Chapter Text
~ Friday, October 8th ~
Rain streaks the windowpanes of the cottage, blurring the dark countryside into a watercolor of grey and black. Inside, Clive sits on the sofa, his arm draped along the backrest with his legs stretched out. Joshua is tucked into his side, legs thrown over his brother’s thighs.
On the coffee table lie the remnants of dinner: two empty bowls that recently held a rich, creamy butternut squash and sage pasta with a toasted walnut crumble. It’s a dish Joshua found in a cookbook weeks ago and has since demanded on a near-weekly basis.
“I might have overindulged,” Joshua murmurs, letting out a groan that’s equal parts satisfaction and discomfort. “I fear I may simply roll away if I attempt to stand."
Clive chuckles. “You ate three helpings. I think that’s a new record.”
“I’m feeding two, am I not?” Joshua defends lazily. “And your son seems to have developed a discerning palate for autumn gourds.”
“My son has good taste.” Clive grins. "But you earned it. I saw the word count on your screen when I got home. You’re crushing that sequel."
"The narrative is certainly flowing," Joshua admits, combing his fingers through Clive’s hair. "Though I suspect my productivity is fueled largely by the nesting instinct. I feel a compulsion to finish before… well, before our lives become infinitely more hectic."
Clive turns his head to look at him. He’s wearing one of Clive’s old grey flannels, the buttons undone over a white undershirt that’s stretched taut across his midsection. At twenty weeks, the bump is a distinct, high dome, sitting prominently against Joshua’s slender frame like a melon tucked under his shirt.
Joshua catches him staring and self-consciously tugs the flannel closed. "Stop looking at me like I’m a science experiment."
"I’m not," Clive says with a toothy smile. "I’m looking at you because you’re beautiful."
Joshua rolls his eyes. “Anyway… you mentioned plans for tomorrow. Am I allowed a hint? Or must I endure this suspense until we arrive?”
“Nope. No hints.” Clive appears pleased with himself. “You’ve been working hard on your drafts, and you’ve been cooped up here for weeks. You deserve a night out. Just wear something warm.”
“Warm? Are we trekking into the tundra?”
“We’re going up,” is all Clive says, winking. He covers the bump with his hand. The rapid metabolism of pregnancy makes his brother warmer to the touch. “He’s getting big.”
Joshua looks down, his expression clouding. “Indeed. It’s… becoming impossible to ignore. I tried to put on my favorite trousers this morning. The black ones? I couldn’t even get the button to meet the hole.” He plucks at the oversized flannel. "I’ve been reduced to raiding your wardrobe like a common thief just to find something that covers my navel."
“You know you can just buy new clothes. We have the budget.”
“It’s not the budget, Clive.” Joshua sighs, frustrated. “I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the shape looking back. My center of gravity is changing and my skin feels tight. I feel so… fat.” He gestures vaguely at himself. “I look ridiculous. Like a snake that swallowed an egg whole.”
Clive frowns, moving his hand to rub circles over the fabric. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look incredible.”
“You’re biased. And possibly blinded by hormones of your own.”
“I’m serious. I watch you sometimes when you’re coming out of the shower or just walking around the house. You have this… glow. And seeing you like this… it’s the hottest thing. You’re miraculous, Joshua. Every time I look, I just think about how strong you are. How amazing it is that you’re doing this.”
Joshua flushes, looking away toward the hearth fire. “You find this… swollen state attractive?”
“Obsessively. You look sexy as hell in my clothes, for the record. I might not let you give them back.”
Joshua bites his lip. “I suppose… wearing your clothes does provide a certain comfort.”
“Then wear them. Wear all of them. I don’t care if I have to go to work naked.”
Joshua laughs softly. “That would certainly alarm the human resources department.” He wiggles in place, trying to get more comfortable. “I just worry… what if I don’t snap back? What if this alters me permanently?”
“Then it alters you. You’ll still be you. Just… evolved.” Clive nuzzles Joshua’s temple. “Whatever the changes might be, I’m not going anywhere.”
Joshua closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “You always know what to say to talk me off the ledge.”
“It’s part of the job description. Protector, provider, and—”
Joshua abruptly sits up and stares blankly at the far wall.
Clive stops talking and checks him over. “What? What’s wrong? Is it pain?”
“No… wait.” Joshua looks down at his stomach, both hands framing the mound. “I felt… a flutter.” He gasps. “Oh!”
He grabs Clive’s hand from his knee and smushes it onto the center of his bump. “Right there. Do you feel that?”
Clive holds his breath and waits. A minute passes, then two. He starts to think he missed it. And then comes a thump. It’s faint, muffled by layers of skin and muscle and cotton, but it’s a distinct tap against his palm.
Clive’s eyes widen, locking with Joshua’s. "Holy shit."
"You felt it?" Joshua’s eyes shimmer as he grins.
"Yeah. Yeah, I felt it." Clive laughs, keeping his hand there, waiting, and is rewarded with another, softer nudge. "Hi there," he whispers to the bump. "You’re waking up in there, huh?"
Joshua watches him, astounded by the utter adoration on Clive’s face. “I think he recognizes your voice.”
Clive’s eyes are glassy when he looks up. “You think?”
“Yes,” Joshua sighs contentedly. "Now that he’s introduced himself, it feels disrespectful to refer to him simply by his pronouns."
Clive straightens up, keeping one hand on Joshua’s stomach. "I was thinking the same thing. I’ve been… tossing some names around in my head at the shop."
"As have I, in moments of reflection. Though I fear my list is populated with rather… archaic options. I found myself drawn to the dynastic names of the old duchy."
"Like what?"
"Hadrian. Cassian. Cyprian." Joshua wrinkles his nose. "They sound dignified, but perhaps a bit much."
Clive chuckles. "Yeah. Imagine yelling 'Cyprian, get your ass inside for dinner' across the yard."
"Precisely. It lacks a certain domestic ease." Joshua examines him expectantly. "And you? What have you come up with?"
Clive rubs the side of his neck. "I don’t know. I was looking at names that mean something. Like… strength, or fire."
"Fire," Joshua muses. "A fitting motif, given our history. And the… circumstances of his conception."
"I thought about Ember, but that’s too literal. And Phoenix is… well, that’s your pen name. Too weird."
"Agreed. We need something that honors the flame but doesn’t burn." Joshua looks out the window thoughtfully. "I kept coming back to one. It has roots in the old tongue for the ash tree, which connects to the earth, but also evokes the remnants of fire. The substance from which the phoenix rises."
Clive raises his brows, intrigued. "Ash?"
"Close." Joshua smiles fondly. "Asher."
Clive nods to himself, rolling the name around in his mouth. "Asher… It means 'happy' or 'blessed,’ doesn't it?"
"It does." Joshua pets the spot where the baby kicks again. "A blessing born from the ashes of our old lives. A happy ending to a terrified beginning."
"Asher Rosfield." Clive muses. "Yeah, it sounds like him."
He leans down and kisses the bump. "Hey, Asher. You like that? That’s your name, buddy."
A strong kick thuds against Clive’s cheek and Joshua laughs. "I believe he approves."
~ Saturday, October 9th ~
The gravel crunches under the tires of the truck as Clive pulls off the main road and into an open pasture bordered by vineyards. In the center of the field, a huge expanse of fabric ripples across the grass, and a large wicker basket lies nearby. A powerful fan roars, forcing air into the colorful envelope.
Joshua leans forward against his seatbelt, eyes wide. "Clive… is that a hot air balloon?"
"Sure is." Clive puts the truck in park and cuts the engine. "You said you felt heavy. I figured we should go somewhere where gravity is a suggestion, not a rule." He reaches into the back seat and grabs a padded camera bag. "I packed your Leica, the one with the wide-angle lens. Figured you might want to document the view."
Joshua takes the bag, looking from the camera to the inflating balloon with childlike wonder. "You planned a literal flight of fancy. You are absurdly wonderful."
They step out and the pilot waves them over as the balloon begins to rise, dragging the basket upright. It towers over them like a crimson and gold cathedral spire made of nylon.
"Ready to go up?" the pilot asks, checking the burner valves. A jet of blue flame shoots upward with a sound like a dragon exhaling, warming the air inside the envelope.
"Absolutely," Clive answers, noting the basket is a bit high with no door.
Joshua eyes the wicker wall, which comes up to his chest. He glances down at his midsection, obscured by a thick sweater and the fringe of his red scarf. "I fear my current aerodynamics are ill-suited for vaulting."
"That’s what I’m for." Clive steps in close and Joshua loops his arms around his brother’s neck, clutching the camera bag against his side. Clive bends his knees, wraps his arms below Joshua’s back and legs, then lifts him effortlessly.
"Hmph. I feel like a sack of grain," Joshua grumbles.
"A very precious sack of grain." Clive deposits him gently inside the basket, making sure he’s steady on his feet before climbing in after him.
The pilot gives the burner another blast, and the basket drags along the ground, then simply lifts. There’s no lurch, nor engine vibration. One second they’re on the ground, and the next, the earth is falling away. The truck shrinks to the size of a toy and the vineyards become a geometric quilt of green and gold.
Joshua adjusts the camera’s strap around his neck, then leans over the side to snap some photos. “Everything looks so small from here. The responsibilities, the expectations, Mother… they’re just insignificant specks."
"Yeah." Clive stands behind him, his arms looped around Joshua’s waist to keep him warm from the chill of the altitude. "That’s why I brought you up here. So we could break free of it all, even if just for an hour. Up here, nobody can reach us. Nobody can tell us what to do."
Joshua lowers the camera, letting it hang by its strap, then covers Clive’s hands with his own where they rest atop the small bump. They drift over the Sanbrequois plains in silence. The world below continues its busy routines, but up here, time feels suspended.
Clive pulls a thermal blanket from a stowage bag in the corner and drapes it over Joshua’s shoulders. "You cold?"
"The air is brisk, but I’m comfortable." Joshua leans back into Clive’s chest. "He’s awake, by the way. I believe the change in pressure has roused him."
Clive moves his hand under the sweater to lay his palm over Joshua’s belly. He waits, and sure enough, a kick greets his palm. "Hey, Asher. Look at this view, buddy. This is your kingdom."
"He can’t see it, you fool," Joshua says affectionately. He points toward the horizon, where the sun is dipping below the distant mountains, setting the sky ablaze. "Capture this for me, Clive?"
Clive takes the camera, adjusts the focus ring, and snaps a photo of the sunset, then turns the lens to capture Joshua’s profile lit by the golden hour light with a look of serene, untouchable peace.
"Got it." Clive checks the digital display. "It’s perfect."
Joshua sighs quietly. "Up here… I don't feel the fear of the scandal or the future. I just feel… free."
Clive hums thoughtfully. "We’ll take this experience back down with us. We don't need a balloon to feel freedom."
Joshua turns in the circle of Clive’s arms, ignoring the pilot who is discreetly facing the other way. "You truly are the foundation. Lifting me up where the air is clear."
He pulls Clive in for a kiss as they float there, suspended between the earth that demands everything from them and the sky that asks for nothing.
~ Sunday, October 24th ~
Joshua adjusts his coat, pulling the lapels tighter across his sore chest. He chose the garment specifically for its structure and bulk, hoping the thicker fabric hides the growing protrusion.
“Relax,” Clive murmurs close to Joshua’s ear. He sets a hand on the small of his brother’s back to guide him through the throng of patrons in the lobby of the opera house. “You look fine. No one’s looking at your stomach.”
“Dion is an observer by trade and nature,” Joshua hisses back, keeping his chin tucked into his scarf. “You think he’ll miss the fact that I’ve swallowed a balloon?”
“There they are! The exiles return to civilization!” calls a voice from somewhere ahead.
Dion waves to them from his place near the grand staircase, looking dashing in a white tuxedo jacket, with Terence beside him in dark blue. Dion beams, spreading his arms wide as he approaches. “Happy birthday, my friend!”
Joshua braces himself, fixing a bright smile on his face. “Thank you, Dion.”
Dion wraps him up in an enthusiastic embrace, his diaphragm pushing into Joshua’s round belly. It’s unavoidable. The resistance is firm and utterly unlike the soft give of a stomach after a large meal.
Dion steps back looking amused but confused as he glances down at Joshua’s midsection. “Well, well. I see the country life agrees with you, Joshua. You’ve finally put some meat on those sparrow bones. Or has Clive’s cooking given you a bit of a… prosperity paunch?”
Terence’s narrowed eyes flick to Joshua’s abdomen just as Clive places himself a step in front of his brother.
“Something like that.” Joshua clears his throat awkwardly and wraps an arm around his middle. “Shall we? I believe the overture is about to begin.”
Dion’s smile falters, then vanishes as he notices Clive’s defensive posture. “Ah. I… apologize. That was uncouth of me.” He gestures toward the stairs. “We have the Emperor’s Box tonight. Only the best for the birthday boy.”
The private box offers a central view of the stage, with curtains, gold railings, and comfortable seating. A server arrives with a silver bucket of ice and a champagne bottle, along with four flutes.
Dion waves him away after the pour. “To Joshua,” he toasts, raising his glass. “And the last year of your teens. May it be filled with fewer deadlines and more adventures.”
Clive raises his glass, while Joshua reaches for a cup of water instead.
Dion lifts his flute to his lips. “Joshua? Surely a single glass to celebrate?”
Joshua stares at the bubbles rising in the sparkling flutes, the silence becoming uncomfortable. He glances at Clive, who gives an encouraging nod, then takes a breath. “You joked about my weight, Dion. You weren't entirely wrong, however… I’m not fat.”
He unbuttons his coat and lets it fall open. The sweater clings to his firm belly. “I’m pregnant.”
Dion chokes on his champagne, sputtering as he sets the glass down. He stares at Joshua’s stomach, then his face, waiting for the punchline. “I… I beg your pardon?”
“It’s physiologically complicated,” Joshua says with a thin, nervous smile. “It appears I possess internal structures that were previously… dormant. Something I wasn’t certain was functional until it was quite literally too late.”
Dion gapes. “You… you’re serious.” He glances at Clive. “He’s serious?”
“Dead serious,” Clive confirms stoically.
Terence leans back, baffled. “That is… fascinating. And incredibly dangerous, isn't it?”
“The doctors are monitoring it,” Clive interjects gruffly. “He’s alright.”
Dion shakes his head, appearing faint. “Pregnant. Goddess above.” He smooths his already perfect hair. “But… how? Who?”
Joshua’s heart races, his old shame about the incident resurfacing. “This is, uh… the result of a mistake at Clive’s graduation party. I had some spiked punch, then woke up with a gap in my memory.” He looks down at his hands. “I don’t know who the father is. And frankly, I have no desire to find out.”
Dion sits in stunned silence, processing the idea of his refined, careful friend in such a sordid situation. “A stranger? Joshua… that’s… But why keep it? You’re barely nineteen. Your health is fragile on a good day. Surely, there were options.”
“There were,” Joshua admits. “We went to a clinic right here in Oriflamme, the week we arrived.”
“And?”
“And they told me this is a miracle.” Joshua buttons his coat back over the bump. “Because of my autoimmune condition and my testosterone levels, this shouldn’t have happened. The doctor said if I terminate this pregnancy… it’s likely I would never be able to conceive again.” He sighs. “It was a choice between a difficult path now, or a lifetime of regret later. I couldn’t trade my only chance for convenience.”
The orchestra below begins to play, the swelling strings drifting up toward them.
“So you kept it,” Dion mutters thoughtfully. “Knowing the scandal, and the risk… you chose the child.”
“I did.”
“And you?” Dion asks Clive.
Clive squares his shoulders. “I told him I’d back him up, no matter what he decides.”
Dion lets out an incredulous laugh. “Incredible. Simply incredible.” He picks up his champagne flute again. “To the surprise heir, then. And to the bravest man I know.”
Joshua lifts his water glass and clinks it against theirs.
Dion leans back, studying Joshua’s concealed stomach with fascination. “And what of your health? Can your body handle this? How does a man even… deliver?”
“Naturally,” Joshua says, lifting his chin.
Terence blinks. “Naturally? Is that… safe?”
Joshua shrugs. “The doctors monitored my pelvic structure. It’s risky, but possible.”
“He’s stubborn,” Clive adds fondly. “But the baby is healthy. Perfect, actually. Growing right on track.”
Dion shakes his head, impressed. “Well. This certainly explains the sudden relocation. And the secrecy.” His eyes narrow slightly. “I assume your mother took the news with her usual warmth and grace?”
Joshua snorts. “She demanded I excise the ‘tumor’ and threatened to disown Clive for allowing me to be ‘soiled.’”
“Ah. Anabella.” Dion grimaces. “That explains why you’re hiding in the countryside.”
“Father knows,” Clive clarifies. “He’s handling her. And thankfully he’s supportive.”
“Good. Elwin is a good man.” Dion sets his glass down. “Listen, you have allies here. Whatever you need; doctors, supplies, a place to hide if she comes hunting, you have it. The Lesage resources are at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Dion.” Joshua feels tears prick his eyes. “That means more than you know.”
“Now.” Dion claps his hands together. “Enough of this heavy talk. We have an opera to watch, and I believe the second act features a rather dramatic betrayal that pales in comparison to your life, but should be entertaining nonetheless.”
~ Monday, November 15th ~
Joshua sits beside his brother on the sofa surrounded by pillows, wearing Clive’s joggers and sweater. Across from him in the armchair, sits a woman with silver-streaked hair tied back in a bun, holding a tablet. She’s the midwife Dion sourced from the highest echelon of Sanbrequois private care by the name of Odette.
“Your blood pressure is stable, but slightly elevated from last week. Likely just the late second-trimester strain.” She clears her throat softly. “Your doctor has agreed to be on-site in the guest room. She’ll have a fetal monitor and emergency equipment. We’ll also have a private ambulance parked in the driveway. If there’s cord prolapse, hemorrhage, or if the baby gets stuck, we transport immediately.”
She sets the tablet aside. “Now. Let’s talk about the main event. You were adamant about avoiding the hospital.”
Joshua nods, his eyes downcast. “I’ve spent enough of my life in a hospital to know I don’t wish to bring my son into the world under fluorescent lights.”
“Understood. However,” Odette raises a finger, “your anatomy presents unique challenges. Your pelvic inlet is android, which means it’s narrower than a typical female pelvis. Gravity and mobility are your only friends here. You lie on your back, the babe could get stuck. We need you upright, moving, or squatting.”
She gestures toward the hallway. “Show me the bathroom. A water birth may be your best bet. The warm water softens the perineal tissue, which you’re going to need, given you haven’t had a lifetime of estrogen preparing it. And it takes the weight off your joints.”
They move to the spacious master suite, where a large soaking tub sits beneath a window with a view of the frosted garden. Odette inspects it, running a hand along the rim. “Deep enough. Good access on three sides. This will work.” She waves Joshua over. “Get in. I need to see how you fit.”
Joshua awkwardly climbs in and sits, his legs extended.
“No,” Odette says immediately. “Not sitting. Kneeling.”
Joshua groans as he turns over onto his knees, resting his arms on the rim of the tub.
“Better,” the midwife says. “This opens the pelvic outlet. Now.” She points at Clive. “You’re not just here to hold his hand and look worried. Get in behind him.”
Clive blinks. “In the tub?”
“Yes, in the tub. If he’s in the water, you’re in the water. He’s going to be slippery, exhausted, and in pain. He needs support.”
Clive steps into the tub and settles on his knees behind Joshua.
“Wrap your arms under his and lock your hands on his chest; high up, don’t compress the belly. Good.” Odette adjusts Clive’s grip. “When a contraction hits, he’s going to want to curl up. Your job is to hold him up. Let him hang his weight on you.”
She moves Clive’s hands down to Joshua’s hips. “And this is the most important part. The hip squeeze. Find the iliac crest, which is the top of the hip bone. Now move back… right there. When he’s in pain, you press in and up. Hard. It opens the pelvis and relieves the pressure on his lower back. Try it.”
Clive presses the heels of his hands into Joshua’s lower back, applying firm pressure.
“Harder,” Odette commands. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain. Don’t be afraid to use your strength. You’re holding him together.”
Clive presses harder, his forearms flexing. Joshua lets out a long exhale, his head drooping forward. “Oh… that feels incredible.”
“Memorize that spot,” Odette instructs Clive. “You’ll be doing that for hours. Your arms will burn, but you don’t stop until he tells you to.” She steps back, surveying them. “You’re a team. He does the work, you provide the strength. If you panic, he panics. You need to be the rock.”
Clive rests his chin on Joshua’s shoulder, peering over at Odette. “I won’t let him down.”
“See that you don’t.” She retrieves her bag. “We’ll do a full dry run in two weeks. Until then, keep him moving, keep him eating, and for the love of the goddess, don’t let him stress. We want that baby cooking until at least thirty-nine weeks.”
~ Tuesday, December 21st ~
A fresh blanket of snow covers the Sanbrequois countryside, muffling the world into a serene, white silence. Joshua is nestled into the cushions of his armchair under a fluffy throw with a purring Helios curled beside him, his tablet resting on the high shelf of his belly.
Headlights sweep across the front window, followed by the crunch of tires on snow. Torgal scrambles up from the rug by the hearth fire and rushes to the door, barking excitedly. The sound of Clive washing the dishes in the kitchen ceases. “They’re here.”
Joshua closes his book but makes no move to rise. Standing requires a multi-stage logistical effort he isn't prepared to undertake just yet.
Clive opens the door to a swirl of snowflakes and cold air. A large SUV is parked in the drive, and figures are already piling out. Byron stomps up the porch steps first, a sack slung over his shoulder. Behind him, Elwin carries a more modest collection of bags, and Jill steps in last.
"The cavalry has arrived!" Byron drops the sack and pulls Clive into a bone-crushing hug. "Look at you! Country living suits you, lad."
"Good to see you, Uncle." Clive laughs, patting his back. He turns to hug his father. "Dad. You made it."
"Wouldn't be anywhere else." Elwin holds him tight for a moment, then steps back. "You're looking well, son. Happy."
"I am." Clive turns to Jill. "Hey. Thanks for coming."
"Of course." She gives him a gentle hug. "I missed you two."
They shed their coats and boots in the entryway, then, they move into the living room. Joshua starts to push himself up from the chair, but struggles against the weight and the deep cushion.
"Don't get up, son. Stay right there." Elwin stops before the chair and sinks to one knee. "Oh, Joshua."
"Heh… I imagine I look rather different than when you last saw me," Joshua remarks with a sheepish chuckle.
"You look radiant." Elwin hovers his hand uncertainly. "May I?"
Joshua nods, taking his father's hand and pressing it to the side of his belly. As if on cue, Asher gives a rolling kick.
Elwin chuckles. "He's a strong one. A miracle, truly."
"Move over, Brother, let me see my nephew!" Byron stands over Joshua, beaming. "Well, I'll be damned. You've been busy, haven't you? Growing a whole new branch of the family tree right here in this cottage."
Joshua laughs. "He keeps me occupied, certainly."
Jill hangs back a little, observing quietly, her eyes on Joshua’s belly before flicking to Clive, who is watching them with such possessive pride it’s almost obscene. She smiles, a little sad, but genuine. She’s known about the pregnancy for a while; Clive had called her after they decided to settle here, mentioning the party mishap. But seeing it in person is jarring.
"Right!" Byron announces. "Enough sentimental weeping. We have spoils to distribute! I felt like a pack mule dragging this lot through customs."
He begins pulling boxes from his sack. There are exquisitely wrapped parcels for everyone, but the bulk of them are clearly for the nursery. Jill presents her gifts next. For Clive, a set of high-end precision tools for his bike. And to Joshua, she gives a small box. Inside is a watch featuring the bust of a stylized phoenix.
As Joshua thanks her, Clive recognizes that it perfectly matches the Ifrit watch she had given him for his birthday the previous year. He’s struck by sudden guilt, but also gratitude. She still suspects, and she’s choosing to bless them anyway.
"And for the four-legged members of the household." Byron pulls out a large, flat package. "For the cats, a new window perch. And for Torgal…" He produces a box containing a raised dog bed with a memory foam cushion. "A throne fit for a guardian."
He sets his empty sack aside and rubs his hands together. "Now, the pièce de résistance is still in the van. Clive, give me a hand."
They return a few minutes later, maneuvering a large, heavy box into the hallway. "Hand-carved walnut," Byron puffs. "From a master carpenter in Port Isolde. It’s a cradle; heirloom quality."
Joshua’s eyes light up. "A cradle? We must set it up now."
Clive chuckles. "Nesting instinct kicking in?"
"’Tis a practical necessity," Joshua insists, struggling to stand again. This time, Clive is there to hoist him up.
They all crowd into the nursery. Byron and Clive set to work assembling the cradle, while Jill helps Joshua organize the new clothes and blankets into the dresser. Elwin sits in the rocking chair, watching them all with a content smile
"It’s good to be together again," he comments quietly. "The manor has been too quiet."
Joshua pauses in folding a tiny onesie. "How has Mother been?"
Elwin sighs. "She hasn’t been around of late."
Joshua frowns. "Where is she?"
"She’s taken a suite in the city," Elwin responds. "She left a few weeks after your departure to Oriflamme."
Joshua gasps. "She left you?"
"We’re separated for now. She was unhappy with my decision to support you. She felt I was being too soft and compromising the family legacy. I told her that my family is my legacy. And that I would not choose reputation over my sons."
Byron scoffs. “You’re better off. A house divided cannot stand, and she was doing her best to tear the foundation out from under you.”
Clive stops working and glances at his father in amazement. "You told her that?"
"I did. And I meant it.” Regret seems to weigh his shoulders down. “I failed to protect you from her ambitions for a long time, Joshua. I won't make that mistake again." He looks around the room at everyone. "She won't be coming back to the manor anytime soon. It’s just me and the staff for now."
He glances between his sons. "After the baby arrives… when you’re ready… I’d like you to come back. Both of you. The manor is your home; it always has been."
Clive quietly considers it. "We’ll think about it, Dad. Right now… we’re good here. We need the quiet for the baby, and for Joshua."
"Of course. Take all the time you need. Just know… the door is open. And it’s safe now."