Chapter 177

“You haven’t touched your wine,” Oriselle observed as she reached for another oyster.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” I admitted. Still, I took a sip before setting the glass back down.

The wine was dark, rich, and heavy with spice. Cinnamon, clove, and honey softened the deep berry flavor while something floral lingered beneath it all. It warmed without burning, relaxed without dulling. The kind of drink designed specifically to convince people staying a little longer was an excellent idea.

“A pity,” she said with a smile. Her eyes lingered on me knowingly. “I can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” She leaned back against the couch. “Would you like to go first,” she asked, “or should I?”

“Go first with what?”

“Questions.” She swallowed the oyster and delicately set the shell aside. “You have questions for me. I have questions for you. That’s generally how conversations work.” A playful little smile touched her lips. “It may also help us understand one another better.”

“Alright,” I said. “Do you know which gods have been causing problems for my family and me?”

She tapped her lower lip thoughtfully with one long finger. Her nails were painted nearly the same deep red as her eyes.

“I suppose that depends on what you consider problems,” she replied coyly. “But I think I know what you mean. At least partially.”

Her expression softened slightly.

“I mentioned that Anura fancies one of your daughters. I genuinely don’t know whether that will become a problem or not.” She tilted her head. “Though I know fathers can be… protective where daughters are concerned.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “Are you the kind to worry about those things?”

“I worry about everything,” I admitted. Probably more honestly than I should have.

Her smile faded almost immediately. “That sounds exhausting,” she said quietly. “It makes me wonder whether your burdens are even heavier than I realized.” Her eyes searched my face for several long seconds. “Perhaps heavier than even you realize.”

Then she sighed softly and continued.

“But to answer your question more directly: I’m not entirely sure who’s interfering.” She plucked a strawberry from the table and examined it absently. “I wouldn’t focus solely on the God-Kings, though.”

Her eyes flicked back to mine. “Yes, Pyraeth hates you. I wouldn’t trust him not to cause problems, even weakened as he is.” A faint smirk touched her lips. “But you are hardly universally despised among them. Granyth seems rather fascinated by you. Nerakhel is…” She paused delicately. “Difficult to read. But I don’t believe he actively seeks your destruction.”

Her expression sharpened slightly. “Ornyth, however, does not seem especially fond of you.”

“The Cracked Mother. The Unfathomable Deep. The Broken Artisan,” I recited.

Her grin widened. “Bravo,” she purred. “Most people wouldn’t recognize those titles. You’ve done your research.”

“As best as I can,” I replied.

Then her expression shifted again, becoming more serious. “But I truly wouldn’t assume the God-Kings are solely responsible. That storm the other night wasn’t natural.”

“And what do you know about that?” I asked immediately.

“How many storm goddesses do you know?” she countered, taking a bite of the strawberry.

Kaelira was the obvious answer. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was the only one.

Domains bled together all the time.

Ashira had been goddess of the fires of destruction, yet Solenna - the goddess of judgment - was still known as the Burning Crown. Dromaia ruled over the bounty of deep earth while Granyth held dominion over earthquakes and volcanoes. She touched both earth and fire. Divinity wasn’t clean.

“You’re saying Kaelira sent the storm?”

Oriselle smiled faintly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I’m saying there are many powers in this world that may have taken an interest in you.” Her fingers drummed lightly against the arm of the couch. “Your relationship with the High Witan is unstable at best. And beyond them there are dozens of independent gods. Most prefer obscurity.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That does not mean they are uninvolved.” She finished the strawberry.

Silence settled between us for a few moments before she spoke again.

“When was the last time you rested without feeling guilty?”

The question took me by surprise, though it shouldn’t have. I opened my mouth to answer… and realized I didn’t know.

Back when I’d first arrived in Annwn, I’d been terrified of becoming dead weight. Of taking more than I gave. So I worked constantly to prove I deserved the love and companionship my women offered me.

Then responsibilities started piling up.

The keep. The villages. The children. The Covenant. Gods. Monsters. Crises. There was always something broken that needed fixing. And as a god, sleep had slowly become more optional than necessary. I’d gone over a week without real rest before and barely felt it. So instead of sleeping, I worked. Planned. Solved problems.

Mirri hated it. Not angrily. Quietly.

She missed falling asleep beside me. Waking up together. Holding each other without some looming disaster dragging me away five minutes later.

And the worst part was she’d never once demanded more from me. I should’ve given it willingly.

“I don’t know,” I admitted finally.

Oriselle gave me a soft, sympathetic nod. “It’s alright,” she said gently. “We rarely receive everything we need.” Her gaze drifted toward the candles. “And often obtaining one thing means sacrificing another.”

I studied her for a moment before speaking again. “What about you?” I asked.

Her brow lifted slightly.

“This place. The atmosphere. The music. The baths. The food.” I gestured vaguely around the room. “Everything here is built to comfort people. To make them feel safe. Desired. Relaxed.”

I met her eyes. “But who gives you comfort?”

For the first time that evening, her carefully cultivated composure cracked. Just slightly. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed her face before it disappeared beneath practiced grace.

“I receive comfort often enough,” she said smoothly.

I nodded slowly. “When you ask for it,” I said. “But when was the last time someone gave it freely?”

Her fingers slowly reached for a pastry as she considered the question.

“Without you needing to entice them first,” I continued. “Without them expecting something in return.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

“It’s alright,” I said after a moment. “We can move on. I didn’t mean to sour the mood.”

Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yveth had loved Arthyr once. I was certain of that. Miralis probably had too, though with her it was harder to tell where love ended and politics began.

But what about the others?

Could Pyraeth even comprehend selfless affection? Aurelion was an arrogant ass, but maybe someone had once loved him despite that. Solenna? Elthira? Kaelira?

Nyssira definitely hadn’t.

If she truly understood empathy - understood people beyond utility and leverage - she would’ve been infinitely more dangerous than she already was. She might even have manipulated me into freeing her. But genuine selflessness? Genuine love?

No.

She didn’t understand those things at all.

“What do you want, Seth?” Oriselle asked softly.

“I want to keep my family safe,” I answered immediately. “I want to provide for them. Protect them. Give them the best lives I can.”

She shook her head slowly. “That’s what you want for them.”

Her burgundy eyes locked onto mine. “What do you want?” she asked again. “Not duty. Not responsibility. Not what others need from you.”

The room fell quiet except for the crackle of candles and distant music echoing faintly through the stone halls.

“What do you want?”

I sat there thinking for several long moments before answering.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I’ve spent so long surviving. Protecting people. Putting out one fire after another.” I rubbed tiredly at my face. “When I actually stop to think about it…”

I looked around the room slowly. “I already have everything I ever wanted. Wonderful women. Amazing children. Friends. Purpose. Meaning. A life that still sometimes feels unreal. If there’s anything I want now,” I said softly, “it’s less of the rest.”

I let out a tired breath. “Less war. Less tragedy. Fewer disasters.” I gave her a faint smile. “Fewer gods trying to ruin my life would also be nice.”

* * *

I eventually excused myself and stepped home.

Oriselle wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d assumed she would be a temptress in the most obvious sense of the word - silk draped over skin, seductive smiles, promises whispered in exchange for pieces of my soul. I expected manipulation wrapped in lust.

Instead, she’d offered intelligent conversation, uncomfortable self-reflection… and a strawberry.

I still didn’t trust her. I still had no idea what truly motivated her or what she ultimately wanted from me. But our conversation had been honest in a way that was painfully rare among gods.

And that lingered with me.

I undressed quietly and slipped into bed beside my women. It was still early by our standards - maybe three in the morning. Morien had already climbed into the bed sometime during the night and lay tucked against Elise’s chest while Serah slept beside them. Mirri was curled against Ashlara, one arm draped possessively across her stomach.

The moment I settled beneath the blankets, Mirri rolled over in her sleep and wrapped herself around me without ever fully waking.

I smiled softly and pulled her closer.

Then I simply lay there for several hours, surrounded by warmth and steady breathing and the quiet comfort of people I loved more than I knew how to express.

I was so lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky this life existed at all.

The first pale light of dawn eventually crept through the curtains, and Ashlara was the first to stir. Her dark eyes blinked open lazily before settling on me.

A sleepy grin spread across her face. “Good morning, my love,” she murmured.

“Good morning,” I whispered back.

She reached across Mirri, found my hand beneath the blankets, and simply held it while the rest of the household slept around us.

Eventually Mirri began to stir, which immediately woke Morien, which in turn doomed everyone else to consciousness as well.

The next several minutes were filled with sleepy kisses, tangled blankets, and general chaos.

Afterward, I carried Morien off to get dressed. On the way, I scooped up Briva as she sprinted through the hall shrieking with laughter while Brinja chased after her holding a shirt.

The little orc wriggled wildly in my arms while Brinja managed to wrestle the garment over her head through sheer determination and what I suspected was actual combat experience.

“Thank you,” I told my elven daughter once Briva was finally contained. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Whatever,” Brinja replied with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Before she could escape, I snagged her into a hug.

Both little ones immediately joined in, wrapping their tiny arms around her while I kissed the top of her head.

“Ugh,” she groaned as I released her, trying very hard to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

A short while later, the younger children were fully dressed and everyone gathered downstairs for breakfast.

“How’d it go last night?” Mirri asked around a mouthful of eggs.

“Not how I expected,” I admitted as I sat down. “Oriselle was not the vile temptress I imagined.”

Mirri snorted. “I still don’t trust her.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed. “But I also don’t think she’s irredeemable.”

Serah tilted her head slightly. “So what did you discuss?”

“A lot of things.” I grabbed a piece of bacon. “Mostly gods causing problems.”

That got everyone’s attention immediately.

“She thinks multiple groups may be interfering simultaneously,” I continued. “Kaelira may have been responsible for the storm. Apparently Ornyth dislikes me despite the fact I’ve never actually met him. And there are likely independent gods taking an interest in us as well.”

I took a bite of bacon and chewed thoughtfully before continuing. “On the bright side, Granyth and Nerakhel apparently don’t hate me.”

“High praise,” Ashlara muttered dryly.

“Oh, and according to Oriselle, Anura may be infatuated with Tansy.”

Mirri immediately frowned. “I don’t like that.”

“I don’t either,” I admitted. “But it also wouldn’t be fair to expect her to remain alone forever.”

My eyes drifted toward Issa.

She suddenly became very interested in her scrambled eggs.

I sighed softly. “Eventually we have to let our children make their own choices. Even bad ones.” I looked around the table. “They’ll get hurt sometimes. That’s part of life.”

I rubbed the back of my neck tiredly. “With any luck, they stand back up afterward and try again. Eventually they find the right people.”

I looked at each of them in turn. “But our job isn’t to control them.” My voice softened slightly. “It’s to support them.”

I shrugged faintly. “We can offer guidance. We can give opinions. But we don’t get to force their lives into the shape we want.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. “They’re old enough to make their own decisions.”