The front door of a cottage was thrown open with a bang, as Sera entered said house with her prisoner in tow. Seeing no one in the dwelling area, Sera called out to the silent household.
"Mother, Father, we're back!"
Some rustling and a thump from upstairs.
The whimpering youngest, Abberline, squirmed in her cradle across the room. The window next to her cradle allowed for a harsh beam of the cloudless afternoon's sunlight to hit her directly. The cradle stood just over a meter high, with its highest points being the tops of its walls.
Sera rushed over to pick Abberline up, rescuing her from her sunny oppressor. "Oh dear, you must've been too warm, weren't you?"
Sera cooed to the now-calm baby, nestling her into the warmth of her bosom, condemning her to a quick return to slumber.
Sighing, Sera shook her head. "Really, what were they thinking?"
"What're ya' talkin' about?" asked William.
"Our parents leavin' little Abby next to the window on a hot day like this," she grumbled, rocking Abberline gently. "Nevermind, go sit at the table, I'll be down with them soon."
William stood there blankly, before seating himself at the dining table. His bored fingertips accompanied his line of sight, venturing across the grain of the oaken tabletop, and the dark chasms between the planks.
Squatting down, Sera placed a hand underneath the cradle, lifting it smoothly as she stood up. Placing it down next to the dining table, it landed with the softest of taps on the floorboards. She tucked Abberline back in, and pinched the latter's cheek lightly. It was pale, and squishy like bread that had risen, but had yet to be baked.
Sera grimaced at the randomness of that notion.
She had no plans to bake a baby, after all.
"Now then," said Sera in passing, glancing over at the stairs that led to their upper floor. "Time to get Mum and Dad."
She stopped halfway. "William?"
"Yeh?"
"Try to work on your speaking, you'll soon have to shake the accent off. It's unbecoming."
"Awww, do I hafta'?"
"Yes William, otherwise I'll grind it out of your head with my fists."
He shrank back in his chair, a squeak sounding out from both, before wondering out loud. "Wha' does unbecomin' mean?"
Sera continued towards, and up the stairs that creaked in complaint. Her lethargic face hung, sinking deeper as she ascended the stairs. After all, the sounds that drifted from a room on the upper floor left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
The squeak of the bed and her mother, heavy breathing, and occasional grunts.
Sera facepalmed upon reaching the last step, transitioning to a desperate massage on her temples. She cleared her throat, and took a deep breath.
"Mum, Dad, you already called us back for lunch, so come downstairs and show up for it!" she yelled to the corridor. "Or are you planning on having a fourth?"
A gasp, and a loud bang.
Someone fell from the bed, thought Sera, muffling a chuckle.
She could hear a hushed conversation going on behind their parents' door, but failed to make heads or tails of the subject.
A youthful voice called from the floor below. "Are they coming?"
Sera clamped a hand over her mouth, possessed by a frenzied fit of laughter.
No no, calm down, he doesn't know any better, Sera mentally berated herself.
Once again, William's voice floated up. "Hello? Sera?"
She stifled the last remnants of her giggles, and shouted back. "I'm not sure if they're coming, but I think they'll be down soon!"
A dramatic, high-pitched gasp from behind the door, and an angry bang from the fist that pummeled it.
"SERA!" shrieked Catherine from behind the door.
Almost immediately after, a hearty laugh sounded out. As deep as the sea, and warmer than one's bed in the morning. The door opened, a reddened countenance huffing its displeasure.
Clad in a thrown-on dress that had yet to be tightened, plenty of her fair skin saw the light of day. Despite being flustered and embarrassed, she finished dressing herself with a mute elegance about her, and a grace that danced in the tips of her fingers. Long, chestnut brown hair that hung as low as her hips, swayed with the rest of her body.
Sera sighed, turning away from the scene...
Their mother was a beautiful woman, for lack of a better word, with a silhouette that could even draw envy from younger women in their prime.
Like herself.
Catherine stormed past Sera, shunning the latter. All that was left in Sera's vision, was the burly figure of Catherine's husband. Her father, Jonathan.
"Welcome home Sera, it's good to have you back," said he, leaning against the doorway bare-chested.
Sera smiled, weariness etched in her eyes. "Thank you, father."
A slight frown crept onto her face, as she waved her hand at her father in disgust. "Ugh, father, go put something on, please."
After a brief pause, he burst out into hearty laughter. "You're right, I should be more mindful."
Grinning, he continued. "After all, you're a grown woman now, I'm sure you don't want any shirtless men other than your lover around you, now do you?"
Her jaw fell.
"How did you?!-"
"I'm your father, Sera," he chided. "I can see it in your face, and in the way you carry yourself. You've changed since you left home."
"I... I have?"
"Yes, you have," he continued, pulling down a steel-blue linen shirt over his well-muscled body. "What kind of person is he?"
Sera leant onto the railing of the staircase, the aged wood of it groaning in protest under her weight. "He's quite the man... only two winters older than I, yet he's already a merchant with a small foothold."
"He sounds resourceful." commented Jonathan, leaning against the doorway in the same direction as Sera.
"He is!" praised Sera with shining eyes. "We work hard to make our living, but in my eyes, our success is mainly due to his efforts."
Nodding in approval, Jonathan's eyes glossed over, his thoughts elsewhere for a moment.
There was a silence that hung in the air, one that was not at all awkward. It was a moment of brooding for Jonathan, the father. In contrast, it was a moment of reminiscence for Sera, a smile dominating her features, her eyes replaying fond memories of the past half year.
The silence shattered.
The voice of Catherine charged up the stairs. "I've finished setting the table, now it's time for both of you to get your rears down here!"
A sheepish smile shaped Jonathan's features, as a briskness overtook his movements, frantic fingers tightening his shirt and pants.
He gave a chortle, before starting down the staircase. "Let's continue at the table, wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting!"
"Yes, father," she sighed lazily, close behind Jonathan. "Let's."