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Timestamp: April 8th, 2016, Wyrdic Reckoning
Gawaine paused from his work on the latest addition to the little house, a third bedroom, this one for the wet nurse and nanny he had hired. The young squire cocked his head to one side as he listened to see if his daughter was crying. She wasn’t. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to where she sat in her basket. The little one was fidgeting, and he knew that cries were imminent…
Ah, right on schedule. Gawaine recognized that particular fussy tone. The little one wanted to be held. Gawaine smiled and set the hammer down, walking over to pick up his daughter. A moment later, the babe was in her father’s arms, and her fussing was beginning to ease off slightly. Gawaine rocked her gently and smiled, whispering soft and soothing things to the little one. “It’s alright. Your Da is here. Da’s got you. It’s alright, Little One.”
The events of Port Dawson had reached her ears in the far flung reaches of Midworld and giving her traveling companions a begrudging look, she made haste towards the little town of Freehold. Along the road, she had met the messenger with a letter from her son and his words broke her heart. There was pain enough in his life, to be added to was simply cruel but that was life in these assorted kingdoms now. Hardships unnumbered set to befall any who dare to defy the fate of death?
It had been nearly 2 year since she had been in town. She arrived at the small house quietly, or as quietly as a war stallion can be. Vasili was left to lip at the grasses peeking through the leaf litter around the yard as she approached the door and paused. A deep breath to calm herself and she raised her hand and rapped gently on the door.
She adjusted her veil, and waited with sadness in her heart that she could not spare him another hurt in long line of them.
OOG Sarah Z.
Gawaine was surprised by the rap on the door. He had not expected visitors for another two days. Outside, Wrath and Cloud whickered in greeting at the unfamiliar horse. Gawaine shifted his daughter to his left arm and his right hand dropped to the hilt of Maeve’s dagger at his belt. He glanced through the peephole of the door and the young squire’s eyes nearly jumped out of his head from shock.
A few moments of awkward fumbling with the latch later, and Gawaine had the door open. His daughter was in his arms, and he was dressed in just simple trousers and boots, due to the work he’d been doing. “Mum?” The word slipped from his lips in half a squeak of surprise.
He looked older than he should, but fatherhood and losing your heart can have that effect on a person. She nodded to his disbelief, reaching her hands for his cheeks so she could bend forward to place a kiss on his forehead. There was regret in hers that she had not been here when he needed her but she was here now.
Releasing his face from her warm hands, she crossed the threshold into the room, her long maroon tunic and coordinating headscarves starkly bright against the gloom of a spring not yet fully here.
Her accent was no less thick as she greeted him, and her eyes fell to the bundle in his arms.
“I came this way as soon as I heard of the troubles in Port Dawson. I got your letter on the road here. I’m sorry I could not spare you this pain. Both of you.”
She reached down to stroke a finger across the soft cheek of the babe in his arms.
“You have not told me her name.”
OOG Sarah Z.
Gawaine smiled. “In accordance with Maeve’s wishes, my daughter will not have a name until she is two years old.” Almost as if she knew herself to be the subject of discussion, the little Cambion wriggled in Gawaine’s arms, the several horns that rimged her head brushing against her father’s skin.
Gawaine gingerly set the little one down in her basket and turned back to Malanara. “I’ve missed you.” The two necklaces he wore, one from his birth number, the other his wedding token, clinked against one another as the young Drak moved to hug Malanara and bury his face in his adoptive mother’s shoulder.
Mala cradled him on her shoulder, smoothing his hair and letting him hide his mourning in the folds of her scarf.
“Then Maeve shall have her wishes. Oh my child. The greatest hurt I have ever borne was watching Stocha taken from me. It is not a fate I would ever have wanted for you.”
She hugged him fiercely, her own eyes wet at the rims. Freehold always seemed so quick to take and only finicky to give in return.
“You have a good reason to carry on though. She will need you. Although, I am sure that many here in town who loved Maeve will be glad to make sure this is not a road you will have to walk alone.”
OOG Sarah Z.
Gawaine wasn’t sure how long he kept his face in Malanara’s shoulder, but eventually his daughter demanded his attention. Rather loudly. Gawaine straightened, scrubbed briefly at his eyes with a sleeve, and picked up the little one once more. “How have you been, Mum?” He glanced up from soothing his daughter. “I must confess, I’ve worried.”
Worrying about those closest to him was pretty much Gawaine’s natural state, especially when they were out of sight. The deaths of his parents and of Lionel Thatcher had seen to that long ago. Even now, voices in the back of his mind worried about Gwen. And Donal. And Violet most of all.
She moved to the hearth to put on a kettle for some tea. He wasn’t the only one to wipe his eyes on her scarves but the heavy kohl rimming hers left streaks on her cheeks and the pashmina.
A quick sniff in through the nose and she straightened up.
“I’m sure you have. There is no need. I travel with some old companions of mine who very kindly watch my back. We could not get the caravan here as quickly as I needed to come so they will meet me in a moon to hand over the bazaar to me again. I travel and trade, and so far the road has been quiet. I have been away too long, but I think I needed to be. I think of you often. I hope the coat was satisfactory.”
OOG Sarah Z.
Gawaine fetched some food from the cupboards one handed as Malanara began making tea. Setting it out on the kitchen table, he continued whispering soothing things to his daughter. He smiled when Malanara mentioned the coat. “I wear it as often as the weather permits….and then some.” The coat in question was on a rack by the door, its fur-trimmed shoulders at the top.
The water boiled, and she pulled a pouch of loose leaf tea from her bag and threw some in a small square of linen which she tied up and placed in the cup to steep. She was a little saddle sore but it was nice to sit down rather than straddle the wide back of Vasili. Vasili was only too happy to be galloping over the lands rather than be hitched to a wagon loping gently over the countryside.
“Good. I will have to size you and the wee one while I am here so I can send you some things.”
She reached over and let the girl wrap her hand around one of Mala’s fingers, an intensely strong grip from the tiny girl. She beamed at the child and then looked up at Gawaine with a wistful expression.
“Alright. Out with it. Letters only tell so much. What has been going on? Is Primus still free? Are the others in danger of busting out?”
OOG Sarah Z.
Gawaine scratched his cheek and then ran a hand through his hair, which was a good bit longer than the military haircut he wast still used to. “Primus is still loose, but I don’t think he’s been too overtly active lately. As to the others…Well, if you mean the other Immortals, Fang-Zhara should be unable to escape so long as….I and the other Phylacteries remain alive.” Gawaine glanced down towards his boots. “If you meant the other inmates of Solitary Solitude, well, I don’t know how many are free right now. We helped recapture one recently, but an awful lot of fireballs rained down all around Midworld in late February from what I’ve heard.
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