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September 12, 1202
"Interesting way of learning that the kids are old enough to come over on their own--all barging in to attack your father before Renalie remembers all of a sudden that she was supposed to tell me to get over here as soon as I could." On a day when she'd thought Severin's clinic was open for business, no less! But the kids hadn't seemed upset, so it couldn't have been an emergency--unless it had been an emergency that they hadn't been told about. Her first thought had been that in spite of everything, Rina had gotten pregnant again, and she and Severin were in a panic over it.
But that couldn't have been the case now, given that Rina was nowhere to be seen and Severin--while somber enough--wasn't in any particular distress.
That said, she spied Dora over his shoulder, seated by the hearth, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt. "Dora? This is a surprise."
With a distinct twitch, Dora nodded her way, then let her eyes fall to her lap. How odd. Dora was shy, yes, and could be skittish--but she wasn't impolite.
"Well... you see, Mother, it's actually Dora who needs to speak with you. I've just been keeping her company for moral support."
Moral support? For a talk with her? Yes, she liked to think she and Dora were friends--but if Dora wanted a confidante, then surely she would have chosen someone her own age! Come to think of it, Severin likely already knew what she wanted to discuss. Shouldn't he have been sufficient?
"Is everything all right?"
"I think it will be, but I can't blame her for being nervous. Please try to keep an open mind, Mother. I'll be downstairs in the clinic when you're done." He kissed her on the cheek, then cut around her with a swift step and ushered himself out the door.
All as if there was nothing odd about any of this.
Not that she should have been unused to oddness, after all these years of being married to Florian. Thetis made for the empty bench beside Dora's and sighed as she sat down. "You know, he may just be my strangest child."
Dora grimaced. "I don't know about that..."
"Yes, I suppose Alyssin would be up there too. Just never tell either of them how like their father they are--and never tell their father that either." She didn't expect uproarious laughter, but all Dora managed was another forced smile. This in spite of now having met Florian. "I'm sorry, dear. You wanted to talk to me about something?"
"Uh... 'want' isn't really the right word." No--not by the way she bit at her lip. "I don't even know where to start..."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 1, 1202
It took little effort for Dora to rise from the bed and no feverish fog engulfed her. That didn't mean she felt better.
My family. My mother. Oh God. How could I have done that to my family?
And how could she not have? She'd been miserable. She'd had a loving family yes, but what future had there been for someone like her? It was clear to her now that she'd never had a romantic interest in women, not as Teodrin and not now, so any wife Teodrin might have taken would have been doomed to a loveless marriage--and a childless marriage, likely even a sexless marriage. Life as a bachelor wouldn't have been impossible, but with the crippling insecurity and stunted social skills that had resulted, earning a living would have been easier said than done. The best option would have been to work for Hamrick--her brother, Hamrick--as a farmhand, and that was only 'best' in that Hamrick wouldn't have turned down his own brother. Teodrin would not have fancied farming, not to the point where he could have built a life around it and considered himself happy.
And Adonis! She wouldn't have had Adonis's love as Teodrin, she was almost certain of it. Even if Teodrin had come to fancy Adonis consciously, he never would have dared approach him, both for fear of rejection and the emotional torment over what the hell had to be wrong with him to fancy a man so.
And Ceidrid... her baby...
"You saw Ylwa, didn't you?"
A voice she'd known in both her lifetimes. Severin, her and her husband's friend, the man who'd walked her down the aisle for lack of any proper family. Severin, her older brother, clever and aloof and meeting everything he tried with either natural success or such decisive indifference that his failed attempts were almost impressive. To Dora, he was a comfort. To Teodrin, he'd been the distant and terrifying embodiment of everything he dared dream of being.
And he knew about Ylwa. If he knew about Ylwa, he knew all of it. "I--"
"It's all right. You don't have to talk if you don't want to." Severin rose from the bench at the foot of the bed and met her at the side. She didn't know what to expect from him, if he'd greet her as Dora or as Teodrin, if he would have even bothered greeting Teodrin beyond the barest acknowledgment of his existence before returning to whatever more interesting book or puzzle was at hand.
She hadn't expected a firm, fraternal hug--like she might have had she been Alina or Evera. "You have no idea what a relief it is to finally know you're safe."
Her brother. Her cold big brother who on his best of days might have let Teodrin have the larger dinner roll. How torn up inside the rest of the family must have been. "I'm so sorry..."
"Don't--well, I don't know. You don't need to apologize for who you are, and I can't say I've yet thought of any easy way you might have told us. We were worried beyond belief, but I don't blame you for not expecting the best reaction-wise. Not from everyone, at least." He kissed her on the brow, like brothers did their younger sisters, like she'd seen him kiss Holladrin when he'd felt it merited. "I don't think anything could make Mother stop loving you."
"Mother..." Her mother had all the love in the world to give. She'd even given in to Dora despite lack of any obligation, despite all the pain she must have still felt over Teodrin. "I must have hurt her so terribly."
"I suppose there's no sense in denying that. I hope you don't mind my saying that you really should tell her, some day." He stepped back, his hand trailing off her arm as it followed the rest of his body. "Not until you're ready, though."
What did it mean, to be ready to tell a thing like this? She wasn't sure she ever would be--but her mother deserved to know. In truth, the whole family did. "What about everyone else?"
"I... don't know." Severin sighed. Dora might have heard him admit to not knowing before, but Teodrin never had. As far as Teodrin had been concerned, anything Severin didn't know couldn't have been worth knowing anyway. "It's not my call. I can't make a guess at how everyone would react. Plus, if Father and all of our siblings know, then who's to say the in-laws and nieces and nephews shouldn't, then family friends, colleagues..."
"My husband."
"Right. Your husband." Her brother bit his lip. Adonis was a good man, but he had no concept of such things--almost nobody, good or not, did! The unfamiliar was often frightening, especially coming from a loved one, a person with whom there should have been no secrets. "Again, that's... up to you. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
"It's fine." At least, the extent of his ability to help was fine. "I don't think I could expect any more of anyone here."
"You're probably right. Anyway, I don't know if you're up to seeing anyone else yet, but can I at least tell them that you're all right? You as Dora, I mean--with your illness."
Dora nodded. Everyone had spent enough time worrying over her, and it wouldn't be the last of it--not until she figured things out. The least she could do was let Severin assure them of her health. "Please do."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 30, 1202
"See? I knew you'd figure it out. You humans do tend to be smarter than you look, about four times out of five."
"I'd feel smarter if what I supposedly 'figured out' didn't leave me with more questions than answers." Frankly, the most shocking thing Severin had 'figured out' was that he hadn't lost his mind. The pieces of the puzzle had formed a picture he couldn't explain and didn't know what to do with. More than a small part of him had expected Ylwa to smack him across the head and tell him to come back when he had the real solution. "I need a narrative here."
"All right. I'm sure you've read a few autopsy accounts that mentioned... unexpected arrangements of the reproductive organs? Your brother sought me out over a particular medical issue some years back." Ylwa smirked. Severin couldn't tell if it was fond remembrance or present amusement. Both, maybe. "Turns out, your little brother was always supposed to be your little sister. I said I could make some alterations in either direction, but that they wouldn't be necessary, and then I dismissed the kid before any rash decisions could be made; it's not a decision to made lightly, especially when the idea that there could be a decision in the first place is more or less alien to you."
"So then, Teodrin thought it over, and then you went along with the informed decision." And informed nobody else. Not even Dora. "What about the memories?"
"I thought it only fair to offer the option. You humans aren't exactly known to react well to people daring to take control of their own bodies, what with all those poor people you insist on stuffing away in your godless god-houses for the crime of daring to use their own genitals. Dora chose the fabricated past over the pain of having to hide the truth, and living with the consequences of the hiding. You can't really blame her, can you?"
"No, I guess not." 'Blame' wasn't the right word. Yes, the family had been hurt, was still hurt... but 'blame' didn't capture it. He'd talk to Dora later, when she remembered.
If she remembered.
"Look, that fake past you made up for her isn't holding up any more. At first she started feeling it wasn't real, then she just forgot, and then she--"
"Oh. She's ill, isn't she?"
Severin nodded. Ylwa sighed--not expecting, exactly, but aware that something had been possible. "Of course. Well, this isn't common, but clearly she spends a lot of time among people she knew before--so it's not impossible that her brain has rejected the constructed memories. That tends to result in it wreaking havoc on the body for lack of knowing what to do with itself."
"Can you save her?"
"Naturally. I just need to get into her head and restore her original memories. I have mixtures that allow me to do that." As if that ought to have been common knowledge. And as if it were an ethical dilemma. "She might be in something of a state afterwards, though. Her real past is a lot to process."
"I'll take responsibility for that. The important thing is her health." Then, once she was back on her feet... she could figure out how to go about all of this.
He just hoped it eventually involved telling their mother.
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 30, 1202
"How's she doing?" Thetis's son asked as he shut the door behind him, little more than whispered as he noticed Dora's sleeping form. Florian had given the side-eye when Severin had settled on a career in medicine, insistent that the boy simply didn't like people enough to enjoy it--not that that was a bad thing, of course, but there was only so much satisfaction a puzzle could give if part of solving it required a good bedside manner.
Thetis had disagreed from the start. The proof of it had shown its face when he'd met Rina; he may have been grouchy and socially-averse, but it wasn't for lack of caring. It may have even been for an excess of caring. Working as a physician gave him an outlet for pent-up concern that he was otherwise ill-equipped to express.
"Mmm... not much different from when you were here yesterday, unfortunately. She was awake for a while this morning, but she had to rest again."
Poor girl. The inexplicable illness was one thing, but even more troubling was her panic over her lost memories. Whenever Dora woke, those around her would take care to keep conversation to the present--or to the future, even, thanks to young Ceidrid's creative variety of (mostly) harmless amusement attempts.
But, inevitably, something would remind her that before arrival in Naroni... well, there was nothing to be reminded of.
"I wish there was more we could do. If parents' background was anything like mine or your father's, I don't know if any church would have records of them, but she needs... I don't know. A starting point, at least. Some hint as to who she is and where she came from. Do you suppose trying to trace our own lines back far enough might yield something? She does look so much like--"
"Alyssin." From the foot of the bed, Severin squinted down at her. It might have been two seconds, it might have been a whole minute; there was a fog about the room that both stretched and squeezed time, made any guessed measurement impossible.
But, however long he'd studied her, the day-wide haze broke with a sudden clear-eyed gasp. "...Mother, you don't have anywhere else you need to be today, do you?"
"No, I think Esela and Hamrick can handle anything that comes up at home." Perhaps her soft spots had grown too broad, but she didn't think she could leave Dora for long without any concrete news for anything short of an emergency. But, if that enlightened, end-tying stare toward the window meant anything, concrete news may not have been so distant a thing. "What is it? Do you know why she's sick? What she has? Why she can't remember?"
"No. Not quite." Or--as she knew innately, as the woman who raised him--not with enough certainty for him to say. Yet. "But I know someone who does."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 29, 1202
"I just... I'm stumped. I've seen amnesia before, but nothing like this." The quill in Orrick's hand was lucky that it was already too thin to distort. This wasn't Severin's first consult with Orrick about a mutual patient, but most of their professional interactions had to do with someone coming to Severin with symptoms of severe stress and him then referring them to Orrick. He hadn't seen anything like Dora's case either.
"Her memory is perfectly fine from the time she established herself in Ravenhold, but everything before that is gone--and even when it was there, now that I think back on it, it always sounded somewhat impersonal. Rehearsed, maybe. She talked about her parents like she would about historical figures, not like she talks about her husband and son."
His tone wasn't quite accusatory. That said, any onus on the patient herself at this point wouldn't help their diagnosis. "I don't believe she's lying, if that's what you're getting at."
"No, of course! We've both known her long enough now to give her the benefit of the doubt there. Besides, it never seemed like a lie either, exactly." Between Orrick's teeth, the tip of his tongue bulged under pressure. "More like... like her brain is compensating. Rationalizing. It did such a good job of it that even Dora herself didn't realize it for years."
"Any ideas as to how that would explain the fever? And the fainting?"
"That, I believe, would be your realm of expertise." Orrick sighed, which more or less summed up Severin's own thoughts on that. "How was she, when you left?"
"Awake, at least. Still warm, but she kept down some soup, and she was reading a story to her son as I headed out." To hear Adonis tell it, Ceidrid's constant need for nighttime cuddles was a large part of why he was still an only child; he'd spent every night in his mother's arms since she'd fallen ill, so if whatever Dora had was contagious, the boy would have caught it by now. "My mother's with her now, and Rina has the quads tidying the house while she and Adonis make supper."
"Good. I'll stop by to check on her some time tomorrow, but let me know if her condition changes any time sooner--or if you have any sudden ideas."
"Right." At this point, though, any ideas wouldn't have been 'sudden'. How long ago had he spoken with Ylwa, again, only to be told that he 'had all the pieces'? Pieces of what, exactly? Was this illness a piece of the puzzle that was Dora? Was it even Dora herself who was the puzzle? "Likewise, if anything occurs to you, don't waste any time telling me either."
Because--one way or another--I'm sure I've already wasted too damn much of it myself.
NEXT CHAPTER:
November 10, 1201
"You're Ylwa?" Why the hell was he even asking. Whatever the odds were that he'd run into another green-skinned woman who was perfectly comfortable being naked outside in November, they couldn't have been high enough to matter. And, as it turned out--people were right about the Naron. Evil or good or anything in between, they seemed to know when and where they were needed.
The absurdity of Severin's question wasn't lost on her. "I don't see much point in answering when you already know. I can't say I know who you are, though; most of you humans look far too much alike."
"I'm a friend of Dora Floren's."
"Are you, now?" So she recognized the name. Alyssin hadn't been mistaken. "I'm surprised she seems to have such a social life. I didn't expect she'd come so far out of her shell."
Dora, out of her shell. In that case, what had she been like when she'd been in it? But her meekness wasn't the point. "So, you did know her."
"Yes, and you were right to come to me about it first; I made sure she didn't remember me."
"She doesn't remember a lot of things."
Ylwa's cloudy eyes glazed over, more annoyed than intrigued. She'd already known this. "She thought it would be easier that way."
"What the hell sort of problem is solved by simply forgetting about it?" A past trauma? Or... a past crime? But in that case, whatever reeve would have wanted her head wouldn't have forgotten. "What did you do to her? She's been a mystery to everyone we both know ever since she showed up here--and probably more to herself than anyone else. It's not in her best interests for her not to know who she is."
"She knows who she is. She's forgotten who she thought she was, and it was she who judged that to be preferable--not I."
"What does that even--?"
"You're a Tumekrin, aren't you?"
Severin scowled. Was his family really so notorious that the forest-dwellers knew their name? It wasn't as if he was a Kemorin! "I thought we humans all looked alike to you."
"You're a stubborn, angry piece of work--like your sister." Ylwa crossed her arms at the base of her breasts, as if she intended to distract him with the lift. It wouldn't work. Outside the context of Rina, he'd never been partial to green. "And you ask more questions than you should, like your other sister."
Other sister? Alyssin, and... Ellie? Alina? He didn't recall any of his other sisters ever mentioning an encounter with the forest-dwellers. "Which other sister?"
"If you can't keep track of your own family, then I don't see why I should help you there." She sighed. "Look, you don't seem too stupid, as far as humans go. You already have all of the pieces you need to complete your puzzle. You won't get the satisfaction you seek unless you put them together yourself."
NEXT CHAPTER:
November 9, 1201
"I'll level with you, Alyssin: this isn't exactly how I planned on spending my day off." And Alyssin was, at least, a person who could usually handle such honesty. She probably knew she could be a bit much for some people--and that, in most cases, Rina did enjoy her company. And it wasn't even her company that was the problem!
It was just this ridiculous conversation. "It's not my job to convince you that you don't look old, especially since your bedroom mirror ought to be enough for you in that regard. You don't look old at all!"
"And you're sure of this?" Dear Lord. It wasn't even like Alyssin to care much if she looked old or not! "I've noticed a distinct lack of male gaze lately."
"Knowing the males likely to throw such gazes? Take that as a stroke of good luck."
"Easy for you to say; unlike mine, your husband actually fucks you from time to time."
Not quite sure how Alyssin could think so casually about her own brother fucking anyone, Rina glanced over to the desk on the opposite wall, where Severin sat, slumped on the the table's surface. He hadn't had the day off, but he'd had an early enough lull that he must have seen fit to catch a break before he headed out to pick up the quads. The bedroom would have been more comfortable, especially with company around, but that spot did get a nice stream of sun at this time of year.
"If that's the problem, then talk to Aidric."
"Why? Half the time I don't want him fucking me anyway." Alyssin sighed. Severin had more than once voiced suspicion that both Aidric and Alyssin were in the habit of satisfying their urges elsewhere, but that wasn't any of Rina's business. "You know, I never had any problems like this before that Dora woman showed up. I don't think we look that much alike, but everyone else seems to think we do--aside from her obviously being younger than me. That seems to be the only reason anyone notices how old I am."
"Seriously? You're upset about random men not checking you out, and that's Dora's fault? Alyssin, don't you have any real problems to worry about?"
"Look, I get it--it's stupid. But it bothers me, all right? It's been bothering me ever since that forest-dweller pointed it out."
"Forest-dweller?"
Alyssin turned her head and Rina leaned over to see Severin stir in his seat. She hadn't thought he'd been paying their conversation any attention, if she'd thought he'd even been awake. And, now that she thought about it, he'd returned home after Alyssin had told her she'd run into that woman.
"Why the hell would Dora be on first-name terms with one of the forest-dwellers?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 1, 1201
Not even five seconds since returning home and Rina couldn't contain her giddiness any longer. "I can't believe they're finally gone!"
Technically, the quadruplets had started at the school in April--but, their first term had been a brief introduction. There had been a few short sessions, most of which encouraged the attendance of at least one parent and all of which were brief enough that it wasn't worth leaving school property anyway, but most April through July had been a series of half-mandated playdates to encourage the children to get to know their closest peers. This would be the first day of school proper.
And while Rina herself had hated school to the point where she felt guilty about thinking it... what a relief it was.
Severin, at least, didn't seem to mind the hypocrisy--if he didn't outright share it. "I know, right? I can't remember the last time I looked at my sleeve and there wasn't a kid wiping snot on it."
"Me neither! I love them, but why did they all have to be born at once?" Rina sighed. Sure, having four kids reasonably spread between one and twelve would have had its downsides as well... but Rina couldn't think of any that she wouldn't have been willing to put up with in exchange for the difficulties of four perpetually at the same wild stage. "We're finally free."
"We are." Her husband smirked. "And neither of us are working today either."
"Indeed." That was by design--but worth noting again. "No patients, no clients, no children. Just several hours before we have to pick them up, and anything we can imagine to fill that time."
"And I know where I'd like to start." Severin leaned in, stubble brushing Rina's cheek, his nose nudging her hair out of the way en route to her ear. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
After all these years of quadruple chaos? How could she not have been?
"Oh God, yes."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 10, 1199
"You know, we invited you and Rina for lunch--not for a house-call," Dora teased Severin as she lifted her now-awake infant son from his crib. "You could have just stayed downstairs with Adonis and Rina and your children, rather than coming up here for me."
"I could have." He shrugged--just as he could have, Dora supposed, not bothered coming at all. "But I know you didn't have the easiest pregnancy. If you have anything to talk about, I figured it might be easier for you if you didn't have to ask in front of Adonis."
"Why? Adonis is proving himself a fine father, and you know how he doted on me when I was expecting."
"I didn't mean to imply the opposite of either; just that husbands and fathers tend not to look at their own wives' pregnancies most rationally. Just ask Rina how on-edge I was when she was pregnant."
"You're always on-edge." Perhaps she didn't spend enough time with Severin to fairly make that call, but she knew it was the right one. Her baby boy beamed up at her from his place in her arms, nothing but love in his blue eyes. Other than the expected fatigue of taking care of infant, he hadn't given her any trouble at all. "Ceidrid is a very good baby--and it wasn't as if I was dreadfully ill when I was pregnant."
"No, but you were... out of sorts, I figured." Severin sighed. "Adonis mentioned that you woke often throughout the night--usually in something of a state."
Dora shook her head as she wiped a bit of drool from Ceidrid's mouth. "Oh, that wasn't anything. Just... well, not even nightmares, really. Vivid dreams."
"Dreams." He frowned. Severin was a physician, and a man of science. 'Dreams' weren't his realm, nor were they likely a thing he considered to be of much importance to anyone. "How were they vivid? Bright images?"
"No, as if... as if I'd actually been there. Like they were memories, sort of--but they weren't." At least, she didn't think they were. But, the most troubling thing about the dreams had been the realization of just how little of her life she could clearly recall. "Or if they were, they weren't quite clear enough to ring any bells. Flashes, mostly. I couldn't even make out any faces."
"Hmm. You might have more luck mentioning that to Orrick than to me--though, I suppose his being your boss might complicate that." Severin shifted his gaze down to Ceidrid. He didn't much like children as a rule, but the look was more of inquiry than contempt. "You and Adonis both have blue eyes, but I don't think his are either of yours."
"They're not. We're not sure where they came from, really. My father had my eyes, and my mother's were green." She remembered their eyes. But they'd named the baby for Ceidrid's father. She couldn't remember the name of her own.
"You know, they look a bit like a few of my siblings' eyes," Severin muttered, squinting.
"Well, given how much you all keep talking about how much I look like Alyssin, maybe we really are distant relations."
"Maybe--but my mother says Holladrin and Octavius got her mother's eyes. Alyssin definitely takes more after our father."
"Oh." So that wasn't an answer, then. And Severin kept staring at the baby, frown curling. Surely she didn't suspect her of being unfaithful to Adonis--did he? "I wouldn't--"
"I know."
Still, his own eyes--green, teal green, like his mother's, like the eyes she kept seeing in her dreams--never left the baby's.
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 4, 1197
"Ladies," Severin greeted Rina and her visitors as he returned to their home for the day. The sound of high-pitched giggling drew his eyes to the four toddlers on the floor. "Children."
"Papa!" Renalie acknowledged him. The other three ranged from a turn of the head to no response at all. It wasn't surprising; Rina may have sworn to contrary, but Severin suspected that Renalie was the only one of the quads who liked him much. Either that or she simply felt sorry for him.
"Ladies? Children? That's all you have to say?" From her seat at the table beside Rina, Severin's sister rolled her eyes. "Dora's wearing a wedding dress, you dolt! Tell her how lovely she looks!"
Oh. Right. Dora was getting married later in the month.
Not caring to insult one of the few people on the planet he found at all interesting, Severin looked Dora up and down as Tiada fiddled with some adjustments to the dress's back. "You look lovely."
Dora smiled shyly. Why did she look like someone else when she did that? And why could he not for the life of him fathom who? "Thank you."
"Dora has something else to say to you, too," Tiada urged with a wink and a nudge--for Severin and for Dora respectively.
"Oh. Yes. Yes, I do."
"All right, then." Severin shrugged as Dora stepped forward. "What is it?"
"Would you... maybe walk me down the aisle?"
Severin blinked. He hadn't expected anyone to ask that of him until Thetrica or Renalie married, assuming that he grew on them. Sure, Dora didn't have family--and sure, Rina and Alina had befriended her--but weren't the two of them little more than acquaintances, at the end of the day? "Me? Really? Uh... don't you think Orrick or Adwyn or someone would be a better choice?"
Dora shook her head. "Orrick's my boss, so I don't know how appropriate that would be. And it certainly wouldn't be right to ask any of Adonis's family."
"What about Jothein, then? Or Laurie or Orrin?" Alina's husband or Tiada's brothers certainly would have been more approachable for such a shy woman!
"I thought about them, but my mind just kept coming back to you." Dora clasped her hands together, as if she might fall to her knees and start begging him. "Please? For some reason, I find you... I don't know. A little fraternal?"
He didn't have to look to see Alina's raised eyebrow. That was probably the last word any of his siblings would have used to describe him. "Fraternal?"
"I know it's strange. But... but it's just how I feel, I guess." Dora blushed, shy smile returning. That look of someone else returning. "Please?"
Severin sighed. He supposed there were worse jobs a person could get at a wedding. "All right. If it means that much to you, and if you're sure."
"Really?" That smile was not so shy--and she only looked like herself. Perhaps he'd never seen a smile quite like that. "Oh, thank you so much!"
NEXT CHAPTER:
