(gosh, anons, you are both lovely. thank you for the kind words!)
__
Glass, he thought, holding to the idea like a lifeline as the great dwarven constructs in Blackreach pummeled him. Lydia had asked him to get glass; he could not die without bringing it home.
He dragged himself back aboveground with the Elder Scroll in his pack, and then from there he dragged himself to Solitude, where he found glass and then found Blaise, sleeping unwanted in the straw. It was a measure of how bad things must be, he thought, that the boy would attach himself so fervently to the first person who showed him the littlest bit of kindness. After the matter was decided they walked the streets of the capital together, eating in quiet until Blaise asked, "Are we going to go to your house, now?"
"Ye—no. Not yet," he decided, wisdom winning out for once, and together they hunted down a courier to carry proper warning back home to Lydia.
** By the time they made it back to the manor afternoon was slipping into evening. There was no sign of Lydia or Lucia in the house or the stable, in the garden or the clearing. Fear sharpened itself on his insides a moment before he heard voices carried thin on the wind, and he headed down the path to the lakeshore, where he found the pair of them fishing. Lucia leapt up at the sight of him and cried, "You're back!" before she seized him around the middle and squeezed.
Lydia got to her feet with rather less scrambling. "And you brought…" Her eyes rested on Blaise, uncertain. "Company?"
He hesitated. "I sent a courier, this time." Lydia's eyebrows rose. "To give warning," he went on, when his explanation didn't seem to help. "But..." He watched understanding and amusement dawn across his wife's face, and guessed. "He didn't make it."
Lydia looked at Blaise again, considering. "Not company, then."
"No," he admitted.
The courier found his way to the manor three days later to warn Lydia that her fool of a husband was bringing home another child. She kept a straight face until he left, but when he was gone she doubled over and laughed so hard she could hardly breathe.
** Life settled into a comfortable routine, then, so easily he could hardly believe it. The children played and fought and played again, but when it came time to work they couldn't be quicker with a "Yes, Pa!" and a pair of willing hands. Proving themselves, most likely. Keep me, keep me, they said, over and over in a hundred small ways.
"Or maybe they love you," said Lydia, when he brought it up.
He grimaced. "So soon?"
"I did," she reminded him, and he didn't have a response to that.
The suspicion that their eagerness was probably half fear did nothing to blunt the force of their affection when it came his way, and it did, from morning to night and back again. Lucia showered him with love and trinkets of all kinds, every flower her eye fell upon, every rock that sparkled, and every creature too slow to escape her.
"How many back at Dragonsreach would laugh themselves sick if they knew the Dragonborn had a mudcrab for a pet?" he muttered, once.
"I won't tell if you won't," Lydia swore.
Blaise's affection was a quieter thing, slower-growing and less showy. The boy was like a young pine, straight-backed and still when he wasn't galloping after Lucia.
He caught Blaise in the stable, his little shoulder wedged up against the palomino's as he picked out a hoof nearly the size of a plate. "You don't have to do that," he told the boy. "I didn't bring you here to make you tend the horse."
"I know." Blaise didn't look up from his work. "But it had to be done. And I don't mind."
He rested his shoulder against the wall, watching bits of packed mud fall to the ground as Blaise finished one hoof and moved to start the next. "I thought you didn't like stable work."
"I didn't, before," Blaise admitted, and his quick glance up was almost shy.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: A Peace Unexpected 2/?
Date: 2013-05-14 03:04 pm (UTC)__
Glass, he thought, holding to the idea like a lifeline as the great dwarven constructs in Blackreach pummeled him. Lydia had asked him to get glass; he could not die without bringing it home.
He dragged himself back aboveground with the Elder Scroll in his pack, and then from there he dragged himself to Solitude, where he found glass and then found Blaise, sleeping unwanted in the straw. It was a measure of how bad things must be, he thought, that the boy would attach himself so fervently to the first person who showed him the littlest bit of kindness. After the matter was decided they walked the streets of the capital together, eating in quiet until Blaise asked, "Are we going to go to your house, now?"
"Ye—no. Not yet," he decided, wisdom winning out for once, and together they hunted down a courier to carry proper warning back home to Lydia.
**
By the time they made it back to the manor afternoon was slipping into evening. There was no sign of Lydia or Lucia in the house or the stable, in the garden or the clearing. Fear sharpened itself on his insides a moment before he heard voices carried thin on the wind, and he headed down the path to the lakeshore, where he found the pair of them fishing. Lucia leapt up at the sight of him and cried, "You're back!" before she seized him around the middle and squeezed.
Lydia got to her feet with rather less scrambling. "And you brought…" Her eyes rested on Blaise, uncertain. "Company?"
He hesitated. "I sent a courier, this time." Lydia's eyebrows rose. "To give warning," he went on, when his explanation didn't seem to help. "But..." He watched understanding and amusement dawn across his wife's face, and guessed. "He didn't make it."
Lydia looked at Blaise again, considering. "Not company, then."
"No," he admitted.
The courier found his way to the manor three days later to warn Lydia that her fool of a husband was bringing home another child. She kept a straight face until he left, but when he was gone she doubled over and laughed so hard she could hardly breathe.
**
Life settled into a comfortable routine, then, so easily he could hardly believe it. The children played and fought and played again, but when it came time to work they couldn't be quicker with a "Yes, Pa!" and a pair of willing hands. Proving themselves, most likely. Keep me, keep me, they said, over and over in a hundred small ways.
"Or maybe they love you," said Lydia, when he brought it up.
He grimaced. "So soon?"
"I did," she reminded him, and he didn't have a response to that.
The suspicion that their eagerness was probably half fear did nothing to blunt the force of their affection when it came his way, and it did, from morning to night and back again. Lucia showered him with love and trinkets of all kinds, every flower her eye fell upon, every rock that sparkled, and every creature too slow to escape her.
"How many back at Dragonsreach would laugh themselves sick if they knew the Dragonborn had a mudcrab for a pet?" he muttered, once.
"I won't tell if you won't," Lydia swore.
Blaise's affection was a quieter thing, slower-growing and less showy. The boy was like a young pine, straight-backed and still when he wasn't galloping after Lucia.
He caught Blaise in the stable, his little shoulder wedged up against the palomino's as he picked out a hoof nearly the size of a plate. "You don't have to do that," he told the boy. "I didn't bring you here to make you tend the horse."
"I know." Blaise didn't look up from his work. "But it had to be done. And I don't mind."
He rested his shoulder against the wall, watching bits of packed mud fall to the ground as Blaise finished one hoof and moved to start the next. "I thought you didn't like stable work."
"I didn't, before," Blaise admitted, and his quick glance up was almost shy.