With a squeak of finality from the staircase, Sera and Jonathan set foot on the ground floor of their cottage. A rustic, steamy aroma wafted around. The scent of it tickled their noses and whetted their appetites.
While Sera seated herself across from William, Jonathan walked over to the cradle and hugged Catherine from behind. His large body dwarfed hers, which leant into his loving warmth. He cooed softly, unwilling to wake their youngest.
"My love, what were you making before our little 'discussion' upstairs?" he asked. "I didn't even get a chance to glance at the pot after coming back."
Hearing Sera snicker, Catherine's only response was a glare followed by an exasperated sigh.
"I traded a basket I wove, for some vegetables from Eric," she announced, pausing to ponder. "He was especially generous today, his mood was reaching the sky, I tell ya'."
Jonathan scratched his chin. "Hmm, something good probably happened to him."
"He mentioned something about his son, Aaron, but I wasn't really listening," Catherine shrugged.
William perked up at the mention of a familiar name, before Sera's playful kicks under the table recaptured his attention, and incited his retaliation.
Tilting her head, Cathering gestured over to their cooking corner, the last bits of the day's firewood had turned to glowing charcoals, small tongues of heat warming the cast-iron cauldron above it.
"Thanks to Eric's generosity, I made some pottage today with the vegetables he gave us," muttered Catherine. "If he wasn't so joyful today, we'd have been eating gruel again."
Jonathan's face fell. "No meat?"
"No meat."
Jonathan fell into mute despondency, absentmindedly hauling the cauldron off the coals and onto a flat stone beside the dining table. The pottage was served, a greenish-yellow concoction consisting of varying amounts of the different grains they had on hand, some diced tubers, and a meagre sprinkling of leftover leafy greens.
A simple meal, but food nonetheless.
"Thanks for the meal, Mum!" chirped Sera. "It's been a long, hard half-year without your cooking."
Catherine exhaled sharply through her nose in amusement. "I'm sure that my cooking can't compare to the Capital's.."
Jonathan's dull eyes brightened ever so slightly, before being blinked into their usual liveliness. He slapped his cheeks twice, rousing himself.
"Thank you for being as wonderful a wife as always, my love." said Jonathan plainly, looking into her eyes with all the love he held for her.
A reddish tinge invaded Catherine's features, her burning face turning elsewhere to cool off.
Even after over two-and-twenty years, he can still make my heart skip like the day we first met, she grumbled inwardly.
Sera groaned, her face retreating into her hands to hide, as William looked around, puzzled.
Then it clicked in his head.
"Oh!" he blurted, "Thanks Mum…"
The family seated themselves, and dug into their lunch. The first half of the meal passed by in silence as thick as the stew they ate, as everyone sated their hunger before anything else.
By the time their bowls were half-empty, Catherine spoke up. "Sera, dear, what made you change your hair colour into that?"
"Oh, this?" Sera replied, playing with a stray lock of her snow-white hair. "I felt it would suit me better, since white dresses are my favourite."
"But how did you do it?" inquired Catherine.
"I used a hair dye potion."
"A hair dye potion?" Catherine scoffed. "What in the King's name is that?"
"Hehehe," Sera giggled. "Alchemy has come a long way in the last twenty years, there are people with all kinds of hair colours in the bigger towns!"
William's young eyes brightened, excitement building in his bouncing legs. "With all the different colours, do the crowds there look like messed up rainbows?"
A brief silence ensued, before being broken by a loud fit of snorting laughter from Sera.
"Sera!" shouted Catherine. "That's unladylike, stop it!"
Grinning from ear-to-ear, she flashed William a thumbs-up.
"Brilliant guess, Willsie!"
The room's air gradually filled with the recounting of tales, the family enjoying the images she brought forth with her words and the passion they dripped with. They finished their meal, the midday sun having shifted slightly with the passing of an hour and some change.
Clank!
Jonathan set his bowl down with a firmness unbefitting of the jovial atmosphere.
"Say, Sera," Jonathan began, clearing his throat. "What of the young man you mentioned earlier?"
Catherine's eyes half-closed, the glint of smug curiosity lurking within them.
"Oh, what's this I hear?" She cooed coyly. "Has our little girl finally conquered her loneliness with a man?"
Sera's face wrinkled up in awkward embarrassment. "M-mother!"
"Now now," said Catherine, placing a deceptively comforting hand on Sera's forearm. "Don't be shy, tell us all about him…"
Sera's gaze fell to her lap. "He's a small-time merchant in the Royal Capital, two winters older than I, and we run a shop there."
Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Is he wealthy?"
"Not particularly, but we're slowly making our way in the Capital," answered Sera.
"Is he reliable?"
"Yes, very!"
"Most importantly, is he strong?" Catherine's eyes and tone reached a refined sharpness, unmatched by the younger woman.
"He… he's working on it…" mumbled Sera meekly, avoiding eye contact.
With an unimpressed sigh, Catherine shifted her weight and crossed her legs. "Working on it, eh?"
"My love, don't be so hard on a boy- no, young man that we haven't met yet," urged Jonathan, before flashing a warm smile to their eldest.
He leaned forward in a comedic attempt at secrecy. "Bring him over sometime, I'd like to see how he measures up."
Crimson crept into Sera's puffed cheeks, her lips tight. She coughed. "I'll have you know, my lover's body is almost as impressive as yours!"
A mute silence came over Jonathan, confusion scribbled all over his expression.
"I meant how he measures up to you, my overly-conscious daughter."
Getting up, Sera's demeanour fell into one of mute agony, her pushed back chair screeching across the floorboards like her inner self.
"I'm going for a walk around the village," she mumbled, leaving briskly.
The roaring growl of Jonathan's abdomen broke the silence, its lack of satiety audible.
Exasperated, he dug through his hair with his fingers, mumbling to himself. "I want meat…"
"Then go get it yourself, if you want some that badly," huffed Catherine, collecting the bowls.
Jonathan's eyes brightened, his wife's comeback becoming the water that nourished his seedling idea.
He turned to his son, William, who had seen ten winters go by but never truly experienced the harshness of any of them. Built like a sprout and just as short, William's physique left a lot to be desired, in the eyes of his father.
His one redeeming quality was his speed and agility, making him nigh untouchable in his games of Snake Hunt with his friends.
Jonathan stroked his chin, his budding idea and scheming grin growing with every second. "William, we're going hunting tomorrow!"
At the mention of it, the young William's eyes took on a glow brighter than any candle known to man.
"Really, Father?" he asked, bouncing up and down in his creaking chair. "Can I really come?"
"Mhm," agreed Jonathan. "You're old enough in my books, and you're nimble."
"A soon-to-be young man like you needs to experience life beyond the treeline anyway, to toughen you up for the future," he continued.
William began punching the air with glee so overwhelming that he could make no sound.
He turned to his wife.
"Any objections?" he asked.
"None, aside from what a mother would usually say about this." Catherine sighed. "You wouldn't stay even if I told you otherwise, now would you?"
By the end of that sentence, Jonathan was already one foot out the door, looking back at her.
"I love you."
Catherine began scrubbing the bowls more vigorously than before.