is with my mother, and closeness like that kind of carries over."
"Well, maybe it does." Her own girls might have been closer with Ietrin's siblings had Ietrin actually bothered with any of them--and they'd all adored and been adored by Sparron. "Ah, my nephew. My brother's son. You're more like him every day, you know--but still your own sweet self."
Prior tilted back his head and blinked at the ceiling. Jeda didn't comment; there wasn't any shame in a private tear, but on Prior's wedding day, she'd let him keep that tear private. "I wish he was here."
"I think he is, in whatever ways he can be." In whatever ways she, at least, hoped he was. How many nights had she spent lying awake, the only thought fighting her dread of the next day the dream that her brother was pulling any cosmic strings he could to help her. Whenever her mind wandered back to that dragon, it carried Sparron's ghost as a rider. "And he will be, until you get to see him again for real."
"I'd like to think you're right. Doesn't make me miss him any less, though."
"Me neither--but it's your wedding day. Even in spirit, I don't think he'd ever miss that."
"Hmm." Prior sniffed. Wedding days were a time of mixed emotions for many, but he'd find his calm when Neva's moment came. Now, though--before he stood at the end of the aisle--Jeda's nephew would let his feelings fall where they would. "I just hope I turn out to be half the father he was."
NEXT CHAPTER:
July 11, 1199
"Are you my mother?"
Lettie's arm froze against the surface of her desk, her back numb to the chair behind her. She'd heard someone cross paths with Arkon at the door as he'd left, but the exchange had sounded friendly enough, so she hadn't thought much of it. And there had been silence after the door had shut--so she'd figured whoever it was had just been a familiar passerby.
But Prior had lingered in the hall, apparently--probably going over all the possible ways this conversation could start. And Lettie hadn't even heard him on the stairs behind her.
She hadn't considered that this day would come. She hadn't dared think about it.
She'd just have to wing it. "What gave you that idea?"
"A while ago, my mother told me..." Prior gulped. Lettie didn't blame him. Camaline had raised him. Camaline was his mother. "She, uh... she admitted she didn't... I mean, I understand. And she's my mother! I love her more than anyone, even if she didn't--you know."
Even though she'd known it--even wanted it, really, her baby to be so thoroughly loved--Lettie's heart sank somewhat. It didn't matter. "Did she tell you it was me, then?"
"No, she didn't say. But Alina and I have the same birthday, and I was born at Sir Searle's castle." He nudged his boot against the floorboards. It probably hadn't taken him long to put those pieces together. He was his parents' son, after all.
And hers too.
"Alina's my twin sister, isn't she? She's my father's daughter."
Lettie sighed. Searle, to his credit, had loved Alina exactly as he had their other children--but good intentions did not a good father make. With Camaline, Prior had gotten the better end of the bargain there. "You haven't mentioned this to her, have you?"
"No. I thought it be should up to you, if you think she needs to know. It obviously can't be common knowledge; I haven't said a word to anyone, not even my grandfather."
His grandfather. God, Octavius had been so angry. "He knows."
"I thought he might, but I didn't know for sure. And I don't think he needs to know that I know--I don't want to compromise anything between him and Uncle Nythran, even if I doubt Uncle Nythran wants to be baron."
"That would be for the best. He, uh... he left it up to me, when he married my mother, whether or not to tell her. I haven't, though I've thought about it more than once. Lord Severin knows, as do Nanalie and Arydath, and of course Searle--and maybe Xeta?"
"Parts of it. I don't think my mother told her it was you."
Maybe that should have been a relief--but in some ways, her involvement had always felt like a detail. "I'm sorry none of us ever told you."
"It's fine. It... couldn't have been easy. And it's a big secret. I don't want to think about what people would say about you or my mother if it ever got out."
Her, Camaline. Not a word about the barony. "Not one of us deserved a boy as sweet as you."
"Aunt Lettie--"
He stopped himself, but she bade him with a raised brow. "Yes? I don't see much point in keeping anything else from you now."
"I..." She could tell from the angle of his teeth that he'd bitten his tongue. Rennie and Severin both did that too. They'd gotten the habit from her. "...I guess I just want to know why you agreed to it. I mean, you got Alina out of the whole thing, but you didn't know there'd be two of us..."
Shit. Of all the things she'd never thought she'd have to admit aloud. "I--honestly, I didn't know either, for the longest time. I actually took some preventative measures after I agreed, but they didn't work, and I think some part of me was pleased with that. It took your father a long time to warm up to me, but... I always knew, deep down, that he was a good man. He might have been the best man I ever knew. And he was a wonderful father to you, as I knew he would be." She choked, a few tears fighting to break through her lashes. Sparron may well have been her best friend at the end of his life, odd as the thought might have seemed at the time of Prior's conception. A world where such schemes could be necessary didn't deserve a man like him.
"...I knew he would be the kind of father that Searle just couldn't be."
Prior squinted, a slight sniffling sound about. Lettie thought she could make out a swell of moisture around his eyes too. "I... well, whatever the case, I... I..." He jerked his head toward the ceiling, as if gravity ever helped much. "...thank you. For... making me."
Lettie's eyelids couldn't hold any longer, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye and running down her cheek. What child thought to thank their mother for the simple act of their existence? For everyone else on the planet, there was no easier thing to take for granted. And there weren't many who might have had the right to furious about the circumstances.
In many ways, Lettie and her fellow conspirators had been so fantastically, improbably lucky.
But they'd had no fortune so fantastic and improbable as the soul their lies had produced.
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 12, 1199
"I don't quite follow," Camaline admitted, frowning. She and her son had an honest, transparent relationship--so she liked to think, at least. If she'd had a secret like... that... she would have hoped she'd found a way to tell him. Or that he'd trust she would have told him when she was ready. "Why would you think I'd had another child? You know I was young when I married your father, and I haven't been with any other men."
"I stopped by a while back, and you weren't here, but I ended up staying and visiting with Xeta and the girls." Prior's shoulder twitched, fighting an old childhood habit of swaying from side to side when he couldn't quite find the right words.
"I ended up mentioning that maybe you were lucky that you only went through one pregnancy--and maybe that was an insensitive thing to say, so I'm sorry I did--but then Xeta seemed surprised for a minute, then did some backtracking, and I ended up playing along because I didn't want to make her uncomfortable and I guess it's none of my business anyway, but..." He trailed off, the shoulder yielding a couple more twitches. "I just... once the thought was in my head, I couldn't stop thinking about it."
Of course he couldn't. He was his father's son, after all. Sparron had spent a lot of his time thinking about why he shouldn't be thinking about things--and he'd never been one to miss a thing worth thinking about. "I don't have another child, Prior."
Her son nodded. She'd never lied to his face, not explicitly. He knew that. He knew she wouldn't. He trusted her.
And--whether she'd birthed him or not--he was her son. She trusted him too.
"Sit with me."
It was time.
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 30, 1199
"Finally got them down for their nap?" Prior asked as Xeta returned to Geneva's room. He'd been tasked with watching the oldest of his younger half-sisters (for all he had zero interest in knowing exactly how the girls had come to be) while Xeta put the twins down for their nap. Turned out, that had been quite the lengthy process.
He didn't mind too much, though. He'd be married before the year was up; he'd be well served, getting used to entertaining children again.
"'Finally' is right. Every time I think one of them is finally drifting off, the other one has to start crying and wake her." Xeta sighed. "For your sake, I hope all of yours come one at a time."
"Twins do seem to run in my family, though," Prior mused as he pulled himself to his feet; it was a small castle, and Geneva would prefer it if her mother sat beside her.
"That's true. There's your father and your aunt, and--" Xeta stopped. Prior couldn't blame her; it was a large family to keep track of.
"My aunt's daughters? Her first two with Fred."
"Ah, yes. Thank you." Her smile was a little large for a simple reminder, but Xeta did have a bit of a strange streak to her. "Neva's family isn't drowning in twins, though, so maybe you'll get lucky."
"Maybe. But whatever size batches they come in, I don't know if I feel right about putting Neva through too many pregnancies if she isn't eager for them herself. I know we'll need at least one, but I'm not going to envy her those nine months." Though, some women did seem to have easier pregnancies than others--and if it ran in families, then it was a lucky thing Neva's mother and sister hadn't struggled so far as he was aware. Still. "It just... seems like such a rougher process than it should be. I suppose my mother is lucky, really--having only had to go through it once."
Xeta frowned. "Once?"
Eh? Xeta had carried both Geneva and the twins--she seemed to actually enjoy being pregnant, and she was a little younger. "Um, yes. Me."
"Oh! Oh, yes of course." There was something odd about her blush, something in the pattern of the swell, the wideness it gave her eyes. Something a little more than embarrassment. "Ah, sorry, I just... you've always been so grown up, I sort of forget that you were a child. And your mother! She's so unchanging and ageless."
"Right." Nice try, Aunt Xeta. But what was she covering up? His mother would have told him if she'd had another child. She might not have been the most conventionally maternal of women, but surely she wouldn't have let any child of hers go unacknowledged? Or at least, without proper care?
"A silly slip, though--and not just for the obvious reasons." Xeta smiled again--too widely, too brightly. "You look more like your father every day."
NEXT CHAPTER:
July 12, 1197
"My lady." Prior took Neva's hand and endowed it with a kiss. He hadn't seen much of his betrothed in the past while, as they'd had conflicting schedules in the last couple terms and they'd both been home for the break for June and so far July. But, given the planned double date with Alina and Adonis for Prior and Alina's birthday, it had made more sense for the four of them to return to campus for for the night.
"Prior," Neva addressed him rather less stiffly--as was her right, what with her being a duke's daughter and him only being a baron's heir grandson. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you. Have you and Alina talked over the plans for tonight?"
"Yes. We agreed that it makes the most sense to just eat at the inn--just as you and her discussed a couple days ago, apparently." His betrothed laughed--or perhaps forced herself to laugh. "I assume Adonis will have no objections."
Prior frowned. No, Adonis rarely objected to much of anything--but Adonis wasn't his concern at the moment. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I suppose." Though her shrug and sniff said otherwise. "Our fathers made the match, after all; given that, I should be relieved that you're at least a good person in spite of your being in love with another woman."
...EH?! "What are you talking about?"
"Alina. You two are always making plans to see each other, always talking about each other. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with her that didn't somehow end up being about you."
Oh God. An uncomfortable nausea brewed in Prior's gut. He'd had no idea Neva had felt that way--and perhaps he'd ought to have made more of an effort to know how she'd felt, about this and everything else. But Alina, of all people... "Neva, I'm sorry that I gave you that impression but Alina's just about the last person I could ever be in love with."
"Really?" Neva raised an eyebrow, daring a tentative smile but not convinced. "But you're so close with her."
"I am. She's one of my closest friends, and has been since childhood." Probably not the best way to start, but it was honest--and another touch of the hand might have done something for Neva's reassurance. "But really... Alina's the closest thing I have to a sister." Well, before Geneva had come along, anyway, or this second child that his mother and Aunt Xeta were currently considering. But it was exclusive knowledge that Geneva was his mother's, and for good reason--though, he supposed Neva would have to know once they'd married.
Because surely if she knew he trusted her with that...
"I know it's probably tough to imagine if you've felt like this for a while, but the thought of me being attracted to Alina is just as inconceivable to me as the thought of an attraction to Ricky or Dalston must be to you."
"That... that would be pretty inconceivable," Neva agreed, mouth curling briefly in a squirm of revulsion. "You really mean that? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"
"I mean it. And now that it's been addressed... well, maybe you and I could make some efforts to become closer. It'll only be a few years before we're married now, and I think we could know each other a lot better by then."
Neva nodded. Prior doubted she was quite through with the idea of his--ugh--being in love with Alina, but at least she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt? "I'd like that."
"I'd like that too." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, the soft flesh of her face warmed by her blush. "Perhaps call at Tetran Keep for dinner next Sunday?" He'd make a point to find out her favorite meal before then.
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 4, 1193
"So... you're really going, then?" Prior asked as his mother hugged him.
"Yes. It's official. Your Aunt Xeta and I will be living at the cottage." She rubbed his shoulder and stepped back, a smile on her face--though, not without a hint of bittersweet behind it. "I don't believe we'll be moving in until summer, though. Her children still need to decide whether or not they want to come with us."
"Has she told them about...?"
His mother shook her head. Her hair was so silky that movement never mussed it. Prior must have gotten his father's hair texture, as he'd gotten his father's color. Though, if he recalled correctly--and he dearly hoped he did!--his father's had been coarser than his own. "She will. She's just trying to figure out how to best tell them."
"I think they'll be happy for her. She is their mother, after all." He could never imagine not being happy for his!
"I hope you're right. Anyway, one of these days, you'll have to come down to the cottage with me and pick out your bedroom; I trust you'll visit whenever you can?"
"Hopefully more!"
"Good! I wouldn't have settled for seeing less of you." His mother clasped her hands together, violet eyes alight. If Prior ever had a daughter, he hoped she'd have those eyes. "You know... to be honest, Prior, before you born... I never thought I'd enjoy being a mother. But my God, there's not a thing in this world or any other I'd trade you for, my darling boy."
Prior blushed. He knew his mother loved him, but she was rarely so free with her words of affection. She'd never needed to be.
He'd felt fully and completely loved every day of his life.
"There's no mother I'd rather have than you."
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 18, 1191
"Mother?" Prior didn't get an answer, but he didn't get a protest either--and Prior's mother was not the type to keep her objections to herself. "Mother, are you all right?"
"Oh you poor, silly child!" She grimaced--and giggled. Neither were actions typical of her. "I'm fine. Why would you think otherwise?"
"I saw Auntie Xeta leave. She didn't look happy. Did you two fight?"
"No, we didn't fight. We're just... I don't know. On different pages in regards to our friendship, perhaps."
Their friendship. Maybe, maybe not. But his mother needn't have pretended for his sake. He'd been privy to enough little hints about his parents as a much younger child, too young to make sense of them--but not so young that he wouldn't remember years later. "Are you a sapphist?"
She cocked her head to the side. "Where did you learn that word?"
"I'm thirteen. I know lots of words." He joined her on the bed, as he had when he'd been little. He hoped he hadn't been too blunt with her. "I, uh... I used to see Auntie Aydelle leave your room on occasion. And I used to see Uncle Searle leaving Papa's. I didn't think much of it at the time, since I spent time in friends' bedrooms too. But grown-ups don't play in bedrooms the way children do."
"Perhaps. But if your father and I had been involved in such lifestyles, would you think any of less of us for it? Would you think us ungodly?"
"Have you read the Old Testament, Mother? God Himself doesn't have much going for him in terms of godliness--all that smiting and jealousy and constant need for worship. I think wanting to be with someone to your liking is nothing compared to killing a bunch of children for making fun of a bald man."
"I suppose you have a point there." His mother sighed. She only sighed when she was about to be honest--more honest than she wanted to be. "Don't think poorly of Xeta for my sake. She's been very lonely since Jadin died, and I don't think she knows what she wants from me. The truth is, I'm too old to enter a romance with someone who's not sincere, even if she thinks she might be. It may frustrate Xeta, but I can't give her anything until she knows whether or not she wants me to."
"I think you're right to make that call." Not that Prior knew much of love, or much of pursuing or being pursued since he'd been betrothed to Neva for as long as he remembered and found her more than tolerable enough to feel the need for anyone else. But sometimes, people didn't need advice so much as they needed reassurance. "You'll just get hurt if she just wants to use you to get over Jadin's death. And I think she'd hurt herself doing that too, in the end."
"Such a wise boy you are." His mother smiled--for real this time. "Just like your father. He too could always make me feel better without spewing patronizing false optimism."
In spite of the circumstances, Prior found himself grinning back.
Whoever his father had preferred taking to bed, there was no other man he'd rather be like. "I'm glad."
NEXT CHAPTER:
