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June 7, 1200
"That cat seems to like you," Thetis's voice sounded from the couch, her having apparently returned from putting the tea set away. "She doesn't usually like new people. Or even most familiar people, really."
This sweet animal? Thetis may have been the one who lived with her--but Dora didn't quite believe it. Thetis must not have seen the way she'd allowed Ceidrid to grab at her tail, swat at her nose. An ill-tempered cat wouldn't have had much patience for a toddler's antics. "She must like you."
"She tolerates me. She and Florian are the bane of each other's existence." The older woman chuckled to herself as Dora returned to her own seat, Roux trailing after her skirts all the while. "Maybe she'd be happier living with you and Ceidrid and Adonis."
Dora glanced down at the cat, now perched by her ankles, starting up at her with love in her eyes. "Are... are you seriously offering?"
"Why not? She obviously adores you, and she seems to find Ceidrid much more agreeable than the other children around here." Thetis shot one of those warm, motherly smiles down to where Ceidrid played on the floor, but a sudden melancholy sigh eased the curve of her lips. "Really, I don't doubt that Florian would have given her away years ago if she hadn't been Teodrin's cat."
"Oh." Dora stiffened. She'd been an acquaintance of the Tumekrins long enough to know who Teodrin was, but she'd never asked about the details. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, for all the family must have ached for any hint of closure. The circumstances of such an event couldn't have possibly been pleasant. "I'm sorry."
"It's quite all right. Roux misses Teodrin too; maybe it will be easier for both her and us if we can miss him separately."
Dora turned to her own son, busy by the hearth with Thetis's children's old toys and his own imagination. If--God forbid--Ceidrid ever vanished, she failed to see how any cat or lack of cat would have done a thing to console her. "Maybe..."
"And she'll never really know, the poor thing--not being able to read or speak or understand language. At least we can hold out hope for a letter, some story somewhere, anything.
"Though, it's been long enough that I suppose it's foolish to really believe it's coming."
Dora swallowed. None of the Tumekrins liked to talk about Teodrin much, though Alina had once described him with loving exasperation as a 'mama's boy', and Severin had muttered something about his little brother being scarcely able to walk to the market alone, never mind run away. How had such a gentle, timid young man suddenly up and left? And without so much as a note for his poor, worried mother?
Or what if he was like her? What if something had happened to him, something had made him forget his own mother? For him to remember bits and pieces of some other mother, some woman who didn't exist, just enough inconsistent details to know his own mind was lying?
And what if--somewhere--her own mother ached for her too?
"I... uh, we can talk about something else, if you'd like."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 17, 1197
"Honestly? I'll be glad to be back at the bank come April. I love my babies, but I still need something that's just mine." Rina reclined with a fond smile, though not without a slight spark of impatience in her eye. Given her own field of work, Dora had to appreciate the attitude. It was difficult to maintain commitment to oneself as an individual when roles such as motherhood came around, especially in the case of someone like Rina who had struggled to conceive. Whenever Dora started her own family--and assuming things continued going well with Adonis, that may well have been sooner than she thought!--she hoped she could manage a similar balance. "My mother-in-law has been a godsend. She's been over more days than not, even spending a couple nights a week. She's upstairs putting the quads down for a nap right now."
"That's a relief. I'd imagine four babies require all the help you can get."
"And then some! At least none of them seem to be particularly demanding. No colic or anything of the like."
Dora nodded. Back in Dovia, a neighboring couple had had a colicky young son. He'd grown into a sweet boy, but back in his early days, his cries had carried well down the lane. "Thank goodness."
Rina laughed. "Good thing Alina isn't here. Her second daughter spent most of her first six months screaming her little lungs out."
"Mmm." No, Alina wasn't here, because she was at the bank. But, now that it had been said... why was no one else here? Dora hadn't thought she and Rina were quite at the point in their friendship yet where a one-on-one visit would be a valid plan. Of course, it couldn't have been polite to say so if Rina felt differently. "She's a well-behaved little girl now, though."
"She is," Rina agreed, though her eyes darted to the corner staircase at the sound of a woman's footsteps upon it. "Oh! Dora, this is my mother-in-law, Thetis. Thetis, do sit down and join us."
"Oh, I don't need to intrude," Mistress Tumekrin insisted. Dora's ear twitched. She didn't think she'd ever encountered this woman before--but there was an uncanny familiarity about her voice.
"Nonsense! Sit down. Meet my friend." Rina clapped her hand against the seat cushion beside her. That was enough for Mistress Tumekrin to relent, shuffling to the couch and sitting down next to her daughter-in-law. "Thetis, this is Dora Floren."
"Ah, the famous Dora." Huh? "Hmm. You know, you're right. She does look rather like Alyssin."
Alyssin. Right--Severin and Alina's sister. Of course Rina would want to introduce Dora to Alyssin's mother. "I still need to meet the famous Alyssin."
Mistress Tumekrin's lips curled to a warm grin. She did have a motherly, embracing countenance about her, even if she did look far too youthful to be a grandmother so many times over--and even if she was probably what scowly, sullen Severin might have looked like had he been a woman. This Alyssin must have looked more like Alina--and the twins' father. "I'm sure that can be arranged, though I'll warn you she can be something of an acquired taste--rather like her father. Then again, she's also rather like Severin, and he seems to think highly of you."
"I quite like Severin. I find him... I don't know." They'd been acquaintances for a while now, and she still couldn't quite put a word to it. "Comforting, I suppose. Sort of... fraternal."
"Well, with the number of siblings his father and I made for him, I guess it would be inevitable that he'd end up fraternal in spite of himself." Mistress Tumekrin gave a fond shake of her head, then squinted, studying Dora further. Dora wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It was a prickly, claustrophobic feeling, being examined like a moth pinned to a board, but there was a kindness in those eyes that made it somehow bearable. "My... forgive me for staring, dear, but you even have Florian's eyes. You must be related to his side of the family somehow."
"Maybe?" If they went back far enough? Though, it must have been fairly far... "I'd never heard of any Tumekrins before I met Severin and Rina, though."
"And we'd never heard of any Florens, though it does sound similar to my husband's given name. Perhaps Florian was derived from Floren at some point?"
"Stranger things must have happened?"
But as far as Dora could recall, nothing quite this strange had ever happened to her.
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 12, 1183
It was about damn time for some peace and quiet.
With Severin's sister-in-law about to give birth any day now, the household had been cast into a state of constant chaos that had nearly resulted in his seeking refuge at the home of a friend--or would have, if Severin had been the sort of person who bothered making friends. His mother waddled about with the start of her own baby (why so many bloody babies?) sticking out of her, only fretting over Esela's comfort until Hamrick or his father or usually Esela herself reminded her that she needed to rest too.
Add that to Falidor's frustration with his first taste of neglect, and Aldhein's resultant whining over why Falidor wouldn't leave him alone... Evera and Setran's frequent visits with their noisy brood... Alyssin and Aidric and their babies... Podrag and Ceira and their baby... Ellie and Medur (and thank God, no babies! ...yet)...
He supposed he loved his big, annoying family. Even the damn babies, maybe. But surely he could love them better from a distance? He had half a mind to see if he could start at the university a few years early. No sense delaying the whole grouchy bachelor hermit lifestyle that had been his future since they'd forced him to share a crib with his twin sister and he'd kept the whole house up with his audible displeasure.
But for now, finally, there was a quiet moment in which to practice that sacred art of solitude--whether the family had calmed down, or he'd simply learned to tune everything out. It helped that his father was still at work, and Hamrick was out in the fields. And there was a new doctor in the nearest village, so of course his mother had pestered Teodrin into going to see him about whatever-the-fuck-it-was-Teodrin-kept-going-to-doctors-for-even-though-obviously-none-were-helpful. Not that Teodrin tended to contribute much to the noise. Even when they were both in their shared bedroom, Severin barely noticed he was there.
His mother's knock, however, was not so prone to invisibility. "Severin? I'm sorry to disrupt your reading, but Esela's having the baby. I need you to watch your nieces until your father gets home."
And nor was her voice. God damn it. "Can't Alina do it?" Alina actually liked kids!
"I promised Alina that she could attend the birth; she and Evera are with Esela right now." Of course they were. "And before you ask, I sent Hamrick to get your father, and Setran to get Lady Arydath."
Of course she had. Sometimes, he suspected his mother deliberately left him as the only babysitter because she knew how much he hated it. "Isn't Thetis old enough to be in a room by herself for a while?"
"Yes, but she's not old enough to watch her little sisters." His mother sighed. "Seriously, you get your bum down there right now, or you'll be on diaper duty all week."
And she would make good on that threat; he'd already seen more of Falidor's bare shitty ass than any of his other siblings had been forced to endure. Severin groaned. "Fine."
"Good."
His mother's footsteps hurried back along the hall and down the stairs as Severin put away his book. God, he couldn't wait until school started in January and his family would be obliged to leave him alone while he studied! Maybe he's just live at the school. Or not, since he might get stuck in charge of any snot-nosed brats who got there early.
He shuffled out of his room with his eyes to his feet, only the scarring memories of his youngest brother's excrement pushing him forward. At least Thetis was past that phase, even if she was still too young to be interesting. Was Electra? Alyss, at least, probably wasn't. Damn, if she didn't keep it in until somebody else could deal with it...
"Uncle Severin!"
Thetis would meet him at the bottom of the stairs. "Uncle Severin, guess what? Guess what?"
His honest answer would have been 'I don't care'. He compromised with "What?"
"Papa paid my school fees today! That means I get to go to school with you!"
He wasn't sure why his nieces liked him so much. He never tried to be nice. "Well, not the same class..." Thank God.
"Still! I'll see you at breaks! And you can walk with me!" That last bit had probably been his mother's suggestion, as if it wasn't bad enough being stuck walking with Aldhein already.
"Uh-huh. Any idea when your father will be back?"
"I don't know." Was that a surprise? Thetis rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, as she often did; behind her, her even more annoying little sisters munched on Falidor's dolls. At least Falidor himself was down for a nap. Knowing Severin's luck, though, he'd wake within the hour. "How far away is Lady Arydath?"
Severin sighed. "Too far."
His niece laughed. "You're funny, Uncle Severin."
"Not funny. Just pissed off."
"What's 'pissed' mean?"
...shit. "If anyone asks, it's a word Uncle Podrag taught you."
"All right. But what does it mean?"
"It means that I'm supposed to sit down here until your father and grandfather get back." Given the context, he supposed it was true enough. Severin didn't like to lie to his nieces. Kids might have been so much more tolerable if only adults didn't insist on lying to them all the time--not fully, but more. "So, what do you want to do?"
He regretted asking immediately. "I want to play lady's maid!"
And here he thought he got credit for bracing himself to play horsie. "Do you even know what a lady's maid does?"
"Uh-huh. They dress up their ladies and do their hair and stuff. Auntie Ellie told me." Then why couldn't her father have told her more about being a knight? Severin hated playing knights, but at least Aldhein had gotten him used to it. "So I'll be Auntie Ellie, and you can be Lady Rona!"
Years later, Severin would look back on this moment and consider it a marvel that he didn't teach Thetis yet another swearword--and not one so mild as 'pissed'. "Can't I be a guard or something?"
"No!" She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the couches. That did it. If he so much as saw another diaper before he headed off to university, then he was breaking the news to his mother that she wouldn't be getting any grandchildren out of him. "Now come along, milady! We need to get you all dolled up for the banquet!"
NEXT CHAPTER:
