Roland finished another morning at the Council meeting and sighed. He was utterly drained in many ways.
Although not an official member of the Council, his presence was required often to answer questions and help with input when a dispute involved one of the Rhone that had settled in Klain or the surrounding townships.
Duncan attended as well, and spent time teaching Roland the ways of their people. Although the Rhone had a centralized monarchy, there were many nomadic groupings of various sizes. Each had possessed a way to portal in and out of the Darkness during Titania's long rule.
Those items had all been destroyed, save for one kept by Duncan and the one that still hung around Roland's neck as a reminder of his mother. While it seemed unwise to keep them around, neither could say for certain that such travel would never be needed again.
For instance, if the Void escaped and kidnapped people to its realm? It was difficult to plan without the input of the Fae, who had been silent and unreachable since the moment Gwen brought Gabe back.
He frowned and turned his attention back to the present. Duncan had gotten word to each of the nomadic groups concerning the deal with the Sea People, and potential brides would be arriving in Klain over the next few days and continually after that. Lodging was set aside to house them until they could be taken to the sea.
He had no idea how many there would be. Duncan could not predict with certainty either. It was no small thing, to leave your family and embark on a strange new life to marry a man you had never met.
Duncan had lobbied to try and get Roland excused from his duties for a time, in light of the situation he faced at home. The younger man was thankful for the offer, though at the same time he was a little grateful for some time away from his house.
There was much to come to terms with there.
Exhausted, yet knowing he was likely about to become even more so, Roland came to the front door and took a deep breath. There was another battle now to face, much more emotionally taxing than politics and bureaucracy.
He swallowed, and braced himself. He was told that facing it would become easier over time, but so far he was still in utter shock.
Stepping into his home, he headed back toward the bedroom. He hadn't even been able to sleep in there last night, and had taken up a spare bed in another room.
It was all so much to grapple with.
Mrs. Sherman was folding dry laundry at the table as he entered and put her finger to her lips.
"Please be as quiet as you can. It's naptime now. The wet nurse just left." She whispered. Mrs. Sherman had been invaluable these past days, but that was one thing she couldn't do herself.
Thankfully, a neighbor with a child of her own and milk to spare took pity when the news of what had happened spread. She now came several times a day to help with feeding.
He nodded and sat down at the table instead of heading into the room. Naptime was all but sacred, and Mrs. Sherman presided over it strictly. He put his head in his hands, feeling all his emotions far more deeply due to the sleep deprivation he was enduring.
Roland had spent a little time around babies, but being a father was completely new. And this was far different and more difficult than he dreamed it would be.
As soon as he allowed himself the luxury of placing his head down on the table, a mewling cry rang out from the room.
"No, no please. Please sleep a little longer, little one." Roland whispered in a begging tone.
"You could use the child's name." Mrs. Sherman chastised softly. She held great sympathy for the exhausted man, but he would have to sooner or later.
"If I could, I would," He passed his hand over his face.
He softly opened the door into the bedroom and walked over to the source of the sound. Gently, he picked up his newborn daughter from her cradle.
"Shhh…. Shhh…. It's still time for sleeping." He said as he started to walk back out. She pursed her tiny lips and blinked at him, then hiccupped.
Her eyes grew wide in existential terror, and Roland realized it must be the first time in her entire life that she'd gotten hiccups. When the second hiccup rocked her body the shock turned to rage, and her scream broke the relative quiet of the room.
Roland's frayed nerves gave way. He burst into laughter at the emotion his tiny daughter displayed over the hiccups. What a thing to be so upset over! His rumbling laugh frightened the baby further and chaos broke into the room.
Suddenly, it was all crying and screaming. Roland grimaced as Finn groggily woke on the bed, holding their two sons, one in each arm.
He'd never heard of anyone having triplets. He had read about it once in one of Dr. Sherman's medical books, but never expected to ever see such a thing himself, let alone be the father of these tiny humans.
The midwife had strongly suspected twins early on, but had kept her thoughts to herself when Finn had insisted that was ridiculous and began getting upset by the talk of it. No one was allowed to mention the possibility that it might be more than one baby for fear of unduly upsetting the emotional pregnant woman.
The birth had been extremely difficult, and now Finn needed all the rest she could get. Roland's stomach clenched when he thought about how close he had come to losing his wife, but it all made sense in retrospect.
Carrying and birthing one baby was difficult enough, but three? Shockingly, in the end everyone had survived.
The strain on Finn's body to try to provide for them all by herself was enormous, and the wet nurse helped tremendously in that regard.
His wife now looked at him, bleary-eyed, but even more gorgeous than he'd ever seen her. Though she would describe herself as haggard and exhausted, he saw only the beauty of a woman who had come through a great trial.
"Lily, we woke your mother and brothers." Roland hushed the baby in his arms.
"A shame," Finn added. "It's a miracle we got them all to sleep at the same time. Where were you last night?"
Roland came to his wife and leaned over to kiss her. "I'm sorry, my love. Roen. Ivan." He greeted his sons and sat on the edge of the bed. "You were all sound asleep and I didn't want to disturb you when I came in late. I slept in another room."
Finn frowned. "Don't do that again."
"I won't," He promised, kissing her again.
He marveled, not for the first time, about the fact that he and his wife had become a family of five overnight.
"Uncle Gabe" had been overjoyed that soon, his two little nephews would be running around, ready for playing and all things boyish. "Auntie Vicky," as Victoria had dubbed herself, was completely besotted and eager to help care for the babies at every opportunity.
Mrs. Sherman knocked softly, and then came to relieve Finn of her sons.
"They're not hungry just now. You go back to your nap, Dear." She fussed, giving Roland a sharp look for his role in disturbing the new mother's precious rest.
"Yes, Serafina, please rest. I will look after our children, with some help." He smiled at her confidently… not because he was confident in his abilities, but because he was confident Mrs. Sherman wouldn't let him mess up too badly as long as she stayed to help.
"Thank you. I love you," Finn's voice faded to a whisper as she was already falling back asleep. Roland made a mental note to make sure she had an extra large supper. She'd been through much.
Mrs. Sherman had come with healing tea as soon as word reached her that Finn was in labor. She'd gone over the recipe very carefully with Finn ahead of time under the guise that it might be needed for an emergency with Dr. Sherman's patients.
The effort likely saved his wife's life, though the midwife would not allow it to be administered until the entire birth was complete. Who knew how it might affect a baby still inside the womb? She had argued.
Closing the door silently behind him, Roland looked at each of the three tiny people.
"How are they so small?" He asked Mrs. Sherman, but she simply beamed at him in response.
She had truly come alive in a new way since being invited to help care for the little ones. He wondered what strange twists of fate led her to not having children of her own. She seemed so at ease caring for these babies, as if she were born to do so.
All three slowly calmed and drifted back to sleep like their mother. Silence resumed in the home.
"Do you need me to help you hold them or put them down so you can continue laundry or whatever else needs doing?" Roland whispered.
"Don't you dare, young man," Mrs. Sherman whispered firmly. "If you try and take my sleeping grandbabies from me, you'll live to regret it."
Roland chuckled quietly and gazed down at his daughter. She was pinched and small and almost alien-looking to him, but beautiful in a way he couldn't quite pin down. He guessed all babies must look that way to their fathers.
Beautiful.