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The Fearful Joy (that Ever Slips away so Quickly)

Chapter 16: Epilogue: Castle in the Sand

Notes:

This story is finished just in time to ring in the new year. Yay. I hope everyone else enjoyed the journey with Jon and Thayet as much as I did.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: Castle in the Sand

Jon sprawled on a blanket spread over the sand on a beach outside of Port Caynn. In front of him shone the seaweed green waters of the Emerald Ocean and behind him the gray crags of the coastal hills stretched like Tortall’s rocky spine. Beside him sat Thayet, pregnant with the promise of their third child, while Kally toddled around, searching for shells. Whenever she found one she judged particularly appealing, she would squeal with glee and dart over to show her parents the marvelous shape or colors of the shell, interrupting the important conversation Jon and Thayet were trying to have with Gary and Cythera, who lounged on another blanket, about the state of the realm, which was still mostly poor and famished.

“Gilmyn!” Cythera’s shout intruded upon Gary’s discussion of how an uptick in Port Caynn’s exports this year could mitigate some of the exorbitant cost of the massive amount of grain that needed to be imported to feed the kingdom’s starving people. Craning his neck to figure out what had provoked Cythera’s strong reaction, Jon saw Gilmyn and Roald prodding with sticks of driftwood at something the waves had washed onto the shore. “What are you poking?”

“A fish, Mama,” Gilmyn called cheerily, oblivious to how disgusting it was to be jabbing sticks at what Jon could only imagine was the rotting remains of a festering fish. “He won’t move no matter how hard we poke him.”

“Probably because he’s dead,” Gary muttered under his breath. “If he wasn’t dead when he washed ashore, the prodding will have killed him.”

“He just stares,” Roald added to Gilmyn’s report with utmost earnestness. “His scales are falling off, and he smells.”

“Go play with something that doesn’t smell, Roald,” suggested Thayet. “Why don’t you build a sand castle?”

“Yes, Mama.” Obediently Roald dropped his stick and ran off to build a castle in a place where Jon thought it might be vulnerable to crashing under a high wave, but he decided to let Roald learn this by discovery since he couldn’t cultivate the spirit of exploration by allowing Roald to examine the decaying fish.

Gilmyn didn’t join Roald in building the sand castle, but instead remained fascinated by the dead fish, continuing to poke at it with his stick.

“We’d better go distract our little monster,” grumbled Gary, pushing himself off his blanket.

“He loves to jump in the waves with us holding his hands.” Cythera rose alongside her husband. “Excuse us, Your Majesties.”

Gary and Cythera managed to coax Gilmyn away from the dead fish and into the ocean, where he laughed and yelped as they held his hands to help him leap over the incoming waves.

Tranquility reigned for mere moments before a powerful surge of water swept Roald’s castle into the ocean. Roald burst into tears, and Jon would have felt sympathy for his son—it was heartbreaking to pour everything into a castle made with sand that crumbled into the ocean—if Roald’s sorrow hadn’t quickly darkened into anger. Howling his frustration, Roald hurled fistfuls of damp sand into the ocean.

“Don’t throw sand, Roald,” Thayet scolded. When Roald ignored her, persisting in tossing handfuls of sand in the air, she attempted to redirect his energies. “Why don’t you rebuild your castle farther up the beach where the waves can’t knock it over?”

“No!” Roald started kicking at the sand instead of just pitching it with his hands.

Roald was in the midst of a stubborn stage in which he took pleasure in saying no to everybody from nursemaids to his parents, and Jon was not about to tolerate such bratty behavior from the heir who would inherit his country.

“He’ll take his eyes out if he’s not careful.” Jon swapped an exasperated glance with his wife before marching through the sand with as much dignity as the shifting surface would permit.

Planting his hands on his hips, Jon stared down at his son, who froze as Jon’s shadow fell over him.

“Stop throwing sand, son,” he ordered sternly, though Roald had already ceased his antics.

Scooping up Roald so their eyes would meet and his son could see how seriously Jon took his tantrum, he went on as firmly as he could without yelling, “When your mama tells you to do something, you do it. You don’t ever say no to her when she wants you to do anything. That’s rude, and a son should never be rude to his mama.”

“Yes, Papa.” Roald’s eyes were wet and wide as the ocean at this strict reprimand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Jon shook his head. “It’s your mama you need to apologize to, Roald.”

“Yes, Papa.” Roald nodded miserably and called, “Sorry, Mama.”

Thayet blew Roald a kiss as a sign of her forgiveness. Jon might have smiled if Roald, who craved comfort after even mild scolding, hadn’t buried his face in Jon’s shoulder. Rubbing his palm through his son’s hair and dislodging sand, he murmured, “I know it’s hard to put everything you have into something only to watch it fall, but you can’t lose your temper. You just have to rebuild. Why don’t you do that farther up the beach like Mama said?”

“Don’t want to.” Roald chewed his lip. “Want to build castle with a moat.”

“You need the ocean for a moat, I see.” Jon patted his son’s sandy cheek. “It’d be easier to bring the ocean to the moat rather than build the castle near the waves.”

“Papa?” Roald frowned in confusion.

“Use a bucket, Roald.” Jon grinned as he set his son back on the beach. “Dig a hole around the castle for a moat, fill a bucket with water, and dump the water in the hole. Then you’ll have your moat.”

“That’s a good idea, Papa.” Roald was twitching with excitement to implement the plan.

“Your mama and I are filled with good ideas.” Jon squeezed Roald’s shoulder as he headed back to the blanket. “That’s why you should listen to us, son.”

As he slipped beside her, Thayet laced her fingers between his and commented just loudly enough to be heard over the cawing gulls, “You’re a good father to our children, Jon. I love you.”

It was the first time she had ever said those words to him, and Jon knew he would treasure the memory well into his senility. He had begun to believe that he would never hear them from her, and that he would have to be content with the love she demonstrated in her actions and other words. Hearing her state her love for him so plainly almost made him believe in happily ever after for them, but he knew that with Thayet happily ever after meant them both working hard to love one another and make each other better for the rest of their days. For them, love wasn’t a happy ending; it was a hopeful beginning.

“I love you too.” He kissed her lips which tasted of the salty air rippling their hair. “Now and forever, Thayet.”