#inconceivable!

1349 – Day 1 – Glennborough Hall

At Glennborough’s manor, Mariora and her family have spent the last half-year slowly recovering from the horror of the previous year’s plague. Talk of new afflictions had dwindled towards the end of the year, but she is still reluctant to have any of her household leave the safety of the estate. The only thing she consents to is to allow Joseph to travel to the glen, so they can find out what became of Elias and Ciara. When he comes back with news that they are still alive, if shaken, her legs get so weak with relief that she has to sit down. She had almost convinced herself that they must be gone, with how much suffering there still is in town.

It is a good thing, then, that some hopeful things still happen, even in this dark time. 1349 has just begun when Eibhlín is brought to the birthing bed once more, on an otherwise calm day in the middle of January. And this time, her child, another little boy, is born alive and healthy. After all the heartache and upset she suffered during her pregnancy, that is nothing short of a miracle.

When he is first told, Nicolas is so happy he nearly cries, and races over to greet his new son and see with his own eyes that his wife has gotten through the ordeal safely – which, thankfully, she has. Eibhlín is exhausted as is to be expected, but her eyes are shining with the same emotion he feels.

And his son? His son’s a precious, sturdy little boy with wisps of red hair, like his brother’s and father’s, and a healthy set of lungs on him. “He’s perfect”, he says as he cradles him in his arms for the first time, unable to stop smiling. “You did well, as always.”

His wife, resting on the bed, huffs. “I certainly hope so. It was a painful enough business. In fact…” She pauses for a moment, then presses on. “In fact, I hope this is our last child for a while.”

Her request – because Nicolas is fairly certain that this is what it is – is not entirely unexpected. In the course of only a very few years, they lost three sons, and who knows whether this new little one won’t follow them to an early grave? Even Moira is only just shy of six, and not past the most dangerous time. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to open himself up to more heartache, either. Even if he would like more children than just those two. But they’re still young.

So, he finally nods and returns his attention to his new son. “That may be wise. But this little one still needs a name.”

There is silence for a few moments, and when Nicolas glances up at Eibhlín, she looks thoughtful, but whether in reaction to his tacit agreement to her wishes or because she is actually thinking about what to name their son, he can’t tell. Even after all these years of marriage, there are still moments where he cannot divine what his wife might be thinking.

“I don’t want to name him after someone from our families”, she says finally. “That seems to have brough Owen and Simon nothing but misfortune.”

“What about Dean? It’s a lovely name, and I don’t know of anyone in my family called that.”

Eibhlín thinks about it for a moment. “I have no objections. Dean it is.”

Baby Dean’s arrival isn’t the only joyous event in their household that quarter. In fact, it isn’t even the more important one, at least by most people’s estimation. That distinction, without a doubt, goes to the wedding of Gunther, Baron Goth, to his longtime mistress, Mariora Townsend.

At forty-five, with several grown children and a handful of grandchildren, Mariora thought herself beyond excitement over something as trivial as a wedding, but when she walks into the small Glennborough church that day, she cannot help the roiling in her stomach. She has been Lord Goth’s mistress for so long, she honestly stopped believing this day would ever come. And yet, now she is walking towards him down the aisle, with only her sons – sans Elias – and Alice as witnesses.

If her groom were any other man, she might not be as excited, particularly after such a long relationship, but this marriage will not just make her a wife, it will make her a baroness. Who would have thought that a woman who spent the first two decades of her life in the woods would ever rise so high? And yet, the finery she is adorned with, including a headdress with a soft, light veil, attests to its veracity.

“From this day on, you won’t just be the mother of my children”, Lord Goth told her, when he insisted on furnishing her with a new wardrobe. “You will be my lady, and mistress of my castle. It is important that the world sees as much when it looks at you.”

She certainly feels like that when she takes his hands and the soft material of her long sleeves whispers across her arms. The ceremony itself is rather simple – everything else would be dangerous with the pestilence still abroad, and unbecoming besides – but she can’t help the warmth that spreads in her chest when she gazes up into her lover’s steady eyes and speaks the traditional words. Within what seems like a heartbeat, the attending priest declares them husband and wife, and surrounded by the cheers of her children, they share their first kiss as such.

There are a lot of congratulations afterwards, and Mariora can’t deny a certain pride when her new husband addresses her as “my lady Goth” for the first time, although her sons immediately try to ruin it by addressing her as the same in a decidedly less referential manner. She chides them gently, but can’t make her words carry any real ire. She’s far too pleased for that.

There is a small celebration at the castle afterwards, which her new step-daughter-by-law, Juliana, sadly cannot attend because she already entered her confinement. It makes no matter,; both Mariora and Alice take up residence at the castle, which hopefully will give her ample opportunity to get to know the young woman before the birth of her child.

She and her husband also discussed Filimor living with them, but eventually decided against it. It will do the boy good to oversee the manor, with Nicolas and Joseph as his support.

“Besides”, Lord Goth points out, “I want to have him legitimized and married as soon as possible. He should have an estate to call his own.”

Mariora considers this quite the responsibility for a boy of only thirteen, but given the state of the world, she agrees that he needs to grow up fast. His father won’t be there to protect him forever.

You know he reincarnates.

You know this... Why are you surprised?

Was it quicker than usual?

in like four weeks, i will be playing vizzini (the “inconceivable!” guy) in the battle of wits scene from the princess bride for a drama class assignment.

(The song used in this fic is Ocean Lullaby from Tales of Subliming by Zulya and the Children of the Underground.)

“Where did that crybaby go?” One child called out.

“He’s so fat, he can’t hide anywhere without his pot,” Another said.

“He couldn’t have gotten far. He’s so slow!”

The children laughed as they continued to hunt down the object of their harmful words. Azul listened to the sounds of their voices from the dark corners of the alcove he was hiding in. He couldn’t see them, but he heard their mocking laughter grow dimmer and dimmer until he couldn’t hear them at all.

Now certain that his tormentors wouldn’t find him, Azul broke into pitiful, shameful tears. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He was just minding his own business, but he always seemed to lure them to him, like tiny fish being lured to an anglerfish. Except, the tiny fish knew just what to say to make the anglerfish feel like algae. It was like they could see every insecurity he had and knew exactly how to throw it back in his face. Azul was certain that they clawed their way out of the darkest sea abyss just to drive him to misery and despair.