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May 5, 1203
"I, uh..."
Nato's brain fumbled about for an explanation as Lady Rona stared with an unnerving patience. He still wasn't quite sure when and how and why he'd made the decision to call on Aspen the day before. He hadn't planned on staying long, on holding her close while she let fall a few tears to his shoulder, on falling asleep fully-clothed and above the covers on a bed too small for two. He certainly hadn't planned on staying the night--and he definitely had not planned on what, if anything, he'd say to Aspen's mother if their paths crossed.
But now here he was, his escape cut short just shy of the door, cornered by Lady Rona at an hour when most of the household must have still slumbered. Aspen hadn't thought anyone would be up yet. She'd wanted Nato to leave before anyone had a chance to check up on her. Either they'd both failed to guess just how late it was, or Lady Rona had been unable to sleep and opted to go ahead with her day.
But the reasons made little difference, as the fact remained that she'd caught him now and he couldn't think of a damn thing to tell her. "...It's not what it looks like."
Aspen's mother... smirked? Most mothers didn't smirk when told that line. "I don't see why you'd be concerned about that, Nato. Given that neither of you have done much in pursuit of an annulment, no one would think much of whatever you and Aspen do when you spend the night together."
"We didn't--"
"Perhaps not, but you did spend the night together--and might I say that that was by far the longest time Aspen's been willing to spend with anyone since she graduated?"
"Um. Right. She, uh..." Nato bit his lip. Aspen must have had a hundred reasons for not having told her parents about her pregnancy yet, but he doubted that a wish for him to tell them instead was one of them. "She was caught off-guard, I guess. She had plans, and they didn't turn out, so now she needs... well, new plans."
"Which may or may not include you."
Nato dodged Lady Rona's copper gaze by fixing instead on a pair of candlesticks behind her. His own plans, if they could be called such, had been more of a means of keeping out of other people's plans. It was only a matter of time before an unlucky combination of place and people and circumstance allowed one of his fits to kill him, so he'd had no intention of being anyone's husband, anyone's father. He'd pursued knighthood in spite of his mother's fretting mainly for the hope of meeting a more dignified end before his body had him choking on his own tongue. Children came with the added concern of inheriting his condition, and the chance that their fates wouldn't take so many years to find them; childhood fits had only needed one attempt to take his father's sister, after all, his Aunt Felipa who'd never lived to be his Aunt Felipa.
Aspen would have grown up with a similar mindset. Her plan was to reduce the need for plans, to end things on her own terms. Neither of them had any ideas as to making or changing plans, with or without each other.
"I don't know if you should get your hopes up."
"Perhaps not, but if you stayed that long simply because she asked you to, then at least there are hopes that can be raised and lowered as pleased." Lady Rona raised one hand and waved it slightly, some gesture Nato was in no place to fathom. "I don't know if I even believe it myself, but something about your presence here since yesterday has had a calming effect on the air here, like Aspen's melancholy was a miasma and you dispelled it. I don't think I was the only one who felt that either."
Nato squinted. He hadn't thought Lady Rona the sort of person to misread the intangible as tangible, nor did he himself deem intangible things any more worth his time than things that didn't exist, because for all he knew, they didn't. "I don't know how a person could prove a thing like that."
"They couldn't, but that's not the thing in need of proving or disproving." Lady Rona let her hand fall back to her side, then took to the nearby couch as she nodded to the door. "I'll release you to go about your day now, but I request that you return tonight. Aspen will appreciate it."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 4, 1203
"And why shouldn't I go?" It wasn't a question. It was a demand, a dare, a challenge. And damned if Rona wouldn't take it. Curse that Gualtiero de Cervantes and his big mouth! It was only for his late mother's sake that Rona hadn't torn him to shreds right there--that, and his not knowing why such news shouldn't have been brought up around Aspen. "I'm almost done at the university. I don't have any plans for afterwards. I don't even enjoy anything enough to make plans. Why shouldn't I make myself useful?"
"With something of this scale? Isn't your life answer enough to that question?" More than anything--having dwelt at times in dark places herself--Rona feared that to her daughter, it wasn't. And for that, she had half a mind to send Aspen to live with her grandmother after she graduated. Rona's mother may have been the most innately comforting person alive.
Rona could comfort... but, as those early spats with Ashe had reminded her, not until her own fury had run its course.
"You'd be dead in days, Aspen! You'd take the illness out of every person on that island until your own body gave out, and they'd burn your corpse for fear of disease--even if you hadn't yet cured everyone. And if there was one person you hadn't reached, then you may have died for nothing. I am not letting any child of mine run off to die a pointless early death in a foreign land without even the dignity of a proper burial."
"I could work with the navy! I could have them transport everyone I manage to cure, have them send aid for those I don't. What would you have me do here? Work at your school and marry some man? I could get struck by lightning on my commute, you know. I could die birthing my first baby, who might end up dying too. We're all going to die sooner or later, so why shouldn't I take a death that means something if I have a chance?"
"Because a meaningful death doesn't have to be a sacrifice! And there are people who love you here! Your father and I, your grandmother, your brothers and sisters and friends! Your nephew--who adores you! Do all of us mean nothing to you?"
"Don't guilt me into changing my mind! This has nothing to do with any of you! It's my life, and my decision. I want to go!"
"It is your life." Rona gritted her teeth. Aspen was right about that. Too right. "It is your life, and it will be forfeit if you do this. What exactly makes your existence so unbearable that you'd throw it away in a reckless gamble? No one is that selfless, Aspen! Humanity never would have survived this long if we were!"
"I'm not selfless. If you paid a shred of attention, you'd know that." A shred. Almost hissed. Rona had been paying attention, as much as she could with her daughter living at the campus, but she'd pay a hell of a lot more now. "I'll finish up at the university, just because Father already paid for it. But the second I graduate, I'm gone."
NEXT CHAPTER:
January 12, 1201
"Morgan, what's the matter here?"
There clearly was a matter here. Rona and Morgan got along well enough, but not to the point where it wasn't odd if just Morgan--not Lonriad or Yvanette or Sevvie--invited just Rona--not Ashe or any of the children--to come over. Certainly not to the point where the messenger delivering said invitation had to leave his exhausted horse at the trough in the stables and was panting and sweating by the time he himself had scaled the front stairs, or to the point where the message included the words 'at once'. Not 'at your convenience', not even 'as soon as possible'...
At once.
"Thank God you're here." Morgan sighed. She was otherwise as composed as ever, but there was an air of helplessness about her that Rona hadn't seen before--and that, clearly, Morgan herself didn't have to cope with often. "It's Yvanette."
"She's not still sick, is she?" Rona bit her lip as she pulled off her hat and let her hair fall from its hasty side buns. Yvanette had been ill the past few weeks, but it had been the creeping and wanting fatigue-and-nausea sort of ill, more of a nuisance than an actual concern. Besides... if it were that, surely Ashe would have been summoned too?
"No--well, yes, but that's not it. She won't come out of her room. Not for me, not for Lonriad, not for any of the children. She might have come out for Sevvie, but he left at the crack of dawn on some mission for Lord Severin and he's not back yet. But I figured that if there was anyone else she'd be willing to see, it would surely be her own mother..."
"I hope you're right." Rona untied her cloak, only to have Morgan take hold of the back and help her slip out of it. "Do you have a key to her room?"
"Yes, on the desk." Morgan jerked her head toward the steward's table as she folded Rona's cloak. "Neither Lonriad nor I thought it right to intrude if she didn't want to see us; I hope that was the right call."
"It probably was." Knowing Yvanette, at least. Rona made for the desk and took the key, then shot Morgan a last look. The other woman remained collected, yet alert; Rona doubted her own capacity to keep herself to the former quality. "I'll let you know how it goes."
As best I can, anyway, she added to herself in afterthought as she hurried down the halls to Yvanette and Sevvie's room. Morgan would have been told about Yvanette's transformations by now, but it was uncomfortable enough for the girl to know that even her own parents talked about them amongst themselves.
She reached the door, a chorus of sniffles sounding from the other side. In inept mimicry of her mother's gentle touch, Rona knocked. "Yvanette? Yvanette, sweetheart?"
A choke. "M-mother?"
It was the closest to permission she would get. She unlocked the door to the sight of her daughter--still in her nightgown, face in her hands, tears streaming from behind them. Her baby. She's been melancholy most of her life, but a scene like this was another thing entirely.
"Yvanette, what's wrong?" She pulled her daughter into her arms, rubbing her shoulder with what aimed for a soothing motion but probably just made it worse. "Everyone's worried about you."
"Mother, I don't--" Yvanette gasped back another sob and dragged one sleeve across her eyes. "I think I--I can't--"
"Yvanette." Rona laced a hand through her daughter's soft curls and brushed them from her face. "Take your time."
"I... I..." She haltered, fighting a sob--and losing. "...I'm late..."
Rona froze mid-stroke. That... had not been a thing Yvanette had planned on. And not without reasonable concerns--concerns that weren't likely to be quelled. How could she comfort her? Was comfort even possible? "That... doesn't always mean anything."
"But it could! And with my luck--" Yvanette's shoulders pulled together, boxing her body to a shaking, shrinking mass. "I mean, I don't even know how long... What if I've already hurt it? I can't go nine months without--"
"I know. Just... remember that you don't know for sure yet, all right?" Was there no other comfort to be found? Not in her mind, anyway. Not in her heart. People were too optimistic when they said that everything always turned out in the end. "We could send for Arydath, if you like. She'll know right away whether or not you need to be concerned--and if something's amiss, she'll probably notice that too."
"M-maybe..." Yvanette bowed her head in resignation, no doubt in shambles at the thought of yet another person having to learn her secret. "I guess there's not much ch-choice, is there?"
Not much choice. A dismal thought at the best of times, and downright agony in the worst of them. "Let's just... see what she says."
NEXT CHAPTER:
May 4, 1200
"Well, Nato insists on going back to campus today," Riona began with a sigh as she returned from her son's bedroom. "I wish he'd stay here a few more days. I know his fits aren't as frequent as they were when he was a kid, but I'm not really comfortable with him living out there all by himself.
"But then if he rode out there every day, what if he fell off his horse?" That couldn't have been what Riona wanted to hear--Rona wouldn't have wanted to hear it herself, surely--but it might have been what she needed to hear. Fits or not, Nato was an adult now.
Not that it was so easy to tell herself that about Yvanette. Or Aspen. Aspen--still recovering from her own illness, having refused to leave Nato's side since Isidro had retrieved him from the university. Thank God, however, that she'd been there. "And he's not alone. There are seven other boys in his house, plus all of the other students. And you know how Aspen is; on the off-chance Nato can shake her for five minutes after this, she'll strong-arm Darry into tailing him for her."
"I'm just so relieved she was there. Sorry about his being in her room, though."
"Don't worry about that. Aspen's not a good liar; nothing untoward happened."
"Good. She can stay here until she recovers, if she likes--if she doesn't follow Nato back to campus."
"Thank you, but Ashe insisted that she return home until she's better. I'm sure he had to assign Darry to spy duty to get her to agree to that, but at least she'll be off her feet for a few days."
Off her feet, and free of sick people she can 'cure'. Colds had been rampant on campus lately--but Armion was the pinnacle of good health at this time of year.
"I hope she's better soon. Tell her that if she needs anything--after how she helped Nato--"
Rona nodded. "I will. And likewise, for Nato. I think he's helped Aspen in the past too."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 23, 1199
When Hilla had died, Rona recalled Riona saying something about God playing dice--who lived, who died, completely random, no consideration of character or potential or anything else. Rona didn't doubt the existence of God, but as she'd grown older, she'd become increasingly unconvinced of his interest in the lesser beings he allegedly loved. Surely it wouldn't have taken much effort on the part of an all-knowing, all-powerful deity to direct chance happenings with justice and merit in mind? A god who played dice was either too lazy or too apathetic to be much of a god at all.
Her gentle, soft-hearted sister-in-law who'd never done anyone wrong in her life--who'd suffered in patient silence as Rona's brother had learned to love her--deserved a better roll.
Abrich, at least, hadn't blamed it on the baby. Some men did--men who ought to have gone in place of their wives, frankly. Rona thought her brother no more perfect than any sister thought her brother, but Abrich was at least good enough to realize that Meraleene's death was no one's earthly fault. He was good enough to love Meraleene's baby, as Meraleene had to her last breath.
"Cladelia took the children back to Mother's place," Rona muttered as Abrich rubbed his daughter's tiny back. "I'll stay here tonight. Ashe will bring Rilla over; I'll nurse her and your baby both."
Her brother sighed. He hadn't spoken much since he'd said his goodbyes to his wife. There hadn't been much to say. "Are you sure? I can find someone else if you'd rather not."
"It's no trouble. I'm here now, and I can stay as long as you need me." Her own youngest was only a few weeks old. That was the only part of all of this that could be fairly called fortunate.
"Thank you, then." Prompted by a small yawn, Abrich lowered the baby into her crib, eyes on her even after he'd pulled away. "I know I should probably name her for Meraleene's mother, but I'd rather name her for Meraleene herself. I... I think she ought to have some piece of her mother with her always, and the name would be something."
That, and it wouldn't have been right--naming Meraleene's last child for the woman Abrich had struggled for so long to let go of. Riona, who shared her name with Meraleene's mother. Another lousy roll of the cosmic dice. "I think you're right, though she'll have more than just the name."
"If the dead live on in any form, yes." He turned away from the crib as Rona stepped toward him, but his neck moved stiffly, as if it ached to look away. "Rona, do you think Meraleene forgave me? For wasting all those years before we finally fell in love?"
Rona closed her eyes. She'd liked Meraleene, but they hadn't been each other's closest friend. She certainly hadn't been Meraleene's confidante. But, if she listened to her gut, she didn't think Meraleene the type to hold a grudge. "I don't know if 'forgiveness' would be the right word in that situation, but I don't think she bore you any ill will."
"I wouldn't blame her if she did." Abrich glanced back down at the baby--little Meraleene--before pulling Rona in for a hug. "No one deserves to go like that--giving their life bringing someone else into the world, when it ought to be a happy occasion."
"No," Rona agreed. "I'm so sorry, Abrich."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 5, 1193
Riona prodded at the fire with a barely-constrained fury, but Rona doubted either of them felt much warmer. What a terrible year. First her stepfather, then her little sister... and now one of her dearest friends.
It had been a normal pregnancy, from all anyone could tell. Hilla had been up and about, smile on her face through the whole nine months of it. The labor had progressed quickly enough, easily enough, producing a healthy baby boy and a pair of proud parents.
But, she'd started bleeding. And then, she hadn't stopped.
Riona jabbed the log again. She'd sent one of the guards for her Aunt Aerina when Arydath had been unable to stop the bleeding. Aerina had said it would be a matter of hours. That had been some hours ago.
They'd already had to say their goodbyes. Arydath and Bernardo and the children had the stronger claim to the last few minutes.
"Do you ever wonder if God plays dice?"
A valid question. If survival was based on the difficulty of the pregnancy overall, then Rona would have died birthing Yvanette. And Hilla would be out of bed, twirling little Halford to sleep.
"Whatever He does, it isn't fair."
It didn't take too many years on the earth to realize that very little was. There were more than a significant number of men out there who clung to the idea that a woman's only worth was in bearing babies, while there was nothing more likely than childbirth to kill a reasonably healthy adult woman. Rona and Riona and Hilla had all been lucky in that they had married better men than that. It didn't make them any more or less likely to be so lucky in labor, as had been proven today.
"Hilla deserves better than this. Hilla and Bernardo and the children all deserve better."
Riona poked the top log so hard it toppled to the back of the hearth. "Clearly what any of us deserves isn't much of a factor."
NEXT CHAPTER:
March 18, 1189
"Really?" Rona leaned forward in her seat, grimace sinking. "Huh. I won't pretend to know Morgan very well, but she's always struck me as... content, I suppose."
A little queasy, Vera nodded. There was a lot to be said about the ability to keep one's cool, but Morgan had taken everything in stride for too long. Hell--even Vera wouldn't have guessed anything was wrong if Morgan hadn't told her. And she'd lived with her for years now! "She's grown restless with contentment. She spends most of her life helping other people, and she's so independent that it's difficult for anyone else to know how to help her. Not that it's a bad thing to be independent, but..."
"But she needs a bit of a break."
"Exactly."
Should she have been talking about this, though? Rona had said it herself, after all: she didn't know Morgan well. If Vera had to discuss Morgan with someone, shouldn't it have been Lucien or Cherry or Lettie? Rona was only here because both sets of children had been in need of a play date, because Vera still had an extra crib from the twins that little Celina could nap in, because Lonriad had wanted to go look at hunting dogs with Ashe, and Vera's house was close enough to the kennel to make a good meeting place. Delicate conversations were not the purpose of the visit.
But Vera, apparently, had grown worried enough that she'd ask just about anyone.
"She needs to have some fun. And maybe she's grown to used to spending time with people who are a lot like her. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but maybe she needs someone complimentary. They could balance each other out."
Why had Rona looked over at her husband when she'd said it? "Rona, I don't know if Morgan's looking for romance."
"Perhaps not. But if she should happen to stumble upon it, surely that would ease her burdens somewhat? Little Viridis would have a father, and they'd have two incomes, and she'd have more time to work on her writing and pursue some other things that make her happy."
"Well, maybe. But I don't think she's looking for just--"
A loose stair creaked. Ashe managed to jump the opportunity. "Hello, Morgan."
"Hello." Morgan cleared the last few steps and greeted the couple with a forced smile. She hadn't heard much, had she? It wasn't as if anything nasty had been said, but still--it wasn't any of their business. "Celina and Renata were stirring a little, so I lent them a few of Viridis's stuffed animals."
"Sweet of you, but you're not a nanny." Rona gestured to the seat beside Vera. "Please, join us."
"All right." Morgan strode over and took the chair. Vera wondered if Rona had anticipated what she said next. "What are we talking about?"
"Oh, just idle chatter before my brother gets here," Vera half-lied. Across the table, Rona's eyes lit. "He and Ashe are going to look at some hunting dogs."
"Oh!" Rona sprung from her slouch in mock-alarm--much to Ashe's surprise, Morgan's puzzlement, and Vera's horror. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, darling, but you can't accompany Lonriad today. I just remembered!"
Ashe, of course, did not. "Remembered what?"
"Dinner with my mother and stepfather, remember?" Surely, even Lady Celina and Sir Ovrean hadn't 'remembered'. "We'll have to round up the children and leave fairly soon if we don't want to be late."
"Are you sure it's tonight? Because I think I would have considered that when Lonriad--"
"Of course it's tonight! How could I have forgotten? My mother even sent a messenger over yesterday!"
"I don't recall a messenger--"
"You were busy." Rona stared at him, brows arched, willing it to be true. Or true enough.
"I don't--"
"What's going on here?"
In through the front door stepped Lonriad. Vera swallowed. Her brother, she'd been told--she never would have thought so on her own--was a handsome man, tall and silky-haired and olive-skinned. As he brushed his shoulder, his wedding band flashed. Its twin was six feet beneath the ground, but it had been long enough that a second marriage would not be untoward. And he was young enough that it would not be unnecessary.
Damn it, Rona! "Just waiting for you, brother. Nothing else."
"Oh, if only!" Rona practically danced out of her chair, slippers skipping against the floorboards as she moved to greet Lonriad with a hug.
"I must apologize, Lonriad, but I'm afraid there's been an oversight."
"What sort of oversight? Did poor Lemons hit her head and gain a personality fit for a hunting dog?"
"If only!" Rona laughed. "You see, it completely slipped my mind that Ashe and I are supposed to dine with my parents tonight, so I'm afraid he won't have time to browse the kennels with you."
"Really?"
"I could go with you," Vera offered as a saving grace. Surely Rona's meddling was the last thing either Morgan or Lonriad needed.
"Sweet of you to offer, Vera, but you'll be up all night with your lesson plan if you go." Rona winked at her--oblivious, apparently, to the intent behind that statement. Oblivious, or dismissive.
"You know," Ashe mused, rising from his own seat, "it's not that late in the day.
"Maybe if we go now and don't stay long--ow!"
He grabbed his arm and massaged, annoyed. Rona shook her head. "My mother wanted us there early, remember?"
Ashe opened his mouth to say something, but Lonriad beat him to it. "Ah, it's just as well. Come to think of it, I'd better keep my money away from the kettle master until his son apologizes to Adonis anyway."
"Of course you should." Did Rona think Vera didn't noticed the giddy sway in her stance? Did she think Morgan didn't notice? "But the afternoon needn't be a total waste. Perhaps Morgan would care for a walk around the village? She probably hasn't had any fresh air today."
Lonriad shrugged. "I suppose that's not the worst idea in the world. Care to get away from these lunatics for a while, Morgan?"
If not to the idea, Morgan was at least amiable to the phrasing. "Please."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 26, 1188
"Were you a good boy for Winter today?" Lady Rona cooed as she picked up her youngest--youngest for about another month, anyway--and greeted him with a tickle. "Well?"
Dally only giggled, so Winter took it upon herself to answer. "He was a very good boy. You weren't too uncomfortable at the school today, were you, my lady?"
"Oh, Winter. I'm pregnant--not an invalid. I'll need plenty of time off after the baby gets here, so I might as well work all I can before." At least this baby seemed to be going easy on her employer, Winter supposed. If word among more senior staff was to be believed, both Darry and Aspen had been easy babies, but Yvanette had been the pregnancy from hell. Dally had been bearable for Lady Rona, but certainly not ideal. This one seemed at least calmer than their closest sibling, though maybe not so tame as the two before him. "Rough as they can be when they're inside, they'll have you running around all you can when they're out!"
"Oh, don't I know it." Though, she supposed it wasn't impossible that children were better for their nannies than their parents. Lady Rona's children didn't give Winter any trouble, or at least any trouble they couldn't help but give her, and neither had any of her previous employers'. Her stepchildren were darlings, and two of them barely qualified as children any more besides. It was only a matter of time, she guessed, before she knew for sure. "But speaking of that, I, uh... I do need to talk to you about... um, time off."
"Oh!" In no need of any further explanation, Lady Rona set Dally down, then returned to her full height, hands clasped together. "Winter, are you expecting?"
Winter smiled. "In the early part of April, yes."
"Oh, how exciting! I'm so happy for you." And she didn't look like she could have been lying, not with that giddy spark in her eye. "You'll make an excellent mother."
"Thank you. When I'm back after my leave, would you mind if I brought my baby along with me?"
"Not at all. It won't be too much younger than mine, after all; they ought to be fine playmates."
A funny thought, her baby playing with the child of a knight, the grandchild of a duke. How amused her dear mother would have been! "I should hope so."
"Splendid! I know Had probably has some of your stepchildren's baby things lying around, but if you need any more, don't hesitate to ask; between my children and my nieces and nephews and my younger siblings, my family always has plenty."
"That's very kind of you."
"And I hope you won't worry too much about the birth. It's worth it, I promise--for all the ones you've seen were just as disgusting as the ones I've seen, I'm sure of it."
Seen? "Actually, my lady... I haven't seen a birth."
Lady Rona's eyes widened. They were the same as Darry's--and rather like whenever the boy stubbed a toe. "Really? Not once?"
Winter shook her head. "I moved around a lot. I had friends, but most of them never had children while I was living near. I didn't have any sisters, and most of my female cousins lived in different shires."
"Oh. Well, awful a sight it is, you should see at least one before your time comes. Trust me, you'll be better off knowing what to expect." Lady Rona ran a hand over her baby's mass, then locked eyes with Winter again, grinning.
"You'll attend my baby's birth next month."
Winter blinked. A trusted lady's maid aside, surely that wasn't a servant's place. "Oh, I couldn't intrude."
"It wouldn't be intruding. Besides, I insist, and everyone knows better than to refuse a laboring woman anything she wants." She gave her stomach another pat. The baby must have been kicking. It wouldn't be long before Winter knew what that felt like. "And you'll be spending so much time with little Celina anyway that she might as well know you from the start."
"You think it will be a girl then?"
"Oh, I know she's a girl. The fun will come in seeing what yours is." Did Lady Rona want to attend Winter's baby's birth? She guessed that would be all right. Apart from Had's sister and sister-in-law, she hadn't given it too much thought... "Promise me you'll be there."
"All right." Yes, it would be gross, and painful--that much she'd figured. But Lady Rona was right; it would be better if she saw it done before attempting to do it herself. "I'll be there."
NEXT CHAPTER:
