Anselm and Leandra spent their days in easy harmony. Even Ellara, so opposed to having a younger lady Lorimer usurp her place of power, stopped most of her efforts to make their life difficult after she realised it was a waste of energy. IT wasn't peace, not really, but even an uneasy truce was good when it meant not having to see Ellara most days. Life was good.
Until Anselm fell seriously ill. Leandra spent whole days at his bedside, trying to soothe his fever, but nothing helped.

As doctors came and went and Anselm grew weaker with every day, Leandra turned to folk remedies and rumours, anything that could possibly help. She was willing to try everything, but she had less support in her efforts than she would have expected.
"Bringing in a commoner? An adulteress, a criminal's daughter? Have you lost your mind?"
Leandra flinched from the poison in Ellara's voice. She was too exhausted to fight, to tell the other woman she had no real authority over the matters. "I heard she knows a healing recipe..." She said weakly. "People in the village..."
"So now we listen to the people in the village? Which kind, the stupid ignorant fools or the criminals and troublemakers?"
Leandra wanted to say she had first heard of Alysanne's soup from Adrian, Leandra's own husband, but before she could open her mouth Ellara continued:
"Nothing good has ever come from the common people and I won't allow one of them to touch my nephew. And especially not one of that family!"
After that, the young lady just turned and left. She didn't need Ellara's permission and there must be a way to sneak Alysanne into the manor without her interference.

But before she could send for her, her husband's condition worsened so much that she didn't dare leave his side even for a moment. When he died, she had not slept for at least three nights.
The strange cold in the room, just after Anselm drew his last breath could be just her exhaustion, but then Leandra thought she glimpsed a dark shape standing over Anselm's bed. It was hard to see through her tears, but still the dark figure with a scythe seemed too clear to be a hallucination. And even if it was a hallucination, she had nothing to lose. She fell on her knees before the apparition, trying to plead for her loved one's life and not finding the words that would fully express her heart.

She didn't really know what to expect, probably didn't expect anything, but when a voice spoke up inside her head telling her to gamble for Anselm's soul, she almost thought she must be dreaming after all. But if there was even a tiny chance that she wasn't...
With great effort she got up to her feet and forced herself to concentrate on the two bony hands presented before her. One of them would hold her husband's soul. Just find the right one and they can be happy again.
She bit her lip, muttered a quick prayer to the Watcher and pointed with trembling hand.

And then the chosen hand opened, revealing nothing but air between its bare bony fingers. Leandra sank back to her knees, just barely sensing that the Grim Reaper raised his scythe, not even caring if it meant to take her soul also.

That was how the servants found her much later, still collapsed on the floor next to her husband, blinded with tears and mumbling something incoherent about dark shapes, souls and the world beyond.
"If I can find his soul he can return, but it's gone now. I wonder what would give me a second try...?"

Leandra spent the next few days bedridden and mostly out of touch with reality. When Desmond, Ellara's only son and the only heir to the Lorimer estate, fell ill as well, she didn't even notice, completely lost in her own grief.
Only when Desmond finally died did she break out of her lethargy at to at least attend the double funeral, but she was still too deep into her own personal tragedy to fully realise the state of the family.
The lord was dead, without a living child, and there was no apparent heir to carry his legacy.

Around the same time, Anna was feeling ill as well, if for a completely different reason. She had been hiding the morning sickness, hoping against all hope she was not expecting yet another child. But when the sickness refused to go away, she was slowly forced to admit at least to herself that something was wrong.
It wasn't anything she could put her finger on. It was too early for her to feel the baby, she even kept telling herself maybe it wasn't a pregnancy at all, but still somehow she knew.
Just like she somehow knew that the baby was dead.

She had never wanted another child, she had not really planned or even wanted any of her previous two children either, but there was still something so final about losing it. Anna suddenly felt empty, almost dead inside, her whole world cold and grey.
Damien had no idea what was going on and Anna was sure he wouldn't understand if she told him. She didn't doubt that he loved her, but he was too carefree, too childlike to understand this kind of loneliness.

She spent the next few days after the miscarriage under black clouds, sleepwalking through her life without noticing much. But when she finally emerged from the worst darkness, there was a living child waiting for her and needing her care.
It was like her whole world had been turned on its head. She was still mourning the dead baby she never got to know, but little Elena's unconditional love was just as strong and just as unexpected as the sorrow, and it was leading Anna back into the light.

Not everyone was happy with this new-found relationship, though. Tristan, who had never been coddled by his parents and by then had completely stopped expecting it, didn't enjoy seeing his baby sister getting in generous quantities something he never had.
He mostly took out his frustration on Elena, hiding her toys - why did she need so many, anyway! - taunting her and pinching her when nobody was looking. Some part of him hoped that if he made her cry often enough, his mother would grow annoyed with the baby again. But even though that didn't happen, it made him feel better every time something didn't go exactly as he would have liked.

And there were many things that didn't go well at all.
Tristan had never enjoyed school, only tolerating it as a means to make friends. But now most of other kids mostly ignored him and even his relationship with lord Adrian didn't help any more. Tristan didn't really understand why he still bothered attending. His grades were slipping and he had no idea how to stop them, how to at least get them to a level that wouldn't make other kids laugh at him.
It was just so annoying, despite the fact that neither of his parents really cared about his learning.

Weeks turned into months, but lady Leandra still visited her husband's grave every day. There, alone in the cold winter graveyard she felt better and more at ease than back in the cold, almost empty mansion. At first she wanted to feel closer to where her was, buried in Anselm's coffin, but then it became much more. There were times when she was sure Anselm could hear her speaking to him, that he could see the baby that was growing inside her.
She imagined what the child would be like, eyes just like Anselm's, the same warm smile. With no friends of her own and living next to lady Ellara, bitter and always angry, this was the best comfort Leandra had, the thing that helped her get out of her bed every morning.

Ellara was feeling bitter for more reasons than the recent deaths in the family. She hated people fussing over poor, grieving, pregnant Leandra even more than she had hated her take charge of the manor. She hated seeing Leandra pregnant, especially when she knew her own days of bearing children were over. She hated the idea that the future of the family, all the power, should be out of her hands.
She was doing her best to hide her age, but that didn't stop her from feeling it every time she looked into a mirror. Every single grey hair was an unwelcome reminder until there was no black left on her head.

As the birth of the child grew closer, air at the manor grew both nervous and hopeful at the same time. Everyone was hoping for a son to continue the Lorimer line, but when the baby came, it was a girl.
Ellara was feeling vindicated. When her heir was dead, her rival had no right to bear one either. Leandra herself hardly noticed the general disappointment all around her. All she cared about was that the baby was healthy, a real person ready to receive all her love.
She was still heartbroken, but little Nadine brought her at least some hope for the future.

Meanwhile, little Elena was growing fast.
If Tristan hoped their mother would grow tired of the baby, he was disappointed. Elena continued to beam, quickly catching up on everything she had not learned earlier. Anna was glued to her daughter and seemed so happy that it was almost making Tristan sick.

Elena's birthday was a shining example. Anna baked a cake for the occasion, something she had never done before, with candles for Elena to blow out. Tristan felt completely ignored, put aside because of that stupid little girl who could only wail and hog everyone's attention. He wasn't surprised his father had skipped the celebration, only annoyed he had not taken him as well.
He tried to get Anna's attention, steal at least a few moments from the stupid baby, but it was like he was completely invisible.

"Did you make a wish? What did you ask for, a knight in shining armour? A castle? Everyone treats you like a princess anyway!"
Tristan tried to sound grown-up-mean, make his sister feel bad for the treatment she was receiving, but Elena just kept staring at her piece of cake. Ignoring him, just like everyone else.

In memory of Queen Sunni

Sunni, the Gracious Monarch of Plumb Bob Keep has passed away and will be missed by the whole community which she has so deeply touched. Sunni was our light and our inspiration and she will live on forever in our hearts and in her wonderous creations.

Rest in pace, Sunni.

Ever since the night they were caught, Delia had been keeping her head low. It wasn't like she had any choice, with how her parents were watching her, there were times when she felt less free that if she had been sentenced to prison. But there were other times when she had to admit that in some respects at least, they were right. She had been lucky and she definitely didn't want to end up like her friend had. But while Delia more or less wanted to wait until everything blew over, even if she was unsure about anything after that, Finn was much less willing to just forget everything.
She supposed she should have been happy to see him. But when Finn strode into her house one day, his face angry and determined, Delia's main emotion was shock. She flinched even before Finn could start shouting at her, something about a betrayal and setting him up.

"I haven't... I would never... I was punished too!" She managed to say, but was as if he didn't even hear her.
"I just can't believe you can be this slow and clumsy and not be doing it on purpose. And I didn't see you get punished."
"But...!"
And then he was on top of her, smacking her, impossible to hold away no matter how she tried. It all happened too fast for her to even cry for help before the blows stopped and Finn was out of the door again.

She ran after him without thinking.
"Wait...! I thought we were friends?" At that moment she completely forgot she was forbidden to even speak with Finn, other than just a tiny thought in the back of her head that it was lucky her parents were out. She just couldn't believe he would blame her, reject her so utterly.
"Not any more. I'm not friends with traitors and friends of village guards."
With that, Finn turned and walked away, with Delia just looking after him, feeling hurt. And she couldn't even tell her parents.

Days turned into weeks. Delia withdrew into herself, hoping to piece her life together again in solitude. Everything had gotten so complicated she couldn't find her way anymore and she didn't even know what she wanted.
She envied her baby brother, who seemed to have it so easy. Everyone loved him, school was easier for him than it had ever been for Delia, and their parents cheered him every step of the way. It was as if he didn't even have to try and it seemed completely unfair.

When Delia's eighteenth birthday came, she couldn't really care less. She watched her mother bake a special birthday cake for her and prepare everything, but it was as if it didn't really concern her. She didn't see any reason to celebrate.
The celebration itself felt as unreal as the preparations. Her parents were urging her to make a wish, but she had no idea how to put one into words. It seemed that all her wishes so far had brought only disasters, even when fulfilled. Especially when fulfilled. "What would be the point?" she asked with a shrug.
"Sweetie... what's wrong?" Her mother asked in a quiet voice that sounded whiny to Delia's ears. Her father just stared while Devin, the happy child who had everything easy, continued cheering obliviously.
Delia felt like she wanted to scream.

In the end she wasn't sure how exactly she managed to endure it. The cheering, the stupid smiles, the pretending everything was fine and everyone should be happy. She wasn't happy and hated having to pretend, but she knew she would hate the inevitable questions even more.
Only when the celebration was over and everyone finally stopped paying attention to her could she let go. She collapsed on the floor, too exhausted even to cry. She was an adult now, but she had no idea what it should mean for her, no idea what to do. In a way, she envied her parents. No matter their past, they had each other. Delia had no one and felt utterly alone.

It wasn't until after a few days spent under a dark cloud that she remembered one person who had not forsaken her yet.
Ever since that first time he spoke to her, Adrian had been more than attentive to her, making her feel like a princess whenever he was around. With him, she felt beautiful, important and wanted. and, most of all, not alone. Could it be anything else than the fairy-tale romance it seemed?

With nobody else to turn to and her uncle Damien encouraging her, Delia put everything in this secret love affair. Every day she would smile for her parents, just going through the motions of the daily chores and waiting for the evening. And then, after everyone else was fast asleep, she would get in the carriage Adrian sent for her and enter a completely different life.

When she was in her lover's arms, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. Her future may still have been uncertain, but at least she didn't have to think about it anymore. Why should she care, when she could lose herself in the belief that her lover would take care of her, that he would carry her if need be?

Those nights were like a dream. Before, at uncle Damien's house, Adrian had been attentive and romantic. Now, when they were alone under the stars, he proved to be much more.
And even as the weather was growing colder, their nights were as pleasant as ever. Adrian's embrace was always warm and when that wasn't enough on its own, they always had a hot springs in the woods or Adrian's comfortable tent.

Those nights were outside of normal time and they might have continued for ever, but time always has its ways to force itself back in view.
When Delia first started feeling ill, she thought nothing of it and tried to ignore her uneasy stomach for as long as she could. She didn't want to even think about the possibility of being pregnant, but after some time no other explanation made sense.

Still, she did her best to close her eyes and almost made herself forget before her belly grew too much to easily hide. Only this, a completely undeniable physical change, made her fully realise what was going to happen.

She was still trying to get used to the idea and figure out a way to deal with this unexpected change, when her mother found out her secret. Alysanne had no idea how it had happened, but that only made her more worried.
"What were you thinking? What would everyone say when they see you? Who is the father? The criminal you were going out with?"
No matter how scared she might have been herself, this attack put Delia immediately on the defensive. And the mention of Finn made her feel even worse, bringing back memories and feelings of embarrassment and shame, disappointment and irritation.
"No! I haven't seen Finn in ages, just like you made me promise!" The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. She missed her former friend and rejected him at the same time. "And I don't care what people will say. It's not their baby. They're all stupid anyway!"
"Delia!"
She wanted to laugh at how shocked her mother looked, how narrow-minded. "It's not like caring about other people has brought you much luck."
Silence. Delia took the opportunity to storm out of the house and out of her mother's sight, enjoying her victory. She did her best not to think about the future.

The next few days were quiet and icy cold. She had refused to tell her parents the name of the baby's father. She could imagine their reaction just too well and didn't want to hear anything about the dangers of dealing with the aristocracy. They would never understand and she didn't really want them to anyway. Those nights with Adrian were hers and hers alone, she didn't want to ruin those memories by letting them torn down by her parents.
Still, when her mother insisted on a hasty wedding, she was slowly forced to accept the idea. She didn't care about the society, but at least it would allow her to move away from her parents.
But even if she was willing to marry - who? Her fairytale prince was already married, Finn was out of the question even if he wasn't still angry at her, not to mention he would probably laugh at the idea of marriage. And when her her mother mentioned Marcus, she didn't know who she was talking about for a few moments. Still, she supposed there was no one else and certainly no one better. And when she invited Marcus over and tried to act as nice as possible towards him, he seemed flattered and happy. And he didn't ask for her reason.

Days passed and everything seemed to be going well with Marcus. Whatever they had between each other was even starting to resemble a real relationship. But Delia still couldn't help feeling strange about it all. Here she was, trying her best to make this man marry her, while she felt she didn't even know him. While deeply in love with someone else, who she could never have. Still, was there any other choice?
And as she continued flirting with Marcus, even when they were supposed to be alone, completely private, Delia could feel the eyes of her parents on her and her belly. Her baby was growing much faster than she would have liked and she was sure Marcus must notice soon. And what would he do then?

When Alysanne heard that Alvin, her oldest friend, had died, it felt like the final straw to break the illusion of her good life. The fact that they had not spoken in years didn't help, if anything, it made her feel even worse.
When she stood above his grave, after everyone else had left , she felt old. helpless and strangely lonely.

That night she couldn't sleep and instead spent it staring at the stars, thinking about the life that could have been and the uncertain future. She wondered if it was really possible to see the future in the stars, as she had once thought with Alvin. But if anything was written in the night sky, she couldn't read it.

After long period of courtship, young lord Anselm and lady Leandra were finally getting married. The church was full of their family and friends, but the groom and bride only had eyes for each other. Maybe it was a good thing, though, as they could ignore all the talk about the size of Leandra's dowry or the price of engagement gifts Anselm had given her.
If he had heard, Anselm would reply he couldn't care less about any of that. What mattered to him was that he had found a kindred soul and a companion. He was only sorry he had to bring Leandra to the same house his aunt was still proudly proclaiming hers. But maybe now that he had a family, life at the manor could change somehow?

And then all the vows were said, the newlyweds walked out of the church and the family and friends, turning to follow them, couldn't ignore each other any longer.
"You don't belong here!" Ellara glared at Damien, the bastard son of Watcher knew who, and especially at his red-headed wife.
"We were invited." Anna snapped back. "By lord Anselm himself." She thought to mention Ellara's own husband, but stopped herself just in time. She was sure Ellara had no idea about Tristan, if only by the fact she had not heard any screaming, but it still might be better to be careful.
"That does not mean you are welcome here. This is a ceremony and while lord Anselm may have gotten carried away in his joy, we do not want peasants here to ruin the mood." Ellara's tone was icy cold, pouring all her bad mood onto the one safe target.
Anna opened her mouth to reply, but she noticed Adrian behind his wife's back shaking his head. In the end she just turned, her head as high as she could hold it, and walked out of the church, trailed with Damien, who tried to appease everyone with uncertain smiles.

Even at home, Ellara was becoming harder to live with every day. With the new lady Lorimer moved in, everyone expected lady Ellara and her husband to finally establish her own household. Even Adrian supported the idea, but Ellara wouldn't hear about it.
"What do you mean, our own home? This is my home and always has been. I have ruled over the village when Anselm was still a child and if that woman thinks she can push me out like I was beneath her..."
"I only said you might be more comfortable if..." Adrian tried, but completely in vain.
"Enough. It will never happen and that's my final word on this matter. She thinks she's so beautiful, but..."

With his wife on the warpath, Adrian was feeling even more trapped in the mansion than usual. And his son, who should have been his pride and joy or at the very least a companion in his misery, was turning out to be a bitter disappointment. Pampered by his mother since early childhood, Desmond was spoilt and vain, often acting younger than his real age. Adrian wasn't sure if the boy even had a genuine interest in anything else than rolling his eyes.

He escaped this atmosphere to the same place as he always did, the woods outside the village. He had taken to spending whole days there and eventually stopped caring about much else than getting outside of his wife's reach.
He came to regret his carelessness when he came across a wild bear. Adrian reached for his sword and prepared to fight, wishing Damien was there to assist him.

The fight was short, but vicious and bloody. In the end the bear was lying dead on the ground, but Adrian was badly wounded.

He managed to get to the manor, where the servants got a physician for him. His lady wife refused to even speak with him, which seemed to be the only good thing to come out of this mess. She made it clear she had always disapproved of his hunting and expected him to crawl to her and admit she had been right all along.
Adrian supposed this at least made his recuperation bearable, but he still wasn't sure if the blood loss and forced rest were wort it.

Even after Adrian was finally allowed out of his bed, just before he could gnaw his leg off like an animal caught in a trap, the physician stressed that more hunting might mean reopening the wound.
Luckily for him, there were other places to go when he desperately needed to escape the manor and his unbearable family. Damien's home was as free and pleasant as always and a game of darts made for a nice substitute for more dangerous or demanding activities. Anna's little boy, already showing more promise than Desmond, was playing in a corner while the adults enjoyed themselves.

Damien said being free to crawl around the house encouraged little Tristan to explore and helped make him into a strong independent man, while heavily pregnant Anna just didn't have the energy to spend much time with the child.
But Damien made sure the boy was never hungry and he couldn't imagine what else he might need. Certainly not the strict rules of the convent he had been subjected to growing up.

When the time came for Tristan's birthday, Adrian made sure to be present. Anna baked a cake on the occasion and Damien noted she spent more time on it than on any other meal in months. He wondered if was really meant for the boy or for his supposed father.
When Anna helped Tristan blow out the candles, the two men looked at each other, once again wondering who would be the better father for the boy.

Tristan himself, at least, was excited by the idea he was a noble by birth.
"Have you ever fought in a war? With huge war machines? Has your castle ever been under siege?"
"No, not really... there haven't been wars in this part of continent for decades."
"So what do you do?"
Adrian was overwhelmed for a moment, but he could almost see himself in the boy's enthusiasm, energy and easy charm.

If only it was Tristan who had been born as his rightful son instead of the one he had. While Desmond never cared for any sort of physical activity, only planning to be a great lord one day and judge people from a comfy chair, Tristan was excited about the idea of fighting and determined to become a knight. And while Desmond seemed to have learned from his mother to look down at Adrian, Tristan was eager to impress him with his agility and strength.
Adrian had never fancied himself the fatherly type, but he was almost sorry he could never acknowledge boy as his.

Not everyone shared Adrian's liking for Tristan, though.
When he invited Celestine for a visit, he thought she would be overjoyed. After all, everything had to be an improvement over the convent, which his father made out to sound as the most boring place in the world. He did his best to make it up to her and be fun, but the girl didn't seem to appreciate jokes about nuns or about her mother.

"I thought you would be happy to be friends..." Tristan was growing desperate, especially as he didn't understand how come the girl didn't seem to like him. He was almost a knight, his father had the best company ever and she was... nobody, and still she only rolled her eyes at him.
After some time he just gave up trying. If Celestine was as boring as the convent, it was her own loss. He was the son of a noble and a real knight, he should have no shortage of much better friends.

He had much greater success with his cousin Devin and soon the two boys were best friends, playing together whenever they had free time.
They would pretend they were knights, soldiers or even robbers, Tristan always leading the way and making all the decisions. Devin was more than happy to play along, even when Tristan decided he would be a powerful king and his friend a defeated rebel. Devin was eager to please and grateful for the company and Tristan loved the sense of power he got from ordering the other boy around.

Anna kept expecting to go into labour for some time, unsure if she was afraid of it or hoped it would come soon and she would be able to move once again. But when it really came in the middle of a night her strongest thought was that it wasn't a good time. Actually, it never would be a good time, not for the labour and not for a pregnancy.
She screamed for Damien to bring a midwife or someone, but she mostly wanted him and Tristan, both useless men, out of the house.

And then, when everything was over and she was holding her newborn daughter, she wasn't even sure what her strongest emotions were then. The baby girl was healthy and fully hers, but somehow it didn't feel completely real to Anna. The fact that the girl showed promise to have golden hair, just like her older brother, just added to the strangeness of it.

It wasn't long before life got back on the usual track. Even a newborn in the house couldn't stop Damien and Anna from inviting their friends over, and their highborn friends were glad to come.
Tristan spent as much time as he could glued to Adrian, talking loudly about anything and everything, basking in his importance. "Do you sentence criminals? Have you ever sentenced anyone to death?"
Delia flinched at that question. She couldn't help but remember her and Finn's recent close escape and her father's brush with lady Ellara before that. The memories would feel all to real even without the presence of the guard who had escorted her back that night.
"Don't worry. There won't be any hangings as long as I can prevent them."
Delia turned after the voice and saw Anselm, the lord himself, smiling awkwardly at her. She smiled back and did a little curtsy, not knowing how else to respond.

She needn't have worried, though. Damien and Anna's gatherings were always informal and always fun, sometimes even too much for some of the guests.
Alysanne came when invited, but usually kept mostly to herself, ill at ease in a company that was supposed to be respectable and lost amidst all the noise. Damien did his best to draw her in a few times, but most of his jokes just startled her even more.

Still, it was Alysanne during her visits who helped take care of baby Elena, making sure she had enough of everything.
Unlike Damien's jokes and pranks or Adrian's talk of hunting and adventures, the baby was something Alysanne did understand, and something that made her feel useful. After a while she wasn't sure if Elena wasn't actually the main reason she kept coming.

And as even days turned to months and eventually to years, nothing really changed. Little Elena kept growing and she soon learned to turn to Alysanne every time her aunt was around.
Alysanne often wondered whether she should say something to Damien or Anna, but the other woman's radiant self-confidence always made her hesitate at the last moment. She never felt she had much in common with Anna and saw no reason why she would listen to anything she had to say. And it wasn't like she didn't enjoy helping with Elena...