And the Cat's in the Cradle

*Valentine* · 01-25-2019, 05:58 PM

Winter was here and Valentine, for all his talk of preparation, wasn't ready to go take care of the slavers. Or, rather, he was ready, but something was holding him back. Call it intuition, call it a gut feeling, whatever it was, it nagged at him. Each day he woke up thinking it was time to gather the troops and each day, for whatever reason, it didn't feel right. It didn't bode well and he didn't like it.

There had been a lot on his mind recently and perhaps part or all of the blame could be placed on that. At any rate it was an easy scapegoat; how could he do what he needed to do when things at home weren't right? It hadn't escaped his notice that Rhythm was spending an awful lot of time away from home. Nor had the pregnant slave woman at Rhyme's side at the reception. It also wasn't too much of a stretch to assume that Rhythm was spending a great deal of time in Abaven. Neither she nor their son had said anything to him at the reception or in the days after, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. All of those pieces, no matter what combination he tried them in, pointed towards something important.

That hunch left him feeling a bit unsettled. If something good was happening, why not tell him? And if something bad was happening, wasn't not telling him the same as deceiving him? A lie by omission?

He just couldn't leave now. Even though he only had hunches to work on it was enough to make it clear to him that he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to, leave for the slavers. He couldn't go into battle preoccupied.

A familiar scent on the breeze pulled him away from his uneasy thoughts. His expression puzzled, Valentine stared into the distance. What was Rhyme doing here? Only one way to find out.

---

There on the border, looking pensive as hell, was his son. The sight of him made the old king's heart ache. Valentine hadn't seen Rhyme enough for the joy of seeing him again after so many years to wear off. Every time was like the first time. "You're awfully far from home, son." Once this had been his home. It saddened Valentine to think that those days were gone. To think that Rhyme now belonged to Abaven.

""

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